The arena was closed the following day, so that the cudgeled blood from many dead creatures could be mopped up or otherwise disposed of from the sands and flagstones stones of the battle floor, thus providing a temporary respite for contesting gladiators.
Arema awoke bleary eyed, and upon the cold hard stone floor in the same chambers as her sister's killer. She was in a small fetal ball with her knees pressed up against her chin, shivering, despite the wool blanket all so generously donated by that burned human. Her limbs were raw and stiff as she slowly stretched and pressed up upon her hands and knees.
There was a short delay of thought as she registered movement from the bed slab where the human warrior had prior been resting. His muscled bulk was rising from the slab like a giant awakening statue. In a delayed response, she screamed as a large hand grabbed her by the hair, and tossed her towards the wooden door where the personal chambers lead out into the hallway.
She hit the wooden frame with a muffled gasp of pain as t the human warrior started to adorn his bronze armor, "Stay dog," he addressed her. She started to protest, "I'm not a dog you stupid arrogant," but he backhanded her against the wall before she could finish, splashing red blood across the stonework.
Arema lay upon the floor with a busted bleeding lip, gasping for air, as the human warrior adorned his bronze cuirass and helm. He stepped over to her body and grabbed her wrist, squeezing it almost tight enough to break bones, "Listen dog," he addressed her, she responded with two blue eyes filled with hate, "I have no interests in bedding a xeno wretch like you, but by the same token you will be useful to me or I will kill you…"
At that moment the Blood Works Serfs opened the gladiator warrios doors to retrieve, what they suspected was yet another refused tribute, but instead what they found was the Burned-Man grinning towards them with the Eldar witch pilled upon the floor in evident pain.
"I'm keeping this one," he told them. The two serfs gasped and walked away from the door while bowing their heads out of respect to the enslaved martial master. The Coliseums champion had chosen his woman so who were they do deny him his prize. Besides, he had beaten her… and if the busted lips was anything to go by, then the foul Eldar woman had likely suffered greatly in his bed during the past night. For a group of humans… the sight of such a detestable arrogant creature being brought so low was something to be celebrated.
"As you wish my lord," addressed one of the serfs with his fellow black robed companion finishing, "and just so you are aware, the training floors have been opened for the day."
The Burned-Man nodded in approval and grabbed the Eldar woman by the waist, hoisting her lithe body over his shoulder like a sack of meal. She kicked and tore at his armor as he dragged her away, screaming profanities, and at one point bighting his dark burned skin.
"Let me down you monster!" she yelled as they rounded a stone corner illuminated in fading candle light. The human warrior ignored her squirming despite the heads she turned.
Oh, and they turned curious heads. The Burned-Man, Champion of the Coliseum, towing away an Eldar whore-slave, with many of the combatants noticing her busted blood smeared lips, and so they laughed to themselves. To them, among them, the jest was evident, 'The Burned-Man liked women after all.'
A few corridors later, the pair entered a vast open chamber where numerous combatants stood meleeing or shooting ranged target dummies. The Eldar steersman was surprised to see that among the assembled gladiators, there were not only humans, but also Orks, some fellow Eldar, and a lone one eyed Tau. Some of the assembled warriors glanced at the champion as he carried his beaten slave woman into the training arena, for such a thing was not uncommon in the Blood Works. In fact, it would have been uncommon if the gladiator had not raped his slave… but that was beside the point.
The assembled group paid little attention as the Burned-Man tossed the Eldar woman down upon the sands of the training arena where she moaned from the wind being knocking once more from her chest. She looked at him, in pain, as he walked over to a nearby weapons rack.
"Sword, bow, what have you?" he demanded with his large muscled back turned towards her. The Eldar woman struggled to breath, "I said that I'm not a warrior. I'm a steersman…"
He selected a sword, twirled it, and nodded out of appreciation for its balance. The Eldar woman watched him turn and walk towards her, tossing the blade into the sands near her face.
"Pick it up," he demanded. She looked at him with those hate filled eyes, "No," defiance, always defiance, clearly the woman was unaware of her situation, and the former Space Marine decided to remind her of it.
"I said pick it up," he narrowed his eyes underneath his bronze helm, and got closer to the woman so that she could better sense his anger, "You are no longer free, you are a slave, now pick… it… up…"
"No," she repeated. If she couldn't kill him, then at the least she could shame him. Unfortunately, her actions backfired for in this place none had honor including her fellow Eldar. They were all slaves, gladiators, or whores. This was the Blood Works, and now she had to choose… was she going to be a warrior or some gladiators whore?
"Either pick it up, or I'll leave you to them," he pointed to a group of nearby sparring Eldar warriors each dressed in studded leather armor, "And trust me," he continued with infamy in his voice, "You don't want me… to leave you… to them…"
She grinned at him and smugly replied, "I would rather have my own people tend to me than some barbaric human beast." He glared down at her with a hint of bitterness and glanced at the two Eldar warriors. Instinctively, they halted their actions, and noticed him give the briefest of nods.
"So be it…" he told her darkly, "let your own 'people' tend to you," and then the Champion casually walked away. Arema struggled to stand upon quaking knees as the two Eldar warriors strolled over to her wounded body. One appeared kind and offered her a helping hand, which she gladly accepted.
"My lady," he addressed her with a smile, "This way, and I will tend to your wounds. You will need to forgive the humans of this place… they are very," and he stopped briefly to grin wickedly while emphasizing his next word, "Brutal."
The Eldar woman was lead away into a side passage, dark, damp… eerily vacant, "Where are we," before she could finish something hit on the back of the head. Arema fell into darkness, and in a blur her reality fell back into place. One of the Eldar men had her wrists bound behind her back and was holding her firmly into place, a hand cupped over her mouth, his tongue licking one of her ear lobes.
"It's been a long time since I've tasted something so refined," he said lustfully while breathing rank fumes upon her exposed neck.
The other Eldar male was standing in front of her, undoing his trousers, dropping them to the ground with a wrinkling sound of thunking leather. He approached her, grabbed her thin blouse and tore it open revealing her pale skinned body, and blue soulstone upon her exposed chest.
"A fine treat, I must thank the Champion later," he said while forcing open her thighs. Arema screamed and tried to fight back, but they were too strong, and she felt the man… a man of her own race, forcing himself unto…
It was now that a dark shadow loomed over the three Eldar. The one holding her mouth shut slackened his gripe, let go of her body, and started to slowly back away as she sunk weekly to her knees, tears streaming down the sides of her cheeks. She looked up, struggling to breath, as a hand moved as swift as lightening, slamming the Eldar rapist against the wall, shattering his head like a melon.
The other Eldar male tried to run, but this monster was far too quick and threw his short blade into the man's back. Arema watched the second warrior of her race collapse dead, a pool of thick red blood gathering beneath his liveless corpse.
Above her, shadowed in the flickering candle light, stood the Burned-man, looking down upon her bare and exposed naked body with pity. In a rare moment of shame, the Eldar woman covered her nakedness and refused to meet his eyes until at last he spoke, "In this place what you are… doesn't matter. You are a slave. We're all slaves. Now choose. Do you want to be a warrior or some mans whore? Those… are your only two options."
Arema gripped her shoulders, drawing blood where her finger nails bit into exposed skin. She looked at the foul human, and with immense bitterness in her eyes said, "I hate you. With every fiber of my being… I hope you die."
The human warrior unleashed a brutal hard laugh which clearly rang throughout his entire soul, "Ohhh…" he shrieked, "I've felt that way before. You keep that hate close to your heart, keep it burning, and trust me… you'll be rewarded well in due time."
The Burned-man now threw her a grey wool tunic "Put this on…" and while pointing towards the sword still embedded in the other Eldar's back, "And that's your blade. Find me in the Training Arena when you're dressed…"He stalled briefly as if considering his next word and finally said, "woman," instead of 'dog.' Arema watched the giant human walk away… leaving her with the two dead corpses of her own kind, the same kind which would have taken her without permission… had he not intervened.