Zevi had made his way to the tournament grounds and felt a sigh. While many would be participating zevi decided not to. Instead of fighting he would watch...especially those that had weapons that he himself had made at some point. Though no matter how unique very very few received the twisted blades he kept for himself. If he was going to fight he wasn't about to be kind about it.

Zevi glanced around himself and made his way to where he was intended to sit the metal in his hair glinting with head movements and the bands on his horns added to it. He was dressed to impress and along with it should he be forced to fight what he was wearing allowed for quick movements. Though if he had to impress he would rather do so with his skills at the forge then his fighting skills.

Zevi knew that some if not all of the men he arrived with would be participating and the most that meant to him was making sure his weapons did well in battle. He settled in and his eyes focused on the grounds now in front of him. Steel eyes giving him a strong silent look despite his more gem features. Hopefully he was not forced to interact with those gems in sheer clothing. He could fake it and fake it well but that did not mean he would enjoy it.

Amalia woke to pain. It seemed that was her whole world now. It was still dark outside but the first light of dawn could be seen blushing the sky. Amalia wrapped her blanket around her and went to stand at the small window, looking out at the few stars beginning to wink out. Much like the will of the more headstrong girls here would begin to fade out before disappearing altogether.
Putting weight on her heels made her wince, but it was at least bearable. She ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to make it presentable. Would it be too much to request something to comb her hair with? Probably. Best not to ask for anything. Better to wait until they felt like providing it.

The door was thrown open as rudely as the day before, but it was expected. Amalia followed the other women to the dining hall, biting her lip to keep from whimpering with every step.
Unlike the fruits and brightly colored offerings from the day before, now she only saw meats and other heavy foods of the Drakken. The smell of it made her sick to her stomach. She had never eaten meat before. Her father's land had been on the sea so fish had abounded, along with vegetables and some fruit traded with other nearby holdings. But meat? They had never had a need for it. What was she to do? She couldn't not eat. But she also didn't want to become ill.
One guard eyed her sharply as she hesitated over the meat. Not wanting to get into any more trouble Amalia put some on her plate along with bread. Most Gems were eating the meat without issue. Amalia's stomach lurched at the sight of the fatty juice dripping onto the plates. The smell was offputting as well, not enticing to her in the slightest.

Her eyes scanned the room and she spotted the girl from the day before, Lienna. Amalia felt terrible. She had been in so much pain the day before that she had not responded when Lienna tried to speak to her. It had been so rude and that was one thing Amalia never wanted to be.

Carefully making her way over, Amalia sat across from Lienna.
"Please forgive me. My pain distracted me yesterday and I fear I ignored you. I am so very sorry. It was unintentional, please believe me."

She looked around at the other Gems who were eating the meat and swallowed past her suddenly very dry throat. "Have you... ever eaten this?" she asked, then realized how strange the question must have sounded. "My home was by the sea. We ate fish and vegetables and sometimes fruit. I have never had meat before," she explained, poking at it with her fork. "Will this make me ill?"

After a few minutes talking with Lienna a hush fell over the room as the warden entered. Amalia paled, if such a thing was even possible with her fair skin. Her heels pained her too much to leap up quickly to kneel. What if she was punished again?
Panicked, Amalia leaned over the bench she sat upon with her face near the seat, praying it was enough to avoid angering the Drakken.
Her fears were unfounded. He barely acknowledged the women as he passed by. Amalia sat upright again, her hands shaking with a mixture of anxiety and relief. His announcement was a shock to say the least. A hot spring? And they were being allowed to enjoy it? To actually enjoy something?
Amalia looked at Lienna with fearful worry. What if it was a trick? A cruel joke to excite them only to dash their hopes? Another tactic to break down their spirits?

"What if they lie?" she whispered to Lienna, not wanting to be heard at any cost. "What if this is a veiled cruelty? Lienna," she said, reaching across to take the other woman's hand. "I am afraid. I do not want to be. I want to be strong as I was trained to be. My whole life my parents were preparing me for this, for the time I would be taken by the Drakken. But now that is has actually happened... I am so afraid."

Zakroti stepped through the door, Aymiria's hand in his own. The Blackguard flanked them on either side, shoving one drunken Drakken whelp out of the way to clear the path for them.

They entered and climbed the winding stairs to the upper level, breathing in the musk of the building. As they stepped out onto an balcony to look down upon the stag, they spread out and took up positions to prevent anyone coming too close.

Zakroti pulled out two chairs beside the table for himself and Aymiria and seated himself upon one, snapping his fingers and motioning to one of the two servants they had brought. The men came forth and placed a pitcher of water and two goblets down upon the table, pouring the pair a drink.

Zakroti took his goblet and drank from it lightly, watching the stage and listening to the Royals speech. He became vaguely aware of a Gemmenite girl, beautiful and lithe, approaching their number up one of the stair cases. He motioned silently for them to let her pass and stood, stepping out and turning to face her.

The girl approached them, brushing her black hair aside from her face and looking to him with doeish brown eyes. Her features were smooth and easy on the eyes. She was perhaps not a great beauty, but was beautiful all the same. Her face twisted into a smile, an empty one most likely as she spoke in a quiet and sweet voice. "Is there anything that I might so for you, my lord?"

"Your name?" Zakroti replied simply, turning his attention back to the centre stage and taking a sip of water from his goblet.

"Evey, my lord." The girl answered swiftly, doubtless having learnt not to keep a Drakken waiting on a response years ago. She took a step closer towards the short lord and continued. "Myself and the other girls are here to ensure you are not bored. Is there anything that I can provide? I can sing, dance, recite poetry, perhaps tend to-"

"I understand." Zakroti cut her off and glanced towards her, looking her up and down quickly and sizing her up. She was of average height, so slightly shorter than him- which made a welcome change in Drakka. She was something of a walking contradiction, dressed in a way to entice the male gaze but at the same time, she was careful not to carry herself in a manner that was overtly... Exciting. Wise of her, perhaps, to seek other methods to assuage the Drakken desires first.

"Then how might I be of service, my lord?" Evey replied, brushing her hair long hair aside and off her chest. He drew his eyes over her body slowly, examining her in a manner which he thought discreet. The jewelry and clothing had been used to explicitly draw attention to certain areas, and he could see enough through the fabric now her hair was out of the way to feel a slight tug of desire.

"Just the one for Duke Zakroti of the west? Not even two?" Zakroti said with a small smile and a cocked brow, toying with her a bit.

"I could fetch more of us if that would please you, if a different girl." Evey replied. She approached him a few places and her voice grew slightly more confident and more playful "Of course, while I am out there, I might be taken by another first. Then you'd have none."

"I'd have my bride." Zakroti said, his brow dropping. Not quite so discreet after all, then. He wished he could say he was disappointed, but a part of him- a certain part- was glad to see her make the offer.

"Yes, but then, you've 'had' her every night since you've taken her. You'll have someone new soon but- there's no reason you can't have some fresh air before that." She drew very close to him, leaning up a bit towards his face and places her hands on his shoulders. "It's a bit more private up here than down there. Who knows what we could get away with, hm?"

"Anything, I imagine..." Zakroti let his voice trail off. She smiled at him playfully and lowered her voice to a whisper

"So what do you imagine, lord Zakroti? I can make it happen." Evey pressed her body towards him slightly, and Zakroti felt his hands move to grasp her- involuntarily. His mind raced as he did, his graze trailing down her body- his mind found its way back to Aymiria all the same.

Miry. He knew he shouldn't. Especially not right in front of her. But... She had been less forthcoming recently, he supposed he now knew why but- why not? It was just one palace girl, it was hardly a great betrayal. He had urges to tend to. Miry had slept regularly with him, he had become used to it and felt somewhat tense now that he had been left hanging, as it were...

The walk from Zak’s manor had been a long one, but rather uneventful. Miry had settled on his arm for the entire journey, ogling all of the sights and sounds of the city, periodically babbling about some beautiful building or another that had attracted her attention. It was a lovely day, and much of it was about to be spent inside a stuffy fighting pit watching people brawl to the death. Theoretically, it wouldn’t be to the death, but it was Drakka – and the East, at that. Filthy barbarians. Gods knew the injuries that could be sustained.

She found her mental commentary to be quite amusing. Clearly Zak’s vague superiority complex was rubbing off on her. She stifled a giggle as the blackguard ushered them into the arena entryway, leading them up to a private viewing balcony up a flight of narrow stairs. As she took the seat Zak pulled out for her (legs dangling comically – she really did despise how awkward it was for her to use Drakkan furniture) she spent a long moment observing the setup of the arena below.

She was startled back into the present by the clinking of armor, and she half-turned in her seat to see the Blackguard moving to admit… a gem girl. Clad in the sheerest, finest muslin Miry had ever seen, even among those of the Gemmenite court. Bile rose in her throat and she pressed back into her seat, forcing her nausea down and looking away again, focusing blindly on the podium in the center of the arena. She took the goblet from the table with a trembling hand and sipped from it, trying to calm her racing heart. Zak would remember his honor, she was certain of it.

…Or perhaps not. Though she’d vowed not to, she glanced back a few moments later, to see the girl pressing her husband back into his chair, her mouth close to his ear so that she might whisper – and his hands going to her waist.

A quiet, strangled cry escaped her, her hand tightening on the goblet’s stem so hard she was sure she heard her bones creaking. The water in it instantly froze, a fine patina of frost already forming on the outside of the metal cup. It was placed down onto the edge of the table with a quiet thunk as she inhaled sharply, trying to calm herself, tears immediately welling in her eyes and freezing on her cheeks as soon as they dared spill over her eyelashes.

Every muscle in her body tense, fists balled so tightly her fingers turned white, she turned away from the spectacle, eyes focusing with lightning’s intensity on the scene unfolding in the arena. With every fiber of her being she tried to focus her hearing on the drums and wishing they were louder, to drown out the quiet murmurings and rustling of clothes behind her. The beautiful Drakkan woman on the stage spoke in a cheery voice, a cheery voice with a razor’s edge and curdling lust for blood.

Miry heard none of the words. But, they did their job – she could focus and pretend the scene unfolding beside her wasn’t. As she did, she felt her breathing return to some approximation of normal, the crystals of ice finally sliding off her face and leaving the skin beneath red and raw. At that point, in the clarity of the moment, she began to cry in earnest. The tears spilled freely down her cheeks, though she fought to keep her crying quiet, biting her lip until it bled – she would not make a sound. Her head bowed over, dusty blonde curls spilling forward to obscure her face, hands clasping in her lap and lacing tightly over her lower abdomen.

So she really wasn’t enough for him. She would have slapped herself – not two days previously she had told him she would leave his bed if he would rather have the new bride in her place – but this was… different. At least with the other bride she would be part of the household. But he was choosing a… nobody. What even was her name? Evey? Over her. Over his wife- no, his bride, she wasn’t worthy of being called a wife really. But she was carrying his child. She knew the arrangement was… hardly fair on him. They had spent most nights entwined, before the unpleasant side effects had kicked in at least, and since they had stopped he had seemed very tense in the past few weeks. But… could he not have even waited a few more nights, to take the new bride to their wedding bed? Did he really have to indulge this… whore?

She sat like that for gods knew how long, listening until the gasping at last subsided to normal breathing, quiet, indistinct words being spoken again beside her. As quietly as she could she slipped out of her chair, soft-soled boots making little sound on the floor. Without even looking at Zak, or any of the Blackguard, she passed between them, moving to the stairs and starting down them. She made eye contact with no one, pushing through the crowd of people entering the arena, pushing her way out onto the street.

She moved with the purpose of going home, but for the moment she was alone, and in a street full of blood-lusting drakken. It was arguably not the safest place to be in – but then, neither was sitting next to her husband and his whore. She’d take her chances. So she set her jaw and proceeded up the street, sticking to the edge (and collecting water from a nearby aqueduct to pool in her hand, ready to chill into ice- just in case.)

Kagan Galegar

_{Kinner of The High Chruch of Krenta
Interacting with: Nobody!}

Kagan awoke at his desk, face plunged into one of many many tomes of Drakka's ancient (and oft surprisingly prose heavy) religious lore. Last night had...not been pleasant. Cursory attempts at finding justifications for Ehkota's request were frustratingly slim at best and, if the now empty bottle of wine was any indication, soul crushing at best. He yawns, sitting up and brushing away a stubborn ream of paper that refused to let go of his cheek. A rough hand raps at his door as Kagan rubs his face. "Unless you're a god or a woman coming to bear my seed, begone. I'm in little mood for company..." He yelled, returning his attention to a scroll that had put him to sleep the night before.

There is a hushed conversation from the other side of the door, and for a moment Kagan hopes whoever deigned to bother him took his request to heart. That hope is dashed a moment later as a effeminate but harsh bark breaks his concentration. "Temptin' as that is...The Royal Family request your presence at todays festivities. 'nd by request, I mean you are coming...Or we can come in and make ye after bit o' fun..." the voice says, equal parts flirtatious and menacing.

Kagan sighs, standing up and opening the door for his unwelcomed visitors, surprised to find not one but two female Drakken guards. The first stood confident, her chest thrown forward that he was sure it was pressed against the door before he'd open it. She stood nearly as tall as Kagan, broad bull like horns sharpened to points in a mass of tightly curled black hair. She was older, her frame beinging to morph the lithe athletic of youth with the sturdy broadness that came after around 200 years or so. If Kagan were forced to guess, he doubted there was much gem in her blood. The other drakken was smaller and closer to his own age, barely scraping above five foot thanks to a pair of overly long horns spiraling upwards. She was much fairer than her companion, lacking much color to her face save for the occasional copper freckle. The taller one cleared her throat as Kagan realized his glare had persisted longer than what was socially acceptable.

"Fine." He spat, voice ringing with clear venom. "I'll make sure to make a brief appearance near the end of the-" The taller drakken quickly steped closer, and Kagan's concession was cut short as a growl of challenge took its place. "Nah prettyboy. See.." She chirped, clearly not threatened by the display as she places an hand firmly on his chest. "Me boss was very clear like on errybody getting one o' them breeding sows this year be showin up. Fer all o' it. Lots o' effort shame ta waste it..." she drawled in an accent Kagan assumed to be faked, if only to patronize.

His annoyance must have been something of an amusement to her as a dark chuckle escaped her throat. "..course if it be company thas the issue..." She growls, lifting all but a finger and letting is slowly slide down the younger drakkens chest. "Fuck off," Kagan hisses, slapping the hand away, silently taking some joy in the flash of offense that shot across the drakken womans face. "I'll go. And while I appreciate the offer.." He begins, straightening his robes. "I generally prefer my men to have a little less beard. Still. Deeply flattered." He adds, stepping past her quickly (suddenly greatful for his thinner musculature).

He takes a small moment to look back, happy to see a moment of confusion before the wheel clicks into place and the sudden sound of teeth grinding against one another fills the hall. Her friend cuts her off as she readys to fire a retort, "Let it go Kela, we got like...six more of these to do....please?" the smaller one squeaks, Kagan barely able to hear her over the sound of the now named Kela's agitation.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

”Welcome to the Pits my darlings! This week marks yet another successful Reaping of the Gemmenite lands by the grace of my grandfather. We wish to share this merry time with all of our subjects, not just those who have earned a bride this cycle, so it is in your honor that I proudly present this year’s Reaping tournament. It trust all participants are ready? Then let us begin!”

Kagan stifled a groan as the young royal finished her speech, wondering just how in Sorrak's balls he'd managed to end up enrolled in this farce. A swift punch to the arm disguised as playful excitement hitting his shoulder reminded him. Holg Harin. One of Harin's boys....whelp, more like it.

The air of the common grounds just outside the gates of the Pit were just as warm and musky as the day before. Kagan had made it a point to try and lay low, wanting to get in and find a nice quiet place to sit and think while he awaited the end of this forced celebration. How Holg found him, Kagan couldn't be sure. What he was sure of, if the fresh scar across Holg's face was any indication, that the former favored son of the house of Harin was no longer the favored son.

And good riddance. Holg was a talented enough duelist (if word of mouth was to be believed), but what respect people had for him beyond that could fit in an ants thimble. He threw his fathers money about like it was his own and bragged about his houses great standing in court. To listen to him speak, you'd think he himself had slain Kilix all those decades ago. But this mattered little to Kagan. Holg had hired him and had paid him, that one of his brothers took his birth right was hardly the Kinners problem.

"You!" He hissed, rushing the young kinner with surprising speed for his bulk. Ok....now it was Kagan's problem. "Ahhh. Young master Holg." Kagan said, donning the calm reserved smile of his profession. "It is most pleasing to see you. Have you come to jo-"

"Shut up just shut it." the older drakken hisses, cutting him off. "We need to renegotiate. Now." The smile on Kagan's face vanished immediately as he takes a step back, glaring hard into the older males eyes. "I apologize. All agreements are final. To do so would shame your fathers spirit. In Krenta's domain no less." he says, agitation mounting from yet another annoyance on what should have been a simple trip.

"BOLLOCKS!" Holg shouts, drawing a few confused looks from passers by. Holg hunches down, pretending to pick something up hurriedly before returning his gaze to Kagan. "Look. We both know the whole gods thing...its just a racket right?" He says, oblivious to the increase heat of Kagan's glare. "All I needs are the brides. I can sell 'em and use the money to get some mercenaries and take back my house from that little RAT FUCK brother of mine." He blurts, breaths becoming more hurried and voice becoming louder. Kagan almost felt sorry for him. To have lived so long among such a proud heritage only for have the rug to be pulled out from beneath him.

So it was with a heavy heart that Kagan said, "That doesn't sound like your problem Holg. Now if you'll excuse me...I've got other business to attend to. Do let me know if you wish to hire me in the future though. If you can." with all the frigid indifference his body could muster. He brushes past walking back towards the the crowd. Kagan stops dead as Holg blurts from behind him, "I SAW YOU FREEZE."

Kagan places a hand slowly onto the hilt of his sword, turning back towards the shamed Drakken."Care to repeat that?" he asks, locking eyes with the soon to be dead man. "When you fought my father. I saw you freeze..." Holg says, inching slowly back for a moment, his fear of attack over taking him for a moment despite pulling what he thought to be his trump card. "You were ready near pissing yourself. If word got out about it...well...I can't imagine the sterling reputation you gained from it would stay. Just sign the bride right over to me and all this goes away man."

Kagan could feel his knuckles turn white as the death grip on his sword tightened. He was so SICK of being pushed around in this damned city. First the prince, then the guards, now this little failure acted like he owed the world to their whims. He advanced slowly back to Holg, who seemed to shrink under the glare of the fury he'd inadvertently unleashed.

Killing him here and now would be no good. Stab happy as Drakken were, even they frowned on cold blooded killing. He likely wouldn't face any legal penalties, but socially it'd be a black mark on his reputation he'd be hard pressed to scrub out. But this whelp was too much of a hassle to leave unaddressed. "...very well. I will sign my brides over to you..." he says, voice a low growl. Holg immediately pounces, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he rushed to place his hands on the younger Drakkens shoulders with a hardy laugh. "Good good! I've a man ready to write up the exchange waiting lets-"

"IF." Kagan says, cutting the mans rapid fire speech short. "You agree to duel me in the tournament. That way, there is no shame in your claiming." A cruel smile creeps on to his face as the newly recovered Holg balks at the request. "It would not do to bring undue shame on to the heir of the Harin house, would it sir?"

Holg remains quiet for a moment, hands still on Kagan's shoulders. "I...uh...Y..Yes. Yes of course. Makes perfect sense. I'll...go collect my equipment. Met you at the ceremony eh?" He says with a nervous chuckle backing away. It took all of Kagan's self control not to slash the man across the belly. "Of course sir."

Of course, Kagan had expected that to be the end of it. His signing in to the tournament was merely a formality. In all honesty, he'd merely planned to throw the first fight he could and be done with the whole ridiculous power play, satisfied at having put Holg back in his place. But now the idiotic former noble actually showed up. And so here he sat in the wings of the pit, waiting with the other combatants for his forth coming fight. Holg had been around for the ceremony, but quickly disappeared from sight shortly there after, which only compounded his concerns. He rubs the anxiety from his face, hoping he could be knocked out of the tournament before fighting the disgruntled Harin and simply deny the agreement ever happened.

If he ever actually managed to get a bride, she'd damn well better have been worth all this bloody trouble. As it stood, he was doubtful.

A hand found its way to Sera’s shoulder, but this time the Fire gem did not startle. Her eyes moved from their fixed placed on the scorch marks on the table up to the woman who was touching her. The woman was plain looking and seemed nervous, though Sera was judging this by the shaking of the her hand as she poured water into a goblet and offered it to her. Sera ignored what she had asked, taken aback by the courtesy she was being shown and not understanding how to respond to it. She didn’t lift her head from the crook in her arm, but she reached for Nenra’s hand on her shoulder, taking it in her own and guiding it to the scorch marks on the table. She laid Nenra’s hand flat against the table, allowing her to feel the marks in the table with her fingertips, as it was clear to Sera that this woman had trouble seeing.

”Serafine burnt it.” She responded blankly, ”I wonder if they’ll punish me like they did the other girls.”

For any person, it would appear as though Sera was talking about herself in third person. For her, Serafine was the person she blamed for actions she did not make consciously. It was a coping mechanism the girl had developed a long time ago, when the incident happened. There was a piece of her that understood that it was her all along, there was even a piece of her that understood what she was doing, but she would rather live in denial than to admit that there was something wrong with her.

Sera’s gaze moved from their hands on the table back to Nenra’s, unknowing if she should make conversation with the woman or if she should simply leave her. Breath filled her lungs and escaped her mouth with a heavy sigh. She wouldn’t have to decide though, the group in the hall was being ushered out once again. Sera looked at Nenra once more, emotion free from her face, before picking herself up from her seat and leaving the hall.

Sera entered her room, her temporary home for the night. As she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it, allowing her body to sink into it. She stared blankly at the muddled black figure standing at the opposite side of the room for her. They followed her everywhere. Another heavy sigh escaped her as she tightly closed her eyes and shook her head gently before opening them again. It was gone. Sera moved across the room slowly, ignoring the whispering sound of her own voice around her. As she walked passed the bed, her hand extended to pull the blanket off of it. She dragged the blanket across the ground, casually tossing it on the floor in the corner of the room. Sera relaxed to the ground, slowly curling up on the half piled up blanket in the corner of the room, her body positioned to face the door.

She thought back to the woman in the dining hall. Maybe I should have been nicer to her.

~~~

Sunrise drew itself with a loud interruption of the door to Sera’s room opening, a Drakken appearing in its place. Sera looked up at the brute from her position on the floor in the corner of the room, she had been awake for sometime now. He yelled something to her she chose to forget but could only assume was an order. Sera pulled herself to her feet, leaving behind her blanket on the floor, and followed shortly after the Drakken. She returned to the hall, ushered in like a herd of sheep being ushered into a pen. Sera stood at the entrance for a moment too long, accepting the push-a-long from a Drakken to have her move out of the doorway. As she moved passed the tables and toward the breakfast, she noticed the woman from the day previous.

Just go sit with her.

Sera collected a few plain looking rolls and made her way over to Nenra, she sat down across the table from her but a seat down. As she picked at the food on her plate, her gaze kept returning to Nenra. A few minutes went by before she collected the want, or even the courage, to say something to her.

”You can’t see me, can you?” She asked, though not entirely realizing what she said could be seen as rude. ”Yesterday, you seemed to have trouble with the water jug but you asked if I was alright. That was nice, but I guess, more importantly, are you alright?”

Sera was silent for a moment before starting again, gears turning in her head as she was now curious about Nenra. ”Where are you from anyway?"

Sera wanted to know why she was chosen to be Reaped, but she even realized that would be too rude. Her attention was drawn away when the Drakken from the day before returned. Instinctively she rose, bowing her head slightly until she was dismissed to sit again. Sera returned to her seat, a curious eye wandering to capture a glimpse at Nenra before paying full attention to the matter at hand. The Drakken announced a free day for the Gems, a day to be spent at a hot spring. Their kindness seemed peculiar to Sera, even more peculiar than most people extending kind gestures to her did.

”A hot spring?” She asked aloud, though only loud enough for herself and her nearby acquaintance to hear. ”I’ve never been to a hot spring before.”

A sudden flash to an unbearable hot room shot through her mind like a strike of lightning piercing a tree. Sera’s eyes widened slightly, and the whispering voices returned; filling her head. She closed her eyes again, placing her hands over her ears at an attempt to drown them out.

Boil them all. Every single last one of them… like useless rats needing to be exterminated from this world.

Yes. It’s almost too perfect, to rid of all them right away. What better way is there?

”No.” She responded hoarsely, hoping that no one would hear her. Sera pressed her hands harder against her ears in an attempt to expel the voices in her head. Her breathing became laboured and she had to remind herself to take three deep breaths. After a few moments, the voices lowered to a dull murmur until they completely disappeared. Sera’s eyes opened slowly, her hands dropping softly away from her ears and finding a new home gripped together in her lap. She stared down at them, nervous about them; nervous about herself.

After a rest for the night Vannoth decided while he might not be able to avoid it, he might not be called to participate., and nothing short of a prince would make him fight in this tournament. He made his way to the tournament grounds to watch and offer advice to young warriors and fighters He dressed and prepped his blade, soon to make his way there- and likely scowl and grumble any one who dares bother him. there was a time before his raid on an outpost were one could say Vannoth was a happy, and even 'kind' . . . That time has long since passed, and his mood grows ever more sour, and his temperament even more vile. Of course he did not speak much, but being well known for his explosive temper there wasn't many who would really willingly test the boundry.

As he entered the tournament grounds he made his way to seats and found his place among peers- somewhat near Zevi. He still had No intentions of fighting this day, he had already earned his prize and suffered every day for it, though should a prince or the princess demand it of him, he would fight and woe be to the man who is set as his opponent.

The mighty and feared Warden of Harand Kor sulked through the streets, thoroughly depressed at his lack of victims. It felt like hours since he had made his dramatic exist from the basement but he hadn't found a single person he could pin a crime on. Not even a petty thief or a drunken belligerent; the most he had done all day was scare a couple of children and giving a particularly haughty looking Drakken young blood a fright when he rounded the corner all of a sudden. Had his retinue of busybodies and brown nosers not been there, Heccarim could have possibly pin something on the boy. Not even any of the local lords or merchant princes had someone they wanted to take a vacation to the beautiful dungeons of Harand Kor. The importance of the event must be stifling people's willingness to plot. That or they didn't want the Warden digging too deep into their own ledgers and backgrounds less they get the adventure of a life (and death) time.

As the dark streets continued to form in front of Heccarim's visions, he began to just wander around, clearly amiss with purpose until he remembered that he wasn't here to hunt for more inmates. Clearly whatever booze he stole from Sal-Tarvis was strong stuff. He wanted more of it. Stalking the back streets, Heccarim began meandering his way towards the center piece of the whole event, the Pits, eyes still on the prowl for some that he could drag back to Harand Kor.

As the shadows and roads appeared in front of the endless march of the Warden, he reminisced on his childhood. He remember how his father taught him how to flay someone alive, how they would spend hours together poking at a poor soul's innards. The happiest moment in his life was when he was finally given his own chain and lantern. Some would assume that donning the Mask of the Warden would have been his happiest, but it was bittersweet; during one riot a crude shank slathered with homemade poison had found its way into the eye of Heccarim's father. Brewed from the unspeakable gunk in the prison, Heccarim's father would eventually go blind, leaving Heccarim himself the mantle before finally passing away. Of all the "prison purges" of Harand Kor, Heccarim had preformed the most widespread and brutal within his first year as Warden in retaliation.

Only a voice that called for him brought Heccarim's mind away from the dark recesses of his mind and into the dark recesses of the alleyways. The voice came from a Drakkan who looked aged but strong, with a mane of white hair pierced by massive horns and illuminated with fiery eyes. Heccarim had absolutely no idea who this man was, so casually walking up to him like an old friend. The connection was soon made as Heccarim stood silent as the stranger remarked on the apparent "lateness" of getting a bride. True there where few persons who'd dare risk interactions with the Warden of Harand Kor, those who did were often of remarkable strength with a certain level of fearlessness and either an impeccable record or an impeccable ability to cover things up. The maw of the Warden opened to speak, the low growl echoed as the voice of all Wardens do, "You mistake me; you speak not to the Warden of old and this is but my first wife. The Warden of Harand Kor is dead and has been for over 200 years. Long live the Warden."

While he would never consciously admit it, being able to just speak in persona was by far Heccarim's favorite activity besides torture and scaring grown drakkan; the children weren't nearly as much fun.

[Adorabella]

_{Bride of Unknown [@"character player"] and Sister Bride of Unknown [@"character player"]
Interacting with: Sorrin @WeepingLiberty and Kendra @Vesuvius00}

Adorabella turned as another girl approached her. She was bare chested and proffered her shirt. Oh no! What if she got caught. She would be punished and freezing too. She went to raise her hand and tell the girl she didn’t need it when the Drakken came to relieve the girl of her clothing. Now she had a fellow sister in nudity.

"Well. That backfired. Hi. I'm sorry, I really thought I'd be able to help... But, my name's Kendra. And you guys?" She seemed sweet and genuine. Adorabella grinned and held out a hand to shake.

“I am Adorabella and this is Sorrin. Very pleasant to meet you. I’m sorry you have to share in my discomfort but certainly appreciate the gesture. Nudity is nothing new to me but at least now someone can stand tall with me as we are ogled.” She laughed lightly. “Why don’t you join us for the lessons? If we sit close I am sure we can help keep each other warm. I’m not used to the cold.”
She began to guide Sorrin to their lessons. Adorabella had to admit it was fun to learn about this alternate religion. What she really found enjoyable though was the lessons on birthing Drakken young. Most of it was things she as a midwife already knew. But there was additional information about herbs and practices for the birth of these large babies that she dedicated to memory. She wasn’t sure how good Drakken midwives would be considering how Gems were treated. She wanted to be able to have some control over her own pregnancy. Not to mention there were a couple of things recommended she simply didn’t agree with when it came to these procedures.

By the end of the day she entered the dining hall with Sorrin again. She had to coax her friend to eat even a little. She was sure the pain was taking its toll and she wished the Drakken would do something to help with this. Did they want the burned girls to die of infection? “Sorrin,” she said, looking up toward her new friend. “Would you like to come to my room before we sleep? I’ll see what I can do about your foot.”
Adorabella was excited for future lessons. Learning about this alien world was something that distracted her from her captivity and the cold. She wondered idly if she would be allowed clothes tomorrow as she picked at a piece of bread and dipped it into warm broth. Dinner was soon finished and the girls all made their way back to their rooms. She noticed new clothes set out for her and felt relief to know she would not have to go to breakfast naked the next day.

Before the doors were all slammed shut on them, Adorabella took the time to use some of her fresh bathing water to gently cool and calm Sorrin’s foot. She gently hugged the girl before she had to go back to her own room.

Adorabella pulled on her new clothes, glad of the warmth she would be provided. She left her sash behind this time. After grooming herself she stood at her sliver of a window again, watching the sun rise. The doors banged open and they were called down to breakfast. Adorabella walked down with Sorrin and found the meals to be lacking in Gem fare. She also found Kendra and the two girls joined her at the tables. “Good morning, how was your night? I was glad to be curled up and warmed beneath the thick blankets. And so glad to have clothes again. Even if they are colorless.”

While she had liked some of the dishes, she felt Drakken food was absurdly heavy on the stomach compared to the nutritious meals of her people. None the less, she ate diligently. She had to keep he strength up after all. As the meal was drawing to a close the terrify Drakken who had her stripped appeared. Adorabella immediately rose from her seat before kneeling in the manner they had been taught yesterday. She listened to the speech about hot springs. Her eyes widened and a huge smile found its way onto her thick lips.

“Hot springs. Actual, real hot springs? Do you think it is maybe a trick? Oh, to be surrounded by warmth!” She closed her eyes and sighed, the thought of it was almost more than she could bear. Who knew such a small comfort would bring her so much happiness.

Zakroti leant in towards Evey and put his lips to hers for a moment - she was good. Very good. She kept her eyes locked with his- they were lively and playful. Was she actually enjoying this? Or was she merely a good actor?

"Mm, I imagine-" Zakroti stopped short, a grin spreading across his face "Why don't you?"

"Me? Like recommending a dish? That's how you think of me?" Evey replied jokingly, with mock offence.

"Not quite the analogy I would have used- although you do look delicious." Zakroti pressed a little closer to her, pointedly kissing her again to taste. She squirmed a little and turned her head to keep her mouth free to whisper to him, letting his lips to to her neck. She was grinning but again he couldn't tell whether it was real or an act. Logic told him it was probably the latter. Almost certainly the latter. But it was more interesting to believe the former.

"Hah, wouldn't you like to try... Well you are clearly hungry for it.. and there is a table behind me. The fighting will go on for a while so I guess you'll have time to try all of me." Evey whispered, turning her face back to him and slowly backing up, guiding him with her. it

"True, very true. So-" Zakroti stopped himself short of speaking- and moving. He did not hear Miry move, but became distinctly aware of it. Through fortune, instinct or perhaps through the clink of armour as two of his bodyguards set off after her, he became aware that she was no longer by his side.

He felt a pang of guilt and at the same time, couldn't seem to pull himself away from the Gem before him. She appeared to have worked out exactly what was happening herself, for she backed away a little and watched the small Gem scamper away. Zakroti hesitated for a few moments as he stared at the Gem before him, bit finally turned and moved away to the door after his blackguard and Miry, leaving Evey by herself- not that he imagined she minded an excuse to avoid servicing a Drakken - although had that been a hint of disappointment on her face too? His mind playing tricks, most likely.

Zakroti cursed himself under his breath - although he was not sure whether he was cursing himself for infidelity, Miry for having prevented his fun or Evey for having created the mess - as he ran after his men and Miry, eventually catching up to her in the streets, mostly empty from people having been otherwise occupied with the fighting.

"Aymiria!" He called out as he ran up to her, the usually eloquent Drakken lord spluttering and tripping over his own words as he tried to apologise "I didn't- I- You know I- I'm sorry."

He cursed himself in his mind. How could he have? After she had just told him less than a day earlier that- had he no honour? No shame? No discipline and respect? And want a fool he was. Evey was one of the palace girls, it was all a routine. An act she had been trained with and put on for countless Drakken before him. He stopped himself from wondering how many others she must have seduced - and what she must have truly thought of him, despised him and sneered at him beneath her mask. To have allowed himself to fall for it and feel that desire towards her... Before his bodyguards and his bride - and two servants, no less. Such weakness. Such humiliation. Such shame.

Miry was lost in her head for gods knew how long, until a looming shadow spread over her. Instantly she was alert, freezing in place - claws of ice starting to grow from the water she'd pooled in her clenched fists. She peered up at the monstrous Drakkan, her eyes widening in fear - he was nearly twice her height, how could she ever...

The monstrous man peered down at her for a long moment, before he flipped his visor up, and she took a shaking breath of relief, suddenly now recognizing his face, and then the engraving on his armor. "Hello again, Kzaar." she breathed, falling into step beside her husband's most terrifying bodyguard.

Another of them- Gaikus, if she had to guess. The medic always had carried himself just slightly differently than the other guards - fell into step on her other side. It was probably a good sign that Zak had sent them. Maybe he'd noticed and cared.

Or maybe not. Maybe he was just going to have them take her home so he could... enjoy the tournament.

As if in answer to her thoughts, there was a call of her name behind them. She turned to see Zak, running up the street after them. He paused before them, trying to spit out four sentences at once, finally managing to blurt out an apology.

She could not bring herself to look at him, shame coloring her face. Every part of her wanted to run to him and wrap him tight in her arms and bury her face in his chest, but she resisted it, looking intently at the cobbled road just in front of his boots. Her hands clenched into fists, and she tucked them up slightly into her sleeves so he couldn't see them trembling.

For a long moment she didn't speak, thoughts racing. He would want her to come back with him, certainly, and she... couldn't bring herself to. Not to see that whore's face again. Not to sit beside him and pretend that hadn't just happened. He'd be irritable as well... she'd been so selfish, to disrupt things as she had. No, she couldn't go back with him, she'd have to let him go and... trust him.

Finally, she forced a vague, trembling smile onto her face, looking up to him at last. "Please do not worry yourself over me, my lord. I simply feel unwell and was thinking to return myself home. You should return to the festival; your presence will be missed. You do not want to anger the noble king, certainly not so close to being granted your second bride and all." She dropped her gaze to the dusty ground, her words taking on a slightly flat inflection, and dropped into a slight curtsy before daring to look up at him again.

The group was lead down a winding staircase, the girls were instructed to leave their shoes at the top, and wearing only towels, were lead into the belly of the mountain. Arden, her new ‘friend’, was walking by her side when the path allowed, but would shift in front or behind her when the passages became too narrow to allow it.

The girl had grown on her. Despite her rebellious tendencies she was... something. Truthfully, Bree might have called her a friend, but a friendship unlike any she had had before. She had plenty of friends back home she wasn't particularly close to any of them. It was silly to invest heavily into something that would soon be lost. But Arden just made it so damn easy to know her. To care about her. To worry about her every time a drakkan gave an order.

The stone below Bree’s feet felt smooth, almost slimy, like the stone was trying to emulate a living creature. Hints of sulfur started permeating the air the deeper they went, but the final change was the most alarming. At the bottom of the stairs, the room was damp, drips of cool water sprinkling on the shivering girls. There was nothing that resembled a hot spring. In fact, there was nothing there at all, save a large round stone.

It soon became clear that the stone was a door. A heavy one, as it took two earth drakken to move its massive force.

The second the door was cracked open, the room filled with steam, inflicting an impossible humidity. For a moment, Bree couldn’t breathe. The sudden heat of the air filling her mouth and pressing down on her lungs. It took a few minutes, but soon her breath adjusted to the humid air and she felt...warm. The sort that went straight to her bones, causing a tension she didn't know was there to vanish in an instant.

The room beyond the door was low and casted in a strange yellow light and filled with pools, at least ten, but probably more that had faded into the mist. Scattered around the room were baskets will with soaps, pumice stones, rags, combs and an endless list of other things. Walking deeper in, Bree let out a gasp, as her foot hit something icy. Examining the floor a minute, she spotting a thin stream of water coming from a corner of the room where empty cups had been placed next to a spring.

“You have until lunch,” came the booming voice of the drakkan that had lead the girls down there. There were two or three drakken stationed by the door, their faces indicative of having won some grand prize themselves, before the rest of the drakken excited the room. Leaving the girls to their devices.

“I guess this is as alone as we are getting,” said Bree trying, and failing to hide the eagerness in her voice. The basin of water she'd been given did little in the way of making her feel clean. Her eyes flashed towards at the three remaining drakken who had taken chairs by the door, before focusing on Arden “But I’m not complaining, I haven’t had a proper bath since I left,” Bree stuck her hand in one of the pools, running her hand in a small circle. Unable to wait any longer, Bree pulled the towel off and folding it on a bench, away from the water. The warm air covering her body like a blanket, already leaving a dampness to her skin.

The pools themselves varied in size and depth. Some she could get in a touch both sides and the water would hardly cover her knees. The largest of the pools ran the full length of the room and have several stalagmite islands. Grabbing one of the soaps and a comb, she picked a medium sized pool and slowly lowered herself into the clear, warm water.

Ineraz woke approximately two hours after the sun had risen, feeling well rested. Knowing this day was the start of the tournament his body was in high spirits, his mind as clear as the purest of crystals, his blood feeling the anticipation in the way it did before a hunt. Ineraz put on his armour and took a minute to admire himself in the mirror; if he couldn’t appreciate himself, who else would? Since his hair would get in the way otherwise (it reached almost to the half of his back), he tied it in a tight bun at the nape of his neck. Now, all he was missing was a helmet, always a tricky piece for a Drakkan.

First, he took a long and thin piece of leather to wrap around his head and horns’ bases, which would not only serve as cushioning but would also stabilize the headgear. Ineraz felt that his horns were especially annoying; his right one was longer and thinner and had an awkward shorter offshoot to the back, which made it look as if he had three horns. His left horn on the other hand, was somewhat shorter but much denser, strangely but thankfully balancing the right one. When he was done with the leather piece, he put on the helmet, which was welded together from several metal places in such a way to provide a space for his horns. It also had a tough letter buckle to secure it under his chin. In Ineraz’s opinion, it made him look slightly sillier, but it was a vital piece of protection nonetheless.

He still had a few hours until he would have to make his way to the Pits, so after belting his sword and dagger, Ineraz went to one of the estate’s training rooms to have a very light preparation session. He thoroughly stretched his muscles, then engaged in several brief practice fights involving imaginary opponents – first barehanded, then adding his weapons, and finally his elements as well. He moved fluidly through various maneuvers, slashing, stabbing, blocking, evading, kicking, punching, elbowing, incorporating air and water attacks – there was indeed a nearby source of water in the training room, and there hopefully would be one in the pits as well – against various enemies his mind construed to spice up the otherwise solitary activity. Ineraz finished off with a series of stretches again, feeling content now he had worked up a light sweat. And he still had an hour or two to rest and get to the tournament in peak condition.

When it was nearing noon, he finally made his way to the pits, excited but attempting and mostly succeeding to appear collected. The streets were crowded with Drakken, and Ineraz found the density rather uncomfortable, but ignored the feeling. There was a Gem here and there; most likely those were the brides who’ve survived from previous years. There would also be some Gem pleasure slaves for those bride-earners not participating in the tournament, but Ineraz saw no reason to forsake a good match for a shared commodity, when he would be soon getting a bride or two all for himself. Moving with the throng, he soon came to the Pits and entered the part where all the contestants gathered, surrounded by heated sweaty bodies much as he was before. But at least every Drakkan here was someone who could become his opponent, and that made their nearness easier to bear. The well-known female noble, the first prince’s daughter, gave a short but captivating speech, and Ineraz let the slow thrum of excitement build in him.

The harsh warmth of the day beat down on the small group of drakken that was the Dantanath family. Leading the pack was a monster of a drakkan who, in Rya’s opinion, was more like Salazar than Azilon ever could be. The eldest Dantanath, Tarkylian, overshadowed all of his siblings in height alone. While Azlion was only a few inches shorter, two and a half of him could easily fit with in his much broader brother.

Tarkylian was the unspoken leader, but it was clear that Morganna was incharge. Standing slightly off to the left, she lead the group. Halting them all whenever she saw something on the streets that caught her fancy and moving on whenever she got bored. To the right of the leading trio was Gorrak. A smaller version of his brother, still larger than Azilon, but not the monster that Dantanth was.

Compared to the leading three, the three behind looked distinctly out of place. Azlion towering over the two females on either side of him. Rya, of course, being one of them. The last of the siblings was Aeya. A mystery to Rya. Smaller than all of her siblings and much prettier than her sister.

The family ‘outing’ being triggered by tournament. The invitation had come last night, not long after Azlion and Rya had arrived.

~Yesterday~

The house of Dantanath was dark, even while the sun was still shining. All of the windows were heavily curtained, the many halls lit by candle light. A place of whispers and hushed voices, less you wanted to draw out a monster from the shadows.

At the center of it all, was Salazar Dantanath.

“Ah, the prodigal son returns, and….he brings a little treasure, ” Every aspect of the patriarch oozed a toxin that tainted everything it came in contact with. Azlion looked relaxed enough, but his eyes betrayed his displeasure. And Rya...mostly she tried not to breath, less it drew his gaze.

“Drinks,” Salazar's voice echoed around the chamber. At first it was unclear at whom the order was placed until a gem, even tiny by Rya’s standard of gem, arrived with a huge tray that held a heavy container of dark red wine. Rya watched the girl’s arm tremble slightly as she balanced the tray while pouring a glass for both Azlion and his father, before settling herself beside Salazar, the tray being held above her head.

“Well, son, let’s see what you brought home,” There was a power play here. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Azlion tensing, but didn’t make a move to stop Salazar as he circled her. She felt the urge to cover herself, but like with any predator, she knew it was best to just stand still. Or play dead, but that didn’t seem like an option.

As Salazar reach out to touch her, a crash echoed throughout the room, reverberating in every dark corner. All around the tiny Gem were the contents of the jug of wine as well as the shattered platter and glass jug.

“I’m-- I’m so sorry M-Master, it was too heavy. It… it was hurting my arms--” There was an sense of panic in the girl’s voice, as she scrambled to clean up the impossible mess.

“You. Little--” Salazar turned to the girl, her punishment already set in his eyes.

Rya’s hand shot out before she knew what she was doing, grabbing Salazar around the wrist “It-It was an accident,” she sputtered, alarmed at her own daring.

Salazar looked just as surprised as she was to find her hand on his wrist.

“Clearly my son hasn’t taken the time to teach you proper manners,” Salazar jerked first his hand free. Examining his hand for a moment, as though he expected to find filth, before he stuck her across the face with the back of his hand. “Perhaps I should take it upon myself,”

For the first time that night, Azilon moved, placing himself directly between the two. “That isn’t for you to decided Salazar ,”

“Well, look who finally grew up,” came Salazar’s mocking voice. “Do you really think-”

Whatever Salazar was going to say was interrupted by Morganna, who brought the message about the tournament.



Strictly speaking, Azlion and Tarkylian were the only two who had received an invitation. But Salazar suggested they all went, so they did.

Everytime that Rya caught a look at her reflection through one of the shop windows, she would try and stop. Salazar’s Gem bride (name still unknown) had swooped in on her early that morning. Attacked with powders and creams,kohl, oils and pigments of a thousand shades were artfully painted on her skin. Layers and layers.

Rya was left feeling...fake. Not like herself, but not different enough that she could be someone else. And what was more alarming was that the bruise, while she could still feel it, it was completely hidden. It left her to wonder with Salazar’s nameless bride actually looked like.

Having left most of her belongings at the cabin, the outfit she was wearing was another thing given to her by the girl. Light green skirt that brushed the ground as she walked. The beaded top ended just below her breasts. It was clearly made, not only for a smaller Gem, but with fashion over functionality. The end result being that Rya dare not raise her arms, for fear of pulling the whole thing off. An all to real risk.

Across her waist was Azlion’s only addition to the look, a silver chain that could have been mistaken for a belt, were it not for the thin ribbon that was attached to Azilon’s wrist. A leash, a pretty leash, but a leash all the same. It hadn’t gone on without a fight.

Earlier that Day

“I said no.” Rya puffed air through her nose indignantly, arms crossed and a scowl etched deeply into her expression. She eyed the thread of silver in Azilon’s hand warily, doing her best to stand defiantly all while fighting the urge to slink back.

“This isn’t an option little Api, you have to wear it.” He met the small girl’s blazing eyes with a cold stare of his own. Azilon wasn’t exactly know for being the most patient man in the world, but this was a battle he already knew the outcome of thus he felt no need to match her fury. There was, however, something familiar about the expression that hid behind her defiance, a feeling he knew all too well and had long since rid himself of.

“I thought me wandering off was the least of your worries. The only reason you were here in the first place was to get rid of me, was it not?” She countered, both her tone and posture rigid. It was clear from her composure that she wasn’t going to go down without a fight regardless of her odds of winning. Azilon figured she already knew how this all would end and that resisting it for as long as possible made her feel better about it. If he had either the time or the patience he might have even indulged her a bit, however after all that had happened thus far, he was left with neither. Heaving a sigh, the man took a step forward prompting her to take a step back boxing her into the corner of the room they had been standing in.

“That was the intention, yes. I am not the one with the dead husband, however, so you don’t really have much of a say. We could have always left you with the prince instead, but I figured there might be use for you yet so why hand you over to your death and waste an opportunity?” He allowed a brief moment to allow his words to sink in before extending his arm out to Rya, hand open so that she could take the chain if she wished to.

“Let me remind you that this is not an option, you will wear it… I will allow you the dignity of opportunity to put it on yourself, if you do not then I will put it on for you. Will you make this easy for yourself and just get it over with?”

“No.” Her response was quick and decisive, there would be no persuading of any kind. With her back already against the wall, Rya had no escape from Azilon as his left hand shot forward and grabbed her right wrist. He maintained a firm, but careful, grip on the girl as he slowly raised her arm above her head. Every inch her arm moved upward was followed by the subtle shifting of fabric across her chest, perhaps not enough to fully lift it, but clearly enough to warrant the reaction he was looking for. In a panic, Rya’s free arm wrapped tightly around her chest to keep the fabric from moving any farther, the faintest smile of amusement crossing Azilon’s face as she did so.

Having decided that he wasn’t quite done with her, he grabbed the wrist of her other arm and forced it away from her body until it joined its twin above her head. As expected the fabric of her top had inched up dangerously high, not enough to uncover, but definitely enough to make her squirm with discomfort. He tucked her right wrist into his hand with her left, leaving his right hand open once again to wrap the material around her small waist.

Leaning his head in close to her ear, the man smiled and spoke with a tone that sent a chill down her spine.

“You’ll do best to remember which one of us is actually in charge here, Api.” He didn’t end up saying much else, instead releasing her arms which quickly dropped to re-adjust the positioning of her top. Never once though did she take her eyes off of him, scowling at him with a fury unlike anything he had ever seen on her kind before.




Even now, a few hours later, she was still salty about the event. Not wanting to draw the attention of Azilon's siblings, she played it off as nothing. For the most part.

If she occasional (always) wait for the line to grow taught before moving, well, that was normal behavior. Also, making unnecessary trips around Azilon, just to force him to re-adjust his hold, less he get tangled in the leash as well. Or break it, which would have been a shame.

They arrived at the tournament by late afternoon, the clashing sound of those already eager to battle ringing in the air.

“Ah, Azzy,” Tarkylian voice easily cut through the crowd. “I’m so glad that I get to share this moment with both of my baby brothers,” the way his voice sounded, one could almost think he meant it. The family, eager to see the goings on, soon vanished into a passing crowd. Conveniently, Azilon had chosen that very moment to become distracted by the architecture of the building. Or the weather.

Regardless of the reason, it gave Rya the chance to fully examine the area. Rya’s eyes were narrowed in on a gem standing just outside the door. She was upset, clearly, but that wasn’t why she held Rya’s attention. There was something about her, a muchness. It wasn’t her anger or rage, but something Rya had seen before. Something that she could figure out if she only looked harder. She felt a tug on her waist, only to look up and see Azilon pulling her expectantly towards the door.
Rya turned her eyes towards the gem for a final glance, but the mystery of the girl remained.

“If she doesn’t go inside, death will probably be preferable, don’t you think?” Ask Rya.

“Maybe” said Azilon, not even sparing the girl a glance, before guiding his bride inside.

The space inside was chaos. There were a handful of gems, none that Rya recognized, flitting between the drakken offing their time, bodies and anything else a drakken could want.

Gwillim rose early and stretched carefully, before donning his armor. It took some time, and a bit of help from Scyrvensrel to manage it all, but he did manage it. He then helped her don her own kit. His armor was a bit heavier than it usually was in the field, but not by much. Certainly not enough to cause him problems, since he wouldn't also have to march in it all day before the fight began. He ate a cold breakfast quickly, before setting out to enter the tourney with his wife. Well, not with exactly, but simultaneously anyway.

The day would be warm, for the local, but the morning still felt a bit cool to Gwillim... the lack of smothering humidity helped immensely. He strode proudly beside his wife, entering the arena, and speaking with the necessary officiators. He fought in full plate, with a pollax. It would serve to keep his opponents off balance, as they would only anticipate it being used to keep them at bay. Well, except for his wife, but she would be his toughest opponent by far. He looked forward to seeing her in the finals of the tourney.

After the necessities had been dealt with he stood back observing those who had deigned not to participate in the fight, or perhaps only been invited to watch. He noted many had royal gems keeping them ... company, until things got interesting. He gestured with his weapon towards the stands, as he commented on those particular gems to his wife.

“How'd you like to have one of those to play with? Think if we do well enough, they'll let us use one or two while we're in town?”

Arden Gaothaire

The announcement of the hot springs came as a surprise to Arden. She was shocked that the Drakken would extend such a gesture, she was cautious in regards to what it cost to have a gesture such as this extended to them, and most of all she was nervous about what it meant to bathe in a hot spring with every other Gem being present. Arden walked alongside Bree in some way shape or form on the small journey to the hot spring; the journey there was much easier than the journey to Shadow Worth. Although they were travelling to yet another unknown place, she felt eased by the presence of her new ‘friend’, and was able to relax into a charming smile as they shared stories.

The Gems were lead into a strange place, descended stairs into a room that appeared to be nothing short of disappointing. It was cold and damp in the room; goosebumps painted themselves across the entirety of Arden’s skin as she fought the urge to clutch herself and shiver. The cold didn’t last long as the Drakken moved a stone and allowed a rush of hot air to blow over the them. The warming breeze was welcomed by everyone and soon all of the Gems followed single file into the hot springs. Arden followed behind Bree and marveled in the allure of the hot springs; she thought it odd to find such a spectacle of beauty in a land shrouded in darkness. She found it even more odd that only a few Drakkan were left behind to guard the doorways, her curious eyes observing them as they gawked at her sisters. Arden scoffed at their perverted faces and turned her attention to Bree, who had not wasted any time and was now standing naked at the edge of the pool.

A warm flush filled Arden’s face; she could feel it becoming hot as the beating heart in her chest raced slightly. Her expression showed more marvel for Bree’s bare body than it had for the hot springs themselves. She truly was stunning. Arden’s hand had found a new home at the top of her towel where it was tucked in just off center from her breasts. Her hand took hold of the knot in the towel, clenching it as she silently reprimanded herself for being no better than the perverted guards. Arden forced her awe-struck gaze away from Bree and awkwardly looked toward the ground at her own feet.

What in the hell am I doing? She thought shamefully to herself, unknowing of what to make of the feelings she was having.

Arden gave her head a slight shake and realized if she didn’t react soon, all of the other Gems would be in the pools and she would be the only one left standing there in her towel. The last thing she needed was to have all of the prying eyes stare at her as she unveiled herself uncomfortably. Ever since she was discovered when bathing in a lake, undressing to bathe when people were present, or had the chance of being present, overwhelmed her with anxiety. It was a painful memory of how she failed her family, herself… her people.

Not only was she troubled by the reminder of how it all went wrong, there was a part of her that was self conscious. As she noticed the women slowly unsheathing themselves and dipping into the water, as she noticed Bree… she came to realize that although her body was slender, tall, and had curves in all the right places, her breasts were smaller than all of the other Gems; more than likely a result of wrapping her chest since puberty. Confidence in her appearance was a trait that she lacked, despite being told otherwise over and over again. She often overhead the older Gemmenite women who helped her blossom into a woman comment on ”how it was a shame she hid all of those years” because of how beautiful she had become. They often remarked that she would one day make a man very happy, clear undertones of sexual promiscuity. Despite everything, Arden’s picture of herself was not that of a striking young lady, but rather a confident young man ready to lead a rebellion.

That’s right. If I can stand up against all that is wrong in this world, I can get over this lame feeling of embarrassment. Just get in there, own it, and do what I do best; be confident.

Arden drew in a deep breath, filling her chest with courage. As she exhaled, she loosened the grip on her towel and let it fall to the ground, where it piled up against her ankles. She made sure to keep her head held high, careful not to glance down at her nakedness in fear of showing signs of discomfort. Her charade wouldn’t last long. As she began to walk toward the pool, a low sleazy chuckle came from the entrance way. She turned to look at the Drakkan who was now ogling her; it was clear he had observed her hesitation and was now pleasantly surprised. He let out a whistle and Arden’s face turned completely red. She quickly turned to the pool and hastily skipped over, attempting to cover her breasts and swiftly lowering herself into the hot water, not allowing herself any time to adjust to the extreme temperature change. It was now more than ever that she appeared the most feminine.

As the embarrassment left the Gem’s face, it was replaced with a wince of pain. She had almost forgotten yesterday's beating, but the purple knee sized bruising on her midsection promptly reminded her when it met with the hot water. Arden reached for it with her hand, placing it lightly where the bruise was as an act to comfort the pain, though it did nothing. She sighed, accepting that she would have to live with the result of her apparent defiance for at least a few days. Arden moved to sit next to Bree and looked over at her new friend with an awkward face for the scene she had to have witnessed.

”I’m not used to this…” She admitted, feeling somewhat deflated. It wasn’t like her to show any sign of weakness, even if it was something as trivial as self-consciousness or embarrassment. There was something about Bree that made Arden feel comfortable enough to be more herself. The Gem had only shared such open feelings with her closest friends, and even then, she had never shown them this side of her; a vulnerable side.

Arden smiled and drew another breath of confidence. She lifted her hand out of the warm water and let it hover above it, her fingers dancing in a circular and waving motion. The air above the water begin to shift into a small vortex the size of Arden’s hand. Her smile grew softer as small water molecules were picked up by the air current and formed a funnel in her hand. Arden moved her hand slowly to face Bree; she drew her face closer to her hand, puckered her lips and blew lightly on the miniature twister. She watched as it blew toward Bree and danced against her skin, softly lining it with the water as it touched her.

”Now if only I could make a life size one, then we could really have some fun!” She remarked playfully, allowing herself to lightly chuckle following her comment.

”Auram rules my element, as you can tell. Makani had a number of Air Gemmenites living in it but when I got to Prisel Aldentine, there were Gemmenites of all natures. Of course there were a number of different natured Gemmenites in Makani as well, but the city was much smaller so it wasn’t as overwhelmingly obvious.” She shared, now resting her back firmly against the rock wall in the pool. The warm water felt wonderful against her body.

”And you, Bree?” She asked curiously as she turned, her front now facing the rock wall as she lifted the upper half of her body out of the water reaching for a soap on the ledge. With the top half of her body now hovering out of the water, the multi-purpled bruising would be evident to anyone in her vicinity.

Her body sank back into the water after retrieving the soap and she turned to place her back against the rock wall again. She began rubbing the soap on the upper portions of her arm, her shoulders, and her neck. She sighed in relief that having a hot bath brought her. Arden looked at Bree out of the corner of her eye and smiled once more.

”This is more than I could ask for right now.” She commented, making light of their situation but knowing all too well each and every Gem in that spring wished for something else; home.

The morning hike was far from a pleasant trip. The winds whipped and snapped while the cold air bit and chewed at any exposed piece of Zel's skin, and with the meager shielding she'd been provided covering up completely was impossible. The staircase was far from forgiving as well, being hewn from rough stone and tended to only as needed by the equally rough soles of a Drakken. All of this, combined with her ever-growing fears from the previous day, did little for her peace of mind. "There isn't a spring at all, is there?" she muttered to herself, her voice inaudible in the wind as she shivered, "They're just bringing us down here on a march to break us more, and they promised the spring so we'd get our hopes up..."

Having been ordered to leave everything but their towels behind only deepened her worries. Naked exposure to the elements, was it? More humiliation, on top of everything else? But again, she did as she was told; better to bear the ice and snow than whatever parallel to the scorches soles they had prepared for any Gems who refused. Or so she hoped. As they walked further down and came upon the large, imposing stone wall the fears were all but confirmed in Zel's heart. Any second now one of the Drakken would order them to gaze on the wall and its designs, point out how they signified the Gem subservience and worthlessness, and then they'd be ordered back up the stairs while the guards smugly looked on all of the crestfallen little girls who'd let themselves believe they'd get something nice in this frozen hell-

A sudden wave of heat and steam tore Zel's thoughts from her head as the stone slab swung open. The warm humidity she'd spent the entire climb down convincing herself wasn't there all but smothered her senses, and her mouth fell open in shock. She stood there staring, wide eyed and stunned, until another Gem bumped into her from behind walking forward. Zel shook her head and joined the procession again, looking around her with marvel... and with caution. This couldn't be real, she thought to herself. What was the catch? Where was the trick? But for all her looking, she couldn't find any sign that anything was amiss. For all intents, purposes, and appearances, this was a natural hot spring for them to enjoy, exactly as promised.

But even as the other Gems practically jumped into the water to begin bathing, Zeldria remained standing and wrapped in her towel, staring at different spots in the cavern. It didn't make sense. Why make such a showing of brutality, send the message that their well being meant almost nothing, and then present them with this? There had to be something, she just knew it. At the same time the warmth of the springs pervaded her, and the temptations to let the warm water wash over her and take her dirt and stress away for a time was every bit as great as her concerns that this was some sort of cruel joke. Paralyzed by indecision, she stood by the side of a pool, unsure of what to do...

Keregar’s face turned grim. The Warden? Dead? The times were most certainly growing darker. Back in Keregar’s day, there were few certainties in the world. But the undying danger of Harand Kor was as sure as Krenta’s embrace. Now, with the old Warden gone, Keregar could not help but feel as if Harand Kor lost a bit of its splendor. Still, as he gazed upon the newer Warden before him, his mood lightened a little. Yes, this new one seemed worthy of the Mask. “I will extend you the same courtesy as I gave the previous Warden. I will not ask your name.” He said, his voice as serious as he was speaking a vow. “Indeed, long live the Warden.”

Keregar’s gaze turned to the distant Pits. “I do not know you, Warden. But I hope we will meet on the sand.” Few could really know it. Fewer would understand it. But Keregar rarely hoped he would meet someone on the field of battle. It was a strange form of honor he extended to another Drakkan. A worthiness few had gained outside of Kerg-Kor. With a small nod of his head, he marched towards the Pits.

Some Drakkan would opt for armor, or a polearm weapon. His younger sons called it sensible, wise and advantageous. To Keregar, it was dishonorable. On his way he saw a Gem. Running around, alone. The sight struck him as odd. In his sober state, he did question why a Gem would be alone in the streets of the Drakkan capital. The Warlord kept waiting as the streets emptied out. Keeping an eye on the little Gem. He didn’t care if he was late. He felt like he would see something soon. Something that would not sit him well. He did not know what exactly. But he didn’t get to live so long by not knowing when to follow his guts. Soon enough he was rewarded.

A Drakkan. He looked almost unnaturally short. Was it really a Drakkan. Yes, yes he was. The greater question was why a Drakkan so small, so insignificant could have an apparent bride. Still, Keregar was not pleased by the sight. Why was he looking so desperate for her? Why did it look like he was caring? She was a Gem! Instead of slapping some sense in her, he barely touched her. Instead of chaining her and dragging her back, he remained gentle. Where was the punishment? It was clear that she was not supposed to be on the streets. Keregar moved closed, hearing him stumble over his words. Disgusting!

Luckily the little Gem knew her place. At least, she almost did. “A Bride does not move from the side of her husband unless specifically allowed.” He said with a stern, harsh voice. His eyes were filled with menace and hatred. Not just to her, but to the Drakkan with her. “And a Drakkan should know when to punish his Bride. You know our history, do you not boy?” Keregar was not afraid of throwing the insults. What would such a small Drakkan even do to him? Other than harm the collective superiority of the Drakkan race by procreating. Deep inside he hoped that Sorrak wouldn’t let it happen.

---

In her entire night, Kyrena never ever had a sleepless night. Under the shadow of the mountain, she felt protected. The winds of Auram would stand their guard. Gems of Serenity Mountain were not often subjected to evil deeds. In her bed, she still cursed her own stupidity for not changing clothes. How could she be so blind!? Well, she knew why. The dazed sensation. She wished it would return. But when she returned to her room after a long and exhausting day keeping together a torn dress, she jumped on her bed and silently sobbed in her pillow. Her Sne must have sensed something was wrong as the little creature came out of hiding and snuggled up to the Air Gem. Who embraced the gentle animal as the slow, ugly subs continued. Yesterday she wanted to dance, to feel free. Today she just wanted to feel numb. Why did she choose this life!?

After a long time of trying (and failing) to suppress her crying, she could finally wipe the tears away. Looking at her little companion, she realized she had been selfish. The animal probably hadn’t eaten yet! “You must be hungry.” She managed to say, not really expecting an answer from the little creature nuzzling her hand. But Kyrena knew. “I’ll find you some food tomorrow. I promise.”

Holding her pet close, Kyrena had tried to sleep through the night. When the gentle fingers of the sandman nearly wiped her tears away, her mind woke up again. Fearing a Drakkan might barge into her room at any moment and yell at her. Or worse, find her Sne! So when it inevitably happened, she was just in time to throw her blanket over the tiny creature and hide it. This time around she was not so stupid as not change her clothes. Tired, but more alert, she walked into the grand room trying to find the glowing Gem of yesterday. Maybe it was the comfort she gave, or maybe it was because she was the only Gem she actually spoke to. But Kyrena couldn’t find her before the Drakkan entered the hall. The second she saw him, Kyrena stood up to bow. Yet the Drakkan stopped them all. Rather attentively she listened to what he said. Hot springs? Kyrena had never been to a hot spring before. After the announcement she wanted to keep looking for the glowing girl. But when her stomach rumbled, she instead chose to settle down on a bench and eat some of the strange foods. At first, she was rather hesitant and merely nibbled at the heavy black bread. Under normal circumstances, she would have disliked it. But in the past days she had rarely eaten. So, for now, she tore into it after she realized it wasn’t all that bad. After eating quite a bit off the bread, she began to look around her to spot any Drakkan. She couldn’t find any, so she quickly wrapped several pieces of the bread in a cloth and put in her pocket. Hoping nobody saw it.

Two pillars as dark as midnight, entwined with one another, jutted forth from the earth, thrice the size of any Drakkan. They formed a striking image among the desert landscape, like a great twisted horn, the early morning sun gleaming softly off the dark stone. It was an old shrine to Drun, seldom used these days in favor of more modern temples or personally kept effigies. Ordric noted the damaged parts of the shrine where stone had chipped away, most likely from exposure to the elements. He placed a hand along it's edge to inspect it further.

The stone was smooth and cool to the touch, Ordric ran his fingers absently down the pillar, the shadowy skyline of Železna Kri absorbing his attention and occupying his thoughts. He had a choice to make today, a tournament was to be held as part of the celebration and those receiving brides were required to make an appearance, whether spectators or participants. Although Ordric relished the idea of refusing the summons, one didn't refuse the royal family lightly. I bloody well made my way to this shit heap of city didn't I? Why must I now attend this farce. His eyes grew hard and his brow knitted together in a frown as the sun crested the top of the city, flooding the landscape in harsh light. He knew all too well that he couldn't be a spectator, there was no place for him among those on high, he had to earn it and the thought of those entertainers put him on edge. As a boy growing up in Železna Kri he recalled a blacksmith whom had told him his mother had most likely been as much. A lie most like, but Ordric never really knew the truth of it and that had troubled him for most of his life.

He broke his gaze away from the city and stared down at the palm of his free hand, observing it under the rising light. He ran his thumb lightly over the calluses and traced the small scars he had earned from his travels. The skin was the color of ash and looked both strong and youthful, yet as he looked closer under the sunlight he could swear that there was the faintest glimmer, perhaps a trick of the eyes. With a frown he clenched his hand into a fist. Dropping it to his side and out of sight.

He leaned a moment more on the pillar, staring out at nothing in particular. A sigh escaped his lips and he turned to face the shrine, seeking out what he had come here for in the first place. Bloodroot. The object was attached to the pale white flowers that decorated the earth around the shrine, a bulbous root which in turn was attached to a gnarled black vine that ran beneath them. These vines were found alongside all the old shrines to Drun and were believed to be sustained through his will. The flowers only flourished when warriors seeking favor, or headed to war, spilled their own blood in honor of the war god, watering the earth and nourishing the vine.

Blood of the ancestors. Ordric dug his hand beneath one of the flowers, cupping the root as he pulled it free from the sands. Lend me your strength. The old prayer resounded in his head as he snapped the flower stem from the root, wrapping both pieces of the plant up separately in square cloths before placing them within his satchel. If he was to fight this day, he'd prepare for it accordingly. With his work done Ordric crouched beneath the shrine, pulling free his knife from its sheath and pressing the blade to his palm. Running its edge downward he watched as blood welled to the surface, crimson tendrils snaked down his fingers to fall as droplets to the ground, the sand greedily drinking in his offering. With a satisfied grunt, he stemmed the flow and wrapped a makeshift bandage about the wound. He rose quickly and turned with purpose toward the city, beginning the small trek back.

In a dark room beneath the pits Ordric unrolled his kit by the light of a wall sconce. It was a small cell with a dirt floor and no real doorway to speak of, one of many that ran along the curve of the arena above, serving as public preparation areas for those who were to fight. Undoing a few clasps, Ordric let his attire fall to the floor, his naked flesh prickling in response to the cool air. Once settled he sat down, crossing his legs and set to work on making himself ready. He begun by mashing up the bloodroot from earlier, with a mortar and pestle, til he was left with a thick, red ochre paste. Normally he would of had peeled the root, and allowed time for it to dry out and become a powder to be used in various vision rituals, but today it would serve a more aesthetic purpose.

With two finger he applied the paste to his body, decorating his face and neck before marking out runes of protection and strength upon his chest and arms. With that done he laid the bowl aside and rose to collect his choice of weapons from the walls. After a little deliberation he settled on an oaken shield and blunted axe. These should serve me well as any. Returning to his seat with the bundle in his lap, Ordric awaited his time.

The thin material did little to protect from the icy wind that whipped through the crowd of browbeaten Gems. The entrance to the underground was an almost welcome relief, although it did little for the chill that seemed to hold onto Xae’s very essence. But at least it stopped the wind.

The stone underfoot was eerily smooth. Worn down by the thousands of Gems who had walked it path before.

How many of them are still alive?

A dark thought she tried to brush away, but one that kept echoing in the darkest corners of her mind. It had reared its head the moment the drakken guard pressed the coal to her heal. It was a move that was meant to humble rather than cripple. Effective and temporary. While the burn still ached, after a day Xae was able to bare some weight on it.

A hidden blessing, the journey below was perilous enough with two legs.

The cavern that house the pools stretched on, the steam giving the room the illusion of going on forever. Suggesting that, if one traveled far enough, they too could vanishing into the steam.

All around her, girls were climbing into the pools, eager to bathe. The three leering drakken guards that remained were unavoidable, but they seemed content to watch the show, only reacting if the girls came to close to the door.

Clearly they are certain that there is only one way out of here

There were only a handful of girl still clutching at their towels now. One of which was a girl with scarlet hair. Xaelia had noticed her before, one of the few other girls who seemed to keep to themselves, rather than cling to others for support. Not that Xaelia blamed them. By the time she had tried to reach out to other girls, the brand on her heal already marked her as trouble. Far too many were wise enough to avoid that. Their reaction thought...well it hurt more than the burn.

But this was clearly time meant for the Gems. A time to pretend that everything was fine. That they were just people, rather than prizes. Taking a few step closer, she spoke to the Gem.

“I find it strange,” said Xaelia, the words struggled to come out, as though she was talking to all of the capital, rather than just a single girl. “That they would show kindness in the face of all they have done to prove that they are anything but,”

“Although I suppose even drakken have to agree that a dirty, travel weary girl would make for a poor prize,” Picking one of the smaller, shallow pools, Xaelia sat near of edge of it, her towel still held tightly around her chest.

“I’m Xaelia, by the way,”