Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[Jet]

​

Elise was a centurion known for medical prowess and a strong fighting spirit. Her assignment was supposed to be simple today; mend the fighters and oversee the many young, bumbling medical attendants, fresh out of school, bushy tailed and bright eyed. How exhausting and equally boring.

This was much better.

The arena was rife with patients and how fascinating, morbid and strange was Taust's weapon. She wanted to paw over the corpses and, if possible, learn how it ripped familiars from their hosts. But that could wait for now. Her main priority was saving who she could in the moment, darting around with her mythic familiar, a big jellyfish glowing light blue, using its power to accelerate healing.

"Remain calm." She kneeled beside a young woman, completely ignoring the boy at her side. "You will not die under my watch." She analyzed the burns on her body. Third degree and widespread. Lethal if untreated. "You are lucky the sphere did not kill me girl, otherwise you'd share my fate."

Her familiar touched the burns with its glowing tentacles, enhancing the healing process ten fold. The power wasn't pure magic though. It would still take weeks to fully recover, and permanent damage was still permanent, nothing would ever change that. "Boy!" She looked up at Mavior. "I will stabilize her. Do what you will, but do not interfere with my work."

"And I will not say that twice."

ManofManyRoles

 

[ManofManyRoles]

𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓻 '𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴' 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓻
Mavior noticed the woman approaching out of the corner of his gaze, and if not for the red cross on her shoulder he would have shifted to guard Ace. But the cross, as well as general demeanor, curt as she was did put him...somewhat at ease. He stepped back and straightened, Ace watching him silently before she shifted her head slowly, eyes on the woman at her side. She didn't even have the energy to flinch away from the jellyfish...for all that would have done her, considering she couldn't even flinch the half she'd have wanted to do so. Mavior's head practically snapped to look at Elise as she addressed him, sounding more like a stern mother or nurse than anything else to him in all honestly. ""I-" "Ey, Maverick?" Mavior silenced any objection he may have had, jaw closing as he looked towards the elder sibling. "I'm...I'm gonna be fine," she managed to state through a somewhat choked tone in her voice, "You can't do anything more for me right now, alright? But if I"m alive, there's others you could help out, right? Make yourself useful...I'm not going anywhere," she dryly remarked. Mavior moved to say something before pausing, a firm nod then. "Right...Thank you, for your help. Eyes on Hope, ears out for dread." It wasn't a question, nor was it posed as one. And yet, the odd statement earned a simple, if somewhat choked, refrain from the burned woman. "Eyes on Hope, ears out for dread. And goggles secure, Mavior." The last statement was obviously not part of the refrain but more of a sisterly and chiding remark, as it actually caused Mav to raise a hand to gently tap tap tap at the blackened opaque lens to prove they were secure. "And keep yours on as well."

Mavior took a few steps back as he glanced to Ava, a nod to her and then the young boy who Anya had left with him. "Ava, can you stay here with Ace and Brian? Unless you prefer to go running around...I'm going to see what I can do." With a less-than-formal farewell and a final farewell to his sibling he went from standing still to a dead sprint back toward the arena from the shaded area. A bound forward as his feet left the ground and a gust of wind hurling him forward into the area, air holding him aloft as he got his bearings for a bird's eye view. There was so much...where would one even start? Taking stock of a large hole in the ground he dropped into a dive for it, only to adjust his position midair during his descent, going from a steep and quick descent into a more controlled fall until he touched down, taking stock of his surrounding members...a few males, rubble, and bodies on the ground. Another glance at the faces present...some of these were contestants, he recalled. Elriel from the city of Valencia and Adamaris from the United Eastern Kingdoms...his brain recalled the information in short order from the announcing of each contestant at the game start before a battle. The other two, he didn't recognize...not contestants he was certain, he wouldn't have forgotten that, not that he forgot much. "There's no proper means of introduction in this situation, my apologies. Is there a means of which I can assist?" Though by luck, Mavior had arrived just as an ice shard was tossed in the direction of one of the figures he'd just joined...was now really the time to be fighting?

Mentioned: Huntertabbysandshark3
Interacting with: Jet Arcanist Goliath Emphoa​

 

[Jet]

Johan kissed her forehead as she leaned into his chest, brushing her hair to ease her pain. "Don't worry." He hugged her and gently squeezed. "I've got you, and I'm not going anywhere." He understood exactly what she was feeling. The emotional overload of happiness and anxiety, fear and apprehension, a bundle of intense emotions they couldn't push away.

But he wouldn't falter when she needed him most, putting on his bravest, most composed face as she spoke.

He listened close and felt sympathy for her sheltered life. Even he'd experienced more of the world during his long, sordid career — so if he could do anything for her, he'd show her the most amazing places he'd ever seen. The northern lights and rocky mountains out west. Tropical forests and white beaches of warm sand, lounging in the shade of palm trees.

He looked down and met her gaze, brushing a lonely tear from her cheek. "We'll have to find you a new perch, maybe in Valencia where the weather's warm and wine's good."

"Music drifting from the streets as we lay there like lumps, finally safe from all the backstabbing. It might not be the same as your rooftop back home, but it'll be just as beautiful."

He slowly leaned his forehead against hers.
"Speaking of beautiful places." His voice was little more than a whisper. "Close your eyes and imagine the fields you told me about. With flowers dotting the land and mountains in the distance."

"A lake with water so clear and peaceful, it looks like the glass from your books." He closed his eyes and altered the light around them, making a flawless illusion of green hills dotted with flowers. Mountains in the background and drifting white clouds, reflected in a clear, peaceful lake with a small island.

He wanted it to be her perfect place. The one she imagined when reading her favorite books, transporting her to a better, less twisted world. "You can open your eyes now." He had the same content, close-lipped smile as before. "So, how's this for a first date?"

rozukitsune

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas slowly warmed again in his arms. Today, it seemed; was intent on being an emotional roller coaster - but if sacrificing them meant that this moment with Johan would have never happened... then she wouldn't have done it even if she could. Her smile softened back into a real one as he described awe-inspiring settings and beautiful vistas. A time in the future when they could just be and no one would be chasing them. It was a pretty dream. She didn't know the places of which he spoke, but she tried to imagine them anyway - privately adding a villa perched on a hill nearby where they could grow old and grey together. Maybe even raise children. So long as she was dreaming of the impossible she may as well push to the most logical conclusion that offered. She would keep that part to herself though. She didn't know much about relationships but even talking about the possibility this might last long enough for them to procreate was terrifying, never mind what Johan would probably think of her mentioning it.

"I've never had wine. Or any alcohol really. The teachers always warned us it dulled the senses and slowed reactions. Also watching people stagger around drunk and the after effects never made the option appealing." She chuckled with a small grin. "But otherwise that sounds nice."

As he drew her attention inward, she closed her eyes obediently. This vision he walked her through was easier than the last. Her eidetic memory could easily drag back up such memories of the places she'd seen in books. Clip away the edges of the page and pretend as though it was real... Narzas needed to really meditate on it. Why it was beautiful. She'd never really stopped to smell the roses in this fashion except for her secret sojourns to listen to street musicians. Then, he entreated her to open her eyes.

...

Oh.

.....

For several heartbeats, the zuanshin woman was stunned speechless. Her eyes wide and her heart pounding in her chest as she took in the visual illusion he had woven. Of course she knew light magic could be used this way. Some of her cleverer classmates and teachers who could utilize it frequently abused it this way to create duplicates of themselves thusly making it harder for opponents to pick out the real version to target. It was a skill that took a lot of practice to use in the heat of a battle... but for a moment like this when there was nothing pressing in against either of them all that was required was a little imagination and the power itself. Johan's mind must have been very creative... either that or he'd seen such a place before. "Johan..." The first sound to breach the silence was more a moan than a word, her fingers twisting into his shirt as her voice got stuck in her throat. She was too moved by the effort he was using on her behalf to really put into words how she was feeling right at this moment, so she just nodded dumbly to his question.

Then, as her heart settled a little, she rested her head on his chest again and held him close. "Don't be afraid... I'm going to try something..." She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath in. She sorted the scents of ash and dust, blood and whatever else was lingering from Johan's, then focused on him - slowly pulling at her own affinity for the element. She pressed her light into his illusion, carefully weaving it together in a dance of color - the scenery changing before his eyes. The feeling was possibly very similar to how she held him - enhancing and enriching his soul as the daylight field turned to night, complete with a large moon lurking overhead, and the field itself sprinkled liberally with faux fireflies darting around them in a lifelike display. She then opened her eyes again and grinned sheepishly up at him. "Now, it's perfect."

Jet

 

[Jet]

​

Mischa was sore and wobbly like a kid standing on stilts, and she really, really didn't want to move the block, but nobody was there to help them. They needed to act using their wits and useless elements, and there was far too much riding on their shoulders.

It was a weird feeling. There'd always been someone to call who actually knew what they were doing, whether it was a fireman or foreman, a doctor or her parents, always a lifeline she could trust. But today there was nothing. Only a group of fools bumbling through the madness, hoping they didn't cause more harm than good.

That and a grumpy weirdo trapped behind a rock, giving her shit for no reason.

"Right then. Let's save the prick." She leaned into the block and rammed her feet into the ground, using every ounce of her enhanced strength. And with help from the others the block began to move, inch by inch until it slowly tipped. "That's not my only trick Rat." She grunted and tightly clenched her teeth. "Dolphins have the strongest tails—

She groaned and heaved until finally, like Atlas dropping the earth, the block tipped over with a tremendous thud. "So me legs are a bit stronger than most." She leaned against the rubble and looked up at the distant sky, wiping sweat from her glistening brow.

"But seriously this time, and with a bit of feeling in it. That's the last bloody time." She took a deep breath but the air was too polluted. Her lungs were heavy with chemicals and burning ash, like stepping into a sauna where, unfortunately for her insurance company, the steam was a boutique of carcinogens.

"We'll be next if we stay here much longer." Her voice was little more than a whisper. "Need to pick up the pace."

She pushed from the wall as Goliath crawled from the rubble, dusting off before predictably, and annoyingly thanking them. Mischa knew his type and didn't like him one stinking bit. He was a total prick. The type she avoided after years of their dumb antics, but unfortunately she'd breath the same air as him. "You're welcome, from the bottom of me heart and all that good stuff. Exit's to the right and down the hall."

She turned away and showed him her back, clapping Nyall's shoulder with a smile. "Not bad! You're stronger than ya look." She didn't know much about him, only headlines and passing comments, but he was alright for a celebrity. "You're not bad for a big name, thought your lot was allergic to dirty nails?"

"And Captain?" She faced Rat and puffed out her chest. "Quite like the sound of that! You can be the mechanic and Nyall's got the music sorted, just need a cook and we're grand."

Emphoa Goliath Anne Boolean

 

[Jet]

Bean skipped through burning hallways and crumbling rooms, filled with fire and smoke so thick, it soaked the air like ink on a page. It was a deadly combination for most people, even other centurions, but he was cloaked in white fire with the intensity of a sun, atomizing the smoke around him. Holding back the raging flames with a dismissive wave of his hand, grinning wildly like a drunk.

"Hey Chep!" He tossed his familiar up like a baseball, landing it on the top of his head. "Hear that song in me heart?"

He grinned and skipped over a few corpses, his smile widening as he sang, "Skippidee doo da, skippidee ayy!"

"My oh my what a wonderful day!"

"Plenty of sunshine headin my—

He suddenly stopped and swiveled around like a meerkat, sniffing the air for a moment. "Oil innit?" He squinted as loose, whirling embers burst from a burning couch, and the crack of snapping wood filled his ears. "Well Chep, I'd say this is quite bad! Quite bad indeed!" He chuckled and walked down the hall before, like a bank robber in a vault, he found the arena's armory.

"Well well!" He strolled in and appraised the fine weapons and armor, stopping by a suit of knightly steel. It was basic but beautiful. Well crafted like everything else in the town of rich twats. "What ya think Chep?"

He leaned back with hands on his hips, slowly smiling at the armor. "Hah! You've sold me."

Bean emerged from the room in full knightley regalia, shambling down the corridors in oversized, clunky steel plates. But to him it was perfect. The kind of attire every single man, no matter his class or station, needed to be complete. "Right on Chep!" He skipped down the burning hallway, jingling like a full sack of coins. "Now I'll be the king of Nye!"

He rounded a corner and stopped on a dime, raising his brow at an old, wealthy man entering the maze of burning corridors and cracked supports. Like a little slice of hell on earth. "Not safe for ya mate! It's like an oven bakin me to crisps" He drew an oversized sword from his scabbard. "But have no fear! Sir Arthur will keep ya safe!"

That's when he noticed a girl following the man. Her face was vaguely familiar, but he wasn't sure exactly who she was. "Are you?" His brain slowly assembled a memory, fragmented and incomplete, of a fight between her and a pop star. "Oh! Jolly good time your fight was, just wish you gave him a better smackin!"

ManofManyRoles Lost Echo

 

[Jet]

Johan wasn't usually a crass man, but he deeply blushed when she whispered his name. "Time and place," he thought as she weaved her magic with his, peppering the night with stars and a vibrantly pale moon. It was a breathtaking sight indeed. "I should've known," he said with a smile. "Just like you. The light hiding in the darkness, but when you look close." He looked up at the glowing moon. "It's even brighter than the day."

"Perfect is too small a word." He held her close and there, in the silence they stood alone in their bubble. Protected from the chaos in each other's arms — but it couldn't last forever. They'd be questioned soon and there was so much suffering, so much pain and death in the arena. The thought twisted his stomach with guilt. How he indulged his attraction despite what happened around them, ignoring what he partially caused.

But he had no regrets.

He'd shamelessly bear the guilt because for once, as fireflies floated past them, standing in tall grass as the lake mirrored the moon, he felt peace and happiness. The only thing he ever wanted, and she was the reason why. "When this is over, I'll find this place and take you there, and if it doesn't exist?"

He amusedly exhaled through his nose. "I'll make it myself." He looked up again and closed his eyes, heart skipping as he released his illusion. Wanting, more than anything, to remain in their dream for hours on end, but they couldn't just stand there. Not when so many needed help. "I wish we could stay like that forever but—

His brows painfully knitted together. "We should do something to help." He hated the words leaving his mouth, but he was man enough to admit them. He'd been so blinded that his responsibility melted into the background, focusing on her instead of his job.

But thankfully for them, Narzas was anything but average. He wouldn't need to leave her to save people. "Two assassins on a rescue mission?" He stepped from the hug and gently clasped her hand. "It's like the start of a bad joke."

rozukitsune

 

[rozukitsune]

She could have stood here all day in their illusion, the feeling in her chest, the look in his eyes - everything else forgotten. When he told her he thought she was as bright as the light in the darkness, she thought she might burst into stars - though she managed to channel the feeling into stealing another impassioned kiss from his lips. She didn't know if anyone could keep such promises as he made, but it didn't really matter. She knew as well as he did that this couldn't go on forever. When he released the lights she did as well with a soft sigh and a wry smile. Her eyes turned out toward the arena proper and, though the number of dead had not changed... she still felt surprisingly lighter inside of herself. She slid her fingers through his and squeezed gently. "No one person can truly be at fault for this aside from Acacius." She told him, as though she could read his mind about the lingering guilt he felt for these people's deaths. "He seemed to be one step ahead of everyone here... " Her lips turned down as she turned serious, though she never seemed to forget Johan was with her. "To take the blame is foolish. This was planned - well in advance given how many things had to go wrong for this much destruction and death." She swept her free hand out to the almost total destruction of the place - and tried to remind him with her words that even if they'd caught all the explosives they still wouldn't have been able to stop that weird familiar-tearing trick he'd used.

Her brows furrowed in thought, "Such a thoroughly destructive opening gambit... makes you wonder what exactly he's going to do next, and where he will appear to do it." Her lips thinned into a line. "Why... how? We have questions but no real answers." She ran her free hand over her face and sighed, then she shook her head and turned back to him. "Let's go and do what we can for those that have survived, and perhaps once all who can be rescued are, we may start seeking answers to any questions we care to ask." She began making her way toward one of the closer groups of individuals she could see from where they stood, only allowing her fingers to slip from his once they got closer. It wouldn't do to give their enemies anything to use against them. If anyone had been watching their display just now - there was nothing she could do about that; but it would be a small number of people given the situation. She didn't find her heart today just to get it shot to pieces. She would protect Johan in every way she could. Perhaps if she succeeded long enough there would be a second date.

Jet

 

[Jet]

Walter leaned forward and captured the dramatic poses, shutter clicking as he said, "Maybe not as famous." He politely chuckled like a noble. "But you'll be known in more, educated circles shall we say? I hesitate to insult the hard working—

"On second thought, I digress." He snapped a cover on his lense. There was no need to waste any more film, not when he'd taken dozens, if not hundreds of pictures. All that remained was the quotes, quotes and more quotes. The lifeblood of his work, but the girls were less controversial than he'd hoped. Renn was playing the part and Kilderkin... was Kilderkin. There wasn't much value in her platitudes, but maybe she'd be a good mascot? The feel good story everyone needed? He wasn't even kidding about the lifestyle section. Nobles loved a story between handfuls of medication, preferring casual tales to the darkness of Nye.

"You've a quick tongue Renn — practiced even." He sighed and slowly, frustratingly shook his head. "If possible, and pleaseI beg you to consider this, can we cut the proverbial crap?"

He closed his notebook and looked around the arena, mouth twitching on the edges. "Off the record, hand to my Bible." He patted his old book. "I've dealt with enough fork tongues to know when scripts are being read." He knew Kilderkin was being honest with him, but Renn was a different story. He knew exactly how Nye treated their precious celebrities, almost like an extension of the state.

So he doubted her devotion to the amazing city in the sky, and Walter was no different. He was a man of many countries and different cultures, a drifting pen without love for the gutter painted gold, but he toed the line for a paycheck. It was sad really. He'd always wanted to be an investigative journalist, not a vulture writing propaganda, and for once he wanted to speak his mind.

"This city has it coming." He was suddenly stern and serious. "You think you know a city, a place, the things you're told sound right at first." He knew Kilderkin wouldn't understand what he was saying, but she was too nice to blab. "To be clear, the people don't deserve it." His brow furrowed at the blood around Kilderkin. How it flowed like a river from the wounded bystanders, roped into a game they didn't know existed.

"Do you know of the Port Six Aliance?" He crossed his arms and slowly tapped his elbow. "There are a number of revolutionary groups in Nye. I've been looking into them but—

"Well I'm not allowed to write about them. Apparently it'd lend credence to their cause, but this city is boiling below the surface."

Lost Echo rozukitsune Fred Colon

 

[Jet]

​

"Don't," Craxus looked down like a sad teacher. "Don't bow." He sighed and stood beside the young man, thoughtfully nodding like his dumb, simple mind contained empathy. He'd never been good at that sort of thing, but he wanted to support his new friend despite that. "Sounds like your dad was a pussy." He meant it in the least offensive way possible... if that was even possible, but there was no way around it. Ren's dad was a scumbag and coward, unlike the old, dead man on the ground.

"But your grandfather is worthy of respect. Raised you like his own; taught you how to kill." He gruffly laughed. "I will drink to his memory." He reached into his pouch and took out a flask of the strong stuff. Moonshine that doubled as gasoline. "Here's to the old man." He raised his flask. "May he join my father in the fields of plenty."

He poured some on the ground before taking a sip, offering it to Ren without a word. "You apologize a lot." He grumbled like a bear. "My rule of thumb? Only apologize when someone's angry."

"What's the point otherwise?" He grumbled again and closed his eyes, activating his wise sage mode. "Whatever the case, you should follow your heart, my young, small friend. If that means you deny my offer, so be it, but imagine his excitement if you traveled the world, proving your skill on the field. The very skills he taught you."

"But again, always follow your heart," he wisely said. "I understand if you spurn my offer, but there comes a time when um, a man—

He wasn't really sure what to say, so he cleared his throat like a moron. "When a man must choose his destiny. And you're at one of those prestipices right now."

"You've time before I take to the sky; my offer is on the table until then."

ZackStop

 

[rozukitsune]

Renn continued to poise and beam until Walter lowered the camera and asked her to drop the act - which it most assuredly was. She eyed him warily. Sure he claimed this bit was off the record... but was it really? Plenty of reporters said that kind of thing then reported what they got anyway just for a scoop. She'd seen other celebrities fall into that kind of a trap before and she wasn't going to bite.

At least until he mentioned the Alliance. Renn was pretty sheltered in her gilded cage, but even she knew the rumors that circulated regarding the nefarious goings-on of the Nobles, the undercity... and really anything else that was worth gossiping about for the elite who had nothing better to do but listen to stories about dramatic things that were naturally not happening to them - but to the poor and less fortunate. It was always troubling to hear a Centurion had died, they were Nye's protectors and defenders - or so the propaganda on them said. Renn was smart enough to see through the talk of course, she dealt with the same sort of nonsense day in and day out; but she'd never really taken the time to bother caring what with photoshoots and talk shows and other things to psyche herself up for.

Still, that Walter was mentioning it at all was a clue that he really had dropped the reporter persona. There was so little about this particular conversation to reflect on that it was obviously being kept a secret, either because nobody cared enough to sell the papers or else there was something more serious going on that Nye didn't want its prized Nobles concerning themselves with. Focus on the glory of the Arena. The bright shimmer of the Nobility. The infighting while those bedecked in glitz and glamour fought with one another like dogs over a bone to try and get to the top tier.

She deflated, peeling off her mask accordingly and her expression shifted from wary to tired. "Of course the city's boiling. Hasn't it been doing that forever?" She sighed. "What's so special about your Port 6 Alliance hmm? Everyone secretly hates us, you know. At least that's what I hear the other nobles gossip about most of the time when they're not plotting to take each other out or marry up the ladder. A handful of mysterious deaths and some violence going on in the background is kind of just noise in comparison to something like this..." She spread her arms out to encompass the wreckage around them.

Jet Fred Colon Lost Echo

 

[Lost Echo]

Sweat and ink were running down the young girl’s face, hiding her tears. She tried to give a wobbly smile in return to Mr. Abdon’s nod of encouragement, but one could tell it failed, even behind the scarf. Gritting her teeth, she still nodded back. This was an adult. Her heart tried to convince her that it would mean she’d be safe. But the heat from the flames smothered those hopes. Still, she was going to have to be the one to do it. She couldn’t keep the flames back from her friends forever. Not with the constant fuel it seemed to have access to. She almost immediately wanted to be carried, but clenching her fists, she knew it would probably be best for her to be mobile, to keep the flames away from the man.

As the man spoke to the group, Vixie couldn’t help but glance toward Nihal for a few seconds of comfort. She wanted a hug. By now, she was pretty sure the celebrity would accept it. He’d given her a few before and she remembered how much better it made her feel. But in her hesitation, Mr. Abdon had started moving, and she had to run to catch up. She tried to run faster; she could tell he was only jogging, but with the smoke, it felt as if she’d never moved before, her entire body straining to breathe. Her head hurt and keeping her eyes open was a chore. She felt as if she was going to vomit into the fire, worsening the smell. At the same time, she had to push the fires out of the way, letting the two of them pass through ever-increasing dangers. She cried out the first time a flame licked at the older man’s leg, but he seemed to not react. Was his scaled skin enough to fight the fire?

"I should still remember my way about these tunnels, I would hope,"

Vixie blinked in horror. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might not know where he was going. As she tried to think past her fear, she realized that of course, it was difficult. With the flickering lights casting shadows about the corridors, nothing likely looked the same. Having never been in these tunnels though, the young girl could not help much. Maybe if they stopped she could reach through the fires with her magic, but she dare not be left behind. So she pushed on, stumbling as the world seemed to spin, but following the man’s guiding light.

Then there was a clanking that could be heard. At first she’d thought it was some massive machine they were nearing, but it sounded as if it was actually coming toward them. Then, all of a sudden, a boy appeared. It looked like he was playing dress-up. His accent, accentuating his youth, was hard to follow. He introduced himself as Arthur, somehow lifting the oversized sword with ease, then focused on her small form directly. Shuffling slightly, she smoothed down her shirt, feeling grungy and gross under the inspection. “With Nihal?” She guessed, at his compliment. “Uh…thanks.” She replied awkwardly, breaking eye contact to stare at the floor, before the flames clenched her attention once more. “Do you know where the fire’s coming from?” If it wasn’t that way, at least they wouldn’t have to waste time looking.

 

[Lost Echo]

. "To write inflammatory things… sales aren't what they used to be."

Esther’s lip curled. “So you’re going to rile up the masses against an unknown enemy? Have you already picked who?” While she knew there were reporters who were legitimate, this man (she hadn’t bothered to remember his name, if he gave it) had already proven to not be one of them. “I think that anyone who hurts innocents are monsters.”

She sighed as his focus drifted back to Kildi, hamming up the banal girl. Muttering under her breath, she said, “They should only list four. It’s not like the idiot could come up with 5 things.”

The songstress drew Esther’s attention next. Why the hell was she acting like an idiot now? Or was she imitating how she normally conducted interviews? If that was the case, how did the brain she obviously could show survive being smothered so desperately? Esther hadn’t gotten the idea that she was playing a role while scheming behind the scenes before this whole mess. Kildi played off the redhead with ease, as if they’d practiced. Rolling her eyes at being called rude, Esther stood to look for another lucky soul who’d survived this. Most of them were the lifeless bodies the reporter was bothering to pile up. Esther figured it was better to leave them for now.

"You think support from Nye will get here soon?"

“Whenever they do, they’re already late. Unless the whole city is dead,” which the scientist doubted, Nye was frankly too big. There had to be a limit to that orb’s power. Even a cube didn’t have that much reach, “They should have been here near immediately. What are the centurions hanging around Nye for except for this?” It didn’t occur to her that most of them went to the games--for why would they, the bloodsport must be boring for those who knew reality--so they’d perished quickly.

Then the reporter scavenging for headlines seemed to deflate, asking Renn to stop her act and speak for real. After the woman relented, acknowledging his claim--for who didn’t hate Nye, she spoke herself. “I’m hardly ever in Nye and even I’ve heard about the Port 6 Alliance. Except like Missy here says, I hadn’t heard of them being big enough to do something this size, which unheard of magic. And they’ve avoided civilians right?”

 

[Jet]

​

Johan knew she was right. The blame wasn't squarely on his shoulders, but he still felt a tremendous weight on his back. The hands of dead men and women, sons and daughters clawing from the grave. He could almost hear them screaming, "Why didn't you do more?"

"Why weren't you vigilant?"

"Why so uncaring?

"So incompetent?"

He looked down as she comforted him. Her words brightened the dark, lingering sadness in his heart. The feeling of guilt he couldn't shake."You know me too well." He grimly smiled and shook his head. "I've been hiding behind a veil for so long, it's nice for someone to finally pierce it."

"It's hard not to think about what I could've done, but." His brow furrowed again. "You're right. I'm not the one who bombed the stands. I'm not the one who ripped souls from innocent people, and who knows how long he planned this."

"It's strange, we don't know a single thing about him." He chuckled in disbelief, feeling a little better thanks to her. "But we'll find the answers, together, and finish what he started." He wanted to hold her hand and give it a squeeze, and he felt the lingering warmth of her lips against his own. He thought of her slender curves where his arms snuggly fit—

"Time and place!" He thought again, quickly blinking a few times. "Right! Um…"

"Know any first aid?" He kneeled beside the group of bruised, bloody people. "I'm not very good at this sort of thing." He removed his scarf and looked at it for a moment, sighing as he bandaged a man's bloody leg. "I think that's right?"

"Thankyou," the man croaked. "The mother will bless your path." He was old and distinguished, close cropped with an expensive coat. "Aren't you a centurion?"

"Aye."

"I saw one of them; his face hidden below a hood." The man narrowed his old blue eyes. "He was sitting beside me, muttering to his partner. I should've said something but—

"At least I can tell you now."

rozukitsune

 

[ManofManyRoles]

𝕾𝖎𝖗 𝕱𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖝 𝕬𝖇𝖉𝖔𝖓

This choking heat was truly abysmal to experience, and no doubt his suit would sport burned holes from ember and flame alike, and both cloth and skin would sport soot in equal measure by the time he would leave. But such simple things could be overlooked for the sake of a much bigger goal. As the two continued their jaunt through the inferno, Felix moved slower than he'd like...something was off with his young companion, but he had no idea what it may be. "Young miss, save your energy for yourself. I'm not worried about the fires, madame," he stated simply as he gave them a chance to pause. It was more so for Vixie's benefit, the teen obviously struggling with everything going on. She had to focus on conserving her energy, he didn't want to imagine what could happen to her if she didn't. It was bad enough she'd been hauled into this, after all! As the two stood for that moment, Felix's light grew all the stronger, from a wisp into a large orb roughly the size of a beachball, a small sun to illuminate the darkness and cut through the smoke and smog.

Though as he pondered their next move, there came the clank clank clank of a figure rounding the corner dressed in full armor, the older man looking towards him. That was awfully short for a knight, and that was a rather intense aurora of flame. Would that mean he was then... "King Arthur himself? Verily, Avalon has served you well my lord." Felix was either feeble-minded and senile, easy to trick, or just playing along...whatever the case, his voice carried the same sort of conviction as if he had addressed his own king and lords in their halls once upon a time. "Truly, as stories said, you return when you're needed most," he started, once again tightening his impromptu scarf and starting to feel the heat proper now that he was standing still, "My lord, we've dived into the bowels of hell itself in our own quest to save those who cannot save themselves. Might I request your aid? If I am not mistaken based off the flames and where we are, a hallway and a half down there is a fuel storage, I should suspect that's where our blaze feeds from."

Jet Lost Echo ​

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas followed Johan to the distinguished old man, unaware of her new partner's inner turmoil. She herself was only struggling to figure out what exactly their new connection meant. They were 'dating', but not necessarily 'together'. Crush implied one of them was pining in a proverbial void. That wasn't right. Love interest? She supposed that would have to do as a descriptor until they learned more about one another.

She squatted down beside the man and eyed Johan's wrapping job, pulling out from her belt some more slips of fabric and a sewing kit. "Not a whole lot better than I can do... but I do know a little from patching up other trainees and myself from time to time. Waste of time my superiors claimed." She held the needle by its eye using two fingers and pointed her free hand's index finger at it and a beam of light shot out slightly. She narrowed her eyes and so narrowed and adjusted the beam until it was as focused as it could get - like through a magnifying glass. Once the tip of the needle was hot, she threaded it with incredible precision then got to work on some of the more egregious wounds.

Her eyebrows rose as she worked, though her eyes never strayed from what she was doing. "Hmm? What did you hear?" Answers? She could only hope this might finally be a place to start.

Jet

 

[Jet]

Bean was used to grumpy bags of boring flesh, commonly known as centurions, who treated conversations like chess games. What dull bastards indeed. He much preferred his new graying friend, even if he used fancy words. "Verily so my good fellow!" He wasn't sure what verily meant, but rolled well off the tongue. "I've come to save this miserable land of miserable sods, but you'll make fine retainers!"

He leaned back with hands on his hips, puffing his chest like a general. "As you've surmised good Sir, an oil fire afflicts this land! I've ascertained that with my kingly senses." He nodded as a wooden beam fell from the ceiling, clanging from his thick armor. "Verily! It's quite an oil fire! One only my retainers can stop!" He dramatically raised his sword above his head. "And we will douse it with the waters of freedom! For the people! For Nye!"

He trotted over and barged, like a bulldozer, between the two of them, leading them down the hallway. "So my good Sir and Sir-ett, let us delve deeper and find the source!"

He grinned and laughed like a happy little kid, concealing a darkly mischievous streak. The one that sustained him for years back home. "Let's make this fun, shall we?" He thought before lessening his control of the fire, pressuring Vixie to do it instead. It'd be a good test of her endurance and attunement, and he could always merge and escape without a scratch, so why not make her sweat?

"If I may inquire my lady, aren't you a fire user?" He already knew the answer, but now the games were afoot. "You're most impressive for holding back such a blaze! Surely the court will be amazed!"

ManofManyRoles Lost Echo

 

[Jet]

Johan was equally impressed and surpised by her needle. He'd never seen anyone use light that way, and never considered the idea for himself. "I must be boring." He chuckled as she stitched the wound. "Never thought about doing that; too busy practicing dumb tricks in the barracks"

"Vanishing coins and rabbits from a hat — the bald man." He smiled at the thought, close lipped like he remembered a funny joke. "I could make a man look bald with the wave of my hand." His face was calm and peaceful; drunk with happiness and old memories. The company of a beautiful woman beside him. He could certainly get used to this.

"My first victim was our teacher." He remembered the grinning students and their sputtering, barely contained laughter. His flushed professor yelling "WHAT" as he cluelessly raged. He only noticed the spell when another teacher informed him, and boy did Johan catch a beating.

But it was worth it.

He only wished his classmates were still alive, and his smile momentarily dimmed at the thought. "Shut it," he sharply thought. "Focus on the now, on her."

He blinked twice and his smile returned, but that's when the man piqued his interest, and Narzas took the same cue. "Hmm?" She began. "What did you hear?"

Johan cocked his head with curiosity, meeting her gaze with a raised brow. As if to say, "Well well, what do we have here?" Like a noir detective.

"Aye." He looked back to the man. "Anything can be important, even if it seems like nothing at all."

The old man slowly nodded. "Of course, I've read my share of mystery books." He pushed himself to a sitting position, and with a grunt he leaned against a seat and looked up at the sky. "Funnily enough, they were questioning their commander. One said he's obsessed with the riddle and the key? The ruins of Umbria? Whatever that means."

The old man chuckled before continuing his story. "He said the tunnels weren't safe anymore, cause being manticores and cave ins, and oh!" He quickly blinked several times. "The other went on a tangent about a mole, some man on the inside with tremendous power. He'd manipulated the games to let the bombers in. I was about to report them for it, but then—

"Well you know the rest."

rozukitsune

 

[Emphoa]

Rat puffed out a little bit as Nyyall and Mischa helped with removing the concrete from the stranger under the rubble. "Hey! We just have to have our expectations low with what each other can do then, yeah?" He chuckled a little bit, but it fell flat as he thought about the situation and he looked back towards the source of the voice. "Yeesh- you could be a little more grateful." He puffed out, pouting as he heard a squeak erupt from Remy- a result of being suddenly picked up and a few cursing squeaks after he was sat back down before he skittered out from the rubble and climbed back onto Rat.

"Not friendly, huh?" The boy huffed out, offering a small smile to his familiar before they were finally able to free the goliath of a man. Although he supposed that wasn't it- as the guy said and he clicked his tongue, sharing a look with Mischa before focusing back on Goliath. "Yeah yeah! We're getting there, Captain Mischa at the head." He chirped out and he gave the red head a little nudge before he stepped forward to help with the beam. Grimacing a little bit as he helped to push it up long enough for Goliath to make his way out. His arms shook- and he definitely wasn't used to this type of labor, not one bit.

The boy brushed off his hands, eyes flitted up a bit from the man's snarky comments as he quirked a brow and he looked back towards Mischa before back at the dark haired man and he offered up a grin. "No thanks needed, it's what we came down to do anyhow." He stated with a wave of his hand, brushing off the more negative man as he straightened up his posture. "I'm rat, you've already met Remy." He gestured to his familiar, before placing his hands onto his hips.

"I call it more of a temporary set back." He gave a little wink before he looked back at Mischa and he cocked his head to the side. "You're right, though, we shouldn't stay too long with this fire in here. Hopefully Vixie and that guy can take care of it..."

Goliath Jet Anne Boolean

 

[Anne Boolean]

Sassing the people who were trying to help you, huh? Well, everyone had their own unique ways of dealing with stressful situations. Either way, Nyaall didn't respond. His energy all going towards moving this slab of concrete. Even after, there was still more work to be done, unfortunately. Mischa and Rat were in to help this time, thankfully, as Nyaall was unsure if he had enough in the tank to move the beam himself. He still put in what energy he could to lend a hand though.

Once the man was able to pull himself out of the deadly position he was in, he introduced himself. The celebrity wasn't expecting much in the way of gratitude, but he made it clear the group wouldn't be getting much of any. He instead turned his attention to Mischa when she gave a bit of praise.

"Oh, I absolutely am," he said with a small smile and a playful tone. "I'm more allergic to people dying around me though."

When Goliath questioned their elemental affinities, he gave a nod. "This rescue mission was a little impromptu, sadly." Even if Nyaall was excluded from the appraisal of disadvantage, "human flashlight" wasn't exactly a title given to an MVP. He'd been called worse though. Coincidentally, one of those names could be gotten by simply swapping out a single letter. "I take it you're in the same boat, unless you were under all that willingly?" He motioned to the rubble with his head. Well, earth user or not, if Goliath chose to join them, an extra set of hands could only help.

He glanced over at Mischa and Rat once their exchange continued. Them soaring through the skies together... only home they were bound to being their ship and the clouds. It was a romantic idea, one in which he could be free from the chains that would surely try to bind him again. Maybe it would end up happening if they actually all managed to get out here alive. "I don't suppose you can cook?" he asked Goliath, indulging in the fantasy a little more.

Upon seeing the blood dripping from the man's arm though, Nyaall realized that reality was a little more pressing right now. "Is that the worst of it?" he questioned, approaching and getting ready to tear another piece of fabric from the clothes he wore, whether it was for a bandage or a sling. "Or is there anything broken?"

Goliath Jet Emphoa

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas, focusing on her task as she was; didn't notice Johan's surprised expression. When he mentioned he was surprised to see her use her magic this way she smiled thinly. "A few of the kids in my village showed me how... saw them using pieces of glass at an angle to the sunlight to burn ants and other insects for fun. I figured if they could do that with natural sunlight I could as well." She shrugs. "Better than chancing infection with a dirty needle. Heat destroys microbes. Also makes the needle slide through skin easier."

His description of using his light powers to make illusions of bald individuals made the corners of her lips and eyes twitch as she tried not to jostle herself with laughter at the image he conjured. "Oh my, you must have been punished quite harshly. My teachers certainly didn't have any patience for that kind of nonsense." She grinned despite herself, though she noted the way his expression fell slightly after the telling of the story. She offered him an understanding smile, though she really had no idea what was going on in his head this time. He was a man with a heavy history - she had known that almost from the first moment. She hoped that it would someday be less heavy for him - regardless of what happened with their little love affair

She kept at her sewing until she was done, though her ears were on the story the strange man started to weave. She settled back, eyeing his other injuries for a need of her skill. She nods to his confirmation there was a mole, sharing the knowing glance with Johan. "Yes. We'd heard that too, from a man we'd caught almost red-handed planting one of the bombs. We managed to catch up to him and he helped us to reverse his villainous plot - and then he mentioned the mole. We tried questioning him on it and were shortly disappointed when he spontaneously keeled over dead. Rather in the same fashion the announcer man did right before all hell broke loose." Her lips dip into a thoughtful frown. "So sudden... it made one think of poisons active for hours that only finished their job exactly at the predetermined moment - yet I somehow doubt that is how things played out. So many questions." She sighed.

Jet

 

[Goliath]

Goliath turned, looking to the right, where there was nothing but fire, before reaching up and ruffling his hair. “Ha. Ha. So funny. You should become a comedian. Truly.” He spoke, rolling his eyes. It wasn’t uncommon for him to rub people the wrong way; if anything, it would be weirder if he didn’t. “I don’t plan on walking into the fire and burning alive. Sorry to disappoint you.” He mocked with a scoff.

The red-haired girl obviously tried to drown out his earlier question, but the boy named Rat..with a rat responded. To him, it seemed like more than a temporary setback that they had been brute forcing everything, but he let it go. Their was no point in arguing about it. He tilted his head as Rat mentioned people whose names he’d never heard. Yet it didn’t matter. Goliath knew if they could stop the fire, it’d be a good thing. The air was getting heavier quickly, and if it ignited..

Goliath nodded as the other male returned the question as well, asking about Goliath’s powers. He debated being a smart ass again but held his tongue this time. He didn’t speak, instead raising his hand as an arc of red lightening zapped between his thumb and index finger, which should be enough to answer the question.

Lightening was ineffective in this situation. Unable to get out of the rubble on his own or get out of the hole. But he was muscular. He could probably lift more than the three of them combined now that he wasn't pinned. Which should be useful — if they were on a rescue mission as Rat had said. Plus it’s not like he had anywhere else to go.

Goliath listened to the woman and Rat go back to talking about who knew what. It was obvious that they were friends. No, all of them were friends. But that was fine. He was content to stand in silence. He preferred to be alone. Only to get pulled back in as Nyall spoke to him again. It was not like people to talk to him so casually. It was strange. ‘Cook? What is he going on about?’ He thought to himself, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at Nyaall.

Memories of cooking during his childhood filled his mind, distracting him for a moment. Standing at the fire in front of the old iron pot, making one of the few rice-based meals they could afford. The adults were often busy, but he did not mind helping out. Plus, the younger kids always wanted him to make dinner because it was better than the nun, even though they only had a couple of ingredients at any given time.

It was not like him to think of his upbringing. Maybe it was the atmosphere, the fire and rubble. The hole wasn’t all that different than the aftermath of one of the air raids back home. “Yeah, I can cook well,” he spoke without really thinking about it. But the realization quickly set in, turning his head away. ‘Shut up, he doesn’t actually care,’ he reminded himself.

He heard the step glancing back over his shoulder, “Who me? You’re going to be out of clothing soon,” He asked with a chuckle, shaking his head. As for more serious injuries, he might have a broken rib or internal bleeding from the weight of the debris, but it was hard to tell with all the adrenaline in his veins. Nor would he admit being in any kind of pain to this group.

“It really doesn’t matter. I’ve had worse,” he spoke with a shrug. If Nyall pressed the importance of bandaging the bleeding cut, he wouldn’t shove him away. Accepting the help begrudgingly and lifting his arm so the fabric could be wrapped around it.

He glanced down as Nyall tied it, only for a moment, before looking at the fire until he was done. Moving his arm and stretching it slightly. “I can’t speak much for if there are other survivors. I can say there was a women over there but she’s dead.” He spoke with a shrug.

“Now what? We sing kumbaya and talk about our life stories or are you still leading your rescue mission,” he asked looking at Mischa who seemed to be the ring leader, the sarcasm back in his voice again.

Jet (Misha) Emphoa (Rat) Anne Boolean

 

[Lost Echo]

Even with everything going on, the literal fire she was controlling with her hands, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. If he thought pretending she was old enough to be a ‘madame’ was going to make this any better, then he was more delusional than…well, more than she needed. She wasn’t so young that being called grown-up made her stiffen her spine with pride. (Did she look that young?) In fact, all it did was make her yearn for her mom and dad. She was lucky her eyes were already stinging from the smoke. It pulled from somewhere deep inside of her. Deeper than she’d thought she existed. Trying to keep moving forward around it, she tried to use that depth as another well of energy to push back the fire.

It took her a moment to realize they were standing still. She knew better not to rip off her scarf, for all that her mind begged her to breathe more clearly. Her words seemed to go unheard by Arthur, the other two speaking as if they were in some play. She doubted the kid could be a noble, beyond his accent, no noble’s child would survive down here. Even she, from a hardworking family, was having a hard time. Ignoring her body, she closed her eyes, reaching out through the flames. She let the weaker ones slip through her mind. They were devouring what they could in this concrete jungle, but there was something with a richer fuel. Near her, almost in front of her was an intense radiating heat, but she couldn’t feel that source. It seemed controlled, perhaps the boy’s fire? How did he--she forced her mind to focus. Follow the flames, they were all fed by a source. It was distant, but she could feel the direction. The flames burned hottest at the core, gluttonously strengthening themselves.

Then the clanking got louder, and she almost stumbled over a burning timber to get out of the kid’s way. “Hey!” The fire around her flared in her surprise, catching bits of her hair alit, adding the sour scent on top of the others. She was quick to put it out. That was a lesson fire users are taught first in school. How to wrap your power around the flame until it no longer had air to burn. How she was going to apply that lesson to the powerful flames. Her head swam as she tried to regain her balance, eventually using the elder gentleman as something solid to grasp. She couldn’t help it, she vomited to the side, smothering a fire with the wet slop. ‘That’s one way to do it.’ She thought morbidly, as she grabbed her head with a groan. “I’m fine.” She repeated before knowing if it was true. She’d never felt more embarrassed. Or gross. Her scarf, which had gotten wet as she…emptied, dried quickly in the heat, but that did nothing for the smell. She could smell it even with her human nose.

“Ugh…well, he is going the right way, I think.” She tried to make eye contact with the older man Mr…Abdon? Forgetting his name was not currently important. He had to introduce himself again, she’d find it out then. But to be honest, she wasn’t sure if he was even looking at her through the smog. “Sorry about that.” The attempt at normalcy was too much. She averted her gaze, staring after the boy. Shrugging, she began to follow the clanking. She had to grit her teeth as the fire seemed to grow stronger as they neared the course. She had to focus on herself, though she tried to include her older companion as well. She realized the intense heat from before was from the boy. Though that control was amazing. How wasn’t he at least heating up the metal of his ‘armor’ enough to burn himself? She knew fire users weren’t just naturally immune to flames. With him, she felt like this might be possible. Though…she probably was slowing them down. Flaring her tails, she gave more of her focus to the fire, trying to think above the nausea and pain of her head.

"If I may inquire my lady, aren't you a fire user?"

“I preferred Sir-ette” she coughed out, the my lady was too close to madame. “Shut up” she mumbled, far too past manners, “I know you’re a stronger one than me. I have no idea how though I don’t think I can learn it here.” She started to shake her head, hissing as the pain flared raw. She couldn’t even get a deep breath in to push it back down. Her three tails strained with her. “You aren’t overdoing it right?” She didn’t even mention her own excess, she was doing the best she could just to get there. “As fascinating as it is, keep some in store for when we get to the core.”

 

[Arcanist]

Faraji Aguta

Mentions: Goliath Emphoa Jet ManofManyRoles

​

It seemed like Adamaris already had their descent into the hole well in hand, being an earth user, and Faraji was pleased to hear Elriel was an ice user like himself. When the man turned to ask Faraji of his element, he was proud to announce, “I also control ice. Perhaps not to the same strength as yourself, but I have a steady handle on it to support any constructs you create.” It was no lie. Faraji was certainly no fighter like these competitors before him. He had more interest in cooling his tea or creating a skating rink with his element but constructs to help those escape the hole were something he would have no problem creating or supporting.

Descending into the hole, Faraji, like his companions, was forced to bring an arm over his nose and mouth. The crumble of debris and the thick haze of smoke burned his airways before even taking a full breath. Such devastation already littered this hole, of course, but he could only hope these people had quickly left their bodies behind and progressed in a whole state onto the next world. Death was a strange thing to speak of with others, a traumatising, horrible, dirty thing to many. He realised once he started travelling how different his culture and others’ thoughts of moving forward onto another life differed.

There was talk of putting out fires that raged within the hole, and Faraji went to agree with helping on that front, but Adamaris and Elriel decided they needed to extinguish another fire. He was not surprised by the pillaging of the dead, no less in Nye. But he did not bear his teeth and snap at the boy, whose loot clinked across the ground and dulled in the dark of the hole.

“Perhaps,” Faraji noted Elriel’s scathing words, and as another appeared, a boy who had competed, he realised, continued, “though, his family are not here to claim it unfortunately, nor the body. It seems it is anyone’s inheritance now.”

He was not so judgemental towards the boy in his words – factual, in fact. It wasn’t as if the man needed it anymore. He had left behind this form to move on. His family – if he had one - was not here to inherit the spoils of his tragedy, despite that being their right. He loved coin, truly, but if things had of been different for him under that rock, he would have no doubt had the coin in his own purse pilfered and the clothes ripped off his back.

But Faraji would not have needed it, and his son and his mother would be too late in claiming it. It was a cruel, but realistic fact of life. Could you ensure property of thousands and thousands, and more thousands would be passed on to their rightful inheritors?

Faraji acknowledged the young boy’s arrival – whom he recognised as Mavior, despite not being one of the competitors he scouted - and his eagerness to help with the disasters plaguing the arena. “He has the right of it. The argument of inheritance – unlawful or otherwise – can wait. Your fingers have better uses in helping quell this bloody mess.” Literally.

He turned back to Mavior and nodded, “Plenty of means. We were just about to deal with the fires here…” Until other matters cropped up.

 

[Arcanist]

Brynwyr Protheroe

Mentions: Fred Colon Jet ​

Brynwyr, double checking the boy again for a steady pulse, thought on Howard’s suggestion. Yes, the authorities. Perhaps they would be corrupt enough to do the dirty work for them. She hated to admit it, but it was not uncommon for the law to disregard its own oaths. They could enact a special kind of justice and dirty their own hands.

Such thoughts would have been blasphemous to Brynwyr. She found she was not so sensitive to such issues anymore. She did not suggest this to Howard, and instead, let him check up on Rhys.

Brynwyr rolled her shoulders back, before she just shrugged at Adrian. “He means well,” she excused Howard for it, because maybe it hit both her and Adrian in a more intense and angrier place where it hadn’t hit him. Their violence came from a deeper, angry pit, where a part of them had been unjustly ripped from them. Two mentors, two figures, gone in a puff of smoke and fire. She was beginning to understand why people turned to savage animals with nothing more on their minds than to kill.

It was any wonder they could hold it together. Their professions forced them to.

Adrian gave up on trying to make Howard see that truth, for turning his perspective. Brynwyr admired him for that, because he gave up on doing so quite some time ago.

Rhys had slithered up the side of the hole again, with a woman who was able to get off his back and out of the hole herself. “We’re getting there, slowly, but surely,” he puffed. He took a breath, a flush radiating across his cheeks and nose. “There are still survivors down there. But...” He frowned. He hesitated on saying more, lingering at the entrance.

Brynwyr was not sure how they would get those bodies out. She turned, called to him, “Rhys, if you need a break.”

“No,” Rhys shook his head, suddenly alert and eager to get going again. “They’re counting on us. We must give them some hope to hold onto.”

He was taking a leaf out of Jeston’s book. Ever valiant, ever generous. Jeston would never stop for a break until the job was done. Was it a case of idolisation, or an unwillingness to stop and process everything, just as she was doing? She did not answer that for herself.

“Catch your breath for a moment,” she ordered, “you’ve been doing good so far.”

Brynwyr thought she heard Adrian say something about food, and let her mind wander to that. How long had it been since she’d eaten, since she’d drank anything? Her body needed something, feeling her stomach being to hollow out. She put the idea out of her mind. It wasn’t as if she would enjoy it.

Brynwyr scoffed and smiled knowingly at Adrian’s joking opener. “Looks like I really will have to take you to Albion. Men there don’t stop drinking. And you would be even madder to think they would consider leaving a bar. I’ve helped with dragging men out and throwing them on the back of some cart for them to be wheeled home.”