Kaustir, Chapter 1

[Dunruffle]

Nils settled back into his seat and nodded in gratitude. "My dear Delesia, meeting you here brings back many fond memories of when we worked together." It was true, before he became an Ipari guard Nils and Delesia were a bounty hunting team. They complemented each other well, Delesia excelled in ranged combat and planning while Nils specialized in close quarters fighting and improvising. The had worked together for almost a decade before splitting up. Looking at Delesia he absentmindedly pets Rotter, "How would you feel about working together again? While being an Ipari Guard pays well, it is a dull life. I long for the thrill of the hunt and I have not faced a challenging opponent in a long time." Rotter squeaked excitedly and ran down his arm to sit on the table and look up expectantly at Delesia. Nils chuckled, "Even Rotter here seems happy to see you, I think he remembers all the corpses you let him feast on."

 

[UltimaCircuit]

K'Jol widened his eyes at Amalia, trying to stifle a laugh but he couldn't. His mouth opened wide as he laughed heartily at the healer. This weak woman in front of him was going to enter the games? The Draken's arms stretched out wide before gently clapping down on her face. His hands rested upon her cheeks as he grinned, lowering his own face more so that his eyes were staring directly into hers. His Aux U'Sil slid down his arm and fell onto the shoulder of the court healer.

"Oh no, you must NOT enter the games. Such a pretty woman like you getting her body torn to pieces by me would not be a spectacle the crowd would be looking for... Plus you seem delightful. I would rather destroy you in a place different than the coliseum.... somewhere more private if you now understand what you mean..."

The grin stayed upon his face as K'Jol pulled away. He pressed his hand on the opposite shoulder that U'Sil was on. The snake slid across her neck onto the other shoulder before climbing back on it's masters arm once more. The Draken took his index finger and placed it underneath the woman's chin, before pulling back in a rather flirtatious manner. K'Jol then started on his way for the arena, raising a hand up to signal farewell to the court healer. Thoughts of other contestants ran through his mind. Would they really fit up to his standards, or would they all be let downs like Amalia? Only fate could tell.

On his way to the coliseum, he noticed a woman overlooking a man and the two seemed to converse about something although he wasn't paying attention much. Upon closer inspection the man in front of him was really another soldier of Kaustir, one named Lut Sar. K'Jol didn't think much of the soldier and didn't think that he had any talents, but that may have been just him. He shook his head of the thought and start to walk faster towards the coliseum, hearing the cheers and roars from the audience within. The Draken entered, looking around. To his right and in the distance he saw the notorious slaver Nassad and the Desert Sun himself. Slight feelings of nervousness ran through him as he noticed that the Desert Sun would be watching. He murmured words of encouragement to himself.

"I shouldn't be worried... this is what I came here for... I shall slay all who stand in my way and eventually become the leader of this desert nation..."

He entered the stands, walking towards the slaver and Lukesh before sitting about fifteen seats away from them, taking in the form and attacks of the sword master who fought below them.

 

[Ritual Lobotomy]

Delesia Tyiral



Delesia smiled full-heartedly once Nils started complaining how bored he was. It was boring alright, but he decided to do it anyway which surprised her at the time as she even thought she had been betrayed. If they haven't been through many things that seemed like a challenge to their comradeship, she would have had his head the very next day he bailed on her. But the head hunters never came. He never snitched on her and it was good enough. There was too many people that wanted her dead for him to miss them out.

Then, whether Nils was fair and square or simply dead and gone, was of indifference to her. Even so, she was pleased to see him alive and kicking. She never made mistakes by choosing her allies and even if she did, they were removed as soon as they would appear. Being picky about it was the reason she had to do things on her own for quite some time. Delesia smirked and looked down at Rotter. "Well look at you all fat and happy. Still greedy I see?" Patting rat's head, she referred to Nils. Challenges never took too long for her to decide. "What do you have in mind, partner?"​

 

[Zen]

Her cheeks blossomed with color and with every touch of K'jol's fingers or hands, she cursed him silently. She pictured him staked out in the sun, the heat causing his skin to boil and bubble. She saw him writhing in pain as locust and tiny specks of sand burrowed into his wounds, inflicting both agony and infection. And lastly, she pictured him in the coliseum, torn asunder by her, Amalia Lortik.

... And then her image dissolved. The acid in her stomach burned deeply as nerves and panic took over. In watching K'jol leave, Amalia realized she had no weapon to fight with aside from her fists - but that wouldn't do. What would he do if she punched him in the gut? Laugh, and then promptly kick her face in.

She lunged towards the nearest weapons stall and purchased a spear with the last of her money. The merchant was no doubt surprised and was about to ask the woman something before Amalia dashed away. In a deserted alleyway, she stripped off her dress and donned her sarong and shawl. There was a moment's hesitation at exposing so much of her skin; it revealed the tips of scars on her back which long ago healed. But there was no time to reflect upon this. The competition was starting.

Amalia sprinted towards the coliseum, spear in hand, and Matil trotting alongside her. The woman ensured her shawl was wrapped tightly around her face, concealing her mouth, hair and nose. If she was going to make an embarrassment of herself, at least she wouldn't be noticed.

She paused, then sat on a wooden bench, waiting for her name to be called. A sheen of sweat lined her forehead. The trembling in her knees rivaled that of an earthquake and suddenly, reality sunk in.

"Oh Sun, I'm going to die aren't I?"

 

[UltimaCircuit]

The Broken Beast of Kaustir loomed about the arena, waiting for his next opponent. Baren was in an empty area of the stands, swinging his blades around in arcs while laughing maniacally. The Desert Sun had stated that anyone in Kaustir who signed up for the games had a chance at becoming the new general, but that didn't matter to Baren. All that mattered to the Broken Beast was pleasing the one god that he believed in - blood. Blood was his master, and he had to shed more and more in order fulfill his mysterious duty. Baren widened his eyes behind his mask, hearing the voices within his mind once again. His blades dropped to the ground with a clang before he grasped his head, screaming.

"Stop.... stop.... I will do whatever you please of me. I will kill all that you wish... LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Those within the lower rows started to clear away, obviously being frightened by Baren. A grin came behind his mask as he saw someone woman with a spear, sitting alone by a bench. She had a weapon in her hand. She met his code. In his book, she was valid and now he was able to kill once more. The Broken Beast picked up his blades off the ground before running down the steps, stopping at the bottom to look at the woman in front of him. Her looks were infatuating, but he had to make another sacrifice to his god once more or the voices would come back to torture him. He pointed both of his blades to her before screaming once more.

"YOU. WOMAN! FIGHT ME. BECOME MY SACRIFICE, AND STOP THE VOICES. YOU SEEM KIND, SO DO YOU NOT WANT TO HELP A POOR SOUL! Wait... you are in the Games aren't you. Why else would you be holding a spear. Let me kill you... let me kill you... PLEASE LET ME SHED YOUR BLOOD!"

Baren then slammed his blades over and over against the ground, noticing that he was dulling them but he didn't care. Clean cuts were not his forte, only hacking and slashing away at flesh was.

 

[Asmodeus]

Jofolia twisted into battle stance, his gauntlet slamming his shield. Light flared - a crimson charge of magic. His Aux, no doubt.

Then came the Advent. Thunder cracked a whip through the stadium air. Rain fell, vertical and thick, a stinging burn upon the flesh.

It was how the Forest Kin prospered, and how his enemy fell.

"YOU CANNOT FEEL WHEN YOU ARE DEAD!"

His charge was juggernaut momentum, throwing sand and raindrops out. And through the studded holes in his armour his flesh grew savage - thorns and spines of his cactus form. The crowd roared.

He closed the distance, brought his shield up, a bar across his face and chest, concealing all intent. Then up and over its topmost edged his claw came down to gouge the face from Takeda.

 

[Zen]

She felt like she could have shitted her sarong right then and there. The stares that everyone gave her, the shouting from this monstrosity swinging his blade - it was sensory overload. Every nerve in Amalia's body was screaming for her to run, but panic was taking over. The hand that held her spear quivered, her pits sweated like waterfalls, and she wanted ever so much to hide under a rock. Her rump stayed on that wooden bench for several seconds before Matil carefully peeked her head out towards Baren and meowed as bravely as it could.

Amalia gulped and rose.

She shuffled over to her opponent, spear still clasped in a viper grip. The jeers and shouts of the audience made her turn this way and that. Dizzying. Meanwhile the brute she had to fight was screaming obscenities in her face, fueling her anxiety.

"I - I am going to fight you," she began. "And I w-will do so with u-utmost honor."

She stood fifteen feet away from Baren and got into something resembling a battle stance. One foot in front, the other in the back, weight balanced on both feet - that was how it was taught in the military wasn't it? Exhaling, she pointed her spear at Baren and -

"AHAHAHAHAHAH!"

"Look that wretched thing! Doesn't even know how to hold a weapon properly!"

"OH SHE'S GOING TO DIE FOR SURE! BWAHAHAHAHAH!"

Confused, Amalia looked down and saw that it wasn't the pointy and sharp end facing Baren, but the blunt wooden one. And in that moment, she felt like everything in existence was out to get her.

 

[Tone 6th]

Takeda flinched as the burning rain stung his flesh, but he was conditioned to take worse pain. However, given enough time the rain would present a problem he must dispatch his foe quickly. He stayed silent and concentrated as the warrior rushed at Takeda with all his force, drowning out all outside noise. When the Jofolia made his full force attack Takeda stepped to the side and with one fells horizontal slash cut through half of the creatures midsection using his own momentum against him. Jofolia cried out in pain as he clutched his side and fell to one knee. "Yield!" Takeda commanded. Jofolia roared punching the ground with one fist and got back up, blood streaming down the hand that covered his wound. "You can not win! I said Yield!" he commanded more firmly placing his blade near the Jofolia's neck. The monster did not listen and with a burst of speed stood up, spun around, and made a deep cut into Takeda's non-dominate shoulder. "Ahh!" yelled out in unbearable pain. "Fool I've got you right where I want you. Never get in close to an elite guard." he smirked. "Last chance..... yield... and walk away with your life." Takeda grimaced. Jofolia just laughed at him and dug the blade in a little deeper as taunt. "Very well." Tekada said calmly taking a deep breath. "AIYAH!" he bellowed as he thrust his sword into the Forest Kin and slashed threw what was left of his mid section spattering emerald green blood on the white floor of the coliseum. There was no sound from Jofolia only a weak wince as he stumbled back. With lightning speed Takeda kicked Jofolia in the stomach, separating his upper body from the lower, and cut off the beasts head catching it on the flat side of his sword. "My friend you were a good adversary, I hope to battle you in the next life." he said in a respectful mannor. Takeda tossed the severed head into the air and, with one quick graceful slash, cut it in half. The crowed roared at this display of execution. Tekada flicked the blood off of his sword and sheathed it. He gave a quick bow in the Czar's direction and made his way off of the battle field. Once inside he shouted "Healer!" to have someone to tend to his wounds. This rounds fight was over but the day was just beginning.

 

[Kriodine]

Draegal stood at the entrance of Avarath and couldn't help but groan. He had decided to run all the way to Avarath with some of his finest wares when the games were announced. At First it seemed like a good way to test his endurance, but after the second day of running he realized he needed to stop and rest for longer than an hour at a time. It was around the the 4th day when he realized that being drunk while making the run was an even worse idea. But being in a new town excited him, and with the games going on the taverns were probably packed with all sorts of interesting characters. He quickly checked his supplies to make sure he had enough alcohol to challenge somebody to a drinking contest with his own brews. After checking his supplies his stomach growled, reminding him that he needed to eat some real food, he then decided that the best way to deal with the problem would be to find the arena and grab some of the local delicacies on the way there.

Draegal arrived at the arena with a roasted lizard in one hand and a flagon of booze in the other. As he sat down he watched as a warrior cut his opponent in half "I bet fifteen gold on that one." he shouted excitedly. He then scanned the arena and was slightly disappointed by the lack of combat, the only other contestants getting ready to fight seemed to be a man and a woman. He couldn't help but sigh as he saw the woman hold the spear backwards, everything about her stance screamed cowardice, he hoped the fight would be over soon, he came to see exquisite fighters, not to watch a brutal murder.

 

[Torsty]

The unison of horns blasting over the Coliseum put all the fighting to a halt. Out of nowhere came Gulzar, the Mayor of Avarath flying through the air. His body maneuvered levelled through the air, holding his right arm out with a clenched fist, his legs and tail keeping up with the horizontal line. From far away it would look like he was doing it all by himself.

The crowds beneath starting pointing and shouting, then some applauded when they recognized him, more and more joined in.
Gulzar and Ari finished a half circle over the stadium before they landed on an other podium, not far away from the guests of honour, slightly above. Just as planned.

Gulzar landed with a heavy thump, Ari reducing the impact by using his wings as a set of breaks. Then it let go of it's crux and glided away while Gulzar turned around with his arms raised to the sky, facing the battleground, the cheers of the crowd growing stronger and reaching a climax before calming down as he began to speak.

"Citizens of Avarath!...Dorgrad!...Zirako!...And all of Kaustir! I am honoured to welcome you all to the Korsch Games! Honouring the late great General who served our Empire in a marvelous spirit!..."

Gulzar raised his arms upwards again, the crowd cheered once more.

"These games will determine who will have the honour of accompanying our magnificent leader...Lukesh, the Burning Czar in expanding Kaustir's greatness all over Sunne!..."

The Mayor turned to his left and bowed slightly to wards the Emperor and his company, again the crowd cheered.
"Of course, we expect only the greatest contestants to partake in such an event..."

Gulzar paused shortly, moving his gaze from left to right, realizing he might be dragging his speech on for a little too long.

"But..." He paused again. "Before we continue the festivities, I'd like to present to you a special guest we have with us here today. He wishes to present the Emperor with a gift. Officer Lut Sar, everyone! A round of applause for Lut Sar!"

Raising his arms over his head, Gulzar started to clap his hands together and the crowd joined in the applaud. The horns blasted once again over the Coliseum, the games would resume, the scene was set for Lut Sar to enter.

 

[Asmodeus]

The Czar withdrew his teeth from the dark-skinned slave and left him kneeling by the throne. His gaze had switched from Seiyr and gone below, to the arena floor. Down there Takeda had dispatched the Tree of Sands with minimal pizzazz, while the madman Baren had been loosed upon a wench.

Wait... was that--?

The entrance of the Avarathi Mayor broke all the bloodlust rhythm of the games. Gulzar, flying in upon an Advent, his miracle of the day squandered just for show. Lukesh sat back in the silence and looked instead to the podium where Gulzar landed to make his announcement. A typical man of the merchant town - all flourish and flamboyance. What sentiment the Czar felt for the mayor was gleaned only in the slightest curl of his bandaged hand.

* * * * *​

As the clapping of the crowd stirred with Gulzar's speech, K'Jol felt a hand on either shoulder. A Draken's on his left; a Nocturne's on his right. For a moment he was confused. Some kind of half-breed? No... it was two people, standing behind him.

"I told you before, Gecko-Dick!" snarled the voice of Colonel Da'Haka, a winged Draken as tall as K'Jol. "These seats are for nobles. Not vermin."

On his other side, the Nocturne executioner, Nahal, exacted a tighter grip with his black metal gauntlet. "Though if you like, we can put your head on a spike right here."

K'Jol looked to each of them then sat back. He was silent for a moment. "Don't worry, boys. Unlike you I have TWO balls. You can each suck one."

Da'Haka hooked his hand under K'Jol's jaw and lifted him in a single, roaring body slam that sent him crashing down the steps into the next circle of seats. Before he even hit the bottom, Nahal was there with his halberd, slamming its blunt end between the Draken's shoulders. K'Jol pushed up, and with a swinging right hook!... floored two of the Hermetic Guild apprentices who Nahal had dodged behind... "Ugh. Sorry."

In the time it took to apologize, Da'Haka came charging down the steps and tackled K'Jol against the railing.

The crowd laughed and cheered as the fight broke out, and the Czar glanced to follow it. Now there was a soldier with style. If K'Jol survived, the Czar would have him teach Takeda the meaning of entertainment.

Lukesh chuckled once then looked back to the mayor's presentation.

 

[Eternalfire61]

Nassad smiled, a feeling of ecstasy shot through him. He could feel the life being drained from the dark complected man. The group he had brought was not as many as he wished he had, but slaves were hard to come by. Nassad bowed as Lukesh finished his meal and then stood up and turned to Colosseum. "It is a pleasure to serve you Desert Sun." Nassad watched the people watch the fights with delight. They were all so small compared to him, and they would soon meet their ends. All of them were hopeless without importance. Each family was only a stepping stone on the path to power, each warrior was a pawn in this game. Nassad smiled at the people, and then a feeling engulfed him. He felt as if he was a king, so high above the people, ruling them...

Then his moment of peace faded as K'Jol entered into his sights. He was who he wanted to see. Nassad eyed K'Jol examining him making note of every part of his body. Then his gaze was blocked by a group of brutes. What were they going to do, ask for autographs? Nassad never liked beggars or anyone who wasn't of importance. He continued to think to himself before it was halted by delight. These warriors were going to fight K'Jol? It was going to be a blood bath, with K'Jol winning of course. Nassad turned to Lukesh as he laughed at the fight that broke out. Laughing? Nassad didn't like laughter, it was like coughing, but more annoying.

​

 

[UltimaCircuit]

Fuck. The comment he made earlier had really screwed him over, but at least he had some time to prove his skills to all of those around the arena. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Baren, the murderer of Kaustir. Although he was a threat, as long as he didn't mess with K'Jol then the hefty Draken did not give a damn. He looked back at Da'Haka. The weight of both of the Draken combined was slowly breaking the railing, and K'Jol certainly did not want to fall head first into the fighting ground of the arena. As Da'Haka got up, K'Jol grabbed him by the shoulder. His right fist swiftly flew towards the other Draken, sending a skull crushing blow to his opponent. Da'Haka did not react fast enough because he thought that K'Jol was weak, but it turned out that he wasn't. The blow sent him stumbling backwards and slightly dazed him, which gave him enough time to turn to the Nocturne who was standing a few feet away and holding his halberd. He gave the Nocturne a grin before running towards him. Nahal then jousted forward with the blunt end of halberd, but K'Jol presumed he would do so. He quickly stepped to the side before grabbing the end of the pole arm weapon, ripping it straight out of his hands.

"Nocturne scum... LET ME SHOW YOU HOW A TRUE WARRIOR FIGHTS!"

Da'Haka coughed up blood before looking towards K'Jol, sending out a roar in his direction. K'Jol ignored it, knowing that he could finish the other Draken after he destroyed the pest in front of him. He held his halberd horizontally, before flicking it to the left, sending the blunt end towards his face and making the Nocturne slightly fly to the right. K'Jol pulled his head back before sending it forward, headbutting the Nocturne with so much force that it sent him straight to the ground. His leg then rose up, before sending it back down on the center of his chest, crushing his sternum. Da'Haka was charging once more at K'Jol, but his enraged grunts had notified K'Jol of his incoming presence. He quickly turned around before sending out a kick with his left leg, sending the other Draken back. Since his right leg was still on Nahal's chest it made the pressure harder. Screams were now coming from the Nocturne, which made K'Jol smile. He had sent Da'Haka back far enough to make a final statement against the two. He grasped the end of the halberd tightly before sending it down on the left arm of Nahal. A snapping sound was made and the arm was separated from the torso. Blood spurted from the wound. Da'Haka watched in horror. The two only wanted to mess with K'Jol, but he obviously meant business. K'Jol dropped his halberd before grasping Nahal by his hair, and lifting the body into the air. He walked up steps towards the top of the coliseum as the Nocturne cried for mercy. A loud roar came from the beast, startling the crowds.

"KNOW NOW THAT ALL WHO GET IN MY WAY SHALL END UP LIKE THIS MAN DID!"

The crowds stayed silent. After he finished his sentence, he threw Nahal towards Da'Haka. The body landed with a thud against the ground before the other Draken who stood there motionless. A single clap came from an audience member, before more and more started to fill up the coliseum. K'Jol's name started to be chanted throughout various parts of the coliseum.

---

She was going to fight him? A maniacal laugh came from the mask that withheld Baren's mangled face. The woman was not even holding her weapon the right way, and she thought that she could challenge him? There was no one in the world who could have defeated Baren. Not even Lukesh, the ruler of Kaustir, had as much might as the monster in front of her did.

"YOU'RE FUNNY. I LIKE YOU. YOU SHALL BE THE PERFECT SACRIFICE FOR MY GOD!"

After these words were said, Baren charged out after the woman. Both blades were in the air, and as soon as he was two feet away from her he slashed downwards with both blades in an X motion, attempting to cut her torso into different pieces.

[/hr]​

---

 

[heliacalRebirth]

Seiyr

[dash=red]
Trembling fingers grasped at Seiyr's cloak, the digits almost as sore and red as the fabric they clung so desperately to. The slave was in shock, though the engineer doubted it was from the gruesome scene below. Nassad was a common visitor in the halls of the Desert Sun; she had the privilege to witness his treatment of his "stock" firsthand on multiple occasions.

Seiyr put her hand on the slave's shoulder, gripping firmly. The starved female recoiled. Unrelenting, the engineer sent a small jolt of electricity tingling through the woman. Her Aux protested, firing in her mind. Take from her… take her energy! We need more! You could be so much stronger… so much better… Seiyr gritted her teeth. She was tired from the days endeavors, and her self control was waning. Concentrating, she closed off the connection between slave and master, releasing her grip. Upon being shocked, the slave's back straightened, eyes widened, and her trembling stopped. Slumping, she retreated closer to the engineer, her fingers still feebly wrapped around the cloak, yet a look of attentiveness and relief on her face.

Directing her attention back to the Czar, Seiyr eyed his bandaged hand. Her look of realization was soon replaced with her signature scowl. "Idiot…" the woman muttered, casting her glare across the horde of concubines before fixing them once more on the Czar. He was facing away from her, his body obscuring whatever scenario was happening across the way.

Judging by Nassad's smirk, it was definitely not something the engineer wanted to watch.

Studying the scene below her, she spoke quietly to the woman at her feet, "What is your name?"

"Arina," she replied, her voice wet and broken.

"Arina… are you nimble with your fingers?"

The slave blinked, considering the sentence before settling on a nod.

"Good, good… perhaps I could give you a job in the capital. There's a school of engineers there. You could sort papers, disassemble gadgets, and hopefully, you could make enough money to buy your freedom…" Seiyr's words faded as she turned her head to meet the gaze of the Czar.

He was feeding on another slave's body, yet his eyes bore into hers. Seiyr felt a familiar pang in her own neck, causing her cheeks to flush. Flinching, the woman averted her eyes, focusing on the floor. She didn't expect that. She didn't prepare for it. It was imprinted into her mind, those eyes… she shook her head, steadying her pounding heart and clearing her mind. Despite all her years in service to the Czar, there were still moments where he was able to get under her skin. And she knew he reveled every second.

"My Czar...," the engineer started, avoiding the man's gaze for fear that her expression would betray her if her voice did not, "I've a report from Dorgrad that requires your attention. As soon as you are less… preoccupied…"

<><><><><>
​

Arina gazed at the blonde woman above her. She didn't know who she was, and she simply didn't care at the moment. All she knew was that this woman was her only hope. A job… a way out of this... The bloody iron flavor of her mouth turned sweet. She wanted to thank the woman, to ask her why. Why would a member of the Imperial Court worry about such a lowly slave?

A confrontation between Czar and savior snagged the slaves attention. Ignorant of the complete scenario, she caught only a brief glimpse of her saviors face.

It was a face of shame, of anger.

Of submission.

Arina closed her eyes, understanding washing over her. It appears we are all slaves to someone.[/dash]

 

[lillith.mg]

Tharwa

Did she have a slave mark on her forehead? Were there chains shackled to her feet? Last time Tharwa checked, she was a free-woman of Kaustir, yet somehow this son of a sharmuta seem to think she's his personal servant. She made a face at his back, and immediately schooled her expression to one of benign confusion when Lut asked about his hair.

"Sorry, what hai-? Oh, this hair." Tharwa pulled the strand she had pinned under a sequin sewn to her skirt when Lut wasn't looking. "I apologize, my skirt must've grazed your head when I shielded your delicate skin from the sun. How clumsy of me." She made a show of searching for other strands and gave Lut's hairline a pointed look. "I should've been more careful, seeing how these strands are, indeed, precious to you."

Lut's face darkened, sensing that he was insulted somehow, but Tharwa gestured towards the coliseum. They were near enough to see the floating bulk of Gulzar as he sailed through the air, arm extended, fist clenched. Tharwa almost rolled her eyes. Drakens and their theatrics.

"Shall I escort you to the games, sir?" she asked Lut meekly.

 

[unanun]

Her stinging words were standard Kaustir street talk, and Lut did not pay much attention to it. The only reason that he asked her to accompany him was, ironically, that he respected the fact that a woman would pluck hair and keep it. The motive was obvious.

They stopped at the front of the arena. Apparently, he was being introduced. Despite K'Larr's gang's promise, he still felt slightly disgusted by the entire affair.

He turned towards the woman, suddenly formal. "I will need your blood. It is a forgotten tradition, but I was taught long ago how to respect blood-givers. You do not have a choice, but at least ... " he flowed forward. One hand to pin her arms behind her back. The other to cover her eyes and the thumb to plug her nose, to dull the senses. One long breath over the skin, to open the veins underneath. Three passes of the tongue on the skin, to clean. Three mouthfuls, for respect. One last pass of the tongue, to seal the wound.

His eyelids were half-mast, lost in the thrill of drinking. As he released her and stood up straight, the open sores on his face were fusing shut, and though some of his skin lay in the sun, it did not split open as before, but merely reddened. Lut removed the imperial seal from his chest pocket and passed his tongue over it in one long swipe, saliva and blood clinging to it in tendrils. He reached forward and lifted the clothing just underneath her breasts, pressing the seal firmly and leaving a coagulating stamp in between.

"Collect this blood debt from me before the seal fades." Hopefully she would understand through the post-drink glow.

A very loud Draken shouted something. It might have been his name.

He strode into a dark side entrance, hand outstretched to grab a mask and a heavy black cloak, swirling it above and around in one smooth stroke. Despite him being a career-official, a man who existed solely to excel at his assigned job, he was excited. Maybe it was the blood, thick and hot in his stomach. There was a difference between someone trained to kill, and someone who learnt it by luck on the streets. It was time to show them the difference.

---​

Baren roared, the blades swinging in as a criss-cross. The crowded roared in return.

And then ... silence. His blades shivered, stuck on the back of a black blob. It whirled, blowing the blades back, and Baren was thrown aside, a single deep gash carved from shoulder to hip. The serrated edge of a sword stuck through the cuts in the cloak.

"Your sword," Takeda paced the training floor, "is an extension of your arm - but also of your body." He slung the sword over his shoulder, back of the blade flat against his back, and leaned forward to parry a strike. He pressed the blade against his chest, swinging his entire body downwards to slash. "When against larger opponents, use your body to accomplish what your arm alone can not."



How do the Nocturne fight in the sun? Like this. The cloak was heavy, silk sewn into chain mail, the mask lacquered wood, to shield against the sun. There was a reason this outfit stunned the audience into silence - no one had ever seen it before. This was something Nocturnes in the Kaustir army only wore when they had to fight in the sun, at an utmost disadvantage.

In the sun, all battles had to be finished fast. The cloaked figure slammed into Baren and slid down against the gladiator's body. Where the cloak pressed against the gladiator's flesh, metal met metal met skin met bone. He fell to the ground, another rut running along the opposite shoulder.

"Friends!" The cloaked Nocturne spun, flinging the blood from his blade. Lut's voice was not very loud, but it carried well.

A hand spilled from the inner folds of the cloak, clutching an antique tablet.

"The three nations may be pressing against each other, but we have an advantage they don't! For an expedition into the Deep Sands has returned something that will allow us to move as we please ... "

"The location of a Divine Weapon!" He unsealed the mask from his face with a flourish, radiant in victory.

 

[Kriodine]

Draegal watched the blob enter the arena, it had a sense of grace to it. But he could tell that it was in a hurry, it didn't take its time it quickly entered and killed a contestant. It wanted attention, and it got it. The audience was dead silent as Lut removed the mask and announced that he had found a Divine Weapon. A thick silence hung in the air, even the bustling merchant city seemed to quiet down for the moment. "So where is it then?", the words he meant to mutter to himself ended up resounding through out the entire stadium.

 

[Keiga]

NAE

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Nae almost fell asleep, or appeared to be sleeping while she gave her noble speech to K'jol, but he was very much aware of his surroundings. The smells from the other male toyed with his angry stomach, there was no way he could sleep in such circumstances. It was a grave disappointment when he finally left, though. So delicious...

Two days? Who had that kind of time? "My, my, my. You think fast. It's a wonder you're the talk of the town among your trade, hn? The games are going on as we speak, yet you'll decide on things in two days." Nae purred sarcastically and ended it with a nasally chuckle. "For such a slight thing you are a cruel one." Pity was a rare thing for him, but he felt an inkling very similar to the emotion for the thick skinned male that left the shop just as abruptly as he came. Nae stretched and spread his length across her counter again, this time staring at her from upside down, his knotted red dreadlocks just brushing the floor.

"So.... if I were to ask you a question could I get something to eat while you pondered your answer? Anything will do, and I'll pay. I'm not nearly in such a hurry as him-" Faster than one would think possible for the seemingly lazy little troll, Nae was upright, across the room and hanging from the shelves holding certain plants in earthen jars. There was a small ladder to make such things easier, but he choose the faster method of scaling to the needed height, an easy feat for the nimble troll. His mind had been seized by a familiar smell and he had t investigate. "Tell me, and I do not wish to wait two days," His eyes sparkled with the beginning of an ongoing verbal jab at the woman, yet his expression was serious, for Nae. "This jar," he tapped it with a long red claw. "It holds a very interesting smell. What is it and more importantly, where did you acquire it?"



[/dash]

 

[MiNaGi]

ARANIA - AVARATH

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Arania did not have the time, nor the want to discuss with him. It seemed pointless to her. Instead she waited patiently as she scanned his actions with her eyes. She did not know of this male's powers, and she was not going to take the risk of experiencing such on her own skin. She crossed her arms, glancing curiously as he asked her about something. Such an old object... "It's a rare herb, apparently its name is unknown. I aquired it in the deep forests of Viridos." She said in a calm tone. She wasn't going to discuss her own personal issues with a troll who mocked her.

She drew her hair over her left shoulder as she turned her gaze directly on him. "You inquired that you had business here. If you're here to buy anything, then I suggest you better say so soon, if it's something I have to brew, it might just take days." She said, her voice steady and calm. No time for arguing with trolls breaking into her shop. "I might be a renowned healer with talent and a reputation in this time, but that doesn't stop me from being mortal." She said, stroking a lock of hair from her face. "And I have an intention of staying here, I do not think that that man will have much need for someone like me. I'm not much suited for being the healer of a warrior. I'm a collector who has a supply to help people with, but I'm no warrior or survivor." Such a thing wasn't completely true. After all, she had survived(barely) many years wandering around the forests of Viridos, and eventually someone close to her had taught her of the herbs and poisons that could be aquired in the forests. Now she was using that knowledge to help people. [/dash]

 

[unanun]

Lut caught the Draken's words. He smiled confidently, replacing the mask on his face and swirling the cloak around his shoulders.

"The location is within the Deep Sands." The masked figure inclined its head towards the Czar.

"An expedition will be dispatched shortly." Something ... greed? Hung in the air.

There were murmurs in the crowd at the mention of 'divine'. "Do not be afraid of the old ones!" His muffled voice echoed, carried by the silence. "Is it is entirely within the history of our people - our nation - to take the legacy of our ancestors and use it to forge our future." Of course, many of the 'archaeologists' in the crowd, small-time opportunists who frequently went into the Desert, could not disagree.

"The Czar can personally confirm the authenticity for himself." Lut flowed up to the edge of the area where the Sun sat, and gave a shallow bow, presenting the tablet for personal scrutiny. Few would dare to go ahead of letting the Czar the first opportunity to examine the finds - the naysayers were momentarily silenced.