Archive for the ‘Gladiator’ Category

Net Fighter F by butter frog on

The Angler bellows “Fish on!” brandishing his harpoon. That legendary barb spilled Kraken blood. Now it seeks a human catch. Arms flex like sea serpents flinging briny nets across this ocean of death. Entrapped, his victims flail like mullet. He tirelessly hauls them in. One giant warrior evades his toss and charges like an angry whale. The Angler ducks his thrashing flukes. His harpoon launches, pegs the beast, who tosses in a sea of blood. Around his feet a knotted hempen rope. Tossed over a beam, he hauls up his catch, guts him, poses. A great picture for the tourists.

Colosseum by Shin-Wolf on

Rose left her husband snoring deeply in the covers and palmed her children’s bedroom door before slipping out to meet the pre-dawn glow. No one bothered her as she made her way, her face hidden in her hood. When she reached the colosseum the crowds were buzzing with blood lust. She settled her skirts on the dusty bench, then saw her paramour emerge, saw his sword thrown, his pen drawn, the beasts defeated still. She left to find him, fighting through hands tearing her clothes, scratching her skin. She tripped and shut her eyes against a sea of feet trampling.

Spider Lady Concept by grimzzi on

Nimble Arachne threads her needles with razor wire. She crouches spiderlike, scrutinizing her clumsy prey’s approach—scurrying, fluttering, beetling in heavy armor—all victims enmesh. She pounces, lithe limbs gripping, jabbing needles through soft skin, hard muscle, legs, arms, neck, cheek. They hack, slash, scratch uselessly. Her keen filament entwines her catch, stymies their attacks. Struggle forces thread deeper into flesh, tightening around tendon, joint, bone. When her quarry is ensnared, helpless, screaming for mercy, she moves in, delicately bending the neck and with teeth filed to points, snaps a perfect circle from the jugular. Another fly for dinner. Delicious.

Mightier Than the Sword by GH-MoNGo on

Val throws down his sword, crosses his arms, faces the volcanic crowd.

“I will not fight!”

The gate opens.

Val closes his eyes, his muscles twitching. The Beast roars, lumbers toward Val, dust billowing behind. The beast leaps, Val side-steps, rolls, stands again, a pen held high.

“I am a poet!”

The Beast charges. Val curses, leaps, embeds his pen in the beast’s eye. The beast wails. Val sheds a tear, walks to his sword, is swallowed under the beast’s descending body. The beast deflates. Val emerges, bathed in blood. The ground shakes with the crowd’s eruption.

Another gate opens.

Champion of the Chariot by Bendragonx on

Bucephalus and Incitatus pull the chariot around the arena’s curve toward Quintus’s last opponent, a German gripping a throwing axe. Quintus hears the team’s hooves, their frothy snorts, his own heartbeat. He raises his javelin.

The warriors release their weapons simultaneously. Quintus’s javelin pierces the German’s neck.

The axe swings low, severing Incitatus’s foreleg. Incitatus screams and pitches right, dragging Bucephalus down. Jackknifing, the chariot flips.

Quintus flies and lands on his back, spine snapping like a dry branch.

Moments later, Quintus’s lanista kneels by him. “You won.”

Quintus’s body is broken, but his eyes widen. He whispers, “I’m free.”

Aztec by essenmitsosse on

Nick chugs jungle-juice while frat boys chant his name.

Nick blacks out. He wakes to a sight for damned eyes, bodies strewn across the floor of the rave room in twisted heaps.

“This is the arena!” cries a chieftain adorned in a necklace of shriveled penises. “You dare to face me next?”

Nick smirks. “It’s a good day to kill.”

The chieftain roars, charging at Nick.

Nick side-steps the chieftain, tripping him.

The chieftain spins with the momentum, grabs, and choke-slams Nick, cracking his skull.

Nick jolts awake, rave music playing.

Frat boy says, “Someone spiked your jungle juice, buddy.”

Sword of blood seeking by CGlas

Decimus, neck tensed, slashes downward.

Time slows as the gladius carves Alaric’s chest, hewing flesh and bone. Alaric witnesses the red fountain, his heart pumping gouts of life. As a youth, he’d slashed calves necks, bathed in their blood. Now, he kneels in gravel, soaking Decimus. The crowd’s roar becomes droning. Steel clashing becomes tinny, distant.

Hand on knee, dripping blood, Decimus raises the sword to Alaric’s neck, nods to him. “You fought well, Barbarian.”

Alaric’s lancea drops. He raises his dripping head. “As did you.” His teeth grit. “Finish it!”

Decimus thrusts. Alaric drops, blood and memories bathing sand.

lion food syndrome by missveryvery on

“I want you to have this.  It was my father’s.  It’ll bring you luck.”  Samson placed the silver cross in the frightened man’s hand.

“Is this why you’re here?” asked the man.

Men removed bloody bodies that lay beyond the gates, and servers refilled wine glasses.  His mother wore the same perfume as the ladies in the crowd.

The gates went up.  The lions came out first.

“It’ll be over soon,” he said. The afternoon sun cast a shadow on Samson’s face as he took a last look at his world.

Hammers and War by AngryPest on

Gesticules loved the arena. Today’s contest had been particularly enjoyable. He had taken his massive hammer and swung it with abandon, allowing it to freely crush his opponents. What fun.

Before him were the hundred hapless corpses of all those who had thought that they might be his better. They were, as always, wrong. And the reward for their mistaken thinking? The tears of those that they once loved.

Gesticules walked to the center of the arena to soak in the roaring cheers of the crowd.

“No man can defeat me,” he announced.

“Release the tigers,” said the Arena Master.

Rip your heart out by drazebot on

Super Sam leaps out of a helicopter from 1000 feet up. He smashes through the colosseum roof and is violently planted into the sandy floor, upending sand.

Damon spits sand out of his mouth. “So you came?”

“Had to make an entrance,” says Super Sam.

Damon readies himself, standing knees bent, heels raised. “Let’s do this!”

Super Sam slides between Damon’s legs and plows a fist into Damon’s diamond balls. “Are those wrecking balls?”

Damon drives a hand into Super Sam’s sternum ripping out his golden heart.

“My heart?” Super Sam goes limp.

“Had to make an entrance,” Damon declares.