— M A X E N C E —
While hard and gritty, the work was somewhat invigorating to the man of oceans for eyes and a lions roar for a voice. With each huff of breath that proued over the brim of a boulder, to the jagged step of his laboured legs, there was a euphoric and accomplished feeling that came from doing less-than-forgiving work such as this.
The minutes passed into long hours and by the time the arena was clear the body of the sovereign was reduced to sweat and bloody scrapes. What once was pure and alabaster was now stained with a foul mixture of dirt, sand and caked blood with hair rubbed missing from the jagged boulders subject to removal.
"Good work" was all the commander had to say to the small group who toiled beside him, though truly he was proud of each of them. He was especially surprised to see the seemingly ever-silent Voltaire had joined him once again.
It was with little fanfare and hullabaloo that the sovereign limped away in the direction of the canyon, seeking nought but the cool waters of the creek and the long stretch a walk would provide.
That concludes this thread! We now have a training arena!
