The Playground: Whispers of Taelarys IC

[Andural]

8th of Bargenholt
The Lord's Arena
During combat
Turin

Turin spins around at the sounds behind him, away from the impossible view in the arena below. That could be dealt with later, if at all. In the interim, something was happening up above. As he turns, he sees a guard screams in pain. The screams turn into bubbling as the guard's face collapses into a mass of goo. He falls to the floor, drying up before he's come to a complete rest.

"What the...," Turin begins, as something else catches his eye. A group of nobles, all known to him, are advancing along one side of the wall. Following their intent gazes, he notices they're focused on Jameson and the Prince. He looks more carefully, and sees that their eyes are locked on the Lord of the Arena.

Hmmm... I wonder whether the Prince will let them get to him or not. I wouldn't wager on it, myself. Better do something.

As the nobles make their way, they pass by one of Xavier de Forza's water-mist machines. de Forze is an apt machinist, this is for certain, but machines do have a tendency to break down. Perhaps that compressor has some faults in the metal. He focuses...

On the side of the room, a metallic whirring suddenly goes "Click," as one of the fans maintaining proper pressure in the compressors locks up. The pressure quickly builds inside the chamber, making a chugging sound speed up rapidly. The would-be assassins stop in their push, and look around to try and find the source. But it's too late.

KABLAM

As the compressor explodes, bit of metal are fired at high speeds in the direction of the highly unfortunate noble assassins. The metal buries into their legs, arms, and eyes, leaving them groaning on the floor.

Turin nods to himself, and looks around to see what else is going on...

[Swordslinger]

8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
The Lord's Arena
Round 15
Amandre

From his place in the back of the Diamond club Amandre has a good view over events unfolding in the room. He watches as someone claims up to a table and yells fire. For a moment it looks like everyone will evacuate calmly, but then the prince announces the reward of a 100 sovereigns and soon after comes a loud explosive sound from the arena followed by scrams. Amandre wonders what to do, he guessed it was about time to find his master and get them out of here. Then he spots the daggers, nobles have drawn their daggers and advance up where the prince is standing. Well, the prince was not his responsibility however the men could be a threat toward his masters in the following chaos, and anyway, they were in his way. The men don’t seem to notice him, he sees two men walking up together a bit away from the rest. As a guard he was one of the few people here to openly wear weapons and the nobles seemed to be ignoring him, or they had not noticed him. Either way they did not seem particularly well trained. He would take out the two of them and the way would be clear to find his masters. His movements are very fast one moment he stands still leaning to the wall with his hands crossed, the next he is halfway across the floor toward the assassins. He did not bother drawing a weapons, his hands where weapons enough for this. He was upon them before they even had time to react to his presence.

[Swordslinger]

Maybe it is the screams or general noise of the arena or maybe they where to focused on their indented target. Either way the two nobles playing at being assassins do not notice the real assassin coming up behind them. It is over in an eye blink, without stopping Amandre delivers a strike to the first noble’s neck and he falls to the ground like a doll. He kicks the second noble from behind in the knee joint and he falls to his knees. Almost before he hit the ground Amandre puts a hand on the back of the nobles head and push it hard into the floor. Both noblemen are lying on the ground unconscious and it barely slowed Amandre down.

He quickly moves on toward the nobles gathered at this side of the club and located his master, Banyn d’Darran and his son speaking with each other. “This is a one of a kind opportunity”. As Amandre approaches Banyn looks at him “Ah, there you are” he grabs Amandre by the shoulder and speaks in his ear. “Listen closely, 30 years ago our house was disgraced for involvement with a certain cult. Now the same cult is moving again, this is our chance to come back into favor again. If one of our people help out here. Look down into the arena, the traitor Davis is hiding down in the hole, I want you to go find him and kill him”.

[TheDarkDM]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Diamond
The Lord's Arena

Ghedim's eyes widened visibly as the arena erupted into chaos. Though he stood his ground, he paled upon sighting what d'Lupil had become, and the ensuing tide of freshly blooded corpses. Yet even so, no Rhetizian could have missed the sudden glint of steel on the terrace, and time seemed to slow as Ghedim sighted the approaching nobles. The Ambassador had no time to asses the assassin's intent, only enough time to twist his wrist just so. Without a sound, a pair of needle-thin daggers slid between his fingers, before he whipped his arm towards the armed nobles. The shards of metal went whistling through the air, dancing within a hair's breadth of a group of panicking nobles. For an instant, it seemed they might miss their mark, but then with a spray of clipped fur and stray hairs they had passed the obstacle to bury themselves in the arms of two of the men. One collapsed instantly, his hand nailed to his belly, while the other staggered forward a moment before noting the stream of blood emerging from his groin. The moment passed, leaving the two men on the ground screaming, and Ghedim was reaching for another hidden pocket when the poisoned hiss of steam filled his ears.

Ghedim barely had time to duck before the compressor burst, showering a group of the assassins in blazing hot debris. As they became a steaming pile of wasted flesh and another guest barreled into the remaining assassins, Ghedim turned his attention back to the arena. It was at that moment a brutally mangled face crested the railing, a shattered hand groping blindly for Ghedim's throat. He jerked back, only for a bolt of silver to bury itself in the zombie's forehead and send it tumbling back to the bloodstained sand. Looking behind him, Ghedim spotted Azlian perched atop one of the terrace's marble statues, reloading her makeshift crossbow with another barb from her collar. They exchanged smiles, before Ghedim took a handful of diaphanous curtain in his hand and leapt into the arena.

All the while, the Prince looked on, his eyes betraying none of his reaction to the sudden turn of events. Looking down at Jameson, Darston smiled in the queer way of demigods.

"Milverton, you are excused."

Without another word, the host was manhandled away by the Blood Guard, thrown into the chaos as the Emperor's son was ringed in steel.

[Lady Serpentine]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Diamond
The Lord's Arena
Kyranis, Liella, Tera


While Jameson is being hurried off, Kyranis, Liella and Tera return to the edge of the noble area, drawing weapons as they do so.

Kyranis moves to one side of a zombie, and Liella the other, while Tera comes in from directly in front of it. They should make short work of the creature.

[Nefarion Xid]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Diamond
The Lord's Arena

Anselme, having escorted a number of nobles into the mezzanine already, freezes in place, his neck prickling and venom flowing through his veins. It was the feeling of being alone in the dark wood and hearing a sudden crack of a branch behind you. However, Anselme didn't have the luxury of belaying his fears by turning around. For a moment, he thought he could smell the battlefield again - a melange of spilt offal, burning flesh and the sick of men unused to it.

Darting against the crowd he seized the wrist of a noblewoman who had ventured a step backwards with macabre curiosity as to the commotion towards the arena. Her eyes flared, clearly unused to such brusque treatment. There was a how-dare-you on her lips, but Anselme fixed her with a look. "Madame, would you risk your life to sate your curiosity?" then, with a crescendo in his voice, "Let me assure you all that whatever is causing those screams isn't something you wish to remember. To the streets, all of you! Return home and pray."

Without warning he slipped his fingers underneath the woman's frock and triumphantly produced a stiletto blade a second later. "Single, are we?" he announced with a lopsided and consummately roguish grin. Lucky guess.

Leaving the blushing woman he slips past the crowd and moves to return to the Diamond Club, periodically repeating his warning and urging people not to turn back.

[Mono Vertigo]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Diamond
The Lord's Arena
Eiko

Words of violence, of rewards, of battles reached Eiko's ears in spite of the growing uproar, and she smiled brightly. Panic? Fear? Horror? She would have none of these, no sir, she had better things to do!
The crowd was thick, and didn't let her take a good glance at the hole before the first wave was gone. Many weaklings there. Davis will be a piece of cake (even though she'd noticed moments earlier that his agility and strength were quite remarkable for a man of his age).
Other sounds reached her; they were coming from guards dropping dead. Literally. An explosion. More men were walking threateningly toward others. Think fast.
The well-dressed Tengu made her decision, and took one step away from the gathering, facing the hole. She spread her wings for the first time of the day. “Sir Mikado!”, she shouted as loud as she could, with thinly-veiled excitation, “You have five seconds to tell me if you need my protection, else I'm jumping down there!” Was such an emergency part of the protocol? Good manners were of no use in the middle of chaos, and she had to obey her nature.

[Swordslinger]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Diamond
The Lord's Arena
Amandre

Amandre looks down into the arena, there is a hole in the middle and around it is littered with bodies and weapons. Going down there and into the hole to hunt down someone who was possibly becoming a demon? He tried to argue that he was not probably equipped for this, and that he needed to stay here and protect them, all true. “We don’t need you, I can protect us” Banyn’s son more or less scream at him. “Give me that” he reaches for and draws the Rapier hanging at Amandre’s side. “I am better fencer than you, and this is far too good a weapon for you anyway” he strokes his fingers across the swords elaborate hilt. “What you call fencing is different from actual combat” Amandre retorts and receives a cold look in return, after a moment Amandre diverts his eyes toward the arena “There are plenty of weapons down there” although nothing that would server him as well as his dagger he knew, would that be enough? “Get going, come back with that traitors head, or don’t come back at all!” Amandre offers no replay and as he is about to depart Banyn again grabs his shoulder and look him in the eye “I have faith in your abilities, make us proud” for a moment Amandre struggles to find the right words before he replays “I won’t fail you” most people would have noticed the emotionless tone of Banyn’s voice and his cold eyes however Amandre happily jumps down from the balcony, grab hold of the wall an quickly climb down into the arena.

Amandre did not really know what this was all about, but he understood how important it was for House Darran and he would not fail, even if the reanimated corpses stood in his way. He quickly realized there was little point in fighting all of them, he should just use his speed and maneuverability to run past them, they looked kind of slow and if one or two got in his way then his martial arts should quickly take care of that problem. He removed the now empty scabbard hanging at his side and quickly went over what he had on him, a serviceable dagger and a good number of throwing knifes. He wished he had his pair of Sais and the normal equipment, but his would have to do. He started running.

[Jade_Tarem]

8th of Bargenholt, Chaos in the Arena, Round 15

A heavy hand landed on Claye's shoulder, and she grimaced - she'd thought that no one had noticed her sneaking back in. "Where are you going, lass?"

"Ah'm part of the staff."

Jameson's guardsman narrowed his eyes. "Nice try. If you have a ticket, you can head through the main entrance like everyone eleeeeEEEEEEEAAAAAAGH!"

Claye's eyes widen and she steps back in horror as the guard literally shrivels up and dies in a matter of seconds. It's begun...

She grabs the fallen guard's sword and ducks inside, near the pandemonium, but still notes the sudden change in pitch of the compressor - and any good machinist knows that when a large machine under high pressure suddenly changes pitch, you take cover and then investigate, in that order. Claye ducks back outside and behind the wall right before the compressor blows like a large, unwieldy grenade. Hoo boy, Xavier is gonna be pissed...

With the bulk of the compressor out of the way, though, Claye gets her first look at what's going on in the Arena. Sweet lightning... She'd suspected that there was one demon in the pit, but this looked more like utter, vicious netherworldly chaos.

Claye grits her teeth, intensely wishing that the compressor had picked a better time to kick the bucket - the pump would have come in handy. As it is, she opens one of the fuel tanks and rubs the contents onto the blade before setting a spark to it. It wasn't her usual type of fire magic - in fact, without the blade and the fuel to give it form it would be beyond her, but she manages to create a passable flaming sword. Checking Anselme's position and deciding that he was safe enough for now, she seeks out Mikado instead.

Once she spots him, she darts across the terrace. "Special delivery!" She tosses the blazing sword hilt-first toward the Ikokuan man. "Where's the source?" She shouts over the din, pointing to the Arena itself and trying to see what's going on.

[Lady Serpentine]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Diamond
The Lord's Arena
Kyranis, Liella, Tera


The zombie is nearly dispatched, but manages to avoid a slice to the neck at the last minute, though it staggers under the impacts of the hits made by Kyranis and his Bond Mate.

It catches Tera in the chest with the sword it still holds, the blade a not-so-subtle reminder of how it died. And who sent it down to do so. The same person responsible for the death of the Sorceress.

Worse, she wouldn't even die cleanly; the creature's blow stabbed into her guts, decreeing a slow and painful end to her life, unless she was healed by a mage skilled in such things.

The fingers of Kyranis's free hand flashed in a hurried message to Liella, who returned another in the same way, and with equal haste. His own message back to her was shorter still.

"I'll have the Sword-Servitors behead him in his own arena! He replaced d'Lupil with a trained fighter, and then hired a rogue mage on top of it!"

"Not before he's been questioned, I trust?"

"Of course"

((OOC: This exchange was in a private code developed by the Kybrae bloodline, and thus no characters not of that bloodline should understand it, and a roll of 6 or better would be needed to even tell it occurred.))

[ForzaFiori]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Diamond
The Lord's Arena
Xavier de Forza

Xavier had just turned to assure Mikado that he could provide an air conditioner, when all hell broke loose. As people rushed into the arena, Xavier stepped back. Watching 1000 men take on 1 wasn't sport, it was execution. Then he heard the explosion. He turned around just as the compressor ruptures. "AH! NO!" he screams, running up to the man who had destroyed it "Do you have ANY idea how long it took me to make that?! How much money and time was spent on it?! You had better have just saved the Prince's damned life with tha..." His angry ranting trails off when he sees the dead men, and decided that there were more important things to do. First though, he needed to find Claye. thankfully, it wasn't hard to spot her, since even after the explosion, a Mechanist is easily the most soot covered person in the room. Xavier quickly hurries over. "Claye! What in all that's holy is going on here? Please tell me you have some idea, or at least an idea of what needs to be done."

[DJDeMiko]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Diamond
The Arena

The arena floor was a mess. Specatators and would be gladiators rushing back and forth. Some, realizing the horror towards the middle of the field are attempting to escape climbing back up the walls into the stands, these walls were designed to keep gladiators in and these spectators are learning this the hard way. Others, foolish or brave, are trying to fight the reanimating bodies or chase Davis Lupil into the hole, risking life for the 100 soveirgns.

There are enough zombies and spectators in the mix that the zombie do not swarm, yet.

A notice roll (just notice abilities and perception of 4) will see that the spectators killed by the zombies seem to be rising up themselves.

A magic roll (if you notice or someone points out this is happening of 4) will tell you that zombies when raised do not normally infect others and that it would time extremely powerful necromancy magic to cause such a thing.

For those who enter the hole itself, you will find yourself dropping into a stone passageway roughly 10 by 10. It is lined with metal rings built into the wall. It is pitch black beyond where the sun shines in, I hope you brought light. You can hear sounds of fighting and the occasional scream. There are a few bodies on the ground in the light, they aren't animating and they seem to have been killed with long violent claws.

(post once in how you will proceed please)


8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Diamond
The Diamond Club

Jameson is pushed aside and forced far away from the Prince by the blood guard moving in to protect their master, who seems more interested in the events in the arena. Jameson is left standing on his own with no protection, the blood guard could care less if he is killed.

Anselme's plan is working well, though the explosion, dying guards and flying knives speed the process, the majority of the nobles file out and start heading for safety. As these nobles leave it creates a larger empty space making the attackers more clear.

Two who where missed by the explosion suddenly rush forward and a third lifts a small crossbow that had been concealed

As various blades and explosions remove the obvious assassins.

The now empty space reveals two more attackers, these look much tougher. Two men, muscled and carrying jeweled swords in a way that suggest they know how to use them are pushing towards Jameson. They are wearing clothing that suggests they had come in as guards for nobles.

[Swordslinger]

8th of Bargenholt
Down in the Arena
Amandre

Amandre quickly runs toward the arena, easily maneuvering past zombies, people and corpse. The few zombies who get in his way quickly find themselves lying on the ground from a well place strike or push. Once he arrives he looks down into the hole, a circle of light surrounded by darkness, he know he will be vulnerable for a while after he hits the ground down there, before is eyes have time to adjust to the darkness. He hesitates for a moment; he had to admit to himself that he was a bit afraid of going down there. Usually he was the one hunting in the darkness, now there could be anything hiding down there. He breathes in heavily for a moment and focuses, the fear, his doubts, and his emotion are pushed back into the depths of his mind and cease to bother him. He knows what he must do; only the mission matters now. He jumps down the hole, the moment he hit the ground he rolls to absorb the impact and at the end of the roll he end up in a low position defensive stance and somehow his dagger is in his hand.

[Andural]

8th of Bargenholt
The Diamond Club
Turin

Turin moves over to the now-alone Jameson.

Jameson, my friend, perhaps it's time to retreat to somewhere safer yes? I assume you have some safe exits from here, right?

He pulls Jameson over to a wall, a bit away from the Prince and his guards. As he does so, he glances at the would-be assasin with the crossbow. Crossbows have a nasty habit of misfiring at the wrong time, especially the small concealed ones...

CLICK

As the would-be assassin pulls the trigger, the bolt catches in its sheath and the string snaps forward. The assassin curses, and looks around trying to decide whether to slowly reload it or not...

[the_druid_droid]

8th of Bargenholt
The Bleeding Wasp
Grey District
2:27 PM
Sevran Morn

Kirin sat in the shadows of the dingy bar, nursing a beer that was scarcely worth the few pennies he’d paid for it. Although other patrons would have said he was minding his own business, the man had been surreptitiously watching the gray-cloaked stranger sitting at the bar since his arrival at the Wasp. Something about the man suggested that he wasn’t the typical wretch scraping through life in the Gray District, and that was intriguing. Intriguing and possibly useful.

With a gulp, Kirin finished his beer and shuffled over to the bar, his shapeless brown jacket and ratty clothes rustling as he moved. Setting his empty glass on the dirty, notched hardwood a few stools down from the stranger, Kirin called out for another drink before exclaiming to no one in particular, “Gor, the drinks here are piss! Amirite?”

7th of Bargenholt
Affternoon
Grand Inquisitor’s Office

“Let us hope so, Maxis.” The Inquisitor’s voice was sincere, and after one last, searching glance at the younger man, he turned his full attention back to the pile of work on his desk.

8th of Bargenholt
Diamond Club Terrace
During Combat

As the conversation wound down and the nobles gathered in the stately Diamond Club began to turn their attention to the combat below, Tarin moved close to one of the large windows behind him. Although he regretted not being able to deal with the disgraced nobleman himself, he would at least try to satisfy himself by watching the man’s demise in the arena.

When the beginning of combat was announced and Davis streaked out from the gladiator pens, Tarin’s expression hardened suddenly. The man was moving and fighting like a young warrior in his prime, despite the fact that he must still have been suffering from the injuries sustained in his interrogation. The Inquisitor knew the extent of those injuries better than anyone present, and there was something alarming about Davis’ rapid recovery and smooth, flowing movements. The slaves set out to face the man met a bloody death within seconds, and the next round fared no better. Although the Grand Inquisitor had not placed any bets on the combat, he began to suspect that Jameson would be losing money to those who had.

Finally, as the fighting wore on and paid warriors joined condemned slaves on the packed dirt of the arena floor, Tarin became certain that something more than human was at work in the nobleman’s fighting prowess. Just as the conviction began to solidify, the Inquisitor caught sight of Ghedim out of the corner of the eye; suddenly the man seemed to trip, and after a quick exchange of words he found himself grasping a wicked-looking push dagger. The weapon’s weight comforted him, and at Tarin's a glance, both Marcos and Revin produced their own weapons; the spy handing his master a few small throwing daggers as he drew his sword. Whatever might come of Davis’ strange behavior, the Grand Inquisitor would be waiting...with a little luck, he might just get to kill the heretical noble himself after all.

[Nefarion Xid]

4th of Bargenholt
An alley off Dibsy Street

“Hey! Hey! I found something! They’re all burned and stuff but there’s like, some good stuff on the inside!”
“Gimme!”

A black blur vaulted up and into the dumpster bin. Within there were hisses and sounds of a scuffle until the pair of creatures realized they were literally rolling in a pile of sticky buns. One removed its foot from the other’s mouth and both began to gleefully munch on the orange flavored rolls, greedily tearing out the edible centers and tossing the crispy outer husks out over the rim of the container. When they’d eaten their fill (by which I mean they had stuffed themselves and were unable to find anything else appealing within arm’s reach) they reclined on opposite sides of the dumpster, lolling out their tongues and scratching distended stomachs.

“Weren’t we supposed to…”
“Yeah! Something. Starts with a… I want to say Q.”
“But, we already quit,” corrected the first sticky, furry thing.
“Qualifying examinations?”
“That thing that you’re doing with your mouth. Stop that.”
“Quantify… something? Qua… quadrupeds?”
“How do you not drown when it rains?” the first asked, slapping his forehead with a frosting covered paw.
“Hats?” the second offered hopefully.
“You should not be without supervision. Ever. No! We gotta find the Boss!”
His companion could only respond by excitedly pointing.
“Correct,” said the first smugly. Then, struck by a serious concern he began to scratch his head, “But uh… weren’t there more of us? Like… a lot?”
The second creature only shrugged and began to lick his fingers clean.

Plot Ticket: They’re heeere!

Spoiler

Show

Since the 4th of Bargenholt there have been citywide reports of strange scavenger creatures prowling the alleyways and rooftops, even breaking into houses. Rumors pin them as intelligent monkeylike creatures about the size of a large housecat with black fur, bright orange manes and tufts on their tails and large bat ears. One baker swears they’re capable of picking locks. So far, no official comment on the origin of these creatures has been released from any of the sorcerous houses. The vermin are widely believed to be magical in nature and allegedly vanish in a cloud of black smoke when injured or captured.

[Kasanip]

8th of Bargenholt
The Area (Diamond Club Terrace)
Main Event
Eris

The chaos happened.
But there was the cold feeling again. And this time Eris recognized it easily as Necromancy.
Someone was breaking a lot of rules today. Her expression darkened.
The criminal to women, Anselme was trying to lead nobles away. Something about a fire?
And the assassins in the chaos, were heading at Jameson.
Eris paused.
If Jameson died, she might not receive more information.
A temporary pause for her maybe. But also an inconvenience.
Suddenly the assassins started to die by knives and other guests.
Then one of the machines exploded, and Eris had to duck. The silver tray which became a shield was embeded with shards of metal. She tossed it.
Eris stayed crouched for this second. Trying to sense or spot the necromancer. He was here somewhere.
But someone with such a power was obviously skilled at hiding. A small smile came to Eris' face. So it was with her too.
She stood carefully, to make sure the assassins didn't see her.
Whatever was happening in the arena was not important to her. It seemed Jameson had his own assistance for now. Eris had no desire to reveal herself with the Prince near at the moment. Unless it was very necessary. It would ruin years of preparation.
With annoyance with herself, she made her mind. She had plenty of years to make preparation.
The necromancer was hiding, or had escaped. She would have to do what she can do now. Perhaps there would be an opportunity another time.

She crossed the room with an annoyed look, avoiding and moving through the crowd.
"Jameson." She said when next to d'Milverton. She looked at Turin, but addresses Jameson. "I suggest you leave. I am annoyed that you didn't tell me you invited a necromancer. Is it your hobby to collect outlaw sorcerers?"
Even if she isn't amused, the cool expression on her face is controlled.
"Shall, I solve this problem for you?" She asks bluntly. Of course, if she means the prince or the assassins, it isn't clear. Then she looks at him with a sweet smile.
"Or do you have an order for me, Lord di Milverton?"

[DJDeMiko]

8th of Bargenholt
The Area (Diamond Club Terrace)
Main Event
Jameson

Without combat training all Jameson can do is try to look every direction at once.

The comments of Turin and Eris snap him out of his panic and he attempts to head for the nearest exit, only to be quickly cut off by one of the larger brutes with a sword.

"Either run or kill them," he says and starts to look for a way out.

[daelrog]

8th of Bargenholt
The Bleeding Wasp
Grey District
2:28 PM
Sevran d'Morn, Kirin

At first Sevran merely glanced at the man named Kirin with a distasteful look on his face, his expression questioning why this outsider was talking in a Grey Disctrict bar. Sevran had guessed the man a drunk, a boat hand, and an illiterate, but the one thing he had right was the man was not from this part of town. He lacked the dead look in his eyes.

After another moment, he nudged the chair next to him, asking the man to sit if he cared to. "Matches the town." Sevran removed his hood revealing dark, reddish-brown hair that needed a comb, and on his face was a distinct tattoo that ran across the left side of his face. It was a character of the old language, one from when the demigod still waked amongst his people. Though usually not marked on the face, most members of the infamous d'Morn family had one similar. Few who were not nobles would know what the character of Sevran's face meant. "Whole city's going to hell. Most people just don't see it. Maybe they see it, just don't care..." Kirin could here a distinct phrrt sound followed by a stale, raunchy smell. "Beer's for whores and beggars. Drink something with class if you want a good taste in your mouth. Try something besides alcohol if you just want to forget."

[VonDoom]

8th of Bargenholt, Chaos in the Arena, Round 15

Eyes darting up when he heard the familiar voice of the Kilnmyr spitfire, Mikado quickly spotted the flame-engulfed sword being tossed at him and grabbed it with apparent ease. He tested the sword with one brief strike into the open air, all the while silently cursing his atrophied muscles as the Ikokuan felt the sting of the heat on his fingers.

"Down the hole, right center! Stay behind me!", the black-haired man returned the call, without saying his thanks; the situation was too hectic to waste words. For even as he advanced with fast steps, the grabby arms of the undead creatures that had just sprung up all over were closing in on him. Luckily he was no stranger to the sword, its use being an intrinsic part of the martial art style he practiced, and with one well-practiced swipe he quite literally disarmed the first one he came upon, following up with a kick into its chest to open the path for Claye should she choose to follow.

Despite his lacking form, a small smirk made its way to his face as he noticed how much like butter the zombified flesh he had just cut through had been. Claye's magic certainly was impressive, he thought, as the sword the mechanist had quickly procured was clearly nothing special.

As he proceeded, Mikado rammed the blade of the sword straight into the head of another of the lethal creatures, the flames blazing around its edge burning a black hole straight through and making certain that the brain was utterly taken care of as the zombie fell to the ground with one last moan of a death-rattle.

Eiko's words were far away to his ears, as his focus was on both evading the creatures and dispatching them as efficiently as possible while he made his way onwards, but the Tengu could easily spot him as he was obviously cutting a path through the unholy monster right towards her -- the bright fire surrounding his sword was difficult to miss.

"How are you doing back there?!", he called out to Claye as he briefly glanced back, well aware that the woman would not be able to use her magic out here in the open precariously if she wished to keep her abilities a secret. His eyes widened -- his brief lapse of attention had brought him far too close to the chopping teeth of two more of the creatures and only his reflexes saved him in time, keeping his gaunt cheeks and arm from being torn into by the undead as he suddenly came to a halt and pulled a step back, bringing his weapon up high; a quick, precise spin cut right through both of the zombies -- magic, skill and momentum working together to compensate for his lack of muscle.

[have_a_cow]

8th of Bargenholt
The Lord's Arena
15th Round

The explosion of the compressor finally managed to do what the violent melee around Michael couldn't, wake him up. Nonplussed by the violence going on around him, Michael glances up to see where the explosion came from. He noticed that whatever was going on up there was mostly over, or was, at the very least, under control. This left Michael free to worry over the brawl in the arena floor.

Michael, not having heard the announcement for 100 sovereigns from the Prince, realizes that whoever ends this melee will be greatly rewarded. He believes that it is his time to make a name for himself. Good things come to those who take it.

He notices that many of the people in the arena look like they should have fallen from the wounds they are taken. He notices that something isn't quite right with them and decides that someone must have used magic. He did not know that demon magic is at work, and relied on his (believed) superiority to the other mages, Michael began to form a plan.

What can I do against a force this vast. I would need a force of my own, most likely larger in number or in skill, but I don't have one with me. Suddenly, a smile crept across his face, making his head look like a grinning skull. I'll use my magic to make these people think it would be in their best interest to help me. Yes, tell them of the fame and riches it will bring them. If they are already nobility, they'll gain prestige for their house. If they are commoners, I'll tell them that they'll get a noble title for sure, for anyone who risks his life saving the prince is worth a title, surely.

With his plan hatched, Michael quickly began work setting it in motion. Anyone near him that looked the least bit useful in a fight was enchanted, and soon he had a force that seemed to be large enough to be useful against the people in the arena.

"Charge!" screamed Michael as he lead his forces into battle. Being at the front of a battle like this wasn't normally Michael's style, but he decided that this would be the best place to be seen and heard. His ragtag force of people of every social station followed after, picking up various weapons that had been dropped on the ground. Michael, ever the showman, even picked up a sword himself. This he used with great flourishes to make his magic look even more impressive.

Bravely (well, as brave as a group of mind controlled people can be) they fought, with great flashes of lightning and peals of thunder created by Michael's magic and screams of the wounded and dying, slowly pushing their way to the hole in the middle of the arena.

OOC: I'll pick this up after I make some rolls in the OOC thread to see how successful Michael is in his endeavor.

[Mono Vertigo]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Diamond
The Area (Diamond Club Terrace)
Eiko

Hearing nothing back, the woman leaped forward, hungry for brawl. Her feathered limbs slowed down her fall, allowing her to observe the fight taking place underneath... and a man joining it, a sword with a peculiar shine in his hands.
That's the spirit.

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Diamond
The Arena
Eiko

Within instants after landing violently on top of a warrior covered in blood, Eiko grabbed his spear, and struggled to incapacitate its owner. “You look like you need some rest, why don't you take it right now?”, taunts the Tengu; a swift blow in his throat followed, and her victim fell on the ground with a disgusting bone crack.
She tried to make her way to Mikado, shoving aside hostile attackers, threatening to worsen their already grisly wounds with more sharp iron. That threat, somehow, didn't impress her opponents a whole lot, and she had to carry through her gesture. Predictably, the delicate silver patterns on her skirt and sleeves were half-covered in crimson stains already. She didn't care. “I'm coming, sir!”, she shouted, believing some other amazon was going to attack him from behind... then understanding, through their body language, she was sane, and helping him. Oh, good, then. The more the merrier. The Tengu would've joined them already... if a crawler wasn't trying to rip her skirt to shreds, in order to do the same with the legs they covered. Ugh! That was why she never wore the damn things. If she wasn't in the middle of such a fantastic melee, she would be terrified. These men didn't look very... human? Sane? Alive?

[Vadin]

8th of Bargenholt
In And Around Dibsy Street
Well After Bedtime

Little Thomas couldn't sleep, and when the anxious eight year old couldn't sleep, he dug. The trash bins at the other warehouses, the piles of waste outside the tenements, and barely locked containers left in the street all became secret treasure boxes to be discovered and pillaged by Sir Thomas, Greatest Explorer In All The Land.

But...but wait...what was that? Voices? No, no one else could be out at this hour, no one ever was. At least, no one that Thomas couldn't hear coming and hide from. How had he missed what sounded like...two? three? Maybe three people just around the bend. No no no, this wouldn't do, what if they caught him? Panicked, panicked, panicked, the little thief dove noisily into the nearest rubbish bin.


From the rooftop, the beaked shape watched.

[Kasanip]

8th of Bargenholt
The Area (Diamond Club Terrace)
Main Event
Eris

Eris sighed and looked at the assassins and larger brutes. One of the assassin charging with his weapon drawn. She raised her arm and pointed her finger at him.
"Fyr" She said mildly. Suddenly the man's boots and legs erupted into flames, and he fell down, screaming and on fire.

[Jade_Tarem]

8th of Bargenholt, Chaos in the Arena
Claye/Mikado/Xavier

"What the hell makes yeh think Ah know?" Claye shouts over the din. "One second there's a party, the next the compressor explodes an' zombies are everywhere!"

When Mikado checks on her status she grunts out. "Fine." She spends her time finishing off critically damaged zombies that fall in his wake. There's more than one near miss, though, and she swears to herself to get back into practice if she survives this. A whole year of guild politics hasn't done anything for me in this regard!

[TheDarkDM]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Arena
The Lord's Arena

Ghedim landed on the hard sand in a roll, taking him past the staggering legs of the undead and into a relatively clear area. Slapping his hands against the side of his boots as he regained his feet, he ended the roll in a combat stance, a pair of long daggers held in a defensive position. Spinning beneath the grasping hands of the closest zombie, he stabbed upwards through its eye with a soft squelch, ocular fluid and blood dribbling down the blade before he withdrew and danced away. A double slash, and another zombie's head lolled backwards on tattered strings of flesh, its weight tearing it away before the zombie's body followed. The immediate area clear of the shambling dead, Ghedim took a moment to survey the situation. He saw the mass of desperate men charge the zombies with a yell, the blood of the living mixing with the blood of the dead. He saw the Prince looking down impassively as the sounds of combat still drifted from the terrace above. And finally he saw the small knot of combatants cutting through the zombies, led by a flaming sword.

Ghedim squinted to see who was wielding such a weapon, but before he could get a good look a rotting fist flew into his peripheral vision. The Rhetizian Ambassador barely had time to duck out of the way, disemboweling the zombie for its trouble. Setting his shoulders, Ghedim began to sprint towards the flaming sword, catching a zombie in the jaw with his boot heel and using its collapsing body to vault into the air. He landed hard on another, anchoring his landing with daggers in its skull, and within a few short paces he's reached the edge of the hole. Tipping an imaginary hat to the other group as they arrived at the same time, Ghedim's eyes widened slightly at the sight of both Mikado and Claye.

"Well, fancy meeting you both here. Shall we?"

Without another word, Ghedim dropped into the hole, landing lightly within the pool of light.

[Nefarion Xid]

8th of Bargenholt
In And Around Dibsy Street
After Midnight

As they rounded the corner, silently padding along on velvety paws, the conversation of the trio of creatures became audible.

"The Boss, you know... he smells like eh... come on! You remember."
"Nathumunumnamanumuh?" asked the one with the apple in its mouth.
"I know, right? Popcorn sounds good right now." The third stood on his haunches and sniffed the air, either hoping to catch the scent of discarded popcorn or else checking the alley for potential broom wielding assailants.
The first, undeterred by the others' antics, scratched at his ears while pondering aloud, "If we can remember what he smells like, we can track him down right? I'm tired of living like this. You guys remember pillows, right? And socks?"
The other two replied reverently in union, "Sooocks..."
The second, having plucked the apple from his mouth to pay homage to footwear, gestures with the fruit and a stubby claw towards the apparent leader. "He's gonna make us do stuff. You know. Work."
The first yawned and began slinking towards he accumulated pile of rags by the rubbish bins that was to currently serving as a nest. "I'd rather work for the Boss than have shoes thrown at me and eat out of dumpsters."
The other two spared a look between one another. Neither finding reassurance, they went to settle into the nest, curling against each other and yawning fitfully.

After several minutes had passed, one of the creatures raised his head and asked, "Wait... aren't we nocturnal?"

[Swordslinger]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Arena
Arena Basement
Amandre

He could hardly see anything beyond the circle of light created by the opening n the roof. It was very dark down here; the city even on moonless night was not this dark. As soon as he had confirmed nothing was about to attack him right away he had taken a position with his back to the wall at very edge of the light. He judged it as the best defensive position, he did not want to keep is back open to either sides of the corridor and he also had to watch the hole. It was likely some of the moving corpses could stumble down here, although he could dispatch them easily before they had time to rise from the hitting the ground. Now, how was he to gain light enough? If he had been equipped with his regular equipment he would have had flint and steel to make a torch. He tried using his dagger to reflect light along the corridor, but it did not work very well and could only light a very small area along the nearby walls. Maybe there were lit chambers further in, but stumbling across the darkness what out of the question. From here he could not even “jump” up again, there was not suitable shadows along the flat arena surface above, he would have to move along the corridor until he came under the surrounding buildings, but even if he could manage that there was no telling what the area around the shadow was like, he could emerge right in from of people. Then he heard voices from above and soon after someone dropped down from the hole.

[Xondoure]

8th of Bargenholt
The Area (Diamond Club Terrace)
Main Event

As chaos began to seep into the stands Malharus' eyes turned dark with anger.

"We are leaving. But you are to remain. Watch closely and tell me all that occurs."

The sorceror made his way to the strange man in the eyepatch calling for the nobles to evacuate, his slave following behind him. But where they had stood a presence still remained, hovering on the frantic energy of the arena.

As chaos intruded the hearts of those still there filled with fear and bloodlust until it drowned all else out. It was as if all of the doors had been flung wide open, all it had to do was step inside.

[VonDoom]

8th of Bargenholt
Chaos in the Arena
The Lord's Arena

As Mikado suddenly found himself face to face with the Rhetizian ambassador, he briefly mirrored the man's surprised expression. While he had no doubt the sharp man was quite a capable combatant, he hadn't expected Ghedim to actually pursue the fleeing monstrosity he had witnessed only moments before. The Ikokan briefly raised his sword out of habit, intending to get rid of the accumulated blood with a quick strike into the air -- but as the powerful blaze surrounding it came into his peripheral vision, he stopped himself, realizing that it was moot.

"After you," Mikado commented as Ghedim already dropped down, an ironic tint to his voice as he followed without any hesitation, dropping down with similar ease only a few seconds later.

As the burning sword shed more light into their surroundings, the Ikokuan quickly glanced about, trying to assess the situation down below. A point of curiosity to Ghedim, at this moment, might be that the foreigner hadn't wasted a single word on telling Claye to stay back, or not to follow. Rather, now, he merely glanced up to check if the woman needed any assistance in getting down.