Khadagan Dotharl

KHADAGHAN DOTHARL
"Blood and Bone in Garlemald"

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STATS

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Name ; Khadaghan Dotharl / Cassius Cen Sidiatoris
Age ; 30's
Occupation ; Wanderer / ???
Family ; Dotharl Tribe

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LIKES

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Anything about Art of Warfare, Contest
Participating in Wars
Poetry and Historical Literature
Exercise
Violence
Debauchery
Meat

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DISLIKES

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Pacifism Arrogance and Entitled Individuals

Dishonesty

Prologue; From Dotharl to Sidiatoris

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Wallpaper

"Amongst many stories told amongst the minor, aspiring families and houses of Garlemald, one had always struck me as specifically macabre. It is the tale of the House Sidiatoris, spoken as both legend and warning to those that dare dream beyond their station and place in this world. A story about Freedom, betrayal, ambition, greed and bloodlust. In other words; A Poets wet dream."

Many moons ago, on the outskirts of Othard. In a cold, harsh winter Night an Unit of Garlean Soldiers made it's way through the unforgiving terrain that laid before them. They where to regroup with their Legion and report their findings. It was a Unit composed mostly of Scouts, and a handful of War-hardened Soldiers. Amongst these was a young Son of the Sidiatoris household, serving his time amongst the military as all upstanding Garleans did. His name ; Noctur Sidiatoris. While these Soldiers desired nothing else then to return, regroup and enjoy the meals and comfort of their tends at the Military Outpost, this night had something quite different in store for them. Across a steep Mountain-Path, these Garleans encountered a splinter group of Au'Ri, of the Dotharl tribe, there to scout and gather resources. It took less then a few seconds for the scenario to escalate. Within moments, the Dotharls, and the Garleans faced off in a bloody skirmish, that ultimately saw the savagery of the Dotharl bested by the superior arms of the Garleans. After the dust had settled, leaving the mountainpath littered in corpses and blood, the Garleans did as they always have. They killed and captured the remaining survivors, to be brought towards the Castrum and either re-integrated into the Garlean society, or enslaved under the status of 'Aan'.

Between these restrained and caught Xaelas, as they where brought to the Military outpost, one stood out particularly. A Xaela named Khadaghan. Skin, pale as snow, his eyes burning in a shade of sulfur that seemed to make him intimidating despite his very young age. It had been decided upon the battlefield, where he was bested by Noctur, that he would become that very mans property. To become the servant of House Sidiatoris. Many fellow Soldiers and even commanding figures where baffled at Nocturs choice. His Father was a man of cunning tongue and even deeper pockets, who carried the household sidiatoris with a shining name. Yet here was his son, picking up a savage creature, a Dotharl, who where renown for their lack of fear and tenacity. The boy however answered no questions, and decided to play his cards close to heart. He took the Dotharl back to Garlemald, and his Fathers estate.

It was here where the story truly begins. Noctur brought the young Xaela before his father, and with most careful tongue, explained; "Father, I've returned bearing gifts.. A young Xaela, parted...permanently, from his family and Kin. I believe, shall we train him from such early age, he would make a fine Gladiator some day to toss into the gladiatoral Pits. To earn honor for the House Sidiatoris."

The Dotharl, at this point, was reserved to growls and hisses. Constantly reprimanded by the house guards to remain kneeling and still on the floor he was chained to, as father and son spoke about him. The Father grumbled in thought, examining the Xaela from afar. With words spoken in a tone both commanding and final, he said;

"Very Well. Have his wounds tended to, and bring him towards the Lanista, and have the Lanista return with verdict to me once he has assessed this...creature."

Right after the words parted from the Patriarchs lips, the guards and his son closed in on the furiously struggling Xaela, refusing to bend, kneel or 'behave' for the lack of a better term. One of the guards had to knock him out in order to instill some 'calm' into the young Khadaghan. With his eyes closing shut, Khadaghans former life as a Dotharl ended. and his new one as "Aan" of the Garlean Empire began. Slave to the Sidiatoris household.

Chapter I; Bleeding Respect

*****Several Months Later******

As the months passed by, Khadaghan..now known as Cassius Aan Sidiatoris, had become something of a 'headache' towards the Lanista and many of the veteran gladiators. they did not know what to make of the young Xaela. They saw tenacity, they saw brashness and most importantly, a complete and utter lack of respect. Whereas the other Gladiators resigned to their fates barring the third or fourth month, Khadaghan still kept struggling, refusing and rebelling against his owners, the Lanista, and even his brethren slaves. He didn't talk either. Many simply resigned to the Idea that he was illiterate or unable to speak their language. Ofcourse, this didn't remain without consequence. As things would have it, the Xaela found himself sooner or later discriminated, pranked and provoked by every single Gladiator. they belittled him, joked over age and what they would do with him if no one was looking, pissed on his sheets and tampered with his clothes, dying them in hideously smelling liquids.

To say he was ill-received was a grave understatement. ________

"Stand!" The Lanista hissed towards the Xaela, his tone calm and even despite the harshness to it. In his hand that Whip that represented both his status, and power over the men and women that shared his status as 'Aan'. In the rest of the training Hall, various slaves where squaring off, their swords crashing against shields, shields hitting against skin and bone. The young Dotharl meanwhile crawled on the floor, his consciousness slipping from him due to exhaustion, his half exposed body covered in whipping marks. He shook his head to regain sense..and slowly recalled what had happened. In something akin to a lapse of attention, he lost sight of his opponents movements, and the Gladiator in question, a Hyur of massive size and even bigger Ego had struck him face front with his shield, bashing him back into the dirt and almost knocking him out cold. Ofcourse, all of this was accompanied by an ear-piercing, wrangled, taunting laughter from that very Gladiator.

"I've not yet given you permission to rest, slave. That, amongst other things, you will have to earn."

As the Leather Whip once more struck upon back, the Dotharl jolted up, his jaw clenched painfully shut, his burning eyes resting on the Lanista. He didn't understand this man. How could one treated the same fate as him, enslaved by these Garleans, act in such cruel fashion upon those that shared his fate? With each 'correcting' punishment, a seething hatred build within the young Xaela towards the Lanista. One that would, over the years, shift into respect, and eventually admiration. For now however, the young Xaela simply hated this man with a burning, almost irrational passion. Almost as if to ask for more, the Xaela spit blood onto the sand, his sulfuric gaze locked on the lanista as he stood tall.

To his surprise, the Lanista merely nodded, the mans expression just as solemn.

"Good. Mark my words, Cassius. You will not leave these sands alive unless you heed my every advice. And I would have it no other way. You will yet become a gladiator, even if you'll die in the process. Now pick up your Weapons again!"

The Xaela didn't know whether the words of the Lanista inspired him, or simply enraged him. However, they 'did' have desired effect. Standing on his shaky legs, the former Dotharl grasped the swords in the sand, raising one towards the training partner that stood patiently.

"Now, Fight!" The Lanista commanded, And Fight they did. for several gruesome moments, the Xaela exchanged blows with a rather overgrown Hyur, and each mistake was rended immediately into flesh by cuts or bruises. While no true praise was rendered, the Lanista often found himself speechless in the young Dotharls capabilities. Not only was he a quick study, but every now and then the young Xaela caught even grown gladiators by surprise, slipping past their defense and netting a successful hit every now and then. Something that, in the Lanistas eyes, was a foreboding feat.

This night however saw said luck turned against him. That tall Hyur kept luring the young Xaela in, punishing each of his advances with another knick across his skin with his blade, another bash of shield, a disarm here, a throw there. This continued on, with the Lanista whipping Khadaghan back to his feet, time and time again..until eventually, he would indeed pass out from his pain.

In that very same way, days...nights..weeks and months went by. Each Training ending with the young Khadaghan too exhausted to even lift himself from the sand. However, never, under any circumstance, did the Gladiators or the Lanista hear him beg for mercy. Not once. It was a defiance many of them found irritating..others found inspirational, but they all equally respected. In time, they seized their hazings, their punishments and private assaults upon the young Xaela.. and he earned something he couldn't quite make sense of yet.

And that was the respect of the Gladiators that he would soon begin to call 'Brothers'.