Thread: "captiv"ating Love: a story of two Slaves -- LingeringDesire and the_gladiator

Captivating love the story of two slaves. By LingeringDesire and TheGladiator Talinath nighthawk, known in the arena as the night Talon, named after the raptors claws and a play on his name, could feel the adrenalin beginning to flow into his veins as he prepared himself mentally and physically for the fight to come. This day as in many days in the past 5 years of his captivity, TalinathWould be heading into the arena. This unlike some fights was smaller, the crowd only filling perhaps a third of the enormous grandstands surrounding the giant bowl of the open air arena. This meant that the games would be smaller as well. They would be fighting on teams, two on two. Talinaths eyes swept over his partner and his opponents. To his right stood his hulking cell mate and partner. The game masters thought it was exceedingly funny to pair him with the giant half-orc, seeing that the orcs and elves were long term enemies. Talinath had to admit that it rankled him somewhat to have to fight to defend such a brute, but they had reached a grudging truce and alliance. They shared a mutual hatred for one another but knew within the Arena they depended upon one another for survival. In opposition to his hulking partner, Talinath was much shorter and more slender. He stood between 5 and a half and 6 feet tall, and was leanly muscled, rather than the bulk of his partner. Their two opponents this day were a lethal looking human woman, with skin as black as onyx, and a Minotaur. Talinath could feel his lip curl at the sight of the bull headed individual. He was a nasty piece of work, especially because Talinath knew that unlike the other three, the Minotaur, like his other brethren who had come to the Grandhaven Games, was no slave, but wanted to fight in the games because they enjoyed the sport of it, the challenge. Talinath then inventoried the weapons of each. The half-orc, nicknamed Lurch after the way that he seemed so awkward when he moved, something that was deceptive and had cost more than one opponents life because they underestimated him, held his battle ax. The ax was a wicked two handed affair with twin crescent shaped blades honed to a razor sharp edge. The black woman, nicknamed the wraith wore a curved sword at her belt and was cradling a blow gun in her arms. Seeing the blowgun, Talinath nodded, this meant that she was the member of their team with ranged weapons capabilities, and could kill from a distance, just like Talinath himself. Talinath suspected that she carried precisely 3 darts, just as he carried 3 arrows in his quiver for his bow. The game masters allowed one miss, thats why they gave 3 arrows rather than the two arrows, one for each opponent. Like the wraith, Talinath also carried a sword, his slender, modeled after the elvish design. This left the Minotaur, or the Bull his weapon was a wicked looking trident, whose barbed tips glinted in the sunlight. The dripped a substance that looked suspiciously like poison. According to his estimation this meant the teams were fairly evenly matched. All this and more ran through Talinaths head as he bent and stretched, preparing for battle. Such thoughts were part of his training, and he knew could keep him alive. He had been changed over the past 5 years, changed from the gentle elven healer he had once been, honed into the living weapon he now was. He had had to, necessity dictated he would learn or die. He had been no stranger to combat or military training, for he had served, however never had he been forced to take such a forward role. Never had he been denied the right to practice his religion, his lifestyle, and never had he known his freedom to be stolen away before 5 years ago when the young, for an elf, lordling had been stolen away. The Talinath of today scoffed at the nave idealist he had been back then, he had honestly thought there was a spark of good in everyone. He was sure now that there was no true goodness left, that it was all just a lie. He had gone from a man who depended on community and society, to knowing that the only one he could depend on was himself, and occasionally the partners assigned to him in the arena. He tried to not form attachments, for few lived long in the arena. Despite this being a lower key fight, there must be someone of high rank in the audience for both Talinath and the wraith had been in the games for years, two of the most long standing members who had survived to this point. They were both crowd favorites. The battle was long and bloody, just as Talinath expected it would be. As he sat in his quarters, staring at the single curtain which was the only divider between his cell mate, Lurch, and him, he replayed the events in his head. They were all too good for ranged weapons to succeed. Talinath had taken a dart to the chest and a second to the inner thigh however his elven physiology had resisted the poison that they had been coated with, so they were painful wounds but had not proved to be debilitating. His arrows had not seemed to stop the bull, only pissed him off, however the fierce Minotaur had met his end at the ax of Lurch. Talinath had disarmed Wraith. He had stood over her, sword to her throat, a pose he hated. He wished one of them had died in battle, but no, it had ended this way, and now the crowd would decide. Talinath could remember looking up, his green eyes sweeping the crowd, before his eyes settled on a noblewoman, and silently he had held out his hand towards her, palm up. After a moment he had turned his hand over palm down. The crowd had hushed, waiting for the woman to make her decision. The crowd had waited on bated breath Talinath had waited with baited breath, hoping he would not see the palm down gesture, would not have to kill this honorable woman in cold blood. After a long moment the woman had stuck out her hand, palm up, indicating the fallen female should live. With a nod, Talinath had turned away after offering the Wraith a hand up, something that earned him an equal amount of cheers and jeers, depending on whether or they thought he were mocking her, or simply being kind. She had spat at him, but nevertheless accepted the help up. Talinath waited now. As the victors, they would be rewarded. Victors were offered the services of women to see to their any and every need for that evening, these women, slaves all, were trained in everything from song and dance to exotic lovemaking, from sewing wounds to deep tissue massage, whatever the gladiators required of them. He rarely if ever partook of such rewards not wanting to use the women in that way. He would allow them to bandage or sew up his wounds, but rarely anything beyond that. Lurch on the other hand, most of the other gladiators for that matter, looked forward to the womens visits as the highlight of their existence and even know Talinath could hear the half-orc muttering to himself about what he was going to do to his woman that night. Just as expected, their cell door clanked open and two women were shoved in, obediently each walked into either half of the divided cell. Talinath afforded her only a brief glance before he looked away again, already trying to block out the sounds coming from the other side of the curtain, his green eyes boring holes in the black fabric, a color as dark as his hair. Finally he turned to face her, his expression grim, What are your specialties? he asked, as if he were at a diner asking about dinner entrees. It wasnt that he was being rude it was more, he felt badly that he had to go through this charade of listening in exquisite detail what her various talents were, just to tell her he was not interested, but he knew at least he was required to do something, and talking seemed the simple option. He swept the long black hair out of his eyes, rather than tied back from his face with a leather thong as it was often, it hung loose the raven waves reaching his shoulders. He wore a loose flowing tunic that flowed and kept him a little cooler in the heat, the material hid much of his body. He also wore simple pants, like the tunic were in dark muted earth tones. His long hair covered the delicate points of his ears, but if she was at all familiar with the games, all knew he was an elf. His age was somewhat unclear, if he were human he would look to be in his mid 20's, but as an elf he could easily be 5 or 6 times that age. Historians note this story takes place in a world of medieval fantasy, similar to but not existing in any existing fantasy setting. Moderators note this thread is closed to LingeringDesire and TheGladiator. We hope you enjoy our story, and welcome any and all feedback via PM.