Lonewolf685

Kurai Majoko: Dark Magical Girls

Tsuruga Deishuu

---

Above all else, Tsuruga hadn't been thinking at all when she flung herself at the window and screamed threats of bloody murder upon her partner. Petrified via the power of hindsight she realized she could have easily been shot out of the air if the situation had been any tenser, a casualty by merit of being the first to move into line of sight at high speed.

Then again, that sounded like a blessing to her compared to the reality of being embraced in a claustraphobia enducing embrace with her arms pinned to her sides, warbling madly against Ami's deluge of excited rambling. "Gah, not so tight, Ami! Oh god everyone can see us too!"

Tsuruga's pitiable whines went unheard by the common masses and blessedly ignored by her cohort, with some of the Light girls leaving now that Ami wasn't holding someone at sword point. Clearly her sacrifice went unappreciated but she wasn't going to seek their acknowledgement either. Of course, there was one little matter that to deal with: Ami opened a window in the middle of winter, and no one can see either of them. Knowing it was only a matter of time before a student got fed up with the chills and tried to slam it closed on Ami and get mule kicked for their troubles, the Iron Winged magical girl beat her hardened pinions against the air and pulled Ami along with her.

"Umm, let's just go shopping now. It's not like anyone can see us take stuff off the shelves now, right? All they'd have is footage of a ghost cart rolling down the isles." Tsuruga offered, face scrunched up in tension as her hands dug into Ami's sides to keep her from falling. It shouldn't have been difficult to go about reaching a servicable store, but there was a complication.

She flew upwards, and thus both she and Ami ascended to roof level, staring at a terrifyingly familiar Paragon of Light throttling an innocent mascot. It would never even occur to one of the Dark girls to strangle one of the engimatic creatures and the sudden shock had her drop Ami a few feet onto the roof while her wings rattled with the sound of gnashing steel. "You l-let him go right n-now!"

Kurai Majoko: Dark Magical Girls

Kanbaru Otoko

---

Perhaps she'd been callous in her assumption but with Chie's nature Kanbaru couldn't take her words at face value. She could understand being hurt over the loss of a particularly enjoyable adversary given how much they both got into fighting each other, but it could just as easily be an excuse for Chie's own rampant battle lust. Regardless it did nothing to stop Kanbaru from reacting harshly in face of Chie's sudden surge of murderous intent amidst the wash of Light and Dark energy in the school.

Lurching to pull herself fully onto the bed Kanbaru straddled the red head, using her superior size to force Chie down while her hands closed around Chie's wrists in a tense grip. "Hey, eyes right here, Chie. Feel that tickle of murder welling up in the back of your throat? That's Touka, not you. You're right here and you're going to stay calm until the moment shit explodes on us. Then I'll cut you loose. You give me a hard time and I'm freezing you to the bedframe."

Her gaze flicked to the walls, trying to envision the confrontation that was no doubt causing this. If this does escalate we're liable to not have a school afterwards...

---

Tsuruga Deishuu

---

The Light Girls and the Holy Monster posing as a normal teenage senior had passed her by, Tsuruga petrified in the street by a simple fork in the more metaphorical road. On the one hand, they were heading to her school and that would blow up in everyone's faces when either side saw the other, and she should therefore be there for her faction. On the other, Aegis would be there and they would have no chance if something like her went all out, so she should therefore flee and wait for the others to do as well.

Then the inevitable occurred and she flinched as the geyser of power that was Miso High, normally dormant as the Detention Club went about their days, erupted with an intangible force of Darkness and Light warring against the others presence. "Che, this is just fucking fantastic..."

Tsuruga turned towards the school with eyes frantic and unsteady, her index finger being worried sharply between her teeth. Latching onto the mingling energies she tried to grasp the situation from afar, detecting that nothing had as of yet happened to level the school. Then she caught upon the familiar signature of her partner and screamed shrilly, abandoning her consternation and leaping into the air with a frantic heave of her wings.

"My idiot, meathead, touchy feelly, food for brains, caring partner! Idiot idiot idiot idiot!" Tsuruga screamed, lost in the jet stream of hurtling towards the contested class. Reason re-asserted itself and she hammered her wings hard. The windows of Touka's class shuddered in their frames drawing the gazes of mundane students who'd only see the empty air and think a particularly strong gale had come through. Everyone else would find the light of the sun blocked out by outstretched wings, Tsuruga's maddened face all but pressed to the glass as she zeroed in on Ami.

"I swear to all the Nightmare's in Miso if you start a fight I will burn your house down mid-sleepover!"

Kurai Majoko: Dark Magical Girls

Kanbaru Otoko

---

The bluenette tried to pay attention to the front of class, but she couldn't help herself in keeping a wary eye upon the Club President. Touka wasn't so consumed by rage as to attack in the midst of class but better to err on the side of caution. Fortunately Touka had mellowed out enough that her worries were unfounded and Kanbaru could sag into her folded arms like a contented feline.

And Ms. Tamashi chewing out Ami just brought a smile to her lips as she idled through the rest of class. Finding no reason to tail her glorious leader she decided to take her lunch elsewhere. Wearing an ear to ear smile she brought out a large bento box courtesy of her adorable sister and trotted down to the Nurse's Office where she felt a mass of darkness stewing all through the school day. The nurse's desk was empty so she slipped inside unannounced and ducked past the curtains to where Chie feigned illness throughout the day.

"Hiyo Partner, fancy finding you in here. Everyone sends their well-wishes and hope you feel better!" Kanbaru chirped, bubbling with saccharine excitement as she sat herself down on the edge of the bed opened her packed lunch. Only for her face to freeze with an imperceptible twitch in her cheek as she found the meal her little sister promised was, in point of fact, cold Chinese takeout stuffed into her box straight from the fridge. Poking the rise and finding it stiffer then she'd dare to eat, Kanbaru's bubbly enthusiasm deflated. "And here I was going to share with my ill partner. Ugh..."

Changing tact she set aside the 'meal' and leveled a stern gaze onto her partner. "So Chie, are we going to talk about you're actions recently? I seem to recall we're having a bit of a crisis over one dead girl, and you tried you're hardest to at least add another to that. And with how hurt Touka got I can tell you aren't emotionally settled either so don't blow me off."

Kurai Majoko: Dark Magical Girls

---

Tsuruga Deishuu

---

The Dark Girl flinched under the weight of Aegis' vitriolic stare while her words set Tsuruga's teeth on edge. She couldn't be certain what exactly this Light Girl was threatening as she doubted even the most zealous of these uptight murder hobos would threaten to massacre civilians, but it wasn't a secret the Club President was roughed up pretty bad as well. "I don't want to fight you, but you're as abrasiveness as- "

Only for Tsuruga to gape as two more Magical Girls joined the first. At a glance she could tell the first one, while unfamiliar, was at least within her range to go against without being totally crushed. No, Rose's cheek wasn't the problem but rather the one that rightfully decided to just walk past. "Oh damn it all are all of you enrolling in school now? What's next, did you stop living under bridges too!?"

"Look here!" Tsuruga shouted to mask the shakiness in her voice, wings spreading wide to give her greater presence before furling back behind her. "If you go in glaring daggers at every Dark Girl the schools going to look a lot like downtown, so just, I don't know, promise to pretend you aren't looking to murder us? Seriously we do not need all of you pissing in our cornflakes."

Kurai Majoko: Dark Magical Girls

Kanbaru Otoko

---

The buxom bluenette stifled a yawn before returning to her reposed position, both hands cupping her cheeks as she struggled to rouse her usual enthusiasm for the coming day. It just wasn't natural to be back in class before New Years and that was inevitably going to be reflected in the lessons for the day, but both teacher and student had to suffer through the panicked declarations of their seniors.

Kanbaru's eyes flicked towards her ex-partner and a flash of empathy went across her features. She found it difficult at times to consider Touka her ex-partner given all she knew, but it was a necessity with Chie's birth. They functioned as pairs, not trios, and leaving Chie with a fresh faced riddled with aggression and a flippant disdain for social norms was asking for exposure that none of them cared to invite. There was only so much to be done that could curtail Black Shot's aggression, an outlet of Touka's own darker desires, and after that short Christmas massacre Kanbaru felt a little too haggard for the colliding fates to follow.

Case in point, a Light Girl walked into class mere minutes before the bell rang, condemning them to the presence of yet another murder hobo. Kanbaru could think this with near certainty because she knew at a glance this was the one who nearly drove Touka into an apocalyptic fury with her attempt on Touka's life.

A glance two seats to her left told her all she needed to know about how the Detention Club president thought about this development, and with that came a jolt of mental anguish upon Kanbaru's creased brows. The inevitable sniping and grating on one another's nerves was already clear in her mind's eye and it was all she could do not to excuse herself to the washroom before a dazzling peppy teacher walked in.

"Nice to see someone has energy in the morning." Kanbaru chirped, some of her tension bleeding away as she folded her arms across the desk and lowered herself onto the waiting nest while she was of the few who appreciated the older woman's attempts to be vivacious. Were she only so blessed to be the same at Ms. Tamashi.

---

Tsuruga Deishuu

---

Suffice it to say, she was playing hookie. Tsuruga refused to be corralled back into the schools so soon knowing full well what the talk of the day would be. Either everyone would be begrudging the cancellation of their break or they would be whispering about the disaster she partook in.

No thank you, she got enough of that trying and failing to sleep. A better use of her time, and one that had no risk of being caught playing truant, was to take to the city in her transformed state and fly low between the buildings. Passing well clear over semi trucks, but still capable of window shopping in passing.

The joys of casual flight were still strong for her, even with the dreary weather and niggling worm of doubt that screamed at her to rush to class. Perhaps that was why she flew near the school area, supporting the fleeting aspiration of attendance yet knowing she'd likely not follow through.

"Hmm?" It was when her meandering parabolas drew closest to the school that she detected an alarmingly malignant force to her kind, in the form of a determined youth marching towards the direction of the school. Even at a distance she could tell by the squaring of her shoulders and the nigh palpable determination radiating from her that this was magical and dangerous.

And marching towards a school dominated by Dark Magical Girls and the uninformed masses. A veritable powder keg. Seeing a threat for what it was and knowing her kind weren't in the best of states at the moment, the only course of action was painfully clear. Banking towards her target, Tsuruga glided in slow and smooth, alighting before Aegis after her arrival was well and truly telegraphed for anyone with a bit of magical mojo.

"You don't want to go this way. My people aren't in the best of states this holiday season and you....you would start some fires."

Fire Emblem: Conflict

---

The hardest part about mercenary life wasn't the combat. It wasn't the constant trudging from one warzone to the other, or the lack of infrastructure and support that went to a formal military unit. No, it was quite clear to Cecilia that the most miserable aspect of her new career was the sheer volume of downtime she was left with. Sitting the on the gentle rise of a hill with her knees pulled in and a healing staff laid beside her, she glared holes into the side of the Captain's tent and had been doing so since the messengers had walked in.

"Come on, finish already so we can get moving." The dark skinned cleric grumbled, her chin resting against her knees with an air of childish impatience wafting from her. She was a working woman, and she had gotten used to long hours with ample entertainment between patching up gruesome injuries. Sure, Cecilia could appreciate vacation time but it wasn't like she could just train the day away like the other mercenaries here seeing as that necessitated a near constant stream of injured and dying to get any progress in. "And it's not like I can even go into town and start selling my services cause then we'd be fighting healthy people. Gah!"

Overcome with nervous tension she flopped onto her side and tumbled down the hill, the lingering grass stains in her pilfered maid uniform speaking well to the repetition of this course in just this day alone. Coming to a stop with her cheek in the grass she didn't bother to rouse herself from the ground, content to wallow in her lethargy, till at last a miracle happened.

The messengers departed, riding off on their horses without a second glance sent their way. "YEEEEEES!"

With the speed of a mounted cavalier she tore across the camp on all fours, nearly barreling through the parted tent flaps onto the pause with her outstretched hand brushing the fabric. "Whoops, that would have been embarrassing."

Rising up onto both legs like a civil human being, she maintained said ludicrous speed in going back for her staff, collecting it, and rushing back headlong through the tent only to collide with the broad chest of Protelo. With a complete lack of consideration for personal space she buried her chin into ribs and gave the man a look like a puppy begging for a treat. "Do we have our orders? Well, do we? Do we?!"

Fire Emblem: Conflict

Cecilia Booth - Cleric

---

Appearance

• Name: Cecilia Booth
• Age: 25
• Class: Cleric
• Level: 01

• Equipment:

-Heal
-Heal
-Warp

• Personal Skill:

-Voyeur's Excitement: Seeing allies wounded excites Cecilia love of blood sport. Resistance +4 with wounded ally in range of three tiles.

• Skills:

-Live to Serve:When healing an Ally, the user recovers the same amount of HP.

• Story: Born to a Zuiterran concubine taken home by a red faced Nunielan soldier in the wake of a briefly successful offensive, Cecilia Booth had her mother's complexion and her father's disposition. Trophies were common practice and it kept up morale in event he strictest of military hierarchies so the practice was common enough, just as it wise for woman in occupied territory to wind a young man around their finger to provide for the necessities in life. By all accounts they took things too far, but such was the whims of Fate that Cecilia was born in Nuniel, a country with a long history of being less the effective in their war upon her mother's people.

Her life was lived humbly and frugally, as a footman's salary didn't stretch far when starting a family so soon into their career. That was, till Cecilia was found to have an aptitude for magic. To the young girl's displeasure it wasn't anything so glamorous as being a deft hand with tomes of awesome power, but the healing arts. A staff fit well in her hand, but a position in the clergy of stuffy Clerics and Sisters didn't.

No, her passion lay in conflict, buoyed forth by stories of glory from both sides of the dessert battlefront and stoked to new heights by the reassuring weight of a healing staff in hand. Cecilia would put her aptitude to use, not to mend the poor, but the mighty!

So by certain strokes of circumstance and appeals to aesthetics, Cecilia came upon a long standing gladiatorial arena. The kind with no rules restraining the combatants that left one side usually split in two or pulverized via hammer. A place with constant strife, gambling, and oodles of injured to work her magic on. Not to mention, having a ground floor seat to watch the bouts and be filled with the roar of the crowd as they roared adulation and jeer upon the struggling contestants. Cecilia's favorites were the bloody slug fests, both sides tearing into each other till one side was pushed just far enough past the brink they fell to the weight of their wounds.

Those early years were some of the happiest memories Cecilia had, but alas, the arena was coming upon hard times, and the first thing they'd cut was an in-house Curate. Far cheaper to just let the winner wander off with a plethora of injuries and hope he doesn't drop dead in a gutter before he returns for another performance.

Cecilia handled this with the grace of a spurned lover abandoned for the anus of a goat. That is to say, she kept the uniform, broke a staff over her employer's head, and left for greener pastures down south. Around such rowdy crowds made drunk by blood sport and good cheer, loose lips sang the promises of riches and glory to be found in mercenary work, and while plying her trade she heard a name repeated numerous enough to be curious.

Surely the Red Branch could afford a healer.

Sample Post

A broad expanse of hard packed dirt and sand sat ensconced between rising rings of wooden bleachers. They were jammed with the worst sort of people, riddled with scars and nasty scowls as all focused upon the arena floor with a singular intensity. Cutthroats, brigands, and off duty soldiers were joined together in a shared commiseration of simple blood sport.

Down on the arena level stood Cecilia from the same entrance one of the fighters had used, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she threw her voice into the myriad cheers that shook the earth around her. With lips pulled back into a broad toothy smile she reveled in the raw power of the crowd, even as her eyes remained affixed upon the bout in progress. Two berserkers squared off, great axes whirling and crashing into armor and flesh as they remained in a constant state of motion. They made a right mess of the sands, painting their colors in broad strokes of the ax head.

It was nothing so poetic as to be called a dance of blades and skill. Raw savagery met like in kind and everyone drank in the performance. Cecilia clutched her staff close and prayed to whatever deity supported this that she'd wind up in the splash zone, but alas these Arena's were rather good at keeping the action away from the audience. Even on the duelist's level she was far enough that even an arterial eruption wouldn't get a drop on her uniform.

"Whoooooo!" The cheers reached their inevitable crescendo as a lucky blow sundered armor and cut deep into flesh, tissue, and vertebra. The loser fell lifeless, no glory to be found, while his killer raised his arms high and bellowed back to the bleachers in turn. Crying out in kind Cecilia darted out onto the Arena, stealing no small degree of attention for her uniform. Awhile ago she'd have berated her employer for the obvious intentions of a maid outfit, but as with all things, time thickened her skin to. I've gotten way too comfortable in this. Though the fabric is nice and airy.

Casting aside such thoughts she raised her staff to the victor and channeled her magic to heal his wounds. If she was lucky he'd keep fighting and she'd get to enjoy every minute of the show. Life was good for the Cleric.

Fire Emblem: Conflict

If I wanted a boring cleric I’d go back to Shadow Dragon. That and I’d question the sanity of a pious cleric joining a mercenary outfit for altruistic motives.

Fire Emblem: Conflict

@SimpleWriter

I'll just drop this here seeing as you seem to need a healer for the party.

Cecilia Booth - Cleric

---

Appearance

• Name: Cecilia Booth
• Age: 25
• Class: Cleric
• Level: 01

• Equipment:

-Heal
-Heal
-Warp

• Personal Skill:

-Voyeur's Excitement: Seeing allies wounded excites Cecilia love of blood sport. Resistance +4 with wounded ally in range of three tiles.

• Skills:

-Live to Serve:When healing an Ally, the user recovers the same amount of HP.

• Story: Born to a Zuiterran concubine taken home by a red faced Nunielan soldier in the wake of a briefly successful offensive, Cecilia Booth had her mother's complexion and her father's disposition. Trophies were common practice and it kept up morale in event he strictest of military hierarchies so the practice was common enough, just as it wise for woman in occupied territory to wind a young man around their finger to provide for the necessities in life. By all accounts they took things too far, but such was the whims of Fate that Cecilia was born in Nuniel, a country with a long history of being less the effective in their war upon her mother's people.

Her life was lived humbly and frugally, as a footman's salary didn't stretch far when starting a family so soon into their career. That was, till Cecilia was found to have an aptitude for magic. To the young girl's displeasure it wasn't anything so glamorous as being a deft hand with tomes of awesome power, but the healing arts. A staff fit well in her hand, but a position in the clergy of stuffy Clerics and Sisters didn't.

No, her passion lay in conflict, buoyed forth by stories of glory from both sides of the dessert battlefront and stoked to new heights by the reassuring weight of a healing staff in hand. Cecilia would put her aptitude to use, not to mend the poor, but the mighty!

So by certain strokes of circumstance and appeals to aesthetics, Cecilia came upon a long standing gladiatorial arena. The kind with no rules restraining the combatants that left one side usually split in two or pulverized via hammer. A place with constant strife, gambling, and oodles of injured to work her magic on. Not to mention, having a ground floor seat to watch the bouts and be filled with the roar of the crowd as they roared adulation and jeer upon the struggling contestants. Cecilia's favorites were the bloody slug fests, both sides tearing into each other till one side was pushed just far enough past the brink they fell to the weight of their wounds.

Those early years were some of the happiest memories Cecilia had, but alas, the arena was coming upon hard times, and the first thing they'd cut was an in-house Curate. Far cheaper to just let the winner wander off with a plethora of injuries and hope he doesn't drop dead in a gutter before he returns for another performance.

Cecilia handled this with the grace of a spurned lover abandoned for the anus of a goat. That is to say, she kept the uniform, broke a staff over her employer's head, and left for greener pastures down south. Around such rowdy crowds made drunk by blood sport and good cheer, loose lips sang the promises of riches and glory to be found in mercenary work, and while plying her trade she heard a name repeated numerous enough to be curious.

Surely the Red Branch could afford a healer.

Sample Post

A broad expanse of hard packed dirt and sand sat ensconced between rising rings of wooden bleachers. They were jammed with the worst sort of people, riddled with scars and nasty scowls as all focused upon the arena floor with a singular intensity. Cutthroats, brigands, and off duty soldiers were joined together in a shared commiseration of simple blood sport.

Down on the arena level stood Cecilia from the same entrance one of the fighters had used, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she threw her voice into the myriad cheers that shook the earth around her. With lips pulled back into a broad toothy smile she reveled in the raw power of the crowd, even as her eyes remained affixed upon the bout in progress. Two berserkers squared off, great axes whirling and crashing into armor and flesh as they remained in a constant state of motion. They made a right mess of the sands, painting their colors in broad strokes of the ax head.

It was nothing so poetic as to be called a dance of blades and skill. Raw savagery met like in kind and everyone drank in the performance. Cecilia clutched her staff close and prayed to whatever deity supported this that she'd wind up in the splash zone, but alas these Arena's were rather good at keeping the action away from the audience. Even on the duelist's level she was far enough that even an arterial eruption wouldn't get a drop on her uniform.

"Whoooooo!" The cheers reached their inevitable crescendo as a lucky blow sundered armor and cut deep into flesh, tissue, and vertebra. The loser fell lifeless, no glory to be found, while his killer raised his arms high and bellowed back to the bleachers in turn. Crying out in kind Cecilia darted out onto the Arena, stealing no small degree of attention for her uniform. Awhile ago she'd have berated her employer for the obvious intentions of a maid outfit, but as with all things, time thickened her skin to. I've gotten way too comfortable in this. Though the fabric is nice and airy.

Casting aside such thoughts she raised her staff to the victor and channeled her magic to heal his wounds. If she was lucky he'd keep fighting and she'd get to enjoy every minute of the show. Life was good for the Cleric.

Denizens of the Madhouse

Cecilia Booth - Cleric

---

Appearance

• Name: Cecilia Booth
• Age: 25
• Class: Cleric
• Level: 01

• Equipment:

-Heal
-Heal
-Warp

• Personal Skill:

-Voyeur's Excitement: Seeing allies wounded excites Cecilia love of blood sport. Resistance +4 with wounded ally in range of three tiles.

• Skills:

-Live to Serve:When healing an Ally, the user recovers the same amount of HP.

• Story: Born to a Zuiterran concubine taken home by a red faced Nunielan soldier in the wake of a briefly successful offensive, Cecilia Booth had her mother's complexion and her father's disposition. Trophies were common practice and it kept up morale in event he strictest of military hierarchies so the practice was common enough, just as it wise for woman in occupied territory to wind a young man around their finger to provide for the necessities in life. By all accounts they took things too far, but such was the whims of Fate that Cecilia was born in Nuniel, a country with a long history of being less the effective in their war upon her mother's people.

Her life was lived humbly and frugally, as a footman's salary didn't stretch far when starting a family so soon into their career. That was, till Cecilia was found to have an aptitude for magic. To the young girl's displeasure it wasn't anything so glamorous as being a deft hand with tomes of awesome power, but the healing arts. A staff fit well in her hand, but a position in the clergy of stuffy Clerics and Sisters didn't.

No, her passion lay in conflict, buoyed forth by stories of glory from both sides of the dessert battlefront and stoked to new heights by the reassuring weight of a healing staff in hand. Cecilia would put her aptitude to use, not to mend the poor, but the mighty!

So by certain strokes of circumstance and appeals to aesthetics, Cecilia came upon a long standing gladiatorial arena. The kind with no rules restraining the combatants that left one side usually split in two or pulverized via hammer. A place with constant strife, gambling, and oodles of injured to work her magic on. Not to mention, having a ground floor seat to watch the bouts and be filled with the roar of the crowd as they roared adulation and jeer upon the struggling contestants. Cecilia's favorites were the bloody slug fests, both sides tearing into each other till one side was pushed just far enough past the brink they fell to the weight of their wounds.

Those early years were some of the happiest memories Cecilia had, but alas, the arena was coming upon hard times, and the first thing they'd cut was an in-house Curate. Far cheaper to just let the winner wander off with a plethora of injuries and hope he doesn't drop dead in a gutter before he returns for another performance.

Cecilia handled this with the grace of a spurned lover abandoned for the anus of a goat. That is to say, she kept the uniform, broke a staff over her employer's head, and left for greener pastures down south. Around such rowdy crowds made drunk by blood sport and good cheer, loose lips sang the promises of riches and glory to be found in mercenary work, and while plying her trade she heard a name repeated numerous enough to be curious.

Surely the Red Branch could afford a healer.

Sample Post

A broad expanse of hard packed dirt and sand sat ensconced between rising rings of wooden bleachers. They were jammed with the worst sort of people, riddled with scars and nasty scowls as all focused upon the arena floor with a singular intensity. Cutthroats, brigands, and off duty soldiers were joined together in a shared commiseration of simple blood sport.

Down on the arena level stood Cecilia from the same entrance one of the fighters had used, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she threw her voice into the myriad cheers that shook the earth around her. With lips pulled back into a broad toothy smile she reveled in the raw power of the crowd, even as her eyes remained affixed upon the bout in progress. Two berserkers squared off, great axes whirling and crashing into armor and flesh as they remained in a constant state of motion. They made a right mess of the sands, painting their colors in broad strokes of the ax head.

It was nothing so poetic as to be called a dance of blades and skill. Raw savagery met like in kind and everyone drank in the performance. Cecilia clutched her staff close and prayed to whatever deity supported this that she'd wind up in the splash zone, but alas these Arena's were rather good at keeping the action away from the audience. Even on the duelist's level she was far enough that even an arterial eruption wouldn't get a drop on her uniform.

"Whoooooo!" The cheers reached their inevitable crescendo as a lucky blow sundered armor and cut deep into flesh, tissue, and vertebra. The loser fell lifeless, no glory to be found, while his killer raised his arms high and bellowed back to the bleachers in turn. Crying out in kind Cecilia darted out onto the Arena, stealing no small degree of attention for her uniform. Awhile ago she'd have berated her employer for the obvious intentions of a maid outfit, but as with all things, time thickened her skin to. I've gotten way too comfortable in this. Though the fabric is nice and airy.

Casting aside such thoughts she raised her staff to the victor and channeled her magic to heal his wounds. If she was lucky he'd keep fighting and she'd get to enjoy every minute of the show. Life was good for the Cleric.