Techn0geist

IC: Del - Red Star Inn, Atero The guardsmen were at first taken well-aback by the Glatorian's, Del's, response to Skyra; she'd got more out of them just now than the pair had managed in a couple weeks. After the initial shock subsided, Ahmoa couldn't help but beam. "Del. A fine name indeed." He turned to his partner, expecting to be met with a similar grin, and instead was rather dismayed to lay eyes on a pithy half-smile. "Is... everything alright, dear?" Mard tried to perk up, the crimson guard could tell he was failing. "Hm? Yeah, no, I'm happy, for... Del I mean. You don't... think I was too hard on that guy just now, do you?" Ahmoa sighed and laid a soft hand on the Jungle Agori's shoulder. "It's been a stressful time for us, Mard. We're finally getting somewhere with helping our friend, it's only natural you want them to feel safe at such a critical juncture. Protected." "Loved," Mard added abruptly. Again Ahmoa was surprised, but not so much as before. The Jungle Agori was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve, it was one of his favourite things about him. He hadn't anticipated he'd feel so strongly about Del so quickly; however, he couldn't rightly say he didn't feel the same. The Fire Agori let loose a chuckle, gently jabbing Mard's arm. "Your paternal instinct is showing, dear." Mard rubbed his bicep, laughing in a way that indicated he knew his flame a) wasn't entirely wrong, b) was an obvious hypocrite. "Shut up." Del, oblivious, continued to converse with Skyra, continued to point at their own face. "Del, I... find Celrys. Skyra Daring... the best driver... to Tajun?" The expression they wore could almost have been expectancy, perhaps even anticipation. OOC: @Snelly

IC: ????? - Red Star Inn, Atero The Glatorian's gaze settled for a moment on the driver, Skyra. Expressionless as ever, but for once one could tell there was activity behind their eyes. <<Analysing scenario.>> Mard shrugged. "Not a clue, and you won't be getting much out of our friend either." <<Ahmoa. Mard. Skyra Daring. Celrys. Designations. Names.>> "You know anything about it we don't?" The Jungle guard pressed, leaning towards the Agori as he shuffled away. <<Name. Function of identity.>> A firm red hand rested on Mard's green shoulder, Ahmoa intervening. "Is everything alright, chaps?" <<Identity. Function of self.>> "Buddy here's asking about Ferrum." He again turned to the inquisitive Agori. "What's it to ya anyway?" <<Self.>> "He's likely just curious about the goings-on there, same as anyone." the crimson guard rationalised, trying to reel his partner in. I love you, Del. "He's right though, it is a sensitive subject," Mard protested, shrugging Ahmoa's hand off and glaring angrily at the anxious Agori. "If our friend's like this because of what's going on in Ferrum, if they're traumatised-" "i love you del." The guardmen's heads snapped towards the Iron Tribal, now looking down and through the gathered group. Synapses long unfired began to glow like a bed of embers. "i..." The Glatorian looked up again, around at everyone. "...Del." Their voice was quiet, but had never sounded more certain of anything. Slowly they raised their hand, extending their finger and turning it up to their face. "Del. I." OOC: @Snelly @Toru Nui

IC: ????? - Red Star Inn, Atero Before the panicky little Agori could muster another response from the Iron Tribal, they were interrupted by the arrival of the two guardsmen in the company of the Glatorians from outside, all unaware of the recent revelation. The puzzlement adorning their face vanished at once, their head snapping around to meet the quartet with a penetrating gaze. <<Analysing scenario.>> <<Mard. Ahmoa. Individuals from exterior. Forms relaxed. Ill-suited to combat. No present threat. Maintain awareness.>> Ahmoa cleared his throat to get the Glatorian's attention. "Friend, Mard and I have found a driver who is willing to take you to Tajun." He turned to the driver, stepping aside and allowing her space. "I leave the floor to you, Miss...?" Realising they still didn't know her name either, he blushed a little at the informality. Mard, meanwhile, moved past the Glatorian and leaned on the bar between them and the anxious Fire Agori, fixing him with a suspicious stare. "And you are?" OOC: @Snelly @Toru Nui

IC: ????? - Red Star Inn, Atero "But of course, I understand this may be a less... straightforward job than you're used to." Ahmoa paused, another small but important detail crossing his mind. "Continuing on the subject of introductions, there is a small matter... we don't know our friend's name." The guard smiled a little sheepishly. "Not that we haven't asked! We're great caretakers!" Mard opined. "It's just... they don't talk much, and we ain't sure they get what they're saying when they do talk." Ahmoa clicked his fingers in a 'eureka' moment. "As I said, they have been an incredibly swift learner. If I might make another small request, I wonder if perhaps making your own introduction will not only build rapport, but help them to understand the significance of a name." "We think they miiight be starting to get the hang of us two, maybe a bigger sample size will help." It was the most academic thing Mard had posited for a good long while, the significance of the occasion lost on him as he shrugged in a suitably 'I'unno' fashion. "Pro'ly, they almost always show for the big events." Mard responded, holding his shrug. His shoulders quickly tensed as he read Karak's expression; violence swimming behind his eyes. He held his tongue now, thinking better than to ask if the pink Glatorian was a fan of Skrall or not. Ferrum. There was that voice in their head again, clear as anyone else's in the Red Star. I broke quarantine, got us out of Ferrum. Before now the voice, the words it spoke, had just been meaningless sounds; by and large they still were. The words the Iron Glatorian spoke were similarly mindless, simple word associations based on what those around them had said. But something was beginning to happen. Something was changing. Connections were forming, the language centres of their brain as little exercised as their vocal cords were stirring, quietly buzzing. And the words inched just the tiniest bit closer to meaning something. "i broke quarantine." The Glatorian sounded the sentence out a little slower than prior vocalisations, and the Agori may have seen something like effort cross their face. There was a minute amount of thought behind their murmuring. "got us out of ferrum." OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu @Toru Nui That, Detective, is the right question.

IC: ????? - Red Star Inn, Atero The Glatorian's unrelenting gaze slowly left the Agori and came to rest down on the cup placed in front of them. The colour of the fluid within wasn't as vibrant as their fruit drink, nor was the smell as pleasant. Still, a drink offered was not to be denied. The Iron Tribal slowly lifted the cup, peering into its murky brown. "to be savoured, enjoyed," they spoke blankly to no one in particular, certainly not their new companion. They took a sip. Immediately it was far more bitter than the last drink, a flavour that sat heavy on the tongue and wasn't in a hurry to leave. The tiny taste gave off a strange warmth however, one that wasn't entirely unpleasant. A furrowed brow and another experimental sip, and it was decided. The Glatorian put the cup down on the bar and did not regard it further, instead returning their gaze to the nervous Agori. Chicken, round two. Before he turned to lead the driver to the bar, Ahmoa leaned in close and lowered his voice to a hush. "A word of warning. Our companion, your passenger is... how to put this delicately... not entirely present. They were at death's door when we took them in and we're not sure how far they've been able to return from there." "We had to teach them how to eat, is what we're getting at." Mard interrupted. "Whatever the cause," the crimson guard continued, pointedly ignoring his partner's interjection, "we must request a... gentle touch. Drive as fast as required, by all means, but please exercise patience as well. They are a fast learner, and I'm sure they will make for an excellent travelling companion." Ahmoa attempted to give a reassuring smile. Mard blinked back, maybe trying to see if they could match wavelengths or some such. "Broadly, the upcoming Exhibition Matches. Our friend needs to 'find Celrys' there, though. Don't know why. Gives me the creeps, if you ask me." "I can't say I'm especially comfortable with the man either. But it's all we have to go on, truth be told." Again he looked to the driver. "If you've any questions we'd be happy to try and field them once introductions have been made." With that, the two Agori began to lead the two Glatorians towards their charge. "On the topic of introductions, I'm Ahmoa, guardsman extraordinaire," the Fire Agori declared, turning and giving a little bow. "Mard, guardsman average," the Jungle Agori declared, turning and giving a little salute and a cheeky grin. Feeling a little more relaxed around the strange pink one, he quizzed "and she said you were Karak, right?" OOC: @Toru Nui @Snelly @Morgan Yu

IC: ????? - Red Star Inn, Atero Ahmoa gave a thin smile. As far as he was aware there was no deadline for getting their charge to Tajun, though no certainty that Celrys was actually at his workshop; he could be off inspecting the Celtech factories in Vulcanus for all they knew. However, the buzz around the opening matches meant he could also be in attendance. "Let's talk rates. I can introduce you to your passenger too, if you'd like." Mard returned the blink. It was certainly a step up from their non-verbal companion, but between his scarred appearance and now his speech patterns, the Agori began to wonder what the blood-red Glatorian before him was exactly. He continued to make himself seem diminutive, non-threatening. He was acutely aware of the guardsmans' spears on his and Ahmoa's backs, and hoped the hunched warrior wasn't. The Glatorian continued to stare blankly at the paranoid Agori; the query meant nought to them with their current level of comprehension. Without knowing, they were currently playing a game of chicken with the stranger's frayed nerves, and winning decisively. OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu @Toru Nui

IC: ????? - Red Star Inn, Atero "Yeah! Well, not me, uhh not us, well it's uhh-" "Not actually that complicated," Ahmoa interjected pointedly over Mard, before turning to the driver. "Our companion," glancing back to the Iron Tribal at the bar, "needs to make it out to Tajun. With the exhibition matches starting soon, we figured the caravan drivers would be heading out that way in numbers before long. If you think you can get them there ahead of the pack, however..." Between her wide grin and clear enthusiasm for her job, he'd hoped a little ego-stroking would go some way. Details could wait. "Sorry to disturb you..." Mard murmured as the red-and-pink Glatorian stood to leave, remembering how aggressive he'd looked outside and hoping not to get battered. The Glatorian was getting down towards the dregs of their drink, quietly staring about a hundred metres beyond the wall of the inn. A nervous-looking Fire Agori took up another barstool nearby. <<Analysing scenario.>> <<Closed-off stance. Intermittently turning vision towards green one and red one. Mard and Ahmoa. No present threat. Maintain awareness.>> The Glatorian, no master of subtlety, did not observe the stranger from the corner of their eye, instead making their assessment while staring directly at the new arrival. They took another sip. OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu @Toru Nui

IC: ????? - Red Star Inn, Atero The trio took up barstools, Ahmoa waving down the barman as he passed them to serve a pair of wolf-themed patrons. "Excuse me, do you know who drives the car parked out front?" The barman shrugged without looking. Mard sighed, knowing it would never be that easy but still disappointed it wasn't anyway. Perking back up, he extended three fingers. "Two for me and my flame here, and non-alcoholic for our mutual friend. Something with fruit." "Mard, we're still on the clock." "When was the last time we went out, Ahmoa? Your mother's birthday?" The green guard flashed a cheeky grin. The Fire Agori looked for all the world like he was going to protest, but instead loosened his shoulders and smiled that rare and beautiful 'well, alright then' smile that Mard so adored. "One drink." Their drinks arrived, brown bitters for the Agori and a sweet something for the Glatorian, heavy on the 'something'; it was impossible to discern the type or even presence of fruit used, and even the sweet was up for debate going by the smell. The Iron Tribal grasped the glass firmly and tilted it back like their water flask, slamming the drink back down on the bar as a frightfully sour bite filled their mouth. "Slow down, bud! Looks like it kicks all the same!" Mard gasped out between fits, and even Ahmoa couldn't resist a sensible chuckle as the Glatorian's face screwed up quite involuntarily. Ahmoa lay a reassuring hand on the Glatorian's shoulder, who looked confused and perhaps a little wounded. "Not all food and drink is for survival's sake, friend. Some things are meant to be savoured, enjoyed." He glanced back at his partner, still giggling, and smiled warmly. "There are many oases in this great desert. Cuisine, art, poetry... people." Wrote bad poetry, for goodness's... <<Analysing scenario.>> <<Fluid provokes unwelcome physical reaction in great quantities. Suboptimal. Intake fluid in smaller quantities to reduce or eliminate physical reaction. Savour. Enjoy.>> "enjoy." The Glatorian took a calculated sip, anticipating that sharp sting again. Instead, a pleasant tang sat on their tongue. The Glatorian went for a bigger sip, seemingly enjoying the flavour sensation even if they weren't quite showing it. The barman regarded the three with a 'strange, but not the strangest I've seen' look from the corner of his eye. The two Agoris' ears pricked up and they looked over their shoulders simultaneously, the Glatorian following two seconds later. There in the corner, the two combatants from outside the Red Star, now sharing a friendly drink. "Well, whaddayaknow." It was a woman's voice they'd heard, the Jungle Glatorian's. "I'll do the talking, green recognise green," Mard asserted misguidedly. The two Agori approached the table in the back, leaving the Glatorian idly sipping their drink at the bar. The Jungle Agori waved in what he hoped was a friendly manner. "Heyyy, sorry to interrupt your night, don't suppose you're the mystery driver of the auto-buggy outside are ya?" OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu

IC: Sohmak - Fleeing The Battle of Fort Garsi Safety in numbers, another harsh lesson for the brawler to learn. So used to standing alone at the top, punching down any who would challenge his rank. And yet, so glad he was to be among this motley crew when the hill burst forth with spires of stone and steel. He couldn't find it in himself to spare a thought for their proud warlord. His loyalty to Zanakra could barely be called that, an alliance of immediate convenience at most; Sohmak didn't get shot by a trigger-happy warlord, Zanakra had some muscle to bring to her ill-conceived raid (for the lot of good that did them all). The fog would dissuade their pursuers for a few vital moments, moments that required decisive action. Decisiveness Sohmak was not capable of in these conditions, in the stubborn city mindset that each rumble and explosion was gradually shaking loose from his brain. T'harrak may not have had much of a plan past "run away", but her vested interest in keeping them all alive was winning a lot more loyalty from the Slugger than the warlord of Razorfish;Vaa ever did. "Boss, where to now?" he blurted at the tinkerer, trying with all his might not to look or sound scared out of his wits and just barely making the mark. OOC: @Nato G

IC: ????? - Red Star Inn, Atero The buggy rolled to a gentle stop outside an inn not terribly far from the training grounds, truthfully walking distance if the three had known. Ahmoa disembarked, leading the Glatorian out and handing them their gear before mumbling an awkward "Thank you" to seemingly no one, wondering if the vehicle understood. Mard hopped out and slapped the hood twice in gratitude for the lift, taking note of two other Glatorian moving towards the Red Star; one the dark green of his Jungle Tribe, the other a deep bloody red, atypical of a child of Vulcanus. "Ahmoa," the green Agori whispered, indicating the two Glatorian with a side-eye. Hanging around the training grounds gave the guards a good eye for body language, and these two looked tense. <<Analysing scenario.>> <<Recent physical exertion. Increased respiratory rate. Weapons sheathed. No present threat. Maintain awareness.>> The Glatorian's grip on their weapons tightened, their muscles on a hair-trigger. "Let's get inside, see if we can find our driver." Ahmoa responded in a hushed tone, before noticing their companion staring down the two and nudging them with his elbow, causing their gaze to snap downwards. "Put them away, friend. We're not here to cause trouble." He indicated his spear on his back, and in that vein not in his hands. The Glatorian stared similarly at Ahmoa for a worrying second too long before something clicked in their head, sheathing their club and buckler. The situation disarmed, the trio shuffled quickly into the inn. OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu

IC: ????? - Street outside Training Grounds, outskirts of Atero "Well, that's new." Ahmoa straightened up and took a confused little step towards the buggy on noticing its driver, or lack thereof. "Swear I'd seen someone with this thing before..." Mard rubbed his temples, not for the first time this week questioning his sanity. The Fire Agori looked closer at the empty space behind the steering wheel, confirming to himself the existence of a driver. "Maybe they're close-by?" Mard was already leading the odd Glatorian towards the buggy, prompting them into the backseat before taking shotgun. "Only one way to find out; see where it's headed." He put his hands behind his head and his feet up on the dashboard, quickly removing them when it started to burn his heels. "'Couldn't be simpler' he said," Ahmoa grumbled, sliding into the backseat next to the Glatorian, who showed no reaction to their peculiar transport situation. The Fire Agori suddenly became incredibly aware that he wasn't sure how to properly address an absence-of-driver. "Ah, hello, yes. Would you, uh, mind returning us to your, um... driver... please?" "please?" Mard stifled a chuckle; the Glatorian was a fast learner. OOC: @Snelly

IC: ????? - Training Grounds, outskirts of Atero Mard beheld the sweet treat with gluttonous eyes. He'd bought it during a recent supply run to one of the many markets surrounding the Arena Magna and had been saving it all week, awaiting a rare private moment where he could savour it and avoid Ahmoa bollocking him again for "misallocation of company funds." Bollocks to that he thought, the owner of the grounds hadn't been around for weeks anyway; probably over in Tajun for the exhibition matches. Two footsteps behind him, and the quiet gurgle of a hungry stomach were his only warning. An orange hand reached over the Agori's shoulder, the strange Glatorian plucking the delicacy from Mard's hands and wasting no time chowing down on it. "Wha–NO–" Mard clamped a hand hard over his own mouth. He was on thin ice, and as much as he thought Ahmoa really should pull that rod out sometimes, he did quietly admire his professionalism and dedication to the job. The green guard could only watch in silent horror as the Glatorian devoured his treat. Their next lesson would be the concept of ownership. And manners. Ahmoa looked up from his ration, same every day and no less enjoyable for it, as they emerged from the bunk house. "Morning, you two. Has our guest been accommodated for?" "Yeah they just ate..." Mard replied flatly, seating himself beside his partner and unwrapping his own ration, same every day and ever less enjoyable for it. The Glatorian sat across from the two, staring forward. They finished breakfast, and after a swig from his flask the crimson Agori adopted that familiar 'I'm making an executive decision' expression. "We need to help our friend, dear. All well and good making sure they have food and shelter, but the Grand Tournament will come to Atero and we simply won't be able to accommodate. I think it would be worth asking around, to see if anyone knows their situation and if they can provide more suitably than we can." Mard restrained a grin. It was music to his ears. Finally some semblance of sanity would be restored to their humble training grounds. And yet... like rearing a child, it was always going to be a little bittersweet to see them leave the nest. The grin had evaporated, and the guard spoke plainly. "I suppose you're right. Much as I've... enjoyed their company, maybe we're not the right ones to be lookin' after 'em. We should try to get them back to Ferrum, with their tribe." Ahmoa creased his brow, brought his hand to his chin. "I'm not sure... if there's trouble in Ferrum, and they're... affected in the way they are, perhaps returning there wouldn't be the best thing for them, dangerous at worst." "Then what? Only other lead we have is 'find Celrys,' and if that geek's involved then we're probably better keeping our noses out of it. Always gave me the creeps." <<Analysing scenario.>> "To be honest, me too. But it's all we have to go on right now. Either Ferrum... I broke quarantine, got us out of Ferrum. ...or Celrys." Find Celrys. The two guards sat in thought for a while, the Glatorian processing something of their own. ...if you're ever lost and beyond hope... "find celrys." The Agoris' heads snapped towards the Glatorian, still staring blankly. They didn't appear to even know what they'd just said. They slowly turned to face each other again, a certainty hanging in the air between them now. "'Find Celrys'." "Oh goodness..." --------------------- A large 'BACK IN AN HOUR' sign hung from the gate of the training grounds, courtesy of the nimble Jungle Agori. The Fire Tribesman's shoulders slumped. "I have the awful feeling this is going to take longer than an hour." Mard descended and joined Ahmoa and their charge on the street next to the grounds. "Relaaax, this is just a fact-finding mission. Celtech's in Vulcanus but he's got his own workshop in Tajun, right? The first exhibition matches are out that way, so we just gotta know who's running caravans out there in the morning and put 'em on one of those. Couldn't be simpler." Just then, a buggy came screaming around the corner at faster-than-pedestrian-friendly speeds, hurtling towards the trio. Ahmoa shuffled the Glatorian behind himself and reached for his spear. "Ahmoa, wait! I've seen this car around before, it's just what we need!" The Jungle Agori whistled and waved, hailing the buggy. OOC: @SnellyThe buggy makes a judgement call.

OOC: Recommended disquieting atmosphere. IC: ????? - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero. ...saw the mirage of a training outpost, should be close. One guard whistled low, attempting to harmonise with the desert winds. "Cut it out, Mard." The whistling stopped, followed shortly by a poor attempt to whistle on the infrasonic level. "I can hear you, you know." "The Jungle Agori Mard snapped, throwing down his spear and turning to his partner with a petulant stamp. "What else am I supposed to do, Ahmoa? Grand Tournament's still ages away, we're lucky to see three fighters in a week right now! I'm supposed to stand bold upright, twiddling my–" "Shut up." "Don't tell me to shut up! Seriously, I'll drag you into that arena myself, make it to the friggin' finals carrying your head in a–" "No seriously, shut up." The crimson guard wasn't looking at his fighty companion, never was in fact. Instead Ahmoa was focused on a light, a singular faint glint halfway out from the training grounds to the horizon, though the undulations of the dunes made that a subjective measure on any given day. On this day, that meant quite close. A shape began to form. A Glatorian of the Iron Tribe. Ahmoa, the more professional of the two, cupped his hands around his mouth. "AHOY! Traveller! Come to train? Spar?" "No one to spar with." "Quiet." They heard no response. "Something's not right." As the figure approached, they could make out more. A club, held low and dragging through the sand leaving a long long trail. A buckler held in front, the source of the glinting. Their footsteps were at once steady and unsteady, purposeful and weak. Their forward gaze was single-minded, focused, determined. The Fire Agori levelled his spear, the green guard snatching his up and holding it with rather more shake in his grip. "Ho there! This is neutral ground! Stop where you are and lay down your weapons!" Pure bravado. These two blockheads were for show and they knew it; any half-competent warrior could lay them out in four seconds flat. No genuine guards would work for pay this low, though. <<Analysing scenario.>> At the sight of raised spears the Glatorian double-timed their gait, closing the distance fast. Right before they came into clubbing range, the two guardsmen heard the unmistakable sound of a stomach, rumbling loudly. The Glatorian collapsed past the guards and face-down into the sand, unmoving between them. They looked at each other. Their silence was deafening. “...we’re not paid enough for this, you know.” The Fire Agori slung his spear onto his back, crouching to grab one of the stranger’s arms. “Shut up and give me a hand.” The Jungle Agori groaned, rolled his eyes, generally made a show of complaining and finally grabbed their other arm. “We’re not!” --------------------- <<Analysing scenario.>> <<Laying down under blanket. Sit up. Bunk house. Helmet on bedside table. Equipment leant up against bedside table. Mirror leant against wall. Stand up. Stagger. Stand up. Discomfort in torso. Step outside. Gurgling sound from torso. Knees shake. Suboptimal.>> “Hope they got their warranty, looks like that shiny geek’s done a number on–” The two Agori turned to the sound of footsteps emerging from the bunk house and rushed over to catch the Glatorian right as they started to fall again. “Hey, woah, you need to take it easy!” “I’ll get my rations.” The fire guard darted inside, his companion unclasping his flask and offering it to their guest. “Here, drink.” The flask was held aloft for uncomfortably too long, the Glatorian staring gormlessly at it. <<Analysing scenario.>> “...Great Beings, you don’t know how to drink, do you?” He yelled towards the bunk house. “Ahmoa! I think they’re simple!” “And all folks, simple or otherwise, are welcome here!” came the reply. Mard rolled his eyes, took the flask back, and in an exaggerated ‘like this’ fashion tilted some of its water into his mouth, letting out a refreshed sigh on lowering it. Again he offered the flask. <<Analysing scenario.>> Mard pressed the flask gently into their hand, wearing an expression halfway between encouragement and pleading. The Glatorian turned it over in their grip, pouring some of the water out into the sand before Mard hastily reoriented it. <<Analysing scenario.>> “Please… don’t be this dumb…” Slowly, agonisingly, the stranger brought the flask to their face and tilted it back, emptying its contents completely. Some of the water even got in their mouth. <<Analysing scenario.>> Before Mard could bury his face in his hands, Ahmoa arrived with a portion of his rations. “Here, get some of this in y–” “ActuallyIthinkthat’senoughfornow!” Mard, clinging to sanity, leapt up and pulled the Glatorian to their feet, the Iron Tribal too bodily exhausted to mount a meaningful resistance. “They need bed-rest and by gum we’re gonna give it to ‘em!” He turned to Ahmoa with a desperate expression that read I’ll explain later. As the Glatorian was led into the bunk house and past the mirror, they caught a glimpse of themselves in it and broke away from the guards. <<Look closer.>> <<Metal plate on scalp. Small. Scratched. Scarred. Stamp. Serial number. Partial.>> <<Look closer.>> I love you, Del. The voice was clear in the Glatorian’s head as though spoken in the room. It gave them pause for but a microsecond. It meant nothing. --------------------- For the next few days, life at the grounds consisted for the most part of keeping the strange Glatorian alive. After some frustrating lessons and Mard entertaining walking out into the Dunes of Treason swear to the Great Beings I will, the act of consumption became fairly natural. The act of consumption without prompt was a work in progress. Not that it was much of a surprise in their condition, but the Glatorian didn’t take to training either. They had weapons, and going by their approach to the outpost probably knew how to use them. But when positioned with club-and-buckler in hand in front of a training dummy, a rickety thing made more from splinters than wood, they stood almost as still as each other. <<Analysing scenario.>> <<Not an opponent.>> “Maybe it’s something to do with the trouble in Ferrum, you hear about that?” Ahmoa said through a mouthful, nibbling at his rations. Mard leant over the training ring fence, in a huff. “Like rearing a child…” The Agori came up beside his companion and lay a hand on his shoulder, wearing a rare off-duty smile. “You’ve made for a fine father thus far.” Find Celrys. “Bite m–” It meant– “find celrys.” Their voice came out as a croak, a monotone, vocal cords unexercised for a long time. Mard blinked. The bottom of the barrel kept dropping out. “Tell me, Ahmoa. Tell me that Iron Tribe Glatorian we had to teach how to eat didn’t just say ‘Find Celrys’.” “Mard darling, the Iron Tribe Glatorian we had to teach how to eat just said ‘Find Celrys’.” “...I’m doing it. I’m disappearing forever.” “I’ll miss you, bud.” OOC: One day I’ll do a character intro less than 1000 words. Open for interaction.

????? Species: Glatorian Tribe: Iron Gender: Indeterminate Appearance: Agile, lean-muscular build. Yellow-orange with faint green eyes. Equipment: Basic gladiatorial armour with larger left pauldron and mismatched helmet made of a shinier alloy. Club equipped for Thornax-slinging, buckler, right-hand cestus. No apparent external cybernetics. Biography: …saw the mirage of a training outpost, should be close. Weakness: You’ll be like a babe out there. Post-Red Star Inn Mard & Ahmoa Species: Agori Tribe: Jungle and Fire respectively Gender: Both Male Appearance: Mard: A little shorter than Ahmoa, lanky and agile build. Green-teal with orange eyes. Ahmoa: A little taller than Mard, solid pugilist build. Red-orange with green eyes. Equipment: Both wield basic guardsman spears, satchels and water flasks. Biography: A package deal, Mard and Ahmoa met as part of a travelling theatre troupe and immediately bonded over their shared fascination for the lost musical In Some Other Sky. After the troupe broke up, the couple tried their hand at dramatic duologue to warm review but middling financial success. Strapped for cash, the two Agori have taken up the role of guardsmen for a training ground on the outskirts of Atero while the proprietor sees to business out of town. Weakness: Their background in theatre has given them a little experience with fight choreography, but actual combat remains well out of their grasp. Thankfully, their role as guards has been largely performative so far, and thus perfectly in their wheelhouse.

IC: Sohmak - The Battle of Fort Garsi Sohmak was a fighter, sure, but a warrior? Far from it. The brawler stood stock-still, panting heavily, dreading the wretched and bloody sight that would greet him once he dared open his eyes; a Skakdi soldier, or at least part of one, wrapped around his cursed iron fist. And yet, when he finally dared, there was nothing to see. Sohmak snapped out of his stance, turning over his shoulder to see the rider barrelling at increasing speed towards his comrades cowering behind the wall. On the far side more riders, of bike and beast alike, began to scramble over and engage. Jojax stood on the far side - on the far side - fighting with the fury of her forefathers. For a split-second Sohmak felt something like amusement, and perhaps a little swell of pride, before drowning in dread once more. Fort Garsi were giving far better than they were getting and the Spineless Slugger was stuck right out in the open, anticipating getting his head scooped off by a stray rock or explosive any moment. He looked to Zanakra out of a desperate hope that she would begin actually leading her thrall, reverse their rout and turn the tide of battle. Instead he found the warlord engaged in single combat with some four-armed maniac, thoroughly uninterested in the un-progress of their assault. Blinded by her bloodlust. Utterly insane. His gaze found T'harrak now, wagering she was the only Razorfish;Vaa Skakdi managing to keep her head amidst the chaos, and knowing that was a tall ask at best. She was... giving orders? to Seeker, who turned in their direction. Sohmak hoped the both of them could read his face from that far away, looking from the two back to Zanakra, the crazed warlord who lead them to this slaughter. This ain't worth our lives! She ain't! This was too much. Simply too much. It took everything he had not to just fall to his knees. His elementally attuned ears pricked up, finding a voice under all the havoc. Another day, Sohmak told himself. You can be a warrior another day. Before Seeker could even begin to fetch them, he had turned to his companions. "Gashril! Lookout! We're gettin' outta 'ere!" Without looking to see if they had chosen to follow or stay and fight, he broke into a sprint, in a direction halfway between "towards T'harrak" and "away from Fort Garsi". Even with the Sluggers strapped to his body, he could still outpace just about anyone in a short burst. Sohmak fought down terror and shame in equal measure, and prayed he'd escape to reconcile them both. OOC: @Snelly @Nato G @ARROW404

IC: Sohmak - The Battle of Fort Garsi If not for Gashril and her companion, the earthen onslaught would have almost certainly buried the brawler; their slowing of the collapse gave Sohmak a literal fighting chance, batting away the smaller rocks with his mighty Protosteel exo-gauntlets and throwing devastating (if panicked) haymakers at the larger boulders that bore down on him, decimating them to more manageable chunks that piled around his feet. Still he didn't escape unscathed, battered, bruised and a smidge bloodied. But no less fighting fit; it would take more than the earth swallowing him up to keep the Sonic Striker down. Sohmak clanged the Sluggers together, sparks flying as he roared with a furor he'd not displayed before, in or out of the ring. As much an intimidation display as a desperate attempt to mask his growing terror. Dealing with the wretch in the ramparts would now have to wait, however. As Ahuum's magnet-trick on T'harrak's bunker threw the motorcycle assault into disarray, one of the riders-come-runners found their trajectory veering off from their squad, in an uncontrolled sprint towards Gashril and co. The two Tahtorak campers otherwise occupied with cleaning up the collapse, Sohmak allowed himself the focus of a singular opponent. And at once was his mind clear. No mad trapmasters, no imploding hillsides, no bloody fortress politics. A Skakdi, and another Skakdi, and a great violence building between them. The Sarke champion relished the feeling. This was bliss. This was-- Not Sarke. His mind clouded over again with new feelings. Dread and disgrace. Sohmak had seen what the Sluggers could do to great boulders and thick steel. He'd thought sparingly about what they'd do to flesh and Protodermis, what the act of killing, of breaking the second of the only two rules he'd ever lived by would feel like. He had about six seconds to consider the possibilities before the Garsi rider closed the distance. Sohmak planted his feet firmly, winding back his arm. The exoskeleton supporting the hulking metal fist whirred with menace, a metallic chunk sounding as the armature locked into place. The bruiser zeroed his foe, his mad dash leaving little room for evasive manoeuvring... and closed his eyes. As he loosed the ruinously powerful punch with a frightful yell, he wondered if the mechanisms would translate his holding-back-the-blow at all. OOC: @Mel @Geardirector @Visaru @Snelly @Nato G @Sparticus147 @Smudge8 @ARROW404 I didn't miss anyone right? 😅

IC: Sohmak - The Battle of Fort Garsi Had the forces of Fortress Razorfish;Vaa been permitted to engage at a closer range, Sohmak would feel rather more optimistic about his present circumstances. As they stood, the bruiser could've spent a thousand years in the ring and not one second of it could have prepared him for the carnage unfolding; the Spineless Slugger finally found himself in an arena of combat that rendered him almost perfectly useless. The old clubhouse may as well have been in another universe. His Sonics-attuned hearing found Gashril and Lookout above the cacophony of explosives, firearms and eye beams, and he anchored himself to their efforts. Sohmak was almost perfectly useless, and he loathed the ways he could be useful. Any ability of his that didn't involve his raw physical prowess hadn't been exercised in years, rather by choice. Given the current situation, he would have to forgive himself the stain on his honour later, assuming he was still alive to do so. The Bite of Irnakk's Tooth screwed his eyes tightly shut, trying to remember how to flex this particular muscle. At once a wave of nausea washed over him, his eyelids snapping open to reveal tones of deep dark blue, temperate yellow-greens and fiery reds. He looked up towards the ramparts, wavering on his feet, and saw at once why Zanakra's Cordak missiles had fallen short; blistering white-hot lines cut through the air, ending in puffs of crimson where the projectiles had been prematurely detonated. Tracing directly back to Krex. "THEY'VE GOT HEAT VISION!" Sohmak shouted sort of at Zanakra, sort of at Gashril, sort of almost in a panic. "SETTIN' OFF THE EXPLOSI-OH IRNAKK'S PIS—" The brawler about keeled over, throwing his body to the ground in Gashril's direction in a vague attempt to take cover from the onslaught, his vision fading from Thermal to regular spectrum as he fought and won to keep days of fruits and Miracle Cactus down. "Oi… Shrill Blade," he finally managed to heave out between breaths, unaware her perspective was elsewhere. "You're a noisy rotter too, eh? How's about we flush the heu:nii out?" OOC: @ARROW404 @good grief there's a lot of us huh?

IC: Sohmak - Spineless Bay, Tahtorak Encampment T'harrak, as she often did, had a point. But for once it wasn't sitting quite right with Sohmak. She was unable to see the forest for the trees, or whatever he overheard some other geek saying. The brawler came to a stop and looked back at her. To a distant observer, to Zanakra, Sohmak cocking his head back in her direction would read as "Let's get a wriggle on, boss is waitin'." To someone who'd just had the conversation they'd had with the fighter, to T'harrak, it read as "Wanna talk about personal pride and how it impacts us all? She's right there." She knew about pride, but he knew pride, and at least his didn't kill people. With that, he started off towards the scouting boat again. And with each heavy footfall towards the fledgling conqueror's craft (attempting a casual salute with the hulking metal mass on his arm as he boarded) it sank deeper and deeper in how dangerous Zanakra's own pride, her unchecked ambition, was; for would-be rivals, thralls and allies alike. Sohmak still didn't quite realise how sheltered he was from fortress politics in the bosom of Zakaz's capital, but he was beginning to get the foul taste of it. Despite his prodigious talent for incredible and passionate violence, the Spineless Slugger had never killed before; Rule Two: keep your opponent alive. Again he wondered if he had the nerve if things went south. He'd have the boat ride south to figure it out. OOC: @Nato G @Snelly

IC: Sohmak - Spineless Bay, Tahtorak Encampment Oh how badly Sohmak wanted to snipe at the upstart, something like "If you ain't ready for 'em you'll never be one of 'em." United front, he reminded himself, save it for the fort. Looked forward to the fort. Instead he approached Gashril, raising a colossal mech-gauntlet to her in respect for her performance. "Bloody good show, lass. Showed our newbie how it's done, eh?" he said, pretending he'd been one of Zanakra's longer than Jojax had. Sure to get under the wrestler's skin, couldn't help himself really. He was about to ask if the Shrill Blade had ever made it out to the circles and clubhouses in Irnakk's Tooth when-- Sohmak's shoulders sank a little and he looked to the circle with longing, so close yet so far. Seemed everything was on hold until they made it back to the fort. Looked forward to the fort even more now. In helping where he could making preparations to leave (which wasn't much considering he couldn't grab anything, darn these good-for-nothin'--) the Spineless Slugger ended up alongside Zanakra's favourite geek, who was looking a little bruised after Jojax's impudent display. Sohmak had little time or respect for tinkerers like T'harrak, but thought it may be best to mend some bridges and straighten things out before they set off again. Sohmak shuffled closer to the engineer, lowering his rowdy voice for once. "Don't take it personal. We were all like her once, back in the clubhouses. Nothin' in Zakaz or Kino-Ur could take us down. We all get our reality check some day though, that kick-in-the-guts'll do her good." He snuck a look at the wrestler, sulking in the Sarke circle. "Kid's got spirit, no one denyin' that. And if she's anything' like her dear ol' dad..." lowering his voice even further, Jojax could not hear this now "...she'll be a fighter for the ages." A brief, vulnerable pause. "You were right to stick by her. We all need mates, in there and out 'ere." Sohmak broke away, moving for the boat before quickly turning back to T'harrak, assuming something of a civil-if-gruff tone. "And 'scuse my words at young Jojax before, don't mean nothin' by 'em," he lied slightly, it did tickle Sohmak a little to get her riled up, "she can't back that spirit though and everyone in Zakaz and Kino-Ur will take her down. Got a lot to live up to." OOC: @Snelly @Nato G @Sparticus147 @Smudge8 @ARROW404 Feeling slightly honoured to fall in the scope of your 10,000th post, Snelly! Feels like yesterday we were posting in Le-Wahi ☺️

IC: Sohmak - Spineless Bay, Tahtorak Encampment And there it was; the blind desperation of a novice. Sohmak shook his head, shaking loose the errant thought that had been his budding respect for the wrestler. The Shrill Blade had her on the ropes-- --oh COME ON. Sohmak's feeling on draws were complicated. On the one hand, any two combatants that can fight each other to a standstill after such a prolonged bout must be fierce opponents indeed. On the other, a draw's... kind of a boring outcome? Maybe it's more about the journey than the destination or whatever he overheard some geek say. Sohmak groaned in dissatisfaction all the same. Then again, the Slugger mused, that was most definitely Gashril's fight to lose. Sheer bad luck her foot landed outside the ring. Still, it was over. Sohmak's muscles relaxed, tense as though he'd been in the ring himself. Seeing proper Sarke for the first time in a long time made him all jittery. He'd almost forgotten about the Sluggers until the clank of the crush-jaws closing, his fists clenched around their triggers, reminded him with a sour sneer. Surely one of these goons could free him of the blasted things. OOC: @Snelly @Nato G @Sparticus147 @Smudge8 @ARROW404 Also I do not share Sohmak's views on draws, it was a great fight! 😁

IC: Sohmak - Spineless Bay, Tahtorak Encampment The brawler's long trek across Zakaz had clouded his living moments in a dreamlike haze. Even meeting Zanakra and her crew felt like playing out a campfire adventure story, the disgraced fighter given a second chance as warlord's muscle. Watching Gashril and Jojax duke it out in the circle was the most real thing he'd experienced in weeks. The two fighters embodied very different schools of combat, both equally effective and equally admired by Sohmak. Gashril's body language betrayed a caution and reactionary style the untrained eye might mistake for cowardice, but the Shrill Blade wielded a mind keener than her sword, her conservative technique allowing her to deconstruct her opponent mentally before following through physically. Jojax's frightful vigour was no less deliberate, however. If Gashril's style was to think on her feet, then Jojax's was to never give her a moment to think. This "attack-attack-attack" rhythm was not the blind desperation of a novice; the overwhelming force was considered, her incredible violence calculated. Even without the ancestral mask, she would be a terrifying opponent indeed. Sohmak let a smile crack across his great jaw. Perhaps there was something of the Demon in her after all. His mind strayed from the fight for a moment to finally regard the... wrongness that lingered in the corner of his eye. While Sohmak didn't regard Ahuum as a threat per se, there was something about the hooded wretch that made his skin crawl. Still, adversity makes strange bedfellows. He thought best to save introductions for back at the Fortress though, can't be losing his nerve out here. His fingers itched against the Sluggers' crush-jaw triggers. Glorious combat within his iron reach once again. OOC: @Smudge8@ARROW404@Sparticus147

IC: Sohmak - Spineless Bay, Tahtorak Encampment Sohmak's own ego would be his undoing one day, and already he'd crept dangerously close to the threshold. Jojax's beef with the Sonic Striker had thrust his mindset back towards the cosiness of the clubhouse in Irnakk's tooth, where a fight was a fight and nothing more. Vicious words and more vicious blows were traded but everyone came out alive and, more often than not, on friendly terms. But the clubhouse wasn't a fortress and, as T'harrak had promptly demonstrated, the dynamic was very different indeed. The dependibility of your clansmen could mean the difference between life and death. Big talk meant jack this far from the city, and Sohmak annihilating a rock hardly demonstrated any measure of trustworthiness. It seemed he was loathe to admit quite a few things out here, the latest being that T'harrak had a point. Sohmak scowled like a scolded child, and got out of the wrestler's face. If Fortress Razorfish;Vaa was to present a united front to Gashril's encampment, he'd have to abandon his newly-fired blood feud with her. For now, at least. The fort should have a decent Sarke-circle, or he'd have to rethink his membership altogether. He huffed in capitulation. "Go on then, Demon's Daughter." It was the most intro he was willing to offer Jojax presently. "Make 'em cry." OOC: @Smudge8 @Nato The Whisperer

IC: Sohmak - Spineless Bay, Tahtorak Encampment The brawler sneered as Jojax's request. He'd seen dozens, hundreds maybe, eager to make a name for themselves in the pits; few so brazenly as the young wrestler. "Word of advice, upstart," Sohmak growled in a low tone. "If you're having to ask for a ring introduction, you don't get one. You don't deserve one." He leaned in close, about pressing his forehead to Jojax's. "You ain’t earned it. Just like I'm sure you ain't earned that Bloody mask yet." He turned to Zanakra, but stopped himself short of saying. "Put me in instead, boss. She ain’t ready," fighting down the urge to bash some heads. Best not to make too many waves so soon after being recruited. Instead he only nodded sagely, like some kind of Sarke-based advisor. He still thought Jojax wasn't ready, but reckoned her ego could use knocking down a few pegs. If only the Spineless Slugger were as capable of introspection as he was with his fists. OOC: @Snelly @Nato The Whisperer @Sparticus147 @Smudge8 @ARROW404

IC: Sohmak - Spineless Bay, Tahtorak Encampment The brawler had positioned himself close-but-not-too-close to Zanakra and, though he reckoned it had been about ten minutes since Fortress Razorfish;Vaa picked him up, tried his best to look for all the world like a long-time enforcer of the warlord's. Again Sohmak's ego had retreated and he couldn't help but feel vulnerable. A Sarke circle meant Sarke-fighters, any of which could again recognise him if they'd ever passed through Irnakk's Tooth. But for once, sport was far from his mind. Gashril's associates were larger in number and for the most part stature. If things turned ugly, if negotiations broke down, the circle would afford no honour and provide no sanctuary. The scant rules of Sarke would be out the window. Mortal combat. This was new and, loathe to admit it, a little frightening. This was fortress politics in action. It made his stomach turn. Jojax's red war paint blazed in the corner of his eye and he welcomed the distraction, allowing himself a glance at the wrestler. Her ancestral mask sent a bolt through his brain and dealt a body blow to his composure as he finally joined the dots. Sohmak remained a firm presence at Zanakra's side, but his mind reeled from the revelation. Her father was no amateur. He was only the Bloody Demon. OOC: @Snelly @Nato The Whisperer @Sparticus147 @Smudge8 @ARROW404

IC: Sohmak - Spineless Bay, Fortress Razorfish;Vaa Once more his hearing picked up Zanakra's intonation, the quotes around "greet" dripping with venomous implication. She was a warlord, and this was her territory. "Aye, ma'am." Sohmak grinned viciously and held up a clanking claw. While he still didn't entirely agree with acquiesing to another outside the ring, he rapidly began to see the sense in it. Until not two minutes ago he was an intruder right on Razorfish;Vaa's doorstep, after all. Sohmak joined Jojax at the boat, catching her scowl as she made preparations. He flashed her a sneer. "You'll get your fight, rotter. See if you do any better then your dad, eh?" OOC: @Snelly @Nato The Whisperer @Sparticus147 @Smudge8