Scale Singer Pt.1

The burly Boews, now in his true form of the bipedal black dragon, holding the now much smaller Kirimadd by his shirt. Kirimadd having been blackened out, unable to trail how far off the trail and away from his destination they had traveled. Opening one of the doors to the cell where most of the men where kept, and tossing him hard into the throng that had parted…though the throng had parted, leaving only the hard limestone wall stopping the man’s flight through the air. Grinning wide, and holding the black sickly wings tight against his backside, he slams the baloselosed, and chuckling as he leaves.


Slowly opening his eyes to a waking stance, and somewhat groggy, before Kirimadd blinks and quickly getting up to his feet, only to realize that the dirt road had long disappeared. Muttering to himself, before eyes move over towards the others caged up… dressed almost similar as they hovered near the door, however, across the road was the same cage, but seemed much more open, and much more hospitable to those inside. Indeed, there where poles with straw ‘people’ poised upon them, racks of weapons, and couches, beds, tables… the whole nine-yards.


“…damn.”


“W-what’s wrong?” a shaky voice asks. Kirimadd simply points across the way to the other ‘cage’ he had just spotted.


“Gladiators…”


“W-w-what?” Sighing heavily, Kirimadd turns to try and explain to the man, however a tall thick man, perhaps a blacksmith back home, pipes up.


“Oi! Means we’re gonna fight to de death, it does!” That does nothing to help… as a few of the men start to wail. Though… of course, as there always are, a guard comes by and slams his halberd against the bars of the cage. This green dragon didn’t even bother to hide within his human form.


“Shut up in there!”


“What’s going on?”


“I said, SHUT UP!” Anothoud oud clang against the bars of the cage, and a response of, “Else I’ll make sure ya go first when we pile you into the pits, I will!” Grumbling, before another, shorter green dragonoid comes up, handing the guard a small parchment of paper, which the guard takes, and shoves the obviously young drake page off to wherever it was that he came from. Eyes scan the parchment as he holds it in one hand, the other tightly upon the halberd. “Oi… you’re all in luck… the games are bein’ assembled as we speak.” Then his eyes slowly turn and train upon Kirimadd, before grinning wider, razor sharp teeth now shown to all in a cruel smirk. “An’ ya just in time ta join us.”


The sound of loud footsteps could easily be heard coming from outside the cage, down the hallway itself. The green turns his head and chuckles, backing out of the way as twenty or so dragons, reds to be exact, to help take the ‘slaves’ to the dressing quarters, reds of course for those like the blacksmiths, of more then oppressing strength for them. Dragging the humans out in mass amounts, none where given even the slightest chano ruo run.


Being with the group, was treated no different as the rest, shoved down upon the ground, clothing completely removed, and thrown off into a large pile, before each where slapped what seemed to be a leather skirt, no shirt, as the dragonoids didn’t care if the ‘petty humans’ slaughtered each other or not for their amusement. Though, Kirimadd’s lightly redder skin tone was paid special attention by the dragonoids, not to mention the platinum shaded hair. Dragons always seemed to regard those that features where different from normal, as they usually where sorcerers, or alchemists or such… but Kirimadd’s body was too well toned for such a creation, but they seemed to have special orders, having given his own dressings the addition of studs upon the leather. No sandals, or upper body protection, save for the frailest of the fighters (The dragons didn’t like slaughters so much as semi-fair fights). No one was given weapons, but each where told that they where expected to pick them up while they where in the arena.


Kirimadd himself at this time felt a tug on his arm by the small dragonoid from earlier that had delivered the note to the guard earlier. “Sir?”


“…what?”


“You’re to come with me.” Kirimadd raises a brow, but complies, looking back to the group to realize he was the only one that was being pulled away. Sighing heavily, he follows the ‘lad’ down the corridor. Though it was seemingly devoid of life, ever so often there would be a guard, just incase one of the ‘slaves’ managed to get down this far. A right… a left… another left, up some stairs… down a corridor… the cold ground hurting the human-like feet, as they slapped against the ground without the padding the dragons themselves had… but he endured. Sighing heavily, as they approached a door and it was pressed open. Inside, where four gold dragons armed in full plate mail, tower shields, and battle spears, guarding the lounging ruby dragon. Ruby dragons themselves where like the similar looking reds, however, lacking the brute strength that they had, making up for it with their intelligence. This ruby though obviously of high importance, lounged in what seemed to be a vest, tanned trim, but deep dark blue with a light blue intricate pattern formed into it, giving it the appearance of silk. Charms and things clung to the wrists and neck, not to mention the horns, though with the lounging position, the loincloth (which was in same ‘festive’ style as the vest itself, leaving nothing to the imagination (perhaps even sadly).


“Are you the one that took down the mercenaries that Boews took with him?” The answer was met with silence for a while, as Kirimadd stood, staring at the man. “There’s something… special about you… Boews wanted to give you this before you went to fight…” motioning towards the boy who left into a side room, before coming back, with a rather long box held within both arms, holding it up to Kirimadd. With a brow raised, he slowly opened the box, and inside where laid within what seemed to be a leather jerkin, though upon looking on the inside, was laid with metal plates.


“Whisby’s plate. An interesting invention… leather on the ide,ide, but like plated on the inside, giving it a look of a leather vest.” Grinning and continuing as Kirimadd seems to be staring at it, before looking down…


“… My sword?” The Ruby simply nods, as Kirimadd raises a quizzical brow, “I thought the dragons preferred a fair fight.”


“My, how knowledgeable! Yes, indeed we do… why you won’t be in the fight with the rest of the slaves. Boews seems to have taken a liking to you, as such; instead, you’ll be fighting someone more of your… level of expertise.” Kirimadd only scowls and groans down into the box, as he finds himself looking down upon… no it couldn’t be. Slowly lifting the rather large claymore out of the box, staring down upon the silver blade, and ornate handle, lifting it out of the box, his eyes searching the engraving, just to be sure as to the blade be true to it’s looks. As the blade is lifted, a small note falls off the blade, and out to Kirimadd’s reflexed hand. His brow raising as he looks to it, and quickly crumples it into his hand, handing it to the drake that seemed to hug beside him.


“Well?”


“Well what?” The large ruby points towards the plate. Sighing heavily, Kirimadd places the sword back into the box, lifting and sliding the plate on. True enough, the plate was light, and indeed looked a lot like studded leather, like the leather hugging his hips, even the weight wasn’t that much different. Then to the sword, he lifts it up, placing the flat end of the blade against his shoulder. A light tugging at his feet, as he stares down, the child already working on sliding his feet into sandals… Kirimadd himself just sighs, and looks up towards the ruby.


“What is it I’m going to be fighting…?”


The only response he got was, “Someone merit of your worth.”


“… that doesn’t help…”


“And so what of it?” The ruby slams his fist down onto the edge of the couch, “Special, perhaps, but you’re still human!”


“…”


By then the young drake had finished the sandals, and quickly moved out of the way. The ruby narrows his eyes, “You’ll be the last to fight, so enjoy the view, human.” Kirimadd’s eyes narrow, as the guards come to escort him out of the room. He doesn’t even bother to fight back, knowing it would be foolhardy at this moment. Though, once arriving, he almost wishes that he had. The fighting had already started by the time they reached the iron gates, or rather, almost finished. Bodies of men, gnolls, kobolds, and various creatures lay scattered. Blood seeped into the warm sands below, warmth that even Kirimadd could feel washing over his face. The last of those who survived being drug off to… somewhere. Kirimadd staring to the pits as a few of the ‘cleaners’ swooping down to clean up the remains of those that had fallen.


Before they had even finished, a booming voice shouts out towards the crowd. Before even being announced, Kirimadd was suddenly feeling very cautious, a thi this worthy opponent was more of a punishment, then a truly fair fight.


“… he has fought the bandits off the road, and has earned himself a fight against one of the best…” Sighing and closing his eyes, popping his knuckles, and gripping tightly to the de hae handed handle, staring out.


“Ya make it out alive… ‘right?” Blinking, Kirimadd turns, looking over his shoulder and up towards the red that had accompanied him. Raising a brow, and looking back forward. The guard then responds again, “Wanna see you win…”


“Why?” Kirimadd ignores the announcer still, as he turns to face the red. “Why do you want to see me win?”


“Not all o’ us are blood thirsty. Those out there…” the guard points towards the far end of the arena, “Give some o’ us a bad name. I wanna see you win and show ‘em wot for.”


“Hmm… Uh… thanks…” By then the large gate pulls itself upwards, the loud clanking of metal upon metal easily heard, almost deafening, as the large red shoKiriKirimadd outwards to the fight.


“Good luck.”