[ Fire. There had been fire. And something else - something that had leapt in lines and blinded him and cracked like splintering wood. The air had been filled with light and the smell of something hard and unnatural and left him stiff and seized like a statue as his skin bubbled and blackened in front of his very eyes --
Gannicus had never been afraid of death and now, on the other side of it, even less so. What he feels now is surprise - the light and the fire had thundered down from the sky like the fist of the gods. Like lightning. A hand runs curiously along the skin of a bare forearm, clean and soft and far from the blackened flakes he had seen it reduced to under the heat of the unnatural lightning that had rained down upon him in the arena. More magic and dreams. He lives, seemingly unharmed, but now with the fierce memory of pain unlike anything he had ever been dealt before. Of what it had felt like to die.
He doesn't know where to address these thoughts of his that he is supposed to spill. Instead Gannicus casts his gaze all around the room, grinning, announcing to nobody in particular: ]
So death is but mockery here?
[ He laughs heartily, but teeth bared and eyes not quite as amused as the laughter would suggest. ]
Who has made it so? What manner of man rules you, turning Afterlife into fucking jest?
Prose:
That was it, then. The rebellion had failed. Rome had lived on and on, as Gannicus himself had always suspected it would, and here it was now. Alive and kicking and putting slaves to work in the best way it knew how: killing each other. Gannicus counts himself lucky that he hadn't laboured for too long under Spartacus' delusions; Rome lived, unharmed and unchanged, and slaves still died for their entertainment to this very day.
Not that the bleak realisation made itself known in Gannicus's expression. Grinning and nonchalant, Gannicus stood tall with his head high and his shoulders back amidst the arrayed weaponry of the training floor. Dwarfed by the sheer enormity of the room, Gannicus took his time in moving silently around the weaponry on offer. He was in no hurry: theatricality was the one last bit of power that still lay in Gannicus's hands and he was smugly determined to hold on to it. Surveying the racks with a hum of appreciation he at length chose a set of short swords - gladii, or something like it - and hefted them thoughtfully in each hand.
Slowly lifting his gaze to grin fiercely at the watching Gamesmakers, Gannicus takes in their curious expressions. No salute, no obsequiences to his new masters - this wasn't the arena of old, there were no hails to be found here. Just these newly fashioned Romans, watching as Romans always did when it came for good men to die gloriously.
"Step down from lofty position and join me," He called up, one gladius uplifted in invitation to the Gamesmakers upon the balcony, and smiled disarmingly as he added: "That I may better show hard-earned skill in person!"
What is your character scored: Eleven or twelve. Gannicus is a pure gladiator - a "God of the Arena" - and has absolutely no qualms in committing all his strength and training into securing victory. For nearly his whole life Gannicus has been killing - glory and the pursuit of eath (and the distraction from his own life that it brought) was his sole purpose and the only value by which he was considered worthy. He knows how to make a flashy, crowd-appeasing kill designed to draw the crowds into a blood-frenzy and there's very little that will knock him off his game when it comes to slaughter - except killing children and the defenceless. He's well accustomed to harsh living and surviving in tough environments (from snowstorms to baking sun, he has fought and killed in all kinds of harsh weather) and isn't about to take failure (or defeat) lightly. He's killed a man blind-folded and he's well known to have a streak of "madness" about him - Gannicus happily (and often laughingly) throws himself into battles against apparently insurmountable odds without any apparent regard for his own life.
Whilst Gannicus's preferred style of fighting involves two gladii in a style known as Dimachaerus, Gannicus is able to turn his hand to just about any blunt melee object. He's well trained in hand-to-hand combat - from Greco-Roman wrestling, to simple strangleholds involving legs and thighs - and has even been known to willingly discard his blades against a sword-weilding opponent to engage him with punches and kicks, despite being repeatedly told what a stupid (and potentially costly) move that is. Gannicus has already fought his way through a bloody battle royale of twenty other gladiators to become victor and was awarded his freedom - even though these arenas are going to be longer, harder and with fresh challenges, Gannicus still has the mindset of a gladiator.
That said, for all his capabilities Gannicus is going to have some obvious weaknesses: he is largely defenceless against anything technological, so will be at his weakest against grenades, mines, bombs and any kind of electrical-based weaponry. Coming from a time period where the most advanced weaponry is really just normal weapons that have been set on fire, Gannicus is going to have a steep learning curve when it comes to the advancements that come with the current setting.
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First Person Thread:
Prose:
What is your character scored: Eleven or twelve. Gannicus is a pure gladiator - a "God of the Arena" - and has absolutely no qualms in committing all his strength and training into securing victory. For nearly his whole life Gannicus has been killing - glory and the pursuit of eath (and the distraction from his own life that it brought) was his sole purpose and the only value by which he was considered worthy. He knows how to make a flashy, crowd-appeasing kill designed to draw the crowds into a blood-frenzy and there's very little that will knock him off his game when it comes to slaughter - except killing children and the defenceless. He's well accustomed to harsh living and surviving in tough environments (from snowstorms to baking sun, he has fought and killed in all kinds of harsh weather) and isn't about to take failure (or defeat) lightly. He's killed a man blind-folded and he's well known to have a streak of "madness" about him - Gannicus happily (and often laughingly) throws himself into battles against apparently insurmountable odds without any apparent regard for his own life.
Whilst Gannicus's preferred style of fighting involves two gladii in a style known as Dimachaerus, Gannicus is able to turn his hand to just about any blunt melee object. He's well trained in hand-to-hand combat - from Greco-Roman wrestling, to simple strangleholds involving legs and thighs - and has even been known to willingly discard his blades against a sword-weilding opponent to engage him with punches and kicks, despite being repeatedly told what a stupid (and potentially costly) move that is. Gannicus has already fought his way through a bloody battle royale of twenty other gladiators to become victor and was awarded his freedom - even though these arenas are going to be longer, harder and with fresh challenges, Gannicus still has the mindset of a gladiator.
That said, for all his capabilities Gannicus is going to have some obvious weaknesses: he is largely defenceless against anything technological, so will be at his weakest against grenades, mines, bombs and any kind of electrical-based weaponry. Coming from a time period where the most advanced weaponry is really just normal weapons that have been set on fire, Gannicus is going to have a steep learning curve when it comes to the advancements that come with the current setting.