Traeyl, stumbled again. Quickly, he throws his arms out, catching himself before slamming face first into the soft muddy ground. Retching for the fourth time in as many minutes he could only bring up the small amount of bile his internals could produce. Everything had already exited his system by the second time he vomited. He could still smell the vomit in his nose and taste it in his mouth but to make it worse was the stench of the shit that had run down his legs and caught up between his pants legs and boots. He couldn’t help it, the horror did that anyone who saw it and caught its odour, instantly instilling a deep fear of dread and terror deep into the soul. You know once it has your scent you were dead, never has any one escaped it or others of its kind. To make it worse, you also lost control of your bowels and vomited over and over. They only brought them in from their home world for these events. They were to dangerous to keep on the Home Planet.
Looking over his shoulder he saw it again. It had just caught Fygaer, his scream coming to a sudden halt as he was torn in half. The twin suns of Bry’nif Major and Minor, gazed down on the grisly scene. Uncaring sentinels forever watching over the unending violence. Life on Cythuulhar was old and ancient and had many millennia ago stagnated after the Great Wars that saw their fleet battle across the galaxy the great Eldar Lord, Nyltahlu finally defeating and imprisoning him on a distant planet in the outer arm of the galaxy. Nyltahlu was a great mind amongst great minds and his endeavours helped advance his own race but with that also came an arrogance that saw him with the help of his followers build up an army to help him remove the current ruling body and establish himself as leader and overlord. In the end he failed. The suns did not care about those events either. As the mass of horror began to consume its prize, the fifth, the mists from the heavy moisture laden air swirled around its writhing tentacles forming strange patterns and then dispersing.
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Traeyl would have heard the bones crunching but all he could hear now was the roaring of the crowd surrounding him. Up in the stands far out of reach of the beast were over eighty thousands figures, all now yelling and screaming at him, at the beast, for the blood they were seeing and for the first time in a long time, someone who had finally got close enough to possibly be the first ever prisoner to survive and earn their freedom. Not far from were he stumbled and fell was the portal exiting the stadium. Around its edge a blue light glowed, giving away its true nature, a teleport. One that would not allow the beast to pass. This portal was his goal. He was there, he knew he would make it now. It was no more than twenty steps away. He turned to check as he was getting up and to his horror saw the writhing mass moving towards him at a very rapid pace. Turning, he felt his stomach clench and bowels tighten once more, but this time did not fall as he stumbled.
The screaming of the crowd bear down on him like a hammer and as the beast closed in, they screamed even more louder. He was halfway there. Staggering as fast as he was able, out of the corner of his eyes he saw the tentacles reaching for him. He was going to make it! This time the terror will not get its full quota. He will be free! He will be famous and rich. No one will care that he tortured and burnt to death a rival within the faith. He survived the trial. No one had ever done that before. He was the first, the only! This proved what he done was right. The Eldar Gods approved. Four steps out, he suddenly stopped and found himself watching in wonder who that person was in front of him running through the portal. It wasn’t until it dropped that he realised it was his own headless body. He opened his mouth to scream but it never came and as his head was lifted to the beasts mouth, everything faded to black.