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Ghosts of Bara Magna


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Content Warning: internalized victim blaming
a slave | bone hunter stronghold

You halt in the darkness as you hear the prisoner’s words.   She does not not know that you are not skrall.

Curiosity is part of what is so wrong with you.   It halts your desire to flee, keeps you straining to hear how the not-hunter will reply.  Will she lie?  Or will she tell the truth of your shame?

You remain still in the shadows.

 

OOC: @Toru Nui @a goose

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There's a dozen selves inside you, trying to be the one to run the dials

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IC: Skrall [Trail, Roxtus ->Bone Hunter Stronghold]

"Silent death," Skrall muttered. He squinted at the sky. Was that a cloud or - no, a moon. He spoke out of boredom, rather matter-of-fact for what may have been his most traumatizing memory.

"Long range rearguard patrol. No enemy for days upon days. Go a ways away to take a #### while Skrall sets up camp. Hear commotion. Run back. Everyone dead."

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IC: Skrall (The Caravan)

Skrall wanted to scoff, to dismiss the story out of hand. He had no patience for superstitions and ghost stories; whatever had driven Tirveus and the Legion south, it was flesh and blood. Sure, his brethren had come to Roxtus with all kinds of stories – but Skrall had been living here, in the real world. There was no room for such fanciful excuses in the south.

And yet, something about the telling made the hairs rise on the back of his neck and sent a chill through his core.

"Surely you must have seen something. Nothing is fast enough to kill a whole patrol and simply vanish into thin air."

OOC: @BULiK @Vezok's Friend

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IC: Skrall [Trail, Roxtus ->Bone Hunter Stronghold]

"They did not listen, and neither will you," Skrall repeated, somehow bored of the only conversation that had broken the monotony of the bumpy excursion.

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IC: Skrall (The Caravan)

"If what you say is true, then your punishment appears unjust. I can listen to and understand that much, and it surprises me that Tirveus didn't – if anything can cut through a party of Skrall that quickly, then your presence would only have meant one more corpse on the ground. But your story invites questions: where the enemy came from, where they went, why you alone were spared. How can anyone listen to answers you won't give?"

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IC: Skrall [Trail, Roxtus ->Bone Hunter Stronghold]

"If these details were known, perhaps I would not have to suffer this interrogation," Skrall retorted. "Alas..."

Edited by BULiK
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IC: Skrall (Skrall Convoy, East of Roxtus) - The Enemy

‘Nothing is fast enough to kill a whole patrol and simply vanish into thin air.’

Nothing they knew of.

Something was driving them south. Something they knew very little about. Or rather, the Warriors did. Did Special Operations and the Leaders know? If they didn’t, did the Sisters?

There were rumours of course. Ghosts. Beasts. Machines. Shapeshifters. Even traitors, as unimaginable as that was. For Skrall to have failed in their duties as their prisoner had, that was understandable, if not forgivable. But for Skrall to turn on their own? This…

If the prisoner had anything of value to say, he would have said it to his superiors, and if what he had to say was of value, it would have been heeded. Therefore he was deserving of his punishment.

But something had slaughtered his comrades. Something that left only him behind. And if he truly knew nothing, then to blame him for the incident was useless. Therefore he was undeserving of his punishment.

“Who are Skrall to believe, then?” He asked the prisoner. “Our superiors, or you? It was not quite an accusation, but more of an explanation as to why they would not listen to him.

@a goose @BULiK @Vezok's Friend @Burnmad @Nato G @oncertainty

 

IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Outside Somnii’s Cell) - Broken Toys

A dark chuckle briefly escapes the Gatherer’s throat. “Oh, if only. The real story behind this…” Taldrix pointed to the slave. Thing, however, is a bit too… inappropriate, for such young ears. She grins, mockingly.

“You know when you got bored of whatever new toy daddy bought for you, so you threw it out and the poor kids played with it instead? This is that, except you are a lady Skrall, the toy is this loser, she gestured to the slave again, “and I am one of the poor kids you used to turn your nose up at.”

She gets a little closer to the bars of the young leader’s cell. “Not turning your nose up at me NOW, are you, kiddo?

@a goose @Mel

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IC: Skrall [Trail, Roxtus ->Bone Hunter Stronghold]

"My honor and life are forfeit. Your beliefs are not my concern."

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IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Long Road to Ferrum)

"Then it's time we left. It'll be dawn before we reach Precipere, and we need as many daylight hours in Iron Canyon as possible. The heat may be nasty, but Skopio are nastier."

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

"That's funny, I don't remember ever seeing you in Ferrum. Maybe I couldn't see you past that nose of mine." Somnii's eyes burned bright with resentment, and she felt more awake than she had in what felt like weeks. "Or maybe you're confusing me with someone else. Do you often find yourself projecting childhood grudges on people you don't know?"

OOC: @oncertainty @Burnmad @~Xemnas~ @Toru Nui @Mel

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IC: Skyra Daring - Driving along Skrall River, towards Tajun  -

When they say; "You and what army?"
I guess they're talking about you and me
Baby, nobody will love you
Nobody will love you like, like I do
I guess that's half true

Come down, come down
Come down from your holy mountain
I'm down, I'm down
So put your shame on a billboard for a second
Sometimes, sometimes
The only way out is through~

Skyra paused her serenading to glance at Del, he seemed to be looking back at Karak. "How's our friend doing over there?" 

@Techn0geist @Morgan Yu

 

 

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IC/ Skrall/ Caravan

He was right. Judgment had already been rendered. That was not their duty. Arguing beliefs and philosophizing was getting them nowhere either. 

What they needed was actionable intel. Something they could use if they encountered the same or similar enemies.

“Facts, then: How did they die? What wounds did they suffer, if any - and from what weapon, if you know?”

 

OOC: @a goose @BULiK @Burnmad @Nato G @oncertainty @Toru Nui

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IC: Del - Lost Coastlines

The two-vehicle convoy trundled happily along, Atero beginning slip over the horizon and out of view. Del turned their state away from Karak and forward again, into the desert deep.

Though Skyra had stopped singing, her passenger was still la-la-la-ing obliviously; without the Tesaran's tune to carry them, the melody spun off in a wild, discordant direction. A look crossed their face as the tempo and tone fluctuated, one of intense concentration; experimenting, processing, analysing. One would hope the driver had a tolerance for annoying children.

Curiously Del's tune began to settle into a rhythm, a consistency of melody, creeping from the deep; it was indistinct, fainter in their head than the voice from before, but it was... something, from somewhere. But with that came surety. This was a song.

Del's face relaxed. As before, they didn't know the words, but still they carried on.

Laaa-laaa, la-la-la-la,
La-la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-laaa...

The desert stretched for miles and miles and miles on all sides, and the convoy was losing light. But they stayed the course, and the lanterns of Tajun would soon rise to meet them.

 

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

Ahmoa nodded at the Glatorians' respective requests. Heading for the storage shed, he glanced nervously back at his partner, not liking the thought of leaving him alone with the two even for such a short time.

Mard returned the look but only briefly, still under the scrutiny of their guests. At least this was a part of the job he actually enjoyed; officiating.

"Okay fighters!" The green guard cried, slipping into the role of a referee. "Standard arena combat rules apply: no blows to the head, chest or groin. Refrain from use of full-force blows, pull your attacks. In a training setting, you are aiming to make your opponent yield; you will cease combat immediately when your opponent yields. You are not aiming to draw blood, you are not aiming to knock your opponent down or out. Disengage immediately should one of these occur. Attacks made with lethal or maiming intent will result in instant disqualification, ejection from the grounds and disciplinary action from local authorities."

Ahmoa returned with a bundle of blunted javelins for the woman and a dulled axe for the man. Handing them off to the combatants, he joined in with the rule-laying. "Fighters will enter the ring and declare their name and tribe, then await the referee's signal to commence combat. Fighters will cease combat if the referee signals such for any reason. The referee's word is final; failure to comply with referee decisions is grounds for disqualification, with ejection and-or disciplinary action where necessary."

"As per our equipment loan policy, if you break it, you bought it." Mard allowed himself a cheeky little grin. "Take your marks!"

The two Agori moved to ringside, Mard on the inside and Ahmoa out. "If they ask after Del we at least don't have to lie, in our time with them we barely heard anything, about them or Ferrum."

Mard heaved a sigh. "I just hope they're alright with Skyra. It's a long way to Tajun, even in her speedy little buggy."

"Miss Daring seemed very capable, I'm sure our charge is in good hands." An attempt to reassure himself as much as his oasis.

 

OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu @Toru Nui @oncertainty  Apologies for the delay, all. Convoy can move to Tajun if y'all are good with that.

Edited by Techn0geist
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IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Precipice)

The journey to Precipere was worryingly uneventful. Even the trails and tunnels connecting it to Vulcanus were in shockingly good condition, given how little use they saw; Tueris supposed he should be glad. After all, as he and his party emerged from the mouth of the cave directly overlooking the village, the sun had only just begun to rise, bathing its primitive stone structures in blood-red light. A more superstitious Glatorian might have considered it an ill omen, particularly given the Ash Tribe's macabre traditions. Tueris knew better:

None of them were making it back alive anyway. No omen could change that.

"Once we're in the village, stay silent unless spoken to. These folks aren't likely to take kindly to a bunch of heavily-armed mercs swaggering into their home. Ruster, you take point; less bad blood between your tribe and theirs."

In case the epithet wasn't clear enough, Tueris fixed his one good eye on Aurax and nodded to him.

OOC: @~Xemnas~ @oncertainty @Nato G @Burnmad @Geardirector @Toru Nui

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IC: Skrall – Crimson Convoy

Skrall sat quietly in the back of the second chariot, heedless of the conversation occurring in the lead vehicle. His shield was on his back, his spear balanced across his knees (pointy end aimed out the back of the chariot so no one would be harmed if the weapon was jostled) as he absent-mindedly picked at the peeling leather grip.

Doubt clung to him like a cloying, clammy cloud, choking his thoughts.

He feared he’d made a fool of himself today.

He was used to following orders, operating at the behest of a single, clear command. Being an equal, among peers… he wasn’t good at that. Had he overstepped? Said too much? Too little? His life’s ambition was to lead, yet his every attempt to assert himself had ended in beratement or embarrassment.

In contrast, his companions seemed so sure of themselves, the female especially so. An affinity for command ran in her veins, even if psionic power did not.

The Skrall species were bred from birth for one particular purpose. For the first time in his life, Skrall found himself wondering if he was even capable of rising above what he’d been made to be. It had to be possible, right? Others had gained names, hadn’t they? Teuris wouldn’t give his warriors an empty offer, would he?

The tournament would give an answer, either way, as long as a Skrall prevailed.

And despite his uncertainty, he remained determined to be that Skrall.

__________________________________________________

IC: Gayle – Suicide Squad

Trailing at the back of the group, Gayle was almost disappointed by the sight that greeted her when she saw Precipere for the first time.

She’d been plenty of places in the wasteland over the years, but the craggy home of the Ash Tribe wasn’t one she’d ever had cause to visit. From some of the more outlandish stories she’d heard, she’d half-expected to see a border fence of skulls on spikes, or roads paved with bones.

The simple stone village sprawled before them was a far cry from the macabre legend whispered by drunks and degenerates in the far-flung reaches of the wasteland.

One less thing for us to worry about, I suppose, she thought to herself.

__________________________________________________

IC: Zha’ar – “The Crossroads”

As the dune buggy and bike trundled together across the sea of sand, the beady eyes of a huntress watched them from afar.

Zha’ar and Solis were hunkered in the shadow of a towering dune , the deepening shadows of the afternoon and natural sandy hue of the Rock Steed’s scales rendering the pair near-invisible to the travellers on the distant shoreline.

These particular travellers had no cause to fear her this day.

Zha’ar was no coward. She certainly wasn’t adverse to tangling with the occasional Agori guards or Glatorian. But mechanical vehicles were hard targets compared to the foot caravans and beasts of burden she normally preyed upon. One vehicle on its own was manageable; an armour-piercing arrow or two through the engine was usually enough to bring them to a stop. But two vehicles, carrying what looked to be at least three Glatorian… that just wasn’t worth the trouble. Not alone, at least.

Given that they were moving at speed and weren’t escorting anyone, these travellers were almost certainly trained warriors, heading to Tajun for the tournament. Capable fighters, likely equipped with powerful cybernetics and quality weaponry. Too risky.

And so she let them pass, unimpeded. Tournament season was just beginning.

There would be plenty more travellers passing this way in the days and weeks to come.

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IC: Maxas (South-west of Atero, the Skrall River) - Nobody’s Gonna Say It Outright

On his Kaxium, Maxas made a slow journey back to Tajun. He didn’t want that Iron Glatorian to see him. He knew there was something more to this - Ferrum goes dark, but one of their Glatorian is heading off to participate in the games as if nothing was wrong? No, Maxas was onto their little game… he didn’t know what that game was, but he’d find out, make no mistake…

 

IC: Lutenus (Outskirts of Atero, Training Ground) - Is That Marionette Real Enough Yet?

“LUTENUS - of the Jungle Tribe.” He announced, as per Ahmoa’s instruction, as he stepped into the training arena. This wasn’t his first time doing this, but it was good that they had gone over the rules - standard stuff, no vital areas, no serious wounds. Fortunately, the device Celrys had installed in his brain knew when to hold back. Or, rather, he knew when to hold back, and thus so did the machine.

He could tell they all thought he was mad. They feared his cybernetics, they feared the march of progress. It was understandable, they hadn’t seen what he had seen, didn’t know what he knew. It was the will of his Lord that he abandon the weakness of flesh for the purity of steel. This command had been relayed in unusual ways, to be sure, but since the Lord of Jungle was no longer on this material plane, it would have had to be. He’d replace his entire body with superior mechanical implements if he could, but such advances likely would not be made within his lifetime, and would be horrifically expensive, even for a long-serving Glatorian of prosperous villages such as Tesara.

He brandished and examined the training axe in his hands. He would have to be in top condition for these Games. Iconox and Roxtus could not win, no matter the cost.

@Techn0geist @oncertainty

 

IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Outside Somnii’s Cell) - That Light You Love Now Just Won’t Shine

Right, so she was still firmly in the ‘pointless defiance’ stage of captivity. Good to know. Taldrix began scribbling that down, her expression switching back from mocking to clinical. “Pointless… defiance…” Well, maybe a little bit of mockery still remained.

“To be clear, I was not speaking literally. It was all a metaphor for the relationship between us and you tribals. Your parents did teach you what metaphors are, didn’t they?”

@a goose @Mel

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

"******, I guess not. They must have been a little busy with the whole 'being dead' thing."

Somnii rose unsteadily to her feet, fists clenched.

"Newsflash, shitbird – you don't know me. Go find some other effigy to burn."

OOC: @Toru Nui

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IC: Lorqua - Training Ground, Rattling Our Swords in Service of Some Faded Foreign (Element) Lord

As the rules were laid out, Lorqua realized she was glad for the refresher. She had been away from the arena for a long while, and fighting in the desert was a different beast. What skill she had as a caravan guard was due to knowing how to use whatever she had at her disposal. Exactly what all the rules were meant to avoid. With a sigh, she stepped into the arena. She held one javelin in her hand, her shield in the other, and kept the rest of the javelins strapped to her back.

"Lorqua, of the Jungle Tribe!"

She raised the haft of the javelin to her face, giving Lutenus a loose salute.

OOC: @Toru Nui @Techn0geist you guys have good taste

 

IC: Skrall - Caravan

In the second chariot, Skrall could catch only brief snatches of what the group in the first chariot were talking about. He could see, however, that the prisoner was the centre of attention.

Inclining his head towards another Skrall in the second chariot, he gestured forward towards the first.

"What do you think they're talking about?"

OOC: @Nato G @ skrall

 

IC: Escus - Precipere

The Glatorian of Water, feeling about as far from home as he ever had, took in the spartan vista of Precipere. He found it wanting.

"It's a wonder anyone would choose to live out here," he said, frowning.

OOC: @a goose @Nato G @~Xemnas~ @Burnmad @Geardirector @Toru Nui

Edited by oncertainty
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1 hour ago, oncertainty said:

"What do you think they're talking about?"

IC: Skrall - Chariot Chats

"Our cargo," he said absently, glancing away from his spear to regard the group in the other chariot, "Probably asking what he did wrong so they can avoid making the same mistake." It was a guess, but a logical one. What else was there to ask the soon-to-be-slave about? 

@oncertainty

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IC: Salwa (Precipere)

I had made about as many preparations as I could think of for what was about to come. Saying it like that wasn't one of them, though.

Gatog was glad to see me, and that never got old. The Rock Steed had been pacing a lot while he was in his pen, I could tell by the fresh tracks made all over it. He would need activity again soon, he was definitely ready, more than I was at any rate.

There was little sleep to be had, and I was awake early. I sat up for a while, one of my ancestral knifes held in one hand, for picking through the Thornax stew I held in the other. A foul breakfast if ever there was one, but it definitely woke me up. Offensive to the senses in the way few things I'd ever come across were.

Dawn approached with a foreboding tone, the glare of the sun had often felt like the overbearing, expectant gaze of my forebears measuring my accomplishments. Now, of all days, that feeling was especially present.

Ready or not, they would soon arrive.

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

He nodded along with Skrall's words, though to him the explanation seemed inadequate. On the faces of the Skrall in the first chariot he could read such attention, mixed with such doubt, that it had to be of some significance.

"Perhaps. Although, would Tirveus cast him to the Bone Hunters for something so—" he searched for the word, "—Arbitrary, that Skrall need to learn what it was? He abandoned his watch. Warriors such as we would not. Something more may be at work here, I wonder."

In the Imperator's presence, Skrall could not have spoken his name so easily. But already he felt far away from Roxtus, and found his tongue had loosened.

OOC: @Nato G @ skrall

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

"Not so long ago I would've said that warriors such as us would not retreat, either," Skrall replied, "And then our entire civilisation fled here." 

@oncertainty

 

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

"Perhaps," he mused, weighing the words in his mind for a moment, "But we have proven nothing yet. One of us must win the tournament first." 

@oncertainty

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IC: Skrall - Caravan 

"Of course. The success of Skrall is certain," he said, the slightest of smiles aligning on his own features, "But the question remains... which of us will triumph? Tirveus offered only one name. One of us will become known, and the rest will remain nobodies." 

It was a thought that had been haunting him since before they'd set out. Skrall wasn't so overconfident as to believe that his people were unbeatable; the retreat South and the disgraced warrior in the other cart were evidence enough of that. But even if some of his companions were defeated before the tournament's end, it would almost certainly come down to Skrall facing Skrall in the final matches.

He did not look forward to that day. 

@oncertainty

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IC, Aurax: The Precipice

Aurax nodded wordlessly and began to lead the party down into the stony village. The Glatorian was happy that Tueris told the others not to speak unless spoken to. Silence is golden, he thought to himself. Although, Aurax had a feeling that some of the Ash Tribe villagers would come out and question their intentions. The presence of a varied group such as theirs would be almost unheard of in this place. Then Aurax would have to speak.

OOC: @Nato G @oncertainty @Burnmad @a goose

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IC: The Ash Tribe – Precipere

This early in the morning, the village of the Ash Tribe seemed more akin to a mausoleum, all cold rock and stark silence. Smudgy snakes of smoke sputtered from the chimneys of some of the homes, the only movement visible from this distance.

Sprawled before the members of the expedition was an aged staircase, carved into the rock, wearily winding its way down the sheer slope of the volcano towards the village below. It passed the mouth of the obsidian mine, and the fields where the villagers grew their crops, eventually merging with the well-trodden dirt footpaths of the village proper.

As they drew lower and closer, the group would see that the structures of Precipere were far more than simple stone. The outer walls of the huts and houses were adorned with all manner of decorations, each one unique, each telling the story of the home’s occupants. Some had words or images carved into them, while others had been marked with paint, chalk, or clay. On some huts, the art abruptly changed colour and style where a new artist had taken over as storyteller. In a few places, the same pattern or picture was even carried over onto adjoining structures, marking where a story involved multiple generations of the same family. Triumphs and tragedies, morality and mundanity, heroism and history, proudly displayed for all to see.

What guards the village had on duty were on the far side of the settlement, eyes cast towards the canyon below, but the approach of the visitors didn’t go entirely unnoticed. Furtive faces flitted by between curtains, and eager eyes peered out through cracked doorways. Soft whispers were just barely audible from within some of the buildings, too faint for the words to be discernible.

Finally, the haggard figure of a middle-aged Agori stepped out of one of the smaller huts, stifling a yawn with one hand while gripping a spear with the other. His armour hung awkwardly, clearly strapped on in haste.

“I’m Giltu, captain of the guard,” he said gruffly, his blue eyes blinking blearily at the group as if they were a dream he hoped to wake up from, “Welcome to Precipere. What brings you to our village at this hour?”

@~Xemnas~ @oncertainty @a goose @Burnmad

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BZPRPG Characters - Minnorak, Kain, T'harrak, Savis, Vazaria, Lash

BZPRPG Mercenary Group - The Outsiders - Description - History - Base

Ghosts Of Bara Magna - Ash Tribe - Precipere - Kehla, Somok, Skrall, Gayle, Avinus, Zha'ar

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

Skrall put one hand to his chin. He shared his companion's anxiety, after a fashion. There were some, even among Skrall, who he could not stand to have win the tournament. Some whose prowess did not make them worthy of being named. To see one of them given that honour would be disappointing, to say the least. Skrall did not wish to see his people squander their opportunity, under poor leadership.

"True, only one of us can win. And a name is," he shook his head. "The greatest prize. But there is still more opportunity for us, here. The Southerners have much, and I do not think they know what it is like to have to fight to keep it."

OOC: @Nato G

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

"Then it falls to us to... educate them." 

It was the neighbourly thing to do, after all. 

@oncertainty

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BZPRPG Mercenary Group - The Outsiders - Description - History - Base

Ghosts Of Bara Magna - Ash Tribe - Precipere - Kehla, Somok, Skrall, Gayle, Avinus, Zha'ar

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

Skrall chuckled.

"That it does. Hence why those of us here, we first into the breach, have to keep our spirits up. We are entering a strange land, from what I have heard."

He sighed, and cast his gaze to the horizon. Soon, he knew, they would be among the Bone Hunters. A curious folk, but not un-Skrall-like in their way. The Southerners, on the other hand, found the Bone Hunters barbaric. What would they make of Skrall was a question, yes. But Skrall wondered what he would make of life in the south. His bravado was for his own benefit as well. He knew that keeping their mettle, now, was essential. Just as when riding a Rock Steed down a narrow mountain path, he needed to courage to keep calm, if he hoped to survive.

OOC: @Nato G

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

"That we are," he replied, staring out across the sands, "It's hard to imagine, isn't it? People without pride or purpose, squabbling over resources instead of sharing them. And they have the gall to call us the savages..." 

@oncertainty

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

"Indeed," he replied, "On the subject of their games and arenas, what are your thoughts on this exhibition match we're on our way to?"

@oncertainty

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

Skrall was silent for a moment. He hadn't considered it fully, he supposed. It was a hurdle that had to be crossed. He hadn't seen fit to evaluate the Southerners' practices, such as they were. An oversight.

"A strange practice, if you fight for resources, I think," he said, nodding slowly. "Why show those who you will fight again your capabilities? Why let them gain more experience with your tactics? However, for us, this may be a boon. If I might speculate on his strategy, it seems that Tirveus wants shock and awe. Showing the Southerners how we fight will strike fear into their hearts, and we will not give them time to grow used to it."

OOC: @Nato G

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

"Tirveus isn't here," Skrall replied, his tone betraying no emotion.

So many of his kin rushed to brashness and brutality, confident in their ability to overcome any foe. It was certainly the tactic that Tirveus championed. But as a warrior who'd been born scrawnier than most of his peers, incapable of prevailing in a direct test of strength, Skrall favoured a more cautious, contemplative approach.

"Our goal is to win the tournament," he said. "While we may favour different tools and tactics, all of us here have had the same training. The more any one of us shows the southerners what they're capable of, the more they will learn about how to best all of us."

@oncertainty

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BZPRPG Mercenary Group - The Outsiders - Description - History - Base

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

Skrall's eyes flicked to his companion's face. For a moment he studied it carefully, one brow raised. Then he looked back to the horizon. Clearly, he was not the only one feeling far from home.

"You may be right," Skrall said. He stayed neutral for now, though in truth he admired the willingness to criticize the Black Legion's strategy. "The question, as I take it, is this: can we escalate quickly enough from this that it doesn't matter. Knowing how to fight the warriors will help them, yes, but not enough to save them if they don't know how to fight a war. It begins with these games, but I do not think it will end there."

OOC: @Nato G

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IC: Lutenus (Outskirts of Atero, Training Ground) - And in the Green Corner…

Oh, that was interesting… Lorqua considered herself Tesaran after all? Or was that purely for appearances’ sake?

In any case, Lutenus waited for the signal from the referee to start…

@oncertainty @Techn0geist

 

IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Outside Somnii’s Cell) - Sick Burn

‘Burning effigies’ - now, was that a metaphor, or did she think that was something Gatherers did? Best not to acknowledge it in any case.

“A thousand apologies, O unknowable one. You were talking to me, asking me a question, so I assumed that you wanted to talk - but I see that was naïve of me, I am but a lowly Gatherer, beneath your attention. I will leave you to your busy schedule of not dying.”

Taldrix then turned to leave, while also turning her attention to the Skrall item. You - back in your pen, now.

@a goose @Mel

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IC: Skrall - Caravan

"You think Tirveus intends an invasion?" Skrall's face furrowed into a frown. It made sense, to an extent, but how did their group fit into such a plan? Tirveus hadn't told them to gather intelligence... unless such orders had been reserved for Atakus, or the mysterious Special Forces Skrall who was guiding them. 

"If that were the plan, why send us at all? Winning the tournament only ensures all of the other villages will resent us." 

@oncertainty

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BZPRPG Characters - Minnorak, Kain, T'harrak, Savis, Vazaria, Lash

BZPRPG Mercenary Group - The Outsiders - Description - History - Base

Ghosts Of Bara Magna - Ash Tribe - Precipere - Kehla, Somok, Skrall, Gayle, Avinus, Zha'ar

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