Fantasy Fighters of the Colosseum (Now Beginning...)

[Lady Warlock]

And So Our Story Begins....

Each player will take on the role of either a noble or a slave, someone who knew very well what the life of a pit fighter was like because it was a system they grew up around. Regardless of which background each individual comes from, you are now a prisoner to the invaders. Former pit barracks have been transformed into makeshift prison cells in which you now sit awaiting your fate. What fate that might be, no one knows.


Each character may have friends within the cells they sit near. They may not. They may have previous experience fighting in the pits. They may not. It is quite possible that a slave who was training has been taken captive, never having seen the brutality of the pit in person. It is quite possible that a noble was imprisoned, mistaken for a pit fighter when in all reality, their entire existence was spent watching the fights in the pits rather than taking part in the combat themselves. Waiting in your cells, it may be unclear who is an ally and who is an enemy, who would gladly kill for the spectacle to come and who will fight it to the end. That is the joy of it, though. That is the mystery. That is how legends begin.

 

[Lady Warlock]

The Awakening

A golden light filled the barracks that lied beneath the slave pit as slowly, but surely, the prisoners began to awaken. None of them would know quite what had happened although some might remember the invasion, the fire, the call for troops to support the front lines. Some might have even gone so far as to remember that the support that was sent to the front lines ultimately failed.


The invaders had been the Valhalla and it seemed that the knew everything that would be done to try and prevent their advancement. Even more so, the military commanders of the invaders knew to target the pit fighters - that the pit fighters would be the strongest of the civilians within the country’s capital and that without the pit fighters, surrender was certain. And so it had happened that the pit fighters, and anyone else who looked like a threat, were all taken out almost immediately.


The barracks in which they were now imprisoned had been converted to a dungeon of sorts - makeshift bars trapped two individuals within each sleeping cubby. There was one bunk between the two prisoners and each bed was fitted with a single sheet and one pillow. Beyond that, there was nothing readily available to them and each prisoner would find that any weapons they normally carried, if in fact they had even carried anything, had been removed from their person prior to imprisonment.


Within this particular area, there were six cells - six prisons that contained people who may or may not have been familiar to each other. Three lined one wall and three lined the other.

Cell 1 Cell 2 Cell 3 Cell 4 Cell 5 Cell 6 Cells are lined up across from each other with an aisle in the middle. Cell 1 contains Peter and Maragos Kenelm. Cell 2 contains Damian Blackwell III. Cell 3 is empty at the moment. Cell 4 contains Helena Patroc. Cell 5 contains Calin and Justice Candice. Cell 6 contains Damian Thalk. You are unable to see the people in the cells next to your cell although you can hear them if they speak. Standing guard is one armored individual. The keys are nowhere to be seen.

Justice Candice

The youngest girl in the barracks seemed to have been awake for a while already. She was curled up in the cell, her arms hugging her knees in front of her body while she sat on the ground.


The girl’s long white dress was torn and ragged, stained with mud that no doubt had been sitting there for quite a while. Some of the stains were more fresh than others though, and from the way that she was shivering, some of the stains were still moist. A small draft flooded into the barracks only making her situation even worse.


Although she didn’t look the slightest bit comfortable, the girl’s eyes were scanning the entire room. They flickered from one waking person to another and although she didn’t say anything to anyone, it was very clear that she was nervous. It wasn’t until after her eyes had dwelled on every other person that she could see that her eyes turned to the boy in her cell. She almost seemed to push away from him, sliding as close to the wall as she could.


@Whisker @Edric Yuma @Celemyvel @DemonStiletto

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

Maragos Kenelm



​

The first thing he felt was the intense pounding in his head. Then came the pain from his leg which had Maragos searching his person for a leather pouch with his eyes still closed. He found it securely over his breast, full of what his world usually revolved around. Taking a pinch of the contents, he placed the leaves on his tongue. It took a few moments for the herbs to dissolve and minutes more for them to take effect. Sighing, the man opened his eyes. His brow furrowed when he observed his unfamiliar surroundings. He patted the bed beside him where there would have been the second warm body of his fiancé. Assuming she was already up, the dark haired male sat up and swung his legs down to stand but instead found empty space, causing his body weight to slip off his bed.


Maragos landed awkwardly in surprise, the breath inevitably knocked out of him. He coughed and sputtered, trying to regain air into his lungs as he crawled over to a wall by a set of makeshift bars. Leaning against the wall, he took in his surroundings further. Was he in a cell? Why?


The memories crashed over him in flashes. They had been invaded and their reinforcements obliterated, causing the invaders to surge into the city Maragos took haven in. He had been asleep when they charged into his home and came in, swinging their weapons--


His vision went red as he remembered the cry that had awoken him.





"NOOOOOOOOO!" He wailed in defiance and pain, clawing at his face. His breathing became heavy as he glared at the wall across from him, unaware of his cellmate. Slowly, his labored breathing slowed and he slipped into a meditation position by habit as he processed the untimely demise of his beloved. After a bit, he opened his eyes, dark mourning in their depths as he looked around once more, finding a young man sharing their small cell. "Who are you?" He asked in a hoarse whisper.

 

[Lady Warlock]

Helena Patroc

“Calm down, Maragos,” a raspy yet oddly feminine voice called out from across the way. If he looked, he would see the lean figure of Helena Patroc, his Pit Master. She sat kind of oddly on the ground, one of her knees bent with her arm resting on it while her other leg curled underneath the bent knee. When her eyes looked up at him, her face was honestly the most interesting sight in the barracks.


Her eyes were intense - they always had been and that would likely never change. There was another thing of note, though. Her face was covered with lines and lines of dried blood and she didn’t appear to have an injuries. This left one conclusion. The blood was not her own. Bruises on her knuckles and around her wrists showed that she had put up quite the struggle before being captured although, apparently, it hadn’t been enough. She was still locked in a prison cell just the same as everyone else was.


@Celemyvel

 

[Whisker]

Damian Blackwell III

​

There was another individual who had been awake for quite a while though he did not go out of his way to advertise his presence. In fact, outside of pulling himself into a sitting position and balefully staring at his new surroundings, Damian did not do anything much. This bout of melancholy was hardly unusual for the morose pit fighter, but it was even more pronounced given the situation that he found himself in. Despite his previous desire to win a military commission like his father and grandfather before him, Damian was far from being a political man. Indeed, his home life had instilled in him a healthy aversion of associating with the weasels that pushed the pens to the paper and gained glory through scheming instead of a sharpened blade. But now that his country was in ruins and that he was confined to a cell? It would be an understatement to say that the proud Inarian noble was seething beneath that cold mask he wore.


As the others began to awake in their cells, the dark eyes flitted cautiously to the armored guard patrolling the hall. Contrary to his expectations, the individual did not seem adverse to their noise, nor did he move from his place to speak to them. That suited him just fine. He was not much in the mood to take orders from anyone at the moment. Leaning back against the wall, Damian was about to brood some more on his situation when a voice shouted out from the next cell. He frowned upon recognizing who it belonged to.





So the viper is here, too? I give it to the Valhalla … they have not been amiss in recognizing threats lurking within their midst.


The same acknowledgement persisted when the voice belonging to his pit master spoke up from the cell diagonal to his own. He could not see her by virtue of the wall, but he could just imagine the look on her face as she spoke. Smirking slightly, he moved on from thinking about the two of them and instead glanced for the first time towards the cell directly across from his own. He was a bit disconcerted to find that it held not the familiar fighters he was expecting, but two individuals who looked to be little more than a couple of scrawny kids.

 

[Edric Yuma]

"Damnit guard, I gotta pee." Peter called out to the guard for what seemed like the upteenth time. He knew it was pointless, but really, so was everything else he was doing in cell. Sighing, he lay back down on his shoddy bed, groaning from the terrible conditions from within. He had already been awake for awhile, and he didn't see the need to stay awake for any longer. "This sucks," He muttered with his eyes closed, summing up his entire situation. If he ever got home, he was never joining the army again. Slowly, he drifted back to sleep....


"NOOOOOOOOO!" A sudden wail jolted Peter awake, and he quickly jumped up, only to experience vertigo and sit back down. "Fuck, dude!" Peter muttered. He sat on his bed, watching as the man clawed away at his own face. When the man finally looked up at Peter, Peter jolted with surprise at the scary number of scars the man had. He took a mental note not to mess with the dude. At the question, however, Peter answered with sarcasm, as he was quite deeply annoyed. "I'm Nobody," He replied, alluding to a Greek myth about a hero and his rather tragic journey home to his wife. Personally, he felt that his life was just as crappy as the hero's.


"We are in a cell. You are yelling. It is hurting my ears. Please let me go back to sleep." Peter spoke in short, clipped sentences to emphasize his annoyance. He laid back down on his crappy bed in the crappy cell containing his crappy jailmate, closing his eyes. He just wanted peace, but even in sleep it appeared he could not find it.

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

Maragos Kenelm

​

Maragos narrowed his eyes keenly at Nobody. Was this guy being a smart ass? Or did he simply lose all moral and self confidence in himself and had accepted his dark fate? Judging by the younger man's face, he assumed it was the less dramatic one. He opened his mouth to reply to his cell mate who was curling back up in his bed when a familiar, raspy voice reprimanded him for his outburst. Maragos scooted over to the makeshift bars to look across the way at the parallel cell to his. "Helena?" A brow raised at her current state. "Gods, they got you too huh?" The pit master had obviously not been detained without a fight. He adjusted himself so he was leaning on the wall with his back and the bars were at his side. His long legs stretched out and he folded his hands over his abdomen as he began processing what exactly was seemingly going on.


As far as he could tell, there were at least two cells, both containing two pit veterans and a supposed Nobody. Maragos glanced at Nobody who was indeed not someone with such a vague title. He had an air about him that implied he had fought before. Sighing, Maragos once again refocused his thoughts to the current problem. They'd jailed fighters. Specifically him too after he avenged his fiance's death by cutting down two of the Valhalla raiders before he was practically dog piled and knocked out. But what for? Why would these invaders spare civilian fighters? His eyes widened slightly when he came to the only logical conclusion. Why hadn't he thought so before? But he would need to confirm this.


Sticking his face between the bars, he glanced at Helena before noticing an armed guard. The guard had yet to punish him for his wailing so Maragos decided to push his luck just to solidify his theory. "Who else is here? Name yourselves and what you did before the Valhalla!" His voice boomed and echoed from his cell as he demanded any other fellow prisoners of their whereabouts. He could feel annoyance coming from behind him from the bunks at his loud disturbance. If the Valhalla were indeed keeping them for future sport... the snake-like man was beginning to feel a knot forming in his gut. He forced all negative thoughts from his mind as he awaited answers from everyone else if there was anyone else.





@Edric Yuma @DaughterofAthena @Whisker @Everyone else I forgot, so sorry, many apologies

 

[DemonStiletto]

Calin


Another drop fell upon the ground. Then another and another. The collection of warm beads pooled together as a small puddle on the floor. The sweat continued its torrent. Calin was already awake and nearing the end of his personal, morning training.


Currently, the boy's body was supported by no more than strength and the wall behind him kept him delicately balanced. With a quick gasp, he put pressure onto his muscles. Then with a grunt, he pushed himself back up. Breath escaped through gritted teeth as he straightens his arms. The entirety of his weight pressed down on him. It was an intense form of strength exercise, handstand push-ups. For anyone else it was a test of strength, but the small boy took it as one of endurance and determination. Calin was out of both.


Once more, Calin attempted the trying motion just to have his arms give out. A painful sounding splash resounded throughout the small cell. His drained body had him fall stomach end first into the slippery puddle below. His workout brought to a sudden halt.


"Ah!" Calin winced in pain. His body tensed and he found he couldn't move more than a inch in any direction. Shaking, squirming, and struggling the boy tried in a vain attempt to remove himself from the moist floor. Nothing worked, but the boy simply laughed. It hadn't been more than three reps in ten minutes, but the final exercise had left him spent. If he was older, he would have seen it as a limit, but the boy enjoyed the fact that he did his best. To give proper credit, it was probably beyond his best given his current condition. He was only a scrawny kid that had picked up real exercise rather recently. The results weren't visible, but he could feel them and that meant the world to him.


Once his laughter had died down, Calin stared at the ceiling and took his immobile moment to really take in the cell he was in. It was definitely different from the one he was in prior, but a cell was a cell. It was still dingy and dirty, but it was still the only place he could call home. For the first time in his life, it was a place he could come back to where he would have a place to eat and sleep. Assuming he came back that is. Of course, that option didn't even come to his mind. Instead, he thought of the chance to make friends here.


Calin craned his head toward the corner of the room. There sat a young girl in a messy, white dress. It had been a while since he had last seen some as small as himself, so he liked to believe the two could have some kind of bond. Unfortunately, as his eyes made contact with hers. She visibly moved away from him. There could only be two reasons for this, but it definitely had to be the more common one. He smelled.


Embarrassed, the boy turned his head away from the girl and toward the cell's exit. With significant effort, he bent his arm toward his armpits and took a whiff. The scent was bad, indeed. He attempted to really gauge the smell, but he found himself distracted by a man could that could be made out beyond the bars. Calin focused on the man, and the man happened to be right looking back. A stare of disappointment was all over the man's face. Could it be that Calin reeked badly enough to have the scent reach even him? Calin sighed in disbelief as a concerned frown took over his face. He had a potential, yet unwilling friend on one end and a disapproving stranger on the other. Returning his gaze to the ceiling, Calin had found himself between a rock and a hard place.


@DaughterofAthena @Whisker

 

[Lady Warlock]

“Yes, me too,” she sighed. “Heck, I’d go so far as to mention all the barracks under the pit are just as full if not moreso. It was a massacre.”


Almost as if it was exactly on cue, there was a scream. Loud and squealing, it rang through the entire room that contained the small group of prisoners, sending a message of pain; it may have even been meant to terrify them although its effect on that end would be minimal, no doubt. Helena’s eyes flickered first to the guard, who did not flinch, and then to the door at the other end of the walkway. “That’s the third time I’ve heard someone scream,” she explained.


The scream had drowned out the first sound that came from the cell adjacent to Helena’s although once the scream had died down, another nervous squeak could be heard coming from the young girl within the barracks. Of course, Helena couldn’t see it, but even she could tell from the sound that it’s source was young and a child at that. Her eyes squinted in confusion. “Every time I think I have this figured out, something else happens that foils everything. And now there is a child…” She seemed very frustrated by the fact.


@Celemyvel




Meanwhile, Calin would see every slightest movement the little girl made. She flinched when Maragos’ voice had boomed through the room. When the scream had reached her ears, her body curled up even more tightly. And as Helena mentioned a child, she squealed once more. Her eyes flickered again to Calin although she still didn’t speak.


The boy who shared her cell would notice a few things if he decided to pay enough attention to her. There were bruises on her wrists consistent with very large hands, suggesting that whoever had captured her had not been the most gentle. He would also notice that she flinched more when Maragos spoke and when “Nobody” spoke than she did when Helena spoke. And the way her eyes looked at him - at Calin - suggested fear.


However, there was the slightest smile on her face as she watched him smell himself. It was honestly the last thing she had expected him to do. Briefly, she shook her head at him, biting her lip to hold back the slight chuckle.


@DemonStiletto




“Damian Thalk.” A voice came from the cell as far away from Maragos as the room allowed. “I fought in the pits same as I presume you did.” Unfortunately, there was no face for anyone to put to the voice as whoever the man was speaking did not poke his face close enough to the bars to be seen.


@Celemyvel




There was a slight jostle of the door before two more guards walked in, a set of keys rattling on the hips of the first one while the second had a firm grasp on what appeared to be another prisoner.

And the prisoner was another young one at that. The first guard quickly unlocked the gate to cell number two and threw the boy inside. The boy stumbled and nearly tripped although he did manage to remain on his feet. His eyes went to glare back at the men who had thrown him in, but the gate was already closed.


The guard with the keys handed the ring off to the man at the end of the hall, the two of them seeming to switch places. Two men walked out leaving the situation similar to the one that had existed before. However, the silence only lasted a moment as the man who had previously been standing guard walked back in, unlocking cell number 1 briefly, opening it just enough to toss a bucket inside; it landed right on Peter’s lap. He walked back out just as quickly as he had come in.


“Well,” Helena commented, “That was the most movement I’ve seen all day.” Her eyes flickered to the boy who had been tossed into Damian’s cell. She knew him; he was a boy she’d been training for the pits although he had never actually been tossed into a fight yet.


@Edric Yuma @Whisker

 

[Whisker]

“Who else is here? Name yourselves and what you did before the Valhalla!”


Damian sighed. For a man nicknamed the viper, Maragos could be as loud as a trumpet blaring in the ear. With his eyes momentarily turning away from the two children in the cell across from him, he answered the demand in his normal reasonable-sounding baritone.


“There is no need to shout, Viper. The way these cells are constructed your voice will carry without much effort.”


As for the rest of it, Damian didn’t bother answering. The viper knew who he was and what he could do without any verbal reminiscings on his part. Just as he was lapsing into silence, Helena, his pit master, spoke again. Damian glanced in her direction and then upwards as a hair-raising scream rang out from down below. The voice was young - perhaps no older than the two across from him. He frowned absently and carefully responded when Helena spoke up about her frustrations.


"Perhaps they were from the slave pits? They take children at that age."


There was also the occasional young noble looking to earn themselves some glory, but it was not often. The nobles happened to be a bit touchy as to what happened to their heirs. Thinking absently on the fact, his eyes flickered over towards the two brats across from him. The girl had squeaked with fear when Helena spoke up ... and it was only now that he noticed the state of her. Filthy and disheveled, she looked to know more than any of them what was happening below. Damian studied her and the boy for a few moments longer and then jerked his eyes to the door. There was movement, maybe a muttered oath or two, and then it flew open to reveal two guards and young boy. He half expected them to walk on, but they stopped before his cell. Slowly, the man rose from his position on the floor. This proved to be unnecessary as all the guards did was shove the boy inside. The kid stumbled some from the shove, but found his balance. The guards then locked up and went onto cell one. He noted with some amusement that a bucket was tossed inside before things went silent again.


Ignoring the others, the man glanced at his new cell mate.


"You alright, boy?"





@DemonStiletto @Celemyvel @DaughterofAthena @Edric Yuma

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

Maragos raised a brow at the two responses. Both were Damians and both were fighters. Though one had to be from the slave pit since Maragos did not recognize his voice that came further away from the other. The other Damian the snake knew well. So they had caged the big bad wolf as well? He had fought in the pits against this man before and he would have loved to see the wolf's damage on the Valhalla before he was detained. "The gang is all here is it?" He sighed, his tone light and octave much lower than before but still carrying to the rest of the cells.


His thoughts were interrupted by a scream. It haunted his ears for seconds, the voice was young and though Maragos knew that life was not always kind, he couldn't stop a pang of empathy within him. The man looked at his pit master as she spoke, nodding in agreement to Blackwell's statement even though the wolf could not see him.


His eyes narrowed and his nickname was given explanation as he watched a pair of guards and got a glimpse of a boy between them as they opened the cell next to his and shoved the lad in. Maragos raised a brow as one of the guards approached his cell. Perhaps instinctively, he stood as the guard entered and tossed a bucket at his cell mate before closing the bar door and locking it. For good measure, Maragos stepped to the bars quickly and shook them. They didn't budge. The guard chuckled at his antics and walked off.


Maragos sighed and stuck his arms out of the bars, resting his forearms on the crossbar for structural support. His lips pursed at Helena's words. "I wonder if we beg for food and wine that they'll bring it to us. They seem sentimental enough." Maragos turned his head to look over his shoulder at Nobody with no small amount of mirth. He turned back to Helena who was looking into the cell the boy had been pushed into with Blackwell as the wolf talked to the lad. "Is he one of yours?" A young noble in the pits wasn't common but it wasn't unheard of either. "Or is he one of that bastard's Maltig's? Speaking of which, where is he?" Maragos did not know the man personally but he knew him enough to be wary. Once there had been respect for the fellow brutal fighter but it had been long replaced with distaste when rumors of his hellish temperament to the slave pits became facts. It was probably hypocrisy but Maragos knew where to draw the line.


@Whisker @Edric Yuma @DaughterofAthena @DemonStiletto

 

[Lady Warlock]

Helena Patroc

"Perhaps they were from the slave pits? They take children at that age."


Helena was left to consider Damian Blackwell III’s statement for a moment. “True,” she muttered offhand before her eyes flickered to the cell where she presumed Damian was sitting. “Blackwell, how many are in the cell across from you? I heard a girl… is there more than one?” She couldn’t see into the cell next to her so the question was honest.


"I wonder if we beg for food and wine that they'll bring it to us. They seem sentimental enough."


Helena chuckled slightly at Maragos’s comment, her eyes flickering to the boy who had received a bucket of all things. “I’m not sure a bucket, food and wine all fall within the same category,” she mentioned through her widened teeth.


“That bastard Maltig?” Helena chuckled. “Regardless of what they say and what they, he’s still your superior so be careful…” She nodded her head to Peter - the “nobody”. “I reckon he’s one of Maltig’s,” she answered Margos’ next question, “although the boy is Noel Crestor. He was one of my newer trainees - not nearly ready for a fight yet. You alright Noel?”




Noel Crestor

The boy considered the man he was thrown into a cell with - a man who appeared much older than he was. The boy himself looked to be only a teenager and his clothing was ragged and torn apart. His shirt barely existed anymore. Cuts and slashes lined his face, bruises covered his wrists and his skin looked like it had been smothered in soot.


"You alright, boy?"


“Y-ye-yes,” he stuttered slightly, wobbly on his own two feet as he took a few steps towards the wall on the side of the cell so that he could lean against it. His breathing was a lot quicker than it should’ve been and as he slid down against the wall, he leaned his head onto his knees. The longer he sat there, the more it seemed that his claim of being alright was not actually true.


@Edric Yuma @Whisker @Celemyvel @DemonStiletto

 

[Whisker]

“Is that so?”


The dark brown eyes gave the boy a scrutinizing stare. It was obvious by his physical condition and his slow reply that the answer had been something of a lie. His shirt was in tatters and the abrasions lining his body suggested some sort of torture or beating. His eyebrows knitted together skeptically as the boy sank unsteadily towards the ground and sat there in a disheveled heap.


“I will not offer you aid if you do not request it from me. However, I would advise not leaning against the walls and taking care not to contaminate your wounds.”


The wolf contemplated his new cell mate for a moment longer … then turned to look in the cell at Helena’s request.


“There are two. A girl and a boy. They don’t look like much … but I believe I’ve seen the boy somewhere before.”


As Damian went to reclaim his seat by the door, the conversation from Maragos turned to fine wine and food. He chuckled grimly at the jest, but sobered instantly when Maltig’s name was brought up. He had also been wondering where Helena’s colleague had scuttled off to while the fighting was going on. Though Helena rebuked Maragos for his comment, Damian couldn’t help but growl bad temperedly under his breath.


“I suppose it would be too much to hope that he’s lying dead in a ditch somewhere, wouldn’t it?”


@Celemyvel @DaughterofAthena @DemonStiletto

 

[Edric Yuma]

"Oof!" Peter snapped awake again as a bucket landed on his lap, the edge of the bucket stabbing him in the privates. Groaning, he pushed the bucket off of him, laying in his bed as he suffered in silence. Once his pain had slightly subsided, he unsteadily got up, reaching for the bucket.


"Really?" He muttered, holding it up. "The one time I'm kidding they actually give me bucket." He looked at it. Even if it was rusted, he could still make out his vague reflection in the bucket, which was the closest thing he had to a mirror in a long time. It could prove useful in the long run. "Whatever." Setting it aside, he glanced at the woman who appeared to be called Helena.


She seemed as beat up as Peter felt, and Peter briefly recalled a feeling he hadn't felt in a while: Empathy. Looking her in the eyes, he commented, "You look like you had a tough time." @DaughterofAthena

 

[DemonStiletto]

No doubt, Calin possessed nerves of steel, unyielding determination, and the spirit of a true warrior but all of this didn't prepare him for the ear splitting shriek from below, yet the boy was unfazed by the scream. The only trait he needed was his deaf ears that left him without a reaction. In his place, a bundle of nerves flinched in the corner of his eye. The girl in white shook in visible fear. In an immediate response, the boy shot up onto his feet as concern replaced the strain upon his muscles. Before he could take a step to check on the girl, the harsh rattle of armored boots shook the ground.


The vibration was enough for Calin to react as he turned his back on the girl and towards the cell door. Across from him, two guards were "helping" another prisoner towards the cell where the man with the disappointed stare stayed. Curious, the boy walked up to the cell bars. At a glimpse, the newcomer was another boy near his own age and his skin was covered in dirty wounds. The guards gave no care for his condition though as they roughly shoved him into the cell, and they walked away as if they were finished disposing of garbage. The next moment had the disappointed man speak a few words before the other boy collapsed beside one of the walls. Calin gritted his teeth at this. He had no clue what the man said, but the other boy didn't look like he was going to move any time soon. Weather it was the man's words or not, it wasn't right that the man wouldn't somehow comfort the newcomer. Calin's heart went out to the boy as it wasn't long ago that he was in a similar situation. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do from behind bars, but at the very least that man would remain in the back of the boy's mind.


With the action coming to a halt, Calin returned to his previous concern, the girl in white. The corner still contained the frightened girl. Letting his prior frustration go, the boy put on an innocent smile. He still didn't know what exactly was alarming her, but he'd at least do what he could for her that he couldn't do for the other boy. He signaled for her attention with an over exaggerated wave as he began to walk towards her.


@DaughterofAthena @Whisker