3 July 2012
A flick of the wrist, What a simple gesture it is, But it means so much to these people. They have no choice, but to fight, to loose and have thumbs down, to meet their doom with a swift cut of the knife or to win caesars vote and win a battle or two then maybe loose another.
Poor Gladiator people, Trapped and treated like slaughtered animals.
To leave blood marked sands in their wake, With nothing else left behind. As a group they are known to try and bring there A game against any foe, when battling on the bloody sands.
They have lost there chance for a free mans land, Because of one nations fun. The simple life is all they want. Now they are trapped, Slaves they are, Kindling of anger and hate, turns to roaring fire. With knives and shields, They finally rebel against Rome and her people...
©minxyMolly
Gladiators • Opuss № I