//------------------------------// // 24-1: 12 hours a slave // Story: Imbalanced: Legacy of Light // by Nameless Narrator //------------------------------// Magpie woke up. It would be nice to say that he had time to recover from the brutal beating, get a good rest, and wake up on his own, but that wasn’t what happened at all. Cold, salty water splashing against him and seeping through his feathers and fur into his wounds was the real reason that made him hiss at first, and then groan as his whole beaten and bruised body protested his attempt at standing up. There was one good thing that came out of such instant and sharp awakening, and that was the instant knowledge that there were no broken bones involved anywhere, otherwise the griffon would be screaming and likely crapping himself uncontrollably. “Oh stars wh- urgk!” unfortunately for him, the lack of broken bones didn’t mean the absence of concussion, and Magpie promptly threw up on the stone floor, which was followed by another bucket of sea water stinging mostly his head and eyes.  “So this is our little rebel leader, is he?” an amused male voice chuckled at his misery while Magpie did his best not to throw up again. Not that he would mind vomiting all over whoever was talking, but it was just so hard to aim with everything wobbling. Eventually, he managed to look up to see… a zebra. That’s it really. He wasn’t in any physical or mental position to figure out the stripe pattern or anything. That guy was slightly chubby, and a damn zeeb, that’s all. They all looked the same anyway. Ponies at least varied in colors and cutie marks, even though most of the time their public places looked as if someone threw up a rainbow seizure- Ugh… wrong choice of words. With his target successfully identified, Magpie threw up in the right direction this time. The zebra stumbled backwards with his face contorted in disgust. “You worthless bird brain!” “Not my fault,” groaned Magpie, “I didn’t crack my own skull...” “Screw this, just toss him in the arena. We’ll see if he keeps running his beak there too,” he turned around, raising his voice, “And bring me some of that water as well!” He was in a cage again. The air was heavy with the sound of hooves, clanking metal, sobbing and whimpering, and a lot of sweat. As little as he could see was that he was sitting in an open metal cage, one of many with the now somewhat familiar faces and shapes of the other captives, although there were many more now.  “Too skinny. Won’t bring much. Stocks for the guys today, and if she doesn’t break then sell her. If she does, then there are clients who specialize in training broken slaves,” the cleaned up zebra speaker gave a single look to a skinny mare before moving on. A guard grabbed her by her mane, and forced her to follow him with a sharp tug. “A minotaur, very nice,” the appraising slaver smiled, “Arena, obviously.” One by one, he categorized the slaves for immediate sale, arena, brothel, or public use in stocks for the apparently less “valuable” mares. Eventually he stopped by Pack Rat’s cage where the poor earthpony was just shivering and staring blankly in a puddle of his own piss. “What the hay is this?” the slaver scowled in more disgust than when Magpie threw up over him. “We got him with these guys,” one zebra pointed at Magpie, Gem, Prominence, and Harriet, “He’s been like this since day two.” The leader looked at Magpie currently lying on the floor to stop everything from spinning, and opted to aim his question at Prominence who was sitting upright, absolutely okay, pristine clean, yet slightly puzzled about the current state of events. She just glanced at Gem. “He’s heavily addicted to various drugs,” Gem explained, “He carried our things, and I was helping him deal with his physical addiction, since I’m a decent chemist. Unfortunately for him, it’s been too long since his last fix, and I honestly have no idea if has any clue what’s going on right now or where he is.” “Ugh,” the slaver rolled his eyes, “Can’t even sell that. Whatever, send him to the arena. A proper splatter of blood always cheers the audience up, no matter who it’s from.” A guard grabbed Pack Rat who gave him a dizzy smile and mumbled: “Thanks.” “You can’t be serious!” Gem leaned backwards, eyes widening, “He’ll just get slaughtered!” “Better than having to feed him here,” the slaver shrugged, “And speaking of feeding, bug slut,” he smiled at Gem, “It’s the brothel for you.” A guard reached for Gem’s mane, a grab she deftly avoided, saying: “You know where you can shove that hoof, right?” to everyone’s surprise, she calmly walked out of the opened cage and follow the two zebra guards. “But you...” he turned to Prominence again, “I want goods like you for myself,” he walked around the cage and openly groped Prominence’s plot, “Brothel, top floor private suite. I’ll be there with few friends after I’m done here.” Just like with Gem, guards led Prominence away, and the selection process continued. “What happened to this guy?” the slaver stopped in front of the cage with the still unconscious batpony Harriet found in the Badlands. “I have no idea,” a different zebra standing in the back until now answers, “He’s suffered a deep cut by something I can’t place no matter what. He was brought with them,” he pointed at Harriet, “I think he’s healing, but just extremely slowly. I suspect magic.” “Is he worth keeping?” asked the slaver. “He looks fit and trained. If he isn’t some guard or mercenary, then I’ll eat my medicine bag,” the doctor replied with certainty, “And it’s not like he needs any special treatment or limited resources, just time.” “Alright, keep him here as potential arena material,” he ordered, and moved on to Harriet who shuffled away, “She could go to arena, she’s strong, but I’ll be damned if I let ass and hips like that go to waste. Hey, big girl!” “Um, yes?” Harriet was taken aback by them actually talking to her and not just about her. “I’m feeling generous here, so I’ll let you choose. I can sell you in few minutes to a guy who collects… interesting oddities like you, or I can send you to a brothel where that body of yours will get the use it deserves. I benefit either way.” Harriet tried to look away from the sleazy zebra, but… ...but something she’d been able to suppress for a while deep inside her finally dug its black tentacles into her brain and turned on the right switches. The whites of her eyes turned pitch black, her tongue darted out of her mouth, then licked her lips, and she slowly breathed out the word: “Brothel.” She shook her head to fight off the sudden heat, she tried to tell herself that brothel was the right choice because she would be close to Gem and Prominence, and that it was because it was at least slightly familiar place, but the true reason was… ...she was hungry. “Ooookay,” the slaver got out of her way, “Muzzle her and tell the staff to find some clients who won’t mind a shattered pelvis. That girl needs a zebra stallion… or twenty. I feel like I’m doing a good deed here.” Magpie, being the only remaining and at least partially conscious member of the group, breathed slowly in an attempt to regain some self-control despite concussion and growing anger. Gem, Prominence, and Harriet being sent to a brothel was one thing. He was pretty sure that Gem, with fake suppressor and being a changeling, would be absolutely okay. Prominence, if she was a Corrupted like Gem said, would survive her situation in good shape, or maybe only slightly chewed up, but Harriet… She was a farm girl. Big, strong farm girl, but a silly, mostly innocent girl who got dragged into crazy things she knew nothing about. A bunch of reckless zeebs could hurt her in ways she couldn’t even imagine, and the worst ones wouldn’t be physical. Magpie’s years of slavery as an arena fighter for minotaur headhunter tribes thaught him well and left scars he hadn’t showed anyone. Pack Rat was a dead pony walking. It doesn’t matter who he’d be put against in the arena. In his current state, a foal with a rock could kill him. Magpie gritted his beak. “Aaand we’re back to you,” the slaver gave Magpie a wide smile, “You almost lost me a good profit, but I’m sure the sluts that came with you will make me rich, or even richer. You will pay for yourself in the arena, and you will die there. It’s only a matter of when.” “Meh, it’s not as if anyone would miss me, zeeb,” Magpie shrugged. “Ha ha ha ha! That’s the spirit!” the slaver’s laughter rung in Magpie’s ears when a zebra guard jabbed him in the back with a baton. Thankfully, it turned out that by now he didn’t have anything left to hurl.  *** Few minutes of stumbling ahead later, Magpie’s stomach attempted another revolution as sunlight burned his eyes after the darkness of the slave pit, and he entered a big, circular area surrounded with high walls atop which sat rows and rows of bleachers filled with zebras. Were slave fights this rare to draw so many zebras? Especially when most participants weren’t even fighters? Hmm, maybe, since it would be a waste to kill what could be sold. Still.. Wait, where were the other slaves? Gritting his beak, Magpie narrowed his eyes to see better and focus. Adrenaline would help in a battle eventually no matter what. “MARES AND GENTLECOLTS!” a voice coming from a loudspeaker in a skybox atop the bleachers made Magpie’s head spin, “WE HAVE A LITTLE TREAT FOR YOU TODAY BEFORE THE MAIN BLOODBATH EVENT. THE GRIFFON YOU SEE ALMOST SUCCESSFULLY ATTEMPTED TO TAKE OVER A WHOLE SHIP FILLED WITH OUR PRECIOUS CARGO,” from the boos of the crowd it was clear to Magpie they knew full well what kind of ‘cargo’ the voice meant, “THAT IS WHY, DEAR AUDIENCE, BEFORE THE CLASSIC FREE FOR ALL, WE BRING YOU THE LEADER OF THE UPRISING AGAINST-” the voice took a short break, and one of the four gates in the arena opened, letting in the minotaur from the slave ship. He was already flourishing a two-handed sword clearly made for someone of his size, “-ONE OF THE SLAVES HE WANTED TO SAVE WHO WAS OFFERED A CHANCE TO WORK FOR US IN ORDER TO REGAIN HIS FREEDOM. BIG GUY, ISN’T HE?” the voice laughed along with the crowd, “NOW, REBEL BIRD, GRAB A WEAPON. IT WOULDN’T BE MUCH OF A SHOW IF YOU GOT HACKED IN HALF IMMEDIATELY, WOULD IT?” “Yeah yeah...” mumbled Magpie to himself, “It would be easier if you shut up.” He had already found what he wanted while the announcer was talking, and was ready to pounce on the gear in case of some nasty surprise, but so far it looked that the minotaur would obey the rules of the arena. In light of that, Magpie forcibly slowed his breathing, and walked over to a flanged mace lying on the sandy ground, and then to a metal kite shield nearby, grinning at the familiar heavy weight. Usual kite shields were made of wood reinforced with metal, but this one was made to withstand a cannon shot. Surprising quality for something just lying around. With the all too familiar shield and mace fastened and held, Magpie faced the minotaur, still forcing his breathing to be steady. In preparation for the incoming battle, he felt himself calming down, adrenaline slowly washing his dizziness away. “You’ve been through worse. It’s just like in the north,” he muttered, “Hundreds of times. Over and over. Forever.” “I SEE THAT THE CONTESTANTS ARE READY, SO LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!” The minotaur roared, clearly not having anything even remotely reminiscent of second thoughts against killing someone who had tried to save him. Unlike Magpie, he was in excellent physical shape, and swung the oversized blade in a wide arc which Magpie didn’t even remotely consider blocking.  “He’s used to an axe,” Magpie identified the sag of the minotaur’s shoulders after the swing, “Probably just some minotaur hunter they grabbed from the north permafrost.”  The realization was instant, and Magpie lunged forward, bashing upwards with his shield at the minotaur’s writs.  He hissed at the hit, and backed off, not letting the sword go, and actually attempting a glancing scratch against the unarmored griffon’s head. Magpie blocked the mostly dragged sword easily with his mace. Staying this close against a physically much stronger opponent would be a stupid idea. However, the sword was finally on his left side, which meant he could finally use the shield to block, as long as the minotaur didn’t get the space for a proper swing. The situation left only one recourse, which was to jab the minotaur’s abs with the mace. He grunted and bent slightly while stumbling backwards, softening the already weak blow, and ending up with only a light scratch from the sharp tip of the mace. He let go of his greatsword with one hand, punching Magpie in his shield, the sheer force of the close blow made Magpie stumble backwards. The griffon was now in a position which he wanted to avoid. The positions had reset after the last exchange, which meant any advance would give the minotaur the time to swing. The only plus of the situation was that his left hand might be a little numb after punching a proper steel shield. In light of that, Magpie glanced up, shook his head, blinked, covered his eyes with his mace foreleg, and groaned. Seeing the moment of weakness of his opponent, the minotaur grinned used the sword to push himself forward instead of swinging the heavy weapon. After all, there was no need. With his enemy using a blunt weapon, the chance of a glancing blow being dangerous was fairly small, and he was clearly much stronger than the griffon. All he needed was to get on top of him and he would easily screw the catbird’s head off. Magpie had been faking being blinded by sunlight again. As soon as the minotaur charged forward as expected, Magpie steadied his hing legs against the charge, making the minotaur hit the steel wall of his shield head-on. With a push of his hind legs directly against the heavy opponent, his counter-bash broke the the minotaur’s muzzle and sent him on the ground to the left of Magpie, finally giving him the time to swing the mace in his right foreleg properly. Magpie could have crushed the minotaur’s skull with that blow, but opted to break his hand instead. The minotaur roared as Magpie stepped on his back, putting indirect pressure against the broken limb. “Don’t move!” the griffon hissed at him. When the minotaur stopped struggling, suddenly going completely limp, Magpie stepped off of him, and turned to face the nearest set of bleachers, and faced the audience hiding in the safety of the tall wall and several zebras with crossbows spread around. “Why not pistols or rifles?” he pondered, “Too quick of a death for the defenseless slaves down here, maybe? Barbed arrows for maximum pain?” “FINISH HIM, FINISH HIM, FINISH HIM, FINISH HIM!” the crowd starts chanting as one. “No,” said Magpie quietly, flipping the audience off with his middle talon. He knew they couldn’t hear him over their own voices, but his gesture conveyed the message, judging by the crowd’s cheering turning to more booing. “OH MY, OUR REBEL THINKS HE HAS A CHOICE,” the announcer joins in, “LET ME EXPLAIN SOMETHING, BIRD BRAIN. YOU WILL EITHER EXECUTE THAT TWO-LEGGED COW, OR THE ARCHERS WILL EXECUTE YOU, AND THEY KNOW WHERE TO AIM TO MAKE IT TAKE TIME, AND HURT.” The crowd went completely quiet. Magpie just flipped them off again. Four zebra archers immediately aimed at him from all sides. He quickly turned his head from side to side, and prayed they were really as good shots as the voice hyped them up to be, otherwise this would get hairy. “The front arrow will be here the fastest, and if more opt to shoot, they won’t have time to aim properly, so let’s assume just the four.” In the silence, he heard the twang of the crossbow string and the click of the bolt being fired before seeing anything. He raised his shield directly against the zebra firing from the front and up while darting forward. The front bolt bounced off of the shield, and the other three buried themselves into the sand where he’d been standing. They WERE good shots, thankfully. Bad shots were harder to predict.  He heard something from behind he wasn’t ready for, though, which was the crunching of sand from something heavy. A quick spin revealed the minotaur trying to run him through with the big sword held in one hand. Magpie smacked the sword away with his previously already raised shield, and this time smashed the minotaur’s head with the mace with enough swing to leave the mace buried in his skull. “You had your one chance...” Freeing the mace from the minotaur’s skull with a wet squelch, he turned towards the archers again. “ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?” he called out loudly. The zebras lowered their crossbows. “IT SEEMS THAT OUR REBEL PREVAILED, BUT THE ULTIMATE TEST COMES NOW!” the loudspeaker crackles as the announcer screams. *** All four arena entrances open at once, and various figures start pouring in - ten, twenty, thirty… something around fifty is what Magpie can estimate in the end. He, however, catches mumbling from the wall nearby, noticing the figure who stumbled into the arena last, only with the help of a butt of a spear. It’s Pack Rat, leaning against the wall as soon as the door closes behind him again. “You’re not here, this isn’t really happening. It’s just another test by miss Gem if I can last longer without a fix. You can do it, Packy, you can do it. Miss Gem will be proud of you...” “DEAR AUDIENCE, THIS IS WHAT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. LET THE BLOODBATH BEGIN!”  The crowd erupts in cheers, and the smarter slaves rush for the various weapons strewn around the arena.