Gladiators
"Who's next?"
The words were spoken, the crowd cheered, and the orc's challenge was answered. A minotaur came out into the arena, wielding axe and shield. Te'talca, her own shield battered, her sword covered in blood, strode forward to meet him.
"Bets, my friend?" asked the orc next to him.
"I'll pass."
"Suit yourself. You'll break."
No. I won't.
He watched as the orc and minotaur met. He watched as the orc dodged the minotaur's axe and swung her own, drawing blood from the creature's forehead. He listened to the cheers of the crowd and the howling of the beast. And Thrall felt ill.
Not Thrall. Go'el.
"So, tell me," said Thr'ka, leaning over to the shaman. "What do you think?"
Go'el remained silent.
"My friend?"
"Of what?" Go'el murmured.
"Of Te'talca of course. Fine woman, eh?"
"I have my own woman. Not that I'd call her mine."
"And some wouldn't call Te'talca a woman either. Doesn't change the fact that she's…appealing."
Appealing. That was one word for it Go'el supposed. There was indeed a certain appeal to watching a fellow orc succeed in battle, as her axe took one of her foe's horns off. The minotaur howled, and the shaman doubted it was from pain. Rather from frustration that he'd yet to even strike his foe in the whole match.
Go'el sighed as the crowd cheered. He wished he was home. With Aggra. Their son. Vol'jin. Baine. Even familiar faces that he wasn't sure he could call friend, but at least respected. Respect that he was having trouble to find here. Even as the gladiator sunk her axe into the minotaur's skull, pulling it back out and holding it high in the air as her foe fell to the ground.
I was there once.
Thr'ka cheered. The crowd cheered. The prison gate opened and a creature that looked like a two-legged goat walked out. A woolvir, if Go'el remembered correctly.
"You ever fight creatures like this?" Thr'ka asked.
"Pardon?"
"Aggra told me of your time as a gladiator. Did you partake in bouts of honour like this?"
"I fought an ogre once."
If Go'el's fellow orc was listening, he didn't show it. He was too busy cheering as Te'talca side-stepped her foe and brought her axe down into his leg. Only a few seconds into the match, and the orc combatant was at an advantage.
Or more of one.
Go'el got up. Thr'ka didn't notice. No-one seemed to. No orc, or any of the other races in the arena. Humans, elves, gnomes…it was almost like being at Durnholde, he reflected. For a moment, he glanced at Te'talca. Tall. Proud. Strong. All traits he regarded as qualities, but here, felt like they'd been twisted into something else.
Or chosen One doesn't need the blood of demons to act like this.
He didn't want to pass judgement, he reflected, as he exited the arena. But it was hard not to. The orcs of Entrath hadn't been corrupted by demonic forces as far as he could tell, but they seemed ready to fall into the same abyss his people had decades ago.
"Go'el?"
An abyss that they'd nearly fallen into again under Garrosh. And only pulled out at the last second.
"Are you alright?"
And thus prompting him to visit other planes beyond Azeroth. To visit this world of Entrath. He'd heard tales of a factional split that mimicked the Horde and Alliance, only in this world, humans, orcs, and elves, were on one side. He'd taken it as a sign of hope.
"Hey!"
But hope had slipped away again. Slipping away as surely as Aggra was there before him, looking as intimidating as the minotaur he'd seen in the arena minutes earlier.
"You got wax in your ears?" his mate asked.
"No." Go'el tried to smile. "They're just ringing from all the shouting."
"Right. And I'm a gnoll who was born yesterday and doesn't know the first thing about lying."
No, the shaman reflected. Of course she didn't. Aggra was honest. Aggra was strong. Aggra…wasn't a gladiator who fought for the sake of fighting. That was what he had to remember.
"It's the pit, isn't it?" the Mag'har asked.
Go'el remained silent.
"Blackmoore. When you were called Thrall. Orcs fighting for entertainment."
"But my people had no choice," Go'el murmured. "These…orcs," he said, struggling to get the word out, "fight for the sake of fighting."
"Huh. Sounds like Garrosh would have a field day."
Go'el winced. Directness was part of honesty, he supposed. Only directness could hurt.
"Well look, you've got your answer, don't you?" Aggra asked. "Orcs working with humans, elves, and all that. Some shining beacon of civilization."
Go'el ignored her. Instead he stared up at the mountain that cast its shadow over the arena. Over him.
"I mean, sure, they're at war with another group of races," Aggra murmured. "Dwarves, undead…but hey, you can't complain about rabbits can you?"
Go'el kept looking at the mountain. Kog'tepetl, Thr'ka had called it. Their primal. Their god. The one whom they fought in honour of.
"Um, Go'el? Azeroth to Go'el!"
And we fight to honour our ancestors. We fight in the Ring of Valour. We don't worship a single god, but the concept of worship in itself is the same.
Aggra hit him over the head again. He looked back at her.
"You want to leave?" she asked. "Fine. Say so."
Go'el sighed. He didn't know what to say. Or do. Or if his name was really Go'el, if perhaps at the end of the day, he was still Thrall. A slave. Bound to the past. Just like these orcs were bound to tradition. If he was maybe bound to Azeroth and should return. There was always some threat to be confronted it seemed. Maybe it was his fate.
Still, as he smiled at Aggra and she shook her head, he reflected that at least he had someone to share it with. And that she wouldn't grab an axe and try to use it against him.
Probably.
A/N
Stumbled across Hex in recent times, a MMOTCG by Cryptozoic Entertainment. Not my cup of tea in a gameplay sense, but I like how it's had a background lore and story built around it, even if it can't be expressed in the game itself. Anyway, as per said setting have orcs willingly fighting as gladiators, and how the orcs of Warcraft fought as gladiators unwillingly, came up with this.
