Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[ManofManyRoles]

𝕾𝖎𝖗 𝕱𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖝 𝕬𝖇𝖉𝖔𝖓

For Felix's part, he didn't seem bothered by 'Arthurs' statements, the older male nodding along steadily. He didn't so much as wince as a beam bounced soundly off the boy's armor as if it was but a light tap to the shoulder. Most curious, indeed. "Certainly, my lord. It is the duty of those who can to help those who cannot. That is among the vow's of a knight, is it not?" It felt a little childish, perhaps, to engage in this play. But if it secured their aid, he'd wear the helm of a knight instead of his butler's vest for this interaction. After all, was it truly acting, or lying when it came so naturally to him? Felix deftly stepped to the side as 'Arthur' rushed forth, trotting right through the two of them to lead the charge. He glanced over towards Vixie for but a moment as the tips of her hair were singed, a solid hand finding her grasping her own as she looked for support. He'd get her through this, fire be damned. And he himself would get through this, he'd been in worse spots by now. Even when a wet wretch and gag escaped her, followed by a healthy dose of vomit, he didn't seem the slightest bit phased, acting as if nothing was amiss. She needed something to hang onto, some form of support...she was a child, no child should have had to endure this. And yet, her bravery for volunteering would have made any knightly court bow in respect.

Meeting her gaze he gave a firm nod, his eyes showing no hint of doubt or concern as of yet...he had to look strong, if she looked to him for support. "Nothing to be sorry for. Come, we must hurry after him. Stay by my side, I shall not leave you behind. Focus only on the fires about you." He didn't worry for his own safety, not right now. As long as he kept moving he'd be fine. Even as he felt heat licking at his scales and within himself, he wouldn't bend to this aspect of nature itself. "It'll be this right, my lord. I recall fuel storage down that hall, and the fires seem strongest in that direction." He was glad age hadn't taken his memories from him, he'd spent long enough in all of these halls for one reason or another, and that scent of fuel in this awful place was more than enough for a keen nose to make out...familiar attunement and already bonded, it was like a filthy reaper, a spectre they had to tail. But Vixie was struggling...and 'Arthur' was simply too slow. "Forgive the invasion of space," he stated simply before, suddenly, Vixie was no longer on her feet and instead was in her grasp in a tight carry, held against his body as he aimed to use his own mass to protect her against the flames and limit the area she had focus on. It also meant she had one less thing to focus on, and he could move faster on his feet. Something he had no hesitation in doing as he rushed forward, a humble cry over his shoulder in encouragement. "King Arthur, is it not proper to charge into the blaze? Only cowards and fools dally, and neither constitute your name, my lord."

A beam shattered overhead as Felix rounded a corner, a quick sidestep as it came down to avoid it as it was falling. He wasn't going to 'outpace' Arthur, but hopefully, the boy would stick to the play. After all, no point for King Arthur to portray himself a coward, now was there? Even though the roar of the blaze and the situation, Felix spoke in a softer tone, one that might have been missed if Vixie was not in his arms. "Madame, be mad at me if you so wish, I only seek to help you. This may sound strange, but have some faith in my words. If you wish to control this blaze, firstly focus on what directly would afflict you. Block everything else but your own safety out in this moment. You're doing a wonderful job, thus far, madam. I need you to think of your happiest moments, think of the greatest memory you have. Your magic is born from yourself, and you are as strong as your mind allows. Think positive, do not focus on the book and pen instructions you may know. Your soul, your own worth, determines your output..your fuel is your own heart. So think of the positives, ignore the flames. You control them, not the other way around." There was a certainty to his words, much more than ramblings of a old man...steel and faith in how he spoke that belayed his age and spoke of experience, of fact, not fiction in the instructions he gave her.

He didn't care if he sounded like a loon to this girl or not, all he cared for is if she tried. Magic was the soul, and the soul was magic. One had to embrace and accept themselves, what made them who they were, to be stronger. So many schola cared more for book and ruler, pen and paper...this was so much more than that. Resolve determined one's strength, it wasn't some fanciful number one could graph. The scent of burning oil become all the more apparent, as the trio began to approach a large explosion sight, the burning smog so thick that he had to make not one miniature sun but several, a trinary selection of orbs that were cast out ahead of him to expand as far as he could make that glow.

Lost Echo Jet​

 

[Jet]

The old man nodded at her lingering questions. "To think thats even possible? The mole must be quite dangerous indeed!" He nervously glanced around the arena, inspecting everyone he could see. Wondering if the mole was stalking them from the shadows, patiently waiting for the right time to strike.

"Could be anywhere, anyone." He leaned forward like a conspiratorial spy, speaking in a low whisper. "Should we—

"Watch what we say? What if the mole hears us and um, you know—

"Relax," Johan said. "Tefra died for saying too much, but you don't know anything that would expose them."

"So don't worry about it." He looked over at Narzas, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Anyways, punishment is too weak a word; my teacher beat me until he broke his hand, but I don't regret it for a second." He smiled at the stupid memory, even if it ended with black eyes and a bloody nose. "Not sure how we actually graduated? Bunch of idiots through and through."

"But enough of me." His eyes curiously shone in the growing moonlight. "Your academy must've been dreadfully boring. It's a miracle you haven't gone completely insane." He smirked and gently nudged her elbow. "Always took you for a city girl by the way; for some reason I can't picture you wearing overalls."

"Maybe one day you can show me around your village? I'll try not to look like a complete fool but no promises." He was mostly kidding, but then again, he'd never stepped foot in a small town. He would stick out like the sorest of sore thumbs, a yuppie of the highest degree. But he was more than happy to laugh at himself.

"Don't get ahead of yourself." The thought was like a knife to the heart. "You'll never leave Nye. You'll never be free." He didn’t show his angst this time, but he felt a deep pang of anxiety. The foreboding dread that his past would stay his feet, forever trapping him in a cage of golden bars.

rozukitsune

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas felt the strangers paranoia echoed in herself a moment, her hands pausing as her head swiveled. Dying like an idiot right now was not on her to do list. Then she heard Johan reassuring the man and, catching his amused glance felt immediately silly. He was right, Tefra and the announcer must have known something that could stop or slow the enemy - so they died. This little trio of the stranger (she really needed to learn his name already...), herself and Johan knew nothing. It was both a source of frustration and probably what was keeping them alive.

Then Johan turned his attention to her and she felt her cheeks reddening again despite her desire not to reveal he made her feel so warm where others could see it. Her eyes crinkled in amusement at his question and she shook her head slightly. "In Zuanshi, they build towns designed for those in the castes they are to be raised for. No suspenders in my town." She chuckles. "It was as big as a village could be." She describes, her eyes focusing at a point up in the air and at nothing in particular. "The boundaries were nothing to speak of... but every inch stuffed with small buildings and tall buildings to simulate the sorts of situations an assassin might find themselves in. I used to play in the alleys with the other children before I was fully enrolled. You learn via osmosis about stealth and sneaking long before they begin to train you officially. We would get out of the village proper to do runs in open space."

So many fond, and less fond memories. Narzas smiled knowingly at Johan, their lives not so different despite the fact he was far more intrinsically famous than she.

When he talked about visiting, her expression dipped slightly. She'd never been as good at lying with her body as he clearly was - and though she tried to hide by turning her face to the side and forcing a smile, Johan's perceptive eyes would certainly notice all of these little quirks even as her voice insisted: "I'd love that. If we ever get the chance... I'd show you all my old haunts."

In truth though... she knew she could never return to her home country. The moment she stepped foot within the borders they would know what she was. Traitor. Deserter. Xenophile. If they didn't kill her outright it would only be so they could glean information from her about Johan and his ilk. Maybe anything they could learn regarding the weaknesses of Nye and anywhere else she ended up visiting. Then once they were satisfied she'd either be "re-educated" or discarded. And given she'd never been a favorite... discarded was far more likely.

Jet

 

[Jet]

​

Mischa was having one of the worst days of her life; a depressing stream of miserably bad moments, with each one outshining the last. It was wonderful. Truly amazing and the one thing that could make it better. The one thing she really needed above all else, was the snarky, annoying sarcasm of a stranger.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Mischa swiveled around to face him. "Was your brain damaged in the fall?" Her mouth twitched and her eyes widened, and warmth pulsed through her stomach. A tangible rage she couldn't even describe.

"You're only alive because of us, and this is what you have to say? A bunch of sarcastic crap while the world crumbles around us? While people are dying? Just look around!"

She pointed at a few corpses on the ground, twisted and broken with blood pooling under them. She could barely stomach the horrid sight of them, but he shrugged like they were nothing at all. "This isn't a game! I lost my—

The word hung on her lips. He wasn't a man worth sharing with.

"Just... you've no idea what we've been through, so either grow a heart or pretend to have one." She turned away again, but this time with purpose. "We could use the extra hands but please, for the love of everything holy and pure, cut the act."

"Maybe then you can be our damn cook." She huffed and took a deep breath, feeling a little better after telling him off. "Sorry if I'm being crazy, but—

She grabbed the spot on her arm where Rat nudged her, looking his way with a hint of weakness in her eyes. Like a piece of metal about to snap from exhaustion. "I'm not at my best right now; you've got the ship until I cool off." She gave him a small smile, returning his nudge as she looked at Nyall.

"There are a couple more, so I'm actually in agreement with him." She nodded at Goliath. "Strip down later when it counts eh? For now let's get the rest, and I'll start sendin em up with air bubbles."

Mischa kneeled beside an unconscious woman. Her clothes were bloodstained and covered with black soot, and she was barely breathing. "Up we go." Mischa conjured a wind bubble below the woman, and slowly, with the delicate touch of a nurse, she raised her to the distant sky. It wasn't the perfect solution, moving the wounded never was, but it was the only thing she could do for now.

Goliath Emphoa Anne Boolean

 

[Jet]

​

There was only one thing Zak wanted in the world — money. He needed a mountain of coins and every little scrap, no matter how small and insignificant, was precious treasure he'd protect. That was his existence; risking his life for the love of sacred money, and his familiar was exactly the same.

Mozzie could sense the treasure leaving his hand. The coins meant for a cause that couldn't be lost. Their path through the air and the exact spot, several feet off the ground, where he could intercept the bag. Then he ran forward and jumped high like a hurdler, biting the pouch from the air.

"Cracking good job mate." Zak said as Mozzie returned with the coins. "But stay sharp, seems we've some heroes among us." He looked over at Elriel with impassively still eyes. The gaze of a predator stalking prey, gauging the strength of his opponent.

"Thing about heroes is." He covered his arms in sheets of dense stone, forming gauntlets with long, razor sharp claws. Weapons meant to maim as much as kill. "They always find a way to end up dead."

"So take your mate's advice yeah?" He looked between Adamaris and Elriel — the twats looked like fashion models. No wonder they had something to say. "And for ya information fucksticks, we had a deal me n' him." He nudged the body with his foot. "I move the rock, he gives me coin. Not my fault he was properly fucked by gravity."

"The poor bastard." He chuckled at the flattened corpse. "Has me hankerin for pancakes, know any good spots?" He knew he'd never win them over, so why not make them squirm? Why not make the rich kids, who never wanted for anything in their lives, finally sweat for once?

"And that's not all I'm cravin, could use a scrap after watchin them fights." His smile widened into a mocking grin. "But do you have time to roll in the mud with a peasant like me? How'd you say?" He looked at Faraji with the same emotionless eyes. "Better uses innit? Plenty a folks need savin, and the clock keeps tickin, ain't that right heroes?"

His gaze momentarily moved to the dark haired boy. He'd been quiet but his strange aura, prim and proper, radiated like heat from a flame. Zak could tell he was the most abhorrent creature of all, beyond any monster in the badlands of Macragge. A beast he'd encountered once and barely escaped with his life.

He was a goddamn nerd.

Goliath Emphoa Arcanist ManofManyRoles

 

[Jet]

​

"Well of course I'm stronger than ya!" He proudly raised his big sword. "Pulled this out a stone with my own two hands, didn't even break a sweat!" His smile grew into a grin, and it was actually genuine this time. He quite enjoyed her sharp little outburst; proof his taunting did the trick. "But you'll be right as rain on a bright summer day, long as ya don't hack up your guts!"

He raised his brow at the thought of her nausea. He assumed her nerves caused the vomiting, but why would she do it now? Why at a time where every action, no matter how small it was, demanded precision and clarity?

People were so strange.

Bean wasn't like them. He never felt anxiety in dangerous situations, only the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. The excitement of coming close to death, only to rise above and win. That was the only time he was truly entertained, eclipsing even this strange, funny conversation.

But the game would end if Vixie lost her wits. The fire would consume them and then, much to his chagrin, he'd find himself at square one. What a boring turn that would be, so he put on a brave face and said, "I have faith in thee, my young retainer! By my holy decree, I shall knight thee if thy fires are held back accordingly!"

He laughed and skipped down the hallway, mischievously smiling when Felix challenged him. It was obvious bait but it was phrased correctly, in character according to the game. A game he continued when he said, "Indeed my old friend. You've always been a source of wisdom over the years, thine hat is removed to you, good Sir!"

"But a king must test his retainers from time to time, lest they grow weak and complacent." He knowingly nodded as they approached the fire's source; a mechanical room where natural gas was stored, powering hundreds of radiatiors. He could tell it was just around the corner. The fire grew hotter with every step, and the flames were fluorescent orange. Wrathful and raging. The kind that melted flesh off the bone.

"Not only must a king test his retainers my Lord, but he must give them the chance to claim glory for themselves!" He rounded the corner and there, at the end of a crumbling hall, was the room he knew about. The door was obscured by a wall of raging fire, thick enough to melt steel.

But he had no intention of making it easy on them; where would the fun be in that? Instead he patted Vixie's shoulder and flashed an expectant smile, waiting to see what she was capable of.

ManofManyRoles Lost Echo

 

[ZackStop]

Ren raised his head back up upon Cage Viper's request, as he didn't see the polite gesture as necessary. So instead, the boy listened to the man scraping together words of wisdom, commenting on the merits of the deceased Tetsu Shimamoto, even going so far as to honor him with booze despite never meeting him.

Ren was blasted immediately with it's harsh stench of strong alcohol as soon as the flask was opened and offered to him. He never really drank before, especially not something of this caliber, but he wasn't going to say no to The Cage Viper. Ren took it and hesitating for a moment as he held it, staring down into the dark depths of the flask, and tilted his head back. He took a big gulp and let out a few coughs while handing back the flask. "Yeah I... I guess..." He said in response to his many apologies.

He continued to listen to Cage Viper intently, resonating with the bit about following ones heart. Even as the man struggled to find the next set of words, Ren stared, expecting wise words. Even if Cage Viper fumbled a bit to get there, Ren clearly didn't even notice. The fact he was having a conversation with his hero was enough.

"Thank you, sir- er, Cage Viper. I will take your offer into great consideration!" Ren was compelled to bow but stopped himself mid way down and instead simply stood there, not sure what to do next.

Jet

 

[Jet]

Johan could almost see her town as she described it. He could feel himself running down alleys and narrow little streets, hiding in the shadows of tall concrete buildings. He could hear the sound of happy kids who, despite what was right and wrong, were forced to live and die by the sword. It was sad but fascinating at the same time. The way her country built cities for specific purposes; all the castes and laws stricter than a judge. He could barely wrap his mind around how they lived, but hell, at least it made good conversation.

"How can they control people like that? It's just—

"Insane." He felt annoyed at the world. The knowledge that no matter where they went, no matter who was controlling the pieces, humanity was completely fucked. "I'm sick of people."

"Everywhere you go it's more of the same; like we're trash." He looked at the commoners around them, each a pawn in someone else's game. Living to make dreams come true, but never, ever was it their own. "We're not much better off here. The Islands might as well have a caste system."

"It's a sick joke." His mouth pursed at the thought. "How can they just decide what you'll be? What if you're twice as good at painting than killing peo—

"Killing!" The old man exclaimed. "Oh... um." He flashed a nervous smile. "My humblest apologies for intruding! Took me aback is all!"

Johan looked at Narzas with a faint smile. "You're fine by me." He noticed the redness of her cheeks. The way she forced a smile when reminiscing of home, hiding the pain it caused her. He could understand why she felt that way. It sounded like a strange, confusing place for a kid to call home, and not one to revisit.

"Maybe we should stick to the Valencia trip." He draped his arm around her back, guiding her to his side. "I don't want to rustle bad memories, but now that I'm thinking of it."

"I want to do away with all the boundaries. The caste systems and noble titles, all of it." He leaned his cheek against her head, closing his eyes for a moment. "People shouldn't have their lives chosen for them. I'm not a philosopher, but that much is sure."

rozukitsune

 

[rozukitsune]

She was surprised by his anger as he spoke of people being controlled, made to comply. His questions seemed like they were meant to be rhetorical - but she answered anyway, turning her eyes back up to him as she looked a little tired. "Habit?" She offered quietly. "At first, perhaps a way those with power concocted to remain in power for as long as possible but now?" She shrugged her shoulders just a hair indicating the pointlessness of the question. "I think the vast majority are just doing what those before them did. If they don't fight the system then they at least get to enjoy what luxuries they get from it. Fighting decisions that were made long before they were born is a mountain most aren't willing to climb. A place of such grandiose proportions that it would make anyone quail at the base of it as they crane their necks to try and get a peek at the top - lost in the mists high overhead." She smiles at her own artistic choices of words and reaches out to squeeze his hand gently.

"I would never have even questioned it, probably; before you chose to speak to me." She commented with a wry chuckle. "I would have probably died in this explosion or to Tefra's blade if I had seen him and gone after him alone. I rarely spared a thought for alternatives to how things could be - found such idle musings pointless. I would do what I had to or be erased."

She glanced at the old man as he stared at them, the realization that he'd been rescued by possible murderers just now dawning on his face, and she offered him a patient smile. "It's been an interesting day, to say the least. I would no more return to that life now if it were offered with gold or at gunpoint."

Her eyes jerked to widen up at Johan as he drew her into his chest, her pulse spiking with both her new affection and her concern that this old man may yet be a spy who would out them, even though they'd helped save his life. The words on his tongue... impossible. Promises of derailing centuries of dug-in dynasties, toppling fascists and dictators. Her brow furrowed at the ridiculousness of it.

But... well, if she was being honest; she couldn't disagree. People should be allowed to forge their own paths. Wasn't that what she had decided when she had realized it was possible no one remained who might be aware she'd survived? That she could be free and wanted to believe it possible - and so had wandered off the beaten path? She hadn't wandered that far yet. But wander she intended to do.

Her eyes narrowed, but not in anger - the depths of her soul radiating determination. "I have no idea where we would start... but I would help you." She said seriously, hugging him back.

Jet

 

[Emphoa]

"Cooks often do have bad attitudes, think it would be pretty fitting." Rat let the tension- the bad remarks and the nasty looks slide right off his back. An immunity to those who would speak ill, it didn't bother him. His eyes flitted towards Nyall and Mischa, firmly pressing his lips together as he listened to Mischa tell the guy off and he supposed he did need a sort of a reality check. He was albeit grumpy Rat would deem him, and Remy had given a few choice words in his little rat speak that Rat would not dare repeat to show what the little familiar thought of the man as well.

He knew, though, that most of all Mischa was hurting from such a heavy loss and he couldn't blame her for that, he knew that it was hard- this was all so hard, so much loss, and it was close to home. Too close for them. He let out a breath, and his brown eyes snapped back into focus and onto the group as he focused back in on just what was happening. He offered Mischa a kind smile, cocking his head to the side before he gave a little salute. "Don't worry, captain, I can handle it." He promised, before he looked back at the others and clapped his hands together.

"Mischa is right- we don't have time to be snarky and act high and mighty. People's lives are in danger, so for now we can pretend to all at least get along enough to help these people." He stated, although it was more than apparent Goliath would likely be the only issue for that. "Hopefully we can have some others- Earth or air users who could help us get people out of here a lot more efficiently." He puffed out, before he looked back at Nyaall. "Help me look for more people- and you big guy can help us move people to Mischa to get them out of here."

He made a mental note- start working on more magitech that would be more helpful in situations like this one, in helping people. Maybe something to at least help wounds would have been ideal. But coming to the games he wasn't thinking of this scenario- he was thinking about how to defend himself, and how to take someone down as quickly as possible. Now, he was regretting not coming with more, but he knew he couldn't have planned for this. The boy shook his head to clear his mind, knowing he could make up for it by planning and building after this- he would have to. He let Remy back out, puffing out a little bit. "Scope around for me, would you?" He asked quietly, and his familiar skittered off a few moments after.

Jet Goliath Anne Boolean

 

[Jet]

"Hah! You're a good sport!" Craxus was confident and charismatic as always, but he didn't know what else to say. His simple mind was finally reading the depressing room, and it was a dark place indeed. The corpse on the ground was actually important to his young friend, and there was nothing he could do to help.

"All I can ask is for your consideration, I suppose." He was disappointed; deflated like a balloon leaking until it was flat. "You just need time to mourn him, then you'll come around." He took the flask and downed another sip, barely noticing the bitter taste. He thought it made him more of a man but in truth, it just made him an alcoholic.

"Well then." He swirled the flask in his hand, struggling to think of what to say. He wasn't used to normal people with normal feelings, but lunatics who'd kill grandma for coin.

"I've never been good at funerals. I get too drunk and say dumb things, so don't invite me." He took another sip as he mulled his next words, digging for something, anything to say. "He was old at least, lived a good life, that sort of thing matters to skylanders."

"in my home, it's about how you die instead of when you die, and good deaths are celebrated." His smile wavered for a brief, fleeting moment. "My father went out like the best of em, killed twelve bandits before the rest got him. You can't ask for a better death."

"We drank for three days straight, made sure to water his grave at least once a night." He tapped his flask with a cheeky smirk. "But your customs are—

"Soft hearted." He was trying his best to be diplomatic. "So will you burn or bury him? Or toss him in the sea? I can never guess with you people."

ZackStop

 

[Fred Colon]

The reporter had written her off. Good. He was clearly focused on Renn, and, wonder of wonders, actually wanted to talk about the Port Six Alliance. Funny. Perhaps she'd misjudged him. Most Nye reporters backed off the moment their government looked at them funny about a subject. She still didn't like reporters, but at least this one seemed interested in the truth, even if he had to bury that fact most of the time.

And at this bout of honesty, Renn dropped her façade. Kilderkin supposed she understood. Walter seemed to be showing a surprising amount of vulnerability, himself bashing the city. But she didn't quite trust him much yet. She hoped Renn didn't have anything particularly damning published in the paper when all of this was done.

But 'Kildi' wouldn't have any idea about the Por Six Alliance or have the mental adeptness to cut Renn off before she said something too dangerous, so she said,

"Woa, woa, woa. I'm with Esther, hey? These guys hurt a lot of innocent people. They're the real baddies. And I don't hate Nye. I think its a little mean to say this stuff about this nice city, don't you? What about this tournament? They must really care about folks, to give people from anywhere a chance to join the centurions!"
To balance out her urge to vomit after making a statement like that, she imagined how much this utterly inane statement would make Esther's blood boil. She really did like Esther, but 'Kildi' demanded extensive vengeance.

"If these Port Alliance guys are the ones that attacked, then they're just villains."

And they really were. Some of them, anyway. Kilderkin should know. Then, 'Kildi', looked up and around, as if she was looking for the reinforcements that would theoretically be arriving at any moment.
Jet Lost Echo rozukitsune

 

[Jet]

​

"I'll help you all the same." Johan held her close as a deep, tired breath escaped him. "Whatever your dreams become as you escape your old life, I won't be completely useless." He softly chuckled to show he was kidding, because he knew how morose he could be. It was another bad habit he'd developed over the years, one of many like she mentioned before.

But soon he'd escape them for good. He'd break his chains alongside his new crush, and together, closely watching each other's backs, they'd make their dreams come true. It didn't matter if they were realistic or not. It didn't matter if she was a dreamer and he was a dumbass, they'd find a way together.

"I'm guilty of buying into it, all the petty luxuries they give us." He chuckled once more. "But a penthouse feels empty when you're a slave. The wine isn't sweet and the food tastes bland, even if it's served on gold plates." He'd been the most shallow of men for many years, with nothing more than trinkets and expensive clothes to his name. The kind who worshipped money and status over everything else; his mind clouded by distractions and petty greed. But that could only take him so far. The emptiness eventually caught up and then, like glass hit by a hammer, his mind shattered into pieces.

The following years were miserable but at least they were real, and he wouldn't have changed without them. He would've never cared about a humble, young assassin from a distant land. He would've never talked to her and learned what made her tick, and he would've never kissed her and held her hand.

All in all, it seemed like a fair trade to him.

"Gods I'm exhausted," he said, snapping out of his trance. "The floor is starting to look comfortable, smack me if I nod off." He rubbed tiredness from heavy eyes, blinking a few times to keep himself sharp. "I'd love to take you out to dinner tonight, but I'm afraid I'd fall asleep at the table."

"I hope the beds are comfortable in prison." He flashed a cheeky smile. "But I think we'd be separated, talk about anti-climactic."

"Finally meet a good woman, only to shout at each other from different prison ce—

The word caught in his throat as troops swarmed the arena, and his stomach dropped at the sight. He could feel the moment of truth approaching like a storm in the distance, and he wondered, like so many victims of Nye, if he'd be executed for his crimes.

And the worst part was, there was little he could do to stop it. He could fight them here but then what? He'd be hunted across the world if he escaped, and then there'd be no saving him. No argument he could make in court. No way he could claim innocence. His only choice was to wait and see where fate took him, but even then he expected the worst.

rozukitsune

 

[Anne Boolean]

Ah, an electric-user. Well, unfortunately it indeed would not be useful in their current situation, but the color... Nyaall found it, dare he say, shocking. He would have dared were they not in a life-or-death situation currently, but for now, perhaps it was best to not get too distracted from the task at hand.

Despite thinking that, he had already played into the airship crew scenario the other two were dreaming up, and he had pulled Goliath in as well. He raised a brow back at the man when he seemed to get lost in thought at the question of cooking. Perhaps it was a meaningful activity for him. Which left Nyaall blinking when the guy only went on to give a surface level response after and turned away.

"... okay," he said. giving a small smile. "Guess we have our chef."

He let out a chuckle at the man's comment about his clothing, or eventual lack thereof. He considered making a joke about how that would be what so many people wanted, or how everyone around would be so lucky, but he figured that would just come off as arrogant, especially since no one in the immediate group seemed to know who he was or be that big of a fan. Even if the one person in the vicinity who was was in earshot, with her age, he figured it would be inappropriate. Besides, although Nyaall's management made sure he stayed in shape, he figured this man got a much better show every morning when he looked in the mirror. And then it was his turn to be distracted for a moment.

"It's only fair," he said, quickly pulling himself back to reality once he realized. "Gotta share the immodesty." He motioned with his head over to Mischa and what was left of her top after she had created makeshift gas masks. He went ahead and tore some fabric off the bottom of his own shirt, leaving him with a shoddier version of the crop tops he occasionally wore on stage. He wrapped it around the man's wound, making sure it was tied securely. He then also turned to face Mischa, electing not to dwell on the comment about the woman who had passed.

The cat boy blinked once again when Mischa retorted. Perhaps some coping mechanisms were just not that compatible. Or perhaps Goliath, and in turn Nyaall himself, were not appreciating the gravity of this situation. Then again, perhaps they couldn't. Or at least he couldn't, he wouldn't assume Goliath's situtation. From the heated exchange, it seemed like Mischa had lost someone she cared about. Nyaall didn't have many like that. Only two who were in the stadium, and one could argue the connections weren't strong enough to feel terrible loss over. Like before though, he continued to stay neutral. He cracked a smile at Mischa's orders, responding with an, "aye, aye, Captain," and wondering if she had caught the momentary ogling.

He watched as the redhead did as she said, and quite literally sent a woman floating upward with an air bubble. Nyaall... could think of several ways this plan could go wrong, but he figured voicing them would only make things worse. So he elected to not burst Mischa's bubble. And also to keep that poorly-timed pun to himself. "Right," he said to Rat's request. There was already ample light with his and Felix's efforts, but even the strongest light was unable to cut through the thick smokescreen around them. Instead, he elected to use his feline hearing. His eyes closed and the golden cat ears formed from light on his head twitched as tried to hear groan, breaths, or any signs of life.

Goliath Jet Emphoa

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas flushed and listened, quiet as Johan first promised to aid her in achieving her dreams - then moved on to talking about how he'd been exactly the sort of person who she'd just been theoretically describing before she'd met him. A cog in the machine content with the whole until the meaninglessness of it all had crashed in around his ears. Despite their audience, her hug shifted from platonic to intimate just by the way she held him. Her head rested against his chest and her fingers clung to the creases in his shirt. There wasn't really anything to say to all of that personal history nor to the promises. It was enough that he had made them.

When he joked about inviting her to dinner she lifted her head, her eyes twinkling with a range of emotions from resignation that their little moment was swiftly coming to it's end - to affection for his terrible jokes, and some in between of her empathy for his exhaustion. The comment about them being unable to share a comfy jail bed didn't get any particular extra reaction. She took it as just another thing on the list of reasons to feel hopeless about the uphill battle they were definitely facing rather than the probably ill-disguised innuendo that he intended it to be.

She followed his eyes to the approaching army and clutched him tighter. She would not let them take him from her.

...

Well, not permanently anyway.

Jet

 

[Goliath]

Goliath smirked, watching Nyaall stare at him. He was cute, so he wouldn’t complain about the attention. Even though he knew he probably looked a little rough himself. Goliath returned the gesture, looking him down for a moment. “Truthfully, I don’t really care about her immodesty,” he whispered for only the male currently touching his bicep to hear. Ultimately the makeshift bandage was snug but would be fine.

Goliath’s head tilted. He expected her to get upset at his comment, but this seemed excessive. What the hell was wrong with him? That was rhetorical, no doubt. Raising an eyebrow as he was asked if his brain was damaged in the fall. He had hit his head, but she didn’t know that bit of information.

“Because I’m not aware of the damage of the bomb?” he spoke, rolling his eyes. He was more enlightened than any of them about what it was like to be crushed under this very rubble, unable to move as he heard people cry out and die around him. One big rock from crushing his head, one steal beam from impaling him, away from sharing the same fate. As if that was a .. peaceful experience for him.

“You must have been able to live a life where death isn’t common,” he spoke, not needing to look around. Goliath opened his mouth to poke the woman further. But decided against it. She lost someone enough to feel this worked up? He was cruel, but even he had his limits. That concept, that emotion, was a foreign feeling for him. Not having anyone he cared about enough to respond that way. Minus maybe one, Draven, though he was still living fine in the Scandinavian West to the best of his knowledge.

Goliath chose to ignore the bit about having a heart. Though he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he was told to cut the act. She knew nothing about him and never would. Exactly how he liked it.

Goliath turned. He had already said they should help free the others, not needing to be nagged additionally by Rat. He didn’t like being ordered around, especially by this guy. He already knew his role in this group. “I’ll give you a pass this time,” he spoke dryly, walking over to start helping move any large debris and carry people to the drama queen. Probably more careful with the injured than would be expected of him if anyone looked.

Goliath continued to assist without complaint until all the people alive were finally free. Watching the last one float up in the air bubble. Somehow it had gone well despite his morbid thoughts of one popping high off the ground. Not that he could would do anything to stop it, touching the strap of his backpack. Maybe now he should compliment them on their work. But it wasn’t his way.

“Can I get out of this hole now, or are you leaving me down here until the reinforcements come?” He asked Mischa waiting for her response before joining them on the construct of air. Breathing his first good breath as his feet finally touched solid ground. Happy he had actually made it out of that alive, catching himself smiling for a moment before his face went back to stoic.

Jet (Misha) Emphoa (Rat) Anne Boolean

 

[Jet]

​

The guards wore plumed helmets and armor trimmed with gold, and behind them was an army of medics. They were a professional unit who'd been tested time and time again, but unlike them, their leader was a ruddy cutthroat. He wore black leather and daggers rattled from his belt, and his messy, long hair swayed as he entered the ring.

"Well isn't this peachy?" He couldn't imagine how many were dead. The countless thousands who, despite being contemptuous pricks, were largely innocent people. Luckily his stomach was steeled against the horrors of human cruelty, but some of his men wretched with disgust.

"Fucking hell." He narrowed his beady black eyes. "Gather anyone who can stand; save the rest." He waved his men to the stands. "And make it quick will ya? This place is fucking cursed."

His men followed the orders to a tee. They swarmed the arena and assumed control of the rescues, and soon he was surrounded by dozens of survivors. "Special forces we've got here eh?" He sarcastically smirked at them. "Name's Ekkhard, you'll be trailin' me to the palace."

"But not you." He squared up with Johan. "You'll be tried by the council for dereliction of duty."

(Narzas defends Johan, but he's peacefully arrested in the end. Not necessary reading.)​

Spoiler

Johan stepped forward from the line of survivors, grimacing like he'd been shot in the stomach. "There was nothing I could do!"

Ekkhard leaned back with hands on his hips, almost looking down on the centurion. "Stop complaining will ya? You'll have your day in court, not even a kangaroo one this time."

Narzas stood in the group, her eyes surveying the other survivors and finding herself surprised to spot a few she’d thought for sure would've died. Her measure of these individuals grew a little - then her attention was drawn to the man apparently made leader. She didn’t know leader of what… but it was clear he thought he was in charge - ordering them all around and just assuming they’d follow him blindly to wherever the army was planning on taking them. When he singled out Johan, her skin crawled and prickled and her eyes narrowed. Without a second’s thought, she stepped up beside Johan - though she resisted the urge to pull her knives from her belt or sleeves. She glared at Ekkhard, “On what grounds?” She demanded. “And what makes you think any of us are following you?”

"Ohhhh boy." Ekkhard leaned back with his hands on his hips. "Dereliction of duty miss, and you can stay if you want, fuck if I care, but you've been summoned by Lord Vincent."

Johan glared at the man and took another step forward. "Dereliction? How the hell could I have known what would happen?"

Ekkhard fished through his pouch for a pair of steel shackles, shrugging like he'd been asked the dumbest question in human history. "Sorry to disappoint my lord, but I have orders not answers."

"Follow them if you want, or take your chances on the run."

Narzas's mouth opened for a moment, but this time the young woman clearly quailed. Summoned… by the Lord of Nye? He couldn't personally know of her existence, yet Ekkhard seems assured that if she refused she would be setting herself up as an outcast. No… worse. Now that this Ekkhard had seen her face she could be hunted until the axe found her neck.

She shut her mouth and cast Johan a helpless look. She was as good as dead if Nye told Zuansin she lived, but then again she would be dead regardless if she tried to run. Nye had much closer executioners. All of her hopes of the future that had miraculously invented themselves in the last hour or so began to evaporate as she lowered her head in defeat. She was only one person. Even with Johan to help her they were two against a whole army.

Johan returned her gaze but unlike her, he had a small glimmer of hope. He'd always been a loyal soldier and knew, despite the arrogance of the thought, that he wasn't a disposable person. He was one of the strongest centurions and everyone owed him a favor, so he expected some form of clemency.

But maybe that was wishful thinking.

Maybe he would be imprisoned until he died of old age, or maybe they'd kill him right away?

He couldn't be sure, but he wasn't going to roll over like a coward; not when she needed his strength. "Don't worry yourself!" He deeply inhaled and straightened himself out. "I'll be a free man by morning." He offered his hands to Ekkhard. "Come then! I could use some new jewelry."

Ekkhard took a pair of shackles from his belt, slapping them on Johan's outstretched hands. "You've been downright amicable." His mouth curled at the corners, a thin smile that was barely visible. "I thank you for it, truly. Always hated putting a man in chains."

"You can walk together but no conspiring on my watch, or at least none I can hear."

Narzas was prepared to sink quietly into her thoughts, arrange what hope she had or safeguard the flame of her newly born heart. Then Johan told her not to worry, and she blinked at him, surprised by how easily her heart leapt back up off the edge of despair. She straightened too, not ready to just give up and certainly not about to run away when Johan seemed so confident he let the man shackle his wrists. She nodded slightly to him, accepting what he believed to be the truth as fact, then stared in surprise at Ekkhard as the man offered to let them walk together.

Oh… right. She was doing a terrible job at hiding her affection wasn't she? Blushing with embarrassment, she fell into step next to Johan and inwardly tossed the notion of protecting him with her silence away. She'd been a fool to think she could do such a thing anyway - she decided. After all, she had always been abysmal at the social parts of her job. She'd just have to find another way.

There were some protests and snarky little quips, but Ekkhard dismissively said, "Now's not the time for whinging."

"Lord Vincent demands your attendance. If you take exception then by all means, fuck off." He nodded at the gates. "But there's no telling what'll befall ya."

There were some who fucked off as instructed, but enough stayed to meet his quota. "Well then," he said with a smile. "I've seen wild dogs less mangy, but you'll do nicely!"

"So c'mon then." He led them out and across Nye like a guide, making conversation to pass the time. There were some complaints, heated discussions and more questions than he could count, but he didn't give them details. It wasn't his place after all.

Eventually they reached the palace and then, after walking for over an hour, they finally stood in the throne room. It was lined with stained glass over a polished marble floor, and in the center was a throne on a pyramid of wide, oversized steps.

"Welcome." Lord Vincent leaned forward in his throne. "I will not waste time on useless pleasantries, not when the fate of Nye hangs in the balance."

"You are immune to the weapon, and more importantly, untouched by the machinations of Nye." He stood and approached them with the slow, stubborn confidence of a continent. His steps echoing through the room. "You are a resource, a very valuable resource, one worth exploiting to its potential."

"But not without compensation."

"Find the men responsible for this atrocity, and I will make you rich beyond belief." He folded his hands behind his back, pacing down the row of survivors. "If that is not enough to whet your appetite, distinguished service will be rewarded with this."

He held out a badge shaped like a shield, with two arrows crossed at the center. "A centurion commission. There is no greater honor in Nye."

"You will not work directly under me of course. The throne has demands, ones I cannot attend while overseeing your investigation — however." He looked at the door behind them. "He will serve as my surrogate."

"Quite the introduction." Gust walked in with three guards behind him. "The cream of the crop I see."

"Indeed." Vincent thinly smiled at the quip. "I'm sure you'll make the most of them, unless you've lost your touch."

"You kidding?" Gust said. "There's not a chance."

"Good." Vincent looked at the group of survivors. "I will not compel you to fight for me. Take your leave If the arrangement is unsatisfactory."

He paused for a painfully long moment, watching a dozen leave without a word. They were mostly non-combatants, average men without any merit to their names, so he was hardly bothered by the loss. "It seems the chaff has sorted itself."

"If you've inquiries then now's the time, but keep them short and precisely to the point. I've not the interest, nor time for lengthy discussions when we're at war."

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

 

[Jet]

​

Anya's focus was on the kids. Brian had gathered them together as they popped out of the stands, repeating her words. But still, she knew how hard not having a home was. "What about the kids that survived? Who'll take care of 'em?"

Vincent wryly smirked at the compassionate question, taken aback at its selfless nature. He'd spent too many years around self centered nobles and arrogant generals, nary a moral among them. "They'll become wards of the state, beyond that?"

He slowly leaned forward in his seat. "Extended family will adopt them if they so choose. Failing that, one of the lodges will take them as an apprentice."

He leaned back as another person spoke up, this one a wealthy noble named Elriel. “As you call it, a centurion commission, is indeed an honor. But I must ask — you say ‘distinguished service’ will be rewarded. I will need more information as that statement is rather vague. How do you measure that and what will qualify? Also who will decide if our accolades warrants this?"

"Doubly, if we complete this quest as centurions, where your current members cannot, only to then lose our status of such upon successfully accomplishing our roles. It seems .. predatory. Money is irrelevant for me, so I must also question. What is our long-term societal gain in going your forces?”

Vincent smirked at his questions. He never expected such an open challenge in court, and the sheer audacity amused him. "Well said Elriel of Valencia." His glare pierced the man like a blade. "When I was a child, I once complained that another boy had better clothing. His tunics had gold filigree whereas I, a deprived child, was only given silver."

"My father brought me to the warrens to teach me perspective, showed me the urchins in lice covered rags; patchwork shoes held together by twine."

"Perhaps your father should do the same?" He narrowed his cold, grey eyes into slits. "But your first question has merit; distinguished service will be decided by your commanders."

He looked around the room for the next person to speak, stopping on a young musician he vaguely recognized. "I'd like to help," Nyall said. "But I'm under a contract with other people."

"You insult me," Vincent quipped. "You are immune to the most lethal superweapon on earth; your contract is of no concern to me. I will purchase it and release you, or void it if need be." He looked through the man in the same sharp, imposing way as before. "Assuming you accept my offer, of course."

The next to speak was a rough woman from a backwater. Her mere presence sucked royalty from the room. "Are we working within the boundaries of Nye's laws, or getting special privileges?" Charlie wasn't done yet, hitting him with another question. "And are we being trusted to handle this? Or should we expect babysitters?"

Vincent was more than prepared for this question. "Special investigations require rules of equal measure. You may bend the law when required, but use your best discretion. I will not tarnish my reputation to protect roving thugs."

"Now for your second query, you will be divided into units overseen by centurions, and you may call them whatever creative name comes to mind." He surveyed the group with growing annoyance; the number of questions was mounting with every second. "Perhaps you should've formed a line?"

"Maybe so," Adrian said, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. "But enlighten me? Why are we working for you specifically? Why not Nye as a whole?" He gauged the king with his sharply stern eyes. "What aren't you telling us about the city?"

Vincent glared at the rebellious young man, a hint of annoyance in his eyes. "Shall I inform you when I use my chamberpot?"

"I want detailed reports," Adrian said.

Vincent's mouth curled once again, his smile invisible from a distance. "You do not understand the gravity of your questions, but suffice it to say, there are more factions than Nye and its assailants."

Adrian could read between the lines. It was clear the king had enemies in his backyard, ones he didn't want meddling in his business. With that he returned to his edgy position on the wall, closely listening as Esther asked another question. "I want to look at the information you have. Especially on that orb, but everything. We can't help with incomplete data."

"Of course," Vincent said. "You will be fully informed when the time is right." He wasn't going to give her a timeline because, no matter how educated she was, she was there to follow orders. There was no need to completely fill her in.

But his thoughts were soon interrupted by a young, scared little girl. It was shocking that she was even there but, if Vincent was correct, she'd been a contestant in the games. That made her better than most in his defense force, even if she looked like a cat backed into a corner.

"Um," Vixie croaked, coughing a bit to clear her throat. "I want to help! I do!" Her gaze darted to Nihal, then Felix before going back to the centurion. "But...can I see my parents first?"

"I will make arrangements for them to visit, but let me be clear." Vincent looked down the row of survivors. "You will not freely roam while under my command. There are many who'd see you dead because of your station, most of all the men who attacked the arena, and I will not lose key soldiers to ill-advised field trips."

There was a long silence punctuated by distant, echoing footsteps. The sound of wind hitting windows and a few coughs. The king regent scanned the group and with a slight smile, he concluded that he was done for the day. "Good, you are dismissed." He expectantly looked at the door but then, like a cherry on top, Kilderkin stepped forward and said, "Thank you for the generous opportunity to become a Centurion!"

Vincent blankly stared at the woman. He wasn't sure exactly what her problem was, but there was something wrong with her. "Yes of course," he droned. "You are most welcome." He looked at the door once again. "Now off with you, I've much work and little time."

The group was led from the room by Gust, Ekkhard and small group of guards. They soon arrived at one of the huge palace towers, taking a large, circular elevator to the top. There they found a skydock and a mighty, storied warship named The Crest of Freedom.

It was a steel plated galleon brimming with mana casters, dense armor and massive propellers. They drove her through the sky at breakneck speed, and soon the group found themselves at Kastro, a mighty fortress in the sky.

​

It was here where they recovered for the next week, tended by a centurion named Elise Toussaint. Her mythic power expedited healing ten fold, so everyone was healthy after seven days. There were other facilities to keep them busy on the island, from a gym to sparring halls and training with centurions, along with open markets and little shops. It was a pleasant week for some people, but soon they were briefed on their missions, assigned to a centurion and prepared to leave.

Now that you're caught up to speed, you can choose one of two starting points.

1. Interactions while approaching your first destination.

2. Beginning at the first destination.

Discuss with your teammates and let me know what you'd like to do!

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

 

[ManofManyRoles]

𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓻 '𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴' 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓻

If there was one thing he disliked most, it was being restrained, be it body, mind, or spirit. And unfortunately, in Mavior's opinion, being at the behest of a man he had no trust for fell into that criteria. Led from the arena into a den of vipers, surrounded by people he did not know nor necessarily feel any attachment for as of yet. Where others listed off questions, many of them quite sound questions, he was more intent to listen and observe. After all, he was a stranger in a strange land, and a healthy amount of scepticism led to a higher chance of survival in his experience. However, he was also not one to sit idly by after something like this had happened. Dangerous as it may be, he had to work in his own right to do whatever he could to ensure more lives weren't lost by the thousands...and perhaps, in doing so, find a way to help his sister as well.

Though his group may have been offered a means of transport so 'generously' offered by Nye's governing figure, Mav was disinclined to accept such a gift. There were too many things to consider, was it truly trustworthy, was it as reliable as his own craft, did it bear the same benefits? No, he was persistent in his belief that what he could offer as a means of transport was far better, relic of old it may be. The craft Mavior called home, a gift from his little home to the West could comfortably fit the entire group, even if 'comfortable' was a subjective term. The inside was dimly lit, enough to where a person could see but dim enough Mavior and Ace could shed their goggles when the sun had set outside. What a strange craft he governed, however, unlike anything another may have seen. Gauges and switches, small outputs and readings for report of internal functions of the most minor degree, all the way to the more 'important' features such as speed and compass direction. Computer's of black screen and green text displayed information at the helm, whisperings the secret of the course that had been charted, the air and wind speed outside, as well as other essential information outputs. One screen, smaller in size, sported a single radar that was content to circle about and around, time and again, ever searching for something that the naked eye may miss from distance. Hydraulic powered systems ensured the ships inner workings and metal organs stayed cool while they worked, the hum of energy all about the ship an ever present reminder that while it's world may have died, it would refuse any option other than to live. Understandably because of all of this, Mav insisted that he handle the manning of the craft, for fear of the unknowing causing some untold destruction or dismay. There was only other thing he had requested, above all else be minded. When the outside doorways were locked, to never tamper with them. He never did expound on to the why, but it was one of the few times his voice had a shred of serious tone to it.

Bunking was simple enough, the likes that collapsed from the walls and suspended by chain, comfortable to a degree but would show no competition to a proper bed. There were enough for every member of this little crew, ensuring none had to lay their head on metal floor, though it would only take one toss or turn in the evening to land with a thud on that cold and unforgiving surface. In the corner, carefully cultivated and maintained was a collection of small hydroponics bays that looked like an 'aftermarket' modification to the craft, ill-fitting in design to the rest of the ship, were filled with curious plant life. Some followed the inhabitants about if they moved too close, as if to reach out towards them, one even snapped shut like a hound when one drew closer to it still...nothing of any 'civilized' land may have produced. Beside those bays was a small workbench, lined with alchemical and apothecary tools, with the other side of planters lined with more benign and almost hauntingly gorgeous flowers that all smelled heavy of the same aroma that hung around the Booker siblings.

Perhaps the most important, or at least more 'exciting' feature of Maviors craft was a working shower stall, a very small water closet adjacent it that was large enough to fit one person and one person alone in either the shower or water closet. Inside of his own element, Mavior darted to and fro at all times it seemed, be it to check a gauge, to work at a bench, to check on Ace, or ensure that all was functioning well in the small compartment duct that held the actual machinery of the craft. It took a day and a half for him to settle, the blend of energy and an alien situation finally petering out. The craft now breezed over the North Atlantic, weather fair and overcast. Acacia, usually one much more outgoing and active than Mav, had been doing her best to present a tough front to the males on the ship, but she was only one to talk at the moment when someone engaged her first. To move about, she was confined to a crutch, all of her body weight having to weigh on one side of her body and short trips only possible with an awkward gait supported by said medical instrument. For now, she sat on a bunk, leaned up against a wall and eyes shut, the pale woman's goggles tightly gripped in her only working hand. It was dark enough outside thanks to overcast and a lowering sun that she could allow her eyes a chance to actually feel air against them. Mavior, to his part, simply loitered near the helm, fingertips rapping against a console in thought.

Goliath Emphoa Jet EldridSmith​

 

[Goliath]

Post Advancement:​

Goliath saw the mass amount of guards storm the Colosseum, where they stood, “a little late for that, isn’t it,” he spoke under his breath, staring at the armor. He instantly felt unease by the amount of organized authority around him, their dress, not all that different than the Licensed Mages of the Byzantine. He gritted his teeth, following the rest of the people in stable conditions to the man who was the ring leader.

Goliath stood with his arms crossed, towering over those around him. His red eyes narrowed as Ekkhard told them they needed to follow him to the palace. He just scoffed, listening to the thinly veiled threat as he looked at the gate. ‘What harm does it do to go to the palace? I’ll probably never get invitees to somewhere so .. fancy .. again,’ he thought.

He stood at the back of the sizeable crowd during their hour-long walk. Not wanting to be sandwiched in the middle in case there was another attack. But eventually, they made it without issue, standing in front of the palace. It was..something. Not that he’d ever show how impressive he found the construct or anything else, for that matter.

As they stepped into the throne room, he looked around again before his eyes settled on the one-and-only ruler of Nye. Goliath’s hands were in his pockets, appearing bored as the man started to walk the line of survivors; he wasn’t paying much attention at first. Not taking kindly to being called a ‘resource.' But became more interested as he heard the mention of compensation. Money was good. Though it wasn’t enough to risk his life for another country. And then .. his eyes locked on the badge.

To become a centurion, that was a foreign concept. It had never been his goal, but it would only serve to benefit his gang to have a centurion in their ranks. He’d have to pay someone to write Draven for him. Needing permission. Goliath was only supposed to be away from the Scandinavian West for a while. But he doubted there would be any problems. Everything else was irrelevant, though he couldn’t help but smirk as Vincent gave plenty of attitude to most of the questions. It made it more bearable.

And then they were off again. A large tower, a massive circular elevator, and a ship bigger than he’d ever seen. Goliath relaxed as they left the dock, making sure he sat by himself as they made their place to somewhere called Kastro.

Goliath rather enjoyed his time in the fortress, all things considered. They had a pretty skilled medic who evaluated him. Of course, his visible cut wasn’t the only injury he had received. Internally he had a lot of trauma to his organs. But it didn’t take her long to heal him. And after that, because of all the free time, he took advantage of sparring with centurions. As it reminded him of home.

——

Plot Advancement:​

He got his assignment. They were leaving today .. in an hour. Goliath knew he would have a team. But he was still in the dark as to who or what. Which was fine. He would meet them, and they would probably be told on the ship what their job was as well. Goliath went to the docks at the specified time, finding a small vessel. Big enough for just a handful of people. He entered, having to duck through the door before sitting at a table, waiting for the others to arrive.

A file of information was left on the table, but it was useless for someone who could not read. As people came in, he scanned the group around him. Nyall was sitting there, the only person who wasn’t a stranger and was now properly dressed. Hoping that he would stay quiet about their .. unfortunate meeting. Along with a redhead male, too confident about his rusty blades. A man with long hair who looked like a hippie. And a fucking child. He scoffed, “this mission is doomed before it even begins,” he spoke, rolling his eyes.

Goliath didn’t complain much during the briefing, relying on their babysitter to speak the details. The gist was they were investigating two missing centurions who were assigned a mission to find the son of a high noble family. And to do that, they would go to the Under City of Nye, where crime was rampant. For him, it wouldn’t be much different than his daily life.

As the meeting concluded, they landed. And his group followed the centurion through Nye. It was like a maze. Left. Right. There was no way he’d ever remember the path. But maybe that was the point.

Eventually, they were in an area tucked away from the general population. In front of them stood a door made of metal, similar to those you would see in prison, with two guards standing at either side. “How’d you get stuck with such terrible jobs?” He chuckled, antagonizing them.

He watched as the first key was inserted by their centurion. And then a second, which was pulled from one of the watchmen. 'Double security,' he thought.

The door swung open slowly with a creak granting them passage to a dark, damp staircase. “Missing your captain already? Come on Flashlight,” he spoke, looking at Nyall.

His red eyes looked further down at the little girl. “Scared of the dark, yeah? Children should just stay home. Crime cities are no place for you.” He spoke, his voice menacing.

Goliath turned to the other two men, who deserved at least his name since they would be working together. Plus they’d be more useful than the kid. “Goliath Lane. Lightning affinity.”

Introductions always annoyed him, shaking his head. “Tell me, any experience with jobs like this? Battles? Anything of use at all?” He also asked as they started following the centurion again. Down the stairs as the door shut behind them with an echoing rattle.

Jet (Adrian) Arcanist (Faraji)
Anne Boolean (Nyaall) Lost Echo (Vixie)

 

[ZackStop]

Ren didn't really know how he wanted to send his grandfather off, it wasn't something he was prepared to answer. When the Cage Viper asked, he couldn't manage much in speech. Perhaps he thinking of an answer, not only for Cage Viper but for himself as well, or maybe Ren was once again trying to take this new reality all in, a life without his last known relative. He really didn't know how to approach any of this. He was only 16.

But perhaps the answer to all his questions would come swiftly as seemingly the rest of the world finally caught up to what has happened. A whole swarm of people came flooding through the only entry point, what looked like soldiers of high society. It was clear that help had finally arrived after what felt like hours, and it very well could have been that long.

Ren felt it appropriate now to get old Tetsu off the ground. His face was still covered by Ren's cowl. It made things easier for Ren not to have to see his grandfather's cold, motionless face where it can linger in his mind as a haunting image. There were plenty of medics, tending to the remaining survivors, but not much could be done for him, not anymore. But at the very least they were professionals, and Ren could rest easy.

With what strength Ren had in the midst of tragedy, he held his grandfather up in his arms as medical personnel swarmed. His eyes met with one of them, prompting them EMT to rush over. Not many words had to be exchanged to understand that the man he was holding no longer had a pulse. Not only that, but despite his optimistic demeanor, Ren's expression told most of the story. He may not have been crying or outwardly expressing his pain, his eyes had just gone blank.

As the medics came to gather another body, Ren was hesitant to hand over his grandfather. He knew they were just doing their job, but he didn't want to part with him. "Please, Son, we need to take him with the rest." one said, which stunned Ren for a moment. The chaos of all these new people ripping and running around the arena was disorienting, and Ren just didn't know how to comprehend their protocol.

"I- Don't understand. Where will you be taking my Grand Dad?" Ren asked with increasing worry, with three people now trying to make sense to him the situation. It felt like they were all trying to have a conversation with him at the same time, never giving him time to catch up, but he managed to understand "taking him to the morgue" as the speed of which everything was going allowed them to successfully take the body. "But- wait, will you at least let me stay with him? I can come with!" Ren spoke with haste, as he briskly walked with them. He still held his grandfather's cold wrist as he did.

"Sorry, kid, but there's too much on our plate as it is!" One woman spoke up as they tried to carry the body off. They wee clearly overwhelmed. "You'll be informed when the time is right, now please let us do our job."

Upon hearing those words, Ren finally gave up, the wrist of his grandfather being yanked away. "But- I-" He wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words, knowing that anything he chose would fall on deaf ears. Instead he stood there along side Phalanx to watch the cowl fall from the body and onto the dirt floor. Ren picked it up, but as he did only one question remained in his mind. "What do I do now?"

Looking over, Ren saw a crowd being gather, people he recognized from the games, and some more in particular, nameless faces he had met in their little excursion. Memories of recent events flashed in his mind, those of Tefra. He needed no escort as he shook off the cowl and swung it around his shoulders. Ren and Phalanx joined the crowd where they immediately recognized Johan being arrested. "That guy..." Ren said to himself. "What's he getting arrested for though?"

He didn't have much time to ponder on that, in fact he hardly had time to think at all. It was probably a good thing, but things were going so fast, Ren hardly noticed that the crowd had already left him in the dust. "Ah, crap!" He took a deep breath. "I guess I'm coming too." He mumbled to himself and marched ahead.

 

[Jet]

​

Johan approached a ship named The Blue Runner, a sloop with a narrow hull and only one extra deck, but it was good enough for now. They weren't flying across the world to a distant land filled with enemies, but a local island known for production. He wasn't exactly thrilled about the location but still, no matter how much it sucked, it was much better than a prison cell.

"I heard we're working with psychos." He smirked at Narzas. "The worst of the worst; bottom of the barrel guys." He climbed a ramp to the old wooden deck, frowning as he thought about the mission. He knew it was connected to Tefra and the poison in his blood, drawn before he vanished from the morgue.

They'd find the company who produced the incredibly rare, incredibly potent poison they found, then search their records and arrest the mole. It sounded good on paper but then again, there was an old saying about mice and men, and Johan sensed something in the air. A bad omen like cold winds on a summer day.

He wasn't sure what caused his concern, but if he had to guess, it involved Tefra's strange disappearance.

"I heard Tefra up and vanished from the morgue." He chuckled in disbelief. "Mortician said they lost him… how the hell do you lose a body? I swear people are getting dumber every year." He stepped onto the deck and his smile, once subtle and barely seen, now stretched from ear to ear. "Ah! Here are the psychos I mentioned." He nodded at the small group. "I'm glad everyone survived that shit show."

"And whatever happens I've got your back." He looked at his partner in crime-solving. They'd grown even closer in the past week of imprisonment, but for now it was all business. Otherwise they'd never have Vincent's help in court. "We've got your back I should say."

"Stop your blabbing!" The captain said from the wheel. He looked like the most stereotypical sailor in human history, with wrinkled skin and a long white beard, and one of his eyes bulged from his head. "Are ya ready or not? I've got a schedule to keep!"

"Yeah," Johan said. "We're all set." His gaze landed on the muscular woman he didn't know, and her physique was simply ridiculous. She towered over everyone and her rippling muscles, like steel cables on a bridge, were taught and rock solid. It was unnerving and quite a strange sight to behold, but she'd be useful for smashing doors, smashing monsters and smashing people in the head. So he was happy to have her aboard. "Well met." He held out his hand. "Johan Koch, second captain of the Greencloaks."

"We already solved one mystery together." He looked around the small group. "I think we can go two for two." He offered them a small, confident smile as the engines powered on, and the ship slowly drifted from the skydock. The sea stretched out below them like a distant wall of deep blue; green hues shining in the morning sun.

rozukitsune ZackStop Lost Echo Huntertabbysandshark3

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas followed Johan onto the boat, her eyes wary of the wooden slats and sails flickering in the light breeze. She didn't like flying, or sailing... she far preferred to have both feet on the ground thank you very much. As he filled the air with conversation, she found herself grateful for the distraction from her nervous tension. She knew why they were both here... Johan had gotten a postponement to his hearing in exchange for doing this little 'favor' and she - well...

She had tried to bust him out of his Jail cell rather unsuccessfully.

More and more, it was becoming evident that Shino Hana - the "secret" society that had raised her; had sent her to Nye explicitly to get her killed just so they wouldn't have to deal with her and her incompetence and soft-heartedness anymore. The Elite guards keeping Johan secured had practically baited the trap and then once she'd triggered it, snatched her up effortlessly in it.

She really needed to work on that.

Anyway, she had been given the same offer as he by the smirking asshat of an errand-boy they'd sent to deliver the message and... seeing no way out of it had agreed. So long as she was here to be 'accidentally executed' she may as well just get it over with.

She was barely paying attention as he commented on their potential coworkers, though his mentioning Tefra's body had vanished from the morgue tugged her interest from where it had been buried under her silent fuming. Her eyes turned as he greeted the others that had been conscripted and she was surprised to recognize two of their number.

Anya had been with them during the rescue of the last-standing section of arena and Ren had been with her and Ilana while she'd been helping to pull survivors from the subsequent wreckage. The last person she didn't recognize... but that didn't really matter. It was a surprising balm to her soul that these crazy kids had survived the insanity that had befallen them all during the games and she found herself smiling alongside Johan as he told the group of them that the pair of assassins would have their back.

"Narzas Oce, ex-assassin for the Hana sect of Riyu." She bowed from the waist in a very Zuanshin manner. "At your service."

Jet ZackStop Lost Echo Huntertabbysandshark3

 

[ZackStop]

Days passed on by until the fated day. Ren spent his time mentally preparing himself to aid Nye in whatever capacity they expected, as well as tending to his weaponry and plenty of time practicing technique on Kastro. In a way, it was an escape from reality. He didn't want to think about it, but the key around his neck was a constant reminder. "As soon as we're done here..." He said under his breath, looking over to Phalanx. They had the same thing on their minds.

Now seen with a more casual wardrobe, a baggy, worn out T-shirt and some pants reinforced with some leather, his usual look when he worked at the shop, Ren followed the directions laid out on a sheet of paper. The bag over his shoulder held his belongings, from his 'shield katars', to the tools that maintain them. "Crap, I hope I'm going the right way." He peered at the paper close to his face. He already had to get someone to write this down for him, so the last thing he wanted was to get turned around.

Ren and Phalanx stood on the dock just taking a moment to ensure they were in the right place. That when the two overheard Johan. "Here are the psychos I mentioned." could be heard from a short distance, causing Ren to perk up. Turns out, he was in the right place after all. "Huh? Really?" He looked up at Narzas and Johan as he recalled their last team up. It didn't take him long to even notice Anya as she approached. He immediately looked down at Phalanx as the boy scratched his head sheepishly. "Some coincidence, huh?"

He took a moment to let them pass before turning forward again to board the ship. "No time like the present." he said under his breath. He didn't want to look like a weirdo just standing there as if waiting for something, but just as he was about to, the strangest shadow came casting over him. "Erm-" He then froze mid step, as the behemoth known as Ava passed, leaving him completely shocked. "Even the guy I was supposed to fight wasn't that big!" He shouted to himself in his head. He shook his head to unpetrify himself before hurrying on board as the captain shouted for haste.

Now that he was on board, something did occur to him, even though he had worked with Anya, Johan and Narzas, the latter was the only one who shared a formal introduction amongst the chaos. He didn't know Johan at all, and was only familiar with Anya from the first round of the games, then Ava who he had never seen before in his life. He was pretty sure he would remember someone like that. "Actually, um..." He spoke up. "Even though I've worked with most of you, I don't think I ever got to introduce myself." He took a breath. "I'm, uh, Ren Shimamoto. Nice to meet you all." He then bowed, as was customary in his upbringing. The key around his neck managed to slip out of his collar. He looked down at it from a moment before sticking it back in his shirt and patted it down.

 

[Lost Echo]

~Pre/During Advancement~​

Should she move him? Did she dare? Or was the acid sizzling the tips of her feathers keeping the other germs out? Now that she was close enough to touch, she could see the nubs on his neck, indicating that he’d merged. And the coat of what she thought was poison from his stores was actually slime glistening in the sun. She knew of Spicy’s healing element, but could he truly return from this? As she looked down at his charred chest, she wondered, were the bones a little less exposed than before? Starring down at the wound, she tried to remember, to see any improvement. Instead, she realized she was dripping tears onto the seared skin. She leaned back, trying to wipe at her eyes before hissing as some of the acids tried to get in. Blinking rapidly, her tears were able to rinse off, leaving thin streaks of red down her pale face.

As her vision cleared, she realized reinforcements arrived. What had taken so long? Had the orb killed so far out they were only now reaching the epicenter? Trying to push down that chilling thought, she waved a red-crossed centurion over.

“Be careful of the poison: I don’t know what was in it.” When they neared she pointed at the shattered remains. She stood carefully, moving out of the way of the experts; a water mage quickly rinsed the acid away. When the other expressed confusion over the slime, she was there to fill in, “His familiar has an increased healing factor. But Spicy’s slimy.” She shrugged, not actually knowing more than that. With a remark that “Elise’ll have fun with this one,” the two worked quickly to transport him to a stretcher, and then he was gone.

Inhaling deeply, she spun around, returning to Ava’s side. Reaching up to touch her bicep, her hand like a child’s compared to it, she got the girl’s attention. “Doc’s not in great shape. Not Ace’s level of bad, but that’s because of Spicy.” Her eyes cut to where the centurion was stabilizing Acadia. She glanced around, confused as to where Mavior went when—oooff, Brian ran at her full speed, causing her to stumble back into the rock wall that was Ava.

“You’re back!” Immediately he began to tug her away from her friend, though the blond boy did call, “I’ll give her back in a second!”

Anya, though she wished for a longer hug, followed willingly, to a cluster of children. There were so many. Probably more than were on Peirama. They were separated into groups: some helping the injured—she hoped no one was beyond their ability, some seemed to be going out in small groups, and the third group seemed to be entertaining the little ones. And one pair stood on the outside, waving their hands excitedly, encouraging a little girl in overalls to reach them.

Brian led her to A teen, surely old enough to have a familiar, though Anya couldn’t immediately see one. “So this is the great Anya?”

The crane girl merely gave a shrug, “I’ve had better days, to be honest.”

They gave a snort, “Yeah, me too.” They shared a laugh before they spoke again, “I’m Alex, this kid’s been singing your praises since he found me.”

Looking around, Anya was impressed. “It looks amazing.” She ruffled Brian’s hair, “You did good kid.”

“We have each other.” He parroted, his pale cheeks red with happiness.

Alex shrugged, “It works.”

“Does anyone need a doctor?”

“Oh yeah! Where’s your doctor friend?” The boy interrupted

Dragging a claw along the ground, she looked down and murmured, “He’s not doing great right now. But his familiar’s a…salamander?” She looked up, trying to decide if that was true, “I think that’s right. Whatever he is, he’s got regeneration, Doc’ll be fine.” She hoped it wasn’t a lie.

A shadow crossed Alex’s face, but they said nothing. Anya could imagine what they were thinking. At least someone is. Or maybe of someone that wasn’t. Like Blake. Adults had to have noticed this, even if some of the older kids seemed to be distrusting. Blake would be helping. Blake would have come here and laughed at her ducklings.

Taking a deep breath, she blew out noisily, as if to expel the thoughts. “Okay. How can I help?”

Anya ended up helping Alex. Brian stayed by her side, but the teens prepared for when they’d have to move. Everyone was grouped off, two kids with two of the older ones. Anya told them to use their numbers. If everyone refused to be separated from those groups, then they should be able to stay together. Some, especially those with babes had five, but it worked well. There were those who had a parent outside of the arena, safe at home. They were spread throughout groups, those with phones giving numbers while addresses were traded. They’d try to get help from the outside if Nye fails them. Hopefully, it’ll keep someone from going like Hannah. Anya also told them about Peirama—its dangers, but also her friends there would help, it’d just have to be a few at a time.

But then the adults were moving, and Anya wanted to know what was happening. So she had to follow. It was difficult to leave Brian, who’d wanted to be in her group, but Alex gathered him into a hug and let the boy cry. Heartbroken, the crane girl tried to explain, “If I can make sure they don’t just leave you to the streets of Nye, I gotta do it.” She’d heard rumors of the Undercity of Nye. None of these kids deserved that. She didn’t mention her fears of kidnapping, though she knew it was in the minds of many.

Returning to Ava, she followed the crowd, surprised to overhear they were literally going to meet Lord Vincent. ‘Or was that just a lure to capture them?’ She doubted it as the arena filled with enough centurions to corral them into pens if nothing else. So she followed quietly, wrinkling her nose at the gaudy palace, shining down on Nye to show the people they were lesser.

It was Lord Vincent, though his throne wasn’t a surprise, who was waiting for them. Immediately he named them a resource, though he reassured them they would be exploited, but for money in return. Anya knew she was going. This was an even better in to make connections and find Hannah. Still, she couldn’t forget the others. She immediately grabbed the chance to ask questions.

“What about the kids that survived? Who'll take care of 'em?"

She listened as he expounded on their possible futures. It was something. She didn’t trust Nye, but hopefully what they’d set up would be enough to keep them safe. They had each other; she had to worry about Hannah now.

As the questions continued, she was surprised when a young girl spoke up, asking for her parents. How had she fallen through the cracks? Why hadn’t she joined the group? There were enough of them to be obvious. Anya worried she was alone, but then the girl went to another--oh my god, was that Nyaall?. She took her hero’s hand, squeezing it. Okay. They had each other. She was safe. And lucky.

They were led to an airship. No, an actual warship. It was beautiful. Anya, still not willing to stop moving in case she started thinking, tried to sneak into the engine room to see what letting them reach this speed.

All too soon, they’d arrived at a fortress. Was it as big as Nye? Bigger? Anya couldn’t tell. But it was definitely enough to keep busy. She got checked by a doctor, who’d put foul-smelling ointment on her cheeks and rinsed her eyes. Then went straight to Mark’s side. The silver centurion she’d seen at Ace’s side was now at his. And she did not appreciate an audience. Since her friend was unconscious and somehow, she could already see the improvement, she left to check on Acadia and Mavior.

Finally, she did it. She asked around for someone of Blake’s description before checking the morgue. And there she was. Lacking her characteristic horns amongst her white curls. It was here that Anya stopped. Collapsing half onto her cold friend and crying. In fear. In rage. In grief and worry and helplessness. There, alone, except for the dead, Anya cried. She knew they still had her: her token of hair secreted at the base in Peirama, where everyone’s was. But now Anya didn’t have anyone. Mark was still unconscious. They hadn’t even had a chance to talk about why she was here in the first place. And Ava was good, but Anya didn’t know her. And a part of the teen wondered if the adult could really be trusted. There was so much wrong. So much to do.

She took long enough that a technician returned with a “Are you still here?” to pull her attention from wallowing. Wiping her face she stood, still on her crane legs, and left.

Next on the list was her real legs. Thankfully Ava had carried them to the fortress, but now she needed to fix them. Going to order from her usual store, Antonov's Airships, she met Mischa, Antonov’s daughter (and heard what happened to his other one). With her help, fixing her legs was done in a day.

The rest of the week was uneventful in comparison. She wrote a letter (after many attempts) to her group at home, first explaining what had happened (poorly), then warning of the new orphans. She wandered with Kallos, checked in on her recovering friends, tinkered with her legs (getting new ideas with Mischa’s help), and slowly lost the helplessness she’d been overwhelmed with.

~Post Advancement~​

All of this was insane. Even with the background of finding Tefra in the first place, none of this made sense. Why take the body but not the poison results? Anya shuffled the papers in front of her, waiting for the rest of their group. She wasn’t sure who would be included (beyond the steady Ava sitting beside her) but she hoped they were smart enough to assign the others who’d helped before.

Hearing footsteps, Anya looked up in confirmation. Yes, the other three were there. At least Nye wasn’t that incompetent. She too was glad that they survived. The two assassins she’d expected (though, she remembered Mark, unwilling to join them, injured so badly.) But that the young boy did as well was a relief. Especially since he’d been used as bait with little warning. And Anya had failed to protect him.

Johan was a Greencloak, like more of an assassin than she'd realized. Why pick him to be head of security? She felt it was curious that the woman, Narzas introduced herself as an ex-assassin. Did that mean she was no longer a part of Johan's group? She bent in half afterward, for some reason, but then the boy was speaking. Ren. She gave him a smile, glad to have a name, but he too bowed, so he probably missed it.

In the following lull, Anya blurted out her question, “How many were on your security detail back there?” Then blushing, she looked down, then stood up, the whirl of her gears drowned out by the engine. “Sorry, it’s just a lot. I’m Anya, I guess.” And she too bowed, awkwardly and having no idea why, “This is Kallos,” The crane lowered his head regally, standing beside Anya as she retook her chair. She turned to Ava, letting her speak before she’d demand answers to her questions.

Huntertabbysandshark3 Jet rozukitsune ZackStop