After that nasty business at the glade, we wandered on. As we moved ever northward, we began to hear a curious noise at night, and it wasn't until we were within sight of the source that we understood what it was. The noise of a thousand thousand voices all crying out as one, a constant din and roar.
Before us there lay a vast Arena.
Saela's eyes widened at the sight of such marvelous architecture, and even Valsivale seemed vaguely impressed.
I myself have never enjoyed The Games, but on occasion my husband would bring me along to with him to witness the spectacle and the glory. I never much enjoyed violence, save for Oluth so handily defeating the mansion guards. Ah but how I pined for those seemingly simpler times, when my only concerns were being an outlaw and possibly orgasming to death, spit upon the fattest, longest cock in all the Four Kingdoms.
Now I had Competition for affection with a Syphaerel wench, terrifying magical powers to dodge from an Enchantress, and worst of all, the fear that Oluth would simply forget me all together save for when he wanted to make a point about his prowess.
"Perhaps this will serve as a good hiding place from that bounty huntress." Said Saela with a shrug as we drew nigh.
"Very well. I shall see what humans make of... sport." Snorted Oluth.
We found our way to one of the vast openings for people to enter.
"Twenty Minae per head, love." Said the proprietor at the gate. The others helplessly looked to me. I rolled my eyes.
"I see our functions now. We've a warrior, a wizardress, a skilled thief... and then me. The Rich Bitch. Is that my job?"
"No." Said Oluth. "You are far less than that. Now pay." He rumbled.
Defeated I unpursed a handful of crowns and scattered them before the swine who dispensed tickets.
It was way more than enough, and he bowed with a sweeping arm gesture to show us in.
"For this price, your seats shall be ringside, Madame." He said.
"You are beneath scum. No, I shall worsen that. You are beneath peasantry. I informed him." He only grinned, "Thank you Madame. Enjoy the athletic display."
It is a curious thing about our land. Gladiatorial combat is technically banned here, and thus when displays of violence are to be had, they are not "called" fighting, but rather recast as lectures or displays of art or physical skill. The Sweet Science. The Gentle Art. Sometimes pugilism is recast as a merchant demonstration and is known as The Stern Business.
But there was nothing gentle about it. We joined the crowd in only minute amusement as various grunting, sweaty men squared off in fisticuffs, and a few matches with weapons, all uninteresting. My eyes watched Oluth's response as much as anything; he only seemed to shake his head as each loser lost, perhaps mentally figuring out how he would do things differently, faster, better.
Finally the fate orator rose and spoke to us all, his mighty voice echoing off the walls. "Citizens! I am proud to report that our reigning Champion has woken, and is ready to face today's bracket winners. The Champion wishes to have a short day of it today, and thus will take them on in groups... 1, than 2 at a time, than 3, and so on. Afterwards, the floor shall be opened to new challengers with a death-wish."
I whispered to Valsivale, "This should be good. When my husband used to take me, the champions at least had a chance of being hot... muscled, tall, talented. And I bet he's got a huge cock...." I nudged one of her massive bosoms with my elbow a little, "maybe big enough for you to decide to stay with him? Hm?"
My clumsy gambit seemed to have no effect on the Enchantress, and I came to understand why as the Champion's doorway opened.
Muscled, certainly, and tall? At least 7 striking feet. But this was no Alpha Male. What swaggered onto the battlefield was Long-haired, blonde, clad in only a pair of furred boots, a tiny leather skirt, and enormous cupped brassiere that barely contained mammories that rivaled my own. In fact she was undoubtedly bigger, but I was somewhat comforted that in proportion to herself, she was only about the same size as me... it's just she was such a big woman over all.
"CITIZENS! I GIVE YOU...YOUR....TALI-TANI-TIA!"
And the crowed roared in a single chant, "TI-A! TI-A! TI-A!"
The first of her opponents walked out, alone, a large and muscular man at 6'5" or so. She eyed him with disdain and as soon as he was perhaps ten feet away, she leapt forward mightily, landing on her left foot and lashing out with her right, a brutal kick connecting hard with this his side. His ribcage visibly collapsed as though she were the rain, and he a house on a mud-sliding hillside.
On his knees he groaned for mercy, and she gave it harshly, stepping forward to meet his face with a full-armed heavy slap, his eyes rolling in directions I did not know possible as he slumped over on his side.
The next two men to advance on her were crushed together like a pair of beef-sides.
Three at once then, quickly dispatched with a flurry of nose-crushing punches and cheek-smashing elbows.
Then four at once, one armed with a dagger that found its way into all of her attackers, still gripped in the arm she'd torn from the man's socket.
After this last grizzly display, no others would move to challenge the great 'Tia' and she raised her arms to bask in the adulation of the crowed.
They were, it would seem, entertained.
She was so fearsome in battle, that when Oluth began to move over the short wall onto the battle-field, clearly intending to challenge her I grabbed his loincloth.
"No! Don't!" I urged him, "She's a killing machine! You could get hurt!"
He merely shook his great head, affectionately giving my left breast a firm squeeze, "You have not learned by now to never doubt me? You are as foolish as you are wealthy, poor slut."
And with that, he hopped into the ring.
* **
She was fast. Ignorant peasants often think of bulkier more muscled people as being slow, or clumsy, yet the reality is that those muscles provide speed as well as power. Both were on display here.
Oluth launched forward in an attempt to grab the Barbarian princess, but found none to grab, the enormous woman simply stepping from his path with a deft twirl. Then her elbow was colliding with the back of his head, causing him to stumble forward. As he spun to meet her, she sent out an arm with a flash, one of those brutal slaps connecting harshly with Oluth's muzzle.
He tried to retaliate with the same, but hit only air as she ducked and bobbed up, her breasts a tidal wave of momentum that put even more weight behind another two such slaps, each catching the Great Bull harshly enough to rock his head one way and then the other.
For the first time since I'd known him, I saw a new expression on Oluth's face, his eyes wide in response to the stinging pain, his cheeks a slightly different shade in embarrassment.
Then both turned to rage and he surged forward, this time managing to grab and bind her arm as she greedily swung for another slap. The two squared off against one another, locking hands and shoulders, fighting for control of this grapple. It was clear that Oluth was the stronger of the two of them, and slowly he forced her to the ground before him, trying his best to pin her arm.
Whether his intent was to actually break the limb or merely gain her submission I will never know, because as she fought his grip with one arm, the other snaked up and under his loincloth. From my vantage point I could see her long fingers wrap around one of his pendulous, dangling balls, unable to encompass the vast globe of course, but still gathering up more than I'd ever seen palmed.
One squeeze and harsh yank later and it was Oluth who was on his knees. She rose and toward over his half-prone form, sweetly caressing his muzzle in her palms a moment as he vainly attempted to soothe the pain in his ball. She said something that the crowd drowned out, but that I could hear.
"You've earned my respect. I'll be seeing you later." She said before abruptly launching one of her toned legs, battering Oluth between the eyes with a single well-placed knee. Down he went, and the match was over.
***
It took several strong men to drag the unconscious Bull over to where other surviving competitors were groaning in recovery. The three of us waited by his side, looking uneasily at one another as he slowly awoke.
"I..." He paused. "I lost." He finished, and then abruptly sat up, scattering blankets and girls in his haste. Then Oluth was stalking away from us, some unknown expression in his wide bovine eyes.
We took a few moments to rearrange ourselves and then ventured to follow, Oluth's massive footprints easy to track in the dirt. They led us into the town that sat closest to the arena and into a large bar.
There Oluth sat, quaffing ale from an entire pitcher as if it were a stein, huge muzzle in one of his broad palms.
