[@Sanity43217] - Asset Goal - ?
[@CorvianMERCDB] - Asset Goal - ?

[b](F Grade Abilities, despite having 0 Post Cooldown, can only be used once per round if the character doesn't have Energized F)[/b]

The first clash comes like surf on stone.

Varius drives in. The knife runner meets him, blades skittering against the gladius with a bright scrape. The dockside bruiser reads the lane and dumps the net, both hands on the boat hook as he barrels in. Wood bites at Varius’s guard while steel checks at his wrist. The double pressure smears his rhythm just enough. A hooked jab rakes his cuirass with a hard rake that grooves leather and kisses the plate beneath. Sand slides under his heel and the next step comes a fraction late. The crowd likes the noise and the spray of grit. Varius stays on his feet, no cords on him, but his stance is off for the heartbeat to come. [b][Varius's Armor takes 1 damage. Varius is inflicted with Off-Balance until the next round][/b]

At the red line, the shield thug slams forward with his round board. Don meets him square, then turns with the hit like a door on a hinge. The cudgel whistles down and Don is already inside it. His counter snaps in tight and mean, across the cheek strap and up into the brow. The thug’s head rings. His vision sparks. He staggers a half step as the board dips and his breath comes sharp through his teeth. A thin cheer ripples from the cheap seats where they favor Red. [b][Don inflicts 1 damage and Flare F until the next round][/b]

[center]Neco-Arc[/center]
[center][img]https://ik.imagekit.io/maxxo/La%20Creatura%203.jpg?updatedAt=1758233464283[/img][/center]

Neco-Arc hops on the tunnel lip, tiny paws cupped like a trumpet. [b]“That is the party I am talking about, nya. Keep the fangs out.”[/b]

The drum holds the beat. Green scraps flash across the way as the knife runner resets with a shake of his head and the bruiser squares his shoulders over the dropped net. Up in the boxes, Magnus Salinator watches without moving. Grand Mayor Maffeo lifts his staff an inch, as if measuring the angle of the sun. The sand waits for the next decision.