Do Steel Hearts Bleed? [Featured]

[Hysteria]

Music filled the air, punctuated with noisy chatter and laughter. The tone was more of a party than a battle. With several musicians and flowing food, it was to be expected. When a rich inventor throws money around like confetti, it is hard to maintain a sombre disposition. Rarely did the citadel breath with such life as today. Men and woman had come out to watch the battle touted as a clash of science against might and magic. The machine, The Heart of Steel, stood as representation of a new age. It did not thrive on magic as many constructs did, but instead on steam and spark. The battle was to show off the contraption, with many invited guests rich and prominent individuals from across Althanas. This construct could replace soldiers, perhaps even magic all together. At least, this was the thought of its creator.

Professor Rodderly was sitting close to the edge of the pit that filled the centre of the room. Large stone slabs rose outwards like giant steps to form row and row of raised seating. The pit was lower by several metres from the closest step with a thin wall rising four feet in front of the closest seats. In the pit the walls were thick stone, covered with a thin layer of grey paint. The pit was fifteen by fifteen metres and the floor covered by an inch of sand. Odd rocks of varying size and shape rose from the sand as if they had tumbled into the pit. The stones were the only break in the clinical setting. It had clearly been created to have the barest limitation of sight for those watching. Pressed again the wall below the Professor was Heart. The large contraption was draped with a red sheet finishing just above his feet. It was not yet time for the reveal.

“LLLLLAAAAAAADDDIIIIESSS AND GENTLEMEN!”

The cry echoed throughout the room and the music and people fell silent. The voice came from the presenter of the evening. The man was dressed in an immaculate black suit and top hat. His eyes shone brightly from below dark bushy eyebrows and a large moustache protruded from above his lips.

“It is my honour to present to you this evening. My name is the Amazing Herbert, or Herb to my friends. Now now, don't try and smoke me, I'm not that kind of herb!”

There was an awkward laugher from those gathered, although Herbert seemed unperturbed.

“The battle will start in just a few moments. Now would the first four contestants please take up positions in the ring? Go a head and climb down those ropes dangling from the side. Please, if everyone else could please take a seat we will get going shortly!”

[Ozoric]

A whump in the wind. Wings beating. Breath taken. Descent.

Ozoric Newalla, prince forgotten and Lancer of the Drakengard dropped into the arena free of rope’s aid and crowd’s applause. Shock, perhaps more so than awe silenced their cheers. He stood upright, leather armour creaking, and ran his hand through his hair. It was as red as the dye on his attire.

“I need to work on my landing,” he chided himself.

The crowd roared with laughter. They continued their hubbub, whipping themselves into a frenzy they expected would lead to disappointment. Street performances in Corone, since the dissolution of the Tantalum troupe and their ill-fated copycats had become damp squibs – worthless, fleeting distractions from the post-war tedium of the ‘new age’ so encouraged by the likes of Dr. Herb.

Ozoric looked skyward, and caught the tail of his mount vanish into the low-mists that had snook across Radasanth on sorcerer’s prerogative and Drakengard’s edict. Whilst the youth was still doubtful of his role to play in this spectacle, he appreciated Captain Aelfric, his long-suffering’s mentor aid in finding his way to the city. Taking it upon himself to turn, draw his blade, and spread his knees, Ozoric set his sights on the beast ahead.

Trying to describe it was difficult, even for one as erudite as he was. He frowned. It was not a dragon. Such a feral hunt would be as much a prize as the memory of the swift death that followed. It was not a demon. No soul lingered in the steel and time bound cage. It was, as the Dr. described, a machine. Mechanisations like it roamed Alerarian soil daily. Their clunky footsteps reminiscent of lumbering titans long forgotten.

“Am I to fight this feeble creature alone?” he roared. He span, enigmatic smile form and function for his speech. The crowd cheered louder, and he expected it was art to his challenge, and part to the others climbing the ropes. He cast a gaze to the walls, feeble palisades that would not contain a sword swing, never mind this monster.

“Or will Corone fight with me!” he added, punching skyward.

[Tytanus]

“Surprises come in all shapes and sizes,” Tytanus smiled to himself as he thought about the how the tall folk viewed his race and vice versa. Threading his way through the forest of giants, Tytanus made his way to the arena. This was his chance to experience firsthand, this new wondrous thing the giants had created. And a bit of money wouldn’t hurt although moving 200 coins might.

Jumping off the cliff into the arena, Ty softened his landing with a few light gusts of wind. The arena might have been an open field for the giants but for midgets, it presented its own unique set of opportunities and challenges. The sand that lay on the bottom was inconsequential for the larger fighters but for his species, it was like trying to walk through water with it reaching half way up his legs. However, the messager didn’t dwell on this fact since he was used to surviving in a variety of environments for his deliveries and his abilities would help him overcome that disadvantage.

Instead, his focus was on the mysterious red cloth hiding the new invention he would be fighting as well as his potential allies/enemies depending on their style of fighting. Information could be the deciding factor to this match and his chances of beating this unknown threat.

[Lloyd]

The roar of the crowd resonated throughout the entire stadium, even Llyod could feel the vibrations as he lingered in a darkening passage. "Now Blunder, its time we make an appearance." He said as he kicked of from the cold stone wall he had been leaning off of. Halted just farther back then the Mystic was a monster of a person. In the dim lit hallway only the lower half of the figure could be seen. Dawning tight leather pants and a belt of chains, hands bound in cuffs as he waited for his master. Lloyd turned and started to make his way to the blinding light of the arena, with every step a smile filled with criminal intent spread across his face. Reaching the the thresh hold of the corridor the Mystic stopped as the sun now shinned brightly against his fair skin. Just behind the mountain of a man fallowed, now his face shown, on it nothing. Emotionless, the giant waited.

"Blunder Go!" Lloyd yelled as he through his hand out forward. These words alone seemed to flip a switch in the Goliath as his expressionless face quickly flushed red with anger.

"Gruugg!" The monster of a man yelled as he easily flexed his wrists breaking his binds. Reaching for his massive great sword Blunder began to run out into the center of the arena. Fallowing suit Lloyd walked into view of the other combatants.

"Now, lets see how well my newest dead toy does." Lloyd thought to himself as he eyed up his 'partners' looking for any perspective talents. Blunder stopped just before reaching the dead center of the arena, grunting as he he scanned the area.

[Hysteria]

“Three!? Only three?”

Herbert's voice cracked with feigned emotion. The back of his hand rested on his forehead, pushing his top hat up and letting a few dark strands of hair tumble free. He made as if he was going to faint, but rallied before collapsing.

“Do we only have three?! Where is our other champion? Who will fight with these brave men and...”

Herbert hand shifted to shield his eyes as he peered at the smallest fighter.

“... and whatever that thing is!”

The giant Heart did not wait. A loud ripping sound filled the arena as the machine tore apart the red sheet and the two halves fell listlessly to the ground. The machine was revealed, by its own hand none the less. Heart was large, standing seven feet tall. His body mirrored that of a humans, with two power legs and two arms. His outer limbs were encased in solid iron plates that pivoted around the joints. His body was more bulbous than a normal person, with wires visible through the gaps that necessity required around the joints. His face was little more than a helmet with a face guard, but underneath sparks of electricity arched from wire to wire. Across the machines back a serries of pipes and tubes spluttered and spat steam. The life of the creature was inside his chest, where the steam powered his essence.

“GRRROROROROROWOOWWOWOWWWWWW!!”

The half roar, half howl came from somewhere beneath the machine's helmet. His body hunched forwards, its giant arms swinging wildly as it lumbered out into the pit. Each step was a boom, each movement powerful. It made towards Ozoric as its mind recognised that the fighter was attempting to rally the others. Heart lifted his shoulder forwards, dropping into a charge directly towards the dragoon. The sand beneath its feet kicked into the air as fine powder as it thundered towards the first kill.

[Tourneymant]

Barnabas watched as the machine tore through the red cloth. It's reveal a spectacle all of it's own. However, not the best reveal he has seen done by a machine. Barnabas remembered once he saw a machine smash through a ten foot thick metal door in a metal stadium. That was a spectacle that he would never forget. The size of that metal monstrosity actually dwarfed this one. However, Barnabas was just a spectator of that fight. It was an exhibition for a new super weapon just like this one. However, that one only had one designated fighter. Here Barnabas had a chance to fight this metal monstrosity. So he gladly accepted the challenge. He pulled out his Tea Kettle, already full of hot delicious tea, grabbed the rope and, with the weight of the metal kettle, slid down to the sandy ground. Not even a footprint was cast as he he started to sneak around in hopes of not being spotted by his metal opponent, though the sound of the tea in the kettle made it hard not to make a sound.

I need to get some of this tea into his joints which looks like it is full of metal wires. If I'm right that means this is the first electric powered machine in all Althanas. I feel bad about short-circuiting it, he thought as he moved around and waited for the monsters charge to finish, whether the dragoon dodged or not, the end of that charge might be the best opportunity to strike with his liquid. And I didn't even know that it was going to be run on electricity, thought Barnabas as he made his made his way towards the giant metal monster.

[Lloyd]

What a thing. Lloyd thought to himself as the mechanical behemoth charged towards the dragoon. The only possible way to come out of this alive will be teamwork, so Lloyd contemplated his options. Blunder, his newest thrall, was big and strong. Easily capable of dealing damage to the machine. Yet he was slow in comparison, this machine would most likely out maneuver Blunder in a one on one fight.

The Mechanical beast continued forward aimed to crush the dragoon with his charge. It already passing by Lloyd's thrall leaving his window of opportunity narrow. No time for Blunder to react less an attempt to swing his massive great sword in hopes to slice the machine in twine. "Gruuuu!" The dead puppet cried as he took one step backwards and with all his might swung his blade in a complete circle, all in vain as the machine move with the quickness of a track star.

"No good!" Lloyd thought as instinct now took over, taking it upon himself to attempt to stall the beast. Lloyd turned and began sprinting towards the dragoon, who might have been stunned for some reason. Sweat running down his brow as he moved, black cloak whipping in the wind. The Mystic and the Machine began to converge on the dragoon almost simultaneously, until it seemed the three would clash. "Gahhh" Lloyd yelled as he jumped and spiraled forward with his arm open wide. Tackling the dragoon mere seconds before the titan could steam stop all over him. Only a cloud of upturned dust remained around the two as the recovered just feet away.

From behind Blunder walked up to his master as if he understood that he must always protect him.

[Ozoric]

Oliver instinctively scuffled and resisted, but taken by surprise seldom left a man with his wits about himself. He hit the dirt, just like the dog he was, and felt bones shunt together, and armour bruise his supple skin. The irony of suffering more at the ground’s hands than the hulking steel revenant would wound him deeper still.

“I guess,” he began, teeth grit, chin blooded, “I should thank you.”

He pushed himself upright with the spear’s butt, a walking stick for the wounded more so than a symbol of his ascension to the rank of dragoon – someday, maybe, but not today.

“I’m not going to buy you a drink just yet,” he added, half due to the fact the creature was far from finished tormenting them yet, and the fact his saviour looked too young to speak, let alone partake in liquor. “I asked if Corone would fight with me, and it seems it will.” He smirked.

Even without a dragon beneath him, the faint whump of its wings an aria to battle, he felt something stir within. He spread his feet. He slammed the spear’s tip down, as though god’s righteous armament were sundering the rock beneath his hobnailed boots. They shone, incandescent only briefly, but bright enough.

“Distract it, whatever you do, keep its gaze down!”

The youth would have heard the Lancer’s final command, ‘and away from seeing me coming’, had Ozoric not vaulted vertically. His red beard, redder still from the blood, which poured freely, tipped the crimson comet as it bounced against the arena walls, and launched higher still to the edge of the canopy that protected the crowd from the ill environs of Radasanth.

[Tytanus]

“A robotic suit of armor? Guess those inventor type people are trying to outdo those golem magicians,” Ty thought to himself as he observed his newly revealed opponent. “Hmm, I wonder what’s controlling it. I mean, it seems to be powered steam but is some magician telling it what to do? Did they bound a spirit to the machine or what? Well, I guess I should start looking for weaknesses especially around the joints.”

With his new plan of action, the midget began wading through the sea of sand after the charging machine. If he could get close enough, Tytanus could shoot a few darts at the joints or any apparent weaknesses. As for his magic, the messager decided to save it for later unless he needed to escape an attack. And from what he saw of his ‘allies’, they might end up being more dangerous than this machine from their wide weapon swings and steaming tea…

[Hysteria]

There was a clash of metal on metal as Heart ran. The flash was momentary, little more than a spark and crack. The zombie's sword broke off a section of the machine's armour just above its waist behind the left arm. From beneath the darkness electricity flashed as it arched from one wire to another. It was not unlike that which emanated from beneath his helmet. The severed piece of armour, half a foot long, and half that in width, sunk into the sand.

Despite the damage Heart didn't seem to notice. He continued his charge, just missing Ozoric and slamming into the wall. The moment before impact there was the dull rumble of the crowd, a shout and laugh at each action. All of this was blown away by the thunder of the impact. Cracks lifted up through the stone and rock and paint flicked out like a splash from diving into a pool. The crowd was silent, as fear pushed back the logic that said they were safe.

“We have BEGUN!” Herbert broke the silence and pointed a finger towards the fight. His actions eased the crowd and the momentary fear was forgotten. Herbert's eyes shone with practiced energy. “First blood is drawn! First metal broken! For some reason there is a floating teapot!”

Heart twisted on the spot, shards of broken stone falling to the ground as he pulled himself out of the wall. His blank face twisted first, then his body as he faced his opponents. Both hands lifted in unison and pointed palm first towards Lloyd and his pet zombie. A hiss of steam and Heart's metal hands flicked up, revealing two hollow cavities. Another hiss of steam, this time it built up further back in his arms. A glint of metal, a sudden release of pressure and two foot long spikes of iron shot from each hand towards man and zombie. They were similar to darts, if one decided to create deadly versions of what was normally a child's toy.

“One, two, three, four, five?” Herbert played fake confusion, “Seriously though, do I count a floating teapot? Is this to do with that tiny one? Like one teapot and half foot tall thing equals one person?”

Heart's hands flicked back down, his arms resting like a boxer's. His body held low, the computations that acted as his mind deliberating on the opponents he was fighting. He didn't yet see the smaller fighter, nor that which carried the teapot.