Corey's Axiomatic Anarchy, returns in its eleventh installment. Our anchor swinging barbarian hero wakes to the cries of an arena full of people calling for his blood.
Gritgut faces the Arbiter and sees the truth, but will it set him free?
Solis disarmed the traps in only a few moments and began unlatching the manacles from Gritgut. He looked up at Landon questioningly. "Well? Work your wonders, spellweaver; our time diminishes."
Landon laughed at the bard's alacrity and cockiness. "All the more if you distract me," Landon returned as he began to concentrate on forming the required spell. The anchor they had retrieved and set behind the barbarian flickered and oozed, bubbling like tar. The iron-hued sludge slid between the oltreggan's legs and hardened into the form of a masterwork lock. Sighing, Landon smiled with satisfaction. "Does that suit your need?"
Solis walked over and kicked lightly at the air. His foot struck a hard prong, its tip pricking against his toe. "You certainly can conceal a matter, but anyone who stumbles upon the illusion will find out just how sharp truth can be."
"You want him to use the tool? Then that is the limit of my theurgy.
"Let's leave before the bucket of gears returns."
Solis chuckled at the euphemism. "Aye, though I'd pay to see Bucket's look when Gritgut clocks him." The two and the bard's mischievous laughter disappeared into the shadowed halls.
Solis slid behind the squattish figure of the portcullis operator. He watched the deep gnome long enough to master the controls then breathed a small incantation. A puff of lilac enveloped the worker's head. Peace settled over his face and he collapsed into slumber. The loresinger nestled the lumpy gnome in an alcove before replacing him next to the half-sized levers. Time was now his only companion.
Penance scowled at the slumbering savage. He loathed the feral existence of the oltreggan and all the boundless energy its life represented. The Cult had been oddly quiet as to this one, when they usually frothed at any chance for hale fighters for their own pit in the city above. He was not oblivious to their plots to usurp him - they were constantly trying to worm control of the glabrezu demon away from him. However they would ultimately fail, each condemned soul that fell in his arena fed him its strength.
He linked his mind with the two castigators that guarded the hairy brute, saying "Your watch is finished. Return below." They bowed slightly and raced off to do their master's bidding. Something about their response seemed out of place to the Inevitable, a being who searched for the slightest flaw in anything it saw or touched. His programming could not sort out the exact deviation, but some obscure routine had been altered. Turning his unblinking gaze towards the unconscious prisoner, he surmised his overarching agitation with the oltreggan was at fault. It concerned him that the savage had vexed him so.
But that problem will soon be rectified...
Sending a mental command to the platform, the construct assumed an imperial stance as the tier of stone lowered into the chaos of the arena.
A series of letters from the terran script fluttered across the stone panel above the levers, indicating Penance had begun his descent. Solis hastily translated the garbled words and began throwing the necessary switches. The portcullis began to seal off the arena roof entrance, aiding in the ruse that the Inevitable still had control. Unaccustomed to the warmth of the room, the bard wiped perspiration from his brow. "Let the games begin..."
Gritgut felt waves of eldritch warmth massage his skull, rousing him. Two metallic feet and the hem of a long, crimson cloak greeted him as his vision cleared. A dull roar, like the howl of the open sea, assailed his ears. He nearly leapt up to drink in the view of the sea when reality snapped into place. An oily, inorganic voice boomed over the rumbling waves of sound; he recognized it was the kolyarut standing before him, and the din rose from the overflowing stands of the arena.
The oltreggan glared up at the loathsome master of the games, longing to smash the obstacle of freedom into a thousand clockwork bits. "Iz smoosh you..." The return of strength was slow, the numbness in his limbs bled out gradually. Feeling returned and he soon noticed the familiar caress of rusty iron and barnacles instead of the bite of manacles. Looking down, Gritgut saw the manacles and lock, but when he flexed his fingers he felt his beloved anchor. Dis magic for sure. A smile of anticipated bloodshed swept over the oltreggan's husky features.
"What are you smirking at, oaf?" Penance had turned to the monstrous captive before lowering the platform to the arena floor. Bloodlust flared in his arcane orbs as well, perhaps the only sentiment either foe ever shared, though never for the same motives.
Landon pressed into the shadows, hoping to evade the notice of the hobgoblin wardens. They were helping the castigators once again escort the foul undead cleric to a staging area. The mage had no desire to face any of them, and especially not all three forces together. However, his time was drawing to an end. The hoots and jeers pounding against the ceiling of the tunnel made it clear that Penance had entered the arena above.
Soon Gritgut would have to face the blade of the Inevitable. The human prayed he could get to the arena before the oltreggan went against both the twisted justice and whatever security measures the construct had in place. "Just a few more turns and I should be there. Survive that long, you have thus far."
The mage focused on a mote of elemental air and flashed forward as a wisp of mist.
"I am Penance Arbiter, officiate of this ring! Who dares to challenge my authority?"
The crowd, filled with many new-comers, seemed to quiet for a moment, while the regular patrons hissed and spat more vehemently. The kolyarut stepped sideways to reveal the massive otlreggan, resting on one knee and chained about the neck and limbs. At the question, the brute raised his head and said in a fatal calm. "Iz do!"
The kolyarut turned and flashed a crimson glare at the restrained oltreggan. His naked blade came dangerously close to the beast. "Do not mock me, fool. You'll see the might of Axiom soon enough!" The threat was devoid of passion; however, Gritgut felt an undercurrent of some emotion lurking in Arbiter's hasty movements. Perhaps ire...then the barbarian realized what he sensed. The revelation made him unveil all of his discolored fangs. The construct began to raise its sword.
"Youz fear me!"
Penance halted the rise of his obsidian falchion. "What makes you think that?"
Gritgut shrugged. "Youz in a hurry ta kill me...whyz else ya do it?"
The Inevitable marveled at the brute's direct logic. Is that what drives me? But how can such an imbecile see what I could not? It cannot be true! He shook his head.
Gritgut raised his shoulders and stared into Penance's face. "Youz afraid!" A great rumble issued from the barbarian's throat as he laughed.
Penance did not know how to compensate for such blatant disrespect of his control. He turned his head slightly - the crowd had become silent. The throng watched the spectacle of his hesitation and the indomitable captive. The Inevitable turned back to Gritgut with diabolical haste and roared, "Thus, I end your folly!"
