Dravidan sauntered out of his small hut, and into the designated area for
slaves and gladiators. He had lived in this cursed place since the day he
was born; his mother having died from the blood loss of giving birth, and
his father having never truly been known to him. Word was, that his father
had resisted all attempts to be captured for the past twenty years. As the
reputation grew of this Daundero Ghengar on the outside world, he rallied
his fellow Geltor to his cause, and currently, they were out in some
encampments in the hills.
To the youth though, that was all a dream, a legend, a myth. His captors seemed to agree with him in that aspect. If he ever ventured to ask questions of the outside world, and more specifically the legendary Daundero; they would flog him for hours upon hours.
Dravidan, like his father, was a 'Geltor', as the humans called him; translated to "spawn of giants", in the language commonly used nearly five centuries before. The only thing that he knew about his race, was what the other slaves told him, which was surprisingly accurate, despite the two millennia that had passed since the time of the great exile.
The great exile was the banishment of the worshippers of the god of war; Redaign, from the main human race, who worshipped the goddess of the harvest; Kolynia. The separation drove the war worshippers deep into the Keldon Range. The true reason for the exile hadn't really been recorded, but according to the shamans that shared slavery with Dravidan, it was all because of the human's misguided belief that the disciples of Redaign would bring about a massive war to their civilization.
After they fled to the Keldon Range, they became aware of the harsh conditions of the land. They began to die by the score, until creatures came down from the hills, massive creatures, with skin like stone. They were offered shelter from the elements by the giants, who too, were fellow worshippers of the war god, Redaign.
As history records it, the race of giants and humans merged, eventually becoming the Geltor, the half-giants. 1500 years passed, and the Geltor wished to reunite with their human kin who had banished them. Feelings of hostility long since expired. The humans saw a threat though in the appearance of these new and powerful creatures. There was also a potential that was seen in them though. So the race of man allied with the Geltor, together, they conquered the other offspring of the human race, who unlike the half-giants, still felt a deep hostility towards the worshippers of Kolynia.
Any of the scripts after that were lost, according to the humans, the Geltor, in their 'warlike nature' finally turned on their allies, or 'slavers' as some told it. That was two score years ago. In the last twenty, they had managed to capture the majority of the race and put them into slavery; Dravidan included.
So there they were, those who were once considered the greatest warriors in the land, reduced to slaves and gladiators, at the hands of their once allies.
Dravidan shook the thoughts from his head, as a taskmaster's whip met his back, "Geltor, Lord Brevin has called for you to participate in the gladiatorial games this evening. You will arrive promptly when the bells toll, refusal to arrive will result in your prompt execution; as decreed by Lord Brevin."
The Geltor turned around, finding the small form flicking his whip around as if to look imposing. Brandishing his teeth wickedly, Dravidan grinned, "I'll be there human, and you'd best hope that you won't be. Your flesh looks particularly appetizing this evening."
The man's face paled at the half-giant's threat, realizing the implications, he hastily retreated back to the palisade walls of the camp, where the rest of the guards played at their games.
Watching the man flee, the Geltor started away, wondering what weapons and what foe he would be forced to fight with this night.
To the youth though, that was all a dream, a legend, a myth. His captors seemed to agree with him in that aspect. If he ever ventured to ask questions of the outside world, and more specifically the legendary Daundero; they would flog him for hours upon hours.
Dravidan, like his father, was a 'Geltor', as the humans called him; translated to "spawn of giants", in the language commonly used nearly five centuries before. The only thing that he knew about his race, was what the other slaves told him, which was surprisingly accurate, despite the two millennia that had passed since the time of the great exile.
The great exile was the banishment of the worshippers of the god of war; Redaign, from the main human race, who worshipped the goddess of the harvest; Kolynia. The separation drove the war worshippers deep into the Keldon Range. The true reason for the exile hadn't really been recorded, but according to the shamans that shared slavery with Dravidan, it was all because of the human's misguided belief that the disciples of Redaign would bring about a massive war to their civilization.
After they fled to the Keldon Range, they became aware of the harsh conditions of the land. They began to die by the score, until creatures came down from the hills, massive creatures, with skin like stone. They were offered shelter from the elements by the giants, who too, were fellow worshippers of the war god, Redaign.
As history records it, the race of giants and humans merged, eventually becoming the Geltor, the half-giants. 1500 years passed, and the Geltor wished to reunite with their human kin who had banished them. Feelings of hostility long since expired. The humans saw a threat though in the appearance of these new and powerful creatures. There was also a potential that was seen in them though. So the race of man allied with the Geltor, together, they conquered the other offspring of the human race, who unlike the half-giants, still felt a deep hostility towards the worshippers of Kolynia.
Any of the scripts after that were lost, according to the humans, the Geltor, in their 'warlike nature' finally turned on their allies, or 'slavers' as some told it. That was two score years ago. In the last twenty, they had managed to capture the majority of the race and put them into slavery; Dravidan included.
So there they were, those who were once considered the greatest warriors in the land, reduced to slaves and gladiators, at the hands of their once allies.
Dravidan shook the thoughts from his head, as a taskmaster's whip met his back, "Geltor, Lord Brevin has called for you to participate in the gladiatorial games this evening. You will arrive promptly when the bells toll, refusal to arrive will result in your prompt execution; as decreed by Lord Brevin."
The Geltor turned around, finding the small form flicking his whip around as if to look imposing. Brandishing his teeth wickedly, Dravidan grinned, "I'll be there human, and you'd best hope that you won't be. Your flesh looks particularly appetizing this evening."
The man's face paled at the half-giant's threat, realizing the implications, he hastily retreated back to the palisade walls of the camp, where the rest of the guards played at their games.
Watching the man flee, the Geltor started away, wondering what weapons and what foe he would be forced to fight with this night.