Co-written by Renor Xukuth and the Batorys
Knees watched, the feeling of being out of place starting to creep back in. As she saw the cruel death of Agan Ve'Piras, she shuddered, flinching at the horror of it. She looked down to see the two moroii, apparently totally comfortable with their surroundings, despite what awaited. They fit in, if not just fine, at least passing well. But what was she doing here?
Hearing the roar of the crowd, pleased with the most recent and most gruesome death, a memory of many years past resurfaced in her mind, of her now long dead grandfather, upon hearing that she'd almost gotten in a fight with a moroii girl at school. "Do not be fooled by your eyes, little one... as much as they may look like us, they are something else... they are not men, but wolves. Never forget that when you approach them." The memory brought a chill to her spine, understanding now her grandfather's worry at what had very nearly happened. She looked around, quieted by the fact that while Xukuthites weren't moroii, they too, were wolves, and she was now surrounded by thousands upon thousands of them.
It was at this moment that a wolf descended upon Knees, Kana wrapped her arms about the Batory infantry woman and offered a light nuzzle of a sorts while she kept her eyes upon kin and hands now also upon kin. Welcome to the family indeed! Our kin fights bravely so, I can only imagine what she is feeling... Light tilt of head, hair teasing Knee's neck and collarbone a bit as looking towards Mierin. The crowd was roaring again, it would seem Aytep had found another predator turned prey. Showing off agility by tackling an opponent, a hunter hired by the Dolis Elghinn. A mercenary with no ties to any bloodline present, though it mattered not as his blood was as good as those already having decorated the arena. Berserkers have always been a part of our line... is he not representative? Spoken perhaps to Knees or to Mierin, or to none, who could say?
Aytep arose, holding the other man in a severe clinch, and then with rapid fashion moved his hands in opposite directions. The savage and audible cracking of neck bones, turned the mercenary into a ragged form like so much a bag of potatoes. As if detecting an enemy, he spun about, catching the attempted thrust of a pike that held so much force it broke stone fragments of the nearest pillar. Fist connected to left jaw in a backwards strike, left hand clutched back of the head and used a strength unseen before, to plant the face of Moran'Ke of the Ke Merchant Clan, middle son of a wealthy baroness of the southern city of Najenda, into another wall. The sound of breaking bone, nose first, followed by jaw. Teeth and blood spattered across it's surface, as head was pulled back and then slammed again, and again, and again until there was but a pulpy mess left in his palm with a mess of hair and scalp leftovers to prove it had once been a face and a head to go with it.
Jolted out of her memories by the sudden embrace, Knees recalled another thing she'd learned somewhere along the line, possibly in school at some point. How had humans survived the predations of wolves? Instinctually, despite knowing Kana was just as dangerous as any here, possibly more than most, she wrapped an arm around the other woman. When surrounded by predators, it was good to have one in your corner, after all. At Kana's words, she chuckled slightly, despite the succession of violent deaths in the arena. "Knowing who she is, now... she's probably turned on," Knees quipped.
And indeed, it was so. While Nails spared a momentary glance and eyes narrowing, shaking of head for Knees, having finished applying the war paint, she and Mierin both focused their attention on the battles in the arena. A grin spread on the Batory's face, displaying the full effect of the design, evoking a feral appearance. Nails openly licked her lips as the blood and meat sprayed out from the death of Moran'Ke, chattering and making lewd gestures to her sergeant, who laughed, eyeing both the corpse and her fiancé with hunger, albeit of two different types.
As the crowd cheered, Kana relaxed into the arm that encircled her waist while offering a flirt to Nails now and then. Such pretty new kin, no time for play just yet however. Her attention was upon the battlefield just beyond them in short order. Metal clanging rang loudly as Aytep fought two with two others on the way, looking for both an opening and a way into the labyrinth of the inner areas of the arena. On the screen, it showed her cousin jumping backward to avoid a swing of a curved blade followed up a swift strike into the sword bearer’s forearm, forcing the bone to crack and splinter through the skin of the luckless Daja Elemmiire. The cries of pain made the crowd swoon and holler; of which came to a boisterous crashing like thunder as the female form received a firm knee of such viciousness that crushed ribs upon impact. The force of the strike lifted the would-be assassin from the ground and into the air, until she struck a pillar and crumpled.
As he landed he went low and avoided a swinging blow of an iron bar with a mace end. Stone cracked from the blow, shards dancing in the air and upon the ground as he leapt out of the way to the right. The heavy weapon smashed into earth, creating a dust cloud as the crucible warrior Arada of the Lian House, a small house of commoners that served at the clergy's discretion off the books. As he grunted and slowly began to lift the massive weapon up again, he felt several stinging blows against his left side from the shin to his upper back as he stood nearly six foot eight inches tall. His weapon fell as he watched in some abject horror and fascination, uttering a single word. Beautiful... He staggered, collapsed against a pillar and remained in a half standing, half bent at the knee position as Aytep stood there, a blade within hand and his arm up to the elbow covered in the oil slick like blood. He'd stabbed and punched his blade in as far as it could go in rapid fashion. Only two dogs left, and he would have their hearts.
Though attention still mainly held by Aytep's ferocious fighting, Nails was not unaware of the flirtatious glances from Kana, and returned enough that intentions were made fairly obvious. True, she had a lover in Pincushion already, but the mountain clans were no stricter about their intimacy than their Batory overlords. It seemed that her whispering to Mierin now referred, at least from the glances back, to Kana as well as Aytep. The Batory was seen to give her an encouraging clasp of shoulder. At the vicious crunching of bone, she was practically bouncing, clearly excited by all this. Mierin, for her part, while more reserved, was practically riveted to the scene, entranced by her betrothed's speed in dispatching Arada before he had a chance to strike again. It seemed that even in death, the fine form was not lost on him, either.
Knees, in turn, regarded the latest bout with somewhat less discomfort. Gory, true, but in this one especially it was easy to see the artfulness of both combatants, Aytep, the more agile of the two, winning out. Looking back to Nails, she whispered to Kana "I'm sure you're already aware, but careful with that one... she's more wild animal than anything. We didn't name her lover 'Pincushion' for nothing." Still, her words carried the tone more of joke than serious warning.
She's adorable, though my last playmate died... she was a Ve'Hek though so perhaps not as... robust. She whispered back, eyes alight with a cold fire as Aytep stood so victorious. Shame he is of my kin line that it is taboo to consider him for anything else but cousin... majestic. Almost moan worthy the way she spoke as Aytep had already begun to move, he moved as if he was something else, inhuman speed carried him like a whirlwind of destruction.
The first of the two caught unawares while skulking, and while a talented individual of the military, a name he did know but had no idea why it had come to die as it was a commoner, it was not something he would think of. Verda Chou found himself on the receiving end of a blade, pressed through the back of his head all the way to the hiltless grip. Fingers sprayed in his brain matter and blood, the double edged blade tip piercing the bridge of nose upon exit and the shake of hand made the head wobble until it was pried free. Verda's body twitched as nerves fired their last synapses. He collapsed twitching and spasming, flecks of blood at the corners of his mouth as well. The motions of Aytep continued as a throwing knife passed through the space he had just previously occupied.
Another and another, he danced out of their way as moving swiftly towards the thrower, the last of those who had come to kill him. Let the death of Tolan Xukuth show the world, and the throne, that Mierin would be his. Upon reaching the shaven headed, tattooed form of the scion of the Valnor Xukuth, a little known splinter line of the Valis Xukuth, he provided a feint to distract Tolan and distract it did. A forearm arose to block and with that his fate sealed. Aytep dragged him down towards the ground, assuming a full mount and with gusto began to stab and stab, repeating the process as Tolan's screams turned into gasps and then gurgles as the product of his desire lifted up from the gory mess of a wound. The heart of his enemy and from it, before the crowd and the world, he ate it. Slurping it down like so much a fine veal and the wine with it. He rose to thunderous, booming applause, the steady beat of stamping boots and the waves of screams that shouted his name as blade arose to the sky declaring victory for all to see. A mask of blood painted face from cheek to chin and path of neck facing, his chest spattered and his arms coated. The times of yore honored once more.
As much as she might try to stay reserved, Mierin could not hide her excitement as she watched her intended dispatch another foe, and then dodge one throwing knife after another and another, before closing the distance to destroy his last opponent. A small part of her wondered at how the Matriarch looked on this, as the surname of the now heartless corpse was that of the domain as a whole and therefore, its Matriarch. Still, such thoughts were but passing, her breath growing heavier. "Nails, it's time for the last thing."
Giddy with excitement even more than her Sergeant Pixie was, the mountain moroii at first looked confused, elated as she was by the final death, before realization dawned. Gently, she made a small bite on the Batory, enough so that the latter would bleed slightly. Moroii were naturally adept at fighting, predators as they were, but over the millennia, they'd learned some small tricks to give them final edges. Going into combat not starving enough to render them totally irrational, but hungry, for instance. It seemed that some small bleeding also tricked the moroii body into a greater sense of urgency at replacing that which the body thought it was losing.
Mierin followed this by embracing Nails, then turning to Knees and Kana, who seemed to be somewhat entwined. It was an odd sight as she embraced the both of them. "I don't intend to die today, but if I do... I am glad we are now kin," she murmured.
Well my advice would be to not let my cousin show you up, the crowd doesn’t like bland deaths. Other then that, try to live, I'd hate to see someone else take your spot. Kana smiled and lightly patted Mierin on the shoulder, though the squeeze of left hand against shoulder showcased that inhumanness that flowed through the Xukuthites, then it was gone as said hand lifted again. All eyes upon your match, sister... battle well.
"Oh, I will," the moroii said with a grin.
"Don't die, hyena," Knees said, jokingly, using the epithet sometimes used for moroii, especially Batorys. Nails simply grinned and whispered something in Hearth Tongue.
After returning their smiles, the Batory strode to the entrance of the arena's grounds itself. Pausing there, she checked that her warbrand was loose in its scabbard, and crouched down. Reaching out, she grasped a loose handful of earth, letting it run through her slender fingers, before applying a small part of that both to the tiny bleeding wound nails had made, and then smudging that slightly at the middle of her forehead. At once, she then arose and leapt onto the grounds, her left hand drawing the warbrand in the same motion. There were some more fancy ways of drawing while in combat itself, but she wanted to be prepared, lest her opponents catch her unawares. The blade, now revealed, was long, and mostly straight, though single-sided. Perhaps surprisingly, it did not shine brightly, mostly a dark grey, though a more thorough examination would reveal its color as not being uniform, some areas a mottled bluish, other darker areas having the slightest hint of red. Perhaps most strikingly, it appeared to have been somehow twisted, almost like a rope, in its forging, before being flattened.
The moroii did not sprint, but rather her run was a steady, loping gait, her long legs carrying her forth at a pace that, albeit fast, seemed unhurried. An easier target, perhaps, but she wanted to conserve energy to some degree... and her movements seemed like nothing so much as those of a predator entering the plains, searching for prey. She was aware, also, of psychological aspects of combat. Such reserved pace would not reveal to her enemies until she was upon them just how fast she could actually move, and perhaps, though her heartbeat sounded like thunder to her, in her chest, gave the appearance of being unconcerned, and mayhap that might give a few of her challengers some pause.
Predictably, an arrow shot her way. She casually altered her path slightly to let it pass half a meter to one side. Another one followed shortly thereafter, and again, she changed her movement, slowing down slightly to let it fall harmlessly just in front of her. One of the moroii's feet then stepped on the shaft, snapping it. She subtly varied her pace, a third arrow falling where she had been before, and another one whistling centimeters from her head. All this time, of course, while intentionally giving off the appearance of being oblivious, the hunter had kept mental note of where the irritating weapons were coming from, close to one of the various entrances of the more complex labyrinth interior of the arena. The range short now, she batted a final arrow aside before approaching the shooter, now revealed. Seemingly at the last second, she sped up, muscles tensing as she swung the warbrand startlingly fast despite using only one arm to do so.
Trius the III, of the Van'Ze Dolis was the unlucky recipient of the first encounter. Trius had served in the seventh regiment of the Blood Caps once upon a time, but had been a mercenary for the last few years serving the Dolis Elghinn main branch out of Vendi, the southern port city that held the main bloodline of the Dolis Elghinn. His hair was long on one side, and shaven on the other. Exotic marks were scribed into the flesh exposed, as was the career path of the hired warrior. He stood roughly five foot eight inches tall, and was an expert with a short collapsible bow. His secondary would be a pair of curved Kukri styled blades, provided he had the time to reach such.
As she'd neared him, Mierin saw the compact but trim figure begin to discard his bow, to reach for his sheathed knives. The sudden burst of speed by the moroii, so different from the pace she'd maintained earlier, had caught him slightly off guard. But slightly was enough, and deadly, in a combat situation. With surprising force, the dark blade, seeming almost to suck the light from the around it, crashed into Trius' ribcage, though only after snapping his right collarbone. No shallow cut, blood sprayed out as the warbrand continued, almost as if it were unimpeded, a surreal sight given the audible crunching and snap of ribs being shorn asunder and the sickening squelching of flesh being torn apart.
When Mierin's blade finally came to rest, it was more than halfway down Trius' torso, the path of bodily destruction slightly diagonal, carrying it through one lung, now utterly collapsed, part of the stomach, and several other organs, now sitting amidst the warrior's ruined intestinal tract. Though the man lived yet, he would not do so for long, and seeing that she had eliminated the threat he posed, the moroii unceremoniously yanked the long blade out, causing yet more blood to spray out, as she kicked the dying man over before moving on.
Trius laughed, as his last act before collapsing onto the ground after being kicked free of the blade. His blood flowed freely as above the crowd’s excitement became as if a storm, carrying on from the earlier spectacles of seeing Aytep's handiwork. Speaking of the scion of Hiendor, Aytep had returned, still bathed in his battle, watching the fights as they came. His blades sheathed at his sides, the combat suit was half on him still, chest exposed, arms crossed just so as he watched with interest that shown in those eyes of his, the same cold fire as Kana shown bright as he stood near enough Nails, Kana, and Knee's. Il mal al, ilta grand ilhar detholus al... Of which brought a smile from his kin as she nodded and spoke the common for her sisters’ benefit. Of course she chose well, cousin...
Knees had seen Sergeant Pixie, or Mierin Batory, as she turned out to actually be, kill in combat before, but seeing it while being merely an observer, rather than caught up in it herself, was different. Had it been this appalling at Karthay? She couldn't remember, as things were too much a blur. She did remember that after combat, though, her commanding officer had seemed... aroused, if anything. At Aytep's return, she could not help but ogle a bit, though she at least did so less blatantly than Nails, whose eyes, on both Aytep and Kana, made clear what she was thinking about. The smaller of the moroii turned back to the arena to give a primal cheer, pumping her fist into the air, as their commander kicked away the dying form of the first challenger.
Something that Kana had said earlier stirred in Knees' mind. Last plaything had died? This was concerning, though still, she spoke of another matter. "The Batory clan doesn't really have that particular taboo," she whispered, alluding to when Kana had mentioned, with some apparent sadness, that it was apparently not done for such close kin to be intimate. Meanwhile, in the arena, Mierin whirled as another challenger sought unsuccessfully to catch her unawares, and the crash of blades again rang out in Vlos Eairthin.
