“What’s happening Vinn? I was...brought here, banged my head somewhere and woke up awhile ago...memories a little hazy.” I phrase the question carefully while noticing that it is already breaking dawn outside. Shit, did that Kroctar beast mention something about putting on a show this morning?

“What happened to your voice?” asks Vinn curiously. Oh right the damnable squeaky voice. “Lost my voice...I think, why?”

“Oh nothing...It’s that now it feels like you really are just a brat y’know? I mean before it was sultry deep and intimidating I thought you were at least-”

“Yeah I get it ok? Too much screamings will sometime make me sound like this.” I’m starting to feel angry talking to this fool.

For some reason while dabbing the still bleeding gash above his right eye with a dirty rag, Vinn looks visibly uncomfortable when I mentioned my screamings...“Short-term memory loss you said? You want the long or short version of ‘what’s happening’ to you?” he asks.

“Make. It. Short.” I make sure to enunciate each word out of that sentence.

The bloody hobo blabbered on for hours about random irrelevant shit when I tried to ask him a few simple questions out of curiosity. Going on about the changes in the weather, favorite guiding stars, chewing habits, nude modelings, teeth sharpenings and whatnot, it was maddening to say the least. Need to cut the useless chatters out of the way until I can feel safer.

“Glorious legends are forged upon the sands of Bastion, in the magnificent empire city of Amset Ra...” begins the explanation. “A survival bloodbath between humans, beasts and monsters. Damn this bleeding....Blah blah blah. A battle arena of enormous proportions that can house up to a million spectators, with large viewing crystals for those not within its walls. Where individuals can rise above their stations and pronounced themselves as Gladiators through bloodshed and personal strengths. The Masters are always watching, evaluating potential fighters as recruits. Hey y’know my mama used to...blah blah blah. Anticipated individual fights are usually to the death, with voluntary surrenders accepted if both parties are in agreement which rarely happens. Hundreds die each day with new batches of contenders and monsters arrive daily to recuperate the losses. So I kid you not...blah blah blah. Survive long enough, win as much fame as you can and glory is granted to its champions!” ended Vinn enthusiastically.

I nod my head. Taking it all in. Hunger for more relevant information.

“I don’t understand something…” I interrupt, “What’s the arena have to do with...prisoners like us? I still don’t know why i’m being kept here to be honest.”

“Prisoners?” Vinn laughs in his annoying voice, “HAHAHA I guess that is one way to describe our current blood trials eh? Why I would never have imagined you to be so dignified with your words young Shin. Yes...yes yes in the end we are all ‘prisoners’ of our own ambitions and vices but that’s what it takes for true warriors to be born eh? Do not worry if you are uncertain about training here, the arena has served the empire well throughout the years as a battle ground to draw out fighting potential for its gladiators.”

Huh? What in the devil’s name is this lunatic talking about?!

“...Are we not being held in this cage against our will?” I question his words. “I told you my memories are a little fuzzy right now.”

“Huh? Why no. I don’t know about you but I’m a volunteer. This is the fastest route for me to get fame and coins hehe. You either die fast enough or see yourself become recognized in this place...Where are you from that you don’t know anything? Your concussion must be worst than I thought if you are asking these common sense questions…” stated Vinn. “Wait, are you a slave?! Make a lot of sense now that I think about it...”

A fucking what? Definitely not the other option like the bloodthirsty fiend as I don’t remember ever volunteering my ass on the skewer to be barbequed here.

“I came...from a village...hidden away...in the deep woods” I lied. There was a recent memory of me waking up in a forest so let’s hope it is convincing enough.

“The deep woods?” Vinn questioned with a disbelieving look. “Where are yo-”

Somewhere I can hear a clunking sound of bell ringings. Heavy footsteps accompanied by increasingly loud growling noises are approaching from the outer courtyard.

“RISE AN’ SHINE WARRIORS OF BASTION! DA GAMES ARE ABOUT TO BEGIN.”

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After days of gathering sufficient energy force, Rashida had finally managed to slowly crack open her outer layer golden sapphired sarcophagus. With the last bit of her physical strength, she grabbed onto the lid of the coffin and lifted it open into perpetual darkness. Invoking a silent magical incantation of Light, Rashida willed the nearby dusty braziers roaring to life to illuminate her surroundings.

Realization struck as Rashida indebtedly recalled the memories of this holy chamber, now half covered in desert sands and left to devastating ruins. The current chamber was one of the many interlocking burial rooms as part of the massive networks of an underground necropolis. Built and magically warded by the great ‘Dark Lord’ to entomb his fallen warriors and constructs, the necropolis doubled as a military and housing fortress for an occupying army.

Although its primary purpose since creation had been to house the bodies and souls of the fallen so that they might rise to serve the Dark Master once again in undeath when called upon.

And called upon her service the Dark Lord did.

Such was the ancient blood oath of loyalty and obedience, acquiescently given by one’s own soul.

With an ethereal desire to seek out and answer the commands of her summoner, Rashida hurled herself over the opening of the sarcophagus and onto the marble stoned floor underneath. Her newly awakened body was still severely weakened and it would take a few more hours for Rashida to absorb the necessary magical energy to be fully mobile.

Coming upon her image illuminating back on the glossy smooth surface of the golden sarcophagus, Rashida nonchalantly stared at the grotesque mummified face of her reflection, partially wrapped in thick layers of burial linen cloths that are becoming loosely undone. Detecting a faint magical trace of her Dark Master’s power she turned to inspect a familiar likeness of her facial features previously worn in life, sculptured upon a silver linings jeweled mask at the center of the sarcophagus’ cover.

Rashida placed her skeletal fingers on the facial mask and instantly an audible *click* was heard releasing the item onto her outstretched hand.

Indescribable joy filled Rashida’s whole being as she realized this mask was personally touched upon by her loving Master. Perhaps it was merely a ceremonial gesture to conclude the entombment of her body but the thought of her Lord preserving her looks beyond the mortal life sent a sense of satisfaction and fire burning deep within her.

Positioning her body in a lotus sitting posture, Rashida tried to gauge at the distance of her liege with a light sensing spell to no avail. More magical powers will be needed in order to pinpoint the directions of her Master.

The long abandoned and ruined state of Rashida’s burial chamber within the sanctum of the necropolis has made her anxious about being awoken from her deep slumber. What could’ve happened to their impenetrable marbled fortress to make it so? Exactly how long has she been gone from the living world?

While pondering numerous questions as a way to sharpen the minds during her self recovery stasis, Rashida noticed rumbling movements from above a large opening that was collapsed into her chamber. Something was coming fast her way inside the shifting sand walls opposite of where she was sitting.

Violently emerging from the depths of the underground just moments later, three long fangs belonging to a ten meters wide mouth of a Sandworm snapped open. The massive monster had forced itself half way out of the sand walls and issued a deafening roar of challenge toward Rashida.

A nice welcoming party back to the lands of the living indeed.