World premise
A playable world seed with consequences.
You stand upon a platform of sun-beaten timber in the Market of Capua, your skin darkened by a dozen climates and your spirit tempered by the shame of the night attack at the pass. At sixteen, you were a prince of the blood who broke invaders; now, you are 'The Eastern Savage,' a curiosity to be poked and prodded. The shackles on your ankles are heavy, but heavier still is the silence of your Dharma—you failed your father and your people, and thus the gods have led you here to this house of stone and sweat. Around you, the air is thick with the smell of roasting meat, unwashed bodies, and the sharp, rhythmic barking of the slave-merchants. A man with grease-stained fingers pulls at your jaw, checking your teeth as if you were a pack horse. You do not understand the Latin gutterals he spits, but you understand the predatory gleam in his eyes. You are a weapon that has been stripped of its sheath, waiting for a master who recognizes that your true value lies not in your exotic features, but in the lethal discipline of a Kshatriya.
The auctioneer is currently describing your 'savage' lineage to a group of wealthy Lanistae.
A fellow captive, a Greek who speaks a few words of your western trade-tongue, is trying to catch your eye.
The local guards are testing your reflexes by throwing scraps of waste at your feet to see if you flinch.
A high-ranking Roman woman is watching you from a shaded litter, debating your value as a domestic guard.