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Quinn's wrists ached from the sun-heated steel shackles. His neck was raw, and fur matted from the heavy iron collar, his tongue was dry and cracked from thirst, and he could barely see out of his left eye, as the swelling had only just begun to go down. He glanced up at the small sliver of sky visible directly above him, the high walls of the paddock appearing more like jagged wooden teeth in the maw of some monster threatening to swallow him whole. Even despite their height, he could still make out the terrible din of an unseen crowd somewhere nearby.

The clank of chains and a tug at his wrist drew his gaze back to the creature beside him, a gangly bear with filthy dark reddish-brown fur dressed in the same type of threadbare loincloth as himself. Quinn had never seen a bear so thin. The ones back in Brenton were always thickly built and intimidating. Though, he mused, with how they'd been eating, he probably appeared far from a healthy weight himself.

The bear moved to scratch his snout, the action tugging at the wolfs wrists again, reminding him where he was.

"Thinkin' a tryin' to climb outta here, wolf?" the bear mumbled. "Don' think you'll get very far." He gave the chain connecting their bound paws a shake.

Quinn didn't respond, instead taking in the group around him. Aside from the bear, there was a dark-maned lion, a large ape the likes of which he had never seen before (and who Quinn had recalled seeing take food from weaker slaves back in the pits), and a short striped hyena, who whipped his muzzle about frantically, nervous eyes scanning the paddock around them.

The hyena's eyes met Quinn's, and quickly lowered to stare at his paws.

Quinn quickly glanced back toward the entrance of the paddock, attempting to bite back his own nerves.

The paddock was only about ten feet wide, and three times as long, though curved along its length, forming a half-circle. On either end of the paddock sat a heavy iron door built into the wooden walls, armed guards on either end. Sitting in the center of the curved wall was a large set of iron-reinforced heavy wooden doors, which appeared to open outward toward the center of the half-circle.

"Ain't no runnin' from this, pup." The bear spoke again, nodding to the large double doors. "Master says fight, so you're gonna fight, or you're gonna die pissin' yourself."

At these words, a strange whimper escaped the hyena's muzzle, drawing the gaze of the four other slaves.

The creature's ears fell flat and he shrank back from their stare, a visible tremble erupting through his body. It was difficult for him to tell over the foul scent of the slaves about him, even with his sharp nose, but Quinn thought he detected a trace of fresh urine.

The lion muttered something in a language Quinn didn't understand, causing the hyena to shrink back even more.

"Says 'guess we know who's gonna be first.'" The bear took it upon himself to translate for the wolf.

Quinn turned back to the gate, suddenly feeling as if the weight of the collar around his sore neck had doubled. The bear certainly didn't need to remind him of his current situation. He never even wanted to go march off to war in some demon-claimed desert in the name of some bastard god who hated him. Of course, it was his father who made the arrangements. Said it would cleanse his tainted soul. Probably chose that caravan on purpose.

The thoughts pushed the fear out of Quinn's head, rage taking its place.

"Ya slow, boy? Or do ya not speak the western-folks tongue? Ya sure look like you're from the west."

Quinn glared at the bear, opening his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the iron door at the far-right end of the paddock clanking open.

A striped hyena entered, quickly followed by two guardsmen, a lion and a bull.

Quinn recognized the hyena instantly, as he was the one who purchased him from the auction block just over a week ago. He was dressed in a sleeveless light-gray cotton tunic with matching cloth arm wraps and a set of baggy black linen half-trousers. a wicked looking scimitar hung off his left hip from a dark grey sash below a black leather belt.

Master Tarek, as he had introduced himself, had explained how he had no use for fieldworkers, because he had no fields to work, nor did he care for the pretty house slaves that helped him dress or fetched him a shit bucket. His fortune, he had said, was in the arena.

Tarek walked along the line of slaves, examining them each critically before moving on to the next, occasionally grabbing one roughly some place or another. First was the ape, who dwarfed the hyena noticeably. If Tarek was intimidated at the ape's glare, he didn't show it, merely gripping the slave's large forearm and examining the bound fists before moving on to the bear beside Quinn. When the hyena got to Quinn, he roughly gripped the wolf's muzzle, forcing his nose to the right, so that he may examine his swollen eye.

Quinn instinctually moved to pull away.

"Haven't broken you yet. Good." He said, dropping his muzzle and moving on to the dark-maned lion on Quinn's left.

Next was the striped hyena, who flinched, falling back. Tarek gave the wretched creature a wicked grin.

It was hard for Quinn to see any real species kinship between the two, despite the similar markings and fur coloration. One stood so straight and broad, dressed in clean fresh cloth and a rich man's weapon at his side, the other, a mostly naked wretch cowering in his own filth.

"I thought you said he was a murderer?" Tarek asked, turning to the lion guardsman.

"He is. Doesn't mean he will make a good gladiator, sir." The lion replied, drawing a high laugh from the hyena that made Quinn tense uncomfortably.

"Of course, it doesn't. Still, what a shame. Hopefully the others will pull his weight--" Tarek's eyes darted back to the whimpering hyena "--not that there is much weight to pull."

The well-dressed hyena returned to the center of the line, placing his back to the large double doors and faced his slaves.

"Is there a slave here that knows what a Proving is?" he asked, eyes searching the bound creatures. The ape grunted but made no further attempt to speak. The bear beside Quinn spoke.

"I do, master."

Tarek's gaze rested on the bear.

"Explain to the other's what a Proving is then, slave."

"Yes, master. A Provin' is the fight where a slave becomes a gladiator prospect. It's ta cut out the slave's that won't cut it."

"Indeed." Tarek approved, eyes scanning his slaves once again, pausing only momentarily on the whimpering hyena on the end.

"On the other side of these doors behind me is a sand arena. In the center of that arena lay five weapons. On the far end of that arena will be five slaves, much like you. If you can count that high, you will see that the numbers don't quite add up." He paused to laugh at his own joke, the noise sending another twitch down Quinn's neck.

His ears did perk up at the mention of weapons, however. Quinn had never been trained on any sort of weapon, being the son of a leatherworker and all. Still, he was no stranger to fights, but those had never been lethal. More realistically, his experience came from learning how to defend himself from his father or various cubs around Brenton. Perhaps that's why his father had seen fit to send him away to war. Probably hoped battle would rid him of a tainted son.

"Now, I have a bit of a wager on this fight. I bet Baron Pert that my slaves will win. He believes his will be the victorious lot. The loser pays the winner 10 gold for every slave left standing on the winner's side, plus 10 gold for every slave the loser, well, loses. You stand to lose far more than I do in this fight. See to it that you are the ones that walk out of there, and I can promise each of you that you will be rewarded more than just breathing another day. If one of you refuses to enter the arena, or refuses to fight, I shall see any survivors whipped and the coward left buried in the sun to rot."

With that, the striped hyena nodded to the bull guardsman before heading for the iron door on the far right.

The bull moved to the right of the group of slaves, drawing a key from somewhere beneath his chainmail, and setting to work removing the shackles of each one down the line.

Quinn rubbed his wrists gratefully once the heavy steel fell away, despite the pain the action caused.

The bull finished, and then returned to the iron door with the lion guardsman, both exiting without another word.

"Look, pup--erh, wolf, I got your back if you got mine?" the bear muttered.

Quinn considered him for a moment, before nodding at length.

"Just try not ta die." The bear said with a weak grin.

Just then, the double doors groaned open, providing Quinn with the first glimpse of the arena.

It was smaller than he expected, being only about 50 feet in diameter, and walled with the same heavy wooden walls that made up the paddock. There were only two entrances into the arena, as far as he could tell, the one they stood at, and one mirroring theirs at the opposite end.

"C'mon, wolf!" the bear growled, rushing forward, just behind the massive ape that was already barreling into the ring.

Quinn cursed himself, making to run for the door, when a shriek to his left gave him pause.

He turned to see the lion dragging a terrified hyena by the wrist, growling something in the foreign language, before getting fed up and striking him hard with the back of his paw.

The hyena went limp, whimpering to himself as the lion lifted him easily onto his shoulder before moving to follow the other two.

Quinn rushed out after them, believing full well that the stated punishment for cowardice was more than just a threat.

The claustrophobic scents of the paddock gave way to a new, strange collection of scents. Fear and excitement mingled in the air, with sweat and the panting breaths of a cheering crowd. He had to blink as his eyes adjusted to the glare of sunlight on the sand, but quickly saw five large shapes rushing toward the center of the ring, where random objects lay scattered in the sand. He was farthest away from the weapons now, and knew full well that even untrained, an equipped opponent would stand a better chance than he did unarmed.

He rushed past the lion, who had slung the hyena aside, and was rushing to the nearest object in the sand, a spear by the look of it.

Blood pounded in his ears as he ran, blocking out the noise of the crowd, mind only capable of focusing on the shoddy weapon and his pounding heart. His legs propelled him forward, the distance seeming longer than he remembered.

A tan blur skidded in the sand next to the short spear, gripping at it wildly, just as Quinn closed on it.

The wolf slammed into the form, feeling a knee connect to a muzzle, and paws closing around the iron collar around its neck.

He felt a paw connect with his stomach, but the blow lacked any real strength, and he managed to move his shoulder around to catch the other one aimed for his face.

Before he even realized, he had managed to get atop the Jackal--it was definitely a jackal--and had both his paws gripping the iron collar around his neck, knee pressed hard on his opponent's chest.

Blood flowed freely from the dazed creatures muzzle, and he was missing some teeth.

Quinn released one paw from the jackal's collar, raising it up in a fist to slam down on the poor creature's face.

The jackal tried to move his arms up in a feeble defense, but Quinn's strikes found their mark, further bloodying the jackals face.

The wolf struck again and again, until the jackal could no longer move to resist.

Stumbling away, Quinn cringed when he saw the motionless canine.

A loud shriek drew his attention away from the bloodied face, and he turned to see the largest creature he'd ever seen, a boar, standing almost a full foot taller than himself, bearing down on the striped hyena.

The bloodied and broken body of the lion lay motionless in the sand between Quinn and the boar, a discarded blade of some sort by his side.

The wolf rushed toward it, sliding next to the boar to grip the short sword, before stumbling back to his feet, turning back to the boar in time to see the monster lift the terrified hyena like he was little more than a sack of grain.

The monster's maw opened almost impossibly wide, jaws closing around the struggling creatures head. A sickening crunch echoed even above the roar of the crowd, halting Quinn in his tracks.

Blood and bone splattered from the beast's mouth as he dropped the very dead hyena, head crushed and almost unrecognizable.

Quinn's insides tightened and his vision spun. He had to fight back a wave of nausea as the crazed boar turned to him now, face and tusks coated with gore from his victim.

Suddenly, the sword in his paw felt insufficient as the beast gave a mighty roar, barreling toward him.

He only just leaped aside, the boar managing to clip the wolf with his shoulder as he passed.

Even so, Quinn couldn't keep his footing on the shifting sand, and found himself spinning to the ground.

Luckily, the boar's momentum caused him to stumble in the sand as well, providing Quinn the opportunity to recover enough to meet the boars next attack.

He thrust out with the sword, only to find a massive arm bat the weapon free of his paw.

The scent of blood was reassuring, though that was short lived as massive hands suddenly closed around his collar. He felt his entire body lift off the ground as the monster pulled him up with little effort.

Panic shot through the wolf as the boar lifted him toward those menacing tusks. A paw shot up, dull claws raking at the beast's eye.

It was enough, however, and the boar's grip lessened. Quinn kicked out with both legs, feeling paws connect with a solid knee.

A loud crack echoed in his ears as he felt himself slam back into the sand for the second time in such a short time, blasting the wind from his lungs.

When he caught his breath, he cursed himself, praying it was the boar's knee, and not his ribs, which now ached terribly, that was responsible for the horrific sound.

He had his answer barely a second later, when a shriek from the boar pulled him back to the fight.

The beast was bracing himself up in the sand on three limbs, pulling himself towards Quinn, a ruined leg bent awkwardly at the knee dragging behind.

Quinn remembered the spear next to the fallen jackal, and rushed to scoop it up, turning back to the beast, who was moving faster than he reasonably should be able to.

The wolf rushed forward to thrust the spear at the frenzied creature, but again, the boar slammed the weapon aside, ripping it from Quinn's grip.

Quinn blinked, realizing a second too late his attack had failed, just as a massive fist rushed toward him.

He managed to turn aside, not entirely avoiding the hit, but not taking its full force either.

However, the boar was atop him before he could recover, gripping him by the shoulders and pinning his arms to his side.

Quinn tried to knee out, but the boar brought his weight down to straddle the struggling wolf. The foul stench of boar, blood, and exertion assaulted the wolf's powerful nose.

The roar of the crowd cut through the pounding in his ears, and panic seized him.

Quinn could almost imagine his father's smile in that moment, as if the bastard could see his queer son meeting violent judgement. He hated the feeling of defeat the thought gave him. Hated the throbbing in his side, and the dull ache in his eye. Hated that he was in a sun-scorched desert far from the land he knew. Despised that he had fallen so low that now, at death, he was little more than a commodity for entertainment.

All because his god made a mistake.

The boar's mouth opened, tusks brandishing threateningly. The stench of gore and rot strong in the beast's breath.

Quinn struggled with everything he had, rage dulling the pain and the noise of the crowd. The boar gored down with horrific tusks, just as the wolf managed to shift enough weight to tilt a shoulder aside.

It was a small thing but provided the wolf enough leverage to wiggle out just a little more, shifting to avoid most of the attack.

A sharp pain ripped through the outer edge of his shoulder as the boar gored wildly, trying to thrust his natural weapons into the struggling wolf.

Quinn suddenly lunged forward, feeling teeth close around flesh. The coppery taste of blood quickly filled his muzzle. Thrashing his head violently, he felt the boars grip on him weaken and slip as flesh begin to tear away in his mouth.

Before Quinn knew what happened, he'd managed to force the beast off him, teeth snapping again on the creatures torn throat, following him down to the ground, where he shook until the hunk of flesh tore free.

The wolf stumbled away from his fallen opponent, heaving blood and flesh from his muzzle as well as his meager stomach contents onto the arena ground.

The noise from the audience above was deafening, causing the wolf to lay his ears flat. He glanced up into the sea of anonymous faces, all crazed with bloodlust, and then vomited again.

Disgust gripped him, the realization that he swallowed sentient flesh taking hold as his rage fled.

He was now guilty of murder and tasting the flesh of a sentient. Two more sins to add to his growing list.

A new pain in his right shoulder brought him back to the present, and he glanced down to see a large gash from the boar's tusk.

"Ey, wolf!" the voice of the bear cut through the crowd, causing a twitch in Quinn's ears.

He searched the arena around him, finding three others' still standing.

The bear gripped a large wood and stone hammer in both paws as he circled off with something Quinn had never seen.

He was stoutly built, broad in the shoulders and torso like any bear the wolf was familiar with, and had massive claws to match, though had a tail longer than any bear, but still shorter than a wolfs. His fur was dark brown and black. The creature was scaled smaller than a bear overall, though still large enough to be formidable.

The beast gripped a large axe in two hands and was clearly faster than the taller bear, swinging and diving with terrible ferocity.

Beyond them, the ape was busy slamming both fists into what appeared to have been another lion, though only a broken and bloody mess remained.

"Wolf!" the bears cry came out as a plea, and Quinn's eyes darted back just as the axe grazed the bears thigh, leaving a line of red.

Quinn scanned the arena, eyes falling on the nearby spear. Scooping it up, he charged the two fighters, rushing the beast from behind.

The animal spun with impossible agility, sending an axe chop at the wolf's injured shoulder. Quinn tried to position the spear to deflect, but his wounded arm made the move clumsy, and he ducked aside instead, the wind from the axe tussling his head fur and causing an ear to twitch.

He spun back to face his attacker, just as the bear slammed his hammer down on the creature's head.

Quinn flinched as blood sprayed across his muzzle and eyes, but still somehow managed to witness the beast go limp and collapse in a heap.

The bear gave him a grateful smile, large paw patting his uninjured shoulder and nodding up to the crowd.

The wolf followed his gaze and had to plant his ears flat once again from the noise.

Quinn saw a spotted hyena stand in the lower box and raise his arms to the crowd, which fell silent almost instantly.

"Quite the unexpected Proving!" the hyena called as he surveyed the crowd for dramatic effect.

"It would seem Baron Tarek has gathered quite the group of slaves! Let me be the first to welcome his new prospects!" at that the crowd roared again, and the spotted Hyena returned to his seat.

Quinn was increasingly becoming aware of the growing pain throughout his body as the adrenaline of the fight dissipated. Him and the remaining slaves were quickly ushered back to the double doors, which were open once again.

Back in the paddock, the wolf braced himself against the wall, spear still in hand.

The iron door at the right clanked once again, and Tarek pushed through it, followed quickly by his two guards from before.

He had a sizeable grin on his muzzle as he stopped before the trio of weary combatants.

"Ah, I knew I chose well. Had higher hopes for the lion, but you can't win them all."

He stopped before the ape looking him up and down, eyes pausing on each cut. "You're gonna win me a lot of gold, Crusher." He stated.

He stepped next to the bear. "Ah, Badger, I've never seen one of your kind fight so determined yet cautious. Will be interesting to see how you fare in the future."

Quinn was confused at the species misidentification, but kept his mouth shut.

The bear nodded as a huff escaped his muzzle.

The hyena gave his terrible high laugh, next turning toward the battered wolf.

"Ah, Savage. You truly exceeded expectations." He said, gripping the wolf by the bicep of his injured arm.

Quinn grimaced in pain, flinching away from the touch.

The hyena's smile widened.

"Normally, I'd have you whipped for that offense. However, I am generous, on account of your victory, and I suspect beating the spirit out of you will keep you from paying off in any future games."

He turned as he continued.

"The first trial is over. You are now prospects. Congratulations on living another day." Quinn cringed at the shrill chuckle that followed.

"Waiting for you back at the pits is a healer, a warm bath, and a meal of roasted chicken and fresh bread. That is your reward for victory tonight. Tomorrow, you will board a cart destined for Aarus. The Fortunes Day Festival is in one month. It is a trade celebration accompanied by a month of games and events, culminating in a gladiator's tournament for which you shall begin training immediately. You will be ready for your qualification match that will be held in three weeks. That is all."

With that, Tarek spun and left his guards to gather the weary prospects' weapons and lead them out the iron door on the far left of the paddock.