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Advertisment II Clavran
🕑 Added 2019-08-23 16:01:01 +0000 UTC
From high above, a city becomes visible, below the clouds. Around it, endless plains, dotted with villages, fields, forests and meandering rivers stretch. Far away, snow-covered peaks are barely visible in the horizon. The city is surrounded by strong walls and the inner parts are built from white stone, giving it a pristine appearance. However, outside the inner city, that pristine image falls apart, the further away from the center one is, the less impressive the buildings, as white stone gives way first to normal, grey slate, then to wood until it finally reaches the shanty-town outside the walls, where the improvised used whatever they could to make their shelters.
In the center of the city is a large tower, towering above the other buildings and nearby, standing on the border between the white buildings and the grey buildings is a perfectly round building, the sandy center open to the elements. The camera shows the outside, the colourful awnings, before entering a tunnel, leading downwards, below the earth. Here, oil-lamps shed light to their surroundings and sturdy doors lead away from the main tunnel- The camera continues, until it reaches one of the doors, passing through it into the room behind it. There, a figure stands beside a simple cot, clad in nothing but a loin-cloth. His tall frame is tight with muscles, but not overly muscular, the maintained physique of a gymnast or a fighter. Scars decorate his naked chest and his eyes, set below a fringe of short-cropped black hair, hold an almost manic intensity.
“Greetings and welcome, to the Great Arena, in Retania, the capital of the Kingdom Lanretia. Today, I invite you to join me for the day. My name is Clavran and I aspire to be the greatest Swordsman to walk the realm of Mundus.” With that declaration, the dark figure bangs his right hand to his left chest, fist facing outwards.
“My day starts early, doing something many will be familiar with. Lifting weights and running laps in the great Arena above. It’s best to do so early in the day, before the sun starts heating the sand.” Clavran stands and walks out into the corridor, following it deeper into the complex.
“You might wonder, why I already fight in the arena. The answer is simple, to become the greatest Swordsman on Mundus, I chose to begin my path at the lowest level, so that I could climb the highest mountains. I became a gladiator. Not due to skill, not due to overwhelming power. I became a gladiator, using the one thing I had even before arriving in Mundus, my freedom. I became a slave gladiator.”
The tunnel opens into a large, open area, lid by more oil-lamps and with a sand-covered floor. Near one wall are strange contrivances, almost looking like barbells, but seemingly made out of a single piece of metal, not allowing to adjust the weights. Near them, a man clad in green robes stands, waiting. He is quite a bit shorter than the arriving Clavran, but holds himself with authority, making him look larger than life.
“Clavran, let’s see how you progress. The boss wants to know if his investment is worth it, or you might become beast-bait.” the green-clothed man states before he starts to wave his hands, lights dancing around them, forming strange symbols in the air.
The symbols flash and light dances around Clavran, who frowns a little.
“Good, good, your progress is… passable. I will adjust the weights for you. Don’t falter, or you will bait for the night.” the green clad man states before turning and wiggling his fingers some more, this time next to one of the strange barbell-contrivances. Again, light flashes, this time around the barbell that can’t frown, but flashes in a different light in return. Next, he pulls a candle, places it on a nearby alcove and lights it with a single, disdainful word.
Meanwhile, Clavran gets a cloth, places it on the floor and starts moving the barbell, straining to lift it, despite the light appearance.
Through gritted teeth, he explains. “Looks like nothing, right? The man you just saw, he is one of the mages working for my boss. His job is to view my stats and adjust the weight of the barbell, so that it will always feel heavy. And if I don’t work hard enough, I’ll be sent into the Arena to die against some beast, for the amusement of the masses. That’s the advantage of being a Traveller, I come back from the dead. But it will cost me strength, so it is an excellent motivation to do my best.”
The camera fades for a moment, before returning to a burned down candle and the image of Clavran, now soaked in sweat.
“Looks fun, right. And now, for cardio.”
Without bothering to wipe his sweat, Clavran walks towards another tunnel, this one leading upwards. A short set of stars leads to a door and behind that door, is what seems to be an open field. But it is not, it is the center of the Arena, a sandy pit, currently filled with maybe fifteen other loincloth clad figures, running in a circle next to the outer wall. Clavran joins the circle, running at his own pace. Some overtake him, others are overtaken by him. The figures are varied but all cut from a similar cloth, muscular and scarred. Some seem to be focused on speed, their muscles clearly defined but relatively small, others look like human-shaped mountains, massive muscles glistening with sweat. But most are between those two extremes, trying to stay balanced with their strengths and weaknesses.
The camera fades again, returning to the sandy pit looking similarly, but the sun crept higher into the sky, almost reaching the running figures. Where before, Clavran was soaked in sweat, he is now dripping with it and his breathing is laboured.
“And now… for the next part… of my day. But first, I get a shower. No, you can’t join.” he pants out, as he walks back towards the door and the camera fades to black again.
It returns to the original chamber, only now, Clavran is clad in dark clothes, his hair still slightly wet.
“Time for breakfast.” he says, with a smirk on his face, before leaving again, going into the other direction, compared to before. He walks through a couple of tunnels and doors, until he gets to another large room with a couple of tables. Some are occupied and there is a large cauldron next to what looks like a buffet table.
Clavran gets food, including a bowl of oatmeal, and a pitcher of water, before digging in. The scene jumps again, his food is gone and he stands again.
“Now, it’s time for class. Don’t worry, you won’t have to sit through it with me.” he smirks, leaving the room and walking through more tunnels, until he reaches a small auditorium, reminiscent of a university classroom that someone filled with people that look like a strange mix of convict and professional athlete. They all sit, and after what seems like a moment later, another figure enters at the bottom.
The lecturer is clad in a green robe, similar to the one from earlier, and again, there is some finger wiggling and images appear, instead of a blackboard. The lecturer starts to talk, explaining the creature seen in the images, describing the attacks of a young manticore, before the image fades to black.
When it returns, Clavran walks through some more tunnels, speaking again.
“The next part of my day is training with Old One-Eye. But don’t call him that, unless you want to be beast bait.” Clavran explains, winking into the camera.
After a couple more doors, he is back in the large room where he worked out before. Only now, he steps over to a grizzled old man, bald and with an eyepatch, holding what looks like a riding crop. His remaining eye glares at Clavran and he scolds him for being late.
“Take your ridiculous swords. No idea why you want to use such strange weapons, but the boss thinks that the crowd will enjoy it.” he orders Clavran, who picks up a pair of single-edged swords, lightly curved with small, round guards.
The old man starts to bark out commands, stances for Clavran to take, moves for him to execute. After every move, there is a bark that tells Clavran just what he did wrong, sometimes accompanied with a smack of his crop.
The scene is framed in jump-cuts, showing the moves only once, or even only part of a move, the only hint about the actually passing time is, once more, the sweat that is soaking Clavran’s clothes.
In the final frame, Clavran is seen, walking up the tunnel to the Arena and a voice is heard, calling out, ““And finally, the last challenger for the great Gramus, is a special treat. He is one of those the Gods told us about, a chosen one, send here to learn and receive guidance. Today, he will receive guidance from the one of the greatest warriors that have ever graced the sandy floor of our arena.
Give a rousing cheer for Clavran!””
As Clavran opens the door, the scene dissolves into bright light, and a banner appears.
“Find your own path on the Road to Purgatory!”
