Fallen Kingdom

Fallen Kingdom

The people of Pythria were a cultured people. They were, in their own words, an ‘advanced civilization,’ or so they liked to believe. Their upper classes lived like gods and goddesses. The ‘lesser’ folk, though, those not born of the right family or of noble blood, followed a very different path of existence. Theirs was a world of starvation with only one glimmer of hope; the Arena. There, in the Games, a man or woman might make their luck through tooth and claw, shield and sword. There, fighting for the amusement of the ‘cultured’ masses, a gladiator could at least win enough glory and the prizes that came with it to feed their loved ones.

Like a buildup of magma underneath the earth, though, the pressure of such an unequal society continued to grow. It built and built until one day the horrific disparity between the Imperium, the upper-crust of Pythria’s society, and the slaves, commoners and gladiators, finally could hold no longer. When the revolt began, it started with a simple spark.

A valiant gladiator named Gorlann needed to win his upcoming match in order to buy medicine for his wife. He was vastly favored to win, so he asked for an advance of the prize money from the ‘Stablemasters,’ the Imperium centurions who ran the Games. They refused. Although he won his match, his Lutria died of her illness before he could get her the medicine which would have easily cured her. The night after Lutria’s death, the gladiators of Gorlann’s house revolted. Killing their guards and handlers, Gorlann’s warriors soon overran the town guard and recruited slaves from the outlying villas to their side. Soon a tiny rebellion of a few dozen gladiators had grown to hundreds, and then even the gladiatorial houses from neighboring towns joined the rebellion too. Hundreds had become thousands.

Meanwhile, with Pythria’s legions engaged in foreign wars, the authorities were not prepared for what came next. Now, as a sea of revolt sweeps the land, the once powerful Imperium classes of nobility know fear for the first time. The men of the sword and shield, the gladiators of Pythria and the brown-skinned slaves of Xokoth, are on the march… and none will be spared.

Rape, pillage, and conquest of the Imperium is the mighty rebel host’s only instinct now. And like an animal seeking only to devour, they will not be denied…

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Day 1

Anaria hid as best she could. In the distance she could hear cries and screams. Earlier there had been sounds of battle, sword clashing upon sword, but those had mostly waned. The rebel beasts had overrun Bheketha’s walls, and the town was at their mercy. What few defenders remained were either dead, captured, or in hiding just like her. She and her parents had tried to seek shelter in the hidden compartment beneath their villa, but the gladiators had found them. Anaria had managed to sneak out through the secret passageway to the alleyway behind their house. Her father and mother had made what noise they could to distract the intruders, hiding the passageway before they were caught.

Now, concealed among a cluster of bushes just outside her family’s compound, she could hear the gut-wrenching sound of her mother and father’s protests. She watched, glimpsing between the foliage, as two strong warriors, followed by five more, dragged her parents out to the street.

A tall man – taller than all the rest – stood with a wicked-looking sword strapped to his back. His face was rugged, handsome yet cruel, with penetrating eyes of deep brown like damp earth. He glared at Anaria’s mother, who was struggling furiously.

“Let us go! We are Imperium, you vicious, pathetic dogs! You have no right!”

Anaria gasped as the big warrior slapped her. It seemed to stun her more than anything. Phaeka tumbled to the ground. Her husband, Anaria’s father, Lord Kaelon, cried out and struggled.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” But soon the men had pummeled him into submission, forcing him to his knees. Anaria didn’t want to watch, but she couldn’t help it. She stared, pleading inwardly for someone or something to save her parents. Meanwhile, the big, tall warrior introduced himself.

“I am Gorlann of the House of Keresh. We have EVERY right, you stuck-up Imperium bitch. You hoard food, medicine, and wealth all for yourself while blissfully letting the people around you die. For that you have been judged and found wanting. For that we will take what is our due. And right now, I plan to take EVERYTHING you have.”

So saying, the muscular warrior stripped out of his bloody and sweat-slick armor. He put aside his sword. The other warriors followed his lead. Standing naked, this mighty-looking Gorlann motioned to Anaria’s mother.

“Come. Take off your clothes. You will give me your body. You owe us ‘commoners’ that much and more.”

“I will do no such thing!” Phaeka gasped. Anaria’s mother had had Anaria had a young age. She was still a gorgeous woman, slender to the point of petite, with vivid gray eyes, short brown hair, and small but still perky breasts. She squirmed and then fought and flailed as two of Gorlann’s men did the work for him, roughly ripping away the woman’s dress and undergarments until she stood bare before the world.

“Kneel and suck my cock, Imperium whore.”

“Go to Hades!” Phaeka spat. Just then, though, Gorlann motioned to one of his fighters. The warrior grabbed Anaria’s father by the hair, pulled up Lord Kaelon’s head and placed a blade at his neck.

“Shall I cut his throat, Sir?”

All the blood fled from Phaeka’s face.