Cage Number Four

[Ther]

(Roster:
IDNK
Lavinian Pride
Ter-Thok
Ashiakin
Storm Veritas
AsukaStrikes
hushpuppy
Chelsi)

It was the greatest moment of Mendan Kinnity's life.

For the young dramaturge, hosting The Cell was the culmination of two decades of hard work, a symbol of his transformation from a sickly child of privilege to a well-muscled, handsome young poet, arguably the greatest of his young generation thus far.

Twenty years ago Kinnity had fled from his ancestral home on the outskirts of Radasanth, upset over the prolonged physical abuse he suffered at the hands of Cantinil, the longtime elf servant of his family. Wandering the streets of the great city, he came across a man promising tales of magic circlets and dragons, tales of bravery and boasting. After searching through his pockets, the boy produced a coin he had stolen from his home, and was admitted into the theater. There, like the rest of the audience around him, the impressionable Mendan was transfixed by the tale of a knight, who, instead of training for a tournament he had entered, spent his time bragging about what he saw as his guaranteed victory. The knight, of course, was slain in the first round.

When the story had ended, the audience left the theater satistifed - everyone, that is, but Mendan Kinnity. The boy stood frozen in one spot until Dalo Smaith, the owner of The Swift Hart, saw him there standing alone. When the old man asked the boy what he wanted, Mendan replied that he wished to tell stories like the one he had just heard, an answer which caused Smaith to laugh aloud. Smaith told the boy to go home, but when Mendan lied and said he had no home and no family, Smaith grew concerned and offered to let the boy spend the night in the actors' quarters.

One night turned to two, three, and then a week. Smaith, having married his craft at a young age himself, noticed that the boy was boosting the morale of his troupe and eventualy took Mendan as his own son, training him to be both an actor and a poet. Because Smaith's plays often involved mock battles, Mendan also learned how to handle a blade, hardening his body in the process. And when Smaith died fifteen years later, there was no doubt that Mendan should be the one who took control of the theater, and indeed he did, boosting the size of his audiences with his historical plays, violent melodramas the likes of which had never before been seen on the Radasanthian stage.

So when Mendan had heard that The Cell had no promoted this year, the playwright decided he would organize the event himself, hoping to spread awareness of his work in the theater. He had spent The Swift Hart's entire treasury in promoting the tournament, but no man knew what the people of Radasanth wanted better than Mendan Kinnity, and it was therefore no surprise when all four amphitheaters hosting the tournament sold out. If all went well, the theater would see its investment returned tenfold.

With the crowd anxious in their seats and the warriors locked inside the cage, Mendan rose from his balcony seat high up in one of the ampitheaters, dressed merely in the simple colored tunic and trousers of an actor. With his booming stage voice, the young playwright made his first of five speeches that day.

“Friends, welcome to The Cell,” he said, bowing and pausing for a minute to allow the crowd its applaud. “My name is Mendan Kinnity, and I am the director of The Swift Hart Theater. I wish to thank you, the unified people of Radasanth, for coming out this day, and for making this tournament the largest gathering of citizens ever for an event outside the city’s gates. Today we will see competitors from all over Althanas, men from as far as Salvar and men from exotic Fallien, competing with one another in a steel cell for fame, wealth, and most importantly, for honor. These men deserve your respect and your adulation for risking their lives today, and I have little doubt that the fine folk of Radasanth will give that to them. To the competitors I have only one message: mercy is shown in life to those who act merciful towards others. Victory need not come at the expense of another man’s life – there is equal honor in accepting a yield from a broken and battered opponent. But as wiser men than I have said, ‘Words find glory only in partnership with deeds,’ so let The Cell begin!”

[AsukaStrikes]

Honor, indeed.

Asuka scoffed grimly at the organizer's booming speech and leaned against the cold bars of the cage, the metallic links sending ripples of cool waves across her bare arms. The redhead lass was not here for the swordplay or seeking honor in the name of her country. Not even for the promise of fame nor monetary rewards awaiting the victor of this gory battle.

She was here for revenge.

In the last tournament she had engaged in on the small island west of Corone, she had been humiliated by a certain ice demon who supposedly lost to an upstart lass in the first round of the Serenti Invitational. Asuka herself made it all the way to the Semi-finals, losing to the dark knight Letho Ravenheart and an elf by the name Zephyriah Ablione in the end. Her revenge would not be complete, however, seeing that Letho was nowhere to be found within the cage rosters for this particular tournament.

But the name Ashiakin Razzack was more than enough to draw this lass into the fray.

Echoes of hushed whispers drifted into the dusty compound as the lightly-armored fighter glanced about at the others inside her cage. The sheer number of spectators who came to watch this battle royale was staggering even to the Akashiman lass, even compared to the LCC which had the entire population rooting for their new ruler. The unrelenting sun was not helping her in the least bit - the dry, windless air putting her on edge. It was distrubingly unnerving.

The mud-brown sleeveless jacket hung limp across her shoulders, revealing the simple leather tanktop and her bandaged waist underneath. Beneath the freshly-changed bandage was the very mark Letho had given to her at the Serenti battleground - a severe wound that would remain in her memory for as long as she lived. And for that, she would not rest nor lose again until her vengeance was quelled.

So... Ashiakin is here as well as that brat Damon. Team Blank, is it? Asuka had just remembered the young, black-eyed boy was the ice demon's partner for the LCC. In that event the drow swordswoman Rheawien was her partner, albiet for a very brief period. Rheawien's in another cage, I see...

The Akashiman remained leaning against the cool metal cage, her right hand fiddling with Kazeryu's hilt as he remained strapped to the back of her belt. The battle was soon to commense, but Asuka wanted to remain out of sight until she could get a good look at her target. But with Damon in the way as well, this was going to be a hard-fought battle of wit and speed. This is just great. Ju~st great...

[Storm Veritas]

This cell was made for him.

He held himself inside this “Cell”, long fingers wrapped taut around the steel bars. In here he would be invincible. The very structure was suited for him perfectly. This was perfect, and the excitement brought a few beads of sweat at his slicked ebony hairline. He licked his lips as he envisioned what he would create here, the symphonic cackle-hiss of electricity dancing in and around the all-metal cage, no place to run, no place to escape.

If it comes to that.

There was no need for him to hit the ground running. Between Serenti and the Lornius Corporate Challenge, he was quite frankly exhausted. Whatever it was that had drawn him to enter this surefire bloodbath must have had a masochistic streak, because the names came at him hard and fast when he read the list.

Damon. Sarah. Ter-Thok. Ashiakin. Asuka. This is ONE Cell? MY Cell? You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me…

All of them were well known, from the incredible boy-legend Damon to Asuka, who he watched compete in the parallel semifinals of Serenti. All of them were dangerous. The two remaining competitors were unknown to him, and certainly no less frightening. The devil you don’t know is far worse than the one you do.

There was no sense in picking out a distinctive adversary yet. They would probably come to him. In general, Althanas didn’t seem to be short of hero-type idiots that ran forth headlong into combat, broadswords bared and ready for action. They usually also happened to be the people that died the quickest. Crazy coincidence, it must have been.

There wouldn’t be much time before it all started now. No time for a smoke. There was however, a bit of time to relax. With a respectful (albeit disingenuine) nod to Asuka, Storm backed himself into a corner. The place was clean, which he could respect. His cufflinks were pocketed – far too expensive to lose, and pressed white shirt rolled at the cuff to mid-forearm. His wrists draped lazily over his bony knees, comfortably wrapped in Radasanthian tailored dress pants. Even his shoes were shined. This must have been a special occasion.

The tinking sound of his hip-mounted daggers echoed off the unforgiving metal floor. A faint reminder of what this would come down to. His mind quickly spiraled to assess how slippery the steel floor would become when it was slicked with blood. Probably something to keep in mind, he figured, waiting for all hell to break loose.

[Lavinian Pride]

"I'm going to kill that bastard, and then again once they revive them," She muttered under her breath. It was supposed to be her biggest achievement to be in a tournament and win something Seth had never done. The problem with this grand scenario was that Seth had entered at the last minute and had basically erased any buzz about her from the goers. It enraged her that the man who had been pussyfooting about Corone had once again stolen the show from her.

She growled as she waited for the beginning, it was a long speech directed at the crowd, and she snorted at the words. Honor? What kind of happy bullshit was he peddling? It was about the first two, and only the first two. Fame and Wealth often went hand in hand, and so Sarah waited for him to announce the beginning, being told she would be disqualified if she attacked before the final words.

Her mind however, was not at all unused to looking for loopholes. However, as she looked about she only saw a few recognizable faces. Storm Veritas the winner of the Serenti stuck out like a sore thumb, amongst the others she had only heard of. Ashiakin the ice demon was about, made conspicuous by his white hair. Chelsi a former Brotherhood member was also about, though Sarah herself had never met the witch.

All of these people with the exception of maybe one or two were from the memories of Seth, and it infuriated her that she would have to use his knowledge for her gain. It was an acknowledgement that she didn't know enough, and that Seth was superior when she had to do so.

She had to pick a target, and so when she chose she chose wisely. As the words were starting to draw to a close she drew a thorn subtly. With the announcement that the beginning of the Cell was finally here, her attack was off like a bullet, the effects seen round the world as the glinting metal was thrown with the Lavinian's standard accuracy right for the one she perceived as her biggest threat.

The thorn flew arrow tipped point first at the Serenti winner, Storm Veritas.

[INDK]

Damon smiled. He didn’t need a particularly deep reason to join the cell, for he had his undying loyalty to Ashiakin. Still, now that it had begun, he could feel excitement pumping through his veins and confidence surging through his body. Already, the boy had studied the room carefully, trying to figure out who in the room might legitimately be a threat to him and his partner. “Ashiakin needs to win this too,” Damon thought to himself. “That will be the only way that everyone knows that he’s really invincible.”

The boy had a more secret motivation he hadn’t revealed to his friend as well. Damon wanted everyone to know that it was Ashiakin, and not he who was the senior partner in the LCC. The boy could barely deal with the pressure of holding up his end in the two player tournament, he really didn’t want all of Althanas getting the wrong impression. It was Ashiakin who was to be duke of Lornius, not him.

Thus as Damon unsheathed his sword, the boy was particularly guarded. He knew exactly who he was going to have to attack. One of the two Baneblades was in this cell, and the boy remembered his battle against them in the LCC vividly. They were bitter and deceitful, and all of Lornius had been glad to know that it was his team that had advanced. “She’s definitely going to go after Ashiakin,” Damon figured. He remembered that the girl had specifically targeted the Ice Demon in their LCC battle, so it would be just as likely that she would target him here.

Preemptively, Damon moved away from his ally and prepared for a battle against her. Ashikin would be able to handle his own fighting some of the tournament’s more high profile battles. It was time for honor, time to do what was right.

“Asuka…” Damon called, hoping that he’d remembered the girl’s name correctly. He said little more than that, for he’d only wanted to get her attention. Damon had absolutely no use for idle chit chat, and he thought that trash talk was a bit unbecoming. There was a lot he could have said, about how even if she were to won the Cell, she would not have made an honorable champion, gloat about the success of Blank over the Baneblades in the LCC, or even just point out that his mythril sword was of a higher tier than the weapon wielded by his opponent.

Instead, Damon was going to let his sword do the talking. Quickly, he struck forwards, aiming his weapon straight for Asuka’s right side.

[hushpuppy]

In the corner of the cage, swaying slightly and mumbling incomprehensibly, was a ragged farmer, his hands worn and calloused, his back permanently bent. Lank hair, surprisingly black and ungrayed despite his years, hung down on either side of a wide hat, peaked in the center, woven out of dry reeds. A ragged brown coat with peeling patches at the elbows covered his wilted frame. For support, he leaned against a pitchfork, fingers resting between the prongs, the tip, rounded by a thousand weeks of palms rubbing across it, stuck into the ground. His eyes were slanted by the merciless sun, his skin wrinkled and browned by it. From his collapsing boots to his mildewing breath, he seemed the very antithesis of a warrior.

Which was no wonder, since he was not a warrior. It was hard to tell from any distance beyond arm's length, but pushing out from his spine, just below the hump where his back met his shoulders, was a soft, round lump. Only a trained eye would be able to tell that this was not another inundation of the poor man's backbone, but rather a most nefarious tumor. Quivering independently of the tired muscles it rested on, it coursed its own strange power through the farmer's body. Seeing what he saw, unsteadily moving his lips up and down in meaningless exercises. It had held control of this weathered creature's body for several days now, watching those around it, aping their workaday activity, learning how to be human. It did not think like those people around it, nor did it feel like them: its heart was not that of a man's. But how can we know what lies in another's heart? Might anyone we know be just like this beast - feeling nothing but an animal rage? No one can see into another's soul, not even their lover's. And if we could, would we really want to?

The farmer's head slowly looked around the cage, observing but not absorbing the scene. Creatures that bled were standing about him, preparing to bury their teeth in each other's flesh. Hundreds of pumping hearts were arrayed about the cage, quickening at the sight of blood - so much like their own - being spilled on the ground. The farmer's eyes widened, and he lifted the pitchfork, shifting it clumsily into both hands, stumbling slightly as he took one wavering step forward. If they were small, they were easier to slice. And one of them was quite small indeed. His heart was kicking in his chest as he dove toward one of the larger ones, sharp metal in his hand, the word "Asuka" on his lips. Calling back, the farmer's began moving faster as he turned to the trifle, lifting his pitchfork and taking another step forward. There was so much blood there. It would all be flowing soon.

The farmer ran forward, listing drunkenly, but keeping his pitchfork on course. A beastial howl rose from deep within him, and yet not from within him, rattling the metal holding all the blood back. It would flow.

[Storm Veritas]

In the chaotic cell, his own egomania would be his docile servant. He chose not to survey every piece of minutiae that worked within the cell, but rather those that noticed him. He was, after all, a big deal in his own accord, someone that should be considered a force to be reckoned with. It was not so long ago that he was handed the Serenti crown, but he found upon returning to Radasanth that his victory would do nothing to hinder anonymity. Simply, he was a legend in his own mind, and little more.

The comely Sarah Dahlios was the first to notice him. Slender and sexy, she was a vixen looking very ripe for the picking. Veritas had read stories of the siren’s ways, but was still enchanted by her beauty. She was looking at him now, pouty lips perched upon a pretty face. In his finely tailored clothes, he knew that he could allure plenty of similar swooning damsels on his own.

But her look was different. This was a predator, and he made no bones about it. As much as he’d like to take a run at her, he had learned that some women were simply not worth the trouble. He could very likely not afford her, anyway. Women like Sarah Dahlios didn’t come cheap.

Yeah, come on sugar. Come take advantage of the big strong stupid man. Swish your hair to the side before your deathstrike. He’ll NEVER see it coming.

When her thumb and forefinger began to roll about discretely, he paid attention. There was something there. She fired it forth at the stoppage of the roll call, but Veritas panicked as he could not find it. He had seen her play with it, roll it, shoot it over, but simply lost it in flight. It wouldn’t take long before he found it, working its way through his pressed dress shirt and spilling a small stain of crimson over his left nipple. The wound felt little more than an annoyance, a schoolgirl pinching the boy she likes. Unfortunately, things were rarely so simple, and there were likely worse things on the way. Darts like this that didn’t hurt much had a funny way of being poisonous.

Oh shit… You sneaky whore!

Fortunately for the anti-hero, Storm Veritas was short of any stifling nobility that would stop him from killing a woman. The age of chivalry had come and gone, and he found the very premise of it preposterous. She had played with the bull, and now she’d get the horns.

With four hard steps and an athletic bound, he was leaping at her, daggers drawn. He was scary fast, jumping from nearly twenty five feet and coming down near her with an overhanded slash attack, a panther pouncing on its prey. Sarah had some learning to do.

[AsukaStrikes]

Waiting impatiently for that final word to be spoken, Asuka caught Storm's friendly nod from the corner of her eye, throwing a curious glance as the fine-dressed man as he backed away into a corner of this cursed hellhole. It took her a few seconds later to register his name to a familiar name - Storm Veritas. He was the winner of the Serenti Invitational she was in, apparently declared the victor after her object of hatred - the very Letho Ravenheart who had skewered her at the end of his gunblade - announced his withdrawal from the final battle. She had heard news of it, herself busy with fighting Zephyriah at another arena, but had never seen him face-to-face. How did Letho, a demonic powerhouse of destruction, lose to some prissy-looking knave like Storm?

Then again, nothing was as it seemed in this kind of tournament. The dim shine of her Spiritstone pendant a clear sign that someone here was either very adept in magic or something about this arena is seriously wrong. But what was she to complain? Many had fallen in the name of Honor and Glory. Who knows how many of those have became wandering ghosts within this cursed stadium?

The final words came to a close with a sound of metal slicing through air. The battle began literally with the drop of a pin. A really sharp, fast pin at it as well. Asuka had no time to concern herself with its target, noticeably not aimed directly at her to begin with. However, a familiar voice called out her name and the maiden tensed up as one, her hand quickly finding its way to Kazeryu's linen-bound grip.

So, you want to die, kid? The lass smirked with glee, her eyes locking on to the black-eyed Damon as he rushed head-long in a bid to end her life with a single stroke. Asuka would have none of it.

No, she would have none of it. Damon would not have the joy of cutting down this enraged wildcat out for blood.

Asuka roared in defiance to the boy's charge as her feet shuffled left, Kazeryu flashing out from the worn-out sheath and cutting a new hole in the back of her jacket. The ragged brown strip danced in the windless air to the sound of steel clashing against mythril.

But it did not meant she locked swords with the black-eyed Damon. Kazeryu had come out of his sheath in a wide sweeping arc to her right, meeting the rookie's mythril longsword as the Dragon scremed for the heavens. The lass saw no adventage in locking swords with her enemy, especially if said person was not exactly high on her list of priorities to begin with. Her goal was set on Ashiakin's head, not his young side-kick of a boy.

Besides, sending your opponent staggering backwards would give her a lot more opening to work with. And even perhaps rid her path of a nuisance sooner than she had anticipated.

However, the Akashiman swordsmaiden had not anticipated his surprising strength, the force of the clash knocking her backwards into the steel mesh close to where she had started off from. The impact sent the lass onto a knee, throwing up a fine cloud of light-brown dust in the process. Grr! Why the heck is that kid so strong?! He's too wiry to strike with that much power behind it! Hrr! Nevermind that!

There was no time to think. Not time to rest. No time to make a plan of attack. The only thing on her mind was bounce back. Bounce back and meet the enemy head-on.

"Graaaah!!!" This time, it was Asuka who charge at her foe, Kazeryu trailing behind her in preparation for a decisive strike. It didn't matter someone else was also aiming to skewer the lad with a damned pitchfork. She would have his head.

The swordmaiden planted her left foot a mere three feet away from the boy and turned on her toes, bringing her blade in a wide right arc aimed to slice the boy's left arm into ribbon. That should be enough to warn the kid not to mess with her until her vengeance was dealt to Ashiakin.

[INDK]

Damon was in trouble now. While his initial parry had knocked back Asuka, a vision flashed in front of his eyes of another attacker running straight at him with a pitchfork. The boy cringed. He hadn’t expected to be overwhelmed like this, and wondered where Ashiakin was at a time like this. “He never let me down in the LCC,” Damon thought. “I don’t think that he’s going to let me down now.” However, in the meantime, Damon was going to have to find some way to survive. With two blows coming at him from two different directions at the exact same time, the boy knew that his promises for blocking were particularly limited. Even if he could get past the first blow, they would likely team up against him after that. The Baneblades had been a tough enough challenge the first time, Damon didn’t much care for the idea of taking them on when he was outnumbered.

Quickly, the boy thought up a plan. It wasn’t the best plan he’d ever thought of, but at the very least it would suffice. Damon quickly bent down as the man with the pitchfork charged towards him, and then used his sword to deflect the pitchfork attack straight towards Asuka’s blade. At the very least, that would tangle them up, and give Damon a few moments of wiggle room. The boy then attempted to roll under the two weapons, moving straight towards the edge of the cage. “It’ll be easier to make some kind of a stand here,” Damon figured. “I can get the pitchfork caught up in the chainlinks or something like that.”

Also, the boy hoped that by forcing his two enemies to lock weapons against each other, he might cause them to turn against each other instead of him. Though he knew the Baneblades were particularly underhanded, Damon doubted that Asuka would have hired a mercenary just to help her in the Cell. She wouldn’t have had the money for it, plus the boy didn’t doubt that at the very least, Asuka wanted the credibility of being honorable. “Even if she did nothing to deserve it,” Damon thought snidely as he stopped his roll. He was glad there wasn’t too much else going on in his Cell at the moment. Movement would have been considerably more difficult should there have been a mess of projectiles and weapons thrown about.

Damon had nearly dropped his longsword rolling forward. It had made his summersaults particularly awkward, especially given the changing angles he had needed to hold the weapon in to avoid slowing down his momentum. However, Damon knew well enough that the moment he picked himself up, he was going to need the weapon. Now he stood before the edge of the cage, a bit wiser from the initial experience. “Can’t just get caught up in the one on one of this thing,” Damon realized. “Even if everyone else here probably wants Asuka gone just like me, they aren’t going to be picking sides. Everyone’s attacking everybody.”

The boy sighed, composed himself and held his sword ready. Though he should have known better by now, Damon kept his eyes fixed on Asuka, as if to let her know that it wasn’t over between them.

[Lavinian Pride]

Sarah saw Storm rush her and grinned when he responded in typical male fashion. The bull was going to stamp his feet, then attack full force. As he did so and came at her she was ready and instead of dodging the somewhat predictable attack tried to block it the force sending her down to one knee. As she grinned she fought to push herself back to a standing position. She had chosen wisely for her first target, and for the plan to work she had to prove she had something to offer.

"You and I are both not stupid, that Serenti Title has a bull’s eye on your back. What say you and me team up for now, push the others towards Ashiakin and the boy protecting him, I figure we get enough force on them, and even they can't hold up forever," Sarah said as she kept the grin on her face her voice low so only he could hear it.

"Of course, you could also be pissed I threw the knife at you, but think of it this way, the only way this could work," She muttered as she pushed herself closer to him, "Is if we look like we're fighting. I figure we could even play act a bit, and toss a few attacks at them at, inopportune times. I think you know where I'm going with this."

She then winked as she looked at him. She wanted Seth so badly she was willing to set aside her own pride to get the chance. Her ambition in full force as she tried to keep the two of them locked up. Finally she pulled back away from Storm Veritas as she twirled her daggers and dropped into her traditional stance speaking loudly, "So what’s it going to be? You want a bit of fun, or am I going to have to give it to you rough?"