ORIGIN

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Vakornol watched with narrow-eyed interest from the stands. She leaned far forward, claws holding fast to the very edge of the judges' panel's seats—so fast that they were starting to carve little grooves in them. Her hind legs were practically extended to their fullest... extent. All to get close to the action.

... and to wish that she'd hassled the Blacksmith for some binoculars or something.

Perhaps they—the two Masters and one very well-off Valkhound—should have considered walling off a section of the arena, or constructing a smaller one for the... lesser scale of combatants. She'd not given foresight to some of them being small enough to just... step on.

At least there was enough movement to catch the implication of assault, and soon blood began to sputter across the ground; to which Vakornol responded with a bellowing chorus of "BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!" (Maybe... she should jump down to get a closer look at the action? Or ask them to fight a little closer to this wall, right here... ?)

The owl was wise to use their wings as a means to an advantage, but the land-based beast was equally as witty in aiming to disable that. Blood coated the latter, though from here Vakornol couldn't see the extent of the damage.

... well. Duel until one drops, she supposed.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas had been leaning forward, eagerly; the last few matches--the stragglers--were trickling in. He had to squint to make out the little owl, and-

'HUMA, THE UNDYING FLAME!'

He jolted--almost imperceptibly, but it was there--and all six eyes widened ever-so-slightly. Corndog-chewing stopped dead, and he stared with dawning horror at the barn owl sweeping into the ring. It called back some rebuttal, though-... A Gembound. The name wasn't quite right. Close-... and the shape? It is how it was described.

His blood had run cold.

Vargas feared very little, but right now, the barn owl felt like an omen. Of what-? Was it death, a promise? A warning?

The fight itself was remarkably uninteresting, by comparison--and it took him several moments for the shock to wear off enough for him to even notice the other combatant. Selenite-gamma. Alive, well, fighting. But even as his eyes wandered over it, his mind was swimming as if though Oil--what would he do if the owl died-? What should be done with its stone? They couldn't simply revive that. It would be-... a taunt. A joke. One to bring a guillotine smashing down.

Who the hell had done this?

His gaze slid to Nemean; she--of course--seemed to think it was hilarious. Her doing, then-? He knew of the other mockery, of course-... But this one somehow seemed more fragile, more real. Less a spoof and more a poor imitation. She would have known of it, at least, he thought, and his acid eyes swept back to Huma. He pretended to know nothing of it. He bit at his corn dog, and his eyes briefly searched the stands for someone who was not there. He had to pretend all was normal. Well. That he hadn't just seen the ghost of a catalyst for apocalypse.

Battering wings. Grabbing hands. They weren't doing a very good job of it. "FIGHT, OR GO HOME," he roared, giving it his full volume. Perhaps, if he were very lucky, they would simply choose the latter.

"IT'S FUCKING HILARIOUS," Nemean threw back, at Huma's initial shout.

Then she laughed, for good measure. "HAHAHAHA!" Of course, they wouldn't know why--none of them would. Probably only her, here, actually; and it was funny as fuck.

The fight, though, was almost insultingly bad by comparison--but that was also hilarious. The irony! Or well--really not, when she thought about it. It wasn't that they were both complete failures--they sorta were, but--it was more that their attacks consisted of flapping wings and nips and scratches. "Where's the VIOLENCE?" Nemean screamed. "Where's the BLOODSHED and the RIPPING OUT HEARTS and the TEARING OFF EARS and the GRABBING SOMEONE'S JAWS AND JUST-" (Nemean put her tiny hands together, and snapped them outward) "-RIPPING THEM APART?!"

Nemean rolled her eyes and threw her hands into the air.

"DRACONUA! GET IN THERE AND SHOW 'EM HOW IT'S DONE!" she bawled, jerking an arm forward for emphasis.

Giant, red arrows appeared, floating and glowing above the arena, pointing down to the small combatants as if to help Draconua zero in. And then they both burst into fireworks, a rain of hot, glowing specks that might also burn the pair. Who knew? Who cared?

It was HAZARD TIME, baby!

@Draconua

Draconua, in the meantime, was either unaware of or did not care about any significance or insignificance to a name. Nemean had put out the cue line, and bedazzled the combatants with all sorts of helpful indicators. The sanguine of her mask snapped to regard all of those fireworks and the duo tussling within them.

Target locked.

She reared up in place, inhaling with a shrill wheeze, and practically yowled into the "sky." With the sound, a stream of fire that seemed useless at first—

—until an honest-to-God ball of Chaos fire crashed down for the two of them, like a meteor that'd spent millennia coalescing into a solid enough state to meet earth.

Let's see who the Undying Flame really is.

@Huma

He heard the thump of something landing in the sand nearby- definitely Wolfsbane giving chase. It's not like he was just gonna let him get away, right? This was DEATH match, not minor injuries match. But, unfortunately for Wolfsbane, Huma did not have any plans on dying today.

Not that things still couldn't go unplanned.

Whipping around to go back on the offensive, Huma would launch towards Wolfsbane, talons outstretched to claw anything that they happened to connect with. However, with his injured wing he wasn't able to get the proper airtime, and simply awkwardly landed onto the dusty floor with a thwump.

@Wolfsbane

ROUND 5/5

ATTEMPT: Slash with Talons
DEFENSE: Who needs em?
INJURIES: Bit Butt, chomped wing, bruised

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

death

gore

The giant red-masked monster made him pause from the sheer shock and horror of such a sight. He stood, watching it roar a stream of blue-black fire into the air. At first Huma thought it was just a threat display, a precursor to a REAL attack.

Until he saw the ball of hellish fire crashing down towards the two of them.

Completely abandoning the fight in order to NOT become Huma the 'dying in fire,' he BOOKED it. Or rather, booked it the fastest he could with an injured wing and bitten butt.

It's impossible to outrun a giant meteor of fiery death, however. Trust me, the dinosaurs probably tried. And just like his dinosaurian ancestors, Huma was engulfed in flames. Feathers turned to kindling, flesh to fuel. Crackling and blistering apart in icy flame.

Ironic.

(Exit thread, straight up dying, yo)
@Wolfsbane

ROUND 5/5

ATTEMPT: Avoid the fire
DEFENSE: Who needs em?
INJURIES: Bit Butt, chomped wing, bruised

Oh, she was fighting back? With a hyena-styled grin, complete with a cackle, Wolfsbane skidded to a halt and jumped back from the advancing owl. He couldn't reach- was the pain getting to him, or was he too used to ground combat? Wheezing out more laughter, Wolfsbane's tail swayed with a strong intensity, excitement rippling down his mane.

Enter: Draconua. At the call, Wolfsbane whipped his head to the new contender, remaining good eye going wide. Alright, fun and games were over- immediately, the little hybrid broke from the battle, focused on his own preservation above all else. The hissing, popping sound of fire sounded off, and he had mind to not look and instead book it to wherever she couldn't reach.

And that wherever probably didn't exist.

Out of harm's way, Wolfsbane drifted to a stop, panting out laborious breaths and staring in time to see Huma engulfed. So much for the Undying Flame then, huh? And with the owl dead, he was the victor, struggling to catch his breath as wounds across his back and face stung to hell and back. Was that it? One lucky dodge and he'd be ok?

Yes. He did it. Look at him, and remember! Creeping back into the center of the arena, Wolfsbane stood close to Huma's burning remains, staring at them as the body dissolved to oil. The gem would be his; he just had to wait until til the kindling had completed.

(wolfsbane isn't tryin to do any attack and huma missed last round so only one attempt)

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas stared in unsettled horror, a cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. It was a good thing he didn't show emotion on his face, because he didn't even think to hide it--he simply sat, staring, completely frozen.

Frozen, as the barn owl named Huma struggled to flee. As the barn owl named Huma was overtaken by the flames of Chaos.

As the barn owl, named Huma, ignited in Cursed Flame and was burned to nothing but black ash and cinder in a soundless instant. Did She do this? Was this a warning? Or is it pure chance--an omen..? If so, the implications were... dire.

It took him a moment to remember to breathe. He inhaled sharply, and forced humor into his tone as he called down. "I will pay you for that gemstone, Selenite," he bellowed down, false amusement ringing hollow in his ears. "Whatever you would want for it. But--WELL DONE!"

Names were forgotten, and the music joined his heartbeat in his ears as he sat slowly back down. A sidelong glance, at Nemean, but she wasn't looking his way--was this her doing?
Vargas had never been one for nightmares, but this would haunt him.

DEATHMATCH

Holy FUCK! "TOAAAAAAAAAAAASTEEEEEEEEEEEEED!" Nemean bawled, her voice amplified into a boom and an echo that resounded back and forth, back and forth across the arena.

"I mean I'm pretty fuckin' sure the owl was winning but NOT ANYMOOOORE! We have, a WINNER!" A deep inhale, all the spotlights of the arena sweeping to pinpoint Wolfsbane in the center of the charred and bloodied dust: "WOLFSBANE, THE FORGOTTEEEEEN!"

Vargas's request earned only a stinky side-eye; what'd he want that for? Anyway--"YOU HAVE FIFTEEN SECONDS TO GLOAT AND BASK IN THE AADOOOORATION! OF THE CROOOOWD! And then get outta here, we have DEATHMATCHES to run!"

For those fifteen seconds, though (actually, Nemean would give it thirty, in her utter generosity) fireworks would shoot up, confetti would rain down, and the heavy metal music would blare a new and triumphant theme.

_____________

DEATHMATCH WINNER: Wolfsbane

Character: Huma
Age: +5 (12th Cycle, limited)
Magic Level: +1 (Fledgling)

ROUND 1
Attempt: +17
Penalties: -

ROUND 2
Attempt: -
Penalties: -

ROUND 3
Attempt: +15
Penalties: -

ROUND 4
Attempt: +8
Penalties: -

ROUND 5
Attempt: -
Penalties: -

Total: 46

Character: Wolfsbane
Age: +5 (19th Cycle, limited)
Magic Level: + 1 (Fledgling)

ROUND 1
Attempt: +8
Penalties: -

ROUND 2
Attempt: +8
Penalties: -

ROUND 3
Attempt: +9
Penalties: -

ROUND 4
Attempt: -
Penalties: -

ROUND 5
Attempt: -
Penalties: -

Total: 31

NUMERICAL WINNER: Huma (but they died)

General reminder: please only write attempts, and allow your opponent to describe the results, in case they choose to dodge!

@Wolfsbane @Huma (I mean... technically)

Wolfsbane leveled his gaze onto Vargas. Ah, Vargas- Master Vargas, now. What was in that alien mind of his? Was he impressed?

No. He wanted the stone. It was Wolfsbane's, earned and his, and he pinned back his bleeding ears at the offer. Could he say no outright? Working his jaw, Wolfsbane let out a hiss as he reached into the dying embers and extracted his prize, clutching the jasper in his claws.

"My name is Wolfsbane," he growled. No, Vargas, this was his prize, and his prize alone. What could Vargas offer him that he didn't already have? Training? Sure, so he'd get thrown around by some useless giants again. Power, status? What would it mean in this lawless land, anyways?

Breathing out sharply, Wolfsbane glanced to Nemean- he must have used up ample time in his dramaticism already. Clutching the gem closer before taking it in his mouth, Wolfsbane retreated back the way he came, slinking into the staging rooms and finding a dark, hidden spot.

If Vargas wanted this gem, he'd make sure that the beast could never have it. Sequestering himself away, Wolfsbane turned his back away from the general populace and focused on the gem in his claws, straining for an inkling of his magic to take hold. Nothing came, not even as he held his breath, and he let out a gasp as a headache caught up to him.

It wouldn't work. The life was burnt out of the rock- perhaps for the better. Could Wolfsbane even be a father? But, what about Vargas? What if-- hm. Did Vargas even get a good look at the gem..? Holding it up into the light, the hybrid turned it this way and that, placing it into his memory. Brownish, striped. Yeah, he could find another one, perhaps, convince Vargas that that was Huma- if it even turned out like the owl, anyways.

Well, maybe he could say the flames messed it up. Who knew.

But, for now, Wolfsbane tucked the gem away into a long-forgotten and dusty corner, patting it before finding his way to a medic to patch up his wounds.

;exit wolfsbane

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Vakornol

Vargas

Game Master Dark

Draconua

Huma

Huma

Wolfsbane

Vargas

Game Master Dark

Wolfsbane