The crippled convoy from White Rocks limped toward the first city to host this year's gladiator events at The Inland Forrest Warf. The repaired and Cavalier-escorted convoy departed the wilds. The transition started with a sparse smattering of modest community stone farmhouses hidden behind the earth and stone walls.

  Closer to the city, the gravel road became cobblestone, and the stone walls grew taller and encompassed more and larger buildings and silos. The convoy approached the city's protective outer barrier wall. They arrived at the correct time, noon, but three days late. The convoy snaked its way through the city's streets.

  "Did I ever tell you? I grew up here. My old man's father harvested the timber for those walls." Juba said with pride in his voice to the sleeping Roar'Z. "Muck-men, they dug the dirt and sand from the river. They filled the space between the double fence walls. Grandpa always said it was impenetrable."

  Roar'Z huffed softly, tugging the heavy bearskin blanket up to his chin to hide from the world. He willed himself to remain motionless as if he could be mistaken for sound asleep by some form of magic. His eyes were shut in the hope that his illusion would work.

  The undeterred Juba continued his story. "The founder of this place, his name was Forrest, nobody remembers his last name. He insisted on adding dirt to the center area of the parallel timber walls to provide an elevated walkway…."

  Like a swarm of honeybees, the gatehouse guards inspected each wagon. Juba dismounted the bordello wagon and greeted the inspection guard with a "palm-down" handshake.

  Juba held out his hand, and the guard accepted a heavy coin. He drew a circular symbol on the bordello door, right above the wooden wagon wheel. "Check out Klava; they serve a heavy pour of our local barley and wheat whisky. When newcomers ask for a dirty glass for their whisky, they are given a generous pour." The guard X'ed the circle and walked away.

  Roar'Z licked his chops. "I'll buy our first dirty glass with my winnings."

  Juba crossed his arms and backed away. With a higher-than-typical pitch in his voice, he changed the subject. "The Gladiator Stable suffered the loss of a few gladiators. After the orc ambush, we found fifteen human gladiators tortured and left for dead. Parnell and Highmore's magical healing saved a few; most will be able to participate in these events. Almost all the guards died or deserted," Juba's words tumbled as he and Roar'Z drew closer to the towering city wall. Though his companion paid attention, Juba was lost in his own monologue.

  Roar'Z noticed the familiar pleasant smells typical to most cities. He then heard the quite familiar chants of the approaching Brisa. A sportive smile overcame his face. Time for some fun. "I didn't see ya during the little birdy attack. Where were you hiding?" He bellowed a warning to the young magus, who was still several wagons away.

  The short, plump human woman rode a large, lumbering off-gated draft horse. The premature grey-haired Brisa continued her chant. She tapped, slid her walking stick across the first bordello's red clay wall, and bumped into the second, Roar’Z's bordello.

  The perfectly positioned and fully naked Roar'Z was on his knees, stroking his fully erect bright pink-tipped, green man-meat when the bordello's walls blinked clear.

  "You Green Stanky Squirrel Choking Cunt Whistle…" The startled Brisa yelled at Roar'Z. "Now, I need to recast this spell…."

  ScuzNail saw the whole thing, fell to his hairy knees, and laughed like a hyena.

  Roar'Z fixed Barisa with an unwavering gaze and spoke, "We will be together one day soon; I'm sure of it."

  Juba turned in his seat. He absorbed the unnerving eyeful of the arm-pumping Roar'Z and saw the aghast red-faced Brisa ride away. "Roar'Z, put that thing away…."

  "Next, you are gonna want to go to the ballet…." Barisa yelled over her shoulder.

  “You like toe-dance?” ScuzNails asked.

  Many, many heartbeats later, the first carriage passed through the city's inner gate. Trumpets sounded off to announce the convoy's late arrival.

  "Now, the show starts," Juba breathed, looking at his old city. "How are you going to top scaring the shit out of Brisa? You know… it was my idea to turn the walls invisible to show off our gladiators." Juba humble bragged.

  "Yes, Juba… I was sitting here when you talked with the big-shot owners and Brista a few days back." Roar'Z replied. "They agreed to this silliness only after I said it might increase attendance and betting."

  The convoy navigated the winding maze of cobblestone streets, its speed adjusted to ensure safety among the city's narrow alleys. Men, women, and children of many races filled the thoroughfares. As they passed, they peered out of open windows to gawk at the performing gladiators. The fortunate few perched from second and third-floor balconies, they experienced a much better show.

  The horse-drawn wagons with the performing gladiators continued through Inland Forrest Warf's narrow streets. The male gladiators brandished their favorite weapons, juggled small objects, or acted out their well-practiced and gruesome death scenes. The few women gladiators favored pole dancing with daggers between their teeth.

  Roar'Z surveyed the town, and his keen eye identified the citizens with significant wealth. Fancy dressed, many lounged on soft pillowed seats under today's cloudless sky to enjoy the first day of warm weather.

  She stood there with her back resting against the second-floor windowsill. Her styled long blond hair draped down over her firm, toned arms. They locked eyes. She leaned forward and blew Roar'Z a kiss from her plump red lips.

  The charmed and distracted Roar'Z dropped the five flaming stones he'd been juggling. He maintained visual contact with the stunning blond. He took in the intoxicating aroma of her jasmine-scented skin, feeling his senses come alive. He used his peripheral vision to retrieve the flaming spheres that had rolled into the bordello's empty corner. The wagon made an abrupt turn; she disappeared. The sounds of cheers and jeers drowned out all other noises.

  The parade marched into the city's vibrant central market, thrilling onlookers. The sweet and savory smells seduced the gladiators; they performed beyond expectations.

  To celebrate the gladiators' arrival, vendors and patrons threw fatted meats, sweet dough bread, hard candy, and small bladders of water or wine.

  The parade continued its procession forward. The convoy was now surrounded by the imposing walls of a coliseum, looming like an ominous reminder of their new reality. The grim notes of an ongoing battle sobered the gladiator's spirit. They became reverent as they passed into the coliseum's shadow. The quiet convoy exited the city's side gate and entered the green grassed gladiator training fields.

  Roar'Z's gaze lingered on the brilliant new sign, a vision of fresh paint. His thoughts were nostalgic as visions of his past swirled through his mind. A shudder ran the length of his body. "The Pasture of Pain…"

  "We've arrived." His heart raced with anticipation. He stood tall and peered through the transparent bordello walls to reacquaint himself with his new living and training area.

  A giant guard tower loomed over the renamed gladiator training field, its sign displayed beneath. The guard tower was built at the west and south outer wall intersection to protect the city from western invaders. The guard tower at the junction of the two wooden walls was not quite a corner. They had open windows that allowed the city guards to peer down into the training area. The opposite windows provided views out into the western grasslands.

  The Pasture of Pain was tucked away, enveloped by an abundance of towering trees perfectly groomed. The thick trees' lower limbs were removed up to the height of two men. Between the trees, there were calf-high stone walls.

  On top of the stone wall, there were thick clay tubes. A large man could fit his clenched fists inside the tube's openings. The dirt-filled clay tubes were stacked past the height of a tall warrior mounted on a horse. A wattle fence crafted from woven bamboo and thorn vines graces the tops of clay tubes, providing a protective barrier.

  The convoy rattled to its final stop and maneuvered the bordellos to their assigned parking spots. "Every year, a smart Gladiator tries to escape by climbing that fence," Juba yelled back to Roar'Z. Juba said, "The tubes look like great hands and footholds to climb up and out of the training area. The holes are home to foot-sized mud wasps. Those flying bastards like to swarm. I've seen one sting cripple a human's arms; three or more stings have killed horses."

  Roar'Z rubbed his thick hamstring, remembering an old sting. "The sting felt like a mule's kick.” Thick green puss and dark red-brown blood oozed for hours, he remembered. He stopped scratching the old, wounded area and remembered that scratching made it worse.

  "Ah, that's right, you've been here before. How many times? Juba asked Roar'Z as he leaned forward on his mount.

  Roar'Z shifted, emitting a low rumble of discontent. He lifted his hand and raised three fingers and replied. "Three." He noticed that Juba was analyzing the training area. "It looks like the tree wall was pushed out many paces. How did that happen?"

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  "Probably Druids," Juba said.

  Since their last visit, they took in all the other changes to the training field. There were smoldering fires about ten paces from the new cart path. The cart path was pothole-riddled and about ten paces from the wasp wall. The trees seeped fresh sap from their recent pruning, and the agitated wasps gathered the new sap.

  "Roar'Z, the party begins at first light. Do you have the courage to take the next step at my side?" He asked. "We are going to reboot your training. Before breakfast, you will do long runs along the perimeter path to build your endurance. Evading wasp stings and dodging ankle-twisting potholes will help increase your combat alertness. Normally armed and unarmed drills throughout the day. After the late meal, that fiery-rock thing, you will master that."

  Roar'Z again grunted. Like I have a choice.

  It took many hours to move the bordello-mounted wagons into position. The training field's senior teamster skillfully coordinated the positioning of each wagon. The parked wagons formed a large circle. The last convoy to arrive was parked the furthest from the training field's entrance and under the guard tower. The training area guards continued to work throughout the night. They placed stout wooden bridges that spanned the gap between the bordellos to form an elevated walkway.

  After a rough night's sleep, Roar'Z woke when the sun's rays beamed through his cell door. While lying on top of his pile of furs, he peered out the cell door and window to scrutinize the night's labors, which revealed little. With a shiver, he removed the ring that kept him warm all night. The impact of the morning's cold air triggered his full bladder. He hid the ring, walked five paces to the cell door, and began to piss through the iron bars.

  During the extended time it took to empty his overfilled bladder, Camp set-up, it never changes. There were black metal fire braziers spaced about 15 paces from the wagon circle and a sparring pit between the braziers. Fifteen paces past the sparring field were the water bladders dangling under a wood branch tripod. The bleachers look less broken this year. Maybe, last summer, a fancy-free man's ass was impaled by a splinter.

  After a quick shake of his man meat, the thick ammonia odor was replaced by a pleasant smell. His hungry belly grumbled as Roar'Z inhaled. To nobody, he said, "stale bread, boiled mixed meats, and unshelled eggs…." No surprise there. The kitchen is still in the center.

  "Who are you talking to? Who cares and shut-the-fuck-up…" was yelled from below. The always angry Narb-Fife, a stout halfling, and the gladiator stable's head jailer walked past. For the hundredth time, he sized up the huge orc. In a more than ordinary angry voice, he continued his rant. "You would need to slice the back of my ankle to make us a fair fight," he said in a threatening tone and with a pointed finger.

  The knee-high Narb-Fife walked away as he focused on removing dirt and grime from under his fingernails. He used one of two, always present fighting knife.

  "Always great talking with you!" Roar'Z yelled to the little jailer as he walked to his bordello's rear window to continue his investigation. Highmore's medical tent and his fancy carriage are in the shade…

  A few minutes later, a familiar voice rang out. "We arrived last. We eat last." Juba's face twisted a little, then he pinched his nose. "No pissing out the cell doors, you animals. Piss holes are next to the water skins." He yelled at his gladiators while pointing in the general direction.

  On cue, the grey-haired Brisa ran across the tops of the bordellos. Without slowing, she struck her walking stick near the cell door. The iron bar door pivoted from the base and lowered. The iron rods shifted to planks and became a solid ramp to exit the bordello.

  Juba darted up Roar’Z's ramp and pushed him off the ramp's side. "Gladiators, muster on me!" Juba yelled.

  Brisa's scent lingered, causing Roar'Z to pause in consternation as Juba dashed up the ramp. Roar'Z used the push's energy to conduct a backflip to the ground and almost landed on ScuZ-Nail.

  The long-confined gladiators erupted out of their bordellos with unrestrained joy. Roughhousing, clowning, and buffoonery quickly ensued. Juba watched with amusement as his gladiators jostled and joked laughter ringing. With an authoritative gesture, he gathered them up. "If ya'all want hot food, get your lazy asses over here for the morning's instructions!" Juba yelled at his gladiators.

  Once his stable of gladiators assembled, Juba repositioned himself higher on Roar’Z's ramp, so his gladiators had a clear view. With a loud and deep voice, he began the announcement: "Best year ever, 125 wagons form the circle this year. As you know, the City of Inland Forrest Warf is rehosting this year's Early-Spring Gladiator Games. Over 200 gladiators from ten cities within the Enchanted Expanse and a few champions from areas beyond." He paused, waiting for cheers. He was not disappointed."

  "The Arena's Pit Boss learned of the attack on our convoy and that we lost some gladiators during the ambush. They decided to start the games on time. Round one started yesterday morning." Juba paused… On cue, the Boos and anger erupted.

  Juba continued: "over the next nine days, there will be five fights each night. Everyone will fight. Many will win, some might lose… or… maybe die. Those who slip coins to Highmore have a better opportunity to fight again. Others maybe, maybe not."

  The gladiators chuckled in response to the joke, their eyes hinting at understanding. Fingers gingerly traced along jagged lines of scars from past battles. Tension rippled through the crowd, a reminder of the danger that lurked outside these walls.

  "The 25 battles of round two will be held over five days. Round two will consist of round one winners….” Juba paused for effect… And maybe the quick healers. The winners will move on to round three. Round three will consist of ten fights over two nights. Round four will start early the next morning. Finally, the grand finale will be that same night. Who wants to hear the last rule of the event?" Juba chided his gladiators.

  "I hope that twisted little bastard Narb-Fife didn't make the rule," somebody shouted from the assembled gladiators. All laughed in unison.

  Juba continued his speech. "No, not this time. Knight Morton, Inland Forrest Warf's fearless leader, has graciously offered his personal healer's services. All gladiators who fight a spectacular battle in rounds three and four shall be healed of all their wounds or resurrected.

  The same faceless quick-witted voice yelled over the cheers. "What about the grand finale…?"

  “Well… of course… That glorious battle will be to the death," Juba announced. "For those who can read, the fight roster is posted near the water stations. Those who can't read, don't be late."

  The cluster of gladiators turned and sprinted away to view their destiny.

  Gotta remember to announce the less critical information first…. Juba walked to the front of the chow line. He planned to finish his announcement by stating the camp's rules, restricted areas, chow times, practice times, and when observers or visitors are allowed into the camp. Fuck-it… They'll figure it out….

  Roar'Z finished his question before his brain analyzed the possible consequences. "Juba, I thought we were going to start the new workout program this morning?"

  Juba spun around and drove his clenched fist toward Roar'Z's vulnerable windpipe, right in the middle of his broad green neck. "Let's start now."

  Fargas, a stunning female peach-skinned human, dressed like a swashbuckling pirate with a feathered hat and plenty of cleavage cut the food line.

  The alert Roar'Z recognized the swift and powerful stealth attack. Roar'Z considered lowering his head and catching the blow on his readied forehead to protect his soft neck. Instead, his quick left hand smacked Juba's hand. Juba's punch was transitioned to more of a push that scraped Roar'Z cheek and ear.

  Roar'Z used Juba's push to his advantage. Roar'Z fell backward, twisted, performed a forward roll, then popped up. He spun around, only to be met by the soft-skinned Fargas. The collision sent him reeling back as he scrambled to defend himself. "Ruff night? I saw that coming yesterday…."

  Juba barked orders over the cheering gladiators. "Meet me where the guardhouse road intersects the new perimeter cart path." Juba walked toward the horse stables. "ScuzNails, you are first on the docket to fight in the coliseum tonight."

  The cheering gladiators became silent. Roar'Z stooped down and extended his hand to assist the sexy human Fargas back to her feet. "Your dreadlocks are a mess…."

  Fargus extended her petite hand to accept the assistance. "It's OK that you are clumsy. I guess it's endearing. A blond woman asked about you and inquired about a fee for some chitchat time." Fargus gave Roar'Z a wink. "She dressed swanky, so I doubled the typical price for an all-night visit."

  "Chitchat, I don't think I know that language. How many coins do I get?" Roar'Z walked to the front of the chow line and wrangled a barley bread bowl. "You heard Juba; he's eager for an early morning beat-down." The larger gladiator loomed over the protesting smaller ones, his face a mask of menace. Instead of adding morning's gravy gruel and meat concoction to their meal, Roar'Z shoved two slimy-boiled baby rabbits into his mouth.

  "Narb Fife wouldn't keep me around if everybody didn't get their fair share," Fargus replied as they met Juba. "I can provide a few other services for a small fee." She said with a quiet voice.

  "Such as…" Roar'Z asked.

  "After a fight," she emphasized the following two words, "any fight, I can be nearby and help… In a few ways." Fargus paused, took a quick look around, then continued. "Healing potions if you are not too far gone. Parnell, I can make sure he knows your situation; his help is… Almost… without limits."

  Roar'Z kept his fast-paced walk and interrupted Fargus' sales pitch with just one word. "Gambling?"

  Fargus increased her walking speed to a backward jog to get good eye contact with Roar'Z. "Ah… Yes, I have many contacts in that area." Fargus replied with a confident smile.

  Roar'Z stopped and peered adamantly into her eyes. "Hold onto the girl's fee. Always bet the biggest coins. Cheat me at your own risk."

  Roar'Z finished the last crunchy bite of breakfast when Juba arrived. He rode one of the big two-legged bird things. Remembering how the bird used its ax-like beak to disembowel war horses, Roar'Z became battle-ready. "What the hell is that creature called?"

  "They are called Hatchet Heads. You didn't think I was going to run with you, did ya?" Juba asked Roar'Z with laughter. "Let's start with just three laps this morning. Don't let me get too close. Birdy has not eaten yet today."

  Roar'Z started the workout at a slow running pace. The bird-mounted Juba followed the running gladiator. On the first lap, Roar'Z focused most of his attention on the ankle-twisting holes and avoiding birdy bites. Three times Roar'Z mis-stepped and plunged into a pothole. Each time he athletically combat rolled, popped up, and continued the run. The last hole Roar'Z stepped in, he grabbed two fist-size rocks during the combat roll and jumped into a faster run.

  Halfway through the second lap, the now sweating Roar'Z realized birdy was more interested in eating a breakfast of fresh wasps than nipping at him. Roar'Z remembered where most holes were located; he increased his running speed for his last lap.

  After a crack of his whip near his ear, "touch the wall," Juba yelled to Roar'Z.

  Roar'Z became hyper-aware, a low-throated growl emanated, his front foot dug into the ground, pivoted, then sprinted toward the buzzing wall. A translucent red cloud veiled his vision; movements slowed, and objects became more evident. He saw the swarm of flying stingers approach; the first few Roar'Z crushed between his two stones.

  The two stones ignited. The third crushing attack missed the huge wasp. The rocks exploded, shrapnel and flames shot everywhere, which dispersed the swarm just as Roar'Z arrived at the wall. The raging Roar'Z punched into the gooey tube and sprinted back to safety.

  The red veil disappeared, and the fiery pain from two stings racked Roar’Z's body. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

  "Wake-Up… It's time for some chitchat," Fargas said as she nudged Roar'Z with her foot. "This is from Highmore; make sure he rubs this on his wounds." Fargas handed a small clay container to his visitor. She closed the bordello cell door on her way out.

  He slowly awakened to the pleasant smell of jasmine that revealed who his visitor was. "Your straw-colored hair. I saw you on a balcony yesterday," Roar'Z said.