Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[EldridSmith]

Plague silently listened stoically as Ava talked about home... she had seen a lot but not as much as he had, considering his line of work things were more brutal than your average brawl and murder on the streets from the Crag... still their home was one where being blunt was normal, this place encouraged cloak and dagger tactics with the usual lying, cheating, framing, and cover up. However he wasn't pleased when Bean put his hand on his shoulder, like a cat his hair raised and he stepped back... after all he preferred long range attacks or ones where his foes didn't see him. He wasn't pleased with the boys smirk but he couldn't do anything about it, and he knew this place had rules for this sort of thing, snakes thrived in pits with rules to use to mess with one another... at least the Crag wasn't so deluded to think people were good and in the chaos at least people were honest most the time... aside snakes in the grass like himself but that was from necessity of working with outsiders.

Anya seemed to be calculating, something changed in her eyes it seemed... though she also seemed displeased by his actions, Mark in the background was clearly displeased but he wasn't holding the reigns right now. She seemed to misconstrue his comments... eh Mark's problem for later. Threats and open distrust were another tactic in negotiation, so all things considered they were at an impasse... but for now they would have to play along with Bean's plans. "They won't... too many plots for them to keep at once, one room out of so many isn't worth much concern. The only ones who know about this seem to be here or hiding it, so they wouldn't want to bring extra attention here either." He said with narrowed eyes before looking back at Bean. "Fine... I'll do it, provided if we're caught the others were just considered being coerced into it." He says with careful consideration... sure he was known as evil so this ploy may expose one of his weaknesses... but if he could ensure others safety it would be fine. He was already wanted in many places already.

The proceedings were soon interrupted by another contestant entering the room under the roar of the crowd cheering as the event was about to begin. He leans over Bean's shoulder and whispers. "Let us continue later... I'm sure you already know where we're staying." He whispered before turning to the newcomer. "A fan here was just after autographs and walked in at a bad time." He said with a gravelly tone hoping Bean would play along... if not then things would get exponentially more complicated, especially considering there wasn't much time before matches would be getting started. "Though as matches are starting soon it's best we all sign quickly and send him on his way."
Lost Echo Jet Huntertabbysandshark3 Monbon

 

[EldridSmith]

"I see... I will keep this in mind when using the statement again in the future." Ivan says scratching his head. The boy understood he ate a lot due to his size and energy consumption. "The armor isn't heavy, it's only sixty pounds due to my size." He says showing off his full range of motion and ease of movement. People underestimate how mobile and fast someone can be in what is considered to be heavy armor, but that was often to his advantage. He chuckled at the boys comment about him being gloomy, it wasn't quite the right word as far as he was concerned but he had a point.

The boy then started responding to Mischa about how she would be fine, or at least that's what the boy seemed to say before going quiet as he offered Mischa armor. He then piped up about how he was rooting for Ivan which caused him to grin even wider. The boy then encouraged Mischa to take the armor for her safety before wondering when they would start, or at least who they would start fighting, at this, Ivan shrugged unsure.

Mischa gave him quite the expression at his offer however at his offer of his extra chainmail. "I see... I am double your size... perhaps I should ask a smith to make it smaller for you..." He muttered aloud, as he had grown rather fond of the energetic girl, he didn't want to see her hurt. While he didn't want to see anyone hurt in the fights, he couldn't help everyone so he would start by helping those around him. He wasn't poor either and had material to spare from his years of service. Unfortunately his experience caused her face to darken. "Well hopefully this doesn't happen here in the arena... that is my experience with criminals and not tournaments." He said in an attempt to address her concerns... hopefully it concerned her enough to be cautious but not overly cautious. He smiled in response to her thanks for the snacks, but he didn't pay her talk of poison any mind. "I am glad to be friends even if only for a short while." He says with his large genuine smile. "I hope so too." He says with a forlorn look before smiling again as he thought of all of his blessings.

The boy helped her smile more before the crowd started to flare up, it seems the games were to begin soon. "Well good luck everyone, even you too." He said addressing the girl leaking bloodlust in the corner. "As for viewing the games, I'm unsure... it also depends on whose going up first or not. As for who I fight, I've no preference, I'm to fight whomever the Lord deems I should. As for fighting I hope to restrain opponents instead of openly harming them... but I'm not afraid to should I need to."
Jet ZackStop Emphoa

 

[Goliath]

Elriel held his tongue as he felt the stranger put a hand upon his shoulder, making his skin itch where the contact laid across his clothing. But he was good at faking it; that was his profession after all. Pretending that such a thing would never bother him was easy, like putting on a mask. He met Ada’s eyes once more, not needing the sympathy; he was fine.

As his question was answered his mouth twisted into a slight smirk, ‘Howard Greenfellow,’ the name was anything less than new to him. They had been at the same functions many times when he visited Nye, though his own family had always been conscious to avoid the direct spotlight, and more specifically the Greenfellows. Now he could see why, wondering if they were all as undignified as the man currently touching him.

As his clothes were complemented he couldn’t help but speak. “Thank You,” he hummed, the words flowing from his mouth despite the fact Howard did not deserve it. Elriel felt proud of the clothing he wore today. It was custom-made, inspired by the same outfit worn by his long-passed relative when he competed in the Great Games and won. Another tradition that the Whitlock family held close. An artist had come before they left Valencia, painting a picture of him which would be hung in the hallway, next to his father and those before, showcasing the family lineage and honor they had of their bloodline.

Elriel didn’t believe another word from Howard. And the way he put down the guards was downright insulting. Despite his wealth, Elriel knew that was poor taste. So the ostentatious man had no excuse. He stood there in silence, wondering when Howard would move off of him, listening as he went on his spiel about wanting to be prime minister. Elriel couldn’t care less; this wasn’t his city. Why would he want to be involved in the politics of who led Nye? Regardless this was just another man trying to capitalize on the generational wealth of his family and move into power. A story as old as time. Ada, of course, berated the arrogant man before moving to continue their earlier conversation, not that it surprised him. They had always been that way.

Elriel had to fight to keep his mouth from dropping, initially surprised by Adrian’s quick acceptance of Howard’s offer. But then, as he thought more about the backwoods upbringing the male had described, he could only assume it was for the money and nothing more. He didn’t blame the ginger for jumping on the opportunity, nor was he trying to pity him. Elriel lowered his head as he couldn’t help but laugh, still conscious of the cameras, but listening as Adrian started to feed into Howard’s ego took him by surprise - rather amused by the situation. Elriel wouldn’t stand in the way of Adrian getting details, but he maintained his lack of interest, simply nodding in agreement with Brynwyr. He couldn’t have said it better himself.

“Mister Greenfellow should pay you at least half upfront. As generous as he is, I think he shouldn’t have a problem with that. He probably even has it on him now.” Elriel chimed in for Adrian, not wanting the male to get stiffed. He knew firsthand how the wealthy could be. Contracts only worked with people who had honor, which Howard seemed to have none of, or effective courts, which Nye doesn’t always have with the upper 1%.

As Adrian and Adamaris went back to discussing familiars, he couldn’t help but tilt his head curiously. ‘A bird familiar fusion. So does he have a beak?’ Elriel couldn’t help but think to himself, a small smile creeping onto his face as his imagination took over momentarily, entertaining himself. “I’m not sure about Brynwyr, but from what I’ve seen having a predator for a familiar almost always means full fusion. Yet my beliefs align with Adamaris — Howard, what’s your familiar?” Elriel asked, turning his head to look at the obnoxious man, expecting something slimy and reptilian. Like a snake. But kept it to himself.

Jet Emphoa Arcanist Fred Colon

 

[Jet]

​

Bean curiously looked at Anya. "A time limit? No such thing really, we're grand as long as we nail that bastard. Could be today, next week, next month — don't matter which way. We just want less council rats snooping around if we can help it." He pocketed the vial before continuing. "And the council don't run the games, not anymore anyway. Mostly the board of entertainment and commerce these days, and guess who's payin' em?" Bean sharply cackled. "Old Vincent's as tricky as he is mean."

He paused and listened intently as Mark as spoke. The man was correct even if the council didn't control the games. A simple blackout wouldn't raise many alarms, not when technical issues caused them every year. "Right as rain mate, nobody's comin, especially when the security chief's one of ours."

"Anywhoos— he stopped short when a door opened behind him. He looked over his shoulder and a sigh of relief escaped his lips; thankfully it wasn't Dalton with his stern, parental attitude and loud voice. Nor Darius with his equally stern attitude, minus any redeeming qualities of course.

Just then he heard Mark whisper and subtly nodded along. He saw no reason to include another person in his growing conspiracy, especially an unknown quantity like Euclaire. "You're too kind good sir!" His exaggerated accent was back in full force; a riveting impersonation of Olliver Twist himself. "Me mates will lose their marbles when I show em these scripts!" He patted his pocket with a dumb, wide grin plastered on his face. "I'll be off now me lords and lordettes, go knock em silly for me!"

Bean spun about and tightly hugged Anya. "And you be careful out there miss!" He looked up with wide, saucer-like eyes, lips trembling with mock fear. "You're such an inspiration to us all, so stay safe in the ring will ya!" He released her from his surprisingly strong grasp, turning from the group as he hummed Pop Goes the Weasel. Then he waltzed past Euclair and disappeared down the hallway, eagerly anticipating the bloodshed he was about to see.

EldridSmith Lost Echo Huntertabbysandshark3 Monbon

 

[Lost Echo]

Anya stood frozen, arms at her side as the younger boy…hugged her? She looked down at the top of his head, then his face as he turned to look upward. Was he going to cry? She followed his path out of the locker room, mouth agape as he left. “I’m what?” She never bothered watching the Nye News, knowing they just parroted propaganda, so she had no clue of her new status. Her gaze skipped over the gaudily dressed woman leaning on Ava to stare at Mark. Automatically expecting him to have the answer, for all that she disagreed with his estimate. Surely the council was aware enough to keep an eye on this locker room specifically. Bean’s--that they’d bought out the security--made more sense. “What just…happened?” She shook herself, slightly worried he’d done something to her legs, but unwilling to check in front of this new stranger. It was obvious the hug was fake.

Stepping forward, she turned to face the newcomer. “So, that was weird. I have no idea how he knew who I am. I didn’t do that good in the prelims.” Offering her hand, which she hoped she shook, not…swayed with, she said, “I’m Anya, Gorgeous here is Ava and this is Doc.” Once more, she avoided using the latter’s name, not knowing his fake one. “You’re another contestant? Doc was here last year, but the two of us are new.” She gestured toward Ava to include her as us.

 

[Emphoa]

"Mm- yeah losing limbs is sort of the end of it for people who work with their hands." Rat chipped in at the idea, and he supposed he would have been much like the same as Mischa- or perhaps look into technology to remake his hand, in some way shape or form. Although who knew, it wasn't something he truly had to think about right now and he didn't plan on putting himself on the line to lose a limb, anyhow. He rolled his neck at the thought, Remy skittering down from his head and shoulder and into one of the pouches on his gear, the little rat familiar getting himself ready to be on the move when it would come to be time.

The boy grew quiet, still, as he listened to the other two speak a bit between one another and his eyes flitted around the locker room. He wondered if people could truly see them in here, talking amongst themselves. He wondered, too, if they even did get a kick out of their interactions. He puffed merely at the thought, perking up a little bit as he was directly spoken to by Mischa once more, and he offered her a lop sided grin at the comment. "What can I say- gotta have something to make me appeal to the masses." He joked, leaning back and his eyes grazing over the magitech she put together. "It's an art, really." He spoke, leaning forward a little bit. "Maybe sometime you can let me take a look at it, I'm a bit of a professional when it comes to magitech." He gave a little wink, patting some of his own tools. "Made em myself."

The boy paused, then, to look back over to Ivan when he added in his input about the games and he let out a hum. "Ideally, I don't think most would like to kill anyone, we'll see how it goes and what kind of opponents there are, right?" He snorted a little at the thought, and he knew he wasn't trying to kill anyone, but he wouldn't let someone get the upper hand on him, either. His eyebrows knitted together at the thought, and his eyes snapped back onto the young woman as she brought up her familiar and they formed together.

The rat was quiet while she described what she could hear, and he often wondered what it was like to be able to use one's familiar like she did- before pushing the thought to the side and giving a hum of acknowledgment, keeping quiet so that she might be able to better hear what was going on on the outside. It was a fair few moments before she would return to them, and the boy would perk up a little bit. Finally, he chuckled and looked away. "Meh- all I need will stick right up here, I'm good about that." He tapped the side of his head, pursing his lips together as he thought about the possible opponents. "I'm not picky, really, on who I'm up against. I'm not trying to lose first round, so I just hope it's someone I can be on par with." He gave a dismissive shrug at the thought, leaning back onto his hands.

EldridSmith Jet ZackStop

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Ava Marco
interaction: EldridSmith Lost Echo Jet Monbon​

Ava would just give bean a smile she was gonna ask more questions to bean but there was something brushing against her hand or grabbing it well whatever it was it was noticeable ava turning around to see it was a new arrival to their locker room frankly she was glad she didn't say any more would have probably confused the situation. However the girl was making an attempt at flirting and it just made ava giggle a little. "Keep that up i might just have to give you a smooch" she'd say jokingly turning back to bean as he was leaving ava just gave them a small wave. "Enjoy ya day kid" she'd reply with a grin anya filling the new girl in on their names already. "Long faces? Na more worried that kid might get themselves hurt wandering into more locker room other contestants probobly wont be as accommodating to a random fan walking in ya know?"

 

[Jet]

Collab post with Fred Colon Anne Boolean

Nyaall raised a brow at the newcomer’s response to Kilderkin. The clapping? A way with words? It seemed more like the man was responding to an audition or a reading of a script than someone’s mere requests for goods. What an odd character.

It got even odder when he turned his attention to the performer. The way he spoke made it seem like the veil had been pulled back from over his eyes, and the man’s words were enticing. Just who was he? Nihal had more than half a mind to accept, but he couldn’t help but wonder if this was a test. This was all being filmed, after all, and on top of that, who knew where this man’s alliances lied.

He gave a small smile. “That’s a generous offer,” he responded. “I’ll need to have my management around for that discussion. “If the opportunity is something I’m interested in, and it does not have any conflicts with my current contract, I’d be happy to take it on. I’d love to talk more about this later.”

Damian's face was impassive and unreadable, but his eyes contained a glimmering spark of amusement. "Generosity implies I won't receive equal compensation, but I assure you my prices are reasonable. You needn't worry yourself of vast, bloviated payments, nor the lowly opinions of corporate parasites; hearts blackened with greed and corruption." He subtly leaned forward with his fingers interlocked, holding eye contact with the man. "You decide your own fate. Your suffering is yours alone to bear, as is your exaltation."

Kilderkin kept her smile broad and vacant, but she felt a stab of annoyance. What was O’Gardener trying to do? Blow her cover? Show off that he knew who she was? Bluff and act like some all knowing informant? But there was nothing Kilderkin could do now to figure that out one way or another, and a sure fire way to blow her cover was to let it seem like she was affected by his words. Nyaall seemed like a sharp one, and could tell something was off. She couldn’t feed any of the suspicion.

“I mean how much would the noodles cost? Would you deliver them somewhere, or do you have, like, a shop? I’m practically salivating hearing you talk about it!”

Damian examined her smile like a scientist viewing an experiment, holding back the urge to laugh. He found the charade equally amusing and ridiculous. How they carried on like diligent performers on a stage, pretending the truth was hidden from his sharp, calculating eyes. "The price is a matter of your perspective." He chuckled at his own ambiguity. "You see, I don't accept common currencies as payment. Instead I exchange favors for favors. The grander your desire, the grander your favor will be."

"For instance, this bowl of ramen you so desperately seek." He thoughtfully paused for a moment. "Years from now I may ask you to deliver a package to one of my clients, same way the chef will cook your ramen and deliver it to your doorstep."

This man definitely knew more than he led on. Nihal’s eyes narrowed. He spoke of reasonable prices, and yet, from his most recent exchange with Kilderkin, it seemed like making a deal with this man would only pull them into shadier practices. He spoke of equal payment. What was equal payment for freedom? Being a slave to someone else was all he could think of. Agreeing to this would keep him in the same position, except under new management. When someone said jump he would still have to ask how high, but jumping may not be all that was expected from him with this new deal.

“Damn. Just delivering a package? That sounds easy!” Kilderkin laughed, as if she couldn’t believe her luck. “Well. I’d like to try your services, then! The ramen sounds great!”

Kilderkin needed to remain in contact with this man. She was sure it wouldn’t be a simple package delivery that was asked of her, but she could deal with that. Even if it was drugs, or weapons, or whatever nasty thing that O’Gardener wanted moved… well. Kilderkin was a pirate. She knew how to do those sorts of things and not get caught. And she needed to figure out what he really wanted. And more importantly, how he knew.

“I’ll let you know how it goes!” Kilderkin said to Nyaal. “Hopefully I can give Mr. O’Gardeners delivery service a good review!”

"My reviews are steller I assure you." Damian said with a slight smile. "I've never failed to deliver what was asked of me, even the most outrageous requests are possible given the right — perspective." He slowly stood and approached Kilderkin, reaching out to shake her hand. "Your meal will arrive at your fight's conclusion, may it be a warm respite from the bloodshed."

“Well, I’m hoping it doesn’t get too bloody.” She said, and took his hand. From her closer vantage point, she took in as much about the man as she could. “It’s all in good fun, right?”

"I suppose barbary has a certain appeal, but I've always found it distasteful." He turned and walked to the door, stopping for a brief moment. "I wish you all good luck in the wars to come, may you all find the proper path." He disappeared down the hallway without another word, subtly smiling as he softly whistled a tune.

 

[Jet]

​

The crowd was settled into their seats, twenty thousand strong and riotously loud. Their chants shook the arena as they screamed—

"WE WANT A FIGHT!"

"A GOOD OLD FASHIONED FIGHT!"

"SO THROW SOME LEFTS, THROW SOME RIGHTS!"

"WE'LL DRINK TO YOU TONIGHT!"

That was but one of many ringside classics; rabid chants befitting rabid peasants, nobles and everything in between. They'd come far and wide to see the games first hand, and their excitement was nothing short of rapturous; a near religious experience that Dyus played into. He pumped them up from a raised platform within the ring, leading chants and waving his arms to excite them.

"IT IS TIME MY FRIENDS!" He widely grinned with anticipation. "FOR THE GREAT GAMES TO BEGIN!"

The crowd exploded with screams and deafening applause, peppered with chants and sharp whistles. The stereos played intense music befitting a battleground, and within the locker rooms a PA system sprang to life. "Attention all contestants." A woman's voice came from the speakers. "The fights are about to begin. Please leave your room and follow the red arrow to the staging area. Thankyou and good luck out there! Go get em fighters!"

When the contestants left their rooms, they'd see red arrows on the wall pointing right. They'd see mages coming from other rooms lining the hallway, filling the narrow space with dozens of contestants. There were some of slight build with simple gear and light weapons, others of titanic size with massive swords and thick armor. There were masked warriors and scarred barbarians from Jarnstrond, savages from Macragge and veterans from Valencia. There were noble knights with white, shining armor, walking beside career criminals wearing cloaks. It was a dangerous assortment of killers and thugs, and only the threat of disqualification kept the tense, unstable peace.

It took three minutes for them to reach the staging area, labeled by a plaque above the open double door. Within the room stood a dozen guards and a tired, grumpy man named Dalton Lewis.

"Alright then, form up on me." He waved the group over. "Time to cover some ground rules, would rather not beat any of you for breaking one."

"Firstly, no sneaking into the women's restroom, and yes that means you light users. We'll have one less contestant if I catch you peeping." He flashed a metal badge. "Cause I'm a senior Centurion. Won the game years ago and can't escape the fucking thing, so here I am." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a remote, turning on a screen behind him.

"Here's the bracket, fights happen in order from top to bottom. So the first one will be… Anya against Rudolf Hornfoot, hell of a last name that is kid."

A short teenager emerged from the group. He was clearly nervous and stuck out like a sore thumb; one of the weaker ones no doubt. His chances were slim to none based on his shifting gaze and sweaty brow. "H-here!" He managed between sharp breaths.

"Good!" Dalton approached the kid and clapped his shoulder. "Need a puke bag?"

"Um, I uh." The boy nervously swallowed. "Yes please?"

Dalton ruffled the boy's hair. "Then you should've brought one kid, cause this place ain't for the weak." He looked around the room. "It's for killers."

The comment drew a wave of answers from the group, a mixture of here heres and damn straights. The teen nervously looked back at the dangerous assortment, forcing out words between deep, anxious breaths. "Just you wait! I'll get my act together and take you all down, can't turn back now anyway right?" He nervously laughed as sweat rolled down his face.

"You can and you should." A tall, muscular man stepped from the crowd. His bare torso was made of solid muscle, powerful and chiseled without a single ounce of fat. He wore a steel helmet and gauntlets with matching sabatons, finished by leather sandals and a string necklace. He carried a gladius, a round shield and a spear was strapped to his back — famous weapons used by the Viper.

"And you're not the only one." He faced the group and sniffed the air. "You smell of piss and shit. The stench of weak men ruled by even weaker men; pretend killers who think fighting's a game. I will crush you and bring honor to the arena."

Dalton annoyedly sighed. He'd seen it all before; the posturing and posing, mind games and taunts. It was equally obnoxious and annoying. "Save it for the ring big guy." He looked at the others with the same exasperation. "There are a few rules in the ring. First off, no unnecessary killing. The fight's over if your opponent yields or is incapacitated."

"Secondly, stop fighting if the referee blows his whistle or steps in the ring. If you hit a ref that's an automatic disqualification, so watch it. I'm not gonna lose any staff because you can't control yourself."

"Thirdly, there are Centurions guarding the front row, and they do a damn good job of blocking attacks, but no unnecessary spells directed at the crowd."

"Lastly, no blows below the belt and no biting. This is a sanctioned match, not a fucking street fight."

He gestured at metal seats placed around the sparse concrete room. "That's the whole enchilada, so take a seat or warm up over there." He looked at a practice area filled with dummies, punching bags and targets.

~​

Meanwhile, across the city Lord Vincent entered a room of Centurion officers. He was there on business unconnected to the games; military strategy regarding the vast, wild wasteland. They stood around an oak table with a map of the badlands, dotted with figurines of soldiers and castles. "Lord Vincent." The lead officer saluted before opening a dossier. "I have the report you requested, but why are you interested in the west my Lord?"

"I assume you're aware of our Centurion problem."

"Aye Sir."

"What are the chances they're behind it?" He looked down at the map and gently grasped a figurine.

"Hmm." The lead officer scrunched his scarred, wrinkled face. "Slim to none. The clans squabble as they always have, and we've seen no unification attempts, mustering calls or anything else out of the ordinary."

"Even so, who else would see the state weaken?"

"Were they our men or the council's?"

"Both, otherwise I would've immediately suspected the council."

"Perhaps one of the Empires then?"

"And risk annihilation?" Vincent raised a brow. "Even after centuries they remember what Nye is capable of."

"Then the peasantry perhaps? A group of malcontents could ambush even the strongest centurion."

"I've hired Crasten to investigate that possibility, however I refuse to leave any stone unturned."

"Crasten?" The centurion scoffed. "That pompous asshole is—

"A sharp man with a sharp mind." Vincent knowingly smirked. "Crasten is smart as he is weak. He understands the way men operate in the shadows, hiding in plain sight instead of striding onto battlefields, more concerned with ballads than winning wars."

The officer forced a smile as he swallowed his pride. "Yes of course my Lord."

"Then we're in agreement." Vincent knocked over the figurine and sharply looked at the man. "Double our western patrols; not a single ship passes without a thorough search, and order our men in the west to investigate the matter."

"Yes my Lord." The officer saluted as Vincent left the room, reaching his study soon after. He sat behind his desk and turned on a small television, watching the announcer's usual song and dance. It was a grandiose display meant for utter morons. He found it glaringly annoying and obnoxious in spades, but the announcer served his purpose — hanging from a line as bait. He was the perfect target for angry commoners to assassinate, and Vincent hoped he'd draw them from their nooks and crannies; cheese on a trap for murderous vermin. With that dark, morbid thought he idly watched the games, sipping Cabernet as they finally began.

~
​

Meanwhile, a man named Devin scurried through the arena's basement. He was a short fellow with gaunt, sunken cheeks, and his frame was shockingly thin. He was there to publicly protest for his people back home; political prisoners on the Island of Xysma. He wasn't alone in his mission. There were many who'd storm the ring during the first round, waving banners covered with controversial slogans, stashed in the arena by a sympathetic custodian.

Devin needed to grab his banner from a small closet in the basement, a prohibited zone that was deserted during the games. He was thankful for that indeed. He was hardly a fighter; more a scrappy survivor who dodged conflicts when they came. To that end he was quiet and stealthy, ducking away when steps echoed down the long, empty hallways.

It was nerve wracking business. His heart pounded faster than a race horse, hands shaking as he crept through hallway after hallway, checking a map etched on his forearm. "Here we are," he whispered to himself, gazing at a green metal door. He reached out and slowly turned the handle, deeply breathing as he stepped inside. He fumbled for the lightswitch and clicked it on, heart skipping as he came face to face with two men. They wore black cloaks and matching masks, shiny boots and dark leather garb.

"Sorry I must have gotten lost. Do you know—

"Kakvo shten pravim?" The taller one said.

"What? I'm sorry I don't understand?"

"Ubivam." The short one answered.

"I uhh… on second thought, I think I can find my way back! Sorry for troubling you." Devin's forehead was slick with sweat. He knew shady characters when he saw them; Xysma had trained him well in that regard. "Good day my lords!" He turned and reached for the door, but he stopped when a warm, dull shock coursed through his chest. He tried to speak but his voice was little more than a gurgle.

"Viz! Tova eh shish." The tall one laughed as Devin slowly looked down. He reached for his sternum with hesitant, shaking hands, clutching a sword that protruded from his chest.

"I don't understand," he dully thought before collapsing to the ground, bleeding out as the men took small packages from their satchels.

~
​

Back on the field, Anya and Rudolf entered the ring, and Dyus narrated the scene in his loud, brash way. "Our first match will see fan favorite Anya against Rudolf Hornfoot!" The crowd exploded with cheers and whistles. "Anya wants to be a Centurion to prove her disability is no disability at all. That she can overcome her tragic childhood accident, and become the first amputee to win the games!" Here's an excerpt from her interview!"

The screens cut to footage from her interrogation. "What was your childhood dream?" The interviewer asked.

"To be a Centurion. I want to help people."

"What would you say to your biggest critics and detractors?"

"I'll win this time. They'll be surprised at what Kallos and I can do."

"Do you think your disability is a disadvantage?"

"No, these legs are a weapon onto themselves."

"Do you think you'll win the games?"

"If there’s one thing I am, it’s a survivor. The accident that took my legs when I was 10 should have killed me, and look at me now. I survive when it’s least expected and I’ll continue to do the same.”

The crowd loudly cheered for the heavily edited clip; if only they knew how much had been cut and moved around. It was typical marketing for the games. Interviews were often rearranged to drive interest and narratives, and this one was no different.

Rudolf faced the same treatment. He was portrayed as an arrogant ass with unrealistic confidence, and a disrespectful one at that. The crowd booed him and threw trash on the field as he visibly withered. "That's not what I said!" he shouted at the stands, but his voice was lost among the chanting sea.

~
​

Finally, across the ocean a group of warriors sat around a fire. Their leader was old and wrinkled, and a horizontal scar crossed his eyes. He held a wooden staff tipped with a clear, roughly shaped gemstone, calmly buzzing with powerful magic. He gently hummed as he opened his blind eyes, staring into the realm of the laughing god.

"O Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the winds, whose breath gives life to all the world, hear me."

"I come before you, one of your children. I am small and weak. I need your strength and wisdom."

"Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes behold the red and purple sunset."

"Make my hands respect the things you have made, my ears sharp to hear your voice."

"Make me wise, so that I may know the things you have taught my people, the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock."

"I seek strength, not to be superior to my brothers, but to be able to fight my greatest enemy; myself."

"Make me ever ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes, so that when life fades as a fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame."

He reached up and grasped one of the billion threads, relishing the warmth of a bright future.

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

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas imagined the legendary man standing before her was deciding how best do dispatch this disrespectful and clearly useless waste of space that called itself an assassin as once again Johan hesitated for several moments working through his emotions.

She heard his steps approaching her and held still so that the death would at least be quick and maybe the blood spilt not so difficult to clean up off the tiles... but the strange centurion kept on surprising her.

"Narzas you... you have some red on you."

She glanced up in confusion at his words just in time to see him hovering scant inches away from her, pressing a handkerchief into her neck. Something in her chest fluttered as a trapped butterfly in an enclosure. She couldn't make heads or tails of the influx of emotion as he attempted to derail her delusions of grandeur regarding the Centurions as a whole... though there was no way a few words could ever erase years of overheard hushed conversations nor direct warnings given regarding their power and the deference they were to be shown. To her little village they were the gold standard upon which all assassin training was based. He may as well have been a panther trying to convince a small feral cat it was not so big and terrifying as it seemed.

The next thing he said though did have some effect on the woman he shared the broom closet with. Narzas blushed and averted her gaze, the strange fluttery feeling becoming a nearly audible thing to her own ears. The butterfly had become plural, her chest feeling veritably full of the little winged creatures. He... liked her? Why should anyone do that?

"I don't know how to do as you ask." She admitted quietly, trying to wrangle the flock of non existent winged insects making it hard to think. "This is the longest conversation I've ever held with anyone. We were not allowed to do things that wasted time like visit libraries and such when I was training. They brought us meals at appropriate times and provided everything we could need. I stole what free time I could to perch near street musicians or bands to listen to their music, but that was not exactly a social experience." She left off the apology she wanted to add since he had clearly wished to hear no more of those.

In a very real way, Johan was more or less the first 'random person on the street' who she'd stopped to talk to ever. Or at the very least in so long the point was made moot. All conversations had been staged by her trainers as social experiences to try and teach her the great complexities of those who weaved words with secret meanings. She had never been good at that part of her job, and if she stopped to think about it she'd probably realize her general lack of social encounters outside of the classroom were probably to blame for that.

She fell silent and snuck a glance at the man crumpled into the opposite corner of the cramped space. Crazily, the butterflies took that moment to transform into a dull throbbing ache as she noted the tired way he smiled encouragingly at her. There was an incomprehensible desire to find a way to do something, anything to cheer him up.

Narzas did the only thing she could think of. She smiled nervously back at him. "I suppose there's a first time for everything. How am I doing?"

Jet

 

[Fred Colon]

Howard, unbeknownst to himself, had a way of dealing with direct insults. He had no idea that he did this. If he had been aware of it, it wouldn't have worked.

Howard lived in his own world, a world with a few set, solid rules. And in his world people didn't insult him. It was impossible. It just didn't happen.

Evidence to the contrary of this didn't change his internal world in the least.

Since it was, at least in Howards understanding of the world, impossible for Adamaris (and to a lesser extent the others) to have insulted him, that meant it couldn't have happened. 'When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth', as a famous author (not that Howard read much) had once said. Since insults weren't possible, something else must have happened. A slip of the tongue, Howard mishearing, silence mistaken for speech.

So Howard simply didn't hear the impugning of his honor. It wasn't a conscious choice. If you had confronted him about it later, he would have been utterly and genuinely confused. Insult him? No! Adamaris was a lovely fellow. They'd gotten along famously! Similarly, he would have sworn that the others expressions were of open friendliness, and not the thinly veiled looks of disgust they had been in reality. It was one of Howards greatest skills. His ego was nigh impenetrable.

"Wonderful, my good man!" He said to Adrian, completely ignoring the others attempts to go back to their own conversations. "Here. We can write up a contract before your match, but I do, as our friend from Albion said, have some coin on hand!" He handed Adrian a handful of coins that would add up to a pretty penny, though Howard wasn't really paying much attention to how much he had given. "You're betting on the right horse! I'm going to turn this flying city around, and it will be, in part, thanks to *your* efforts!"

At the site of that much money simply tossed about, several other competitors suddenly took interest.

"The rest of you can change your mind whenever you like! I'm sure once you see my campaign platforms and speeches, you'll come right round! Howard Greenfellow, man of the people!"

He glanced over to Byrnwyr.

"Oh! My familiar?" Howard reaches into his pack, to reveal a sleeping Platypus that seemed to be made entirely of stone. "His name is Marcus Aventius El Ruminor the Seventh! I call him Maerts for short, because that's the acronym of his name! He's such a cute little fellow, yes he is! He's got an absolutely glossy coat because I bathe him, at least twice a day, with---"

But he didn't get to continue, because several people in the locker-room were now vying for his attention, 'interested' in supporting him and even more 'interested' in his money. Never a man to ignore the spotlight, he found himself leaving the original group that he had been talking to, in favor of more interested parties.

"Don't worry!" He called back to Adrian, completely forgetting about his promise of a contract. "I'll pay you the rest when you're done!"

And with that, they were left alone.

Emphoa Jet Goliath Arcanist

 

[Jet]

Johan knew how to read people. He noticed small smiles and slight frowns, hidden sneers and glinting eyes; clues showing who people were below the surface. He'd been well trained for such things; operatives usually were and he was no different. He'd always been talented in that regard, a natural reader of worn parchment faces, inked with emotions like words on a page.

Yet he couldn't understand her.

Narzas was a puzzle he'd never solved before; a detached, abused girl handling emotions like a computer. Her face showed a dozen feelings at once, forming a maelstrom of reds and blues, yellows and greens, forced together on a small canvas. He was at a loss for words watching her struggle, paralyzed by his own caution and sympathy. He struggled to imagine how bad her life had been. How she'd been trapped inside training halls like a caged bird, flapping its wings in vain. He'd never experienced that in his training before; he was meant to blend with civilians after all, so he needed charisma even if it was only a shallow impersonation.

"You've got room for improvement." Johan slowly stood with a deep breath. "But I'd be clinically insane if I walked in your shoes, honestly I'm impressed you can hold a conversation at all." He carefully approached her again, gently smiling as he met her gaze. "If you can't do what I ask, then screw libraries and cafes, I'll ask a new question instead."

Johan deeply explored her eyes. He saw warmth but his numb, scarred exterior blocked it out. He wanted to understand exactly what it was, and hopefully he would in time. "Just think of me as a friend. I won't treat you like the people back home, promise." Johan touched her shoulder and gently squeezed, holding back the urge to hug her. He wanted her to know she was cared for. That he saw his own hardships and regrets in her story. That she was relatable to him; a rare chance given his profession. He wanted to ease her pain and anxiety, but he wasn't sure how to accomplish that. So for now the best he could do was a shoulder squeeze.

"Let's pretend we're normal for a moment. Just a couple civilians hanging out, telling dumb stories and shooting the shit." He quietly laughed. "Maybe then we can forget about what they've done to us — if only for a moment."

rozukitsune

 

[ZackStop]

Ren watched as the eccentric man, Damian, left the locker room before continued to tinker with his equipment. Meanwhile, his familiar wandered around in a circle, continuously looking around the room with precision. "Ah, there. Done!" Ren the said to himself with pride, and just as he completed his tune ups, the intercom sounded with instructions for him, and every other contestant. "Wow, already? I guess I finished just in time." He set his shield down beside him, and mentally prepared himself. "Wow, it's actually happening... I almost can't believe it."

Ren stood up, or at least tried to, because as soon as he began to move his legs, their wobbling made him stop. He was nervous, something about the way the woman spoke made it all feel so much more real. The time he spent here in the locker room made him forget just how much of a big deal with really was. But he shook it off, and got up to grab his armored gauntlets. "Time to get going, buddy." He said as he knelt down to his familiar, who began to glow blue before jumping onto his shoulder in a much smaller form. Ren grabbed his shields and faced his new acquaintances. "Hey guys, I appreciate all of your kindness! good luck out there!" He said with a bow, before running ahead to join the leaving crowd.

Anne Boolean Fred Colon ManofManyRoles

Ilana on the other hand had become still as a rock at some point while the other denizens of the locker room conversed. It was the only way she could keep herself from getting too distracted, and it was her method of meditation. Completely still as she communed with her familiar. Whereas before they swam around within their pool of crimson alone, Ilana now shared his space.

The first time she merged with her beast of a familiar was many years after many failed attempts to tame them. Many of her scars were the result of his ferocity, but when they did manage to become one, the experience was as much mental as it was physical. She would see herself sitting helplessly in water neck deep as the rigid scales of a crocodile brushed against her every so often. It frightened her as a small girl, but that was a different person than the one she has become. Hardship made her this way, and now instead of standing helplessly with a monster, she now floats calm on the surface, a monster herself.

Then the PA kicked on, bringing her back to reality. with a quick flash of her eyelids, Ilana looked straight ahead with fearsome and focused eyes, the pupils sharpening like the lizard part of her, like two knives cutting through the violet in her eyes. She took a breath. "A little longer." She whispered to herself before standing up calmly, but wasted no time to leave for the designated area. She tried her best not to get caught up in a crowd, keeping her strides brisk to ensure that.

EldridSmith Jet Emphoa

And there they were, every contestant in The Games in one area. Ren stood attentive as the rules were getting announced. Luckily they were brief and reasonable, so he had no trouble processing them through his nerves. "Dammit! I don't know if I'm excited or just plain nervous... These people look so strong." Phalanx promptly smooshed his paw against Ren's face, giving him the grumpy cat face. "Right, gotta stay confident!" Ren said under his breath, only enough for his familiar to hear him.

It was when the man got around to the contestants for the first round that things started to get exciting. Ren perked up and focused away from Phalanx again. "Anya against Rudolf Hornfoot." Said the man. Rudolf was a name Ren didn't recall from previous games, and when he stepped forth, his suspicion was practically proven. "A newcomer, just like me." Ren said to himself as he held his hand up to his mouth, attempting to bite his nail. He couldn't because of his armor, but seeing how weak Rudolf's demeaner was made him nervous on his behalf. Displaying that behavior would get you torn to shreds, and it didn't take long for that to become clear. "Come on..." Ren said to himself, as if urging Rudolf to straighten up, not like he could hear him.

Ren of course had no room to talk, he probably wouldn't be doing any better if he was in their position, but seeing Rudolf squirm gave Ren the idea of what not to do. On top of that, Dalton made a good point even if it was at Rudolf's expense. It wasn't a place for the weak. They all had to be strong. Realizing this, Ren finally dropped his nerves completely, and got in the right mindset. That was until the main man himself showed up. "N-no way... It's the Cage Viper!! I mean, of course he would be here! Why didn't I realize that sooner?! S-should I go get his autograph? I-I-" Ren was cut off but Phalanx once again, who smooshed his paw up against Ren's face. This cat had heard enough of Ren's fanboy thoughts already. "Right, right. Gotta focus for now. You're right." Ren thought to himself, speaking to his familiar telepathically. He then lifted his head up and tried to look around over other peoples heads, wondering if this Anya person was going to step forward as well, whoever they were.

Meanwhile, Ilana just stood and watched. She didn't care about any of this silly talk and bravado. She didn't care to chime in on this hazing of a noobie. It was pointless, and this Cage Viper fellow really rubbed her the wrong way. He was simply wasting breath on whatever filth he was referring to, and all this talk of honor. If the weak men fall, they will fall. There was no use saying what everyone already know. Needless to say, Cage Vipers taunts didn't phase her all too much, if anything, it only confirmed what she already knew about him. "Too much talk... you're just a one trick pony if you ask me." She remarked to herself.

Once all that was said and done, there was a second briefing going over in arena rules, and problems already began to arise. Ilana gritted her sharpened row of teeth as the speaker mentioned "No biting." She seethed a bit at this. "What? So I just have to give up one of my strongest weapons? What a load of shit..." She thought to herself, but she just had to let it go. Though, she thought she might be able to get away with it if she could sneak it past the ref. Maybe. She tightly clenched her biceps as she crossed them, still listening to Dalton, albeit with a glare on him.

 

[Lost Echo]

Leaving the locker room was scary. Almost immediately she lost Mark, though thankfully Ava was easy to keep in sight. There were so many fighters, many of them obviously yearning for blood. She had to merge partially with Kallos to keep him from being crushed, orange streaking across her eyes and the eponymous feathers crowning the back of her head. She kept the partial shift to keep her legs and hands. Now she just had to not bump into anyone or hit them with her sword.

With every step she focused on her legs, trying to tell if anything caught or hung up. That conniving boy had to have done something to her with that tight hug he’d given. But when she’d taken the chance to go over them, she found nothing out of the ordinary. She knew those legs better than the back of her hand (literally, why bother looking there?) But everything was fine. She ran out of time to look further, being called to join this crowd. Now, all she could do was focus on each movement, hoping she didn’t miss anything.

It was a tense three minutes before they stopped. She’d even lost sight of Ava at that point, somehow near the front. At least able to see the grumpy centurion through gaps in people in front of her... Craning to the other side, she could tell there were more guards, but not their numbers. The man grumbled a lot, which she ignored until the large screen behind him lit up. She froze. Her keen eyes easily picked out her name at the top, above the heads around her.

Oh shit. First. She got to die first. Except…a kid who had to be younger than her was called. He certainly weighed less than her. Even with her legs off. For a moment she just stared in horror--what if she accidentally killed him? Before moving forward. Her sword expanded her bulk, and once people realized who she was, they let her to the front easily. Up close was worse. He smelt of sweat and she could see a tremor running through him. She was so going to accidentally hurt him. Still, he had to be able to fight somewhat to get through the prelims. She kinda wanted a puke bag herself but stayed silent.

As the viper who looked like some sort of gladiator of old (and also smelled of sweat--did she smell?) came forward to bloviate on killing and honor or whatever, she leaned over to the kid, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you.” She promised the boy and herself. She was kind of hoping he did back out. That’d be the easiest.

Her attention turned toward the exasperated centurion--who’d obviously heard the Viper’s speech last year. The rules were easy enough until the end. She’d only been in one other sanctioned match--her preliminary one. Every other fight she’d been in had been going all out and doing whatever she could to survive. She’d have to watch herself on that one. She’d frequently hit below the belt to escape and had definitely bitten that one guy…

~​

Anya was still in shock. Couldn’t they tell what she said was bullshit? Surely everyone lied in that interview. And if you didn’t want to sound like a sociopath, why wouldn’t you say you wanted to help people? She wasn’t surprised Nye had edited the piece, but inspirational? They really should include puke bags if they were going around saying that. She wanted to be one of the boring contestants that no one thought of. She wanted to blend in. That was lost.

Mechanically (pun intended) she walked over to the sinks, setting her sword to lean against the wall as she washed the sweat from her face. Okay. She had to regroup. She’d succeeded in a lot of things. She’d won her fight (and the kid wasn’t hurt more than bruises! He left crying, but she thought that was more from losing than pain.) So she was still able to help Hannah. She should explore if Bean’s Lord Vincent was keeping her or if she could help him out. That kid was wily, but if she asked outright if they experimented on humans then he’d probably assume it was from living on Peirama.

Looking up into the mirror, she saw Kallos’s orange streak across her eyes and slowly released him to stand beside her. Running her fingers through his feathers, she took a deep breath. They could do this. She’d have to wait for Mark and Ava, but for now, she had time to herself. Strapping on her sword, she left the locker room to wander with Kallos right beside her.

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas watched Johan watching her, her pulse softly thudding in her ears as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She smiled, her face unaccustomed to the expression kind of looked a little sick - but the effort itself was genuine enough.

"Friend..." She tested the word on her tongue as she got to her feet as well, appreciating the novel feelings trying to find a name for themselves in her mind. She'd seen people with friends, her teachers had always told her things such as friendship and affection were weaknesses. A friend or lover was simply a person who could be used against you to betray your homeland and anyone you were body guarding.

Perhaps... they'd been wrong? What a strange thought. Almost blasphemous but... well Johan didn't seem to want to hurt anyone, maybe this would be a safe enough personal experiment. She nodded and allowed the light in the room to return to normal. "I would be willing to try." She agrees softly, tilting her head towards the door. "Shall we get back to work while we're 'shooting the shit'? I don't want either of us getting in trouble again. Your... colleague doesn't know how to keep his eyes to himself." A bit of the fight she aught to have displayed before surfaced at the thought. "I'd hate to encourage such behavior and accidently provoke an incident involving one of us killing the other." She smirks.

Jet

 

[Jet]

​

"I won't complain if you're the one killing him." Johan smiled to show he was kidding, but truth be told, he wouldn't really care. The old centurion was a proven war criminal; a mass killer who'd slaughtered hundreds out west. He'd done unspeakable things in the name of honor and duty, using the flag to clean his bloody, murderous hands. It was a gross habit many centurions shared, but not Johan. He scrunched his nose at the mere thought of Darius and his crimes, along with those who shared his disposition.

"He's done plenty to deserve a knife to the neck." He shrugged and opened the steel door. "But maybe it's best to keep the peace, so I'll follow your lead." He stepped into the hallway with Narzas (presumably) behind him.

"But enough about killing people, gotta practice what I preach and pretend to be normal." He cocked his head as they walked down the hallway. "How bout a story? Got one you might like." He remembered his academy days with a smile; life was so much simpler back then.

"In basic training there was a guy we called the Professor. He was strong and fast, a real beast of a man, kinda guy you'd never want to see in a back alley." He paused for dramatic effect. "Thing is, he was dumber than a pile of bricks." His smile slowly became a grin. "One time we were going on field training; had to spot hidden agents in a crowd. We were given binoculars to observe groups of people on the street, so we told the Professor to get lense sharpeners for us. It was supposed to be a harmless joke, but the moron actually went to the quartermaster."

Johan made a stern, serious face. "Uhh hey Joe." He deepened his voice to mimic the Professor. "Do you have binocular sharpers, we need them for maintenance." He shook his head as soft, quiet laughter escaped his lips. "The teachers thought he was pulling their legs, made him sweep sunshine from the sidewalk with a broom. Poor guy stood out there for twelve hours sweeping the ground."

He laughed as the memory played through his head, but he stopped when he thought about the Professor. He'd been captured by a kingpin and tortured to death, a horrible death for a good, albeit simple man.

Johan blinked several times as his smile returned, pushing away the unpleasant thought. "You have any stories like that? I know your training was strict but still, there must've been something that wasn't all bad?"

He blinked again as he rounded a corner, almost bumping into one of the contestants. It was one of the favorites this year, given easy matchups to ensure a good placement. He wasn't supposed to say anything about that, hell he wasn't supposed to know about it to begin with, but he'd been around long enough to know.

"Anya right?" He warmly smiled at her. "Name's Johan, head of security this year. I assume your first match went well?"

He didn't just assume her match went well, he knew it. Her opponent was a weakling brought in to help favorites; gophers he called them. They usually had scores well below the supposed requirements, ensuring favorites never lost in the first round.

"You wanna walk and talk with us? I'm feeling oddly social today. I wonder why?" He glanced at Narzas with a slight smirk. She'd pulled him his shell even if she didn't know it. "But yeah, back to what I was saying. You have any stories like that?"

rozukitsune Lost Echo

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas listened to the story, unable to help herself from smirking and softly chuckling at the random anecdote Johan described for her. What a colorful training he had had in comparison to her own if he had a story like that to tell! Her brow furrowed a little as he asked her for a similar story, and while she wandered through the perfectly framed memories of her mind, they wandered into one of the contestants. Johan greeted the stranger like an old friend... Which made her both suspicious and confused for a second before she realized he'd acted the same way toward her. She went back to walking the archives of her mind while keeping an eye on Anya.

"When I was about nine, the older girls in my compound decided I and the other young trainee females needed a lesson in humility. They dressed it up as a boys versus girls competition and told us that if we were really going to excel at our future occupation we needed to learn how to outmaneuver a man."

She smiled wryly at the memory. "'Men are stronger, but women are wilier' they'd said. 'Learn to use your brains and you'll be fine.' The game itself was capture the flag. We all got in rather a lot of trouble for their antics... unsanctioned training exercises were strictly frowned upon. Still, we did win, so it was almost worth the week of cleaning the barracks with toothbrushes."

 

[Lost Echo]

Not knowing where to go, Anya had picked a direction and started walking. Almost immediately, she learned it was the wrong direction. Her eyes widened in terror and Kallos’s feathers fluffed up at the man’s title. If the dude who called names was a centurion, then this guy could use him as a toothpick. Plus he knew your name. Was this the result of the mystery in the locker room? The bootlickers making their ploy?

They wouldn’t kill her. She realized in sudden relief. As much as the inspiration shit confused her, she could tell the kid that was chosen for her to beat. They wouldn’t give up a narrative that fast. Unless I did something stupid. So she smiled back, smoothing Kallos’s feathers. “We’re not dead.” she noted of her ‘rival.’ The best she could say about that fight. Her sword was too big for him to block, so she switched to physical. Which was difficult as he was not a fighter and most of her experience was…not sanctioned.

She shrugged at his offer, unsure if choosing no was an option, “Sure. I have no where else to be.” She fell in step with the two, glancing over as the woman spoke of her own story. She grinned naturally at the story; capture the flag was always fun. She was best at flying over cesspools to find something to balance herself and the flag on. It was how she learned Peirama’s streets so well.

A frown of concern graced her face at being punished for it. Anya had never been ‘punished.’ Oh, she’d faced consequences for her stupid actions, but no one had had any authority over her to punish her. Hell, the closest she had was Mark, who she was wary of pissing off, especially at first. But more than that unsancitoned training exercises? And why would you clean a barrack with a toothbrush? That life sounded horrible. Still she laughed, saying, “Yeah, sometimes you weigh the consequences and decide it was worth it.” Though if she was being honest, most of the time when they happened, Anya wasn’t aware of those consequences until they came.

But seriously, the head of security could not possibly just want to hang out with her. He had to not give a Newton about her inspirational story. So why were he and the other woman (who had to be a killer/employee of his) talking to her? Telling anecdots about their lives? What was going on?

 

[EldridSmith]

Thankfully Bean left leaving Mark to return to his normal personality... and he admittedly blushed seeing the newcomer she had quite the figure... but she was a seductive type compared to the cute kind like Anya which he liked instead of mere attraction. However as the interaction occurred he saw Anya looking at him for answers, but as soon he was about to say something the final call for the games had begun after the arena shook from chanting. Unfortunately as he went to talk to Anya on their way to the stadium they were split up and he was unable to find her... still perhaps later was a better time to talk considering all the ears around. Admittedly he didn't look for his cousin in the crowd, she was someone he knew would be fine no matter what seeing as they grew up together.

As Mark immersed himself in the cast of characters his mad side slowly bled through as he started leaking an aura of malice, each person he was a potential threat to himself and those he cared about... some people could sense this and recognized him, overall giving him a little more breathing room than the average contestant, but it was still a tight group that began their flow to the center of the arena where the grumpy old guard waited, a centurion Dalton Lewis. He remembered the drill and wasn't inclined to pay much attention until the bracket appeared, his eyes were glued to the screen as he saw Anya was up first. He quickly analyzed the situation... Anya was proficient fighter and had the grit to fight whereas the other person was the greenest greenhorn he had seen... the kid wasn't going to win from what he could tell so he wasn't concerned for this round... he was going to see if he could find info on his later matches, but his opponent this round seemed like a veteran mercenary from McCragge, thankfully they were a melee brute so careful distance play along with setup would be enough to take him down... still every plan could be waylaid by an unexpected event.

The comment about the room being full of killers caused him to madly chortle before snapping back into a death glare, further playing into his persona... if not a split personality. Mark didn't really know as he could take control whenever, but it felt better that he wasn't the one behind all of the acts he committed... one side of him wanted a good life the other wanted nothing more than to further selfish ambitions through what many would consider evil means... it was all him, if not the same person in full, at least different sides of the same coin. As his thoughts finished the signal the meeting ended was given, and now he was left to practice. He stretched before he lined up in the shooting range and quickly unloaded six shots into six targets dead center... wasn't the same as an actual moving target but he was sufficiently warmed up to start.

A while later Mark made his way onto the platform with jarring and unnatural motions as his magic causing his eyes to glow in a menacing lighting up the reinforced glass in is mask... he was going to be played up as the villain, especially after last year, so playing into it didn't hurt... aside adding another kill to his belt would make opponents think twice before facing him... fear was a powerful tool he planned on using well.

He looked towards his opponent and did a theatrical bow taking off his hat before cackling madly at his fellow McCragge killer. They both knew their lives were on the line, things were no different from home aside trying to pretend to be civil for the most part...
Jet Lost Echo Monbon Huntertabbysandshark3

 

[EldridSmith]

"Well you should be fine in your first match!" Ivan said reassuringly as he donned his helmet... he admittedly planned on commissioning someone to tailor some of his spare sections of mail for repairs to fit Mischa so they wouldn't lose any important limbs to slashes... but that was a concern for later. He would have offered for the boy but with his magitech the boy was likely better off without his help. "Well I wish you both well on your matches. Oh if you wish to meet up later I will be sitting up in section P with my aunt and uncle, but after I will be in... the charlemagne hotel if you want to find me. I would like to keep up with new friends." He said with a warm smile as they started their exodus to the center arena. "Rat, if your tech does well I may buy some from you later." He said with a wink before looking at Mischa. "And I'll have a something for you if you win the first round." He said with a wide smile, hopefully this would get them to visit him again so he could try and help them out some in his own way. He was known for visiting the orphanage with gifts a few times a year as such this behavior was normal to those around him, and he didn't realize it could seem odd to others. But considering his good nature and being a priest ideally no one would misunderstand.

The group then arrived at the briefing room where they were given the rundown,Ivan nodded along to the rules they all seemed reasonable, if not a little loose but it was understandable considering fights of such power were seldom easily stopped. Though he was saddened to see so many cheer at the thought of killing, while he had done so in the past it was to protect others and he took no pleasure in it, though he wouldn't hesitate to do so in the defense of the innocent. Another man spoke with bravado, but man's pride caused them to say many things out of line and beyond their abilities, may the Lord help humble their pride Ivan thought... though he too knew that sin was something easy to fall into if not for constant prayer and meditation.

The briefing then ended and Ivan moved to warm up and practice, though he unfortunately sliced clean through the dummy while doing so and resided himself to shadow fighting. Though during that time he was constantly meditating, quietly chanting to himself in Latin. His time to go on stage came swiftly however and he moved to the arena and strode onstage before taking a knee in prayer before standing up to face his opponent looking him in the eye. "May the Lord bless you and keep you, I wish you a good match."
Jet Emphoa

 

[Fred Colon]

Bracken didn’t pay attention to the Dalton man. He didn’t particularly care what he had to say. He removed his whet stone from a pouch at his waist, sat down on the ground amidst the forest of legs whose owners watched the circus, and began sharpening his arrows. Ten of them. Each pristine, impeccably made works of art. More beautiful than a simple arrow had any right to be. Especially in comparison to the gaunt, older man clad in animal skin, with greasy, unwashed hair tied into a tail with a strip of fabric, his beard allowed to grow unimpeded.

Eventually the Dalton man finished, but Bracken hadn’t finished with his arrows. So as people began to move on and out, he slowly, meticulously, finished his work before standing and looking at the bracket. Brynwyr. Bracken wondered how many arrows it would take to bring her down.

Bracken was the name she found against hers when she looked at the bracket. She took in the features on display on the screen - animal skins, beard, greasy hair. His portrait gave no indication as to what kind of fighter he was, something she was keen to find out. Stretching her leg out straight to stretch, she kept her eyes out for Bracken. Eventually she would find him, or who looked most like him, and took calculated glances at the arrows he sharpened.

Brynwyr sucked her teeth. Ranged. Already a disadvantage for her close quarter combat style. She brought one arm across her chest, her other hand on her arm to aid her shoulder stretch. All was not lost. She needed to get close enough to him, that was all. She stretched her other shoulder. ‘Quick as lightning,’ she thought. That was what she needed to be.

After more extensions of her arms, her legs, whatever parts of her body needed it, Brynwyr straightened up and approached the man. “Bracken,” she greeted, “it seems we’re each others’ opponents for this round. I wished to come over and wish you the best in our fight against one another.” Most would have chosen not to do so, but there was no harm in wishing a contender luck in these competitions.

And it had its own perks too.

Bracken looked up at Brynwyr. To him, who had lived alone, in the wilds for so long she was…. Stately. Imposing. Bracken tried to find something to say, but he had never been good with words.

“I am… not good at...” Bracken tried to come up with something to say, but couldn’t find the words. So he motioned to his mouth with the hand holding the wet stone.

“Talking.” He said after a moment, remembering the word. Feeling awkward at being addressed, he felt something more was required of him, so she showed her his quiver. In it, nine pristine arrows glittered in the light, the tenth in his hand.

“Ten arrows. Only. I will… not fire an…” He tried to think of the next number, and found it after a moment. “Eleven. Ten only. Eleven and you win.”

Warning her was only fair. The hunt was sacred. It was a contest. A hunter that had to fire arrow after arrow to bring down their prey was no hunter. Ten arrows. No more.

Bracken never needed more.

Brynwyr waited. She exercised a patience that most knights needed when dealing with serfs. And nobles. At first, she wondered if the man’s difficulty with speaking was a sign of nervousness, though she was more naive than she thought.

Bracken could convey his intentions through gestures and a few words at least. She watched as he brought his quiver up and presented the arrow in his other hand. They were finely made with a craftsmanship that ammunition made enmasse did not possess. Dare she say, she was impressed with it.

Then came the warning. Ten arrows. A threat - no, a warning. There was no malice or arrogance behind it, only a fact. He had proven this before and was assured he would prove it again.

She hummed. Nodded. “Eleven,” she repeated and smiled. “I’ll be sure to keep count, Bracken.”

Bracken nodded at her, and stood up, placing the arrow in his hand back in the quiver, completing the set.

“See you… for the hunt.” And left to wait for their fight to start.

Collab with Arcanist

 

[Jet]

​

"Worth it?" Johan laughed at the thought. "I try not to think about that, keeps the existential dread at bay." His sarcastic quip was half true. He lived like a rudderless boat without a captain, calmly swaying in the breeze. "But I'd say that lesson was worth the cost, especially in our line of work. Too many people undervalue our greatest weapon." He thoughtfully tapped his temple. "Only reason I'm still around is what's between my ears."

"There I go talking about the job again, fuck me I'm a broken record." He subtly shook his head. "Okay this is the last time, I promise." He doubted his word would hold true, but that wouldn't stop him from trying. "I wish we did stuff like that in the academy; only game we played was dodge the darts."

Johan winced at the memory. The teachers hit each student a dozen times per session, dotting them with holes when they lacked speed or finesse. It was a brutal game the school would never abandon, believing pain was the best teacher of men. "So Anya, we're doing security rounds, or that's what we're supposed to be doing anyway." He mischievously smirked. "But how about a tour instead?"

"There's a ton of cool shit I could show you two." He proudly smiled like he owned the arena. "We've got armories, animal pens, engineering floors and the television studio. You can watch that sports show live if you want." His eyes narrowed when he mentioned the show. It was mindless crap for mindless drones, and he wished he'd never mentioned it. With his luck, the girls would be lifelong fans and demand a live showing!

He really hoped God didn't hate him that much.

~​

The cloaked men exchanged a glance as the door closed behind them, leaving Devin in a pool of his own blood.

"Zhelaya kŭsmet," one said.

"Vas kakto," the other replied.

They clasped hands and pulled each other close, half hugging before parting ways. Then they walked through the arena to planned staging points, but perhaps someone would spot them en route?

rozukitsune Lost Echo

 

[EldridSmith]

Morning, drills, afternoon, drills, evening, drills, on a bad day there was another village raised to the ground as they were forced to advance into the Free African States... there was no rest, there was no peace, only continual hell that burned away at his soul and his desire to exist... he did not desire to harm anyone, nor destroy the beautiful lands that he was forced to conquer, he wished to trod the world peacefully enjoying life, even now he questioned was it better to life another day to kill a man for his own sake, or to die... but to die would not stop the endless horde of his fellow soldiers, most of which being fellow slaves fighting to save themselves and their villages from destruction.

His village was already safe... while within Nahzir territory and their lives being less enjoyable than before they would live for the front lines had moved passed them, but some of the others were less fortunate in that regard and had more than their own life on their shoulders. He stared fellow men and women in the eyes of the dead, those with hollow souls, those whose minds were shattered, those who hardened themselves to the world, and those let the animal within out... but worst of all were those who joined willingly and could leave willingly, those were the ones whose souls were black enough to swallow the sun... their sadistic pleasure watching people die whilst they dreamed of promotion and higher positions seeing only the lives of others as mere objects to be used and discarded for their own gain. Even those who let the animal out still showed some respect to the dead, but not the bastards with souls blacker than the night.

These are the times that try men's souls, many souls here were tried, and found unworthy. Perhaps he too was unworthy, but every ounce of his being detested this place and sought freedom. His heart pined to visit the distant oceans, beaches, mountains, the many natural wonders of the world... perhaps even with someone at his side... that dream was what kept him going, even as the bloody landscape he stood on and the blood on his hands slowly covered up his dream with the corpses he stood on. He was a tarnished man, one wondering what god or god's above saw such pleasure in this slaughter... if there was a god did they not weep to see their creation kill one another... were they unable to stop their own creations... or perhaps they watched on with sadistic glee with a soul even blacker than that of those who sold their souls to the devil that was Nahzir. If there was a god... he had many questions for them... but alas who was he to know as he was but a simple tribesman, a runt even then, but his very being rejected his position, his job, and his actions.

Alas hell is not easily escaped, there was but one event a year for someone as himself to try for freedom... the games of Nye. If he was to win he would have clawed out of his hellscape into a position capable of visiting other places... but the stories of Nye were too good to be true, perhaps they too were just as vile as Nahzir... but to even get in the top 8 would get him out of Nahzir to achieve residency in Nye... from there perhaps citizenship and full freedom from Nahzir's cold dead grasp which drained away at his soul. He trained only for that sole chance, the one rope dropped into the pit of vipers he resided in to flee... and perhaps god did exist and shone upon him, or perhaps his efforts were enough, whether it be his destiny or something he wrenched from the vile hands of fate he managed to get permission to leave for the preliminaries. After many days of travel on the backs of dingy trucks everyone worth a shot was gathered and tested, and in the end only he was able to qualify for his region. With that he got permission to leave for Nye once the games were upon him.

His belongings were few, but camping supplies, rations and water, and a filled out application for residency in Nye. Perhaps he was putting the cart before the horse, but were that to fail he would risk his life to escape Nahzir by taking a ship to another country, he knew little outside his own lands and didn't know which lands would be safe to flee to... but he would rather die fighting for his life in Nye or on the road than waste away in Nahzir. The day soon arrived to leave and with what little he owned strapped to his back he made his way to the dingy airship with his trusty familiar, krakerig, better known as Crispy, happily scuttling around on his pack along. Zulan softly smiled and pet Crispy as the crab moved his way onto his shoulder. "The time has come my friend, I will get you fish when we arrive, so please be patient with the trip." He softly whispered to his familiar as they got on, knowing how jittery Crispy was around machinery this hopefully would be enough to calm the little crab down. It seemed he was the last to be picked up and the ship was rather crampt but it was for the low class soldiers like himself, the middle and upper class ships were separate and much more luxurious... but were he to win or get within the top 8 he would never again be in such poor conditions...

A wave of tired men, women, and familiars poured out of the ship the day before the first round of fights. He was shoved into the lowest class hotels in the main area of Nye which were admittedly far better than any sleeping condition he normally would have. The next day he was up bright and early to stretch and prepare, now that they were in the city they were given relative freedom and he planned on using it after breakfast to get fish for Crispy as promised. Still he had time to kill and he visited the various market stalls and shops to see what they had... many wondrous items but none of which he could afford aside simple food and minor trinkets. The many things he saw gave him inspiration for many a song and piece of art but he couldn't afford to make such things, and songs were better when shared with others... still they were something that brought him great joy. Alas he sighed, at least he was free for once... if only a short while.

Hours later the time for the games came and he made his way into a locker room, this one had what seemed to be a convict from the north, a crazy old man from the south, a boy seemingly overconfident and scared, and lastly a large man with great bravado... he paid them no mind and quietly waited for the games to begin... he had no weapons save his own two hands... or claws were he to fuse with Crispy, he couldn't afford one good enough to use, and the ones given to the lowest rank of soldier was only enough to go against civilians... which is why so many fought for higher ranks and equipment. He however was content to just use his hands... every life he took he would personally feel the weight of, it was his own penance for his vile actions even if they were unwillingly done. The man seemed to get along well with the two men but the child seemed to be worse for wear due to the company... the boy naturally gravitated towards himself considering they were of similar sizes... though it was clear the boy was much younger than he. "An uneasy mind leads to an strained body, calm yourself or you will not prevail." He said giving as much advice as he could to a complete stranger... the boy seemed grateful for the advice but he could not calm himself. A shame truly, but alas this was not a place for such a young person. At this he pondered why combat was so glorified, yes it could be used to protect and that was to be admired... but seldom was used used so. More often than not it was used to reap the lives of the innocent.

The buzzer soon came and the group headed out into the warm up area where they were given a briefing of the rules, he frowned at no below the belt attacks as he often used that to his advantage... his size was a reason for that when facing opponents much taller than himself. The room was full of killers, perhaps, but he himself hated being called it no matter how true it was... but alas he could not change his sins, only do what he could to atone for them. Still as far as combat was concerned he was glad of his boots, the one thing he had kept hidden in Nahzir that would be of great use here... his superior officer which died in battle long ago had used them for great mobility and they were both users of the fire element so he quietly stole them from his corpse... but they would be of great use when closing the gap. He had practiced with them only when in absolute secrecy, but he knew their limitations, and his own.

He was already warmed up from this morning but to stay sharp he stretched and quietly practiced upon a dummy in the corner ignoring the jeers at his size and comments if he was a woman so flat she could brazenly show her chest. None of that mattered to him, his thoughts solely resided on his personal meditations and focus on self improvement, he would not suffer to live another day under Nahzir... and so he would die for it so be it. At this his name was called and he walked out on stage; fusing with Crispy on his way up the stage.
His opponent seemed to be a noble, those in the stands would recognize them as a middling rank noble of Valencia the man reeked of wine and women as he sensed it through his antennae. His opponent played ups his theatrics and treated the match like a game before bowing to himself and signaling he was ready for the match. Zulan nodded in confirmation that he was ready for the match to begin... theatrics ensued as the man played up things and rained down fire upon Zulan... but he was unphased as Crispy had great fire resistance for some reason and he had dodged most of the blast as he sprinted towards the man.

Much to his opponents surprise he was in his face in a flash and a crab claw was at his throat, Zulan was not here for theatrics nor playing around... his stakes were higher than mere honor of rich playboys. "I fight for my freedom and my life, this is no place for someone like you who fights for fancy." He whispered in his opponents ear as he pinned the man to the ground with his claw, ready to snap his neck should they not concede. The noble either too frightened, furious, or stunned to respond made no motions nor sounds at which point the referee called the match in his favor. The crowd partly cheered and partly booed at the fact the match was so short, some enjoying the one sided instant domination, others upset there was no grand show of magic or long winded combat. Zulan said nothing but instead quietly walked off the stage as his interview started playing along with his opponents.

"Why do you want to join the games?"
"Win or lose I'm leaving Nahzir."

"What would it mean for you to be a Centurion Guard?"
"Freedom to travel the world."

"You don't seem very passionate at a glance? How will you feel if you lose today?"
"I'll have fun watching the games."

"Do you even care about the games? Why would you even come here if you lack the drive to win?"
"I just want to travel the world and enjoy life."

He wasn't sure how to feel about how they changed his story, but it made no difference he would continue to fight with his life on the line, and at that he didn't pay any attention to his opponents narrative... he didn't care as it was also just a mix of various words said... all of the words having lost their meaning. With that he silently made his way into the hallways where a group of three walked somewhere, not wanting to bother others he quietly moved past them... though he recognized the girl, she fought the boy who couldn't calm his nerves earlier. The other two he didn't know however. A friendly greeting would suffice for not bothering while being his normal self. "Good match miss Anya, and hello to you two." He said with a wide smile as he started to move past them.

Jet rozukitsune Lost Echo

Spoiler: Opponent

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas didn't know it, but the newcomer to the conversation was pretty much exactly thinking what she had when Johan had first approached her to start chatting. She nodded absently to Anya, not really knowing what to say to the contestant. It wasn't really her place to just start talking to anyone, not that she'd ever had the opportunity to start a conversation with a complete stranger before Johan. She hides her discomfort by casting her eyes about the corridor as the three of them walk, though she does crack a small smile at Johan as he comments positively to the lesson she'd learned as a child.

Her eyes, trained as Johan's most likely were to notice things out of the ordinary; suddenly picked up on a pair of cloaked figures trying to casually make their way through the hallways without being noticed. Now, being cloaked like that wasn't exactly odd in and of itself. Nar was fairly certain there were a few on the security detail who preferred keeping their hoods up while on an assignment like theirs to at least make an attempt at anonymity... but the way Sara wriggled on the edge of her ear told her that these individuals were worth noticing in that way that only spiders could sense that there was trouble afoot.

Automatically, what few emotions she'd managed to remember existed vanished as she focused on the pair as they slipped away into the shadows. They'd been wearing nice armor... leather. Well-shined boots and combat gloves. And there'd been the unmistakable glint of dark red just a few feet away as well. She frowned and tapped Johan on the shoulder with a single finger and pointed silently in the direction she'd seen all of this. Surely he'd seen it himself, but... well he was head of security. If she was going to do anything she was going to do it with his permission. She's so busy making note of this she barely registers the approach of yet another new person walking up to them from a perpendicular hallway and saying hello. Had everyone gone mad? Who just walked up to a pair of assassins and said 'hello'? ... honestly.

"Assassinate or gather intel?" She asked in a direct, low-pitched tone that was meant only for the blond Centurion's ears, ignoring the greeting altogether.
Jet Lost Echo EldridSmith

 

[ZackStop]

The wait was over, it was time for Ilana to fight. Her body practically ached from the struggle of keeping her familiar in check. They both wanted to let let loose, but only one of them knew better that to lash out prematurely. It didn't matter who they were up against, Ilana was going to tear through them with everything she had. She had the skill, the drive, and the killer instinct to thrive in this tournament of slaughter. This was how she was going to fulfill her dream and one goal in life. Her first step was winning this and become the next centurion, and she was itching to get out into the ring.

Ilana stood there with her arms crossed, bouncing her right leg off off the ball of her foot, her sharp toenails nearly digging into the floor, and that's when the next two fighters were called. Ilana Hartfell, and a man named Fenis MacFarlane, Clad in armor and holding a lance and shield. He stepped forward as the other contestants had done, being eyed by Ilana still standing in the crowd. She glared as she sized him up. He looked to be young, maybe early 20s.

Once again, Dalton calls out for Ilana with more urgency, at which she snapped her eyes away from her opponent and pushed through the crowd she found herself in. Unlike Fenis though, she wasn't going to waste her time just standing there as was the tradition it seemed, instead just walking past them all with haste, making it directly for her designated area pre-combat. This left a few confused and awkward, but she really didn't need a refresh on the rules, and she had no plans to exchange words either. "Woah, she must really means business." Ren said to himself as Ilana left his and the other fighter's sights. Dalton then cleared his throat after a few seconds of pause. "Well alright then, onto the next round." He said what an almost monotoned voice. Fenis sighed a bit, before pushing his helmet down over his scalp and bringing down the visor over his eyes. He mumbled some words of encouragement to himself before hoisting up his equipment and walking off.

There he was, walking out into the hot sun. Fenis gripping his lance tight, and thankfully, his visor blocked out most of the sun that would be in his eyes, but he could feel the warmth on him and already began to sweat. "Damn, I hope I can end this quickly, I'm no good in these heat." He continued to walk forward towards the center as the booming sound of the overhead speaker kicked on. The sound of the announcer's booming voices sent shockwaves through him, beating on his heart. It made him tense up a bit but he shook it off. He wasn't prepared for the spectacle of his fight, He just hoped it wouldn't throw off his game.

That's when the girl he was up against, Ilana came into view across the way. "No pressure, this should be easy..." He said to himself. Beating a little girl shouldn't be too difficult he thought. The announcers began to talk about her as was par for the course, when they got around to the interview they had with her at an undisclosed time.

"What would you say to your opponents?"

"I'll crush them all if they get in my way."

"Such a headstrong competitor! However it won't be that easy, you might have to kill to win. How would you feel about that?

"It won't bother me any. There's really nothing else to it."

"Well well, a regular psychopath has entered the games! But will you maintain your attitude against the favorites this year? Heavy hitters like Cage Viper and Giant Guadalupe?"

Ilana continued to make her way to the center, when she tuned in on what they were saying about her. She didn't seem all too phased by this, but in her mind, she was losing her patience. "Is this what they're trying to say about me? Those aren't my words." She scoffed.

"I have a stronger drive to become a Centurion than them. They're just another foothold."

"Why do you even want to become a Centurion? You don't seem like the heroic type."

"Maybe to get some recognition? I don't know. I just want to be one."

She exhales harshly through her nose with a bit of irritation as she found herself standing 30-40 feet away from Fenis. "So that's what they want to say about me? Twisting my words around... what do I care? But if they want to see a psycho so bad, I might just give them one." Just before the ref started the fight, Ilana slammed her heavy tail against the ground, with a booming sound, causing some breakage and dust to fly, before getting in a low fighting stance with open palms, showing off her claws. She was going to take this frustration out on this guy. Fenis watched as he got a little nervous, but readied his weapon. "Right... no pressure..." He said to himself, remarking the way his opponent was painted. A small animalistic growl came from her.

When ref started the fight, Ilana began a sprint towards Fenis, which he responded with holding his ground and gripping his lance forward. The sweat on his face caused him to blink, and as soon as he opened his eyes, there she was right in front of him. Ilana let out a battle cry, and with a quick backhand she swipes the lance to the side and came back with her the same hand, grinding against his armor with her claws. He saw it in slow motion as they scratched his chest plate, before getting struck in the middle of the chest with a sturdy right palm strike. The 3 strikes came out blindingly quick, and caused him to stumble back. He was stunned by the amount of force she was capable of.

"That nearly threw me to my back! Gotta recover." He quickly stamped his foot and thrusted his weapon forth with a battle cry of his own, but she saw the retaliation coming. Ilana using the natural armor on the side of her face to deflect the thrust so she could break through once more with both hands free. This time, Fenis was wise enough to lift his shield up in front of him as he tried to backpedal away, but she only wailed on it, tore it away from him and chucked it. "Is this what you want?!" She said to herself as her pupils thinned. Fenis began to panic as he was quickly losing ground, and Ilana wasn't giving him a second to breath.

"Crap crap crap! She's getting way too close! I gotta create some distance!" Fenis backed up once more, spinning around to sprint away then shifting back around, allowing him to throw out a powerful thrust. "Come on!" he said out loud as the lance flew at her. All she did however, was turn her body to the side, growling at him, and with a quick motion with her left arm, she pinched the lance against her chest. Finally, with her free arm, Ilana elbows the weapon in half. "Oh shi-" was all Fenis could utter before getting the wind knocked out of him with her tail colliding with his stomach, throwing him several feet onto his back. His helmet was knocked right off his head, giving him a full view of Ilana pouncing on top of him, and slamming down her elbow onto his chest, sending a shock through his whole body. She wasted no time raising her right hand up, and yell into his face, her sharp eyes like that of a monster.

Ilana flexed her clawed hand, ready to tear across the man's face. She had just enough restraint to stop just as the ref stepped in. A low, droning sound emitted through her clenched teeth, the sound of the familiar she was merged with. With two shaky hands, MacFarlane held them in front of his face, hoping she wouldn't do it. "Alright! Fight's over!" The referee says as he jogs over to them. She paused for a moment like something broke in her, but with a little shove, she got up off of him. "That's enough." the Ref said, cautious that she might lash out. Without warning, Ilana jolted at the man with an agitated croc growl, making the ref flinch back, but she then simply walked away.

The footage was reviewed, and announced the winner of the bout lasting 16 and a half seconds. "They got what they wanted. They got their psychopath." Ilana says to herself, still feeling the violent desires wanted to explode out of her. Once she was out of sight, she flinched and fell to her knees in the dark tunnel she came from, then hugged herself. She took deep breaths until she could regain composure, then got up and continued to walk away.