With the sun in it's highest setting at the greatest city in Carthage, the week long festivities began with the round fire glaring overhead in celebration of the upcoming blood to be spilled for the glory of all people of Carthage.

All of Tunis filled the arena temporarily conscripted by the priests and suffets to serve for what is soon to come until after which the city will erupt in hedonistic celebration. While priests stepped away from the walls inside the arena whispering their cryptic chants, the sky began to quicken and the aspect of war and thunder was called into observation. As the clear sky almost immediately turned dark, distant thunder drew closer and lightning at once filled the sky as if making itself known to All in glorious revelry.

As thunder and lightning tore at the once clear sky, rain fell the arid landscape and the arena at once burst into cries of cheerful abandon. Children stared at the sky full of fear and wonder while others clenched at their wives and husbands. As Kilgore entered the arena all present knew at once that the gods of War and Sky were pleased that a Suffet of War had been chosen, and with all the religious theatrics present, all were aware without anyone saying a word.

Following him into the arena was a fair skinned male who was unbound and kicked forward, a guards tossed him a long spear then stepped away. Kilgore circled the naked man as the great flood of rain cleansed him, the man gripped at the spear and looked around then stared silently at Kilgore who had stopped in front of him motionless with a grin forming at the side of his mouth, his chin tucked in and his eyes up, taunting him. His hands opened as he gripped at the handle of a blade and held his arms outward, lifting his head to the sky as the rain fell upon his face and more lightning streaked across the sky.

He heard the slave grunt and opened his eyes, his arms dropping to his side with his main hand open while the other clenched. The man came forward with his hand on the spear and in one motion drew up the long spear and threw it with all of his weight, sending it forward piercing the falling raindrops and straight at Kilgore's chest. The slave was terrified but full of blind rage at the opportunity to kill the suffet before him. Kilgore stepped aside twice and slapped his main hand on the wood of the spear, and knelt, laying it quietly to the ground while more thunder streaked the sky before them.

Kilgore smiled and slowly stood as the slave backed away and tripped over himself. On his back he leaned up on his elbows while the tall man approached him, and the slave spoke in some foreign language which nobody understood ... but was clear to all regardless; "No, please, don't kill me."

With his smile fading, Kilgore reached with his long arm and grabbed the slave by the throat, lifting him up to his feet and slowly into the air. Their bodies touched as Kilgore drew close and kissed the slave on the cheek, and in one quick motion stabbed the man in the neck. Blood poured down the man's body and stained the sand below. The blade twisted 90 degrees then back again and then weight was pushed on from his arm, causing the blade to turn in a circle as the head was severed from the rest of the body. The foreign slave's body fell limp to the ground and the man's eyes were full of horror.

Kilgore took the head by the hair turned it's face to the crowd of watchers who all reveled in the display of violence. The priests continued their chant as the storms above grew silent yet the rain continued to fall. The gods of War and Thunder were obviously pleased, and Kilgore had made himself known to all of Carthage as the blessed Suffet of War. The clouds turned from dark to white but the rain continued to fall, and the clouds parted slightly to reveal the light from above, but the rain continued to fall.

The human sacrifice had pleased the Gods, and soon the hedonistic festivities throughout Tunis would begin.