The Beasts Of Carthage

[Knave]

“Gain experiences more valuable than gold!” The sign read in colorfully loud letters across the wooden advertising board. Scribbled between this line and the next someone had written in black manic script, “And gold! You will be given gold!” Clearly some druids felt it would be better to offer the majority of people the thing they actually wanted. Continuing the sign depicted two stick figures fighting, the drawings moved, the drawings were brutal as they attacked one another with bow and sword. At the bottom of the board the last line told all, “Fight for the advancement of magic, join the Dansdel Fight Club!” A bright “X” marked the spot on a map in the right corner.

Just as the first board had been put up at the bar just by the entrance, the second Ace had seen was set next to the entrance the Dansdel arena. The actual Dansdel compound was not what he had been expecting. It was actually kind of small, like a cluster of tiny apartments. With the rays of dawn at his back the shape shifter’s act sighted his disappointment. He was meant for big things, big battles, fame, possibly infamy, but not tiny little scuffles. This was simply not what Lawrence’s second persona was ready for.

Ace had been expecting to see a line for the contestant’s door; he had been expecting to have to prove himself before they even allowed him inside. This was why he had come early. Nope on all counts, just grass and trees fresh with the early morning dew, a sign, and a clearly locked door. Maybe Ace Mandelo had come too early, but that was no excuse for this place to be so underwhelming. Ace waited for other to appear. Two seconds into waiting he got bored and knocked. When no one answered he knocked harder, and finally someone came out swinging the door wide wearing robes and a conical hat.

The druids eyes were masked by their brows, his mouth was indistinguishable from his beard, and as the druid spoke… his beard looked alive, seething with hairy rage. “Fool! What sane man wakes a druid at dawn?” Upon closer inspection Ace realized that the robes were in no way wizardly, but more like the old man had just gotten out of bed. Seeing the look of surprise and the young man’s the raised hands, the old man’s his expression softened, his beard relaxed. He spoke in amicable tones that masked his natural bloodlust; Ez-ram Carnie liked to see a good fight. “If you are here for a battle, come in. If you are here to sell us something, heh, well, our ‘pets’ are hungry and you will feed them.” The druid’s laughter was not unkind, but just the same it was almost scary.

Ace smiled and tried to laugh as long as well. “You’ve got it, Sir, I’m here to test my mettle, and make some cash.” Not entirely true, he was mainly here to get some good PR. He had heard that the town of Underwood liked a good fighter.

Stepping aside to usher fresh meat in, Druid Brother Carnie welcomed Ace Mandelo with critical eyes, he measured him in the same way a man might measure a race horse. The druid council had chastised him for inspecting contestant’s teeth; he felt it was important that they all had a bit of bite to them. Since then Ez-ram had been forced to do his appraisals from afar, a no touch rule in place. Pointing Ace in down the stone floored halls Ez-ram followed behind him only speaking to guide him through the hallways, down the stairs, and into what most felt was a maze.

Ace was built lean and not particularly tall, if anything he would be faster than he was strong. The deep red of his hair was also kept short and would not block his eyes. The young man’s clothing was a bit odd, they were not baggy, but they flared at the ankles, the chest, and the sleeves secured by their own belt, and all along the black cloth blue flame embroidered the edges. However, Ez-ram could sense something in him, or more accurately something missing, as if the new fighter was constantly cloaking himself. Not that Ez-ram really cared.

All the while he was being inspected Ace had been growing tenser feeling the old man’s eyes burning into his back, but was unsure what to do about it.

At the end, after multiple turns they came to the last door, and Ez’ram gave his farewell, “Seeing as you have come so early, it shouldn’t surprise you that you’ll have to wait. This is the Carthage Arena; feel free to take a look inside.” He was gone fading down the hall in an instant, “Good luck, and good bye…” Adding another creepy note to Ace’s day.

Entering the Arena Ace was greeted with the sight of an underground massive Arena. The floor was a mixture of hard patches, and soft sands that sucked at the feet of those who stepped on them. All along the walls iron gates barred massive hallways, hallways too big for anything human. Ace spun and turned feeling the cold air as it descended from great blackened vents above. At the center of the arena a tower stood tall, extending from it on all sides were more than eighty pipes each at least three meters in length. They too were charred.

It had not been long since this room had last been used; there was the scent of sulfur and ash in the air.

[Nayeli]

Of all the damnable, irritating, unbearably pompous pointy-eared bastards, this one is surely the worst! Nayeli thought. It was approximately the same litany that ran through her head every time she met an elf. It wasn’t that she was jealous of the elves beauty or high place in society; it was that everything came so damn easily to them. They just lazed about and stroked their fat ears, and the Innari worked twice as hard. Yet what did the Innari get? No recognition whatsoever, and the other races viewed them as scum. The elves, on the other hand, got treated like gods. It was absurd.

And just never mind the countless conflicts the two groups had gotten into over last few millennia. Thousands of years of racial memory was screaming at Nayeli to jump up and yank this guy’s ears off, not have a civil conversation with him.

“Hmmmm,” the Druid said. He peered out of his cowl and looked down his nose at her. “A goblin. How…unusual.”

“We prefer the term Innari,” Nayeli said, gritting her teeth. Typical ignorant, grub-eating fairy.

“I see,” the Druid said. “Well, we haven’t one of your people fight in the Dansdel for a long time. Perhaps ever.”

Nayeli stepped from foot to foot impatiently and stared around the dingy wooden building registration was being held in this morning. It was bustling with all sorts of people—knights, mages, and sorts of warriors she didn’t even recognize—but all had a few things in common. Without exception, they were either humans or elves.

“I’m not sure that it would be, ahem, according to regulation to allow you to fight.”

“Is that so?” Nayeli said. Regulations my ass, you slant-eyed twig-sucker, she thought. There’s no regulation against Innari, and you and I both know it.

“Yes,” he said. He gave the small, polite cough typical to bureaucrats everywhere about to deliver bad news to someone. “I’m sure there’s no danger, but some might question your motives. The local tribes have gotten into a couple skirmishes with Underwood villagers lately, I’m just not sure how comfortable I am…”

Nayeli sighed. She didn’t want to play this card, but she would if she had to. “My father is Chieftain Ominotago, of the Boar tribe. My coming here is, if anything, a peace ploy. If you reject me things might only get worse.” That was mostly the truth. She had been sent to Underwood by her tribe to improve relations here, but she hadn’t been sent to the Dansdel specifically. That was her own choice—and not for any motive as complex as diplomacy. She jut wanted to have fun.

“Is that a threat?” the elf said. He puffed himself to his full height, which was almost twice Nayeli’s.

“No, it’s the truth,” Nayeli said. “If you knew anything at all, you’d know that the Boar tribe are allies of Underwood. We’d never raid the village. But if word gets around to the other tribes that an Innari Chieftain’s daughter was denied access to the Dansdel just because of the green of her skin, well…”

The elf sighed. “Fine. Right this way,” he said, and he gestured for her to follow him. That she did, with a bit of a smirk on her face. He lead her down a flight of stairs into an underground complex she hadn’t known existed. A massive metal gateway marked CARTHAGE lead into the arena.

“Good luck, Miss Ominotago,” the Druid said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He opened the door and all but shoved her in.

Treehumper, she thought, but her heart wasn’t really in it anymore. She had more important things to worry about than some stuck-up elf.

Before even bothering to examine her surroundings, she pulled out her bow and notched an arrow. She then surveyed the area.

She was standing at the edge of some sort of enormous, probably mostly nature-formed underground cavern. The footing was irregular, and the only oddity she could see was an enormous black tower in the center of the arena. Pipes jutted out of it like branches from a strange metallic pine tree and wriggled their way into the walls like worms burrowing through the cavern air. She wondered at its significance. She’d heard that once there had been plans for a more complex sewage system for Underwood, and perhaps this was a defunct part of that incomplete piping system. Vents on the ceiling alternatively sprayed cold air and hot steam, and the room smelled like someone had eaten a bit too much Ugu-bark-and-beans soup. Disgusting.

Whatever, it didn’t really matter. She was here to fight, not to play engineer. She edged her way around the arena, searching for her opponent—and it wasn’t long before she found him. He’d been blocked at first by the plumbing tower, having entered from the opposite side of the arena from her. He was an oddly dressed, red-haired human. Fairly unremarkable.

She focused her magic on her bow and the arrow she’d notched caught into purple flame. She smiled and let it fly towards the opponent, and then notched another in one smooth moment and prepared to fire if he charged.

Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt adrenaline flowing through her veins like a dull fire. The thrill of the fight was the reason she’d come here. Never mind this getting experience nonsense her father went on about, she wanted the flat out rush that she got from clashing blades and bows with another person.

It was a great feeling…almost addictive.

[Knave]

Above them was the literal glass ceiling of Underwood’s finest few. Lounging about watching the fighters, they sampled a minor battle from the over head view around the grill that would feed from the fires to come. They watched as the goblin attacked shamefully. Trying to win without so much as making her opponent aware of her presence. No wonder the goblin race had such a poor reputation.
____________________________________________

No warning was clearer than the sound of dried sinews being stretched; the bow was like an ill tuned instrument when drawn, and released the arrow with a sharp note when released. What followed was the purple nuclear glow of fire as it streaked the distance between Ace and his opponent.

Caught unaware Ace grasped both of these things with heightened senses. These did little for his reaction time. It did enough, however. Turning he sidestepped the arrow as it blazed passed him to bury itself in the granite wall. “Not so much as hello…” Ace muttered, frowning at the damage done and then at the thing that had just tried to shoot him.

They had chosen to put him in the arena with a goblin.

Not just a few goblins, one goblin, it was conceited to feel that one goblin was an insult, but... ‘I think I ought to be offended.’ He thought, noting the tiny bow and arrow still trained on him. Puny thing did not know what she was ge- no, he was not allowed to judge. He was supposed to be judged. Not everyone had to like him, but he had to try, or he would scrapped and the entire concept of his existence destroyed. Ace was best described as a mask, a mask that did not want to be discarded.

“Um, nice to meet you.” Ace called out loud, waving with a manufactured sincerity that was almost as good as the real thing. “I kinda get that you want to put new holes in me as soon as possible, but I’d at least like to get your name.” While his mouth said one thing his hand did another. A white short appeared in the grip of his left hand and he brought his wave down to point the sword directly down in front of him, the blade horizontal with the ground. “We aren’t enemies, really. Not like we are going to kill each other.”

The blade warmed his hand with its own living heat. It smelled like his beloved. It smelled horrible, and through his love was made sweet. This was how Egr’msatchek had made it; this was how she had made both of them. Today would be his first fight as Ace Mandelo, and while she slept beneath the waves he could feel the terror of the deep watching from all sides. While he could afford to lose, he could not afford to bore her.

The goblin watching was poised for defense against a charge. He would give her one. Bursting forward he hit a fast pace feet kicking up sand and brittle stone as he went. Tunnel vision set in as the first act began to focus. He watched for arrows, he watched for magic, he never noticed the tower in the middle of the room begin to turn.

What he saw was another missile flying forward to pound itself into his stomach. He shifted his weight and ignored it. He let it punch through the fabric of his clothes and then continue on through the other side still burning. The trail of fire continued through him as if his insides burned too. Ace never stopped, rings of steel had protected him. For an instant chain mail gleamed, and an instant later the path was then swallowed up in the fabric of Ace’s shifting clothes.

Not a three feet away Ace stopped abruptly, his feet digging in to the ground heaving up piles of sand. Then he kicked out with a viciousness his previously friendly manner gave no hint of. A cloud rock minutia and sand flew at the goblins face. Somewhere in that cloud was a fast moving boot to drive the dirt home. She was his opponent, and maybe later he could call her friend, but right now he was going to beat her to the ground.

[Nayeli]

Sand and dirt flew into Nayeli’s face and burned her eyes. Temporarily blinded, she instinctively staggered backwards, which luckily allowed her to dodge her opponent’s incoming kick.

What was that? she thought. The man had begun by requesting a friendly introduction, and then dodged her first arrow as though it was a rock from a child’s slingshot. The second arrow she couldn’t tell. It had disappeared somehow—magic, maybe? Her opponent’s unassuming appearance had deceived her into letting her guard down, but that wasn’t a mistake she’d make again.

For some reason, she found herself reminded of a creature she’d battled in the dueling pits deep in the forests the Innari called home. He had appeared at first to be an ordinary man, but had turned out to be a half-demon far too powerful for her to match. Could it be that this man was a demon as well? It’d certainly play along to the Druids cruel humor to pit an Innari against some devil.

She rubbed the dirt out of her eyes, looked into her opponent’s eyes and gave a half-smile. She could see the contempt for her in his eyes, so obvious from the moment he saw that she was an Innari—or ‘goblin’ or whatever derogatory term he had. She filled her voice with confidence and bravado--perhaps more than she actually possessed. “I think that does well for introductions,” she said. “But if you truly want to know my name, it is Nayeli Ominotago, daughter of Chieftain Ominotago of the Boar Tribe, of the Innari people. I'd like to ask for yours in return?”

In one quick movement she returned her bow to its place on her back and drew the iron dagger from its sheath on her thigh. Holding it in her hand was reassuring--it was the same knife she'd used to take the lifeblood of many creatures when on the hunt. Just as she would, perhaps, draw the blood of this strange human. At first she'd come here for fun and a thrill, but now there was more to it than that. After the way the Druids had treated her, combined with this man's clear disdain for her and her kind, she was fighting for more than herself. She was fighting for the honor of her tribe, and of the Innari people: to prove that those the other races called 'goblins' were as good as any other.

Her eyes were still red and puffy, and her vision was slightly impaired, but nothing serious. The man had gotten the first blow in, but he wouldn't get another. She could still fight well enough.

She assumed a defensive stance and prepared once again for her opponent’s onslaught. She could attack herself, but for now it would be better to just wait and test the water.

Permission is granted to bunny Nayeli (attempting) to dodge any attacks made. Whether she succeeds or not is up to you. :p She won't fight back at the moment.

[Knave]

The kick had not been perfect – savage was a better word – but Ace was disappointed when the goblin evaded it. Not because she had not been hit, more because it didn’t look like she had really tried. She had almost fallen was what that was. This reflected poorly on the both of them, she hadn’t been able to find an elegant escape, and he hadn’t managed a brutal assault. For the second of thought he had given the kick, he had been looking forward to liberating goblin teeth from goblin gums. This was something he had heard heroes did.

The smile he wore continued to be friendly as he waited for her to wipe the sand from her eyes. Turning his head up, and lowering his sword, the man waved to the crowd above, “Just a minute.” No one wanted to see a short battle. Then again Ace had a very tenuous idea of what a battle was. There was fear in his mind, but right now all he felt was rage, glorious rage. Like he was on fire- no, that was wrong, that weak phrase was nothing to this. Being on fire was skin deep. He was fire. If Ace had his sword, then he had his fuel, and it would be a shame to waste this feeling putting his sword in a goblin that wasn’t looking.

When the goblin finished Ace gave consideration to another attack, but stopped when she looked at him, and through him. He did not know what the heck he was feeling, but it felt horrible. It was like she hated him or something. ‘What did I do?’ He thought to himself, visibly concerned. He thought this was a duel between consenting adults, and he had not seen any rules. ‘Are kicks illegal here?’ He wondered, ‘I hope not, kicks are fun, and so are punches… and biting too.’ Ace was never intended to be bright.

Ace was lost in thoughts about how he felt about rules and battle when the goblin issued her address. “Neyli… Nayele… Omnitogo…” He struggled with the wording as he circled her moving to place the tower her between the tower and himself. Finally giving up he moved on, “Well, Princess, call me Ace. Ace Mandelo, no middle name, no title, and no family to speak of.” He said letting her swap out her bow for her knife. Personally he would have preferred if she had tried to shoot him up close, but if that was how she wanted to do things.

“Um… I dunno what I did… but, sorry, and what’s an Innari?” Ace asked before resuming his attack. He felt that they could talk while they tried to stab each other.

The shape shifter took a step forward bringing his sword up and around, his sleeves billowing with with wind and blue flame embroidery. Black Mesa’s white blade cut a shining arc aiming to separate the goblin’s forehead and eye’s from the rest of her body. At the same time his attack started, the goblin ducked. Ace failed to sheer a single hair from her head, but not for a lack of trying. Ace watched the goblin roll to the side and away. ‘She’s fast.’ He decided, resuming his own attack.

Forgoing broad strokes he stabbed lightly, sword in left hand. He aimed at her face, her neck, her chest, and her legs. Each time the goblin either parried with her knife as best she could, or stepped out of Ace’s range, his short sword coming up, well, short.

The heavy weight of Black Mesa pierced the stone where the goblin’s left foot had been; clearly trying to take two or three toes if not the entire foot. All the while Ace’s face failed to register anything, but mild interest, his eyes shining, his freckled cheeks unmoving as he took another step.

Leaning forward Ace planted his left boot down and ripped the sword from the earth. In a light spray of dirt the blade rose up fast to carve Goblin Princess from hip to jaw.

Beneath the arena, the furnace warmed.