blood demands blood ★ ― ( joining )

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  • [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 460px; font-size: 14px; line-height:13px][justify]being torn away from his fiancé's arms was no easy thing to get over though forcing the one whom brought her death to choke on his own blood and pass in the most painful way possible was a start. spartacus was formally a champion gladiator. not from will, but sheer force. the heavily scarred lion was demanded to fight in the roman auxiliary- seeing as he and his men were treated like shit, spartacus was pushed past his point and committed continuous acts of rebellion and murdered two roman soldiers. he was soon found with his fiancé, caught off guard; both were separated from each other and forced into slavery under roman higher ups. the lion was sent into execution in a gladiator ring against three other romans. sadly for them, the pure rage which bubbled within him for being torn from his fiancé's side, only caused him to home the god of war himself and slaughtered all of the romans soldiers. in a gladiator ring, it was really the crowd who determined your fate; and in spartacus case, the crowd roared for his live to be seen in the ring as a gladiator once again.


    that was many moons ago and a story for another time. broken and hurting, here stood the sorrel hued lion beside the border of the avalon empire. the murdering of the one who took sura's(his fiancé) life helped lift a bit of his tainted conscious but alas it didn't heal his inner fatal scars. spartacus loved her more than life itself. she was the sun, never to rise again. cobalt steeled gaze travelled throughout the territory, muscular build shifting from beneath his thick sepia fur. a full-tang high carbon steel double-edged blade with a solid wood hilt, leather-wrapped grip, and steel-trimmed pommel and guard resting upon his flank within a leather holster. his arena sword is 32” in overall length with a 24-inch blade, a deadly weapon. "spartacus. here to join." deep, rough vocals boomed throughout the empty atmosphere. he wasn't one to dwindle about wasting time, rather than straight forward and blunt. the lion was hardened by the mass of lives he had taken in the gladiator ring, coming off as closed off and aggressive- but if one actually obtained his trust, which was a very difficult to actually uphold, his usual humorous and protective side shone.

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    Brendon ♦ [/shadow]
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    Info + Battle Tags + Powers + Plot + Heart Chart + Family


    The canine was rather unimpressed with the lion's seemingly intimidating, strong stance and build. Spartacus had met the eyes of Brendon Urie. Perhaps it wasn't the most intimidating name, but it struck fear in many heart's. That's what mattered to him. The high general padded forwards, his deep dark eyes formed in a permanent glare, and his mouth, curled into a permanent frown. Brendon was a large, dark grey wolf with a muscular build and a stance that reflected strength, confidence and anger. His head hung low, as she shoulders rose above his head, his muscles shining through his thick canine coat. Nothing intimidated him. Not anymore. Brendon was a sociopath, pyromaniac, 'retired' killer. So as his zippo lighter bounced against his chest, hung only by the silver chain around his neck, the canine held a gaze that showed he was not one to mess around with. No matter your size.
    "I am Brendon Urie. High general here. Welcome to the Avalon Empire." The wolf grumbled, in his deep, rough voice.
    Spartacus would have a new match in strength, and rage, and battle. Who knows. Maybe the two would come to be good friends. Maybe they'd come to hate each other. It all depended on how Spartacus chose to play his cards.
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  • Lainith introduced herself after Brendon. "My name is Lainith and I'm a High Counselor here."

  • [fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 350px; text-align: center; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10pt;][justify]The doberman pup frowned softly as he looked at the lion before barking, " Oberon Urie. Good to have you. " The young male's words were measured, and he was unusually articulate for his age. Dark chocolate visionaries sized Spartacus up as he frowned, wondering how he and his Grandfather, Brendon, would fare. They seemed almost in a death locked stare, which Oberon gazed with disinterested eyes at. He knew he was a narcissist, and he didn't try to fight it, and that was what spurred the thought of a gladiatorial match between the two. Oh, it would be good indeed. The pup almost smiled thinking about it.