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Ghosts of Bara Magna


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Profiles Topic | IC Topic | OOC Topic | Game Rules

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The Desert is a hostile, unforgiving place. This is why we built walls to keep it out. This is why we stay together, in our Tribes, for no one can survive the Desert alone. This is why we do not wage war against one another:

We are already at war with the Desert.

When our differences cannot be resolved with words, we solve them in the arena: a Glatorian stands to represent each village, and to the victor go the spoils. These matches have become a crucial element of our culture, with bouts fought just as often for sport as for peace-keeping, if not moreso. This is the purpose of our Arena Magna, the pride of Atero, a monument of civilisation that has stood for time untold against the Desert’s brutality. It stood when water still flowed through the Skrall River, and it stands still now that we are perched above falls of liquid sand. It is in the Arena Magna that we hold our annual Grand Tournament, where Glatorian and Agori meet in glorious combat to decide our Champion. The preparations have already begun: as we speak, Agori are hard at work in Atero, refurbishing the Arena, and the exhibition matches in villages across Bara Magna have begun. It is sure to be a spectacle to rival all that came before. This year, we fight in honour of our cousins in the Iron Tribe, who are unable to join us due to issues in their village. We wish them well, and look forward to their return in next year’s games.

Anyone travelling from their home village for a match, whether to Atero or anywhere else, should make sure to take extra precautions on the roads. Remember: always travel in groups, and keep a regular watch at night. Though there is no immediate concern over the reports of unusual Bone Hunter activity, it is always wise to exert caution out in the Wastes. Additionally, please refrain from Zesk-hunting during this time, as disrupting their habitats may result in difficulties on the roads due to unexpected migration. Worry not, though, as each village has guards and archers at the ready to deter any vermin that wander too close to our borders.

With those announcements out of the way: Glatorian, Agori, gathered friends of all stripes…

Let the Games begin!


The Setting

The Solis Magna System
The Solis Magna system is the solar system in which Bara Magna resides. The life stage of its star, the eponymous Solis Magna, is unknown, as is the exact number of planets in the system.

Bara Magna
Bara Magna is the only known habitable planet in the Solis Magna system, orbited by two moons, Aqua and Bota Magna. The vast majority of Bara Magna’s landmass is desert, owing to some unknown disaster in the distant past; the ruins of the civilisation that came before, now known only as the Great Beings, are scattered across the planet, but most notably form the foundations of the cities Atero and Roxtus.

 

Points of Interest

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Villages
There are eight main settlements in the Wastelands of Bara Magna:

Atero is the capital city and the site of the Arena Magna, a structure dating back to the Great Beings themselves. It is the closest thing to a melting pot on Bara Magna, welcoming to Agori and Glatorian of all backgrounds, although tribe affiliation is still expected. Though freelance Glatorian exist, they are still compelled to make deals to fight for tribes in exchange for food and board, which are otherwise largely inaccessible. Atero is managed by a City Council of representatives from each of the Exhibition Match villages: Kyry of Vulcanus, Kirbold of Iconox, Tarduk of Tesara, and the typically truant Kirbraz of Tajun.

Vulcanus is home to the Fire Tribe. The nearby lava flow is harnessed by the expert craftsmen of the village; with its heat, they forge weapons, armour, and mechanical components from the iron and exsidian they trade from Ferrum and Iconox. Vulcanus once had its own supply of Exsidian; however, it proved too dangerous to mine, and one of Raanu's first acts as Tribe Leader was to shut these mines down. The Arena Vulcanus, built atop the lava flow, is among the most impressive on Bara Magna, with various mechanical functions; for instance, the ability to let the lava flow into the arena, creating islands separated by streams of molten rock, an environmental hazard suited only to the most expert of Glatorian. The leader of Vulcanus, and by extension the Fire Tribe, is Raanu.

Tajun is the home of the Water Tribe. Built in shaded crevasses below surface level, this village is the site of the largest known oasis on Bara Magna, providing its citizens with the most readily available source of water in the Wastelands. It’s this water that they trade with other villages, in exchange for the foodstuffs of Tesara and the metalwork of Vulcanus. It is also home to the Arena Tajun. Tajun is also currently home to the workshop of Celrys, the famed artificer. Tajun is led by Scodonius, who covertly supports the village's thriving criminal element despite Berix being its face.

The twin villages of Tesara are home to the Jungle Tribe. Built atop two gigantic tree stumps connected by a bridge, Tesara is surrounded by an incredible rarity on Bara Magna: a large swath of lush greenery. Thanks to this unique resource, Tesara is the sole export of non-animal agriculture and wood, which isn’t used for much construction outside Tesara itself as a result of its rarity. The Arena Tesara lies in the northmost reaches of the green zone, and just beyond that are the Hot Springs. Between the roots of its two great trees stands the statue known as the Lord of the Jungle, a lichen-covered giant believed to represent one of the six Element Lords, quasi-religious figures who are believed to have created the biomes in which the villages lie. Tesara is led by the Merchants Guild and its Chairwoman, Linnea.

Iconox is the village of the affluent Ice Tribe. Its location in the White Quartz Mountains gives the Ice Tribe alone access to Exsidian, the most valuable metal ore on Bara Magna. Mined using slave labour, Exsidian is used in all cybernetics and other complex mechanical parts due to its unique properties. Relations between the Ice Tribe and other villages are tense, due to the universal reliance on Exsidian and their purchasing of slaves from the Bone Hunters. Another source of suspicion is the notable lack of Bone Hunter raids on Ice Tribe caravans despite their value, believed by some to be due to their trade relations. Iconox and its Tribe are led by Metus, who was buoyed to power by his discovery of the very Exsidian vein that has made Iconox so powerful in recent years.

Ferrum, located at the far end of Iron Canyon, is home to the Iron Tribe. Despite its apparent proximity to Vulcanus, which has always helped the booming trade between the two villages – which trade iron and mining equipment, in a symbiotic loop – Iron Canyon is extremely dangerous to traverse, near impossible for those unfamiliar with the safest route. Trade with Vulcanus is currently halted as a result of this, with only the Iron Tribe’s traders – who haven’t been seen in some weeks – able to safely navigate it. This has also held back any outreach to discern the issues currently facing Ferrum. The leader of Ferrum and the Iron Tribe is the Agori Somnii.

The city of Roxtus is the current home of the militaristic Rock Tribe. Though the Rock Tribe is known to the rest of Bara Magna only by its males, the Skrall, these are only the military wing of the tribe. The actual leaders are the females, known as the Sisters of the Skrall; they possess alleged psionic abilities, and are feared and hated by the males who serve them. Male Skrall are not entitled to names – unless they earn a title through some extraordinary act, they will be known only as Skrall. Additionally, Roxtus is not the original home of the Skrall; previously, they resided in the Skrall Fortress, north of the Black Spike Mountains, until they were pushed South by an unknown enemy. This fact is unknown to all outside the Rock Tribe, as the Skrall have led the rest of Bara Magna to believe that they are expanding South, not retreating.
Like Iconox, Roxtus makes use of slave labour, supplied by the Bone Hunters. The Sisters of the Skrall live apart from the men, residing within Skull Mountain, immediately adjacent to Roxtus; none but the Sisters themselves are allowed entry, barring the occasions on which they select a male for breeding purposes. Such men return broken and mentally feeble, and are shunned by their peers. So great is the dishonour of laying with a Sister that those who do so are forbidden even from calling themselves Skrall, and are forced into exile. The Skrall military is led by Tirveus, and the Sisters by Visena.

The Bone Hunter Stronghold, located in the eastern reaches of the wastelands, houses the greatest concentration of Bone Hunters. Other long and short-term encampments exist in order to enable their movements around the desert, but the Stronghold is, for all intents and purposes, their home base. Chief among these smaller outposts is the Gatherers’ Hideout, located beneath the Dark Falls south of Roxtus, and just north of Creep Canyon. The Bone Hunters, in fact, traditionally refer to themselves as 'the Gatherers', with ‘Bone Hunters’ having begun as a pejorative before entering common parlance. Though they operate in small groups with individual, disconnected leaders, a mysterious newcomer called 'the Ghost' is attempting to unify them under his banner, with the aid of his right-hand man, Crucius.

Smaller villages are also scattered around Bara Magna, though these are often subject to Bone Hunter raids, such settlements being difficult to maintain in the brutal Wastelands.

 

Natural Landmarks
The Wastelands are the mapped area of Bara Magna, from the Black Spike Mountains in the north to the Sea of Liquid Sand in the south. Though this stretch of desert is, for the most part, barren and desolate, there are a few more hospitable areas from which the Agori settlements have grown. Little vegetation grows in the desert, Thornax plants being the most common exception, and the wildlife is frequently hostile.

The Dunes of Treason are one of the largest regions in the Wastelands, bordered by the White Quartz Mountains to the west, the Green Zone to the north, and the Skrall River to the east, and stretching as far south as Tajun. This part of the desert is almost entirely composed of sand dunes, punctuated by some rocky outcrops, and is almost entirely uninhabitable.

The Eastern Canyons (Creep Canyon & Iron Canyon) are perhaps Bara Magna's most hostile locations, thanks in large part to being the primary habitat of the Skopio: colossal insectoid beasts, who react aggressively to any intrusion upon their territory. If a traveller happens to be lucky enough to avoid them, they're still likely to fall victim to the Bone Hunters who patrol the area, or perhaps simply become lost amongst the twisting paths – infamously difficult to traverse without an experienced navigator – there to die of thirst. Iron Canyon is especially treacherous due to its extremely narrow paths being ill-suited for vehicles.

Sandray Canyon is a smaller canyon located south-east of Tajun, named after the creatures who inhabit the Sea of Liquid Sand. Though not as treacherous as the others, there have been sightings of Skopio, so caution is still advised.

The Sea of Liquid Sand is an ocean-like expanse of the same fluid sand that flows through the Skrall River.

The Skrall River flows through the Wastelands; although it's known to have once been entirely made up of water, throughout living memory it has been a stream of liquid sand from the foot of the Dark Falls south until it enters the Sea of Liquid Sand.

The White Quartz Mountains are a range of snow-capped peaks, rich in Exsidian ore. The main landmarks within the mountain range are Iconox, Elbow Peak (a canyon flanked by two mountain ridges) and Gatherer's Ridge, a line of mountains stretching further east than the rest, into the northern border of the Green Zone.

The Green Zone, sometimes called the Tesara Green Zone, is an area of dense vegetation in the north-west of the Wastelands. Home to Tesara and the Hot Springs, it is the only source of wood and non-animal agriculture for the other villages.

The Black Spike Mountains are the southernmost stretch of a large mountain range north of the Wastelands. The area is volcanic and unstable, and honeycombed with tunnels that appear to have been dug by the Great Beings. The treacherous terrain, and the presence of the Skrall, have prevented proper mapping of the mountain range and the regions beyond.


The Culture

Skrall
Due to their isolation from the other Tribes, the Rock Tribe military has developed its own unique culture, based primarily around winning honour through feats of martial prowess, and thereby demonstrating Skrall superiority. All Skrall are nameless by default, receiving names only when they have proved themselves worthy. Though these worthy Skrall can be stripped of their names if they dishonour themselves, there is no greater dishonour than to be chosen for bedding by one of the Sisters of the Skrall. The Sisters are treated with superstition and fear, due in large part to their psychic abilities; it is using these unnatural abilities that they craft the cybernetics used by the Skrall, and through them that they detect and choose the few fertile male Skrall for procreation (almost all male Skrall are barren). Upon their return, these Skrall (psychologically broken by their experience) are banished from the Rock Tribe, and stripped of the right even to call themselves Skrall.
The secondary colouration of a Skrall denotes his rankred for regular Skrallmaroon for Special Forces Skrall, and green for leader-class Skrall. Likewise, the rank of a Sister is apparent by her secondary colour: yellow for a regular Sisterteal for Priestesses, and blue for the High Priestess.

The Sand Tribe
Little is known of the exact history of the Sand Tribe, except that they were once as intelligent as other Agori and Glatorian. For centuries now, however, they have been little more than animals, moving through the desert in packs and communicating with clicks and other strange noises that bare only the most tangential resemblance to language. Efforts have been made by some particularly determined anthropologists to establish communications with them, proving in the process that they still retain some basic form of intelligence; however, the people of the Wastelands still view the Vorox and the Zesk as beasts and vermin, respectively.

Great Beings
The Great Beings (dubbed as such by the Agori) are a long-extinct, technologically advanced race of four-eyed humanoids who ruled Bara Magna millennia ago. Their ruins and technology continue to be of great value to the Agori; both Atero and Roxtus are built upon the remains of Great Being cities, and modern cybernetics and vehicles would not exist if not for unearthed Great Being technologies and the major breakthroughs to which they led.
Their appearance is known to the Agori primarily from statues in Atero and at other Great Being sites, although the remains of long-dead Great Beings have occasionally been discovered in decades and centuries past.

Element Lords
The six Element Lords are quasi-religious figures of myth. Each one is believed to have brought life to the Wastelands by creating a biome in which the Agori now live, and the six largest tribes (Rock, Jungle, Fire, Water, Ice and Sand) are named after them. A statue of the Lord of the Jungle can be found between the base of the two great trees in Tesara, a roughly humanoid figure with no head and unusually long arms, which twist upon themselves like vines and plunge into the soil amidst the trees’ roots. Though overgrown with moss and flora, the Lord of the Jungle is still treated as something of a religious monument.

Trade
The Tribes and villages of the Wastelands trade various valuable commodities with one another; though some are obvious, such as wood and foodstuffs from Tesara, water from Tajun, and iron from Ferrum, others are more unusual. Vulcanus, for instance, is the home of industry in the Wastelands; although it once had its own Exsidian mines, it now forges weapons, cybernetics and mechanical components using Iconox’s Exsidian and Ferrum’s iron, and trades these for both necessities and the materials required to produce more.

Atero’s status as the capital city of Bara Magna is not just the result of its high walls and central position; every safe trade route in Bara Magna, as shown on the map, converges upon the city, leading to its bustling marketplace. Though the city is at its busiest around the time of the Great Tournament, merchants provide plenty of business for its inns throughout the rest of the year.

Exsidian is by far the most valuable metal on Bara Magna; its unique properties make it ideal for cybernetics, circuitry and complex mechanical components. Though once provided by Vulcanus, before its mines were shut down by Raanu, the relatively recent discovery by Metus of a vein in the White Quartz Mountains has quickly made Iconox an economic powerhouse.

The slave trade, distasteful as it is, plays an important part in the economy of Bara Magna; after all, Iconox’s Exsidian is mined using slaves provided by the Bone Hunters. Roxtus is also reliant on slave labour, and both it and Iconox have backdoor trade routes with the Hunters. It’s through these that the Bone Hunters receive Exsidian from Iconox, which they provide to Roxtus in exchange for Skrall supplies, weapons and cybernetics.

The Bone Hunters don’t only trade in slaves, however; perhaps even more lucrative to them is the trade of Spice, a psychoactive drug. The ideal source of unrefined Spice is Skopio bone marrow; however, impure Spice can also be found in the soil in and around Creep Canyon, particularly in those areas in which Skopio reside. It is for this reason that the Eastern Canyons are their primary hunting grounds.
 

Edited by a goose
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IC:

Somnii's fingers clawed vainly at the scalding sand, in a desperate effort to, if not crawl – such feats of coordinated mobility having left her repertoire some hours ago – then at least drag herself out of Iron Canyon. They found no purchase, and she knew that she was already dead.

Lying beneath the burning sun, too drained now to even feign attempts at survival, Somnii’s thoughts were occupied by the sound of screaming and the smell of blood. Such thoughts now consumed her every waking moment. When she first realised she hadn’t left the horrors of Ferrum behind her, she had wept; she would be weeping still, if there was even a drop of moisture left in her body with which to do so. Somnii had no doubt that she would dream of Ferrum, too. She would take it. She would take anything at all.

As the world finally began to turn dark around her, she sighed in relief. It took her a moment to realise she lay not in the shadow of death, but that of a Rock Steed. She squinted, trying to discern what she could about its rider, but all she saw were four cold, blue eyes. As the dark figure dismounted, and other Steeds gathered behind him, Somnii felt unconsciousness tugging at her mind, and moaned softly in pain and resignation as she finally succumbed to sleep.

 

Across the canyon, in a chamber nestled into the black crag above Vulcanus, was an empty seat. Raanu examined it with an abiding sense of dread, as if in doing so he might glean some clue as to the fate of its owner. The chair and its five twins were tucked into a round, dark-wood table, with another two similarly unoccupied. At the remaining three sat the Fire Tribe leader himself, and his colleagues of the Water and Jungle Tribes.

"I see little value in waiting any longer. It's time, I think, that this meeting was called to order."

"Half our number are still absent, Raanu."

"No, he's quite right." The support of Scodonius, though welcome, made him feel more than a little uncomfortable. "I didn't come all the way out here just to have my time wasted by that smug little #####. Tajun's exhibition match is next week, my people need me to organise the preparations."

"An emergency like this calls for a unified response – if something has happened in Ferrum, the Ice Tribe is affected too. He may be a ‘smug little #####,’ but Metus has a right to be involved in this discussion."

"Metus is likely as not responsible for our lack of contact with the Iron Tribe. Lest we forget, without Ferrum's iron, Iconox becomes-"

"Enough!" The scraping of Raanu's voice was almost as harsh as that of his chair on the floor, as the venerable Agori rose suddenly to his feet. He needed a moment to catch his breath, too, his aged voice ill-suited for shouting. "You two are bickering like children, talking of Tournaments, while Bara Magna is on the verge of crisis! Something’s changed. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. The Iron Tribe have gone silent, the Skrall are pushing south, and my scouts are coming back with disturbing reports about Bone Hunters – they’re organised now, sweeping the desert in search grids. They say they have a new leader, some desert-walker they call the Ghost.”

“Come now, Raanu, rangers have always been paranoid. Too much time out in the desert and men start to get superstitious; it’s the only way to survive. Surely you know better than to believe in ghost stories.” The door had opened so silently, and Raanu's outburst been so severe, that their tardy colleague had been able to slither into the room entirely unnoticed.

"Metus."

"Raanu." The leader of the Ice Tribe kicked his feet up onto the ornate table as he sat down, earning a glare from his elder. "Alright, sheesh, I'll put 'em down. Thank you all for waiting, by the way; I was worried you might have started without me."

"If it's of such great concern to you, perhaps you should consider arriving on time for the next meeting."

"What, and miss out on the opportunity to make an entrance?" His smile received only stony silence in reply, and his expression withered. "Anyway, it's a good thing you did, or else I wouldn't have been able to tell you about what happened to our missing friend from Ferrum."

Scodonius' eyes narrowed, and Metus allowed himself a chuckle.

"Nothing to do with me, I assure you. No, it was the Bone Hunters who found poor Somnii, parched and half-feral out in the desert. Tragically, she didn't last long-"

"Natural causes, I hope."

"I'm sure Crucius would be willing to drag her rotting corpse to Vulcanus, if you're really that eager to inspect it for yourself." He paused, smiling with icy eyes at Raanu. "No? Alright then. As I was saying, she survived just long enough to tell them what became of Ferrum."

"And?"

“And it's not pretty, I'm afraid. There was a mine collapse, and it sounds like whatever it shook up unleashed some sort of plague on the village. Nasty stuff, I hear; it's what left poor Somnii in such a state when they found her. Tore through half the tribe, maybe more."

"Somnii said all that? While 'parched and half-feral'?"

"Well, I may have embellished a little, but the core details are all there. Suffice to say, it seems Ferrum is something of a lost cause."

"We'll decide that for ourselves. If Somnii left to seek aid for her people, then we owe it to her to act."

Raanu stroked his chin. "I'm not sure I can agree, Linnea. If this plague is as bad as Metus says-"

"Just awful," he added, frowning melodramatically as he tilted his chair back with his foot.

"If this alleged plague truly is so dangerous, then we put our own people at risk by sending them to Ferrum. Metus, we will need to examine the body ourselves, in order to determine what we can about the nature of this sickness."

Metus momentarily lost his balance, just barely catching the table as the front legs of his chair came harshly back to earth. "Ah, well, no-can-do, I'm afraid."

"You just said-"

"Figure of speech, my boy. See, the Bone Hunters, well, they only went and burned the body the moment she expired. Can't be too careful, I suppose, what with all the, uh, plague… germs… that she must have had on her. Really, you can hardly blame them."

"Speak for yourself. This all seems a bit too convenient, Raanu, especially when all we have is this snake's word-"

"Woah, now tell me how you really feel."

"-that even a fraction of it is true."

Raanu furrowed his brow, fingers steepled upon the table. "We cannot afford to take anything for granted. A small party of Glatorian will be sent to Ferrum, to ascertain the truth of what's taking place there. And Metus-"

"Yes?"

"I will need to speak with this Crucius character."

"I'm not sure that's really-"

"Then get sure. I want his account of finding Somnii, from him, and I want his assurances that our scouting party will be afforded safe passage through Iron Canyon. Valuable as your Exsidian is, the rest of this Council can still issue enough sanctions between us to make you regret non-cooperation."

"Non-cooperation? Raanu, you wound me – of course I'll set you up with a face-to-face. I only meant to say that the Hunters can be a little slow to trust; they just might still want me present as an… intermediary."

"Very well. Do what you can, and we will cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, this meeting is adjourned."

As Metus turned away from him, Raanu could swear he glimpsed an unfamiliar darkness in the Ice Agori's eyes. Bitterness and resentment were not uncommon to witness upon the man's face; his ego was outmatched only by his victim complex. Still, there had been something else there too, something that Raanu had not seen before.

And try as he might, he couldn't quite convince himself that what he'd caught in Metus' eyes wasn't fear.

 

Somnii came to in a cool, stone cell. She remembered little of the last few days; only a blur of questioning, sleeping, and drinking what little water her captors provided to her. She hadn't seen the four-eyed man again since she had passed out in Iron Canyon, though the Bone Hunter who had led her interrogation appeared to speak for him, judging by how the others treated him. Crucius, they called him; most of the Hunters, Somnii could hardly tell apart, so similar were their helmets and garments. Crucius was different, and unfocused as her sight was, she could easily recognise that it was him stood outside her cell door, speaking to two of his subordinates.

From the shoulder down, Crucius' right arm had been replaced with one of pale metal, attached directly to the stump. The construction was advanced, but what truly surprised Somnii was its apparent lack of wear-and-tear, gleaming as if it had only recently been installed and had yet to be fully acquainted with the sands of Bara Magna. She knew the material, of course; there wasn't an Agori or Glatorian on Bara Magna who wouldn't recognise Exsidian.

"...is not to be harmed, do you understand?"

"We didn't-"

"That also means that she's to be properly fed and watered, Fero. He wants her kept for observation; how's he meant to observe if she's dehydrated and starving?"

The other Agori muttered darkly and clenched his fist, but still ultimately walked away. Crucius stayed, and stared down at Somnii through the bars.

"Don't look so glum, girl. I doubt the Ghost will spare the effort to save you; you'll still be dead soon enough."

As he walked away, he rolled his shoulder, splaying and unsplaying his metal fingers. Somnii watched him as the darkness crept back into the corners of her eyes, and a familiar weight dragged her down once more into the dreamless depths of sleep.

OOC: Welcome to the Wastelands, everyone.

Edited by a goose
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OOC:

IC: Tirveus [Roxtus, Parade Grounds]

Untold hundreds of feet marched in unison, quaking the earth below. Over millennia, that earth had become as hardened as stone by the patrols of near constant Skrall ceremonies that assembled most of the village from their barracks.

This ground was sacred, and their presence required a sacred mission. The bustling camp of his legion within the walls of the ancient city was abound with rumors and hearsay. Even dissent was a concern after the cold, unceasing march through the treacherous passes of the black spike mountains to reach the city. Now that the black legion had rest, it was Tirveus’s job to maintain order. Bestow purpose. Just as the clerics charted the stars, the general must navigate his army to victory.

When the last Skrall phalanx drilled to a halt, the air was dead. Not even the winds dared challenge the authority of the Skrallica Imperatus. Tirveus raised the Skrallarhorn to his lips, and let forth a bellow that called the session to order.

“Today we embark on the next great journey. Before our march south of the Black Spikes, I spoke of our mission to protect the heart of Skrall,” the general began, gesturing towards the mystical skull shaped mountain that loomed above the fortress city.

“That is not our sole purpose. We do not only defend, we are here to do our divine purpose: CONQUEST. However, our inevitable victory will be through a campaign of games.”

If the legion's loyalty had not been unwavering, whispers would have broken out amongst the Skrall. Through their discipline, each warrior stood silently at full ceremonial attention, fully focused on the ceremony.

“The disorganized children to the south do not understand the THREAT. They do not HEED the sacrifice of SKRALL. They squabble over SCRAPS.“

“WE WILL SHOW THEM THE WAY. THEY WILL KNEEL TO OUR STRENGTH. THEY WILL FEED THE NEXT GRAND CAMPAIGN. SKRALL”

Tirveus stamped his foot for emphasis, and the butt of every polearm in the formation before him joined as a chorus that quaked the ground.

“Their ‘Great Tournament’ approaches. Skrall WILL be victorious. In recognition of true strength, I will ENTITLE our champion as reward for this feat. THAT is our battle. THAT is our road. All Skrall may march forth and become champions of the southern arenas with my blessing.”

“SKRALL!”

Tirveus raised a shield into the air.

“SKRALL!”

The legion followed in perfect unison, their discipline making each raised arm an extension of Tirveus’s own will.

“SKRALL!”

Tirveus raised his curved dagger with his right hand.

“SKRALL!”

A thousand glaives rose to match.

“SKRALL!”

“SKRALL!”

Each Skrall’s blade resounded off the shield of the Skrall to his right. Each Skrall’s shield gonged from the blow to the Skrall on his left. All Skrall were one under the eye of Roxtus. As the ceremony disassembled and sections marched to their posts and barracks, there was a buzz in the air, as a new purpose swept each Skrall with fervor. Having endured a humiliating retreat from the bloodiest campaign in their living memory, it was now the last legion’s time to go on the hunt and earn their honor.

OOC: Calling all Skrall who wish for a name - seek blood and glory in the arenas to the south while the Black Legion gathers its strength...

 

Edited by BULiK
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BZPRPG Profiles - Ghosts Of Bara Magna Profiles

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IC: Kestrel the vagabond

 

Tournaments often bring large swathes of people. Prime real estate for a trader with useful wares. Especially one who has a supply of daggers and bone swords. Weapons break, after all. Though with this many fighters in town, I'd best pray that my own do not…

 

 

The streets of Tajun were already bustling. While the grand tournament was still some time away, the populis of the city were already making their preparations. 

 

Most prominent was the increase in market stalls. From full wooden stands to tarpaulins suspended above mats of merchandise. Wares from food to fangs, blades to baskets  and swords to serpent's venom (it will cure what ails you, sir. On me honor it shall!).

 

The sound of metal grinding on flagstone caused some agori to look up in surprise. A glatorian-sized treadbike haphazardly armored in scraps of bone and plate was snaking its way through the streets. In front of it, with two guide ropes strapped over their wizened shoulders, was a figure swaddled in sun-bleached fabric. Behind it was a caravan wrapped in the same homespun. It was an old wanderer's trick: the fabric kept the sun from directly hitting the sides of the dwelling, and could even be unwrapped and erected as a shade structure in calm weather.

 

When a suitable streetcorner had been found, the hooded agori began making fast. Wood blocks wedged the cart wheels in place. The ramshackle bike was secreted behind the caravan. And, finally, a large flap of fabric on the side was pushed up and away with a pair of long wooden poles. It revealed a two-step doorway with a shelf in the middle. A small set of wooden stairs was dragged into place, covered in strange glyphs and patterns.

 

All this time, the hunched silhouette in the robe was babbling to itself.

 

"Settings up, settings up. Tourney comes and Kestrel comes. Move longpole and longpole, set blockses. Ooooh, yess! Many good wares, good, good wares for good, good peoples yes! Make it like so, so home doesn't runaway bye, hehe!"

 

The agori's hunched back almost seemed to twitch slightly as they climbed laboriously through the side door, and shut it tight behind them. The babbling was silenced by wood as two phosphorescent lamps glowed next to a string of dried thornax hanging next to the hut's door. A sign on the front read, in haphazard agori:

 

kestrils wears

nock for servis

rare Goods! All for yours!

 

Kestrel the vagabond had come to Tajun.

 

OOC: Kestrel is open for interaction.

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IC: Skyra Daring - Streets of Atero -

Skyra stretched back in the seat of her buggy, looking bored as she watched Agori and Glatorian of all sorts go about there business from her parked vehicle. For the moment, business was slow, apparently people didn't want to go anywhere far, much to the driver's chagrin. 

A bird landed on the hood of her car, she blared the horn at it. It turned and simply stared at her.

She stared back. "...if you put so much as a scratch on it, I will kill you." 

The bird squawked before flying away. Skyra sighed, "I'm talking to birds now...neat." She debated signing up for an arena match, though of course if she got seriously injured she wouldn't be able to drive for a while, and that would just ****** her off. 

"F###! Someone who wants to go somewhere, show up already!" She slammed her head into the steering wheel, setting the horn off again. 

 

OOC: Open for interaction.

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IC: Skrall – Roxtus, Parade Grounds

As the Skrall dispersed, Tirveus’ booming words reverberated in the mind of one young warrior long after their echoes across the parade ground had faded.

This warrior fell into step with his section almost robotically, training and instinct taking over as he became numb to the outside world, his mind stuck reliving Tirveus’ speech over and over.   

“In recognition of true strength, I will ENTITLE our champion as reward for this feat.”

Everything he wanted. Everything he needed. Everything he’d sought and fought for.

He could finally be someone, more than another mere Skrall.

But instead of the expected excitement, he found himself burdened by… disappointment?

Skrall had dreamed endlessly of what deeds he would accomplish, what trials he would have to endure, in order to earn his individuality. And now all he had to do was best a few Southerners, simplistic savages and scavengers who wasted their days squatting and squabbling in the sand?

It was beneath him.

Beneath any Skrall.

But he knew better than to let his pride get in the way of what he or the tribe wanted. If this was what it took to claim his name, so be it. After all, it didn’t matter how his legend began, for he would have the rest of his life to add to it.

 __________________________________________________________________________

 IC: Somok – Precipere

It was a cold morning in the village of the Ash Tribe.

Most days, the searing sun and the warmth wafting over from the volcano kept Precipere hot, sometimes intolerably so. But today a bitter breeze was cutting across from the East, bringing an agonising ache to Somok’s old bones.

He blinked blearily against the wind as he emerged from his hut, flecks of dust flicking at his face. The building he called home was almost as old and weathered as Somok himself, its walls grimy and cracked, the historical records on its walls were dull and faded, almost illegible in some places. He didn’t have the time or the strength to renew the paint himself, his wife had passed on several years ago, and his children and grandchildren had long since moved out into homes of their own. This home’s story would end with him, and he was content with that.

Everything had its time.

But his hadn’t come quite yet.

He made his way down towards the village square, leaning heavily on his staff, every unsteady stride down the stone steps making him wince. If anyone stopped to offer him aid, he didn’t notice it; his mind was already occupied with troubling news from the West. The warriors who’d escorted Kehla through to Vulcanus on her way to Tajun had returned the previous afternoon with troubling news from their ancestral home.

Normally the bickerings of the other villages didn’t bother Somok. The Ash Tribe stayed out of everyone else’s way, and they usually received the same treatment in return. But if trade and contact were cut off between Vulcanus and Ferrum, that likely meant trouble in Iron Canyon. Trouble that the Ash Tribe might be blamed for. Trouble that could well have had something to do with the deaths of Behjen and his party.

And if someone or something was powerful enough to take down the Iron Tribe, the Ash Tribe were easy pickings by comparison, especially with most of their senior warriors slain and Kehla away at the tournament. Still, they weren’t defenceless, and Somok had no desire to see his tribe’s legacy end on his watch.

He quickened his stride despite the strain, pushing on towards the squarish structure where the Agori guard were headquartered. There was much to discuss this day.

Edited by Nato G
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IC: Karak - Atero Streets

The stench of Roxtus. I am miles away but I can smell it. It keeps me focused. I am a revenant in this land of the living.

They call this place, "Atero". I don't wish to be here. It's by the water, but that attracts everyone. Lots of eyes to see me. Unspoken thoughts, malicious intent. Impossible to ignore. Feasible, though, to discard. Despite my reluctance, here is better than any place else. And I seek shelter from the vicious heat. 

The masses chatter, and mutter amongst themselves, errant glances aim at me. Short lived as I glance back behind my mask. I walk on. 

The language they speak, I can pick up words and terms. Intonation carries more meaning. I feel it. Why do they ooze of mistrust toward one another? 

One of them - my size - sits in a machine larger than the one I claimed. A woman. She enjoys the privilege of boredom, stretched out in the wheeled contraption. A bird swoops down, perching itself on the front of the idle vehicle. Perhaps it too was bored.

Then - a sound.

Hands close around my weapon, drawn instantly. I snarl, the vehicle having emitted a horrid noise that tore at the ears. A warhorn. 

I leap forward, atop the hood of the vehicle. My club raises itself to the sky. The first enemy. 

OOC: @Snellyhello!

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IC: Skyra Daring - Streets of Atero -

There was a sudden thud on the hood of Skyra's car, which caused her to immediately snap her head up in alarm. "Wha-HEY!" Skyra immediately sent a command to her buggy through the chip in her head, causing her vehicle to immediately start up and go into reverse, practically flooring it as it suddenly accelerated backwards, fully intending to send the attacker flying off the car. 

"If you're trying to pick a fight you've ####ing got one! No one ####s with my car!" Attacking her was one thing, but threatening her car? Unforgivable. 

OOC: @Johnny Blocksville Hi

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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.

Edited by Techn0geist
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IC: Kehla – Tajun

The ashen Glatorian smiled wistfully as she waved farewell to her travelling companions, their caravan continuing on with its trundling course into Tajun. They hadn’t been the most personable of company, but even with the resentment between the Fire and Ash Tribes, no Agori was going to pass up the company of a Glatorian during a journey across the inhospitable sands. For her part, Kehla was glad not to have been alone for the journey either. In the open desert, there were no canyons or crags to serve as landmarks. It seemed all too easy to get lost out here.

She sat down on a slope overlooking the village and pulled out her sketchbook. She’d already added a few new pictures to its pages during her journey; mostly illustrations of Vulcanus, the Agori she’d travelled with, and the beasts of burden pulling their carts. But from the moment she’d set out on her journey she’d been eager to add a sketch of Tajun to her record.

Behjen had been here a few times, but for all his skill in the ring, he’d never had much of a grasp on the fine arts. His uninspired descriptions and messy scrawlings of the site hadn’t done it justice.

The brilliant blue of its oasis glimmered bright silver-white in the sun, more water than Kehla had ever believed could exist, its brightness and colour contrasting with the unnatural shape of the “Knee Island” rising up against the horizon, a strange silhouette that cast a crooked shadow across the sheltered crevasses that contained the village itself.

The rest of the world faded from Kehla’s attention as she sat and sketched, the charcoal staining her grey fingertips black. She was absently aware of more travellers coming and going from the village as she worked, phantom figures that flitted quietly by in her periphery.

The sun hung slightly higher in the sky by the time she was satisfied with her sketch, a greyscale snapshot of the settlement that was likely going to be here home for the next few days.

She packed away her sketchbook and dusted off her hands, before getting to her feet and setting off down the path into Tajun. The sand-strewn road was marred with bootprints, animal tracks, and vehicle trails, each one belonging to a different wanderer, each on their own journey. Idly, she wondered how many of these people had come here for the exhibition match, and how many of them she might end up crossing blades with in Atero. Angst and anticipation in equal measure whirled within her at her thoughts turned to the tournament; she’d been doing her best not to think that far ahead, but there was no ignoring the reason she’d come all this way. The resources and reputation of her village rested on her now.

And they weren’t the only things resting on her. She could see and feel the gazes of some of the Agori she passed by lingering on her. Were they simply taking note of a Glatorian arriving in their midst, or was it her grey armour and the allegiance it indicated that had caught their attention? Somok had always insisted that all outsiders hated the Ash Tribe, and while there was certainly some animosity between them and their Fire Tribe neighbours, Kehla had always figured anything beyond that was just fearmongering on Somok’s part to justify his isolationist policies. With all of their politics and conflicts, surely the other major tribes didn’t know or care all that much about the people of a small settlement in the middle of nowhere? I guess I'll find out soon enough...

She continued on her way, ignoring the occasional glances and stares to take in the scenery of the city. Preparations seemed well underway for the spectacle that was soon to unfold, with stalls or displays seemingly set up in every alleyway and street corner.

One stall in particular caught her eye as she reached another corner. A ramshackle caravan draped in faded fabric, with a pair of phosphorescent lamps out front and a string of dried fruit hanging by its door. It wasn’t the hut that had caught her attention, though, but its stairs. A set of steps might not have been particularly remarkable for most passers-by, but Kehla had an eye for art, and the strange symbols that decorated the steps were intriguing.

Her curiosity piqued – and not dissuaded by the mangled spelling of the sign out front – Kehla stepped up and knocked gently on the door, “Hello?”

@Lady Takanuva

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IC: Karak - Atero Streets

Rumbling, like a hungry beast. 

Desperately my feet push against metal, launching me back on my own terms before the vehicle roars backward. I meet eyes with the driver inside, my fist bangs against my chest. An uneven duel - yet a situation I must acclimate myself to. 

"YOU PICK....WRONG BOY! YOU PERISH!" The words bellow from my mouth, sloppily, but clear in intent.

OOC: @Snelly

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IC: Kestrel the Vagabond

A knock at the door. The tiny latticework of crystal shards, angled by a hole in a star chart near the door, reveals a face in ash grey armor. The details are picked out in purple. Fate has brought a rare encounter to the door, it seems. For a moment, I allow a genuine smile to warm my face.

The top half of the door swung inward, and pinpricks of orange light glowed from the depths of a hood wreathed in shards of bone and metal. A twisted wooden staff, hung with many baubles as well as a hanging Thornax shell that sloshed with each movement, bore the apparent madling's weight.

"Oooh, what has Kestrel today? It is ashen, is it not? Oooh, yes it is! Ash and sunsets, and a warrior's chain and scythe. Or is it a chain and scythe of warriors? Eheheheheheheheheheheheh!"

The hunched figure's hooded face stretched out over the small counter. "What bring ashen to Kestrel's cart, hmmmm? Surely not bladeses, oh no. Unless ashes is planning surprise for a lucky friend, eh? Eheheheh!"

The figure shifted slightly, the shards of metal and amber crystal hanging from its hood sparkling enough that they drew attention away from the face sunk deep in the fabric. It looked up at the Glatorian before it, meeting her gaze ever so briefly. In that moment, it seemed that there were two amber glints that stood out from the rest. Almost as bright as its eyes, but in the wrong place. And those eyes, as they met the Glatorian's own, seemed for an instant to hold a keenness at odds with the barely coherent words the figure spoke.

"Tell Kestrel, ashen one. Why has it come to Kestrel's hut? What does its minds and its heart want of Kestrel, hmmm? What does it seek, truly?"

 

OOC: @Nato G

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IC: Wolf (Atero; Red Star Inn)

Another shot downed; Wolf grimaced and growled. Drinking was expensive, especially for her, and the Serrata needed whatever she could bring back. Still, business had been good; between the Skrall and whatever had struck in Iron Canyon, people were nervous. Wolf offered reassurance, and the group of Fire Tribe Agori she had escorted to Atero had paid well for it. To her dismay, though, they weren't traveling out to Tajun for the Exhibition Matches; still, there would doubtless be more prospective clients here in the city.

In these troubled times, reassurance was in high demand.

OOC: Wolf is open for interaction.

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IC: Kehla - Tajun

"Oh... uh... hi there," Kehla stumbled over her words, taken aback by... several things, really. The Agori's enigmatic appearance, eccentric demeanour, and apparent excitement at recognising her tribe would all have been a little surprising on their own, but all three at once were making this quite the unexpected experience. 

"Sorry," she quickly collected herself, not wanting to make a fool of herself in her first social encounter in the city. "You're right, I'm not looking for blades. I was passing by and noticed the symbols on your steps-" now that she was seeing the caravan's occupant, she could also make out similar designs on their cloak, "-I was just curious about them. Are they your own designs, or replicated from somewhere else? Do you have anything else around like them?"

She almost launched into a babbling explanation about her own interests in art and history, but caught herself before she started rambling. This trader recognised her tribe, so they probably understood that anyway.

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IC: Skyra Daring - Streets of Atero -

Skyra glared at the other Glatorian as she promptly opened the door to her buggy, stepping out as she grabbed both her katanas and thornax launcher. She slammed the door shut on her car before she gave it an affectionate pat on it's hood. "Drive around the block a few times babe, I'll take care of this." 

The buggy gave two quick beeps before it's wheels spun, it quickly spun around and drove off the other way, all on it's own. The buggy whizzed past a place called the Red Star Inn before it disappeared around a corner. 

Skyra sized up Karak. "Before I beat your ###, I'll introduce myself. I'm Skyra Daring, a driver. If I'm feeling nice I'll drive you to a hospital after this." 

She hadn't decided if she felt like being nice yet. 

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IC: Karak - Atero Streets (Listening)

The machine piles off. It doesn't even glance me that it had moved by itself. Matters more pressing.

Two weapons, iron or steel. Different from Skrall handiwork - elegant. Perhaps more fragile. I moisten my lips and my weapon raises close to my head. 

And then I barrel frontwards, primal. I go low, the razor segments of my club inching to rip across her guts and chest, spilling her open like a piñata. 

OOC: @Snelly

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IC: Skyra Daring - Streets of Atero -

"Not much of a talker huh?"

Skyra stepped back as he charged at her, keeping the blade in her left hand positioned defensively while she swung down with the one in her right hand, hoping to catch him as he charged her.

@Morgan Yu
 

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IC: Salwa (Iron Canyon)

I muttered something foul under my breath as I once again spied an empty nest. I had hit up every one of the spots that I knew so far on the trip, and there had been very slim pickings.

The Cave Shrike Nest - in a small cave, understandably - gave off every sign of being recently abandoned, and this one didn't even have the decency to let there be some foraged food left that the creature had abandoned in its haste to find safer nesting grounds, just a feather or two on the stone floor.

I pulled my head back out of the entrance and skid the short distance down to the ground where Gatog was waiting. He had been very on edge lately, and for once I had a good idea about why.

Ferrum was not too far away from where we currently located, and the disturbance there had to have really been something for all the local wildlife to abandon their nests. Cave Shrikes were ideal to hit up on a foraging trip. The birds didn't fight to keep their food if you came, as long as you didn't intrude on a nest with an egg in it, you could help yourself. Had always managed to at least find something to bring back, but now even that meagre take was being undercut.

I heard one of the creatures over me, as it was in flight towards whatever new nest it had located. I would have to at least try and follow them to see if I could find their new homes. The wings on the bird twitched almost imperceptibly, and just as I was convinced it was going to take a right turn, it swung left. I had never gotten the hang of predicting their paths.

I'd stayed away from the village for some time by now, I couldn't afford to keep this up much longer. I had to at least bring back with me what I had found, but Ancestors be with me it would be mere handfuls. At least it was something.

Gatog seemed entirely oblivious to my qualms, the Rock Steed instead produced something between a growl and a hiss as I took my position on his back.

I glanced in the direction I dearly hoped Ferrum would be. If I was going to head there, I absolutely was not going to do so alone. Better to hope Somok saw fit to send someone along if he felt it necessary to investigate the place.

The direction to Precipere I at least knew by heart, we turned in that direction.

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IC: Karak - Atero Streets

I'm quicker, the blade falls by me. I twist away leftwards.

A few native words slip from my tongue, somewhat thoughtlessly, as I respond with a glinting horizontal slash for her side - poised to catch at flesh. The similar build or not, her reflexes are adequate. This is a fighter, not a worker. 

OOC: @Snelly

Edited by Morgan Yu
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“No. Sorry, kid, that’s the one thing you can never do.”

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IC: Skyra Daring - Streets of Atero -

"Ah!" Skyra manages to block the slash with her left blade, if only just barely. She doesn't like the position she is in however, and leaps away, the jets built into the bottom of her feet sending her farther back than she'd have been able to otherwise. 

"You're pretty good...that was closer than I would have liked." Skyra kept her guard up, even more so than before as she waited for him to make another move.

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IC: Karak - Atero Streets

The blast of flame from her feet - she takes wing for but a moment. Enhancements. It wasn't just the tyrants who polluted their own flesh. 

A new line of questioning.

"You...Skrall pay?" My left thumb juts forward to her, and then around me. 

OOC: @Snelly

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IC: Skyra Daring - Streets of Atero -

"Huh?" Skyra was caught off guard by the question, she quickly shook her head. "No, I don't like the Skrall. They suck." They didn't tip, in fact they usually demanded she pay them a toll or some ******, even when she was nowhere near their territory! Or try to take her car. 

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IC: Karak - Atero Streets

I mouth some of the words to myself. That at least makes a semblance of sense: Skrall usually do their own dirty work - perhaps the one bit of credit I could ever afford them.

A few onlookers have gathered. Small ones, mostly. More scared than protesting. Catatonic in the face of danger. Eyes stay on her. I am ready if she is.

”Why you want me, huh? You try prove yourself? Glory?”

I wonder if my bubbling confusion translates.

OOC: @Snelly

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IC: Skyra Daring - Streets of Atero -

"I don't think were even talking about the same thing, are we?" Skyra sighed, it was clear this guy didn't know very much Agori.

"Look, I don't want to fight. You're the one who started this in the first place." Skyra sheathed her weapons, if words didn't work that should at least. 

"I'm leaving now, bye." The Red Star Inn was nearby, she needed a drink. She'd have her car park nearby, as it was still driving around somewhere. She started to walk away.

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IC: Karak - Atero Streets

These people.

To have the gall to threaten me and then stride off, to whatever hole they urinate their time away at? No, I will not let this stand. Whatever perverse traditions they hold, I spit on. 

Enraged, I carry myself. The blackened blades of my club drag against the floor. My voice raises to just quieter than a bellow.

 

"You...STAY!" 

 

OOC: @Snelly

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IC: Karak - Atero Streets

I feel my entire body lock itself in place. I have made a grave mistake.

And so it is by bewilderment, and not the blade, that I fall. I absentmindedly sheathe my weapon, as she has done. Finally my mouth opens, admitting what I probably should have earlier.

"...I understand not this situation." 

OOC: @Snelly

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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.

"WhaNO" 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.

Edited by Techn0geist
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IC: Skyra Daring - Streets of Atero -

"That's okay neither do I." Skyra said before jerking her thumb towards the Inn nearby. "Wanna drink?" 

------------

Meanwhile, Skyra's buggy did indeed notice the Jungle Agori waving and whistling at it, and having been programmed to look for potential customers, promptly slowed down and pulled over near the guards, giving a friendly beep.

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IC: Lorqua - Atero, The Red Star Inn

Lorqua stood in a corner of the busy inn, but she was insensitive to any and all around her. Her distraction was only natural: before her she held aloft in both hands a barrel, erstwhile full of water, now nearing empty. She held it up for a few moments more and then tapped on the far end, a last few paltry drops dripping free. Completely empty now. She then set the barrel down and sighed.

It had been a close call: an accident involving poorly-secured freight and a poorly-maintained bridge resulting in the last caravan she had travelled with losing three quarters of their water rations, with half of the journey from Tesara to Atero still to go. She had made a tidy profit though, offering to forgo her share of the remaining water in return for a markup on her pay at the destination. The caravan master, an ill-tempered sort, hadn't exactly been pleased, but the desert was unforgiving. The caravan master's job was to make hard choices, and Lorqua had walked away the richer for it. Not for the first time, she was glad she had the cybernetics put in.

She smiled to herself, returning to her seat in a corner booth. Maybe some other Glatorian would have rested on their laurels, but not her. Rest as little as you can, and then get back to it. There was a big world out there, and too little time to see it.

OOC: Lorqua open for interaction

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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

Edited by Techn0geist
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IC: Karak - Atero Streets

Head tilting, my hand mimes the action of drinking from a cup - more of a question. 

To tell the truth, I ran out of water hours ago. Something to quench the thirst is not only tempting - it's a necessity. I'm also in need of a cool place - somewhere my brain can stop cooking. Then my next plot can start building.

OOC: @Snelly

Edited by Morgan Yu
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IC: Salwa (Precipere)

By the time I had made it back to the village, I was feeling slightly better. I had managed to track down one more nest on the way, and nothing else had gone wrong. The fact that Gatog had the privelige of his own private den to stay in was passed off as merely appropriate for a Rock Steed, so I could at least leave him satisfied while I delivered the supplies to storage. Most of it wasn't going to last long in any sort of container, but it was better to eat this early than dip into more permanent food stocks. We worried about that often, all of us.

Heading towards the Guard house, I could spot the unmistakeable figure of Sohmok, hobbling also its direction a little ahead of me. The old man was definitely going to have something to say to me, as "Head Scout" or something like that. I had not grown very attached to the title myself, but if there was anyone I didn't want to say that to out loud, it was him.

OOC: @Nato G

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IC: Somok - Precipere 

Somok seemed to be in the midst of asking the guards on duty about Salwa's whereabouts when she reached the guardhouse. "Found her," one of the guards smugly pronounced as she pointed over Somok's shoulder, earning a momentary chuckle from her companion and a stern glare from Somok. 

"Salwa. Excellent timing," Somok turned to the young Agori, making a dismissive gesture towards the guards as he did. The pair rushed off towards the residential district; evidently Salwa wasn't the only one Somok had wanted found. "I was just about to send a party out to search for you. I trust your latest foray into the canyon proved fruitful?"

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IC: Salwa (Precipere)

"The disturbances at Ferrum have upset the area" I answered with no hesitation, "I couldn't find as much as I'd like but some was found. We will need to reconsider our hunting routes. Would have come back sooner otherwise"

I didn't much worry about bringing Sohmok mixed news. As long as something went right, it was usually good enough for our tribe to find reason to keep going.

OOC: @Nato G

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IC: Somok - Precipere

"Ferrum... yes," he replied bitterly, propping his staff up against the wall of the guardhouse and wringing his gnarled hands, "Strange, isn't it? We strive so hard to be self-sufficient, to leave the wider world to its woes... yet they still somehow find a way to make their troubles ours." 

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IC: Salwa (Precipere)

I held my tongue. Sohmok was in the conspiratorial corner again, as he was so often these days. If you questioned him too much, he would suspect you of treachery, but it also meant that his suspicions could head in nearly any direction with enough prodding, entirely hypothetically speaking.

"Whatever happened there seems to have backfired on them very badly" I said, after some hesitation.

OOC: @Nato G

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IC: Somok - Precipere

"Backfired or not, 'whatever happened' has left food scarce and tensions high," Somok said, scowling, "Word from the guards who escorted Kehla to Vulcanus is that the Fire Tribe are getting restless. I wouldn't be surprised if we see a party poking around the canyon soon enough."

It went without saying that the Ash Tribe would make for easy scapegoats for whatever misfortune had befallen Ferrum. 

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