Fantasy ~The Hexosphere Chronicles~

[Kharmin]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/57a8c09421c60_Bralynn_rpn_resize70.jpg.374f7cd4ac8af8683553a4263965423e.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="32018" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/57a8c09421c60_Bralynn_rpn_resize70.jpg.374f7cd4ac8af8683553a4263965423e.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> Kael Festival.


Bralynn slinked along the edges of the grand bazaar as she tried to take it all in. Music and voices filled the air to an almost deafening range and the panoply of banners and awnings over the multitude of stalls assaulted her vision. So many different people percolated in and amongst each other to the point where a meager stroll through the center of the area was virtually impossible. Thus, she edged her way around.


Without employment, Bralynn hoarded her last few coins as she progressed through the festival and ignored the various hawkers and their wares. Survival was her first priority and with the event in full swing, the prices had escalated exponentially. She would need to find work, and fast.


She continued to work her way through the surging throng. Bralynn's eyes were kept up and they darted from person to person while she contemplated who might offer the best recommendations. Her talents were not suited to retail, so Bralynn discarded any thoughts of working booths, although if and when her supply of money expired, she would then consider more drastic measures.


Bralynn spied a shalrak who pressed his way through the crowd with a singular purpose. The masses parted before him and then rejoined after his passing, however, she noticed that a merman trailed along in the shalrak's wake.


The uniqueness of his presence intrigued her, so Bralynn cut her own path toward the duo. She caught up with them as the entered one of the numerous and bustling taverns, the Drunk Stag. Bralynn did her utmost to maintain a casual air as she followed them to the bar at the rear of the establishment. She elbowed in closer between several patrons and watched as the shalrak and merman spoke with the bartender. The shalak requested "Bolemio's favorite" which Bralynn thought seemed odd for one of his species, and her curiosity grew.


More patrons arrived and made the same, specific request. As one, the group was directed and escorted through a door further back in the room. What an eclectic communion, Bralynn thought but then again, to her such dealings were not uncommon. It wasn't difficult for her to piece together the scene that had unfolded and she knew that her luck had begun to turn. Work was to be had here, if she played her cards right.


Bralynn passed a furtive glance around the Stag as she considered her situation. Nothing overtly illegal appeared to be going on to her trained eye, but from what she had just witnessed Bralynn was certain that such dealings occurred beyond the doorway to the rear. She simply needed to be patient for the return of the barkeeper, at which time she would make the same sing-song request and hopefully follow wherever the other group went.


@SkyGinge

 

[Elegy]

Raksana's interest died down when she saw Sven the Fearless begin to move. He had too much confidence, and his steps were not controlled nor were they planned carefully. It seemed that he recognized his trident had the range advantage in this fight and was wanting to pressure Jinta as soon as possible. However, his utter foolishness in that decision was that if his first and fast attack were blocked, dodged or parried, then he would be left completely open to the fast rebound and long range strike of the harpoon. It was apparent that Jinta had seen this fact in some or another, and he coolly intercepted the trident thrust with his harpoon, pushed back Sven, and launched his harpoon with its superb speed and range. Sven was slaughtered, some champion he was indeed. Raksana's confidence and pride grew even larger after this fight, as she began to think all of the fighters were weaker than Sven and easily dealt with. Raksana looked expectantly above towards the announcer after she announced Jinta's victory as the crowds roared in excitement, as her fight would be imminent due to her number being almost right after Jinta's. When the crowd quieted down and thinned out a bit, the announcer once again stepped out and called out a fight, but this time it was between a person called the Crow and a demon called Xanth.

The crowd gasped and cheered when they saw the Crow walk onto the pit, so Raksana assumed his fighting prowess was quite well known. However, he was against what was obviously a demon, and demons had quite the considerable natural advantage over regular humans in terms of physical capabilities. To Raksana's surprise, the Crow easily slaughtered the demon with inhuman speed, making it obvious that he was fueled by some sort of magic. The speed was so blindingly fast that even Raksana, who had trained her reactions by dodging a sidewinder snake's bites in close range, had trouble keeping up with it. Normally most people's blows and strikes seemed sluggish to Raksana: a combination of her excellent instinct, arduous training, and sharp eyes able to read the slightest changes in facial expression and musculature. If the Crow was able to keep even Raksana's senses on their toes, then he was indeed an extremely capable fighter.

"This'll be harder than I thought. Sven was the champion, but he got crushed. This Crow guy is miles ahead of Sven too, if my opponent is at his level I'm gonna be in some trouble. But it's also apparent that the Crow is an outlier, which is why he can easily crush his opponents in the first place. Guess I'll just have to roll my sweet luck"




Now slightly nervous, Raksana eyed the announcer after she declared the Crow's victories. After a minute or two, the announcer stepped out again and once again called out a match with her wind magic enhanced voice , timing these announcements just when the crowd died so as to stoke greater reactions.

"Up next, in the blue corner is number 388, a Teztran fighter of... great experience!"

Obviously the announcer did not know what Raksana, wielding no weapons and appearing to have no outstanding physical characteristics, was doing in the pit and simply said the great experience part to hopefully gain the interest of the crowd. The crowd mirrored this thought and did not pay any attention to Raksana as they continued to talk among themselves, as an apparently regular woman probably so desperate to earn money that she was willing to get into the pit and get slaughtered was never an exciting fight.

"In the red corner is the famed hunter Alseeth the Mutilator! Twenty two victories and one defeat is his record, and his brutality and skill know no match!"

The crowd had their interest reignited as they roared and cheered for Alseeth, a rugged giant of a man towering two feet over Raksana. His entire body rippled with heavy and scarred muscle. His face was completely covered under a torturer's mark and his immensely large hands tightly gripped two short scimitars. He wore no shirt, exposing his scarred, burnt and heavily built body for all the crowd to see and to intimidate his enemies.

Raksana leaned back on the wall of the pit with a fearless and analytic air about her, simply observing the man before her.

"A brute. Probably tortures people for a living. Let's see, his scimitars are both rather short being only twenty inches long. That still gives him a range advantage, so my Sidewinder style's ability to zone is null here. His physique is superb in the wrong way in this matchup. He's got heavy lifting and striking muscle, but that's all going to weigh him down against me. I should say I have the extreme speed advantage here. The mask is troublesome, since it prevents me from instantly knocking him out, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem. His neck is bare and he has no covering from his waist on up, which leaves approximately nine crucial vital spots for me strike at. Provided he underestimates me and charges me, I can easily dodge his two scimitars and strike around a vital points each time he misses. After three repetitions of this, he shouldn't be able to move easily anymore and that seals his defeat. If I can strike his throat though, he's done for instantly. I'm going to give myself a ninety five percent chance to win."

Alseeth inspected Raksana to assess her strengths, but her baggy clothes completely hid her excellently trained physique and her weaponless state indicated even less danger. Seeing this, Alseeth gruffly told her in a deep, guttural voice,

"Sorry girl, but today's not your lucky day. Tell you what, I'll spare your life here and you can do me some favors later eh?"

Raksana didn't respond, rather, she didn't hear. Her mind was completely focused on the fight to such an extent that the crowd's shouting died out, and her vision zoned in completely on Alseeth. Her mind was cleared out, ridding itself of all emotions and distractions and simply leaving behind a mass of honed instinct and fighting experience. A mental sate of such combat ready acuity that it would make the most trained of fighters envious. Everything was complete instinct and experience now to Raksana. The only thing definite in her mind was that she was to beat the foe before her into incapacitation. A mental state devoid of all unnecessary thoughts that was the product of over twenty years of brutal meditation under the scorching sun of Teztra where the only way one could keep sanity was to lose oneself into the embrace of a thoughtless void.

Raksana assumed her fighting stance, standing sideways so that her left shoulder faced towards Alseeth and her right shoulder faced directly behind her. Her arms were cocked in right angles and both hands were placed on a centered position just below Raksana's sternum, with her left elbow pointing slightly upwards directly towards Alseeth's neck. Her legs were firmly balanced on the ground and placed widely apart from each other to allow for rapid propulsion through energy attained from shifting momentum across planes of balance.

This was the famed Sidewinder style, one that was known only in revered whispers around Teztra as the fabled martial art of the "prophets" of the sand. A few Teztrans in the crowd with fighting experience grew quiet in reverence as they recognized the stance, but the rest of the crowd was oblivious to such details and continued to cheer on for Alseeth.

Alseeth shook his head, and stated in a disappointed voice,

"Tsk tsk, why throw your life away. Look forward to dying in this filthy pit!"

He charged towards Raksana, rapidly closing the distance with his huge bulk. His arms were raised in the air slightly behind his head, gripping the scimitars to bring them crashing down upon Raksana when he was in range.

Raksana waited until Alseeth would be able to cover the distance between the two in three strides, and then pushed off the ground to meet Alseeth to his utter surprise. He instinctively reacted and brought down the two scimitars, but Raksana had easily expected this and as soon as her foot left foot touched the ground, she used it as a pivot to push herself off the ground towards Alseeth's right side to narrowly miss the two scimitar blades. They crashed onto the empty ground where Raksana once stood, and Alseeth in blind rage turned towards Raksana while raising his right arm above his head to once again strike. This proved to be a heavy mistake, as Raksana had already assumed her stance even before Alseeth even began turning towards her, and with a satisfactory smile on her face Raksana shot out her right arm in a wide arc trajectory caused by the flexible whip-like state of Raksana's arm unique to the Sidewinder style to cause a blow that ultimately ended on Alseeth's right hinge joint.

Raksana then quickly side stepped the right handed scimitar slash and backed out, giving herself good distance all the while maintaining her stance. Alseeth attempted to raise his right hand again, but failed and instead bellowed out in pain and dropped his scimitar. The hinge joint was shattered, so any considerable movement with the right arm was now completely disabled. Alseeth screamed out in a berserker like fury and charged towards Raksana while swinging his left scimitar madly like an animal. Raksana baited the man by backing out until she pressed upon the back of the arena's wall. The man gleefully screeched as he perceived his victory with Raksana cornered, and swung his left scimitar in a swiping motion aimed at bisecting Raksana. However, as soon as Alseeth's left arm swung back in preparation of his swiping slash, Raksana, with her peerless alacrity, pushed herself forward on one foot and used the foot as a grounded pivot to twist her body almost a hundred and eighty degrees to perform a powerful downward crashing kick with her other leg. The kick was aimed at Alseeth's left saddle joint, and the lightning fast blow connected and shattered the joint as well as forcing him to drop the scimitar. Alseeth desperately attempted to then grab Raksana in a grapple by enclosing her with both his arms in a bear hug, but that move exposed his neck and Raksana took the opportunity to strike his bare throat with the same powerful and blindingly fast whip like blow signature to her fighting style. Alseeth fell back and landed on the hard ground of the arena with a satisfying thud. He clutched his neck desperately as he attempted to breathe, his collapsed larynx straining to pass air.

Three blows for a victory. The battle had not even lasted two minutes.

The crowd roared at this unexpected turn of events, and cheered Raksana for a full minute. Raksana basked in the lovely praise as it padded her already rather established pride, and then bowed politely before casually walking out of the arena.

"Easy fight, easy money. I could get used to this" she thought as she stepped out unscathed to rejoin the motley group of people she had followed before.​

 

[SkyGinge]

From inside the waiting tunnel, Kri'tro hardly had the best view of the action. However, what little he did see was appropriately brutal. First off, Fish-face fought off against the pit's pitiful champion, who Kri'tro had easily been able to identify as not as much of a superstar as he made out. He hadn't expected, however, Fish-face's harpoon skills. With grinning expertise and unneccessary brutality, he massacred the hapless thug. The man had it coming, and fancy that! Murdered by a fish. He nodded politely to the merman as he made his way back through the tunnel. The man may have been a complete wreck around the dancer, but he was certainly a fine opponant, and Kri'tro respected that.


Next came the Crow, against an extremely unfortunate demon. Though it was no surprise to him, Kri'tro found himself marvelling at the man's extraudinary technique. He probably deserved it too; any demon who that stupid is better off dead. Still, it did all seem a bit unneccesarily bloody to the young rogue, and so he enjoyed the next match a lot more; an underdog beat-down caused by a baggily clad woman. All people he was fairly glad he hadn't had to face.


And best yet, for the sake of pride and purse-filling, these folk are showing off exactly how they fight. Good for the crowd, but anybody with half a brain would have been carefully studying their style of fighting. Tough luck, guys.





The queue was now almost at the end, and it would almost be Kri'tro's turn to fight. But first, the Shalrak in front of him was to go. "Come on, dragon-man," he smirked, "let's see what you're made of!"


@PicaPirate 
In the upper section of the underground arena, Beattie clung to the railings as yet another round finished. Once again, the crowd erupted in cheers. Stupid sheep. They were only cheering because everybody else was cheering; unlike him, they did not appreciate the true beauty of violence. Pathetic, he sneered. Beattie hated crowds, especially of yobs like this. They were so stupid; he deserved better than their company. And to make matters worse, some pretentious idiot who named himself after a bird had massacred a demon, dessicrated the most sacred of races. If the man's skills (and sword) hadn't seemed so sharp, Beattie would have gone straight to him and shown him just what a misdeed he had commited.


Still, with his orders still in place, Beattie couldn't afford to hang around too long. Yet, first he wanted to sow the seeds of anarchy in the young Kri'tro Grett. The rogue was just the kind of self-satisfied egitist that was perfect for a little manipulation, as long as you masked it well enough. He was simple in his complexities: though an onion has many layers, it is still essentially an onion, and that was what Kri'tro was like. Beattie rubbed his temples and groaned. Metaphors were needless and complex and it hurt his head inadvertantly dreaming them up.


For the love of Aekra, I need to get out of here. He looked sheepishly around the crowds. Where was that girl he was supposed to be watching? Ah, yes: sat alone on a bench. Kri'tro Grett can watch his own birds. But this one's mine. That was another problem with him; he was so arrogant he clearly couldn't see through Beattie's trustworthy facade. Blummin' cretin. If he weren't useful I'd be long gone.


So, wearing a slightly more cheerful frown than usual, Beattie found his way through the mass of stinking, sweaty, bearded bodies and sat himself down next to the girl. After a short while, he spoke. "Your a dancer," he stated, ever the charmer, "Dance." There was an implied force in his tone, but poor Beattie wasn't quite drunk enough to have any more threatoning aggression than a handmaid on wash day.


@Shura

 

[Shura]

Rani watched with mild interest some of the other fights which took place. One between a young woman and an overgrown bruit was amusing to say the least. She could tell the outcome from the time the bruit started running his mouth, wasting time and practically begging to be hit. She just shook her head at the sad display. She wondered if the rouge was going to fight any time soon since her interests in the whole event was starting to dwindle. She had already made a profit off and seen a fair amount of blood shed already, not exactly something that interested her. She'd rather be conning some rich old fool out of some gold than hanging around some filthy pit. Not to mention the cavern overall gave her the creeps. "Ill give it one more fight." She thought to herself figuring he would come out at some point.


Her thought were interrupted by the dark haired man who had been speaking with Max earlier. She simply quirked a brow at the man as he made his demand crossed somewhere between amusement and annoyance. On the one hand she could tell the man off and be done with it but on the other he might have information about Max. She kept her face rather neutral and aloft as she shrugged. "As much as the sound of blood being spilled and flesh beating flesh is music to some, it's not something I can quite dance to." She replied "Besides there quite enough entertainment already being given, don't you think?"


@SkyGinge

 

[Goddess]

Pulling up to the dock Chimera stood up , stretching toward the sky , leaning back while counting to three. She stood back up only to bend toward her left counting down from three again, then so on to the right side. As she moved her waist outward the pocket of money that was tied around the belt loop of her shorts began to jingle. Down below she heard a man yell out to her, waving his hand as if he wanted to ask a question. Putting her right foot against the rim of her small ship she peered over with a raised brow. Chimera watch the man cup the side of his mouth and inhale. "MRS!" The yell startled Chimera, making her step back a little , lifting up her right arm as if she was trying to make a shield. The man motioned for her to come on down, so that is exactly what she did. Hopping down, she landed next to the man with a thud. Looking over her shoulder to him she grabbed four clips from her forest green short pockets , taking her blond hair and smoothing it back. "How can I help you sir." She asked as she began to clip down her hair so it would lay flat, the ribbon slipping from her hand around her wrist then resting on the inside of her elbow. "I can help you unload mam, get your ship squared away so you can go on and enjoy the festival." Chimera thought about it as she finished clipping the right side of her her, her hands falling to her hips as she tapped her foot to the sound of the music. "No harm no foul right? Sure have at it." Chimera waved to the man as she began her stroll but stopped mid step to turn around. "Ah money , how much." The man waved his hand telling her no worries. With a shrug Chimera went off into the bustling masses of the crowd.


As she strolled down the main road she inhaled a big gust of air , smelling the sweet sensations of food and the aroma of the alcohol that surrounded her. Where to first was her first question. To her right was a shop only for deserts, to her left was a clothing shop, up ahead was a tavern and right across from it was a workshop. Chimera clenched her fist as she pretended to hold back tears. Without causing any disputes Chimera tried her best not to push people hard as she moved through the crowd toward the workshop, her hand reaching out toward it as she shoved and slid by bulky men whose shirts were ripped from constant arm lifting. Chimera had to close her nose for a second, their horrid stench from their pits nearly killing her. With a few shoves , a few move out of the way and one last shoulder hit she was able to make it to the opening of the workshop. Tired from just straining to get to her destination she had to take a breather. Chimera smooth back her hair once more and made sure her loot of stolen cash was still tightly tied at her waist. With both hair and money in check she resumed her stroll into the shop, her eyes resting on a tool belt that would hang low around the waist and held a total of ten pockets both front and back. Squealing inside she made her way to the tool belt, snatching it up from the hook and putting it on around her waist to see if it fit. Turning around with her thumbs latched inside the belt she looked in the mirror, constantly winking at herself and whistling a small tune.


Chimera took off the belt then walked over toward the clerk who stood behind a dark wooded counter. "How much for this?" The clerk took the belt before examining it then putting it back down. "300" Chimera made a tsk sound as she looked away. "300" The clerk nodded his head , holding out his hand for her to fork over the money, if not his other hand was placed on the belt ready to take it away. "300" Chimera said again as her fingers tapped the side of her hip. "300, if you don't have the money I'll be putting this back." "Woah hold on...hold on." She untied the bag that held her money and let it rest in her palm. Opening it up she shifted through it as if she was trying to find the perfect coin, with the perfect linings with no rust and no scratches. Pulling out what seemed to be a handful, she laid it down on the table. The clerk pushed each coin to the side as he counted out loud. Smiling he slide the coins off the table then emptied it into a pouch much similar to her own. The clerk slide the belt toward her and gave her a wave. "Have a nice day, thank you and come again." Chimera took the belt with a smile ,wrapping it around her waist before she left the shop.


Back out into the crowd she watched from the side lines, thinking about her next move. While she watched the people she saw the little ones run around chasing one another, their parents following behind as they sing to the music. At times like these you would think, I wonder if mom would have liked to see this, or maybe i should get something for them. Chimera thought the exact opposite, nearly put a frown on her face. Shaking the bad thoughts she made her way across the street and toward the Tavern.

 

[Omen]

It was strange place for Vanessa. This seemingly underground fighting arena was odd. Very, very odd. Drinking, gambling, yelling, cursing, and sweating, the place had it all and more. It was hard for her to fathom what people saw in place like this. She certainly felt uncomfortable in the crowds, but her desire to follow Alistair was more compelling to her. As such, she continued to follow Alistair as he navigated his way through the arena, looking very much like he had been here before.


She was still following Crow when he told her to stay put and left for the fighting arena. Still, the view from her position was hardly satisfying so she moved slightly to the right until she had a clear view of the fighting arena. She could see the opponents. Alistair on one side and a strange red, human thing which Vanessa only assumed could be a demon. She had never seen such a thing in person, but the pirates used to tell stories of the beasts of hell that would prey upon unsuspecting victims.


When they announced his presence in the fighting arena, Vanessa had expected them to yell Alistair. So needless to say she was puzzled when instead of saying Alistair they said the Crow. The name held no significance to her, but she found it odd that someone would be called something other than their name. However, the word favorite confirmed what Vanessa had expected: Alistair was no stranger to this den of violence.


As the fight began, Vanessa had a concern in her eyes. The demon certainly seemed like he was in control, taunting Alistair repeatedly. She wondered if Alistair could hold his own against such a beast. It would be terrible if he died, she thought. For one, he was the reason she had come down here. Two, without him she likely wouldn't be able to find her way out.


While her mind was distracted with these thoughts, she saw Alistair step forward towards the beast. The next thing she saw was red arms, flying into the air. She looked back to the demon to see his arms were no longer attached, blood spewing from the sockets. There was a hushed silence that fell across the crowd. Clearly they had missed Alistair's move as much as she. The crowd waited, leaning forward to see what would happen next when Alistair spoke to the demon. At his remark, the crowd began to cheer for The Crow for defeating the demon.


Instead of joining the chanting crowd, Vanessa found herself staring at Alistair as he finished off his opponent. As he picked up the demon she watched as he flattened the head into what appears to be a bowl of soup. It was both horrifying to her and at that the same time fascinating. The blood and violence did not bother her. Years of being a slave to pirates had desensitized her to such things. Yet, she had seen the pirates duel each other many times, but never had she seen such a level of grace and power that Alistair just displayed. It was then that Vanessa decided that she wanted to be able to do something like that. If she had such power, there would be so much more that she could do. She could stand up for herself. Go and find where that had happened to the ship that and crew that held her captive and find Armenil.


Alistair wiped his hands of the blood and tissue then headed over to her. As he reached her, he looked un-phased and undisturbed by the fight. He wasn't even sweating, she realized. She did not notice him talk to her, lost in her own mind, as she looked at him with hopeful eyes. Feeling empowered by her thoughts of finding Armenil, she said to him as he reached her, "Teach me to fight like that." It was rare that she be so blunt about something. Even rarer still that she was not asking, but demanding. However, even her demand was soft-spoken, barely able to be heard over the cheer of the crowds.


@PicaPirate

 

[Kharmin]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/57a8c094d1946_Bralynn_rpn_resize70.jpg.03b337ba0593e5192c12201638aa0a3e.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="32051" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/57a8c094d1946_Bralynn_rpn_resize70.jpg.03b337ba0593e5192c12201638aa0a3e.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> Bralynn descended the darkened stairwell after having been escorted to the rear door of the tavern by the barkeep. Apparently, whatever pass-code she had heard required no other authentication as the man merely sighed and showed her where the rest of the others had preceded her.


The noise grew exponentially with each step down and Bralynn soon found herself in some kind of back-street, underground arena. The scent of blood and sweat hung cloyingly in the air, and combined with the cheers and jeers of the assembly before her the scene was one of mildly controlled chaos.


She stood at the periphery and observed the crowd for a few moments. Before long, Bralynn understood: it was a bloodsport for money and from what she saw business was good. She shook her head in disappointment for this clearly was not her domain. Bralynn preferred more subtle, behind-the-scenes type of work and was ill-suited for such competitive combat as she now witnessed.


Her eyes panned the crowd and she was able to pick out several from the small group that had entered before her. Bralynn began to step down the final few stairs when her attention was captured by the raucous cheer which announced one of the fighters. He was introduced as the Crow and he stood with an air of conviction as if the conclusion of the bout had already been determined. Casually, Bralynn leaned her shoulder against the wall and watched.


The fight, if it could have even been called that, lasted only few easy, measured breaths as the Crow dispatched his demonic opponent with extreme prejudice. The demon had no chance at the onset, and Bralynn quickly understood why the Crow exuded such confidence. Having witnessed such a display further discouraged any thought of her entering the contest; Bralynn was certain to have no chance against such an opponent.


Still, Bralynn thought that mingling amongst the crowd might avail her some hint of work, and as her funds were dangerously low at the moment she was almost at the point where she would take any job. She stepped down the final three steps to the floor and eased herself into the undulating throng. As she managed her way through the crowd, Bralynn's attention was focused more on the patrons and the gamblers than the actual events that transpired within the arena.

 

[PicaPirate]

Alistair raised an eyebrow as he took a moment to look at Vanessa.


What she had just suggested was the very last thing he expected out of her mouth. Just earlier, this girl was looking downtrodden like a puppy who was told off for misbehaving.


Now however there was a glint in her eye as she exclaimed her desire to learn to fight. Of course most people would scoff and laugh at her small frame for suggesting such a thing, though some here maybe less so because the of the fight earlier where a girl trumped a large man.


"You don't learn to fight by 'teaching', like mathematics or the sort. You learn to fight by fighting. No repetition of moves can simulate a fight. You can train to be stronger or faster, but to fight is only done by doing just that, fighting."


He took a sip of wine from a glass, preferring it over the cider on offer, even if it was more expensive.


"Your frame is small, your confidence questionable, what abilities do you even have? The only way you could compensate is through magic, especially as an Unlimited or Shielded. Not that there are many of those around..."


He paid little attention to the other fights, recognising the fighting styles from a glance. Obviously it wasn't the most in depth study, but guess work filled a lot generally.


@Omen


Sent from my stone tablet using Tapatalk because I used a Tardis.

 

[CrimsonEclipse]

He watched as the fights went on and, although there are many boring and uninteresting fights, there also others that caught his eye. The Merman's fight, Jinta was his name, was pretty interesting. He had used a harpoon, which was the weird contraption Al'thuzar saw him cleaning awhile back. It have been impressive how the fight have turned out, and how fast the champion had fallen. Al'thuzar had not expected Jinta to be a good fighter, he looked like the type who seemed to be all talk, but he was clearly proven wrong.


The fight between the demon and that man named Crow, a silly name in Al'thuzar's opinion, was always entertaining, although it was too fast for his tastes. The end had been really bloody and gory, but he loved it. The next fight was truly unexpected, seeing as a young girl is going to fight a brute of a man, nearly matching Al'thuzar's height, but the girl had won the fight, and unarmed as well.


He could hardly wait for his turn, and at last, his number was called. He heard the man beside him say something, to which Al'thuzar grinned. "Don't worry, you will." He said as he headed for the arena. "In the blue corner, for the first time, a Sharlak has come to fight!" The announcer said, the crowd bursting in cheers and shouts, some rooting for him, others booing him. He truly felt at home, hearing the cheers and boos of the crowd. He could almost imagine him being at home. "And in the red corner, you all know him, Akatosh the Impaler!" The announcer said, and the cheers grew louder. This Impaler guy was clearly well known in this place. He was a big person, but thinner and leaner than the ones that came before him. He is wearing a fur armor and wielding a spear and some javelins.


The fight began, and it did not look good for the Impaler. He threw his javelins with perfect accuracy, only for it to break upon hitting Al'thuzar's heavily armored scales. A grin broke out on the Sharlak's face, moving towards his opponent. Fear can clearly be seen on the. Impaler's face. He was not used to this, the fight would have been over by now, by this is not his usually opponents. Seeing as he has no other choice, he kneeled down, begging for his. Al'thuzar reached his, and he placed his burning hot hands on the man's shoulders, his hand searing his flesh. "We Sharlak do not tolerate weakness and cowardice. Die you pathetic scum." He said, breathing a stream of fire on his opponent, his screams of pain can be heard in the arena. He lets go of the burning body, feeling cheated and disappointed. "This is their fighters? How pathetic." He thought to himself, letting out a roar before heading to receive his payment.

 

[SkyGinge]

"Oh," grunted Beattie. Wasn't she a dancer? And thus wasn't it her job to dance? It didn't occur at all to the thug that she would actually need something rhythmic to dance to. On another night, he might have forced her to dance, but he had his ever-souring job to soon tend to, and he didn't want to occupy himself with anything too dynamic in case he ran out of time. Around them, the crowd were in a fantastic uproar as yet another person died. Normally this would seem almost beautiful to Beattie, but he'd discovered that day that he didn't like underground fighting groups after all. The chaos was too organised, too convoluted: it lacked the spontanuity of true anarchy.


And there's still that birdy-idiot who thinks he can get away with murdering a demon. Beattie groaned to himself, and ploddingly removed himself from the bench. He crossed over to the bar and ordered yet another drink; it was the only way he could stand being around such ignorant thugs for so long.





It was whilst he was crossing to return that finally the long-drawn out announcement was made. "In the blue corner, Max DaeRekkron, Carpenter Extraudinare." A stout, hooded figure strolled out from the darkness, completely masked from the befuddled audience, who were scrabbling at the barriers to try and catch a glimpse underneath his cloak. Of course, this was not the actual name of Kri'tro Grett, but to those who knew him, his arrogant aura was recognisable in the swagger of his steps even from many metres above. Beattie too joined those at the front at the railings, different from his brutish kin only in his disinterested frown.


"And in the red corner, another newcomer, a mysterious fellow who calls himself The Twister." Another stupid name, Beattie shook his head in irritation, and a stupid body to match. The other man, lean and gaunt and jolly, was clad in a garishly bright set of leather clothes, his almost-fluescent blonde hair as mocking as the callous grin he wore on his face. The pair stepped into the centre of the arena as the crowd erupted in cheers once more, although surely this time it would be a little more difficult to judge; none of the men appeared to be carrying weapons.


Time to prove your worth, Kri'tro Grett. Or else I think I'll puke.


~~~~~


Underneath his cloak, Kri'tro was grinning. He didn't quite know why; like Beattie, he prefered his chaos out in the open. Maybe it was the adrenhiline of watching the previous battles. Maybe it was the lure of earning a little more dosh. Or maybe it was the gathered information he now had over his potential future enemies.


Because, whilst they were talented, they were nothing on him. Sure, they had their weapons, and their fighting skills, and their sneaky little tactics. But they were simpletons, mere ants following worm tunnels. They simply saw a battlefield. But Kri'tro could read between the lines of blood. And where they saw money, he saw opportunity.


"Why do you hide from the light, young man?" his opponent grinned, shifting his weight from foot to foot, a very twisted smile indeed. He's given himself an apt title. I wonder what secrets he's houseing under the twists and folds of that ridiculous garb. There was no urgency in the other man's expressiom. No anger, no passion, no bloodlust. Just sneering, teasing pride, and the kind of face that begs to be punched. Hit me if you dare, it begged, see if I care. It spoke in rhyme intentionally; a stupid, obnoxious face that fought it was so handsome and so lovable, but titans, how wrong it was.


It almost made Kri'tro want to change his plan. Almost.


Kri'tro walked up to the man at a pedestrian pace. The man showed no sign of violence at all, just kept on staring down at him with the glare of his rodent-like eyes. It was almost like he wanted to be punched. When Kri'tro was mere centremeters from the man, he clenched his sizeable muscles, feeling the straps that patterned his body flexing with him. For a moment, he simply stood there. Then: why the hell not? I can still injure him. Then, like a flash, he swung at the man's arm with expert angling and speed. There was an audible crack, and the crowd fell strangely silent, as the man was launched in a twisting spiral of movement to the ground a few meters in front of him. The gold-white teeth of his sneer were clenched together, and his unshattered arm nursed its fallen brother, a small pudle of blood appearing at the point of impact. He deserved it; parading himself around like that is like wearing a great big 'punch me' sign.


Then, quite suddenly, the blood drained away, leaving the leather as shiny and white as before. Then, unfazed, the man climbed to his feet, his stupid grin now returned with double the force. The crowd were deathly silent. Striding as a ringmaster through his clan, the leather-clad lunatic stood in the centre of the pit and, with practiced finesce, suddenly through off his shirt. His skin was similarly pale and white, but that wasn't the most suprising thing. The wound had completely faded away.


"You see?" The Twisted cried, spinning and twisting around with a burst of insane laughter. "I'm a healing magician! No matter what you do, you'll never be able to defeat me! Do you relish the feeling of powerlessness, boy? Ahhaha! What a Twist-er!" He laughed at his own joke far to much, but the crowds, largely uneducated in magic, were swayed, and there was a small stampede of people rushing to bet on the white-wearing magician.


Kri'tro had to admit he was impressed, although the man was far too annoying to be respected. It was hardly something he had expected, but after the small moment's shock died away, Kri'tro began to grin instead. He and the magician both new he'd be unable to keep his healing up forever, but his tactic was likely to heal again and again until his opponent was caught off guard with frustration. Then he'd probably use a sneaky dagger or something to finish them off. But probably not kill them; he was likely the kind of man who would rather torture their enemy with a missing finger than end their life.


Oh, stupid little man. What a gift you've given me.


"Fair enough," Kri'tro shrugged, remaining perfectly still. There followed a very long pause of about a minute or so, the audience sharing in their silence. In that time, The Twister's face changed expression from joy, to apprehension, to confusion, to worry, to anger, like a mime artist in warm up.


"What do you mean, fair enough?" the man exclaimed, clutching his shirtless turso slightly as he realised how awkwardly he was stood.


"Well, there's obviously no way for me to win, so there's no point in me fighting," Kri'tro shrugged, heading over to lean against the wall. The air was now thick, tense, heavy, and a low buzz of angry confusion began to echo around the pit.


"Is that a surrender?" asked The Twister, hopefully.


"Nope. Come and get me, if you want." Kri'tro smiled underneath his cloak.


"I'm sorry, you don't understand," the other man shook his head, starting to pace towards Kri'tro, "You see, I'm the one who doesn't fight. I'm the one who throws a curveball into these events. I'm the..."


"What was it you said?" Kri'tro interjected with arrogant confidence, "'What a twist-er?' Seems rather apt for this situation, doesn't it?"


The strange man's long nostrils flared in fury, and with a concealed dagger (How predictable, Kri'tro thought) he made a clumsy swing. Kri'tro caught his arm casually, and tore the weapon away from him, spinning with style and slamming the weapon into the earthen wall. Such was the force of his swing that it stuck fast, and before the maniac had a chance to reclaim it, Kri'tro slammed a hefty shoulder against it and embedded it completely.


The man stepped back in horror, completely at a loss as to what to do. But Kri'tro said quietly: "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Now's not the time for violence." The Twister was parylised with confusion. After all, both of his tactics had been completely quashed, and he now had almost no way to harm his younger foe. He could attempt a punch, but Kri'tro had already shown how strong his reactions were, and whilst he was pompous, the leather-clad lunatic was hardly a fool. But similarly he was a proud, boastful man; to surrender and give up would be an almighty tarnishing to his name.


And so the pair simply stood there, peacefully, in the calm of the storm, as above, the crowds turned to each other in outrage. This wasn't the fight they had payed for! This was a pair of obnoxious brats sitting around in a dank, dirty pit! Suddenly they were all screaming, smashing against the banisters with their clumsy fists, cursing and yelling and calling out for blood. The commentator was evidentally speechless, or maybe she was simply being drowned out by the total uproar. It was hard to tell. What Kri'tro could tell though, was how unnerved The Twister was becoming. His lanky limbs were beginning to tremble like little fishing poles, caked in a fresh coating of sweat. But Kri'tro was completely in control, as a conductor to the symphony of chaos. And when tensions were at a biting point, he made his way to the centre of the pit and yelled up to the crowds.


"Stop!" He voice was amplified by the shape of the pit, enough so for the crowd to quieten down a little, though the most rowdy folk continued to heap insults at him. "I know you're here for violence. I know that's what you enjoy. I know that's what you payed me for. You're all strong men, strong women, you understand the beauty of the trade. You're a beautiful audience, and I thank you."


"But," there was a soft tremble in his voice, as if he were deeply concerned, "I come to bring a message to all of you fellow gentleman. Twenty-four years ago to this day, there was a terrible war. You all know of this; you were all gravely affected." He flung off his cloak and unveiled his youth, his charming passion; every good speech needs a good face. His green eyes were tingling slightly with supposed tragic emotion, though really it was his well masked anticipation. "And the war, it was bad to us all. I'm sure you all lost love ones. Maybe a father, a best friend. Maybe a lover, a companion." The crowd nodded along in silent appreciation; the war had affected all of them in some way, and for such hollow, simple men, backtracking to the affects of the tragedy was a new and touching experience.


"I lost my father, and my mother." He was practically yelling at this point, and some of the crowd cried out in sentimental agreement. "My own brother, no older than six. Dead. Massacred. But now, my brothers, I say we can avenge our fallen breathrin! If we use our violence to fight together, we can reverse the dirtywork of the cowardly Vequans, and their pathetic cousins the Teztrans!"


At this, there was further outrage. Above, men turned to people who had only ten minutes previously been best friends and, fuelled by their drunkern obliviousness, there started a huge brawl as people of different nationalities turned on each-other. And at once, the chamber was filled with a cacophany of chaos as most people joined the flow of the fight, punching anything and anyone who got in the way of their drunkern fury.


Kri'tro grinned to himself, now largely forgotten. Now here was some chaos he could really sink his teeth into.


Kri'tro began to make his unobserved way to the exit tunnel, when there was a quiet voice. "You crazy midget," The Twister spat. At once, Kri'tro's steel-clad fist slammed into his face. There was a pained crack and gasp as the flambouyant dandy's bright skull smashed against the wall, his nose splintering into his face, his teeth instantly chipped and dislodged. The rogue withdrew his fist with a quiet tut, and the man slid down the wall, unconcious. Kri'tro had no mercy for anybody who insulted his size. But he wouldn't let that anger cloud his plans. For now the upper levels were rife with the waves of chaos, and there was much to be done!


@Everybody in the Pit!

 

[DamagedGlasses]

Jinta grunted as he walked away from the money deposit. While the women had been unable to bequeath him his deserved money, except for the small amount she had 'happily' gave him from her own pocket when he asked nicely, he was happy, almost content. He had gotten in a fight, and while it wasn't a very good one, he still had been able to stretch his muscles. Going to the arena, Jinta heard and unnerving silence, except a low mumble he wasn't able to understand due to the intensity of it and of how badly it echoed with the cave walls to where he was. However, as he actually got to the arena, the entire audience was enraptured by something he had obviously missed out on and had been unable to experience himself.


Jinta was about to ask someone what had happened when the crowd erupted into a volcano of activity, the sound echoing across the room in a away that he had no idea who was saying what to who, and where the who and the how ended. Ah! It wa even making his head confused! As Jinta tried to sort out the noise from his head, a sudden crashing noise in his skull easily made him be jogged out of his rough thinking. The crash had done little, but anger him, his muscles at full tenseness. Turning around, Jinta narrowed his eyes as he stared down an angry looking drunk guy, who had a broken wooden chair in his hand. Jinta smiled ravenously as the man suddenly realized his surprise attack had failed, and he was now at the mercy of his obviously stronger opponent. Jinta took a short step forward, and scooped the man up by his collar in one fluid movement of his arm. The ma began to scream as Jinta lifted him into the air, and used some of his strength to chunk the man to the other side of the growing bar fight.


Jinta let out a large heavy belly laugh as he saw the drunk man fly into another, making both of them crash onto the floor, obviously in need of serious medical attention. Getting into the spirit, Jinta, fully sober except fro his rising level of adrenaline, pulled out his harpoon and leapt into the fray, regardless of consequences. As he began to bat about people, stabbing into their skin with ease, his only regret was that his crew was not here with him to partake o this wonderful fight. However, in his lust for battle and excitement, he did refrain from getting any blood on him, trying to keep the blood onto his red pants, as he had a difficult with cleaning clothes, and so did his crew.

 

[Goddess]

With her thumbs jammed in the small pockets of her shorts , Chimera entered the tavern , her nose twitching as she did a big inhale."The smell of good food." She muttered as she walked toward a table to have a seat. Before she could park her rear end her arm was grabbed . Out of instinct she swung her arm away releasing the hold of whoever had it. Turning her head behind her with a mean glare and a raised eye, she held out her finger aligning it with the center of the bald's man brow. "Look here, don't ever touch me again." The bald man raised his hands in the air and gave her a sweet childish smile before holding out his hand as in he was going to introduce himself. "Sorry for the sudden grab." Chimera shook it off and gave him a returning smile. "Your fine." "You seem new here so I just wanted to say welcome and enjoy your time." The man waved by before greeting another on looker who had stumbled in.

Chimera didn't know what to do first, eat , drink or look around. From the corner of her eye she could see a group of people walking further into the pub. Out of interest she followed, looking over her shoulder so it didn't alarm them that she was tailing them. Heading down the corridor she could noises from the exit that was in front of her. As the group passed through and went down she too followed entering what seemed to be a pit an arena maybe.​

 

[Kharmin]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/57a8c095202c8_Bralynn_rpn_resize70.jpg.eb0ecf10fd4725f136d1fa2b10c07d03.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="32067" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/57a8c095202c8_Bralynn_rpn_resize70.jpg.eb0ecf10fd4725f136d1fa2b10c07d03.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> As the crowd became more rowdy, Bralynn sought refuge near one of the arena walls. The effervescing mood was quickly rising to a dangerous boil and she didn't want to be standing in the middle of the inevitable melee that she was sure would ensue.


The loud voice from the center of the battle area further encouraged the masses and, as predicted, the real fighting began. Bralynn pushed and weaved her way across the compound as she vied for the wall that was to the right of the stairs. Many patrons crushed their way to the exit and Bralynn didn't want to chance getting caught up in the panic.


She knelt down and checked one poor sap who had clearly been pummeled as his jaw and right eye already bore the markings of his ill-fortune. With the activity swirling around her, she quickly retrieved his coin purse with a deft, hidden move learned from years of experience. The weight of the pouch was satisfactory and she secured it to her person beneath the long coat that she wore as she stood and continued to make her way to the safety of the wall.


Mentally, Bralynn congratulated herself as indeed her fortune had turned for the better. With the newly added funds, she was sure to be able to purchase transport away from here in her search for better employment.


At long last, Bralynn's efforts against the torrential stream of bodies proved successful. She attained the wall and eased herself along it until she found a spot from where she could continue to observe yet remain out of the reach of most of the combatants.

 

[Shura]

Rani smirked slightly as the drunken fool gave a simple 'oh' and wandered off. She half expected having to stab him but he didn't seem to care enough to get bloodied which suited her just fine. She lost interest in what was going on in the pit and just sat back on the bench wondering what to do next. She could just leave, as much fun as she was having with the rouge she wasn't about to stand around this dirt pit all day. Not when she could be off enjoying the fresh air and festival festivities. Just as she was reaching the end of her patience she heard Max's name called and looked down to the pit seeing the rogue standing across from another fighter. She smiled slightly as she moved to get at better view, she would get a chance to see Mr. Mysterious in action.


The lack of hostility between the two did surprise her, she watched curious as to what would happen paying attention to their subtle movements. The first move was made lightning fast to say the least, The rogues speed was impressive she had to give him that much. It was definetly something to be mindful of in the future. The strange turn of events that followed though were fairly disappointing though. A boastful magic user who was no doubt some kind of masochist and the rogue who wasn't giving him what he wanted, throwing him out of his element. It was fairly sad on some level. The dancer glanced around as the crowd started getting restless then down right angry and saw that as her cue to make her exit. Just as she was moving away from the banister there was a call for everything to stop. She looked back down, watching as the rouge took center stage spouting off some tragic tail of loss and misery. Rani couldn't help but roll her eyes his act, he could convince a gathering of drunken fools of his story but anyone with any sense of wit could see through it.


A small shiver ran up her spine as she felt a shift in tension in the arena and the crowd starting to become restless for a different reason. She started edging away from the crowd as the first outcry went out. It seemed to be a wise move, no sooner had she pulled back from the crowed did the punches start to fly and the room erupt into a massive brawl. She cursed under her breath as she found her self now needing to avoid the mass of sweaty discussing drunken bruits. Last then she wanted was to take a punch for some other fool. Rani moved through the crowd weaving and ducking around the action engaging in some sort of dance around the arena floor to avoid injury. A gap opened and the dance took the chance to escape the fray and make her way to the outer fringe of the cavern where only bodies laid, no doubt picked clean of anything valuable.


Rani spied another woman clad in all black who had the same idea of waiting out the storm at a distance. She shrugged slightly and made her way over no sense of aggression in her movements. Two sets of eyes were better than one in looking out for possible danger. "Quite the mess, isn't it?" She simply stated as she occupied a spot a few feet from the other woman giver herself some distance should things go south.


@Kharmin

 

[Goddess]

Stepping down the stairs her eyes were focused on the group of men who now picked up their pace to join the bustling crowd. Oblivious to what was really happening Chimera followed like a lost dog into the crowd who were throwing fist and barking out words that would make any man swing. As she took a step forward she caught a glance of a fist coming for the side of her face. With a quick step back and her hands up she noticed the man was aiming for the men she followed. No doubt they were here to fight because the man instantly kneed the other in the stomach. Before she knew it she was in a small circle of them, each throwing punches and kicks. Looking around frantically Chimera spotted two girls who she didn't notice before on the right side of the stairs she had walked down on.


Failure to realize that she was not in safety, Chimera got knocked toward the side with a heavy punch to her cheek. Holding it she glared at the man who had lashed out against her. One of the men she followed went to grab him but Chimera grabbed the mans shoulder to pull him back. Stepping forward she made a quick fist at her waist. Using her left hand she gripped the mans shoulder and quickly made an upper cut to the mans stomach a little under his ribs. The man fell back holding his stomach as he gritted his teeth. With a grin and spit to his face she pushed by the two others who wanted to get a good kick at him. Quickly picking up pace she jogged over toward the wall where the two other females laid in wait for the comotin to die down.


Unaware of how to approach she slipped toward the wall on the girl in all black left. Leaning up against it she nodded her head toward the other two. "Rowdy isn't it, looks fun though when your staring at it from here."





@Kharmin


@Shura

 

[Kharmin]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/57a8c096606f5_Bralynn_rpn_resize70.jpg.4ec8a921bbb67e32a24930edd692dece.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="32126" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/57a8c096606f5_Bralynn_rpn_resize70.jpg.4ec8a921bbb67e32a24930edd692dece.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>Bralynn regarded the woman and her exceedingly long auburn hair with mild interest. She nodded as the woman situated herself nearby on the wall. At the query, Bralynn merely shrugged and turned her attention back to the melee that was in full swing.


To her, there were no winners or losers in the chaos that swirled throughout the arena. Sure, some would walk away with fewer injuries than others and some might even lose their lives in the midst of the scrum. Bralynn frowned at the barbarism on display and cracked a thin smile which caused her pretty face to lighten just a bit with mirth.


Then, Bralynn's brown eyes cut to the side as another woman, a blonde, approached the suddenly popular wall. This one appeared to be a mercenary like Bralynn. Well, that wasn't exactly right. No one was a mercenary quite like Bralynn. She maintained a more professional subtlety about herself than this other woman. The blonde's attire and accoutrements screamed out to Bralynn, as if the woman could not be any more obvious. Bralynn pulled her eyes away from the blonde as she slightly shook her head with a derisive smirk.


"It serves no useful purpose," Bralynn replied to the blonde's commentary. Bralynn's voice was low in pitch, much lower than one of her size might be thought to have and it held a slightly southern-type accent. "Chaos for the sake of chaos, perhaps," she added after a moment's thought and then waved the thought away with a dismissive hand.


Bralynn turned her attention back to the first visitor to her wall. Without preamble, she asked, "You came here in the group with the shalrack, right?"


@Shura


@Goddess

 

[SkyGinge]

The sounds of violent chaos echoed around him, but Kri'tro Grett strolled on, his admirable arms thrust into his pockets, his face a subtle beam of happiness. To his surprise, the woman at the prize-money desk was still there, and still looked incredibly bored with everything.


"Congratulations," she said, handing over a pouch of coins, "Your prize money."


"Sorry to bug, but aren't you a little... well, concerned?" Kri'tro asked slyly. "I mean, your entire customer base is in uproar. Don't you have to pay for damages?"


The woman merely shrugged. "Fights like this break out all the time. One person will say something stupid to another, and then before you know it everybody will be throwing their fists around everywhere. It's like kids with new toys. They use the smallest spark as an excuse to join in. It won't be too long before most of them have knocked themselves out, and then the staff will jump in and sort things out. Sure, there'll be things to fix, but I'm sure the customers won't mind, or notice, if we fund using their purses."


Kri'tro grinned; now there was a sensible organisation. Still, it did undermine his great plan a little. Oh well, he shrugged, pocketing the money with a satisfying chink, Doesn't affect my plans. Beattie was wanting something spectacular. I daresay he won't be disappointed.


~~~~~





Beattie wasn't disappointed. But it was strange, what he felt. Of course, he admired the power of the boy, that he could cause such utter chaos. But on the other hand, he hasn't actually fought anything. It was all very clever, but similtaniously, it was all very annoying. Now he would have to dodge through a flailing swarm of idiots just to tell the boy what he knew.


And then he spotted him. At first he thought it was a mere trick of the shadows, but as he focussed in, he could see Kri'tro's smirking figure. The young rogue danced around the sea of sweaty men as if riding the waves of clumsy violence, twirling and swooping around their sluggish forms like seaweed tossed in the current. Gah, metaphors again. They were a source of never-ending, head-splitting annoyance, as was Kri'tro Grett, Kri'tro Aekra-forsaken Grett, the arrogant little snob who thought he was so much more intelligent than everybody else. At least he was useful; that was his only saving grace.


The violence had began to subside a little now. The rioters movements were growing slower, as if time had slowed down for them alone. Each swing seemed to take a thousand years. Each step a hundred more. As much as they admired fighting, they had no knowledge of how to carry it out. And thus the great fight was reduced to nothing more than a congregation of drunken fools and outcasts, flopping about lamely like salmon trying to scare away a cat.


Kri'tro Grett, his grin almost to large for his stupid handsome face, drew Beattie down into the corridor where they had entered, his hands in his pockets. Whether he was purposely flaunting his gathered riches or not, Beattie couldn't tell. What Beattie could tell was that it was as annoying as anything.


"Congratulations," said the thug, regretfully, "Suppose I'd better tell you what I know now then."


"Yes, you should," Kri'tro nodded.


"Right. Listen up then. Cause I'm going after this." Beattie spoke a little quieter now. "Word on the streets say the noble of this town has something special locked away in his tower. Something really special. A rare treasure."


"That's conveniently vague, don't you think?" Kri'tro smirked, and Beattie tried to resist the urge to punch him.


"Maybe. Maybe not. But even if it is a lie, shouldn't be too much for a man like you to uncover." With a shrug, the bearded man trudged off down the corridor to the surface, hoping never to see them again. Which left Kri'tro alone in the darkness with a gift of information. Well, he'd already carried out one scheme with relatively little consequence. Why not take on another task?

 

[Shura]

Rani glanced over as another woman joined their little club on the wall finding the whole even fairly amusing by this point. She wasn't sure why either of them were in the pit in the first place. Possibly to bet or just curious as to what the strange homelessness was bantering on about. "Boys will be boys as they say." She chuckled crossing her arms under her bust watching the mass of violence and mayhem. Thankfully the energy in the room began to die as the majority of the combatants fell. She sighed softly before looking over to the first darkly clad woman and nodded "Yes, figured I'd see what kind of secrets were being kept down here." She shrugged slightly. "Nothing too interesting I suppose." She added scanning the room once more.


The action started to die down to a more manageable level of chaos making it easier to servery the entire room as oppose to the small gaps not occupied by sweaty bruits. She spied the rouge just before he disappeared to the exit and sighed. "Make a mess and not even stay to the end." She sighed and shook her head before glancing over to the other women. "It seems the party is coming to a close and the floor is finally clear." The dancer pushed off from the rocky wall "Perhaps we can move this small gathering somewhere with fresh air and better music," Rani chuckled before starting to make her way towards the exit. skirting around the men who wanted to stick it out to the bitter end. Stubborn fools.


@Kharmin @Goddess

 

[Goddess]

Chimera looked over to the girl in black, her comment was a bit cold as if such a sight wasn't funny or entertaining. Frowning a bit she turned away from her too look at the crowd. "It may not be useful but its fun. " Chimera thought the girl in black was far to serious and lacked a good amount of humor. If people were to ask about this little trio she would be put as the serious hard working type. Chimera looked back at her, giving a quick glance from head to toe. Mercenary maybe or possibly the captain of a ship. Chimera's attention moved toward the other girl that was on the other side of her. She chuckled to the girl's boys will be boys comment and nodded her head.


"It is clearing a bit." Chimera said agreeing with the one that seemed more lively than the other. Following the girls advice to move elsewhere , Chimera stepped off the wall and into the lingering crowd to follow. Glancing over her shoulder she gave the girl a quick smile before motioning her to come with. "More the merrier." Chimera was a little happy finding some people to talk to. Being in such a big place with no one you know is both aggravating and lonely. Her new objective instead of sitting down to eat was to try and befriend the two girls, possibly getting a job offer if the subject came up.


@Kharmin


@Shura

 

[DamagedGlasses]

Jinta roared as he threw another rioter onto the ground, the dull wooden end smacking down onto the downed man and busting his nose. Jinta laughed heartily as he won another round of his little game. He was seeing how many people he could take out. Currently he was just finishing the one person needed to beat his high score, which was 76. Now it was 77! Feeling satisfied, and ignoring the others now that he had done what needed to be done, Jinta put back his Harpoon and looked around the stadium, observing how everything was going on the sidelines. Wasn't that Rani over there? Sitting beside two other girls, one looked rather like a fellow sea drifter like himself!


Going to the Food Stand, Jinta handed the money he had ransacked from the multiple victories and smacked down onto the stone bar, forgetting his strength due to the adrenaline and making a hairline crack appear on the stone. Smiling, slightly sheepish, Jinta took the chicken leg and started to walk upstairs, slightly reluctant to leave the damp air, but needing to be around the darkness. Darkness had freaked him ever since the day he found his parents dead. Jinta shook his head and started to go up the stairs, taking some bites off his large chicken leg, liking how the meat made his throat salivate.

 

[Comix]

Lor nodded as the two men offered their assistance, sniffling to try to cause her tears to withdraw from her cheeks. She swallowed hard and hesitantly took a weak grasp of the doctor's hand, allowing him to pull her to a wobbly stand. She began to fall, but took hold of Aaru's shoulder for support. She steadied herself and took a deep breath to calm herself, though her tall body still shook like a leaf in the wind.


"I... thank you," Lor said, slowly drawing her violet eyes upward to meet the librarian's gaze. "I... um... I can't repay you... but if there is anything you require my assistance on... I will be happy to assist... I intend to... to pull my own wait somehow." She cleared her throat and tried to run her fingers through her long silver hair, though her fingers only got caught on knots and dried blood. She withdrew her hands to her side and awkwardly smoothed out her skirt. Her eyes turned to the doctor and she offered him a gentle, albeit shaky smile.


"Thank you, sir," She said softly, bowing her head. "I appreciate your words and your help. If you too need anything, I will be happy to assist in gratitude." Then, her eyes moved to the angel and her smile faltered. She took a step back in fear, thinking this was an officer to take her away, but seeing the missing officer insignia, she breathed a sigh of relief. She, too, was a fallen angel. Perhaps she could sympathize and give her advice on how to deal with her missing wings. However, she caught sight of the tip of the angel's wing over her shoulder and her heart dropped. This fallen angel still had her wings, and perhaps thought Lor was now a deformed monster, a traitor to all angels.


Lor shook her head and again cleared her throat. She should not go about making assumptions.


"My name is Palorradon Mandainel, but you can call me Lor. I am glad that such kind people could find and tend to me," Lor said softly, pulling her skirt up slightly in a curtsey. She kept her head down and held her curtsey, waiting for someone to tell her to stand as was Angel custom.

 

[CrimsonEclipse]

Al'thuzar was heading up to claim his prize, but he was still angry and frustrated. How dare they mock me with a fight like that?! I wasn't even a fight you band of scums! I didn't even have to lift a finger, and now what, I get some measly gold for that?! What do they take me for, an idiot who only wants it to earn gold?! While others may be content with that, or may even be happy, it was an insult to him. To fight someone who is not worthy, he survived The Maw for titan's sake! And to add to that, the fire breath he delivered greatly drained him, and if he doesn't reheat himself, this place is gonna get a new sculpture.


Going to the bar, he reached for the nearest table and broke it to pieces. "I'll pay for it." He grumbled to the bartender. He reached for the pieces and ate them, crunching and munching them as you would with crackers, now, the stomach of a Sharlak is like a furnace, which allows him to eat anything combustible, such as wood, coal, meat, even a person will do. They do this in order to keep the fire going, which in turn keeps them hot. After finishing his meal of table, he proceeded to get his prize, when suddenly, a lunatic, which he just assumed, because what sane man would smash a chair on a Sharlak? Anyway, that lunatic smashed a chair on him and, well a source of heat is a source of heat, he bit that man's arm off. "Back away unless you want to be eaten." He said to the others, the man wailing in pain. Such worthless scums He thought to himself.


After he got his prize, which was a decent amount of gold, he saw that Merman, Jinta. Bored out of his mind, he decided to approach the Merman. "This place isn't even worthy of our presence." He said to his companion, knowing full well that neither of them was satisfied in their fights. "I wonder who was that who sent us here. I'd like to talk to him, then maybe rip his head off." He said, grabbing a chair to eat.

 

[SkyGinge]

"Oh, nono, there'll be no need for pulling weights or anything of the sort!" Apos shook his head. It was almost impossible to empathise with exactly what the girl was going through, but Apos tried anyway. To try and do your duty, make one fatal mistake and find yourself the very outcast you previously despised... ouch. Apos stood back and continued to watch her as she headed over to Dr Lampshade. She was so tall and yet now so timid, like the baby of some gigantic rodent. Or a pine tree rocked by the swirling tides of wind.


At least I can do something to help, he told himself, although in reality he knew if he hadn't volunteered, any of the others would have done so in his place. And would probably have done so in a better and less resentful manner; he was already worrying about how he would house her, how he would deal with the annoying questions of those he knew, how he'd have to find a way to cope with the pressure of being a constant target for questions and curious debate. None of the others would be like that. Damn his selfishness! What he had done was nothing special, and what he told himself was no consolation. Anybody could have done what he had elected to do. It was most definitely 'at least'.


The injured guest held herself in a drawn out coursey, and Apos wondered what she was waiting for. Orders perhaps? Somebody to take hold of the conversation? It wouldn't be him; he was a terrible leader.


"If it's introductions you're after," the merlady spoke up, leaping from her slouch with a surprisingly spry leash of energy for somebody of around 100 years old, "then I am more than willing to provide. I am The Wandress, and my companion is Amaya. I am deeply sorry for you. It's a shame that governments like your Angel one are just as ruthless as ours of the Middle Reaches. Well, at least yours haven't blown anything up yet." The younger girl courseyed herself, wearing the same doll-like smile as before.


"I'm Apos Meatman," Apos smiled sheepishly, before his face turned to a sudden frown, "and where do you think you're going?"


The peculiar duo were already making their way out of the office. Flashing a wry grin to the others, he dashed after them, his lanky legs clumsy in his pursuit. "Wait," he yelled again as they reached the doorway. The merlady turned around and face him blankly. "Sorry to bother you," he apologised, as he considered that they might have some kind of desperate meeting or event to head to, "but what did you mean when you spoke of blowing things up?" The final comment had finally pricked his curiosity, and paranoia, to the final straw, and thus provoked his hasty chase.


The Wandress shrugged, her long dress falling slowly around her. "I'm surprised you haven't heard. How our friends the Peacemakers were testing their weaponry on an island not too far from here a while back. It was supposedly uninhabited, but they and I knew full well of a little village stationed on its peak. We visited there before we came here. An absolute wreck." She tutted insignificantly, like you might do upon reicieving news that the latest tea stock is late. "Great big shame. But that's governments for you. They've got to find some outlet for their destructive urges, I suppose."


Apos froze up. Weren't the Peacekeepers extreme pacifists? Didn't they hate all discord and all violence and all weaponry? Then why go to the trouble of blowing up an entire island, worse still, an inhabited one? There were multiple possibilities. They could have been housing an infamous outlaw, and that could have been the only solution. They could have colelctively been vapid oppsoers of the government regime. None of them were excuses for that kind of brutality, however. And worryingly still, they could have been merely testing. Testing out their latest party trick. But if that were the case, what was their end goal? What did they want to explode?


Apos jolted up to ask a further question, but the mysterious duo had gone.


For a long moment, Apos continued to stand there, frowning ferociously, like one of those age-old statues in action pose. Then, with a sigh and shrug, he barged back through the door to the office and returned to the others.


@Icefox11  
Kri'tro lurked in the darkness of the tunnel for a long moment, chewing over Beattie's preposition. A man like him was hardly honourable and trustworthy, but Kri'tro had the impression that he was telling the truth. The more interesting thing therefore was why? Why bother to inform him? There are two possibilities, Kri'tro mulled, Number One: he just wants to cause trouble. Or Number Two: the treasure he spoke of is something valuable to him. Something he didn't think he could get himself, but instead wanted me to fetch. What does he take me for, a messanger boy? Still, it does sound like fun. A perfect way to kick off and leave this place on the final day of the festival, given no information on Dae pops up.


That reminded him; Dae'rn. His beloved brother, and the sole reason why he'd even bothered to turn up to the stupid event. It was always a bittersweet feeling, thinking of his brother. The sweet flood of pleasant memories flooding back to him, of the great freedom they'd enjoyed as kids. But the bitter after-taste of his brothers superiority to him. Dae'rn wouldn't be caught dead in a scummy place like this. And thus it made him question himself sometimes. It made him realise what he was doing might be wrong.


But not for long. Thankfully, he'd long ago learnt to shelve it to the side. This time, the mellow tramp of footsteps caught his attention; various others were making their way up the corridor towards him. He spotted both Fish-face and the Shalrak from earlier, both looking a little bloodied from their experiences in the after-brawl. Looks like these two are sheep like the other thugs; saw a fight and couldn't resist. Baa. Baaaaa. Then, following up behind them, a small group of women lead by Princess Rani, the mysterious gypsy dancer. He wondered what she thought of him now, and if she still remembered the question he owed her. Did she admire his little presentation? Or had it all been too careless for her?


Why do you even care, anyway? the rogue scowled to himself, thankfully masked by the dim light. Remaining stationary in the tunnel, he nodded to the two groups as they arrived. "Pleasant fighting?" he asked, hands in pockets as always. "What did you think then, Princess?"


@Shura


@Kharmin


@Goddess


@DamagedGlasses


@CrimsonEclipse

 

[DamagedGlasses]

Jinta raised an eye at his Sharlok friend, before taking a bite of his leg and nodding. The people around these parts weren't the best at fighting, and he was still rather anxious for a good one. Finishing off the chicken leg, Jinta threw it to the ground, uncaring of who had to pick it up, and took out his handkerchief and his Harpoon, and began to clean the blood from its sleek blade. "I think we both came expecting too much. We're both rather strong, so its not a shocker that there are few who can match us." Jinta focused in on the clean rag as it glided across the red blade, slowly wiping off the red stains that had made it on to it during his fighting. Looking up, Jinta pondered on the man who had sent him to the place. He had been rather weak and fragile looking, but he had also had the air of a person who knew how to get what he wanted. Subconsciously cleaning of the blade, Jinta looked over to his companion and said, "I think you may have some trouble with finding that man. He may be old, but he also seems to be that kind of person you only find if they want you too." Jinta had met those kind of people before. Those guys who came and asked for investments for some "Big Idea" or those beautiful women who said they had to go do something for a second.


Looking up, Jinta sighed as he watched the group before him get greeted by...by that scoundrel! Jinta felt the adrenaline from before start to burn with an intensity as he let out a groan. He couldn't do anything as of yet, there were women around and if he went berserk one of them could get hurt. Rani would probably be mad at him and that cute one in the sea getup would probably be ticked off too. He paid little attention to the one in black, as she might be a woman, but she did not look pretty to him at all. He would never say that put loud of course. His father had made it clear that the worst thing to say to a woman was that she wasn't pretty, especially if you met her in a place built for fighting. Well, he hadn't said the last part, but he just assumed that fact would probably make it worse.


@CrimsonEclipse


@Goddess


@Shura


@SkyGinge


@Kharmin

 

[Shura]

Rani strolled over towards the tunnel happy to be getting out of the dirt hole. She noticed the same three men she had arrived with also leaving and smirked slightly not really surprised that they all made it out in one piece, granted in various states of being bloodied. She quirked a brow upon spotting the rogue Max as he lingered in the cavern, smug as ever. She shrugged at his query “I think luck was on your side that you got such a whimpering pup as an opponent. You put on a good enough show for the drunken simpletons though.” She replied her tone aloft and unimpressed. Her game of feeding into his ego had switched for a less pandering method. “Typical boy, make a mess and wander off without cleaning up.” She chuckled before looking over to the merman and grinning widely. “Jinta though put up a wonderful show in pinning the so called champion.” She chimed moving over to the sailor a bit more bubbly and energetic in her movements. “I owe you a drink for the small boost in coin I got from betting.” She grinned.


@SkyGinge @DamagedGlasses @Kharmin @Goddess @CrimsonEclipse