DoubleChecker

[The Duchy: Aslan] .·:★・¨༺ 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔤𝔢 ༻¨・★:·.

Sir Edwin Stormcrest?

​
@Moonberry
@Tellussoil

Titles
[Human - Mundane], [Noble Ryke Baron] B, [Apprentice Lancer], [Power Potential], [Get Looped], [Dark Knight], [Knight in Black], [Dark Horseman] - #0E0101
Noteworthy Skills: [Resilient Surprised], Regeneration F
Asset Goal: ?

Edwin was thoroughly delighted by the discomfort he caused to the clerks who signed him up, making a point of staring directly into their eyes during the signing process. And, when catching wind of the commentary of him being a mercenary, the grin which was splattered across his face just widened. The perfect first impression had been delivered.

After having his registration confirmed, his gaze slid towards some songstress that had registered just after him. Unimpressed, her ogling of the food made him think she was some homeless runt that had stumbled into the contest. “A pity.” He rumbled to himself, thinking of the drastic tainting of the whole event: it was worse than mere cultists, it seemed.

His attention then drifted towards the judge’s aides, if only for a moment, his armored hand tapping against the shaft of his three-pronged lance, creating a methodically metal clink in set intervals. That was, until his gaze landed upon Lady Avelyne herself. He stared back at the woman, openly and undisguised, his expression stony. He would keep the gaze, as an almost primal contest of dominance, daring not to glance away. Not until she did so.

And more and more contestants showed up, likely eager to show off their meager, insignificant skills, a certain scene caught his sight, making his golden eyebrow arch: Aedrianna calling out for the famished, destitute wretch. ‘Aedrianna, you should focus your efforts in ways that actually give you a better return… but I guess your pure heart brings you to help the miserable. I will fix that, in due time.’ He thought to himself, fully misplacing how the two came to know each other.

“To the Western Promenade it is. I do hope that the magic from the Duchy is actually effective in lessening slashes, cuts and bruisers, or that you, at least, have some cleric at the ready. I would hate to be blamed for not controlling my own strength.” He told both of the clerks, tone chilling, rumbling, filled with both malice and promise. A brutal beast covered by a thin layer of etiquette. No warmth could be found in him at that moment.

He stepped into the sandy arena just as he had crossed towards the register: heavy steps that did nothing to conceal his presence. Much on the contrary. His azure eyes glanced over the place of battle itself and then towards the competition.

His expression was unchanged, keeping its chiseled features, almost as if it was a marble bust. Yet, there was a glint of interest behind his azure orbs, one that heralded that maybe, just maybe, there would be some fun in addition to pulling the cur out of his hidey-hole. “Let me guess, you are all from outside the Duchy, fighting for yourselves or earning some coin from a noble to do it in their place?” He blurted that out, voice loud enough for it to carry, as his expression changed to a knowing grin.

[The Grand Duchy] Labyrinth of the Primordial Bloom [FINISHED]

[If you are interested in joining a setting like this, check out: roleplayerguild.com/topics/196759-ise…]

@DoubleChecker - Severin Vaust Asset Goal: Grand Duchy Nobility F
@Book - Liu Fei Asset Goal: ?
@pkken - Vetreus Draedora Asset Goal: Harvester Asset Mine F
@Red Hood - Esther Keaten Asset Goal: ?
@Nakushita - Penny "Iron Maiden of Pax" Asset Goal: ?

Music

youtube.com/watch?v=Lxhvesbwz3E&list=…

The narrow path explodes into a whirlwind of coordinated chaos.

As the battle erupts, both Vaust and Vetreus focus their senses, peeling back the layers of reality to understand the nature of their foes.
Vetreus, locking eyes with the lead Stalker as he prepares his attack, activates his own Appraisal. Information flashes in his mind:

Vetreus' Appraisal

[Verdant Stalker]
Type: Corrupted Flora-Fauna
Threat Level: D
Attributes: Strength C, Agility D
Abilities: [Pack Tactics], [Thorn Lacerate]
Weakness: Radiant, Fire. Resistant to Piercing.
Note: A territorial predator created by the chaotic life-magic of the Verdant Heart. It hunts in packs, using its durable, bark-like hide to weather attacks while flanking its prey.

Vaust, in contrast, unleashes a far more potent and esoteric form of analysis. His [Ancient Knowledge] washes over all three creatures simultaneously. He doesn't just see their stats; he perceives the very essence of their unnatural existence.

Vaust's Appraisal

[Soul-Tether Analysis]: These are not true living beings. They are puppets, animated by a singular, parasitic will. Their "souls" are crude, temporary constructs—tethers of chaotic life-magic originating from a central intelligence deeper within the forest. They feel no pain or fear, only the drive to expunge intruders. Severing the tether would instantly neutralize the vessel.
[Arcane Analysis]: The creatures are a fusion of necrotic and life magic, a paradox given form. The wood of their bodies is infused with properties of both rot and regeneration, making them unnaturally resilient to conventional damage but highly volatile when exposed to purifying energies like Radiant or cleansing elements like Fire.

Armed with this new knowledge, the party's assault begins.

Esther is the first to react, her harp singing a sharp, commanding note. The fiery ribbons of music lash out, wrapping around the front leg of each plant-like horror. As she twists her harp, the ribbons pull taut.

Stalker

- The leftmost Stalker is caught completely off guard. Its leg is yanked out from under it with a crack of splintering wood, and the creature topples sideways onto the path with a heavy thud, momentarily disabled.

- The center Stalker digs its hooves into the soft loam, bracing itself. The ribbon strains and burns against its leg, but it holds its ground, letting out an infuriated shriek that sounds like tearing bark.

- The rightmost Stalker is similarly prepared. It stumbles but catches its balance at the last second, the magical fire scorching its wooden hide but failing to bring it down.

Simultaneously, Vetreus lunges. His blade becomes a conduit for pure light, and a scorching bolt of radiant energy erupts from its tip, screaming through the air toward the lead Stalker. The creature attempts to twist away, but the blast is too fast. It strikes the beast square in the chest. The radiant energy sears through its bark-like hide, causing it to smoke and blacken. The Blight effect intensifies the damage, and the creature staggers back, a deep, glowing wound smoldering where the bolt hit.

On the other flank, Penny charges. Her aggressive sprint toward the leftmost Stalker—the one now prone on the ground thanks to Esther—is a blur of motion. However, as she moves to grapple it for a suplex, the creature reacts with surprising speed even from the ground. It shoves its free leg out, catching her mid-stride. Penny's momentum is broken as she stumbles over the unexpected obstacle, her ambitious suplex attempt thwarted for the moment.

While two of his packmates are occupied, the rightmost Stalker focuses on the nearest threat: Fei Liu. Shaking off the lingering heat from Esther's spell, it lowers its head. The corpse-white flower closes, revealing a sharpened, ram-like point of hardened wood. It lunges forward in a goring charge.

Just as it attacks, Vaust's spell takes effect. A semi-transparent shield of shimmering blue hexagons materializes in front of Fei Liu. The Stalker's charge is also subtly hampered by the oppressive, chilling aura of [Menace] emanating from Vaust, causing a moment of primal hesitation. The creature's attack, slightly weakened, slams into the magical barrier. The hexagonal shield flashes brightly, absorbing the brunt of the impact with a sharp CRACK. Fei Liu stands untouched behind the shimmering defense as the Stalker recoils, frustrated.

As the initial exchange concludes:
- The center Stalker is heavily wounded but still standing.
- The leftmost Stalker is on the ground but has successfully defended against Penny's grapple.
- The rightmost Stalker is unharmed and has had its initial attack completely blocked.

The air crackles with spent energy and the smell of burnt wood and ozone. The remaining two standing Stalkers turn their glowing violet "eyes" on the party, their wooden bodies creaking as they prepare for their next move. The fight is far from over.

[The Grand Duchy] Labyrinth of the Primordial Bloom [FINISHED]

Severin Vaust

​

Titles
[Monster], [Undead], [Monster - Mundane], [Monster - Evolved], [Necromancer] - [#2d7d38]
Noteworthy Perks: [Evolved] - gain the title evolved. Something about your physiology or aura identifies to others you are of a higher species than your peers. Gain a +1 to social exchanges with others of your racial tree.
[Menace] - An aura of fear emanates from the creature at all times that makes lower grade creatures take a -1 effectiveness on attacks against monster or monster allies.
Noteworthy Perks: Resilient C (28) [Aging/Fatigue and Exhaustion/Suffocation/Surprised]

Asset Goal: Duchy Nobility F

Vaust observed with barely noticeable curiosity as Liu Fei put pencil against paper, faux mustache on his mortal guise twitching from side-to-side momentarily. When the last scratch against the paper was delivered, the Necromancer approached, neck craning towards the paper being held by the skeleton. “Mmmm… seems like we have quite the eventful encounters as we make our way there.” Lifting his cane, he pointed its tip towards the massive signature at the very limit of what had been scouted.

Retreating the cane, the other markings found almost no interest coming from him. “A pity, even if I had been able to see those other marking with my own eyes, chances are I wouldn’t have any idea of what they might be. Botany and biology are not my areas of specialty.” He still left that one comment to hang about in the air, while he continued to thread onward through the thick thicket.

While the sickly, overly sweet scent of decay was not a bother for the Undead, quite used and even found of such fragrances, the very oppressive nature of the Labyrinth was a different matter. It made the undying narrow his eyes slightly, considering it a slight against his very presence: some contender trying to measure strength with his own. But, in due time, it would be dealt with. Momentarily, his eyes slid towards the floating Scrying Orb, lips curling infinitesimally. ‘And so will those toys.’

With the forest’s pulse on his mind, suddenly that forest’s predators were revealed. Like a stitched monstrosity of plant and beast, Vaust greatly disapproved of such a creation. It bore no finesse, no beauty, no intricacy, just a thing for an end. It was dull, and ⚐︎⬧︎⬧︎♋︎■︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎ wasn’t found of dull things. Still, the being, perhaps, bore some studying.

Without uttering a single word, nor performing any gesture, he scanned the area with knowledge beyond mortal ken. [Action 1]

In the next moment, he lifted his cane, the glass globe on its crown pulsing with a low and constant dark green. “Barrier!” He uttered, casting a defensive spell, rather than an offensive one. His targets were his allies, which were granted a semi-transparent, blue shields in front of them composed of hexagons. It allowed attacks from inside, while blocking attacks from outside. [Action 2]

He then waited, eager to watch how things would unfold.

Actions:
1 - Ancient Knowledge - Appraisal D + Sixth Sense D [Spirits and Soul-tethers] + Academia D + Arcana D + Energized D + Componentless Magic D + Magic D + Magic AoE E (50ft radius) + Magic Range E (100ft) + Magic Targets E (10 different targets) + Selective Magic E (targeting only the stalkers) - Grade D 1 Post Cooldown
2 - Barrier - Magic E + Magic AoE F (15ft radius) + Magic Range F (30ft) + Magic Targets F (5 different targets) + Selective Magic F (targeting only allies) + Energized E - Grade E 0 Post Cooldown - Intelligence B (5) + Catalyst C (4) + Ability E (2) = 11 Base Effectiveness for defense if attacks are breached

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

1. **Narrators Involved**
Me - Narrator Grade S - discord.com/channels/5207614178892185…

3. **Summary of the Roleplay**
- Don and Varius found themselves being drawn to the Grand Coliseum of Otenzel. There, they met a mysterious cat-like being who gave them a short, tutorial like of how effectiveness is calculated in the advanced rules. After being coached by it, the duo step into the sandy arena, facing off three opponents in a death match. At the higher stands, a foreigner to the continent was present.
- Intense match takes place, Don and Varius beat the three thug-like fighters. They receive an invitation by the foreign emissary to visit his homeland. Meanwhile, the cat-like creature makes a small fortune from their win and advises them to come back to the Coliseum after getting even stronger.

5. **Criminal Acts Perpetrated**
- No criminal acts

6. **Lore to Establish**
- As long as this rp is a full grade and not a partial, you may submit the the answer to this block to the request mod channel and ping lore mod
-
- An emissary of a foreign nation, Grand Mayor Maffeo di Albrisis smells like salt and talks with a heavy Common accent. He mentions a strange land: The Serenissima Thalassocracy of Albrisia. And while this could be chalked as nonsense, the dozens of ships docked earlier at the Otenzel's port tells a different story.

-
- Once more, the cat-like creature makes it chaotic presence: first in Ryke and now in the East Empire. What this mischievous runt really wants? Only time will tell.

7. **Partial Participants**
- Provide a list of partial participants, including their character names and roleplayer (RPer) names. Prety much anyone who should get nothing but points and no bonuses
- None

9. **Full-Time Participants**
- Don Kureger - discord.com/channels/5207614178892185… - Standing Grade F
- Varius Interitus - discord.com/channels/5207614178892185… - Standing Grade F

10. **Characters with Point Boosters**
- No point boosters

12. **Assets/Titles Roleplayed For**
- Varius Interitus - Grand Coliseum of Otenzel [Participant] F (Starting fame at the Grand Coliseum)

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

@Sanity43217 - Asset Goal - ?
@CorvianMERCDB - Asset Goal - Grand Coliseum Participant F

The finish comes fast and loud.

Don scoops the fallen board, plants, and rips his shoulders. The round shield leaves his hand like a thrown door. The dockside bruiser flinches a fraction, boat hook twitching to meet it. The rim hammers his guard and pops his chin. In the same breath Varius threads the lane the impact opens and drives the gladius straight and true. Throat, then sand. The roar hits like weather.

For a heartbeat the whole bowl breathes as one, then breaks into chants and stamps and a rain of cheap wreaths. The Announcer rides the wave. “Otenzel. Your rookies of the Red Team stand. Green Team is finished.”

High in his box the Praetorian Prefect inclines his head the smallest degree and lifts two fingers. Marshals move. The gong falls once, deep and final. Two handlers in crimson sashes gesture you toward the tunnel.

As you clear the light, the world cools to stone and shade and the ragged echo of your own steps. Water skins pass down the line. A chirurgeon with quick hands gives Varius’s side a glance and a linen press. A second crewman checks Don’s breathing with a hand on the ribs and a quick nod.

Steel-shod boots approach that are not Imperial. Cloaks in sea-blue and foam-white. Breastplates chased with waves and a lighthouse device in gold. Curved boarding sabers at the hip. Hooked gauntlets for climbing line. The guards move like sailors who have never stumbled on a wet deck.

Between them comes the elder with the staff and the easy smile, the Grand Mayor you saw above. Up close, the salt is in his cuffs and the sun is in his skin. He looks the pair of you over with the frankness of a man buying a ship.

“Signori,” he says, voice warm and thick with a lilt you have not heard on these streets. “Molto bene. You fight with cuore. With the… how you say… the good storm inside.” He taps the staff once. “You will come visit my homeland, si. The Serenissima Thalassocracy of Albrisia. Porto Aureo. We have work for brave hands, and good coin, and views that make the gods jealous.” He smiles again, then adds in a quieter tone, “I speak your Common, but the sea keeps my tongue. You understand me… just.” Both of you understand him, but only just. The accent is heavy.

Behind him, one of the sea-guards steps once and the line of them settles like a tide that found the right shore.

Neco-Arc

From the tunnel lip, something jingles. Neco Arc is juggling a coin pouch, then two, then three, eyes glittering with pure mischief. “Coach is very proud, nya. Coach bet on the right horses. Look at that payout, shake shake shake.” The cat slings a pouch up, catches it on a single claw, and winks. “Buns in, fangs out, do not lick the wound, drink the water, and when you get stronger you come back to coach. Coach will make you legends or at least excellent posters, nya.”

Far above, the Announcer lets the last cheer wash through the stone. “Take your bow, Red Team. The sand remembers your names tonight.”

The handlers hold the line a moment longer, not rushing you, giving the corridor its little pocket of quiet before the next thunder. You have a beat to say a word, take a breath, or trade a look before the work of bandages and signatures and sponsors begins.

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

@Sanity43217 - Asset Goal - ?
@CorvianMERCDB - Asset Goal - Grand Coliseum Participant F

Varius sees the opening and commits. Both hands on the gladius, point set to drive through the chest, a clean finish that would make the boxes lean forward. The dockside bruiser reads the weight a heartbeat before the drop. He slides his lead foot, lets the line pass, and whips the boat hook’s haft across the inside of Varius’s forearm. The blade kisses leather instead of lung. The bruiser rams a short jab into the ribs on the recoil and skips a step sideways, half turn, hook low again. Pain sparks along Varius’s side and steals a breath. One point taken, the execution denied. [Varius takes 1 HP, 2/5]

Don gives him space and throws his voice to the bowl. The name catches, first in the cheap benches, then in the middle rings. “Varius.” “Varius.” The chant starts rough and rounds out into a real beat.

The bruiser hears it and bares his teeth in something that is not a smile. He keeps the hook twitching lines in the sand, eyes cutting between sword and hype man, pale and stubborn, still there.

Neco-Arc

Up on the tunnel lip Neco Arc detonates into theater. “No, no, that was not on the script, nya.” Papers fly, are caught, fly again. “Page three says glorious poke then handsome roar then tasteful decapitation. This is the bathhouse roster. Who shuffled my art, nya.” Tiny paw jabs at the ring. “Fine. We jazz. Sword guy, make him hold all that regret again but with footsies. Punch guy, keep the chorus alive. In two. Out two. Do not hug the hook. Style points are a legal currency, nya.”

The Announcer tastes the moment. “Otenzel, the finish slips the noose. Red’s blade sings, Green’s hook bites, and the chant calls for thunder. Who answers first?”

The drum keeps time. The crowd breathes in once, together. The bruiser steadies, hook low and mean. The sand waits for the next choice.

[The Duchy: Aslan] .·:★・¨༺ 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔤𝔢 ༻¨・★:·.

Sir Edwin Stormcrest?

​
@Moonberry

Titles
[Human - Mundane], [Noble Ryke Baron] B, [Apprentice Lancer], [Power Potential], [Get Looped], [Dark Knight], [Knight in Black], [Dark Horseman] - #0E0101
Noteworthy Skills: [Resilient Surprised], Regeneration F
Asset Goal: ?

Edwin’s icy-blue eyes scanned the chamber, his nature easily picking up how pride overflowed it. After all, how could it not? The baron was a creature of pride himself, yet his own was grounded in more palpable reasons.

“This sort of looks is perfect to hide the rot and weakness underneath.” Answering Aedrianna, the dark armored knight stood beside her, arm hooked around hers initially. With his orbs gleaming towards all the opulence in luxury of that place, he found himself at home, truly, except for what was lurking under this façade.

“It could very well be that what was attained was only thanks to the cult’s influence, or perhaps the hopes are for this organization to rise this family over a stagnation that it might have hit on its own.” Those were his best thoughts about the motivations on why would seem to be tied up to it.

Turning his head towards her, Edwin flashed a knowing smile. “Too much coincidence is a telling sign of no coincidence at all.” Nodding, he continued. “Indeed, let’s participate and find out what these whelps are actually planning.”

He then leaned over his lover, his face approaching hers until they were a hair width apart. “Take care, my darling. Give them hell and, if you need my presence, you need just to call me.” Keeping the close, almost touching distance for a moment longer, the dark horseman retreated.

Soon enough, his heavy footsteps began as he strutted towards the Pavillon’s central registry. Only half-way towards the counter, had his armed unhooked from Aedrianna, not he suspected the surrounding nobles would even have noticed: they seem too focused inward to notice anything at all.

And, upon reaching the registry, he put on his most prideful display. Or was it arrogance? Both walked hand-in-hand, after all. “What a quaint little competition, it is being held here.” He began towards whoever was tending the registration, tone half amused, half unimpressed. “It certainly caught my eye that there is even a swordsmanship competition, as I was led to believe ‘Duchy folk’ don’t have the most developed physical abilities.”

With the briefest stings of condescension, he flashed the person a smile. “Might take a gander at it and see what this place can offer in the more physical of matters. Lord Marcher Edwin Stormcrest from Ryke.” While saying his name, it was as if he expected that alone was enough to have his presence in it confirmed.

[The Grand Duchy] Labyrinth of the Primordial Bloom [FINISHED]

[If you are interested in joining a setting like this, check out: roleplayerguild.com/topics/196759-ise…]

@DoubleChecker - Severin Vaust Asset Goal: Grand Duchy Nobility F
@Book - Liu Fei Asset Goal: ?
@pkken - Vetreus Draedora Asset Goal: Harvester Asset Mine F
@Red Hood - Esther Keaten Asset Goal: ?
@Nakushita - Penny "Iron Maiden of Pax" Asset Goal: ?

Music

youtube.com/watch?v=Lxhvesbwz3E&list=…

The oppressive atmosphere of the Verdant Heart does little to deter the group's forward momentum. As Severin steps confidently toward the maw-like entrance, Fei Liu holds up a hand, requesting a moment.

An audible intake of breath, like air rushing into a vacuum, emanates from the skeleton. His entire frame begins to rattle violently, as if seized by an invisible earthquake. To an outside observer, it is a deeply unsettling display, but for Liu, the world dissolves. His senses surge outwards, a non-physical wave that washes over a mile of the twisted landscape ahead. It is a fleeting, total awareness—every gnarled tree, every hidden ravine, every moving thing is mapped in his mind's eye.

The moment passes. Liu's upper body collapses to the ground with a clatter of bone on corrupted soil. For a second, he is just a pile of parts. Then, a hand twitches. He mechanically unfolds a small, portable easel from his bag, its vellum surface clouded with the residue of past drawings. With a stick of charcoal, his hand becomes a blur. Lines, textures, and cryptic shorthand fill the page with astonishing speed. [Note about Liu's skills: the highest grade he can have of Visual Arts and Fast is B rather than A. For both of them to be A, Intelligence and Speed would need to be S.]

While Liu is engrossed in his cartography, Esther shares her findings with Vetreus. The information is grim: paralytic vines, hallucinogenic spores, and a soil teeming with a contradictory mix of life and death energies. The forest itself seems to be a weapon.

Griselda, meanwhile, relays her own sensory data. Her whiskers twitch as she describes the deep, rhythmic thrumming of the forest's "heart" and, more disturbingly, a faint, wet tearing sound from deeper within.

After a few moments, Liu's legs reassemble themselves with an audible series of clicks, and he rises unsteadily. He turns the easel to the group. The drawing is a masterpiece of tactical cartography. It shows a winding, branching path ahead, flanked by dense, impassable thickets. Several ravines and boggy patches are clearly marked.

Most importantly, the map is dotted with symbols indicating movement.

- A cluster of small, slow-moving signatures are marked near a boggy area about a quarter-mile in. Liu's shorthand labels them [Fauna? - Unidentified].
- Several larger, stationary signatures are noted deeper in, marked with a [???]. They don't appear to be flora or fauna, but something else entirely.
- One massive, singular signature is marked at the very edge of the map's one-mile range. It is labeled simply: [SOURCE]. This is clearly the epicenter.
- Disturbingly, several small, fast-moving signatures are depicted flanking the main path, moving parallel to it. They seem to be shadowing the entrance. Liu has labeled these [Stalkers?].

With the map displayed for all to see, Severin gives a slight, approving nod. He gestures for Fei Liu to take the lead, and the group steps past the threshold, plunging into the oppressive gloom of the Verdant Heart.

The air inside is immediately thicker, the sickly sweet smell of decay more potent. The path is narrow, hemmed in on both sides by the pulsating, glowing flora. The thorny Razorvines twitch and scrape against the edges of the path as you pass, their barbs glinting in the eerie light. The ground is soft and spongy, and with every step, you can feel the deep, rhythmic THUMP... THUMP... of the forest's heart vibrating through the soles of your feet.

You have walked for no more than a hundred feet when the first sign of immediate danger appears. From the tangled thicket to your left, one of the fast-moving "Stalker" signatures on Liu's map reveals itself. A creature, roughly the size of a large wolf, steps silently onto the path ahead, blocking the way.

Stalker

It is a horrifying amalgamation of plant and animal. Its body is formed from twisted roots and bark, its legs ending in sharp, cloven hooves made of hardened wood. Vicious thorns jut from its back, and its head is a blooming, corpse-white flower with a gaping, tooth-lined maw at its center. Two glowing, violet stamens swivel like eyes, fixing on the group. It lets out a low growl that sounds like grinding wood, and two more identical creatures emerge from the thickets on either side of the path, effectively boxing you in.

They are the forest's antibodies, and you are the infection.

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

@Sanity43217 - Asset Goal - ?
@CorvianMERCDB - Asset Goal - ?

They move as one. Varius angles, voice low. Don claps the bruiser’s skull and drives forward with both palms to shove him off his feet, setting the crowd for a clean finish.

The dockside bruiser reads it in the last blink. He lets the shove take his shoulders, drops his weight, and scythes the boat hook across Don’s ribs like a yardarm swinging. Wood thuds under the breastbone. All the air in Don’s chest leaves at once. The bruiser rides the recoil, pops a short shoulder into the same spot, and Don’s vision flashes white around the edges. He staggers two steps, heat blooming along the rib line, breath coming in a bark. The cheap seats gasp, then roar at the counter landing clean. [Don's HP 1/4]

Varius’s lead is there, the bruiser is still up, pale and grinning like a dock lamp in fog, hook low and twitching lines in the sand as if drawing where the next step should not be.

Up in the boxes the Prefect does not blink. Grand Mayor Maffeo’s staff clicks once against the rail, a polite tic of approval.

Neco-Arc

On the tunnel lip Neco Arc explodes. “No, no, that was not on the script, nya.” A stack of papers appears from nowhere, half tied with red twine. The cat drops them, scoops them, drops them again, then rifles through with frantic paws. “Where is page three. Page three says punch guy breathes twice, sword guy does the cool spin, bruiser takes a nap. This is page fifteen, this is the opera night, this is the bathhouse schedule. Who swapped my pages, nya.”

It jabs a tiny paw toward the ring, eyes blazing. “Improvisation. We love improvisation. Sword guy, make him hold all that regret again. Punch guy, breathe in the belly, not in the panic. In for two, out for two. Do not hug the hook. Style points on the comeback. Sand kick is legal. Shield steal is legal if you can pry it. Do not lick the wound. Coach orders.”

The Announcer’s voice rides the roar. “A counter from the Green that could turn a tide. Does Red answer with thunder, Otenzel?”

The drum holds steady. The bruiser squares on both of you, shoulders set, hook ready to bite again. The sand drinks the blood and says nothing. The next beat is yours.

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

@Sanity43217 - Asset Goal - ?
@CorvianMERCDB - Asset Goal - ?

The coliseum exhales at once.

Don clamps the strap, turns his hips, and becomes a lever. The shield thug leaves the ground, board and all, a brief black shape against the light. He hits flat and hard. The sound is ugly, a plank slapped on stone with meat under it. The board skitters away. The body does not rise. The nearest marshal is already moving, hand up, two fingers crossed for the lift crew. A pocket of the cheap seats howls. Others fall quiet in that sharp way a crowd does when it tastes the line between show and ending. [The Shield Thug is dead]

Across the sand the dockside bruiser does the smart thing. He sees the throw coming and slides two steps on the balls of his feet. The body lands where he was a blink ago. He turns, hook low, and draws a thin groove in the sand with the point while he sucks a breath through his teeth and sights on Don. His shoulders bunch. That counter is coming, but not yet. [Incoming attack 5d2 vs Don]

The knife runner tries to turn the tide in the gap. Varius reads the twitch, steps inside, and ends it. A clean line that opens the runner and folds him to a knee, then to the sand. His knives clatter and lie still. Green chalk smears the dust where his hand falls. For a second the crowd is all arms and open mouths, then the noise hits, bright and cruel. Varius feels the sting at his side rise again, a slow hot burn that spreads like ground pepper. It is not deep, but it bites. [The Knife Runner is dead. Poison burns Varius once more, 3/5, before weakening]

Up in the boxes the Praetorian Prefect never moves more than a breath. His face is unreadable, a statue with a heartbeat. Grand Mayor Maffeo stands for a single clap of his staff on the rail, polite and pleased, then settles again to watch.

“First blood claims its tithe,” the Announcer booms, voice deep as a drum. “Red Team draws the opening howl. Green Team down two. Will a third stand to pay the balance, Otenzel?”

Neco-Arc

On the tunnel lip Neco-Arc, now dressed as one of the centurions, explodes into motion like a firework with paws. “That is a spicy suplex, my little violence coupon, nya. Buns in, fangs out. Do not headbutt the furniture again unless you mean it. You there with the sword, good job making him hold all that regret, nya. But watch the spicy knife juice, that is a simmer. Drink water. Punch air. Do not lick the wound. Not hygienic. Coach orders.”

The cat plants tiny feet on the rail and conducts the cheap seats like an orchestra. “Red, Red, Red. Clap clap clap.” Then it cups paws and hisses stage loud toward the last Green. “Come on, Fisher Price Poseidon, show us your hook book, nya. But do it where the camera can see.”

Sand whispers under every step. The bruiser eases into his coil, eyes flicking between Don and Varius. The marshals drag the fallen by their ankles, swift and practiced, and the gong stays silent. The drum keeps time. The next choice belongs to Red.