Application: Quintus Lentulus Batiatus (Spartacus : Blood and Sand)

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

((WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS for Spartacus: Blood and Sand, season 1.))

A middle-aged man of unimpressive stature, dressed in the garments of a successful Roman and drenched in blood, appeared on the floor of the Sorting Room. After a moment, he stood up, looking around. There was supposed to be a river. And a ferryman. And a three-headed dog. But, there wasn't. There was only a strange room, without a trace of sand or blood anywhere. Except on his garments, which were drenched in it. His hand sought his neck as he took in his surroundings, lingering there a moment, and he frowned.

It was no surprise that the priests were full of shit. Not that he'd ever spent much time on religion- he was a practical man, of keen and lofty ambitions. Or, he had been, until the gods had seen fit to spread his legs and ram their collective cock up his ass. Such a complex and delicate plan, one that was sure to see his house continue its rise to a proper status. A plan that was going to extend his grasp to Rome, and a seat in the Senate itself. A plan that was admittedly founded on a somewhat shaky pillar, and thus a gamble. But a gamble he'd not expected to lose so dramatically, so thoroughly.

Death was the sort of major event that caused everything proceeding it to be seen a new light. A stark light of plain detail and contrasts, rendering a picture in crisp shades of distant grey. Quintus Lentulus Batiatus, now dead and presuming himself to be in a very unexpected version Hades, could look back and see just how much of a gamble it had been. The Thracian wasn't just a shaky pillar, he was a fucking wild bull, and a wily bastard as well. Something had occurred which he'd not anticipated, somehow, Spartacus had found out the truth regarding his wife- he'd seen it in his eyes for days. But, he'd never thought the Thracian would be fool enough to rise up and stampede the whole damned herd, and while representation from legatus Glaber's troops were present.

But the Thracian hadn't been the only factor. He should have had the former Champion of Capua slain as soon as he became a household issue, but he'd held back to dispose of him to the best advantage. And it was this factor that had been the undoing of his house. Spartacus had never held a place of high respect amongst his brothers- he was too damned wild and independent. The whole herd would not have followed him. But Crixus. . .

Batiatus looked around, a certain expectancy in his gaze. But, his eyes found nothing apart from the empty room- this was not the hell he'd expected, not at all. A barely-whispered word escaped his lips, "Lucretia." She wasn't here. Her absence kindled a fleeting hope- could his house live on? But, it was a very fleeting hope- there wasn't a dead Roman in sight aside from him, and his own life's blood had been but a small amount amongst the flood those wild dogs had spilled. As he looked around, his eyes lit on the paper. The writing was unfamiliar, yet he could read it. Last he recalled, there wasn't a written portion involved in afterlife dispensation, but, perhaps hell was so busy today that they found themselves lacking in personal representation.

State your full name.
"Quintus Lentulus Batiatus."

He cocked a strange look at the quill as it began copying his answers. But, it was difficult to be shocked by animated quills when faced with the self-awareness of death.

1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?

"What does fucking cheese have to do with anything?"

After getting so thoroughly fucked by the gods, Batiatus wasn't feeling inclined to good manners.

2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?

Was this supposed to be some sort of joke? "Why the fuck should I care? I don't know who either of these people are. They can both die, for all I care, and. . . answer moronic questions." Batiatus wasn't an incredibly patient man, and the questions were already wearing on him. "Where's the fucking ferry and the dog? What sort of cheap, half-assed hell is this supposed to be?" He glowered at the quill as it took down his words.

3. What time is it where you are?

"Do I even need to answer that? I'm dead. Time doesn't matter anymore." But, it was curious just how alive he felt, for being dead. He was in possession of all his normal faculties, and somehow the huge gash in his throat was closed. But, his robes were still covered in the evidence of his demise, and he wasn't at his villa anymore, so it had obviously happened.

4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.

"Jupiter's cock!" Although 'sexually harass' made sense, and the bit about returning from the dead was slightly interesting, the rest of the sentence was complete nonsense. "What is this nonsense? How am I supposed to know of the perverse desires of this 'Albus Dumbledore'?"


5. If you are pushing to be in:

A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.

"Since when did mortals get to have a say in their eternal fate? Why should I bother to please the judges when I already know that no matter what I do, the gods will laugh as they shove cock up ass. What does a name matter, once fallen into darkness? 'House of Batiatus' will do." He smirked. His line was ended. It was all over. The House of Batiatus, just another name that would fall into the darkness of the past, to be forgotten.

B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.

This was getting inane. "What the hell do I care who some person named Harry chooses to wed? Whichever one has the higher social standing."

C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.

"Not enough slaves," Batitatus snapped impatiently. "You'd think the underworld would have no shortage." He was, however, beginning to suspect that death was not very different from life.

D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.

"Why? I'm fucking dead."

6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.

Batiatus pulled a golden aureus from a small pouch. He tossed the coin beside the parchment. He doubted it was worth much- if the afterlife followed tradition, the ferryman would have taken the requisite coin by now.

Comments

[best-guitarist.livejournal.com]

Speaking correct English was for ugly, untalented people anyway. And dogs and giant brutal wolves, apparently. Besides, Skwisgaar was used to others being too stupid to understand any of the several languages he was fluent in, and had clearly forgotten about the translation charm at Hogwarts, so defaulted to his mangled English.

"Drowning de audience in bloods ams pretty great," he said with obvious approval, taking Batiatus' comment literally. Given the way the guy was dressed, and that it was Hogwarts, chances were the guy really was straight out of ancient Rome. Weren't they the ones with vomitoria? Metal. "Videos ams recordings of things, you knows, moving pictures. I'ms in a band, Dethklok. We plays face-meltings death metal for peoples and theys go crazy and kills themselves for us, ams really funny. And sex ams always good to thinks about; sex and guitars."

He pulled himself onto the application table and into a sitting position, his long tail hanging over the edge and continuously swaying side to side to keep him balanced. A house elf was summoned to bring him his Explorer, which had also been altered into a slightly more aquatic form itself (http://pics.livejournal.com/best_guitarist/gallery/00011eff) the first time he'd played it in the water. After muttering the amplifying charm, he started playing (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ej0wt1viiEU), his claws not even slowing him down.

"I was just ins de lake," he said, the jagged fins on his arms rising slightly in irritation; he'd just assumed Batiatus' outburst was directed at him for some reason. "Was goings to my privates aquariums place, but stopped heres first to sees that giants fucking wolf guy overs there." He fell silent for a while as he concentrated on the song, then eventually paused his playing and looked at Batiatus. "Bet yous never hears anything that metal before, eh? Anysway, I'ms one of de prefects at this dildos magic school, but all wes really do is wear stupid hats and tells people whats to do or pretends to care or whatsever. Oh, and we throws parties and gets food libraries and hot tubs put in," he explained, deciding not to take credit for the food library. Thinking about it still sometimes kind of made him sad. "Privates shows from me usually costs a millions billions dollars, you knows," he added as he resumed playing; it wasn't even that much of an exaggeration. "So what do yous do when yous not rollings in bloods and thinking about cock planets?" Since he was there anyway, he figured he may as well sort the dude while serenading him with the sweet sounds of death metal.

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

Batiatus had of course meant that he appreciated the blood of gladiators on other gladiators, rather than the audience, but, he wasn't in a mood to argue with anything as perplexing as Skwisgaar at that moment. It would have actually been rather difficult for blood to have gotten on the audience at the arenas, as, they were typically quite spacious and designed with seating at a level a gladiator would find very difficult to reach. Although, Batiatus knew of an 'alternative' sort of low-class arena, which they called the 'pits of the underworld', where the audience would often end up rather bloody due to close quarters and anything-goes rules. Dethklok would have greatly approved of the place, unlike Batiatus, who agreed it was low-class, even if it was useful on occasion.

Most of what Skwisgaar was said about Dethklok continued to make no sense- the translation spell could only work so hard, and, it couldn't provide words for concepts that didn't exist in the mind of someone from his era. 'Videos', 'recordings', 'death metal'- the terms just couldn't translate. He did manage to figure out that Skwisgaar was a musician, as the translation spell managed to translate 'guitars' into a Roman variety of lute. In combination with the bit about making people go crazy and kill themselves, he almost wondered if Skwisgaar was supposed to be some sort of legendary siren from the Greek myths, but of a male variety. "You are a musician, then?" he asked, finding his question answered almost immediately, as the house-elf arrived with Skwisgaar's Explorer. Batiatus examined the guitar with interest- it wasn't like any instrument he'd ever seen, and so he immediately started trying to evaluate it. "It's a unique instrument, I've never seen anything of the sort."

When Skwisgaar began to play, it was like nothing Batiatus had ever heard. "Jupiter's cock!" he muttered in surprise, unable to recognize the noise as music for a moment. Perhaps it was supposed to sound different underwater? Skwisgaar did admit to coming from a lake. As Skwisgaar continued to play, Batiatus began to realize that there was an actual musical quality to the sound, albeit one he'd never heard before. It was an almost primal, savage quality, which seemed as if it might actually go over quite well in the background of an arena, a good complement to steel against flesh and blood on the sand. "I've never heard anything like it," he told Skwisgaar, who seemed to be indicated that he. . .held a position of some sort of power at the school? He supposed that if this musical mythological being was of some importance, he'd best make the most of the opportunity, even if he didn't understand half of what was said to him, such as the meaning of 'food library'. "Your speed is remarkable, as is the strange tone of your instrument," he told Skwisgaar by way of an attempted compliment- 'death metal' was going to take Batiatus some time to fathom, but he could tell that Skwisgaar considered this show of his musical ability to be something of a treat. "I am intrigued, and am curious to learn more of this. . . 'death metal' tradition?"

He was pretty sure that Skwisgaar had asked his profession, despite the curious phrasing- his playing was somewhat distracting, but he tuned it out as best he could as he replied, "Hell if I know now- before I found myself here, I was a lanista, a trainer and trader of gladiators, and I entertained notions in the political arena. I was getting somewhere too- but now, I'm at a fucking magic school, and need to find something to do."

[best-guitarist.livejournal.com]

Bloodlines was a good warm-up, but it barely even let him show off his talent -- and though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, it really needed the rhythm lines for his lead to sound right. In their more recent songs he'd purposely given Toki more interesting rhythm lines to work with, so while they weren't the full solos that Toki wanted, they still gave him the opportunity to show off a bit too, without allowing him free reign to get all sloppy. Skwisgaar was, in his own way, trying to help Toki improve his playing. This time without dumping buckets of blood on him.

Skwisgaar switched to one of his solos (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1uDpVeG8Cw) instead. He would almost miss his claws once he went back to his usual form, since they were even easier than using a pick when it came to playing the guitar. But they did get in the way when having sex, so they'd definitely have to go eventually. Batiatus' remark about his speed had the desired effect, the fins along his arms and ears rising again, this time because he was obviously pleased with the compliment. Even a dude from ancient Rome who had never seen a guitar before was impressed with his speed, which seemed to be something he should be proud of.

"I sees yous got good taste," he replied. "Death metal ams de best musics in de worlds now, and I'ms de fastest guitarist alive, Skwisgaar Skwigelf. Dethklok ams ones of de biggest econsomies ins de world because we makes too much money." He spoke of his title the way an Emperor might have introduced himself and listed his accomplishments; he had imperiousness down to an art. "Then we haves to figures out ways to keep it, pffft. But that's whats our robots butler guy ams for. He's also de Professor of Dark Arts here." Defense Against the Dark Arts was too much of a mouthful, and the shortened title sounded more brutal anyway.

"Gladiators, eh? That's pretty brutals. I'ms plannings a knytkalas withs de other prefect of mine House -- likes a big foods party everyone's invited to -- and maybes if yous can trains some jackoffs here to kills each other for fun, that could be de entertainment," he suggested. It was the sort of thing that was bound to happen anyway if Dethklok played at the potluck, but this way Batiatus could do all the boring dirty work for them, and no one could really complain about the mayhem if it was planned. Skwisgaar would just have to put the right spin on it so his much more reticent co-prefect would like the idea. "De knytkalas should probablys happen withins a few months," he added, "so yous have lots of time if you wants to help. You will gets out of here once de Hat guy decides where yous goes, should happens soon. Ares you interested? Food and booze and bloods all over, woulds be a great party." And since Vlad will be providing the booze anyway, perhaps he'd also like to fund an exhibition match for the entertainment?

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

It was rather difficult for Batiatus to truly appreciate Skwisgaar's talent- it was obvious that he had it, but, the style of music was so strange and different that he simply had no idea how to listen to it yet. Had he heard the rhythm lines, he'd have remained nearly as confused, even if he might have begun to understand the musical idea a bit faster. When Skwisgaar switched over to a solo, the music started to make a little more sense, although it was still far faster than he was used to, and pitched differently than any instrument he'd ever heard. It remained rather baffling as to how and why an ocean creature had such evident musical ability on a stringed instrument, but, Batiatus of course had no idea that Skwisgaar was normally a two-legged human being.

"The House of Batiatus prides itself upon its good taste," Batiatus told him. "I have never before heard of 'death metal', but it is evident that you have earned your title." Skwisgaar was obviously proud of his abilities, and, Batiatus figured flattery would not hurt- especially as it was earned flattery. Skwisgaar's fingers flew over the frets at a rate that was nearly impossible to believe, if not for seeing it with his own eyes. Skwisgaar's comments about money were weirder than his fishy appearance, however, and Batiatus had to wonder if he was entirely sane. "I have never heard of anyone claiming to make 'too much' money- I'd have thought this impossible. If you tire of your slave's notions for 'too much' money, I'm sure I could offer my assistance in dealing with it." A bemused smirk creased his lips- too much money couldn't exist, in his opinion. As for calling Ofdensen a slave, well, Batiatus was used to anyone doing butler-type work being a slave. 'Robot' hadn't exactly translated. And, as some of the most valuable slaves were educated ones capable of teaching, Batiatus just presumed that they had a high quality slave they'd put to work by teaching 'Dark Arts', whatever the hell that was supposed to be. Batiatus pictured rather dismally-themed bits of mosaic.

He'd never heard of a knytkalas, but, Skwisgaar's description was enough to indicate that it was a social event involving a banquet of some kind. Which was indeed an appropriate sort of event for a match. "It is often brutal- but, my titans are not trained to kill each other for 'fun'. The amusement's to be had by the observers. My gladiators are trained to be living death, and fight for honor, and glory. Not for 'fun'." This was an important point in Batiatus' mind- training gladiators to kill for 'fun' seemed as if it would be a way to produce sloppy, ill-trained gladiators. They couldn't be properly encouraged by telling them what fun was to be had by butchering their opponents- no, the way to motivate them was with the promises of honor, glory, and in the case of slaves, eventual freedom. Still, Skwisgaar's notion wasn't an awful one- if he was stuck here, he might as well do what he did best, and work on putting together a ludus. "But, it's a good idea- if I can obtain enough promising slaves or auctorati, and if I can find a patron to help fund the effort. I didn't arrive with my fucking coffers." Which was extremely annoying- arriving with nothing more than the money he had on his person wasn't terribly encouraging. But, luckily, once he met Vlad, he'd be able to arrange for patronage, eliminating that little issue.

[best-guitarist.livejournal.com]

"Mores money than we knows what to dos with, anyway," Skwisgaar clarified, thinking Batiatus might not be understanding what he meant. "Excepts for when our manager mades us all thinks he was dead for months and we spents a lot and wents broke. But we mades it all back now." He had a thoughtful expression as he played, thinking over Batiatus' offer. "De last time we hires a second business guy it didn't goes so good. Turneds out he likes to rapes de little kiddies and wents to jail. That kind of thing makes our band looks bad." He glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "You don't rapes kids, do you?" Batiatus' potential as their second business manager aside, that sort of thing just didn't sit well with Skwisgaar on a personal level, so it would lead to his first Squibbing of an applicant if the man was a kiddie diddler, as Nathan would say. Not that anyone was likely to go around announcing that sort of thing, and Batiatus at least hadn't come across as a creep thus far.

"Don'ts see de points of honour and glory if it ain'ts fun while theys doing it. Sounds like they got jobs like de regular jackoffs," he reasoned. "I plays de guitar because I likes to, and gets paid to because I'ms de best." And he was anything but sloppy, as he played very precisely so as to avoid the muddled sound that plagued inferior guitarists. "And I don'ts even have to gets all dirty to kills people," he said slowly, as though realising it for the first time. He'd thought about it before (and had already said about as much to Batiatus), but it was still strange, knowing he could hold that kind of power over people just by doing something he loved to do. Maybe it was only to be expected, since he and likely the rest of Dethklok were gods and all.

"Eh, well, you lets me know whats you comes up with. You should comes to de party even if you don't finds any slaves. You might finds some at de party," he said amiably. It didn't even occur to him to offer to fund Batiatus' efforts so as not to mess up any socking with Vlad, as the castle always seemed to provide whatever was needed. Maybe not the willing slaves Batiatus wanted, unless he'd settle for house elves, but pretty much everything else could probably be acquired somewhere, including gold. Which brought Smaug to mind.

"Do yous only train humans?" he asked suddenly. "Mys dragon son Smaug would makes de most brutals gladiator. We could gets him some totallys metal armour withs spikes, nots that he really needs any, and he could goes in and eats everyone. Now that's entertainments." Since the muns have been semi-plotting a dragon vs. dragon match that could perhaps happen via Batiatus' ludus. He unconsciously started picking out a few lines from the song Smaug's appearance at the war games had inspired; it had the makings of an epic death metal ballad, with a little more work and the right lyrics. "He might comes say hellos even if you don'ts invite him," he added, amused. "Likes he did at de wars game class. He broughts his -- I thinks boyfriend -- Elric and burneds de stadium down, its was awesome. My eyesball throws-up children, de Shoggies, they'ds be good gladiators too and already gots Vikings armour. They're nots as big as their littles brother Smaug but they eats anything and drool acid and can'ts be hurt." He considered sending a house elf to get them so he could show them off like a proud parent but won't unless their mun feels like socking. Smaug was trickier to show off, as he couldn't even fit in the castle without magical assistance. Maybe they could be introduced some other time.

[masteroftitans.livejournal.com]

More money than someone knew what to do with made a little more sense than the impossible idea of 'too much' money. But, the rest of Skwisgaar's business talk made Batiatus question his general intelligence, or possibly even his sanity- had anyone else bluntly asked him if he raped kids, Batiatus would have been rather offended, but, Skwisgaar didn't seem all together, considering they apparently still kept a manager who made them think he was dead. Which, in Batiatus' opinion, was not a good business manager at all. On the whole, kiddie-raping managers were possibly better than ones who pretended to be dead for months- business responsibility first, and all. "Why the hell would I rape a kid? It sounds as if you have had bad experiences with your managers, so you should probably be grateful you've any fucking money at all. Managers who pretend to be dead, or managers who can't fucking play socially-acceptable in the name of elevating fortune aren't good managers."

"Ah, but honour and glory are worth striving for. Fun's never bought a damn thing, but, honour and glory lead to wealth, to power, to pleasure. Sometimes, honor and glory even lead to freedom." To Batiatus, the idea of 'fun' sounded a lot like 'fucking off', and, the sort of attitude that would lead his gladitors to killing each other at home, instead of in the arena. Which wasn't financially advisable. "You see, a gladiator is not just a warrior- their duty is also to entertain the crowd, to win their admiration. A true gladiator strives to be the embodiment of death, which takes skill and focus." He smirked slightly, adding, "And I likewise do not have to get dirty to kill people." A ludus full of gladiators was much like having a house full of assassins to use at will- Batiatus had on more than one occasion taken a gladiator on an errand under the cover of darkness.

"Even where slaves are scant, one will always find auctorati- volunteers. Free men, who choose to take up the life of a gladiator, and swear to abide by the same oaths as any other gladiator for a pre-determined amount of time." The auctorati were often rather talented too, as, it took a certain sort of free man to choose to place himself in this position- often, it was due to an unpleasant personal situation like debt, but, men who didn't think they'd survive it didn't tend to freely offer themselves up to the arena.

Just when Batiatus thought that the conversation was possibly getting a little less weird, the triton began speaking about his. . .dragon son. And it sounded like a literal dragon. And something about 'eyesball throws-up' children who ate anything, drooled acid, and couldn't be hurt. Before arriving at Hogwarts, Batiatus never did train animals, nor did he train bestiarii- the games against animals were considered to be of a lower status than those with only human participants. These usually opened a round of arena games- it was the primus matches that Batiatus was most interested in, as these tended to be the showcase matches with most political power to be gained via the crowd's love. Of course, a dragon, if real, would be a pretty damn impressive sight in the arena, the sort of event that was sure to bring out a crowd, and probably to win their love as well- provided the dragon was placed against worthy opponents, that had a legitimate chance of taking it down. The crowd preferred a fair fight. "I have only trained humans professionally- the training of beasts for the arena is considered a lesser calling. But, never to my knowledge has a dragon been trained for the arena- I would be interested to meet him. And these children of yours too- although, if they cannot be hurt, they may not be well suited to the arena- although I am sure they are admirable children." It was a sign of Batiatus' inherent political talents that he managed to sound entirely polite and honest about his 'admirable children' remark. And, the mun thinks it would indeed be a bit easier for Bati to meet the Shoggies at a later point, as not to turn already long tags into an even more epic size due to sockery.