[Event] DEATHMATCH! - Printable Version

It had followed it's siblings (Mainly Karambit, Terror had grown distant from it, lately.) to the Place Of Loud Noises and Many Smells. It was.. a lot. The smells made it's mouths water, but the blindingly bright 'special effects' made the eyes along it's arms squint shut. It used the benches and walls for support, stretching almost (but not quite) to it's full, 'intended' posture. Not seeming to understand the point of concession stands, it's pick up stuff off the ground to eat- both dropped food and trash alike.

Most of... everything flew right above it's hodgepodge of a head. But it understood the general gist of this place- they were to fight. To create blood and pain with their claws and teeth. That.. was good, right? Terror did it, and so did Karambit. Creosote had refused, but it was the only one. Many had come to do this, one of it's siblings included. Many others of Many shapes and sizes. Should it.. join? Should it learn to do what they did? What it's siblings did?

Creosote was nothing but a follower, rather than a leader. It would follow the group into the fighter's pit, where those who wanted to fight packed in to wait for their turn. It would look for the loud one- the one everyone else came to, to announce that they would be fighting, too.

"Cccreo. I will... join." It gurgled at Nemean. Now she had THREE gross meat-monsters to fight for her entertainment. What luck!

I let my horns grow longer
I observed my skin get redder

He had been... aimless, for the last couple cycles. Ever since waking up in a chunk of green crystal, and breaking out to find himself alone. The whole place had been nearly abandoned, with no sign of the sentinels. Not even Doctor was there. He wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or completely alone, so he felt both. Since then, he sort of.. wandered. In Canis. In Monoceros. In Orion. He couldn't go that far, or his leg would start aching restlessly which would soon turn into a stabbing, intolerable pain. But he refused to just stay put, like he had for so, so long.

He happened to be in right place at the right (or wrong?) time, however, the day Orion erupted in deafening noise, called of a 'deathmatch' reverberating around the cave. Following the source, he found a.. scene. The forum, normally desolate, filled with light and noise and promise of blood. As he wandered among the crowd, he spotted a familiar face.

Vargas.

And a couple of the other sentinels- although far bigger and FAR more intimidating than the last time he'd seen them. Is this where they had went, then? Or was this just some kind of... recruitment event they were hosting? Or was it sheer coincidence?

Honestly, he should've left. Maybe watched a match or two, hidden in the crowd. He shouldn't have gone over to the tiny flying sprite who seemed to be the host of this thing. And he definitely shouldn't have told her "I'm One, the tiny hunter. I'd like to fight, please."

But well, what else did he have to lose? His other two legs?

He'd been a bit idle for a while. A year and a half, almost- long enough to consider himself forgotten, to fall into place in his own empty life waiting for something. Some outward contact, some basic acknowledgement, something.

And what he got was a party of familiar faces passing him by, just as he was ready to give up. Sure, he'd put them behind him, he'd imagined. He'd abandoned that old name, that old group, taken on his own life now as he'd settled into his own home. Why should he care for them, if they didn't care for him? Had they even looked for him? Raising his head, the hybrid squinted from a broken window of his home, perched on the sill like a feline.

He'd followed at a distance, to the roar of the distant forum. Something was happening, here. Something big.

He wanted in.

It didn't take him long to slink down to the depths of the back rooms, pointedly avoiding any faces he knew (which, really, were just Vargas and Vander). No, he wanted to declare his return, he wanted to see their genuine reaction- no pity over their own loss, after all. So, when it was his turn to approach the flitting Master, the hybrid stood proud with a steeled expression on his face.

"I am Wolfsbane the Forgotten, and I want to fight."

Even if nobody told him that he wasn't actually forgotten, at least it sounded cool.

Nemean zipped down, a tiny clipboard in hand, a pencil neatly tucked behind one ear. Her wings buzzed loudly as she pursed her lips, looking critically over her new contestants.

"Some good potential in this group, huh?" she said aloud, and swept the pencil out to touch the clipboard. She scribbled, squinted at her guests, scribbled some more.

"OKAY! So, big fish guy," (girl, but Nemean was being perfectly neutral with the term) "-you get to fight One! -Heck of a name, huh? -The TINYYYY HUNTER! -Come up with a title, fish, or I can make one up for ya! For now, I have you noted down as:" (tiny, sharp checkmark drawn) "Fish!" She glanced Galleon's way. "-Fish out of water!"

Sounded good, sure. I mean, she needed a little flair, but--it was a start. Anyway, she was busy! She had things to do! Don't rush her!

"You, Forgotten! -Sweet name, and Wolfsbane too! Good title, real dramatic... we'll set you up with-"

Nemean turned, starting to point at Huma, then froze. She stared. "...Huma?" she asked, looking the barn owl up and down. Tiny eyes goggled. Widened. Nearly popped from her skull. Then, suddenly, Nemean began to laugh. It was a hysterical laugh, as if Huma had said something INCREDIBLY funny. She rolled in the air, slapping her thighs as she forced out half-choked words. "HUMA?! They n-named you HUMA? Whose fucking BRILLIANT idea of a joke was that?! Holy SHIT! HAHAHAHA!" Did the owl even know?! No--it had to be someone's dark--incredibly dark--prank. Perhaps whoever had sent it here to die?! As, like, a big SCENE!? Oh, this would be hysterical. Hysterical!

It took the sprite a few moments to calm her laughter, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, her wings buzzing loudly. "Holy fuck. That's so dark. I fucking love it," she went on. "'Undying Flame,' huh? More like off-BRAND, second-HAND, hahahaha! No, no, it's cool, it's a good name. It's fine. Everyone's gonna cheer like nuts watching you die, though, you know that-? Holy shit." Though, then again, most of them wouldn't know the name. Eh. She'd laugh, and that was all that really mattered, right? Anyway-! "The Undying Flame versus the Forgotten! Get down into the back and get ready, there's a few fights ahead of you now."

That left...

-Okay!

"Meat shambling horror one vs meat shambling horror two! That'll be a good one. SO--Creo versus Effluvium. Man, they'll love to see that fight! Come up with some titles, beasties, or I will!" Was that a promise, or a threat? Pencil was clipped to clipboard, and the Master dipped higher into the air, eyeing over her three new pairs. "RIGHT! In the back, get prepped to go! Get ready to WRECK SHIT!"

She buzzed away, then; this was more than enough for one Deathmatch and anyway, any more fighters might end up hard to pair. They'd definitely make do with what they had.

________

The following three pairs have now been matched up:

Creosote vs Effluvium
Huma vs Wolfsbane
Galleon vs One

FROM THIS POINT ONWARD, NEW SIGNUPS ARE CLOSED.

Maximus approached Nemean with their spear in hand, ears pinned. They'd had enough.

"I'm forfeiting and leaving the competition," they said, "I no longer wish to participate in the next round."

Call them a party pooper or whatever but they had no business being here, not anymore. They had nothing to gain from this.

They turned to face Vargas, then, who was presumably still near the fluttering fairy, and clenched their jaw, "I'm no longer a part of your Chaos Forge. Goodbye."

They were free. A weight had lifted off of their chest as they turned, breathing out as they stared at their spear thoughtfully. After a moment they tugged the colorful trinkets and baubles off before holding it out and breaking it over their knee, letting the two halves fall from their hands. They had no need of it anymore.

Now to find someone who could dye the ugly purple X across their face a better color. Any color, really. They hated purple.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas snorted, glancing over. "Thank the Creator," he muttered. "The answer was, because you don't need a reason not to kill a child. Do not be seen by any of the Forge again, and do not come anywhere near Draco, Pegasus, Cepheus. I want you nowhere near my people."

Good riddance; and thank all the stars that he'd never have to come running to the fool's rescue again, or make excuses for it, or explain why he hadn't killed it.

He glanced over to Draconua with a snort. "It's no longer under my protection," he told her.

He was done with that one.