Ghosts of Bara Magna

[Alex Mason]

IC: Karak - Arena Hotel

I'm trying to follow the conversation as best I can but the so called Glatorian's attitude infuriates me. I restrict myself to a huff and puff as I finally catch the words;

"No rooms"

"WHAT?"

OOC: @Toru Nui@a goose

 

[Emzee]

On 9/19/2024 at 2:18 AM, Nato G said:

IC: Avinus - Streets of Tajun

"Well, you could play into that," she suggested. "Instead of tryin' to be somethin' you're not, you could exaggerate who you are. Play it up, make it kinda ironic."

IC: Luka - Streets of Tajun

“Not a bad strategy. I could work with that”

Luka looked around once again at the bustling streets. More people were occupying the shops and the place was getting more and more lively. He took note of the armed visitors—there were more of them now then a few minutes before.

“More and more fighters are coming in for this exhibition,” he said to Avinus, “Wonder who I’ll square off against. It could be any of these people”

OOC: @Nato G

[Nato G]

IC: Avinus - Streets of Tajun

"No way to know for sure until the matches start," Avinus replied. "One thing's for sure: a lot of 'em are wonderin' the same thing as you right now." 

@Emzee

[Toru Nui]

IC: Vraek (Tajun Arena, Hotel Reception) - Quiet!

“Quiet!” Vraek snaps back at Karak. “I am trying to have a conversation.”

@Alex Mason @a goose

 

IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Outside Somnii’s Cell) - Unsynched Subtitles

“Someone driven to madness by the plague, you think?”

‘HE’S AFTER SOMETHING IN THE CANYONS.’

“I take it you couldn’t find anyone to blame for it, in any case.”

‘THE PLAGUE COMPLICATES THIS.’

@a goose

 

IC: Xyde (Iron Canyon, Cave) - Pep Talk

“There are no guarantees about this, but...” That was nowhere near as comforting as Xyde intended it to be. “Sometimes terrible things happen and then you die, but sometimes… sometimes terrible things happen and then you have to keep on living.”

@~Xemnas~

[a goose]

IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell)

Somnii paled, and went silent. Horror tore at her, threatening to shred away what little remained of her sanity; she was falling, falling again into that Stygian abyss, buried beneath the sins of her forebears. A darkness blacker than a moonless night pressed in from all sides, and even the thunder of the collapsing walls could not drown out the cries of the damned. In Somnii's mind, they were screaming still, down in those dreamless depths.

Lords save us all.

“No one saw the culprit,” she replied at last. The words came out smoothly. Rehearsed. As she spoke, she gesticulated – an impression of writing with a stylus. All the while, she kept her wild, half-mad eyes fixed on Taldrix’s.

OOC: @Toru Nui

Edited September 28, 2024 by a goose

[Alex Mason]

IC: Karak - Arena Hotel

"You not command me." I growl back, looking to the receptionist hoping that I am not going to have to find somewhere else to stay. The crowds for the event tell me that might end up incredibly troublesome - but I refuse to sleep on the street again. I need a warm bed.

OOC: @Toru Nui@a goose

[a goose]

IC: Portia (NPC; Arena Hotel, Tajun)

When Karak looked to the receptionist, he found that the small figure behind the counter had almost entirely receded. All that remained was a pair of eyes, peeking over the desk, which quickly darted back down upon being spotted. Behind – or, rather, beneath – said desk, Portia was hyperventilating. This situation had quickly spun out of her control, and she knew for a fact that her supervisor was unavailable. She hadn’t been trained for this. She hadn’t been trained for anything, in fact, and she was beginning to suspect that she might have secured this job so easily not because of her enthusiasm and her bubbly demeanour but instead because the staff turnover rate might be… rather high.

She also had begun to suspect that hiding was not an effective method of conflict resolution, and needed an alternative methodology.

“WE DO HAVE ONE ROOM,” she shouted, eyes screwed shut. “TECHNICALLY.”

OOC: @Toru Nui @Alex Mason

Edited October 2, 2024 by a goose

[Toru Nui]

IC: Vraek (Tajun Arena, Hotel Reception) - A Technicality

So there was a room available. Oh, well that was a relief. First things first, though.

“Can you not perceive the distress you are causing this woman,” she asks Karak, scathingly, “or do you just not care? I don’t-” Wait.

She swerves back to the receptionist. “‘Technically’?”

@Alex Mason @a goose

 

IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Outside Somnii’s Cell) - Pen Pals

What is she doing? Is she… gesturing that she wanted to write something to her?

Taldrix had considered this possibility, hence why there were numerous blank parchments with her - to either write down new messages or allow Somnii to do so. The problems were A: this may just cause sounds that would be detected by the Ghost’s infernal device, and B: she really doesn’t want to get close to the plague bearer.

There is also something in her eyes, some horrible madness. But considering that Taldrix was having two different conversations with her at the same time, she doesn’t know if this was related to the destruction of the telegraph station or the Ghost’s hunt for the ruins. Or, quite possibly, it was just a symptom of the dream disease.

She hadn’t told her what exactly the Ghost was looking for to have some leverage, but she wouldn’t be surprised if the Iron Tribals had found Great Being technology and were hoarding it for themselves, despite the delusions of being somehow superior to the Gatherers just because they were too weak and cowardly to take what they needed conventionally.

Although the suspicion that the item knew more than she was letting on was growing, she simply makes a noise in response and left it at that. “Hrmm.” Mostly to ensure that the Ghost doesn’t suspect anything, if he is listening. Though Taldrix doubts he could be listening to her all the time from now on, she has no real way of knowing… for all she knows, the device does nothing, and this was all some sort of mind game, but she refuses to take that chance. Not that it was stopping her anyway.

She writes down another note.

‘STEP AWAY FROM THE BARS.’

She would then very slowly try and pass several sheets of paper through the bars onto the cell floor, along with a spare stylus. Couldn’t let any noise be heard - but also, couldn’t actually get close to the Aula Agoria, lest risking contagion or altercation.

@a goose

Edited September 25, 2025 by Toru Nui
Bolded the 'hrmm'.

[Alex Mason]

IC: Karak - Arena Hotel

“You talk out of neck.” I shoot back to Vraek. She still must assume that my status as a foreigner means I’m too idiotic to pick up on her tone. 

I scratch at my shoulder, nails scraping against the flesh beneath my armour, and look to the receptionist. If the heretic I left Skyra and Del with had anything, his staff was surely less easily shaken.

I lower my own tone, speaking clearly.

”One room.” I repeat, glancing briefly at Vraek. 

“Give her. I find place.” The words come out almost as a conceded mumble - as desperate as I am for warm shelter when the desert heat becomes cold, I will not stand and beg. If this place will not have me, I can find another.

OOC: @Toru Nui@a goose

Edited October 7, 2024 by Alex Mason

[a goose]

IC: Portia (NPC; Arena Hotel, Tajun)

A pair of nostrils arose to join the eyes.

“It’s, uh, it's for emergencies. But I can see that you're both, um, in need.”

OOC: @Alex Mason  @Toru Nui

IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell)

She stepped away, just as she was told. Once Taldrix was clear of the bars, Somnii silently picked up the paper and stylus. Then she began to write, quietly but urgently. When she turned the paper around, her handwriting was a desperate, uneven scrawl.

IN THE CANYONS

OR UNDER THEM?

OOC: @Toru Nui

[Alex Mason]

IC: Karak - Arena Hotel

 

Hold on a moment. Both? Is that what she  had said? 

“How many beds?”

[Toru Nui]

IC: Vraek (Tajun Arena, Hotel Reception) - You Can’t Insult Me If I Don’t Understand What You Mean

‘Talk out of neck?’ What was that supposed to mean? Was that a ‘polite’ way of saying that she was talking out of her-

Wait - there was a room, and he was offering to… give it up? Or share it? Unacceptable.

“Oh no, YOU take the room! If you’re left out there, you’ll probably end up either murdering someone or being murdered. I’ll…” She tried desperately to think of something. “...Go… elsewhere.”

Scarabax’s Delight it was, then. A thousand curses.

@Alex Mason @a goose

 

IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Outside Somnii’s Cell) - In, Over and Under

…What difference would that make? The Ghost did say what he was after specifically was underneath the ruins, but still.

She simply gives a shrug and a quizzical look.

@a goose

Edited October 19, 2024 by Toru Nui

[a goose]

IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell)

Taldrix didn't know, then. Unfortunately, Somnii did; she knew what this Ghost was searching for, and she knew exactly where it was to be found.

After all, she had found it first.

She took a deep breath and started writing again. She felt a lucidity she hadn't in some time, as if somehow the horror of her situation had grown so immense that she had shut it out entirely in order to preserve what little of her sanity remained.

She lifted the card, and looked into Taldrix’s eyes again, this time with a calmness that felt entirely out of keeping with what she had learned and what she had written. More than anything, though, it felt out of keeping with how she had written it.

Y̸̨̖̍͌O̸̰̯͊̇U̵̺͝R̶̳͊̕ ̸̢̄B̶̘̃̽O̴̕ͅS̴͚̝͌S̷͎̄ ̵̡̎I̷̯̝͒̏S̸̨̘͂͑ ̴̧̅̌͜G̷̡̫̽Ō̵̺͉̊I̶̞̘̒͝N̴̝̈G̷͕̲͌̓ ̴͍̺̾͛T̵͎͛Ō̷͚͎ ̴̝̂͂Ẹ̸̅͝Ṇ̴̓̌D̸͈̚ ̵̤̂̉͜T̶̰̗̍H̵̰̕͝Ẻ̶̛̖ ̶̅̓͜Ẃ̴̹͠O̵̦̓R̶̖̳̅̇L̴͍̣͑D̴̩̘̆

She turned the card over.

S̶T̵O̷P̴ ̷H̴I̶M̸.̴

OOC: @Toru Nui

[Toru Nui]

IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Outside Somnii’s Cell) - The World? But That’s Where I Keep All My Stuff!

What the-

It just occurred to Taldrix that she hadn’t resumed their audible conversation for a moment. Somnii had been discussing how they were unable to find - or invent - a culprit for the telegraph station’s destruction.

“You, ahem - said earlier that, with the station inoperable, you left Ferrum to get help. Was that what you were doing when we abducted you?” ‘Found’ wouldn’t have been the right word, may as well be honest about it. “You said that taking the regular, safer route out of the canyons was ‘unfeasible.’”

So, there really was something out there. Something that put more fear into this girl than being trapped in a camp full of murderers, sadists and worse. This didn’t tell her much, though, but fortunately there was a card prepared for this eventuality.

‘HE CLAIMS THAT THERE’S G.B. RUINS.’

‘HE PROMISES US THE TECH BENEATH THEM.’

@a goose

[Alex Mason]

IC: Karak - Arena Hotel

"Fare ok alone. Seem soft, maybe not good idea...for you." I chuckle to myself, sneering at the Glatorian. I already begin to move from my position, heading back towards the exit. I wasn't much interested in trying to decipher the attitude that the woman was giving me. 

OOC: @Toru Nui

[a goose]

IC: Skrall (Second Wagon)

“You haven't worked it out yet, have you?” He smiled grimly. “You will. Perhaps even before it's too late, and you end up like our ex-comrade and me.”

OOC: @Vezok's Friend @ any Skrall who are in this coach

IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell)

“All of our vehicles were also… malfunctioning. That route is too long to walk; Iron Canyon was the only choice.” Somnii's focus was still on their second conversation. As she read Taldrix's message, she shook her head and began to write again.

IT'S BURIED FOR A REASON. WE SHOULD HAVE LEFT IT THAT WAY.

DON'T MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE.

OOC: @Toru Nui

[Toru Nui]

IC: Vraek (Tajun Arena, Hotel Reception) - Crimes Against the Agori Lexicon

“Are you having a stroke?!” Vraek asks in confused contempt, following Karak, trying to decipher the attitude he was giving her. “Does your tortured grammar convey that you would rather sleep in the streets out of petty spite?”

@Alex Mason @a goose

 

IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Outside Somnii’s Cell) - Trust Issues

“Also malfunctioning? All of them? That’s far too big of a coincidence.”

Taldrix considered the words she saw through the bars, scrawled on parchment. If it came down to whom she trusted more, the Aula Agoria or the Ghost… it was neither. One could only trust another to do whatever was in their best interests - or rather, what they believed was in their best interests. And while the Ghost having interest in obtaining further power for himself was understandable, this mewling tribal brat trying to ‘warn’ her was not. Why would any of those self-pitying worms ever value the lives of Gatherers?

Unless whatever was down there threatened her life still, even all the way here.

‘WHAT IS IT?’

@a goose

[a goose]

IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell)

“No one saw the culprit,” she repeated. The words came out hollow, but she would stand by them, and she wrote as she spoke:

DEATH.

Somnii glared at Taldrix with exhausted eyes. Those eyes had seen far too much. Memories of Ferrum were screaming in the back of her mind; she could still smell the blood, still taste the smoke. The horrors she had witnessed clung to her, and they would until the day she died, but she now understood what it meant for something to be better off buried. Like the Great Beings before her, she would take the truth to her grave, and hope that her warnings would be heeded.

OOC: @Toru Nui

Edited November 30, 2024 by a goose

[Vezok's Friend]

IC/ Skrall/ On the road again

Not a chance. Skrall thought, looking at the other with cold eyes. Not because she discounted what he said, quite the contrary - but because she knew someone like her would never be given such an assignment. It's why she was here.

“Doesn’t change the mission. Fail that, and there won’t be any tales.”

 

OOC: @a goose @skrall 

[a goose]

IC: Skrall (Second Wagon)

Skrall shook his head, and replied in unusually hushed tones. “That's what I'm trying to tell you – failure, success, it doesn't matter. Do you honestly think Tirveus will entitle a woman? And what do you think happens when you win, and your brothers-in-arms all believe you cheated with witchcraft you don't have?”

He didn't pause long enough for her to answer.

“I’ll tell you what the mission is: Lose, or die trying.” He took a swig of water, and grimaced. “Give it your all, sister, survive Tartarus itself, and watch as you’re punished for it. I see that glimmer of ambition in your eyes, and I'm telling you now that you have to kill it before it kills you. Skrall aren't meant to stand out or to stand alone – that's what our ex-comrade and I were really punished for. And what else do you call the only Skrall of this delegation to make it through the Tournament undefeated, if not the sole survivor? That's a dangerous person to be.”

OOC: @Vezok's Friend

[Vezok's Friend]

IC/ Skrall/ On the road again

 

Skrall let him finish, momentarily disarmed by the unexpected dropping of pretense. Something told her he was being honest. Then her face hardened again. Maybe he was. Maybe he had convinced himself that this was the truth. Maybe he was a very good actor. Why not limit the internal competition in advance? A fight your opponent doesn’t show up for is an easy victory after all.

 

“That’s right. I’m dangerous."

 

She twisted her arm slightly so the sun caught on her red trim.

 

“That’s what this means. Skrall.”

 

And fate decided long ago I’d stand alone.

 

“And if it’s not me, unless we all fail and get punished - Skrall will win. If that bothers Tirveus he shouldn’t have sent any of us in the first place.”

 

She gave the reigns a tug, making sure the spikit kept pace with the lead cart.

 

OOC: @a goose @skrall 

Edited December 20, 2024 by Vezok's Friend

[Alex Mason]

IC: Karak - Still escalating

I somehow manage to catch that, all of it.

I stop in my tracks, gazing back at Vraek. An undivided stare, for once.

”You woman. In culture, you take not from woman. Stranger here. But that is my tradition.” He speaks as clearly as he can. “And your charity…need not.”

I glance to the receptionist. Does she fear me for my demeanour or because I am not from this land? 

OOC: @Toru Nui @a goose

[Toru Nui]

IC: Vraek (Tajun Arena, Hotel Reception) - Yes, ‘Escalation’ Is Right

Vraek blinks for a moment. “Because I’m a-” She begins saying in a barely audible voice, just before fury grips her.

“You dare?” She says, quietly, before raising her voice. “You DARE?!” Then she draws her weapon, completely forgetting about everything else. “I will shove my spear so far down your throat, you’ll resemble a VOROX with a very short stinger!”

@Alex Mason @a goose

 

IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Outside Somnii’s Cell) - I Don’t Care About Your Trauma

That wasn’t helpful - this was Bara Magna. You could find death everywhere. She rubs her eyes in frustration. This wasn’t going to work if even a simple conversation felt like it took a year to complete.

She quickly writes down another message. ‘SPECIFICS.’

“I don’t suppose there’s anything else you’d like to tell me?”

@a goose

[Alex Mason]

IC: Karak - This Is Not The Path You Want

I see her anger begin to bubble before it spills over quickly as she draws her weapon - shouting threats that even my broken Agori can parse with ease. Kind of her, in that way.
 

My own weapon slides from its place on my back as I draw it fully, murmuring some words in my own language. This was a stupid thing for her to fight and likely lose her life over, especially considering both of our vested interest in the arena. But I do not discriminate opponents, and this Glatorian has clearly been inching to become one up until this point.

“You are foolish. But you of wanting fight, you receive.” I say, eyes focused firmly on Vraek. “The Skrall see what becomes of enemies. My enemies. Your blood will be my ink.”

OOC: @Toru Nui@a goose

Edited October 1, 2025 by Alex Mason

[oncertainty]

IC: Lorqua - Training Ground, Outskirts of Atero

"That's sweet," Lorqua said. Her tone was unvarnished, the first time Mard had heard such from her. Maybe she stayed in that authenticity for another beat, flashing in return a smile that wasn't a grin.

"I'll give you that I'm no dancer, so it could be that I don't know. I think I still see it your way; I wish people would take an interest in something that isn't happening on a tournament field. There's a lot knocking around in this world that I'd rather be spending my time on. But you're right—the arena's where the denarii are, and I know I'm not going to change that." She shrugged, taking a slow breath. "Of course, maybe I'm not enough of a theatre fan to totally get where you're coming from... Thinking back, I don't know that I've seen much theatre aside from Tajun street-farces, and those go a good deal lower than even my brows. But now I'm curious: where were you playing?"

OOC: @Techn0geist, posts for other characters coming soon

[Techn0geist]

OOC: 🎵 Spread the word around, guess who's back in town? 🎵

IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero

On 9/8/2024 at 9:01 AM, Toru Nui said:

“I’m sorry, what were we talking about?”

Lords know what goes on in your head, Lutenus, Ahmoa thought with some small amount of unease. They knew from the small plate on Del's scalp that Celtech enhancement went beyond physiological. The Jungle Glatorian's unsubtle skull-cap was... something else.

"Nothing of terrible import," the red Agori lied, assuming a more neutral grip with the axe, brandishing instead a close-lipped smile. "Your focus ought to instead be on your upcoming bouts. A good fighter musn't let their mind wander too far, lest they become their opponent's meal ticket. And you are a good fighter, Lutenus, make no doubt." Steering the conversation, and hopefully the combatants, he offered "Do you have much to gather before you depart? May we offer you water and rations for your journey?"

All communication ceased... what happened to the Iron Tribe? And why did only Del make it out of Ferrum?

22 hours ago, oncertainty said:

"But now I'm curious: where were you playing?"

"Oh, all over!" Mard exclaimed with maybe too much enthusiasm. Lorqua's interest seemed genuine, and it had been entirely too long since he'd had anyone but Ahmoa to talk shop with. Their icy boss never even pretended to entertain their true passion. "Well, okay, that's an exaggeration. We were a travelling troupe, playing stages in Tajun, Tesara, Atero and every outpost and oasis in-between. Well, not every, that's another exaggeration... we picked up Ahmoa on our first and last trip out to Vulcanus. Never made it out to Iconox, moral objections y'see." The hateful irony.

"Denarii was always tight, more often than not whatever we earned went on board and supplies for the next trip out into the desert. Half us wanted to settle in one spot for steadier pay, other half thought that was 'antithetical to the ethos of our artistic mission'," the Tesaran notably omitting which side he or Ahmoa came down on. "After our caravan drivers threw a fit and ditched us here in Atero, the tension boiled over and... that was us. Not quite sure where the others went after that, blew away on the breeze for all I know."

His ears pricked up, catching the tail-end of the other conversation. He was beginning to feel sorry to see them go, or Lorqua at least. "Sounds like your buddy's wrapping up there. Anything we can help ya with on the way out?"

 

OOC: @Toru Nui @oncertainty (I'll try not to set us back another year this time 😅)

[Toru Nui]

IC: Lutenus (Outskirts of Atero, Training Ground) - The Boys Are Back in Town (To Kill Help You)

“Thank you, but no, that will not be necessary.” Lutenus responds, before sighing. “A ‘good fighter’... what else could I be, hmm?” A flash of anger comes across his face. “What else would I be? Carpenter? Thespian? Accountant? No, no, I am Glatorian, after all. ‘Tis my lot in life to bleed and bleed others in turn for the glory of Tesara… and the amusement of paying spectators.” More sounds of machinery escape him, and his bitterness fades as easily as it appeared. “Ah well. Tesara is a nice place to live.” Far nicer than any of the others, at any rate. “It is only right that I do my part to ensure it remains so.”

More than that, it was only right to ensure it became the only ‘nice place’ left. The pointless, ridiculous Games would only continue until either one stood supreme, or all crumbled to dust. No other settlement in Bara Magna was worthy of inheriting the paradise that he knew would come. If either Iconox or Roxtus won, an unfortunate precedent would be set, as he warned Lorqua. And if Ferrum won, it may be enough to draw them back from the brink. But how precisely could they win, with no champions?

Del. Glatorian of Ferrum. Possibly the only Glatorian of Ferrum left.

And if his Lord’s will be with him, the last.

@Techn0geist @oncertainty

 

IC: Vraek (Tajun Arena, Hotel Reception) - I Don’t Want This Other Path, Either

It looks as if Vraek really is going to try and make good on her threat. But then her gaze turns to the frightened receptionist. Then, back to her spear. Her eyes widen for just a moment with fear and familiarity, before she returns to a calmer composure.

“Were it not for the laws of this land, I would slaughter you like the beast you are,” she hisses, her voice as cold as Iconox itself. “But I am willing to compromise. Your ‘tradition’ prevents you from treating me as an equal and accepting my unwarranted generosity, but MY tradition refuses to let you sleep in the street. Therefore, we must…” she gags, disgusted by the very prospect. “Share the room.”

@Alex Mason @a goose

[Alex Mason]

IC: Karak - Hmm.

I blink. A respect for the law, and yet a moment ago she was ready to die. 

I still dislike the prospect that I might owe this woman something, but truthfully a warm room would improve my rest before the games by quite a bit. It's a utility best utilised, one that the Skrall also have the benefit of. My weapon slides back where it was before on my back.

Her attitude is still palpable.

"Okay." I reply, simply, sighing afterwards. Hopefully she doesn't continue to hiss and threaten me, or these laws she finds so precious will be easily broken.

OOC: @Toru Nui@a goose

[a goose]

IC: Portia (NPC; Arena Hotel, Tajun)

Portia was in shock. She almost hesitated to say another word, for fear that whatever magic had brought these two to a peaceful conclusion would be broken.

But she was a receptionist, Lords darn it, and this was her job. She was a professional.

“One bed. It’s, uh, it’s large, but as you two are strangers we can provide some spare pillows for the, uh. Floor.”

She reached under the desk, and then slid the key across it.

“Thank you for choosing the Arena Hotel!” She said, with a smile more forced than the one with which she had first entered the conversation.

 

IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell)

Somnii narrowed her eyes. There was nothing more she could say, not without tempting the Bone Hunters in the same way her own people had been tempted.

“No. There’s nothing else.”

OOC: @Alex Mason@Toru Nui

[a goose]

IC:

Once a year, Tajun was flooded. A great tide poured through its streets, an overflowing river of people all bound for one destination: the Arena Tajun. It began as a trickle in the early morning, tributaries gathering mass until they turned into streams and then finally broke their banks altogether. By midday, roads and paths were entirely indiscernible; there was only the throng, that great ocean that was the crowd, within and without the Arena itself. The heat of the day didn't matter, not here, nor did the fact that neither the opening ceremony nor the inaugural matches would begin until a few hours hence. It was important to find one’s place early.

As for Scodonius, well, he had always known his place. All his life he’d been fighting to make it here, and as of this morning, that fight was over. He was the unchallenged ruler of all that he surveyed. It was all that he had ever wanted. It was an unalloyed success. His old arena partner would never again snatch defeat from the jaws of their victory. Never again.

Never again.

It hadn't sunk in yet, that was the problem. He had identified Kirbraz’s body himself, and still, out of sheer habit, he found himself anticipating what his rival might do to undermine him at the opening ceremony. Habit, he was quite certain, was at the heart of all his current troubles – after all, it would take time to adjust to this new status quo, after so many years spent quarrelling with Kirbraz. Once it felt real, once he had finally broken all those habits, his victory would feel real too. This hollowness he felt was merely a transitional phase.

In the meantime, Scodonius had people to greet, the representatives of each village who had arrived in advance of the opening ceremony; typically, that meant the Tribe’s leader, but Raanu was staying in Vulcanus to await word from the Ferrum expedition, and Ackar alone had made the journey. He was one of only two Prime Glatorian to make the trip – the other, naturally, was Strakk, who hovered over Metus’ shoulder wherever he went. The brute was more mercenary than champion, but Iconox paid well.

Naturally, after Scodonius and Tarix, the Iconox delegation were the first to arrive. Metus’ grin was almost as wide as Strakk’s as he approached him, and shook his hand. The hunchbacked brute lingered behind him.

“I was so very sorry to hear about Kirbraz,” Metus said in mock sympathy, with a knowing glint in his eyes. “But I suppose the show must go on.”

“People shouldn't see us talking,” Scodonius whispered. He didn't like this, being out in the open with him – not even with his own Prime Glatorian nearby.

“The peanut gallery aren't here yet, Donnie. It's just you, me, and the dumb muscle.” Scodonius glanced over at Tarix, who was sitting in the stands, staring anxiously at his feet. “But I get it. I won't keep you for long. Not this time.”

With Scodonius’ hand still trapped in his, Metus leaned forward to whisper in his ear. Whatever he said, Scodonius blanched. “I- I didn't know-”

He relaxed his posture, but not his grip, nor his toothy smile. “That’s okay, Donnie. We all make mistakes. And hey – try to enjoy the games. I bet poor Kirbraz never even knew when he was watching his last. Might not have appreciated what he had.”

Finally, Metus released him, and walked away without another word. As Strakk followed, he deliberately shoved into Scodonius, laughing to himself.

“Oops,” he monotoned, grinning all the while. “You should watch yourself, little man.”

Shit. Well, at least that was the worst of the arrivals dealt with.

He had already forgotten about the Skrall.

*****

It was one hell of a turnout, considering. Between the trouble in Ferrum and the new participants, Ackar hadn't known quite what to expect.

The opening ceremony itself would be easy; as reigning Champion, he was obliged to say a few words, and then Scodonius would take it from there. The matches would begin in earnest afterwards, though he never took part. Exhibition matches were for the young, those seeking to make names for themselves.

What had really troubled him was first arriving, and speaking to Tarix – the young Prime Glatorian was troubled, deeply troubled, and understandably so. Just last night, they had both been witness to something they did not fully understand, and that the powers that be did not want to be understood. Kirbraz's death, it had been decided unanimously by the Tribe leaders in attendance, was nothing more than tragic misadventure, the product of drink, drugs, and a cold Tajun night. Ackar lacked Raanu’s authority, the Rock Tribe delegation was late, and Somnii was…

It wasn't right. Ackar knew that, and Tarix knew that, but there was nothing they could do. As Linnea so loved to point out, there were rules to be followed, laws to be upheld. Such strictures were the foundations upon which civilisation rested. It wasn't his place to question them; he was just the entertainment.

“And now, to introduce this Grand Tournament, we have the man to beat – our Grand Champion, Ackar!”

The show must go on.

It sickened Scodonius to see how the crowd cheered for a frail old man, so long past his time. Ackar wasn't to blame, not exactly – certainly, he should have retired long ago, but that wasn't what angered Scodonius, nor was the total incompetence Vulcanus had shown in finding a successor (that this was, in no small part, Scodonius’ own fault did not occur to him).

No, it was the fact that Scodonius’ own glory was finally about to begin, and that snake was going to cut it short.

He and Metus may have founded their fragile little alliance in order to get one over on Raanu, but the vitriol with which Scodonius greeted his pale colleague was far from fraudulent. He just happened to hate Raanu even more. But now, here he was, victorious, and Metus was ready to tear it all away from him. And for what? One mistake?

So Kirbraz’s death hadn't looked like an accident. So what? Why did that matter to Metus, when it would never be traced back to him?

For far too long, Scodonius had been taking that snake’s orders, doing as he said, and he had gotten nothing but money and power and the deaths of his enemies in return. Well, that wasn't good enough for him, not anymore. He was done with Metus’ little games, and if he was going to be punished for one botched assassination regardless of whether he covered it up, then he was going to take the route that would irritate benefactor most. Kirbraz was dead, and that was supposed to mean the end of Scodonius’ life spent in the shadows. This was his moment.

“-And lastly, I would like to wish the best of luck to all the fighters who have come out to take part in this Tournament. It's easy to forget, sometimes, just how important these Games are – as Glatorian, it is our job to fight for those weaker than us, not only to protect them, but to keep us all from a war that none of us could afford. We come to see our neighbours as rivals, sometimes even as enemies, and that's particularly true when you're in the arena. We all do what it takes to survive in the Wastelands, but we cannot do it alone, and the games are our biggest reminder of that. This is the time of year when we all come together, when we fight not for survival, but for sport. To me, the Tournament isn't about the fight itself – it's about the moment after, when you shake hands and bow, pat each other on the back and compliment each other's form. It's about kinship, about camaraderie. It's about reminding us all that every one of us is a person, making our way in the world, and that we're all in this together. I look forward to the fights ahead, to the friends new and old that I’ll meet in the arena. Most of all, though, I look forward to one of you bastards beating me, so I can finally get a year off from writing a bloody speech!” He paused for the laughter, for the applause, and smiled. “Now, I know what you're all waiting for, and yes – I am going to shut up. But first, I'd like to welcome Scodonius up onto the stage, so that he can get this damned thing started already and I can finally sit these old bones back down for the rest of the exhibition matches.”

Scodonius forced himself to smile as he approached the podium, taking the microphone from Ackar. “Our Grand Champion, everyone. I don't know about all of you, but I would’ve thought that after giving so many of these speeches, he might be better at it by now.”

He allowed a tasteful beat for Ackar and the audience to laugh, and then continued. “He is right, though – the Tournament may look like a competition, but what it's really all about is coming together in celebration. In brotherhood.”

He paused, his eyes seeking out the shape of the Tribe leaders’ box in the stands. “I had a brother. Like brothers, we rarely saw eye to eye, but I am still heartbroken that he can't be with us this year. And he's not the only one: this year, we fight in honour of all our absent brothers and sisters from Ferrum, and for the brave heroes who even now are making their way through Iron Canyon to learn the truth of what has happened to them, and help them if they can. And though there is no noble party acting on his behalf, I know that the truth of Kirbraz’s death, too, will out, and that his murderer will face justice.”

He forced himself not to smile as he heard the ripple of shock and consternation in the crowd, and imagined Metus' face up there in the box, smug grin finally wiped clean.

“But for now, let us set those sad matters aside, and focus on what is ahead of us. At long, long last, I am honoured to say: Glatorian, Agori, gathered friends… Let the Games begin!”

OOC: slightly overdue, folks, but let's have some fun!

Edited October 16, 2025 by a goose

[Nato G]

IC: Avinus – Tajun Arena

Avinus stifled a yawn as Ackar gave his speech.

He blurted out the same bleary arrangement of buzzwords every year, and the speeches had started blurring together in Avinus’ mind after the first few times. Every time, he tried to convince everyone that their foes were actually their friends, and that message became less convincing with each passing year.

Those who’d participated in it enough times knew all too well that the tournament had never been a place for friendship or fun. It was where old grudges and new contenders collided.

Avinus wasn’t a big picture woman. She didn’t pay attention to politics, and barely followed the news, but even she’d noticed the tension in the air the past few days. A new faction entering the arena, mysterious deaths and disappearances, an entire village falling out of contact… there was no unity here. These people were all suspicious and wary, each desperate for a spectacle to distract from their festering dread.

And it fell to Glatorian like her to provide that spectacle.

She started working her way towards the front of the crowd as Scodonius gave his speech, intent on being one of the first to express her intention to participate in the exhibition match. It was what she did every year. It was what the people wanted. And a little splash of certainty was exactly what Tajun needed during these uncertain times.

[BULiK]

IC: Atakus & Skrall Warband [Tajun]

The emissary hadn't let himself relax until his convoy finally exited Sandray Canyon. It was the last choke point between him and the next objective Tirveus had assigned to him; the last potential surprise. The Skrall trip had been uneventful - the trading routes between Atero, Vulcanus, and Tajun were bustling with traffic ahead of the tournament, which kept the route clear of ambushes from wildlife or opportunistic scavengers. In fact, it had been the southern merchants who benefited the most from the heavily armed Skrall Caravan. Agori and Glatorian kept their distance, but didn't mind following in the wake of a route cleared by a section of Skrallic cavalry. It was hard to tell if they considered the Skrall presence or the wildlife they warded off as the bigger threat.

Nevertheless, that was all behind them. The massive metal "Knee Island" that shaded parts of Tajun from the hot sun and harsh desert winds was growing on the horizon.

~~~

There were few Agori or Glatorian manning the city walls. Those that were still on duty during the opening of the tournament whispered to each other out of earshot of the Skrall. Atakus was late enough as it was, but after a short wait with many wary glances directed at party, the Water Tribe opened the gates. The guardswoman on duty had wisely chosen to avoid creating a diplomatic incident at the start of Bara Magna's most important tradition.

Atakus knew the roads well, but such directions were unnecessary - his chariots followed the flow of the crowd, which naturally parted to give the warriors a wide berth. It had been a long time since many of the residents had seen a Skrall, if ever, so this many was unusual. The fact that one of their chariots housed a Glatorian-sized cage was not lost on them either. They knew what Skrall used those for, and it was a visible reminder to stay out of their way.

The convoy soon arrived at the stables built into the side of Arena Tajun. Agori who were maintaining the facility for the tournament warily took the reigns of their Spikits, taking great care to double check the knots tying the growling beasts of burden to their hitching posts.

After everyone had dismounted, Atakus addressed the group of warriors.

"Do not disappoint Tirveus," the rock agori ordered. "More than you know depends on your victory, and dishonor would carry a heavy price."

"The hypogeum is through that corridor," Atakus said, pointing to a large tunnel lit by torchlight. "Take note of your opponents weaknesses while you wait for your match to begin."

The Skrall could hear the thrum of the crowd reverberating through the stone above them. The speeches were ending, the tournament was about to begin. Atakus looked up, knowing it was time for him to do his job.

"May the best Skrall win," he addressed his soldiers, before the diminutive representative of their state marched proudly up a staircase to another level of Arena Tajun.

~~~

The ready-room of the hypogeum was a cross between an armory, a hospital, and a janitor's closet. Various equipment, both for fighting battles and cleaning up after them, were littered in racks across the edges of the large circular room. Directly beneath the arena, the hypogeum had many support columns. The tiles of the ceiling showed the ingenuity that made this a place worthy of tournament fights - the entire structure was clearly modular in order to be configured in different ways. Benches and stretchers lined the walls, and the sounds of the roaring crowd filtered through the barred ventilation grates above. The air stank of sweat and manure - many spectators didn't know that the glamor of the battlefield above did not extend to the rest of their champions' lives.

The chamber had six equally spaced doors around its edges, where lifts operated by Agori could raise warriors or beasts up to circular gates in the walls of the arena. Glatorian were free to climb up staircases next to each lift, which followed the curved walls of the hypogeum up towards front row seats right at the walls of the arena. The spectators who arrived earliest or bribed their way to the front of the arena could see this "pit" area where the warriors could watch the fights from ground level. Some superfans used these seats to reach for autographs from their favorite warriors, or jeer at their tribe's rivals.

~~~

The tribal leaders had the best seats in the house - close to the edge of the arena, where the action was most visceral. From the raised platform, shaded by a well-dyed tapestries of the Water Tribe that matched the many banners presented on flagpoles around the arena. The symbol of the tribe at the center of each banner was a water droplet - the precious resource that so much blood had been spilled for over the centuries.

Atakus passed the guards to take his seat with the other tribal leaders. Skrall knew this was merely out of tradition, since Atakus was officially just a vessel for the full power of Tirveus's Skrall empire. He did look comfortable in the thronelike seat, however.

In fact, he was very comfortable, despite sitting in the seat normally reserved for the Iron tribe. Since Skrall had not participated in such tournaments in recent memory, the seats reserved for the southern tribes were far more permanent. Staking his claim was as much about symbolism as it was comfort.

OOC: Tournament fighters, feel free to put your characters in the ready room to mingle with each other or prepare for the fight, or stand and watch the fights as they progress from the front row seats of the pit. Trash talk is encouraged in this locker room.

Edited October 12, 2025 by BULiK

[oncertainty]

IC: Lorqua - Training Ground, Outskirts of Atero

Lorqua felt a certain kinship with the Agori, no small surprise for her. They were both trapped doing something they didn't care about, without the denarii to do what mattered. A cruelty of the wasteland: it brought them to this.

"Blew away on the breeze... you do sound like an actor," she said. "Don't give up on it. And no, I think I'll be alright. I'd better collect my, uh, friend so we can hightail it out of here. Tajun awaits. Stay out of the sun, hm?"

With a lazy wave goodbye, she stepped back out towards the field. "Lutenus, shall we? The caravans won't be waiting so much longer, I think."

OOC: @Techn0geist @Toru Nui

[Techn0geist]

OOC: flashback sounds

 

IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero

Mard was momentarily stunned by Lorqua's words. He would cling to that feeling, the knowing that someone else in this great violent world at least somewhat believed in what the two Agori stood for, for many nights to come. Don't give up on it

"You uhh... you don't have to tell me twice!" Mard yelled to the Glatorian's salutation, responding to her myriad kindnesses simultaneously. "And likewise, Miss Lorqua!"

Lutenus's outburst, meanwhile, had chilled Ahmoa's blood, and made the already comparatively diminutive Agori feel utterly small. Collecting himself quickly, he tried hard to remove any quiver from his voice. "Now comes my turn to apologise, Lutenus. It was not my intent to... reduce your station. I am certain any task or passion you choose to turn your hand to would be a great boon to Tesara."

Lorqua's arrival proved a most welcome respite. "Quite right, we shan't keep you any longer. It would be a shame of the highest degree were you two to miss the opening!" Ahmoa, joined by Mard, offered a short bow to the pair. "Sir, ma'am. Travel safe, and may you grace our humble grounds once more."

"Oh, and if you see our manager, tell him I said—"

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

"I like Lorqua!" Mard spoke through a mouthful of dessert, now openly shared with his partner by the firepit. "She's got an eye for the arts! Oh! D'you think she knows In Some Other Sky?"

"I suspect her interest in our craft is, like many, passing at best, my dear." Ahmoa replied, swallowing first. "Lost musicals don't tend to fall into the purview of our fellow denizens."

"Shoulda asked, darn..." the Jungle Agori picked up a pebble and tossed it into the fire. "Did you tell Lutenus anything? About Del?"

"As little as I could. He was... changeable." Ahmoa turned to meet Mard's eye. "And what he told me troubles me deeply. 'All communication with the Iron Tribe has abruptly ceased,' that's what he said."

"Woah, Ferrum's gone dark? The whole village?" On reflection, the both of them realised they hadn't seen many Iron Tribals in this lull between seasons, if any. "But... what does that mean? They can't have just up and vanished, right? I mean, Del made it out here."

"But not unscathed. If Del's behaviour, their near-total amnesia, is the best case scenario, then..." and then Ahmoa realised he didn't know how to end the sentence. Or perhaps he feared that by ending it, by speaking whatever frightful ideas he had about the fate of Ferrum into the world, that they would be invoked, manifested into terrible being. In either case, the lack of an end seemed as good an end as any.

The two looked out, beyond the fence of the grounds, beyond the edge of Atero. Out into black dunes below and dazzling starfield above. And Ahmoa's dulcet voice carried so so far on the whistling desert winds.

Sit down, sit down on the prow to wave bye,

There might not be another star, further on the line.

Look out, look out at each town that glides by,

And there's another crowd to drown in crying eyes.

And see how, Mard joined, that light you love now just won't shine,

There might just be another star, that's high and far in some other sky.

 

IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun - the night before

On account of every hotel, motel, inn, tavern etc. in Tajun being booked out ahead of tomorrow’s Grand Tournament opening, Del was offered to stay in Celrys’s clinic for the night. As generous as Skyra Daring’s counteroffer of crashing in the backseat of her buggy was, Del ultimately chose the clinic.

The artificer having retired some time ago, the Glatorian took up the reclining chair in the surgery room, having already tried the metal slab and finding it wanting. Only a soft light emanating from the aquarium illuminated the room, gentle ripples playing across the ceiling. It was entirely too quiet.

Del first observed the fish, cataloguing the tank’s shimmering and mesmerising contents to satisfaction. Next were the surgical tools; the smaller ones taken delicately between thumb and forefinger, examined in a strange reversal of roles, and replaced exactly. A trigger depressed, a drill dropped in alarm and replaced haphazardly.

Eyes bounced between dust motes, hanging vacantly in the air above Del as they lay back in the chair. Celrys kept a tidy workspace, but in this world fighting the incursion of dust and sand was akin to fighting entropy: futile. This made the low quantity of particles all the more notable to the Ferrumite. 

Queries abounded, on the matters of fish, drills and dust.

But Del had ultimately been told to rest, ahead of the diagnostics Celrys would be running tomorrow. The Iron Tribal squirmed as they struggled to get fully comfortable. They pondered the basic but soft beds in the bunk house in Atero, with Mard & Ahmoa.

They pondered Mard, the contagion of his mirth, the symptom of his unmistakable laugh. How he had recoiled on hearing Del’s first pitiable attempt at laughter, scolded himself, promised to help them practice and laughed all over again.

They pondered Ahmoa, the invitation of his warm smile, his gentleness and generosity and patience. How he had never given up on teaching Del even the most basic principles, not just what to do but how to be.

The clear and unabashed affection the both of them held for anyone lucky enough to be called ‘friend’ by them. The deep, almost familial bond they shared with the Glatorian.

“He’s your father I suppose.” Del said to no one.

It was entirely too quiet.

A hand hovered over the table to their side and without looking, its precise placement perfectly recalled, picked up Celrys’s stethoscope. Again they slid the buds underneath their helmet, fans running at minimal speed. Knowing now what to expect, the Glatorian calmly lay the glass disk against their chest.

Thu-thum… thu-thum… thu-thum…

The sound, the steady metronome of life at ease, soothed and reassured Del. Eyelids slowly closed and unconsciousness took hold.

Yet, the experience of these liminal moments was beyond that of the typical Glatorian or Agori. It wasn’t quite sleeping and certainly wasn’t dreaming.

More like knitting.

Edited October 13, 2025 by Techn0geist

[Snelly]

IC: Skyra Daring - Outside Celrys' Workshop, Tajun -

Skyra yawned as her arms poked out of the back of her car as she stretched, rubbing her eyes as she sat up and looked around Tajun. She smiled as she stood up and leaped on the hood of her car, taking a big breath. 

"GOOD F**KING MORNING TAJUN!" 

With that she dusted off her hands as she hopped off the top of her car. "Hmmm, what should I do today? I suppose I should see what Del is up to." 

Her train of thought was interrupted by her stomach growling at her. "Dang I'm hungry...and why do I feel like I'm forgetting about something?" 

 She tried to think, but her stomach interrupted her again. "Mmmmm yeah I can only think about food right now..." 

What a pickle.

 

@Techn0geist @Morgan Yu @a goose

Edited October 13, 2025 by Snelly

[Alex Mason]

IC: Karak - Near Celrys' Workshop

I had to retrieve my javelin launcher for the games. I wasn't to fight yet so I left the arena briefly in order to retrieve my ranged weapon, which I managed to mime to the guards as to what I needed. 

Their culture of combat is surely interesting. Barbaric, perhaps, but interesting. Where my people had constant war, it seems now the Skrall have managed to integrate themselves perfectly into the system the Southerners built. Combat for food, for entertainment of the masses. And they will thrive in this system. 

But they're fools to think that'll simply be the end of it.

I feel the wooden stock of my javelin launcher, carvings of home contrasted by the cold Northern metal. I sling my weapon on my back by my blade.

The small trunk of Huracan closes.

My eyes move to an extremely loud and familiar sound nearby. 

"Skyra!" I call from across the parking lot, walking a little bit closer towards her. She can't see my expression but I'm smiling. 

OOC: @Snelly 

[Burnmad]

IC: Skrall - Tajun Arena, Ready Room

Skrall felt the knot in his stomach change shape, as the watchful gaze of Atakus that they had labored under was suddenly replaced with that of the entire South.

He swiftly proceeded to the ready room under the arena, where they had been told the fighters were awaiting their matches. As he moved, he heard his compatriots' footsteps clacking against the stone steps behind him. Striding forward at the front of the group instead of lurking in the back went against his every instinct, but Tirveus' proclamation weighed heavily upon him, and he feared that at the end of this excursion, he would be either Entitled, or discarded like the Scout that had so recently served as their cargo. This was one place where success would not be seized from the shadows. The Southerners' had a phrase; 'making a name for oneself'. Skrall was applying it somewhat more literally than he suspected had been originally intended.

When they reached the hypogeum, its shabby state was almost a relief. The stinking, dingy chamber made it easier to hold onto the feeling of Skrall superiority. He surveyed the room, his expression guarded, knowing that they had been tasked with learning about their soon-to-be opponents, but uncertain how to go about it. Skrall didn't walk up to people and start friendly discussions about how hot it was or how rough the road had been. They were warriors, here to conquer the South and remake it in their image. And the Southerners *knew* it, too. They weren't going to accept the Skrall playing at making nice. But to stay in the corner, isolated from them, Skrall would be forfeiting an opportunity to glean information about the competition. Perhaps, he thought, there was some way to get these Glatorian to lower their guards. Perhaps, there was some common language that he could speak to them.

His gaze passed across the waiting fighters until one of them met it with their own. He approached, calling upon everything he knew about Southern culture.

"Hail," he offered. "The food they sell outside the arena is slop. Where might I find something more appetizing, when my match is won?"

OOC: Skrall is open for interaction.

[Toru Nui]

IC: Dornak and Maxas (Streets of Tajun, Outside Celrys’ Workshop) - Resuming Mission

Scodonius’ death was not an accident. Maxas knew this to be true. Someone who had managed to evade suspicion of wrongdoing all these years would know better than to… do whatever it was that supposedly led to him dying. That had been vague.

He heard someone yell ‘good ****ing morning, Tajun’ in the distance, startling him.

Then again, perhaps he was reading too deeply on this one. If he wasn’t careful with his investigations, this could make him an even bigger target of the conspiracy than ever before-

“Maxas!” His caravan of thought was again disrupted by the arrival of a certain red menace. “Maxas old boy, have you - have you seen, er, any Skrall in town?”

“No. I have not.”

“OK! Thank you!” He said, a little too cheerfully and abruptly before scampering off towards the arena.

“Maniac,” Maxas muttered derisively. What was he thinking about? Oh yes, about how everybody wants to kill him. Best he go to the arena as well, to avoid being ambushed and shanked in a dark alley like Kirbraz almost certainly was, or something. Then-

Wait a minute. As he passed by the CelTech building, he saw that Jungle Glatorian who had been with that suspicious Iron Glatorian. In the company of… was that a very pale Fire Glatorian?

He grabbed some notes he had on his water business and pretended to read them with interest, more interested in what they might have to say.

@Snelly @Alex Mason

 

IC: Lutenus, Vraek and Skrall (Tajun Arena, Ready Room) - Local Restaurant Recommendations

This barracks does not smell nearly as awful as the old one back in Roxtus. Even so, there’s no reason for Skrall to linger too long here. He has little he wishes to say to the opposition in any case. Save perhaps the promise of their defeat. Perhaps it would be best to observe a few matches first, if only to prepare himself for what, precisely, he is marching into.

Unfortunately, the Games are just about to start, so Vraek can’t drink the memory of last night out of her mind. Not so much due to Karak’s company - though he is still a selfish, thundering buffoon - but due to the other memories she tries to forget that resurfaced from staying in a room with another Glatorian.

Speaking of intoxication or lack thereof, apparently that person whom she initially thought was drunk and sleeping just outside the Arena Hotel’s entrance? No, he was dead. She can never speak of this to anyone.

Well, at least Karak was honest, unlike some Glatorian she could name. Fortunately, the worst that had happened - thus far - was that her and Lutenus’ lockers had been placed close to one another, so they both tried to avoid eye contact when they initially placed their equipment in there.

The journey from Atero to Tajun with Lorqua had been fairly uneventful. Not like his last journey here. Not at all. They weren’t too late, they had managed to catch the opening ceremony, and oh how he wished he had. Bile had risen in Lutenus’ throat and burned the back of his tongue throughout Ackar’s speech. Good fighter, terrible perception of the current cultural climate. The Games hadn’t ‘stopped’ the war. They merely prolonged it through a new medium. And of course, the Glatorian were expected to fight it for the Agori. For what? Such worthless concepts of ‘kinship and camaraderie’?

Well, that is the old man’s opinion, and he is entitled to it, even if he was wrong and foolish.

Automatically detecting a possible threat, the eye fixes itself on one of the Skrall warriors. He has never seen one before, but the resemblance to the Bone Hunters is clear. What is he saying? Asking for better food than the one served here? His cybernetic eye whirrs and clicks as he analyzes him. “Oh, there is this place just down the street from the southern entrance,” he begins to explain before he can remember that he hates the Skrall, actually. “Terribly expensive, but there’s-”

“Am I to presume the cuisine in Roxtus is better?” Vraek interrupts, voice dripping with scepticism. Lutenus’ head swings around to glare at her, the aperture of his cybernetic eye shrinking.

@Burnmad

 

IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Rock Steed Stables) - 0 Days Without an Accident

“Nuth, you wretched beast!” Taldrix throws up her arms, standing on the edge of a coalescing pool of blood. “You were already fed today!”

The Rock Steed doesn’t seem to care, still hungrily munching on the dead corpse of a slave who had gotten too close to his pen. Sighing, Taldrix pulls out a form for accidental deaths and starts filling in the details.

Edited October 14, 2025 by Toru Nui

[Nato G]

IC: Skrall – Tajun Arena (Ready-Room)

As he and his companions marched into the Ready-Room, greeted by the unpleasant scent and organisational disarray of a society severely lacking in discipline, Skrall realised he didn’t want to be here.

Not because he didn’t want to fight. Certainly not because he feared he would lose. But because he felt there was no need for all of the Skrall to compete. He understood better than most that not every battle could be settled by strength. There was always value in deceit, however distasteful others found it to be.

In this case, the Tajun Exhibition was the first of several such matches, and all were inconsequential. Every match the Skrall participated in, every enhancement and tactic they revealed before a public audience, weakened their chances of victory when they finally reached the true Tournament. And the more warriors they entered into each round, the more likely it was that one of them would be injured or defeated. In Skrall’s view, a more prudent strategy would have been to keep their numbers secret, sending only one or two warriors into each Exhibition Match and ensuring that at least a few of their party never participated at all, leaving the Southerners with no idea of how many of them there were or what they were capable of.

But Skrall was not in command. His ways were not their ways. And for him to ever have a chance of changing that, someday, he needed to excel in this task.

So he leaned against one of the walls, propping his spear up beside him, and waited for his match to commence.  

___________________________________________________

IC: Kehla – Tajun Arena (Ready-Room)

Kehla had never seen so many people in one place before.

Behjen had often regaled her with tales of his time at the tournaments, but hearing about the experience was very different to seeing it firsthand. The crowded city streets had given Kehla a sense of how many Agori had gathered to witness the Exhibition Match, but she hadn’t appreciated their true number until she’d seen them all sitting together in the stands.

And soon they would all be staring at her.

Clutching her pack close, she scrambled down the stairs into the hypogeum, eager to distance herself from the crowd. She could still hear them, the muffled murmurs of countless conversations rumbling from above like distant rain. But it was easier to ignore them when she couldn’t see them. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ had long been the Ash Tribe’s way of dealing with problems too big for them to handle.

But she couldn’t avoid or ignore the sight that greeted her beneath the arena. Warriors of every culture and colour were already gathered, with more still arriving. Some were mingling with the competition, while others were conversing quietly with companions of their own tribe. Others lurked on the outskirts of the room, sizing up their potential competition.

It was the latter approach that Kehla adopted, finding herself a quiet corner from which to observe the rest of the room. She dug her sketchbook and charcoal from her pack and started sketching the others in the room, already wondering who among them would be her opponent.

___________________________________________________

IC: Avinus – Tajun Arena (Ready-Room)

“Good mornin’ all!” Avinus boomed, activating her vocal amplifier to boost the sound of her greeting as she sauntered into the hypogeum, launching a burst of colourful confetti from her hand dispenser as she did. “Let’s give the people what they came for!”

She wasn’t concerned about giving away her tricks to the competition. She’d been using the same tech for the last few years. Most past tournament participants already knew she had them, and newcomers would catch on quickly. She preferred to be plain with her opponents; she didn’t need secrecy or surprises to defeat them.

It was like she’d told Luka yesterday: the tournament was all about putting on a show.

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OOC: All three open for interaction.

[Burnmad]

IC: Skrall - Tajun Arena, Ready Room

Skrall turns slowly, leisurely, to acknowledge the intruding voice, looking her up and down. "Better than the Spikit scat I was served outside? Most definitely. A Skrall would be stockaded and whipped for preparing something so wretched." There was a beat as he let the Southerners wonder if that was hyperbole. "Better than Southern food in general? Well, that remains to be seen. I'll have to see about that place near the southern entrance." He nodded towards the warrior that had initially responded. "You Southerners certainly are blessed with a wealth of ingredients, I'll give you that. Skrallic ingenuity can take boiled Thornax far, but at the end of the day, it's still boiled Thornax."

OOC: @Toru Nui