8th of Bargenholt
The Arena (Diamond Club Terrace)
2:15 p.m.

Everything has edges, everything has a place, physical or metaphysical where it stops and something else starts.

At roughly 2:15 pm the city of Taelarys reaches a metaphysical edge as excitement over the execution ends and a new emotion appears. The air changes, the sound changes, people's thought shift and those with an artistic flair might even try to tell you that the colors changed, darkening.

Like the nervous gasp of a man who has just realized "yes, this is really happening" the noise of the crowd, reaching almost the very edge of the city, changes. Happy laughter shifts towards nervous laughter. Excited yelling shifts towards demands for blood.

Even those outside the arena feel it as all about town people find themselves absentmindedly glancing towards the Arena.

Something is about to happen. Something big. Something horrible. Something amazing.

In the noble's section, Jameson sits next to Darston attempting to make small talk when this shift occurs. It is barely perceptible on a conscious level, but Jameson has trained to notice such things and apparently so has Darston.

Both men pause for a moment, Darston looks across the crowded stands and turns his eyes back to Jameson.

An interesting game you seem to be playing Augustus he says loudly enough for all those around to hear. I think this may turn out to be a very interesting outing indeed. I wonder if you even understand what sort of thing you may be about to unleash.

Jameson smiles and laughs uneasily.

Elsewhere among the nobles, the shift rubs on nerves. Body guards find their hands drifting towards weapons, while most nobles seem, or at least act, oblivious, a few begin to show signs of nerves clear enough to be recognized by even a casual observer.

Deep among them, unnoticed by all . . . . or at least unnoticed in the truth of who he is, Kanos smiles broadly as he feels the tension wash through the air. He plucks a canape off the passing tray of the young Eris and bites into it with his razor sharp teeth. The young woman feels a shiver run up her spine, but when she turns to look sees only groups of nobles chattering loudly.

Deep in the bowels of the Arena, Davis is suiting up. He feels the change in air, as do the unseen things swirling around him, and he hears the crowd chanting for blood.

He hefts the sword he had been given, its as light as a feather.

Blood he will give them. Oh Yes. As much blood as they could desire and more.