Placeholder To The Edge And Back (Orion)

[Victus]

63rd Day of Fall, 514AV Tall Johnny's Casino and Cage Fights 3rd Bell It wasn't death; he was sure that there was no pain in that place beyond the world he knew. But then again, what did he know of such things, really? His clay idol in his alcove... the offering bowl stained with his blood... what did they speak of, when it came to the afterlife? Just hopes. Shades. Shadows. That was all he had. Inky blackness tinged with red, throbbing pain that cut with every breath... and the whispers at the edges of his mind. "... bad it is, can it be healed?" "I suppose, but... him fighting again? That's longer odds." He wanted to move, and the terror at realizing he could not only fueled his futile efforts and left him writhing on harsh, scratching sheets. Cool, wet hands tried to still him, pressing on his chest- The slave moaned long and high on his cot, fingers suddenly touched and sparked of fire as they found the ragged gash across his chest made from Carsas' sword. The crude dressing over it was like silk before a raging river, both for the blood and for- Pain. Sharp and deep and icy straight after the flame, forcing his eyes open and the breath from his lungs, gasping up at the dark ceiling of the slave quarters and tasting coppery blood sloshing in his mouth. "Typical petching luck..." Tall Johnny turned before Victus could see the disgust on his master's face. The fight had been grueling beyond words, but his champion had won. Barely. Almost by default, in fact, considering the wounds dealt to him by Carsas might yet bear mortal fruit. Oh, Johnny had made a fortune that night and morning, the six round night of fights ending in Victus and Carsas restoring the fortunes and profits of his business... but now he had the aftermath to deal with. Boiling down to a very simple choice. He cast a wry look over his shoulder at the panting, groaning figure on the cot. Icy eyes that held not a spark of the mirth and goodwill that others always saw in them totted up and tallied the list of injuries. Maybe a broken arm. Bruised ribs. Cuts and bruises all over. A deep slash on the back, and on the leg... and his chest nearly hacked open. Johnny had seen men survive worse... but he'd seen them die from less, also. He stroked his stiff, waxed moustache and tried to calculate. Victus had reached the end of his tether, perhaps? Eighteen years was nothing to be sniffed at, and he was still young. Johnny had been hoping for far more, but instead... this was how it was to end? "How much you think it would cost?" His chief bookie for the night exhaled through puffed-out cheeks and scratched the back of his head. His boss quickly rolled his eyes and iron jumped into his tone. "Just a rough figure, for petch's sake! I don't need you to show your sodding working!" "I dunno, boss. Probably... eighty miza. For a thorough job." "Cheva's cunt, I want him healed, not made immortal-" "It won't just be one night, boss. They'll have to stay over for a few, make sure his blood's cleaned up, bathed, dressings changed, herbs and potions and all that shyke. And you want him healed and able to fight, right? Well, costs money, don't it? My Nan, back before she got cracked in the head, she used to-" "Yes-yes-yes," Johnny muttered with a wave of his hand, not needing to hear the whole sodding family history. He turned again to glance at Victus, staring at his back, eyes weaker than he had seen them in years. "I get the idea..." Johnny hadn't survived as long as he had in the merciless chaos of Sunberth without learning when to cut his losses. Many a venture he had reaped profit and then shut down before greed drove up the risks and threatened to take all from him. Victus was just another venture. He'd made him plenty of money over the years, but so wounded, so weak... Then his eyes narrowed. A new idea flared, one... what was it he'd thought before? The slave was no longer a boy, easily cowed and manipulated. As his skill grew, so did the risk of him becoming his own man. But what if he could curtail that? What if he could forever bind Victus to him, both in loyalty... and gratitude. "Take this," he said, loud enough so that he knew the half-delirious slave could hear him, pressing a purse into the bookie's hand, "You know where to find a healer this early?" "A couple of places, yes." "Good. Find one." He crouched by his gladiator and Victus could see his face swimming into view. Master. His one constant, save for the cage... and he had not yet abandoned him. Johnny turned on his best smile and stroked the slave's clammy forehead. "Bring him here. I'll not see my champion from this world just yet..."

[Orion Michaels]

Placeholder. Sorry for the delay.