PREVIOUSLY ON SPARTACUS: BLOOD & SAND! Crixus and Spartacus faced the Shadow of Death! Barca placed an unwise wager! Moneygrubbing merchants met a gruesome end! And then Sparty made it rain by the sheer power of his epic hotassery.
A new day dawns in Capua, and the rain is still bucketing down. Batiatus is up on the balcony triumphantly addressing the gladiators, with a rosy-cheeked and richly dressed Lucretia by his side. Spartacus’ victory in the arena has renewed the ludus’ fortunes extensively, and everyone will benefit like whoa. When Batty brings Spartacus out to receive the men’s cheers, even Doctore looks pleased and proud, although both Lucretia and Naevia do a quick double take when Batty calls Sparty “the new Champion of Capua”. Barca looks pleased as well, although I bet he’s thinking about the winnings from his massive wager more than anything else.
Sparty looks pretty conflicted up on the balcony, even as the assembled men cheer his name delightedly. It’s possible that he’s thinking about Crixus, who we see in brief flashes down in the cells, dripping blood everywhere from gory wounds as the medicus tends to him, but it’s more likely that Spartacus is thinking of Sura and her cryptic dream warning about the rains. INTRIGUE! DRAMA! GLORIOUS THIGHS! I am officially distracted. Continue reading
PREVIOUSLY ON SPARTACUS: BLOOD & SAND! All kinds of brawlin’ and all kinds of ballin’! Batty gets shanked! Lucretia gets laid! Sparty gets paid! Whips are cracked and asses are tapped! And Naevia and Crixus are woobily in love.
Ah, the ubiquitous gladiator training sequence – buff men in tiny man panties sweating in the hot sun, muscles flexing and rippling as Doctore’s whip cracks in the background. THANK YOU STARZ. The men are in two lines, facing one another, switching partners at regular intervals. Of course, as soon as Spartacus and Crixus are paired, they only have eyes for each other, and no amount of bellowing and whip-cracking can tear them asunder! Spartacus ends up on his perky ass in the sand, and even Crixus seems a little confused as to how they got there.
What’s the reason for all this training frenzy, then? It’s the upcoming games sponsored by Magistrate Calavius, of course. In the middle of Doctore’s inspiring speech about glorious victory for them all in the arena, the heat and the never-ending drought has Gnaeus swooning daintily in the sun. The men titter like schoolgirls. Huge, sweaty, muscular schoolgirls…. with … swords. Yeah, I don’t really know where I’m going with this, do I.
PREVIOUSLY ON SPARTACUS: BLOOD & SAND! Sparty and Varro are stuck in the shit! Lucretia goes a-shopping! Crixus goes a-wooing! Varro gets his freak on! And Sparty’s prideful plotting plummets him precariously down a precipice of pain. (aww yeah.)
A mostly-recovered Sparty is led out of the insula and onto the ludus’ training sands, and flung rather ignominiously to his face by the cliffside. He lies there sulkily in his tiny gladiator panties as Batiatus proceeds to tear him a new one for his pathetic loss against Crixus in the arena. Batty feels that Spartacus has broken their bargain, wherein Batty would agree to look for Sura and Sparty would agree to be the bestest little gladiator who ever gladiatored. Sparty tries to defend himself but Batiatus is far too cranky to heed him. Spartacus had the love of the crowd for his defeat of the 4 gladiators sent to execute him, but has now lost their love due to his sad performance against the totally awesome Crixus.
PREVIOUSLY ON SPARTACUS: BLOOD & SAND! – Endless sweaty gladiator training scenes! Glaber was a douchebag! Batty revealed himself as a pantysniffer! Crixus’ cock was a superstar! Sparty made a deal with the devil! And Ilithyia jizzed in her pants.
Early in the morning, Spartacus is alone in his cell, dressing himself in his practice gear: a short leather manica over his right shoulder, and heavy cloth and leather ocrea on both legs. (daily dose of greaves fetish: satisfied.) He pauses for a moment to snuggle Sura’s purple garter to his manly bosom, before tying it to his forearm beneath his vambraces. Aww. Then it’s out to the practice sands, where Doctore is not terribly impressed with Sparty’s gladiatorial form while kicking Kerza’s ass. I am too busy staring at Sparty’s ass in his tiny little gladiator panties to pay much attention, as per usual. HOW PREDICTABLE. Continue reading
PREVIOUSLY ON SPARTACUS: BLOOD & SAND – Warriors warred! Barbarians barbarianed! Women kicked ass and took names! And someone stole Glaber’s wine.
Sweaty unshaven Sparty lies shackled on an uncomfortable-looking wooden bed, sleeping in the late afternoon sunlight, when the touch of a hand on his chest awakens him. It’s Sura! A sweaty and disheveled Sura! Delighted snogging ensues. Spartacus witters on about how worried he was when the Romans stole her away, but she’s having none of his meebling – she wants to make out like whoa. Pretty soon they’re at it like knives, with much bouncy and jiggly enjoyment, but suddenly…. Sura’s head explodes in a messy gout of blood. Wut? Continue reading
PREVIOUSLY ON SPARTACUS: BLOOD AND SAND!– technically, nothing happened, because this is the first episode. Derp. Go watch Gods of the Arena, I’ll wait here.
A grimy, longhaired, hotass loinclothed man in chains opens his eyes and lo, it is our darling friend Spartacus! He’s sat in some grotty bloodstained cell, while above him, the rafters shake and spill sand from the arena in fair Capua. Yes, within the first 30 seconds of the series, WE HAVE BLOOD AND WE HAVE SAND. I love the utter lack of subtlety in this show. I love it forever. Continue reading
"What's in the pot??" Hint: it ain't Gwenyth's head.
There was almost too much in this one episode for it to be contained, am I right? And that is how you end an episode, but we’ll get to that soon enough. I do want to acknowledge our Dungeon Master for this particular adventure, Jane Espenson. I’m just saying, she had it all in there: infinite layers of the abyss, a lawful evil-aligned plane, and a monstrous humanoid and that was just in the Eyrie! We thankfully did not have any more evil boob this journey, to which I am grateful.
We last left Ned be-speared by Jamie Lannister.
PREVIOUSLY ON SPARTACUS: GODS OF THE ARENA! Miss her, kiss her, love her, that girl was poisoned! Blinded by the light! She’s a little runaway! Gone Daddy gone! I am running out of 80s songs argh.
Situation is seriouuuuss, guys. (Man, that song will be stuck in my head all damn day now.) Titus is laid out, dead and pasty and a little bit moldy, in the centre of the villa, as pretty much all of Capua comes to pay their respects. Magistrate Sextus attempts to comfort Batiatus by reminding him how much Titus was loved by everyone, but Batty’s not particuarly interested. No, as usual, he’d prefer to sulk over the fact that nobody loves him the best. Oh Batty, always the bridesmaid and never the bride! Continue reading
PREVIOUSLY ON SPARTACUS: GODS OF THE ARENA! Orgius Maximus! Melitta and Gannicus are inexplicably falling in love! Ashur revealed the depth of his douchebag character! And Tullius the Total Fucking Asshole murdered my girlfriend. *weeps*
Melitta is heading down the villa’s stairs to the pantry/wine cellar, when a shirtless and oiled Gannicus appears out of fucking nowhere. Someone needs to put a bell on his collar. Quite rightly, Melitta wants to know how he got past the great big locked iron gates. “I smashed through them with my mighty gladiator cock,” Gannicus inexplicably does not proclaim. Melitta’s freaked out, because what if they’re discovered? But no, Gannicus would do
~anything for love risk anything for her.
So yeah, obviously this is a dream, right? Continue reading
PREVIOUSLY ON SPARTACUS: GODS OF THE ARENA! Orgy, Interrupted! The Return of the Mack (Daddy)! A Tale of Four Titties! And A Star is Born.
The grotty old arena is busy this afternoon, with a trident-and-net-fighter (a retiarius, Batty helpfully informs us) up against a legionary-style gladiator (a murmillo, Titus helpfully informs us). Since neither fighter belongs to the House of Batiatus, Titus and Batty can enjoy the performance and nerdily debate the pros and cons of each fighting skill. Titus is not much in favour of this newfangled style of net-fighting, calling the man “more fisherman than gladiator”. Ooh, incendium. Continue reading