Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[Goliath]

Elriel chuckled nodding his head in agreement as Adamaris jumped in on the teasing. But it was just gentle fun. And Adrian took it like a champ. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how the red-haired man would react before the words left his mouth. He seemed rough around the edges, sharpening his swords and all, but his reaction made Elriel feel like they could have gotten along well if situations were different.

“I can see the headlines now, rookie Adrian ‘the bleeding heart’ Valeris advances to the second round.” He joked playfully. “But preferential treatment? I would never expect such a thing. You’re right, you might need to kill me if it comes down to it. But you’re not the only one hungry for a win.” The smile never fell from his face though it was a serious statement. Such things didn’t phase him. To Elriel this felt no different than the lights of the stage coming on when it was his time to speak his first line. Nerves weren’t something he worried about or needed to mentally prepare himself for. Elriel gave a head nod as Adrian said his legs were stiff wondering how long his flight was. “Glad I’m not the only one eager to get this underway. But you’re right Ada. Maybe I’m too enthusiastic. They have to have their show.” He chuckled under his breath.

Elriel gave Adamaris a soft smile, unable to stop looking at the other. He was still unable to fully grasp they were actually here. He was debating on reaching out to touch them as his mind wondered for a moment but decided against it. Instead, he listened as Ada once again tried to boost the mood.

Elriel blinked a few times at Adrian’s answer. Bird? He named his familiar bird?! He wasn’t sure he believed that since familiars manifested during childhood. But before he could say anything Brynwyr beat him to it, so he just shook his head in agreement. “I’m with Ms. Knight here. In Valencia naming them is seen as a way to deepen the connection, furthering the bond between human and familiar,” he spoke throwing his opinion on the matter out there. Elriel didn’t feel like Adrian was wrong necessarily, it was just interesting. He enjoyed getting to learn about other countries' cultures and beliefs.

Elriel laughed at the comment Brynwyr made about her familiar holding up a hand. “I, for one, would prefer to not meet him in the first round. I’m sure there are easier people here to fight that I would prefer to get placed with.”

He looked down at the snow leopard next to him. She was beautiful, with her blue fur and swirled markings. Elriel remembered vividly as her form was completed, he was awestruck. Now her long, fluffy tail stretched the length of her body and flipped occasionally as if waiting for the command to pounce. “Her name is Pardus” he spoke proudly getting the cat's attention for the first time since the flight to Nye. Her ears twitched slightly as she heard her name but she continued to stare at the strangers unable to relax. If it was just them she would be being lazy no doubt, probably finding a spot in the sun to relax and groom, but not now. Elriel appreciated it, when they merged later he would feel her desire as well.

Jet Emphoa Arcanist

 

[Fred Colon]

Howard strode down the halls of the Coliseum, towards the locker rooms, his cane clicking rhythmically against the stone floors.

“Evening! I’m here to talk to some of the participants of the games.” Howard said, to a pair of tired looking guards, flanking the hallway that would lead to the locker rooms.

Their eyebrows rose as they recognized him, and Howard grabbed the lapels of his coat and gave them what he imagined was a devilish grin, so they could more fully understand their luck running into the famous Howard Greenfellow on lowly guard duty.

“Er. Mr. Greenfellow.” One guard, a young, bearded man said, scratching the back of his neck. “We aren’t supposed to let non-contestants inside unless they’re directly involved in the running of the games.”
“And you are doing a sterling job of that. Well and truly! To be perfectly honest, it’s quite dangerous to just let people walk right in on the contestants! All sorts of cheating and tomfoolery could be gotten up to!” He smoothed his hair back. “Fortunately for all involved, I’m not just anyone. I’m Howard Greenfellow. You do know that my family funded this entire stadium, yes? And that we probably pay your salary, too?”
The guards glanced at each other, and for some reason started looking nervous. Howard wasn’t really sure why. He was just pointing out interesting facts. But people tended to get nervous around him, sometimes. He just assumed it was because they were star struck.
Howard looked the guard in the eye, and gave him a small smile.
“Look. I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like everyone else. No need to feel nervous around me.” That was a lie, of course. Howard had a servant that put his pants on both legs at a time, but he wanted to make the man less nervous, not more.
He patted the guard on the shoulder.
“Now. I really have enjoyed the chat, but I’m going to step inside. I wish the both of you a wonderful rest of your day.” He reached into his pocket and handed the guards a stack of shiny, metal disks of gold. He figured these guards didn’t make much. Barely enough to make ends meet, probably. Not enough money to even pay for a maid, some of them, he’d heard! So he’d give them a little something extra, hopefully put a smile on the rest of their huge peasant families faces when they got back home today. The guard's mouth dropped open.
“Share those!” He said, stepping past them and into the hallway, smiling. He loved doing good deeds!

Farther down the hallway, he saw the doors into a number of different locker rooms. He picked one at random and stepped in front of the door.

He looked into the hand mirror he always kept in his pocket to make sure he was presentable, adjusted his mustache with a comb, as it was a few hairs out of place, and when that was done, barged into the locker room with as much flair and ceremony as he could imagine.

“Greetings contestants! Let me be the first to welcome you to Nye! I have a golden opportunity for any who seek to take advantage of it. An opportunity that will help put you on the map, and improve the future of Nye at the same time!”

He held his entering position, one leg forward, a hand lifted theatrically in the air with his finger pointing up, so even the slow to react amongst them could get a glimpse of his stylish entry.

Jet Emphoa Goliath Arcanist

 

[rozukitsune]

Throwing stars are swiftly carefully poised in-between her fingers as suddenly down one random hallway, a man appears and starts talking to her. Automatic reactions honed carefully through years of training have the blades at his throat before she's really even aware he's talking to her. That kind of approach was usually met with a painful reminder of why it paid to be observant... and Narzas was not one to repeat the same lesson too many times if at all possible. The proper response to being approached suddenly out of nowhere when one had thought themselves invisible, therefore; was to quickly dispatch the obvious threat that had noticed her existence in the first place and neutralize him before anyone else realized she was there.

Ironically - though she would be unaware of just exactly why this particular factoid was humorous - it was her memory of this face back at the security meeting that stilled her hand before it got the rest of the way through with its task of trying to kill him. It would be a poor mark on her record if she could not do something as simple as refrain from murdering her own co-workers unless it was in self-defense out in the field, and a quick observation of his body language suggested he didn't intend her any harm. Her amber-toned brown eyes, exotically almond shaped; stared at him through a long moment of cold calculation as he first greeted her and then went on to explain the reasons she shouldn't bother introducing herself or explaining where she was from or what she was doing. She tried to make up her mind as to whether he was just terminally stupid or else he was one of those... 'diplomatic' types that thought talking was just as valuable as steel.

Her throwing stars disappeared back wherever she had conjured them from amidst her outfit's many pockets and she tossed her head, causing her mane of long black hair to flick behind her from side to side like the tail of an irritated animal. "You're out here keeping an eye on me and the others and you thought to just stop and chat?" She asks for confirmation, her gaze giving off the air of one rather unimpressed and bored. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose?"

Jet

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Ava Marco
interaction: EldridSmith SoloShottie Lost Echo
Jet​

Ava was more interested in fixing up her own equipment putting it into her locker now while humming however everyone else seemed to have gotten curious about... something of course Ava wandered over to take a look at the situation, burnt hair and.. something in the middle of a drain.. like someone had gotten melted and burnt in the locker room before getting washed down the drain.. hell that might actually explain the smell.. cleaning from a murder. "Damn that's concerning" Ava would mumble. A new voice surprising ava she'd spin around on the spot seeing nothing she'd look down to see some guy had walked into the locker room, kid called Rupert looking for an autograph seemed rather harmless actually. "Oh sure then kid your lucky tho if they did catch you in here it would be a massive upset" she'd say with a smile rummaging around in her locker she'd pull out a photo of herself ans scribblings her name on it why she even had it wad a mystery but she'd had it to the kid. "Enjoy kid"

 

[ManofManyRoles]

𝓜𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓻 '𝓜𝓪𝓿' 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓻

Mavior made no attempt to approach the group, not initially at least. Indeed, the trio were only met with a gaze they could not ensure were directed right at them...goggles black as pitch and starless nights, how could he see through them? One couldn't even see his eyes through those darkened shields, though his face angles to regard them silently. Mavior regarded them silently for a moment before his eyes traveled toward the walls around him and to the corners, tracking slimmer's of light and shadows his mind wandering elsewhere. Eventually, he stood upright, starting to pace ever so slightly, his face angled straight ahead, even as his eyes hidden from sight traveled by forty-five degrees heavenward...geometry and angles, the theorum of Pythagoras and numbers darted through his mind, the conversation kept idle, his tone soft and somewhat monotone like a noble-born or a man who knew to measure his tone in even-keeled strokes of the verbal brush. "Well met to you, Kilderkin, Ren, and Nihal. I am Mavior, though you may address me as Mav if it is of more to your liking..." One by one, two into four...four into five. A prime number, associated with luck, adventure, and curiosity to name but a few of the symbolism...five fingers to a hand, five senses to the mind, a strong number, and the median of one to ten...

Hands folded behind his back, clasped to each wrist as the soft sound of footsteps upon the ground carried his weight to and fro his next pacing position, back and forth and slowly about the room and the contenders within. "Forgive me, I do not sit idle well during a conversation. I oft pace to and fro, a habit, it helps me focus..." He couldn't have been more than eighteen with those youthful features, though slightly lanky for his age, and so uncomfortably pale one could swear that he may as well turn to dust like a child of Vladamir if exposed to light, natural or not. If one let the imagination roam, perhaps if he was properly shined with something he could reflect light like a polished mirror! "I apologize for my tardiness in arrival, as I have posed an interruption to an existing conversation. I appreciate the invitation to join you, however..." Reaching to his side he adjusted the satchel he carried with him as he about-faced to walk counter to his existing wandering, a soft and thoughtful hum leaving him before he continued whatever rogue train of thought he had boarded to leave the station. "Do you suppose every locker room is like this, or did they individualize the design? Or more of a cookie-cutter approach, one size fits all and shall suit any situation?"

ZackStop Fred Colon Anne Boolean ​

 

[EldridSmith]

Mark felt something was off with this scene immediately, the timing was too perfect, children weren't allowed down here without some degree of authority, or they were contestants... and he wasn't on the roster. He scanned the boy... height: fit, build: fit, accent: likely fake, coincidental change: added, the fact the boy knew his real name instead of the submitted name: added, chance of Jack "Bean", 90% . Thankfully Spicy already had one vial of hair put away before the boy arrived... but this was still a concern seeing as a centurion was down here pretending to be a fan. At the remark of the courts being the fairest Mark chortled derisively, clearly believing otherwise. "Jack 'Bean' Marino." He says with eyes narrowed as he holds the second vial in one hand and rests his hand on a dart just in case.
Jet Lost Echo Huntertabbysandshark3 SoloShottie

 

[Jet]

​

Mischa sarcastically whistled as an uncomfortable, awkward silence took the room. It embodied the equally awkward group of people around her, ranging from a religious saint to a winking comedian, and a humorless, grumpy girl who didn't speak. The whole situation was funny in a sense. The intern responsible was probably laughing behind a screen somewhere far away, watching the show with a dumb grin on their face. The viewers surely expected a fight between them too, hell that was probably the point of arranging them in the first place, but Mischa knew better. They were weirdos, yes, but kind hearted weirdos nonetheless.

"Yeah this is one hell of a group alright." Mischa faced Rat as she snickered below her breath. "Like monkeys in a zoo throwing rocks at each other." Her dolphin gracefully swam through the room as she deeply exhaled, contentedly smiling as she said, "Don't prod Ivan too much though, cause I'm watchin' from the sidelines if he beats on ya."

Mischa checked her pockets with an exaggerated frown. "Just wish I brought popcorn with me, can't watch a fight without some." She chuckled before her smirk slowly disappeared, replaced by a calm, thoughtful expression. "Thanks for the well wishes," she said to Ivan. "I hope you can fix the church cause they damn well need it, but you'll have to delay your plans a year." Her eyes ambitiously gleamed. "Cause I'm winnin this year, no bones about it, can't lose when my whole town's watching me fight."

Her cockiness was a farce of course. There were many contestants worth twice their weight in salt, while Mischa was inexperienced to say the least. Her combat record was one sentence long, reading, "Fought piss-ant pirates a year ago," while others had pages upon pages of lore. So she needed a dozen lucky breaks to even sniff a winning chance, but crazier things had happened before.

Either way she'd try her damnednes to win the games, and focusing on the negatives wouldn't help her cause. Instead she puffed her chest with enough arrogance to kill a horse, a brave look on her narrow, pale face. "On the off chance I lose this year, I hope it's to someone like you," she addressed Ivan once again. "Someone with a selfless reason to become a Centurion." Mischa paused and looked at Rat. "No offense meant ya know? I'm sure you got your reasons and all, but I'd rather lose to someone who'll flip the world on its ass."

She idly wondered if Rat was being honest about his motivation, as most people had grand, honorable ones to risk their life in the arena. Perhaps the winking comedian was hiding his motivation? In fact she highly suspected that was the case, but she wasn't there to dig up secrets. Instead she let her point stand and hoped he wouldn't take offense. He seemed cool after all. The kind of guy she could hang with after a long day on the dockyards, but she wasn't there to mince words either. She'd spoken true and that was good enough for her.

Emphoa EldridSmith ZackStop

 

[Jet]

​

Damian O'Garnder walked towards a locker room, a narrow smile on his old, wrinkled face. He hummed a cheerful tune from a ballad he'd seen years ago; one of human struggle against ancient demons and a ruthless, cruel king. It was rife with classic adventure tropes; finding hope in the darkest places, a handsome hero wooing a beautiful lass, fighting corrupt systems and making the world a better place. It was pure fantasy. In reality there were trade offs, gray areas and margins, bumps and bruises along the way. Not to mention the myriad of compromises required to make change. The story was but simplistic, childish escapism about a world without humans, replacing them with parodies of virtue and sin.

Damian loved stories like that. They flaunted the absurdity of pure, unrelenting virtue, as if change happened without sin. As if revolutions didn't require men slaying each other in the street. As if the handsome hero would've chased the lass without her beauty, revealing his base, animalistic nature.

The tale pretended society could be fixed when the inner workings — human beings in all their mundane glory — were inherently, deeply flawed. He'd seen many things change over a very, very long time, and it always required good men doing bad things. Pure virtue was but a fantasy meant to subdue masses, to corden them into boxes of good, polite behavior, protecting the puppeteers in charge.

The thought deeply entertained him as he reached locker room #9, quietly entering with a small nod. He smoothly walked to a bench and sat across from the contestants, examining them like a scientist viewing an experiment. "Damian O'Gardner at your service." He looked at Kilderkin. "We all have parts to play in the great game, and mine is a procurer of all things." He bowed his head before addressing the group. "From weapons to armor and gear, sponsorships and companions of the night. Your wish is my desire." He withdrew white business cards with black inscriptions, passing them to the myriad group before him. They showed his name and profession, a Procurement Specialist, and the address 16 Kolasis Lane. Below that was the phone number 035-691-0, an average, unassuming number for an unassuming, average man.

Fred Colon Anne Boolean ManofManyRoles ZackStop

 

[Jet]

​

Johan stared at her blades like an exasperated teacher, slowly raising his hands with a sigh. "Well… you got me." He stepped back as she lowered her weapons, hearing a tense sharpness when she spoke. It matched her precise, practiced movements to a tee, exactly what he expected from an assassin. "Yeah you're right, completely defeats the purpose eh?" He quietly chuckled below his breath. "But I don't care about the games, ain't nothing but cesspool anyway."

Ironic as it was, he despised the celebration of death masquerading as a game. His kills were always quick and painless for a reason, and they hardly satisfied his calm heart. He hated how the crowd roared when a lifeless body fell to the ground, blood spraying as announcers wildly screamed. He hated how they craved those moments of utter, final defeat, the erasure of hopes and dreams, memories and unquantifiable experiences. It was nothing more than a sinful circus catering to savage, deranged elements of society.

"Whole place can blow up for all I care, so whatever, screw the council and their damn orders." He narrowly smiled at the young woman. "I'd rather make some friends before they liquidate me, so how about it?" He extended a hand in a show of friendship. "Name's Johan, and you?"

rozukitsune

 

[Emphoa]

"A humanitarian!" Adamaris mused with a soft chuckle escaping them, eyes flitting towards Elriel. "Guess it sounds like you're not too bad then, Adrian." They gave a puff, crossing their arms over their chest as they perked up a little bit when the man continued to speak with the both of them, and they snorted out. Looking over to Elriel as he spoke up to Adrian and cocking their head to the side for just a moment, their eyes softening at the sight of their old friend, truly glad to be able to see him now. "I think I would quite like to see that in the headlines, the people would swoon over it." They puffed a bit, before finally placing their hands on their hips and looking back to the red head.

Their head cocked once more, a little surprised to hear that bird was the name of his familiar, and the others seemed perplexed by the idea all the same. Listening quietly as Brynwyr and Elriel spoke their piece on the matter- and Ada gave a gentle nod of their head in agreement with a small smile on their expression. "Indeed, I couldn't imagine not giving Nueto a name- he's my family and my familiar, of course. I think he deserves a bit of individuality- he certainly has a personality, at least." They puffed a bit at the thought, Nueto's tail further curling around their neck and eyes flitting about the room while they all spoke. They couldn't help but give a light chuckle at the familiar. "He thinks so too." Their eyes glanced back to Brynwyr as she spoke of her familiar and they seemed to perk up a bit. "Oh my! A lion is certainly fitting, I hope I may get to see him eventually." They chuckled a little bit at the thought and they leaned back.

But- their eyes snapped to their friend's snow leopard and they couldn't help but coo a bit. "Pardus! What a lovely name for a beautiful girl." They insisted with a clap of their hands, eyes twinkling lightly as they looked back to everyone. It was certainly nice to have everyone be rather friendly with one another with playful banter. Part of Adamaris thought that this would be some sort of tense room where everyone would want to bite one another's heads off. Although, their thoughts were interrupted by the mere entrance of another individual they were not expecting to pop into the room. Their head snapping up and glancing over at the wealthy man.

"Oh- hello." They spoke, first, before chuckling lightly at the dramatic flair of the man before them. "What an interesting offer, I didn't know outsiders could come into the locker rooms." They spared a glance with Elriel after the statement, quirking a brow in a silent question before they would look back to Mister Greenfellow. He definitely seemed like one who enjoyed the attention, the flair, like he was someone proud of who he was and what he did. Adamaris wasn't sure if it was anything they were fond of, but they bit their tongue for the time being. "Well, I suppose you're all gotten our attention then, what is it that you're wanting?"

Jet Goliath Arcanist Fred Colon

 

[rozukitsune]

Nar's brows furrowed as he spoke. Was he changing the subject? She was pretty sure they'd been talking about their job but now he was talking about the games? Her mind whirred through the possible rationales as he held out his hand and offered his friendship. Ugh... why were people so weird?

She frowns, thinking about his words and trying to set aside the mission for the moment. What had he said? Something about a cesspool and then about being erased. That was a thing he'd mentioned twice now. He really seemed quite paranoid that the people in charge here were going to kill him - maybe her too. Why would they ask for assassins to help them keep the peace and then toss them though? That seemed like a good way to get the nations who sent in said assassins angry. Possibly war-angry.

For the first time in her life, her mind has something else in it aside from stabbing a target and avoiding being stabbed as a target. Suddenly there was more to the world and Nar did not know what to do with it. It perplexed her. Hesitantly, she reached out her hand and grasped his outstretched one firmly - looking like she didn't entirely know what she was doing as she considered him. "Narzas." She replies in a semi-confused tone. "I am... not here for the games either." She admits. "I am just here for the job. You really think they would delete us? Why?"

Jet

 

[Jet]

​

Adrian was surprised that names were so important to foreigners, but then again, he was from a small town where meat and cheese were luxurious. His days were spent reading bestiaries and completing contracts, punctuated by drinks, drinks and more drinks in a shitty tavern. He was less worldly than a homeless bum on the street, a man raised by warriors with extreme views about familiars and monsters alike. His upbringing limited his perspective and he knew it more than anyone, but that didn't make him any less right.

"Partner? Bond? Individuality?" Adrian knowingly shook his head. "How can you be a partner with yourself?" He glanced at his strutting familiar. "He's my reflection given form, not an animal with his own mind." He paused for a moment, remembering attunement lessons when he was nine. His bird was named Eagle Flameclaw back then, fucking embarrassing that was, but thankfully that changed after a month in class.

"We call it Alithini Enotita, true unity with yourself." He addressed the group once more. "Full attunement isn't possible if you view your soul as a separate entity — but who knows what the truth really is eh?" He gently chuckled below his breath, addressing Brynwyr after a moment. "Maybe you and Cleonard can prove me wrong in the arena? I'd love to test myself against a foreign knight, put our doctrines to the test."

Adrian looked back at the bantering pair of nobles, amusedly snorting with thoughts of their "humanitarian" comments. "What's so hard to believe about my bleeding heart? People always tell me I'm a natural empath, kind of guy to give up the shirt on my back." He barely contained a smile to maintain his charade, but his face deadened when a loud, charismatic salesman burst into the room. His obnoxious pitch was cheesy to say the least, a hook to draw people in with a big, unexplained promise followed by a dramatic pose.

Adrian's first reaction was a deep, obvious frown as he thought, "Is this fucking guy serious?" He intently leaned forward and stared up at the strange, corny man. "Not interested unless I'm paid. In advance. With a contract explaining it's not a loan with predatory interest rates." He trusted Howard like a rat trusted snakes, mouth pursing as he recalled youth water salesmen who occasionally plagued town. They spoke with the same exaggerated charisma as the newcomer had, so Adrian was suspicious of him to say the least. With that said, he'd listen for now, if only to interrupt the man's nonsense halfway through.

Arcanist Goliath Fred Colon Emphoa

 

[Jet]

​

Johan warmly smiled when she grasped his hand. "Well met." He looked up at the clear, cloudless sky. Shame that pointless death would ruin such a day. "I'm glad you're not here for the games, means you're sane, not obsessed with death even if you deal in it." He pleasantly smiled before continuing his thought. "I wish I was just paranoid, life would be so much better if that was so…" He sounded wistful, sad and resigned, like a beaten dog who'd accepted his poor lot.

"You'll be fine, but me?" He quietly laughed. "I've enough secrets to topple Nye, could incriminate half the ruling class and cast suspicion on the rest. I've started and ended wars, killed nobles, spies, assassins who deserted. Just…" His eyes glossed over as he went silent, losing track of time and space. He only returned when a clumsy worker dropped a metal tray nearby, breaking his strange, distant trance. "Oh where was I?" He idly scratched his head. "Ah that's right, yes, I know far too much. At what point does my life become a liability to the council?"

Johan knowingly smiled. "So be careful who you work for. I wasn't and now I'm trapped. Can't leave without being hunted down by the very men I helped train — ironic isn't it?" He looked around the arena and imagined the vast, shining city around it. What a beautiful prison indeed.

rozukitsune

 

[Fred Colon]

Kilderkin clapped her hands and smiled as Nihal gave what sounded like a canned, preplanned answer.

“Damn. They say never meet your heroes, but I bet my boy would be happy to meet you! You seem like a good sort of person!”

Her comments also seemed to have the desired effect on Ren, as he seemed quite pleased by her praise. Then she turned and smiled as the newcomer, Mavior, approached them and started pacing.

“Hey. Makes sense. Sometimes I tap my leg when I’m bored. Same sort of thing, right?” She said to him as he explained about his pacing, her smile wide and guileless. She put a hand on her chin, and made like she was thinking after he asked his question about the Locker-rooms. “Hmm. You know? I’ve no idea. Might be fun if they were all different, though. Would be a new experience each time—”

But she was interrupted, thankfully, from having to finish such an inane ‘thought’ process by the arrival of the older gentleman, O'Gardener. Her heart rate sped up for a moment as he looked right at her. But fear wasn’t a helpful emotion right now. So, like always, she didn’t let it touch her features, cut it out and stored it away for later, holding it against a time when it might come in handy.

But ‘Parts to play?’

Could he know?

Who was he?

Unfortunately, with the cameras rolling and other contestants around, she couldn’t take any actions outside of the ‘dumb sailor’ persona she was currently wearing. She was very skilled at playacting, and an essential skill was to never break character. Especially when something unexpected came up. Investigations would have to come later.

“Woa. Procuring stuff? Like. Any stuff?” Kilderkin said, taking the card. She memorized its contents, before thoughtlessly shoving it into a pocket, as if it was of no real consequence. “Could you get Ramen from Zuanshi? I haven’t had decent ramen for weeks. Oh. Oh. Or one of those fancy Byzantium, uh, hats. The big, fuzzy ones. Ushanki’s or something like that. I kind of regret not getting one of those when I was in Byzantium last time I was there. It would be pretty cool. Maybe wear it in the ring, start a fashion trend.” She laughed. "I'm good on weapons, though. All I need is my trusty sword." She patted the gilded blade at her hip.
Jet ManofManyRoles Anne Boolean ZackStop

 

[Arcanist]

Brynwyr Protheroe


Mentions: Goliath Emphoa Jet ​

Brynwyr nodded again, solidifying how strongly she believed in naming one's familiar. It was an odd custom, one that was incredibly foreign to her. Many things were when she stepped outside of Albion, no doubt obstacles in her way while she partook in these games. But it did not mean her curiosity wasn't piqued, even if she didn't wholly agree with the custom that Adrian explained in detail. She could not imagine Cleonard as simply an extension of herself. He was her in many ways, ways that she was sure she could not be truthful about with herself. But it was not as simple as him being her sword, an extra limb as Adrian referred to.

She looked up at Adrian, smiling at the challenge issued to her. "Who knows for sure?" She referred back to the musings of what really was the whole truth. "But we will test our doctrines for sure. In every fight, there is a lesson to be learned. We'll just see who will be the one teaching it."

The knight gave a hearty chuckle at Elriel's next answer on not wanting to meet Cleonard on the field, patting her pouch with one hand. She felt the comfortable shifting within. "And I suppose you're wise for giving such an answer. I don't believe anyone with their head firmly upon their shoulders would look forward to facing up to a familiar. It's far different observing from afar, with a screen between us." She smiled, looking between both Elriel and Adamaris, pride beaming and bright as the sunrise. Pride was a powerful thing to have in yourself, your country. Too much of it spoiled a person. She had enough lectures from her uncle to smooth back a cardinal sin.

"Pardus," Brynwyr repeated, her eyes fleeting over the snow leopard. Who knew something so beautiful could have the potential to be so deadly? To pounce and rip into anyone at any given moment. She had the urge to reach out to her, scratch her ears, though refrained. Familiars were unpredictable just as much as their masters, their partners, could be. Understandable really.

And in came a man, voice raised and jubelent. Brynwyr's hand had gone to her sword, a reflex she was used to performing, suddenly alert. It was a reflex she was used to performing, though, she was lucky not to have unsheathed her blade. This man was no more threatening than a sauntering salesman, speaking of myths of fame and fortune and improving the future of Nye. How much further could this floating city be improved when other nations played catch-up? She pulled her hand away, flexing her fingers, quiet. "Do they let just anyone in here?" She whispered to herself.

Privacy was a privilege here.

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas honestly isn't sure what to do with the information Johan is giving her. She had given up any semblance of a normal life so long ago that it may has well have been a whole other life in comparison to the last decade or so. Once perhaps she'd been a child - in theory. Playing dolls and chasing around and generally being young. But one was only as free as they were if they did the job they'd been born into well. It didn't matter if they'd kill her for some reason eventually, did it?

Well... perhaps it did. She frowns at Johan and reconsiders his words. "If you could do something else, what would it be? In my homeland, you do what you are born to do and you thank the people who gave you a job to do at all. Any time that is free time not doing that job is yours. Failure is met with death or exile." She looks thoughtful. "I suppose one is as bad as the other. I shudder to think of anyone shipped off to No Man's Land or other such savage places. You might pray for a swift death instead." She shakes her head solemnly. "No... I would rather just accept reality than learn I am quite tasty as a dinner meat for the cannibals that live across the ocean." She points out.

Jet

 

[Anne Boolean]

Nihal "Nyaall" Laal​

Nihal let out a chuckle at Kilderkin's comment. "Well, thank you," he said. He promised himself he would never let the fame get to his head when he started his career, and so far that had been the case. Too bad the fame itself wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

The new guy was... interesting. The staring into space, the pacing... well, he had met his fair share of strange fans. Thankfully, this guy's behavior wasn't directed at him.

"A pleasure, Mavior," he said. Mannerisms weren't the limit, though. The guy then started... questioning. Perhaps the train of thought might have been considered profound if they group was under the influence, but for now, it just came off as completely out of left field to the performer.

"Perhaps they are separated by rank or status," he suggested, deciding to humor the other. "Those who make it to the higher ranks get the better locker rooms. That's usually how it works with dressing rooms in show business. It stops the stars from getting... well, for a lack of a better word, catty." He let out a small chuckle. If that was the case, he wondered if his management pushed for special treatment for him. Seeing his company, they either failed, or these guys are shrewd competitors who made it quite far in last year's competition. "In terms of similarities with locker rooms in other facilities, I don't think so. Each venue wants to make as much of an impression on its performers, or in this case, competitors, as its audience. I assume that would be tenfold when considering the renown of Nye and the Great Games."

And then there was yet another newcomer. This one more shady than eccentric. He introduced himself as a purveyor of various things, many of which he listed seemed as if they would be ones considered... less than official. He had a taker in the sailor woman though, it seemed. She mentioned a few items she was interested in, leading to Nihal wondering what he would want were he able to spend his money freely. Ramen from Zuanshi... it had been awhile since he had that. The diet his team kept him on was pretty strict, and he was pretty sure he was allowed to eat it during his tour there mostly for appearances. An ushanki... it would certainly be comfortable, but his management would have issue with him covering up his ears during the fight. The guy also mentioned weapons and "a companion for the night". While the second was tempting, the concern about how the man's employer was treating him would overtake any enjoyment for Nihal. And as for weapons... he wasn't sure his management would approve him stepping onto the field with a sword or the like. This was a performance over anything, and he had to look the part. Just his claws and magic, and the laser gun he practically begged for would have to do. A bad performance would be a worse outcome than death, apparently.

Despite most likely never being able to use his services, he still took a card from the other when it was offered. "Thank you, Mr. O'Gardner," he said. "I'll be in touch about sponsorships if this event leads me to a career change." He let out a small chuckle.

Interactions: Kilderkin ( Fred Colon ), Ren ( ZackStop ), Mavior ( ManofManyRoles ), Damian ( Jet )

 

[Lost Echo]

She was going to die. Nye was going to kill her. It hadn’t even been a day, and she’d already failed Hannah. She didn’t even know what this coverup was about--other than a murder of course. Whose though, she didn’t know. But orange hair was distinctive. Enough that Doc likely recognized it, with how quickly he’d pocketed the evidence. Regardless, she’d revealed it on what was likely live television. Even if it wasn’t live, Nye was watching. And Nye was going to kill her. And likely the others too, just for being in the room. She knew they were strong, but Nye could likely just collapse the locker room--it’d be more discreet than a ton of Centurions coming to kill them.

Anya lay sprawled on her side, just on the edge of hyperventilating. Wilzemi’s voice cut through her panic, and she responded without even thinking, “It’s the tails! They look like creepy fingers!” She looked up at her friend’s hand, taking a minute to adjust her legs (which she was proud were still attached!) before using the aid to stand. She squeezed it for a moment in thanks before letting go.

A new voice put her on guard immediately. Nye had sent a child to do its dirty work? Why was she surprised? The others seemed to be willing to follow his facade, so she’d play along. Maybe Nye didn’t want to change the roster if 4 people died. Maybe they could last a little longer. Except the boy went straight for what they were doing, even seeming to mock their attempts to hide. She flinched at Mark’s name, doubting he’d signed up as anything but The Mad Plague. It had been years before she’d known his name. Then again, he’d claimed Ava as kin, perhaps they figured out who he could be that way?

Then Mark said a different name. One that sounded fake. Was that the name he’d signed up with? She’d thought he was as skinny as a beanpole (not that she’d seen one) but Bean? This whole thing felt like a surreal skit. She could tell Mark didn’t trust the boy either (did Wilzemi and Ava? Or were they just acting?) She didn’t think escalating to violence first was a good idea (partially because her sword was in her locker.) Stepping up beside him, she shrugged at the boy, “It’s nothing so exciting. I was just poking around and screamed when I saw a rat. Doc here just reacted to my scream.”

 

[Jet]

​

Johan distantly stared into space with a small, wistful smile. "If I could do anything?" He took a long drag of his dwindling cigarette, searching for an answer with little success. It was a foreign concept after all, not something assassins were supposed to think about. They were nothing more than weapons to their secretive masters, and weapons didn't need things like dreams and desires. They only needed merciless resolve, intense focus and martial skill. The rest was burned away like impurities in hot iron, hammers shaping them into sharp, lethal blades of pure steel.

Johan wasn't programmed like that anymore. He'd left the reservation for a more… unique state of mind long ago, but he rarely thought about living another life. It seemed pointless to ponder impossible things like that, but her question made him stop and think for the first time in years. If he could change his mundane, repetitive existence, what would he do? What would he love the most?

Johan liked drinks so maybe owning a bar would work, but then he'd have to deal with people all day. Screw that. He liked tobacco even more than drinks, so maybe he could make his own cigarette brand? Then again, he couldn't farm for shit after spending decades in Nye, so his crops would die within weeks.

But what about cats? He took amazing care of his pet Marco, and cats were bloody awesome. They were like miniature assassins but cute and fuzzy, and there were so, so many strays on the islands. Maybe he could open a shelter for them?

"Ah I know!" Johan grinned from ear to ear. "I'd open a shelter for stray cats, with enough scratch posts for them all!" He cheerfully laughed. "I'll adopt them out to good families who'll treat em' right." He thoughtfully stroked his chin. "I'm gonna need a lot of kibble huh?"

"Maybe one day…" His happy expression faded into the same bland, empty one from before. "In another life I'll make that dream come true." He sighed before continuing his diatribe. "Guess you're right though, could be worse. Could live out west in that bloody wasteland." He wryly smirked. "I've been there before, every bit the shithole you think it is, cannibalism and all." He shrugged like it was a common, mundane topic. "Assuming you wouldn't get banished to the badlands, what would you do?" He thoughtfully raised a brow. "I can see you opening a plant nursery for some reason, hell if I know why?"

Johan sarcastically laughed as he pictured her in overalls and work boots, a weird picture given her appearance. It didn't match her personality either, but then again, her spirit was dulled by years of government programming. He hated how detached she was, such numbness was a crushing weight that drove people mad over time, trampling on everything that made them human. They were supposed to have friends and families, loves and hates, hobbies and passions, and Narzas seemingly lacked them all. But perhaps they hid below the surface, patiently waiting for the right reason to jump.

rozukitsune

 

[EldridSmith]

The boy talked to Mischa while glancing at the antisocial member of the group before turning back to him with more comments of questionable intentions. Ivan shrugged about loosening up, he wasn't up tight or stressed currently and for members of the church he would be considered one of the more open minded and social. He nodded with a smile in response to the boy's greeting. Mischa in the meantime whistled at the strange group of misfits that had come together. Ivan chuckled about being prodded and her staying out of any potential fights. "As proficient as I am in fighting I prefer talking things out... as a famous man once said though 'speak softly and carry a big stick' I just happen to pack a very big stick." He says with a friendly smile as he looks over at the two.

At the comment of snacks Ivan looked at Mischa before reaching into his bag and pulling out a bag of "Semechki? You can have them with the well wishes." He says with a grin as he he holds out the bag offering it to Mischa, though if Rat was to take up his offer he wouldn't oppose. "It's not popcorn but it's a popular snack from my home. Fear not for I have more if you want them." He says chuckling as he shakes his bag and the sound of sun flour seeds shaking was easily heard. As for fixing the church he nods thankful for the sentiments... he did have his work cut out for him there. "We shall see how things go, for it is the Lord's timing not my own that things are determined by." He says humbly, he wasn't in it for the glory or honor but because he cared for the people of his homeland.

Ivan admired her bravery but did admittedly hope he won the tournament... though the chances were slim he would give it his all. He wanted to chuckle at her puffed up chest but just softly smiled as she stated if she was to lose to someone she hoped it was him. "Thank you, such words hold great meaning to me. I hope you are blessed with good fortune in the upcoming bouts." He says honestly, the prior Byzantine amongst the Centurions... was not of the purest sort if memory served him and he would rather see someone like Mischa become a Centurion than a twisted person like the plague doctor he heard of before... all of his matches ended up with the opponent dead. "Pardon me I should start putting on my armor." He says as he pulls out his large suit of armor as bags of semechki fall out from inside... he was a big man and snacked a bit... ok a lot, they were relatively healthy and tasty. He started taking off his outer vestments to reveal a breathable skintight suit underneath as he pulled out layers of padding, chain mail, and the outer steel coat piece by piece... it would take him some time to finish putting all this on.
Emphoa Jet ZackStop

 

[Jet]

​

Rupert snatched the photo and grinned from ear to ear, excitedly laughing as Mark and Anya spoke. "Many thanks miss!" He carefully pocketed the gift without addressing the others, humbly bowing his head at the tall, muscular woman. "Me friends will never believe this! A prime sig from Ava the Mountain herself!" He looked back at Mark with the same stupid grin. "You call me Bean? Like the lad from last year?" He idly scratched his head. "And here I was thinkin' I got taller!"

He boisterously laughed and stepped between Mark and Anya, peering down into the drain. "A rat eh? They're everywhere these days, sneakin about, stickin' whiskers where they don't belong." His smile faded into a narrow, knowing smirk. "But I got a soft spot for em, might even help one if it asks nice n' proper." Rupert reached into his pocket and wrapped his hand around his familiar, just in case Mark decided to attack. The man was known for violence — murder even, not someone to play around with.

Rupert was far from scared though. He'd been around killers of every kind and Mark was no different — but another print of a book he'd read before. He knew the smell of violence in the air, the static charge of malice preceeding bloodshed. He sensed it thick in the space around him, so he wouldn't lower his guard yet, not even for a group of contestants.

Lost Echo EldridSmith Huntertabbysandshark3

 

[EldridSmith]

Seeing Anya freaking out he quickly moved in front of her putting himself betwen her and Bean as he held the evidence in one hand and the syringe in the other. He wasn't sure what she meant about tails and creepy fingers but he would find out eventually. He was admittedly surprised when Anya didn't recognize the name considering what she had mentioned of Nye, but that wasn't important he would explain soon enough. She started lying about her scream but it was too late to try and explain things away.

They would have to try and talk their way out of this, but the boy centurion seemed to be on board with it after he played his bit up for Ava. The boy centurion remarked with questions but confirmed his suspicions when he said he thought he got taller. At this Mark gave a small shake of his head no, thanks to the long mask he didn't have to move his head much to get his point across and it made it easier to keep his eyes locked on the young centurion. Though he quickly entered a defensive position as he moved between himself and Anya. He couldn't keep up trying to protect her otherwise they might start seeing her as his weakness to use her... and he didn't want that but that didn't matter if she got hurt now, future be damned. Seeing as he had one vial already hidden thanks to his familiar he corked the vial and tossed it to the young centurion.

His eyes were narrowed under the mask as he listened to the boy while positioning himself. He then moved back to get next to Anya before using his arm with a free hand to move Anya behind himself while passing her a dagger in case of an emergency. "Well young centurion you have what you want... now what do we get? Seeing as I'm asking nicely for once." He inquires in his rough and raspy voice as he motions for Ava to block the door. Sure it would be a hard fight but there were four of them and one centurion.
Jet Lost Echo Huntertabbysandshark3

 

[rozukitsune]

The young assassin raised an eyebrow and waited as Johan stood there mulling over the answer to her ridiculous question. She presumed the answer would end up being doing exactly what he had been born to do just like her... but instead he surprised her by smiling.

Smiling!

The expression was both foreign and familiar to Narzas and it served to throw her off her apathy as he talked about such inane things as herding and feeding cats. She stared, her almond-shaped brown eyes wide as he then turned the question back at her, adding some comment or other about plants.

Narzas then did something she hadn't done in... who knew how many years. She laughed. The sound from her own throat surprised her as much as anyone, and since she was so unaccustomed to feeling mirth it took her over for a moment, bending the normally stoic and single minded lady like a tree in the wind as she laughed until her stomach hurt, tears streaming down her face.

Passerby most assuredly stared, wondering what the beautiful woman standing in the hallway had found amusing as she guffawed.

It was some time before she finally could speak again, though she did not offer an answer to his question. "You're... crazy." She chuckled, dragging her body slowly back into a properly upright stance. "Completely bonkers."

Jet

 

[Emphoa]

A snort escaped Rat when he heard Mischa speak up, his eyes gleaming a little bit as he looked to her and puffed out. "And you'd watch a little guy like me get pummeled- how cruel and evil." He sneered a bit, his grin only continuing to grow with his playful demeanor before he shrugged and looked back to Ivan. "It's all in good fun-" He crooned, pausing and giving the knightly looking man his attention when he did speak up. The twinkle in his eyes lighting up wile placing his hands on his hips. "See see- he's not violent. Although wow- I would... I would definitely word that differently." He laughed a little bit at the phrasing of the man's words, covering his mouth as if to stifle his laughter. "Did someone say that to you? Or is that something you've read, big guy?"

The rat playfully wiped a tear from his eyes, and he waved his hands. Sitting back on one of the benches and resting back on his hands while the two interacted and he clicked his tongue. Glancing up when Remy sniffed curiously in the way of the snacks and the boy rolled his eyes a little bit. Reaching up and scratching the top of Remy's head. "Semechki... Weird name for some snacks, what is it?" He asked, and his tone rather died down now as he watched them with a slight tilt of his head. Although couldn't help but snicker when he heard the young woman speaking up again. He liked the confidence, really, it made this a lot more entertaining than most things would have ended up being. He fell mostly quiet as he adjusted his gear, hands brushing over every gadget on him and memorizing what was where. He didn't want to catch himself stumbling while he was in the games themselves, it could mean life or death at times.

It wasn't until he was spoken to directly by Mischa that he let out a little laugh. "No offense taken- I'm not a man who takes things to heart." He stated with another wink, his grin once again presence on his expression. "Guess we'll see who wins huh? I'll make sure to take it easy on you two if we go against each other. Gotta have some people to look out for in these things." He teased, although he knew it wasn't going to be the easiest for him, he had his magitech on his side, and most didn't have the access that he had. It was the one thing that truly got him into this, and he wasn't going to dilly dally.

The boy's attention was once again stolen by Ivan and he covered his mouth, holding his laughter back at the sheer amount of snacks that had fallen from the man's armor. "Man- you're prepared! Maybe I'm under prepared." He chirped out, hopping up to his feet with a frustrated squeak escaping from Remy. The inventor crouched down to help pick up the bags. He wasn't here to necessarily be an asshole but it didn't seem like Ivan seemed to bothered about the spill, anyway. "Lots of armor, though, impressive. You look like you're ready for this kind of thing."

Jet EldridSmith ZackStop

 

[Jet]

​

"A big stick eh?" Mischa mischievously smiled while grabbing seeds from his bag. "Fair warning, if these are poisoned I'll chop your bible in half." She tossed them back like a shot of cheap whiskey, chewing away as Rat made a dreadful, unforgivable mistake — making her laugh with a dumb innuendo. It made her cover her mouth and choke down the seeds in desperation, preferring a lumpy throat to spitting food across the room. "Trying to take me out early eh?" She maniacally giggled before glaring at Rat. "Just knock my head next time will ya?"

Mischa was good at fake indignation; growing up with siblings made her a master of such things. "You best reconsider taking it easy on me, cause I'll remember this when we're squarin' up!" she said as Ivan donned his armor; thick layers of polished plates and chain mail. Mischa noticed the solid craftsmanship that went into every piece, clean lines and even finishes from head to toe. It was a lot more impressive than her street clothes and power glove, and Ivan wasn't the only one with awesome gear. Rat had gadgets and gizmos galore, a damn storefront was strapped to him like a traveling merchant on the road.

Mischa wasn't outwardly intimidated, but she couldn't help feeling ill-prepared. Here she was with a tech monster and a fully armed, well armored knight, while she had street clothes and one enchanted item. It was hard to take herself seriously around guys like that, but then again, good swords were shit when shit arms were swingin' em, and there was no guarantee they were strong.

"If he makes you look under prepared, what's that make me?" She looked from Ivan's armor to Rat's equipment. "It's like I'm fuckin naked compared to you guys, all I got's this old thing." She raised her right hand to show her enchanted leather glove. "Packs a punch even if it don't look it, but the real killer is my wind magic, always had good control." She pointed at the dropped snacks and gathered them with a small, gentle gust, placing them on the bench beside Ivan. "Those semecki things are tasty, feel free to share more biggun." She smirked as she thought about his snack stash, it was like a concession stand hidden in his armor. Just the thought made her stomach rumble and mouth water. "This the worst time to get hungry," she mumbled before looking up at the ceiling. "Hey Nye, lemme get some meat before I fight, make it snappy will ya!"

Normally she wouldn't be rude to servers, but the attendants were pricks and the producers were bigger, more annoying pricks. They could take offense and broil for all she cared.

Emphoa EldridSmith ZackStop