The night before the 13th...

I don't sleep, but oddly enough, I think I had a dream.

I was in a place that looked like a church or a temple of some religion. The temple was adorned with vibrant colors, such as purple, gold and pink. The walls were covered with carpets representing beauty and desire, and the soft lighting created a seductive atmosphere. Statues depicting a goddess in sensual forms were positioned throughout the church. Icons of excess and pleasure, exotic fruits and rare flowers adorned various niches, alcoves and the altar. Soft music created an atmosphere of complicity and pleasure. A banquet was served, with extravagant food and drinks. The Goddess's followers tried the exotic flavors of food, celebrating the pleasures of the palate. In the alcoves and niches, they expressed their devotion to the Goddess by seeking the pleasures of the flesh. In front of the altar, other believers performed mesmerizing dances and artistic performances. The faithful brought offerings of items that symbolized pleasure and luxury, such as rare perfumes, jewelry, and works of art, placing them on altars dedicated to the Goddess. Then the cultists chanted songs that extolled beauty and desire, invoking the presence of the Goddess and asking for blessings of pleasure and perfection.

The blessing of the Goddess descended on the temple, everyone felt it, it was like sticking a finger in a socket. And as if a switch had turned all the repressed desires of the faithful, they came to the surface, lust is seen as one of the greatest forms of divine connection with the Goddess.

I observed everything but without being there, as a mere observer. The largest statue of the Goddess opened its eyes, eyes that constantly changed color.

“Crixus, welcome to my home.” She said in a voice that sent shivers down my non-existent spine.

“Who are you?” Man, this dream was too realistic.

“Mahena, Goddess of lust and...other things.” She said it like a cat purring happily.

“Is this a dream?” Usually when we ask this question, it’s because the dream is good and we wake up soon after.

“Yes, it is. But it’s also real.”

“What do you mean?” This dream is getting weirder and weirder.

“Dreams are one of the safest ways for Gods to talk to mortals. Mortals tend to explode or go crazy when they come to us in a real way.” She says it like she’s telling a light joke.

“Hhuuummm, that’s great...but why am I here.”

“Several reasons. But did you like what you saw here?”

I don’t even know if it’s possible to lie in dreams, but why would I lie anyway. “Yes, it’s a really...fun party.”

“Yes, my cult and my temple celebrate life the only way it deserves, without limits.”

“I noticed, everyone seems to be having fun. Are they real or are they things from my dream?” I’ve never participated in an orgy in my dream, does observing, count?

“Yes, they are real, each one of them is a believer who deserves to be called to this kind of joint celebration.”

“I brought you here so we can get to know each other and to offer you a gift.”

“Gift? What gift?” I look at several people and objects in the temple.

“Surprise. Tomorrow, my gift will be a blue rabbit.”

“Hhhaaaamm?”

“Time to wake up, but we’ll see each other soon, my little Crixus.”

She says this in a very condescending way, even though she’s a goddess, beautiful, sexy, hot...FOCUS, FOCUS...I think she can do it.

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The dense fog embraced Ludine like a damp sheet, obscuring the streets and engulfing the few passersby who ventured out in the morning. In front of the Blue House Inn, a three-story building with peeling blue paint in patches, an unusual group materialized out of nowhere, like a specter emerging from the mists.

Crixus, tall and imposing, wearing his preferred form, a dark elf, with an aura of power emanating from his rich clothing, a long silk toga in shades of lilac and light blue and a dark blue cape that covered his shoulders and back, he led the entourage of 17 people. Beside him, the four wives, each with a singular beauty, observed the scene with different expressions. Hethress, with piercing eyes and holding hands with her husband as a right of first wife, seemed to assess the situation cautiously. Meikosil, with an enigmatic smile on her lips, watched the movement on the street with an amused look; mortals always cause her either boredom or amusement. Bhenkumbyrznaax, with a serene face and long, black hair, also using a dark elf form, kept his head down, admiring his nails, while Ingath the Thunderer, barely containing her discontent at using an inferior, slave-like body form, emanated a palpable electric energy, her blue eyes shining with restless curiosity.

The sudden appearance of the group caused a stir on the street. The few residents who had ventured out of the early morning mist moved away, their faces showing a mixture of fear and curiosity. A barber, with an apron stained with shaving foam, dropped his razor, choking on a muffled scream. An old woman, with a basket of fruit in her hand, muttered "Gods forbid" and ducked into a dark alley.

"Condrus, find Joavan and bring him to me." Crixus, his deep voice echoing through the street. I should have thought of a better way to keep in touch with the lawyer."

A short time later Condrus comes out in his heavy plate armor, built in a style not seen in thousands of years, carrying by the scruff of his neck a fat, balding man with a brown beard and frightened eyes.

"According to this worm, Joavan no longer lives here; he moved to a small apartment a few days ago." Condrus says, grabbing the owner of the Inn by the neck.

"Good morning, Mr. Brelawan." As he says his name, the innkeeper, who looks frightened at the group of clearly rich and powerful people, begins to tremble and stutter.

"Do you know where Mr. Joavan has moved to?" Images quickly flash through the host's mind and I discover where Joavan has moved to.

Without a word, all 17 touch the central figure, the dark elf in a lilac and blue toga, with a blue cape, and in the blink of an eye, they disappear.

At another point in the city, 18 beings appear in front of another building, a 2-story building, in a better neighborhood, with paved streets and new paint. The building is long and has 10 windows per floor that look out onto the street.

Condrus enters the building without needing to be commanded. A short time later, we hear screams and the sound of confusion.

The scene soon repeats itself, but now, instead of a host, there is a very scared Joavan in front of me, wearing pajamas and with a suspicious stain in the middle of his pants.

"Good morning, Mr. Brelawan." Crixus says in a neutral tone.

"Who are you?" He asks with a broken voice.

“Crixus, your employer, the one who gave you a bag full of precious stones and told you to take care of an orphanage and buy a house.” Crixus says this in a very calm voice.

“Eheehh?? Lord Crixus... sorry, you’re different.” He looks at me nervously.

“Condrus, let the man go. Lord Joavan, this is my real appearance.” I feel 4 stabs in my back. “And these are my wives, 1st wife Hethress, 2nd wife Meikosil, 4th wife Bhenkumbyrznaax, Terror of Lake Teicui, 6th wife Queen Ingath, the Thunderer. These are my children Akaos, Nikkan and Condrus. Lord Joavan, would you like to see my house, could we?”

“Yes, Lord Crixus, give me 10 minutes to make myself presentable and we can go there, in the meantime I’ll call some carriages.”

“10 minutes, no need to call the carriages.” Crixus says with an amused look and a half smile on his lips.

“Ahhhammm….”

“Worm, what are you still doing here, mast…” Bhenkumbyrznaax raises his voice to the crippled man.

“Bhenk... please.” He says as he touches his 4th wife’s shoulder.

In seconds, Bhenkumbyrznaax forgets about the man in front of him.

Joavan bows and, taking advantage of the change in focus, runs into the inn.

He runs to his room and passes by the bodies lying on the floor, his hired bodyguards. He realizes that they are still breathing and there is no blood on the floor.

He gets into the room and quickly changes his clothes, washes his face and wets his sparse hair. In record time, he is back at the entrance to the inn.

“...wouldn’t it be too traumatic to cut off the man’s leg to grow another?” asks Crixus to one of his wives, a stunningly beautiful dark elf. Then Crixus notices Joavan’s return.

“Can we go, Lord Joavan?” Crixus asks, still with his half smile.

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“Yes, it will take about 40 minutes of walking and we will be there.”

“Give me your hand, Mr. Joavan.” Crixus extends his hand to Joavan, who looks at Crixus without understanding and with fear. He literally hears a growl coming from the 4th wife. He takes Crixus’ hand and in the blink of an eye he is in the inner courtyard of the mansion he bought for Mr. Crixus.

"Husband, this house is not worthy of your presence," Hethress said, stroking his arm with a gentle gesture. "This house is a house like any other, my beloved husband deserves at least a palace..."

"A palace would draw too much attention and I also don't think there are any for sale." Crixus laughed, a hoarse but light and amusing sound. "Isn't that right, Joavan?"

"No, Lord Crixus, Palaces are not for sale." Joavan said, still uncertain and looking apprehensively at the 8 warriors wearing clearly magical armor.

"Lord Crixus, let me tell the house servants. So they can welcome you properly." "Naahhh." Crixus said and gestured with his hand. "Take me to see my house. They'll soon know I'm here." With that, he started walking and entered the house. Since there was only one person, everyone followed, Joavan was lightly pushed by one of the warriors. The entourage enters the house and Joavan shows them the rooms. In one of these rooms he takes one of the maids by the arm and whispers: “Find the butler, tell him that the lord of the house has arrived, and I will take him to the main bedroom.”

Crixus’ warriors moved as a single entity, their armor shining through the room, while the four wives followed him, their faces impenetrable, but their appraising looks were visible. And it was clear that they did not like what they saw.

Hethress runs her index finger along one of the pieces of furniture during the tour, checking for dust.

When they enter the room, the butler and the housekeeper are there.

Mr. Emeran, the impeccable butler from the classic stories, is the very image of dignity and order. His gray hair is combed back with precision, using only the best perfumed oils, revealing a thin and severe face, marked by the lines of a life dedicated to service. His brown eyes, penetrating and perceptive, observe everything with an attentive and calculating gaze. His posture is erect and imposing, as if he were always ready to answer a call. He wears an impeccable butler's uniform: A short single-breasted dress, worn under the jacket, made of luxurious fabrics such as embroidered and brocaded gold silk. A blue coat, fitted to the body with buttonholes with elaborate gold brocade. Blue pants that stopped at the knee. White cotton stockings. High-heeled shoes, black lacquered, with large square buckles polished to a mirror-like shine. White linen shirt. High, starched collar and white gloves. Mr. Emeran has an air of unquestionable authority, but also an aura of kindness and respect. He is a man of few words, but his actions speak for themselves. His dedication to duty and the Le Peven family was unwavering, right up until his downfall.

At his side was the housekeeper.

Mrs. Marina was the Rock of the Mansion

The housekeeper, Mrs. Marina, is one of the most beloved characters in the mansion. She is a strong, fair woman with a heart of gold, who always puts the needs of others before her own.

Mrs. Marina's presence is the very embodiment of stability. She is a mother figure to all, always ready to offer wise counsel and a helping hand. Her loyalty to her family is unwavering, and she is dedicated to maintaining the order and tradition of the house, even when faced with challenges and changes. Her relationship with the butler, Mr. Evaran, goes back a long way; both have worked for the same family for decades and have seen its rise and fall. They are a couple of kindred spirits, united by a deep mutual respect, love for their profession and an unspoken understanding.

Mrs. Marina is a strong, big and independent woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to fight for her ideals. She is an example of how kindness, compassion and integrity can make a difference in the world, even in difficult times.

She wears a dark brown, patternless cotton work dress. Her dark hair tied in a bun and her slightly drooping black eyes make her an invisible person, but she is essential, as she represents the soul of the house, while Mr. Emeran is the heart, the engine of the house.

They both bow as they enter their new masters' room.

Joavan takes a half step forward and introduces the two to Crixus.

"Mr. Crixus, these are Mr. Evaran, the head butler, and Mrs. Marina, the housekeeper."

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SKLAVO

Types of sklavo:

- domestic

- war sklavo

- criminal

- gladiators sklavo

Becoming a sklavo:

There were specific rules about how someone could become a slave:

- for debts

- being captured in war

- for crimes

Accepted breeds:

Human-races: all for debt and crime.

Non-human races: Gray Trolls, Gray Ogres, Gray Orks, Gray Goblins, Gray Gnolls, Dark Elf Most common.Aall for debt, war and crime.

GLADIATORS

- gladiators and their fighting styles:

1. Samnitoj:

Equipment: Short sword, round shield and crested helmet.

Fighting style: Hand-to-hand combat, using the sword and shield to defend and attack. They were known for their strength and endurance.

2. Trakioj:

Equipment: Curved sword, small shield and helmet with a single feather.

Fighting style: Fast and aggressive combat, using the Curved sword for quick blows and the small shield to protect the body.

3. Hoplomaho:

Equipment: Full armor, large shield and sword.

Fighting style: Heavy, defensive combat, using armor to protect oneself and sword to attack.

4. Retiuloj:

Equipment: Net, trident/harpoon, and 5-fingered short sword.

Fighting style: Agile, strategic combat, using the net to trap the opponent and the trident to attack.

5. Sekuristoj:

Equipment: Short sword, shield, and helmet with visor.

Fighting style: Fast, offensive combat, using the sword to attack and the shield to defend. They were specialized in fighting the Retiuloj and Murmilloj.

6. Murmilloj:

Equipment: Short sword, shield, and fish helmet.

Fighting style: Heavy and defensive combat, using the helmet to protect the head and the shield to defend the body.

7. Provokantoj:

Equipment: Short sword, round shield and helmet.

Fighting style: Aggressive and provocative combat, using the sword to attack and the shield to defend. They were known for their ability to irritate and provoke opponents.

8. Equesoj:

Equipment: Armor, sword, plate shield and spear.

Fighting style: Mounted combat, using the spear to attack and the sword to defend.

9. Subtenu Mage:

Equipment: Staff, wand or rod.

Fighting style: Strengthen your allies, weaken your enemies, using a combination of protective shields and debilitating curses.

10. Atakmage:

Equipment: Staff or wand and a magic item.

Fighting style: Ranged attacks by casting powerful fire, ice or lightning spells from a distance, causing massive damage to your enemies. And mobility

11. Kleriko:

Equipment: Staff or wand and a magic item.

Fighting style: Strengthen and heal your allies, weaken your enemies, using a combination of protective shields and debilitating curses.

12. Kondamnita

Equipment: Wooden sword and rags or completely naked and unarmed

Fighting style: Hope for a quick and painless death.

13. Exekutistoj

Equipment: 2m heavy rapier sword and scale helmet and tunic

Fighting style: Using the great reach of the rapier, which is only a piercing weapon and has no cutting edge, they pierce the judicial slaves, causing little damage. Because the bodies will be sold to the necromancers, and the less damage, the more valuable the body and their commission.

Slave gladiators have the word sklavo added.

Slave gladiators fight to pay off their debt by deducting from their share of the prizes, which can be 10-25%. They fight for 50 fights, where they are guaranteed 10 free resuscitation. After the 10th resuscitation they are forced to stop being a gladiator. Whoever reaches the end of the 50 fights without using resuscitations wins a prize and over the course of the season whoever reaches the end of the season with the fewest resuscitations and the most victories also wins a prize.

The Arena, as the Morvredian Amphitheatre was known. Its construction began in 258 BC and was completed in 236 BC and was dedicated to Aher, the God of conquests, by King Edwin II.