It was just a little thing, but Alia of the Knife could not help but feel a certain amount of pride when Ignis’s eyes found her. He was talking of talent despite outward appearance, and it was nice to have someone away from Oriens finally realize that. Looking as small as she did was really an advantage in a fight, after all. Her opponents almost always underestimated her.

It was, for this reason, Alia felt for her new friend in the face of the big warrior’s arrogance, but she could not agree with Kailea. Alia most certainly feared death in battle; she had seen too many die, some even to her own blades, to forget just how easily one could be removed from this life, and the little knife fighter didn’t think much of talk about an afterlife. No, Alia did not have much, but she did have her life and she would not be so quick to lay it down. The woman was determined not only to make it out of this filthy rich but also with her body completely intact.

It would help that she was already quite fast and good at disappearing, but Alia swore then she’d be even faster every fight if she had to. Anything to make it out alive.

So caught up was she in her own thoughts, Alia missed the pyromancer asking to leave, but she did hear Ignis finally speak up again.

The noble nodded. "You may take your leave, yes. However, you must reconvene with us at the Arena in town by sundown. Entrants must make themselves known before tomorrow, and I would rather not be wandering the streets in the darkness."

Alia took that as her cue to leave as well. There was really not too much point in waiting around here any longer, and it’d be nice to recharge some before meeting at the arena. Without further ado, the little woman turned towards the big gates marking the exit from the estate.

Endar watched the slight woman rise, and decided that it was better to dismiss all of the others too.

"Please, all of you, take the time to your own thoughts. It would be best to collect them before we present ourselves to the Tourney Masters. Lord Venen, Lord Krenos, Lord Sarmand, and Lady Fiora have been known to be harsh, but only to those who appear unsuited to the arena. So our first appearance may well affect the outcome of the tournament."

He paused. "And, this is not the only tournament I wish to enter. As is the norm for many teams, my intent is that we travel through the realms, following as many of the major events as possible. I cannot say it's usual for a team as unknown as this one to find success... but I am determined for it to happen."

Then, giving a sweeping bow, he turned and walked back into the manor.

---

Several minutes later, Endar was sitting in his study. He had his hands clasped in front of him, and he was whispering in a tongue as old as the gods themselves.

"Hon zey nu, Monah Ibis, Bormah Quill... Zu'u draal wah hei. Zu'u draal fah faal pruntaas se dii ahsod. Zu'u draal fah faal pruzah nahlii se dii joriin, ahrk dii junaar. Ahrk... genaz, zok se pah... nid trun fos korosse wah zey... dein dii briinah tirahk..."

"Brother?"

Endar started, before turning. "Oh, hello, Mari. What brings you here?"

The girl slipped into the room, closing the door behind her."I saw that you'd left the courtyard... does that mean we'll be going soon?"

Endar knelt down in front of her. "No, not yet, Mari. One more week, and then we'll be on our way. Now, don't forget, if we meet anybody, your name is Medea, okay?"

"Okay..." she murmured. "And you're sure I can't go watch when you go in the arena?"

"Yes, Mari. We've been over this. You aren't allowed to watch. You... you're not meant to, and I don't ever want you to be watching what happens in there. Do you understand me, Mari?"

Mari let her head droop. "Yes, Endar..."

Endar gave a small smile. "Thank you, Mari." Then, ruffling her hair, despite her squawks of protest, he stood. "Come on... we need to go start packing. For real this time."

Harper nodded his head along to Ignis’s speech, a slight flare of a nostril and a twitch at the corner of his lips as the noble wrapped things up. Protect their allies, really? Most gladiatorial pep talks that Harper was used to revolved around the ripping and tearing of guts and honoring the Mistress by giving her a bloody death. The lack of gory details was quite refreshing, actually, especially after having such a large lunch. The big guy with the shield made a mention about dying before there would be a chance of interpersonal problemss. Harper snorted. Everything would be gravy as long as the others listened to his “sage” advice and as long as—

"I disagree with the Tyren, Lord Ignis."

—something like this didn’t happen. Harper sunk into a chair as Shoeless began to bicker with Shielded, a wrinkle forming on his forehead as he stared at his plate. The most dangerous thing for any gladiator wasn’t a sword, a stave, or a sling; it was pride. The gig did require some levels of portrayed cockiness that undeniably had grown out of actual arrogance, and using it to indoctrinate the crowd to your side was second only to knowing how to hold a sword. Yet when it leaked out like a miasma outside of the arena it often did nothing but poison your fellow teammates. Locker room spats led to bar room brawls. Harper had seen it before.

Shit, Harper had lived it before.

“So much for dying before the interpersonal problems develop,” he muttered under his breath, watching the pyromancer try and not appear as if she was storming off. He imagined he saw smoke streaming off of her as she left, the other girl leaving soon after her new friend. Harper had to give it up to Ignis: the moment the women left the man put the kibosh on the festivities. Judging by how quickly the noble turned and left it wasn’t hard for Harper to imagine that he had partied with men from Tyren before. It was time to go before he got stuck in a drinking contest which he had no hope of winning, let alone surviving.

Still, there were two things he had to do before hitting the road. The first was to make a to-go plate, which he had already begun to meticulously build. The second was to try and nip the growing discontent between his teammates in the bud before it blossomed into something terrible and thorny. Like Ignis said, he had to protect his teammates.

“A friendly word of advice: the most unassuming looking gladiator is often the most dangerous,” said Harper, making eye contact with each Tyreni even though his words were directed more at shield-bearer. “And, speaking man to man, it’s never a smart idea to upset a lady, especially if there’s an extremely high chance that said lady knows even a morsel of magic." He held his fingers a centimeter apart for emphasis. "I’m not saying you need to apologize to her or anything, but...just food for thought,” said Harper, shrugging with a full loaf of bread that he was most definitely taking with him. He turned and slung his pack over his shoulder with a grunt, grabbed his plate, and waved the loaf in the air as he headed to the gate. “Ta!”

It wasn’t until he was a ways down the road, mouthful of bread, that Harper remembered he did not have a place to stay.

Destin didn't move an inch as the events around him unfolded, from the noble's speech to the fight between beauty and beast. The man was resolute and firm like an iron wall, listening to the chaos unfolding around him all while unblinkingly staring towards the royal seat on the far end of the courtyard. His eyes only shifted when Endar announced that everyone was allowed to leave, as long as they appear in the arena soon enough. Destin nodded firmly and tied up the sword he had with him again, fastening it to his back to ensure that the lump of metal did not get removed from his person. The man turned, intent on leaving. However, it seemed that the frail one still had something left to say. They could not make it any more obvious, with that theatrical way of movement they had.

“A friendly word of advice: the most unassuming looking gladiator is often the most dangerous,”

Destin snorted. One's danger is never to be assumed, it is to be felt. Was this tiny one trying to pass him off as the most skilled one in the room, being unassuming looking himself? Did he think himself better then the rest, feeling the need to share his wisdom? Foolish nonsense, but it wasn't Destin's place to comment, as this man would fight alongside him in the bloodsports to come. As they finished their little spiel, warning them to not get on the bad side of the ladies, the man left again with more theatrics. Destin could only hope his ability was as extensive as the range of gestures that man could make.

Destin looked to the table, seeing the two Tyreni who still remained. In particular, he glanced at the red-headed one who had been mostly quiet.

"Let us prove ourselves in the arena," was the only thing Destin said to the duo as he walked towards the gate himself. Aside from the lord himself, Destin will have been the only one to not have partaken in the refreshments. He nodded to the guards who escorted him through the mansion again, taking brief moments to admire the wealth on display. A man's home said much about themselves, and it seemed like lord Ignis liked to keep things modest, if rich. Modesty is an admirable trait, but as their leader he was still much too inexperienced. Then again, Destin too is inexperienced when it comes to being a gladiator...

Eventually the man found his way outside again, taking firm strides down the pathway back to town. A little bit aways, he passed by another cloaked figure. Destin assumed it to be the quiet woman from before, so he paid them no mind. After all, the first thing he would do was go to the tavern for an actual, hearty meal!

Had it not been for the fact her little performance had prompted several others to start streaming out of their employer's estates, Kailea might have skipped her way back into town. Her parents had taken the greatest of pains to ingrain how important first impressions were to so many people. And it really was dead easy to change people's opinions with a scowl and a little bit of a show. A bit of smoke wafting around her head, flickering embers from her fingers and tips of her hair, and a mildly heated argument were all the perfect props to make sure their entire party thought she was an ill-tempered hot-head.

It wasn't a perfect solution to her larger problem, but she hoped it would encourage some of the others to give her a wider berth. It was certainly the more preferable scenario to them learning how flimsy her control over her magics actually were. They'd worth with her, but hopefully wouldn't get so close that she might inadvertantly hurt one of them. Accidents were easier to hide if they thought she was simply angry, rather than a walking tinder bundle waiting to ignite. Kailea kept up the smoking charade a while longer, before she stopped for a moment to focus long enough to stem her smoldering flow of magic.

That was her biggest problem. Casting was the easiest thing in the world for her. Her magic wanted to burn. Shaping it took some effort, and the larger workings certainly demanded her full attention, but neither of those things tired her out like shutting off the flow. Setting fires was easy, almost natural; putting them out was hard. She'd learned that the hard way, she thought ruefully glancing at a red puckered scar on the back of one hand. She winced as she felt something roll within her, balking against the replaced restraints and threatened to bubble over like a boiling pot. She was too full, as Master Alwin would have put it. She'd been traveling, roaming the cities and staying far too busy to find the time, or a place, to burn off her magics. Part of her had hoped to have found a master that could have taught her better control... No, the Arena would suit her well enough for now.

For a moment, she entertained the idea of wandering out of town to find someplace secluded enough to cast off some of the extra magic, but she decided against it. Tomorrow, they'd be tried in the Arena, and no matter what that oaf of a Tyren thought would be their fate, she was determined to make sure to leave a lasting impression. That much of their conversation hadn't been fake, at least.

"Who does that though?" She said aloud to no one as she resumed walking back into town. Her conversation with Aleksander drifted back into her mind. "What kind of pessimist drags their entire team down before they've even made the attempt?"

She blew an errant lock of hair out of her face, wincing as she felt the air passing her lips scorch the tip of her nose. Kailea rubbed at the tender skin with a bit of a rueful smile. Maybe he did have a point, but then again, the Tyren talked as if he were some greying old warrior, instead of a man who couldn't have been terribly older than herself. She wouldn't lie to herself and say that part of her didn't hope to see some of that stuffy "old soldier" get knocked on his ass once or twice in front of a crowd, but she quickly cleared the thought away before any of the gods could hear it. It wouldn't do well to wish ill upon one of her own comrades, no matter how sullen. Her father had always been fond of saying "Pray for your rival's mount to break a leg in the dark, and your own will be lame come morning".

Kailea glanced at the sky wishing it wasn't quite so late in the day already. She'd been hoping there might be enough time for a drink, and perhaps to catch the eye of someone willing to make sure her last guaranteed night alive would at least be a memorable one. She might not agree with the Tyren, but that was no reason to not enjoy herself a little.

"I'll head for the Arena now. And once this is taken care of, I'll find myself some fun to pass the night." She promised herself, trotting into town with a renewed bounce in her step.

Slouching against a wall as the last of the gladiators left, the Guard Captain let out a small sigh of relief. The day of work would be over, soon. Lord Ignis would be leaving the manor later on, but their orders were to stay put. He didn't want a guard detail when he left for the arena.

"Captain..." one of the guards murmured. "Over there."

Open his eyes a sliver, the Captain looked down the path. Looking apprehensive with every step, a girl was walking up the road towards them. She'd wrapped a cloak around herself, and her eyes, however nervous, remained set on the gates.

"Ah..."

The girl nervously opened her mouth once she stood only a few steps from the guards, her hood covering part of her eyes from this close. She looked hesitantly at each of the six guards, swallowing the saliva in her mouth. Her lips trembled as she wanted to say something, the cloak being wrapped tighter as she spoke.

"Is... this where the Lord is taking audiences?" the girl asked apprehensively to the guard with the large, bushy moustache.

Standing up straighter, the captain narrowed his eyes at her. Why was she covering her face? "You're a little late, girl. If you haven't seen all the others leaving, then I'd best tell you that the audiences just ended."

The grip on her cloak tightened again as the female shrunk a little bit, biting on her lower lip. She took another few glances at the guards, the cloak moving a little as she was shifting her feet in place.

"I-Isn't there anything I can do? I just... I just n-need a little bit of his time..." the girl pleaded. Her voice was remarkably soft and the only reason it wasn't drowned out by other noise was because of the manor's location.

The captain was straining to hear her words, but caught enough of them to understand her meaning. "...Very well. Carnel! Farrel!"

Two of the younger-looking guards snapped to attention.

"Please escort this young lady to wherever the master of the house chooses. And make sure she doesn't cause any trouble. It will be on you if she does."

"Thank you so much!"

Unlike her previous tone, the girl was much louder and more at ease when she thanked the guard, even bowing a little to show her respect. A beaming smile was on her face as she briefly made eye-contact, but averted her gaze mere moments after she did. As she followed the two younger guards into the manor, the girl was still hesitant in her steps and struggled to follow their rather hurried and impatient pace.

The captain watched after the girl cautiously... she wasn't all that she seemed. In those few seconds where their eyes had met, he'd seen them. While the iris could be considered normal, the pupil was not. It was slitted, like a cat's. He knew what she was.

Eventually, after dragging their feet for a little while, the trio came into a grand hall. While not the size of a palace or castle, the manor still sported an impressive and imposing sight. While the silver and purple decorations made for a bit of a mismatch, the pillars reached all the way up to the ceiling. A few of them even had tapestries depicting various legends hanging from them, as is a popular subject for these sorts of things.

"Amazing..." the girl murmured to herself, her voice being carried a bit farther because of the size of the room. The guards kept an eye on her as she shifted in place, awaiting an audience with the Lord of this manor.

Endar stepped into the room silently, taking care not to alert this new guest. He wanted to observe her first. She was dressed demurely, from what he could see, and seemed to be much smaller than she actually was compared to the grand size of the room they were in. She wasn't carrying any weapons, from what he could tell, and her slight build made him wonder if she was an acrobat or a runner of some kind. Signalling to the two guardsmen, they left just as quickly as they'd come.

The girl was too in awe with the sight to notice Endar at first, her gaze scanning the entire room. It's only when she looked further into the room when she noticed another person had entered, flinching. Her body stiffened when her gaze landed on Endar's clothing, seeing the noble garb that he was wearing. She was frozen in place, even though it looked like she wanted to take a step forward.

"Ah... Uhm..." the girl muttered, her voice not loud enough to carry far enough into the room. Her face tightened as she took an apprehensive step forward.

"A-Are you the owner of this manor?" she asked, a little louder so that the nobleman could hear her.

"By inheritance, yes." Endar replied. "You wished to speak with me?"

The girl nodded, her pale face starting to redden a little. She swallowed again and took another hesitant step forward, and then another. It took a few moments, but she eventually stood only a little bit from Endar. They still gave him some distance, but part of that might have been due to her own reluctance.

"U-Uhm... y-you have gladiators, right? But, uh..." the girl started, but a cat got her tongue soon enough. She looked like she wanted to ask something, but couldn't look Endar in the eye while she did. All the girl was doing was staring at his chest, fearing to make eye-contact. After taking a deep breath, relieved that Endar was patient enough to not speak up while she was collecting herself, she spoke again.

"M-Medicine... I make medicine... D-do you need a... doctor?" she asked, shifting the topic away from the gladiators slightly.

Endar paused. A doctor? He... hadn't thought of that. But, then again... "My understanding of the runes around the arena is that they preserve the physical state of any who pass through them. Do you know of some reason that this might not be sufficient?"

The girl's figure shrunk, her breathing becoming a little more irregular.

"B-but... what if the wound isn't worth healing? Or... or they exhaust themselves e-extensively... a-and infections! Uhn..."

She sounded a little desperate as she tried to come up with reasons for him needing her skills, falling silent again. Then, as if a bolt of lightning struck the girl, she straightened up again. Her lips stood stiff as she managed to look at Endar's face, but not quite his eyes.

"Out of the arena! What if they get hurt? I-I could treat them, a-and..."

It was a bit of an outburst and the girl seemed to realise this. She fell silent again in embarrassment, the reddening of her cheeks accelerating.

"I'm sorry!" she apologised, performing a brief bow out of fear.

"Peace, friend." Endar said gently. "Your words make sense, and no apology is necessary. It is true that I don't have much experience in the Arena - they may well decide that a wound that one of us sustained is unneeding of treatment. And true, the runes cannot hold a memory of our physical health for so long that they can heal us at a whim when we come across accidents or the like."

A wave of relief washed over the girl at Endar's words, her mouth slightly agape, but curved upwards. But the noble didn't seem done just yet.

He stepped a little closer, his eyebrows meeting in concern. "Are you all right? You seem unsettled."

The girl froze up again. Endar was close enough to see a tuft of violet hair sticking out from beneath the hood, something only able to be gotten from dyeing it. She nodded in response to his question.

"I-I'm just not used to this. Everyone else... didn't need me at all... so I'm still a little nervous." she hiccupped, her voice a little louder and more at ease.

"D-Does this mean, you'll uhm... that you need me? I won't be a burden, I promise!"

Endar took a deep breath, and then nodded. "Your assistance would be welcome, I cannot deny. However, I am more concerned about the toll it might take on you, and everyone else in my team, to be travelling so much."

The girl straightened up and her mouth widened in both awe and joy. The amazement turned into a smile as the girl suddenly leapt forward and wrapped her arms around the Lord, completely taking him by surprise. The sudden shift in momentum caused her hood to fall off and land neatly on her shoulders.

"Thank you so much, Lord Endar!" the girl excitedly blurted out as she hugged him, but the hug lasted for only a brief second. The girl realised what she did and took a step back, her dilated, azure eyes meeting Endar's. The cloak was completely parted, revealing two huge, earthy brown wings sticking out from the girl's back.

"U-Uhm... this is..."

Endar stood stock still. The girl who stood before him had transformed from a human, to a harpy, previously concealed by her cloak. And, more shocking than that, she knew his name. Without even thinking, he took several steps back, hand flying to his sword.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The girl flinched as Endar backed off, shrinking down again with her wings wrapping themselves protectively around the harpy.

"Y-Yasu..." she meekly replied, the previous excitement suddenly drained from her.

His grip on the rapier's hilt tightened. "And where do you hail from?"

"E-Eh? Arlen... I come from Arlen..." she replied again without missing a beat.

Searching his memory for anything on harpies and their loyalties, he spoke again. "Your clan. Name your clan."

"H-Hideko... L-Lord Endar, you're scaring me...!"

Endar flinched. "...Now tell me... who told you my name?"

"Harpy!"

Both of them turned to face the doors that Endar had entered through earlier. There, looking half ecstatic with joy, was Mari. She stood there for a moment, and then ran towards Yasu. And, similar to how not that long ago Yasu had hugged Endar, Mari now threw her arms around Yasu.

Yasu looked shocked for a brief moment as Mari embraced her, but then relaxed soon after. She carefully patted the small girl's head, then looked up to Endar while blushing.

"S-She did... she told me you owned the manor..." Yasu meekly replied before looking back down to Mari. A soft smile returned on her face as she looked at the young, excitable girl.

Though still tense, Endar released his hold on his weapon. "Mari, come here." he said softly.

Looking confused, Mari stopped hugging Yasu, and slowly walked up to Endar. Then, Endar looked to Yasu again.

"I'm not sure when you met my sister. But I know that it must have been inside these walls. And, today, I am not going to ask where. But before we go any further with our agreements, there is something that I must establish."

Yasu looked pretty embarrassed when Endar mentioned her meeting with the small child, but him stating something needed to be established made her flinch again. Yasu's mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario, with her wings lowering and her eyelids drooping.

"It's about me being a harpy, isn't it?" she replied, dejected.

Seeing the girl look down at the floor instead of just trying to avert her gaze as she had earlier, her voice heavy with the expectation that he would reject her solely based on her species... it was all Endar could do to stay calm instead of asking her where these thoughts came from.

He'd accepted several people today regardless of what they'd told him about their history or their appearances. Just because this girl wasn't human didn't make any difference.

"No." he said. "Your race doesn't matter to me. Human, harpy or ogre, I'll treat them just the same. The topic I need to address is... our names." He looked back down at Mari. "What do you know about Queen Liara?"

Yasu perked up at the mention of her race not mattering, looking shocked as she stared back at Endar. It took a few moments to process what he'd said afterwards as the question didn't immediately register. The harpy snapped back into reality once she realised what he'd asked, rubbing her left elbow with her hand.

"Queen... Liara?" she repeated after Endar, seriously thinking over the name. The girl's posture implied she wasn't too sure herself, shuffling with her feet as she thought of an answer.

"She... was the previous ruler... I think. And I-I think, uhm... I've heard stories she didn't mind other races. Uuuhn... I'm sorry, I haven't heard much at all about her..."

Endar, though still doubtful, heard truth in her voice, so shook his head to her apology. "Understandable. She's... been gone a long time. And despite popular belief, she was not the last of her line." Again, he looked down at Mari. "Liara's daughter is still alive. Which is why we cannot give the world our real names. Ignis and Medea Doman are, after all, a far cry from Endar and Mari Drayen.

"So, if you do want to join us, then you have to swear upon your wings that this stays between the three of us."
Yasu looked around the room, seeing that the guards who escorted her here had long since left already. She looked flustered and confused, but still met Endar's eyes. Her face wasn't exactly resolute and had a hint of fear showing on it, but the girl still managed a nod.

"A-Alright... I swear, Lord En- err, Ignis..."

Endar nodded. Whoever this girl was, whether she was telling the truth or not, she knew their identities. And in order to make sure nobody else might learn of them... he'd just need to keep her close.

Endar glanced towards the officials, before looking once more to the wide archway that marked the Gladiator's Entrance of the arena. He had arrived here early, with Yasu, in order to receive his team. She'd wandered off somewhere, or perhaps he'd wandered off back here. Either way, he was standing there alone.

It was almost time for this team to officially become Gladiators...

Kailea Arydunseyr

One thing the desert lacked was the sheer amount of activity from it’s people. Sure the bigger cities were busy places, but even in this small costal town, the normal, every day hustle and bustle felt like a festival to Kailea. She thought the closer the sun drew to the horizon that people might begin to tire, but if anything, the streets felt even more packed than they had during her earlier foray through the streets.

The closer she drew to the Arena, the denser the people became. It seemed that everyone was trying their best to get their first glimpse of the souls daring to set foot on the blood-stained grit of the Arena, and the start of the fights was cause enough for the drink to flow freely. She could hear the sounds of instruments, some familiar, some foreign rising above the general din of the crowd as she let the push of bodies carry her along. Kailea couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer number of people clamoring around her, some crowding around rickety carts loaded down with hot, steaming food that tickled her nose with their delicate aromas, others around the performers that managed to find enough cleared space in the crush of bodies to put on their act for those gathered around.

One shouted poetry at such volume, Kailea wondered if he’d still be able to speak by the time the sun made its next appearance in the sky. Another looked to be some manner of acting troupe, though she was too far back in the press of bodies to make out what it was they were doing. Whatever it was had the crowd rolling with laughter, and Kailea found she was more than a little disappointed to not be in on the joke. No matter where she looked though, she saw the telltale signs of the betting rings where they’d set up shop and were already starting to put odds on fighters no one had so much as laid eyes on yet. She wrinkled her nose distastefully at the sight and wished she could put a little more distance between the gamblers and herself.

Not that she wasn’t a little curious. The men that ran those parlors and stands lived and died off the rumors and whispers of who would be gracing the Arena with their presence for the spectacle of all. She couldn’t help if word of their own little team had reached the flowing stream of rumors yet, and if so, what they thought the odds of their victory might be. She very nearly turned to join one of their group, before Aleksandar’s gruff voice in her mind dissuaded her. No. It wouldn’t do any good for her to know, and there was no use fretting over who their opponents could and couldn’t be. They’d take them or lose to them, and all the better if Lord Ignis’ ragtag group could ruin a few bets.

The thought of a noble or two out some of their coin on what should have been a sure bet put a smile to Kailea’s face as she followed the crowd closer to the Arena’s gates. Her own coin purse was nearly empty, but she paid out a few coppers for a pasty with chunks of tough meat she couldn’t identify, but was wonderfully spiced. Another went into the bowl of a maiden who looked as if she’d planted wildflowers into her very scalp she had so many woven into her locks. Her voice was sweet and high, and though she sang in a tongue Kailea had never heard, the sound was far too pleasant to listen to without showing her appreciation.

It wasn’t until she was nearly to the gladiator’s own gates that she spotted something that made her head swivel sharply on her neck. The great orange plume that rose above the heads of the gathered people would have been difficult to miss in a crowd twice the size. The rhythmic sound of the drums traveled through the ground and into her very bones from the soles of her feet, while the high trill of pipes rose as high as the jet of flame.

These were songs of the desert.

Kailea edged her way through the crowd vying for a place to watch the troupe perform, until she managed to squeeze her way to the front. If it was possible, the women of the group wore even less clothing than Kailea did, though their outfits were decorated with polished discs of metal that tinkled musically with every sway of their hips. Their bronzed skin was decorated in dizzying patterns of ink that seemed to move of their own accord as their bearers swayed in perfect time to the music. But their movements could no more be called a dance than a sand devil could be called a light breeze. If the performers were not busy with the instruments, they swirled a length of rope in each hand while a dense ball on the ends burned brightly.

Kailea’s eyes filled will joy at the sight of the fire spinners. She’d had no notion that she’d find a taste of home so far from the shifting sands of the desert. If it wasn’t a sign from the gods sent to ease her nervous heart, then she didn’t know what was. It took only a few heartbeats before she found herself swaying along with the familiar sounds of home and transfixed by the whirling patterns of fire the troupe wove in the air about them. It was a dance they knew well, as they wove between one another, the ropes twisting like snakes and sliding past just as easily. Her own magic sang out for the flames passing so tantalizingly close, even while her heart ached for the piece of her homelands. She didn’t want to watch.

“Sand-sister!” Kailea cried out to the dancer nearest her when she could stand it no longer, holding out an open palm with a grin stretched from one ear to another, “Must you be so greedy to keep the fun all to yourself?!”

“What’s this!” The darker skinned woman cocked an eyebrow while a white smile stood in stark contrast against her lips, “Another fleck of sand blown off the dunes?!”

Never once did the woman break that hypnotic rhythm, as her eyes darted to Kailea, looking her over head to foot in a wordless appraisal, before the young mage found the rope dart sailing through the air toward her. The crowd around Kailea visibly flinched, but she knew these steps, done so often that the dunes would forever bear the marks her feet left in the sands. The only difference was the ropes had been braided with bright ribbons to trail in the air, and were certainly not on fire.

Kaileas caught the rope and stepped free from the people around her as she brought it around to finish the sweeping motion the dance called for, finishing with a rolling flourish that brought the burning ball an inch from her face and blew. A jet of fire leapt from her lips and into the air over the heads of the people watching. Only a little magic, she promised herself. Nothing grand, just enough to have a bit of fun with.

She caught the raised eyebrow of the dancer who’d tossed the rope, but rather than backing away, her feet carried her in closer in the pattern meant for a dance of two, not one. If she wasn’t going to complain, Kailea wasn’t going to pass up the chance to join in. She tossed the woman the long end of the rope, connecting the two of them by the length of strong hempen cord, before twisting herself enough to bring the burning ball swinging around her body and toward her new dance partner.

The other dancers around them shifted to make room for the two as they passed around one another, all the while spinning the flames faster and faster about them. Kailea could hear her heart drumming in time with the musicians somewhere behind her, but if she thought too long about it she would misstep and break the spell spinning between them. It was easy to think she was home, or in Ashar, celebrating the Sultan or the eve of an eclipse, and for all the drumming of her heart, she was more relaxed than she’d been in moons.

Kailea almost missed the final few beats of the music, lost in herself and the weaving fire, before skidding to a clumsy stop, unlike the cat-like grace of her partner and her companions. The crowd had certainly enjoyed it, if the cheers and coins tossed to the dirt were any indication.

“It’s been a while since anyone’s played out the Meteor’s Game with me, sand-sister. Had it not been for the ash on your clothes already, I would have thought you touched in the head.” The dancer quenched the flame at the end of the rope dart. “I ought to say thanks since we’ll eat well after that performance.”

“I should be the one to thank you,” Kailea bowed slightly, trying to breathe as hard as her lungs wanted her to, “I wanted a bit of fun tonight, and that was more than I’d hoped for.”

“Well share your mood with that one there!” The dancer laughed, pointing toward the gate where a man stood away from the crowd on his own, “He’s the only one nearabouts not enjoying himself, and it’s all I can do to keep my own girls from trying to fix that! A sour mood makes it hard to follow the drums!”

Kailea followed the woman’s finger to the man in question, and had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing outright. Yes, the gods were certainly meddling tonight. Fading light or no, there was no mistaking that man with him still so fresh in her memory. It took a little work to slide back through the crowd, and make her way to where he was standing.

”Even the mongrels in the trash look to be having more fun than you, my lord.” Kailea smirked, glancing around to confirm her employer was truly alone, before following his gaze to where the mediators of the Arena waited. She shook her head to hide the roll of her eyes, and tugged at the sleeve of his tunic, to try and pull him toward the dancers again, “You’ll worry yourself grey waiting for the rest and what will come, and you’re much to handsome to do that just yet. Come on! I don’t see your nursemaid about, so why not have some fun before the others arrive? You look as if it would do you some good!”

The rest of Harper’s day was the largest test of self-restraint with which he had ever dealt. His new team’s owner had made it clear that he would not tolerate any underhanded business, and Harper had extended that from fixing games down to even playing games. The market that he was now walking through, forced to be nothing more than a window shopper unless he began pawning off his equipment, was pulling him every which way. Here were some woven scarves from Tyren, there were some necklaces from Ashar. Any discerning eye could see that they were likely counterfeit, cheap knock-offs given exoticism to bump up the price, but even with that thought in mind Harper still coveted them.

However, he was broke. They was nothing worse than being broke, forced to watch the roasted kebabs with the forlong look of a distant lover or simmer with jealousy at the large man going for his third, his third, turkey leg. It was so unfair. Even worse, still, was the implicit knowledge that in such a crowd one could easily find a group of unsavory looking characters huddled over a pair of dice rolling for a few extra coin and that Harper, now an upstanding member of a gladiator team, could no longer rub shoulders with them. He could only huddle up next to them now, peering sideways at their game while watching and waiting to see if anyone pulled a knife. He sighed and moved away as a man rolled a seven to the cheers and jeers of his peers, fearful that the temptation to join in would be too much for him to handle if he remained.

He had questions to ask Ignis. He had them early, actually, but knew that it was uncouth to bring up the issue of money (especially around those who clearly had it). How were they to be paid? How often? Were they only to be granted payment upon a victory, or would this be a salary situation? Was the prize pool being split evenly between everyone on the team, or would Ignis be taking a bigger cut for himself and then dividing the rest amongst the others? Would it be too much to ask for an advance on the first paycheck? And would it be considered a violation of their agreement if Harper were to spread rumors that their team was absolute trash to increase the odds when it came to betting for his own team to help supplement his income? He felt that they were all good questions as he neared the arena, bumping up and worming his way through the crowd until they began to thin out as he neared the gladiator’s entrance.

Yet before he stepped out of the crowd he hesitated. The last few times he had gone to an arena had been, at best, disastrous, and if seeing Angus was any hint of things to come Harper was certain that there may be other gladiators that would recognize him. He shifted uncomfortably at the embarrassing thought of being chased out of the arena in front of his new compatriots. After all, they would have no reason to back him up, as the last thing any new team needed was unwanted attention and the ire of their fellow gladiators. Harper grimaced and closed his eyes. He normally wasn’t the praying type, but now he felt as if he had to reach out to the Mistress and strike a sort of deal: keep me from being beaten to death now, and once I’m back in the arena I’ll take all sorts of falls for you. And, as the crowd faded away, he heard nothing in response. Still better than a no, he supposed.

The crowd faded back in, and then he heard an eruption of cheers and gasps as the corner of his eyes caught a puff of fire. Harper looked back over to the lone Ignis and then back to the crowd that had circled around the flame and drums and pipes. Well, as long as he wasn’t the last one there he wouldn’t be seen as unreliable, he justified to himself as he slid his way into the thick of the crowd. Ashar dancers moved to and fro, spinning and twisting while they swung around slings of fire to the beat of the music. It was much different than the traditional dances held in Noctis, which were slow and somber, and Harper almost found himself nodding along to the rhythm before he noticed the source of the flame cloud. Kailea, wasn’t it? One argument with a teammate and already she had found another gig, it seemed.

Harper stifled an outburst of laughter as she clumsily wrapped up her otherwise fine dance before applauding with the rest of the crowd. He had to give the woman credited, she was not one for shyness. He could see her faring well in the arena when it came to warming up the crowd—he smirked at his little accidental pun and pocketed it away for later—as long as her magic went beyond parlor tricks that impressed simple townsfolk. Mages were always a fans favorite, and a smart team knew to build their composition around setting them up so they could deliver an explosive finale. Swords and bows were nice, but immolating a minotaur with a single flick of the wrist would always win out.

She was leaving, and it looked as if she was heading towards Ignis. Good, that little spat earlier had not dissuaded her after all. He tried to fight his way through the crowd to catch up to her, but soon gave into the ebb and flow and let himself be eased out towards the other side. By the time he had finally broken free and made it over to her she was talking to Ignis.

"...Come on! I don’t see your nursemaid about, so why not have some fun before the others arrive? You look as if it would do you some good!”

“You might consider taking her up on that, milord. I can stand around and look pensive while waiting for the others in your stead,” said Harper, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Endar looked to the mage. Her face was a little flushed from her dancing. And then to the man, the ex-gladiator. He seemed... sullen, somehow.

"...Come on! I don’t see your nursemaid about, so why not have some fun before the others arrive? You look as if it would do you some good!”

“You might consider taking her up on that, milord. I can stand around and look pensive while waiting for the others in your stead,”

"I... ah, as much as I appreciate your offer, Ashley, and your advice, Kailea... I do not believe it would be sensible for me to carouse in the crowd. You are free to do as you wish, but as long as the mediators are watching, I must conduct myself in such a manner that befits a sponsor and a noble."

He was going to continue, but something caught his attention. Some way down the street, people were moving to the sides, backing away from something he couldn't quite see. Stepping forwards, he craned his neck upwards - before stepping back in shock as the crowd parted fully.

Approaching the arena with their head held high was a creature, a Beast, with the torso of a man, but the colouring, the head, and tail of a serpent of the Sands. Dark blue in colour, almost similar to the night sky, it was swaying gracefully with each 'step' it took. Endar found himself stepping away, in a mixture of awe and fear, knowing that the sight before his eyes was a Naga.

A bone flew through the air, and struck the Naga on the back of its hood, on its false eye. The crowd became quieter than it had been even after the sight of the Beast, so far from home, who turned momentarily to look at where the bone had rolled.

It had come to rest at the feet of a young man, who was looking at the Naga with a sneer. And, but for a pair of scars marring his face, one across his eye, the other at a diagonal across his nose, he might have been handsome. But the look of contempt on his face was the far greater mar.

"Where d'you think you're goin', scaleback? That's the gladiator's arena."


The Gladiators have formed their team, and now they must fight. Will this unconventional team form bonds strong enough to keep them together?
The Tournament of Risha begins tomorrow… and the aim is to compete in the largest tournament of all Oriens.

Elongated shadows were cast everywhere as Destin made his way back to town, the quiet of the morning heavily contrasting the current booming activity. Streets were crowded and there was hustle and bustle everywhere as people went about their daily activities, from working to shopping to begging. It wasn't uncommon for a beggar or two to come up to Destin as he attempted to return to the tavern he originally started the day in, but one fierce look was enough to scare off everyone but the most desperate from his presence. While the man didn't look particularly wealthy, an adventurer needed a good stock of coin at all times to survive. Still, he fairly effortlessly waded through the crowd, finally reaching his destination after some mild inconveniences.

The tavern was about as lively as the outside, if not more. Now that all the drunkards had woken up and with the tournament tomorrow, some of the wealthier addicts decided to spend away the night drinking, only slightly more than they usually would. Some of the men and women tried to rope Destin into their drinking games, no doubt to scam him into buying them free drinks. Unfortunately for them, Destin had no time for alcohol as his mind needed to stay clear for a little while longer. After all, he needed to reconvene at the arena with lord Ignis. As for what he came to do in the tavern...

"Two meals."

Destin had walked up to the counter, leaned over and spoken without missing a beat. He even held up his two fingers briefly, looking the owner in the eyes. Said owner was a man as muscular as Destin, browned and cleaning out one of the tankards with a wet cloth. They nodded once, yelling the order into a nearby room with a deep and gruffy voice. Then the owner pointed to one of the tables where some drunkards just got up and left with the local help cleaning up their mess. Destin went over and took a seat, once again ignoring the laughter and cries of some of the other men in this tavern. Not too long after his order was placed, Destin received two plates filled with various fish as well as two loaves of stale bread. He tossed the coin to the local tavern wench as payment, then dug into his food. The fish were as salty as the waters they came from and the bread was unappetizing, but the man wasn't looking for a tasty meal. He simply needed some sustenance to feed himself with, with the tavern being the easiest way to get that.

Perhaps it was because of them being too busy causing a ruckus, but the local drunkards did not seem to be so interested in Destin now that he was eating. In fact, all the attention went to two blubbernaughts who decided to start arm wrestling, sweat pouring down from their reddened faces. Neither of them was willing to give an inch, but both of them looked like they couldn't even lift a sack of grains. It made for an amusing sight, but eventually one won out over the other, the crowd erupting into cheers and jeers for winner and loser. The man who won seemed to take notice of Destin's staring, a smug grin forming on their face. Destin remained unamused as the gravitationally challenged behemoth decided to sit at his own table, with his little squad of hecklers following suit.

"Ahn wha weh you lookin' at?"

Destin didn't bother to reply as he tossed the last piece of stale bread into his own mouth, getting up and ready to leave. Jeers came from the crowd and the gluttonus maximus that took a seat stood up alongside Destin, face even redder than what it was in the little pole measuring competition from earlier.

"Ah askd yu ah question!"

Once again Destin ignored this man as he turned and decided to walk through the door, only coming to a halt when he felt a chubby hand grab his shoulder.

"Ah yu lookin' fer a fight?!" the humongous tomato behind Destin asked.

"Yes. In the arena."

Destin's reply sent the crowd roaring with laughter, and the only reason he wasn't hit with a flabby punch is because one of the other drunks decided to sober up a little and urge their 'friend' to let it go, leaving the little arm-wrestling champion to go back to his table and chug down the rest of his ale, Destin leaving amidst the confusion. He wasn't going to get into a tavern brawl, he had better things to do with his time. He continued further into town towards the only part of it that people truly cared about that day, and the day after: The arena.

What awaited him, however, was not the sight he was expecting. His companion in arms was dancing among some Ashar dancer who was showing off a little too much skin for his taste. The dance itself did not interest Destin much as it was nearing conclusion anyway, but he had to wonder if it was a wise idea for the little mage to be freely showing off her magic like that. After all, this was the time that gladiators came to register for the tournament. She could be giving away her role before the fight even began. Then there was another familiar figure Destin noticed. The roguish lad from earlier, the one who's tongue contained so much silver you could sell it as jewelry. He looked to be enjoying the show, leaving the veteran warrior to wonder if these new companions of his were taking their new team less seriously than they should.

Destin decided to watch the dance through to the end anyway, just so he could keep an eye on Harper and Kailea. They approached lord Ignis as soon as the dance was over, with the boy clearly trying his best not to blush. The older man was about to approach the trio as well when something seemed to catch Endar's eye, enough to make him recoil and step back. Destin decided to follow their gaze and found out that it was because of a Beast, a naga to be precise, which did not look amused at all. Then again, the man who stood behind the naga looked even less amused- they stared at this creature as if it had insulted their mother. Considering the comment echoing in the silence afterwards, that guess might not be so far off.

This looked to be another amusing sight.

---

After her encounter with Endar, Yasu was allowed to rest up a little. She'd been advised to stay in the hall as the lord was about to depart soon anyway, so she did. She didn't put on her cloak again while she was there- she didn't have anything left to hide after all. She wandered around and observed the decorations- in particular, the tapestry. It was wonderfully woven and looked incredibly soft, even if it was only meant to hang from a wall. They each tried to depict one scene of something- the people's legends most likely. However, none of these tales seemed familiar to the harpy girl. They all showed creatures she'd never seen before- scaly like a lizard but larger than an ancient tree. They spewed fire and were coloured everything from green to black. These creatures fought against humans, or at least it looked like they were fighting. Knights wearing helmets that covered their faces rushed at them with all sorts of armaments, but the next tapestry over showed that they all failed to slay the creature. A mountain of bodies piled up, with only a single unhelmed knight rising from the dirt.

This knight was shown again in the next tapestry, drinking from a golden cup which was located on some kind of altar. The walls around it looked like what Yasu imagined to be the interior of a building in Ashar. As he drank, the altar had moved revealing a staircase downwards, leading into a room with a glowing sword stuck into a rock. On the final tapestry, this man was now wielding the sword and stood on a hill facing three of the beasts from earlier, an army rallied behind him with their banners held high. The unhelmed knight was pointing his sword towards the creatures and had an open mouth, looking like he was rallying for battle. Unfortunately, since this was the final piece, Yasu could not see the outcome of this encounter. She wondered if this was how the story ended, or if lord Endar had simply forgotten to commission the final piece...

Not that Yasu was given the chance to think for much longer. Endar had called to her soon after she finished looking at the story, asking her if she was ready to head out. The girl quickly covered herself in her cloak again before heading out, making sure to stick close to Endar as they were on the way to town. At some point, however, she'd lost track of him and gotten separated, leaving the frail girl to wander town on her own. She hadn't actually entered town yet, the streets being unfamiliar to her. She was too afraid to ask anyone for directions, but a bit of common sense helped deduce that the crowd would get larger when she got closer. So, deciding to follow the people, Yasu made her way to the arena.

When she did arrive, she was met with a rather... ugly sight. The crowd that had parted for the passing beast contained the harpy girl, her eyes trailing the naga who passed her by. Because Yasu was hidden inside of her cloak, she'd hoped that they wouldn't have noticed her. Yasu had never seen a naga before, but she had heard tales about them. Tales of their venom, tales of how they liked to hunt harpies. How they were more monster than people. That not only their appearance was that of a snake's- their personalities were too. It scared the girl- it scared her to think that if she revealed herself to this creature that it would gobble her up. So, she shrank inside the crowd, moreso than anyone else. Her heart sank when a man walked outside of the crowd and decided to toss a bone at the creature's head. Yasu quickly pulled her hood on tighter, getting her some odd looks from the people around her. Nobody dared to speak a word though.

She didn't want a fight to break out here, not now. She just wanted to be able to run to Endar, hide behind him. He was the only person she knew, but the naga was between her and him. Not only that, but if she accidentally gave away her heritage, this man might try to attack her too. He was a scary person- he probably wouldn't think twice to beat up a frail harpy like herself...

The humid coasts of Risha were a far cry from the arid sands of Ashar, but its crowded streets and bustling people were at least reminiscent of the great oasis cities which pumped trade through the desert like the hearts of a great creature. True, the buildings were different and everyone seemed so oddly dressed, but a desert traveler could almost feel at home in the busy atmosphere.

Unless, of course, that traveler happened to be a naga.

Yes, for a naga, things were different. Even within Ashar’s borders coming across one was a chance encounter; finding one near the coast was unheard of. The vast, vast majority of people in Risha would only perhaps have heard stories of naga, grossly warped, describing them as mere monsters. If one were old enough and lucky, they may have come across a black market naga skin at an outrageous price, left over from the days of the skin trade (or perhaps more recently, from rampant poaching). A Risha native would almost definitely never have laid eyes on a naga in the flesh, so imagine their shock to see one slithering down their narrow streets.

Reactions were largely negative, though differing in severity. Some chose to stare, mouths agape, in blatant shock and confusion. Others gathered up their children and hurried from its path; still others chose to glare or shout. These differing reactions, however, were all answered the same way: a dignified Beast passing by unshaken, unblinking eyes trained forward and head held high.

As luck would have it, the naga made it almost all the way from the sands of Ashar to Risha’s arena unmolested; though stereotyped and largely hated, the typical naga was a large and imposing creature, and few dared raise a hand against one or get in its way. Here and there was a pleasant surprise: a Jackal caravan offering food, a gruff ship captain open to bribes, a kind guard to grant access to Risha where it might otherwise be denied. Such things were welcome luxury, but any of the few naga travelling the realms knew not to expect them.

So, yes, almost all the way without an incident. Almost.

Now, with crowds parting and staring and rather tiring the naga of so much attention, there were barely a few yards left to get to the arena, and then its doors could close and the crowds would disappear behind its walls. But before the distance could be crossed, an errant bone flew from an errant hand and struck with decent aim on the false eye of the naga’s mostly folded hood. The hood only flared when threatened, and the traveler was careful to keep it folded civilly so as not to incite undue fear. However, reflex took hold of the hood when the bone struck it, and it spread about halfway open before control was regained and the Beast regained its composure. Looking down, it followed the bone as it rolled to the feet of the scarred man who presumably threw it. He threw out insult, but it was almost unheard. The rust-coloured slitted eyes remained on the bone for several seconds without reacting.

Was it anger building in the naga’s broad chest? Was there an internal battle to regain control over a hair trigger temper? As a matter of fact, no. The stillness of the naga’s form was due to a valiant effort to calm a pounding heart and steady the pace of quivering lungs. So ingrained was an ancestral fear of skin hunters and poachers that an unexpected strike could have sent the Beast into a defensive fury had so much effort not been put into remaining calm. Traveling in Ashar was stressful enough with poachers rampant; outside its borders, a naga was always on edge, wary of any who might be motivated to kill by the luxurious payoff should they manage to procure a fresh naga skin. A naga’s hood flares when threatened. This one had to make sure it didn’t seem that way.

Finally, slitted eyes met a scarred face as the naga raised its unblinking gaze to the perpetrator. The word, scaleback, didn’t bother the naga – it wasn’t kind, but certainly not the most creative slur out there. As for the rest of his remark, the Beast had little reply. Its hood shrank calmly back to its neck, and its back straightened once more, eyes forward. Nonchalantly, the naga readjusted the yellowed linen sack slung over its sand-polished shoulder and spared a glance back to the angry scarred man. Towering several inches above him, the naga had only a short, gruff reply.

“I am aware.”

Endar watched the serpent twist around.

“I am aware.” it said.

The man raised his chin. "I think your brain's sand-addled, scaleback. You're a long way from Ashar."

The naga did not react. In fact, its stillness was eerie - no movement of the eyes, no noticeable respiration. Like a predator planning its next move. After a moment, it simply repeated itself.

"I am aware."

The man took a step forwards. "This is Oriens. And that's my Arena, you got that? No Beasts are gonna be getting in and defiling it."

Endar's hand twitched. But, instead of reaching for his sword, he stepped forward. "How exactly is it your arena? Risha is among many towns that have hosted several Beast champions. And never has it once belonged to any man, but the people."

If the silence had been deafening before, then the quiet that followed would be akin to a raging thunder storm. All eyes were on the three. And slowly, the man's eyes turned from the naga to him. The naga turned its gaze as well.

"Well, lookee here. Lord Greenhorn, off his hill to play in the dirt with the commoners. You find some wash-ups yet?"

Endar fought off a scowl. "So you know of me. And as a matter of fact, I do indeed have a team. Seven, all skilled fighters ready to fight their way through their opponents. Now that you know that, why don't you leave?"

"Why should I? You even know who I am, rookie?"

"I know you're a bigot."

The man laughed. "Seriously? Everybody knows that they're dumb animals. But, since you're amusing, I'll grace you with my name. Artus Venen. You may know my father, Elan Venen? He's one of the Tournament Masters."

Endar's heart stopped beating for a moment... this man was the son of the Tournament Master's leader?

"The Artus Venen?!" Kailea stepped out from around Ignis, doing her best to look utterly starry-eyed as she danced toward the haughty fighter, "What god of luck have I pleased to be honored with such venerable men?!"

Kailea sauntered away from Ignis and the others, trying to look as if she'd stepped out of the crowd, rather than away from her companions. She made sure to put a little extra sway in her steps, making her hips swing just a little too far to be unintentional as she approached the fighter. Her eyes looked him over, even while she kept her gaze lowered in a guise of awe and subservience, even while the faint smile curling at the corners of her lips suggested she was anything but.

"I've only heard stories of your prowess in the Arena. Is it true the sands turn red under your feet?" She might have gagged if he wasn't at least something to look at if nothing else. "Why do you waste your breath on those who will be begging for your mercy before long? Surely you could spend your time better with someone who would... appreciate it?"

Kailea left the suggestion dangling at the end of her words, like a fisherman's lure.

Artus paused, before running his eyes over Kailea's body appreciatively. "It's the curse of the trade, sweetheart. But, we can always get better acquainted afterward... who knows, you might want to give me a reward after my victory."

Recognising Kailea's attempt to diffuse the situation, Endar tried to catch the naga's attention, gesturing towards the Arena doors.

The naga cast a sidelong glance at the man as it drew up to full height once more, head high as it had been for the entire trek from Ashar. How easily distractable men are, it mused.

Slitted eyes met scarred ones one last time. "Perhaps we shall be so fortunate as to meet again, on the sands of the arena." With that, it took its leave, the gathered crowd once again parting in its path.

Though the naga kept its eyes forward, it caught a gesture from the man (a lord apparently, whatever that meant) who spoke (presumably) in its defense. He gestured toward the arena doors. Having intended to go there anyway, the naga complied, and made its way over. No one else dared halt it this time.

Glancing around, Endar spotted Destin in the crowd. Kailea was... preoccupied, and Harper was at his side. That was three. He'd have to send somebody out to look for the others later.

"Well..." he murmured to himself, "We had best start preparing ourselves."

Casting a last look towards Kailea and Artus, he stepped inside the arena. The fizz of the runes let him know that his body was being preserved, in the event of death... but hopefully, it would not come to that.