I own nothing. But would love to own a Gannicus clone :)

Pain. That was all he felt. Excruciating pain as the Roman fuck drove nails into his arms. Gannicus thought that he'd feel some sort of satisfaction knowing he had sent many soldiers to the afterlife but all he could feel was fire burning through his veins as blood leaked from his body. But soon a coldness filled him as his life slowly drained and as it did he caught a glimpse of a familiar form. And as it turned the face of Oenomaus was revealed with a kind knowing smirk upon face. Then slowly the cries of pain and anguish around him became shouts of joy and the stench of death morphed into the smell of sweat and sand as the scene around him changed to the arena in Capua. The crowds, a sea of colors and voices cheered as one and shouted his name and the old feeling of jubilation he had always felt upon the sands returned. Then suddenly he was no longer nailed to a cross but stood with his arms held high above his head soaking in the roar of the masses. And as he bellowed out his battle cry he decided if this was dying, it wasn't so bad.

The night was moonless and sky full of clouds threatening rain as two cloaked figures slowly made their way down the long winding road lined with crosses of condemned slaves from recent failed rebellion with a large covered wagon. A tiny lantern their only source of light. The stench of death and decay were all but overwhelming. Many had avoided this path to Rome since the erection of this ally of death but the two hooded formes were on a mission they would not be detoured from.

"Ugh!" One loudly whispered to the other as they passed under one rotting corpse after another, "One could hardly belive it's been but three days since the fall of the rebellion. Yet from fucking stench one would think it had been weeks."

"That is true but days have been long and hot and many a soul nailed to cross were all but dead in first place." Replied the other in a kinder smooth voice.

"I would but call our being here tonight fool's errand if it were not for hope to liberate some of our brother's and sister's from horrid fate."

"Neither would I wish to be here to have heart-break with every lifeless body we come upon. But come let us see who among them still clings to life. We haven't much time and should not travel upon road for too great a distance."

And so they stopped and checked each body upon the crosses for nearly a mile with growing sadness and dismay for there was no sign of life among them when the smaller of the pair looked up and with choking sob exclaimed "Kore!"

The other looked quickly about to insure there was no one near to of heard before wrapping their arms in comfort and cursing "Fucking Crassis! To condemn one supposedly so loved to undeserved fate is lower than I thought even Roman shits were capable of."

They both said a quick silent prayer and moved onto the next cross where an even more heart wrenching site awaited.

"Gannicus." The taller one sobbed blue eyes welling with tears and voice thick with emotion. "I would given all to of seen you returned to loving arms of one who dies a bit each day without you brother."

The smaller figure held tight to his companion returning earlier comfort and sharing in equal grief. And once tears had been shed the other ruefully remarked, "Even in death the mad fucking Celt hold smile upon smug face." The other stepped from their embrace to look closer and upon inspection realized he spoke true. Not sure if his suspicions were of fleeing hope to find any survivors or a need to know for certain that the once great God of the Arena was truly dead he placed hand upon pulse point and beneath shaking fingers felt faint proof of life. The cloaked man nearly whooped and shouted for joy but managed to hold himself in check as he quickly grabbed the arm of his companion.

"Do not despair. Under all cuts bruises and dried blood he yet draws breath! The man is truly unkillable", He softly chuckled with joy and relief, "Help me get him down quickly before we are discovered."

And so they again prayed to the gods this time giving thanks for the life they had spared as they set to work at freeing their brother from the wooden cross and carefully laid him in the straw filled wagon. Once they compleated the task they looked about them to insure they were not seen by anyone else who may be upon the road. Satisfied they were not detected they placed a blanket and more straw over Gannicus as soon as were certain his form would not be seen by any they encountered they removed themselves from the road and headed towards the mountains in the north

Gannicus couldn't help but smile as the sound of his sword clashed against shield of his opponent as they danced around each other looking for a weak spot in the other's defence that could be taken advantage of. The other man was by no mean his equal in skill but it was still a thrill to fight in contest. And this match was not for their lives or for the pleasure of someone who thought themselves' their master or better it was for the joy of competition. As he moved to press his advantage he again thought of how easy death came and thought to how he hadn't minded its embrace. If nothing else the visage of this arena would be a decent place to dwell until Sibyl came to join him. Hopefully not until she had enjoyed a long full life in freedom. Yet the thought of her becoming another man's wife, bearing his children created a painful knot in his chest. What if when she reached the afterlife she wished to stand beside another? His own touch and love but distant memory the fire he had ignited inside her long extinguished in favor of someone else? He quickly pushed such thoughts aside as he brought his sword under his opponent's shield and knocked the other man to the ground. Smiling triumphantly Gannicus stooped down and helped the other man up.

"You fought well. Though you were far outmatched." he said

"I but fought once upon the sand before being cut down." the other replied "I was but fodder for better fighters to throw into the flames of ignited crowed. I but wished to fight once with the God of the Arena and perhaps gain some instruction."

"Another time perhaps. I would see if this phantom of mighty arena is but pale shadow of the original or if it is truly as grand as it is inside as out."

And so he made his way off the sands as another pair of fighters took their place. But suddenly the scene around him started to darken and the pain from earlier returned tenfold not just in his arms but his whole body. He gasped for breath against the pain as dark and light danced before his eyes. We'll I must not be truly dead. He thought. The dead feel no pain. Then thought turned as to why he had been pulled from death's door until cool water was pressed to his lips. At first he thought it was some sadistic Roman trying to keep him alive longer to prolong his suffering so he tried to refuse. But soft hands and soothing voice calmed him as true darkness over took him.

Gratitude if you would read and review