... wait. When had Draconua left the stan—

NEXT: THE BLACKGUARD, THE GRINNING NIGHTMARE, THE SLEEPLESS CHAOS

DRAAAAACONUA!
There was no further preamble as her hulking figure erupted from the gates like a horse spooked by the pistol shot. No further effect bar trademark spotlights and billowing banners from Nemean herself.

The monster lurched forward with a ground-eating gait, the full extent of her maw split wide with a Cheshire grin. Hussaresque wings snapped out at her sides as her head lifted up, as she skidded with to a sand-spraying halt. Pushing up and up onto her hind legs, Draconua reared high with entropic black leaking from between Oil-stained teeth. It bloomed purple in her rattling, wheezing gullet and she reached the peak of her upward height with a shrill gulp of air.

And, of course, her entire body ignited with a violet flash, accompanied by no less than a bellowing roar to shake anything to its core. Hide smoldered and singed even after the initial burst of backfired flame, but Draconua seemed unaffected as she stomped back onto all fours and prowled forth with continued roars of anticipation and sneering grins.

Who would stand before her? Face the guillotine? There had been many that seemed even a little worthy of her attention.

@Alrik

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas leaned forward. At the very edge of his seat.

A few pieces of popcorn fell from his hand, forgotten.

Draconua. The most massive, violent, chaotic monster in the cave, one that even he could not hope to control. Violence incarnate, hatred and madness that would ravage anyone who stood before her. Vargas turned back to the door, eager, intent, waiting to see what monster Nemean had procured to pit against the Sleepless Chaos...

Surely, it had to be an apocalyptic beast. They would have a clash of titans, a shattering of the earth, an armageddon battle--slashing claws and gouting blood to wash the walls for weeks to come...

Vargas held his breath, waiting to see what monster might emerge.

Let no one say, either, that Vakornol was not equally as eager to see just what matchup Nemean had come up for this.

The Sleepless Chaos was formidable on her own, even without magic at her beck and call—and Vakornol, for curiosity's sake, had found out such a thing firsthand. A horrific monster of gargantuan proportions (and really, any Master should be proud to have conceived such a thing and managed to have it work in these sometimes close quarters) and incredible violence.

So many contestants had run the gamut of this arena already, with varying levels of mortality, but... did the sprite have an ace in the hole? Some crowning contestant to make this a real match? Oh, that would get the audience in an uproar.

Vakornol dug into her bucket of churros with increasing anticipatory excitement. She may have even choked on a few along the way.

Vedette stared in absolute awe at Draconua. She was... beautiful. Her popcorn fell right out of her mouth as she gaped, forgetting her food in favor of climbing right on top of the chair to stare down at her.

She might be in love.

"FUCK 'EM UP DRAC!!", she yelled, throwing her arms up in a cheer, wishing she had some red paint or something... AHA! BARBEQUE SAUCE AND KETCHUP!

She smeared both over her cheeks until they were reddish, throwing her hands up again with a huge grin on her face. Drac solidarity.

"AND THE OPPONENT OF THIS HULKING TERROR? THE CHALLENGER OF THIS SCOURGE OF CAVES?! THE ONE, THE ONLY!"

The winds ceased their billowing, the fires grew lowly and meek in their sizzling... the silence, the reverence encapsulated the Forum, all of Orion, perhaps even the caves beyond.

The whole world forgot to breathe.

And from that silence rose a tremor -- minuscule, at first; undetectable -- that surmounted, that burgeoned, that bloomed!

The door creaked open, and out of that lurking darkness came... a paw.

With time, with the sting of anxious, anticipating eyes, approached... yet another crumb of a paw. A vile hint, a venomous warning! What was this, a trick? A mirage? A deception, surely-- no!

honk-a honk-a honk-a

"BEHOLD: SOME GUY NAMED AAAAAAALRIIIIIIIIIIIIK!!!!!!"

A little orb of feline dawdled into the field. There was no pose stricken, no grandeur display of ferocity shown. His fur was unkempt, there were bags around his eyes -- altogether he bore a striking resemblance to a long-forgotten pillow left under a bed or something. He stumbled out of the shadows, not apprehensive nor bold, and walked a few paces towards his looming colossus of an opponent. Once he made it maybe... ten paces? He sat, strained his neck to look all that way up, and said: "...not a bat?"

This was his only observation, and it seemed to be comfort enough for him. He continued to sit and leer, entirely immobile, but not at all with fear. Perhaps that would be his only accomplishment in this life.

Faint, jovial Carnival music wafted over the arena. You already know what this is. I don't have to tell you.

@Draconua

Nemean, justifiably, was beside of herself.

At first, it's all subtle and with her usual game show host cheer—so as to not spoil the SURPRISE for the big purple idiots gawping on either side of her. She zipped to and fro, striking various poses as spotlights and lights go off, as the Sleepless Chaos sets herself on fire (nice touch!) and hollering in an amplified voice. The buzz of her little wings was almost deafening, and she settled herself upon her little pedestal—garish pink and all covered in lace cushions, of course!—to beckon forth her ace in the hole, her beloved challenger, her perfect opposite to Draconua...

... and immediately burst into hysterical laughter as both of the purple hounds' faces fall into various states of disarray. We're talking legs kicking, wheezes echoing, a hand beating against Vakornol's forehead once she'd fluttered her way up there. The clown music was just icing on the cake! Why was she the funniest thing alive?!

"OH, THIS IS GOING TO BE GREAT!" Nemean wailed, picking her way back to her personal chair of glory, "GET 'EM, GUY!" She laughed again, nearly falling off of the cushions before she'd even managed to sit back down. There were tears—TEARS!—in her eyes. "This is the best matchup yet!!! MOVE OVER CHADSWORTHINGTON, YOU'RE BLOCKING MY VIEW!!!"

The faceless golem just stood there, smock fluttering in the breeze.

She was-... increasingly drunk. She'd already seen one one-sided fight thrown into the ring--and now this?!

"HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!" she bawled down, and then took a moment to carefully set aside her now-empty, very large coconut shell. The one she'd already chugged the rum from. The red paper umbrella sat behind one ear, accenting her black hair.

Now she cupped her hands around her mouth, and tried again. "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!" For a moment, she forgot her train of thought, and then saw the competitors below and remembered--oh yeah. Unfair battle. "NOOOOOOOT FAIIIIIR! BOOOOOO! GOOOO CAAAAAT!"

Fumbling fingers began to pick up pebbles, and chuck them at the ring below, haphazardly but... vaguely, generally, in the direction of Draconua's enormous girth.

Thalia was, it seemed, one for the underdogs. "GOOOOOOOOOOO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAALRIIIIIIK!" she howled at the crowd.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Nemean had meant it as a joke. Vargas was certain of that.

As certain as he was that Nemean had no idea of the potential capabilities of a cat. They were born hunters. Instinctive killers. Incredibly quick on their feet.

He adored them, as perfection.

This fight could, in the Leviathan's questionable logic, go either way--and he leaned farther forward, silent, rapt, his jaw parted to hang a little open. Six acid eyes locked upon the arena floor, and he waited...

The cat was fearless. He loved it at once. Wanted to take it, keep it, use its power to strengthen the Forge. Draconua? -Fuck Draconua. She was unpredictable, uncontrollable, a liability and near-useless to them but a cat-? LOOK AT IT! If he were lucky, maybe the little beast would remove her problem once and for all, and do them all a favor.

He looked between each of them with bated breath.

Would Alrik show off spectacular agility, dodge and clamber and go for her pitted eyes? Would it manage a single surgical-precision stroke and spill her Oiled lifeblood across the dusty floor?

Or would Draconua snap it up like a snack and instantly consume it?

Yes-... this could definitely go either way.

Draconua lingered at the edge of her metaphorical seat, black-knuckled with vile anticipation for a truly vile opponent. The silence was a long, drawn-out sting—and she almost imagined it to be filled with a funeral dirge or something equally as ominous played along the keys of an organ. Dramatic buildup to a climatic reveal, and all that.

Instead, the arena was filled with a God-awful racket that burst even her eardrums. It was instruments playing in all their discordant glory shattering every bit of her psyche at once; and, somehow, it was even more Chaotic than the ever-present circus within her own skull.

The red of her mask blurred as she shook her head free of the earblood. "This is a joke!" she bellowed in brief.

And with all of that squared away, the Sleepless Chaos galloped forward, head low—but not quite to the floor, for the sake of momentum when she did attempt to swing it downward and catch the ball of fuzz in her excessively wide jaws.

ROUND 1/?

100%

ATTEMPT: Grab Alrik like a snack
DEFENSE: ... no
INJURIES: None (... yet?)

@Alrik

The massive beast came for him, the clown music swelling and the silly little horns finished with their blaring fanfare, and by all means, Alrik was ready to accept this fate... this end, fit for the jester king that he had become. But... the Sleepless Chaos was coming too slow... and people were cheering for him?

This felt like... well, in the moment, it felt like everything a much, much younger Alrik would have wanted. A tremendous test of his might, a crowd of onlookers and cheerleaders who believed in him-- or, at least, wanted him to succeed, an honest chance to prove himself for certain... if that younger Alrik was anywhere left in him, then he should've felt something by now, right? Even if it wasn't anymore, even if he was just like any other person, a person would feel something right now, wouldn't they?

Try as he might, Alrik didn't. He didn't want to move out of the way... but this wasn't happening fast enough. There was time to talk, time to process that he was still as empty as he had been for cycles, and that wasn't funny, or a show, or even a form of torture. All it ended up being was undesirable, unnecessary filth! So what could he do? Well, move aside was the first thing that came to mind.

Pitter patter.

Okay, there. Now...? "sure is, but not the worst joke i ever heard... seen." Alrik had been subject to much crueler japes. I'm sure Nemean could have thought to give a guy with a phobia of batcats a batcat for a child and grandchild, but she hadn't, so she gets none of the credit. There were plenty of other hilarious ironies packed away in this cat that I'm certainly certain Nemean could have orchestrated herself with ease, but she didn't! Accidents work those ironies with... dare I say defter hands than even she!

Nemean gets the credit for this, though: Alrik would attempt to hop up into Draconua's jaws, now that they were down to his height. "here- lemme just--" The goal seemed to be to grapple, to cling and climb those jaws. The pallas cat, who had not trained even a little for this moment, was undoubtedly going to have a tough time with the maneuver. And, based on word choise, was he trying to... help her?

ROUND 1/?

100%

ATTEMPT: climb onto her mouth???
DEFENSE: no <3
INJURIES: also no <3

@Draconua