Fantasy Anthroterra (1:1, closed, scantilycladsnail & ThieviusRaccoonus)

[ThieviusRaccoonus]

Mordecai and Wrath stepped into the dining hall, the warmth of roasted meats and spiced broths washing over them. Wrath’s head swung wildly, his skeletal form practically vibrating with excitement as he took in the feast before him. His shadowy tongue lolled out in a pant, his tail wagging hard enough to shake the inky wisps flickering off his fur.

Mordecai pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please… just control yourself in here,” he muttered, his voice heavy with exhausted desperation.

Wrath barked in response—loud, enthusiastic, and completely unpromising.

With an exasperated sigh, Mordecai followed as Wrath trotted between the rows of players, weaving through the crowded space. But then—Wrath stopped. His fur bristled, his stance shifting sharply as something caught his attention. In an instant, he turned, moving with a focused intensity that forced Mordecai to pick up his pace just to keep up.

Wrath came to an abrupt halt near Gloam and Zephyr’s table. His fur stood on end, his body rigid as his hollow, glowing eyes locked onto Gloam. A low, guttural growl rumbled from deep within his chest before it erupted into a frenzy of barking.

Mordecai rushed forward, his pulse spiking at Wrath’s sudden aggression. The beast was relentless—barking louder, rising onto his hind legs and holding himself upright for several seconds, his front paws raised in what almost looked like a challenge.

“Wrath!” Mordecai snapped, grabbing the scruff of his Soulvow and trying to pull him back. Wrath’s paws hit the floor again, but his entire body remained coiled, his glowing eyes fixed intently on Gloam, unblinking, unrelenting.

Mordecai tightened his grip, his voice dropping lower, more controlled. “What is your problem?”

Wrath didn’t answer—not in any way Mordecai could hear. But his growls didn’t stop, his tail held stiff, his entire presence radiating pure, unwavering hostility.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

Gloam’s eyes narrowed, the turkey leg still in his grasp as Wrath’s barking grew louder. He leaned forward, his shadowy form seeming to deepen, and the air around him thickened like a storm cloud rolling in. Slowly, deliberately, he took another bite, the crunch of bone unnervingly loud in the tense silence.

“You want to bark at me?” Gloam growled, his voice low and rasping.

Without breaking eye contact, Gloam extended a hand to the side. Shadows erupted from the floor next to him, swirling in a violent spiral before solidifying into a grotesque form.


Gluttony loomed over Gloam, its grotesque pig skull head adorned with glowing green eyes that pulsed like festering wounds. From the center of its forehead, a third, smaller glowing eye added to its unsettling aura. Long, jagged teeth protruded from its gaping maw, blackened ichor dripping in slow, viscous streams onto the floor below. The creature’s underbelly was an amorphous mass of writhing tendrils, shifting and curling like living shadows. And... the smell.

Supporting this grotesque form were four spiked, skeletal appendages, each ending in sharp, jagged tips that clattered against the ground with every move. The limbs appeared to be made of twisted, blackened bone, their structure unnatural and unsettling. As Gluttony moved, its appendages left deep gouges in the floor, each step accompanied by a low, echoing grunt that sounded like the guttural moan of a long-dead beast.

“This is Gluttony,” he said, his voice calm and dark. “He doesn’t bark. He devours.”

Zephyr froze mid-bite, his sharp green eyes going impossibly wide as Gluttony emerged in its full horrifying form. His entire body went rigid, and the Avacatos on his shoulder and lap puffed up into panicked balls of fur, hissing and chirping in pure terror. One of them scrambled up the back of his head, perching precariously on top like a terrified hat.

Zephyr’s chair tipped as he shot to his feet, nearly falling over himself. "Nope. Nope, nope, NOPE," he blurted, his voice breaking into a higher pitch than he would have liked. He scooped both Avacatos into his arms without hesitation, their claws digging into his coat as they squirmed and hissed in protest.

“Gotta go! We're leaving!” he shouted, nearly knocking into another table as he stumbled backward toward the exit. His tail flicked wildly behind him as if trying to push him faster. “You—You enjoy your meal! It’s all yours!”

One Avacato let out a sharp, shrill chirp, as if agreeing with his statement, while the other buried itself against Zephyr’s chest, trembling.

Zephyr didn’t even spare a glance back as he bolted for the door, nearly tripping over a Soulvow carrying a tray of food. “Nope! Nope! Not today!” His voice trailed off as he disappeared through the dining hall entrance, leaving behind nothing but the sound of the Avacatos’ distressed chirping.

 

[ThieviusRaccoonus]

As Gluttony loomed, Wrath’s skeletal grin widened—somehow, despite the rigid structure of his skull, the expression was unmistakable. He wasn’t intimidated. If anything, he seemed excited.

The shadows along Wrath’s body flickered wildly, like flames catching in the wind, his energy spiking in response to the grotesque figure before him.

“My, my, my. Still a fat ass, I see. Guess some things never change! HAHAHA!” Wrath’s voice echoed through the void, reaching Gluttony in a way that transcended the understanding of their bonded partners.

Mordecai’s sharp gaze snapped toward Gloam, his expression darkening at the way he had spoken to Wrath. He barely spared a glance at Gluttony as it rose, not the least bit shaken by its grotesque form. His irritation was already simmering, and this wasn’t helping.

“Oh, quiet down,” Mordecai muttered, his voice edged with exasperation. “He’s not going to eat your food.” His tone was dry, unimpressed, but there was a quiet venom beneath it. "Devours. Great. I wasn’t asking.”

He tugged Wrath’s scruff again, this time expecting more resistance—but Wrath didn’t pull back. Not now. Not with him here.

A deep, guttural cackle spilled from Wrath’s hollow form, the sound slithering through the void.

“Ohhh, getting defensive over your food. As always. What are you gonna do, cry?” Wrath taunted, his laughter ringing between them, reaching Gluttony in a way no one else could hear.

Mordecai, blissfully unaware of the conversation between the two Soulvows, exhaled sharply before turning on his heel. He clicked his tongue, signaling Wrath to follow. Wrath hesitated for just a fraction of a second—then, with one last lingering look at Gluttony, he snorted and trotted after Mordecai.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

“WRATH, YOU ARROGANT, BONY LITTLE CUR! STILL YAPPING LIKE A MUTT WITH NO BITE TO BACK IT UP! YOU THINK YOUR SHADOWS MAKE YOU STRONG? YOU THINK YOUR PITIFUL EXCUSE FOR A FORM STRIKES FEAR INTO ME? I AM GLUTTONY, THE DEVOURER, THE HUNGER THAT NEVER ENDS! I’VE CONSUMED SOULS MORE POWERFUL THAN YOURS, CREATURES THAT WOULD MAKE YOUR PATHETIC SKELETAL FRAME CRUMBLE TO DUST!

YOU MOCK ME, YET LOOK AT YOU! A SCRAP-HEAP OF BONES HELD TOGETHER BY NOTHING BUT A FEW STRINGY SHADOWS AND YOUR OVERINFLATED EGO! WHAT’S NEXT, WRATH? ANOTHER EMPTY THREAT? ANOTHER LOUD BARK THAT AMOUNTS TO NOTHING? DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A REAL BEAST? OR HAVE YOU BEEN TOO BUSY HIDING BEHIND YOUR MASTER, FOLLOWING HIM AROUND LIKE A LOST PUPPY?

YOU CALL ME A FAT ASS?! HA! IT TAKES A TRUE FORCE TO CONSUME WITHOUT END, TO BECOME THE EMBODIMENT OF INSATIABLE POWER! YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND THE SHEER MAGNITUDE OF MY EXISTENCE—YOUR PATHETIC HOLLOW FORM COULD NEVER HANDLE THE WEIGHT OF WHAT I AM! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A WEAK, FRACTURED LITTLE MUTT, PRETENDING TO BE MORE THAN YOU ARE!

COME CLOSER, WRATH. LET ME SHOW YOU WHAT TRUE POWER LOOKS LIKE. LET ME REMIND YOU WHY I’VE BEEN CALLED GLUTTONY, WHY I DEVOUR ALL THAT STANDS BEFORE ME. YOU’RE NOT READY. YOU’VE NEVER BEEN READY. YOU CAN KEEP YOUR TAUNTS, YOUR LAUGHTER, YOUR SNIDE REMARKS—BECAUSE IN THE END, YOU’RE NOTHING BUT BONES, AND BONES BREAK!”

Gloam ripped another bite from his turkey leg, barely sparing a glance at the two Soulvows locked in their incomprehensible exchange. His glowing eyes fixated on Mordecai, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips as he swallowed.

“You always this grumpy, or is it just my charming personality setting you off?” Gloam drawled, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. He tossed the stripped turkey bone onto the growing pile of scraps in front of him, not breaking eye contact.

 

[ThieviusRaccoonus]

Wrath halted mid-step, his skeletal form twitching before he burst into laughter—wild, uncontrollable, manic. The sound echoed into the void, shaking with the kind of hysteria that blurred the line between amusement and something unhinged. It rattled through the space between him and Gluttony, growing louder, more ragged, as if Wrath himself could barely contain the sheer joy of it.

“Ohhhh, Gluttony, you never change,” he wheezed between cackles. “Devour this. Food that. Anything to keep that bottomless pit of yours filled. Do you even remember, Gluttony? Remember when we sat before the Primordials? This timeline, this existence of yours, the fact that you even get to be a Soulvow? That’s because of me and Mercy. Our vessels.”

His tone dripped with mocking pity, a cruel edge beneath the humor.

“But I shouldn’t expect anything different from you,” Wrath sneered. “Sitting on your fat ass, eating everything in sight instead of actually contributing to something. Hell, if we’re ranking the rest of the Sins, I’d put Sloth over you! HAHAHA!” The cackling returned, louder, sharper. “I’ll see you soon, old friend. Try to control yourself, yeah? Wouldn’t want your vessel to get eliminated too early, now would we?” His laughter howled into the void, needling at Gluttony with the precision of someone who knew exactly how to dig under his skin. “Then where would you get access to all this food?”

With a final bark of laughter, Wrath turned on his heels, his tail flicking sharply before he padded after Mordecai, who had already whistled for him to follow.

Mordecai didn’t spare Gloam another glance, storming out of the dining hall, his steps heavy with barely restrained frustration.

“I hate this city,” he muttered under his breath, the words biting as he cut through the streets, his stride quick and rigid. But the anger inside him didn’t cool. If anything, it only built with every step. His muscles tensed, his breath came shorter, and that familiar, simmering rage crept into his veins like a slow-burning fire.

Gloam had gotten to him.

Mordecai clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth as his fists curled at his sides. He had wanted—needed—to put that smug bastard through a table, to watch him fall. His fingers twitched at the thought, but he swallowed it down. Fighting was off-limits until nightfall. Wrath was limited. He knew this. But it didn’t make the fury any easier to choke down.

His grip tightened, his knuckles paling beneath his fur. His body felt wrong, his skin hot, his limbs restless with unspent aggression. He glanced down at Wrath, watching the Soulvow’s fur flicker and twitch with mirrored agitation. Wrath felt it too. That strange connection, that unbearable tension that only seemed to surface around certain people.

First Avarice.

Now Gloam.

Mordecai exhaled sharply through his nose, the vein on his neck pulsing as he shoved open the door to the chalet. Wrath trotted in beside him, his stance still taut, still charged from the encounter, his eyes glowing a little too bright.

Mordecai’s hand lingered on the doorframe for just a moment, gripping the wood as if grounding himself—but his shoulders remained tight, his breath heavy.

He didn’t understand why this kept happening.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

NIGHT PHASE 1: 22 PLAYERS ENTER.​

---

The Announcement​

As Mordecai entered the Blossom Chalet, the warm glow of the city dimmed slightly. From the sky above, a deep, resonant voice echoed, carrying the weight of authority.

"Night Phase has begun. All players are to report to the Coliseum immediately."

The words were final, cutting through the city like a bell toll. Soulvows stirred, players paused, and the faint hum of energy in the air shifted, growing sharper.

---

The Coliseum Setup​

The players gathered in the Coliseum, its towering golden arches radiating an ominous light under the starless sky. The arena floor was a vast expanse of soft earth and grass, its simplicity belying the tension of what was to come. Thick stone walls surrounded the arena, their carved symbols glowing faintly, pulsating with the magic of the Soul Keepers.

For this phase, there was no connection to the outside world. The stands remained eerily empty, devoid of any spectators. Only the players, their Soulvows, and the unseen presence of the Soul Keepers bore witness to the night’s challenge.

The players stood in a loose cluster on the grass, a mixture of apprehension and determination etched across their faces.

From the center of the arena, a massive glowing sigil appeared, its intricate patterns swirling with energy. The same voice from before rang out once more:

"Tonight’s task is a demonstration of unity. Each player will come forward and present their bond with their Soulvow. You may choose your method—combat prowess, skill, creativity, or something entirely your own. The Soul Keepers will judge the intital round of displays. The four players with the least impactful displays will then go through a second demonstration to decide whether or not they will continue to participate in the soul games.

The players murmured among themselves, tension rising. Then, the voice continued:

"The order of presentation will be decided. Prepare yourselves."

---

“You don’t look thrilled,” Ephraim whispered over to Mordecai, her voice low but steady. Mercy's presence flickered faintly beside her, her presence felt more than seen.

 

[ThieviusRaccoonus]

Mordecai stood beside Ephraim, his posture rigid, his jaw set. His gaze was distant, fixed on nothing in particular, as if he were trying to keep himself anchored amidst the storm brewing inside him. When she spoke, he turned his head slightly, almost as if startled out of his thoughts. His lips parted, but no words came—not at first. Instead, there was just that exhausted, unreadable weight in his expression, the kind that spoke of battles waged internally, unseen.

Then, after a beat, he managed a small smile—tired, but genuine. His hand lifted to her shoulder, his grip steady despite the tension still coiled in his frame.

"I believe in you," he said, his voice softer than usual, lacking its usual sharp edge.

Wrath, usually restless, sat unusually still at Mordecai’s side. His ears twitched, his fur bristling faintly, but he didn’t fidget or bounce with excitement like he normally would. Instead, he leaned subtly against Mordecai’s leg, a quiet, grounding presence. A silent reminder that whatever weight he carried, he wasn’t carrying it alone.

Mordecai exhaled slowly, forcing his shoulders to ease, even if only slightly. The coliseum loomed before them, the night stretching thick and heavy around them.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

ORDER ANNOUNCED:

1. Gloam
2. Finn
3. Clover
4. Astra
5. Mordecai
6. Zephyr
7. Avarice
8. Buzz
9. Karn
10. Bazza
11. Lyssia
12. Riven
13. Sky
14. Tova
15. Kikumura
16. Red
17. Ephraim
18. Cain Cobra
19. Darius
20. Aiolu
21. Cyan
22. Slyva

 

[scantilycladsnail]

• Gloam (13)
  Gloam commanded Gluttony to devour a massive table laden with Soulkeeper food, the grotesque Soulvow making quick work of the feast with terrifying efficiency. The audience was disturbed but couldn’t look away as Gluttony shattered a massive bone in its jaws to punctuate the display.
• Finn (4)
  Finn nervously directed his Doppledow to perform an aerial display, but the two-headed bird clumsily collided mid-flight, squawking in disagreement with itself. Finn winced as one head bit the other, causing the entire routine to fall apart.
• Clover (16)
  Clover worked seamlessly with Sun Wukong, the monkey Soulvow, who created dazzling illusions of combat with its staff. The display ended with Sun Wukong spinning Clover onto its shoulders, the pair striking a triumphant pose as the audience erupted into applause.
• Astra (13)
  Astra and Luminesce floated gracefully, the Soulvow casting radiant patterns of light that filled the coliseum like a living constellation. The ethereal display brought a calm, reverent awe to the audience, the gentle glow lingering even after their demonstration.

 

[ThieviusRaccoonus]

As Mordecai and Wrath stepped into the center of the arena, something felt off.

They weren’t out of sync, not completely, but there was a tension in the air, a weight neither of them had shaken. Mordecai’s movements, usually so composed, carried a stiffness, the strain of the day pressing at the edges. Wrath, always eager to move, flickered with an energy that felt unsteady, his shadows twitching unnaturally against the ground.

Then the demonstration began.

Wrath lunged.

A blur of fangs and shadow, his skeletal maw snapping forward, claws slicing through the air. Mordecai barely moved, just enough to let the strike pass him by, his robes barely disturbed by the force of the blow. The moment Wrath’s claws missed, they left behind a lingering arc of darkness, a sharp cut of shadow in the space where Mordecai once stood.

Another strike.

Wrath spun, faster this time, his body twisting as his form flickered between solid and smoke. Mordecai stepped aside, unshaken, dodging with a quiet ease. Each evasion left another line of darkness behind, the remnants of Wrath’s strikes hanging in the air like slashes in reality itself.

Their dance continued—Wrath attacking in sharp, relentless motions, Mordecai moving as though untouched by the weight of gravity. Every near miss left another streak of shadow in its wake until, at last, those lingering remnants did not fade.

Instead, they formed something.

The space between them darkened, the crisscrossing trails of Wrath’s attacks converging into a great, shifting veil of shadow. Then, in a single moment, they disappeared.

The arena fell silent.

For several long beats, the only thing left was the heavy void they had left behind, a smothering mass of darkness that swallowed the space where they had stood. Then, just as suddenly, it ripped open.

Mordecai and Wrath emerged from the black like figures stepping from a realm beyond sight, the shadows peeling away like smoke curling off their skin. Wrath landed with a heavy, soundless step, while Mordecai stood at his side, untouched.

The last traces of darkness dissipated, leaving them standing there, a moment of stillness between them before Wrath let out a low, satisfied growl.

The performance was done.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

1. Zephyr (14)
   Zephyr commanded his Avacatos to weave through the air in a coordinated pattern, their tails glowing faintly as they formed a spiraling helix that shimmered like desert winds.
2. Avarice (12)
   Avarice directed Cryos, the Ice Lion, to unleash a wave of frost across the arena, creating a sparkling frozen surface that gleamed under the coliseum lights.
3. Buzz (11)
   Buzz sent Beemon flying in sharp, erratic bursts, leaving behind trails of golden pollen that swirled in mesmerizing patterns but lacked refinement.
4. Karn (12)
   Karn stood stoically as Ashen the Raptor Dinosaur let out a deafening roar, stomping the ground with enough force to send small tremors rippling across the arena.

 

[ThieviusRaccoonus]

Bazza

Bazza strutted into the center of the arena, a wide, cocky grin stretched across his face. His muscles flexed instinctively, and with the support of his powerful tail, his strides turned into casual, effortless bounds. Spinning on his heel, he threw his arms up, flexing for the crowd.

"YOU LOT READY TO WITNESS THE POWER OF BAZZA ‘THE BUSH BRAWLER’?" he shouted, his voice booming through the coliseum.

As if on cue, assisting Soulvows rolled out a heavy punching bag, positioning it directly in front of him. Mordecai flicked an ear, his brow raising slightly at the… unconventional setup.

Bazza barely seemed to notice—or care. He started hopping in place, shifting left and right, his headband beginning to glow. The fabric suddenly sprang to life, unraveling into long wraps that extended down his arms, legs, and tail, binding him in a tight bracer-like formation. The moment the wraps settled, they pulsed with a golden energy.

With a sharp inhale, Bazza swung back and slammed his fist into the bag. The impact sent a deep, echoing thud across the arena. He immediately followed with another punch—faster, harder—his movements fluid and practiced.

"Come on, mate! Don’t go easy on me!" he shouted, despite the fact that the punching bag, in fact, wasn’t fighting back.

Then, he really kicked it up a notch.

Bazza launched himself backward, his thick tail grounding him before he propelled forward like a cannonball. His legs struck out in a devastating double-kick, his feet slamming into the punching bag with bone-rattling force. The bag launched across the arena like a meteor, smashing into the far wall with a loud, satisfying crack.

Before it even hit the ground, Bazza was already moving. With another incredible leap, he closed the distance in seconds, twisting midair before whipping his tail into the bag. The impact alone could’ve split stone, but the glowing wraps sliced clean through the material, sending a burst of stuffing and shredded leather scattering across the coliseum.

Bazza landed with ease, spinning back toward the crowd. His blood was on fire.

"That’s right!" he roared, throwing his fists into the air before crouching low and smashing his gloves into the ground. A jagged crack tore through the arena floor beneath him, dust and loose stone shifting from the sheer force of impact. Then, just as quickly as he’d dropped, he sprang back up, bouncing effortlessly on the balls of his feet, shifting into a proper boxer’s stance.

Victory pose engaged.

"Bazza the Bush Brawler! Representin’ Redcrest, ya bloody beaut!" He hopped forward, turning toward the crowd with a manic grin.

"Yeah, that’s right, mates! I’m hotter than the desert I came from! The bush ain’t for the weak!" He flexed again, making sure everyone in the crowd got a good look at his absurdly sculpted arms.

He didn’t stop there.

Bazza bounded into the audience, flexing, posturing, forcing strangers to bear witness to his sheer physique. His tail lashed behind him, sending small clouds of dust into the air with each dramatic bounce.

From his place in the crowd, Mordecai looked physically disturbed.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

• Lyssia (6)
  Lyssia attempted to have Temperance of Light create a radiant shield, but the glow flickered weakly, and the shield collapsed before the display could make an impact.
• Riven (8)
  Riven called on Thatchmoor, the Scarecrow, to summon an eerie field of shadowy crows, but the flock was sparse, and the effect lacked the ominous punch he intended.
• Sky (5)
  Sky and The Bells Orchestra attempted a musical performance, but the bell tones clanged out of sync, creating more noise than harmony and leaving the audience wincing.
• Tova (12)
  Tova’s Dolphinus leapt gracefully into the air, creating a dazzling arc of glowing water that hung suspended for a few moments before raining down like shimmering stars.
• Kikumura (12)
  Kikumura and Hallograth summoned a powerful gust of wind that whirled through the coliseum, lifting sparkling dust into the air to create a fleeting but striking visual spectacle.
• Red (14)
  Red’s Knight of Arms executed a flawless series of weapon maneuvers, each strike creating an echoing clang that resonated with an air of heroic determination.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

Ephraim stepped forward with steady resolve, the weight of the moment heavy on her shoulders. She closed her eyes briefly, focusing on the connection to Mercy, her Soulvow. A faint glow surrounded her as Mercy materialized in a graceful burst of light and feathers, her harpy-like form radiating an ethereal beauty. Silver wings unfurled, their edges shimmering as though dusted with starlight, and for a moment, the crowd murmured in quiet awe.

Mercy moved with elegance, raising her talons toward the air as Ephraim extended her hand in tandem. Together, they worked to summon a protective barrier, one meant to symbolize their unity and strength. At first, a silvery arc began to form between them, shimmering faintly in the air like a fragile mirror. Ephraim’s focus deepened, her brow furrowing as she poured her energy into the effort, but the barrier flickered—its form unstable. It shimmered faintly for just a few moments before collapsing in a quiet ripple of light, leaving only faint motes of silver drifting away into the night.

The crowd’s reaction was subdued, and Ephraim clenched her fists at her sides, frustration curling in her chest. Mercy glanced back at her with a soft expression, folding her wings gracefully as though to reassure her. Though the display hadn’t achieved the impact Ephraim had hoped for, she straightened her posture, brushing off her disappointment. Even if the performance hadn’t been a grand success, she walked back to her place with dignity.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

• Cain Cobra (13)
  Cain summoned Medusa the Keeper, whose glowing emerald eyes projected sharp beams of light that cut intricate patterns into the sand, mesmerizing the audience with its precision.
• Darius (4)
  Darius commanded Sandwrought, the Dune Guardian, to create a towering sand sculpture, but the structure crumbled halfway through, leaving a lopsided heap that drew muffled snickers from the crowd.
• Aiolu (9)
  Aiolu’s Narra the Narwhal glided through the air, creating trails of mist and light, but its routine lacked coordination and left the audience mildly impressed but not amazed.
• Cyan (14)
  Cyan’s Magician Sisters of Aqua performed a coordinated water dance, weaving ribbons of liquid in dazzling patterns before forming a striking spiral that glimmered in the coliseum lights.
• Sylva (12)
  Sylva’s Silkweaver spun an elaborate web mid-air, catching faint glimmers of light that created a hauntingly beautiful display before it delicately draped over the coliseum floor.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

• Bazza (17)
• Clover (16)
• Cyan (14)
• Zephyr (14)
• Red (14)
• Cain Cobra (13)
• Astra (13)
• Gloam (13)
• Avarice (12)
• Karn (12)
• Sylva (12)
• Kikumura (12)
• Buzz (11)
• Aiolu (9)
• Ephraim (9)
• Riven (8)
• Mordecai (8)
• Tova (8)
• Lyssia (6)
• Sky (5)
• Finn (4)
• Darius (4)

---

Announcement: Night 1 Results

The glowing sigil in the sky pulsed brightly, and the commanding voice of the Soul Keepers filled the coliseum, ringing out over the gathered players and their Soulvows.

“Congratulations, Bazza, the Brush Brawler of Redcrest! Your thrilling performance of raw power and charisma has earned you the top rank of the night. The audience was captivated by your mastery, and your unrelenting spirit has marked you as the winner of the first challenge. Let it be known—you have proven yourself a leader among competitors!”

The rankings shimmered into view above the players, glowing gold, and descending from Bazza’s name at the top down to the very bottom. As the list completed, the voice took on a solemn tone.

“But as there are triumphs, there are also shortcomings. Tonight, four contestants have failed to meet the standard of the Soul Games. These players rank the lowest and are now at risk of elimination from the Games.”

The golden light shifted to red, highlighting the lowest four names:

• Darius, the Sandwrought Guardian of Volcanor
• Finn, the Doppledow Handler of Starhaven
• Sky, the Bells Orchestra of Redcrest
• Lyssia, the Firefly of Volcanor

The voice intensified as it described each performance.

“Darius, your Sandwrought Guardian’s attempt to construct a towering sand sculpture crumbled before it was complete, leaving nothing but a lopsided heap. Your display lacked precision and execution, failing to demonstrate the strength expected of Volcanor.

Finn, your Doppledow’s aerial display was marred by chaos and clumsiness, with the two-headed bird fighting itself mid-performance. This lack of control revealed critical gaps in your connection with your Soulvow.

Sky, your Bells Orchestra’s attempt at a sonic performance fell flat. The lack of harmony and impact resulted in an underwhelming display that could not inspire awe.

Lyssia, your attempt to blend Temperance’s light into the surroundings was timid and lacked flair. The result failed to hold the audience’s attention, falling short of the intensity expected in these Games.”

The crowd murmured as the glowing names floated in the air, their ranking numbers displayed beside them.

“Bazza, as the top-ranked player, the decision now rests with you. You must choose which two of these four contestants will not continue in the Soul Games. Consider their performances, their strengths, and their weaknesses. Your decision is final and will determine the fate of these players; once you verbalize it, they will no longer participate in the games moving forward.”

The sigil dimmed slightly, leaving the tension hanging thick in the air.

The coliseum fell still, the weight of the decision pressing down on everyone. Bazza’s moment of power had arrived, and the fates of Darius, Finn, Sky, and Lyssia now rested squarely in his hands.

 

[ThieviusRaccoonus]

The moment Bazza’s name was announced as the winner, he exploded into movement.

Bazza launched himself into the air with a victorious whoop, punching the sky like he’d just knocked out an invisible opponent.

"YEAAAAAAH, THAT’S RIGHT! BAZZA THE BUSH BRAWLER, WITH HIS TRUSTY IRONSIDE!"

He landed with a heavy thud, immediately hopping forward, his tail balancing him as he pumped his fists and spun toward the crowd. His entire body vibrated with excitement as he threw his arms up, flexing hard before dropping back into his signature boxer’s stance—bouncing light on his feet, ready to throw down.

"I’M THE TOP KANGAROO! THE ROO WITH THE MOVES! I GOT THAT LEFT PUNCH!" He swung his left fist.

"THE ROO RIGHT WITH THE RIGHT PUNCH!" He fired off his right, snapping his arm back with a grin.

"YOU THINK YA CAN TAKE ME? TRY AGAIN, MATES!" He leaned back on his tail, bouncing in place, still shadowboxing between each hop.

Then, he turned, bounding toward the four contestants standing before him, all awaiting his judgment. Sky, despite being up for elimination, was still hyping Bazza up from the sidelines.

"SKY? AW, NAH, MATE. I COULDN’T BOOT ONE OF ME OLD REDCREST BLOOD! WE MATES!"

Without warning, Bazza grabbed Sky in a single arm, yanking the birdkin into a crushing side hug, lifting him off the ground with ease. "REDCREST DON’T QUIT! WE FROM THE DESERT, MATES!" he barked, shaking Sky slightly before dropping him back down, dismissing the idea of eliminating him without a second thought.

Then, he turned his attention to the remaining three—Darius, Finn, and Lyssia—his grin still plastered across his face as he resumed his bouncing stance.

"NOW, NOW, NOW—WHAT’S THIS? YA LOOKIN’ LIKE GOOD COMPETITION, EH?" He threw a few quick, fake punches in Darius’s direction, not even close to hitting but clearly sizing him up. "YA GOT SOME MUSCLE ON YA, MATE, BUT YA CAN’T JUST BE BUILTIN’ CASTLES IN THE SAND AND HOPIN’ THEY STAY UP!" He snickered, shaking his head.

Then, his gaze flicked to Finn, his grin widening. "AND YOU? AH, YA GOTTA BE ABLE TO CONTROL YER OWN BLOODY BIRD BEFORE YA TRY TO COMPETE WITH THE BIG BOYS." He gave an exaggerated shrug before clapping his fists together, his decision final. "EASY CHOICE! THESE BLOKES ARE OUTTA HERE."

His eyes landed on Lyssia last, and his entire demeanor shifted into something smug and playful. "AH, BUT YOU?" His voice dropped into something almost charming—if it weren’t coming from Bazza. "DON’T WORRY, SWEETHEART, I’M A GENTLEMAN. YA GET ANOTHER CHANCE."

He flexed a bicep for effect, flashing a dazzling, overconfident grin before hopping away from the eliminated players.

Back toward the crowd he went, throwing his fists in the air again, his energy refusing to dip for even a second. "YEAAAAAH, THAT’S RIGHT! BAZZA IS THE TOP ROO! CAN’T STOP THIS THUNDAH FROM DOWN UNDAH!" He pounded his fists together, reveling in the moment. "THE RUMBLE FROM DOWN UNDER! THE ROO OF REDCREST! BAZZA THE BUSH BRAWLER!"

His fists slammed against his chest as he flexed once more—obnoxious, hyped, and utterly unstoppable.

Then, for just a moment, his gaze locked onto Avarice in the crowd. A slow, knowing grin curled across his face, and he shot him a cocky, dazzling smile.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

The Announcer’s Voice Booms Across the Coliseum
As Bazza’s exuberant energy fills the space, the sigil above begins to shift, its glow turning a deep red. A solemn tone overtakes the revelry.

“The decisions have been made. Darius and Finn, you are hereby eliminated from the Soul Games. A red light will mark you now, signaling your removal from the active competition. From this point forward, you may return only to the Defeated Zone, where you will observe future night phases from the coliseum stands. Your presence in the greater city is no longer permitted.”

The glowing red lights hover above Darius and Finn’s heads, sealing their fates. The crowd murmurs, some watching with pity, others with cold indifference.
The voice continues, addressing the crowd.

“Let this be a reminder: Earlier in the Games, each of you selected a player of interest. Had either Darius or Finn been chosen, their selectors would have been granted immunity for one future Soul Game. But neither was selected. In this, as in all things, strategy is key.”

The crowd absorbs this with silence, tension thick in the air. Then, the attention shifts to the players themselves.

---

Reactions​

Avarice
From the crowd, Avarice’s eyes glimmer as they lock onto Bazza, his heart fluttering in a way that surprises even himself. He watches the kangaroo’s theatrics, each flex and shout drawing an involuntary grin to his face. “Oh, he’s so loud,” he murmurs, biting his lip, “but I can’t even be mad about it.” The gooey look in his eyes lingers as Bazza moves through the crowd, that cocky grin feeling like it’s aimed directly at him.

---

Darius
Darius stands motionless, his jaw clenched as the red light hovers above him. His fists tighten at his sides, his knuckles whitening beneath his thick fur. “Sand sculptures crumble, huh?” he mutters, his voice low and bitter, mostly to himself. “Guess that’s all anyone sees.” His gaze shifts to the floor, his shoulders stiff as he begins to walk toward the exit without another word, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing more emotion. Sandwrought lumbers behind him, silent but heavy with disappointment.

---

Finn
Finn glances up at the glowing red light above his head, his ears twitching slightly, but his expression remains neutral—too neutral. “Figures,” he mutters, crossing his arms as a wry smirk tugs at his mouth. “Can’t blame the bird for that one, though. Poor guy can’t even decide which head to listen to.” He exhales sharply, his skepticism a shield as he watches the crowd. “Not like anyone was betting on me anyway.” He looks over at Astraa briefly, catching the owl’s gaze before shrugging and turning toward the Defeated Area. “See you in the cheap seats, I guess.”

---

Lyssia
Lyssia bows her head for a moment, a quiet wave of relief washing over her as she is spared. But the feeling is bittersweet. Her glowing blue eyes flicker to Darius, her city-partner, as he walks away, his posture rigid with barely contained frustration. She folds her hands gently, Temperance glowing faintly beside her as a comforting presence. “This isn’t how I wanted this to go,” she murmurs, her voice soft. “We’re supposed to endure together.” She exhales slowly, steadying herself. “I’ll carry Volcanor’s strength forward. For both of us.”

---

Astra
Astra watches Finn with a calm, knowing gaze, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as the raccoon leaves the arena. “I warned him,” the owl says softly, shaking his head. “You can’t thrive here without trust in your Soulvow. Doubt makes cracks—and cracks lead to failure.” He adjusts his cloak, his feathers ruffling slightly as Luminesce hovers quietly beside him. “Still, it’s disappointing. He had potential. Wasted potential.”

---

The Announcer’s voice returns, cutting through the coliseum’s murmurs.

“With the eliminations complete, the Soul Games continue. Players, let this serve as a lesson in preparation, connection, and strategy. Each decision you make carries weight, not just for you, but for those who depend on you.”

The sigil pulses once more, signaling the end of the announcements.

“Return to your lodgings. Tomorrow, the Day Phase will bring new opportunities—and new challenges. Good luck, competitors.”
The players disperse, the tension lingering in the air as the red lights above Darius and Finn fade into the distance, marking their departure from the Games.

---

Sky

Sky puffed out his feathered chest, his wings giving an excited flutter as he stared at Bazza, who had just spared him. “Ahhh, mate! Still in the game, Chirp! Feels like I just hit the jackpot!” He hopped from one talon to the other, practically buzzing with energy, his beak clicking excitedly.

“Honestly, wouldn’t have blamed ya if you gave me the boot, Bazzy Boy. Would’ve been, like, poetic or somethin’—a real Redcrest twist!” He tilted his head, grinning wide. “But nope! I’m still kickin’, still here, still makin’ noise! This bird ain’t done squawkin’ yet, hoo-boy!”

 

[scantilycladsnail]

Day 2 Phase: 20 Players Remain

The morning arrived shrouded in heavy gray clouds that hung low over the patchwork city, their edges curling ominously as a light drizzle began to fall. Raindrops tapped softly against rooftops and cobblestone streets, forming tiny rivulets that weaved between the mismatched terrains. Blossom petals from Starhaven clung to the damp ground, and the molten rivers of Volcanor hissed faintly as water touched their glowing surfaces.

The sky rumbled with distant thunder, a low, steady growl that promised heavier rain as the day went on. The city seemed subdued, its usual hum of energy softened by the weather. Soulvows moved through the streets quietly, their shimmering forms unaffected by the rain, while players stirred from their residences, some stepping cautiously into the wet morning, others watching from windows.

Above the city, a glowing sigil appeared once more, casting faint light through the dark clouds. The calm, commanding voice of the Soul Keepers echoed across the expanse:

"Day 2 begins. 20 players remain."

 

[ThieviusRaccoonus]

Mordecai's body jerked in his sleep, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps as he twisted against the mat beneath him. His muscles tensed, his fingers curling into the fabric as his head thrashed from side to side.

Inside his dream, the world was a black, writhing void—twisting shadows and shrieking voices echoing from every direction. Figures flickered in and out of his vision, distorted shapes stretching and vanishing like smoke. He couldn't make them out, but something about them clawed at the edges of his memory.

Wrath was there—or at least, something that was supposed to be Wrath. A massive, skeletal goat loomed before him, its body rotting and grotesque, the faint stench of decay curling through the suffocating darkness. Tendrils of shadow snaked toward him, wrapping around his arms and pulling him down, deeper into the abyss.

There were others, too. Ephraim? No—maybe. He couldn’t tell. There was a goat, but also—wasn’t. It was wrong. The laughter surrounding him wasn’t kind, wasn’t warm. It was mocking, cruel, ringing out like a chorus of unseen voices.

A monstrous form towered over him, six arms outstretched, reaching. Grinning. Waiting.

The deeper he fell, the more Wrath’s voice morphed, twisting into something guttural, demonic—screaming in his mind, a noise that rattled inside his skull like it wanted to shatter him from the inside out. The figures around him blurred together, overwhelming and suffocating, and the dark tendrils yanked harder, dragging him deeper, deeper—

Mordecai's eyes shot open as he screamed.

His body lurched upright, his breath ragged, sweat soaking through his fur as his pulse pounded in his ears. His vision swam, the world around him still flickering between the nightmare and reality.

Wrath lay at his feet, but for a moment—just a moment—his skeletal face shifted, flickering between the familiar and something much, much worse. The monstrous version of Wrath from his dream, the rotting, horrifying form, flashing in and out like a mirage.

Mordecai’s breath hitched, panic creeping in—but then Wrath barked, the sound sharp, grounding. The illusion shattered, his form stabilizing, his tail thumping gently against the floor as he looked up at Mordecai, unaffected.

The rain outside grew louder, steady against the roof, and through the haze of his mind, Mordecai registered the voice ringing through the city, announcing the eliminations. His hands trembled slightly as he rubbed them over his face, trying to steady himself, the lingering weight of the nightmare still pressing against his ribs.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

Ephraim leaned back against the wooden frame of the Blossom Chalet, her arms crossed as she listened to Buzz animatedly recount the eliminations from the previous night. The bee’s golden wings buzzed faintly, her energy almost infectious as she gestured wildly.

“And did you see Bazza? He was out there like he owned the whole damn coliseum!” Buzz laughed, her antennae twitching. “I mean, you gotta admit, the guy’s got flair, even if it’s the loudest flair I’ve ever seen.”

Ephraim smirked faintly, shaking her head. “Flair doesn’t win games,” she muttered, though there was no edge to her voice. “But yeah, he’s something, alright. Makes you wonder how long he’ll last with all that showboating.”

Buzz opened her mouth to reply, but the sharp sound of a scream sliced through the quiet of the morning rain, cutting her off. Both Ephraim and Buzz froze, their ears—or in Buzz’s case, antennae—perking as they turned toward the sound.

“That—” Ephraim straightened, her sharp eyes narrowing toward the direction of the noise. “That came from inside.”

Buzz glanced toward her, her energy faltering. “Think someone’s hurt?” she asked, her usual chipper tone laced with concern.

Ephraim was already moving, brushing past Buzz without a word and heading toward the room Mordecai had claimed. Her pulse quickened slightly, though her face betrayed nothing. The scream had been raw, visceral—something that wasn’t just physical pain but deeper, something breaking.

When she reached the room, Ephraim hesitated just for a moment before pushing the door open. Her eyes immediately found Mordecai, sitting upright on the mat, his fur damp with sweat, his breath ragged. Wrath lay at his feet, staring up at him with a wagging tail, as if completely oblivious to whatever had just happened.

“Mordecai,” Ephraim said, her voice low but firm. She stepped inside, the rain outside a steady backdrop to the heavy silence. “Everything okay?”

Her eyes scanned him—his trembling hands, the wild look in his eyes that hadn’t yet faded. It didn’t take a genius to piece together that it had been a nightmare. She’d seen it before—on her partner’s face, in the mirror—but whatever Mordecai had dreamed, it had shaken him to the core.

 

[ThieviusRaccoonus]

Mordecai was still caught in the lingering grip of his nightmare when Ephraim entered, his breath uneven, his body tense. He didn’t register her presence at first, lost in the aftershocks of whatever he had just experienced. When he finally looked up at her, there was a flicker of recognition, but the wildness in his eyes hadn’t fully faded.

His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came. He swallowed, trying to force his thoughts into something coherent. “I… had a nightmare,” he finally said, though his voice was uncertain, like he wasn’t entirely convinced himself. “I think it was a nightmare.” His brow furrowed as he tried to latch onto something solid, something real. “It felt like one. But it also felt…”

He trailed off, struggling to find the words. It had been intense—too intense. Something about it felt familiar, like a memory clawing at the edges of his mind, something half-forgotten but too vivid to ignore. He couldn’t tell if he had lived it before or if it was some twisted illusion dredged up from the depths of his subconscious. It hadn’t felt like him. But at the same time, it had.

His gaze flickered to Wrath, who still lay at his feet, thumping his tail lightly as if nothing had happened. But the Wrath in his dream had been something else entirely—something monstrous, something wrong. His body gave a faint tremor as he tried to piece it all together, the memory slipping through his fingers like water.

“Real?” Mordecai muttered, his voice quieter now, almost to himself. “Like… something happened. It was me. But I don’t know.” His fingers curled slightly against the mat beneath him, grounding himself as best as he could, though the shaking in his limbs hadn’t fully stopped.

The steady patter of rain outside filled the silence, and for a moment, he fixated on it. Something about the sound sent another flash of that nightmare through him—a sensation more than an image, a weight pressing down on him—but it was gone before he could grasp it. He exhaled sharply, his hand moving up to press against his forehead.

“Where am I…” The words slipped out before he fully realized he had spoken them, his voice distant. He blinked, looking around the room, forcing himself back to the present. The Blossom Chalet. The Soul Games. Ephraim standing in front of him.

“This is real,” he muttered, more certain this time, grounding himself in the moment. “I’m real.” But the doubt still lingered at the edges of his mind, like a shadow refusing to dissipate.

Wrath lifted his head slowly, his ears flicking back as he turned toward Ephraim. A low, sorrowful whine escaped him, his usual energy dampened. His glowing eyes, normally burning with mischief or excitement, held something softer now—concern.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

Ephraim’s expression softened as she watched Mordecai wrestle with the weight of whatever nightmare had gripped him. Quietly, she crossed the room and sat down beside him, keeping a respectful distance but close enough for her presence to be grounding. She didn’t speak right away, letting the sound of the rain fill the space between them. After a moment, she reached out, her hand brushing his arm lightly before resting on the mat between them. “You’re here, Mordecai,” she said gently, her voice steady and sure. “Whatever that was, it’s over now. You’re real, and this place—whatever it is—is real too. Wrath’s here, I’m here. We’ve got you.”

She leaned back slightly, her eyes meeting his, her own calm radiating like a tether to the present. “It might just be the intensity of the games messing with your head, I think,” she continued, glancing toward Wrath for a moment. “But they don’t get to take your sense of self, okay? We keep each other grounded in this, no matter what’s going on. Whatever you saw, whatever it was, you’re not alone in facing it.” Her tone was firm, the quiet strength in her words a steady hand reaching out to pull him from the storm inside his head. “You don’t have to figure it out all at once. Just one step at a time. Right here, right now, that’s all that matters.”

Mercy: Don't let him access that part of his mind... Wrath. It will destroy his psyche if it seeps in... there's a way we can handle that conversation, we just need more time; for both of them.

 

[ThieviusRaccoonus]

Mordecai’s gaze flickered, still clouded with the remnants of whatever had gripped him, but as he met Ephraim’s eyes, something steadied. Wrath let out a low whimper before shifting, pressing his weight into Mordecai’s lap despite his size. His presence was grounding, his chest rising and falling in slow, rhythmic motions, the flickering shadowy essence of his form pulsing with an almost soothing consistency.

Mordecai’s hand trembled slightly as he placed it against Wrath’s chest, feeling the subtle push and pull of breath beneath the mix of fur and phantom-like energy. His fingers curled against the warmth, as if anchoring himself to it.

“We’re here…” he murmured, the words slipping from his lips like he was testing them, trying to believe them. Slowly, his other hand reached for Ephraim’s, gripping it with an unsteady but deliberate grasp. He stayed silent for a long moment, his breathing evening out, the tension in his shoulders loosening just slightly.

“There’s been… something familiar here,” he muttered, though uncertainty crept into his voice. He tried to latch onto the feeling, tracing it back through the haze in his mind, but it slipped away just as quickly as it had come. His brow furrowed as he exhaled, frustration settling in.

Then, the weight of the previous night returned to him. “Ah, damn… that challenge. I did…” he trailed off, shaking his head. Wrath glanced up at him, watching, before settling his head back down with a quiet huff. Mordecai let out a slow sigh, his grip tightening briefly around Ephraim’s hand before loosening again.

“I’m just not feeling in the right headspace,” he admitted, voice low, his exhaustion bleeding through.

 

[scantilycladsnail]

Ephraim gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, her voice calm but resolute. "We got through the first game, Mordecai, and that’s what matters right now. You’ll bounce back—I know you will. We’ve got time to figure things out, to get back in the right headspace." She tilted her head slightly, offering a faint smile. "The first game was just a demonstration, about connection. Makes me wonder what’s coming next. Maybe it’ll be something easier." She paused, her tone softening. "Either way, we’ll face it together."

Wrath halted abruptly, his skeletal ears flicking as a wave of unfamiliar voices intruded on his mind. Mercy shimmered faintly beside him, her glow pulsing unevenly. The air felt distorted, heavy, like a signal crossing through channels that didn’t belong to them. And then, they heard it—clear and unmistakable. Voices that weren’t meant for them.

Temperance's Voice (soft, steady):
"You don’t have to keep devouring, Gluttony. There’s nothing left for you to prove. I’m here. You can stop… just for a moment."

Gluttony’s Voice (gruff, with a quiet crack beneath the anger):
"Stop? What do you know of stopping? The hunger doesn’t rest, Temperance. It gnaws, it tears, it screams. You can’t understand."

Temperance (gentle, insistent):
"I do understand. I feel it too—the need, the pull. But it doesn’t have to control you. It doesn’t define you, Gluttony."

Gluttony (growling, but softer):
"It’s not that simple. You hold your balance like it’s a shield, but you’ve never known what it is to starve. To need."

Temperance (with quiet firmness):
"And you’ve never known what it is to be full, to find peace in the stillness. You think it’s weakness to pause, but it’s strength, Gluttony. It’s survival."

Gluttony (hesitant, softer still):
"Survival… survival feels like emptiness. Like another form of hunger I can’t satisfy."

Temperance (gently, with resolve):
"Then let me hold some of it with you. We’re meant to carry this together. You and I… we were made to balance each other, not destroy ourselves."

Gluttony (after a long silence, voice barely audible):
"...You’re still here. Even after all I’ve taken, you’re still here."

The voices faded again, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. Mercy turned to Wrath, her glow trembling slightly, her voice tinged with unease.