Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[ManofManyRoles]

𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓻 '𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴' 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓻
It was fortunate that Anya was a 'thinker' sort, starting to piece together the puzzle Mavior wove with words and numbers to anticipate the next move. Though he didn't comment on such, there was a slight upturn of his lips, a brief showing of happiness in an abysmal situation...she had picked up, and now they had a chance to speed up their process. That upturn didn't last long, before the grim reality of everything politely invited Mr. Smile out behind the shed and the upturn faded to a look of grim resolve. Progress was progress, stone by stone, brick by brick, they would get things done...

Ace smiled grimly at the simple questions the child offered her. Alas...she wasn't the one who'd have the most ideal answers for that. "She punches with her little clubs, here," she muttered, moving the hand she could still feel to gently grab at her familiar. And as soon as fingers latched onto the creature, it ceased it's looping, like an RC car that had promptly lost all form of connection. Index and thumb gently wiggled the club-shaped piece of chin ever so gently in front of the shrimp, as if to give it a shake of the hand and a 'how do you do?'. Awful, would be the answer at this time...they were doing awful, but so was everyone. "She flicks them...and it's like a punch. And...no, not quite imaginary. She just...see's more...I can't really explain it, that'd be Maverick's territory. But I think he's...busy," she mumbled, suddenly far less candid as she was only reminded of her precarious situation at the mere mention of her kid brother who had been playing reverse jenga up above.


Mavior had held his breath as Ava worked with about the same amount of grace to her 'heave ho' that the average blind elephant might have. He'd said carefully move the stone, but she seemed so eager to exist that she just flipped the damnable thing to the side, a healthy THUD audible as it sent a tremor through the ground, Mavior staring at the stone that remained with anxious anticipation. He hadn't breathed yet, the air in his lungs trapped there. One second...two seconds...three before he even dared to breathe, lest it all come crashing down. Thankfully, no tumble...and the remaining stones were smaller, but nonetheless a threat to collapsing down and shattering bone and tearing a vital artery, getting dust into wounds, or just about anything in between. Though at being called 'Maverick' he looked over to Anya as if he didn't understand the name. "...Maverick? Ah...that's a nickname. I'm Mavior, I was...am a contestant.Well met, Miss Ava. And you as well, Miss," he briefly spoke before turning his attention to the remaining issue stones. Providing his little 'party' didn't object to his orders and requests for help, it'd only take ten more minutes until Ace was freed...and the sight was gruesome to say the least.

Below all that stone, metal, 'bits', and dust was a woman about the same lanky height as Mavior, but definitely more athletic in her build now that one could see her properly. Though her entire right side of her body was charred to a grisly red. Cloth had seared into her very skin in some sections, while others had simply burned away. By some miracle, it stopped just below her neck and her attire had managed to survive just enough to guard the modesty of her chest and otherwise. There wasn't any visible blood where she lay, but somehow that just made it worse to look at. Mavior's breath picked up every so slightly in the most unnoticeable fashion unless one was looking for it...but once again, by his own standards, he sounded like a wreck. "Maverick...can you give me a hand up? I still can't feel anything...I just feel cold. Why am I cold still," she asked. Mavior dropped to his knee's in an effort to catch her face from turning...too late. Ace froze as she finally turned her head and saw...everything. How she was charred, so burned and brutalized that she couldn't feel half of her body. What little color was in her face drained in that instance, a choked sob-like noise escaping her. That's why she couldn't feel anything...the burn just robbed her of feeling. Her lip quivered, and if not for her goggles tears would have flowed down her cheeks. Alas, that introduced a new and unique problem to remedy.

This close to her though, Mav could give a rather solid guess her nerves were damaged...beyond the sort of damage he could ever hope to fix himself. But with what money could they fix this? He was an outsider in every regard, he didn't have the sort of money for this sort of thing. No...he didn't have it currently, but he could obtain funds, think through this in a logical sense. Ace gave another choked noise, Mavior lifting her up so she could bury her face into his chest. And there in that moment, the older sister who he had never seen as anything but a force of sheer will and bravery...broke down like a kid into his chest, Mavior cradling her head in the most awkward of fashions. But he could smell something...flowers, the same scent that hung around him constantly. A heavy perfumed scent...she still had her balm on, but it was definitely nearly out. Mavior cupped the back of her head, looking between the two women who had helped him so far. "Please...I hate asking, but I need help. Just this last time. I need to get her moved somewhere out of the sun. I need to do...something. I'm not sure what yet, but the damage is...it's not good. There is no point in pretending, she's seen everything." Even as his sister broke down in his arms, that fried arm hanging limp at her side, the mantis shrimp finally stopped doing loops and crawled back into a breast pocket so that its head and 'clubs' poked out, an image similar to a joey in a mother kangaroo's pouch. "Will you help? Please?"

Lost Echo Huntertabbysandshark3

​

 

[ManofManyRoles]

𝕾𝖎𝖗 𝕱𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖝 𝕬𝖇𝖉𝖔𝖓

It had been quite some time since he'd been in this coliseum, indeed the last time he had been here he'd been a frequent contender down below in those battlegrounds. Game after game in his youth, and even as he grew older was he present here. That was, of course, up until of a job opportunity presented itself, of a sort. Felix had been here for day one of the games, the young missus still on her way to Nye at the time. He'd traveled ahead of her, if only a touch, just so he could get a lay of the land, make note of any notable players on the scene and ensure it was safe for the young miss. Unfortunately, he had found out in the hardest of ways that 'safe' was perhaps an inadequate term. He remembered a blast and screams, and then it all went black as he was rocketed off his feat and into a nearby wall, a crack and thud of his skull and body against a wall. Not enough to kill him nor crack his skull like an egg, but enough to leave a migraine and leave him unconscious for a brief time...

-----

"Mister Abdon, good to meet you." It wasn't every day that a C.E.O of a massive corporation invited into his office, so when one received such an invitation at an otherwise humble abode by comparison, one would be wise to answer such a summons! The office hummed with the energy of arcane technologies and magic, a desk of the finest woods and embroidered with the finest of trimmings. A photograph of a man aging in life with a beautiful wife nearby, the happiest couple one could get. "Sir Abdon, if you would be so kind." "Ah, of course. A proper title, after all." Before the well-dressed younger man sat a gentleman only a few years his elder, a mountain of papers on his desk stacked high to Avalon and beyond. "To what do I owe the invitation, Mister Smith? I do not believe I've had the pleasure of ever meeting you before." "Ah, no. We've never met, I assure you. Though I am well aware of your rather...impressive background, one could say." Felix stood a bit straighter, suddenly much more attentive as he leveled a wary and curious gaze toward the gentlemen before him. "I...see. I take it you require some sort of service of me, then?" "Oh, indeed, though not the sort you may imagine. I am certain the life of combat and violence can grow tiresome for many. I personally detest such bloodshed and things, you know, but life is constant conflict, don't you think? Be that as it may...I do not want you to step into an arena or a battlefield, or have a joust in my name. I need something much more simple...I need a bodyguard on the premises at all time. I'm well aware that your township and culture take great pride in your loyalties once they are sworn. You will be properly compensated for this change in lifestyle as well, I promise you of such. But...I also need a butler," he admitted simply, Felix tilting his head a bit at that in confusion. "A butler, sir?" "Yes. Strange, I know. But at some point, my wife and I would like to have a child. And he, or she, will have much on their shoulders. So my proposition is to you, as such. I request your sworn loyalty to myself, and my household, to guard us against threats within and without, and help in standard affairs. And in return, you will be handsomely compensated, and I assure you that you will be treated as an equal in my house. Not some serf I pulled off a farm, you are a man in my estate just like myself." "I see...and if I should decline?" Smith seemed to pause at that, before giving a small shrug and a polite smile. "Then I shall wish you a fine day and seek another aid."

-----

Pain woke him from his impromptu slumber, he couldn't have been out for more than a few moments...but the headache felt like the worst kind of hangover. A hand reached up to the back of his head and pulled back damp and red. He had drawn blood...but no fracture. With a grunt he worked himself upright, getting his bearings. At his feet lay a large king cobra...though its size was outrageous by any normal standard, more on par with a constrictor snake than a cobra. Like its 'other half' it seemed to rouse more quickly, if groggy, slowly starting to climb up his body and coil around his torso and arm, shifting of scales and black eyes staring into his own, scenting the air. "We're getting too old for this," he remarked simply to the snake of unusual size. And yet, even with that, he didn't decide to say 'well that's that' and walk off. Indeed, he might grumble, but he had a duty here to ensure this was safe to some degree. The sounds of cries for help from a blown open hole caught his attention, a group descending into dark depths to help others. Setting his jaw he started forward, the cobra thumping off of him onto the ground, slithering after him. Heat could be felt far down, but he couldn't see anything deep down...the group had descended straight into Tartarus without a guide. "I should suppose we'll be assisting them, don't you think? Come now, down we go." He held a hand out to the side towards the snake, merging with his familiar without much issue. His soft epidermis was replaced by thickened scales of a more black tone, eyes became more adapt to dark and dim lighting, and scent more highly attuned than before. The scent of something burning was the first thing he could smell and without so much of a 'tally ho' did he let himself drop down below.

As opposed to a control fall Mischa's group may have had, Felic enjoyed more of a solid plummet. Though rather than going 'splat' he rolled like a freerunner just as he touched down, thick armored hide ensuring he didn't die outright or shatter something. "My apologies to drop in, pun not intended...I don't suppose you children might care for a hand? I just came to, I'm not quite sure of what's going on here....though it's to my understanding there was an attack and there's those of less fortunate standing needing assistance down here, yes?" As he spoke he held a hand out in front of himself, a large sphere of light forming to shed some proper light down here, the orb floating in place until it took the size of a large globe, slowly circling about him like the Sun may travel in a geocentric model. "As much as I am one for manners, introductions could wait, don't you think?"
Lost Echo Jet Anne Boolean Emphoa

​

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas continued helping regardless of the way Ren got his righteous nonsense under his hat and got irritable with her or the impatience of Ilana's actions. She just went from pile to pile, helping where necessary and using her hammock to bring those who couldn't trek up Ilana's staircase up the hard way. Yeah, it was slow... yeah, it was going to take forever, but the more people she settled into a pile of living, breathing survivors the more she felt like she was doing something productive. Important. No matter how broken... these people were survivors. They all were. It wasn't a lot, but it was something. She took heart in the fact that whatever it was that stranger was doing - whatever his power and purpose, it was not infallible. If it were, none of them would have survived. Her and the others wouldn't have been able to stop Tefra, these survivors wouldn't even be here living and breathing. They could pick themselves up... start over. Maybe even build something even better than there had been before.

As she worked a makeshift web cast around some young woman's broken leg, she wondered idly if she'd always been this way. Assassins typically weren't the search and rescue sorts. She'd been raised to kill. Cold, detached, merciless. All of it had been as straightforward and precise as any good knife could be made when crafted by a master. Yet... she remembered vaguely those times in group drills stopping to help those who had fell behind rather than just racing ahead. It was one of the reasons she had only now made it to her final trial. Little things that seemed insignificant, stopping to help a classmate limp home. Patching up a downed bird that had survived a messy dagger toss... despite her rather ingrained presumption that she did not care one way or the other between life and death - it was clear in her actions if not her thoughts she very much did value it. Nothing was as black and white as young Ren seemed to think. Narzas had been trained to kill. But she was also, deep down beneath the precision instrument she'd become - sequestered in the darkness that had been shunted aside and locked in a box and buried under years of drills and mental abuse... a kind soul. A kinder soul than even she had really ever given herself reason to think she could be. For some reason, Johan's face flickered through her mind as she considered this and the group of freed survivors continued to grow as the time wore on. He'd been the one to take a crowbar to that box, she realized. Forcing her to be conversational and asking her what she would do if she had the choice. She wondered if he was out here too, salvaging the wreckage that had been wrought under his nose. Her thoughts grew distracted, and she slowed to turn her head toward the hole in the ceiling, eyes scanning what they could see of the arena above for any sign of the Centurion. Surely he was up there. He seemed to be the type to try, even if he felt like this was somehow all his fault...

"I'll... be back." She said to her companions - who probably couldn't have cared less if she returned or not - and slipped off into the darkened caved in passages in search of her newest friend.

ZackStop - Mentions: Jet

 

[rozukitsune]

Renn blushed in embarrassment as Kilderkin and Esther both passive aggressively dug at her wavering heart. Oh sure... run away and do whatever she wanted?! That was easy for them to say! They didn't just watch a large part of their home explode in front of their face!

She continued her work, sulking as they talked to one another now more than they did her... but in the end, she knew they were right. What exactly was the point to going back to something that she hated? Gareth wasn't going to be there to laugh at her childish concerns about her future. Who even knew if Nyaal and survived this? He'd been here too probably. She'd known from the behind-the-scenes video chats she'd had with him that he'd wanted to. Trying to break into the gig that she'd been trying to break out of. Both unable to help their situations and commiserating at the injustice of it all.

And now? Now she could start over. Be whoever she wanted. Be a person of real influence like Esther thought she could become. Marry whoever she damned well pleased. Nothing quite motivated her like the idea she could ditch the rich, degenerate assholes who made up the majority of Nye's top-most tier of Nobility. She was still pretty terrified of stepping off the predetermined path... but she would rather try wandering off into the unknown than go back to playing pretty pretty princess puppet to a bunch of overstuffed jackasses.

She took a break and looked at them both, the tremor in her shoulders giving away her terror even as she scrunched up her fists and tried to look brave and determined. "Nah, fuck that. Whatever it is you guys are doing... I'm in."

Fred Colon Lost Echo

 

[Lost Echo]

“Oh. Mama can’t see Harry either. Daddy could but…but…” The little boy rubbed at his eyes. He wanted a hug. He wanted Sandy to not have gone. Daddy wasn’t like Miss Ace. He might not understand everything, but he knew she was hurt more than he’d ever been hurt before. He’d broken his wrist once, falling off a swing, but her owie was so big. He trusted Mr. Maverick and Miss Anya to help her. He just had to do his job. “Sorry,” he muttered, sniffling. He wiped his nose in a long streak along his arm. “Daddy knew Harry.” He wanted her to know, even if the words were fighting in his throat. “He introduced me to him. When, when I’m alone and scared he comes. We can share.”

Anya watched, eyes wide as Ava moved the slab by herself. Of course, it wasn’t slow and easy, but Anya was not against the results. “That’s one way to do it.” She muttered, still unused to Mark’s cousin’s strength. It seemed like everyone paused, waiting for the dust to settle before her companion finally introduced himself, “You too. I’m Anya.” the girl didn’t linger on the greeting, instead joining the man in removing the rubble. The rhythm was hard to reach quickly. She may have been slower than Mavior before, but with Ava’s strength, her speed was even starker. She had to grit her teeth to keep from rushing. This work was hard and she wasn’t strong enough to move them quickly. For the first time, she wondered what it’d be like to have a different familiar.

Still, minutes passed with Ace gradually freed. Anya had to force herself to stop looking at the woman. How was she still alive? Half of her had just burned off and here she was, keeping Brian company. Tears were pouring down her face as she worked, silent as the knot in her throat kept her quiet for now. And then they were done. And…and…Anya didn’t know what to do next. She pulled Brian to her, holding him and just breathing into his hair as the woman broke down.

The teenager remembered laying there, the steel spikes through her legs. Knowing she was dead, her body to be used for parts. It was a miracle Mark had been on the island. Let alone that he’d helped. She had some idea what this woman was feeling, but the half she’d lost felt much more important than just legs.

Then the man spoke. Begged. “Woah, of course.” She interrupted, squeezing Brian before shifting to reach Mavior’s shoulder. “Like I said, I do know a doctor. I saw him” his coat and mask at least, “move before I went up to get Brian.” That plan had strayed, but she couldn’t regret it. “Now. If you think she needs to get out of the sun first, then okay. We’ll do that.” Maybe he shouldn’t be making executive decisions, but Anya wasn’t sure what to do. How do you move someone with that much damage? Looking around she came up with two options. “Okay. We can try to carry her. It’d probably be faster, but we might hurt her.” Then she nodded to her sword, letting Brian go to pick it up. Holding it flat, she placed her hand on the edge, “It uses its weight to cut, not a sharp edge. We can use it as a stretcher. We might need to widen it a bit, but I think we can make it work.”

 

[Lost Echo]

Vixie and Nihal
Nihal gave the trio a minute, focusing on revealing more of the man. The other girl’s attempt to separate herself from her feelings failed, leaving her stranded. His own mind wanted to stray, but just as he couldn’t think of anything while on stage, he kept his focus split between moving the cracked cement and an ear on the trio.

When the girl the two seemed to gravitate around pushed herself together and suggested they go down first, Nihal frowned. He didn’t want to separate. They seemed so young. But he also couldn’t leave this man who was only half uncovered. He’d grown silent, but he had to still be there. Lifting a bleeding hand, he formed an orb of light and tossed it to Vixie, Philos-o-fur catching it in his mouth. “Take that. It’ll dim the further away from me, but I’ll be down soon.”

Vixie nodded, swallowing nervously. She’d never done anything like this. How were the others so calm? The fifteen-year-old merged, causing herself to hiss and drop the ball. She immediately went down, catching the ball between her knees and body. Oh god, it was so bright. Vixie didn’t feel too good. Swallowing back the sensation at the back of her throat, she slowly stood, her tails flaring in an attempt to keep her balance. She couldn’t let her friends down. Clutching the orb, she held still as Mischa lowered them down, blinking rapidly to focus. Hoping that reaching solid ground would be a relief, she stepped on, stumbling instead.

“There’s fire down here.” She was already starting to sweat. The smoke was obvious. And the back of her throat itched. She glanced at the others. She was the only fire user. “Um…” She looked around, her vulpine eyes finding people who possibly, hopefully, were okay. “I’ll…” she swallowed again, “I’ll see what I can do.” Her voice cracked. She let the ball of light fall, casting shadows around them. Raising her now free hands, she reached for those flames. Maybe she could push them back?

With him finally free, Nihal barely moved the man, letting him rest against the rubble. He did not have a better place to put him. His leg was bent funny and he screamed when it moved. Crooning a wordless melody, the catboy soothed him. Someone else would have to set it, in the meantime, he had to return to the others.

Trusting himself as all cats do, he carefully jumped from large concrete piece to another. He barely paused at each, just enough to continue the controlled fall. Some bits of rubble would crumble, but nothing destabilized. Finally, he jumped straight down, landing on his feet in a crouch. Moments later it seemed, another man plummeted down, rolling to a stop beside them. He offered his help, “We’ll take any we can get.” Nihal assured the man, surprised by his power.

 

[Fred Colon]

The sedative hit, and the little screaming sirens, the pops and fizzles sparking in Howards head, all faded to a manageable volume. And just in time, too. For a split second, his new best friend Adrian looked like he was mad at him. Even like he wanted to *hit* Howard. But of course, that couldn't possibly be true. Adrian and he were comrades!

"Don't worry! We'll find the people responsible and bring them to justice! It shouldn't be hard. Anyone that would attack innocent people like this would have to be insane! A mad dog isn't hard to track down! We just have to ask the right questions and keep our eyes peeled!"

Then Brynwyr turned to Howard, naturally looking to him for leadership and asking for his aid, which he was only too happy to provide. A noble knight Brynwyr was, thinking of others! Caught up in the hulabaloo, Howard and Adrian had only been thinking of the culprits! But the peasants needed aid as well! It was humbling to be reminded that even a lowly commoner could think of something that a Greenfellow had not!

"Yes! Let us go!" Howard said, and then hesitated. Go where?

Fortunately, as he deliberated on his master strategy, Adrian and Brynwyr spotted something after conversing for a short time on their own. Howard nodded to himself, and followed behind them. That was what a good subordinate did. They took initiative! Howard was lucky to have these two under him.

They came to a hole, in which someone Brynwyr obviously knew, a commoner named Rhys, was crawling about in, apparently helping those trapped in the rubble. When Rhys asked for some extra hands, Howard held his up;

"Worry not! If you need hands, you'll have two of Nyes finest at your beck and call! And the prestigious and noble hands of the best Albion and the DMZ has to offer, friend Rhys! The peasants will be in safe hands! Literally and figuratively! Don't do anything too reckless, though. Brynwyr is practically frantic with worry about you. We need you back safe!" She was actually quite calm, Howard noted privately. But she was probably just in shock! He was sure she cared about this fellow! He didn't want the man below to think otherwise while in such a dangerous situation!

Arcanist Jet

 

[Fred Colon]

Kilderkin began to respond to Esther. Of course protections could be lost. That's why you had to take advantage of the chaos. But then a new figure stepped up to the group, smoking a cigarette and snapping pictures of the carnage.

A reporter. Ugh.

She'd encountered their like before. In Zuanshi, they'd let one on board the Tianlong. Kilderkin had had the idea of getting the pirates a... more appealing look to the masses. They had spun a tale of the bloodthirsty pirates really being poor individuals unfairly cast out of society and just doing their best. Captain Bataar had loved having the reporter on board, taking pictures of everything, in particular taking pictures of him, the 'Unfairly maligned Captain Bataar' as the article had put it.

The reporter had known it was all pretty lies. But he'd reported the story that Kilderkin had fed Bataar anyway. Everything for a scoop, she supposed. At least she didn't have to hide her face, this time. There would be no point, it already having been plastered on screens across the world.

It was foolish to assume all reporters were the same, unscrupulous type, but it was also foolish to assume that he would be different. So. Stupid sailor it was, for now. She hoped the other two didn't try to blow her cover. She was happy that they seemed to want to stick together. It would be useful to have companions, and she thought that she could actually like the two of them, even if, perhaps, she would have to help stiffen Renn's spine a bit. She seemed like she had one hidden in her somewhere. It had shown itself a few times now.

"Well. Not a debate, exactly, sir." Kilderkin said, big dumb smile on her face. "Don't really know much about philosophy. A bit too... whats the word. Brainy. For me. Was just wondering what was going to happen, is all. All this chaos is pretty chaotic." And then she puffed out her chest as if she'd said something profound.

"But I'm glad you're up and about. Good to see someone walkin' under their own steam after all this. Lucky you brought that camera to the games. I bet people will want to know what happened here!"

Jet Lost Echo rozukitsune

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Ava Marco
interaction: Lost Echo ManofManyRoles​

Ava awkwardly chuckled.. she'd moved the rock a bit too fast.. oops.. "yeah.. um sorry about that err" she'd say with a slightly awkward slant to her voice ok so she'd kinda gone overboard.. least no one was.. well there wasn't any more dead people then there already where least none that she'd unintentionally killed by dropping a rock on them though she'd done that once but it wasn't time to reminisce about that incident however there was someone else to free of course Ava helped admittedly a bit more careful this time but damn did she not look like she was having a good day well by not a good day that meant almost burned to death bearly alive and sobbing.. "... fuck.. hope those kids arn't looking" ava said her thoughts drifting towards the children Anaya had tagging along with her they'd already be traumatized by this sorta crap but seeing some half dead woman.. thats that's nightmare fuel right there. "ok ima be honest i.. what do you need me to help with iv got no clue what the hell i can do here" ava said with a frown.. feeling lost

 

[ManofManyRoles]

𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓻 '𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴' 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓻

A wandering mind...

Labyrinthian halls and walls of steel, dim lighting granted a soft and warm glow and the laughter of children racing through bouncing around in their own delightful echo chamber. "All that speed and you still can't keep up! That magic of yours can only carry you so far, Mavior! You'll need to be able to run by yourself one of these days!" A fresh-faced and sporty girl cried over her shoulder in a taunt, a slightly younger boy having to alternate between an exhausted run and bursts of supernatural speed just to keep pace with the older sibling. "If you'd...just...slow down!" A lame almost whine escaped him as she skid for but a moment and darted down another hall, the young boy barely able to keep her in his gaze. Every so often it seemed like he might tag her finally, only for the game of cat and mouse to continue with deft dodges and weaving motions. "How am I supposed to...tag you...when you...keep dodging?!" "Practice, obviously! You spend too much time with your nose in a book, when was the last time you worked on your body instead of your brain?" Another corner rounded...wasn't this the same spot from last time? That thought crossed his mind briefly before the world inverted, a slip atop a surprise ice patch sending him sprawled to the ground with a THUD, cradling his back with a noise of complaint. "Acacia, you cheater," he lamented between panting breaths. He was certain, this was how he died. His lungs would implode and his own sister would have murdered him with an ice patch! What a world, what a way to go! The boyish girl knelt down at his side, all smiles and catching her own breath. "Cheater, am I? I like to think of it as...a creative lesson. You like learning, right Mav? Then here's lesson one. Get creative, and think outside of the box to solve a problem you aren't beating otherwise. I've been running you in circles just so I could pull this trick off. You got tunnel vision, and you were so focused on sprinting after me you neglected the bigger picture. Are we sure you're the smart one of the two of us?" A little grumble as he accepted the offered hand, the older girl tugging him upright. "You always try to go it your own and get stuck in your own plans, like you're some sort of hot shot maverick. But there's no harm in learning from someone other than yourself, y'know." "Mnrrg...alright, alright. If I'm a maverick, what's that make you then? Do you think you're a total hotshot like some sort of-" "Ace? Yeah. That's exactly what I am. I'm the Ace. I'm the better runner, the more athletic, the braver of the two of us, the stronger of the two of us, the more-" she self-bragged, as youths are prone to doing, only to be cut short by a jabbing finger in her ribs, "The more annoying? You're right. You're the Ace alright." "Shaddup! C'mon, let's get home, I'm sure it's almost time to eat anyways."

...must eventually wander on back.

Ace was too lost in choked gasps and sobbing whimpers to accept the kind offer of sharing Harry the imaginary friend, the front of Mavior's shirt soaked in tears by now, and yet more to join the stain came. He could feel a lump form in his throat, one he painfully swallowed. He had to be strong right now. His brain was working in rapid-fire order, overloading itself on compartmentalizing this traumatic experience to slam into him as soon as he was in a good place to do so, and multi-tasking solutions and having to juggle a conversation and coordinate. Three different trains of thought, each requiring different amounts of effort...but effort all the same. Goggles gaze landed on the suggested 'stretcher', Mavior giving a simple nod as an idea came to mind. "I can lift her, but we can make a stretcher with the blade to support her below. I'd need a hand guiding her somewhere though, she's in no condition to cooperate her direction well enough," he commented, still yet no explanation on how he'd be lifting her. Mavior looked over to Ava, giving a little nod. "You can help direct and pull her along with the stretcher. I'd need to focus right now. And...admittedly...I'm in short supply of a commodity I'd prefer in excess."

He looked down, brushing a hand through her hair and gently tugging her back, the older woman shaking her head weakly. "I promise...I won't leave your side. But you can't hide your face in my chest the entire time. We need to move you." "Please...p-please don't you dare let me fall." "I won't let you down. Not again, I'm right here." The almost hollow, empty way he said that was a bit more than about letting her fall...if he'd not invited her to these games, she wouldn't have been hurt. She'd trusted him, and Nye...and while he couldn't speak of Nye, he could speak for himself. He'd let her down...unequivocally and without exception, he was the failing party her. He'd make this right for her, he knew he would, no matter how long it took. And he'd do everything to make sure this didn't happen again...the thought of vengeance briefly crossed his mind, though he berated himself internally for such. Vengeance for what? What had been the true source of all of this? Would his killing a man bring the dead back? Would it prevent it even more? Or would he spawn a new cycle of death and suffering? No, too many variables, focus on the one he could handle...making things right. Helping his sister. Ensuring this sort of thing didn't happen again. He wasn't sure how he'd do such, but he'd figure it out. With a bit of effort, he untangled Ace from his person and took a deep breath as he focused on his magic, a steady woosh of wind erupting out from beneath Ace to get her a few feet of the ground, the noise dying just as quickly as it came, the air itself encouraged to support her. Enough common sense to tuck an arm up against her chest, the other hung limply at her side, unmoving save for a soft sway from the act of being suspended, and the same could be said for a charred leg.

Mavior had fallen silent for a moment, a look of concentration on his features as he nodded down out of the stands and towards the arena itself, where shade could be found in resting areas or beneath a standing structure. "I'll do my best to ensure she doesn't fall, but I can't move a person alone as finely when they're directing themself. Once she's settled...Anya, if you know a doctor, I'd appreciate the help. Though...I'm not sure what aid one can offer in such circumstances. I can offer simple treatments where I can, but nothing for this kind of," he took a moment to swallow another lump, "This kind of damage." For the first time since this had all happened, there was the briefest of wavering in his voice before it went more one-note again, the rarest glimpse of emotion from an otherwise 'dead to the world' teen.
Huntertabbysandshark3 Lost Echo

​

 

[Jet]

​

Mischa had been around foundries all her life, so heat and smoke were two friends she knew very well. They barely distracted her as she took a knife from her pocket, cutting a long strip from the bottom of her shirt. "It's a plan Rat, I'll get em sorted as soon as we free em." She wrapped the cloth around her head and over her mouth. "And I hope you know, you're too nice for this shitty town," she cut another strip and walked behind him, wrapping it around his face. "But if science doesn't pan out, you'll make one hell of a therapist."

She tied his mask and repeated the process for everyone else, leaving her with a raggedy crop top and a small, dinky mask to filter out the smoke. She wanted to do more but the fire was too dangerous — too oxygen starved and thirsty for fresh air. If she cleared the area it would spread or even worse, cause a flash fire. It was too dangerous even if the smoke was damp and cloying, filled with dust and harsh chemicals. The kind that caused lung cancer without good protection, but there was no time for doubts now.

"God this is miserable." Mischa wiped her brow and when she lowered her hand, she noticed a streak of soot on her skin. "The less time we spend down here the better, just keep the fire back," she said to the other girl, but then it hit her like a truck. Vixie was young and barely keeping it together. Her words had been hesitant and scared, squeaked like a mouse running from a cat.

"All this time I've been so worried about myself... I haven't even noticed." She approached Vixie with a convincing smile on her face, clapping the girl's shoulder like an old friend. "You're doing great, so don't worry about messing up. Just keep talking about something — anything to keep your mind off this shit."

"How bout a game?" Mischa kneeled beside an unconscious man covered in blood, leg trapped below a beam. "Would you rather chug one gallon of ketchup or kiss a chimp for one minute?" She grabbed the bar and pulled up with a loud heave, right as Felix landed with a crash.

"Hey—

"Heyo," she groaned through clenched teeth. "Aye, screw the intro! If you want to help," her arms shook from the strain, " then grab this guy before my arms snap off!"

Emphoa Lost Echo ManofManyRoles Anne Boolean

 

[Jet]

​

Bean balanced on one foot with his palms sandwiched together, impersonating a monk as he swayed in the breeze. "Pass me another one!" He pointed at a stack of rocks on his head. "Go on! Be a good sport!"

"Fuck you," Dalton passed a flask between his hands. "You're disrespecting the dead."

"Disrespect?" Bean's familiar, a small mantis shrimp, grabbed a rock from the ground and scuttled up his back. "I'm honoring them sensei!"

"Shut up," the veteran sipped from his flask and glared at the beaten, broken man below him. "Bean, focus for a second please. You have any idea who those guys were?"

"Musta been the bonesmen!" Bean's familiar reached his head, climbed the stack of rocks and placed another on top. Then he broke into a remix of Bottles of Beer that went, "Thirteen bonesmen sat on a wall, thirteen sat on a wall! I crushed ones head, made sure he was dead — and now twelve bonesmen sit on the wall!"

"Twelve bonesmen sat on a wall, twelve bone—

"Bonesmen?" Johan mumbled. "What's that?"

Dalton laughed in response. "Of all things, that's what you ask about? You two deserve each other."

"I'm just… curious."

Bean grinned as his familiar stacked another rock. "I'll tell ya brother Hans! It's an old story from back home, says nasty ol' skeletons steal away kiddos who don't listen!"

"I see… so a warning?"

"Si mi amino, if ya mouth off then the bonesmen come!"

"And you… think they did this?"

"No ya dumb bastard!" Bean snorted and the stones fell from his head, bouncing from the ground as he giggled. "It's a flippin fairy tail ya daft little mongoose."

"But," Johan said with a smirk. "Life imitates art."

"Huh?" Bean raised an eyebrow. "What ya on about now?"

"Don't engage," Dalton said, stepping on Johan's neck. "He's a tongue twister by nature, fucking green cloak scum."

"Ahhh yes!" Bean knowingly nodded. "Very stylish."

"And cowardly, most of their targets are non-combatants."

Johan could only squirm and curse himself for his position, unable to see anything past his guilt. To him he deserved the pain of his crushed windpipe. He deserved the cuts on his face and his fractured jaw. He deserved whatever execution or torment awaited him in the future, so he didn't fight. He didn't push Dalton away and shoot him through the head. He didn't make an illusion so vivid and true, their eyes would bleed from its sheer beauty or terror. Instead he lay there, still and silent, resigned to his foreboding fate.

"Oy Hans?" Bean broke the heavy silence. "What about a game eh?"

"Don't engage!" Dalton crossed his thick arms. "What about that is so hard to understand? What's your fucking malfunction?"

"No malfunction here me lord!" Bean said in his Oliver Twist accent. "I just want to have a smidge of fun!" He cocked his head with a deranged smirk. "You gonna try and stop me?"

rozukitsune

 

[Lost Echo]

Esther jumped as one of the bodies moved. Holy shit. She knew already that one was alive, but--why couldn’t he have gotten up before she’d had to drag him? All this effort was sure to do more damage to her bruised organs. She watched as he wrinkled his nose like an old lady would to a scoundrel, then calmly walked over the corpses without a glance.

He thanked her but thankfully didn’t offer a hand as she was working on stitching a wound. She was still too weirded out to say a thing as he took pictures and…muttered for a hook? What the -uck. She understood your craft as your reason for existing, but something about this guy’s calm demeanor freaked her out.

She turned, grateful for the distraction of Renn’s voice, and smiled at her response. She looked terrified, yet brave for pushing through that. “Good. We’ll stick together.” Since apparently, she was going to stick with the pirate too. Esther wasn’t sure how that happened, joint trauma? The first recognizable face to move from the dead? Regardless, she felt the three of them could survive this.

As long as Kilderkin didn’t stay an idiot. Esther didn’t understand why she felt the need for what she now knew was a persona, but god she might strangle her if she kept it up constantly. Still, she played along. “Not too much of a debate with Kildi here." Immediately distinguishing the two. Her voice seemed to be threadbare patience, like she'd been trying to debate. “Just trying to guess what’ll happen next.” She tied off her stitching and went to move the patient before looking up at the man. He was older, but he could still help. “Help me move her. We can talk while we work.” She got behind the body and said, “How can it be a war if we don’t know who did this? …Unless you do?”

Jet rozukitsune Fred Colon

 

[Jet]

​

Craxus was from a backwater town without a given name. His parents were farmers and his friends were drunken fools, and his brothers weren't much better. He'd been surrounded by mediocre and complacent men all his life, but he'd taken a different path. He became a guardsman at first. Then a mercenary and finally, after years he joined the games.

His daring style made him famous beyond belief; but in an ironic twist, nobody knew his name. Nobody knew his face or anything about him personally, only his helmet and a nickname,

The Cage Viper.

"Hmm?" He opened his eyes and found himself pinned by two bodies. "Where's that whoreson?"

He pushed away the dead with an obscene amount of strength, slamming them into the wall beside him. "I'll snap his neck when I find him." He slowly stood and watched the chaos around him, smiling at the sheer madness of it all. "What the hell did he do?"

"What kind of black magic?" He snarled behind his mask. "What are you, Taust?" He chuckled and his eyes widened into saucers. His heart raced and his stomach warmed with bloodlust. He wanted to kill the man who dishonored the games he loved so much. Who'd cheated him with sorcery from another world.

Craxus would see him dead.

"If you've any children, Taust, someone else will be raising them soon." He leaned against the wall and removed his sweaty helmet, tossing it aside with a sigh. Then he crossed his arms and closed his weary eyes, resigning to wait for reinforcements.

In his boredom, he imagined every possible way to murder Taust. He could disembowel him of course, but that would be too fast for such a man. He could skin him alive but that was another can of worms, taking hours and hours of careful knife work — far too much time and effort.

"Don't worry, I'll think of something special for you," he mused while imagining gruesome deaths, only stopping when a boy entered the ring. He was vaguely familiar and dragged a body behind him, covering the corpse before sitting beside it.

"Hmm?" Craxus raised a brow. "How sad." He scoffed and rubbed his brow with his thumb and index finger; not from sadness but second-hand embarrassment.

"Hey kid!" He trampled corpses as he approached the young man. "You look like a beaten dog!"

"Where's your anger? Your rage at what they did?" He crouched beside Ren and gently tapped his sword. "Or have you forgotten your place as a warrior?"

ZackStop

 

[Jet]

​

"Perhaps debate was too soft a word; could've sworn I heard something about stupid questions, but then again!" Walter snapped another photo. "My ears aren't what they used to be, far too much time around explosions." He was surely correct but wasn't going to argue, not when he wanted their sweet, precious quotes.

"But yes! Apologies for neglecting your question Esther." He grandly gestured at the ring. "What's this but a declaration of war? No there might not be battle lines and generals in pointy hats, but this is an opening salvo!"

"Nye's no shortage of enemies who'd see us crumble. We've been embroiled in foreign conflicts for centuries, mainly in the west but always overseas, never here in this shining beacon of freedom. So yes, war is a pendulum that swung very far away, and now it returns with a vengeance." He knowingly nodded at his preachy, slightly arrogant speech.

"At any rate," he faced the pirate with the same congenial smile. "There's no shame in ignoring philosophy, hardly makes you less intelligent. The biggest lie philosophers have told, all throughout history, is that an assless monkey couldn't replace them."

Walter chuckled until, like he'd been shocked with a cattle prod, he remembered to help Esther. "Now for um..." He nervously opened and closed his hands. "I suppose an honest day's work won't kill me!" He hated touching corpses even though he'd seen thousands, but he wouldn't refuse when quotes were on the line.

"Here goes!" He grabbed the body and hoisted with a grunt, choking back gags as he followed her lead.



Lost Echo Fred Colon rozukitsune

 

[Jet]

​

Adrian looked down at his many bandages and bruises, then to Howard and back again. "You're selling bad wares." He shuffled to the seats and plopped himself down, kicking up his feet on the next row. "I've no hands to give, only my everlasting optimism." He withdrew a small block of wood from his pouch, shaped like a miniature desk with tiny carvings.

"But I'll keep an eye on the people you save Rhys." He carved fine trimmings and filigree, blowing away dust as he said, "Might as well put these to use while I'm at it." Again he searched his pack for herbal ointments. They were good for cuts and helped a little with the pain, even if they were rudimentary treatments. "Bring em here and I'll see what I can do; can make them more comfortable at least."

He checked the desk for any mistakes he could fix, grunting as he noticed a small nick in the side. It would lose some value but so be it, dollhouse collectors would pay well anyway. "You've got quite a useful cousin Brynwyr, be careful or I'll recruit him. Then you'll really have your hands full in the debate."

"But I'll hold off for now… I'm more interested in what the hell just happened." He thought of the enemies Nye made over the years. The states they manipulated like a devilish puppet master, supporting dictators here and revolutionaries there, never giving a reason for their crimes.

Adrian found it so nonsensical. Nye was like a child playing with toy soldiers out of boredom, except they were white, tan and brown instead of green, and they didn't get up when they were slain. Leaving behind resentful children who grew into vile monsters, all leading to this — the deaths of so many innocent.

"You know, Howard, you said something before." He stopped whittling for a moment. "You said the attackers were insane, but do you know what Nye's done for centuries? What do they even teach here?"

"I've heard about the west, all the war crimes done to the people there. The human rights violations in the Outlands; meddling overseas with separatist groups and warlords, the list goes on and on." He scoffed at the dark thought. "There are plenty of reasons to attack Nye, even if the result is this senseless shit."

Arcanist Fred Colon

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas flitted through the underground at a rapid clip, taking mental notes of any still alive down in these forsaken holes of destruction so that she could inform Ilana and Ren of their existence but... she didn't really find that many. The numbers of survivors were low and dwindling. Eventually she figured those two would figure out where they were on their own if they stayed down here and worked at it and continued her search.

It took time, and patience, and her incredible memory for places, but she found her quarry. Lying on the ground while someone she didn't know stood on top of him alongside a child that seemed to be taunting him from nearby. The assassin automatically pulled a half dozen knives into the spaces between her fingers and took aim for Dalton on reflex before the memory of Ren's whiny voice echoed in her head, making her hesitate. She didn't know anything about the man standing with his foot on Johan's throat. Nor did she know this child. Killing them without cause or knowledge was foolishness, and it would make her as cold-blooded as that kid claimed she had recently behaved. She refused to be so black and white as that. She needed to get the measure of this situation.

She lowered her arms and rolled her shoulders back, then unfused from her familiar. The nigh-invisible spider popping out on her shoulder and immediately scuttling back up to hide behind her ear as she was want to do. Cautiously, she approached the trio while surreptitiously sliding the daggers back into their places within her sleeves, eyeing the unknown child and Dalton uncertainly. "Hail, Centurion." She greeted bluntly. - For who else but another Centurion could be holding Johan so effortlessly under his shoe?

She eyed Johan briefly, then turned her full attention to the pair and bowed respectfully. "I don't know exactly what's going on here, but I'd appreciate it if you'd let that one up." She asked, pointing a finger down at the man she'd actually called friend for a while this very day. "Whatever it is you think he did... it's probably just a misunderstanding." She invented, hoping the words would give this pair pause. Still, even as she made the effort, she hoped it wasn't a lost cause. She'd never been very good at this diplomacy thing.

Jet , Mentions: ZackStop

 

[rozukitsune]

Renn glanced over at the sudden sound of a camera snapping. With all the inner turmoil and trying to push past it, the songstress hadn't even noticed the old man and his photographic tendencies walk up to them. On reflex she was all smiles full of straight white teeth and pretty poses... no wait pretty wasn't right in these circumstances. She should look like a kicked puppy. Head tilted down, but eyes lifted up. A little sniffling. Yes! That was how one tugged the heart strings of the masses!

Then reality reasserted itself and she realized what she was doing and she wilted a little, realizing just how pathetic she must look covered in blood and guts in her sequined and torn dress. She drew her arms around herself and looked away from Walter, the burning prickles of embarrassment flaring in her chest while the echoing tears tickled the corners of her eyes. Stupid! Here they were at the end of the world and she was still preening for pictures! Disgraceful.

Conversation slowly trickled in through her self-recriminations and slowly she lifted her head to glance between the newcomer and her new allies. Walter seemed to think... this had changed nothing? "How can you say something like that..." She murmured, aghast - even though she knew in her heart that he was probably right, hell she'd had the same thought not moments prior. The nobles mostly didn't care about what happened to the common riff-raff now did they? They probably wouldn't have even noticed if she herself had snuffed it. All their games and posturing with one another for power that she wasn't entirely sure was rightfully earned to begin with. She sighed tiredly, "Never mind, don't answer that."

Fred Colon Lost Echo Jet

 

[Arcanist]

Brynwyr Protheroe


Mentions: Fred Colon Jet ​

Howard flaunted his reassurances. There was something affable in them, even when he didn’t understand when best to speak. Brynwyr looked over her shoulder at Howard with a look that would wither one to stone, far from the worry she tried to conceal. She heard Rhys’s laugh travel up to them, genuine, perhaps humouring too.

“I’m glad to know Brynwyr worries about me so,” he joked, but Brynwyr could see his smile shine from that dark pit.

“As if it were ever in doubt,” Brywnyr affirmed, glancing past him to get a measure of the number of people stuck down there, dead and alive. Petrie had already slithered from her hand, making her way towards Rhys. “Adrian has some ointments here to soothe.”

“I’ll start bringing people up then,” Rhys nodded, and shouted back up to Adrian, “I appreciate your help, good sir!” He turned then to those flocked around him, desperate followers of a new messiah, urging for his miracle to work.

Brynwyr stepped back from the hole, sighing again. Rhys was capable as he was optimistic. Hearing him calm those below told her that. She watched Adrian turn over a miniature desk in his palm, and she couldn’t help but note the delicacy in which he did it with. She scoffed at him. “Whatever you do, don’t give him any ideas. He gets some enjoyment out of debating, or rather, poking fun at me.” Not that either would be any match for her.

She did not speak further on the matter as she approached the hole again, watching five bulbous fingers stick to the edge. Two black slits stared at Brynwyr, who did not need further prompting in lifting the child, who refused to open her eyes, from his back. She jerked and cried at leaving the safety of Rhys’s back.

“It’s okay,” Brynwyr told her, her grip unconsciously tight on the girl, “I got you. Are you hurt?”

She didn’t answer but brought her hands to cover her eyes. She peeked through the opening between her fingers, before closing them again.

Rhys slipped back into the dark.

“My name is Brynwyr. You’re safe now,” she lied, putting on a brave face that the girl would not see, and moved her towards Adrian. Stay calm, never detached. “This is Adrian, and that man over there is Howard. If you’re hurting at all, you tell them, and they’ll try and make you feel better. I’ll be right over here helping if you need me, okay?”

The girl nodded, keeping her head down, shielding her eyes.

What more could Brynwyr do but comfort her, to then return to the hole, and help whoever appeared next on Rhys’s back? It was what she did, occasionally looking back to the girl, listening to Adrian drill Howard on Nye, explaining their less than stellar standing across continents. She waited for Rhys to return and for more relieved faces to appear.

 

[ZackStop]

Once again, Ren had no strong perception of time just as he did when the stunning explosion rattled his mind. Ironically, the death of his loved one was just as shocking if not more, and as he stared at his grandfather, minutes could have turned into hours. That wasn't what Ren was thinking about however. If there were any thoughts at all, it was the regret he had for not even placing in the games. It's what he came out here for and it was the only reason his grandfather came. It was the only reason he was killed.

The key Tetsu left his grandson was clasped tightly by Ren's left hand, but as it stayed there the questions of it's purpose became more unknown. What was it meant to unlock? A box? What was in it and what significant does that have? Why Ren?

The questions faded from Ren's mind quickly, going back to a state of perpetual vacantness as Ren processed the death. That was until a man began to speak to him. He wasn't a paramedic and he didn't possess the empathy Ren did, so he ultimately didn't matter much to the boy. The quality of a warrior came into question and was about all that made it through Ren's ear. Ren exhaled out, trying to find words to respond with. He looked down at his hands in his lap, turning one over and opening it to look at that key he was given. "Maybe you can't see it... I don't know, but I'm not much of a warrior." He said to the man he hadn't even turned to face yet. A somber smile formed on Ren's lips. "I couldn't even attend my own fight. I'm really just a kid out of his element." Ren turned his head to look up at the guy.

He didn't recognize him at first with the absence of his signature helmet, but the more he looked at him, the more Ren felt a familiarity. He was waiting for the man to speak before finally realizing who he was talking to. "The Cage Viper..." Ren said, awestruck. He had never seen Cage Viper's face before, but vacant eyes were soon swallowed up and replaced with a sense of excitement.

Ren sprung up like a soldier caught off guard by his drill sergeant. "I-it's uh, nice to meet you!" Ren very robotically shot his hand out for a handshake. He paused the for a moment before alarms started going off in his head. "Hand..." He thought to himself. Ren remembered that The Cage Viper had lost his hand only a year before. It occurred to him that this gesture might have just pissed him off, and in a panic, lowered his hand slowly and just stood there stiff as a board. Ren really hoped he hadn't offended him somehow.

Jet

 

[Goliath]

It was reassuring, hearing Faraji, as he called himself, well enough not only to maintain consciousness but to speak. Yet it was more so from Adamaris who took the challenge in stride, moving the rubble carefully and meticulously, as to not make the situation worse for the poor man who had gotten the short end of the stick compared to them, and the blast they endured on the center stage.

Elriel was hurting his emotional wounds much deeper than those that were inflicted on his body. Though even such a thing as breathing was not without pain currently, even being fused with Paradus. The enhanced hearing was indeed welcome though, his tail swaying back and forth involuntarily.

His brain went to memories of his father. He was nothing less than a child, being pushed on a swing that hung from the branches of a large tree. One he and Ada had carved their names into before knowing it could damage them. They had a lot of land on the property they called home, tucked up high in the area Valencia called the central ring. It was the most beautiful area in the capital of Obra. Everything about Obra was separated by class, with large walls separating the rich from the poor. And then themselves further, the centermost dedicated to the noble families and closest to where the king lived.

That morning a merchant in the upper ring, at a store they often frequented named The Burning Kettle, was found murdered in cold blood. Elriel, being a child could not understand how someone would hurt such a kind old man. And had been asking questions. The poorer folk said that one of the king's nights went in and murdered him. The reasoning was supposedly based on him speaking out about unfair tax regulations imposed onto him for trying to enter a class he did not belong. The court's people said one of his employees was disgruntled about the lack of payment. That she was treated like a lowly slave for pittance.

“Elriel, there are good people in this world. And there are those that wish nothing more than to watch it burn.” His father’s voice spoke, feeling the hands on his back pushing him higher. His grip on the hemp rope was rough under his hands. “But that cannot always be deemed to be their fault, El. You must listen to people. Free of judgment or hate within your heart — with eyes unclouded — to the reason and actions that drive their motivation. No one believes what they are doing is wrong or that they are the bad people in this story that is life. But if you can manage this task then you will be able to understand others and most importantly take steps to break this cycle of pain.” Elriel could do nothing more than nod at that time. His father's words were much too philosophical despite his best efforts to understand.

He snapped back to reality after hearing Ada’s voice, “Sorry, of course,” he spoke impressed by the progress that they had made in such a short time. Elriel pulled the rubble off as carefully as he could until he was satisfied. Nothing but dust and small pieces of debris. He moved to Faraji. His purple eyes locked onto the male. “Come, let us get you out now,” Elriel spoke with outstretched hands, wrapping around Faraji’s wrists before pulling him in one fluid motion.

The rubble fell away as the stranger was free from the remaining bits of entrapment. “Carefully now,” he spoke coaxing Faraji to his feet with his arm as support. He didn’t see any injuries that raised alarm bells in his mind. No metal rods impaled threw his body or anything else of the sort, though Elriel was no doctor. “Good job Ada. Your control is perfect,” he complimented before looking at Faraji. “I bet it feels better to no longer be stuck under all that rubble. Your bird familiar undoubtedly saved you because he is so visible.” He gave a genuine smile. Ignoring the cat-like impulses from Paradus to attack the Macaw.

He turned to scout the remaining area. But he saw no one else trapped alive in the stands from what he could tell. But he did see numerous other groups of survivors. A handful of kids. And then Adrian, Brynwyr, and Howard from the locker rooms. He waved slightly unsure if they would see him or not, before speaking. “Ada, Faraji. What should we do? I’m sure there are others as well. Namely down in the holes left by the very bombs that trapped you.” He spun around to face them once more. His face full of confidence and determination. “But if either of you don’t feel like you’re in good enough physical standing to enter then there is no shame in saying so now,” Elriel’s words flowed elegantly from his mouth.

Arcanist
Emphoa

 

[Jet]

Johan sputtered through bloodstained lips. His face reddened and his throat was closing from the pressure, but he didn't move a muscle. Laying still as the world darkened on the edges, prepared to die as a voice pierced the fog.

"Hail centurion." He recognized the voice but couldn't place it, not when his brain was shutting down. Hearing parts of the speech like a skipping needle on a record. "I don't know exactly…. but I'd appreciate… let that one up."

"Narzas?" Johan mumbled as blood dripped from his chin. "Don't worry I'll be—

"Fine?" Dalton spat. "Don't make me laugh."

"And you?" He glared at the woman. "Don't you understand what he did? Do you know how many friends I lost because of his mistakes?" His lips trembled and he twisted his boot. "How's that a misunderstanding huh? Go on! Tell me!"

"Hold a tick!" Bean skipped over and leaned against Dalton. "Have mercy good sir! Just look at the poor man! He'd never hurt a fly!"

"Shut it!"

"But me bleedin heart can't bear this! He should at least ave' a chance!"

"He doesn't deserve the quick death I'll give him."

"Yeah yeah." Bean patted Dalton's back. "Look misses, how bouts we make a deal? I'll keep em safe if you win a game of my choice!"

Dalton sarcastically laughed and shook his head. "You're in no position to make deals."

"Oh? But I am." Bean squeezed Dalton's arm. His eyes glossed over and his smile became a wide, creepy grin. There was a moment of silence as the men locked eyes, and then, without a word Dalton stepped from Johan's neck. "Have it your way." He looked at the young centurion. "He's a dead if you win, deal?"

"Of course me lord!" Bean chimed before a cold, detached tone swept in. "I'll do him meself in that case; so what say you Narzas! Care for a little game?"

rozukitsune

 

[rozukitsune]

The assassin stared at the pair and Johan's bloodied face, a million calculations of body language and choices of words firing through her able mind as she studied the situation. It was clear from context that the man with his foot on Johan believed he was a fault somehow for everything that had happened today. Such a conclusion was patently ludicrous. There was no way any one man could have done any of this alone, as was evidenced by the fact her and the team of Ren, Anya, Zulan and Johan had all stopped Tefra and managed to spare one whole section of the arena from getting destroyed. Though she wasn't so clueless as to entirely forget the way he hadn't been all that interested in chasing the cloaked men at the beginning of her spotting them in the first place. That was a little suspicious... granted... but she didn't know enough to say whether that was just incompetency, laziness or true malice.

The one thing she did know though was that Johan was her friend. The first man who had tried to be kind to her and get her to open up and really think about her existence and life choices couldn't be that bad. Why bother a random stranger for conversation if all you were planning to do was get them killed? Well... actually all of that added together did potentially paint him as an assassin regretting his own life choices... but that didn't exactly mean Dalton was right. Besides, even if this was all of Johan's fault somehow - how was killing him going to solve anything? More than anything, she needed answers. She wasn't going to get them if her one potential lead in all this mess just died in the dirt. Curling her hands into fists, she nodded to Bean. Her eyes glowing amber gemstones of determination to win at all costs.

"Name your game, kid." She answered.


Jet

 

[Fred Colon]

"Kildi!" Kilderkin laughed, grinning at Esther. "I love that nickname!"
Kilderkin was confident that Esther was smart enough to realize that she most certainly did not love the name, but Kilderkin thought it was a clever idea. She could be 'Kildi' when she was acting like a fool. She just hoped the name didn't stick when she wasn't playing the part of a dumb sailor.

She glanced back at Renn and frowned.

"Now, don't worry. I'm sure he didn't mean that." Though Kilderkin was sure he did. She did disagree with who would win out in the end. She certainly didn't want these terrorists to do something like this again... but she would do her best to make sure she was one of the winners here, not Lord Vincent. "I'm sure Nye is sending a relief force right now. I... well, I can't say everything is going to be fine, because its not, but with hard work and a spirit of cooperation, I'm sure we can stick what's left back together!" Kilderkin said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. It was easy to mimic the emotions 'Kildi' would likely display here. Confidence concealing fear. She had lots of boxes of fear stored away, deep in the recesses of her mind. She just had to open one a bit. The result was genuine emotion, carefully curated, for all to see. "Nye has always been a big inspiration for me. If anywhere could withstand this tragedy, its here!"

She imagined puking after she said those words, but that was all. Her face was honest and open. Scared, but trying to look on the brightside.

Esther clearly had, but Kilderkin really hoped that Renn went along with the act, even if she hadn't explained to them why it was necessary. Well. Explain enough to satisfy them, anyway.

At Esther's question, Kilderkin looked up from what she was doing at Walter, as if she really believed he might know who did this.

"Yea! Do you know? You're a camera guy. You probably have all sorts of pictures and knowhow." Her mouth dropped. "Wait. Are we going to be in the paper? That would be something to write home about."

Jet Lost Echo rozukitsune

 

[Fred Colon]

Howard 'tut tutted' at Adrian's baseless accusations. He supposed it couldn't be helped. He would be surprised if they got any education at all out in the DMZ! Adrian was a man who rose above the limitations that his surroundings imposed on him, but education was education! Howard would illuminate the man, to better help him understand the delicate geopolitical politics that surrounded a place like Nye.

"Well. I had the finest tutors that money could buy, so I assure you that none of that is true. Its simply propaganda spun up by people who are jealous of Nye's success! Cruel and greedy folk that can't stand Nye's moral uprightness! Everything Nye does is in the name of humanity! Mistakes are made, sometimes, and those who made them should be held accountable! But human rights violations? Separatist's?" Howard chuckled, a teacher amused by a silly statement one of his children made. "I assure you that can't be true."

Howard stood at the edge of the pit, and watched Brynwyr pull a child out of the darkness. It made his heart feel a little lighter. He was helping! After all this destruction and dea--- No. He would not think about that.

After all of this... unpleasantness. He could do something helpful! It made him feel good.

He reached down for the next person to come out of the pit. His face would be the first they saw after this disaster! Hopefully that would make them feel better. It certainly wouldn't make up for... what had happened. But seeing a Greenfellow's face brightened everyone's day!

It was a young boy, heavy set and covered in filth. But Howard wasn't afraid of a little filth! He reached down to haul the boy up, pulling him from Rhys's hands, halfway out.... and then realized with a grunt that he couldn't... quite... pull the boy the rest of the way up. He tugged with all of his might, as the boy, who was either unconscious or so shell shocked he wasn't reacting, lay like a sack of potatoes in his arms.

He strained his muscles in vain for a few moments before;

"Ah. Ahem. Brynwyr. I, uh, may need some help. I have many, many fine qualities, but, perhaps, my muscles are not one of them."

Jet Arcanist