Lienna woke with a start when a guard jolted her awake with his banging, no less surprising than it had been the day before. However, after the pounding of her heart subsided, Lienna was actually grateful for the awakening. It wasn't quite like waking from a nightmare, but a similar sense of relief washed over her when she realized that the things she'd been dreaming about - blasphemous words, vile, horned infants clawing their way out of her abdomen - she was almost happy to be met with harmless cold air and stone walls.

She shuffled to breakfast as usual, making a point to move with purpose despite the maddeningly slow pace these terrified girls insisted on taking. After all, a spring may flow along the path of least resistance, but it did so of its own accord.

Much of the exotic Gem foods from before had been replaced by Drakkan foods, Lienna noted, and while she was disappointed (after all, she wasn't thrilled about going back to dried meat after two straight weeks of the stuff) she wasn't nearly as forlorn as some of the other girls appeared to be. She supposed she could understand; for many of these girls, the colourful foods of Gemmenia were probably a precious remnant of home. As for Lienna, meats were as ordinary as it could get.

Soon after she sat down, as she looked over the table in search of choice morsels, the girl she'd spoken to the day before sat across from her, looking pained. Lienna could guess why - she'd seen the treatment she'd gotten after standing yesterday - but it piqued her interest nonetheless. Was it only the pain in her feet that was bothering her, or something else?

To Lienna's surprise, Amalia apologized profusely for her attitude the day before - something Lienna hadn't even given a second thought. Of course she'd been preoccupied! The poor girl had her heels seared and was forced to stand all day. And it wasn't as if Lienna had gone to great lengths to reach out to her. And yet, she apologized. It was a deed so odd to Lienna's ears she almost didn't know what to say.

"Don't you dare apologize," she replied, perhaps a little coldly, "Your first priority should be yourself now, tending to your own needs and seeing to it that you survive this ordeal with as little strife as possible. Don't you be casting yourself aside to worry about me."

Despite her tone, Lienna held no ill will toward Amalia. In fact, she found her empathy to be admirable, if a little misplaced. Perhaps she just had the tendency to come off a little harsh.

Amalia wasted no time changing the subject. It was as if she were as uncomfortable with apologies as Lienna was.

"Have you... ever eaten this?" Amalia asked, "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?"

Lienna had to fight down the urge to furrow her brow in confusion. This girl had never eaten meat before? In her life? She almost laughed out loud. Meat was almost all there was in the North, aside from the occasional fish and the valuable herbs which could be wrenched from the frozen forests.

She couldn't help but smile, and picked a few strips of dried meat from a nearby platter, as well as some much fresher, steaming cuts of what looked to be some sort of wild dog. She heaped most of the fresh meat onto her own plate, glancing longingly at the juices that quickly flooded it, and handed a strip of dried meat to her friend.

"Unless Drakkan meats are uniquely toxic, I am sure none of this will hurt you." she gestured with the dried meat, beckoning Amalia to take it. "Here, start with this. It will be easier on your stomach at first."

Lienna then took a bite of her own food, taking a moment to savour it. Drakkan or not, she had to admit it was good. "In fact," she added after swallowing, "You're probably better off eating this than some of the food in Hima. Do you know it's a delicacy to bury seal flanks in the ground all winter and eat them in the spring?"

She laughed. "The elders of the Council swore by it, but I could never get past the rancid fat. Awful stuff." She screwed up her face for good measure.

Unfortunately (or perhaps, fortunately for Amalia), Lienna's best excuse for banter was cut off by an announcement by the head Drakkan of Shadow Worth. Apparently, in their boundless kindness, they were offering the Gems a day in the hot springs.

Lienna's gut reaction was optimistic; Amalia's was one of fear.

"What if they lie?" Amalia whispered, "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."

Lienna couldn't help but be moved by the poor girl's plea. She grasped her hand, placing her other on top of it. She paused, unsure of what she could say to ease Amalia's mind. It took her a moment to come up with an answer.

"There are things in life which no one and nothing could ever prepare us for," she replied finally. "You can't just wish away your fear. I don't know what's to come of this, of any of it, now or in the days to come. All I know is that fighting a riptide will only serve to drown you."

She locked her eyes on Amalia's, making sure that Amalia met her gaze. "All you can do is take things as they come. Don't fight it. Comply, and in doing so, preserve yourself.

"You wish to be strong? Some of these girls think they are strong with their acts of defiance, their petty outbursts which only serve to hurt them in the end. No, the strong choice is to do everything in your power to help yourself." Lienna squeezed Amalia's hand. "If you bend, they cannot break you. There is nothing shameful in that."

Zakroti spun on his heel to glare up at the old braggart. Who was this man to question him? Some fool barbarian who ought better keep his forked tongue behind his teeth- No, he recognised this one. Zakroti clocked an eyebrow and took a step in advance towards him, placing his helmet on over his head again

"Ah, yes, Keregar. They say you enjoy to lecture. Norkaan, Kree!" Zakroti barked. The warriors around him sprung forth in between the warlords with the clunk of armour and the sound of weapons being brought to bare. Kzaar, towering over the lot, drew his Warhammer from his waist and moved his shield forward. Beltam joined him holding the centre and Kilio moved to hold the left flank while Gaikus drew his blade and readied himself on guard, taking to the right flank. Narlemaewel took position behind the line, by Zakroti and Aymiria themselves, weapons in hand.

"You know history. Good. Then I can expect wise choices of you. You just made a poor one, but we all get to make a mistake or two. History is the tutor of life, no? So choose your words more wisely." Zakroti finished as he placed his hand against the hilt of his own blade, pulling the pale blue blade half out from the sheath, ready to draw it fully at a moments notice. His eyes darted swiftly around his men and then back to the warlord before him. Six armoured and experienced warriors, versus one old warlord. A powerful and experienced warlord yes, but he is only one Drakken; they bleed and die like anything else. An unclean kill, but a kill all the same.

Gods blood, it would be a good feeling to kill right now. He almost hoped the Drakken would give him cause to slay kill. Almost.

"So go on. Speak, if you have aught to say worth my listening." Zakroti grinned beneath the visor of his helmet.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs Adorabella could hardly contain herself. Somehow she had lost the friends she had made and could not seem to find them amongst the groups of girls. The cold of the stairwell made her shiver and raised the hairs on her body. She clutched her towel closely around her in the hopes it would off her some warmth. Luckily, she did not have long to wait. The Drakken opened the stone door and hot, humid air pressed down on them. She sighed in ecstasy. Adorabella had to calm herself to keep from pushing her way inside. Heat and water. What more could she want?

Hardly had they been spoken to and left before Adorabella dropped her towel and slipped languidly into one of the larger, deeper pools. She submerged, allowing the fresh water to surround and comfort her. She held her breath for over a minute, just resting there in peace. Eventually, the need for oxygen caused her to rise and gasp, flipping her hair back. The bouncy curls were slicked back over her head and clung to her neck and shoulders. She watched the other girls crowd their way into this once in a lifetime treat.

She turned to find a pair of girls off on their own, bathing and speaking. As naturally as a fish she swam toward them. "I apologize for the interruption, but this sort of treasure should not be endured alone. I seem to have misplaced my companions. May I sit with you a spell?" she inquired, a large smile plastered across her body. Her delight and excitement could not be hidden. She did not wait for an answer before taking a seat near enough to them to be a part of their group but far enough that she did not cause them discomfort. Not everyone was comfortable with nakedness after all.

Most of the girls at this point had made their way into the pools. Bathing and fun abounded. Her heart sang to see it. However, there were still a few sourpusses at the edges. It took them far too long to contemplate this. Adorabella decided she would help make the decision for them. A mischievous grin replaced her ecstatic one.

"I don't know about you ladies, but I think it's time to help the others have a bit of fun." Her jet eyes turned toward the two girls. "What say you we give them little choice but to receive the comforts of splendour?" She gestured toward a pair of girls, one with red hair and one with long, brown hair. "Take too long to decide and one might never get the chance to experience the true pleasures of life," she said in a conspiratorial way. She lifted a tanned hand from the mineral water and with small movements started to create a gentle wave. "Will you join me?"

The warm water rushed around Bree’s head, washing away the layers of grime that still hung to her skin. The weightlessness of her body lulling her into a calmness, her brain willing to stay in the sereness of the pool forever, even as her lungs started to scream for air. Giving in, she lowered her feet, and pushed up until standing, the warm water resting just below her navel.

Bree had spent her whole life practicing the art of not looking at the female form. Allie made it easier, Bree had eyes only for her. But Allie couldn’t always be there and other forms were poisonous temptations that always drew her gaze. Even as her brain screamed for her to look away telling her it was unnatural, wrong, that it went against the goddess herself.

The thoughts never quieted, but they were ignored. She also learned that not watching was far more telling than openly staring could ever be.

Bree settled herself on a small ledged, watching Arden. The girl dropped her towel after a few minutes hesitation.

The dark bruise that blossomed from the girls stomach drew Bree’s eyes, far more than anything else about her. A tightness that started in her chest soon dropped down into her belly. It was Arden’s own fault that the beating had occurred, yet it left a bitter taste in Bree’s mouth.

“Not used to what? Being drug thousands of leagues away from home? Spending the eve of your wedding in a guarded hot springs? Strange,” There was a lightness in her voice as she had her eyes flick towards Arden’s before using the small bar of soap to scrub at her skin.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Arden fiddling with the water. Looking away from her arm for a moment, she glanced at the girl only when she felt a gentle wetness brush her stomach. The water was moving in a vortex, being brushed along by the gentle current of air. The sight of it brought an a quick smile to Bree’s face, followed by a laugh. A true one, one that filled her heart with a fullness that found a space in Bree she didn’t know what there. Reaching a handout, she let the vortex rush over her hand until the air escaped and the water returned to itself.

“Fire, although I don’t think it’ll do very well in here,” Indeed, the air was far to wet for even a spark to occur. Usually something that only happened when caught in a rainstorm. But for the moment, it hardly bothered her.

Her eyes once again found Arden’s bruise as the girl reached out of the pool to grab a bar of soap. “You must be sore,” she said, filling drawing her eyes away from the dark mark on the girl. “C’mere, I’ll help you wash your hair, it won’t heal you, but at least you won’t have to strain your stomach trying,”

“Although, perhaps you got off easy, if you are going to try to fight them over every little thing. You are in for a shit time of it,” She rubbed some of the soap into her hands, waiting for Arden to come closers, all the while wishing for one of the bottles in her trunk that smelt of Kakali flowers

A short moment later, and the pair was joined by a third gem. Bree's eyes narrowed in on the girl and was a little shocked to recognize her. Granted, if you spent a full day starring a a girls boobs, you'd be likely to remember that girl.

Why is it that I seem to attract the trouble makers

"I don't suppose their is any point in saying 'this is the sorta thing you don't do if you want the drakken to leave you alone' is there?" Said Bree, although her voice was anything but convincing.

Warmth. It was a comfort that Sorrin had nearly given up on in the stone prison she found herself in. She willed her bare skin to absorb as much of the sensation as possible as she let her body sink into the water. The scene allowed her a moment of rest from the pent up fear that had been plaguing her since their first breakfast in captivity, the first time since she had been taken from her home in the meadows since she was able to relax.

Sorrin had blocked out most of the happenings of the previous day, only remembering small snippets here and there. She could remember eating her food and laughing alongside another girl, a pretty girl she had not met prior to that meal. It was a girl she distinctly remembered liking and wanting to be friends with, but in the next moment the girl had vanished. Or was it that her attention had been pulled away? The memories were all mixed up and fuzzy, like trying to recall a dream hours after having woken up. Sorrin could remember a man, a horrible man whose voice alone made her tremble now… Why did she fear him so much, it wasn’t as if he had done anything to her… Ah, but he had, though perhaps not directly. Sorrin had not bowed, she hadn’t even stood up from her seat when the men entered, but her friend had. Adorabella had tried to warn her, but she just hadn’t understood. It wasn’t until the men drew closer that Sorrin bolted up in a panic. Even she did not know if her plan was to run or to fall to her knees and beg forgiveness, all she did know, all she could remember was the pain that followed.

She could not recall much of the hours afterward, her mind and body numbed by the shock leaving not even the energy to properly cry. If she did, there was no memory of it. One thing she did not doubt, however, was the presence of a friend who never left her side. She didn’t have to remember it to be certain of it, she had faith in Adorabella even if they had only known each other for a short time. By the end of the day, Sorrin was completely exhausted and more than ready for bed. She allowed Adorabella to cleanse her wounds and care for her before she was forced to return back to her own room where she was forced to spend another cold night alone.

Sorrin inhaled the humid air deeply, the heat and the water clearing her mind enough to return a small smile to her face. The whole thing felt strange to her still, having a hard time believing that the same men who had hurt them the morning before would return with kindness and mercy. She wasn’t going to argue it though. Even if it was temporary, even if it was some precursor to something more terrible than the day before, Sorrin didn’t care. They couldn’t take away the feelings of happiness and peace that flowed through her at that moment. She had been allowed a luxury, and nothing was going to change that.

Glancing around, Sorrin realized that in her daze she had never met back up with Adorabella. Carefully rising to her feet, the blonde slowly made her way through the springs in search of her friend. It wasn’t until now that Sorrin realized how many girls had actually been taken like her, the sheer number of people in the room making it difficult to locate any one face from a distance. The steam was no help either. Closing her eyes, Sorrin tried to focus on the sound of Adorabella’s voice, hoping that she might hear the girl say something so that she might locate her in the surprisingly spacious room. She had almost given up when she heard it, faint due to the obstacles between them, but Sorrin recognized it right away.

Step by step she made her way in the direction that she had heard the voice, moving around a small grouping of girls until she could finally see her target. Sitting just a little way aways was Adorabella who seemed to have made contact with another group. The faces tugged at her memory, but it was the bruise on the stomach of the one girl that really brought it back for her. She was the one that got dragged up in front of everybody and beaten half to death in the name of education. Just the thought made the young girl tremble, her progression towards the group coming to a sudden halt.

She stood standing there for a moment before she shook her head and took a deep breath.

“I feel bad, I missed you at breakfast.” Sorrin spoke as she approached the group. She did her best to put a smile on her face, clearly not feeling the best but making the effort all the same.

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding, I can go somewhere else if you would prefer…”

---

Aurora was no stranger to fire, nor was she ignorant of the pain it was capable of causing. For years she had trained with and around flames that were constantly in motion and under the control of another person. She was taught to have trust in her companions, to have faith that they would land their marks and that no harm would be done, but sometimes it just didn’t work out that way. Nobody was perfect, and sometimes her neighbors would get their timing wrong. It wasn’t as if this was the first time she had been burned, but the pain far exceeded even her expectations.

The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt in practice, and she suspected that it had to do with more than just the fact that these monsters were intentionally doing her harm. Their fire felt of pure malice, though whether it was their gods’ or their own she could not tell. Aurora knew better than to try and fight the pain, however, and let her voice join the chorus of others who were grabbed and burned for their lack of respect. Unlike many others, however, she did not cower back in fear or tremble against a wall for support. She stood up as tall as she could on her toes and marched on, a thin layer of sweat lining her skin in response to the damage done.

She couldn’t bring herself to cry, she was far too angry for that. The girl was angry at herself for having not done better, she should have known from their demeanour that they would have expected such a submissive position from their girls. She should have taken a closer look around the room and followed the example of the crowd, as the majority that did bow had chosen a position close to the floor. Aurora was frustrated that she had allowed herself to remain standing so tall when she knew better. It wasn’t just herself she was angry at though, after all, wasn’t it their goal to teach them? How was it fair to test on something they had never been taught, surely the Drakkan knew they had no reason to take up such a position in their homeland unless for prayer.

All she could feel was anger, and she was determined to use it. It fueled her through the rest of her day, keeping her on her toes for the longest amount of time she had ever been. If anything, she considered it less of a punishment and more of a training exercise like the ones she had gone through back home.

By the end of the day her legs were sore, but she didn’t mind the familiar tenderness. She welcomed it as an old friend and held on to it for comfort as she lay down for the night.



The following morning she could almost walk normally, still keeping her weight forward to avoid irritating the wounds any further. She took note of the sullen faces around her, more broken spirits to add to the pile. It was a shame but there was nothing she could do about it. Aurora could only look after herself if she wanted to survive the hell she had been dragged into.

Breakfast was even more dismal than before, many of the Gem dishes having been removed just to be replaced with different Drakkan delicacies. Clearly they were being weaned off of the luxuries of home, silently having their cultures ripped away from them as if the beatings and lessons weren’t enough. She ate in silence, not engaging with any of the others until the warden from before returned.

Aurora rose alongside many of the other girls, each promptly taking their place on the floor as they had been taught the day before. Once was enough to get the point across to the brunette, the girl easing her body to the floor so that she might blend back in with the group. She only half-listened as the man mocked them for doing the very thing they had been tortured into learning, the young girl having to bite her tongue so that she would not speak out of turn. Her attention, however, was regained by the mention of a recovery day. The girls would be given a day in a hot springs where they could regain their strength and relax instead of being forced to sit through grueling lessons.

At first she was extremely skeptical, not trusting in something that sounded too good to be true… But as the group finished their meals, they were lead down into a cavernous space filled with warm steam and soothing waters. Aurora began to wonder whether or not her injuries had killed her in her sleep.
She was slow to undress, surprisingly shy for a girl who performed in front of hundreds of people without batting an eye. However, she wasn’t really one to show of her naked body to others. A midriff was one thing, complete nudity another. She held her towel close to her chest as she approached the edges of the water, sitting with her legs dipped into the liquid. It made her feel better to see scores of girls who hadn’t even bothered to undress yet, proving she wasn’t the only one worried about appearances.

Aurora sat back and watched the groups form from afar, listening to the growing chatter and laughter. She didn’t know how they could bond so easily, how they could allow themselves to befriend each other so quickly. Didn’t they know that they were just days away from being split apart once again. These girls were going to have to relive the pain they felt the day they were taken because they couldn’t stand to be alone for just a couple of days.

There wasn’t much she could judge them for, though, as she felt a small twinge in her chest looking at them. For a brief moment she wished she could be among them, laughing away the fear of what was to come… But she knew better. Her goal was to survive, to do better than her sister had, and she wasn’t going to do that by making friends and ignoring her inevitable future.

“Such joy… I wonder how long it will last.”

---

Rya’s displeasure at her situation was made quite clear, as if the struggle she put up earlier wasn’t enough of an indicator. The entire walk was spent either dragging her along behind him or twisting to avoid being ensnared by the thread. It didn’t particularly bother him, however, finding her efforts to inconvenience him somewhat amusing. For him, her antics were easily ignored as the family made their way toward the tournament grounds. What started getting to him were the frequent stops his sister Morganna kept making along the way.

Eventually the group made it to their destination, the man pausing at the entrance before heading inside. Azilon made his way to a seat so that he could relax, thinking to himself of how much he would rather have been at home. At least at home there was peace and quiet, none of the pointless noise or pathetic squandering.
There weren’t any seats for the brides that were dragged along by their husbands, the girls forced to either stand, kneel on the ground, or sit in their husband’s lap. Azilon figured he had tortured Rya enough for the day, leaving any of those options available to her. Whatever she chose, he knew she wouldn’t be happy as she still had to wear the chain around her waist. The man raised an eyebrow at the girl, silently asking her what her choice was on the matter before his attention was regained by his father.

Taking a seat nearby, the Salazar had pulled a girl he did not recognize into his lap. Azilon was quick to recognize the attire and branding as belonging to the crown, no doubt the entertainment promised by the invitation they had received. Even through all of her training he could tell how scared she was, her youth giving her away as one of the more rookie girls. His dad sure knew how to pick on the vulnerable.

Out of the corner of his eye, Azilon took note of where the rest of his siblings had wandered off too; his two brothers and elder sister enthralled by the fighting, the younger sister he hadn’t met until recently sticking close to Tarkylian’s side.

“So, Azilon… You still haven’t told me how you acquired such a beautiful young thing, it was to my knowledge that you did not attend these sorts of things.” The man spoke with a smirk, barely paying attention to the person he addressed. Instead his attention was seemingly preoccupied with the girl in his lap, his not so gentle hands ever wandering about her form. Azilon chose to ignore the display, tuning out any sounds the creature made.

“I fail to see how it matters to you how I got her. The how does not change that she belongs to me now and will continue to belong to me.” His response was rather short but his tone was sharp, clearly warning the man to stay away.

“Seems that your grasp on manners has slipped quite a bit since you moved out, need I remind you who you’re speaking to?” Salazar glanced over, his eyes piercing into Azilon like daggers. He would not be deterred so easily though, he knew how to handle his father. There had been no fear of the man for quite some time.

“Manners are for those who deserve my respect. Needless to say, you don’t make the cut.” Azilon nearly hissed his words, eyes rising up to meet the challenge his father threw him. The tension in the air grew, the small girl yelping in pain as the man’s hand squeezed too tightly around her sensitive chest.

“I see… Guess I will have to remind you after all.” He smirked, taking note of the servant beckoning to them. Their turn in the tournament had come, an underhanded trick of his to be sure, entering them the night before without Azilon’s knowledge.



It didn’t take long for the pair to find themselves at the center of the arena, plenty of faces looking down on them, eager to see the results. Salazar was no push over, a skilled fighter with a pension for cruelty. Many knew his name and just as many knew his face, Azilon was not so famous. He was practically a ghost, a living myth to those who knew of him but hadn’t seen him in years.

Up in the seats, Morganna had been left in charge of Rya’s leash, the woman lounging in Azilon’s seat without a care of what was happening between the boys. She had seen it happen a thousand times and a thousand times Azilon had lost. Morganna had to give him credit though, as he had vastly improved over the years, she wondered if it were possible for him to finally win one.

“You there, chew toy.” She barked, giving a strong tug on the chain to get Rya’s attention.

“Go to the edge there and watch the fight for me…. Oh, and don’t worry about Azi, if he dies I’m sure father will claim you. You’ll be well taken care of.” Morganna chuckled, swishing her hand dismissively as she lay her head back to relax.

By this point the men had chosen their weapons, Azilon fighting with his preferred dual blades. Salazar, much to the surprise of his son, waived his right to a weapon so that he would be fighting with his bare fists. He wasn’t the type to take unnecessary risks in battle, everything that he did was calculated and served a purpose. Azilon figured his father was trying to intimidate him, he wasn’t going to let him do so.

Azilon moved quickly about the field, keeping to his toes and quick to dodge many of the blows his father threw at him. Several times he felt his blades strike flesh, the scent of blood continuing to fill the air, however he knew that each of his strikes were too shallow to do any real harm. Salazar barrelled forward, an unrelenting force that allowed Azilon no moment to rest or regain his bearings.

The two kept moving, one throwing punches that knocked the air from his opponent, the other slowly chipping away at his father until both were heaving for air. Azilon was the first to falter, Salazar seizing the opportunity to wrap his arm around the boy’s neck cutting off his access to air. Struggling against the grip, Azilon tried to break away but he found there was not much in the way of escape with his current state. Striking outward, Azilon brought his arms back and down digging his blades into Salazar’s legs.

Salazar groaned with pain but it was not enough for him to loosen his grip on Azilon’s neck, the boy’s vision beginning to blur as he fought against him. Not yet willing to give up, Azilon slammed his palm into his father’s nose with a force that surprised even him. The impact stunned the elder man just long enough for him to break away, quick hands retrieving his blades from his relative’s flesh before kicking the man over. Eyes blazing with rage, Azilon stood over the body of his father, clearly poised to strike once again. He brought his blade down quickly, the intent to kill quite clear in his demeanour as he moved to strike.

Steel was met with steel, Azilon glancing up angrily as he locked eyes with the warden who had stepped in with his own weapon to keep him from killing his opponent.

“Do not disgrace your win.” The man grunted, Azilon growling as he stepped back. Glancing back down at Salazar who was already recovering, brushing himself off with a laugh as he stood back up.
“You’ve improved a lot. A few more years and you might be able to stand up to Morganna.” Azilon rolled his eyes and turned away, taking his leave of the field to return to Rya.

Morganna opened her mouth to say something but was silenced by the look in his eyes, the man tearing the chain from his sister’s hand.

“Come on Rya, we’re leaving.” He growled, not giving her much time to react before he started dragging her toward the door.

Lienna seemed so wise in comparison to Amalia. The pale haired Gem squeezed her new-found friend's hand, drawing strength from her calm determination. "I did not intend to seem rebellious yesterday. I did what I thought they wanted and was too shocked to correct myself before it was too late. I wish I was more like you."
Amalia looked around at the other girls in the room, sighing. "I just want to survive."

She took the dried meat from her new friend and tried to bite it. It was very tough and hard to chew. Amalia tried to gnaw on the leather-like meat for several moments, looking sort of like a puppy with a chew toy, then frowned at it in frustration. It hurt her teeth and she barely got any of it off.
Her gaze wandered to her cup of water. Her eyes suddenly brightened with an idea. Placing the meat in the water, she went back to the pieces of bread on her plate. After a minute or two she pulled the meat from the water and tried againg. This time her teeth cut through the softened meat easily and she beamed at Lienna. Perhaps Amalia was not as useless as she feared she was.

~~~~

It was indeed a hot spring. Moisture stuck to the rock walls of the caverns as steam rose from the water. Pressing her cheek against the rock, Amalia could faintly feel the tiny bits of Earth inside the crevices. It was not enough to manipulate but even being near it brightened the Earth Gem's spirits.

The two guards watching with such lecherous grins made her very uncomfortable. Seeking out Lienna, Amalia stayed close to her side.
The moment her feet touched the water pain shot from her feet up her legs. Amalia covered her mouth but couldn't keep a small cry of pain from escaping. Tears stung her eyes and she closed them tightly, not wanting to cry in front of everyone. Walking on the balls of her feet, she shakily made her way deeper into the water to cover naked form.
Her skin was the same pale color throughout, not one blemish to mar it's smoothness. The heat from the water caused her skin to turn a pale pink. Amalia pressed herself against one wall, trying to hide from sight as much as possible. Soap had been provided. It smelled pleasant, but it was not the honeyflower soap of her home. A wave of homesickness washed over her once again.
Turning her head to the side, Amalia began washing her hair. Gradually the dullness of filth washed away, leaving her hair the pale white of moonlight.

Nadia woke in a cold sweat, the pounding of drakkan fists on her door somehow quieter to her than the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. The drakkan opened the door after a minute, yelling at her to get herself to breakfast. She complied quickly, if only because of all the nervous energy built up in her now. As she sat in the first open spot she could find at a table, she began to actually process what had scared her so badly. A dream- or rather, a nightmare from her childhood. She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing as she went over the events of the nightmare in her mind, telling herself that it was all just in her mind.

Breakfast passed quickly like this. She didn't eat anything- not that she'd wanted to eat the drakkan food set out for them anyway. She was putting that off for as much later as she possibly could. She was finally roused from her thoughts when it was announced that they would be going to a hot spring for the day. Excited chatter broke out among the girls around her, albeit hushed slightly by the idea that it may be another test, or even something worse. Nadia followed the crowd to the springs, and was happy to find that it really was just a nice, natural hot spring for them.

Nadia wasted no time getting into the warm waters. She put her clothes in a corner with a few other Gem's, and chose one of the shallower pools to sit in and try to relax. The water was hot, but comfortably so. She felt like she might start melting as soon as she got in.

After a little while, and more gems getting into the water with her, Nadia grinned as an idea popped into her mind. Something to get their focuses off of everything bad around them, at least for now. She waded closer to a small group of girls who were talking, and without hesitation, she pushed her hands towards them just under the surface of the water to make a small wave, splashing all of them. "Come on, splash me!" Nadia spoke with a small hint of a challenge in her voice as the girls she'd just splashed looked at her in confusion.

"But... The guards..." The gem who spoke was looking over her shoulder at the entrance to the springs, where a few guards stood watch. They weren't doing anything unless someone got too close to them, so Nadia couldn't see why she was worried. Their little group was on the opposite end of the room. She made another small wave with her hands as she replied.

"Look, they're not coming any closer. We can relax for now." She smiled as, finally, one of the girls shyly splashed back at her. "There you go. Smile!" She splashed the group again and a couple more retaliated now, grins starting to break out as they realized what Nadia meant.

If we all smile, maybe we could make that happiness real, if only for just this moment.

---

The second Onyx's head hit the pillow, she was out. A day of stress and pain and emotion had pushed the Earth gem to her limit. When the thunder came in the morning to wake her and her fellow captives, she felt like she was just barely balancing on the edge of a cliff. Sitting up and yawning dramatically to male the drakkan go away, she decided that if she was going to keep herself together, she needed to avoid the Drakken's attentions for a while.

She stood carefully, testing her weight on her burned feet. The sores were not as bad as they had been by the end of yesterday, but she still winced as she took those first few steps towards the banquet hall. She forced herself to eat, but the lack of gemmenite food made her choices slim. When the speech Drakkan came in and told them about the hot spring, she almost wanted to cheer. A day without horrible lessons or inhuman punishments? Vivari is watching over us...

She got into a shallow pool, sinking to the bottom so that only her nose and eyes remained above the relaxing liquid. She would have gone back to her room and grabbed one of her books to read while she was here, but the idea of having one of her precious few treasures here, where they could get waterlogged and ruined, made her decide not to even try. Not that the guards would even let her go get one now.

She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander, until suddenly the water around her, which had been so still up til now, came up over her head making her acciedentially breathe in some of the hot liquid. She stood quickly, coughing and gasping as she got over the momentary panic. Once she recovered, she saw the source of the wave. A bunch of girls nearby had taken to splashing each other, some kind of game she supposed.

She got out of the pool quickly, and decided to go to another slightly deeper pool now. She couldn't sit in this one, so she stood as the water barely came to her chin. There were only a handful of gems here, but they seemed mostly to be keeping to themselves.

---

Kendra was glad the day was over. Even sitting by the fire in every room, and huddling up by the harth all through dinner, she was frozen through by the time the girls were all allowed to go to bed. She praised Naia and Vivari that the Drakken had left a new outfit in her room for her, which she put on immediately before curling up for the night in the bed.

When she woke to the sound of Drakkan knocking on the door again, she considered pulling the blanket off the bed and bringing it with her today- a testamemt to both how much she hated the cold, and a small act of rebellion in her mind. It would be an interesting way to act out, but as she walked to breakfast she realized it would have just ended with her stripped again probably, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs.

When the Drakkan announced the day would be spent at a hot spring, Kendra was among the few Gems who cheered out loud. Heat! Water! Swimming! It would be a slice of home for her that she doubted she would ever get to enjoy ever again in her lifetime.

Haarahle had hot springs of its own, a place where she had spent a lot of time with her friends growing up. The scent of hot water and wet stone as the girls all entered the bathing chamber was so familiar, she felt if she closed her eyes she could pretend that she was back home. She wasted no time on figuring out which of the pools was the deepest, and after making sure no one was in the way, gave herself a running start.

"WHOO-HOO!"

Arden Gaothaire

_{Interacting with: Bree @Ellion, Adorabella @eclecticwitch, and Sorrin @WeepingLiberty}

Arden’s smile remained as Bree poked fun at her responses. If only Bree had known what she really meant by not being used to the situation at hand. A small part of her wanted to tell Bree about who she was raised to be, but there was a bigger part of her that was afraid to. Arden had never opened up to anyone about how she lived as something she was not. Even after she was apprehended and forced to live the remainder of her time until she was Reaped in Prisel Aldentine, she never spoke about her life beforehand. The Gemmenite women who looked after her for that year would ask her questions that were always met with the same silencing glare. And yet, the thought to tell Bree had momentarily crossed her mind. There was something about the woman that was drawing Arden in, something that made it almost too easy to trust her, to like her.

”I'm not used to being gawked at, I mean. Although I do appreciate your sass.” She retorted lightly with a chuckle that morphed into a sly grin.

The thought of it being the eve of her wedding night had not pried its way into her mind. She mostly had been preoccupied with the immediate happenings and the intricacies of how the Drakkan behaved. Arden knew what was to come next, though she paid little attention to it. She didn't want to dwell on the sick thought of becoming the bride of one of those monsters, and more so, what would eventually be forced intercourse; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the idea. She swallowed back the fear that accompanied the thought of becoming a bride and focused her thoughts on what her purpose of being there was. She knew the road ahead of her would be difficult, to create change in their world was a dramatic shift from creating it in her own world. Was it even possible? She wouldn't let it get to her, she would remain strong and do what she needed to in order to meet her goal, even if it meant moving at a glacial pace.

The sound of Bree's voice snapped her out of her thought, she was commenting on her purpled abdomen that was indeed, very sore. Bree's offer came next, Arden’s face washed over with shock at the kind gesture. She wasn't accustomed to such pleasantries, she was always the one offering them. A soft smile returned to her face as she began to shift toward Bree. ”If you wouldn't mind, I would be most grateful.”

Bree returned to the pool from her ledge ad Arden drew closer. Arden brought her back toward Bree and allowed the woman to begin massaging through her hair with the bar of soap. It was relaxing, the feeling of Bree's hands pressing against her scalp. She had always had short hair, this was the longest it had ever been, and there was something strangely calming about having another person wash her hair for her. A breath of relief escaped her lungs and her body relaxed. As she sank backwards, her bare back met with Bree's breasts. Arden’s face flushed at the feeling of them touching her skin but she remained in place, enjoying the feeling of Bree against her and the feeling of her head being massaged. She barely heard the woman's caution, but she had heard enough to snicker.

”I know which battles to pick.. It might seem stupid, but what you can learn from their reactions is sometimes worth a bruise or two. I'm willing to take a strike for the many if it means the others know just how far they can be pushed, or rather, just how much we are needed.” Arden’s voice was calm as she spoke, as if it carried the wisdom of a leader.

After a few moments another Gem had joined them, this Gem had brightly colored hair and an air of positivity about her. It was matched by her recommendation for encouraging the others to enjoy the hot springs and have some fun. Arden chuckled at the thought, fun in a place such a this. The Gem wasn't wrong, keeping people's spirits alive in times of tragedy was important. Rallying for such was an act that Arden was used to, but she knew there was a time and place for everything. Although she was almost certain the Drakkan guarding the door would not interfere, the bruising on her stomach kept her cautious.

”As much as I would love to, I think it's better I wait at least a full day before I cause more trouble.” She laughed a genuine laugh. ”Besides, it's not everyday someone else is willing to wash my hair for me.. And this is a pleasure I cannot deny.”

It seemed as though they appeared welcoming, as their group of two had grown almost instantly to four. The second Gem that had joined them, appeared to know the first one. This one apologized for her intrusion, offering to move away if needed. Why this girl thought she was being a bother made Arden laugh once more.

”Don't be silly, you can stay. I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Arden, Arden Gaothaire. You might recognize me from yesterday’s display of brute force. Though her statement was dark, she said it with a mocking tone as to bring an air of lightness to the situation.

”and this is Bree, she has better manners than I do.” Again, she spoke with playfulness. ”What are your names?”

The first girl seemed to not enjoy Adora's idea about 'gently' enticing some of the other girls to enjoy this glorious bathtime. She pouted slightly until she heard a familiar voice. She turned to see her dear and darling friend standing before her. She was shining and beautiful and her heart once again sang at the sight of her. As Arden said she was fine, Adorabella launched herself from the water, using her ability to help push her forward. The water in their pool lowered for a moment as she landed on the side of the spring. It washed back, filling the rocky enclosure once again.

"Oh Sorrin," she half whispered. "I am so glad to see you. My deepest apologies for having lost track of you." She pulled the taller girl into a hug, her tanned arms around a pale waist and face laid against her bosom. "I am glad to see you feeling better, you were in such a state yesterday." She drew back, a tearful smile on her face. She grabbed the other girl's hand and excitedly pulled her toward the pool. "Come, join us my sister. The water is absolutely decadent and relaxing. Though I hope the heat of it will not hurt your burn. At lunch, we will have to see if they have any honey."

As she started back toward the pool Arden agreed with Bree that they should not make waves, as it were. She didn't care. In fact, she would forget she had ever suggested it. Adora had her darling friend back and she would do nothing that could hurt her. However, as she listened and watched the pair a lamp lit up in her brain and a smirk found its way to her lips. The two girls were... well... One could hardly think otherwise. How beautiful. How devastating. It could only end in tragedy. But, Adorabella would ensure the girls could find every happiness together. Their mutual shyness was lovely to behold. The trick would be to push them toward each other in a way that was not at all aggressive. It had to be their idea after all.

Standing at the edge of the pool at this point she knelt down as she slapped a hand to her forehead. Adora had let go of Sorrin's hand at this point. "My sincerest apologies for my rudeness. How could I have forgotten my manners? My name is Adorabella, it is an intense pleasure to meet the both of you. I know we only have one more day here but I hope that we can become close and offer each other support in this trying time. There is no reason we cannot find little feelings of happiness while in our enslavement." She leaned forward and offered a hand out to the two girls to shake, her other steadied her balance against the edge of the bath. Her wet hair fell forward over her shoulder, dripping water down her collar bones and into the water below. "And my beautiful friend behind me... I will let her introduce herself."

Aryll had always considered herself a social creature, but fear and despair had a way of making some people retreat inwards. It was only natural, she supposed, but she just didn’t feel like herself. Ever since she’d bowed to the Drakkan out of fear and saved her own skin, she’d scarcely spoken a word. Not through lessons, not through the night, and certainly not at breakfast. She’d directed that energy normally reserved for speaking to her thoughts. Her mind had few enough kind words.

Coward. She was still kicking herself over her refusal to stand, but couldn’t help but feel relieved after seeing what had happened to the protesters. She felt guilty, craven.

What would father think? Perhaps it was the naivete of youth, but as far as Aryll was concerned, her father was the strongest person she knew. Not perfect, she was old enough to know that. He’d taught her about the importance of self-sufficiency, of strength while simultaneously trying to shield her from the world. Her father would be horrified at her current situation, but she knew that he’d also want his daughter to be brave. Would he be disappointed?

She was glad for the hot springs. It rekindled some anger, that she’d been treated so poorly that a bath was cause for celebration, but it didn’t it stop her from smiling to herself as she finally dropped her towel to the side and lowered herself into one of the deeper pools. There, she was content to submerge herself in the water with some of the other, more introverted gems.

She watched with a slight smile as the splashing fight started, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders, even though she wasn’t actively involved in it.

Eventually, another gem made her way to their pool. Aryll recognized her, one of those who’d stood in the dining hall. It would’ve been easy to remain silent and just enjoy the water, but maybe some part of her regular personality was still there. She turned to the newcomer.

“You were one of those who stood, right?” She asked, earnestly. She’d tried to speak conversationally, but some her admiration must’ve slipped into her words. “Does- does it still hurt?”

The sounds of the tournament echoed around every corner of the arena, a constant reminder to all about why they were there. All around the field were holding pits where eager drakken lay in wait for their opportunity to fight.

A year ago, so much senseless violence had caused her endless nightmares. The first time she saw a drakken struck down left her in near hysterics. Now, she could almost see the beauty in battle, the need to fight and the honor in victory. Invested enough that she found herself rooting for a favorite to win and feeling frustration when they failed.

Rya perched herself on the armrest of Azilon’s chair, her feet barely touching the ground below. Nearby, another gem was tangled in the lap of Salazar. Although there were many girls around the pavilion in far more compromising positions than this one, the fact that it was Salazar’s hands touching the girl made Rya squirm and her face grow scarlet. While far from a virgin herself, Rya’s first husband making quick work of that the night they met, it just seemed so much dirtier when done with an audience.

Rya was unsure if Azilon shared her view on the matter, which is what kept herself planted firmly on the armrest, instead of his lap. Even though the armrests seemed to be designed to make that position particularly uncomfortable.

Despite her best efforts to pay the pair no mind, Salazar wouldn’t be anything less than the center of attention.

“So, Azilon… You still haven’t told me how you acquired such a beautiful young thing, it was to my knowledge that you did not attend these sorts of things.

An acidic guilted started to flood Rya’s body, starting from her stomach and spreading up her throat as she tried to keep her body relaxed and free from any admission of wrongdoings. She had no idea what her punishment would be should the wrong person discover what she did. Azilon seemed indifferent but Salazar finding out would have a much less ideal outcome, that much she was certain about.

Thankfully, Azilon seemed content to keep her secret. Or, at least, avoid the question. Which seemed best till he got up. Reaching out she caught one of Azilon’s hands, a silent plea not to leave her. But all that came from that was the appearance of Azilon’s sister. Morganna took reluctant hold of Rya’s leash and a grumbling occupancy of her brother’s chair. The molested Gem of earlier bolted the second she was free, no doubt off to find a friendlier drakkan to entertain.

Rya slipped to the ground by Morganna’s feet, pulling her knees to her chest. Arching her back, trying to make herself seem as small as possible.

It seemed that the entire population of Drakka entered the ring before Rya saw Azilon again. His name, as well as that of his father, stirred a wave of interest from many of the drakken around her. Drinks were set on tables and gem entertainment losing the attention of their drakken client for a moment.

A gasp of pain expelled from her lungs as the chain around her stomach tigented, digging into her skin. Glancing up at the female drakkan, Rya tried to dig her hands under the chain to loosen it, but Morganna only seemed to pull it tighter.

“You there, chew toy.Go to the edge there and watch the fight for me…. Oh, and don’t worry about Azi, if he dies I’m sure father will claim you. You’ll be well taken care of"

The female drakkan’s words did very little to comfort her. The year among the drakken had taught Rya to want for few things and expect less. But as much as she was afraid of Azilon, she knew that Salazar would be a hundred times worse. Rya crept forward as far as the chain would allow, settling on the balls of her feet, trying to keep the borrowed dress as clean as possible.

The agony that settled in her chest as the father and son fought on the field seemed to attack her lungs, making it impossible to breathe. Her hand digging into the smooth stone below her as she pressed into the hard earth. A coppery taste of blood filled her mouth the moment Azilon’s father got his son in a choke hold. Rya’s mind already flashing to the best direction to bolt should Az--

Lucky for her, the thought never had the chance to finishing forming. Azilon tossed his father off, winning the fight.

And kill him. The thought flashed through her mind. A hungry, eager thought from a voice deep down that didn’t quite sound like her own.

To the voice’s disappointment, Azilon backed away, encouraged to do so by the keeper of the games.

For as long as it took for Azilon to enter the ring, he appeared before her in what seemed like a moment.

“Come on Rya, we’re leaving.”

“Az...” It was unclear if he heard her and chose to ignore her, or if the aftershock of battle had deafend him to all. She found herself rushing to stand has Azilon stormed off away from the arena.

Rya’s feet kept catching in the skirt that was designed to look pretty, but it didn’t move very fast.
After nearly falling for the 5th time in as many seconds, Rya was sick of it. Reaching out and wrapped her arm in the soft chain before yanking back on it like a whip, pulling it free from Azilon’s hand.

“You. Are. Going. Too. Fast,” she hissed, her voice low, the leash hanging loosely in her hand, the length of it dragging on the floor. She made no move to hand the chain back to Azilon or come any closer either.





With the washing done, Bree carefully tipped the Arden's head back in the water, being mindful to not splash the soap into the her eyes. Satisfied with her job, Bree slowly started working on her own hair. Running the soap through it before starting the painstaking process of brushing through its length.

“Truly, the drakken should be paying me. Look at all the wisdom on survival I have managed to impart on you already Arden,”

The cheerfulness of new the gem...Adorabella, was a little overwhelming. Far too bubbly for the circumstance. Coming from someone who planned on being here, that was saying something. “An intense pleasure indeed,” said Bree, a polite smile that had been groomed into her repertoire coming to rest on her lips, as the reached out and took the girls hand lightly, the top of her hand point up. Holding it as though she expected a kiss, rather than a shake.

“And your friend, I assume her name is Sorrin?” Said Bree, her hands returning to her own hair, braiding each side as soon as it was free of tangles. “We sat next to each other during that delightful presentation how how not to let the drakken baby rip you to shreds on the way out” Well, Bree sat, Sorrin stood painfully nearby. A sharp reminder to mind the drakken. “ As near as I can tell, the trick is to get lucky,”



Somewhere, in one of the deeper pools, a girl lept in. Her body curled in a tight ball before splashing water over everyone close to her.

There was a sudden cool breeze as the steam rushed to escape the room. The heavy rock door opened just large enough to allow a single drakkan to enter. The new drakkan spoke a few quick words to the two guards stationed at the door.

After a few second of conversation, one of the drakkan guards stood. "Out now," he barked, his second heading to the back of the room. Probably to chase out the Gem's who had wandered too far back.

“But, I thought you said we had until lunch,” Said Bree, stepping out of the pool and quickly wrapped her towel around herself. “It can’t have been more than an hour,”

“ Plans have changed,” Said the drakkan, his voice as greasy as the look he gave her as his eyes flicked down her body. “It is time to meet your husbands,”

The hot springs were a decent walk away from Shadow Worth. There were a number of Drakken who followed behind them, in front of them, and throughout them, to ensure that the soon to be Brides were kept in line. Just the very presence of the massive creatures cast a veil of fearful compliance over the group as they were herded to their new destination. There were a handful of Gemmenites that could be heard socializing on the way. Sera couldn’t decide whether she thought they were brave or stupid; or whether she envied them or resented them. She walked in silence amongst the faceless crowd, disturbed at her own racing thoughts about them.

Sera had not felt quite right since she arrived in Shadow Worth, though she never felt quite right. Serafine’s thoughts had been more overwhelming, the world was changing around her more often, and she was acting out more than usual. In Gemmenia, Serafine was always there, always lurking… but she did not visit as much as she was now. Sera’s face twisted into a knot, realizing that it was this place that was drawing her out.

Why?

The hot air rushing against her face pulled her out of her own thoughts, Sera hadn’t even realized the group had reached their destination. She had been walking robotically, simply following the motions her body took her through. A couple nudges came from behind her and beside her as the Gemmenites pushed past her stone like body and into the room; most of them appeared to be excited by the Drakkan’s gift of luxury. Sera could care less. Before another one of the guards had to push her along, she walked behind the group into the hot spring.

Most of the women were quick to find their way into the pools of water, some of them lingered on the platforms, and some of them even chose to make a grand entrance by jumping into the spring. Sera observed those who flocked to each other and shared in conversation, she again felt the familiar feeling she had earlier; was she jealous of them or did she spite them?

With a heavy sigh, Sera pushed the intertwining feelings from her mind and decided to enjoy the gift bestowed upon her. She slowly removed her towel and stood for a moment naked on the platform, unphased by her exposed body. Her porcelain like skin was untouched by imperfection, her white silver-like hair hung to her lower back. She was petite, and dangerously stunning. Sera’s crimson eyes scanned the room for a place to sit in solace from her own thoughts, she chose a pool with a Gem sitting on the edge of it, her legs resting in the water as she sat on the edge still wearing her towel.

Sera slowly walked over, placed her now folded towel on a bench on the platform and slowly lowered herself in the pool within speaking distance of the Gem on the edge. She heard the woman comment judgingly about the other Gem’s behaviour. Sera could not fight the small smile that appeared on her face; to hear another share even a morsel of her own thoughts was a relief. It calmed her in a way she had not felt since she arrived to Shadow Worth; was that all she needed, to share in distaste with someone?

”Nothing ever lasts.” Sera responded, her voice flat with a factful tone.

Her statement couldn't be more true when one of the Drakkan ordered them to exit the pool. The day of promised replenishment was quickly rescinded, an action that Sera assumed was normal of their kind. The sound of displeased sighs echoed the room, even one Gem had the courage to point out that they had not been there that long. When the booming voice announced it was time to meet their husbands, silence fell over the room. Everything had been leading up to this moment, the day of their forced weddings. Fear once again struck the faces of many, though Sera carried her same blank expression. To become property of one of these monsters, would it be better than home? Would they look at her like her own parents did, a monster? Something to be afraid of? A thought ripped into her mind like a knife cutting through paper; was their chaotic nature just what she needed? Serafine.

I’ll forever haunt your memory… So you best learn to live with me.

Kagan Galegar

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

Kagan watched the fight between the two Dantanath men with disinterests, his nerves preventing him from joining in the roaring and jeering of the drakken around him. He'd still not seen hide nor hair of Holg since their conversation earlier, but he was sure the man was preparing something. It helped little that their bout was the next on the list. He watched numbly as the younger drakken stormed off the field, apparently dissatisfied with the bouts conclusion. ”Leave it to a high born to find a way to complain about a victory…” he thinks, silently staring as the elder drakken brushed passed him without so much as acknowledging his existence. That suited the kinner just fine. He had enough noble problems on his plate, so the grouchy victor could keep to himself.

Kagan stripped off his shirt, tossing it on a bench as he stepped into the arena. He was by no means a large drakken, he’d freely admit that. He was tall, for sure, but he’d never fully grown into the height, his muscles more lithe than the bruising frames of most drakken his size. So his entrance was...less welcoming than what the Dantanath pair had received. The sounds of teasing jeers, surprised laughter, and (pleasantly enough) a few cat calls had largely replaced the uproar of excitement that had previously held dominion over the arena. It helped little that his weapons were, by his own admission, modest at best.

The longsword currently resting on his hip was a hand me down from his previous master, the leather of its grip frayed and smelling of age. Kagan should have replaced it long ago, it groaned under the weight of another blade and was a devil to keep sharpened, but it was also 40 years familiar to the young drakken. He had cut his teeth on his profession with this sword, so parting with it wasn’t something he was keen to do just yet. The knife strapped to the small of his back was of a higher quality, but still a plain thing compared to some of the more ostentatious designs floating about Železna Kri.

Kagan’s stomach almost dropped as Holg waddled into the arena, an obscene symphony of clanging metal and creaking leather straps. Kagan couldn't but help but glare at the gaudy full plate armor the older drakken had adorn himself with. Along every surface, the armor gleamed with dark etching of famous battles from Drakka's history, gold trim along its sides casting blinding reflections into the crowd above. His mace and shield were equally gilded, though the flanges of the weapon and deep scaring on the shield showed they were far from purely ornamental pieces. A few boos of echoed through the crowd, but Holg seemed impervious to their effect, instead raising his arms in gratitude to what small portion of the crowd deigned it acceptable to cheer the display of wealth over his opponent.

As the crowds roar died down, Holg bellows. "My brothers! A great injustice as befallen our dear traditions!" He begins, his theatrics hushing the crowd with a speed that surprised Kagan. Seems that for all Holg's bravado, he at least knew how to drum up his own theatrics for effect. "Every year we send only our strongest. OUR BEST to collect brides. But this..." He says, gesturing limply at Kagan with his mace.

"Boy." He decides, lowering the mace. "He's earned nothing. Just a kinner riding off the back of his masters success!" A hushed murmur falls over the crowd, but Kagan made sure to keep his gaze calmly locked on his opponent. Looking around too much would betray some level of weakness and only strengthen the mans claims. "Are we going to let a parasite steal what naturally belongs to the strongest in drakka?!" Holg bellows, receiving a thunder of stomping feet and hollers of approval for this clearly justified defender of tradition.

"Then by the grace of Drum and for the honor of the choosing, I challenge you Kagan Galegar. A duel for-" Kagan yawns, interrupting Holg. "Oh. Please excuse me." he says, scratching the side of his head. "Sorry its just I'm a little tired from staying up late last evening. Tell me, before you continue on with your soliloquy, do you know when my opponent will show up?" He asks, giving his back a quick stretch. Silence passes over everyone, save for a few barking laughs in the back of the crowd.

"You...you dare mock a duel!? I'm ashamed to call you my fellow drakken." Holg stutters quickly, attempting to not get to side tracked. "You're a drakken?!" Kagan gasps, a few more laughs erupting from the crowd. "By Sorrak's breasts, with all that armor I thought you were just a gem on stilts."

"DO YOU ACCEPT THE CHALLENGE OR ARE YOUR INSULTS AS EMPTY AS YOUR SEED?" Holg screams, voice cracking slightly in frustration. Kagan could practically hear the poor bastards teeth girding together as he attempted to maintain what little formal dignity he could salvage from this farce of a challenge.

Kagan waits for a moment, pretending to consider the request, meanwhile admiring the stewing fury Holg now carried in his breast. "I accept the challenge. If you win you claim my bride rights and my life, if I win you forfeit your honor and I take your life. Do these terms agree with you?"

Holg hesitates for a moment, clearly surprised Kagan upped the ante to a duel to the death, but nods all the same. Both drakken slip comfortably into a defensive stance, taking a moment to size the other up.

Kagan, for his part, looked exceptionally calm for someone currently screaming internally at himself for running his mouth just make a rival look stupid. By all measures, Holg was the better fighter here and both of them knew it. He had a good hundred years of experience on Kagan and the better gear to boot.

Kagan thinks for a moment, trying to decide the best option for attack. He was taller, and normally that would confer some advantage. But with his avenues for attack being limited to the slots in the armor, reach was less a deciding factor than precision. The shield was also a problem. Even if he used both hands to swing, his sword was simply too light to budge the iron hunk. If he wanted to waste energy, he could try knocking Holg over. But that armor was fitted to the man, and Kagan doubted Holg would have bothered with it if he wasn't used to wearing it. Rushing him was the best option then, only so fast one can move in full plate, no matter how used they are to it. "circling around mace side and stabbing it is then..." he thinks, adjusting his grip.


Kagan broke the stalemate first, rushing towards Holg and throwing a weak swing, a creeping feeling of joy spreading through him as the screech of metal on metal met his ears. Holg was surprisingly unbalanced from the sudden charge, attempts to swing down on Kagan's shoulder, the young Kinner stepping deftly to the side from the clumsy swing. Kagan fires out with his blade, managing to just barely sink the blade into the older Drakken's shoulder. The young kinner grins as he twists the blade, Holg screaming in fury as he swats the blade away with his shield, feeling the blood beginning to flow slowly from his shoulder. Kagan withdraws, taking another wild swipe at Holg, but the armored hulk seems to finally find his footing, the blade bouncing off his shield as his foot fires out, catching Kagan in the chest and knocking him prone.

Holg looms over Kagan, his own grin as the rush of battle fills his system. A bellow echos from his chest as he brings the mace down on Kagan. Reflex over takes Kagan as he rolls to the side and onto his knees, the mace meeting dirt as he feels the wind rush past him. As Holg prepares for a second swing, Kagan rushes forward, his blade managing to sink once again into the shoulder slot. Holg attempts to power through the stab, but Kagan twist the still embeded blade forcing a shriek of pain from Holg as he aborts his swing, stepping back and freeing the blade from himself once more.

Kagan presses the opening, but Holg manages to regain his composure just fast enough to fire out with a swing of his own, his mace clipping the side of the kinners skull. The blow stuns Kagan, the world momentarily mixing in a swirl of color as his brain attempts to recover from the mild trauma inflicted on him. He backs off groggily, clutching the side of his head with a free hand as he attempts to keep his focus on Holg's next assault.

Kagan raises his sword to block as Holg takes a horizontal swipe at him, but with his head still swimming from the blow earlier he looses his grip on his blade, the mace ripping it from his hand as it clatters to the dirt a few feet away. Kagan throws a hurried glance at Holg and then to his sword, his brain recovering just enough to hear the crowd screaming as the fight began to build towards what they thought was its logical conclusion.

Kagan gropes wildly at his back, his dizzied mind searching for his blade. Holg slams forward with his shield, not wanting to let this brat with no title insult him any further with his defiance. The shield bites into Kagan, but he manages to roll with the punch, finally managing to get his hand on the dagger as his mind finally steadies. They stare each other down for a moment, Kagan not wanting to close the distance until he fully recovered from the earlier blow. Holg, meanwhile, bangs his shield with his mace, stepping forward for every step Kagan takes back. "Come oooon!" He gloats through the pain of his shoulder.

Kagan bites the inside of his cheek, feeling his magic claw at the air around him and throwing it to the ground, kicking up plumes of dust and dirt. He almost felt guilty, as this probably made for a terrible show for those watching the fight. He backs out of the cloud quickly, hearing Holg's armor clattering as he swung wildly.

He keeps the sphere of whirling dust following him as he moves towards his sword sheathing the dagger once more, it was better for him to let Holg think he had him on the run. Curled fingers of air whipped around Kagan and the dust bit at his eyes, blurring his vision. It was far from comfortable, but better than being fully exposed. He drops to his knees, sliding his hands through the dirt grasping at where he thought it was for a few milliseconds before a finger finally slides across its edge.

Kagan grips the blade end with both hands, the edge cutting into his palms as he waited in the still whirling winds.Jagn Huk, or the thunder stroke as the Gems called it. When his master first showed him the technique Kagan had said it was easily the dumbest thing he'd ever seen. He changed his mind after the third or forth crack to the skull. Results couldn't be argued with, no matter how silly it looked.

Kagan waits in the smoke for a while, wondering where his opponent was. He almost dropped the cloud when an orange flare of color darts just past his head, forcing him to drop low. "ENOUGH GAMES GALEGAR. COME OUT HERE AND FIGHT" He hears, muffled slightly by the wind. " Ok, so Holg is smart enough to not blindly walk into a dust storm"[ Kagan thinks, inching closer to the edge of the small storm. He was beginning to tire, and keeping this small maelstrom wasn't helping.

With little in the way of options, Kagan opts to use the one thing that got him into this mess. If nothing else, shooting off at the mouth would atleast be one last bit of catharsis before he had his skull caved in. "Come now Harin.." He yells, huffing slightly as dirt filled his mouth. "Hardly seems sporting for me to doing all the work. You've got to atleast earn SOMETHING yourself in your life. Daddy not being around to give you everything anymore and all..."

A furious roar is all the response he gets before another fireball shoots through the smoke, this time harmlessly passing over Kagan. The kinner waits a moment, straining his ears to try and find Holg before he found him. Between the whipping of wind and the gentle crackle of the still burning flame Holg threw behind him, he could barely make out the faint clicking of metal on metal a foot or two in front of him. Kagan grits his teeth, pushing himself forward out of the dust, throwing the whole of his weight behind the blow leveled squarely at the now terrified Holg's head. The hilt cracks against the drakkens helm, embedding itself a good three inches into the skull beneath. Metal screeches as the blade snaps cleanly at the point of impact, the hilt remaining firmly in Holg's skull.

There is a moment of quiet as Holg stares at Kagan, dropping his mace. A hand slowly reaches up, awkwardly fondling the new, rather extreme piercing. Fear over takes him and Holg drops to his knees, panicked panting being the only words he can manage as he desperately tries to remove the hilt without touching it. "HGet...hgeet eet outttaa" Holg squeals, unable to fully articulate as he felt metal press into flesh he wasn't even aware had feeling before now. Kagan stands, confident that he was no longer the focus of Holg's attention. He drops the ruined remains of his blade to the ground, hefting the heavy mace onto his shoulder as Holg grasps the hilt and pulls.

Kagan winces as a wet pop echos from outside his vision, looking up to the crowd. There is an awkward silence over everyone, before Kagan finally manages the courage to speak. "So....That counts as a win right? Or am I disqualified because he killed himself?...Judge?...little help here?" He asks, smiling as a small around of confused applause began.

Kuki's morning went down in a similar fashion as yesterday. She was awoken early and quite rudely by a series of pounding on the door. Are they trying to break down the door? 'Cause that's how you break down a door. Seriously, they're beating on that door like it owes them money. As soon as she stood up, a drakkan marched into the room and grabbed her very roughly by her hair. Letting out a small yelp of pain, she was dragged out of the room and forced to walk. Her feet felt as though they were on fire, but daring not to stop walking for fear of punishment, she continued on. She made it to the dining room and sat down. Looking around at the other girls, she noticed that there weren't as many girls here as there were the previous day. Kuki shivered to think of what might have happened to them. She didn't have much of an appetite today, not helped by the fact that nothing looked appetizing. Nonetheless, she grabbed something and started eating. She sighed and tried not to throw up. This was her life from now on? She had to endure this forever?

Kuki looked up as the same drakkan from the past two days came into the room, the "prince" nowhere to be seen. A few gems rose, as if to bow, but were quickly waved off. She started to curl up under the table, and listened to what the drakkan had to say. She was excited to hear that they would be given a day off from their studies. After everything that happened the first day, she needed a break. She looked forward to resting.

----

Once the gems got to the springs, Kuki wasted no time getting in. She sighed with relief, letting the warmth from the springs soak into every bone in her body. She tipped her head back and splashed some water over herself. She looked over and noticed some gems in another pool were having a splash fight, laughing and trying to lighten the mood. She smiled to herself. It's nice to see that people are enjoying themselves. Being happy is probably one of the few ways to keep yourself from breaking in a place like this. Kuki dipped her head under the water for a moment when she heard a muffled sound above her. She surfaced just as another gem plunged into the water, thoroughly soaking Kuki. Kuki shot a glance at the gem and sarcastically said, "Gee, thanks so much for looking before you jumped. My hair is soaked now, thanks."

Amalia had barely gotten clean before they were called out of the springs. One Gem was brave enough to protest and Amalia felt fear for her, but thankfully she was not harmed. Apparently something had happened to shorten their time. They were being taken to meet their husbands already.

Icy fear shot through her veins. She dried off and dressed, once again staying close to Lienna as they went back to the keep. In her room she found her gown from when she arrived. It seemed so long ago even though it had barely been two days.
Amalia dressed carefully. She wanted to look as nice as possible. Perhaps if she attracted a husband with several wives she would be able to keep herself out of his sight more.
A comb had been provided so she was able to comb her hair until it gleamed like moonlight. The blue of her gown brought out the pure blue of her eyes. It was simple, nothing to detract from her natural beauty. She pinched her cheeks to try and add some color but it didn't work that well.

Once everything was done Amalia spent the remaining time trying to calm her racing heart and slow her rapid breathing. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. Great Mother help me, she prayed, oh Vivari look upon me with favor and bless this union. If he is not kind, please at least let him be reasonable. Protect me Great Mother.
She kept her prayers going until she was called from the room and taken to her fate.

The past day and a half had been but a blur. Her travel to Drakken lands after the man who should have been her father shunned her, the lessons both from the Speech Drakken and the ones on childbirth and religion and now here she was in the springs. It was almost unbearably hot for her. Hestia had come from a fairly temperate climate and had never heard of hot springs before. Her foot was burned from her first day and she was hesitant to get into the hot water. She watched fellow Gems hop into the water with glee. Hestia did not like the idea of being naked in front of so many people. However, the thought of being clean enticed her.

She found a fairly secluded spot and removed her towel. She bathed quickly, lathering in soap, rinsing, and hoping out right away. She pulled the towel around her before venturing out into more public territory. She sat at the end of one of the smaller, uninhabited springs. She let her legs dangle into the water, coming up to knee height. At first, the heat of the water burned her ankle but it soon after passed as she got used to the temperature. She enjoyed watching the other girls bathe, play and laugh. Though if she caught too much sight of skin she would look down into the murky mineral water and blush.

It had seemed all too short before a Drakken man entered the room and bellowed for them all to leave. Hestia put up no resistance. The tall Gem was one of the first to the door. She waited for her sisters to line up before they were led away. The fact she was wet caused the cool air of the world outside to see that much colder. By the time she reached her room, she was shivering and her lips were blue. She dressed in the clothes the Drakken had given her. The dress that had been laid out on the bed was a soft forest green. It was cut quite low and fit snuggly against her thin, frail-looking figure. It made her feel a bit like a starved cat in beautiful wrapping paper. It was much nicer and cleaner than the wear she had travelled in. Oldrin had never given her more than burlap sacks to sew together for dresses. She also had no possessions to speak of. Oldrin had let her take nothing and practically shoved her out of the door and into the arms of her captors.

As one of the first girls ready she allowed herself to be steered into a carriage and bore the long journey to meet her husband. She prayed and wished that he would be kinder than Oldrin had been. But in the end, she did not have very high hopes. Her life was in another's hands and she had never known any different.

Ineraz’s first opponent in the Pit was a 6’9 brute of a Drakkan, who like many of their kin likely intended to rely mainly on pure brute force. The other’s armour was very light, a combination of leather and cloth, showing off what might in other circumstances be an appealing amount of bare skin and bulging, defined musculature, its dark grey colour accented with a modest amount of black war-paint. Kytho, as he had learned the other’s first name was – not that Ineraz intended to remember it after the match unless the male managed to impress him – wielded a huge two-handed battle-axe and nothing else, though he could probably swing his weapon with one hand if he was pressed to do so.

The grounds were a simple circular dirt enclosure, surrounded by a stone wall which extended upwards into an area where the many Drakken spectators could either stand or sit as they pleased (the few Gems, though they were hardly worth mentioning, would be forced to obey their masters’ whims and as such unlikely afforded the luxury of sitting down, or indeed, expressing their free will in any other significant manner). There was one exit into the underground prep room, now already closed by thick iron doors and guarded by a Drakkan ready to intervene should there be hint of an unhonourable killing about to occur. Relevant to Ineraz, there were four wooden troughs filled water, each standing close to a wall in one of the four cardinal directions. Kytho didn’t even offer a glance to those, so either water wasn’t one of his elements, or he intended to fight primarily with his weapon.

The fight started suddenly; one moment the warriors were staring at each other, Kytho seriously but with a manic gleam in his eyes, Ineraz with a grin reflecting the other male’s hidden joy openly, both having a weapon drawn. As Kytho dashed forward in his direction, Ineraz became almost unaware of the crowd’s noise, his focus narrowing to the Drakkan in front of him and the small arena around them. When Kytho was close enough that he already begun a swung that could easily deal a killing blow, Ineraz sidestepped and managed to sneak in a slash to the bulkier male’s side with his sword, creating a long but shallow gash. Kytho snorted contemptuously and lifted his axe from where it hit the ground, already making a second swing, now horizontally in Ineraz’s direction.

Ineraz managed to duck in time, but as soon as he took a step backwards and stood up, his opponent struck a hit to his right bicep with the blunt side of his axe. Although the leather armour protected him some, Ineraz still felt a momentary numbness in his right arm and his grip on the weapon loosened slightly. Almost reflexively, Ineraz threw a strong condensed gale of wind at Kytho, barely pushing the massive Drakkan a step backwards, and by the sights of it, also enraging him. Kytho snarled furiously and unleashed a flame ball unto him. Ineraz protected his head at the expense of his left arm, damaging the sleeve of his armour and leaving behind a rather painful burn. Seeing as his move proved to be effective, Kytho called on more flame smugly, but Ineraz was more than capable of thinking through his pain, and swiftly called water from the nearest trough. The opposite elements clashed, creating an area of steam, and while Ineraz could push it safely away from him and toward Kytho, his opponent apparently did not have that ability, as proven by the shrill scream he uttered as soon as he literally got a face full of hot steam.

Vindictively, Ineraz kept the steam right there at its current temperature, until Kytho dropped to his knees. In case it wasn’t yet clear to the other male, he stepped forward calmly and held his sword to the neck of his downed foe. Despite a minor injury, the victory was his. The Drakkan referee also declared it as such, stepping forward to see the state of Kytho. Showing as much nonchalance as he could while his rush of adrenaline subsided and the pain in his left forearm made itself known, Ineraz left the arena to tend to his own wound. A patch of skin on his left arm was red and blistery, but Ineraz was confident enough that it would mend easily and soon enough, especially if he applied some sort of a salve.

In the privacy of one of the preparation rooms, he touched the burn and winced. Fortunately, pain was a good sign in this case. Ineraz frowned as he acknowledges the fact that he would also have to replace part of his armour. With a sigh, he took his dagger and carefully cut off the leather sleeve at his elbow and peeled it off his wound. Conveniently, the pit prep rooms also held several basic medicinal substances for the combatants, and Ineraz applied one to his arm, then wrapped a thin strip of cloth around the appendage. Confidently and without a seeming concern to his injury, he walked towards the spectators’ area. If the matches proceeded swiftly enough, he might have to fight again. Whether he did or not, Ineraz intended to enjoy watching how others fared.

Miry froze in terror as the looming warlord lumbered towards them, issuing a challenge to her husband. Chancing a look up at Zak's face, the murderous light that filled them, she had a vivid, terrible thought of the street being turned to a bloodbath.

But for the moment, though the blackguard drew their weapons and fell into a defensive form about them, Zak seemed happy to talk, if a little bit eager to go for his own sword. He sneered up at the much larger Drakkan, and in spite of everything that had transpired, every bit of anger and hurt and betrayal- Miry was afraid for him. Guards or not, it was entirely possible there would be an injury, or a death here.

Her hands balled into fists, water streaming from nearby planters on the street to coil up around her ankles, swirling up under her gown and eventually around her wrists and hands and freezing into gauntlets, small claws of ice spiraling up between her fingers. She was careful to keep her hands hidden inside her sleeves, of course, her eyes demurely on the ground. She shifted slightly to be standing mostly behind Zak, well out of his way should he suddenly move to strike, and clear of Vain's sword as well.

---

---

The night had been a sleepless one of burning unshed tears and tension in her chest and face. She had not gotten a wink of sleep, and felt it acutely upon dragging herself out of the bed to her door nearly being shaken off its hinges.

Her eyes were leaden, somehow even more unfocused than before, and she barely managed to keep herself upright for long enough to get a plate to fill with the dry, horrible meats they were feeding them. She mechanically plopped into a seat, obediently putting the food in her mouth (as unhungry as she had been the last few days, she knew she needed nourishment) and scarcely tasting it as she chewed.

The white haired girl sat beside her, and said something - after quite a few minutes of silence, feeling like her head was filled with lead and cotton - she realized it had been questions directed at her. She peered around, but - there was a vague commotion, and the other girls being led from the room. She froze, confused, and was promptly shaken to her senses by a brute of a guard, who dragged her to her feet and along after the other girls, telling her exactly nothing.

Had she missed something?

She was shoved roughly into the end of the line, her head filled with the others babbling about hope and how eager they were for the warm baths...

...what?

Descending into the steamy caves, pools of warm water everywhere, most of the girls were eager to cast their towels aside, easing aching bodies into the water.

Nenra hesitated, wandering around, finally finding a pool tucked as far away from the others as she could. Self-consciously she unwound her towel, slipping into the hot water while still holding it up, trying to hide behind it and conceal her blemished features, feeling very much a lump of granite among glittering gemstones. She, though lacking in the hideous pockmarks that had scarred her sisters and cousins, had nonetheless acquired more than her fair share of small scars and blemishes from her work in the fields and struggles to tame her element - her hands and feet calloused and tough, tiny oft-reopened scratches along the length of her arms, raised pinpoints from the thorns of the rosebushes she'd been tasked to tend. She was ordinarily not mad at them, nor at the faint sprinkling of freckles scattered across her collarbones and scarcely visible across her cheekbones- it made her proud, that she'd lived and lived rather than just existing in this body. But today, surrounded by all these beautiful (and mostly shameless) women, she felt so dirty and unworthy.

She eased into the water, scrunching down into the shallow pool, curling into a ball and leaning back so that she was resting on her back and all but her face and the tops of her knees were under the water. The lapping against her ears was rhythmic and oddly soothing, drowning out the goodnatured chatter and even quiet giggling that echoed around the room. Her eyes drifted shut.

It felt like she'd only been there for a few seconds when she was shaken out of her stupor, and with a yelp she tried to cover herself - but it was another of the brides, the pretty scarlet-haired doe-eyed one from the carriage.

"Get up, didn't you hear? We're leaving." She hauled on Nenra's arm, helping the (...altogether too floppy, Nen realized) girl to get her feet under her. The other girl reached over her towel and thrust it at her, looking fearfully over her shoulder at the lumbering guardsmen who approached. As they scrambled out of the pool, narrowly missing a beating, Nenra caught her foot on a rock and stumbled, striking her knees and falling to the floor, her feet tangling briefly with the bigger of the two Drakkan guards as she instinctively struggled to stand.

She yelped, the breath knocked out of her, and the guard growled. As his partner led the pretty one away, he swiftly meted out justice- two swift kicks to her ribcage and abdomen, snatching her towel away from her and dragging her up by her hair. "Watch where you're going." He hissed, shoving her ahead of him, his fingers on her shoulder in a death grip so tight she was certain her collarbones would crack.

She scarcely processed being half shoved, half dragged back to the castle, pushed into her room and left to dress. The boots she had been given were just too small for her feet, and pinchy at best - the gown itself was gorgeous, and she loathed to put it on. But they had confiscated the worn homespun dress she had brought here, and short of going to meet her new husband nude, she had to comply.

The dress fit her too well, with extra padding stitched in at all the appropriate womanly places. Nenra had never developed such features really, though it was not as though food had been scarce as many girls of her shape claimed. She just came from a long line of very angular, spindly women. The gown itself was simple, a burnt orange gown so dark it was almost black, tiny embroideries of copper and gold outlining the neck and sleeves and lending a sparkle to the otherwise exceptionally plain ensemble.

She haphazardly combed her hair flat with the provided utensil, tugging through the tangles indiscriminately (and leaving a sizeable portion of her already wisp-thin brunette locks on the floor). She elected to carry the boots, keeping her bare feet in contact with the reassuring earth as she stepped outside her room, joining the line of girls being loaded into carriages.

---

---

Scyrven's heartbeat matched that of the drums. Loud, rhythmic, pulsing, every beat filling her with fire.

As the previous combatant brushed past through the ready-room, she leaned against her mate's side, rising up to gently place a kiss on his cheek (tilting her head to make certain her curling horns did not prick his skin) before sliding her helm into place in a clearly oft-practiced maneuver.

With a sly glance at her mate, she reached into a pocket inside her chestplate, producing a stone carved into a pyramidal shape. Each of the four corners was painted with a different color. Each signified a different weapon she could use. White, her sword and shield. Green, her glaive. Red, throwing weapons. Black - nothing. Only her elements.

She tossed the die onto the table, smirking as it landed green side up. Good. She had wanted an excuse to use the polearm in combat. The challenge her husband had offered at home caught her attention once more. Though her smile was not visible behind her helm of nightmares, she broke out into a grin, affording him a final half-bow before taking her glaive with a flourish and stalking onto the battlefield.

The sight of her opponent made her blood run with fire. A warlord several inches shorter than her, but in every facet of his posture as conniving and cruel as most runts had to be to make their way here. His left horn was chipped, splintered short at about half its length, and his grin was lopsided to match, his icy eyes sizing her up and so clearly internally removing her armor.

Lysander Karstagg. She had heard tales of this man and his dynasty's cruelty. Taking brides just to set them free into the swamps of his holdings, setting his hounds on them whenever they thought they would be free. He would save them once they were taken down, of course, he wouldn't have them killed before he had his fun. And he would, systematically breaking every girl he was given, casting them aside like broken playthings if they failed to give him offspring. He had tossed away his second bride, when she presented him a sickly son who soon expired, given her off to his soldiers to do with as they pleased and then cast her dead into the street.

Oh, her blood boiled as he saluted the crowd, pulling a flashy trick with his wicked twin swords. He wore no helm and little in the way of armor, in contrast to her own self, clad in steel-reinforced hardened leather, her scale mail tunic, and solid helm.

As the gaze of the masses settled on her, she swung her glaive up over her head, twirling it effortlessly and catching it after two quick twirls, planting the butt of it into the dirt floor and offering a flourishing bow to the royals' booth. The ends of her russet hair peeked out from under her helm.

They approached the circle drawn in the soft earth floor, and Karstagg inclined his head to her. "Lady Scyrvensral. It is an honor to duel you once more." He spoke slowly, his words dripping poison. "If I am to best you in combat today, I will thoroughly enjoy plowing your face into your husband's bed as I take you tonight." The words carried around the room, and the drumbeat faltered to the raucous hooting that filled the amphitheater.

Scyrven's heart leapt into her throat. He remembered. When she was a lass of merely forty, and he so much more experienced at nearly seventy, he had challenged her to a duel in her father's court, and she had lost. Badly. It was a lighthearted duel, but even still - he had wanted to take her then, after her defeat, and only her father's intervention protected her.

But she had been young then, and inexperienced, and now she had the advantage in both stature and in weapon reach. His brutality was unparalleled, but... perhaps it was a more even match now.

She swung her glaive around herself once, clearing her head as she stirred the muggy air. She stood the weapon firmly into the ground, the blade extending into the air well above her head. A grin crossed her face, hidden inside her helmet, as she thought of the perfect retort. "My lord Lysander... it is never a good idea to challenge a woman who has a longer shaft than you, now is it?"

He snarled, lunging at her well before the command was given for the fight to commence. She was bracing for it and swung her glaive up, taking the first crude overhand blow in the steel-filled-hardwood shaft of the weapon. He was good at flashy, yes, but it was a carefully calculated flashy. He was a little brute, attacking with his heart and not his head.

From there the fight progressed in a blur. Scyrven took especial delight in twirling about him, adding just a bit of flair to every strike of her blade. The little lordling was fast, but she'd succeeded in clouding his mind. His strikes were not hitting true - and she was glad of it. Had he been on his game she was certain there would have been several times where he could have impaled her, but as it was there would be only bruising under her armor. A few times he caught her glaive against his sword, causing her to wince as the blade was likely dinged, but he - with his arrogant refusal of armor - was sporting several bleeding, shallow cuts.

The fight dragged on for several minutes, both combatants visibly tiring. Scyrven knew she had to end the fight soon - while her stamina was good, carefully honed over a century to be good, the little lordlet seemed to be faring somewhat better than she. So she pulled a move of questionable fairness.

Spinning away from him, carried in part by the mass of her weapon, she took a knee hard in the dirt, swinging her blade around (blunt side first) towards the sides of his ankles. He realized too late, jumping awkwardly, the blade still clipping the side of his boot. Knowing he would land off-balance she spun her glaive quickly, whipping it around vertically and lunging forward, jamming the iron-reinforced butt of the weapon into the center of Karstagg's exposed chest, taking him off his feet with an audible snapping of bone. Before he could try to recover Scyrven lunged to her feet, standing over him, her glaive's slightly curved blade leveled at his throat. She took some sadistic pleasure in pressing one metal-toed boot down into his groin, pressing some of her weight down, feeling his cheap codpiece crumple under her weight and a faint groan of pain escape the man.

The blood rushed in her ears, preventing her from hearing the crowd's reaction. After applying a bit more pressure against Karstagg's groin - simply for her own joy more than anything - she swung her glaive up to the ready, saluted the royals, and stalked back to the prep room, freeing her face and mane from the helm as she did.

Upon returning to the room she faced Gwillim, placing her glaive against the wall and her helm on the tabletop, leaning up to throw her arms around his neck (mostly for show, gods knew how much attention the other competitors were paying.) she purred something unintelligible out, pressing her body tight against his, hoping for the proximity to him to ground her.

Wearing an armor akin to lamellar, but of a metallic construction. It would resist pummeling from both earth and fire magics in particular. Still few bothered to use their magic as anything more than a supporting ability, but Gwillim had other plans. He enjoyed watching his wife best the little fool, not that he'd have allowed the filth to take his wife as a matter of pride, but it was good to see that she had bested him of her own accord. Gwillim wrapped his arms around his victorious mate as she came off the field and held her tight, grinning and whispering to her a soothing sort of gloat over the little lordling and of her clear display of prowess with her weapon. He used his talent with water to help relax her muscles and cool her body after the fight, leaving her only a little tired from the exertion and ready to face the next fight when it came.

His own fight came up, and he reluctantly released Scyrvensrel after a lingering moment, to give his companions plenty to be jealous about. He grabbed his poleaxe and headed into the arena, finding his place and offering a simple military salute to the royals box. He astutely ignored the crowd, and watched his opponent as the fool played to the crowd's whims. Match start was signaled, and the drakken, a landless brute hoping to prove himself in todays tourney, charged Gwillim with shield raise to protect head and torso. The brute's axe was drawn back to swing on impact. He wore a chainmail hauberk and simple iron cap. Good gear for a landless brute. Gwillim side stepped the advance gracefully, shocking the crowd into titters and subdued jeering. The Brute stopped, before crashing into the arena wall, realizing his mistake a little late. He spun, swinging the axe in a lateral back hand. Gwillim was to far away for the axe to bite him, but his poleaxe had greater reach, and it's head flashed suddenly towards the brute's weapon shoulder. The sudden shift caught the brute off guard and he struggled to shift his own mass away from the attack. He only just avoided losing his arm, instead the sound of wood splintering could be heard through the arena as the brute's axe haft was cut clean in two. Stunned, the brute missed the follow up of the poleaxe's haft to helm with another resounding crack, as Gwillim spun the weapon around his dominant hand and continued the attack with out loosing any momentum.

The brute fell to his knees, and the guards called the fight hurriedly as the realized that Gwillim's next strike would decapitate his unconscious foe. His blade stopped milimeters from the brute's neck, and Gwillim slowly withdrew a step, turning to offer the same simple salute to the royal's box, before marching smartly out of the Arena. He was a showman of his own style, he didn't cater to the crowds, but none could deny his skill. He'd not even gotten the chance to use his elements, the brute's attacks had been so rudimentary that Gwillim had withheld his arsenal of elemental attacks simply because the brute offered him no challenge, much to his disappointment. He returned to his wife's side, and slung an arm around her shoulders as he complained quietly.

"That wasn't even a match, my cousins could put forth a better challenge than he did. I thought this tourney was of Drakka's best, not every street rat that could hold a blade... "

Evienne watched over the processions with quite a bit of pride, the clashing of steel music to her ears as she made her rounds. Every so often she would stop to observe a fight she suspected would be of great interest before returning to the outskirts to speak with various personalities. Rarely was there a moment of rest for the woman but she took it in great stride, after all it was how her father raised her. Strong, independent, and most of all… a leader. She suspected that of her siblings, despite her not being the eldest, she was most likely to inherit her father’s position upon the throne. Evienne was the fiercest, and sharpest of mind. Challenging her elder siblings would be an easy task for her, that she was certain of.

“Are you certain? Is that really him?”
“I’m pretty sure. Not quite what I expected from the rumors if I’m going to be honest.”
“Against Salazar at that, poor kid… Doesn’t have a chance in hell.”

The short snippet of nearby conversation pulled Evienne’s attention from reprimanding a crying Gem servant, the drakkan princess stepping up to see what the commotion was all about. Down below in the pits were two warriors gearing up to face off, both faces she recognized almost at once.

Salazar had been quite involved with the royal family, quick to lend his support to her father in most regards. The two didn’t always see eye to eye on certain subjects, but the man was sharp enough to know which battles were worth fighting, and which were not. She had a fair amount of respect for the man and his family, each of his children a force of their own. The man he was pairing off again was one such child, a younger son who tried very little to hide his distaste for his heritage. Azilon Dantanath, brother to a man receiving a bride this Reaping and possibly one of his own if she gathered her intel correctly. No doubt something her uncle had trapped him into, but that still raised the question of what had drawn him to the capital in the first place. Slowly a smile spread across her lips, arms tucking in loosely around her torso.

“I wouldn’t be so certain. Just watch.” She mused, half-hanging over the banister to watch the duel play out. Evienne was fairly certain that neither competitor was fighting at full capacity, Salazar blatantly holding back with his choice to fight bare handed. Even still many blows were exchanged and both fighters were fatigued by the end. She had a feeling that Salazar had purposefully lost, but it was difficult to tell with the man as he had strange ways of pushing his children to their full potential. The men who had been talking before looked at one another stunned, clearly uncertain as to how they should react to such a battle. Evienne simply shot a smirk in their direction before heading out to continue her rounds.

She was certain to tune in to any of the battles that included her prized guests as Azilon was not the only one to jump into the fray. Her father and her uncle were the ones that got to choose the warriors worthy enough to receive brides, however, she had yet to pinpoint what exactly drew her family to them. Some were obvious, feats of strength in battle either in major tournament or war, that was an easy spot. Others included some of the finer nuances of politics that she did not understand. It was also entirely possible that she just simply had no idea who the recipients were, thus this tourney served as her window into their beings. One could tell a lot about a warrior from choices made in battle, even a mock one such as this.

A few more battles carried on before Evienne made her way back down to the pit to address the crowd. There was nothing that she loved more than stirring up the blood of fellow warriors, wishing that she could participate alongside them instead of playing host.

“Is this all you’ve got? These fights are putting me to sleep, is there no Drakkan here worth his horns in a fight?” Her grin matched her taunt well, shouts of those willing to step up to her challenge filling the air. She opened her mouth to say something else when a presence from behind her cut her off.

Spinning around on her toes, the young woman was quick to duck out of the way and hop back a few steps as man swing at her with a dagger. At first she assumed him to be a rowdy contestant hasty in his desire to prove himself, however there was a look in his eyes that spun a different tale. He moved to take another swing and again she sidestepped away, lightly bouncing backward away from the man. This seemed to anger him even more, Evienne tensing up to dodge once again only to find herself taken somewhat by surprise as a rather large arm wrapped itself around her neck in a chokehold.

Taking this as his cue, the knife wielding man charged forward, bringing his arm down to pierce her chest with the weapon. Evienne caught the man’s hands before his attack could connect, holding him off for a strong moment before she felt her physical strength faltering. She was no slacker when it came to her training, however her position was less than ideal which left her in a rather tight spot. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a few of the guards arms at the ready, more than ready to charge in at the men for laying hands on a member of the royal family. Catching the eye of one of them, she signalled that their assistance was not necessary and to just watch. The men obeyed reluctantly, concerned of what would happen to them and their families if it got back to the prince that his daughter had been killed on their watch.

Knowing her strength would not hold out against such an assault, Evienne pulled the arms down to control where the blade would enter her body. She winced as the blade sliced through flesh, the smell of fresh blood filling her nostrils as it did so. Kicking up with her feet, she rammed the top of her head along with her horns into the face of the second man who held her in place, hearing the satisfying crunch of of bone as his nose shattered upon impact. Releasing his grip on the girl he stumbled backward, hands covering his face as he groaned with pain. She stood tall and maintained eye contact with her initial attacker, now very aware of yet a third person who took the opportunity to box her between the first two and himself.

Slowly, and quite deliberately, Evienne removed the blade from her body a deadly glare upon her features. It seemed like an eternity that the pair remained locked in silent battle, neither moving for fear of breaking the trance.

Something from outside broke the stare down, causing all three to charge in at her at once. Evienne snickered, amused at their futile attempt to overpower her with numbers. The third stranger pulled a much larger blade from a sheath on his hip, first to arrive at the princess with a hefty swing. Using the stolen dagger to parry, she redirected the momentum of his attack so that she could retaliate, wasting no time in slashing the bloodsoaked metal across the skin of his exposed neck. Before his body could finish collapsing, Evienne had already shifted her weight to bounce away from another grapple attempt by the man with the shattered nose.

“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.” She hissed, ducking under his arms to stand behind him. Spinning around, she buried the blade in the side of his skull where it remained as he too collapsed. Leaving it be, the princess shifted her gaze back up to the first man who now looked frightened. Unarmed and trembling, he retreated a few steps as she stalked toward him. He opened his mouth to speak but was promptly cut off as the woman was suddenly right in front of him, a strange sensation rushing through his chest. Slowly he glanced down to find its source, discovering that her hand had disappeared inside his torso. The sharpened tips of her fingers pierced the man’s heart, the organ and its keeper panicking before expiration.

Pushing the corpse away from her in disgust, the woman turned her gaze back to the people surrounding her. Some were frozen in awe at the spectacle, uncertain of how to react to such a display. Others found themselves on their feet, weapons at the ready in case they were called upon to fight.

“It seems a few of you have forgotten the strength of the royal household and its members. Let this serve as a reminder to you all that we are not a force to be trifled with haphazardly. I am Evienne, daughter to the King’s firstborn Gaelnesh and future successor to the throne. A throne, might I remind you, that has worked tirelessly to assure a future for our people.” She barked, gazing fiercely into the crowd as if challenging anyone else to try their luck.

“If this is the best you have to offer in terms of an uprising, consider me disappointed. Somebody dispose of these pathetic low-lives, I have business to attend to.” Evienne carried herself with her usual poise and confidence as she retreated from the pit, closely accompanied by several guards who attempted to check on her wound. She waved them away, gritting her teeth against the irritating pain.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve sustained worse sparring against my siblings… They weren’t exactly skilled, or prepared for that matter. The blade does not appear to have been poisoned either but only time will tell. In the meantime, I need to send word to my father about what has happened here. Somebody get the messenger hawk ready for me.”

As the woman took her leave, Ehkota could barely contain his grimace of displeasure as he gazed down upon the bodies she left behind.

“Such a waste they were. Barely an entertainment.” He sighed to himself, a slight glimmer of amusement flickering behind his eyes despite his outwardly grim expression.
“Might not have gone exactly as I planned it to, but if she does as I expect her to… Daddy dearest will be rushing home in no time to check on his most prized possession.”

“Do you think so, sir? Displaying such weakness seems beneath a man of his stature.” One of Ehkota’s guards piped up, eyebrow raised in confusion.

“It’s only a matter of time. He’s allowed an attack on his own blood to happen in broad daylight. If he cannot protect his own daughter from harm, how can he claim to be our future? My brother refuses to acknowledge the discourse caused by our father’s rule, and it will be because of this that he will fail. We’re simply… helping matters along.” He snickered, leaning his back up against a nearby wall.

“Understood sir.”