Alea Iacta Est

[Csephion Draxus]

Bakatar barely brought his sword up vertically, gripping the lower portion of the blade again to bat away the strikes. One of the slashes, diverted, cut deep into his forearm, and the warrior gritted his teeth, and shoved the hilt, handle, and pommel of his weapon forward, intending to smash the pirate's face upon the heavy metal.

[Blackpool]

Reflexively, Blackpool angled his head back and to the side, but the blow still connected. His vision exploded, and he staggered back, shaking his head and flinging blood from a gash across his lower jawline. Already he could tell that his jaw was cracked, if not broken, but despite the pain he managed a grin.

In the next instant he ran at Bakatar, flipping one of his swords around so that he held it inverted. It afforded him a different set of strikes to unleash upon the barbarian, and had used the awkward technique many times over with success.

The curved blades worked in a stuttered sort of tandem, and he met Bakatar full on, almost barreling into him.

[Csephion Draxus]

Bakatar tightened up and gave a mighty swat, knocking one of the pirate's swords away as he came in close. The second inverse blade raked across his chest savagely as the Glaucan collided with him, and both men tumbled to the ground in a small cloud of dust. Bakatar hit the ground hard, spitting a bit of blood into his beard, which mixed with the yellow dust to stain a bit.

[Blackpool]

As he crashed into the dirt, Blackpool let out a pained hurff. With one of his weapons knocked away, he immediately balled up his free hand into a fist and delivered a quick jab to the Jarnvidian's temple.

[Csephion Draxus]

Propping himself up halfway with his sword, the Jarnvidian wrapped a big hand around Blackpool's neck as he blinked away the head trauma. With a growl, he slowly extended his arm, inclining his enemy above him, before lurching ahead to deliver a headbutt across the bridge of his nose. The deep and bleeding cut across his chest stopped his progress beyond that, and he again fell back to the ground.

[Blackpool]

A wild growl escaped his lips, and the Glaucan arched his back, the muscles of his neck straining in Bakatar's hold even as he threw his head back as far as the massive hand at his throat would allow. Blood flowed freely from both nostrils as Blackpool dug his fingers savagely into the wound across the Jarnvidian's chest, and he tugged at one of the edges of the gash, trying to peel back skin.

[Csephion Draxus]

The barbarian's grip on the pirate's throat instinctively tightened at the excrutiating pain from his wound. He again tried the sword, this time able to purchase enough leverage to slowly work himself back to his feet, whereupon he threw Blackpool free from his grasp in a gargantuan exertion.
No sooner had the pirate come under his own momentum again, Bakatar lunged with a forward stab, not having the stamina at present for an overhanded cleave.

[Blackpool]

Blackpool gasped for air even as he did his best to dodge the stab. But the Jarnividian's aim was mostly true, and the massive greatsword buried itself in his side. The shock of it made him jerk forward, and he smiled, bloody teeth showing.

He lunged forward then, sliding Bakatar's sword deeper into his body while bringing his own up, the tip heading for the barbarian's own gut.

[Csephion Draxus]

Bakatar drew a hand off his own blade to deflect the incoming strike, but it was too slow. Blackpool's weapon cut into his hand deeply, passing by largely unmolested to pierce his belly.

Both men, mortally stricken, began a slow descent to their knees, straining against the inevitability that was flowing out of both. The unlikely conclusion managed to bring the Arena to a disturbing quiet. Draxus looked on, a somber expression touching his face.

[Blackpool]

It was then that he began to laugh. A sound that began low in his chest and soon enough filled the arena for a few moments before descending into a labored cough. Blackpool spit blood onto the dusty ground. Perhaps it was fate that he was to take with him this Jarnvid barbarian.

He kept a hold of his sword.

"Your chains are cut, great wolf," he rasped quietly.

And then, with a great shove, he pushed away from Bakatar, feeling as the greatsword slid out of his stomach even as he wrenched from the barbarian his own weapon. Stumbling to his feet, one hand gripping the curved sword and the other pressed tightly against the freely gushing wound in his stomach, Blackpool stood for a moment.

He stared up at Draxus and Fyrian.

And with the last bit of his quickly failing strength, the Glaucan flung the blade up towards the Satrap's private box.

[Csephion Draxus]

The audacious move surprised the Satrap, who drew back from the balcony's edge a step. In a moment, it was clear that there wasn't going to be enough velocity for the weapon to make it. It hit the lower portion of the stone balcony with a shallow claang before tumbling back down below.

Again returning to his original place, Draxus remained silent while he watched these two excellent fighters die brave and famous deaths. He reached for his wine, drank of it once, and tilted the cup to let the last few swallows spill onto the floor.

"Enough of this revelry. I've seen everything I wanted to see."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Blackpool's last action surprised Fyrian as well, though she did not take a step back as Draxus had. Instead, her eyes remained fixed upon the Glaucan as he died.

But it was the Satrap's reaction that surprised her the most, and it was easily evident upon her features as she finally took her eyes from the two bodies in the arena to him.

She blinked slowly. In the face of the bloodshed she'd seen, the Glaucan woman was surprisingly calm, and strangely serene. Even her voice held no edge.

"You are not satisfied... ?"

[Csephion Draxus]

Slaves already began the work of putting the slain in order to be carried away. Draxus, watching the spectacle below, finally turned to Ariadne.

"Complacency is one luxury the heights of my office cannot afford. I've watched two men of strong purpose destroy each other. I laud their struggle, but it is ended.

You and I both know that real strife hasn't yet begun."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"If I am to make a guess about you, it would be that this sort of life was not one that you have always lived in. You led armies. You trampled whole peoples beneath your heel."

She took his now empty glass from his hand and set it down beside her own.

"If this is a way of existance that you wish to now pursue, who am I to question your choices; I've not known you for near long enough to do such a thing."

Casting a wistful glance to the dead who were now being taken from the arena, Fyrian closed her eyes for a moment before returning them to Draxus.

"But that being said," she took his hand in hers and moving past him, brushed her lips against his ear.

"... let me make you feel young again, before your struggles truly begin."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Your pleasant company is fleeting, I fear. I think you are right."

He gestured for her hand.

"Let us spend the remains of the day pretending to be people of large mirth and small concern. I should enjoy that greatly."