The year is 0, for there is no time. these are dark days for the future peoples of the world. the live, scattered across the many dangerous islands surronding the mainland. the mainland is occupied by the lizard lords of the twelth order. they have ruled over it since before the existance of men. but the balance is slowly shifting....

Siegfred Grada, a man whom has looked after his people well and harshly punished those that oppose him. he has been a fair but tough king with a beautiful daughter, untouchable by mere men. many have died at Grada's for crimes against his daughter. his land is mostly a desert wasteland, occupied by giant fire spiders which attack his modest city every now and again. his city has survived due to the single, solitary river that runs through it, allowing life to thrive. many people are dumped in the desert of his island by other neighbouring island kingdoms. as his city is the only safety from the harsh desert, he collects them as slaves and hand picks the finest ones through a test of strength, skill and stamina in arena combat. the survivors are allowed to stay. the dead are cast out from wence they came.
this day was no exception....
Grada took his seat, high above the arena as he waited for the competitors to be released and for combat to begin. Grada relished whatching men fight foer their lifes. he employed scribes to document not only arena battles but also those of his own in the cause of truth and protection of the city adn his people.

A heavily cloacked man sat in a dark corner of the arena pit, the spot where the captives where held before an arena battle. he stared at the floor in deep concentration. he knew many would die..... but not if he had a say in it. he had battled and seen many things in his life, most shrouded in betrayal and war. he had become sick with it all. a guard approached him, "you, remove your overcloak." he did as he was told to reveal a weary, battle worn face. stubble littered it, his hair heavily matted and tangled. a chest plate was all he had for armour, his muscular arms scarred. was. "okay parasite. as the island of Geranda has saved your life, you have now to provide entertainment for the king by...."
the man replied, in a cocky attitude, "spare me the plesentaries. you want me to risk my life in the arena. i know of what will happen today. there will be a massacre with one man left standing. i place a bet on it that it will be me."
"tell u what, 'soldier', if you are left standing, i'll see to your release. okay then, name?"
"time has taken my indentity from me. my name is no longer important."
"listen here now, the king requires a name for the scribe."
"then i may be refered to as 'the dragon' then"
"okay, and age."
"32."
the guard mubled darkly and marked down 43. he wasn't lying though he looked much older than he truely.
the arena gates rose to let the reluctant competitors out. "don't die out there 'dragon'."
"i don't intend to," he said, as he strutted into the field of play.

A wiry figure dashed through the crowds that were milling around, waiting for the combat to begin, clutching a thick leather bound book that lost a few pages with every turn the young man made. The crowd didn't go to much trouble to get out of his way, usually not seeing him until he had to swerve to avoid contact and with a muttered apology, he would be off again, making his way up the many levels of stairs.
He rached a thick door studded with ancient metal, flanked by two guards, one of whom opened the door, slamming it on the young man's heels as he entered. He pushed his hair out of his face, adjucted the ties on his book, straightened out his mutilple layers of clothes that gave the young man a waif-like appearance.
"I'm late...I'm so dead, I'm so dead...." He swallowed and re-adjucted his cape for the thrid time, so the hood draped over his left shoulder, the cape hanging open down his right side. To say he looked out of place was an understatement. The young man approaced a pair of burlier than burly guards who were little more than ramdon orcs put in shiny chainmail, stood either side of a purple velvet curtain that the man knew, was the entrance to the royal box, and where he would take up his new position. As he was ushered in, he wondeed what the last scribe had died of...

the king looked over the crowd. they thristed for blood. he relished the battle. the struggle between life and death. he loved to watch men go down dying. however, his eyes were drawn to one man. he seemed to soak up the crowds chanting. he strutted around as though the arena was his own. Grada took an instant dislike to him.

"Erm...your royal highness? Master? Sir...?" The young man coughed quietly to make his precense known. The room was ornate, a show of power. Low golt sofa's were covered with silken cushions, and slaves stood in corners holding decanters of wine, bowls of fruit and platers of meats, the plates cosing more than anyone holding them earned in a year.

"ah, scribe. you have arrived. you may wish to make a vivid record of this display."
the guard from the pit arrived. "sir, the fugitives are ready. shall i dispense the weapons now?"
Grada raised his hand and stared down into the arena, looking at the cocky man. he pointed towards him and said, "tell me soldier, who is that man?"
"we would be 'the dragon',as he calls himself. a strange man indeed."
Grada continued tolook at him in malice. the guard asked again, "shall i dispense the weapons now, sire."
he replied darkly, "no. not today. if they wish to fight with weapons, they will have to kill my men to get them. give our boys weapons. hand the scribe the list."
the guard handed the scribe the list of fugitives, saluted, and left the box.
"so, what name are you known by?"

The young man dropped the list and his book. Haistily he picked it up, opening the soft leather cover to show detailed lists and figures of events, pens and spare bottles of ink. "Me? Are you...addressing me oh highness?"

"yes, you! see any other scribes here? what name is it that you are known by?"

"I - I -I....err Raul?!" the scribe stammered, going cross eyed. He leant up against a pillar in a way that suggested he wasn't leaning. Raul hadn't been a scribe for very long, but long enough to know he shouldn't sit in the prescence of his King and master without being told to.

"well then, Raul, would this be your first time of taking an arena duel such as this?"

Meanwhile, on the arena floor, 'The Dragon' was becoming slightly worried by the length that they were having to wait for the battle to begin and the lateness of the weapons. "something's not right here..."
a perky young lad seemed a bit too joyful for his liking. "better keep an eye on that one..." he added.

"Welll...yes sir. Yes I think it is. I've not been in the city long - but back home I used to watch Pa slap the blacksmith around when he'd been in our back room where my sister lives, for most of the night...." Raul quipped with a look of sheer innocence on his face.

Grada chuckled at this remark. "i like you. humour also entertains me. but now, to the business at hand."
Grada walked out onto the balcony of this box and proclaimed. "competitors, today you fight for your right to walk among us. these arena battles teach us the value of strength and survival. no mercy will be granted to the weak. those victorious will be granted their freedom. those that fail would have died a hero's death....."
a voice shouted out, cutting off Grada's booming voice. "hero's death?! this is a slaughter house!" it came from the 'dragon'
"you have no right to dispute the virtue of the arena!"
"and you have no right to play games with life and death. your allowing unarmed men to be attacked!"
the crowwd cared not for these words. they fell on deaf ears. they only craved to see battle.
"you ungrateful little ingrate. we saved you from the harsh lands from outside our walls. today, i promise you, your death. may the battle commence!"
Grada walked back off the balcony and said, "scribe, make detailed notes of this battle for it shall be the fall of an arrogant 'hero'."
large, hulking giants of heavily armoured men streamed out onto the battlefield, weapons raised.

"Y'sir...I was being...funny?" The scribe screwed his nose up and looked a little bit confused as he laid out his papers and pens.

"quickly, note this down."
Grada smiled down upon the arena.

The Dragon backed off away from the warriors. he shouted to his fellow captives, "we must work together if you want to live."
however, it seemed that it was every man for himself. some of the captives were even killing each other.

The scribe did so in handwriting that started out quite neat but began to sprawl after the fifth line and began to tilt to one side as if the scribe was writing while sliding sideways down a very steep hill.

the dragon then spoke deeply as though he had two voices, "then it is death that you have all chosen."
he grabbed a warrior's arm, turned it behind his back and broke it. he then used his own weapon against him to silt his throat. he then kicked another in the knees, crippling him and then choked the warrior to death with his boot.

The scribe at firts dutifully noted erything down, then as he looked up, his eyes went extreamly large and round and he bagan to tremble slightly as he continued to record the bloodbath before it all became too much for him. "Your Highness....may I...may I be excused? Please?"

"must you leave right now?" cheers were heard from the crowd as The Dragon's slaughter continued. he finished off the battle , killing of several warriors with just a few slashes of his sword. The Dragon's style was one that had yet been experienced anywhere. he was led off by guards back into the pit.
Grada stared down at the carange that the arena had left and his intelligent mind began to bend though into possbility. "actually, scribe, i want you to leave this battle. u are no longer required for the arena. instead, i wish of to confront this 'dragon'. try and build a rapport with him. he is one that i am interested in."
he then shouted aloud, "guards, where is my daughter?"

Raul swallowed slightly, and fainted.

"strange scribe. guards, take the scribe to visit the 'dragon' and tell him that if he doesn't engage him, he shall be excuted at dawn." the guards saluted and dragged Raul off.
Grada daughter came through the door, just as the guards were leaving. she asked sweetly, "another weak stoumached guard, father?"
"i'm not that surprised this time. a strange refugee has proven his worth twice over in brutal fashion in the arena."
"what was it that you wanted me for?"
"ah yes, now, what are you going to do for the kingdom when you take control. you are going to need to marry. i suggest Prince Riglar of Balthazar."
"you only want me to marry him so that u can make ties with the country. why can't i choice?"
"because, you may go for some common scum. that would be damaging for the kingdon. MY kingdom. you will do as i say for i am your father."
"no i won't!"
she stormed out of the room.

Raul woke up. He woke up mainly because he was being dragged backwards down some rough stone stairs.
"Erm...am I going to die?"
"Yer may...depends if this dragon geezer is hungery or not!" The guard who was doing the draggingreplied cheerfully.
"Oh dear....what..?"
"Basically Sparky, you have make friendly with The Dragon or you're Kennel Fodder, got it?" The guard replied in a tired, long suffering tone.
"Oh my!"
"Oh shut up!" The guard paused, opened a door and threw Raul through it.
"No no PLEASE!"

the dragon was wearing his cloack again, his head bowed. he asked, quietly, "so, what you here for?"

"I...Well, I'm the King's scribe so why he sent me to do this I don't know!" Raul swallowed apologetically. "Umm...basicly the King will...well I think I have to get tpo know you or I'll end up the old King's scribe....I only started today."

"well, where do you want to start then? anything is better to do than sit around in this pit."

"Well...What's your name? You only signed up under The Dragon and technically thats against the rules..."

"a name is not important on the battle field. men have lost their lifs to thouse that know not who they are."

"Oh! Look Mister High and Mighty I am going to be executed if I don't get to know you....If you wont tell me your name tell me a little bit about yourself, please?"

"high and mighty? now there's one i've never been called. basically, i've served my life as a grunt to those that requirewd my services. mostly as a mercenary but i am not as cold blooded now as i could be."

"Well...that's a start I suppose but we're hardly bonding here are we?" Raul said sitting down in the corner. "Great. Just great. I took this job to get out of my giant pigsty of a village and look where it gets me..."

"what were you expecting to do?"

"Keep note of who entered, any letters the King wanted taking down, keeping note of stuff...What a scribe normally does..."

"so none of this ever entered your mind? nothing to do with battle records, war documentations. you don't seem much of a fighter really. not much of a man by any standards. how old are you?"

"17 and no, I'm not much of a fighter - where I come from not everyone in a family can afford to go off and play solider...unless its a really big family. One kid always has to go in a trade that will earn money to keep food on the table."

"yeah......so, got a family then?"

"Yes....just about. Mostly dead now. I do what I can to help those that're left," Raul said hurridly. "I take it you don't. Ever cared about someone? Ever had someone care about you?"

"no and too many. i'm not into caring for others. they just take me down with them. so, assigned to marry anyone then? i assume that u st...., i mean, have your marriages arranged over here."

"No. Not the oldest and not the p - best looking of my lot. Arranged marriages are mainly for money, land, convinience and the sort. If it isn't convinient, then you're not pushed into a marriage."

"you're indeed a strange one but the only person with any sense that i have met today." he stood up, wiped his hands on his cloak and said, so, any chance that i could get the hell out of here? anywhere is better than inside here."

"No...I don't think you get to go either unless the King lets me out or executes me...I suppose I could go ask if he'd let us out to a tavern - bonding works so much better when there is alcohol!" Raul nodded and went to ask the guard through the grilled doorslits.

the guard told him, "the king requests that both of yourself present yourself to him in 5 minutes. be ready, the king isn't exactly singing your praises. either of you." he opened the door and then shackled the dragon. "sorry, standard procedure. okay, follow me."