You Must Die! I Alone Am Best!

[Knave]

This fight takes place in the dark matter of the Citadel where all living things are kept. Each combatant is given a Master Key to use at their discretion.

He was here to impress, to honor the crowd and perform a show. He dressed appropriately in flames.

Ace stood before the citadel, the currents of society — the waves of people coming, going, passing, and fighting — battering him from all sides. There was something in their nature, which urged them to urge him to go inside or go home. They in passing occupied every facet of the human condition, young, old, kind and cruel exchanging glances, elbows, and smiles. He looked at the people around him, he saw people, he saw precious souls, and today they were here to see him. It was his day to fight.

Excitement seized him; he smiled with every pearly tooth and fought against the crowd. As he went curses went up, people were knocked over, he gave them reasons to cheer in the upcoming battles, he inspired them to feel, and it if was in their character, to hate. Once out of the throng, he ran along the citadels walls, a black and red silhouette in the early morning dusk. The sun itself was getting later, and Fall was falling as evidenced by the leaves he broke underfoot as he made the two mile run from one entrance to another. The distance was essential.

Ace soon made his way from the spectator’s entrance to the attraction’s gate, a gaping hole in the Citadel’s wall in which all manner of things entered, everything beyond paying customers. Gold could make even the bloodthirsty innocent. Golden furred and husky strong dogs — unlike any canine seen so far as the number of their teeth or their ability to hunt — were tethered to carts harboring the elements, and cages harboring much more violent beasts. Atop each strong dog, were two people, one to guide the animal they harnessed, and the other to watch the cages. Some of these creatures were wily.

The caravan stretched from this gate, through parted forest, and bridges across the seas into the horizon. There was always a demand for fantastic combat, and the citadel always had a demand for the resources that sorcery and druidic power could not provide in any commercial sense.

From the fading darkness swam enormous fish and eels through the air. Their expressions were far from hapless, their jaws massive, the shape of their mouths quite severe illuminated at all times by lights bobbing in the air. The lights inspired curiosity and attraction, something the rest of the creature killed. Ahead of them, the hypnotic seasonings of Deadman’s Bait lured them to their new home with visible trails of tantalizing stench.

In chains, criminals made slaves, slaves made gladiators, penned tightly together made the journey alongside animals. Their heads were bald. On their tongues, symbols burned scar tissue symbolized their crimes. Through shame and agony, the court had ruled that they should never speak again. These people pressed and crushed each other against the walls, gazing out at the new land they were entering into. They could taste freedom, and watched the world outside with such a hungry intensity. The elderly, who had served life, died standing for want of breath, but died happy at seeing the sun. Through the wooden bars of their crate, raised to the open-air hands and fists turned to the sky.

A circus of sadness and rage, born by greed, had swept up nearly everything imaginable to feed the druids joint lust for knowledge and gold. Beside the caravan, free men and women lined up; their battles and battlefields scheduled for this very day, and Ace soon joined them. The robes he wore looked far too large, the red fire embroidery ending just an inch below his fingertips and the sash synched high on waist. He flowed into the line, casting glances at the fish as they passed mere feet away.

This crowd of people was no less strange. Warriors with every kind of weapon. Fiends poorly disguised as human beings, hollow eyed, frothing at the mouth. Dwarves specially equipped with hooked gelding blades mounted on poles, sinister smiles shared between them through their beards. Dominatrices armed with the spikes and leather whips that clothed them. Giants of every proportion, characteristic and race.

There was no distinction, they were all heroes and villains, but they were contestants for the prize of money and fame.
The line thinned, Ace came forward toward the attendant’s kiosk, stating his name, “Ace Mandelo,” and flashing his papers and the sort of battle he had ordered, “I’m here for the Prisoner’s Suite.”

“Very interesting…” The beard said, as the druid looked through the papers and verified that it was authentic through the watermark runes inscribed upon its surface. Over the glowing blue lights of his magic, the druid looked up, his ancient face framed in the darkness of his hood. “You’re clearly insane. Try not to break down as you go.” He smiled as he stood and went to the back of his office, and returned with a jar containing a fairy of the pixy variety. It was smaller than six inches, and dressed in the barest of conservative fashions in hemp. All wild hair and green luminescence, its face was hard to see, but the explosive rune collar around its neck ensured that it was a loyal tool of the Citadel.

With a pop of the bottles top, he freed the fairy to the open and told it, “Take him to where the wild things are.” The fairy fluttered on still unfurling wings, and took off alongside the caravan of animals in a direction none of the previous gladiators had traveled before. It paused, beckoned, and waited; glad to stretch its wings, terrified to loose its life. Ace soon followed after being handed a Master‘s Key. He soon found where he would do battle. The animal pens, stalls and cages.

They surrounded him on every side; the baleful looks of creatures and people, the stench of the unwashed, but obviously fed by the feculent tinge in the air. Ace’s foot set down in murky waters, the filth stirring. Numerous torches lighted the halls, and will o ’wisps, ghastly pale flames watched, broadcasting. A green light shot across the narrow field of vision the cells offered, and a human figure flew past after it. As Ace moved through the underground, the roar and clamber of those he had awakened followed him, a great din of banging doors, curses, blessings, and cheers.

The corridor opened, and the magnitude of this prison was clear on a spiral shaft between heaven hells, the druids had gathered every creature imaginable, at least ten of every species, and the sheer dimensions of it all made it perfectly clear that the Citadel was larger inside than anyone had ever imagined. Along the spiraling drive, carts and drivers transported their cargo to the places they belonged, using large doors that should have opened to sheer rock to enter alternative arena.

Ace, never one to wait, walked on, his fairy guide silently resenting his freedom to go where he pleased, forced as she was to follow. They both crept toward the edge, and looked over the railing. Try as they might, they could not see the end.

[Amaranth]

[Please excuse the long intro...i tried to make it short...and failed]

Stealing from heroes is a dangerous, if lucrative, business.

Ez has always known it to be true, yet he seldom was brave or bored enough to actually pull through with attempting such a robbery. Something about the grim, scarred faces, sharp blades, massive muscles, and savior complexes made him shy away from those walking money pots. Today, however, was different. As if by some unanimous consent, almost every shopkeeper in the Market had decided it was a great day to sell only the least interesting items in their inventories. This began a chain reaction that caused the market-goers to grow bored of the sights and sounds at an accelerated pace. The metaphorical straw that broke the crowd free of their lethargy was a single man walking in a nonchalant manner about the Grand Bazaar. Wordlessly he had placed bulletins promising a busy day at the Citadel. It was business as usual, the advertisement hoped to bring in even larger spectating and participation. In effect, it all boiled down to the young thief’s best and richest spot to earn his daily bread was nearly devoid of any targets. With the crowd containing a meager handful of patrons, it was nigh impossible to lift so much as a bread crumb from any of their pockets.

So it was that Ez, today, would be brave. Quickly and deftly he moved through the crowd of awaiting participants in the Citadel. Unlike his normal behavior, Ekzeal’s hand was simply passing over possible loot, waiting patiently to touch something truly worth the risk. Being caught by a victim here would be a creature definitely capable of demonstrating quick and painful justice. It was several minutes into his search when the young man accidentally collided into a burly dwarf brandishing a very impressive gilded halberd. With a incoherent grumbling low roar the mountain of flesh and hair turned with surprising speed, ready to relieve his attacker of a head.

Immense green eyes that lay in deep, ancient sockets stared up at the boy’s frightened blue orbs. Something incomprehensible was exchanged in that brief second, and the dwarf lowered his weapon. A low grunt escaped from the lips hiding behind his silver beard, the warrior turning to speak again in a strange deep tongue with his companions. Letting his breath out, Ez noticed that he hadn’t in fact breathed for quite a while now. Enjoying the feeling of air in his lungs, he lowered his eyes and noticed a shining piece of paper that had fallen from the great fighter’s pack. With one deft motion the thief pretended to stumble, swiftly grabbed the ticket, and ran.

“Oy! Boy! Stop there!” A voice called out to him as Ez ran, but fearful of what these people could do, he stopped and turned to its source. Even as he looked at the speaker, he realized that it hadn’t been deep enough to be the dwarf, but in fact was someone new. Quickly a man in robes sped towards him, pointing at the ticket. Thousands of lies began to well up inside him, preparing a suitable story to get away with his obvious theft.

“That ticket, are you ready for your battle? You almost forgot to check in.” Without another word the man led him to a counter where the ticket was taken, examined, then placed in some unknown slot. The second robed man that sat within the kiosk gave the boy one long, hard look, then laughed. Reaching behind he grabbed a bottle with a tiny winged humanoid in it and popped the bottle open in Ez’s general direction. Already turning away, the man muttered in a sarcastic tone, “Good luck, kid!”

With a flutter of wings and a flurry of hands, the tiny winged man straightened himself out and stood in the air, staring down at his charge. A sense of supremacy, almost nobility, seemed to ooze from it’s very presence. A loud and strong ‘hmph’ echoed out and he pointed towards a path into the great building of the Citadel that none of the other ‘heroes’ were taking.

“So... that is where I am should to go? Are ya going to take me?” Ez eagerly asked the tiny man, who only replied with an exhausted sigh and a reluctant nod. The nod brought the thief’s attention closer to the glowing collar that seemed to glow brighter and hotter whenever the small figure did something particularly resistant. It was what enslaved this creature, and it made his curiosity grow with leaps and bounds. With a flash of green, the fairy sped off and Ekzeal broke into a run to follow into the dark, his own questions filling the air.

“How does that collar work? Does it make you do whatever I say? Are you my slave or the Citadel's? Can I take it off, or do they have to remove it? Why don’t you ever bloody talk?”

It was either the fact that he was being ignored, or the growing clamour ahead of him that finally shut the boy up. It sounded as if a den of monsters awaited him in this darkness, the light from the fairy barely stretching far enough for him to realize that what he had earlier taken for walls were in fact cages. Inside those cages, silhouettes of animals, beasts, monsters and men. Every reaction possible came from the cells, and yet some of them looked forward, as if he wasn’t the first to enter this place. Suddenly a very important question came to his mind, that he realized he should have asked sooner.

“Wait...what’s going on?”

Of all questions, this one seemed to humor the tiny, impudent man. Callously laughing, the green fairy spun in mid air and called down with great grandeur to the boy.

“You are to battle to the death!”

[Knave]

(You would not believe how many times the same thing happens to me, must say, I like your style.)

The stale air had an undertone of salt that implied tears and blood. Arid heat rose up from the bottom dungeon with every imaginable stench slavery could possibly put provide, there were things down their that the nose did not know, and Ace’s nose was one of the best. With a last whiff of the lower dungeons, he exhaled and turned away quickly, shaken and visibly rendered pale not by what he suspected, and not by what he had experienced, but by the sheer intensity of it all.

The soft wind of flapping wings was his only distraction from the earth shaking clamor, and mind numbing smells. Overpowered, and drunken with what his senses told him, he turned to the fairy, the only shining light beyond the snapping torches. Over the runic collar she wore, she stared down at him in extreme annoyance and mild pity. He moved to speak, his lips parting to draw breath, but she silenced him, buffeting him with wind.

“If life surprises you,” She said, examining the pointed tips of her nails, “then a deep breath is the cure. Of course there are exceptions—breathtaking, isn’t it?” The faerie weaved, dancing on the edge of his sight, playing ancient games that made hell like home. “And I’ll tell you now; it doesn’t get any easier up or down.” True to faerie kind, she did not take to misery, and talked to ease her mind. “And don’t think this isn’t your fault, you asked for this — all anyone does is ask, it’s why they never get into trouble.”

“Yup.” Ace, agreed, wishing that he was not here for battle, that he might shut his eyes, block his nose, and cover his ears… even his skin crawled in the living heat of this place. “You ask for choices; you get every option imaginable.” New to the Citadel, he was ready to leave, and turned back to leave, and yet he knew that he could not.

There right behind him, was the object of his destination, that singular rarity, that tool by which he might acquire his fame and wealth, his opponent. He looked confused; arguing with the-would-be-hero’s assessment stopped abruptly with the sudden seizure of his ear by sharp little hands.

“See that? That smug bastard?” She asked, excited, wringing the skin in her hands. When she found him silent, she clarified, “The faerie, you faerie.” A nod forced her to land on his shoulder lest she thrown from the air to filthier perches. “If he should get in your way, don’t worry too much about him,” She crept around to stare him in the eyes, luminescent teeth and a glowing smile, ”don’t worry at all, if you have any pity in your soul, kill it — after all, we can’t be killed, neither you, nor him.”

Ace blinked, blinded, but brushing the winged creature aside, blinded he rubbed at his eye, and raising his free hand threw it down, from the darkness of his sleeves the blade of a white short sword appeared. “I signed up for a game of life…” He said, hailing his opponent with a raised voice and now visible weapon. “I don’t suppose you’d like to get started.” No question, they were here for a reason, and with that, Ace began to walk forward, then run, then lunge to put blade to chest, and part ribs like his god could part seas.

[Amaranth]

The fairies words still rang in the air as Ez stared at the pompous winged fiend, caught somewhere between disbelief and excitement. The thrill of danger rose up in him, like a swirling tornado and let life into each muscle it passed through. Upon reaching his throat, the tornado ripped his shocked expression into something closer to a sweet blend of happiness and anxiety. With something between a giggle and a laugh, Ez looked eagerly at the fairy, “Where is he, show me who I am gonna fight!”

Not even giving the thing enough time to answer, his foot took a life of their own and rushed past. Leaning his head into the wind generated by his speed, the boy ran through the gloomy dark forward between the cages. Movement unsettled the things held within, the clamor growing as he sprinted, taking a zigzagging path to remain constantly in the slivers of shadows that dwelt between dusky torchlight. The energy that was welling up in him pushed him on, his eyes scanning ahead looking for another figure in this dank place. Even through the terrible splitting screams and roars from each side, he could hear his foot falls gently hitting the dirt, churning it softly before propelling him quickly forward. Suddenly, a green glimmer, a beacon emerging from this sea of darkness, signaled him to slow. A deft move of his legs cutting out from beneath him and launching forward, he let one hand fall behind him and gently clutch the dirt. Ez slid quickly to a stop, losing all his momentum almost instantly.

Standing, the thief let his eyes adjust to the dark and tried to make out more of the silhouetted outline of a man ahead. The green glimmer danced about, moving quickly and sharply, in a way he recognized but couldn’t recall from what. As he watched and contemplated his opponent with even breathing to calm his wild heart, an unexpected clanking sound came from almost next to his ear. Turning, shocked, he saw a keyring with but a single large ornate key dangling seemingly in mid air. Backing up a step, he saw his unwanted Fairy companion floating harmlessly above it, holding it just outside of his emerald glimmer.

“I imagine you are going to need this, boy,” the haughty prick said with words dipped in general loathing, “It will open any and all of these cells. Just make sure to give it back when your done.” Without waiting for a response the thing flung the key at him with mean intent. Quicker than the fairy expected, the thief smiled and caught it, letting its momentum carry it into a spin around his forefinger before he did a fancy flourish and latched it into his belt. Acting unimpressed, the fairy crossed his arms and moved his glare towards their opponents.

“So I would be right in thinkin’ that’s the one? I am terrified, and so excited! What should I say to start this? Maybe he’ll be wantin’ to talk first.” Ez reached down and smoothly drew the dagger at his left hip, spinning it between his fingers, lofting it into the air, and catching it with ease. The dagger almost seemed to become an extension of his hand, familiar there in its home. Once more, he looked at the winged demon and saw a curious disgusted expression on its face. It wouldn’t have been surprising, if not for the expression to seem to have a particularly pointed target this time.

“Do... you know him?”

The sound of a short question caught the fay’s attention and he turned, hesitated for a moment to remember what was said when he wasn’t paying any heed, then shook his head. “I don’t know him,” he spoke nonchalantly, but his voice took on sudden poison, “her, however, I know very well. Before we were captured, she was a large part of a resistance force, trying in vain to overthrow my throne. If you were to,by chance, get her killed as collateral of this coming din there would be no love lost. Aim for her, even! She is an aggravating, petty, ugly thing.”

“Well then, I'll have to, erm, keep that in mind! As for this batt-”

Ez was suddenly cut short as the man turned and spoke up. Everything began to blur as his body sensed the change and adrenaline started to pump. Before he knew exactly what was happening the gap between them was closing quickly, with a shining sharp sword in the man’s grasp. An ecstatic smile spread across the thief’s face as he crouched low to the ground, his feet spreading and his free fingers lightly touching the soil.

“You are so gonna' die!” Ez shouted before bursting into action. With great speed he sprinted to the man’s right side, using his momentum to slide through the dirt and come to a halt near a cage. Not even looking behind to see what was inside, he grabbed the key and opened the lock. Keeping his eyes on the man he kicked a foot off the cage and leaped across the hall, rolling to his feet and back into the battle-crouch with one hand on the ground, ready to burst again.

A feline roar burst from the darkness of the opened cage...

[Knave]

The cut, an arc of silver, arched down to sheer the empty air. Ekzeal dodged attack, proceeding to skitter and slide to the safety of distance in the dungeon’s hall. Recovering, Ace turned laying the flat of his blade on his shoulder, Black Mesa resting comfortably against his neck, its blade always warming to the touch. “I’d be surprised if you had what it takes,” Ace bent his head low, his smile unwavering at death threats, “bigger things than you have tried and failed.” He was after him in an instant, kicking up dirt and sprays of filthy water.

Brown eyes reflected on the hand gestures, saw them fly to the lock, and widened. Seeking another escape, the thief has feet found purpose and pushed off the bars, Ekzeal soon flying away in a second, fleeing another charge in flight through the air. The door sung open, the floor gave Ace no aid as he tried to stop himself, and then giving up on avoiding the door at all, plunged readily into darkness, the beasts roar in his ears. Ace’s shape blurred, Black Mesa no longer suffering the light to shine from its blade.

In that darkness, where the flickering lights of torches did little to grant illumination, Aelinhachi began raise themselves from the floor, their senses tuned to hunting in the dark. They were feline in appearance, as men were to monkeys, and in that difference, there were several worlds to differentiate them. Fourteen feet long, with six muscular forelimbs, and a barbed prehensile tail that accounted for three of those sinuous feet. They were “Aelinhachi” to the people of Fallien, but to the world, in common tongue, they were the Barbary Lions, man-eaters with black coats and gaping mouths. Their senses were not so easily accustomed to smaller prey leaping upon them with seemingly much bigger teeth.

Drawing on his nature, forgetting his face, forgetting his act, he was near invisible in the darkness, and among three animals of considerably less friendly dispositions than the boy outside, he made for the last one standing. Before it could rise, Black Mesa carved into its lower body twice, seeing vital or reproductive organs as the first plan of attack. It screamed, crippled by the swords abuse, rolling with blind anger to bite at what was trying to kill it. Its teeth snapped, biting at thin air, its tongue tasting shifting darkness, but never finding him as he recoiled.

While the shade was purging the future of these damned beasts, the two that remained unaccosted looked at their suffering comrade, and then to the open door. It was no contest; they ran for freedom, an exiting the darkness took bounding strides in each direction having long grown tired of each other’s company. Spying an easier target than that uncertain thing killing its cellmate, the beast proceeded toward Ekzeal. Its eyes were bloodshot, in the light, its fur was a rank mess, and clearly, it had long since given up cleaning the filth from its fur. Hungry, it slavered, starving; it lusted, running it lunged for Ekzeal.

The shade leapt back in the darkness, his senses of sight unaffected by the lack of light, is nose smelling the growing blood on the floor, his ears registering the sound of intestines dragging on the ground. For his trouble had received a fashionable new piercing, a fang driven through the chain mail beneath his shirt, placed there when it had bitten into shoulder, and he had managed to lever it off with his sword. The fight going out of their eyes, unimaginable pain overwhelming one of them, the shifting shape found no pursuit as he backed away.

Exiting the cage, he kept the natural camouflage up, the light playing of his body, carrying away wisps of his form, blurring him into the background, hiding his limbs, and face. The glowing lights of a fairy occupied the roof, Ace’s little friend staring down at him curiously. Fay senses registered nothing, neither breath nor danger. “So what are you supposed to be?” She asked, bobbing well out of this strange things reach. “Momma told tall tales, tales too bad to be true, about things that don’t want to be seen—would one of those things be you?” She asked, utterly interested, drawing nearer.

The stranger the danger, the more interesting it was, and she was sure that fairy wings could dodge whatever the man had become. There was the sense that it was looking at her. There was the sense that it was getting closer. It flowed forward slowly, the true substance unseen even at a distance. “I… don’t know… I don’t care…” It said, its tongue clicking as the tooth fell to the floor. “I’m happy… I’m just me.” Something seized the fairy, fingers, claws, something wrapping her tightly and drawing her into seething shape. “Now, what was I doing, again?”

I hate this post; please forgive me. Also, feel free, I fully welcome it - beg for it even - to lambaste me to the best of your ability.