• Graded • Worth of the Dead

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Etzos, ‘The City of Stones’ is a fortress against the encroachment of Immortal domination of Idalos. Founded on the backs of mortals driven to seek their own destiny independent of the Immortals, the city has carved itself out of the very rock of the land. Scourged by terrible wars of extermination, they've begun to grow again, and with an eye toward expansion, optimism is on the rise.

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Nightshade Eld
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Ymiden 3rd, 717


Just as Night had expected the trek back to Etzos had been abhorrently long and painful, mostly being on foot thanks to the mutant she herself was carrying. If she was being honest, even more so than she'd been expecting. It took her even longer to flag down a guard that would listen to her. "Hey, so, I was hired to kill these guys here and half of them are alive. I'm not necessarily sure what to do with them. They're kind of savage but maybe they should go to jail or something?" She told the man. All he did was take on look at the lumps of flesh she and Storm were carrying before he called over his buddy.

"You've got to get a load of this. What do you think we could do with this?" He waggled his eyebrows. The other guard seemed to pick up on what he intended almost immediately. "Alright lady, listen up. We aren't taking these to jail. These are basically wild animals right here, it would be a waste of space and resources to take them in when they'd most likely only end up killed or sold. So here's what we're going to do. My buddy and myself here are going to help you sell these things for a 15 percent cut of the profits!

"Wait? Sell them? To who, that doesn't seem humane," the half breed tried to argue but the two men were already talking back and fourth with each other about how to advertise the new Mutant Auction. one of the men managed to catch some of her words though.

"Humane? Humane? These creatures aren't humans anymore, it doesn't matter if we treat them humane. We can sell them like fancy, exotic pets. Who knows what rich man or mage might be willing to buy these things!" The two continued in their excitement, pulling the mutants away from Night and her pet. Storm seemed rather impartial to it all. Night wasn't exactly sure how to respond anymore. Shell shocked and out of her element she couldn't respond fast enough to nip this 'auction' in the bud. It was too late to stop it by the time she'd told the guard.

All throughout Etzos the word spread in the backstreets and gutters. Someone had captured some of the mutants that had turned dangerous and wild, certainly they weren't human anymore let alone intelligent. 4 that were alive, though two were in bad shape due to poisoning and it was uncertain if they'd live, and a single corpse. People didn't really hear the details about the auction, other than the fact these mutants were being sold to whoever bid the highest price. It was an event welcome to all those who wished to come. Test subject? Exotic pet? It didn't matter. The desires of the half breed were pushed aside and quickly pushed out of the minds of the two guards who were orchestrating the event. There was only one way to stop the auction now, someone high up the Etzos ladder. But something told the half breed someone like that wasn't going to step in to stop the selling of something that was basically an animal at this point.
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Worth of the Dead

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The son of Ziell had been aware of Etzos‘ mutant problem for a while now, and he had been wondering what he should do about it and where all those mutants were coming from. He had half a mind to venture into the Underground, kill a mutant or two and take the corpses back to his laboratory to study them. He was not afraid of the dangers involved in such an expedition and that the creatures might cause him harm – he was quite skilled with a blade, and he had stabbed an Immortal and escaped from the battlefield in Oscillus unscathed.

It was just then that a most surprising bit of news reached his ears though. An auction was taking place. Apparently somebody had managed to capture a couple of live mutants and was now selling them to the highest bidder. A few arcs earlier when he had been a simple university professor he might have had ethical concerns – those creatures had been human once – but now he was more interested in finding out more about them and using his research to further his own goals than wasting his time with a moral dilemma.

He did briefly wonder if it would theoretically be possible to reverse the mutations – or make them even more extreme – though.

~~~

The one that was selling the mutants almost looked like a mutant herself, he thought with a hint of disdain. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of bizarre circumstances had led to a human sharing the bed of an Avriel – for that was what Nightshade obviously was, a halfbreed.

He didn’t speak, but quietly made his way to the relative front of the crowd that had without a doubt gathered by now and waited patiently for somebody to bring the first mutant and announce how much they would cost. Standing there, dressed in an elegant dark suit, he looked more like a member of the city’s government than what he really was – the so called hero of Oscillus whose arrival had caused quite an uproar in the city.

Another man might have tried to use his status to his advantage and announced how important he was and that the creatures should obviously be given to him because of that, but Doran did no such thing. He considered it to be a sign of bad manners. Besides, it was entirely possible that somebody would eventually recognize him. It had happened before.
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The horrible problem of mutants within Etzos was slowly tied to Mal. At first, he didn't believe it. He didn't want to believe, but his muddled mind still managed to process the truth. It was the first day back in Etzos, and already he saw scrawlings of his likeness plastered about the walls. Even with that feral mind of his, he narrowed his eyes, stalking through the streets covered in a cloak.

That long tail of his was wrapped around his leg. He felt as if an outcast, within his own mind, conscious of everything, yet not in articulate detail. A beast, a rogue beast that couldn't even speak in a manner. He only wished to visit a day, to check on things... but there was much to resolve here, in this city harboring his ill-advised mistakes.

In part, he blamed the Spark. Mostly, however, he blamed himself. How could he have fed those people such a dangerous substance as a mutating Hyx? The horror, the vile horror. It was little wonder the Spark would leech out into their bodies and minds, corrupting them as it had done Mal. He knew it was a parasite, and parasites propagate to new hosts... and his parasite always seemed to know it had the chance, but he resisted.

Mal knew well that he should never share this 'gift' with anyone. Never.

Coming up on the markets, Mal's hand-like paws clenched 'neath the fabric of his cape, wondering if he might swipe something with so many unattended stalls laying about. In fact, he did, peering out at that thickly gathered crowd. It was a jewelry stall, and the owner was standing in front of it, arms crossed, staring out at those slaves being sold. Ah, the disgusting practice of slavery, one which Mal despised.

No freedom in that. None at all, and those who had slaves were usually the nobility. Even worse.

Still, it didn't stop Mal from fluidly wrapping up a few of those trinkets in the cloth they were laid out upon with one hand, claws hooking the sides together. Nearly a foot behind the jewel salesman, he knew the man wouldn't turn around as enthralled as he was.

Except, as he pulled the pouch of ill-gotten goods to his body, he heard something.
"The 'Hero of Oscillus', eh? Out here, buying some of those wild animals?"

Wild animals? He'd heard of this 'Hero of Oscillus' downwind the season prior, and he was a regular subject people seemed to bring up in meetings at the Downtrodden. The man sounded a bit... strange, and there was a lot of rumor about him. Mal just couldn't be sure what Doran really meant in the grand scheme of things, but there was one sure-fire truth that rang true.

Doran is close to Vuda.

If it weren't for the decline in his mental faculties, Mal might have kidnapped the man, but he couldn't possibly bargain or be a thorn in anyone's side like this. So he stepped forward and off to the side, peering between burly shoulders and stepping between shifting bodies like a ghostly cat. When he broke through, all he could do was cringe at the sight, his heart suddenly starting to beat with nervous anxiety.

There, on the stage, with the slaves, was Nightshade Eld.

They're selling her! he knew, at heart. Night could never sell slaves. That wasn't her, so she was being sold--or was Doran using her to get to him? His mind spun out of control, and that cloak was shed as a furred beast stepped forward into the crowd, eliciting a gasp of horrified malcontent from the crowd. Some people started pushing away, causing a stampede that left a few people hollering and yelping as they were stepped on.
"Guards, guards! It's Padfoot!" screamed a lady. "The one with the bounty!"

Slowly, his lips rose as tensions built, baring those feline ivories and wet, reddened gums. His thick, coarse fur stayed stagnant, but his chest puffed out and he roared and ear-shattering barrage of sound that left people screaming in fear.
"Shit!" shouted one of the guards, drawing his sword. "It's that deserter, that monster, Mal!"

But he kept his distance out of fear of what the mage could do, and Mal had other plans. Plans for Doran, particularly. Of all the details missed, Doran was the greatest, and for now his fury could not be quenched by words alone as all of that violent anger raged behind his eyes. It was the look of someone tired of being manipulated. His legs bent, and he shifted on the balls of his feet, springing forward with haste.

One claw was high in the air, another well below. In that same, fluid movement he consumed some of the Ether within and steely feathers sprouted out all over his body like a coat of thin metal plates, starting from his arms and all the way down his tail. The beast flashed from a dirtied, muddy-brown and beige palette to a reflective, metal-coated beast in little more than a blink of an eye.

Now, the soaring steely razors that were affixed to Mal's hands were angling down towards Doran's head, the other at his sword-side hip to gain a clear-cut advantage by pushing down any defense Doran might attempt to muster in this sudden change of events. Mal was all but blind to Nightshade, but his ears did track the movements of those guards. He knew they were cowards--they would wait until he had his back turned to strike.
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Skraylock sat atop the wall of the Crescent Arena with disgust. Even though numerous sales had been made of these "mutants", there were those actually speaking against the worthy institution of slavery. He was unsure if the abomination he'd come to kill was among these foolish weaklings, with their culture-crushing notions of compassion-for-the-unworthy, but she was certainly in a position that suggested as much.

Skraylock was an avriel of pure blood. And the existence of this half-breed, especially one that seemed to be enjoying a level of prominence, if not actual renown, was an unbearable affront to the majesty of the pure race. Her flawed genetics were obvious enough merely in her apparent protests of the goings-on in this arena. Skraylock found it pathetic enough that this otherwise sensible city, with its defiant attitude towards immortals, objected to slavery as far as non-mutant mortals went. Slaves were clearly meant to be slaves. Was there any worth in their bloodlines, they would rise up, like the glorious avriel had done against their would-be oppressors, the Immortals.

The historical justification running through this avian's mind was as distorted as it was long-since fully indoctrinated into his sensibilities. But he made a supreme effort to shrug that off now. Changing the politics of a city like Etzos was not his task. Eliminating the corruptive presence of one 'Nightshade Eld' was. He had heard of her prowess with blades, of her considerable agility in the air. So it would be a reasonably fair fight.

His was still the advantage though, he sneered inwardly. There was no doubt that his target was unfamiliar with the 'wing valance' armor he wore. It not only draped his wings with armored protection; it's foremost "featherings" were sharpened to serve as slashing weapons. Used in conjunction with the barbed spear he'd mastered, there was little doubt of the outcome. While this 'Eld' brought her talents to bear against the threat of his spear, she would fall easy prey to the slice of his wings.

It would only take one shot. She would bleed to death as the lesson registered in her dying brain. It was really only his desire for a more private contest that had stayed his attack to this point. But as the trial wore on, with sale after sale registering in a variety of coffers - it seemed that several different men had brought mutants for sale to this event - Skraylock's patience abandoned him.

He stood with a feral shriek that was intended to intimidate all below. But an odd, dissonant echo stole the effect from his throat. He glared in shock as some other winged aggressor took the field. Loathing filled his soul at the sight of this monstrosity, for this was not just a misguided blending, reducing the pure glory of a superior race; this was an atrocity of genetic filth gone mad with chaos.

Were it not for sudden bursts of unseen power coming from a robed figure in the vicinity of what appeared to be the monster's target area, and a call for troops and archers to respond, Skraylock might have converged on the thing himself. But as he took wing now to dive upon Nightshade Eld, an infuriating development unfolded before his frustrated eyes. The beast had metal wings! His target would have that phenomenon newly impressed upon her battle wits. His advantage was lost as the sun now gleamed in the same manner off of his armored wing covers.

As troops closed upon the bestial monstrosity, several bowmen turned their weapons his way. Skraylock halted his advance to hover above them. Everything had soured in the last few ticks. But it was not beyond redemption. He wanted that abomination of winged wretchedness destroyed as much as the soldiers and the unseen mage apparently did. He would leave them to it then, shouting his non-interfering intent to the archers below. "I have no quarrel with you, and applaud your ready response to that...thing."

He waited a moment as hesitant bows now opted to turn back to the threat of Padfoot, who was being greatly hindered in both attack and escape by imposed barriers of Abrogative power. Confident of his truce with the men-at-arms below him, Skraylock instead turned his voice to his true target...

"Nightshade Eld! It sours the taste in my mouth to speak your name. Let this be the last time anyone is so forced to suffer the atrocity of your existence! Come to me now, and let us display the disparity between true glory...and it's diluted pretender! Or, If you are a coward as well as a freak, then run; extend your insufferable life. Spend the last few breaks of your parasitic life quailing in fear of my approach. For I will hunt you without respite. You and ALL craven half-breeds! COME! Do the one honorable thing that such a low-born creature can still aspire to achieve. Fight me bravely and die!"
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In any way you looked at it, despite her presence up on stage, the half bird was nowhere near happy with the actions taking place. Her mind continued to run over the scene again and again where the pair of guards had ripped the mutants off of Storm's back before she could respond. She would have tried to fight back, but they were guards and the half-breed was nowhere near strong enough nor influential enough to fight back against guards. All she could do was weakly cling to the one mutant she had slung across her back, and even that had been yanked off of her. Storm had of course been confused as to why neither of them fought back, but Night lacked the over all courage to counter the ruling of a guard. Perhaps one day when she had a better variety of weapons to use and a bit more sway to her words. Certainly, with enough effort, she could win over the hearts of the Etzori enough that they'd at least listen to her. She'd already seen such effects in her recent life. A sweetening to the words of those who frequented bars, a gentle nod from one of the guards, even from time to time a little consideration from her boss. And yet here she was now, completely helpless as the guards practically stole the mutants from right off her back. Of course, it wasn't stealing because they tossed her a couple hundred gold. "Only two hundred since one of these is dead," they'd said. "Oh come on, what's that look for. You don't have to deal with them anymore," they'd questioned.

"You're selling them into slavery," she'd countered since that was practically what they were doing.

"What's wrong with that? You're an Avriel, why should you care?" And with that, the guards after taking her mutants had left.

Which led her to her current position on stage now. It was obvious to anyone who looked at her for more than ten seconds that she was arguing with the guards, which was why Mal who was lacking intelligence at the moment and Doran who wasn't paying much attention to her didn't seem notice the fact. "This isn't right and it isn't legal since I was the one that caught them!" She growled angrily at the guards who were selling the mutants.

"It's not like you owned them or anything. Besides, what's wrong with it? They aren't intelligent enough to be protected as a higher race. They aren't even their own race. They're just some freakish creatures that popped up along the way. Besides, why should an Avriel like you care? I thought your kind like this kind of thing?" The guard asked. Obviously, he was an idiot who'd never seen a pure Avriel before. Of course, most people in Etzos wouldn't have. Avriel, blessedly enough, seemed to be something of a rarity in the city. And it just so happened, that meant most people that saw something winged jumped to the assumption that it was an Avriel without any questions of breeding or what ifs. Unfortunately on the other hand that didn't mean that no Avriel at all showed up, meaning that on great occasion Night was antagonized by the other half of her breed for her disgraceful blood.

The half-breed, knowing she could do no more (and if she tried would end up jailed or worse), jumped off the stage right as her own mutants were brought out.

The first of the creatures was more animal like than the rest, now standing on all fours it had large claws and giant fangs which protruded from slightly parted lips. The guards had done the populace a favor by muzzling the beast and trying to keep it chained up as best they could, though on occasion it was allowed to quickly rear up on its hind legs, much like a bear, and bellow at the top of its lungs. Its cries were quickly silenced by being yanked back down and whipped. They whipped with abandon as it was hard to get enough damage through the thick white fur that coated its body. At the end was a long hyx like tail that lashed with anger and disgust. Though it didn't seem intelligent any long it looked out at the crowd of spectators with something akin to outrage and disgust. One might have thought the figure of the beast male, if it wasn't for the large bulge of its stomach that was obviously a child, implying its feminity as well as its pregnancy.

The second creature to be paraded around was relatively small compared to the others, only the size of a young child. 10 arcs at most? Its skin had turned a deep brown, somewhere between scaly and furry. Attached to each finger were scoop like claws that almost dwarfed its hands. The "eyes" were closed and apparently always stayed that way as it looked around blindly, two large and bat like ears panning around and a nose something like a star nose mole seemed almost to wiggle. The nose was slightly bent looking, possibly from the means of capture if the fight taking prior could be called such.

The third beast looked like someone had allowed an octopus to impregnate a sheep. It was a large beast with ram like horns, a low stooped body, and cloven feet. Its 'hands' if they could be called that were a mangled array of 'fingers' that wiggled and occasionally cracked. Coming from various random places on its body were strange tentacles, covering in the furry wool of a sheep or perhaps a mountain goat. The rest of its body was completely bare with pale greenish skin. Under the wool, the fur of the tentacles was a similar sickly green though a shade or two darker.

The final living monster was easily the largest of the group, though not too much larger than the Zelroux that had been on stage with its master but a couple trills before. It was an ape like, standing on its hind legs with gargantuan fists that dragged on the ground as it walked. Some of the people were whispering jokes, saying it was the common ancestor to the Immortal created races. Much like the first it had fangs which escaped its mouth.

The last creature was little more than a corpse by the time it got to Etzos. It was a mangled thing with two stab wounds. One through one of its many eyes and the other clean through its head. It was obvious which one had been lethal. Two pairs of leathery almost bat like wings jutted out from the back of the creature. When it was alive it had barely been able to fly using such appendages. All over its body were large, similar, almost fly like eyes. The only place it didn't have any was the bottoms of its feet. It was impossible to tell how many of them had actually worked in life, but during the fight with it, Night had been fairly sure not many.

Not long after Night had jumped off the stage and the mutants were brought out a new creature had appeared to wreak havoc, none other than Mal. Though Nightshade had no idea that it was actually Mal. She didn't hear the cries of Padfoot and even if she had she barely remembered that old nickname she heard once or twice. In her mind, the great hyx like beast had been Mal and only Mal. So of course when she saw the creature that seemed intent on attacking someone she was going to try and help out, until she saw it was attacking Doran and that cause her to change her mind. The 'hero of Oscillus' could get bent for all she cared. He tried to kill Xuir of all immortals, didn't even succeed, and he gets treated like a god. While Nightshade, the woman who incapacitated and caused the temporary downfall of Lissira, the damned Immortal intent on destroying Etzos, didn't even get a pat on the damn back. There was so much in that statement to be bitter about, Night would just get the guards handle it. Hell, if he was so great then he could take care of himself. Of course, if she knew it was Mal she would have stepped in and perhaps tried to save her favorite hyx instead of letting Doran possibly get a hit in, but she didn't know whatever that creature was happened to also be Mal. The one thing she took note of was the metal wings, watching how they glinted in the sunlight. It would be nice to have something like that.

That was when her attention got turned to another source of ever lasting annoyance and animosity. A pure breed. Nightshade had no problem with pure bred Avriel, her father was one and he was an amazing man! But Avriel like this one were exactly why Nightshade had contemplated joining sides with Noth and committing genocide. But Night wasn't even near as twisted by the Avriel hand as Noth, so that was something she'd never be able to find it in her heart to do. Even if she thought she could, Eth...

She smirked as the prideful little chick made his speech. While he was talking she ignored just about every word and took stock of him, knowing exactly what he was saying. She'd heard this song and dance one too many times before. The first thing she took note of was the barbed spear, the likes of which would wreck her day if she allowed it entrance into her flesh. It would be best to try and avoid whatever attacks he tried, at worst she could always parry but she'd rather not come that close to getting one in her body. She'd rather not like to go pestering Alex today. She'd done that one too many times for her personal liking. The second thing she noticed of was his wings, or more so her inability to see them through the sheet of metal similar to that of the monstrosity she'd seen moments before. It was obviously the same material judging by their sheen, a hard metal with feathering that could cut. Was it some kind of armor or was there actually a breed of Avriel with metal wings? If so had that creature earlier been one, and what in Ethelynda's name was its mother for it to be so strange?

She gave a breathy kind of laugh, figuring she might be able to play his pride to her advantage. Knowing the Avriel mind he was already underestimating the prowess of her skills, downplaying it in regards to his own. Not a deadly mistake, but a dangerous one for those fighting opponents who knew how to manipulate it. Taunts would certainly come in handy, Pure's tended to be easier to taunt, especially when she compared them to herself. Some were able to keep their heads, but most flew into rages (both figuratively and literally) that were easy to manipulate into her benefit. Perhaps if she was even luckier he didn't understand quite how legendary her abilities with a blade and a wing were. But she wasn't about to boast or sing her praises. She could still be stronger, faster, and a bit better with other kinds of weaponry. If she had the skill she'd try to use something that could better deal with the spear, something longer or something that might be able to break it easier like a spear of her own or perhaps a hammer. She analyzed her opponent as if she was looking at someone on her level, being careful not to over judge as that could be just as dangerous. Sometimes over playing someone's abilities could leave you expecting one things and getting another, crude, but effective attack.

"Bring it on brother," she said beckoning him like a dog and referring to him as brother from the extra insult. But that wasn't all the did. She beckoned him with her middle finger, effectively calling him like a mutt while flipping him the bird, adding as much insult to the action as she possibly could. Giving him the first move would be the best course of action for herself, it would allow her to judge his speed and depending on how obvious his attack was she might be able to predict what he was going to do next. She knew enough about tactics and battle that it wouldn't be beyond her skill set.

It was a good thing she'd picked up Red Brand on the way to Etzos. She had a feeling she'd need to be using both her blades for this.
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The mutants were truly a sight to behold. In the nearly four hundred arcs that he had been alive the Mortalborn had never seen anything like them. They looked like somebody had taken parts from several different creatures and stitched them together. It surprised him that most of them were still alive and able to move. They shouldn’t have been able to.

Who, besides the Immortals, he wondered, had the power to create such creatures, and had they done so on purpose or had the mutants been the result of some sort of magic accident? He decided that he would try and find out more – if there was a powerful mage in this city, he needed to know - but first he needed to get his hands on one of them.

He initially assumed that the first creature that was brought out was male. It reminded him of some kind of white bear, except that it had a tail and fangs. He had almost decided against it – it was too big, it seemed to be lacking intelligence, and he had no idea where he was supposed to keep it – when he noticed its protruding belly. The mutant was pregnant!

The second creature likewise caught his interest. It would be much easier to handle due to its small size, and it seemed to use its ears and its nose for orientation rather than its eyes which he found most fascinating. The third creature looked revolting though, and the Mortalborn suppressed the urge to just put it out of its misery. The final monster was even larger than the first one, and thus his interest in buying it was next to non-existent.

He didn’t have enough room for it in the laboratory.

The dead one though …

“I’m interested in the first two and the corpse. How much for each of them?” he asked the people on the stage and made another step forward so that they would notice him and be able to hear him better. The pregnant mutant interested him the most – he wanted to know if its child would be a mutant as well or if it would still be human – but in the end it all depended on the price. Even he didn’t have unlimited funds.

It was just then that he noticed a commotion somewhere behind him though. People were suddenly screaming for the guards. A creature called “Padfoot”, some sort of freak with metal wings, seemed to be causing trouble. In fact it seemed to be coming straight at him!

The Mortalborn frowned. He didn’t appreciate the fact that he – or rather it – was interrupting him at all. The soldiers seemed to have the situation under control at the moment, but he made a step back so that he would be in a good position to defend himself and reached for his sword nevertheless. He was not one of those people that trusted others to protect them adequately.

A moment later there was another interruption. Yet another winged creature had appeared and was hovering above them now – an Avriel! At first he assumed that he was working together with Nightshade – they looked somewhat similar - but they apparently didn’t like each other at all.

He sighed inwardly as their fight – if it really came to that – would delay the acquisition of his test subjects further. Should he use his newfound fame to intervene? No, he decided, he would simply watch for now. Maybe there was something to be gained from this after all. It was not impossible that he would have to fight an Avriel at some point in the future …
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It was a strange, almost euphoric feeling to be stretching towards that enemy of his, slowing in inertia. He brought up his arms defensively when the man went for his sword, but no blow came of it. Instead, he heard a gainful voice braying out the name of that woman he was protecting.

As fear wrapped around him like a thick blanket almost as thick as the solidified air holding him in place, Mal turned his head at the full-blooded Avriel above. Instantly, all of his attention went to the man, for every vile word he spoke was further down a deep, dark pit of pandemonium; condemnation for whom he was fighting for in this mind lacking total coherence.

While he did not yet have the full wings of an Ardor, he did have the feathers of one. They kept him safe like a coat of thin plates, but he soon saw the need as that unnamed contender announced his plans to fight Nightshade to the death. Suddenly, and without warning, Mal’s claws bulged outward and he stretched his limbs as if reaching for Skraylock with his his claws, but dozens of feet out of reach as the man hovered well above.

One loud shriek left his lungs, one that sounded angry, but afraid.
”Haaughrll!”

Reaching inside, he drew the powers of his totem, feeling a strange but familiar resistance. He threw more of his energy at it, popping the barrier like a bubble that felt like glass giving way after enough force.

And then his body began to change.

The first thing that happened was his arms shooting out well beyond their natural length, sickening pops and rippling muscles. A wingspan larger than most anything any of these people had seen, the great Ardor occupied much of the space with its vertical wings, tendons and sinew forming within as Mal’s legs shrunk, his head warping and twisting, the body elongating and growing quite long. Even his tail changed, becoming more like the tailfeathers of some great, mythical bird.

Moments later this great Ardor was pushing its wings downward for one great beat of its wings, a great whoosh of billowing air sweeping out over the screaming populace, picking up all of the dirt and plunging the place into the choking, eye-burning cloud of skyward earth. All of that downdraft he created sent Mal’s body into the air towards Skraylock, beak first, snapping up at that angel of death with vehement, primal fury. That beak of his was practically made from solid steel, hardly something the typical sword could mar beyond scratching.

And all the while his wings sliced through space to reach up and pull himself forward as if he were clawing through a narrow tunnel. Doran was largely forgotten by the mad, magical beast-wizard, for Mal was preoccupied with defending that half-breed from their full-blooded rival. He could not and would not lose Nightshade Eld.

But even now, he knew the limits on what he could do were being pushed. All of the energy he expended breaking free from the talons of that wizard now left tracts and veins of raw pain in his mind, leaving him euphoric and single-minded.
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Nauta F'mos Geey
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it was a sad realisation for the Aukari that back in Sirothelle, the guards were always ignored until there was trouble involved; in Etzos on the other hand, this fact was a godsend to F'mos as it got him into events without anyone paying any attention to him. The mutant auction he heard about from the Curly Hare was one of those events and while F'mos could not assist the Fence with the job they had planned, he decided to attend anyway just in case he could acquire any of the mutants which may be of use to him. To any alchemist, these new creatures were like a treasure- to be used until they no longer had any worth.

Nightshade was one of the few people in Etzos the Aukari had not expected to see involved with the auction, although in his Black Guard disguise he knew he had nothing to worry about from the Avriel. It was the same with Doran who the Aukari recognised but chose not to approach either, as the only thing of importance to him in the auction were the mutants he might acquire and not, the many so-called heroes Etzos had every other season. It was odd that though so many individuals bore the title, the city was not any safer. In fact, the longer the Aukari remained in Etzos, the more he was convinced it only got more dangerous as the seasons passed.

Finally of course was Padfoot, which left the former guard wondering how he was missed until the mastermind behind the mutants was pointed out by a woman and concluded it was his lack of practice despite being on the look out for any signs of trouble. It was not as if F'mos was a true Black Guard tasked to protect the citizens from danger; the opportunistic Aukari only wanted to identify any possible trouble in anticipation of them, so he might be able to make off with a prize or two of his own during the confusion.

The 'great hero' Nightshade should not begrudge him too much even if she loses out on the prize for a mutant. After all, whether she knew it or not F'mos believed the Avriel owed him for the odd assistance he had freely given her over the seasons. The Aukari already had his eye on some mutants- disgusting and unnerving as they were, seemed to have qualities which held promise if he could figure them out. Already he started to run their worth through his head, whether in nels or the free option. The latter would need a lot more work and luck, luck which seemed to be out for him as Doran had his eye on them too...

However the obviously unnatural attack of the infamous Padfoot on Etzos' revered hero Doran was not what the Aukari considered a good enough change in his fortune. There were still enough guards around them, especially for an auction which attracted a lot of the curious, a fact which instead convinced F'mos that no one would be stupid enough to cause any trouble unless properly planned for, like the members of the Fence he searched for. (Un)fortunately enough, the perfect opportunity came with the arrival of another Avriel from the skies.

The attempts on two different heroes, or those so considered by the people of Etzos; that was a distraction he could use although F'mos knew, especially with the violent lesser races and uncontrollable mages involved the event got a lot more dangerous for everyone. He considered that maybe he was obliged to make sure none of the bystanders got caught up in it but in the end, concluded there were enough guards around to ensure they were well protected if they were not too busy trying to protect their precious hero that is and... "oh fuck! What kind of a nightmare creature was that?!?"

There was no better time and the Aukari made use of the confusion- the dust cloud which spread all over, the scared and screaming populace included, all to get himself closer to the mutants. He hoped all, bloodthirsty participants, duty bound guards and frightened bystanders alike were too distracted to pay enough attention to think it through when he shouted as loud as possible to "get the people to safety! Protect the Hero! Make sure those creatures don't get loose!"

Even if no one else would listen to what he had to say, he hoped the last thing he mentioned would be enough for his ruse as he went through the motions of making sure the mutants were secured, all the while he asked each if they still had not fully gone yet. It was not for any altruistic purposes, but if they would willingly walk out with him instead of him having to force them out, his job would be all the more easier for him.
Last edited by Nauta F'mos Geey on Wed Oct 18, 2017 3:23 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 825
But I don't want to cure cancer. I want to turn people into dinosaurs.
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"I guess I should not be surprised you feel a need for reinforcements, Pigeon!" the avriel sneered, his emphasis on the last word clearly demonstrating his loathing for the species that so passively served humans and other inferior breeds. Skraylock possessed an arrogance that, perhaps surprisingly, did not make him vulnerable to taunts. His disdain for the judgement of others stripped him of any concern for what they thought. Theirs were opinions that were of no consequence to those of such surpassing magnificence as himself.

Profane gestures were part and parcel of the expected lack of eloquence to be found in the riff-raff of the world. Skraylock shook his head with contempt, "Your pet brute will not save you, Nightshade Eld." he spat, gesturing dismissively to the slowly rising ardor form of Malkinn. Coarse laughter punctuated his assessment of the new aerial combatant. "He flies like a winged Slogah! A fattened Skoda! And that shall be his undoing!"

He closed his armored wings and dropped, slight extensions of metal feathers turning him in graceful swirls beyond anything the massive ardor could mimic. At the last tick, he unfurled sufficiently to whip laterally across Mal's secondary feathers and slash at the tips, thinking to make fly-by attacks that would eventually slice away enough aerodynamic support that the giant would plummet back to the floor of the arena below.

Sparks sizzled across the sky as his steel met the metallic wings of Mal's ardor form. "Well, well, a great metal boulder with wings! You think I will just stay to your front and knock heads with you? Fight like a fool to let you have an advantage? Just try and follow my flight!" His path through the air was as effortless as it was convoluted. The glimpses of his flight were all calculated to bring Mal turning precisely the way he wanted, while staying out of reach of the great, heavy wings, and occasionally lunging in to jab him with the spear. If nothing else he knew he could drive his enemy to exhaustion.

But that was not his intent. It took no great manipulation to bring himself in on an approach from above and behind, landing in somewhat of a hover upon the back of the great bird. Now the barbed spear would be brought into a more unique form of attack. While it was not able to punch through Mal's back with anything less than mammoth effort, it was still a masterwork tool in and of itself. In trills, he had hooked the barb over the edge of the line of Mal's primary coverts.

With a twist, the back end of the spear was revealed to be a hidden barb tip as well, and on an upstroke of his enemy's wing, he hooked this barb in one of the numerous flanges where the Mal's wings connected to his back. He roared in cruel satisfaction as Mal suddenly discovered that he could make no down stroke with his right wing. The big ardor-mage quickly started to bank and roll, losing altitude and control as the arena began to slowly spiral up towards him.

But in his revelry over having successfully dealt with one adversary, Skraylock had temporarily forgotten about the other...
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The half-breed was more than ready to kick the pride right out of this self-important vulture, but it seemed another creature had already beaten her to the punch. She just watched quietly as a completely unfamiliar... thing apparently came to her aid. "It isn't mine!" She shouted back as she watched the creature move to attack Skraylock. She wasn't going to deny the fact he was flying like an idiot either. She watched and winced as the... whatever it was get completely wreaked by Skraylock. Which were all things considered to be expected. She allowed Skraylock's focus to stay on the bird, not drawing anymore of it to herself. Instead, she watched carefully, taking advantage of the interruption to study his formation and pattern. It was simple enough to some like her who had seen and done, most things one would imagine under the sun which involved one's wings. After she recognized the pattern of flight, she knew how she could then proceed to counter it herself. She smirked as she watched the effortless way he took Mal on a wild goose chase of sorts. "I wonder how long he practiced that," she mused to herself with a slight smirk. She watched not him, but the air in front of him and the way that Mal was moving. She made a careful examination of his wings. Though hidden by metal she could still slightly see the twitches at the base which implied he was going to change direction or turn. After she was able to recognize the movement, it became easier to predict what way he was going to move. Not necessarily fool proof, but as well as she could do basing his actions off her own skills on the wind.

Speaking of the wind, a lovely draft was being to kick up. A fairly strong gale it was too, an updraft no less! She smiled to herself quietly as she spread her wings. A single beat with the aid of the updraft was enough to end her sky rocketing. She was silent for all but the gentle beating of midnight wings, a sound that was easily covered by the clashing of metal. She had managed to propel herself above the pair with the help of the wind. It was ironic how much of a friend the gales had become as she got closer and closer to mastering her flying skills and eventually going past that of a master. It was especially ironic when one considered the spiteful hate she felt for the vain creature that ruled over such an element, the vain creature who'd been foolish enough to bring about creatures like herself and Skraylock. She wondered, how much of a better place would the world be if the Avriel had never existed? In the grand scheme of things the Avriel race was little more than a pebble dropped into a sea, their rippled were nothing more than the mundane side effects of the existence of any major race. But to consider the level at which Nightshade existed within life, there weren't enough hands in all of Etzos to list all the things in the world that would be better should 'her people' not have ever existed. And there would be many who would agree with her! Then again, even race did something good. There were those who had begun to claim that Night herself was the one good byproduct of the Avriel.

There was a small amount of determination in her heart to prove them right.

Sweeping downwards on silent wings the half breed unsheathed both of her blades. Flying as fast as she could and trying to predict her foe's movements, she attempted to catch Skraylock off guard. Her long talon ended feet reached out to grab for him, attempted to latch on at the base of his wings. If he couldn't reach her, he couldn't touch her. While she attempted to grab her blades lashed out with a ferocious anger, long steel fangs doing their best to bury themselves into whatever tender flesh of Skraylock they could reach.
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Common ~ Ith'Ession ~ Lorien
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