by Dean Henegar
Eversharp Dagger: This enchanted dagger is always razor sharp and never needs sharpening. The keen blade has an improved chance to cause a bleeding wound when the wielder scores a critical hit. +2 to attack when equipped. Item-level 40.
Both weapons were powerful, but not overly so considering our current levels. We really didn’t have anyone specialized in maces, but giving one of the infiltrators the dagger would increase damage slightly. Their value would better serve in helping us get improved gear for our entire force.
“Thanks for being honest with us on those, Ermey. We’ll need full armor and shields for fifty-six soldiers. We’ll also need swords for all, daggers for all, spears for ten, bows for three, and as many javelins as we can afford,” I said.
“Your wagonload of gear, even with these two magic weapons, won’t cover all that. I hope you brought some coin as well, Raytak,” Ermey said. I nodded to Galba who tossed the coin pouch that Septimus had given us over to Ermey. Ermey walked to the nearest counter and dumped the bag out. The coins were mostly silver and copper with only a few gold coins in the mix. Not a huge sum, but not a pittance either. Ermey considered for a moment before making an offer.
“This is still not enough, what do you think your chances are in the fight tomorrow?” Ermey asked.
“We’re going to win, of course. What hodgepodge group of gladiators can stand against a reinforced platoon of the Imperium’s finest?” I told Ermey confidently. I believed we had a good chance, but I wasn’t quite as confident as I sounded.
“That’s what this old soldier wanted to hear. I’ll get you all kitted out like you asked. I’ll lose money on the deal, but I’ll make it up on my winnings when I bet on you in the tournament. Disgraced or not, we soldiers have to stick together,” Ermey said with a wink as he expertly scooped up the small pile of coins. Ermey and his two clerks began dragging out piles of what we requested. I reviewed the Items as they piled up, helping Wrend, Galba, and the other guards to load them up.
Standard Bronze Shortsword, item-level 20.
Standard Imperium Studded Leather Armor Set. Defense +10
Standard Imperium Wooden Shield. Defense +3, additional +1 vs. ranged attacks.
Standard Bronze Dagger, item-level 20.
Medium length Bronze-tipped Spear, item-level 20.
Shortbow and arrows, item-level 20.
Imperium Bronze-tipped Pilum Javelins x200, item-level 20.
Note* You have equipped your team in standardized gear. All new recruits and additional forces unlocked will now be equipped to this standard without requiring additional funds. Future upgrades will require substantial investment but will be equipped across your whole force.
Having the whole force included in future upgrades was something I was hoping for. The AI had done something similar with my regular troops before my imprisonment.
“Thank you, Ermey. I appreciate your help in getting the men set up properly. Is there any way I can keep a set of our old junk equipment until after the match? I’ll make sure it’s all returned to you after our fight,” I assured him. I had a suspicion that our opponents will be watching our training, and I wanted them to believe we had junky, outdated gear. Now that we were in the fight, it was best to let our opponents underestimate us.
“Not a problem, Raytak. By the way, I have one more thing for you. Consider it a gift from one old soldier to another,” Ermey said before disappearing into the back room. He returned carrying an Imperium battle standard. The once gleaming wolf’s head on top was tarnished and dim. A faded and torn cloth banner still hung in place underneath. As I took hold of the battle standard several things happened at once.
First, my interface appeared with an upgrade notice.
New Unit Created: Your continuing efforts to meld your force into a cohesive unit have paid off. You now command the gladiatorial unit Legio Ignominia. Whether this unit designation will provide you with a bonus or a penalty remains to be seen. Your actions and the performance of your new unit will decide its fate.
Item received, Basic Imperial Battle Standard: The battle standard is the heart of an army unit. This basic standard consists of a large wooden pole with the Imperium wolf symbol cast in bronze on top. The basic standard provides a +1 bonus to defense and has space to attach up to three war banners. War banners are earned by a unit for exceptional bravery or skillful actions in battle. Standards and the attached banners confer passive bonuses to all soldiers serving in the unit regardless of whether they are nearby. The standard is a depiction of a unit’s honor and pride. To lose a standard inflicts a severe morale, attack, and defense penalty until another is acquired.
The battle standard changed before my eyes. Suddenly, the bronze wolf’s head was gleaming like new and the faded cloth banner changed to the vibrant red of the Imperium, our new unit designation outlined in golden letters. Like our tunics, the word Ignominia stung me as I read it, it would be a constant reminder of our disgraced condition. The description fit our unit for now, but it was one I hoped to change. All in all, this was a valuable gift and one we would put to good use.
Ermey looked a bit taken aback at the change in the banner. “I didn’t expect that. Use it well, Raytak. I hope you have the chance to regain your honor,” Ermey said as we left with our haul.
We all piled into the overloaded wagon stuffed with new gear and moved out to where Septimus had us camped. Setting camp just outside the city suited me just fine. I wanted some open space to drill the troops with the tactics I planned to use in the coming fight. When we arrived, the wagons were pulled into a row near a large, open field. The guards were out walking the perimeter and keeping an eye on the prisoners while the soldier-prisoners were conducting some exercises or practicing with weapons.
“Heh, guess they had an idea of what was in store for them if we caught them all slacking off,” Wrend said with an evil grin. I had seen that look before in every training nco that had ever walked the earth. It was the look of someone who was itching to dish out some hard PT (physical training) on any slacking soldier.
“They lucked out this time. Gather up the men and get to training. I have a new formation I want us to practice. The Testudo will help if we run into any teams that focus on ranged combat,” I said, watching the original infiltrator rush up to me.
“Sir, don’t look around, just look at me. I wanted to let you know we have three people spying on the camp. Just pretend I’m giving you a report,” the soldier said while saluting. I returned the salute and he continued. “They don’t know we’ve caught on yet, so be careful in our training if there’s anything you don’t want our opponents to know,” the infiltrator finished.
“Well done private . . . Buford?” I said as an actual name appeared above his class of infiltrator. “I thought something like this might happen, that’s why I asked Ermey to let us use the worn-out gear until the fight. Put the men to work, sergeant,” I said and Wrend moved off yelling, hitting, and prodding the men into formation. They then distributed the junk gear and prepared to train.
“Sergeant Wrend, have yourself and the advanced class soldiers gear up in the new stuff. It’ll make it more realistic if some of us are equipped well, otherwise they would have to wonder how we made it into the Grand Melee,” I ordered. “Private Buford, do you think you can get a peek at our opponents?” I asked.
“Sir, I could, but it would be a risk. I’m sure the other teams have plans in place to deter spying,” Buford replied.
“That makes sense. I don’t want to put you or the other infiltrator at risk. I need everyone for the big fight,” I advised. We spent the rest of the morning training in the formations I planned to use. I had the men only train in squad-sized units to keep the spies from watching us work together as a large group. I had to admit I was impressed with our new archers. They were deadly accurate and would be a big help in the coming battle. At noon, Septimus arrived. He was dressed in new and elegant clothing and had been shopping while we had been training. He spoke wit
h Galba and then flagged me over.
“Ahh, there you are Raytak. I have news on our foes and there has been an exciting new development. A sixth team is to be admitted, and the two contenders for the slot are about to fight it out right now in the arena to determine who gets in. There are no details on them, but from the rumors it will be a fight to remember. I would like you to accompany me to the arena and watch the fight,” Septimus said as he directed Galba and a few guards to escort us to the arena. As we walked, Septimus gave me a rundown on who our opponents were. His “investigation” into our foes proved to consist of gathering an advertisement handout showing who would be fighting. A popup appeared and the AI gave a brief description of the teams entered in the melee as well as a description on the event itself.
The Grand Melee is a gladiatorial event designed to highlight larger forces fighting as a team. Smaller fights and individual combat between pairs of champions are still popular, but the Grand Melee events have been drawing more and more attention in recent years. Most of the competing groups choose to participate in order to earn fame and fortune. Some enter for more personal and perhaps nefarious reasons. The groups will always compete against those of similar total power, yet of often varying numbers. There is no hard and fast rule about levels and number of participants, but the administrators of the arenas always try to keep it entertaining and competitive.
Typically, the teams are arranged in a random order around the edge of the arena. When the signal to commence is given, a true free for all breaks out with the last team standing taking the prize. Different arenas may specialize their matches with an overall theme, while many choose to introduce beasts or opponents not aligned with any of the teams as an additional obstacle. Participants—save for those who are prisoners fighting in the arena to pay for their crimes—can bow out at any time. Most larger venues have mages and healers on hand to help those who concede. It is a crime punishable by death to attack an opponent that has conceded.
The colosseum in the Imperium capitol city of Remalius is the largest in existence, capable of housing over 300,000 spectators and containing several square miles of arena that can be partitioned off into different shapes. Victors of the Grand Melee in the different regions are invited to fight for the title of Victor Imperatoria once per year at the capitol. The victors receive huge prizes, and if they perform well, they may have an opportunity to meet the emperor himself. It is rumored that the emperor will often grant a boon to the winning team.
Participants in the Grand Melee at Shraza.
1. Makog’s Mob: A greedy goblin shaman has brought a horde of his kin to test against all comers. Will quantity defeat quality this day?
2. Mindblank: This team of rogues and illusionist mages are a fearful combination. Foes will never know where the death blow is coming from.
3. Final Act: This team of necromancers seek raw materials for their experiments. They fight for the privilege of gaining the corpses of their foes to use in the practice of their foul magic.
4. Steelpoint Herd: This team of centaur younglings seek to test their strength and make a name for themselves in the arena.
5. Legio Ignominia: These foul traitors have sullied the good name of the legion and are condemned to pay for their crimes by competing for your pleasure.
We hustled toward the arena in order to make the preliminary match in time. At the entrance, Septimus paid for admission in the noble viewing area, some of the most expensive seats in the arena. He paid for my admission as well, though Galba and the other guards were to wait for us near the exit. I couldn’t tell if this was a show of trust toward me . . . or just Septimus being a cheapskate.
The stands were huge, and we found ourselves in a good spot to see the action. We were twenty or so rows up and near the center of the slightly oblong arena. The stone bench seats in the noble area had padded pillows for the spectators to sit on as well as canopies to cover us from the sun. Looking about the arena, it was obvious where the cheap seats were. There were hordes of common people near the top where the view was worse and exposed the spectators to the baking-hot sun. The whole setup reminded me of a football stadium in the real world. In that analogy, we were clearly in the box-seats, enjoying the free food and beverages that servants occasionally brought about.
“You see, Raytak, keep winning and the finer things in life might be yours someday as well,” Septimus said with a smirk, enjoying a glass of chilled wine and some bits of fruit. “Ah look, they’re about to begin!”
Two large, wooden double doors opened on the arena floor. The doors stood opposite each other and two groups emerged to face one another across the arena floor. The groups were advised to halt just outside the doors, which closed behind them after each team went through. My UI displayed basic information on both groups as a gaily-dressed man approached the center of the arena to announce the match. The groups were exact opposites of each other, and I thought this would prove an interesting match.
1. Houndmasters of Darabos: This band of Drebix mercenaries are specialists in the handling of war dogs. The hounds raised by the Darabos are renowned for their ferocity and aggressive spirit. Their handlers are also adept warriors on their own. Woe to the foe that focuses on the hound at their heels and ignores the Houndmaster’s blade at their throat.
This group looked like many of the Drebix I had fought alongside and against. There were twenty-five Houndmasters, each armed with a short sword and a bundle of throwing spears slung over their shoulder. They were bare chested and had the traditional blue patterns of the Drebix painted on them. Each warrior held the leash of two war dogs. The dogs resembled larger versions of pit bull dogs and they were also painted with blue patterns over their body. The hounds growled and strained at their leashes as they sighted their foes.
2. Sisters of the Caracal: These women warriors hail from the mysterious Isle of Caracal, which is known for the fearsome shadow tigers that live and hunt there. Over the years, the sisters have been able to domesticate the beasts and bond them to service using unknown magic rituals. The cats are magically enhanced and often possess enchantments in their collars to improve their abilities. The people of the isle are reclusive and few who venture to the isle of Caracal without the sisters’ permission return. Every few years a band of sisters will compete in the games, but no one is sure of their motivations. Some believe they seek to gauge the strength of potential enemies that might someday invade their isle and others feel the ones sent are criminals, banished to the mainland for their crimes.
There were fewer of the Sisters than there were of the Houndmasters, only fourteen. Each sister was dressed in loose robes and had their faces covered with a veil. The “shadow tigers” were led on thin silver chains attached to collars made of shiny, black insect chitin. The cats, completely disciplined, didn’t respond to the provocation of the hounds. They resembled large tigers but were colored a dark grey with black stripes on their bodies. The handlers held no weapons and wore no armor.
“Well, this looks as interesting as I was told. Raytak, who do you think will emerge victorious?” Septimus asked. I just shrugged as I looked about the arena, spotting various types of healers and mages staged around the edge of the fighting. These were the ones tasked with keeping fighters alive who had yielded and preventing weapons or spells from hitting the crowds. I wondered if any innocents were accidentally killed during a bout, despite the preparations. The man in the middle of the arena began to announce the match, his voice magically amplified to be heard clearly throughout the large area.
“Welcome one, welcome all, to the grand arena of Shraza! Today we have a preliminary match to determine the last team to compete in the Grand Melee tomorrow. These two fierce bands display the natural antipathy of the canine and feline species. Which will emerge victorious, I do not know. What I do know is that you will experience a test of primal ferocity and hatred the likes of which have never been seen here before. At the sound of the gong, let the fight begin!” the man announced befor
e jogging off the arena floor. As soon as the door closed behind him, the gong signaling the start of the battle rang out loud and clear throughout the arena.
Both groups reacted the instant the gong sounded. They were separated by nearly 100 yards and the Houndmasters took the offensive, charging toward the outnumbered sisters. The hounds growled and snapped at the cats, eager for battle. The Sisters, on the other hand, formed a line behind their cats. The tigers were let off their chains but stood there with the black collars gleaming in the sunlight, defiantly waiting for the hounds. Seeing their foes not moving, the Houndmasters slipped their dogs off their leashes. The hounds charged ahead of their masters, quickly leaving the men behind. The men continued their charge behind the hounds, drawing throwing spears to launch once in range.
Just before the hounds reached their target, the cats reacted.
Each tiger leaped toward a hound, dodging snapping jaws and landing on the backs of their targets. The cats’ long claws and sharp fangs dug into their victims, quickly dropping their health to zero. The other hounds were not idle during the attack, tuning back to swarm the larger cats that dared to attack their pack. The hounds’ powerful jaws latched onto the tigers, holding them in place while others of the pack attacked them from the blind side. The hounds worked together as a team and they were soon backed-up by their handlers, the men throwing spears at cats whenever there was an opening.
The tigers were not deterred, despite their rapidly dropping health bars. The cats slashed and bit, dropping a few more of the hounds before the sheer number of their foes took its toll. Twenty of the hounds had died before the first cat fell to its wounds. All through the fight, the Sisters stood in their silent line, neither attacking nor moving to the defense of their charges. The Houndmasters ignored them for now, focused on helping kill off the large cats.