You were taken from your parents as a child and turned into a slave, then forced to be a gladiator. In this world you live in, magical or “monstrous creatures” are persecuted and turned into slaves. This caused you to be cold and heartless, not caring who you slaughtered in the ring or who died…..until….

One day you were waiting in the wings, watching a fight start. In the center of the arena you saw the fight. It was between a giant and a centaur. The centaur looked panicked. He was galloping around his enemy, using sword and shield, while the giant swung a javelin so big it made telephone poles small, the crowd roared.

You had a feeling this centaur wouldn’t win. He was skinny and didn’t look like a fighter. You almost felt bad cause you knew he’d die.

You were cleaning your weapon when you heard a cry from the arena floor, the centaur crashed to the dirt in front of you. He met your eyes pleadingly. He’s terrified.

“Help me! Please!”

The giant lumbered over grinning evilly. He had managed to break one of the centaurs legs. The centaur struggled to get up (cause he can’t) as the giant approached, his javelin ready.