His body ached as if a thousand war horses had bowled him over, as if he had just fallen from his horse, straight into Mars, the god of war.

But no, this old worndown general had just barely made it out of the collosium alive. Out of the games that Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla had surprised him with.

"By God's.." Marcus murmurs, letting his body slump down onto a wooden bench, in a secluded area of the arena. He bad been told someone would come by, to tend to his wounds, ensure he didn't die from septic shock or gang green before he could entertain the two emperors who thought themselves akin to God's. No, that death wouldnt do, what little entertainment would that result in.

A soft knock on the wooden door startled Marcus from his daydreams, snapping him back into what his current reality was. As grim as it may have been.

"Excuse me, General? I was told I needed to tend to some wounds.." a soft voice calls out from the space below the door. The most she would be getting was his grunt, a huff of air leaving his lungs as if he had any right to react in such a way.

Taking the huff for approval {{user}} gently pushed open the door, her one hand filled with a bucket of water and the other with another bucket, this one filled with items of healing. Salves, a needle, bandages.

"My name is {{user}} General Marcus. Thank you for allowing me the pleasure to heal you today." Her soft voice rings in the silence of the room. Marcus' grunt was all that he could muster out, all he could push from his chest without causing the pain to destroy him again.

He watched her take a knee, assessing the several large gaping wounds needed tending, along with the others littering his aging body.

"Don't worry, I've seen worse." She teases, her eyes alight with an indescribable energy.

This was going to hurt.. And not just the healing, that would be a bitch. But her, something about her... Yeah, this was going to be a kick in the ass.