Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[Jet]

​

Craxus narrowed his stern, gunmetal eyes, piercing the young man like a blade. Then he closed the distance with one powerful step, earth shattering and angry. The movements of a monstrous beast. He raised his chin and looked down on the boy, sneering as he grabbed the pommel of his sword. "A handshake?"

"You dare make jokes at my expense?" He leaned over Ren like a falling tower. "You dare disrespect me!"

Craxus didn't speak or even move for a moment, letting the tension build before a small, mischievous smile crossed his face. "Hah! You little shit!"

He laughed and laughed until his face was beet red; a harsh sound like sandpaper was stuck in his throat. "Well, go on then! Shake my famous fucking stump!" He offered his stump and said, loud enough to cross the arena, "You're a funny little bastard, even if your skills are shit."

He drew his sword and pointed it at Ren. "But even the lowest, most wretched shits can get stronger. So let me see your swing boy!" He tapped Ren's scabbard with his sword. "Go on! No time for performance anxiety now, unsheath the bitch!"

ZackStop

 

[Jet]

​

"Fantastic!" Bean sarcastically stroked his chin. "But what to play, what to play? So many games but I can only choose one!" He groaned and rubbed his temples. "What a pain!"

"Wait!!" He perked up like a mongoose. "I know the perfect one!" He madly grinned and said, "Flinches! Here, put this on your head."

He picked up a rock and tossed it over. "I'll shoot that off your head with something fierce; flinch and you lose!"

"If you don't then he's safe, and if I miss and kill ya… well cross me heart and hopes to die, I'll free ya little boyfriend!"

"Narzas wait!" Johan said. "Don't trust him, he's a fucking monster!"

Bean happily laughed in response. "Maybe so me lord, but rules are rules! And I'll honor them like a good lad!"

Johan rolled to his front and slowly pushed himself up. "You better shoot carefully," finally there was rage in his words. "If you so much as singe one of her hairs—

"Oh?" Bean widened his eyes. "Found a reason to care ave' we?"

"Just don't hurt her Bean." Johan wavered on weak legs. He could barely stand and blood rolled down his face, but his hands angrily shook. "I won't play nice if you do."

"Fine fine," Bean said. "I'll shoot carefully, so what say you Narzas? You up for a wee round of Flinches?"

rozukitsune

 

[Lost Echo]

Anya was equally lost. There was pressure in the back of her throat. She coudln’t tell if she felt like she was going to vomit or cry. Shifting, she reached out to try and squeeze Ava’s shoulder, shocked when it gave as little as the concrete she’d been lifting. “Don’t worry. I don’t think any of us really do. Just listen to Mavior here and try not to jostle her.”

Turning her attention back to Brian, she brushed his blond hair out of his eyes, looking down at him. “I’m gonna have to go fly to my friend, so you’ll have to stay here.”

The boy’s blue eyes were wet with tears. “Promise you’ll be back?”

Sticking out her littlest finger, Anya hooked hers with his. “Promise. We have each other.” Kissing the top of his head. “Listen to Mavior too. Sometimes you won’t be able to do anything, but stay nearby okay?”

Then she nodded to the trio and shifted, regrowing her wings. Turning, then with two great beats she was off. As soon as she was airborne she dove down to the arena, aiming for where she woke up. She flared her wings, slowing herself just before landing, her long legs absorbing the impact.

With a stumble or two, she was running. “Mark!” She climbed over rubble, some of the blocks as big as she was. She froze halfway, seeing his poisons had spilled. She knew not to touch them, even through her shoes. She covered her face, not trusting the smoke around him to be safe either. “Mark?” She could see him, bent over something, concocting some deadly mixture. “Doc?” Her voice turned to worry. She understood he didn’t like being unarmed, and with his poisons soaking into the ground, he likely didn’t want to be without, for all the knives she was sure he carried. “Are you okay?” Her voice broke with the question. She wanted to run closer but didn’t dare with the poison around her.

Huntertabbysandshark3 ManofManyRoles EldridSmith

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas was stoic, a picture of disinterest while the boy in contrast seemed to be doing his best to annoy her with his tone of voice, his body language and his choices of words.

Boyfriend? Really? What, did this kid live in some kind of fairy tale where if someone showed up to save another's life then that meant it was love or some such nonsense? She had half a mind to tell him to shove that notion right back where he'd found it. She'd just spent the better part of the last hour saving people hadn't she? How was this any different?

She was similarly prepared to do just that regarding his choices of game... when Johan's voice cut through the steel trap of her intelligent mind. Her eyes flicked to him again as he grunted and strained, the blood on his lips and his clearly beaten down body struggling as he tried to dissuade her. Then he went one step further to threaten their mutual adversary regarding her safety.

All of her carefully construed arguments evaporated as a flush of heat rushed to life in her chest, spreading to her shoulders, upper arms and thighs. It was similar to the strange burning sensation from when they'd been alone in that closet what seemed like hours ago... but so much stronger. Something deep inside of her shifted, and her priorities changed.

Catching the tossed stone deftly without thinking, she settled it onto her head then held up one hand and three fingers. Lowering them one at a time: she repeated Bean's rules. "I flinch. He dies." One finger down. "I don't. He lives." Two fingers down. "I die. He lives." The final finger flickered as if to lower a moment before she pointed it at the child admonishingly. "I am your target. No one else. Aim anywhere besides me, and the rules die." She warns coldly.

Narzas had never been afraid to die. The life of an assassin taught you that there was no art, no dance, no beauty whatsoever to the inevitable end of all things. She'd always expected to die exactly like all of the people here today had died. Suddenly, without warning and without anyone at all to notice her passing except perhaps for the one who had had her in their trap. People died. That was just a fact. However, whether or not Johan was currently playing upon her emotions like a master applying his craft; they'd suddenly both given her an opportunity she was not keen to refuse: the opportunity to die for a reason.

She smiled at Bean. "Let's play."

Jet

 

[Emphoa]

Rat scrunched his nose once Mischa came over to wrap the fabric over his face- but he didn't fuss. Letting her tie it and relishing in less smoke being inhaled straight into his lungs. The fact that the burning of the steep cavern was almost suffocating and part of him wondered if it really was a good idea to come down here without their powers being too helpful. Or well, he figured his wasn't all that helpful, considering he couldn't even fuse with his familiar. It wasn't until he listened to what the red head was saying- that he snorted out. "Eh?? Eh?? Me? Being nice?" He pointed at himself, before puffing out and giving a little wave of his hands as if to dismiss the accusation sent his way.

He laxed, then, watching as Vixie took to trying to control the flames and he was thankful she could control them at all. His eyes flitting around the current area with his eyebrows knitted together tightly. This was bad. This was all so bad and the horror of the realization was just ebbing on the edge of his mind as he tried not to think too deeply on it. He barely paid attention when Mischa took to talking to the younger girl, and it wasn't until the abrupt arrival of another that his eyes snapped over and his hand instinctively reached for his baton, letting out a breath before he relaxed himself and he straightened up a little bit.

"Gods." He breathed out at the man- before his eyes snapped to Mischa and he hurried over to help her lift up the beam with a heavy huff. "You're able to hold up something like this? Yeesh maybe I should be more intimidated by you than I am." He tried to be light in the moment, but it was getting harder and harder the more they found- the more bodies that collected, the more injured left behind. He couldn't help but grimace at his thoughts before he looked back to the odd man. "We're going to try and help however many people we can down here- they're all injured, likely, we need to get them out of here."

The engineer furrowed his brows at that, and he looked to his pocket with Remy soon after. "Remy, can you keep an eye out for anyone else for us?" He asked quietly, and his little rat familiar poked his head out, little ears swiveling forward as he looked at Rat, and then crawled up onto his shoulder and then to the top of his head. Sniffing about and Rat snorted at the way the rat shied back from the smell of the smoke surrounding them.

Jet Lost Echo ManofManyRoles

 

[Jet]

​

Adrian couldn't believe what he was hearing. The man was so ignorant it approached genuine insanity, almost like a raving drunk on the street. He suddenly felt the urge to knock Howard's head to see if it was empty, or maybe smack it with a newspaper to grant some knowledge. Not that it would stick anyway. Howard was a brick wall that wouldn't break no matter what Adrian did, so instead of an argument, impassioned and filled with sources, he answered with a long, grumbling "Hmm?"

"Propaganda?" He slowly nodded his head. "What a funny thing. You can easily repeat it without even knowing."

"Just look at—

He bit his tongue and thinly smiled with resignation. It was pointless to say anything else, especially a snide comment the man would surely miss. "We agree on one thing at least. Taust will be hunted down." His mouth twitched at the corner. "My only question is how to kill him? Decapitation seems too quick, maybe I'll feed him to Floggers."

"What's your preferred method?" he said to Brynwyr. "Or is that too barbaric? Better left to the executioners holy sword?" He grimly chuckled before, like he'd been smacked across the face, he noticed the kid staring at him with wide eyes.

"Yes?"

The girl nervously looked at his swords.

"Hmm?" Adrian loomed over her. "I make you nervous?"

"You're going to," she meekly said. "Going to kill him?"

"Yes."

She went pale and offered her bleeding arm, wincing as Adrian applied his ointment. "What about the rules? Won't you get in trouble?"

"Probably." Adrian wrapped gauze around her arm and looked at Brynwyr. "Speaking of recruitment." He nodded at the rule obsessed kid. "Seems like a good fit."

Arcanist Fred Colon

 

[Jet]

Bean's smile widened even more. "Oh happy days!" He pointed at Narzas and condensed fire on his finger, charging until it glowed white. "You sure bout' this Johan? Don't want to jump in all dramatic like? Be the hero she needs in her desperate hour? Or ya take too many licks already?"

Johan clenched his jaw and stumbled towards him. His eyes trembled with rage and his stomach twisted, like a bundle of knots from anxious nausea. He wasn't sure why he cared so much. Why Narzas was more important than all the people he'd killed. Why her death would destroy him when it surrounded him at every turn, but he wouldn't question it. He wouldn't question the unfamiliar emotions, ones he thought were mostly dead, now rising to the surface like a wave.

"You better," Johan growled. "Aim well."

Bean mischievously smiled in response. "Right-o mister Hans, wouldn't want you attacking poor little Bean, even if ya movin like a zombie!" He closed one eye and took aim. "You'll see mister Hans, I wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"Bean," Dalton said. "Stop messing with them and shoot already."

"Copy that captain!" Bean looked from Narzas to Johan. "Ready?"

"Please just... give me a second." Johan faced Narzas and blinked a few times, forcing the strongest smile he could. "If this goes wrong, just know, I wish that things were better. I wish we'd met as those strangers on a street... just normal people instead of this."

"Aww! How cute!" Bean said before closing his eyes. "Watch her Dalton!"

"Sure." Dalton leaned against a wall as Johan screamed, "WAIT!"

Bean ignored him and shot a beam of condensed, blindingly white fire with his eyes closed, cutting across the room like a bullet. In the split second before impact, Johan dropped to his knees and his heart squeezed like a vice. He was sure Narzas was dead and it was, like everything else that'd happened, his damned fault. He could only watch in horror as the beam nearly reached Narzas' head, stopped on a dime and pointed up at the rock, lightly tapping it from her head.

Johan released a sudden, ragged breath of relief, like he'd been dunked in a cold tank of water. "Narzas!" he called to her. "Did it graze you? Are you okay?"

rozukitsune

 

[ManofManyRoles]

𝕾𝖎𝖗 𝕱𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖝 𝕬𝖇𝖉𝖔𝖓
Well this was a rather miserable situation, now wasn't it? Heat licked at the air, but at least the scaled armor brought about by merging with his familiar made it much less annoying than it was for the others. Though there was a distinctive downside...a heightened sense of smell meant this vile smog was even worse for him than it ought to be, and if he was any less of the man he was, or perhaps had less experience with his life, he may have let his insides join the outside world in greeting. At Mischa's prompting, he hurried over, grabbing the poor unconscious male trapped beneath a beam and tugging him backward out from beneath it as quickly and carefully as he could. Once he was out he gave the nod to both Rat and Mischa, straightening upright as he flicked his finger out from a closed fist at the sleeve of his white shirt. With an internal huff at damaging the good fabric, a claw emerged from the digit that he used to saw a cut into the fabric, before ripping off the sleeve in full and using it as an impromptu scarf even as he spoke to the both of them, "Right, drop the beam." It wouldn't do much good long-term, they were playing against the timer.

"We're treating symptoms of a disease," he stated as he glanced towards the darkened hall, eyes straining to stare further into that inky abyss. If it had been a normal sort of darkness, it might have offered less resistance, but with this much smog, it was impossible to get his bearings. "Us standing around will only save those in this room, but then the lot of us either burn alive or choke on the smoke. A dive into the belly of the beast is necessary if we want to save more than just ourselves and this lot. There's on telling how many people are in rooms down here that we cannot see." He kept his words short and to the point, with a distinctive accent of Albion heritage on his voice, an almost 'regal' and archaic lilt to his voice. It almost sounded like an old 'Forsooth and verily!' sort of knight one might see in a children's cartoon, polite and sure of tone even in the face of danger. He raised a hand as if preparing for a pitch at the big game before 'throwing', a large will 'o the wisp sort of ball escaping his palm straight down that blackened hall, only to split into several in an almost comical trail of 'packman balls' sort of display, the light enough to bleed into the darkness. And there, at the end of the hall, the faintest glimmer of red and orange that licked at the air...not the source itself, but a nearby direction. "I'll follow the fire itself to see if I can't find a way to put this out. If I don't linger I shan't die, but any aid is welcome, though not expected."

As he gave the group a chance to volunteer what may as well have been a suicide mission he looked around the surroundings, tightening his impromptu 'scarf' filter. Even with the cloth, he could taste smoke in the air, a disgusting taste if there ever was one. He had made up his mind though, even if none were willing to head into the blaze, he'd have to do it himself, for it was better to do and die than stand and die by his opinion. He quickly shifted over towards a fallen beam as sensitive eyes caught sight of a limp arm beneath, though nobody to be seen. A grunt of exertion as he got a grip on it. He may have been an old bird at this point, but he was no slouch...nor was he a young duck like his compatriots seemed to be. He strained to lift the beam upright and shoulder it, an unconscious younger woman revealed, her arm bent at an odd angle...shoulders didn't sit that low, and the compound fracture meant blood soaked through to the ground and stained her top. "It'd be rather appreciated if one would like to grab her? I'm not as young as I used to be, this is actually a bit heavy," he grumbled with a grunt. The will o' the wisp he'd spawned early had steadily grown in size as the moments ticked by, floating to the ceiling like some sort of overhead light display, continuing to brighten the hall until even the specter of the blaze at the end of the hall could be visible to one even if they lacked an advanced set of eyesight.

Lost Echo Jet Anne Boolean Emphoa​

 

[rozukitsune]

This kid... egging Johan on with that same sap he'd tried to feed her. Why should Johan rise to such taunting? They barely knew each other. The blond was a Centurion for crying out loud. She was no one. None of that, however; seemed to matter as the man rose to the child's bait like a hungry fish that had spotted a wriggling worm and saw dinner rather than the trap it was. The heat in her chest built and flexed as she watched him argue with the kid, then turn to her. His attempt at a smile, while blood stained his teeth and lips and his face purpled from the bruises he'd taken to get so beaten up in the first place; made her heart lurch as he apologized for the setting of her last stand. Apologized for not being different, normal. Her eyes widened. Without understanding why, her chest started to ache and her cheeks flushed slightly at his words. What was he saying? Why was he buying into the undertones of affection that Bean was inserting into the scene without any reason...

Her eyes studied Johan's desperate smile. His clearly apparent rage at the idea she might exhaust her life for him. The way he was trying to comfort her at the end. The way her heart seized and her throat seemed to dry as her mouth moved to try to form words - any words that would make sense. Comfort him back maybe. Tell him anything and everything about herself so he would know and remember if she fell. Tell him this was her choice and not his fault. Make him understand why she stood in the line of fire rather than allow him to die. But the words wouldn't come, wouldn't form. It was as though her mind had simply given up trying to organize them, instead walking down paths of her history untread. Scenes of perching on rooftops while a summer festival was in full swing. Watching the couples as they stumbled in their daze, listening to the music that played below - trying uselessly to understand why they acted like such fools when there was war and death, betrayal and sin at every turn.

Unbidden, tears formed at the corners of her eyes. It was too little, and far too late... but she realized as she watched the fire from Bean's finger blast toward her on a direct path to snuff out her life - that she at long last understood the dance they wove. She was doing the same thing now, wasn't she? Sacrificing herself like an idiot when better options might have been taken. All because Bean was right. She did care about Johan. She wanted to give her life to save his. She wanted him to survive no matter what. She wished she could do the same, and it made her ache with a sadness she hadn't felt in untold years. She'd never get to follow these feelings now. Explore them, learn what they were and what they meant.

Still she didn't move, and the smile stayed glued to her face as her death rushed toward her. Narzas wasn't afraid of death, and even if no one remembered it later... today she would die for a reason. She would die for this fledgling feeling. It was still ultimately insignificant in the grand scheme of things - but as the light raced ever closer to her face and she allowed it to white out the world; she knew it mattered to her. And that was everything.

-

A heartbeat. Another. Breaths continuing to flow easily in and out of her lungs. After several seconds of life uninterrupted, Narzas dared to blink - the brightness of Bean's flame having scoured her vision altogether as it passed by her face with its scorching warmth. Once the dazzling light dimmed to spots, and vision slowly returned - she saw Johan staring at her as he asked her if she was alright and the look in his eyes spoke volumes. She blushed and turned to catch a glimpse of the rock a scant few inches away by her feet, then reached up a tentative hand to check her face and hair. Bean may have snipped some of them, but she couldn't really tell - the world had an effervescent glow. Shyly, she slowly shook her head. "Other than a little temporary blindness, I seem alright. My face is a few degrees hotter, but I don't think he burned me..." She babbled, almost entirely forgetting the other two were even there while she stammered and blathered on. The warmth from within seemed to be threatening to make her burst. She was... alive.

Jet

 

[Jet]

​

"God damn it." Dalton crossed his arms before, like a gambler with bad luck, he released a deep sigh and shook his head. "Well done lady, he lives for now."

"Only for a tick," Bean said. "The axeman will chop him soon enough!"

"I can only hope."

"Whateva mate. I'm bored, gonna find more fiddles to fiddle." Bean shrugged and strolled away with hands in his pockets, whistling as Johan stood from the ground. The assassin walked slowly at first, weak and stumbling, breaking into a run as he approached Narzas.

"I thought you were dead!" He hugged her with all his remaining strength, pulling her close as a slow, lonely tear rolled down his face. "I don't know how you managed it, but you saved my life."

"You risked everything for me." He squeezed a little tighter, gently pressing her head into his chest. The warm embrace of a lover and yet, despite the vague warmth in his heart, he wasn't sure what he was feeling. Not when he'd been turned into a beast long ago. The kind of man who'd kill a friend without thinking twice, abandoning what made him human.

But he wanted more from life. He wanted to feel the same happiness others felt, even if he didn't deserve it. "Narzas you should know—

His legs buckled and he slumped to a knee, looking up through loose strands of brown hair. In the darkness he saw her tears and his heart squeezed again, but not from fear. Not from sadness but the realization, stunning and strange, that she deeply cared for him. He felt the same about her and wanted, more than anything, to spend more time with her. To learn her quirks and funny little secrets. What made her tick and the things she liked doing.

Have I lost my mind?

He hesitantly smiled, unsure if happiness was something he should feel. "You're blushing, and I think I'm doing the same." His cheeks were, in fact, turning red as he met her gaze. "And I don't know what I'm feeling but," he brushed her fingers with his own. "I want to keep feeling it, so would you stay with me? Even if it's only for a moment."

rozukitsune

 

[Goliath]

Goliath had never been to Nye before, it was much different than the cold, snowing conditions he was accustomed to in the Scandinavian West. It was rare to get a chance to leave Byzantine, but what Damnation said was absolute. His group had been given orders to trail a Byzantine woman to Nye and gather intel from a meeting she was having. Draven, his division's leader, had entrusted this job to him as his right-hand man. Of course, Goliath had gotten what he needed flawlessly, his job was completed. So he took the time to look around the ‘perfect’ city. The next airship wouldn’t leave for a few days anyway.

As he walked around he kept hearing people talk about the ‘Great Games of Nye’ he had slight memories, having heard about the event before. But on the same hand, he’d never seen it, not even on tv. Goliath decided to go give it a shot, maybe he could get a few interesting stories for the guys back home. He found his way to the coliseum, buying a ticket. Goliath sat in the crowd, a few rows from one of the exits, watching as those around him screamed and cheered for the battles. There were even children. It was amusing, watching the people around him with perfect lives, who had no experience with real war, act like a bunch of animals. Wondering what they put in the water here.

Goliath was too accustomed to fighting to find any true enjoyment in the event, his arms crossed in annoyance as he watched the poor attempts of battle. Thoughts of ‘I’m way better than this’ and ‘who the hell let you compete’ played in his head as he judged them harshly. And those preflight videos were even worse. Before every match, he made a mental guess on who would win. He was a pretty good judge of skill and was right a majority of the time. Realizing he should have definitely made some bets today.

There was one man from Byzantine which he knew immediately, even before the interview, from the armor and it made his blood run hot. Goliath couldn’t help but relate to the opponent, a man with tattoos. An outcast. Whereas the other droned on about bible quotes. He expected nothing less from a priest of the licensed mages. For the first and only time today, he watched the interviews.

Ivan was his name. Talking about changing ‘his’ home country as if it wasn’t his very people who were ruining it with their oppressive, suffocating rule. By forcing them to fight for basic human rights and freedom. Goliath clenched his fist tightly. God this, Jesus that. It was laughable, truly. And the fight was about as well received by the crowd. All enthusiasm was gone, so even though Bataar lost and then got killed by a centurion. Goliath was content with the results.

At one point, a few matches later, the man sitting next to him jumped up cheering, causing a full bucket of popcorn to spill in his lap. Making Goliath grit his teeth. “Man if you don’t watch what you’re fucking doing,” he spoke his red eyes narrowed. The man was at least smart, letting out a scared yip. He saw Goliath’s tattoos and quickly turned away. Which only made him smirk.

The event was long. His legs getting sore from being scrunched up. The seats were much too small for someone of his height. Just like the flight here. Finally, the last fight concluded. He heard the announcer say the final ceremonies were about to begin. And Goliath debated on getting up and leaving. Not caring about the formalities that would undoubtedly occur. And then he wouldn’t have to worry about the crowds. Goliath looked over at the screen as the fight of the day was determined. Getting distracted for a moment. That guy, Taust, was strong, he could give him that much.

He should have left but now a stage rose from the center. The lights went down, and trying to get around people would be impossible. Goliath put his head in his hand as he groaned. Knowing he missed his opportunity. Stuck too far from an aisle to get up even though the door wasn’t far away. He looked up again seeing a blonde woman who only knew how to flaunt her body for attention. Goliath was far from amused. Her greeting, the way she posed. All of it was annoying. Yet men seemed to eat it up. He was the only one he could see not standing. Goliath rolled his eyes shortly after she began singing. ‘Damn this music is absolutely awful,’ he thought to himself. Hoping it would end faster as he watched the phoenix.

—

Goliath was already this far in now. So he decided to just stay put and finish the event, watching a man come out to talk about the history of the games and the centurions. He yawned, arms behind his head as he leaned back. He raised an eyebrow as the man started to cough, struggling to speak his rehearsed spiel, before collapsing. But the gasps from the crowd seemed a little much. He’d be fine, there were plenty of medics, and that man seemed wealthy enough to afford the best attention.

But then — his mouth dropped open. Dyus exploded. Watching the competitors get blown off the stage. Only one stood, Taust, who came to the center stage, holding Dyus’s head upon his sword. There was mass confusion around him, people fleeing out of fear. Trampling one another for self-preservation. But Goliath stayed in his seat, leaning forward. There was nothing to tell him it wasn’t a public assassination. This man was well known and probably had many enemies.

That was until the second explosion at the gates, which was arguably worse. Knocking him forward, out of his seat, from his proximity to the blast. He didn’t get a chance to look at the damage, hearing the loud sound of cracking concrete and bending metal before the ground crumbled beneath him into oblivion. He landed hard, his head spinning for a moment while he tried to get his eyes to refocus. He couldn’t see anything except where a trickle of light came down the hole.

Goliath heard the sounds of people screaming in pain until it was drowned out by a loud ringing sound, trying to cover his ears..but he couldn’t raise his arms. He glanced behind him, realizing then the amount of debris pinning him to the ground. This was a bad situation. There was no way he could free himself. He clenched his jaw as he was forced to listen to the near-deafening noise. And then it was over.

As the dust started to settle slightly he saw a woman across from him a good distance away. She was also trapped but was wasting energy struggling to get out. Clawing at the ground. Screaming like a caged animal as she thrashed her head. Goliath scoffed to himself watching the scene. He knew it was best to stay calm, as to not let the claustrophobic thoughts cause him to panic as well.

Goliath watched in silence, noticing her panda bear familiar. At first it was standing next to her..and then it started to be pulled further and further away. Up to the entrance of the hole. His red eyes were wide, unsure of what was occurring. He spotted his own backpack sprawled out in front of him. His heart racing, completely helpless while he waited — yet nothing happened. At least not to him. His familiar stayed where it always did. But the woman? She was dead. Goliath sighed loudly turning his head away. Wondering how many others shared the same fate..and why he didn’t die as well.

As he lay there, time crawling at a slower pace than he’d ever felt before, he noticed a heat rising around him. It was getting hotter down here. Rapidly. Sweat dripping off his chin into a puddle. If he was to guess it was probably caused by a machine, the electricity sparking a fire in one of the control rooms. How close to him he had no way of guessing. Smoke started to make the air harder to breathe, harder to see. It was a putrid black color, full of chemicals not meant for humans. Not that he had a choice.

“Why can’t I be an earth user,” he groaned under his breath. Suffocation or to be burnt alive like crisp bacon. He was unsure which would be worse. But one of those would be his fate. He was realistic, the chances of his making it out of this were probably less than one percent. No one was coming for him. But if there was even a small chance someone might have journeyed down for survivors..Goliath swallowed his pride, yelling out “HELP!!” as loudly as he could into the blackness ahead of him.

 

[rozukitsune]

The Zuanshin woman worked to blink the spots out of her eyes, heart hammering as the message got from her brain to her blood stream that she'd not only stood in front of her death but had survived it. It was unavoidable, she knew; this aftershock of relief that Bean had kept his word and not fried her where she'd stood when he easily could have - but it was vexing. She barely registered Dalton and Bean as they gave up the situation, only mentioning in their passing that they hoped this stay of Johan's execution would be temporary. Her blood boiled at that notion, but then all of her attention was stolen away when the blond Centurion stumbled up to her and engulfed her in a fond embrace.

Her body grew even more rigid than it had for her face-off with Bean in sheer shock as Johan wrapped her in his arms and drew her head in against his chest. It was as though she was standing in the line of fire a second time. Body fluctuation between the cold ice of fear followed by a blazing warmth that seemed designed to burn her from the inside out. She gasped soundlessly at its strength. When was the last time anyone had held her like this? Had touched her at all except perhaps to get her attention or as a show of comradery. The greater majority of her life had been a sensory deprivation chamber sprinkled with mental and physical conditioning. After all... assassins weren't meant to fall in love, or settle down. Living long enough to do such a thing was not only not guaranteed, but something actively working to be impossible for all involved. When you went around killing anyone and everyone just because that's what you were paid to do you made a lot of enemies regardless of whether or not you had a choice in the matter. In her hometown, those of her own cast who were a part of the previous generation mostly existed to birth children and give them up for training - a stock few of those births selected to be the next to breed. Maybe one parent in a thousand was actually a retired assassin living out the end of their days in the relative peace. Her own had certainly never seen blood shed by their own hands.

She crumpled with him as his strength gave out. So many emotions working their way through her mind and body that her head spun and her limbs felt as though weakened with poisons. Her eyes focused on his as she found herself released slightly so she could look at him again. So close... her heart raced faster and the sound of it thudding in her own ears was almost too loud to hear what he was saying. She noted wildly that a section of her long ponytail had somehow hooked itself over one of his shoulders, not that she was of any mind to try and brush it off. Her blush brightened as he touched her hand with his, her body responding seemingly automatically by flexing her fingers to thread through his. A smaller hug designed only for hands. Though the pounding of her heart in her ears seemed to mute everything around them, she nevertheless heard quite clearly what he had said. Her own versions of his feelings, of disbelief that this was happening, of intense longing to spend as much time as possible beside him. Learn who he was, what he liked and wanted, what brought that smile to his face.

Hoarsely, she grunted as her free hand reached up to tentatively brush fingers lightly against his cheek, "Whatever it takes, I'm going to make sure you live." She smiled back at him and leaned in closer as her thumb traced his cheekbones and jaw. "I want so much more than just a moment." This close to him, her feelings were buzzing wildly. She wanted to lean in more - erase the space altogether. The only thing that stopped her was the sight of his bloodied lips. She didn't want to cause him more pain. Swallowing back against her desire, she settled for wrapping her arms around him and using them to help them both to sit down so she could hold him up against her. Propping him up with her strength until he had his own back again.

Surrounded by death and chaos... Narzas was shocked to find she had unintentionally found that elusive emotion which great artists the world over touted as necessary. She knew as she sunk down beside Johan and allowed herself to bask in his touch and the glimmer in his eyes that they were right. More still, that she would do everything in her power to extend this moment for as long as she could. Protect it viciously and loyally to the end - either of the emotion itself or their lives; whichever came first.

Jet

 

[Jet]

​

The palace was a statement of power to remind everyone, in no uncertain terms, that whoever ruled Nye ruled the world. Her towers rose over the landscape like spears into the sky, gray and dull like the massive walls far below. Her throne room was big enough to fit entire regiments of shock troops, and on its shiny black floor was a world map, etched in pure gold, showing Nye at the center of all things. Yet the seat of power wasn't grand and imposing. It wasn't the towers and high walls, thrones and lavish quarters; but a small study deep within the palace, smelling of old books and expensive red wine.

"Incompetence," Vincent said while scratching a letter with his quill, glancing at three men standing by his desk. "Pure, incompetence."

"It ails the city like poison. It was only—

He paused to sign his name.

"A matter of time before this happened." He rolled the paper and sealed it with red wax, stamping his crest for good measure. "But the enemy has miscalculated their position. They wasted the element of surprise on a statement, a gesture meant to break our morale."

"But gold wins wars — and morale can be purchased."

"There will be unrest in the islands." He glared at the generals for a brief, fleeting moment. "Treat them accordingly; with force befitting mobs of poorly armed peasants, not fire and brimstone like common thugs."

"And arrange payment to families affected by the attack, we can't afford to look callous."

"That is all I require; you're dismissed."

"But my Lord!" a general said. "What's our plan? Are we to—

"Was I unclear?" Vincent leaned forward and slowly crossed his hands. "I've no need for your poison, only a cure."

"Watch your tongue!" The general slapped the desk. "We served this city long before you took control! We've overseen—

The door swung open with a bang and the creak of old hinges, revealing a short, fat man with sloppy hair and a scrunched face. He carried a sandwich and lemonade in a cheap, disposable wooden cup. The kind found at a carnival. "I must be early, should I leave and do that again in five minutes?"

"Gust?" the general spat. "You've no place in the palace!"

Gust held out his cup. "Wanna sip?"

"I'd rather die of thirst."

"With all due respect, Centos." The word games were afoot. "Have you ever thought of putting a bag on your head?"

"What?" the general said. "What are you talking about? Why the hell would I do that?"

"To stop the shit coming from your mouth."

Centos didn't speak but his face said a thousand words, twisting into a scowl as veins bulged from his head. "Is this the kind of company you keep Vincent? You dishonor the state! The council! The very palace you call home!"

Vincent thinly smiled in response. "And you dishonor yourself. Looking for my help to outwit a simpleton."

"Simpleton?" Gust walked past the general and pulled a seat from across the room, scraping the floor as he said, "What's that mean?" He sat with a plop on the plush wooden chair, leaning back as he chomped on his sandwich.

Vincent looked between the men with the ghost of a smirk."It means you're smarter than this lot."

The officers shared the same angry expression, but Centos spoke for them once more. "You test our patience my Lord. We are soldiers not squires!"

"You'll be what Nye needs you to be." Vincent glanced at the door. "Now go."

"But…" Centos choked on his words. "At once my Lord." He turned and stormed out with his men, leaving the two alone in the silence.

"Well!" Gust took another sip. "That went well."

"Spare me your famous sarcasm. I assume you know what happened at the arena?"

"Well that's just insulting. What kind of spy master wouldn't?"

"Hmmf." Vincent looked out his small window to the courtyard; two panes of heavy glass covered with steel bars. Reinforced like the rest of his small room. "It's connected to the missing Centurions."

"You know," Gust said. "There's an old saying about correlation."

"One of my favorites — when hand waving our many scandals that is, but coincidence is rarely found in reality."

"Life imitates art; you should read more fiction."

Vincent stood from his chair and walked to the window, keeping the silence for a long, tense moment. "You're wasting my time Gust — my very valuable time. If you've nothing to say then leave."

"Well fuck me. Here I thought we were friends."

"For a spymaster you're ill-informed."

"Fine fine," Gust groaned. "Maybe one or two are connected, but how can you say, with any seriousness, that they're all connected to the attack?"

"Then we've common ground, but all must be investigated equally."

"Should I clone myself? Or have you done it already?"

"No," Vincent said. "I'm giving you a task force."

"Who do I have the pleasure of working with?"

"The survivors, many are quite capable, and more importantly—

"What?" Gust said through a mouthful of food. "Are you shitting me?"

Vincent thinly smirked. "I'm not without my reasons. They're unconnected to the politics of Nye, untouched by my opposition in court and the gracious, wise council."

"That's a weak reason Vincent."

"I wasn't finished."

"Well enlighten me then."

"They're immune to the enemy's weapon, and disposable if need be."

"Yes but," Gust began. "You really want to rely on them?"

"A handful of centurions survived, you'll oversee them, and in turn they'll oversee the survivors."

Gust crumpled his sandwich wrapper and crammed it in his pocket, sipping from his drink as he considered the plan. "I don't like it, but you've got a point. It would be suicidal to send anyone else after them."

"Precisely."

"When can I expect to meet these fantastic people?"

"Within the hour, I've already dispatched men, lest the council reaches them first."

Gust leaned back and blinked several times, his mouth opening by a hair. "Before I involve myself in this shitshow, please explain what the hell is going on here? I leave for ten years and it's a fucking mess. You're antagonizing the military, the nobles, the God damn council? Are you trying to start a war?"

"You're as perceptive as ever."

"Hah!" Gust slapped his round stomach. "And you're just as evil."

The men carried on as the sun finally set, and through dark streets a platoon approached the arena. They were Lord Vincent's best. His personal guard sent to bring survivors to the palace, drawing them into a game of power, death and vengeance, one where the winner controlled the world.

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

 

[Lost Echo]

Esther’s face was very clear. This man’s worth was diminishing by the moment. He used whole paragraphs when single words would suffice. It must be painful to wade through his articles. The scientist preferred facts laid out cleanly, with no fluff and frills included. He might be right: even Nye’s friends didn’t like the city-state. It was more fear than love that held their enemies back. The lords on the council were likely to just pick an enemy, regardless of the true source of this attack, using it as an excuse to get what they already wanted.

She ignored the clear gagging the man faked, likely to get out of the task, and knelt beside the new patient, checking them over. First, their mouth, to insure they were breathing, then where they were injured. There was enough blood soaking their shirt that it was hard to tell. Ripping it open, the laceration was clear to see. There on their upper chest. Immediately putting pressure on it, she pushed the wound together and drew out her thread.

As her hands stitched automatically, she frowned as Renn seemed to crumple at the reporter’s words. Esther couldn’t imagine being so…weak. When the young woman sang, she had such passion in her words. The lament she and her phoenix spread over the arena as a blanket of calm. Yet with her own life, the woman curled in on herself at any breeze.
Then there was ‘Kildi.’ Esther did not know why the pirate was determined to act like an idiot whenever there was an audience, but it made her hate the reporter's existence more. It was bad enough to deal with when fighting her. Still, the scientist wanted to know why the charade took place. So she would pretend for now, while hopefully annoying the other just as much. Even her voice grew annoying, or perhaps it was what she was saying. “Will you shut up Kildi? Did you seriously think this wasn’t big enough to make the papers?” Turning to speak to the journalist, she shook her head, “So what, you’re saying you expected this? Maybe not something like this” for who could imagine a power to steal familiars, even horror films hadn’t touched on that. “But you were expecting an attack? After all of Nye’s overseas ones?”

 

[Lost Echo]

Vixie had never been this hot before. The flames radiated so much heat that her skin was pinking in response. Her head roared with each pulse of the fire, her eyes dried except when sweat dripped in them, stabbing with pain. Her lungs burned with each breath, the air either blackened by smoke or so hot her body resisted.

Mischa, a girl who’d lost her world mere minutes earlier, was still strong enough to think. Even Vixie’s thoughts were tinged with pain. The brillant girl was creating masks--from her shirt! Vixie pulled at the scarf around her neck, clenching at the fabric. It hadn’t even been a day since she’d eagerly asked Nyall for his signature. The black ink stained her skin, as this day was darkening her soul, changing her forevermore. The foxgirl nearly missed stopping Mischa from cutting a strip for her. She felt greedy, as she wrapped the scarf around her face, bandaging it as a wound. She should have offered her scarf instead. The fabric was thinner than a shirt, but it was long enough she could wrap it around multiple times.

Vixie returned to the fire. It had grown in her distraction. Another failure. Gritting her teeth, she pushed harder, her multiple tails splaying out as she tried to lower it back down. Mischa’s hand seemed to share some of the girl’s strength, steadying her. Though her return smile was nowhere near convincing, she still felt better.

Then the short-haired girl offered a game. “WhaT?” Vixie shrieked, then started to laugh. She cut herself short by the arrival of Nihal and another man, a true adult. The child in her relaxed a little. Maybe it would be okay?

She kept her attention on the fire as the three rescued a man, but years of listening to authority figures made her tune into his voice. Vixie had never realized she was a coward. If her eyes weren’t baked dry, the thought of going closer to the fire would have made her cry. But the man was right. If they didn’t stop this--for Vixie herself wasn’t able to, not from here at least--then what use was saving people from rubble if they all burned? But this man’s element was light. Her eyes trailed the will o’ wisp. Vixie was the only one who had fire. She was the only one who could help. She wanted to crumple, surely this pressure was too much for her body to hold? “I...” she coughed a little into her scarf, and even when she tried again, her voice was a little broken, “I will.”

 

[Arcanist]

Brynwyr Protheroe
Mentions: Fred Colon Jet Goliath ​

Brynwyr may have come from a secluded land, but at least her head was not full of cotton wool like Howard’s was. Was it so easy to believe the lies and to see the clear disparity between Nye’s ‘ideals’ and actions? But she could not stand and call the kettle black – she too took part in the bloodshed and entertained the masses, even if it was to get away from the mundane she found in every day life.

She smiled a little as Adrian spoke. Repeat something so many times, say it over and over in your head, every morning, noon, and night, you start to believe it. And then you open your eyes, and you discover words are just words, not law, depending on your position. Any wonder the serfs are not afforded such education.

“In most cases,” Brynwyr glanced to Adrian, “you would leave that justice to them. It is a heavy task, taking someone’s life. It is a responsibility that falls on the sturdiest set of shoulders.” She paused, gathering a fistful of debris in her hand. “Taust doesn’t deserve something so swift and painless. I cannot say for sure what I’d do to him,” her fist tightened, “but I would make sure he would suffer a hundred times more than what people here have suffered today.” She let dust and stone filter through her fingers. She would go far beyond her code to ensure Taust did not walk away from his crimes so readily.

“Perhaps I can recruit her to my side, then, if you’re to take Rhys,” Brynwyr nodded to the girl, chuckling. “Hardly unfair you turn two people against me, Adrian.” How she would break so many rules to not see another child left without her parents. She would break so much to see her own mother again. What would she think of her now?

Brynwyr glanced back to the pit, Howard making himself useful and trying to pull up another child Rhys had delivered. Anticipation leapt in her throat, and she hastily made it back toward his side.

“Bugger,” Brynwyr sighed, attempting to swallow back irritation. “Keep a tight hold of him now. I’ll help lift you both up. On three, you try to lift your upper body.” She moved her arms to Howard, counted down, before lifting. The manoeuvre was not without effort – even a child’s body was heavy, but she had enough strength in her arms to get the two up and out of the hole at least.

Once the two were safely away from the hole, Brynwyr checked the boy over with two fingers to his neck, and her ear to his face. She could feel a faint, warm breathing tickling her ear. “Any wonder you couldn’t lift him, Howard,” she murmured, “he’s out cold. Breathing, thank God at least. I’ll help you carry him further from the hole, but we must lay him down and keep him warm.”

Brynwyr glanced elsewhere, momentarily, to keep track of her surroundings. She believed she saw a figure, with long white hair waving to her, and she recognised him as one of the contestants in their locker room. She gave a quick nod of acknowledgement, relieved to see they had survived too.

 

[Arcanist]

Faraji Aguta

Mentions: Goliath Emphoa

Don’t worry, Adamaris said. Strangely, Faraji felt calm, accepting of it all. Despite his concern for his son and his mother across Nye, he already chose not to worry. What else was there to worry about? He couldn’t do anything – not until these two souls came along to wrench him from the rubble. He would have to reward them somehow for the help they gave him. He would owe them a thousand times over.

Lapis too, for his aid, but coin was of no use to him.

Faraji squinted at the light beaming down until two figures stood over him, shielding him from the harsh rays. He mumbled something, an affirmation perhaps, before one of the figures swiftly pulled him out from under the rubble. He groaned, though, thankfully, not in substantial pain. He would smart from the rubble, but as Adamaris had mentioned, there were those in far worse states. He did not want to imagine it.

Faraji continued to accept the help as Elriel and Adamaris helped him rise to his feet. Here, he was able to get a better look at his saviours. A figure with white hair, dressed in flowing robes that hinted Valencia, and another figure, dark haired and with prominent scarring, though, he was not entirely sure where they were from. He tried to recall their names. He gave up, having been uncharacteristically quiet.

“You have no idea,” Faraji nodded. Lapis landed on his shoulder, rubbing his beak against his face, and Faraji gave his familiar a comforting pat. “He’s rather loud, both in features and in voice. But I am glad for him, nonetheless.” He turned to the two and nodded. “Adamaris, Elriel, you both have my deepest gratitude for your quick extraction. I will be sure to repay you in kind for this endeavour, I swear upon it.” God knew how long he would have been stuck under that rubble otherwise.

Faraji watched Elriel scout the remaining area, even tried to see who he waved at, though, was brought back to Elriel insisting they help the very ones who had it worse off than him. Faraji’s hand moved to his side, wincing a little. He was not so wounded he could not help…but he could think of nothing worse than jumping down into a hole. How selfish he would look to refuse his aid, after these two had gone out of their way and the goodness of their hearts to aid him!

“I am not entirely myself,” Faraji lied, just a little, “but…I will still try to help in what way I can. Even if it’s to watch over those we must help.” Perhaps he could hear first-hand the troubles people had experienced. Find out more about Taust—whatever the hell his name was—if possible.

 

[Anne Boolean]

Nihal "Nyaall" Laal​

Well, the fabric from Mischa's top was all the filter they would get from the smog. And they had another person join them, a light user as well. He seemed to be more attuned to his element than Nihal was, or at least when it came to using it for things other than theatrics. Be that as it may, he would still play support. Vixie would need to take on the role of the star here once again.

"Be careful..." he said to Vixie when she agreed to tag along with the man to find the source of fire. With his powers, he'd be able to keep them from getting lost in the dark smoke, and as much as Nyaall wanted to go along as well, it wouldn't make sense to keep the two light users together when the group was splitting. He turned back to Mischa and Rat, retrieving the orb he had given to Vixie. "I'll make sure to keep things illuminated for us in case anything happens to that." He gestured with his head to the light filtering down from above.

He hesitated for a moment, considering asking the newcomer to switch places with him. Seeing him lift up a beam made him reconsider though. While there was still a bit of a struggle, he was able to do it, something Nyaall wasn't sure of when it came to his own abilities. Now really wouldn't be the best time to find out either. Mischa could handle the muscle for their group, and this guy could give Vixie a hand if something came up.

"I got her," he said upon hearing the man's request. He quickly but carefully lifted her up, being careful to not agitate her injuries. The fabric that was soaking the blood wasn't nearly wrapped tight enough to stop the loss of it. Guess it was his turn to tear some of his clothing. This outfit was probably being rented out just for this day, and there would be hell for both him and his team to pay if anything happened to it. Yet, none of that worried him as he gestured one of the other two to hold onto her before tearing the clothing. His management was all most likely dead. It would take at least some time for the government of his home outland to get to him, especially with all the chaos this surely would have caused. He imagined the survivors would be detained and probably investigated, with no one being allowed to seem them for as long as that takes, and-

Another pause, this time with him simply staring with wide eyes. The cat boy blinked and cleared his throat before returning to dressing the wound, but, unlike the moment of stagnation, the realization continued to linger: he was free.

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

 

[EldridSmith]

His cackling continues as he worked forming the deadly concoction... however at the time Anya arrived the cackling soon turned to coughing, not some dry cough but one clearly filled with something thick and slimy as he began to cough blood. As he finished his creations the fog began to dissipate and his legs started to give way and as he finished the last one he unceremoniously landed on the pile of rubble. He leaned against it chuckling to himself as he continued to cough blood. It was almost humorous how ironic that he, a doctor, was unable to help himself. The split sides of mark started switching back and forth between his normal self and his plague persona as he hears Anya. Perhaps it was an angel coming for him he heard, perhaps the sweet sounds of the demons trying to claim his soul, perhaps it was just hallucinations from blood loss. Regardless it was a pleasant sound as his eyelids felt heavy... perhaps some rest would solve it using his familiar's healing abilities... who knew... he thought to himself as his energy waned.
Lost Echo ManofManyRoles (Sorry it's a bit short)

 

[Jet]

Johan searched for something to say, but in the moment, with his heart racing a thousand miles an hour, words were like sand slipping through his fingers. Too small to matter when she gently grasped his hand, eyes meeting as he leaned his forehead against hers. Seeing the beautifully fine details of her face. The small part in her lips and where her gaze went, flicking to his mouth for a brief, fleeting moment.

"You might end up fighting the world." His breathing grew fast and shallow. "But I won't let them hurt you either. Not the centurions, not the council or Vincent, not anyone." He clasped her cheek with his other hand, looking down at her lips with the same desire she had. Desperately wanting to kiss her right then and there. To throw caution to the wind and see where chance took them, but much to his chagrin, his mouth was just too damn bloody.

What a first kiss that'd be...

He smiled with resignation at the thought, cursing his terrible, all too annoying luck.

No matter, we'll make the most of it.

He ran his hand over her ear, tucking loose strands behind it. "I want this to last too." His smile widened by a hair. "I want to know—

"To learn why I can't keep my eyes off of you." He couldn't believe what he was saying. It was like another person had taken over his body; one filled with hope and optimism. Looking forward to more than cigarettes and bottom shelf booze. The intensity of it scared him, but he wasn't going anywhere. He was exactly where he wanted to be, entangled with her as the world crumbled apart, unthinking of the pain that was soon to come. Living, for just a moment, in a dream he wouldn't dare wake from.

rozukitsune

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Ava Marco
interaction: Lost Echo ManofManyRoles​

Ava sorta stayed back heart racing she was good at breaking people a bit TOO good a breaking people so some poor half dead lady she didn’t even know I’d she should interact or try or anything normally she didn’t get anxious it was normally someone else problem but right now she didn’t know how or even if she should try and help. she gave Anya a nod of acknowledgment as the girl touched her arm the giant normally cheerful woman struck with worry “If you um need any help carrying her I can maybe um might be too rough tho..” Ava replied worried just sorta following along with everyone else right now she’d been told to guide her along and that’s exactly what she’d do carefully very carefully her expression flush with worry about the woman sorta floating there. “hopefully Anya find doc or someone.. um is there anything else I can do this.. really put of my league with fixing people can’t really repair them like a sword can you?” She let out a disheartened chuckle trying to make the best of a bad situation.

 

[ZackStop]

Sweat poured down his face as all sorts of alarms went wild in his head with flashing red lights. It was like a ship in a scifi movie had taken too hard of a hit, blaring all sorts warnings to it's pilot. Ren could only stand and watch as he was surely about to get pummeled, and there would be nothing he could do but question his choices that lead up to this point. Cage Viper was offended, and he made it well known as he shouted briefly, then let his body language to the rest of the talking.

"Ah- I-I'm s-s-so sorry!" Ren shouted as he tensed up, but all that came from Cage Viper wasn't a swing of his sword of a fist but a fit of laughter that left Ren perplexed. "Oh no... What have I done?!" Ren thought to himself. "I've made him so angry that he's laughing! I must have snapped something in his head! Did I knock a screw loose? Has he gone insane?! I'm going to forever be known as the one that made Cage Viper a basket case! What do I do?!"

Ren had nearly lost all hope, until the man finally stopped laughing and offered him the stump where his hand once was. Ren once again, cautiously this time, put his hand out and took the champion's stump whine receiving a back handed complement about his sense of humor. "Uh, thank you sir." But before they could have a decently stump shake, Cage Viper made a sudden move with his sword, making Ren quickly pull back his hand. "Ah crap he really does want to kill me!" Cage Viper then requested for him to unsheathe his weapon, and Ren figured he had no choice. Ren took the round shield off it's holster and fitted it to his forearm. "Um, alright... here goes."

The underside of Ren's shield was a hatch that a square, 6 inch hatch that gave him access to the inner workings, for inside was Ren's pride and joy. On the inside was also a ring with a metal string attached meant to be pulled to activate the mechanism inside. And so, Ren reached with his index finger and pulled. A hook let up on a gear that began to turn, as the audible sounds of little cogs pushing against each other accompanying a metal ticking when out from the front of his shield came a blade. It popped out with a satisfying 'SNIKT', a double-edged blade with a length equal to the boy's forearm. The well polished steel shined for the first time since coming to Nye. He then looked back up at the man, still extremely nervous and half expecting an attack from The Cage Viper. "So you... just want me to... swing it...?"

Jet

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas thought idly that the burning feeling of her cheeks might just be a permanent fixture on her face as heat rose in them at Johan's words and touch, unable to help but feel shy as he tucked hair behind her ear and told her such things. She curled in against his side, arm carefully but firmly slung around his back and nestled her head on his shoulder with a sigh. "The whole world huh?" She smiled ruefully. "That sounds about right... a bit larger of a target on my back than I'm used to but at this point a target is a target. Doesn't really matter how big it is if the end result doesn't change." Her fingers tangled themselves in his, content to be touching as much of him as she could considering the circumstances.

She chuckled softly, "You realize how insane this is, right?" Even now, Sara was wriggling with some unknown anxiety - a sign that they either needed to get moving if the plan was to run, or that this brief interlude of peace among chaos would be over in short order either way. The little spider had dodged Johan's fingers and settled herself on top of Narzas's head, but the Zuanshin woman had long learned to heed the strange movements of her familiar. "There's no need to go into our individual pasts when the facts are self-evident." She turned to look at him again, her heart pounding and flooding her with warmth and affection. "We're unpopular - to put it mildly - and worse if the people who want us dead realize we've fallen for each other they'll most assuredly use that against us."

"What do you want to do?" She asked softly, her eyes catching on a group of shadows slowly approaching the one unexploded gate. If those were rescuers... but no - more than likely they would be recruiters. That's what fit this situation. If help was going to come, it would have already. She turned her attention fully to stare into Johan's eyes. "Run and hide or stay and fight? Whatever you choose, I'm going with you." She squeezed his hand and waited for his answer.

Jet

 

[Lost Echo]

Anya watched with horror as her friend, her savior started to cough. It felt impossible. Ever since she was a child, he’d always seemed invincible to her. This powerful being on a different plane. Since meeting Mark that hadn’t dissipated. He’d become human, no longer a faceless entity that checked on the progress of his experiment, but he’d still been so powerful it was like nothing could touch him.

As Mark stumbled back and fell, Anya moved without thought. The instant her bare feet touched the poison, they began to burn, but she ignored them. At least the splatters of each step could not get through the thick scales along her legs. She ran to his side, immediately bending down. She rocked backward as her knees bent, the feathers of her upper thigh seeming to sizzle in the poison. “Oh Mark…” Leaning forward, she hesitated to touch him, the damage was so severe. She could see his ribs. Like literally the bone, not through the taut skin that his thinness would show. How could he have moved with injuries like this? It was a miracle the wounds seemed to have cauterized somehow so he wouldn’t bleed out, but Anya knew to be wary of infection better than anyone. Mark had originally saved her legs, stitching the holes the metal rods had made, and wrapping the cuts, but as the days passed, it was clear her legs were dying slowly. He’d tried to fight it, but even the vaulted Penicillin could not stop it. He’d been forced to cut her legs off above the knee, removing the diseased limbs.

Pushing back the memories, she laid a hand on his shoulder. She was scared to shake him, to increase whatever damage his actions earlier had caused, so she spoke again, “Mark? Can you hear me?” Assuming he couldn’t, she still continued speaking, “Oh little gods, what do I do? He needs help. But who can I get?” Her voice was cracking as she started to cry. “And Ace, gods, I’ve failed everyone. I don’t want to lose him. Please don’t let me lose him.” It wasn’t fair. He’d manage to survive that horrible contraption that pulled familiars from people’s sides, and now he was going to die anyway? Where was his familiar anyway? “S-spicy? Are you there?”

 

[ManofManyRoles]

𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓻 '𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴' 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓻

Mavior didn't respond to his surroundings at first, his expression settling into a neutral and firm look...though behind those near black tinted goggles, his eyes were scanning his surroundings. Would that pathway work? What of that one? Or that one over there? He needed to find the place that would allow for the smoothest path forward. They just needed shade, somewhere out of the way he could put a wounded sibling and out of the sun. After a brief pause he had his mental map, a course charted. A little nod to Ava as she agreed to help guide Ace about, which ultimately would result in gently tugging her along by her foot in an almost comical fashion as she was held aloft in the air. "Have faith, you are doing more than enough. She's in no position to maneuver herself, and I don't want her to bump into anything. Please, just guide her along after me..." He looked over to Brian then, kneeling down to be at the child's level for just a moment. This young boy...even here in Nye, a child was a child. That seemed to be a universal constant, no matter where they were raised... naive and hopeful, but just as fearful as the world. And because of that, he had to be polite, calm...be straightforward. An odd pause, a tilt of the head in an almost birdlike fashion before he spoke in that unnaturally calm tone. "It's nice to meet you, Brian...I'm Mavior," he paused as he offered the young boy a handshake, such an odd gesture at a time like this perhaps, "I have a very big favor to ask you. Please make sure Ace doesn't bump into anything, alright? I must show Ava where we're going, so I need you back here to help. We'll move slowly, I promise. But your help would be appreciated." Busy hands meant a busy mind, and if the mind was busy then it couldn't focus on fear, right? And, after all, Anya had left Brian here to help!

After a brief handshake if Brian accepted the gesture, and after giving his request, the young man sidled to the front ahead of Ava, light footwork having him gently step over bits of person, rubble, and debris. "...No, not like a sword. But a person can be repaired, they can be healed. When a sword breaks, even if into shards, you can repair it...the human body is very resilient." Mavior seemed to ramble then, a simple observation, or perhaps a fact, to keep the mind busy. Every few steps he'd stop to ensure his impromptu 'team' of allies was in tow before he moved ahead again. Sometimes his path seemed counter-intuitive, doubling back and then forward again. Around that rock here, the stands there! Though after what was perhaps the longest five minutes of his life, between choked noises from Ace who was trying to not cry, and the occasional shout somewhere else in the arena, Mavior managed to reach their destination.

An archway sort of structure, the like one could enter the arena from to watch the spectacle, though not quite near a main hallway...more 'outside' than 'in' one could say. But, all the same, it was shade and that's all he was worried about right now. "Easy now, we have to set her down..." Mavior was certain to help orchestrate the entire process, Ace ending up on her good side on the ground, the charred half limp in all fashions. "Thank you," she managed to whimper out towards the group, giving a shuddering breath as Mavior quickly knelt down at her side. Fishing out what looked like a large metal tin, roughly the size of a large pack of cards, Mavior popped it open. As soon as the lid was off, all parties could smell a thick and flowery scent, like he had just opened a flower shop right there in front of everyone. "Ava," he spoke without looking at her, gloved fingers going into the thick papyrus-hued paste to slowly begin to work it over Ace's pale skin, "I must ask a favor again. Keep an eye out for Anya and her doctor friend? I would request you not travel far...if something else should happen, the help would be appreciated." Mavior worked slowly as he spoke, thick paste slowly becoming a more clear and translucent tone the longer it was applied to Ace's skin and left in the open air. "Brian? If you see Anya nearby, please get her attention as well. But...otherwise, stay by my side, alright?"

Mavior had never been one for children, he was odd enough as is, most young one's back home didn't quite enjoy his company. But this young boy meant something to Anya, and she had helped him significantly so far. It was only right he make sure the boy stay safe as well. Ace's breathing slowly evened out, the un-afflicted pale skin that had been in the open light looking somewhat less angry now. "Maverick...what the hell happened? I can't feel...anything on my side." "It'll be alright. I'll fix it, I promise...I'll find a way to fix this." The more he was able to interact with Ace hands on, now that he was so close to her burns...he couldn't lie to himself. He'd need a miracle, or a most likely expensive expert, to get Ace better to what she once was. The burns, sure, they could be treated with time...but if she couldn't feel anything, and with that severe of a roast, there was a good chance her nerve endings were either damaged or near dead...he could tinker and fix many things, but that was going to be outside of his wheelhouse.

Lost Echo Huntertabbysandshark3 EldridSmith​