Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[Fred Colon]

Kilderkin gave Esther a thin smile. "I'm not surprised you did." She said, "Sorry about the secrets. But it's easier to win fights when the opponent isn't sure what exactly you're doing. Do you know much about medicine? I can only affect blood that wells up to the surface. Thanks to the nature of bodies to resist outside elemental control, I've no ability to mess about with the insides of other people, so I'm useless when it comes to internal bleeding unless its in me. And," She continued wryly, "As a plain ol' sailor, I only know basic first aid." Lost Echo

When Renn spoke up, Kilderkin shrugged.
"Nobody really starts as a fighter. I didn't, that's for certain. And if you don't know what to do? 'Where to aim'? Well. Find out. Ask questions. Make contacts. There will certainly be people around here looking to figure out what happened. Can you hold this wound shut? I'm going to try and stitch it, but its a bit too wide. It won't be pretty, I'm no surgeon, but I don't want this guy bleeding to death when I'm not around, and if you won't do it, Jonathan is going to have to clamp the wound shut with his mouth." She motioned to her Eel familiar, swimming in place beside her, its teeth like hypodermic needles. "And this guy isn't going to be particularly thankful for that." rozukitsune

 

[Fred Colon]

Howard Greenfellow had never experienced violence before. Not really. Not truly. He had an extensive collection of animals in his home, and while they could enact violence on occasion, it was the violence of necessity. The Tiger pounces on the deer. The snake constricts the mouse. But he had never seen the gratuitous, unnecessary spectacle of human violence before.

So when Dyas, a man he had, admittedly, not particularly liked, simply... died in one of the most gory ways possible, he had no idea what to do or how to react. A first, for him.

So much worse was when Taust, the glorious smiter of the Pit Viper, held aloft that strange orb and simply... killed... so many people.

Howards mind was so overloaded he couldn't even register the fact that thousands of people were now dead. Howard, despite his arrogance and confidence, had never experienced a violent urge in his life. That anyone would... choose to do this was incomprehensible. And things that Howard didn't understand, he did his best to ignore. So it was that he recovered from the shock of the atrocity rather quickly.

"Adrian?" He called out. "Brynwyr? Should I call a medic? Where... where's a medic! We need help!" Howard rushed over to Adrian, who had fallen out of his chair and from his bag removed a small medical pouch. Howard, owning a menagerie and not trusting anyone else to take care of his animals, had some level of veterinary training. He was sure he could help Adrian! How different could a human be from, say, a horse? He desperately hoped Adrian hadn't broken his leg.

Jet Arcanist

 

[Anne Boolean]

Nihal "Nyaall" Laal​

Most people wouldn't be thrilled to be on the losers' side, but Nyaall was practically beaming. He would live to see another day. And he was certain there was a clause in the Great Games rules to prevent him from being entered again... right? It might be a bit of a blow to his image for him to fall in the first round, and his management would certainly be upset with him, but his brand was never about his toughness. He knew his fans would stand right by him, and unfortunately, his management would as well.

He wore the same flashy outfit that he wore during his match, in all its singed and tattered glory. Maybe someone on his team would take issue of the state it was in as well. Normally, he might have, as it was a pretty nice piece, but today, the damage signified his survival and a plan come to fruition.

He looked over at the people who stood across from him and his like with a peaceful gaze, content with how things were proceeding. When his gaze landed on Vixie, he gave a friendly wave. He managed to spot other familiar faces across the arena as well in the form of Kilderkin and... Elriel?! Nyaall didn't know he would be here... maybe he had picked up on the news during his training, but he was too focused on his own situation. It seemed Ren hadn't made the cut. Hopefully the boy was hale and hearty either way.

He felt a bit of pride for the ones he saw on the other side, but it was mixed with worry. He found himself quietly wishing them both luck as well as safety in their continued participation.

Once the closing ceremonies for the first week began, he turned to face the announcer. Most of the man's words went in one ear and out the other. He was vaguely aware of the history of the Games and Centurions, but didn't care enough to have a refresher. Yet another familiar face took the stage after, and his attention quickly returned. Yep. Renn was definitely worth her salt as a performer. His stage presence might have been more flashy with his familiar, but he had certainly taken some tricks from her book. He wondered if he'd get a chance to chat with her after the celebration. Or perhaps he could just give her a call later if his management planned to whisk him away to whatever they had planned next for him. Maybe they had set up a performance from him after one of the later rounds, and he would be staying around in Nye for awhile.

He joined in with the applause after he performance was done, shooting her a thumbs up which he expected her mostly to miss. Once the announcer picked up again, he once again mostly started tuning things out. The sudden coughing in his speech caught the cat boy's attention though. He knew the feeling of having a tickle in his throat at inopportune times. The man was able to play it off well and get on with the speech. Except he didn't. The coughing continued before he... keeled over?!

Nyaall's eyes widened slightly. he had seen extreme exhaustion among his backup dancers and experienced it himself a few times during rehearsals, but was a speech really this taxing? It soon became apparent that this wasn't just a body being pushed past its limits though, as the man soon went on to explode. He raised his arms to shield himself from any of the gore that might have ended up on him, but the heated blast from the explosion sent him flying as well. He was alright, thankfully, just covered by various corpse bits of any of the contestants who were not so fortunate.

His vision was blurred and his ears were ringing as he looked to the warrior in black, Traust, the one who had taken down Caged Viper, and listened to muffled words. He cursed someone's name before commanding others to stop... someone. He slowly started to push the corpse bits off of himself and get back to his feet as his senses returned. The warrior in black had pulled out an orb which glowed so brightly and whined so sharply, it once again brought Nyaall to the ground. Only once it stopped was he able to look around and see the familiars being pulled from their partners. He kept A-Paw-llo hidden, but expected him to be taken at any minute as well. His eyes fell on the box up above the general seating where his management and saw them drop one by one. A gasp escaped his lips at the sight, with shock being the only feeling in him at that moment.

He scanned his more immediate surroundings as the sound of more bodies around him hitting the ground rang out. Countless people gone, just like that. There were a few survivors still standing though, many of them innocent kids. He had never believed in a higher power, and often times cursed one if it did indeed exist, but today, for this small mercy, he was thankful.

The faces of the people he knew flashed in his mind. Elriel, Ren, Kilderkin, Renn, Vixie... were they...? He tried to recognize any of the people running about around him in the chaos, but their movements seemed like flashes and he couldn't discern their faces. Then suddenly, fire started spouting up into the air from a distance. At first, Nyaall just found himself confused at the sight, but when it was shaped into a fox's head an inkling of hope stirred within him. He started running in its direction, trying his best to avoid tripping over bodies. Could she be...? She was what felt like the first genuine human connection he had had in such a long time...

"... Vixie?!" he called out upon catching sight of the familiar girl. He continued running over, this time much less careful, and found himself stumbling over some lifeless contestants. Upon making it to her, he threw her arms around her and pulled her into an embrace. "I'm so glad you're okay..." He stepped back, smiling with tearful eyes, and only then noticing the boy that she was with and the girl she was comforting.

Interactions: Vixie ( Lost Echo )
Mentions: Mischa ( Jet ), Rat ( Emphoa )

 

[Jet]

​

Adrian reached for his swords as the blast flipped his wheelchair, sending him flying to the ground. He bounced off the sand before rolling with a grunt, coughing dust as centurions swarmed the field. "Fuck." He watched the battle and pushed up to his knees, analyzing the fight with growing curiousity. Wondering if the bombers could even compete with centurions, especially without familiars on their side. "Hmm?"

"What are you people? Where are your familiars?" He tightly gripped his old swords. "No matter, you'll bleed the same as any man."

Adrian planted his foot and launched forward at the battle. He'd kill the cloaked bastards and maybe then, after proving himself in real combat with real stakes, he'd become a centurion without winning the games. It was the shortcut he needed. The opportunity of a lifetime right before his eyes!

It was also completely out of reach.

He was simply too weak to enact his plan, falling forward as his legs gave out from under him. His swords clanging with a scream on his lips. "Fuck." He gripped his bruised and battered stomach, cursing his own helplessness. The crushing weakness he'd never felt as a hunter of monstrous beasts, only as a child long ago.

"Stand up!" He refused to be helpless, no matter what the cost would be. "Stand you weak little shit!" He chuckled and pushed up again, but there was no strength in his broken body. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Cmon!" He pushed one last time with every ounce of strength in his body, but there was nothing he could do. Falling unconscious as metal screeching filled the stands, dully wondering, "Is that… a Besomar?" before everything went black.

He found himself at the bottom of a well in cold water up to his neck. The walls were slick and smooth, without purchase for his split and bleeding hands. "Help!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "Someone help!" he screamed again.

"Is anyone out there!" He clawed at the walls but it was more of the same. There was no escape and the water was slowly freezing; soon he'd be trapped in ice like a dead fish in winter. "Help! I'm down here!"

"Adrian!" Detleaf said from high above. "You trip and fall over your ego?"

"Not the time old man!" Adrian violently shivered from the cold. "Toss me a line before I freeze to death."

"Wish I could." Detleaf leaned over the well with his elbows on the stone, looking down at his student. "Don't have any."

"Then go get some!"

"Can't." Detleaf shook his head. "There's nowhere to go."

"Push me up with a spell then, stop messing with me you fucking fossil!"

"Hah! You've kept your humor even at the bottom of a well, magnificent." Detleaf laughed and patted his round stomach. "But I won't help you anymore; so find your own way out."

"What?" Adrian said. "This isn't the time for one of your lectures!"

"You're a grown man! It's time to stop looking for guidance and solve your own problems; isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Adrian thought back to his rebellious youth. How he wandered off many times in his short career as a hunter, fighting monsters too strong for his station. He'd been reckless and stupid over and over again, but his mentor bailed him out every time. Teaching him the importance of moderation and how, no matter his own strength and training, even weak monsters were lethal if taken lightly — but that was behind him now. He was a true hunter, self aware of his limitations as a man battling monsters, but he still depended on the veteran high above.

"You're right." Adrian drew one of his swords. "You're always bloody right." He stabbed the wall above his head. "But I don't need your help anymore."

He pulled himself up and stabbed the wall with his other blade, slowly climbing as sweat pooled on his face. "Just stay there you lazy bastard." He stabbed again with a loud grunt, blood dripping from his raw hands. "I don't need anything from anyone, not anymore."

He pulled himself up one last time, flipping himself over the top. "Fuck." He gasped for air as Detleaf stood over him, offering him a hand.

"I never said you should ignore help when it comes, but never rely on it." He pulled Adrian to his feet with a grunt. "Sometimes the only option is to rely on yourself."

"Thanks to you I can."

"I know," Detleaf said with a thin smile. "You've done me proud."

Adrian slowly opened his eyes as the dream faded away, hearing a familiar voice in his pounding ears. "Howard?" He looked up and saw the medical tools in his hands. "Thanks but... I'll be fine." He rolled to his back and looked at the setting sun, lighting the clouds ablaze with orange hues. "It's so quiet."

"Why's it so quiet?" His gaze shifted to the stands and his stomach twisted into knots. The sheer panic of a confused, angry boy pretending to be a man. "What? What the hell happened?"

"Are they unconscious or—

The sound of a wailing girl cut through the air. He saw crying children and squabbling centurions, body parts and trampled bodies. His head spun and then he realized the daunting, unbelievable truth.

"They're dead," he whispered. "All of them are dead."

"Where's Detleaf?" His heart skipped a beat. "Don't tell me—

He merged with his familiar and his eyes dramatically sharpened. He could see every person in the ocean of dead bodies, horrified looks on their pale twisted faces. The kind he'd seen many times on battlefields back home, infested with Necrophages he was sent to kill. He was detached then, ignoring the wasted humanity laying broken on the ground, lacking a connection to the anonymous mass of men; but today was different. Today his mentor was among the dead, laying by the first row with a sword by his side, likely rushing in to fight when he died.

Adrian didn't speak when he saw the body. He didn't shed tears or scream and whimper. Instead he pushed to his knees and sat on his heels, placing his sword across his lap. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath, uttering the prayer of Bloody Meadows, "In life you protected the innocent. You fought bravely against the enemies of man. You pushed forward when others faltered, never breaking your sacred oaths. In life you were my teacher, my friend, my family — in death may you finally rest."

He opened his eyes with a deep exhalation, and looking at Howard he said, "You know more about Nye than most, so tell me, who did this? What drove them to kill so many people?" His eyes glowed with barely contained rage, suppressing his sadness with deep hatred. The need for revenge swirling through his mind like a storm, and with venom on his lips he quietly asked, "And where the hell can I find them?"

Fred Colon

 

[ManofManyRoles]

𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓻 '𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴' 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓻

Tragedy, in Two Acts: Act One, a Fight
Mavior had regarded the business card he'd met from a cleanly dressed gentleman in the locker room for only a moment before it had been politely placed and forgotten about on a bench, for he had never gone by the name of 'Faust', and had no intention to start now. The transition from prepping and dancing around social interaction to the fights had been smooth, a steady drift along the waves of life. Contestants went about their combat with either brutality or grace, to the cheers and applause of the masses in the stadium seats. How akin to barbarism even a civilized society was, he mused. Behind porcelain masks and gilded smiles, people would still gather by the hundreds to observe men and women fight for their lives in pursuit of their goals. The same could be said of any form of entertainment though, he supposed. Be it a concert where a singer and band played their hearts out for adoration and applause of those with a lust for some distraction in life, laying it at the altar of those they elevate onto pedestals screaming 'Save us from our monotony, it is your job, it is your duty!' Granted, he had never been to a concert himself, the closest he got was small plays and fledgling musicians who found joy in performing when they had the time between duties. And yet, was he truly any different from such barbarism? Indeed, he recognized that this was just a different shade of the same color of a term. And yet, he willingly agreed to come to Nye, he was not forced...and for what, he pondered? Riches? Fame? Adoring men and women? No...no he came to learn of other lives and cultures, but in doing so he allowed himself to have puppet strings bound at the joints, and he could only desire to keep them as loose as possible and avoid the tug of a puppeteer...wolves smiled, as did many a large reptile after all. The saving grace to this, perhaps, was a single ticket he'd gifted to his sister, the only piece of 'home' he had here in Nye, save for his craft. He'd have to see her after this, he was curious what her opinion of the world at large may be so far. Was she impressed? Frightened...no, definitely not frightened, he'd never known her to feel fear...confused, then? Yes, confused sound as it may fit.

Mavior's opponent for this contest of strength and intellect was announced to be a scholar of some kind, a teacher at a magic academy. Needless to say, he had been innately the underdog in this very fight, bets would have been ill-placed on the teen out of the gates. Indeed, the professor fought with such grace and skill with his familiar, Mav barely dodging attacks and swings by a hairbreadth every time. Oddly enough, through the fight, he seemed more content to avoid interaction, dancing around the arena and whirling through the air like an acrobat, and his familiar had not once been seen, almost as if he fought without the aid of his other half...or he just didn't get to have one. It was only at the halfway point of his fight did he engage in the offensive. it wasn't clear what had come in that time frame, but by the time Mavior had decided now was the time to strike, he seemed to anticipate the professor's every move before it came to pass, offensives disregarded and dashed through until he'd closed the distance. Using his natural affinity for the wind to amplify his skillset into a sudden blitz, Mavior played a game of cat and mouse, dashing in for a sudden block to a joint or a muscle patch before dodging out of the way, and the fight ending when he delivered a smartly placed fist right into the older gentlemen's kidneys. Whatever cheers or shock that may have followed, Mavior didn't linger to enjoy and simply helped the man up before meandering away to the 'winning' side of the field. Sitting himself down, he folded his hands in his lap as he caught his breath, those opaque goggles hiding now wide eyes as he worked to cool himself and wipe sweat from his brow.

Tragedy, in Two Acts: Act Two, and Thousands Lost

Mavior had been intending to watch the fights from there on out in silence, though as they wore on his mind began to wander. Surely he was there in the physical and present world, but his mind had absconded and departed to parts unknown. It spoke soft assurances of how it would write and send a postcard, and oh what tales it would have to tell of the wonders it saw on its wandering journey! Perhaps if it had not taken its impromptu journey, Mavior may have been more attentive to his surroundings...perhaps he would have seen it coming. Perhaps he could have done something...though, what does one do in a situation like that? The explosion brought his mind back from its trip in a hurried rush, announcing that something awful had happened, and it could tell of the wonders it saw later for now they had to focus on the horrors before them. There were screams and sobs, panicked shouts, but that's not what held his attention, not at first...a portal? No, not possible...no, better said was implausible. Life was vast and unending, and when thinking in infinities, 'unlikely' is just certainty waiting for its turn. The assault was gone, but the aftermath remained...and it was left to those few survivors to find solutions.

Mavior's brain was too busy trying to find reasoning and answers, put together numbers and pieces to find answers. However, his body had decided that the brain was not needed at this time, for it would just slow the team down and it could catch up later. The extraordinarily pale teen's head went on a swivel, searching for seating sections as his subconscious counted rows and bodies. Death didn't bother him, not like it used to. Growing up out west, a corpse soon became a corpse to the one looking at it...something was always looking to kill you, and inevitably you saw someone die, or even saw them in the act. Mav had the misfortune of getting to witness all of it...but never on such a grand scale. His brain latched onto thoughts before they could escape, and with a polite 'We'll talk about you later' shoved them into a cardboard box, slapped a label of 'handle with care' atop it, and shoved it beneath the mental files. There were other focuses right now. A tremor wanted to run up his spine, and the scents in the air earned a restrained gag...burned flesh, awful. No, focus...priorities...where was she, where was she?

A hand lifted to his goggles, a restrained termor through his fingers as he tapped his goggles...once, twice, a dull tap tap...secure, they wouldn't budge. Good, he didn't need that right now. The fight with a Light mage had been annoying enough. As his attention landed on a row of seats he felt his gut sink a little lower...that's where his cause of worry was, that's where this unfamiliar feeling of fear was born. So close to a blast site...that amount of heat and light. Others were flooding the stands now, he could see them, a panicked mess around him. He had to be better...he had to focus on certainties, emotion was useless to him right now, close it off. A sprint of a start before he leapt as high as he could to the stands, fumbling through corpses and rubble on his way higher up, the satchel at his hip shifting gently with each step. "We'll find her, I know we'll find her, don't worry. You just keep an eye out," he muttered to himself, a very slight noise from his satchel. Why did he still have his familiar with others-no...no, not the important question right now!

He hurried upright towards a seating row as he saw an exposed arm, that same near albino white skin tone as his own. Relief swept through him until he got closer, and that pit opened up again. On the ground and near-lost beneath rubble from the explosion was a woman, only a year or two his elder, her frame better toned than his own, but just as lanky. Eyes hidden behind large, thick goggles like his own, and skin so pale that one may lose them in a snowbank...or at least, half of her was. The other half of her body, from her neck down, was a deep crimson, coated in blisters and heat rash, the sick scent of burnt skin...her clothes had charred to portions of her body. "Ace...Ace?...Acacia!" Mav had reached down to grab at her good shoulder and shake her as he addressed her by her preferred nickname first, and then her birth name when he was ignored. The latter seemed to get some attention, a whine of a grumble from her. She was in shock, her body had overdosed on pain and the brain had shut off processing, that much he could tell. But...these burns, he couldn't treat these. How bad was it? Numbers danced in his mind as he judged the distance from here to the initial explosion...she had been too close, far too close. It would have been bad for anyone, but for his sister or him? That much heat and that large of a flash of light...she'd been cooked like a fish.

Mavior shot upright...could he use his familiar for this? No, it'd be too messy, and too much risk involved. One wrong move and the rubble might fall in on itself and then she'd lose her legs it looked like...he needed precision not brute strength, but he didn't have the strength to move this sort of block. He looked around before he spotted someone, hadn't she been a contestant? "Miss! Miss, please, I need help moving this mess! She's alive over here, please!" There was an odd mix of tone to Mavior's voice as he addressed Anya. He sounded...too calm for this. Yes, his voice was louder, but he sounded an uneasy level of calm. Not to say he sounded completely calm, but he sounded much more level-headed than anyone had a right to be in a situation like this. He looked towards the white-haired woman for a moment more, and then the half-charred one on the ground...barbarism, he decided. Barbarism had won today...the barbarism of an arena battle with rules was barbarism all the same, but this was pure barbarism, an attack on innocent lives who could not all be wholly responsible for whatever act this caused...and now he was stuck trying to pick up pieces just like everyone else. A moment to analyze the rubble before he started to pick away at it, one large stone or piece of scrap at a time, a game of reverse Jenga where the stakes were a woman's legs.

(Mentioned Lost Echo 's Anya, and pinging Jet because I'm back.)​

 

[Lost Echo]

~Esther~
Esther snorted at Renn’s greeting. “Hey.” She replied in a tone that implied she rarely cared about such niceties. Immediately returning her attention to Kilderkin, she rolled her eyes, not deigning to respond any further on her secret power beyond what pertained to now. “That’s a shame, I’d love to know the state of my kidneys. At least I’d already be dead if anything burst. As for medicine, other than patching myself up, I often perform autopsies on animals. Let’s see how useful that’ll be.”

Kilderkin advised the singer, probably about revenge or the like. Esther was going to add on, about anger and desperation making you stupid (something she still had the bruises from) when the sailor moved on to her plan. “You’re not going to wash your hands first?” She asked aghast. Opening her hip pack, she ran a careful finger along Dart in greeting before pulling out a bar of soap. Tossing it at Kilderkin, she said, “There. You provide the water for the three of us. I can take care of a smaller wound.” Taking a second to look over the other patients that Kilderkin’s magic was protecting for a laceration she could close on her own, she spoke to Renn, “You’re well known. Use that. It’s unlikely that device reached far past the arena.” Based on the number of familiars drawn to it, “We might all be on the same boat, but you have enough clout to be a leader.”

rozukitsune Fred Colon

 

[ZackStop]

Ilana wasn't feeling well since her fight and she had a good feeling why. She hadn't eaten in days since they arrived in Nye. She was from a pretty bad city where plenty of people good and bad would starve most nights, and she didn't have much to her name. Not only was she broke and starving, she was also terribly fatigued from lack of sleep. That was the only time her familiar was able to break free from her, which was never a good thing for his demeanor was on the hostile side. There were several instances she would wake to a body or two lying half eaten somewhere nearby. In a no good neighborhood where Nye sent their criminals, it may not be the worst thing that can happen, but here in Nye, Ilana had the sense to prevent that from happening.

Even if she was tired and hungry, brittle like a dead tree or frail like a leaf, no matter how much this wild familiar tried to break free, she had to contain it. This left her with a strong pain in her stomach that shot through her in all directions. She refused help or medical aid, but somehow managed to get stuck in the infirmary several hours after her quick victory. It had to be quick. If it had lasted too long Ilana would be primed to collapse.

Even still, Ilana refused to break her bond with her familiar which would have relieved her from the stress she was under. The medics tried to give her medical treatment but she assured them she was fine, and fought them on the matter for an unreasonable amount of time. At the end of it all, they provided her food and drink, which was the closest to an agreement she and the doctors could make. She tore through a cheaply made burger and crinkle cut fries like one would find at any sporting event. It was one nurse who graciously bought the meal for her out of pocket, and was enough to regain some of her strength. Ilana could have easily eaten four times that amount, but being as stubborn as she was only allowed herself to accept that and nothing else. It was nearly time to head to the ceremony, so she left after her small meal.

Once there, Ilana stood with a scowl and crossed arms. Standing among the winners of the first round, she could see a familiar face, or what covered it anyway. Cage Viper who she knew was one of the strongest warriors to ever step foot in the ring here. How peculiar that he had made his way to the losing side. Perhaps that missing hand of his had something to do with it, or maybe his opponent was more that he bargained for. Perhaps time has only bred more powerful mages and stronger warriors, so that now the once mighty undefeated champ could be dethroned with ease.

She didn't care about this ceremony and would much rather get her next fight underway, but this long winded bagpipe of a bloke just had to drag them all out here for some speech. Ilana simply tried to ignore all outside stimuli until she could leave, but broke her concentration just long enough to notice a boy unable to stand still. She wasn't acquainted with anyone at all, so she couldn't place a name to the blue hair, but she unintentionally made direct eye contact with him. Strangely enough, he was completely unscathed for someone who lost a fight. She looked off to the side as soon as their eyes met to avoid an awkward staring contest, and in doing so glanced at one of the winners. Something about him just seemed off, but she didn't know how to express it. Something dark, but she couldn't dwell on it once her senses were bombarded with Renn's entrance. Her eyes widened with surprised as she was not prepared for something so spectacular, and not necessarily in a good way. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She said as her heart nearly left her chest, the sound of large tremors from mechanical moving drowned out her curses, barely heard by people standing beside her.

"Oh no..." She thought to herself. "She's going to start singing isn't see?" She groaned. Ilana wasn't exactly a live music person, and with a woman so bubbly and charismatic somehow made this worse. "So annoying..." She said to herself again, but before long, Renn's song was over and things made their way back to normalcy. The way she was painted made it obvious she was only here for the men in the crowd, and that was putting it PG, but the way this announcer was behaving around her really got under her skin. Ilana gripped her bicep as her arms were still crossed while her tail coiled. It managed to help her restrain herself, but if that was her she would have sent the slime ball flying for sure.

Looks like she wouldn't have to however, because all of a sudden the man exploded. Exploded? Things happened so fast. One second Ilana was on her feet and the next she was flying backwards, airborne and the world completely turned upside down. She tried to catch herself, desperately dragging her claws into the dirt. Ilana violently hit the ground and she was flung around like a ragdoll. "What-" She said through strain as she gasped for air, and fought through her blurry vision. Things just kept stacking up on top of each other. There were explosions, then silence, then a large glow as what looked to be familiars beings drawn into that guys orb. The same guy who she was suspicious of. "What's happening...?" She said to herself as she forced herself onto her feet.

Ilana tried to make her way forward while Centurions battled against foes. She was compelled to face off against Acacius. It was obvious by now that he was the cause for everything that just transpired, but an explosion in her face was enough to hinder her. She simply collapsed to her knees, with a strong feeling of confusion, and before anyone knew it the assailant had vanished through a rift. Ilana was ready to let loose on her bloodlust again, but her brain was practically scrambled at the moment. As so many others got up and ran in different directions, some going to aid survivors or find loved ones, all Ilana did was sit there trying to process what had actually just transpired.

 

[Jet]

There were twelve gates leading from the stands to the inner ring, a grand hallway that circumvented the whole arena. Each gate was five meters tall and ten meters wide, made of concrete reinforced with heavy steel — now laying at the bottom of deep, dark holes made by the explosions.

The pits had stopped people from escaping before Acacius attacked, but some had been caught in the explosions themselves. Others were mad enough to leap across the smoking, smoldering holes, but they couldn't reach the other side.

Most were dead at the bottom of the abyss, but a lucky few survived. Pinned by rubble as they scream, "HELP! PLEASE HELP!" to anyone up above.

If your character listens close enough, they might be able to hear these distant screams.

Emphoa Lost Echo ZackStop Huntertabbysandshark3 Fred Colon Anne Boolean rozukitsune Arcanist Goliath EldridSmith ManofManyRoles

 

[ZackStop]

Ren found himself lined up with all the others who lost in their bouts. He didn't fully process the fact that he really lost it all without even participating in the games until he was standing there across from the winners. The make matters even worse, it seemed that just about everyone he had met here had won. He even spotted those he had fought along side against the cloaked ones, Anya being the only one he knew the name of, being that he witnessed her fight. It was the opening battle, so it stuck with him. But one he hadn't seen was the Cage Viper's unfortunately, and when he looked around, he was nowhere to be seen.

Ren leaned forward and looked around, now realizing that Cage Viper was on the losing side. "What?" He said to himself. "How-" It didn't bother him all that much, after all, maybe he could finally get his autograph. But as Ren looked over at him, he noticed a horrible energy coming from him like the gates of hell were ready to swing open. "Maybe I'll wait... He seems pissed." Ren straightened up again, feeling a sense of embarrassment as he couldn't seem to sit still. He even got weird looks from other contestants, which was enough to make him go totally stiff. "I'll definitely try later!" He said in his internal dialogue, before Renn's little show began.

As Ren had mentioned to Nihal much earlier in the locker rooms, he was completely ill versed in the music scene and couldn't name a single artist if his life depended on it, so he had no idea who 'Renn' was. Though he did find it kind of strange that she shared his name. But nonetheless everyone in the stadium made a huge uproar in excitement when she made her entrance, so whoever she was she must have been pretty popular.

She was definitely pretty, and she had a nice voice too, not like Ren had an ear for it, but her performance was amazing enough to leave him in some kind of trance. He had never been to a live performance before, and he never payed a lot of attention to these half time show type deals when he watched the games. That was time spent tinkering away on their jobs, so this was an interesting experience he would have missed had he never come here. It was pretty difficult convincing his grandfather, being that they had a shop to run and all, but he eventually caved and let his grandson show the world what he had to offer. After all, his Grandfather had so much experience he could run it himself, and when the Great Games came around business always came to a snail crawl. Nobody was going to the shop, they were all off to Nye or stuck to their Televisions at home.

The song and dance was a bit of solace for his disqualification from the games, though he might not have fought for his glory in the ring, he at least got to see Renn perform, but what was most impressive was her familiar. A literal phoenix. It was a surprise to Ren that there was even such a thing. The two definitely matched with Renn's ginger locks and red dress looking identical to the bird's feathers. She might not have been a fighter, but the two made a great team.

As her time in the spotlight ended, Ren with one N was still in his little trance, and didn't pay what was being said afterwards any mind, he just wondered what he'll do now. He supposed he would spend one more night in Nye then head back home in the morning. Back to his same life at the same shop. It was a real let down to him. He wanted to at least make it to the 3rd round and have something to take home with him. It was a fun little adventure saving people from a weaponized compression field. He stopped some bad guys and disarmed a bomb. That was enough, or was it? Did he really want it to end there? Was he really content with doing so little before returning home?

Ren may have been sidetracked, but Phalanx wasn't, and being intuitive as ever, slammed up against Ren as there was a large explosion that send people flying in all directions. The two tumbled for a bit but was able to fall safely into a crevice made by the stage. Ren with his belly down instinctively covered his head with his two hands as dirt rained down on him and his familiar. It wasn't long before all he could hear was explosions and screaming in all directions. He picked his head up and look around, trying to see if anyone needed help. Anyone he recognized maybe. In doing so, he turned to see the man surrounded in light somewhere above him stabbing the announcers decapitated head. And that's when it dawned on him. "No... Tefra wasn't the only one! There were more bombs... no!" He said to himself as he backed away from the men in cloaks. He thought about Johan, though he didn't know him by name. Where was he? Was he in one of those explosions?

Ren quickly ran to the nearest person, helping them to their feet. They were completely out cold, so he had to hoist an arm over himself and drag them away from the stage. He looked around aimlessly in what was a hopeless situation. It would be a miracle if they survived this it seemed. There was nowhere to go as smoke filled the air and began blocking the sun. Dust was kicked up all around him and he rubbed his eyes furiously trying not to get any in there.

Time went by and things went quiet. The orchestrater on the bombing had vanished when Ren wasn't looking. Perhaps no one had seen him disappear, but that wasn't important right now. Everyone was just trying to pick up the pieces. He looked around to see if anyone needed help or was severely hurt in any way. He could see the singer Renn already being tended to off near him, as he somberly walked past. As he continued walking when he saw the kind woman he had met before, Kilderkin in the distance. He was half ready to run over to see if she was okay, but it became clear that she was not. The woman just stood there, looking over at some victims of the blast. They were people she knew, Ren could see it in her posture. He felt a strong sense of hope leaving his body. The grim reality of this was beginning to take it's hold.

But it wasn't just Kilderkin gripping with her loss, it was many others all around him. He felt a since of relief immediately followed by guilt come over him, as he had no loved ones to experience this travesty. Only his Grandfather, who was back in Gem City at this very moment. He must be worried sick right now, there's no way he would have missed this broadcast. Several others must have seen this unfold no doubt.

It felt like an hour at least, but it had only been a matter of minutes that Ren wandered. Eventually he stopped to think, just standing there in a cloud of dust when he heard something. He listened closely. "Is that...?" He could hear desperate cries for help. He listened until he could discern a direction that it was coming from, and took a few steps towards it. "Hey! I think some people are trapped over here!" He called back to anyone who could hear him before running towards the sound. He was lead to them, finding himself near a dark pit left behind from the attack. He remembered someone mentioning the undercity that ran underneath all this. These people must be the one's calling for help. He had to find a way down and his only option was down. "I'm coming just hang on!" He called down to the people. He looked back again, hoping people were coming to aid him.

 

[rozukitsune]

Once the shaking and the exploding and the raining of blood, body parts and debris had come to a stop, the assassin in her web slowly descended down from the space she'd created nearly floating in the sky amidst some fallen over posts that had assuredly held up the very stands that now mostly had fallen over in the chaos, bringing the six living children she'd managed to snag from the air down with her as they all clung in a heap on her body. Having had some time to calm down, they now only sniffled to themselves as she brought them slowly, carefully down to the ground with her webbing. It was rather a long way down, since it seemed the ground itself was now a pockmarked landscape like some kind of moon, places to put ones feet sparse and the pathway to the one exit that yet stood thanks to her and the other's efforts waylaid with all manner of obstacles.

"E-excuse me... Ms spider lady?" One of the little girls squeaked, hoarse from crying. "Where... are we s'posed to go?"

Narzas ran her thumb and forefinger up the bridge of her nose as she looked around. Thanks to her quick thinking, the space beneath her web was mostly intact but getting out of the arena to anywhere more safe was going to be quite the effort. An effort made infinitely more complicated by the addition of her new charges. She groaned quietly and berated her past self for being so sentimental as to spare these children their deaths... but as she heard the screaming wails for help from beneath her little group she knew she was going to do it again.

"Stay here. I'll be back." She told them sternly.

"You're not going to leave us?!" Another child bleated in terror.

Narzas turned and glared at the lot of them. "Stay."

With a collective yelp, the little group bunched up on itself and quivered toward the edge of a pile of broken wood and made themselves as comfortable as they could.

With a grunt she began making rope of her webbing, stuck it to the edge of their isle of order, and descended into the dark.

As she descended, she smirked to herself a little as she entered her element. Usually, the darkness was her bread and butter. She not only knew how to navigate by touch and sound, but utilized both regularly thanks to her magic. Today though, the element of shadow was the opposite of helpful; and so to those wailing and screaming below she appeared as a slowly descending torch as she lit up the dark with her own inner light, casting beams of it down to observe those trapped under rubble and the like.

She frowned as she saw the workload ahead and glanced around to see if anyone else had come down or was on their way. She was not exactly built for heavy lifting and her webbing could only do so much.

 

[Jet]

​

Mischa shuddered when someone touched her shoulder, almost swatting away the hand from instinct alone. Wishing she was by herself under the covers in her room, not showing her sadness to the world. "This is pathetic," she thought while biting her lip. "She wouldn't want this."

Mischa thought about who Sasha was. How strong and confident she'd been about, well, everything. There was no challenge too hard. No struggle too harsh and no cloud without a lining. There was always a way forward no matter what opposed her, and her confidence saved Mischa time and time again. Keeping her sane through bad days and worse boyfriends. The long nights where nothing she drew made any sense. The imposter syndrome she felt when saying, "I'm an engineer!"

Her sister always had a clever line or personal story, sometimes even a helping hand. The kind of person who helped from the kindness of her heart, and not even death could douse her flame. Not when Mischa would carry her incandescent torch like a sword, becoming the hero she would've been.

That's what she would've wanted more than anything in the world. More than tears and dramatic words of sadness and regret, but the grim determination to help no matter what. That's who Sasha was, and Mischa would honor that with gritted teeth and determination, slowly standing as she wiped her face. "I'll mourn you when I have the chance, but I gotta go help now."

She faced her companions and cleared her scratchy throat. "Dolphins are—

"Really cool!" Her voice cracked as she forced a weak smile. "They can put half their brain to sleep."

She touched Napa and fused with the floating dolphin, skin turning blue as she closed her eyes. With a deep breath she put her right brain to sleep, shutting down her emotions.

"That's not all." Her tone was suddenly cold and distant. "They can also feel the electromagnetic fields of living things."

"My range is short but I can save time checking for survivors, and every second counts now." Her gaze shifted to a nearby row of seats. "There are two children hiding there. It seems one is badly wounded; their field is quickly fading away."

Lost Echo Emphoa Anne Boolean

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Ava Marco
interaction: Lost Echo​

Ava wasn't really interested in paying attention to the big ceremony honestly she just wanted to get onto the next round of fights after the whole poor incident with Anaya she wished she had someone to punch to get the whole sorry situation off her mind, at the moment Ava was just leaning back idly staring at the show in the place of the arena some singer girl she guessed honestly Ava didn't really care all too much.

then all hell broke loose the explosion the massive ball of familiars being sucked in and the people dropping dead frankly she didn't even know what or why hell it just seemed like everything fell apart had Macrag decided to pay Nya a visit? sure as fuck felt like the continent decided to pay a lovely chaotic visit but yeah with the dead silence and death.. it was unsettling as hell.. then she realized.. OH shit WHAT the hell happened to Marcus or Anaya did they drop dead? Were they immune to whatever supernatural fuckery was going on like her? hell was she even immune or was she just lucky as shit? whatever she needed to find Anaya or Marcus, the titan of a woman tossing some bits of rubble aside Avaya wouldn't be far right? she at least heard her name getting called then again there were plenty of ava so it might not be her. yeah it was here.. with bird legs. "ANAYA YOU FOR whatever.." she'd say with a sigh picking up the girls legs and following after her "you forgot these!"

 

[rozukitsune]

Renn boggled at Esther. Lead? Her?! "All of the 'clout' I have was gathered by others." She said helplessly, turning her head to Kilderkin whose request was far more possible to undertake. Shaking slightly, she reached for the edges of wounds and pushed them together clumsily as the other woman worked whatever healing prowess she had into these folks she'd been gathered around.

She'd never been around so many normal people at once before. It was ... bizarre to be so fundamentally out of her element. Given how many dead there were and how destroyed the arena was... she suspected she might never again be in that element. 'No... that's quitter talk' she thought, slowly gathering what little pride she still had while coated in blood and gore as she aided Kilderkin to the best of her ability. 'These people need ... hope.'

Setting her jaw and compartmentalizing her own personal problems to deal with at a later time when she wasn't surrounded by strangers and trying to handle things way way out of her usual wheelhouse - she lifted her voice once again, stirring Noel to take wing from her shoulder as she did so. This time she sang no particular lyrics, but instead trilled the melodious notes of a somber, mournful tune using only the open vowel sounds of the mouth to shape them and push them through the air. The firebird swooped up and down around the great expanse of the disaster, echoing her melody and giving those still alive an anchor of music to pull themselves up on.

None of this was fair, nor in any way reasonable... but even the simple notes of a song could draw the brooding and hopeless from the depths of their inner darknesses to focus on the speck of light outside of themselves winging overhead. Having something - anything besides the sheer pointlessness of the situation to dwell on helped a fair few find the strength within themselves to levy the weights holding them hostage and stagger free or offer aid to someone nearby struggling with a similar problem.

Renn hummed and huffed as she went from one injury to the next under Kilderkin's direction. "La da dahhhh, ah da dum... la da dahhh la dum. La da dahhhh, ah da dum, la da dahhhhh~"

Lost Echo Fred Colon

 

[Lost Echo]

♡Anya♡

Up in the stands, Anya couldn’t hear Ava’s yelling. Having assumed the two would stay down in the arena, she didn’t look around. Her entire focus was on the child crying in her arms. It broke her heart to feel his small body shake with sobs. Crooning softly, she ran her hand down his back then began to rock gently.

Hearing a voice, Anya ducked over Brian, her wings umbrellaing over her. After a moment, her head popped up and flicked toward the strange voice. Her eyes, still aquiline, took in the details in a moment. It was one of the gates. One of the compression cubes that were missed, had destroyed it blowing those attempting to escape into parts. She was used to seeing her body unwhole. But to see the limbs, the torsos that were seared…she held the young boy closer as she forced her gaze to the dark-haired man who was currently trying to move a trapped body. Her eyes dropped down. Oh god. Half of her looked awful. There wasn’t any skin left. She looked at her ‘good half’ and saw nothing. Her face was in a grimace, obviously having been in pain, but it was not moving. Still, the man needed help. Accepting death was easier when you’re not alone. He already was in shock by the tone of his voice.

Relaxing her wings, she looked down at Brian. “Remember what I said about helping? He really needs our help.”

The little boy nodded, “To save her.”

Her heartbreaking, Anya replied, “If we can,” they couldn’t, “But if she’s gone, we’re still gonna help him.”

Wrapping his arms around her neck he said solemnly, “Cuz we all we got now.” The boy had somehow picked up the refrain. She didn’t know if he really understood all it meant, but he did enough.

Kissing his forehead, she wrapped his legs around her waist, grateful to be missing the halter that held her legs on…which she’d forgotten about. Well, it wasn’t like someone else could use them. There likely weren’t enough people left who could steal them for parts. Brushing the thought off, she yelled to the man, “Coming!” Then, with slow wing beats she lifted off. Flying over the stands was the easiest way to avoid all the bodies littering the stands. “This is going to be hard. These people were hurt before they died. So they’re going to have a lot of wounds, like really big boo-boos.” Brian merely tucked his head into her neck, closing his eyes.

She landed amongst the rubble, her wings moving some of the loose gravel. “Holy Einstein.” She muttered, looking at the damage to the woman. She must have died in agony. Anya had only burned her fingers with sparks or when she was impatient when she soldered. Magnifying that pain with half your body…it was hard to imagine.

Brian climbed down from her loose hands, climbing up the stairs with his hands to near the severely burned woman. He stopped on her whole side, then reached out and poked her, just like he’d been doing to Daddy. Except, unlike Daddy, a thin groan came out.

“She’s alive?!” Anya blurt out her surprise, suddenly tense with panic. There was now a time limit, with too much gone already. She’d have to get Mark. “Okay. We’ll do everything to keep her that way,” She promised the man. She could tell he was already being careful removing the blocks to prevent a fall.

Kneeling, to his level again, her wings flaring to keep her balance, she murmured to Brian, “You’ll have to keep out of his way, but I want you to talk to her. Do you think you can do that? It’s scary to be alone, so we have to make sure she realizes we’re here.”

Wide-eyed, the little boy whispered, “But what do I say?”

“Anything. Introduce yourself. Tell her about you.”

Looking determined, the boy turned and knelt beside the woman. “Hi. I’m Brian. Um…my favorite color is blue….” It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough for her to hear a voice.

Back to the man, she commented, “Okay. What do you want me to do? I can help free her or go get a doctor?” She wasn't sure she could carry Doc up here, but he could climb...

Mentions: Huntertabbysandshark3 , EldridSmith
interacts with: ManofManyRoles

 

[Arcanist]

Brynwyr Protheroe



Mentions: Jet , Fred Colon ​

Brynwyr did as she done at the start of the ceremonies. She searched for Jeston and Rhys and her retinue. The only difference now was that she tripped over the limbs that made up a lively crowd, begging the heavenly God, if there was one, that she did not find those she knew among the dead. She hoped, but even then, hope could not prevent such a tragedy. She pushed through pain that she no longer felt, not even after she had gathered herself in the aftermath of the explosion, or when she took up her sword during the rumbling around her. Adrenaline was a powerful painkiller for her shoulder. That, and her people at the forefront of her mind.

The knight remembered every detail, and yet, it played in a disjointed sequence in her mind. The singing of that woman that every man, and she, herself, loathed to admit, were enamoured with. The limbs that spun towards the crowd and contestants. The history of Nye. How the contestants were all lined up, bloodied or otherwise, like prized livestock to be praised – just like at Albion’s fairs. The thumping that that sounded like hundreds, thousands of galloping hooves. Where was Cleonard? In her pouch, who wriggled and scratched at the leather.

Now to the stands. Had she helped wounded? How did she make it up here so fast? She wasn’t sure. Brynwyr found it easier to command her body to just go, to just do. That was what knights did.

No knight dealt with this level of disaster. She never heard of such before.

Brynwyr could not bring herself to call for those she knew. It would disturb the ear-splitting silence, interrupt the wails of those grieving and the ghosts of those living. She searched, detached and cold, masking dread. Uncle. Rhys. Issac. Becca. Maryam. She repeated each of the names, as if they could hear, as if they would reach out and touch her and reassure her.

Her greaves clanked against something. She looked down, brought out of her repetitive reverie. Her foot had collided with armour, more specifically a gauntlet.

“It’s okay to cry, Bryn.” He told her, squeezing her hand. She remembered how hot and sticky her hand was when she held his. She stared at Olwynna in the open casket, swearing she saw her breathe, but knowing better than to hope.

“Then why aren’t you crying?” Brynwyr asked him.

The lines in Jeston’s face heightened his morbid expression. But his tender eyes did not look at her. They looked to her mother’s lips as if he willed a breath to escape them. “The tears will not come.”

Brynwyr looked back to the open casket. She frowned. “Neither will mine.”

Brynwyr knelt beside her uncle. She did not need to pull back the cloak that covered his face. She placed a hand on his chest, closing her eyes. “I am sorry, Uncle,” she whispered, “I am so sorry…” The tears would not come, not now. But she knew they would, hours, days, weeks from now. The twisting in her chest and the tightening coil inside her head warned her of that.

This was freedom’s reward. The chaos that she dreamed of. How she wanted to steal back the words she gave to Adrian and trap them in her throat.

She heard her name. She did not register it at first, not while she was staring at the black cloak. She recognised the button with the silver gecko.

Rhys had been here before her.

She gasped as if she had held her breath for so long. Brynwyr stood, searching again. It was only when she did that she noticed Adrian and Howard facing one another. There was no time to dwell on prior conversations. She walked to them, disregarding manners and politeness and for one thing only.

“Have either of you seen a boy—a young man,” she corrected, “dark haired. A little taller than me, with a gecko for a familiar?” Brynwyr wasn’t sure if it was enough of a description to go off, and only then was she realising she was interrupting them, and she hadn’t even asked after them. She sighed. “I’m sorry for my intrusion. I just…there’s a chance my cousin might be alive.”

 

[Jet]

​

Damian watched the chaos from high in the stands, humming a tune as lives were saved and others lost. The highest form of drama in the droll, unending boredom of humanity. Where nothing was more important than seeing another day, as if they didn't waste their time fucking and drinking, wallowing in pits of hedonistic despair. The small distractions of lambs without a shepherd, stumbling through life without a meaning — and who could blame them? They'd been abandoned by a god who never loved them, watching their pain with a smile on his cold, wretched face.

"Like a tragic comedy from long ago," he laughed as screams cut through the stands. "You worship a neglectful father who's trapped you here, in a prison of flesh and bone. A gutter you'll never leave without—

"Damian!" A shaky voice came from behind. It belonged to a young man with blonde hair and blue eyes; his hands trembling as he stumbled over bodies. "What the hell did you rope me into?"

Damian turned and slowly, silently approached him. His mouth curled with the sarcastic ghost of a smile, placing his hand on the man's shoulder. "Nothing! You brilliantly accomplished your task, and are one step closer to paying your debt. Quite a successful endeavor, don't you agree?"

"This is no place for me! I'm a cook not a soldier, god I'm going to be—

He bent over and vomited with a retching cough, spitting bile on the grey concrete steps. "Fuck you Damian! We're done!"

"We?" Damian quietly laughed. "Who are you to state my intentions?"

"Don't twist my words you son of a bitch."

"Hah! But you make it effortless despite yourself."

"Shut up! I'll… I'll go to the guards if you don't leave me alone! I'm done working for you!"

Damian wrapped his hands around the man's face, squeezing on both sides like a vice. "Done? By what right does a dog question his master?" His voice became a low, menacing growl. "By what right does a lamb question the wolf?"

"Fuck you!" The man pulled away but couldn't move, firmly trapped in the impossibly strong hold. "Your deal is bullshit! I'm not working for you anymore!"

"Oh?" Damien flung him to the ground and stood over him, smiling as the man scurried back like a roach. "But I've given you exactly what I promised, and you will do the same Cartier."

"But what if… what if I refuse?"

Damian didn't answer him with words, only a cold stare and low, whispering laughter; a sense of dread cutting Cartier like a knife.

Ten minutes later, Damian walked from the arena and surveyed the grand courtyard. It hadn't changed much over the years, filling him with nostalgia and a touch of lingering rage. The taste of iron on his tongue as memories played in his mind. "So much to do." He looked at the setting sun with a deep, satisfied sigh. "And so much time," he said before humming the same tune, strolling away as crows cawed in the distance.

 

[Emphoa]

Rat only half paid attention to the fact that Vixie was talking to someone else, and his eyes had briefly glanced over to see Nyall- someone he knew was another contestant but that he didn't have too much knowledge of. His attention didn't part away long from Mischa, however, and he frowned as she started to stand, and he took a hesitant step forward. Opening and then closing his mouth as he waited for her to say what she needed to say, and his expression softened at the next words that escaped the young woman's lips. He would have had to appreciate the fact that she was trying- hard, and she was pushing through even when she really had suffered a huge loss.

Rat decided, then, it would be better to be bright for the people around him rather than trying to match the mood and he finally offered up a lopsided grin and placed his hands onto his hips. "They're pretty neat- and that's a really fun fact." He stated, matching the other woman's energy while he gave her a knowing look. The time was to help, now, and later- later they would be able to process and mourn where they needed to. He would allow her that, if this was what she wanted.

"Good- I'm glad at least you can merge with your familiar, I bet Remy would be excited to help if he could." Rat finally puffed out, and he hurried over to the area that she had pointed out, letting out a breath as he did discover the two children and his chest tightened. One was heavily injured and he was sure it was either from the crowds- or even could have been from one of the explosions. "Hey- hey, I'm gonna help you two, alright?" He spoke up, peering back at the large eyes that looked up at him as he crouched down, his eyebrows furrowed as he got a look at the injured one's wounds.

"You're real brave, being able to keep calm like this." He spoke up, although part of him knew that the young boy was likely just in shock and it really did remind him a lot of himself when he was on his own... and he could only assume that now they were on their own, just like he was. He let out a breath, ripping off some of his shirt in order to tie it tightly around the open wound on the little boy and he let out a huff as he scooped him up. "Can you walk?" He asked the other, and the elder boy stared up at him still with wide eyes, before giving a slow nod and standing up. Slow and wary but he would be okay outside of... well, the trauma of the event that just unfolded. "Good- why don't you go and stand with my friend Mischa over there, she's real nice I promise." He insisted, and his eyes flitted over towards the red head before he glanced towards Nyall and Vixie.

"I think we can take the time to talk about everything after we get people some help." Rat spoke up, eyes unreadable as he watched the two individuals he really didn't know all that well. But he supposed he would just have to push past it as he started down the stands, adjusting the boy in his grip as he carefully made his way down. "I think it's our priority to get people out of here."

Jet Lost Echo Anne Boolean

 

[ManofManyRoles]

𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓻 '𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴' 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓻
Mavior had been so distracted by trying to carefully remove rubble from the precarious position it had put itself in over his sibling that he didn't notice Anya at first, the young man giving soft grunts of exertion with each stone and block he moved...trying his best, but his best wasn't enough. As Anya shouted in surprise at her being alive, Mavior looked up at her, the pale-toned male's eyes hidden by far too opaque goggles, but his expression neutral save for a thin and narrow frown of exertion. "Correct, she's alive. I'm trying to move quickly, but if I'm not careful this will collapse, and take her legs...." Mavior trailed off as another stone was moved aside. This close, the familial link was obvious, their builds and faces too similar to ignore, she even wore the same sort of too-dark goggles that one couldn't rationally see out of. Likewise, if not for the fact half of her body had been flash-burned to a scarlet crisp, she'd be the same snowy pale skin tone as the male...it would be almost comical, how near-white blended with red if it wasn't so awful. Mavior paused as the rubble shifted a moment, the thin frown on his lips growing just a bit as he muttered something under his breath, a string of numbers and arithmetic as he moved a stone just so to seemingly stabilize it all. "Her goggles aren't broken, which is a saving grace, I suppose?" Mavior's tone was far too calm for all of this awfulness, only a slight quiver and shake as he spoke...though by Mavior's standards, he sounded hysterical to himself.

The woman's deepened breast pocket shifted for a moment before something crawled out, a large mantis shrimp that regarded the trio with globe-like eyes before starting towards Mavior...and then starting to walk around on the woman's stomach in circles, like an RC car that had a busted wheel, only able to walk around lazily in a circle in a dazed fashion. As the young boy knelt beside her and tried to host conversation she shifted a bit, fingers flexing in a twitch and face twisting a bit to look towards Brian, thankfully her face had miraculously avoided the burns that ran down the rest of her body, neck to foot. She started to speak, voice painfully soft, though it was hard to tell if she was even looking at him, or if her eyes were open, with those goggles. "Hey Brian...nice to meet you, kid...Names Ace. I like green...Do you know where I could find someone with goggles like mine? Really pale?" She seemed to grow a little more lucid through conversation, though couldn't quite see Mavior due to his positioning with the rubble over her. Mav looked up to Anya, and then his sister...get a medic, or get the rubble moved first? Which was the priority? She was awake, but that didn't mean anything with burns like this. A few moments as he seemed to mutter to himself before he stared up towards Anya. "Please help me move the rubble, first. I don't know how long this will stay stable...I can direct you if you need me to, but I need help getting this out of the way." "Maverick?" The girl moved to shift a bit, her unburned arm moving a bit before her body gave up on the attempt. "I...I can't move my other arm...I feel sore. I feel...really cold...Why's it cold?" Mavior felt a chill up his spine...she shouldn't feel cold after being burned...not unless he was right, and her nerves had been damaged to a severe extent. "Just relax, right now, please. Something happened, I'll get you out. Just focus on resting, okay? Have a chat with Brian."

The half-lucid woman looked over towards the young boy again, her familiar still doing loops on her stomach, a frown on her lips and her lip quivering just a bit. She couldn't feel half of her...everything, and instinctively she knew that was wrong. She remembered a flash...she remembered heat, and then it got cold and quiet. "Hey, Brian...what isn't he telling me? What happened?" Her voice reflected much more emotion than her brother's, quaking with uncertainty and quite frankly, scared. And hearing that caused that pit in Mavior's stomach to open straight into the abyss, to where sleepless beasts may grasp at anything that fell inside. He'd never heard her scared, or heard her sound uncertain...this was a whole new feeling to have, a whole new experience. His attention snapped straight to Anya, quickly mouthing at her. 'Don't let her look. Do not let her see it yet.' It was a repeated and slow-mouthed series of words, Mav having to calm himself down enough not to rush through mouthing it. He had to hope Brian had the sense not to tell her the truth, children were good at simple lies, right? And he just needed to get her out of there. He had to see how bad it was, and then they could get her...treatment, of some kind. Something for the burns...but how would he get proper treatment? They were too far from home where they might have something for this, and he didn't have some ample amount of money. No, irrelevant right now. The goal right now was to get her out.

(Interaction with Lost Echo 's Anya)​

 

[Lost Echo]

☆Vixie☆

Immediately, upon the redhead’s shudder, Vixie pulled her arm away, expecting a slap. When that didn’t come, the girl obviously lost in thought, the vixen stayed beside her and started to warm up her temperature. She radiated heat, mostly on the side closest to her new friend, though her control wasn’t perfect so some of it was wasted on the opposite. It wasn’t a lot: likely as deep in her mind as she was, she wouldn’t consciously notice, but it was enough to give the impression someone was nearby without touching her. It took concentration (which Vixie’s pride in coming up with the technique disrupted a few times) to keep it even, so she didn’t hear the call of her pseudonym.

Suddenly, someone’s arms were around her, pulling her toward them. For a flash, she lost control and warmed up enough for discomfort, just bare of damage before she turned and her jaw dropped. “You’re here?” She asked like an idiot. She hadn’t actually expected her flare to work. Or for Nyaall to really care. It must be because he could find her first, but she still felt warmth in her heart, even after she let her trick go with a shiver. “Oh! These are my friends,” whose names she did not know. She didn’t explain further, Sasha held in her sister’s grip was evidence enough.

Then said sister started speaking. Showing a strength Vixie knew she didn’t have, she decided to help people first. Though she knew how dolphins slept, she didn’t connect the purpose until the girl merged with her familiar and her voice changed. Horror crept through the vixen, her tails bristling at the distant tone. At least she still cared about others, immediately pointing out a few rows away where children hid.

Vixie pulled away from Nyaall, following the young man to the two boys. Oh no. As her fellow redhead said, one of them looked really hurt. Watching as her friend tended to the younger before picking him up, she felt helpless and scared. When the elder was encouraged to go to Mischa, she had an idea. Immediately she separated from Philos-o-fur, the fox reforming in her arms. “Here.” She plopped the small creature into his arms. “This is Philos. He's very huggable.” Aware of his job, the fox carefully turned to face the boy and licked his tears away. Then Vixie moved out of the way so he could reach Mischa.

She did not know what they were going to talk about. What the heck happened? No, getting the injured out of here was more important. “Definitely.” She looked over at Mischa, suppressing a shudder at the lack of emotions on the formerly animated girl. “Can you keep that…sonar stuff going?” She actually knew that wasn’t exactly what sonar did, but she didn’t know what electromagnetic fields were. “If you sense anyone, Nyaall and I can check on them.” She met her idol’s eyes, tried a smile, then settled for a nod.

Anne Boolean , Jet , Emphoa

 

[Lost Echo]

♡Anya♡

Anya scanned over the rubble, as this young man spoke. Looking back down at the woman, most likely his sister, she could easily be his twin, and frowned. She believed those burns were a bigger problem than her legs. You could survive without your legs--Anya was even willing to make her legs--but could she survive with so much burned? When he made a nonsensical comment about her goggles, which admittedly weren’t broken, the woman was sure he was in shock. She remembered that shut-off feeling, where she randomly wondered why her bone was so sharp. Shaking off the thought, Anya brought her focus back to the man.

Just then, she heard a voice, and her attention was drawn to the woman. Her eyes widened and she held her breath. She hadn’t expected her to wake up. Hopefully, she wouldn’t try to move. Newton, she must be in such agony and she still was nice to the child.

Brian looked up at her question, then pointed, “Like him? His hair’s really dark too.” He sounded proud of himself, glad to answer her question. It was all a little scary, how much Ms. Anya was relying on him to help, but he had to. He had to be a big boy. He rubbed at his eyes as they watered again. He was a big boy now, he couldn’t cry. He’d already helped her find the man.

Anya barely breathed for the entire time the woman spoke then Brian pointed. Please don’t look, please don’t look. She chanted in her head, the mantra only broken by the young man’s voice. Grasping the new thought like a lifeline, she nodded and immediately went to his side. Rubble it was. She stayed silent as Ace spoke again. Her body probably kept her from moving its arm for safety, but why would she feel cold? No, was Shock cold? Anya had been wet, having fallen into the sewer. But she couldn’t remember. Maverick consoled the woman, and Anya looked at him once more. “Just tell me what to avoid.” She pulled in her wings, to make herself smaller. Tugging at her gloves, she carefully made her way over on crane’s feet. Bending awkwardly, as her knees were reversed, she picked up a slab of concrete, careful to move it to the side.

"Hey, Brian...what isn't he telling me? What happened?"

Anya’s eyes widened when she heard Ace’s question. Immediately she turned to look at her brother, catching the words with her eagle-like sight. She shook her head, mouthing ‘I won’t’ in return. Then she turned her heart in her throat to the recipient of the question.

Brian wasn’t even looking at Maverick. He stared down at Ms. Ace and reached over to lightly pat her good shoulder. “It’s okay to be scared. It’s been really scary. And Daddy’s gone because Sandy’s gone. And a lot of people’s Sandys are gone. But you have yours.” He reached out holding a hand in front of the creature he’d never seen before, hoping it would crawl on so he could pick it up. “What is it? Sandy was a dog.”

Anya looked back over at Maverick. Well, they definitely were avoiding that topic too. The young man seemed lost in thought. Assuming what he was worrying over, Anya reached over, took his hand, and whispered, leaning over to his ear. “I know a Doc who survived. No promises, but he saved my life.”
ManofManyRoles

 

[Anne Boolean]

Nihal "Nyaall" Laal​

Nyaall had definitely stepped in during an interesting time of their conversation. One of the others with Vixie, one who seemed to be cradling one of the deceased, mentioned a dolphin fact before fusing with her familiar and taking on an almost emotionless state. When she brought up the bit about the sonar though, her train of thought became apparent. She was able to point out two survivors, one of who was badly injured, and the boy along with the group went fetch them.

Only after seeing him step away did Nyaall feel the strong heat Vixie was giving off. It didn't burn, so he just looked over with a confused gaze, but eventually, her temperature dropped and she let out a shudder.

"Er... sorry..." he said, stepping back, not knowing whether she was a hugger. She felt like his only ally in this sea of chaos. Hell, it probably would have been the same if the current goings on around them weren't taking place. "Yeah..." he responded. "I'm... glad you're okay," he reiterated.

Once the boy returned, it seemed the lady with the dolphin familiar's perceptions were indeed correct. He had performed some rudimentary first aid on the injured child. Hopefully it would be enough until someone could properly treat him. Nyaall gave a nod to the boy's sentiment. They could thank their lucky stars later for surviving, and perhaps with more companions, were they able to find and save some others. He watched Vixie left Philos-o-fur with the children to provide comfort before turning to Mischa for more guidance. He gave the smile that she held back on when she looked to him in acknowledgement of taking on this quest together.

As much as he expected a cute cat to bring just as much comfort as a cute fox, unfortunately, he needed A-paw-llo's help. He called forth the radiant feline and fused with him, golden cat ears appearing atop his head and his own irises turning gold. A tail of light extended forth from the base of his spine. His gaze raised to the sky, which was already darkening as the sun continued to set. With the smoke from the explosions at the gates drifting overhead, feline night vision would be useful sooner rather than later. The cat ears twitched slightly as he focused to try to pick up sounds that were too far or soft for his human set. "I hear people in pain... they're coming from the eleven destroyed gates." He turned to the rest to see what their game plan was or if the redhead could pick up anything more pressing.

Interactions: Mischa ( Jet ), Vixie ( Lost Echo ), Rat ( Emphoa )
Mentions: N/A

 

[Fred Colon]

Kilderkin raised an eyebrow at Esther and snorted a laugh.

"Well. If I had been expecting to perform surgery today, perhaps I would have brought something to wash my hands with." But she did provide a trickle of water and scrubbed her hands, allowing the others to wash as well. That done, and Renn gamely sticking her fingers in gore to help Kilderkin, something that surprised her, Kilderkin began to stitch the more serious wounds of a man with a rough, weather beaten face and animal leathers. "This should be taken out and redone by someone with actual medical experience, but it should keep his blood and innards on the inside, at least for a while."

Esther began working on another wounded soul, and Kilderkin realized that with everyone's help this likely wouldn't take long. Not because they were particularly quick, but because, really, there weren't *that* many survivors. She moved on to another of the mans wounds.

As time went on, however, she wondered if that would really be the case. In the stands, she saw some other survivors dragging people from the rubble. That was good, even if it meant more work. She saw Nyaall fuse with his familiar, her attention drawn by a flash of light, in an apparent bid to help with the rescue efforts.

She didn't have much to say about Esther and Renn's conversation about hope and leadership. The girl would do what she would. If she seemed like she could bend a few ears, perhaps Kilderkin would lend a hand. But only time would tell.

After a short while, Renn began to sing.

Kilderkin hadn't really liked Renn's performance on the stage. Kilderkin wasn't one for flashy music, idols or performers. Really, she preferred music where it was pure, and couldn't be ruined by human error and imperfection. On the page, where she could read it. But this song was simple. Hopeful but also a little sad. Kilderkin liked that. Songs and poems about hope fell flat for her if that was all they were. True hope only existed alongside sorrow and anger. It was only hope because it stood in contrast to them.

Kilderkin didn't interrupt the song. But when an opportunity presented itself, Kilderkin did ask the other two.

"Do you have any ideas on what's next? Certainly no funding for your safari here anymore, I think." She said to Esther. She also looked at Renn, but she had more or less already said she didn't know what she was going to do. "Might be safer to flee. The culprits got away. They could strike again."

Lost Echo rozukitsune
Mention: Anne Boolean

 

[Fred Colon]

Howards mind was on the fritz. Everything in his brain was telling him that he was not ok, that nothing was ok, that the people around him were not ok, but Howard was like a submarine captain who, despite water pouring in, despite the proximity alarms blaring, despite his crew crying out in abject terror, nevertheless gave the order 'full speed ahead'! After all, these people looked up to him! He had no time to act like a panicking commoner!

He tried to answer both Brynwyr's and Adrian's question at the same time, got tongue tied, and then tried again, first answering Brynwyr.

"I'm sorry, but no. I'm a bit discombobulated, at the moment. But I wouldn't worry!" Howard said, flying in the face of all available facts. "I'm sure he's quite alright!"

And then, to Adrian.

"I'm sorry, but no. I don't. I can't imagine any group that could possibly want to attack Nye. It's a travesty of the gravest sort! Our so called 'Leader' has much to answer for this oversight! You can rest assured I will use all of my influence to see those that did this punished, and those that allowed this to happen at all punished as well!"

He took a few tottering steps, but his legs decided that they didn't want to cooperate, so he gracefully collapsed onto his rump instead.

"Would either of you like a sedative?" He held up several pills. "These are weighted for a Marmoset, so its not strong enough to knock you out, but it will help you relax." Before either of them answered, he took one himself.

Jet Arcanist

 

[Jet]

​

Jiang found himself staring into the void; absolute darkness without the smallest hint of light. He couldn't tell what was happening or where he was, his memory was spotty and his right side was completely numb, pinned to the ground by concrete and twisted steel. The weight of a mountain crushing his bones and severed nerves, only feeling a dull, aching throb from the area.

"What a miserable fate," he laughed with a grimly resigned smile, almost amused at his ridiculous death. How years of training led to a sad, unceremonious end at the bottom of a pit. Not on a daring mission doing what he loved more than anything in the world.

Killing people.

After all, he was a career assassin with over a hundred confirmed kills. He'd been forced into training at the age of nine years old, but he never felt imprisoned or enslaved. He'd been unleashed on the world like a caged beast on the prowl, relishing every mission and every kill. The challenge of planning a hit and waiting, watching his prey before the perfect moment came. That was his paradise and yet here, protecting an arena is how he'd die.

He'd never feel the ultimate high again. The rush of blood in his ears as adrenaline coursed through his veins. The feeling of the most dangerous game of all; hunt or be hunted, kill or be killed.

That's where he belonged, not surrounded by whimpering men and crying women, slowly driving him mad in the darkness. "Silence!" he spat. "You grate my ears!"

"So shut your mouths! Be happy you draw breath and be silent — be silent or I will fill this tomb with fire and kill you all."

The cries became nervous whispers and the assassin madly smiled, relishing the silence until Ren arrived. Followed by a small descending light, held by a familiar girl with spider mutations. "Narzas!"

"Come here at once, pull me from this rubble or you'll face—

He coughed blood as her light illuminated him. His body was half crushed and his forehead was cut to the bone, eyes manically shaking like nervous hands. "Come here! Now! Do your duty!"

He looked up in Ren's general direction, unable to see him through darkness and dust. "And you! Boy!" He wheezed for breath with a demented grin. "Come help and I'll pay you a fortune! You'll be a rich man!"

rozukitsune ZackStop

 

[EldridSmith]

Mark frowned as he was reminded of the awards ceremony, it was truly pointless considering the fact the games weren't even over as far as he was concerned. He hugged her closely and handed her a handkerchief to let her clean up. He sighed and went with the others to the stands, standing next to Anya as he waited for the singing to stop and the entire thing to be over with, though he did enjoy Anya's smile so he was able to stand it as she held onto him. The fiasco occurred with the announcer and Mark turned to the commotion when the blast went off and he was sent flying while thankfully Anya was behind him protected from the blast. He landed near one of the gates and was covered with rubble.

Sometime later Plague clawed his way out of the rubble. He did not look the same as his ribs were exposed and the flesh around surprisingly not charred thanks to his slime but it HURT. Gone was his normal green hue from his normal acid and poison. He wanted to give his opponents a small chance to live even if he valued his lethality. No, black smoke billowed out from his cloak and his eyes were dark. His rage and bloodlust reached the peak as he looked for enemies... but there were none he could see. His rage would not be so easily quelled however as poisonous smoke billowed from his cloak as he stood up from the pile of rubble. He had been seriously hurt. Anya was likely hurt. Ava was likely hurt. And the shadow user whom he was going to acquire to study was gone. Plague shivered in fury as he pulled the black smoke back into his cloak condensed it over and over and over as he pulled out empty bullets for his relic as he prepared to fill them with his newest concoction. He didn't hear what others were saying, he wasn't looking in others directions, he was preparing to wage war and he would not be unprepared once more especially considering his tank of acid and poison was cracked and discarded in the rubble.

At this he started to cackle madly as the first of his new creation was prepared.

Lost Echo ManofManyRoles