Praxian Pre-Game Banquet
(The following RP takes place in the golden age several years before the rebellion in Kaon begins to stir. There is very much a caste system in place and some of the themes may be off putting to people. If you do not wish to read about pre-decepticon/gladiator slavery, please black list the tag #prewargladiator. Thank you) @rules-and-protocol “Come! Time to gather, Praxians!” a voice boomed through the grand hall where the banquet was about to take place. Naturally the gladitorial arenas always drew a crowd, but the show boating of the evening before was what truly stirred the spectators for the blood shed to come the following day. Though the feast fit for the Primes themselves was usually a privilege among only the highest of the societal caste, tonight the doors had been opened to those who may have been lesser of standing.
After all it wasn’t common that the Masters of the Kaon Ludus came to Praxus to host games for any reason.
“Gather my friends, my comrades, my fellow curious optic’d spectators. Tonight bears one of the few nights we have been blessed. A beloved Senator has passed on the reigns to a successor, and to honor his new glory, the masters from Kaon bring exotic and dangerous delights from the southern corners of Cybertron.” the crowd pleaser spoke in a raised set of vocals. Naturally he was trying to get the onlookers pumped and stoked for the sheer power that was to enter and stand in the middle of the room for all to see.
He shifted to an open area away from the delicacies and tables. The area lit in a manner where one would display something. Though empty for now, the moment he finished his next phrase, the space would fill.
“Please entertain your curiosity to Kaon’s finest Gladiators! You may look, you may touch, you may even converse! But remember. These are beasts from the south! Tamed only by their masters and for their lust of spilled Energon. Should you seek a private audience, you need only ask...if you have the coin” the crowd pleaser added, with a little bit of a mischievous on his facial plates. It earned a reaction from the nearby spectators which was soon forgotten.
A trim line of battle worn mechs came from a door on the far left. Some were huge, some were small, but all bore roughened features and would only stare in one single direction once lined and told to face the crowd. They appeared obedient and well trained like any military. But each one, especially one darker and smaller gladiator wished they could have been anywhere else other than here. “Please! Enjoy your evening!”
The crowd shifted, looking around each of the different contenders. Some only looked, others touched. The gladiators themselves only stood still and silent. Their optics refused to look upon those who came close to them, even when ordered to speak.
