The mantle of trophies always felt heavier on the muscled woman's shoulders when she stood before the large sealed grated gate, looking at the sands beyond it which, by now, were adorned not only with just the scattered scenery of boulders and rocks, but also wooden wreckage and spilt blood from the previous contestants as well. These would have left behind forgotten weapons as well, somewhere, but none that should be trusted - a lesson taught but once.
A line of dust fell down from ceiling as the rumbling of the crowd above her showed its strength, giving signal she was due to enter even before the working aide popped up by her side to tell her so. Nodding quietly, she silently counted her moments while the gears that worked the heavy gate creaked, whined and struggled to lift the barrier to the outside, waiting until the right moment to step forward through the mechanical bustle, the squares of sunlight beginning to reveal the advancing woman's previously shrouded form, who kept stride as her head just barely missed scraping against the rising spikes that would soon dig themselves again into the ground, sealing her inside the desolate landscape.
Many had wet themselves once the gate closed - she had too, in another life. Now, the woman carried herself with confidence, reaching the assigned spot some paces inside while the ramblings of the announcer's magically enhanced voice bellowed through the air with tales of the fighter's feats and conquests, her ear ignoring the fluff while waiting for the awaited signal of its conclusion, at which point she raised her sword arm for the crowd to cheer, steel shining in the late morning sun.
She proudly stood somewhat over 6ft tall, higher than most and stronger than even more still, near able to match a full-blooded orc's savage presence, even with her full form veiled underneath a heavy cloak of trophies made from the sewn pelts of a dozen wolves she herself slaughtered on these sands, a tapestry weighted over the shoulders by the engraved ram's horns from a chimera that suffered the same fate; It was her right to display her feats, but she would not fight donning them, and so she raised her other arm, putting her chest forward in a manner which caused the cloak to slide down her back until it fell to the ground, revealing the woman's full body to the crowd of growing cheers and whistles while the giant images floating overhead the arena left nothing to the patrons' imaginations, a courtesy provided by the invisible scrying orbs moving on and about, manned by very dedicated wizards.
Where before those floating spies of magic circled wide and lazy rings around the woman to present her entrance, the mages controlling them went into a frenzy at the drop, rushing near her figure for all in attendance to enjoy. The woman had her sandy blonde hair shaved on both sides and most of the back of the head, braiding the remainder into thick rope which draped down the center of her back to stop just short of her waist; focused green eyes glared a piercing stare towards the other entrance, her rush and impatience showing through a light snarl on the plump lips that had a natural pout to them, marked by the bite of a small scar near an edge of the upper one. Already rowdy and amped, the crowd truly came to life with the following angles shared by the scryers as they promptly swept over her scar-speckled tanned skin, oiled to a permanent shine from the special concoction fighters used to numb their bodies and keep dust from clinging to them, ensuring the best possible spectacle for all the good patrons. Already earning their coin's worth, the spectators were presently treated to much of the woman's enticing body by courtesy of what amounted to a leather bikini that pulled taught against both her generous chest and toned rear, two softer assets that stood out in her pleasantly muscled figure. Donning one pair of bracers and another of strapped battle sandals, this outfit would be far from the fighter's choice of wear, but those in this position were only allowed to pick one thing to bring up to their own standards with them on the arena, all matters else left up to the organizers' whims; and so, she followed the mantra that had kept her alive through thick and thin, where many had fallen -- always choose your sword.
And what a sword she picked: unwieldy for many others, the weapon had nearly 50 inches of length to it, while stretching another 8 over its width, a measure which kept true from the guard up to the last 10 of edge, which it tapered to a mean point.
Glancing up, the woman noticed the image on display closely detailing the journey of a sweat droplet that lazily fell down her cleavage, a crude choice that got a sigh out of her as she walked forward again, giving the unseen seer an incredible close up of its target, only for her oiled breasts to suddenly disappear from the picture as she "hit" the orb, moving through it without any resistance. The wizard controlling it wasted no time in switching aim, now sharing with crowd the comfortable sway of her braid and sultry rear.
Her walk stopped when loud bangs overpowered the voice that ran through the oval arena, a beast's howl silencing even the man with magic in his voice, who quieted into whispers while remaining just as clear to the audience as before. The announcer interchanged his scared praises of the gladiatrix's foe with the increasingly louder sounds of something hitting steel and splintering wood, hints of a strong beast or monster destroying its shackles rather than being freed from them, all while the gate began its pained ascent, rising a quarter of the way up until two enormous hands emerged underneath from the shadows to grip the lowest horizontal bar, shoving the whole thing up until it stopped with a crash, giving way to the figure that stomped towards the light with heavy deep breaths, surprising the announcer to a shout and the audience to gasp, with some even considering giving up their good seats for safety from the massive minotaur that had entered the arena dragging behind him a pair of thick chains still locked on his wrists, each bound to its own thick block of broken wood from the beams they had been secured to.
The bovine lumbered a distance similar to the one she had previously covered and answered to a matching queue with a display of beastly power by throwing the heavy chains in the air and bellowing an incredibly monstruous shout that ended with the too-cleanly cut blocks and chains slamming down on the ground with determined violence, a peacocking set of actions which proved that despite the selling of this creature as a wild beast to the spectators through speeches, looks and actions, this fighter was anything but; this foe wasn't an "it", but rather a "him".
Trumpets sounded and the arena fell to murmurs, which then gave stage to silence as an older man dressed in rich garments lounging on the most luxurious chambers rose from his seat, a piece so adorned it was tantamount to a throne, even when compared to the others present on the opulent gallery. Handing his wine cup to a servant, the man sauntered down the small carpet-covered stairs into the edge of the balcony and breathed in, enjoying the attention he received as master of games with a smile, drinking enough adoration to feel those present worthy of his gift, which would be a self-serving speech to the crowd, one which glorified himself, the good people in attendance and the events of the day; empty air that allowed the fighters time to take stock of one another, one's animalistic eyes lazily dragging over the woman's body while she surveyed the monster man with trained detail in kind, not in the least pleased with what she saw.
The minotaur dwarfed even her by well over 2 feet of height, his large shoulder span paling only by comparison with the thick, long and very sharp horns protruding from the bovine head, pointing outwards with barely a curve to them. A thick coat of long brown fur covered the entirety of the creature's lower body, head and girthy neck, the veritable pelt thinning out towards the muscled torso where it disappeared to reveal naked skin, though the beast's forearms showed some scruff on their back as well. Even the human-looking area of heavily tanned skin seemed inhumanely thick and leathery, promising a very tough chew for whatever edge tried to bite it.
A few moments passed as the encompassing crowd gradually blurred to a mesh in the woman's eyes, the images moving above the sands vanished from her mind and the heightened voice currently shouting became all but mute in her ears despite being heightened by the same magics that would soon carry the sounds of battle booming through the building, the gladiatrix's undivided attention focused fully on the "monster" in front of her, studying in more detail the now only other presence in the midst of this dissociated battlefield.
