Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[Monbon]

"Hah, don't go around threatening me with a good time. I might take it as a challenge." Euclaire batted her pretty jewel like eyes flirtatiously the playful glint within them containing the fact that she was just teasing. Being affectionate, defenseless, and friendly had always proven to be the best way to get others to drop their guard. Whatever that strange tension from before was, it was clear it was already starting to clear away with the departure of the boy. Was he really here for autographs?

It really was strange. Yet when Anya mentioned that the masked man, Doc, had played in the games before, the math seemed to check out. There was no point in thinking further on it.

The welcome was warmer than she had expected. It was a good sign. If she were to be honest, she expected a group of meatheads who knew how to swing their fists but couldn't think their way out of a paper bag. There was something comforting about being in a locker room with other women. Sure there was the masked.. doctor(?) who stood out like a sore thumb but he didn't seem like a threat at all. At least not currently. If he survived the games before, it was likely that he was a force to be reckoned with himself. It'd be wrong of anyone to underestimate him. Releasing Ava's arm, Euclaire introduced herself with a slight wave. "Pleasure to meet all of you. My name is Euclaire. This is also my first time."

Before she could get another word in and get to know her locker mates, the announcement and cheering of the crowd urged them to finish up what they were doing and get out there. "Seems I need to be more punctual. If we meet again on the arena, don't worry about being gentle. Let's all have a blast and return alive." Knowing her time in the locker room was limited, she quickly got to work on getting ready. Removing her outer robe, she chose to keep her layers light to keep them from limiting her movement too much and left it simple.

Removing the more extravagant pieces of her ensemble, she left herself in a vibrant purple dress with golden trim. It had a low back, leaving it exposed. The skirt was also fairly revealing, the two slits placed perfectly by her legs for easy mobility. The dress wasn't her most reserved piece. She simply liked how it lifted her bosom just right. If Euclaire were to be paid for how often an a small distraction saved her life, she'd be swimming in gold. Beneath the dress she wore a bodysuit for safety's sake and above, she had thrown leather armor on. It wasn't anything special. Only covered what it needed to. After putting her hair up and grabbing her Kusarigama, properly attaching it to her belt for easy reach, she gave herself a quick once over in the mirror before setting off.

The crowd was about as packed as one would expect. Euclaire quickly lost sight of her locker mates and swam along with the wave of people who were all heading the same way. With grace, she weaved through the crowd towards the front, wanting to get a good look. Although she wasn't exactly short, she wasn't a mountain either. If she wanted to get a good view, she had to be in the front. The rules seemed like common sense until they got to the final one. No biting? Did Gugu's forcipules count? While it was less lethal than a human's bite, she mentally took a note not to chance it. Just one less thing off of her arsenal.

Once she was free to wander off, she took the chance to warm up on the side. Practicing on dummies weren't her thing. Instead she stretched, keeping herself nice and limber for what was to come. All the while, she kept her eyes trained on the other contestants, taking note of anything that seemed even remotely important. While no one would reveal big cards in practice, it was good to know what to expect should she run into the few that stood out.

 

[Lost Echo]

Well, that fit. She knew it didn’t matter the cost; she’d do anything to save Hannah. The only real fear was dying before she could. But yeah, trying to keep the existential dread of what was upcoming was a constant battle.

Then he spoke about surviving ‘the job.’ Were there more political hoops than choosing between Vincent and bootlicking? Or was the tension high enough that they were killing each other off? Anya tried to push the thought away. Maybe he just meant Centurions’ jobs were dangerous. Yeah. Accept that and stop thinking.

Hearing her name made that easy as she turned her head to look at him, trusting Kallos to guide her if she was going to run into anyone. A tour. That was just what she needed. Worries that she’d already incriminated herself tried to form, but she smothered them with thoughts of the choices. A part of her wanted to explore the engineering floors, but wouldn’t they use the animals as test subjects?

Completely clueless about the third’s change to business, Anya waffled between the two, “Um…the animal pens?” Hannah first, but if it didn’t pan out, “Then engin--Oh hello?” Her voice cracked halfway through the word. It was a man; dark-skinned with the brightest red she’d seen outside of a cesspool that melted metal. Should she warn Mr. Pink away? “Thanks?” The question was still in her voice. Had he literally just stopped to talk to them to wish her a good fight? Did he take Nye’s bullshit that much? At least he was moving on.

Then she heard,

"Assassinate or gather intel?"

And she blanched, stepping away, with Kallos moving between her and the two. Is this man going to die because he wanted to talk to her? Would that make it her fault? Mark would say no, but Mark wouldn’t care about his death. “Intel.” She hissed back. Glancing over her shoulder, at the nearly naked man. What was up with this woman? He said hello! Oh, and good match (which it wasn’t--it was a comedy of errors all the way through.) What the hell would that make her automatically go to killing from that?

 

[ZackStop]

In his downtime, Ren found himself wandering around the now much more quiet halls. Unfortunately he couldn't spot any of his acquaintances he had met during this time. He just hoped he could bump into them later. His imagination ran wild with the possible sights he would be shown, and the food of course. He still hadn't eaten at all that day, and it was now around late noon.

Ren sighed. "Man, we're lost aren't we?" He said to his familiar who was walking along side him. Ren casually placed his hands on top of him head as they strolled, with his shields hooked on his back. "I guess I didn't need my equipment today after all, who knows when my match will be." Phalanx let out a little growling sound, but it was a typical response, he wasn't agitated at all. Ren thought about the fight he had witnessed so far, Anya vs. Rudolf. It was an interesting fight, no doubt, but was strange seeing someone under preform in a setting like the games. However, as he thought that, Ren ran through his bank of knowledge on the Great Games of Nye. It wasn't unheard of for someone unqualified to slip through the nooks and crannies, though it never went well for them in the arena. This Rudolf Hornfoot guy wasn't an exception, his opponent made quick work of his inexperience.

He kept walking as he thought about the other contestant, Anya. He could tell she had more to offer but couldn't showcase it. "I wonder what her element is. What do you think?" Ren looked down to Phalanx which was on high alert as always, so Ren gave up quick. "Right, I guess you never cared about that sort of thing." He looked up at the ceiling, mindlessly examining the details. "She sure is pretty though." He said aloud once more, not thinking anyone was around, when Phalanx stopped. Ren took a few more steps before doing the same and pausing for a moment. "Zhelaya kŭsmet... Vas kakto..." They both heard it, but where did it come from? It sounded quiet, like it was in the distance somewhere. It echoed some, making it hard to discern the location.

Ren peeked around the corner to a stairwell, leading down to a lower level of the structure. He began getting a eerie feeling when he saw two heavily cloaked men come into an embrace, the only ones that could have spoken that strange language. It was nothing Ren had heard before, and he's had plenty of customers come from all over. That was one dialect he had never heard before. He pulled himself away from the corner as soon as the two came out of their embrace. He could tell by the sounds of footsteps that one of them was walking up to where Ren and Phalanx were. The two had no idea who he was and were oblivious to any ill will he had, but they didn't want to appear to be eavesdropping, which they were, so they simultaneously walked the opposite way they were going before. Ren simply whistled as they went, peeking over his shoulder the best he could without appearing conspicuous.

As soon as it felt like they had made enough distance with the stranger, Ren decided to turn around and following him from a safe distance. He wanted to see what this guy's deal was, he was noticeably suspicious, and Ren was naturally curious. So he stayed on his tail, only close enough to see what turns he took. "This is probably a bad idea, isn't it?" he asked Phalanx telepathically. Phalanx thought that was obvious.

 

[Jet]

Alva — Staging Room
​

Alva raised her bow and took aim. Her eyes narrowed as she measured the distance to her target; forty meters to a dummy across the room. "Svífa frítt." She loosed an arrow with the snap of a tight bowstring, deeply piercing the far target.

"Too slow." She notched again and fired even faster. Her arrow instantly hit the dummy with a quiet thump, reminding her why she was the best archer in town.

"Hrein skot, patan nay betra." She sighed and returned to her bench, quietly watching the others train. Her mind slowly drifted to thoughts of home. To cold seas and harsh winds, high waves and crisp snow. To frozen fields covered with ice flowers and winter grass. The cold on her face as fire warmed her hands, all below seas of swirling stars, shining like white diamonds in the dark. How she missed those calm, quiet nights, where only wolves broke the silence. Where nothing stirred but shifting branches and flurried snow, moved by the soft, gentle words of mother earth.

Nye was a prison in comparison; a place where men fought over worthless coins and hollow power, almost like children fighting over toys. Alva deeply pitied them in the truest sense. It wasn't their fault they didn't know the truth, and how could they? There were no shamans here. None who pierced the veil of time and space, watching the past from the present. The truth was but legend and myth to these godless, blind people, unable to see the darkness around their souls.

Alva didn't have that problem. She saw the shadows writhing below their skin, but there was little she could do. She only had three shards to dispell whatever afflicted them, a mere pittance when thousands suffered. "But it will have to do." Alva slowly stood and walked to a beautiful woman. Her vibrant clothes were soft and decadent, strange attire that drew Alva's eye.

"This will help." She held out a glowing crystal made of ice. "Keep it close outlander. The light will dispell what lurks here."

Monbon

 

[Jet]

​

Johan noticed the shady characters before anyone else, but he didn't mention it at first. He wanted to keep his hands clean of sketchy business, especially the type involving crime families and their schemes. He figured that's what this was about. The men of underground kings with friends in high places, here to fix matches and bribe fighters. It was exasperating work. The kind of shit he wished to avoid when the bureau selected him months ago, but now there were people around him expecting leadership — as if he was a caped crusader protecting the city from harm.

Today they'd be proven right. He'd wear the costume in all its spandex glory, even if the honest work killed him. "Hmm." He watched the men disappear around a corner, raising a brow as Narzas spoke. He could tell Anya heard what the assassin said below her breath, and his face was equally shocked. "Assassinate?" He blinked several times. "Well maybe if they're bad guys, but we should find out before we… you know." He ran his finger across his neck like a knife. "Lets question them, and if they're shit people then hey, go crazy. There's a reason we hired assassins instead of bouncers."

He looked over at the two contestants. He was supposed to usher them away like a good little shepard, keeping them far from security issues like this — but then again, extra hands would make his life easier.

It was a no brainer.

"You guys want a job?" He stopped to think about their files. He only remembered bits and pieces of who they were, but it was enough to trust them with basic security. "I know you're both sane, and worth a shit in a fight. We could use the help if things get out of hand, and hell, I'll toss you some coins from the security fund."

rozukitsune Lost Echo EldridSmith

 

[EldridSmith]

Zulan was about to continue on his way as he recalled the direction to the stands being around here when one of the two around who had a security demarcation asked if he wanted a job. Zulan was keen on learning as much as he could about the other fighters and their fighting styles... but he also wanted to buy some of the rare materials here to make items as he hated having his hands being idle for too long... the main reason he was even considered for this despite being a conscript was the fact he made items and sometimes used them to bribe his superiors to get out of various things that he found morally reprehensible... still it seems those favors piled up enough... still he would rather make them for honest people than monsters seeking nothing more than their own glory through the slaughter of hundreds or thousands of people. So being low on cash, and perhaps a chance to get protection from Nye from Nahzir he nodded to Johan. "I can do it for free if you're able to help me with something else." He said, figuring Johan someone who likely knew the contestants backgrounds for security reasons was aware of his planned escape from Nahzir for his own freedom... if the man could help him with that even a little it would be worth more than payment in gold.
Jet Lost Echo rozukitsune

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas kept her eyes on the men as they parted ways and disappeared while she waited for Johan's verdict. When he answered, she nodded and began considering which man she aught to go after first when the next thing out of his mouth yanked her straight out of her focus.

She turns, blinking first at him, then at Zulan and Anya whom she'd honestly entirely forgotten were even there in the heat of the moment, though she now realized the female contestant had agreed with Johan's assessment.

"You... want to bring  them?" She murmurs skeptically, a dark eyebrow arched in bewildered disbelief. She would ask more about their qualifications to do something as impossibly delicate as silent interrogations and discreet disposal... but then she remembered he was the only centurion among them. That made his word law as far as she was concerned.

Her face twisted from skepticism to distaste, then she just sighed. Clearly Anya, whoever she was and whatever she wanted from the arena; was smart enough. Perhaps the mostly naked Zulan would also be surprisingly useful as well. She clearly needed to learn to be a better team player as she groaned, "As you wish." In an unhappy grumble.

Jet Lost Echo EldridSmith

 

[Jet]

GM note. I'm making a slight retcon to smooth over a small misunderstanding. The shady men didn't split after killing the protester. Instead they stuck together.

The men swapped a glance as they rounded a corner. "That was the security chief," one whispered in a foreign tongue; guttural and harsh like the place they called home.

"He shouldn't bother us, no?"

"Shouldn't is the key word." The man looked back and spotted another pursuant, a young man with a warm, disarming face. "There's another one; smaller and weaker, and alone."

"Don't worry, we've done nothing to arouse suspicion."

"But what if we've been compromised?"

"Calm, Dancho. He will protect us."

"He better."

The men walked away without looking back, casually conversing about the first round of fights. It made them look as innocent as possible for two shady men, but Ren already knew the truth. He knew they were savage murderers; callous men with black hearts of hot coals. Wrathful eyes burning in the dark, dense shadows of old black cloaks.


EldridSmith rozukitsune ZackStop Lost Echo

 

[Lost Echo]

"Assassinate?"

Before she could register the tone of voice, Anya shied away from the chief of security, horrified to think that was his choice. Immediately, she backed into some stranger making their way through the hallway. Let’s not get this one killed too. Before she could turn to see who it was, they merely shoved her forward once more and moved on. Smart guy. Run Stumbling, she had to absorb Kallos to keep from trampling him, using her newly winged arms for balance.

It was only with her raptor’s eyes that she caught the confused blinks as Johan took a moment to get over his surprise. Air rushed out of her in relief, though all she said was, “Sorry, not used to crowds.” He continued, proving that though they were going to investigate, the extreme (was it really not for them?) option was still on the table. If she were Mr. Naked, she wouldn’t feel like that was enough.

But then again, he used they. Did that include her too? As the man looked between her and Pinky, her heart rate ratcheted up. Prepared to flee into the crowd, this surreal experience was topped by…a job offer?

Her raptorial eyes blinked slowly as he explained his…offer. (Was it an offer? Could she say no and just hide in the rafters for the rest of this?) While he spoke, she turned around, trying to *investigate* who they were potentially killing. Most people just looked like people. Some had merged with the familiars, others had their souls out beside them. But-oh. The cloaked figures did stand out. Was that armor? Surely that wasn’t too unusual. She scanned their bodies. She would have missed it without Kallos within her, but yeah. That was blood on a shoe.

Her gaze returned to the pair, trio if Mr. Naked (wasn’t he cold?) stayed. In fact, the third man seemed to be pondering. His caveat for agreeing seemed fair to her. (It wasn’t like they’d pay her enough money to grease any palms in Nye.) She nodded her own agreement, trying to seem put together instead of the mess she was inside. “Yeah, a favor for a favor seems fair.” Especially if she was going to participate in murder. Mark would be so proud. Still, she felt the Ms. Murder was right to be skeptical. It was almost nice to not be the only one who thought she shouldn’t be here.

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas turned her attention to Anya, whose odd answer to the question had her attention. One look at the nervous face of the contestant brought a crease to her forehead. What did the girl think this was?

"What kind of favor is it you two are seeking exactly?" She asks, bewildered. "We're just going to get some information from some mysterious outsiders." She gestures a thumb over her shoulder down the hall where the men had long since disappeared. "And if we don't like what we hear, there will be consequences. Nye likes to keep your games safe and fair - " (She didn't really know how true or not either of those statements were, but the country wouldn't have hired assassin's for security if they weren't hiding things... and it seemed reasonable to just jump to the assumption an outsider was meant to take from the apparent peace.)

"- and if there are people here who should not be... then that opens up the playing field to accusations of cheating. Nevermind whatever is actually going on."

 

[ZackStop]

Ren and Phalanx continued to tail the two strange men. They didn't seem to notice, and began to make idle chatter, but Ren wasn't buying it. He never took notice of his keen instinct, but in this instance he listened to his gut and followed regardless of the danger. "I'm getting an uneasy feeling... let me tell you..." He said to himself, trying his best to stay calm. "So long as I keep a distance of 30 paces behind, I should be okay."

As he said that, Ren took a quick look around to stay aware of the people around. He doubted these two would attack him so long as there were witnesses. That's when he noticed a small group of people who also seemed to take notice of the suspicious black cloaked men, one he recognized for sure. It was the girl in the very first round, Anya. As soon as he noticed her though, Ren quickly looked away. He would have liked to converse with the group in light of his current situation, but he was already so far behind, he couldn't stop to chat. Then again, he had a tendency to be awkward around women, and there were two of them. This of course excluded the likes of Kilderkin, who was outwardly friendly and much older.

"Focus... Gotta watch these guys." His task at hand was a good excuse to take his mind off of his social ineptness. So he lasered back in on the duo, and began to whistle with a relaxed walk. He tried not to look tense but stay on guard as well, just incase they changed their tune.

 

[Jet]

​

Johan nodded in agreement. "Yes the games, they must be kept, um, fair." He smirked at the insane thought. The games were fair like a ring toss at a carnival, and that was being generous. He couldn't blame Narzas for thinking otherwise though. She was still innocent to the darkness of Nye; idealistic in her own strange way. He wished he could agree with her and actually take pride in his work, but to be true, security meant escorting drunks and keeping criminals in line. Not keeping them out as she thought.

Johan would still have fun with it though; he needed to keep his sanity somehow. "To maintain the game's competitiveness we must act!" His tone was overly serious and stern, like a young soldier straight out of training school, explaining why safety protocols were important. "For all we know they're here to rig the games! We can't let that happen no matter what!" He softly chuckled and looked at Anya. "Agreed, favor for a favor is only fair."

His gaze moved to Zulan next. "I'll do what I can, but it depends on the favor of course. I'm a centurion not a miracle worker."

"Though I do know a man who can help with almost anything. He was here a couple hours ago, shame you missed him." He turned and walked down the hallway, quietly following the shady men.

"Now that we're all on the same page, want to see a magic trick?" He glanced back at the group. "Well… actually that was a rhetorical question. I'm gonna show you anyway." He snapped his fingers and a shimmering aura surrounded them. "Alakazam, hokus pokus and presto!" He snapped again and the group went invisible, completely concealing every inch of their bodies. "This can be very disorienting, so here's a few ground rules. Always look forward and never look at your extremities, and close your eyes if you start getting dizzy."

"Now for our young friend over there." He withdrew a notepad and fountain pen. They seemed to hover in place as he quickly scribbled, "We will follow your lead. Don't worry if they lure you into a trap, we're right behind you in my invisibility cloak." He passed the note to his familiar, a small vampire bat, who soared from his pocket and landed on the teen. It quietly squeaked and passed the note to the young man, before returning to Johan's pocket, tucking itself away in the warm flannel.

​

The cloaked men swapped another glance and took a sharp turn, walking down a narrow hallway to a staircase. "It's only him now," one said.

"Let's dispatch him."

"What if we're seen? Wouldn't it be better to leave him be?"

"Calm, Dancho. Nobody is watching and nobody cares. These people treat life like a plaything."

"Aren't we?"

"No. We only do what we must to survive."

rozukitsune Lost Echo EldridSmith ZackStop

 

[Jet]

​

The Viper's name was Craxus Ullimar, a man of unknown origins and motivations. He'd been spotted on battlefields across the globe and back again, fighting below a dozen banners of different lords and companies. Nobody knew what he wanted, why he was here or who exactly he was. Yet they worshiped the ground he walked on. Their cheers shook the ground as he strode into the ring, sword raised with a roar on his tongue.

His opponent was Taust Delenova. He'd qualified by the skin of his teeth, serving as first round fodder for the heavy favorite. He wore black armor covered with rusty spines and pipes. His black helmet had a respirator attached at the mouth; gold eyes gleaming through slits of obsidian steel.

​

Craxus took a fighting stance, holding his sword up like a lance. "Fight well and I may spare you."

Taust remained silent.

"Your silence will not intimidate me. I will crush you and bring honor to the arena."

The crowd rabidly chanted his name.

"VIPER!"

"VIPER!"

"VIPER!"

Taust ignored them and looked for his men. He noticed their dark cloaks within crowds of well dressed nobles, but two of them were missing. "Faster, Dancho," he whispered below his breath. "Or you will be left behind."

"What are you mumbling about?" Craxus loudly barked. "Prayers won't help you."

"Prayers?" Taust's voice was low and raspy. "We are created in God's image, bloodthirsty and ruthless, callous to the cries of millions. I will not waste my breath praying to such a beast."

"Spare me your lectures. This is the arena, not a pulpit."

"Agreed."

The announcer raised his hands and disgusting, dishonest words oozed from his mouth, describing the men in grandly nonsensical terms. Yet the crowd cheered him too. After all, he was Dyus the Younger. The most entertaining man in Nye, curator of violence and expert wordsmith. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he screamed with a smile. "I present the pre-fight interviews!"

Viper's interview played first. He spoke of honor and dignity, redemption and revenge. Winning the games and his strong conviction. The crowd loved it and chanted,

"VIPER!"

"VIPER!"

"VIPER!"

Craxus would be their champion; they were sure of it. He was the runner up from last year; a man stronger than many active Centurions, and he was confident as he was strong, proudly grinning as Taust's interview began.

"Why do you want to join the games?" the interviewer said.

"To make a statement."

"What kind of statement exactly?"

"That your paradigm will shift."

"And why's that?"

"The games, as you call them, are fights to the death. You trivialize murder and pander to soulless, barbaric men, happily cheering when lives are lost."

"So you're a reformer, yet you choose to participate in the games? Doesn't that seem hypocritical?"

"For now, perhaps."

The crowd loudly booed and threw trash at Taust. He remained perfectly still as cans and wrappers bounced from his armor.

Craxus laughed at the pitiful display. "You don't understand the first thing about the games. The crowd wants to see martial excellence, and that can only be achieved when life hangs in the balance. Death is but a small price for that beautiful sight."

"Easy for you to say, but how would your victims answer? How did they feel when you ripped them apart? How would you feel if I returned the favor?"

"You'll do no such thing." Craxus looked at the announcer. "Start the match. This simpleton bores me."

Dyus nodded with a small, wry smile. He wanted to see Craxus win more than anyone, lest a reformer make the finals. So he raised his arm and stuck out three fingers. "Three!" He lowered one of them. "Two!" He grinned with anticipation. "One!" He paused for dramatic effect, savoring the moment before he screamed, "BEGIN!"

Craxus merged with his familiar, a Horned Desert Viper, and raised his prosthetic hand. With a scream he summoned hundreds of stone bars, rising from the ground until a cage surrounded the ring. It was forty feet tall and a hundred feet wide, made of thick, mineral rich stone.

"You should've stopped me when you had the chance. Now there's no way out." Craxus smiled as sharp, heavy spears emerged from the bars. There were hundreds of them, aimed from all directions and powerfully shot at Taust, soaring through the air with enough force to pierce steel.

Taust closed his eyes and left his physical body, entering the Laughing God's astral plane. Time slowed as he searched for a golden thread of fate, swimming through oceans of white and red strings — a needle in a haystack for most seers, but he was well trained.

"I win." He grasped a golden string and the stone spears, along with the entire cage, simply ceased to exist. The crowd confusedly gasped as Craxus went pale, stunned as Taust shot forward, cracking the ground below his feet.

"That's impossible!" Craxus raised his sword but it was too late. Taust wrapped his huge, black gauntlet around Craxus' face, ramming his head into the ground. The impact shattered the floor as Craxus went limp, unconscious and bleeding from his ears.

The crowd was silent. The static broadcast hovered over the mysterious winner. The announcer cleared his throat and stammered, "The winner is… Taust… Delenova!" His words echoed through the quiet arena.

Then shouts of, "He cheated!" and "Viper threw the match!" came from the stands.

"That was incredible!" Another screamed.

"Hell yeah! This Taust guy is a badass!"

The crowd quietly clapped and cheered for the masked man, and with every second they grew louder, eventually chanting,

"TAUST!"

"TAUST!"

"TAUST!"

"TAUST!"

The man in black scoffed at their disgusting cheers, walking from the ring as they mindlessly chanted his false name.

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

 

[ZackStop]

Ren continued as he was, completely regaining his concentration. No more distractions, he was gonna tail these guys until he finds something suspicious. His nerves turned to excitement, he was gonna have himself an adventure! Albeit small, unnecessary and possibly deadly. That's what Phalanx would say if he could talk, but that was the basic vibe he gave off.

Ren heard the smallest possible squeak and he flinched a bit when a bat suddenly landed on his shoulder. "Gah-!" It didn't take long however for Ren to realize it was someone's familiar, and that they had a little note to give. He graciously took it, but did not stop walking. "Th-thank you." He took the little note as the bat flew back to wherever it came from. He read the note, and quickly looked up to see where the two had gone, a narrow path. "Well step one is complete, definitely a trap..." Ren looked back, trying to see that group he had passed. "Must have been them after all. Great, we're not alone!" He said to himself.

"Okay Phalanx..." He said looking down. "I'll go first, watch my back." He said before strolling down the stairs. He was extremely conscious of corners, and was ready for an attack. So instead of walking down the last few steps, Ren bounded for the floor below with his arms held back, ready to bring out his shields. "Hiyah!!!" Ren shouted with his guard up. He faced the stairs, expecting to find two cloaked men hiding in a corner. "I hope nobody saw that..." Ren thought to himself feeling red.

 

[Jet]

The council was little more than symbolic these days, long removed from its former glory and prestige. They still had power of course, but Vincent was now the keystone of Nye. The council only made small, often irrelevant decisions; petty tyrants at the bottom of a well, unable to reach the world above them. Yet they were arrogant of a kind. They believed themselves the true rulers of Nye, planning, hoping and pining for the day they would rise again.

​

"Blasphemous!" Solon slammed the table as spit flew from his old, yellow mouth. "Magic is not to be trifled with in this way! He must be detained at once! Deploy the guard! Deploy the guard I say!" His voice was frail and shaky; brittle like his old aching bones.

​

"But what law has he broken?" Simon closely watched Taust through a screen. "Innovation should be encouraged not punished! We should learn from him instead of calling for his head; perhaps he can teach his magic to our Centurions? What better way to undermine Lord Vincent?"

Solon wrathfully sneered. "But he worships the old gods! Blood and fire! The fallen beast at the mount of Pwyn!" He stood from his plush leather seat. "His presence will only endanger us!"

Simon quietly laughed. "All he did was erase earth magic. That makes him a talented earth mage, not an apocalyptic harbinger." He addressed a stoic man named Draco. "What say you?"

​

"We don't know what he is." Draco leaned forward and stared at the screen. His grey eyes shimmered with sharp, cunning intelligence. "We'll detain him when he leaves the arena, then we'll know who we're dealing with."

"We must take him now! Now I say!" Solon's white eyes manically shook. "He's too dangerous to be left free!"

"No," Draco firmly said. "He's stronger than most centurions. If we attack him it could destroy the arena." He looked back at the screen. "I'll order the Blanks to ambush him when he leaves. He won't stand a chance against them."

Simon sternly nodded. "It's settled."

"Then I shall pray for our men." Solon shuffled from the room, slowly opening a heavy wooden door. "So they may be strong against the demon, blasphemer and traitor. May God bless their swords, steel their hearts and sharpen their minds."

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

​

 

[Anne Boolean]

Nyaall && Vixie
(Collab with Lost Echo with pose reference images for your torment convenience)​

“Ny-” was all that could come out before a sharp squeal interrupted him. Many fighters went on the defensive, taking the piercing noise as an attack, only to see a redheaded girl bouncing up and down with a fox in her arms.

“Oh my god it’s him!!” Immediately, she started trying to move forward. Pushing through didn’t work, as those around her purposefully blocked her way, angry after the sound she made. Especially that they couldn’t do anything else to her. Frowning, she absorbed Philos-o-fur and with a determined face darted forward to squeeze through the gaps between the people. Okay that worked, she just had to be fast enough to catch sight of him—

A few matches had already happened, and Nyaall seemed to be watching intently. His eyes were on the ring, but his mind was wandering. He saw some of the maneuvers the combatants pulled off, some of the close calls they just avoided with attacks that looked strong enough to tear a body apart or make a heart stop. He felt himself trembling with the knowledge that he would be in the middle of much the same soon enough.

His name didn’t even have to be finished for his ears to perk up. Or at least they would have were he and A-paw-llo fused. He looked to the announcer after hearing this first syllable. Instead of hearing his full name though, the man was cut off by a high-pitched scream. It caused him to blink, but unlike the annoyed expression that the fighters around him wore, an amused smile spread across his face. It was an unexpected familiarity in otherwise uncharted territory.

“...And Vixie.” The voice sounded even grumpier. Shrieking girls were not usual in this setting and Dalton Lewis was not happy about having to hear it.

“That’s me!!” The named girl bounced in place, trying to see over the shoulders of a large woman. The foxgirl was let through this time, running up toward the front.

The performer couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the sight of the young girl trying to peer from over, around, and between the strong-framed warriors that surrounded them. Strangely, akin to his security guards and other fans alike, they were making it difficult for her to get through.

“Hello,” he said, when she finally managed to break through and came face to face with him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I take it you’re a fan? Or perhaps you hate me so much you’re eager for the opportunity to get a good punch in?” Wheels in his head turned. This was a golden opportunity. He could make this fan’s day as well as save his own hide, if he played his cards right. “Do you have anything I can sign for you?”

“Oh no! I could never hurt you!” The young girl covered her mouth, realizing her dilemma. Her tails bristled as she tried to figure out what to do. But she was quickly distracted by his offer. Gasping, she patted herself down, trying to find something. She was considering offering her shirt, when her hands found the scarf she used to keep from getting too sweaty. Double checking that it was dry (she wouldn’t want to gross him out!) she unwrapped the thin white fabric before handing it to him. “Make it to Viv and Philos-o-fur.” She turned around and bent slightly to give him a surface to write on, brushing her long hair out of the way. “Thank you so much for this.”

“Of course!” Nyaall responded. “Always happy to meet a fan. And if that’s your familiar’s name, you got great taste.” He made sure to stand at her side to avoid any awkwardness that could come from positioning herself in front of or behind her. On top of that, it would be easier for him to speak quietly to her when he leaned forward to sign.

“There really isn’t time for this,” Dalton Lewis pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to hold his temper. “This isn’t a sweet outing. This is for killers.”

He only turned to give the announcer a smirk at the comment. His management surely would have wanted a 360 degree view from the cameras once they found out this was happening. Fortunately, they weren’t able to put a mic on either of them. He pulled out a pen and began to write slowly. He had originally thought the idea of keeping one on his person during the matches was ridiculous, but it seemed they really knew what they were talking about after all.

“I want you to defeat me,” he said quietly. “I have to make it look like I genuinely tried, but I’ll throw the match. Please try to make it look convincing on your end too, and please don’t leave me with too severe of injuries.”

Her ears shot up and her tails flared, bumping into Nyaall’s leg as she heard his request. What? She did not move, highly aware of his pen against her back, but all of her muscles tensed to keep herself still. Her nose started twitching as she tried to figure out if he was serious. Did he not want to be here? Then why was he here? What did that mean? She was so confused she didn’t immediately move when he finished writing, still in thought.

Finally, she stood up. Her hero had asked her this. She could do it. “I’ll do my best!” She said aloud, smiling almost as happily as before. Was he just throwing the fight for her? Was she that special? Either way, she’d try to beat him, while not hurting him. She could do this. Philos-o-fur and her were the best at controlling themselves. She’d had to tutor younger kids before. She could treat this like that…right?

All he could do to show his gratitude was give a simple smile. “Thank you.” It only scratched the surface of how much this favor meant for him, but unfortunately, there wouldn’t be enough time to explain things, and a quick explanation may result in the girl having an outburst. If this all went as planned, he would remember her and try to properly make it up to her. There was a list of people he wanted to repay for kindness, and Vixie’s name would be added to it.

“Why do you want to join the games?” A video, focused on Nyaall appeared on the large screens above the stands. There were a few screams from the fans, but the celebrity’s response was clearly heard.

“It would be an honor to take part in a cultural phenomenon such as the Great Games! I also want the chance to protect the people of the world, especially my wonderful fans!” He was fused with Apawllo, as was apparent by the cat ears sprouting from his head and his glowing yellow eyes. He raised his hands in front of him to mimic paws and gave a grin.



The picture perfect image froze of Nyaall, and then a young girl’s voice chimed in, “To make my parents proud!” Vixie covered her face, blushing to the roots of her hair as the crowd laughed. “And I heard Nyaall’s going to be in them!” Again, there was laughter, but she stubbornly fought embarrassment. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she got matched with him because of that line. Plus I get to help him.

Nihal couldn’t help but give a friendly chuckle as well. He felt blessed to meet fans in most situations, but Vixie, if their plan came to fruition, would truly be his saving grace.

“What would it mean for you to be a Centurion Guard?” The video restarted, focusing on the catboy and causing a majority of the fans to forget about the fox.

“It would be a dream come true! I was given a chance of a lifetime, and I want to give back to the world and help any of my fans who may be in trouble!” Another pose was struck. The hands stayed in their paw-mimicking position, but one was raised about his head.



This time the interview continued without any interruptions. The catboy, the real one, glanced over at Vixie, wondering whether they just chose to cut her response to the question or whether she had chosen not to give one. Either way, he found himself curious as to what her response would have been.

“What would you say to your opponent if they were standing here in front of you?”

“Prepare yourself and don’t hold back! Let’s give the crowd a great show! And I hope you’ll continue to support my work even after losing!” This time, he allowed his hands to open up and formed a heart with his thumbs and index fingers while giving a wink.


(I could only find so many cat boys, okay?)

Vixie started to frown, confused by the differences in her hero’s words in the standby area and now. Part of her was pleased: he’d trusted her with such a big secret! But then, if this interview wasn’t honest…were the others?
Once again glancing at Vixie, Nihal caught the confused look. Unfortunately, he had to stay straight-faced himself with all these ears around and so little time. He hoped she trusted him, the real him.

“Are you confident you can win the tournament, and why do you think you can? What separates you from others?"

“Yes! While I know the other contestants are strong and skilled fighters, I believe the way I have honed and used my magic skills along with my strong bond with Apawllo will give me an edge in this competition. Isn’t that right Apawllo?” The video feed showed the star and his familiar unfusing. He held open his hands for the glowing cat, which it happily jumped into. He held Apawllo close, turning to the camera with them cheek to cheek. Nihal had a wink and a grin on his face while Apawllo had his tongue sticking out.



The snuggled cat meowed in agreement, causing the audience to Awww almost in unison.

The referee looked as unimpressed as ever by the excited cheers or the bouncing girl. “I want a clean fight. You remember the rules Dalton went over, right?” He had stared down contestants much scarier than these two in previous fights today. He didn’t expect them to be very exciting. It would likely be a quick fight with the girl conceding the first time she hit her ‘hero.’ Pursing his lips, he gave one last glare before snapping out, “Begin!” and rushing to the sideline.

Jet

 

[EldridSmith]

It seemed the other woman in the group whose name he hadn't been informed yet wasn't keen on their addition to the group. Despite what she thought Zulan never got cold due to his affinity for fire, and even when he was asleep his familiar was nice and warm... which was nice for cool savanna nights. "I'm unsure how big a favor it is but I want to leave Nahzir. I'm sick of being forced to murder innocent tribesman and women... they're no different from my tribe. So I want to stay in Nye and find a way to ensure my own safety in the future." Zulan explains flatly as now wasn't the time to be philosophical.

He nodded along to the things the lady said before snorting at the games being fair. He wasn't so naive to believe that, especially with nations like Nahzir in play who wanted to flaunt their powers even if they did so underhandedly. "Anyways fair enough I don't mind lending a hand with investigating." He remarks more than willing to explain how easy it was to fix matches in various ways. Johan's pause was more than enough to confirm what he already know, the games which were a fight for life and death for some to survive was merely a game for nations to play against one another using them as pawns. Zulan raised an eyebrow at Johan's new tone, not buying it, but his expression still showed he was willing to help... his comment about the other man he wasn't sure whether to trust or not but he didn't have much of a choice at the moment. Upon getting their next instructions he nodded ready to go. He quickly adapted to the lack of seeing his extremities despite being told not to look... having trained to fight in smoke and in various levels or visibility and not being able to see his own movements he learned how to control his body to an extreme degree.
Jet rozukitsune Lost Echo

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas, being the socially inept assassin she was; didn't really understand the verbal cues that told her the others were either not buying her deflection or else they were as sure as she was the games were not fair at all. Honestly that they were or were not were not her problem.

Her problem was currently escaping down a hallway while she stood around talking.

Disgraceful.

Irritated with herself for allowing her quarry to get away while these idiots kept chatting about jobs and favors, she ignored the field of invisibility in favor of her natural camouflage and dipped through a "secret" shortcut (which consisted of an employee entrance leading to a private hallway that would cut across in the direction she'd seen the men vanish and Johan's familiar had flown). She gave up wondering or waiting to see if the others would follow, she had her orders: capture and question. Sara shivered on her shoulder as they merged and Narzas's steps became nigh inaudible as they nimbly flitted down the hall, pulling the light in around her into a shroud of darkness as was her habit as she skittered toward her prey and unintentionally Ren.

Jet , EldridSmith , Lost Echo , ZackStop

 

[Lost Echo]

Though the woman might find this normal, extracting information and consequences weren’t exactly pastimes of Anya’s. She was saved from explaining what she wanted by Ms. Murder starting to spew Nye’s propaganda. Did she actually believe that? Somehow the naivety to be indoctrinated juxtapositioned to her willingness to kill made her scarier than before. At least the head of security seemed to understand to play up the ridiculous notion of fairness in Nye. She chuckled with him, nodding as he agreed with her. At least if he killed her, he’d do it recognizing it’d be for Nye’s power, not its wholesomeness.

His attention shifted to her fellow competitor. She wondered why she didn’t get the same caveats, but she knew this would only just be a favor, not help. Though she was intrigued about this other man Johan referred to. What could she do to get his help? She breathed out quietly. It was only the first day. A favor was a great start. Then the man stated his favor. Running a hand through her hair, she tried to smother the knowledge that she did not belong there. With these killers. Her gaze flicked over the security head, remembering his strange behavior. Was he like the man from Nahzir? Did he want to stop the death?

Returning his focus to their quarry, Johan brought out his magic, first a visible shimmer before it seemed to be absorbed by everything and gone. Immediately Anya felt dizzy. She could feel her legs attached to her prosthetic, but a part of her mind wondered if it were the phantom sensations or real. Closing her eyes, she missed the man writing the note, only catching sight of the bat flying away when she reopened Kallos’s eyes.

She realized that the boy in front of her was the bait. After a moment she was grateful to not have been chosen to be the victim, but then she promised herself to try and save him. The cloaked men barely mattered beyond a threat. Let the others deal with them, when they got the chance, she was going to help him first.

As the sprung around a corner ahead of them, shouting his attack, Anya had to bite her lip to prevent a laugh from coming out, though a gust of air came out through her nose, in a reverse snort. Whatever the note from Johan said, the younger man was going through with it wholeheartedly.

 

[Jet]

​

Dancho nervously hid below the stairs, hands shaking as he quietly breathed. Whispering prayers as he stood like a statue, sweat soaking through his clothes. He wondered if he'd be killed or captured, tortured or burned alive — and not even escape would help him then. Not when centurions would chase him across the world like dogs.

That was how they operated; nothing more than sadistic murderers and thugs. Relishing the screams of innocent men, women and children, carelessly killed by the thousands. They were devils and Dancho would see them dead, every last centurion guard as they were called — as if they defended anything. How quaint.

He clenched his hand at the ironic, hateful thought, heart burning as he pondered the games. They were a grim show of support for centurions, with aspiring guards fighting for excited crowds, chanting the names of future killers. They were all in on the system, monsters he'd bring to heel with brute force.

Ren was no different; nothing more than a small, growing parasite, perhaps a tumor in its early stage. Dancho would save a thousand lives by taking his today, so he swallowed his doubts, lunged forward and grabbed Ren by the throat.

"Die die die!" Spit flew from his mouth as his partner drew a knife.

"Calm yourself Dancho!" his partner whispered. "Now is not the time."

Dancho ignored him and throttled the young man. "Die you piece of shit!"

"Oh my." His partner stepped forward as a shadow approached. His sharp eyes tracked it without trouble; he was used to the darkness from living underground. "Seems we have another visitor!" He grinned as the shadow bumped into Ren.

"Nicely done! I barely noticed you!" He slowly clapped before holding his knife forward. "Let us pass and we'll peacefully leave on our own accord." His voice was confident and smug, like he knew something others didn't. "Or we can tear the place up, maybe take down a section of the stands?" He knowingly smirked. "How many people are in a section anyway? I've never really thought about it! It could be a thousand, two thousand, maybe three?"

His eyes flicked to the stairs as Anya snorted. He figured there were concealed people on the steps, no-doubt the work of Johan Koch. "Oh my. There's no end to them is there?" He faced the invisible group and placed his hands on his hips. "So what'll it be? Will you turn a blind eye, or condemn thousands to death?"

He looked at Dancho with authoritative, dominant eyes. "And you! Unhand him while we negotiate!"

Dancho slowly loosened his grip and stepped back, standing beside his mentor. "My... apologies Sir. I lost control."

Lost Echo ZackStop rozukitsune EldridSmith

 

[ZackStop]

As soon as Ren landed, he noticed a man lunge forward, screaming. Ren also let out a scream of shock as the man gripped around his neck, and proceeded to tell him to die again and again. Ren's screams began to take a turn from fear to confused fear as this man seemed totally unhinged. He hadn't even drawn a weapon, and instead chose to thrash Ren around which caused him to get dizzy.

Ren felt something shove up against him, and at the same time Phalanx had made his move to protect his master, jumping from the stairs with a growl and shoved the man named Dancho. With this and the cloaked woman bumping into him, Ren was able to shake free from Dancho's grasp only to tumble to the floor, where Phalanx landed beside him. He was ready to pounce again if need be.

The strange dynamic of these two just seemed off, nothing like he was expecting when he got to this point. It just left Ren having more questions than any sense of danger. "What the heck is happening?!" He said as he came to his feet. Ren looked around but couldn't see who this man was addressing now. He was just looking up the stairs at what appeared to be no one. Then he thought about what Dancho's mentor had just said, and it just didn't seem right. "Hold on, just how are you going to kill a thousand people? It sounds like that was your plan in the first place so who in their right mind would let you guys go?" Ren wasn't trying to pick a fight with them, but instead was genuinely trying to understand their thinking.

 

[Jet]

Many years ago​

The tower of Aerides stood over burning rubble and splintered wood, scorched bodies and dead, disembowled horses. Its stone walls were bloodstained and cracking, slowly crumbling as a man stumbled from within. His feet dragged across the ground with a slow, steady scrape. His face was covered with blood, and broken arms swayed at his side. Then he idly looked around the burning city, eyes empty as he fell to his knees.

"Power corrupts our feeble hearts." His jaw clenched like a vice. "So why give us magic? Why give us the power to cause so much death and destruction?"

"Why give strength to such beasts?" He gazed into a pile of bodies. There was a child there; no older than ten. Her blonde hair slowly caught fire from a wandering ember, wrapping her in flames. "Are you even listening?" He looked up as tears rolled down his face.

"Can you hear me oh lord? High in heaven! Hiding in paradise from your brutal creations! Can you hear the crackle of burning children!" He headbutted the ground as he screamed, "ANSWER ME!"

"ANSWER!" He drove his head into the ground with each word. "ANSWER! ANSWER! ANSWER!"

"ANSWER ME!"

He screamed until his voice failed him, collapsing to the ground as he whispered, "Why us?"

"It's not fair."

"What have we done wrong?"

He pictured the city before its destruction. Its vast districts and chapels, markets and forums. The white palace and its golden peak. The schools and hospitals, smiling children and laughing men — happy women and old bickering couples. He thought about his favorite tavern. The bartender and drunks he gambled with after hours, drawing his father's wise, overbearing ire. His mother would lecture him too of course, not to mention his protective sister and haughty brothers. They always had something to say like,

"Stop mingling with those ruffians!"

"You must take your studies more seriously!"

"Stop ignoring father! He's right, you know?"

"Don't waste your time with those idiots. You're better than that."

"I would act my age if I were you."

At least he'd never be lectured again. Not when there was no one left to guide him. No one left to scold him. No one left to love him.

They were all dead.

He screamed into the dirt as fire raged around him, scalding his lungs and face. He rolled to his back and manically laughed in the face of God, a savage roar on his tongue. "I will drag you from your throne and make you suffer as we have; your chosen people, butchered as you watch from above!"

"I will not give you the satisfaction! I will not scream! I will not buckle or beg! I will greet my death like the Valksguard of old. I will have my vengeance!" The fire drew close and his face melted away. His throat burned, blackened and charred. His lungs cracked and his hair sizzled as he slowly died in the fire, but he didn't make a sound. Instead he smiled and vacantly stared at the sky, ready to confront his tormentor.

But then the fire simply ceased to exist, instantly vanishing like dust on the wind. The air went still and sickly quiet like a cemetery. The man wildly looked around as his heart pounded in his chest, wondering what had happened, why he was spared? If he'd gradually die in a final, cruel twist?

But then a curious sound echoed through the street — the sound of slow, gentle clapping, paired with the footsteps of a young, smiling man in fine clothes.

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

 

[Jet]

Johan looked dead tired and done with life. He just wanted a calm day without drama and death, not whatever this was. Now he was involved in the schemes and plots of scumbags, loan sharks or match fixers; common scum he didn't usually deal with. To make matters even worse, the enemy leader was sharp as a razor blade. He easily saw through camouflage and knew how to bargain — fantastic!

"Oh no!" Johan canceled his invisibility spell. "You got us!"

He sighed and lit a cigarette. "Now that we're all present, how bout you answer the kid's question." He glanced at Ren before addressing the two men. "How the hell are you gonna collapse a section from down here?"

The enemy leader dropped his hood. His face was heavily scarred and covered with burns, framed by short blond hair and a matching beard. "You're Johan Koch!" His face lit up. "You're quite the legend you know!" He belly laughed and patted his stomach. "I didn't think you'd come after us. I was told you wouldn't take interest in common vagrants."

Johan slowly drew a black knife. "Answer the question."

"Fine fine, so impatient these centurions." The man idly scratched his head. "Well, where do I begin?"

"Master Tefra!" Dancho stammered. "We shouldn't speak to them! He won't like it if we—

"He won't hear about it." Tefra looked back at Johan. "I'll detonate this if you take us by force." He withdrew a glass cube holding white, compressed flames. "It'll take down the load bearing supports above us, good enough to kill at least a section or two."

Johan carefully examined the cube. It was an old model compression field; a powerful weapon designed long ago. They were originally made to power steam engines and forges, but they became a choice weapon for criminals, terrorists and vault crackers alike. The council banned them years ago because of their devastating power, but the undercity still produced them.

"Well that's just peachy." Johan blew smoke from his nose. He looked around and noted everyone's position. Narzas and Ren were closest, but Anya and Zulan were close enough too. "Hmm… anyone ever play hot potato?" He pointed at Tefra's arm and shot a laser through his elbow, severing the tendon to his hand.

Tefra went pale as the cube dropped from his hand, risking explosion if it hit the stone floor. Johan however, was calmer than a chilled cucumber. He knew his friends would react in time — and if not? Well there was no guarantee the cube would explode on impact, or at least that's what he hoped, watching it fall with a small, smug smile on his impassive face.

rozukitsune Lost Echo EldridSmith ZackStop

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas was not accustomed to being talked back to by her prey. Of course, she was also not accustomed to being talked to at all, but that was neither here nor there. At the moment, there was a pair of dangerous men who had needed detaining and questioning half choking the young man she'd walked in behind while the other pointed a knife at her. It was an automated reflex to bring her own weapon up in preparation to defend herself but despite appearances apparently no one was actually trying to kill anyone at this particular moment as the one man dropped the other while the third made demands.

She watched the exchange, confused by the way the strangers seemed to know Johan almost like an old acquaintance. Scowling, she slid her daggers back into their holsters and waited while words were exchanged. She didn't really know what any of this was about, but a threat to take down the games was definitely a threat to take seriously. She was fully prepared to start working on a plan B that involved letting them get away for the time being and finding a different angle of approach to disarm these enemies when Johan just straight up shot at the man's elbow, effectively forcing the man to drop the object he claimed was an explosive from the man's hand. Thankfully for him, Narzas was fused with her Spider at the moment and her reflexes were honed to a razor's edge from lifelong training for multitude of things including this exact scenario.

She shot out her hand and a slight bit of web from her fingers, catching the object deftly before it could make it more than a few feet, pulling the edges safely into her palm while she danced herself out of the reeling opponent's grasp. She didn't really know what it was, but "Tefra" had said enough words to make her treat it as dangerous - just in case. She looked the others to see who was open to toss it to next.

 

[Jet]

Collab with EldridSmith
​

Bataar stared at the praying knight. His eyes were cold, predatory and filled with deep malice. He was a bad man and knew it more than most. His past was filled with crimes so foul, Satan himself would meet him at the black gates. "There is no God here, coward, so do not hide behind him. He will not stop my ax from splitting your pretty armor." He held out his massive great ax, muscles flexing with raw, bestial power. His tattoos dully shone in the warm sunlight; a webway of gang symbols, kill marks and bloody art.

They were marks of a convict; twenty years he'd served for capital murder. He sorely missed his powerful position inside the cold gulag, ordering men around like a king inside the tall, concrete walls. Back then every man feared his name. They worshiped the very ground he walked on, treating him like a god among men. He would reclaim that title here in the ring, starting with Ivan the pious. He'd kill the priest and crush his beating heart in his hands, basking in the crowd's bloody worship. "Perhaps I'll make a cup from your skull, priest. It'll make a fine chalice for church wine."

He grimly smiled at his own taunt, revealing a mouth of chipped, blackened teeth. Meanwhile his familiar, a snapping turtle, slowly crept around his feet, glaring at Ivan with the same hatred in its eyes.

​

Ivan stared at the man with his expressions being unreadable behind the helmet, but he was saddened by the man and felt pity he knew nothing of salvation. “There is and he cares for you so much he died for you. As will I if your words stand true, however I believe the Lord wills me to keep doing his good work so I will do my best to defeat you sir.” Ivan said extending his sword out towards his enemy as an official challenge. At this point Ivan decided to fuse with Asja instead of riding her with a lance in hand, he would save that for the next match. His artifact would be something to rely on thanks to the fact he could use it to nonlethally bind his opponent to avoid unnecessary death.

Bataar killed men like this before. They were always stubborn until a knife pierced their stomach, quickly dropping them to their knees. That's when the begging began. How they cried as he crushed their skulls with his bare hands, madly grinning as they prayed for salvation. He fondly remembered those kills with a smile on his face, and he couldn't wait to add another one.

"Save your sermons for those who give a shit." He turned to show a demonic tattoo on his back. It was a creature with twisting horns and a forked tongue, face dripping with blood and gristle. Its red eyes were filled with hellfire and deep, undying hatred for humanity. "My soul belongs to Erlik Khan, bringer of death and ruler of all things."

He faced Ivan as his mouth curled. "His realm is a reflection of ours, ruled by the same commandment — survival of the fittest. I can't wait to teach you that lesson, priest." He suddenly pointed his ax at the announcer. "Stop wasting time you slovenly pig, I'm getting impatient."

The announcer ignored him as he glared at his enemy, eagerly awaiting his chance to kill the self righteous prick.

It seems words were wasted on this man, but that would not deter Ivan from trying to save another soul. “I am ready for the match to begin.” Ivan stated as he grabbed his sword in both hands and he prepared himself getting into the plow guard for ease of mobility and transition from offense to defense. He patiently waited for his enemy to charge at the signal, though he figured he didn’t have to wait long. However Ivan gathered his magic to perform magic in conjunction with his next action… though what it was depended on his opponent.

The crowd loudly cheered at the chipper exchange, excitedly waiting for the fight to begin. Dyus sensed their anticipation and pointed at the stands. "Before the match begins, some words from our contestants!"

The speakers played Baatar's interview first. It was a murderous exchange that drew both cheers and boos. Some liked his brutality and excessive machismo; others found him arrogant and scornful.

However, that changed when Ivan's interview played, beginning with the standard, "Why do you want to join the games?"

"To glorify God and Byzantine!"

"What would you say if you killed someone in the ring? It must be a difficult position for a man like you?"

"It's necessary to to change my home country for the better, and it will bring another person to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ"

"What would you say to anyone standing in your way?"

"May the Lord be with you."

"There are a number of favorites this year, men like Cage Viper and Giant Guadalupe. How will you fare against these powerhouses?"

"I am confident in my training and the lord's will. I am a firm believer and I pray for them."

The crowd confusedly murmured in response. They didn't know how to react to the strange interview, but eventually they clapped and cheered for Ivan. It seemed his zealotry was better than Baatar's death threats, but not by much.

Dyus noted the poor reaction. He'd fire whoever edited the interviews, given how good the potential narrative was. "Fucking ridiculous." He cursed below his breath, ensuring the microphone wouldn't catch his obscenities. "Ingrate fucks with less brains than balls, I'll throw them into the fucking sea myself." He forced a smile and brought the mic to his mouth. "Well there you have it! Two of our most savage and ruthless fighters, and both are incredibly strong! This fight should be one for the ages!"

The crowd cheered at the thought of clashing titans, heavyweights with enough muscle to break stone. It would be a damn good fight, even if the narrative wasn't clear.

Dyus sighed as the crowd revived itself. "Let's not waste any more time shall we?" He pointed at the fighters. "Let's see which heavyweight will advance to the second round! In three, two, one — begin!"

Baatar ran forward and fused with his familiar. His skin rapidly thickened and a shell wrapped around his back. His mouth became the sharp, imposing maw of a big snapping turtle, and stone ripped from the ground to form his armor. "I'm going to eat your soul!" He jumped up and raised his stone covered arms, viciously slamming the ground with his ax. The floor broke into chunks that shot towards Ivan, aiming to pound him into an early, decisive submission.

Ivan was upset with the interview as he side stepped the man’s attack and the debris following after. “Nooo my sermon!” He laments, clearly more displeased by the lost chance to share the good news with the crowd than the tarnishing of his own name. “You cannot eat that which is already anothers.” Ivan says as he thrusts his sword towards his opponent with enlarged muscles putting massive amounts of power behind the attack. However with his magic he also stomped the ground as the earth swallowed up the mans’ ax making it more difficult to retrieve, putting the man into a question of whether to take the hit or abandon his ax.

Bataar grabbed Ivan's sword with his armored hands, pushing it away with a loud grunt. "Clever priest." He stepped close to Ivan and lowered one of his hands, conjuring a stone ax from the ground below. "But not clever enough." He swung at Ivan's midsection with enough strength to break bones, drawing loud cheers from the rabid crowd.

Seeing Bataar’s movement as he grabbed for his sword he let go of it with his bottom hand as he placed the bottom of the handle directly in the ax’s direction of travel to force him to give up his grip on the item or suffer serious damage to his fingers from his own attack. With his spare hand he conjures a pillar of stone and slams it towards the back of the man’s knees as he takes a step back and pulling his hand towards himself to guide the stone and avoid the attack.

Bataar continued his swing and clanged his ax against the handle. It stung like a bitch but he was stronger than Ivan thought, shaking off the pain as pillars slammed his legs — and no matter how strong he was, he couldn't tank that kind of hit. "Fucking coward." He dropped to a knee as Ivan stepped back, pressing his palms to the ground. He roared and summoned spikes around the knight on all sides, shooting them inwards to impale him. Then he raised his hand to shoot rock bullets if the knight jumped, an airtight strategy in his arrogant opinion.

As the man went down Ivan grabbed the tip of his sword and pivoted the pommel towards the man’s chin as he roared and softened the ground to drop down below the approaching spikes, coating himself in a thick rock armor on top of his steel plates to ensure nothing was getting through short a cannonball. “Cowardice? There is no such thing in survival. For it is written ‘Be shrewd as a serpent, yet innocent as a dove.’ Matthew 10:16.” Ivan calmly responds as he covers his arms with stone armor as well to be able to take the blow relatively unscathed to allow him to fully connect with the man’s chin.

Bataar grinned as the spines hit Ivan, branching into vines of rock that wrapped around his limbs. "Payback for the knee." He punched Ivan's chest with enough strength to launch him back, shattering the vines as he marched forward. "You're too young." He raised his weapon. "Too inexperienced." He viciously swung down at the young man, splitting as he screamed, "TOO WEAK!"

Seeing the obvious overhead strike Ivan stepped to the side and swung towards Bataar’s head focusing on speed instead of power. As the blade drew close enough to his opponents face he let out a line of clay landing squarely on Bataar’s face blinding the man. Expecting his opponent to jump back he summoned a wall of spikes and uneven ground to trip his opponent up and damage Bataar’s armor.

Bataar jumped back to avoid the clay, but his feet barely found purchase. "Huh?" He stumbled and fell on his back, groaning as his armor slammed into spikes. He wiped muck from his face as he rolled sideways, pressing his palms on the ground. "Tear em up!" He conjured stone tubes from the ground. They served as gun barrels for small, sharp bullets of sandstone, flying forward at lightning speed.

Ivan grins seeing his plan worked disabling his opponent and he stomps his foot down as a giant wall of stone appears to block the incoming attacks and to start his charge towards the opponent to send him outside the ring, though he prepares his sword just in case Bataar does something smart.

Bataar widened his eyes and summoned a stone ramp, meeting the wall at the top. It stuffed the barrier and gave him the perfect foothold for an attack. "I'll show you how to entertain a crowd!" He ran up the ramp and jumped over the top, swinging his ax down with two hands.

Ivan prepared for the attack thrusts his blade straight towards the man’s chest, though for his counter attack he braces to take an attack, positioning himself in such a way to lessen the force. Thankfully he had more armor than his opponent in addition considering the full plate under his stone armor.

Bataar perceived the attack but didn't stop his advance. Instead he twisted his body to force a glancing blow, finishing his swing without losing focus. His broad ax slammed Ivan's flank with the crunch of breaking stone and bending metal; music to the man's ears.

Ivan lets his armor take the blow as he moves his side into the blade at an angle to lessen the contact area and angle the surface softening the blow as the stone armor at that spot crumbles away. However with that momentum Ivan swings his body around to elbow Bataar in the face as he was unable to dislodge his blade at the moment.

Bataar grunted as blood leaked from his nose, shaking his head as stars dotted his vision. "Hah! Good one!" He grabbed Ivan's arms and went for a grapple, hoping to bodyslam the Byzantine knight.

Ivan instead of backing away moves into the grapple slamming his shoulder into the man’s chest right next to where his blade was lodged in, allowing him to pull it out more easily and worsen the wound and slam his opponent into the wall.

Bataar groaned and spat blood on Ivan's armor, returning the shoulder bash with a red grin. "I'll take my win in blood if need be."

Considering the length of his sword it was disadvantageous to use in his current situation, as such he pulled out his dagger from it’s spot on his forearm and lunged towards Bataar’s neck, taking the shoulder slam to get in closer, as his armor was enough at this point.

Bataar grabbed Ivan's wrist and struggled for the knife, wrapping his massive hand around the pommel. He tightly gripped with enough strength to break stone, hoping to break Ivan's hand.

While Bataar may have been strong enough to break stone like Ivan, he was currently wearing the finest steel around. However this gave him an opening as his opponent was almost entirely focused on his dagger… he used his spare arm to pull Bataar’s neck back against the stone at which point Ivan stops. “Referee! Had that stone collar been bladed or spiked this man’s head would no longer be attached to his neck!” He loudly declares as he stares Bataar in the eyes, his expression enough to say he was capable of killing the man should he try something now.

Bataar squirmed inside the collar and screamed in Ivan's face, but the message was clear. He would've been dead if Ivan was a killer. "You fight like a coward!" He ripped at the collar as a referee, a young Centurion, approached him and knocked away his hand.

"You're lucky he's soft hearted." The centurion looked back at Dyus and shook his head, signaling the fight was over.

The announcer grimly smiled at the news. He wanted bloody, dramatic battles; epic struggles of life and death. He didn't want a yield in the first round, not when they were lopsided show matches. "The winner is!" He forced a convincing grin. "Ivan the zealot!" The crowd confusedly cheered and quietly clapped in response; bloody depressing compared to flashier fights.

Dyus had an angle though; this wasn't his first time announcing a dud. "That was no ordinary match, but a masterclass in strategy and foresight! A game of chess played on the field! Keep your eyes on Ivan folks! He's not nearly as dumb as he appears!"

The crowd laughed as flowers were thrown at Ivan; an ancient tradition going back millennia.

But not everyone was happy. Bataar scowled and heat seemingly radiated from his skin. "I DO NOT ACCEPT THIS!" He ripped away the collar and approached Ivan, but the Centurion dropped him with a kidney punch.

"You're done." The centurion's blue eyes became narrow, ruthless slits. "Now get the fuck off the field."

"No! I'm not done here!" Bataar swung at the Centurion with a scream on his lips, but the man ducked and drew a small knife, expertly impaling Bataar’s neck.

The crowd roared as the criminal stumbled forward, blood dripping down his snarling face. He wildly swung but he was too slow for his new opponent, coughing and wheezing like a sickly old man. "No! No! No!" He grabbed his neck and swung again with his free hand, but he was quickly losing blood. His vision blackened and heart struggled to supply his brain, wildly pumping as he collapsed to his knees. "I'm going to kill you! I am Bataar! The most powerful warrior!" He dug his foot into the ground and pushed up, slowly standing as his brain sputtered out. "I am the most powerful Centurion!" He fell forward with a weighty thump, eyes rolling back as his soul left his body.

The crowd rabidly cheered and Dyus earnestly smiled. This was the type of drama he could sell. "Well folks! It seems his brain was the one muscle he didn't train!"

The crowd laughed as Ivan was escorted from the field. The centurion accompanied him as he cleaned blood from his small dagger. "You won't win if you won't kill." He was a stoic and straightforward man. "You're not the first bleeding heart to try their hand in the ring, and it always ends the same way."