• Open • [Lair] The trials of Investigators Lizard and Bear (TTOILAB) Part Three - Revenge of the Lotharro.

[Varthakh]

21st Ashan 719

It was the twenty-second break in Quacia's Lair, the small village filled with sin and disreputable forms of entertainment and material goods. Despite housing numerous forms of drugs, alcohols, and pleasures, Fridgar had only scraped the surface and only visited the fighting pits and drank a bottle of whiskey. The fighting pits had been something of his most popular haunt in the past couple of trials. He'd gone there looking for a drunken brawl but encountered a powerful mage Lotharro, who ended up challenging him to single combat. Fridgar, because he was inebriated and without his totems, was knocked out and left on the street in the dead of night by Calvin and Darwin, two stocky humans that worked in the fighting pits. After crawling home with a few broken bones and torn skin, Fridgar was found by Loque, his slave Ithecal. She quickly discovered that he was a mage when he regenerated all his wounds in less than a bit, so he brought her with him on this quest and she'd proven quite useful.

For one, she provided some outside perspective on the world, words that weren't the product of his own mutated and muddled mind. Then, she spotted threats that he didn't and even put her life on the line to defend him. Then, she volunteered to act as bait for the trap they'd just finished setting. After breaking back into the arena, the pair were confronted by Darwin and Calvin. Calvin held them both at crossbow point until he was persuaded to help the Protean. The two humans revealed that Rhostus, the mage that had beaten him, paid the arena to tip him off about strong fighters and then challenged them to single combat. He'd always walked away as the victor, so what was the old man up to? Fridgar didn't yet understand his motive, but his defeat twisted his spark. He had decided that it wanted whatever magic he used and would force him to do so if that's what it took. So, Loque volunteered to be bait. Calvin and Darwin would tip Rhostus off about their new strongest Competitor, Loque, and lure him into a trap where Fridgar would intervene and challenge him for a rematch, then demand to be initiated in that magic.

The trap was set now, Loque was in position in the arena's waiting room and Fridgar was hiding among the stands. It wouldn't be much longer before Rhostus showed up to greet the orange-scaled ithecal. So, he waited in the quiet, out of sight and out of mind. At least until he heard a scuffle, that was.

The room Loque was sat in was an empty stone room that stretched in a half circle around the fighting ring. The walls were cut stone bricks and the benches that fighters would sit on were much the same. A large metal gate was the only access to the circular fighting ground, guarded by Calvin, who was dressed in full plate armor and carried his crossbow in his arms. "You've got guts, lady. I wouldn't fight Rhostus for a whole Onyx." Calvin spoke his words of encouragement with a sour, serious expression. Time went by in the room and before long, a rather old looking Lotharro with a grey, short beard, and tan, liver-spotted skin entered the room. "...Wow, it's like a funeral in here." The older man announced as he looked around the room a brief trill, then focused his eyes on the slave. He raised a brow, they didn't look like much of a challenger after all.

The older man walked closer to the Ithecal before sitting at their side. "I heard you've done well in the pits totrial, Miss Loque." The old man pat her shoulder with a firm, heavy grip. He looked to be in his fifties or so but retained a lot of his muscle despite his spotted, old skin. "How about a friendly spar? Don't worry about holding back, I can handle myself fine."

[Loque]

Loque didn't seem to fully register the gravity of the situation, sitting in the room and balancing a stone on their nose again. A quick glance to Calvin cause the stone to drop. "I am a slave. At worst, I die, at best, I live. What do I lose?" A blink and pause, "The master would lose a slave, I lose adventure. What would Rhostus gain? A new notch on his belt? A fancy orange hide?" Loque shrug, looking for the stone again. It was true; even if this plan failed and Loque got hurt or even killed, they hadn't known much in the way of greed or any worldly pleasures beyond the adventure that life had been taking them on. If it were cut short, it would be sad, but Loque wouldn't be there to mourn it so there was little point in being terrified right now. Besides, Fridgar had a plan, and Loque trusted him.

The heavy hand on their shoulder cause them to drop the stone again, after finally having balanced it atop their nose. The man had approached from Loque's blind side, and as such had startled them slightly. Rather than look at him with fear or anxiousness, Loque offer a toothy grin. "Flow and rush like water. Soft as a stream, or crush like falls." Loque's own little taunt, moreso to keep some sense of banter between the two than anything. Perhaps Loque could glean some sense for the man's fighting style from a few words, some measure of what they were getting into. Their shoulders were not at all ridged, either, giving slightly to the weight of his hand-- if he weren't gripping, his hand might've even slid right off their smooth scales.

He did not look as old as Loque had expected when at last they turn their head to see, scanning his form for a brief trill. He wasn't feeble by any sense, but didn't seem to be specialized for strength or speed. That must've been what the magic he used could make up for. "Spar? I accept. Good luck." Loque nod once respectfully before standing and looking to Calvin. In truth, even that 'friendly' pat had been enough to make them want to rub their shoulder, but Loque did their best to avoid doing so-- they had to appear strong, unfazed. That he would know from the start about their blind side, however, was somewhat concerning, as now Loque would find just how 'honorable' this man was...

[Varthakh]

Calvin wasn't much the talking type it seemed. He said nothing in return to the ithecal's outlook at first, but soon scoffed and looked away. He muttered something in Vahanic under his breath, both a language and tone unfamiliar to Loque. Farcking Lizards. he had little more to say to her after that. When Rhostus entered the room, however, Calvin seemed to avoid looking in their general direction entirely, he knew he was betraying Rhostus in some way and didn't really want to try his luck against the apparent beastly fighter. Rhostus smiled in part of his response to the orange Ithecal, then parted his lips to speak. "'Haven't heart that one before, but you can talk kid. Let's see you walk." he offered both his respect and a challenge with a friendly bow of his head.

Then she accepted his offer, quite quickly too. The old man raised a brow. "Ho, eager to put an old man on his arse?" He laughed a breath or two before exhaling. "I'm just kidding, hit me with your best shot, scales." he shook her hand as he stood, then looked to Calvin. The human nodded and opened up the cage, letting the two into the arena. "Wish her luck, Calvin." The Old man said as he passed. Calvin gave a somewhat forced laugh before sighing in absolute dread. Once Loque was in the fighting ring, Rhostus kicked up some small talk. "So, where's your master, Slave?" He asked. "There are no free Ithecal in Quacia, who do you serve?" he asked then positioned himself on the far end of the circle. "And what would you say if I offered you freedom?"

The old man rolled his shoulders, then peeled away his shirt to show the body fo a fighter. he had his own fair share of scars, mostly animal bites and claws, much like Fridgar's. Around his neck, he carried a string laced with bones and figurines; totems. If Loque looked closely, she would be able to recognize them as the same sort of totems that Fridgar carried, becoming artifacts. He began to trace his fingers all over his form, leaving trails of sparkling, glowing gold all over his skin. They formed runes that had little to no meaning to the Ithecal, but to Rhostus, they were the runes of speed, strength, and endurance; all core runes that made for a fearsome fighter. Once their talk was done, RHostus rolled his shoulders then raised his fists in the stance of a basic, competent unarmed fighter.

Fridgar waited in the stands, listening to their conversation unfold. He laid there and counted his totems. The Solghannon, the Trachadon, and the Llewnos as well as the Fridgar totem. Why wasn't he bringing the Lurker totem? He didn't want to end up eating or gutting the old man, he needed him alive, not dead. He'd lent Loque his Masterwork knife, she shouldn't need to use it, but he felt a lot safer putting her against that opponent with some sort of weapon. All he could do for now was to listen and prepare his ether for a mage fight.

Rhostus then sprang at Loque like a coiled spring, diving for her blindside. he saw the weakness, he needed to see if she could overcome it. He moved with inhuman speed, closing the gap of the arena in a trill or so before swinging a pulled punch for her ribs.

[Loque]

Little by little the old man started to remind Loque more of Fridgar than some nasty son-of-a-mongrel that just got kicks from knocking people down. He had surprised 'her' by taking them by the hand to move to the arena, something that no one in Quacia would ever do, especially with an ithecal."Eager to see what make 'old man' confident." Loque nod. It was true, despite the terror and adrenaline rushing through their veins, the thought of seeing just what such a man could do as to put the master in such a state was beyond a nagging curiosity.

It was no surprise that he had known ithecal to be slaves here, but such an interest to know more made Loque slightly wary. "My master is a fighter, and part of the reason I come to this arena. I want to prove to them that I am not as fragile as I look." not but words of truth to veil further truth; avoiding any sense of gender or 'you might have seen them' to leave ambiguity to the identity of the master, yet give a well enough cause for encounter. Freedom? That would mean the man was seeking to leave Quacia... "I appreciate your offer, however, my hide is not marred by abuse, I've no want for freedom."

Wide eye set on the totems instantly; maybe Loque's initial thoughts on the magic of changing shape were true, that it was something known to Lotharro. "I must admit, I admire your trophies. Here's hoping I don't lend a tooth or scrap of hide to your collection?" Loque had taken to more proper common, to stall or otherwise announce to Fridgar that this man had totems as well; having commented on the master's when they had met. The faint glint of the runes set them on edge, this was certainly not the magic the master used. Further; the elder was unarmed beyond magic. Loque's thoughts drift to the dagger strapped above their tail, but drifted from it. To draw a blade against an unarmed opponent-- even if they were using magic, seemed dishonorable. Not that beating the snot out of anyone just for the sake of being able to was any better...

Lowering down and bracing onto all fours, the ithecal shift their footing, one leg slightly more outward, low and coiled near perfectly as to spring forward or to the side in an instant. Maw open slightly, ready to snap down on anything that it could find purchase on, further giving the small ithecal a wild look. The scutes along their spine and tail ridge up slightly more, as the whole length of their tail hover off the ground, swaying slowly from side to side-- a counterbalance to allow sharp turns. Loque was not at all familiar with how to fight, but they were familiar with how to run from beasts. To mimic them enough to make for a convincing display would keep the old man interested long enough for the master to get the drop on him.

Bogs! Of course he would go for the blindspot! With a hiss Loque jolt away, twisting their form to avoid the blow as much as possible. Their tail slung forward instead of their fist, allowing the upper half of their torso to bend back and away from the blow while also striking at the man. Whatever that tail could or would make contact with would be wrapped up in order to be slung away or otherwise restrained. This was bad, Loque knew this man was strong, but they had hardly blinked and he was already on top of them!

[Varthakh]

Loque certainly gave as good as she got, which the older man seemed to enjoy. He laughed a little as she pried at his confidence, then shrugged. "You'll see in a bit, I guess." Was all he said in response. "So your master doesn't make you fight?" The Lotharro asked. He nodded in approval "you've got a certain strength of spirit about you, scales. I'll try to make you look good." He spoke with a respectful bow and a chuckle. I've no want for freedom she replied to his offer, which made even Fridgar's ears perk. "Don't want freedom, eh?" The older man asked, then sighed. "Shame, a crying shame. If you're as good as they say you are, you've just passed up on the chance of a lifetime." The old man spoke cryptic, somewhat disappointed. "Alright, have at you." And with that, he rushed the Ithecal.

She was quick and flexible, surprisingly so. Of course, the master Runewright was faster. His pulled punch met her side, but she rolled with the strike, flowing with the force; this reduced the damage of the strike massively and she was left with little more than a forming bruise. As her tail swung around, he jumped back in a flash and narrowly avoided the tip. "Not bad!" The old man cheered with a grin. Even from her blind side, she'd anticipated his move and got away almost completely free. Of course, that was just a test, trying her reaction time from the right side of her head. The old man rolled his shoulders and stepped around her at a more natural pace, though certainly constrained and bursting with energy, as though he could blow at any given trill and pounce her. Then he did, like striking snake, he lunged for her green, sighted eye. Again, he was curious about just what she could do and sought to test her. This time, he slid to the floor in the fraction of a blink of an eye, then swept for her legs with his own.

Fridgar had indeed heard Loque's warning of his totems. Rhostus was a becomer? That could work to his advantage, actually. If Rhostus was a Lothar becomer from gauthrel, then he both understood Fridgar's totems and how he would have gone about obtaining them. Rhostus would understand just how dangerous Fridgar was and how badly he'd messed up in underestimating him. He quickly snagged the Willow Redbear totem along with the other four totems then lept to his feet and all but barreled over the wall to land on the sand/dirt floor of the arena with an acrobatic roll. Rhostus had just tried to sweep out the ithecal's legs and had his back to the Protean.

With a flick of his wrist, Fridgar's hand engulfed in crackling, vibrant electricity that glowed off his skin. Lightning leaped all about his hand in brilliant arcs of power before he hurled it at the Lothar. The elemental force lashed at the old man and stole a hiss of pain from man's lips. "Pick on someone your own size!" Fridgar roared at the old man, throwing his chest into it. The old man turned to face him, then looked to Loque in confusion. His eyes fell upon the gate as Calvin locked it, trapping the three inside. "The fek is this?" Rhostus asked looking between the three. Calvin disappeared behind the wall, leaving the Protean and the Lizard to their fate. "Back off Loque, she's just the bait. I want a rematch, old man!" Fridgar snarled as he pointed his thumb toward himself, baring his sharp teeth aggressively. Rhostus looked between the two of them before focusing on the orange one. "Is this true? He's your master? You're faking on me?"

The old man shook his head and sighed. "Damn kids."

[Loque]

The impact, though glancing, was enough to draw a darker shade to the scales of Loque's side, and while it did hurt it was obvious to even the simple ithecal that he'd held back-- did he know..? Going for the blindspot right off was a bit cheap for a 'friendly spar', which washed away any guilt Loque might've felt for this all being a trap. They'd learned well enough how to get around with only being able to see the world from one side, but the missed grab of the tail was a clear indication that all they could do was lash blindly if approached wrong.

Barely having enough time to reposition their footing before he was back on top of them. Loque's only saving grace right now was flexibility, he was far faster than the small lizard and a hundred-fold stronger. The moment he flexed to charge, Loque spring the tension from their own legs, propelling themselves into a backflip to try and get away. While certainly no one could fault them for some points in flare, there really was nothing fancy about the move beyond pure luck if they'd managed not to get caught in the sweep and land flat on their rear.

Botched the landing regardless. Loque's feet hit the floor and they stumble, plopping right down on their front like a newborn foal. The only relief to such an embarrassing fumble was Fridgar's interruption. Feeling well out of the way of the two, Loque sat up more casually-- all the tension for battle gone from their frame as they sit splayed like a child. "Master came home beaten badly, I help find one who did it." pushing to their feet now Loque held their hands palms up to either side. "I am thankful you didn't try to kill me, but master needed to find you. Sorry, but not lied." That much was true; Loque hadn't lied to the old man, only simplified the truth. Such a simple lizard, so eager to please without any regard for what it might cost. Though the old man's words nag at their mind An opportunity of a lifetime-- what could that mean?

[Varthakh]

"Fek's sake." The old man spat and shook his head. "I thought you were some great fighter, if I'd gone all out, I could have killed you!" Rhostus rubbed at his temples. These kids were going to send him to an early grave. As stupid and reckless as their plan had been, it had worked. Rhostus was here, caught between the two of them. "HEY ASSHO-!" Fridgar shouted, trying to get the attention of the old man. And he got it, Rhostus interrupted him. "Shut the fek up a trill." He spoke with a wave of his hand, dismissing the Protean. He walked over to the floored Ithecal with open hands, then knelt before them. He looked the lizard over before spotting the darkening patch of their scales. "...Sorry about that. 'Like I said, I thought you were a seasoned fighter." The old man offered with a turn of his hand. Then, if she let him, he'd draw a rune of regeneration on her chest and channel his ether into it immediately. The bleeding beneath the scales, which caused the bruise came to a halt quite quickly and the broken tissue repaired completely. Just like that, she was healed. He'd pet her on the head before standing and facing Fridgar.

"The fek do you want, kid?" The older Lothar spoke, his runes still glowing gold and shimmering white. Fridgar, who looked pissed as all hell, charged another crackling ball of electricity in his hand. "I'm gonna kick your ass!" Fridgar roared. "Then you're gonna initiate me in your bullshit magic!" His totems were all ready to spring to life to aid him in this fight, each and every one of them wanted to help him beat the bastard into submission. Rhostus chuckled a little and shook his head. "...Did I knock some sense out of you, Nordhoff? Or were you just black out drunk? You didn't land a single hit on me." Fridgar shook with rage. "FARK YOU!" Was all he had to say in return. Rhostus rolled his eyes. "Fine, you really wanna get your ass kicked that bad? Have at you." And in a flash, he was on the opposite side of the arena, preparing for the fight. "Loque, get behind me." The Protean warned while he watched Rhostus.

The old man rolled his shoulders and lifted his hand, then motioned for Fridgar to come at him. The Protean immediately threw the Trachadon and Willow Redbear totems to either side of the arena and poured his ether into both. Immediately, two enormous totem guardians formed. On the left was the Willow Redbear, a massive bear of red fur that stood twelve feet tall and measured up to twenty-four feet long. On the right, the trachadon formed. The trachadon was an enormous beast on four legs, covered entirely in thick plate armor that was as tough as stone. All over its face and head were giant tusks and spikes of impressive sharpness. These spikes trailed all along the creature's back and tail, which was relatively short but still held enough spikes to make it a deadly weapon. The Trachadon measured twenty feet tall and thirty-six feet long and took up a rough quarter of the area. Both the dinosaur and the Redbear roared in tandem, then rushed the old man.

Rhostus' eyes widened in shock. After all, Fridgar had been completely void of magic in their last fight but now appeared to be some level of a powerful mage. While the two totems rushed the old man, Fridgar threw his fist forward and cast blink. A portal opened before Fridgar and opened behind the older man. And in a flash of amber, rhostus was struck in the back of the head with a hefty, powerful punch that knocked him to one knee. He'd gone and punched through a blink, a technique he hadn't yet tried. The portal closed around fridgar's arm, then ejected it back to the same side as the rest of his body. Portals didn't rend living things, merely ejected whatever was caught in them to whatever side the majority of them was on. Rhostus held his head, dazed as the two totems closed in, then bolted at the Lothar with insane, inhuman speed. Using three sheets to the wind and his permanently echoed Llewnos reflexes, he had a little more time to react than any other fighter RHostus had encountered. He cast blink again, opening a portal in front of him which Rhostus ran into by accident.

Apparently, the old man was running at a speed too fast for his reflexes and didn't have time to react to the attack. He appeared perhaps twenty feet in the air, where the Trachadon was waiting to beat him to the floor with its thick trunk. Rhostus, like a baseball, was slammed with immense force and knocked flat against the stone wall of the arena. He fell to his knees, then breathed heavily and coughed up blood. It was over. Or was it? The willow Redbear dragged its heavy paws through the dirt and sand as it approached the floored old man, then pressed his back into the floor. Rhostus was bleeding in several points all over his body and surely had a few broken bones, but he was still breathing. "Yield!" Fridgar roared his command. He couldn't keep this up much longer, he was almost flat out of ether. But the fight was won, right?

Not just yet. The old man clutched one of the totems around his neck, then cast unleash and chrysalis in tandem. The old man burst with spires of winding flesh and armor, even blades that lined the entirety of his outer shell. In a flash of power, all of his wounds were healed, bones and all, and he stood there, an enormous Adamantine Kingfisher. In an instant, he turned and cut the paw off his Willow Redbear with one of his six, enormous red blades. The beast roared and fell back to Fridgar's horror. The protean screamed in unbridled rage and sorrow. The trachadon turned on the spot then rushed the old man's new form with extreme prejudice.

[Loque]

Strange, that was perhaps the best way that Loque would describe Rhostus. He seemed more upset at the situation than at the ithecal involved. Still, despite beating the master, there was no reason not to trust him, and thus allow whatever it was he meant to do. Eyes wide as they lightly touch their side, finding the pain had dulled and all damage from the blow had gone. It was true; the man could've easily killed them, but it was a risk Loque was willing to take for the sake of the master. Twice now had a Lothar proven to be kinder than any other man in Quacia. "I am only seasoned in not getting eaten." A simple beaming grin at such an achievement. "But Rhostus not killer, just strong."

Loque idly try to trace the rune he'd drawn, tilting their head-- it was so strange, the feeling of energy that had poured into their core and undone the damage in but a blink. Magic was wild, thrilling, and very much strange. A quick nod and they skitter across the floor, finding a place against the wall to keep as best out of harms way as they could. The initial attack play through their head repeatedly, along with Rhostus' words; If I had gone all out. The impact of the blow to their blind side was no better than any other wild punch from any other man, yet Loque knew this man could bring the master to bleed. Did he hold back intentionally? Surely such an opportunity at one's weakpoint would've meant a quick victory... This would trouble the youth until an answer was given-- to a question yet asked.

No sooner had Loque been able to register that there were two giant monsters in the arena did a third appear. Everything seemed to have occurred all at once. Every nerve through their body was alight with fear-- though perhaps not quite what it should be. Their eye dart from the master to the formerly downed old man-- to the bear-- then back to Fridgar. This was his power, to bring beasts to form, to take their shape, and command them with all the fury of nature. It was... awe inspiring, and terrifying all at once. Fear for the elder's life turn to fear for the beasts-- fear for the master. Pressing their back hard to the wall, every fiber of their being crawling to get out of the way. To call this a clash of titans would be akin to calling a palace not but a shack. There were no words for the destructive power before them, and each blow held such impact as to be felt even by the small wyvarnth at their core.

[Varthakh]

The redbear stumbled on its stump leg, bleeding hard as though it were a true living member of its species. The paw that had fallen off laid on the floor for a trill or two before it burned away and scattered like ashes in the wind. Fridgar just stared with wide eyes and a rigid frame. It was one thing to suffer injuries like that, but to see something you love... Just maimed like that... Never before had any of his forms suffered an injury that intense as a Guardian. What did this mean? Was his totem intact? Rhostus turned on all his legs to face the bear. The totem guardian was not an ability he was familiar with as an expert becomer, he didn't understand that killing one of the totems was equivalent to killing a member of the protean's family, a loved one. So, he drew back two of his red blades before throwing them both forward, aimed for the bear's head and neck. Shocked and distraught, Fridgar did nothing but watch... just before the trachadon tackled the Kingfisher from the side and knocked him to the wall of the arena.

The protean snapped from his shocked trance and immediately dismissed the Redbear. He wasn't a match for whatever that monster was, he wouldn't risk his totem's life over this. The totem fell to the sand, a small redbear figurine. His eyes fell upon the trachadon as he pummelled and pinned the Kingfisher. His relentless fury gave Rhostus a hard time keeping his footing or even regaining his balance as he was wrestled into the wall by the thirty-six foot long tank. When he did gain some footing, however, he thrust the red blade-like spines toward the trachadon and glanced his hide. The thick armor chipped and bled a little in cracks, Rhostus needed a much better aim than that if he were to beat back the Protean's assault. "Stay safe." Fridgar growled at Loque before he cast adapt. He drew the Solghannon's jaws from the totem and placed them on his hands. All the bones in his hands broke apart and reformed as elongated jaws with a starting bite force of seven thousand five hundred pounds per square inch. That was ignoring Fridgar's grand mastery in strength. Biting through a skull with these hands would be as easy as biting through a stick of butter.

Once his transformation was done, he ran forward and blinked again. The Lothar tumbled through the portal and appeared on Rhostus' back while he battled and wrestled his Trachadon for footing. One of his crocodile hands snapped at the hull of the massive crab and held firm while he examined the blades, they were all held by armored limbs and there were six of them. Rhostus seemed to be trying to use the two front ones to fight with the trachadon while the trachadon tried to gore him. Neither of them were having much luck, even though the trachadon was far larger, heavier and stronger. The protean crawled along the hull with his crocodile hands to keep him stable. Rhostus could feel those jaws biting at his hull, however, so shifted one of his six blades to sheer along his hull. The protean felt the red blade coming thanks to his initiation in rupturing, so blasted the hull with a bolt of lightning and leaped ten feet into the air.

He sky stepped once or twice, granting him a few extra feet of aerial advantage. That was all he needed for the trachadon bomb. In an instant, the totem guardian fell apart and returned to its totem form as Fridgar dismissed it. Then, with the remaining ether he'd saved from dismissing both the redbear and the trachadon, he cast unleash on the Trachadon totem and unfurled into the same thirty-six-foot-long beast in mid-air. Gravity quickly claimed his form and he came crashing down on the Adamantine Kingfisher with several dozen tonnes of force. Rhostus, who had poor detection skills, looked to the dormant totem in confusion before being slammed with the full crushing weight of the Trachadon. The whole arena quaked at the force of the impact and Rhostus was forced into the sand. Thunderous snaps and cracks were heard from all around as the two collided, the sound of breaking bones and cracking shells. The sand and dirt kicked up in a wild cloud of dust that washed over Loque and blew through the arena's entrance.

Once the dust cloud cleared some, Fridgar rolled off his side and stumbled; there were two giant red blades protruding from his sides, but in comparison to his mass, they were just daggers. "I yield." Rhostus' voice sounded from the dust. It was an echo, much like Fridgar used to communicate whenever he was in animal form. As the dust cleared, Rhostus' form rose from a deep imprint in the sand. His legs were shaky and cracked, barely capable of holding up his weight anymore. He was missing three of his red blades and he bled from his hull in parts. "Loque, fetch my purse." Fridgar instructed, his voice an echo. He took a few shaky steps toward the Kingfisher; his own joints and bones probably weren't doing great after an impact like that, but he was the one who was still walking, he was the victor. He laid down beside the old crab and offered him the chance to lean his weight on the trachadon. Rhostus took the offer and all but dropped his weight against the Trachadon's broken natural armor. "Just hold on, there are some Harthyte wells in my purse." Fridgar's voice sounded while he supported the crab.

"...Thank fek for that."

[Loque]

So much blood and violence. Loque stood petrified against the wall, nearly unable to blink as they watch the battle rage on. To think, Loque had been against someone with such power-- even served one the same. Were these truly the monsters from the home of the Lotharro? Such massive, violent beasts put the dangers of the swamps to shame... The master seemed in shock when the bear had been wounded, it made some sense to Loque-- as he had said prior; they live through him, thus they were still alive in that respect.

The shifting from hand to maw... disappearing from one side of the arena to the other-- it was becoming all too much for the poor lizard to keep up with. Then just as the battle seemed to reach a stall-- the monster covered in tusks and spikes disappear-- reforming in place of the master and crashing down on the giant crab-beast. The impact was enough to make Loque falter and find themselves kicking at the dirt trying to clamber up the wall to no avail. Shielding their eyes with an arm, daring to glance beyond as the dust settle. Both of them were broken, shattered beasts. The master somehow still able to move.

Fridgar's voice snap Loque from their paralysis, The bag! Right! Scrambling to their feet Loque snatch up the bag that had been left, carefully dodging any shattered fragments of the crustacean's shell or even cracks in the ground as they rush to the master's side. Holding it up and open for him, unsure if he would dare shift back in such a state. A twitch of the tail-- Loque glance to either side where the totems had been, in their eyes, previously carelessly tossed. One task at a time, first the two giants would need to heal...