Iceis here again.
I appear before you to give all those seeking fame, fortune, blood and pain, to warn you of the horrors of the arena. I know that you are probably skeptical of why the Grand Champion, as well as one of the three Heroes of Kvatch is warding you away from the 'glory' of having blood on your hands.
Actually, the blood-on-hands thing isn't so bad, coming from the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood.
What the real terrible thing about the arena is the glories. Seriously! I kid you not. The damned Blademaster and Battle Matron's idea of prowess is to go into a giant circle open room, where your 'opponent' charges towards you, screaming like a damned Imga! And believe me, Imga's know how to make your ears bleed.
What's worse is that there are no shadows to hide in. Whenever I attempt to hide, the crowd start to jeer to me, "What's the matter house cat? Scared?" I swear, if my good old friend Baurus wasn't sitting in the stands, I would of shot arrows in the skulls of everyone in the crowd. So I usually just settle for giving them the middle finger and stabbing my opponent through the heart, and scream at the heckler, "WHAT NOW, BITCH?!"
Eventually I managed to work my way to the top of the bloody food chain and even did a side quest for the Grey Prince who went into a boo-hoo cry-cry state after learning he was part vampire. Vicente didn't have a problem with being a vampire, so watching a big 'strong' Orc man sob because of this made me start laughing, even when Owyn told me to shut up.
But here's where the misery starts. I challenged the Grand Champion. And won. That was the worse mistake of my Khajiit life. If I had known… if only I have known the great price of earning the name of Dragonheart and Grand Champion… I would have not helped that Orc find out who his daddy was and would have died with a grin.
Because, you want to know what? I got an ADORING FAN who doesn't know how to shut up. All I was doing was minding my own business, coming out of the Bloodworks and started heading towards the Market District when this wood elf boy runs up to me, squealing like a silly little school girl, "By Azura, by Azura, by Azura, it's the Grand Champion! Standing right here, in front of me!"
I feel sorry for Azura too. She's probably contemplating how to drown herself in the Waters of Oblivion as he chants her name.
You want to know what the worst part is? I cant kill him. I tried to once, from pushing him off the side of a mountain, I even saw his crumpled form, and I watched him get eaten alive by slaughter fish. But, oh no, every damn time I returned to the arena, there he was! All smiles! Then he begins to worship the ground I walk on.
So, beware challengers. Beware the so-called 'glories' of the arena. It is merely an illusion. All you manage to get in the end is screechy opponents, jeering crowds, a sobbing Grey Prince, and a permanent Hell Fan devoid of a real name. Beware!
:| Not happy with this one…. But I'm publishing it anyway.