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Post by Stage on Jul 25, 2019 6:07:21 GMT
On the far western edge of Sund, on the broad, muddy Snakehead River that connected Lake Severe and Lake Sullen, stood an odd, moderately sized, out-of-place building. Even among the highly diverse architectural styles of the multicultural city, it stood out. Most notably, it was almost entirely timber in framework. Nearly every piece of stone- and metalwork was decorative, not structural. Nearly as notable was its large courtyard. Though the actual indoor space was quite modest, the courtyard made the grounds one of the biggest privately owned areas in Sund.
Despite being privately owned, this building was certainly not private tonight. Dozens and dozens of people flooded inside of it, and the crowd was as varied as the city they came from. Some were obviously quite wealthy, wearing extravagant clothes and accompanied by bodyguards and attendants. Others barely wore clothes at all, but, as long as they could produce a ticket, no one was turned away from the doors. Some of the crowd were not even human, sporting enormous height or fur or bat-like heads or feyish tails or horns and, while they won some dirty glares as they shuffled past or bumped against others, everyone seemed to at least stow their bigotry for now as they flooded under a surprisingly small, stylish sign:
The Xue Club.
Once inside, the attendees, in all their creeds and colors, quickly found seats. The floorspace of the building was quite open and plain, even lacking walls. Instead, paper screens separated the space, mobile, on stands or wheels, so that the floor area could be changed at will. The ceiling was intricately decorated however, with detailed paintings blossoming from its center and curling metalwork lining its exterior. Both depressed pits and raised platforms dotted the space, and seemed to be stained with blackish brown patches that showed signs of wear, attempts at being cleaned up, but they apparently refused to be scrubbed clean. Tables surrounded these display areas, and each housed a burning stick of incense in a decorative metal holder, many of which shared matching appearances: an upright wolf with a great sword, a girl with the wings and talons of a raptor, a woman with a dragon-like head, and, most commonly of all, a muscular figure with a goatish set of horns and tufted tail.
These tables were barren however. The crowds were instead seated all around the courtyard, both inside and outside. The wide, carved, stone space had stains identical to the pits and platforms within the building, but the smothering scent of incense could not waft across all of it, so another smell, strong and potent in some places, mingled with it.
The scent of dried blood.
This was not a fancy restaurant or open-air theater or themed orchestra house...
This was a fight club.
The air filled briefly with static, and a voice, low and smooth, came to life from speakers hidden expertly in the otherwise analogue ornaments.
"A spot has opened in tonight's tournament. I ask that parties interesting in filling the vacancy gather outside my office in the southwest corner of the club. We will be continuing on schedule. Thank you for your understanding."
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Post by Executus Gira on Jul 25, 2019 19:20:06 GMT
Among the first to gather at the southwest corner were a pair of people, covered in dark black robes. The one on the right had a small pair of horns jutting from the top of their head, through the robes.
"Is this the right corner?" the hornless one asked, her voice low and rather quiet.
"It should be. I at least know my west from my east." The horned one, louder and higher pitched, responded. "That would just be embarassing."
The hornless one brought a hand up to her veiled face. On her wrist was what seemed to be a kind of watch of sorts. " Why an open spot, though?"
"Because stuff happens. Why, we're not supposed to care. We're just here to have fun and brawl, like the old days." The horned one said. "Not the worst place to have fun, but not as clean as the old palace. Any word from the boss?"
"Just to wait until further instructions." The hornless one mused...
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Post by Stage on Jul 25, 2019 20:53:59 GMT
Despite the announcement, the corner seemed barren. Its only other occupant was a helmeted, female figure sitting at a nearby table. Her broad back was to them, and her shoulders shuddered. The faintest sniffling could be heard coming from her.
"Thank you for coming so promptly," a different, male voice- the very same that had summoned them- greeted from elsewhere.
A thin wooden door, at first resembling a wall, slid open to their right, revealing a large yet minimally decorated office. A small, trim man in a tightly fitted robe suit stood at the entrance. His eyes were thin and coal-like, and his equally dark hair was slicked back neatly. A full mustache with tight, rectangular corners framed his chiseled face.
"I am Zhao," he introduced himself, bowing slightly. Despite his immaculately groomed appearance, his voice was the sort that would easily fade into a crowd, quiet and unforceful. "The owner. Please, come in."
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Post by Executus Gira on Jul 26, 2019 0:49:43 GMT
The pair looked at the small man. He, the owner? The hornless one looked at the horned one for confirmation, but the horned one merely walked in after giving her own slight bow, prompting her partner to follow her.
"It's a nice office you have here." The horned one said.
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Post by KayKay on Jul 26, 2019 7:16:38 GMT
Not far from the office a large pavilion tent stood tall amid the courtyard, its vibrant red colors on full display. This was the where tonight's champions would rest between matches, and it's interior was designed with comfort and luxury in mind. The floor was covered in fine carpet, upon which sat four fully finished tables displaying a variety of exotic foods, and lit by the warm orange glow of candles atop curved candelabras. The rich spice of burning incense filled the interior of the tent, and soft lyre music played from a record player in the corner of the pavilion.
It was from the entrance of this tent that the black beady eyes of a huge, muscular looking orc peaked out as the two hooded figures stepped into the owner's office.
"Looks like they got them two replacements," the orc grunted, small tusks pushing up over his green lips. "Tall fella's... can't make 'em out beneath their hoods. Say, Red, one's got horns like like ya'."
The orc glanced back towards the corner near the record player, where another fighter lounged back against the soft cushions of a chaise. The woman looked almost human, if it weren't for the large curved horns sprouting from either side of her head, beneath her red hair. The woman wore a sleeveless blue tunic, proudly displaying powerful, well defined arms decorated in dark, raised scars from past conflicts. Her legs, one crossed over the other's knee, were covered entirely in reddish brown fur all the way down to her feet, which ended in a pair of dark cloven hooves. She looked identical to the figure represented among many of the decorative holders, insignias, and flags around the arena: Sund's current resident champion.
Her orange eyes glanced towards the orc, blazing like fire under the candlelight. "Another faun?"
The orc shook his head. "Can't tell under that cloak," he said, leaving the flap of the tent as he made his way back over.
"Pass me an apple?"
The orc reached a burly hand into to a bowl of fruit, finding a red apple and tossing it towards the woman, who caught it deftly in one hand.
"Thanks, Brutus," she said, taking a bite.
"Don't mention't," the orc grunted as he took a seat in a wooden chair near the faun. "A lot'a new blood showed up tonight, Red. Poor kids think'n they got a chance agains' the vets."
"Hey, we need new blood around here," the woman mumbled through a full mouth. "You ask me, I think it's exciting. Never know what tricks they'll bring to the table. They can surprise you."
Brutus shrugged. "Scars mark th' real fighters. More scars they got, the more experience."
"Or the more they've been beaten up."
The orc looked sideways at the woman's scarred upper arms and chuckled; a hoarse, gravely laugh. "Speak for yerself, Red."
Something long and ending in a tuft of white fur lashed up from the floor in annoyance: the faun's tail. "Yeah, well come back to me after you defeat a cave lion with your bare hands."
The orc chuckled again. "Red, I ain' no genius, but I ain' stupid either."
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Jul 26, 2019 7:59:03 GMT
As the faun and the orc spoke to one another about their possible new opponents, another figure found herself wandering into the crimson tent: a young woman, clad in a set of silver chainmail. Peeking into the tent, her auburn hair hanging loosely at the sides of her head, her golden-brown eyes scanning every corner of the tent, the figure finally saw what she was looking for: the hoofed, horned champion of the arena. It seemed she had arrived in the right place, but it never did anyone any harm to ask to be sure.
"Uhh... greetings!" The woman said in an overly formal manner. The woman waved her hand to try and capture the faun's attention. "I heard that there is a tent that the fighters are supposed to meet in. I suppose that this is the correct place to meet?"
From behind the auburn-haired woman, the other fighters could see the snout of a particularly large bear peeking out from over the woman's shoulder, seemingly spying in out of curiosity...
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Post by KayKay on Jul 26, 2019 8:20:24 GMT
"Came to the right place," the faun told her, a single cheek pulling up in a lobsided smile. "Make yourself at home."
Her tail lifted up, its white tip pointing in the direction of the table full of food. "Help yourself if you're hungry."
"Jus' don't eat too much before yer fight," Brutus grinned. "Or it migh' come right back out."
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Post by Stage on Jul 26, 2019 8:20:39 GMT
“Not enough appreciate simplicity,” was all Zhao offered in response. It was difficult to tell, but a very slight accent in his voice suggested he was not a native speaker, though neither hooded figure could even hazard a guess as to where he might be from. Where ever it was, it was not anywhere they were familiar with, which was not entirely unexpected on Lemuria. At the very least, it seemed to be no place with a culture that had affected Sund, like Lexia or Noraage’s.
Mutely, the slim man returned to the seat behind his desk. He gave no dictation, but seemed to expect his guests to take their own seats in the twin sofa chairs that faced him. They did not appear to have used much, showing minimal creasing or other wear. It was also possible they were simply taken close care of. By the look of their office, their host was likely a clean freak.
“By your matching dress, I take it you are together,” he reasoned, “but only one fighter is needed to make even brackets. Please decide between yourselves who will fill the position.”
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Jul 26, 2019 9:03:09 GMT
The young woman at the tent, smiled, before letting herself in.
"Don't worry," the woman replied, scratching the bear's nose as she gestured for it to move away from the tent, "I'm a fairly light eater."
The woman walked inside, before making herself comfortable in a small chair near the two warriors.
"So... I'mma guess you're the champion around here?" The auburn-haired warrior grabbed one of the apples at the table, before taking a bite out of it.
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Post by KayKay on Jul 26, 2019 11:34:06 GMT
"That's right," the faun grinned. "Decorations gave it away, huh? They call me the Scarlet Ram around here — but you can just call me Phanna."
"Brutus the Bull," the orc introduced.
"What about you, babe?" the faun asked. "Got a name?"
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Jul 26, 2019 16:52:19 GMT
"Good to meet both of you," the auburn-haired woman replied with a nod of her head, setting her apple down beside her. "My name is Ryvann. I'm a bit... new around here, as you can probably guess."
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Post by Executus Gira on Jul 26, 2019 17:00:42 GMT
The hornless one looked at her horned partner as they took their seat. "Um, actually about that..."
"We're a tag team." the horned one explained, her face hidden behind the robes. "We've always fought together in the Mival Dark Arena as a unit, with eighteen wins over the past four months."
"Followed by four losses most recently." The hornless one injected. It was clear from her voice she wasn't too happy to mention it, but had to make a more honest image of their capabilities known. "It's why we're here, to get more experience elsewhere."
________________________
From the table of food, came another woman, but this was a very, VERY tall woman, the tallest figure among the gathered fighters. Her hair was a light cyan blue, and her skin was pale. Her eyes were hidden behind a small black mask that only covered the eyes and nothing else, and she wore a set of bone armor, that seemed to be modeled after some type of fish, with the jaws acting as shoulder plates. In her right hand was a plate of the sweetest foods from the table, and as she took a seat in a chair that barely held her weight, she placed one in her mouth.
"My my, a new face. Welcome here, Ryvann" She gently smiled at the newcomer. "A new fighter here is always welcome."
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Post by Stage on Jul 26, 2019 17:46:27 GMT
Zhao traced the side of his slender face with his right ring finger. He was quiet for a few moments, assumably in thought.
"Interesting," he finally noted, rather plainly. "Tag teams have been on my mind. It would be good to gauge audience reactions early. But all other participants are fighting alone. A good show is more important than being fair, but the scales cannot be tipped too far."
The small man silently leaned forward, folding his hands atop his desk. The motion was vaguely sinister, like a praying mantis preparing to ambush approaching prey.
"I have a proposal. If you remain together, your opponent may use weapons if they chose. Weapons are normally banned. There were... incidents."
-
Two more fresh faces entered the tent. One shouldered rudely past Ryvann, shooting her a smug grin as she stumbled. The other passed so closely she should have bumped Ryvann, but slid by freely, like a ghost.
The first newcomer was dressed garishly. Like the bone-clad woman, he wore a mask, a navy domino with devilish horns above the eyes. Instead of armor though, he wore a short tunic and long cloak of deepest blue. At first glance, he appeared to be reptilian, his arms covered by scales, but closer inspection revealed they were scars, numerous and even; obviously, they were purposely inflicted. His other features correctly gave away his identity. Coarse, ruddy hair wrapped his legs and peaked out from his tunic's collar and sleeves. While most of his bare face and hands were a similar reddish color, the tips of his clawed fingers, pointed ears, and upturned nose were nearly as blue as his garb.
He was a hobgoblin, though an extremely rare sort.
Striding to the table, he twisted back and sneered at his fellow new blood. His voice was deep and hoarse. "Eat. The losers should get their scraps before the king of the pack eats!"
The second newcomer only flashed him a wide, silent, somewhat unnerving grin before taking a seat near the woman with the sweets. In sharp contrast to his boastful wear, she dressed like a soldier, limbs covered in plate armor and mail glimmering from beneath the gray-green tunic that covered her trunk. Long waist clothes fell around her shins and a golden symbol, a crescent on a column, like a blunted halberd or pike, rippled across her chest. She had tan skin and dark hair that fell onto her her shoulders in shallow waves. Hazel eyes glittered excitedly at the others, seeming to evaluate them as the eyes of a coyote would a family of mice.
"Fine," the hobgoblin snorted, before beginning to gorge himself, not even bothering with a plate.
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Jul 26, 2019 19:21:06 GMT
"Hey!" Ryvann shouted to the hobgoblin, before stepping towards him aggressively. "Watch where you're walking, big guy!"
Behind the duo of warriors that recently arrived came the last of the fighters. A brown-haired girl, maybe 14 years old at most, peeked into the tent. She was clad in a simple flower-patterned white dress and wore a large hat wreathed in a coil of flowers Her body seemed to visibly quiver as she looked at the assembly that lay before her.
"I-I don't know, Stella," the girl whispered in protest to an unseen individual, "t-they all look pretty scary."
"Aww, come on!" a voice spoke in reply to the girl, coming from the rather large flower she was holding. "It'll be fun! Think of all the friends we'll make testing our mettle here!"
"B-but what if I get hurt?" the girl stammered in reply. "W-what if YOU get hurt?"
"Don't worry about that, think about the experience!" the flower said to the girl. "Besides, they don't hurt people that badly here. And I think they heal you up afterwards too!"
"W-well... if you say so," the girl sighed. She then attempted to slink inside of the tent, hoping that she would go unnoticed by the other fighters...
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Post by KayKay on Jul 26, 2019 20:35:13 GMT
"Keep it civil, Bugsy," Phanna warned the hobgoblin in a low voice, her tail swishing against the legs of the chaise. "So what brings you to the arena, Ryvann?"
Brutus had caught sight of the new girl entering the tent. He stared at her quietly from across the room. What was Zhao playing at now, letting a kid join? He couldn't fight a kid...
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Post by Executus Gira on Jul 26, 2019 21:16:03 GMT
The pair looked at Zhao, then at each other. It didn't take long for them to reach a conclusion.
"We accept." The horned one said. "It's only fair to level the playing field in this case."
_______________________
The tall blue haired woman didn't seem to pay much attention to the discussion around Ryvann, but rather she seemed more focused on the new young girl, though if one were paying close attention, they might have noticed her gaze behind the mask shift almost immediately to the flower she had in her possession. Her lips moved, mouthing out a near silent, "That's unusual... Is that the one Brother mentioned?"
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Post by Stage on Jul 26, 2019 21:44:38 GMT
"Excellent," Zhao replied. "There is a pavilion in the courtyard. The other fighters are gathered there. My handler will take care of you from there."
Plucking a piece of notepaper from a neat stack on his desk, the well-groomed man scribbled something down. His handwriting was not as neat as one might guess looking at his office and mannerisms. He slid it across his desk.
"This will earn you the place."
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The burly hobgoblin laughed mockingly. He curled his lips at Ryvann and Phanna alike, showing canines and incisors filed to fine points. "Why should the Bear be gentle with a widdle, ginger rabbit? With any weak, ginger vermin!"
The other newcomer, like the woman clad in bones, ignored him, instead observing the child. Rather than concern like Brutus had expressed, her gaze was closer to curiosity, like the armored woman's. There was something hard in her look however.
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Jul 27, 2019 1:30:41 GMT
Ryvann rolled her eyes at the hobgoblin's display of bravado.
"Whatever. I've taken down bigger guys than you, peabrain," the woman snorted towards Bugbear. Her gaze soon fixed itself onto Phanna. "Well, I was mostly looking for the opportunity to get some practice in. Where I'm from, there aren't too many skilled fighters, so I was hoping that fighting with some of the best could teach me some new techniques for when I have to do a real fight."
Unaware that her presence had been noticed, the young lass in the flowery dress attempted to make herself comfortable as far away from the other fighters as possible.
"S-so Stella, what's the plan?" the girl asked her plant-like companion.
"Well, you gotta observe the competition first!" the flower replied in a loud voice, ushering a "shoosh" from the young girl. The flower continued in whispers. "That way, you know what to expect from them when we actually go into the arena!"
"B-but why can't you just look at them?" The girl whispered back.
"Cuz I don't have eyes, silly!" the flower chuckled back in silence.
"W-well... okay. I'll do my best, Stella."
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Post by KayKay on Jul 27, 2019 2:40:29 GMT
Phanna nodded in reply, the corner of her mouth curling upward in a sideways smile. "Well, you've came to the right place. I think we'll be getting along just fine, 'Vann." The faun stretched out her fur covered legs, cloven hooves quivering in the air before she laid her heels back down on the arm of the chaise. "I'll join the audience during your matches, assuming they don't pit us against each other. Might be able to give you some pointers."
–
Outside the pavilion, among the guards stood a short dwarven woman, watching the office with heavily lidded, pale green eyes. She was stocky, that much was obvious in spite of her leather tunic and baggy clothes, and her tanned face was decorated in small freckles. She crossed her arms, waiting for the cloaked figures within the office to reemerge.
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Post by Executus Gira on Jul 27, 2019 2:56:02 GMT
The hornless one took the paper. "Thank you."
"You won't be disappointed to have us partake." the horned one said, as they both stood to leave...
_________________________
The masked woman couldn't help but laugh at the goblin's bravado. He had managed to peel her attention off the flower woman, but only for a moment. It was a high pitched, almost childish laughter that came from her, like a little girl who just saw a clown's funniest joke. "Those who boast the loudest are the weakest at heart, and the first to falter. That's what my younger sister always told me" She said at him.
She looked over at the others. their heart beats seemed stable, most of them that was. The girl's was rapid, but that was to be expected. These were seasoned veterans, cool calm and collected. It was going to be a fun night.
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