Baklava

I Want Adventure In The Great Wide Somewhere...

@Lady of Lore Ohhh what a pretty introduction. (That cosplay is sweet bee tee dubs) Welcome to the guild! I do hope you decide to stick around and find some good adventures here!

Hello, Everyone

@kumaashling Welcome to the guild!

BoDrag Horseman

@Drag Welcome to the guild!

Hi humans

@Spambot Welcome to the Guild! Plz no spamerino.

Hello

@wXw Welcome to the guild, mang!

Please allow me to introduce myself...

@Khael Welcome to the guild! Oh boy, hitting the ground running as a GM! I like it!

My plate's full, but best of luck with your adventure! Sounds like a good one!

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Kusari Bloodworth | Siena Santana

Sander Lorraine | Angelique Lachance | Marcus Howell | Grant Rotem

---

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ℤ𝕖𝕣𝕠 / / 𝟙𝟞𝟜𝟡

---

_{Collab with @Baklava @RedDusk @Piercing Light @Dragonmancer @Riffus Maximus @Deathmyster @Chasers115 @PapiTan}

Out.

Man... I suck.

As the fabric of Sander's pants loosened around her face, it became much easier to breath and therefore stop encouraging her shadow. Some blood loss, several blows to the head, and severe claustrophobia had created the perfect storm it seemed. Callan pulled the denim off of her still throbbing face and blinked up at Grant. Meanwhile Sander was still on top of her with his face in his hands, but she'd deal with him later.

She ran her tongue along the front of her teeth before shooting Grant an exasperated grin. Her right eye was slightly swollen and bruised. Her head was still swimming, but she managed to speak. "GG," she chuckled weakly before averting her eyes. Things still felt pretty awkward around Grant-- ever more so now that he'd just quite literally wiped the floor with her. Maybe now they were even? She hesitantly tapped her right cheek with her fingers and hissed, chuckling again. Definitely the most intense flag football game she'd ever been in.

Grant had taken a slight step back, away from Callan, just in case. He had his hands right back in his pockets and his trusty chains right behind him as he looked down at Callan as she recovered, pulling the jeans away from her face. She looked like she could be much better. Sander really didn't pull any punches. At least he's stopped beating her already. He looked back down at her as her eyes blinked open to focus on him. Somehow, he had come on top as the victor of this fight with the help of Sander. He was a bit taken aback from Callan's words to him, much different than her words of anger from before, as well as the grin she flashed. He was silent for a few moments before he spoke up.
"Yeah. Good game. It was a close one." He'd reply to her with a small nod. "You going to be alright?" He'd ask, since she did take quite the beating. But he could guess that she was alright. She was one who was 'strong,' after all.

Focus.

Sander forced himself to. He tried, really, he did. But the thickness of his tongue too prominent, the beats of his heart too frantic, and the scorching heat in his veins impossible to ignore. He lowered his arms, digging the fingers into his palms instead, hoping for something else to focus on. No such luck. Then he caught sight of aquamarine hair still beneath him. Realization set in after a few owlish blinks, prompting Sander to get off her, quickly climbing to his feet. He was supposed to help her up. He wanted to. But he didn’t. Instead, the blood mage just walked off, standing a few steps away from both Callan and Grant, eyes on anywhere but the crater he created.

“Is that enough?”- He grunted, looking down at his cuff. His words came out shaky and garbled, like he had something in his throat-“Can I stop now?”

Prefaced by a beep, Fredric's voice answered, "Game isn't over yet, champ. 8 minutes to go." Beep.

Callan shifted her eyes back to Grant. She couldn't get much of a read on the guy, but... his words were nice at least. When he didn't answer right away, she thought he might be mad at her from before. After a moment of cogs turning she answered, "Yeah...." She looked back to Sander, who still hadn't moved.

"Uh...," she wasn't really sure what to say to grab his attention. She might've blushed, but there was already so much going on with her face that she couldn't notice if she did. Her eyes fell on the black X at Sander's throat. Even as he seemed to snap back to the present, recognizing that he was still on top of her, she got the feeling he was looking right through her. She said nothing as he got up and walked away without a word, standing off to the side and not facing either of them.

Sitting up and staring after him, she pondered over their fight. She called it a fight, but it wasn't supposed to've been. She felt the bite marks on her neck, which were still steadily bleeding. All over her new hoodie, no doubt, but that was barely at the forefront of her mind-- petty things that were easier to worry about. She clapped her hand over the bite and applied pressure, still staring at Sander's back. Is this what it meant to be an aberration? Was his 'stigma' bothering him?

Sander made a frustrated noise in his throat, racking fingers through his hair while scanning the field. Then suddenly, the world lunged forward and sank.

He was back in his dreams again, despite being wide awake just moments before. Something pulled him into his own mind, and that same thing was keeping him there. He couldn’t leave. Then again, he didn’t want to.

He was staring at the ocean again. However, the riptide had awoken. The untamed current roared, its sprawling body twisted and churned around him. It circled him, fleet-footed and slick, primal in its predatory dance. Then it closed in for the kill, the tainted water swallowing him whole.

And he let it.

Sander blinked and found himself back at the field again, still just another chip in Zhang’s grand gamble. Once again, the Change came to him.

Grant stepped to the side a bit as Sander got off of Callan, seeming to still struggle with himself. As is what he should probably expect from an aberration. Hopefully he got himself together. As the voice from the cuff said, this game is not over. Speaking of. He turned his eyes back to Callan who sat on the floor, a hand clapped to her neck.

"Callan." He'd say to get her attention from Sander. He stepped up to her, holding a hand down toward her, offering to help her up. "The game's still happening. Best get somewhere safe, away from the crossfire." He'd advise her as he offered her his hand. Best to get her away from the field before going off to help the rest of his teammates. Assuming any of them are having any trouble.

"Oh, uh, yeah..." Callan looked surprised as she accepted Grant's hand. She attempted another smile out of sheer relief-- she'd half expected Grant to rub his victory in her face. That or not say much at all-- not unlike Sander. All things considered, Grant seemed pretty cool. "Thanks," she said as he helped pull her to her feet. Her smile faded, though it was only because her cheek had been screaming in protest.

Making her way towards the side of the plaza, Callan looked down at the pants in her hand. Shit, she should really return these-- probably now. She didn't really want to hang on to this sort of item any longer than she had to. Looking at Sander, he seemed unhappy as he combed his fingers through his hair and glanced over the plaza. She'd heard Fredric's voice through the boy's cuff. If she had to guess, he seemed anxious for the game to be over. Was that why he'd been so aggressive? No... not just aggressive-- violent. He could've grabbed her flags off numerous times, but instead.... Her hand gravitated to where her cheek met her eye socket, reigniting the stinging pain as she tested it once again. Ow....

In any case, his lack of pants didn't seem to be what was bothering him and she really wanted to sit down. She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel a little heated over what he'd done-- crazy vampire. But what did she expect? As Callan made her way towards a bench that was miraculously still standing, she looked across the plaza to take tabs on her own teammates. What she saw was anything but pretty.

After a quick word of thanks to him, Callan was off to a safe place. That was that. Grant rolled his neck with a long sigh... he couldn't wait for all this to just be over already. He took a step and turned toward Sander. Or... what he thought would be Sander. What he turned to was a limitless ocean. Beyond limit. This feeling... This feeling of infinity felt familiar... As if he felt it before... But how was it possible to grasp the ungraspable?

There it was. A droplet that could only be a fraction of what was in front of him. The endless, infinite ocean stretching into beyond. It seemed so far away. The droplet meant for him. How was he supposed to reach it? He raised his hand... and reached... and he grasped it. Despite how far it was, it was now in his hand. Infinity filled him until...

Sander was in front of him now. Grant had his arm outstretched, a fist at the end. He stumbled back a bit, looking around... confused. Disoriented. But with that feeling, another. The feeling as if he could reach farther... Farther than he could have before. He could only guess what this feeling meant. He'll figure it out later. He had a game to survive.

Kusari took only a few seconds to look past her current opponent and see what was happening to the rest of her team. Callan and Chris had been defeated. She honestly wasn't expecting Callan to lose, perhaps she'd underestimated how strong Sander was. She should have helped her take him down. As for Chris, all she'd heard from his direction was screaming from Angel, apparently he'd lost.

"Well... shit." She grumbled to herself, her tentacle scratching the top of her head. She stopped as she realized she was doing it. It was honestly pretty gross how accustomed she was to it already.

So she was horribly outnumbered now and had to carefully weigh her options. Fighting out in the open field was a bad idea, she could easily be surrounded on all sides. To her left was an area with trees in it, it could provide some cover, but there was a better option. Turning on her heel Kusari dashed towards Angel. Flinging her tentacle forward she wrapped it around the girl, making sure to bind her arms and cover her mouth. Angel was then lifted off the ground as Kusari took off for a nearby building. "Sorry, but I can't afford to play fair here."

Angélique was shaken from her thoughts as she felt something creeping up onto her arms, fastening them together tightly before that alien appendage crept up to her mouth. Her eyes widened in terror as she believed a monster akin to the spaghetti monster she had fought a few days earlier had began lifting up angel from her spot.

Her head turned to the source of the voice that had called to her? She was taken aback to see it wasn't a creature that had taken hold of her, but rather a familiar face, Kusari from the opposing team.

She is underestimating you. Looking down on you. She thinks you are a simple pathetic damsel easy to capture.

Angel shot out a glare towards Kusari as she began running with her as prisoner. Such a smug prick. Did she really think she would let herself be taken hostage that easily? She will show that albino freak, just how wrong she was to look down on her.

Angel screamed underneath the tentacle covering her mouth, her voice muffled. However, as she let out the breath off her throat, the sheer force of her voice blew the tentacle away from her mouth, as if a powerful hand swatted the appendage away from the shades-wearing Aberration. With the tentacle no longer muffling her voice, her scream echoed down full power towards the girl who had dared taken Angel as prisoner. This time, her voice seemed to echo farther than before.

[i]'Alright...I think I figured out this tracking sense. It's pretty useful...' Taking the moment of peace, Siena sent her gaze around the area, the more familiar with her temporarily gained power, the narrower she could make the area that Christmas was in...but how was she supposed to get under...

'Ew. Ewewew, eeeewwwwww...'

Disgust was evident, even as Siena noted the suspiciously open manhole in the distance. No. Oh no. Ew. Ew. Still...Kusari was right when she said that if they wanted to win... With a sigh, Siena returned her attention just in time to see Kusari break Angel away from the safe zone. Perfect. Tightening her grip on Lily's hand just enough to warn her, Siena braced herself...then made her "jump" in a puff of smoke.

Marcus's fear quickly turned to some sort of irritation as he saw Kusari dash off towards one of his other teammates. "What!? All that show and you're just gonna run off!?" he shouted, almost in frustration. He grabbed the extra limb that lay on the ground, shaking the velcro flag from it by wedging it between his arm and his body. He took off running in the same direction she did, but with her improved speed and his utter unwillingness to ever do any sort of cardio ever, there was no way he was going to catch up to her.

Not even worth the effort.

Should have been finished off.

Marcus's mind was in full operation, despite his slightly dizzy state and the blood that was starting to clot in his nose. Every step he took towards Kusari and Angel only made his arm throb more as it shuddered. Step, pain, step, pain, like some perverse drumbeat. The pain seemed to reverberate at the same beat as his own heart, and the same frequency at which the stars seemed to pour into him.

Wait. Stars?

---

He was back in that starless scene, except this time he found himself upside down, dangling loosely like a strip of paper. The stars were gone, but he could still feel the heat inside him. The same heat that was currently dripping up his face and onto the twisted metal. He knew that there was pain, but he didn't actually feel anything; he knew that his bones were shattered and his skin was shredded, but it didn't hurt. There were voices; a million tiny whispers all around him. Some of the voices he recognized, but the faces wouldn't reveal themselves. Even though there were many of them, they seemed to be part of one big whisper. A question, barely out of tune. Or was it a shout; some sort of exclamation that was just soft enough to be lost? A statement, perhaps - drowned beneath the deafening silence? Something seemed to talk, though all he could hear was the sound of gentle curiosity.

The world sprang back into action. A flurry of movement, a cacophony of sound, and an explosion of pain.

---

Pain, step, pain, step.

The world shifted back into focus, and Marcus realized with a start that he wasn't making any ground. He might've been able to shout a warning to Angel if he wasn't so dazed, but the tentacle girl had already grabbed her by the time he opened his mouth. Out of his perihperial, he saw Sander and Grant making their ways towards Kusari. Two fighters and him. There really wasn't much he could do, especially if they managed to free Angel and had three fighters. If anything, he'd just get in the way. So, it was time for him to let them battle it out, while he stayed in the background.

"Sander! Which way is-" Marcus started, stopping suddenly to process a tidbit of information.

Where were his pants?

Never mind that. There'd be plenty of time for that question later. "Which way is Christmas?" he shouted, slowing to a jog.

Sander watched Kusari at first, arms around himself as he dug his fingers into the flesh. He wanted to help. Risky, at this stage, but he had to. The blood rage could not be denied. He was already readying himself for that mad dash toward his roommate, before a voice called to him. He half-turned, eyes widened at Marcus’ bloody form. The scarred boy reminded him of dinner. Of homecooked meals and green garnish. And it scared him.

Wordlessly, he turned his head, focusing on the scent of coffee instead. After narrowing down the scent to a single direction, he gestured with one outstretched hand, then moved forward quickly, giving Marcus a wide berth.

Marcus looked off in the direction that Sander pointed him, immediately turning and going that direction instead of heading towards the explosions of sound that were coming from Kusari and Angel. He gave a quick salute, which would probably be unnoticed by Sander, and moved towards the buildings that dotted the outside.

He focused on the feeling that had been sitting in his gut; a warm feeling that felt ever so slightly out of place. He'd had another hallucination, and he certainly felt...fuller almost. Like there was a power bursting at the seams that wanted to explode out of him. Now was not the best time, however; Siena was out there somewhere, and he had absolutely no idea what names she'd taken. He needed to be ready if she popped out - he couldn't waste his time experimenting with dreams.

As he got closer to the buildings, he noticed something. A lone manhole, its cover apparently long gone. He wandered up to the edge, peering down cautiously. Surely they wouldn't have put the poor kid down in a stinking hole, would they? They had to have some shred of human decency at least, right?

"I spy two wrists with flags still on them, Mr. Howell. Thought you knew how to play this game?"

Oh goddammit.

Light assaulted her eyes for less than a fraction of a second as she let Lily's hand go, and then pushed herself for another sulphur-smoke filled adventure, this time aiming as far as she could previously see down the manhole. No time to waste, no time at all.

With the bleeding boy out of tackling distance, Sander felt himself relax. Marginally. He needed to finish this as soon as possible. He wanted to, so he could finally go to a place where he couldn’t hurt anybody. He wanted out of this twisted game. And there was only one way.

His resolve wavered as he took a step forward. And another. Then another, quickly after. Soon, he was sprinting.

He wanted to end this fight.

The scent of soft drink filled his nostrils. Sweet and alluring. An indulgence.

He wanted.

His dash came to a stop when he a few paces in front of Kusari, his lanky form blocking the way to wherever she was heading.

By the time Grant snapped out of his daze, it seemed as if Sander had just darted off to- Oh. Some kind of monstrosity that currently had Angel, his other teammate, hostage. Joy. With his chains at the ready, Grant headed toward the action once more, to help out his teammates. From what he had just seen from Sander and Callan's tussle, he could assume that Sander wouldn't be useful in the objective, but in the combat portion, very useful. So with him doing whatever he was doing, Grant planned to snatch the flags from a distance, as he did with Callan, before.

Kusari flinched in pain as her tentacle's grip on Angel's mouth was flung off by one of her magic screams. It seemed she had a misunderstanding about how Angel's magic worked, and now she was suffering for it. Her sprint halted completely as her body shook to it's core.
I have to... huh?

She was suddenly somewhere else, she was in that strange room under the sea once more. In the center of the room a young girl no older than fifteen sat. The girl's back was facing her, though she could still see that the girl was drawing on a canvas, she was using an awful lot of red.

Wait, no... This is... no. No. NO! WHY ARE YOU SHOWING ME THIS!? PLEASE STOP! Kusari wanted to scream, but the moment she opened her mouth blue paint filled her throat and poured from her mouth. That's right, she knew why this place looked so familiar now. It was her bedroom as a child. The realization was like a corrective lens, the water around her quickly morphed, forming blue painted walls and blue tiled flooring. Kusari fell to the floor, tears streaming down her face, her nose running and her eyes swollen and puffy.

Her mother walked into the room, walking past her and towards her younger self. "Kusari? The limo is here, we have to go. Kusari?" The young girl didn't answer, prompting her mother to walk closer to her. "Kusari!?" Her mother screamed as she saw just what the girl was doing. Her arms were cut open, as blood flowed from her wounds she was using it to smear the painting in front of her. It was a picture of her and her father, or at least it used to be. Her mother shook her child, trying to get her attention. The girl stopped defiling the painting and turned her head towards her mother. Her red eyes were glazed over, empty.

"Would dad... Have liked this?"

Kusari came back to reality, and her mood had dipped lower than the Mariana trench. She didn't know what these dreams were, but she wasn't looking forward to more of them. Meanwhile Angel was still screaming, it hurt, yet somehow it just seemed annoying now. Even still she couldn't do anything to stop the effect of the scream. Her body stopped responding to her will, and before she fell to the ground she dropped Angel.

Angel fell back on her feet as her power unleashed managed to knock Kusari down on the ground, leaving the girl spasming from having her hearing overloaded by high-pitched sonic waves. Resolute and bursting with confidence, the black-haired X-marked took a few steps toward the stunned girl, scanning quickly what flags remained on her body. It would seem that only her ankle flags were left, one tied to her raptor leg and the other around her human leg's ankle. Swiftly, she'd bend down on her knees and snatch the flags around both ankles, dropping them immediately after.

She sighed in relief, glad that this was finally over with. Only the troublesome Siena remained, and finding Christmas before her friend would.

"You're not the only one willing to play dirty..."

Angel rose from her crouched position, looking around for what was happening around her while she had been taken away by the white-haired freakshow. Grant and Sander seemed to have been on the standby, flanking both sides, while Marcus was nowhere to be found. However, the sight of Lilianna inside Team Two's safe area rang an alarm in her head.

"Holy fuck, she already found her?"

"Guys! No time to fuck around! They got Lily! Go find Christmas!"

Sander barely moved throughout the whole ordeal, his crimson eyes locked onto the white-haired girl the whole time. However, the situation escalated, and eventually, Angel came out on top. He felt relief, as well as a tingle of disappointment in the pit of his stomach. Like he was missing out on something. His jaws tightened as he clamped down on that feeling, focusing ahead.

That wasn’t a very good idea either. Angel emerged from the fight bruised and bloody, and he couldn’t help but stare. The sweet scent of wine invaded his senses, forcing him to shut his ability down. There was nothing left but the tangy smell of blood and sweat and rust. That wasn’t any better.

He moved a few steps backward, having deemed Kusari no longer a threat. Wrapping his arms around himself once more, he turned to scan the field, desperately searching for a reason to sprint off again. Then Angel yelled at them. He blinked, turning back to face her, before shaking his head, his voice surprisingly quiet –“Now is not a good time, Angel.”

“Stay put.”- He warned, eyeing her battered form.

Angel raised an eyebrow when Sander seemed to refuse to move, or didn't seem to aknowledge her statement. Was he losing it? He did mentionned before the start of the game that his powers were unstable. Perhaps he meant losing self-control? That somehow reminded her of those times she would get into a screaming mood, letting out all of her vented frustration until she felt either satisfied or her throat couldn't produce anything anymore.

"C'mon Sander! You can do it! Don't let yourself be consumed after all you have done so far! We need you focused!"

Despite his warning, Angel had moved a few slow paces towards him.

Sander simply looked alarmed as the sharp scent of wine drew closer. He hastily moved a few steps backward, fear twisting his features –“I don’t think…I can’t…”- He floundered with his words, before settling for the same thing he spoke just seconds before –“This is not a good time.”

Despite that, he turned to look at the direction he had pointed Marcus toward. Angel was right. He had come this far. There was just one thing left to finish the game. One last thing. But it involved Christmas. Not Callan. Not Kusari. Sander was afraid. Yet, her words echoed.

"Ah, yes, because trying in isolation has worked so well for you before."

He knew he had to do this. He wanted to. So he turned and ran, following the scent before the blood high subsided enough for him to regret.

Angel sighed in relief as Sander finally seemed to listen to reason and ran off towards the open manhole. So that’s where Christmas had been hidden after all. Seeing everyone rushing in there, this truly was the last ditch effort for each team. The outcome would be decided by whoever could manage to take hold of the boy and run away with him.

After the blood-drinking Mage left his teammate’s side, Angel scanned the area one more time. Definitively, they’d need to bring Christmas to her team’s safe zone if she wanted to win, since Lilianna had already been found and brought to Team Two’s safe zone. Seeing the blond-haired girl, Angel felt like she should go to her and ask how exactly did she managed to bring her so quickly and unnoticed.

The adrenaline wearing off from no longer being threatened to be snatched away or fighting someone who would’ve wanted to grab her flags, pain resurfaced into Angel’s shoulders and sides. Truly, she had it rough today. To think it was only a game to begin with. She wasn’t even injured that badly the first time she was sent into actual battle against real monsters.

Halfway between from where she had dropped Kusari and Team Two’s safe zone, Angel stopped. The pain was unbearable as she walked, feeling her shoulders flare up with every step. Her legs felt wobbly, and her sight started to blur once more.

I need a breather. One or two minutes to relax can’t hurt, right?

To alleviate her shaking legs, the raven-haired screaming Mage got down on her knees, then took a sitting posture. Realizing that sitting put even more strain on her bruised sides, she then laid down, the bare skin of her back felt autumn’s chill onto the concrete surface.

Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea after all. As she rested her head on the ground, she felt like dozing off to dreamland, or wherever her consciousness would take her from the amount of blood she had lost.

The Losers Bench

Callan Webb | Christopher Francis

---

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ℤ𝕖𝕣𝕠 / / 𝟙𝟞𝟜𝟡

---

_{Collab with @Baklava @RedDusk @Dragonmancer @Chasers115}

Chris, fully recovering from the previous incidents and his vision, started to look around for a place to rest. With the clothes back on him he began to walk towards the plaza. His hands were in the pockets of his sweat pants and the hoodie of his heavy jacket hung over his head. He'd sigh as he saw Callan before taking a seat himself, saying nothing, nor looking at anything beyond the ground.

With a dispirited frown, Callan looked between Marcus, Kusari, Angel, and Chris, subconsciously feeling and picking at Sander's ID card through the pocket of his jeans. Something seemed off about the way Marcus moved his arm as he ran, but he was too far away to be sure. She curiously turned her attention to Kusari, who had managed to transform her arms into monster limbs-- but how? What the hell happened between those two? Her attention shifted to Angel, who, on top of everything else, seemed to have successfully picked up all of Chris's flag.

Great. She sank down in her seat and crossed her arms as Chris devolved back into a human. Naked again. She looked away, but continued to fume, remembering clearly how he'd shit all over their plan because of a single piece of trash. From the get go, she should've paid more attention to the way Chris was talking about Sander, but still. She didn't expect him to be that short tempered. Several salty phrases she could say cycled through her head-- why bother telling her he could listen while transforming if he was just going to do his own thing anyway?

As Chris dressed himself, Callan watched as Kusari darted at Angel, leaving Marcus behind. He shouted something to Sander, who gestured at some point across the plaza from where she sat. Marcus darted off in that direction, still moving in a way that suggested something was wrong with his arm. It was concerning, but, for the sake of competition, what was more concerning right now was that he was likely heading for one of two people-- Siena or Christmas. Suddenly realizing she hadn't seen Siena at all since the game began, eyes combed through the plaza. Even as she did so, she kept tabs on Kusari, who had since snatched up Angel in her tentacle arm and was sprinting toward the outer edge of the plaza with Sander and Grant trailing behind. Sander, particularly, was closing in fast.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a puff of smoke flicker into existence. Two puffs of smoke in quick succession. And in its wake-- Lily! She gently ran her teeth over the swollen and cracked skin of her busted lip, holding back a smile by distracting herself with the brief waves of pain. That was 32 points right there! Even as she watched Angel scream Kusari into submission and snatch the girls last two flags away, she inhaled deeply and furrowed her brow in thought. It seemed like their opponents had all been pretty preoccupied with everyone other than Siena. She was glad that had allowed her roommate to find the enemy's healer, but they hadn't held them off long enough. There was still a large amount of time left on the clock and it was entirely up to Siena now to either ensure Christmas wasn't found or finish off all the other team's flags.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," she muttered under her breath, still trying to find Siena. Oh well... if she couldn't find her, nobody else would likely be able to either. As Chris sat beside her, much of her previous ire had dissipated at the thought of them still managing to win this thing.

Much, but not quite enough.

"What happened?" she asked, fully recognizing the sullen look of failure on her teammate's face.

"Scream girl kept petrifying my brain." Chris responded as he tugged his hood on tighter. "Humiliating, really. She is rather annoying." He'd finish with crossing his arms, still staring to the ground and having the afterthought of defeat. "Sorry I couldn't keep her off longer." It was strange that he felt a new sense of power just after losing the game. He knew his form had improved after he had awaken. He was curious to test it out later.

"How'd your fight go after I left?"

She exhaled slowly through her nose before she replied, "Would've gone better if you'd stuck to the plan."

It wasn't entirely Chris's fault that she was out-- it wouldn't be fair to say that. But it was true he'd made her job a lot more difficult. Straddling Sander on the ground wasn't how she'd wanted to start the fight, after all. But then again, she also hadn't planned on getting punched in the face and taking a bite to the neck. Idly, she noted that the 'scream girl', Angelique, was a force to be reckoned with if she could 1v1 a dragon in two minutes flat-- or at least mess with him enough to steal his treasure hoard.

"Mm, Sorry but that vampire pisses me off. Had the nerve to throw a piece of junk at me." He scoffed.

"That's a bad excuse," Callan retorted calmly, furrowing her brow. If you pull that shit on the battlefield, people die. She wanted to say that out loud, but stopped herself, remembering that his team had lost someone as well. She wasn't sure how close they'd been, but perhaps it was still too soon to bring it up so casually.

"I said leave him to me."

He'd sigh. "Well lets hope I can control myself better next time." He said flatly, his tone made it clear he didn't want to talk about it anymore.

Yeah-- let's hope. She shifted in her seat-- trying hard to force the words back down her throat. C'mon, Cal. It's not over yet. We can still win. Don't get mad. With another sigh, her shoulders relaxed. "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it," she reassured him, though her voice was slightly lacking in the genuine enthusiasm department, "Don't worry about it."

She pulled Sander's ID card out of the pocket of his jeans and listlessly spun it between her thumb and index finger, still looking out at the plaza.

"Siena might still carry our sorry asses," she mused hopefully.

"I hope so." He sighed. "Again I apologize for my recklessness."

Surprising. She'd been convinced Chris's weak apology would be the end of it, but... he seemed sincere. Grudges weren't something she enjoyed carrying around anyway.

"It's fine. Really--" she answered. In that moment, she watched Sander make his way towards where Marcus had-- wait, where did he go? A manhole? She sat up on the bench, leaning forward. As Sander hopped into the sewer entrance, Callan frowned. Sander knew he couldn't punch anyone besides her and Kusari the way he did, right? He wasn't going to hurt Siena or Christmas if he found them? Trying to iron out the creased of worry that that had appeared between her eyes, she reasoned that the school wouldn't let that happen. They'd taze him before he could seriously hurt her... and he'd pass out... right? Her concern persisted. Remembering Marcus's arm and how many blows Sander had gotten off before she told him to stop and he miraculously listened, she struggled with the sudden urge to break the rules and follow him.

As long as she stayed out of the way, she wouldn't be in trouble, would she? Better ask to make sure. Maybe Fredric would answer her like he had Sander.

"Hey, uh, Fredric? Can I head over to the sewers. I promise I'll stay out of the way, but... I think someone should keep an eye on Sander down there."

A pause before a short beep sounded. "Alright, Ms. Webb. Go ahead."

She slipped Sander's ID card back into his pants pocket and laid them on the bench. Nodding to Chris, Callan got up and sprinted across the plaza after Sander. Standing before the manhole, Callan once again cursed her concern and started descending the ladder.

Oh, man... that reeks, she noted, holding her hand up over her nose and mouth. It was too dark to make out anything. Within seconds, her phone was in her hand with the flashlight feature on, shining it around as she walked through the practically tangible sewer stench. She could hear thundering footsteps echoing up against the walls up ahead-- Sander, no doubt. But they sounded like they were getting closer....

Sup

@Cu Chulainn Welcome to the guild!

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Callan Webb | Christopher Francis | Kusari Bloodworth

Sander Lorraine | Angelique Lachance | Marcus Howell | Grant Rotem

---

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ℤ𝕖𝕣𝕠 / / 𝟙𝟞𝟜𝟟

---

_{Collab with @Baklava @RedDusk @Piercing Light @Dragonmancer @Riffus Maximus @Deathmyster @Chasers115 @PapiTan}

Callan positioned herself several yards in front of her other teammates, crouched in anticipation. Her eyes locked onto Sander, though she was sure to remain aware of the others-- namely Marcus with his higher mobility. As much as she liked the guy, this was a competition-- a place where crushes and friends didn't exist. Years of competitive sports had instilled her with this truth.

She waited to see what Sander would do first. Even if she was fast enough to bum rush him while he was still surrounded by his teammates, she still didn't know exactly how strong he was. Until she got a chance to gauge Sander's strength, she would have to be careful not to go too try-hard while also being sure not to underestimate him. A frustrating conundrum and one that would possibly cost her a flag, but she didn't want a repeat of the Kusari episode.

By the time the ‘Go’ signal was given, Sander had already finished his last canister. He stalked to the middle of the field, crumpled metal canister in one hand while wiping at his mouth with the other. His steps were slow at first, before he broke into a sprint then stopped at midfield, crimson eyes watching the opposite team intently. His eyes landed on the dragon at first, moved to the aquamarine-haired girl then finally, his other roommate, Kusari.

He forced himself to wait for a moment. No one moved toward him. For a moment, he floundered. He didn’t know how to fight, and…not fight. He wasn’t sure how to face an opponent, and…not kill them. The blood high came in just on time though, and it cut through all his hesitation like a blade. Before he knew it, Sander took a quick step forward, then threw the empty canister at Chris’ dragon form, a grunt escaped his lips as he put force behind the throw.

“What are you waiting for?”- He roared in the air, eyes turning toward Callan and Kusari –“Come and get it!”

Callan's smirk almost broke into a laugh. He was egging her on? She hadn't taken him for such a cocky bastard, but then-- she noted his red eyes, vaguely remembering how they had been blue before-- hasty conclusions were a bad habit. Despite the temptation, she remained still, waiting for him to make the first move. Of course, she wasn't going to punch him like she had Kusari, but a good shove should help her figure out how much he could take.

"I'm waiting for you, pretty boy!" Callan beckoned, "Afraid you'll lose to a girl?" She moved her elbows away from her body and dug her tennis shoe into the dirt, ready to spring at him if her taunt should fail. As much as she didn't want to be on offense first, she wanted to waste time even less. One good shove-- then she'd know.

The canister would bounce off the dragon's skull. Though it didn't offer any injury, the annoyance caused Chris's eyes to open up, widened with anger as he'd stand up, letting out a similar but shorter roar then last time. The dragon would snort before charging towards Sander, leaving behind his flags for a moment as his eyes were glowing with red hatred. Chris moved past Callan in a full-sprinting speed, then would leap into the air, going above Sander and landing behind him.

Chris would then let out a third roar directly towards Sander, then charged again. Chris was still in control, he could keep himself from trying to kill Sander for the moment. The dragon would lean its head down so its hard skull and the dull sides of its horns were facing Sander. He was sprinting in the right angle that, if successful, would push Sander towards Callan.

Her eyes widened in shock as the dragon flew past. She'd seen Sander throw the canister, but she didn't think...

"CHRIS!" she called out, knowing it was probably futile. The dragon was already leaping over Sander and if all it took was a piece of trash to piss him off, she doubted he was about to stop on her account.

The dragon’s roars heralded its rage, and Sander felt it was calling out for something primal in him. He bared his teeth; not quite a grin, yet not quite a snarl, then twisted out of the way just as the horns were heading his way. He immediately moved in and grabbed a hold of one horn right afterward, before heaving himself upward, landing on the dragon’s back. With his feet firmly planted on the scaly surface, he clenched both hands and struck downward.

Blood sprouted from the dragon's mouth as the fists of Sanders broke through plates of natural armor and created a massive gash of a wound on his back. The sudden burst of pain and injury threw Chris off guard as he started to loose his balance in his sprint. The momentarily dazed, Chris tried to make the best of this incident by taking another leap as he lost his footing, causing him to turn upside down just before landing near Callan, so that even if Sander avoided getting crushed, he'd be next to his actual opponent.

The sudden lunge prompted Sander to grip onto a bloody scale to stay on the dragon, but the rough landing threw him off. The muscle memory of last time leaping off the dragon’s back still fresh, but it didn’t help much when Sander was sent sprawling on the ground, his back colliding with the hard cement. He quickly moved to stand up, crimson eyes already locked on the dragon for the next charge.

Seizing her opportunity, Callan sprinted forward, colliding with Sander before he could finish pulling himself to his feet.

"Get back to your flags, Chris!" she shouted at him in frustration, driving Sander's shoulders into the ground as she straddled him. Once he was down, she grasped his wrists, trying to pin them next to his head. Turning her attention back to Sander, her mind was racing. What the fuck? Not even a minute into the fight and there was already blood. The force of Sander's attack on Chris had been surprisingly brutal. Maybe he was just trying to knock the dragon out? Didn't know his own strength?

She felt her face flush as, for the briefest moment, her brain acknowledged the position she was currently in relative to Sander's body, but she managed to push it to the back of her mind. She eyed Sander's flags, but didn't want to risk letting go of his wrists until Chris was out of the picture.

Chris slowly stood up. The wound wasn't serious on its own, but with cracked armor that spot served as a vulnerable area. Shaking his snout, Chris turned to his treasure hoard of flags, sprinting back towards it.

Angel watched from afar as she was running towards where the action was taking place. Sander sure was quick enough to get ahead of his team and initiate the flag battle. Seeing how it went, it would seem like part of their initial plans was going down to the drain. Still, there may yet be something to be done about this whole situation.

"Marc, make a run for Kusari, with the intent of grabbing her flags. When you get next to her, flash forward behind Callan instead. Grab her ankle flags and try to startle her." She ordered as she turned to Marcus.

"Aye aye, Captain!" Marcus said, running beside her and giving a quick salute. There'd probably be a few alterations to that plan; namely the fact that he didn't want to end up right in between the two strongest people while they were fighting. Callan had almost knocked his face off his skull once today, and that wasn't a position he relished putting himself in again. 'No lethal moves' gave him some comfort, but it wouldn't help him when she accidentally shoved an elbow through his head. So, Marcus switched up the order a bit. Instead of going for Kusari and trying to catch Callan off guard, he was going to try and catch Callan off guard, and then head for Kusari.

"Grant, follow me. You said your chains can pick up nonliving objects, right? Think you could grab a few flags from afar with them?" Angel then turned to Grant, who had remained quiet for the most part.

Grant had been standing idly by before Angel, was her name Angel? Yeah, he thought so. Angel spoke to him. For a few moments he was silent before he spoke up to her. "Yeah, I probably can." He'd answer, his chains appearing behind him.

As for Angélique, she went forward, keeping an eye on Siena and Kusari. The latter may not hold any special offensive or mobility powers, but she still was not someone to be forgotten. One slip of the mind and she could take advantage of it.

Reaching a somewhat close distance to where the dragon was hoarding his flags. Angel started to shout. Her voice wasn't strong enough yet to damage anything, but her intention was to shake him off his place. If he wouldn't move still, then she'd just increase the volume.

Just as Chris reached his flags, A deafening shout shook his posture. Turning to find Angel screaming at him, Chris let loose another roar. Chris would then spew flames from his mouth, spraying it not at Angel but in a sideways trail in front of her, creating a smokescreen-esque effect of fire and smoke to obscure her visuals of Chris and his flags. He then sprinted from his position, Leaping through the wall of fire and smoke he created with his breath and directly in front of angel, and immediately lunged his tail forward to strike the flag off Angel's chest.

Just as Chris had created a wall of fire in front of them, smokescreen and blocked out vision, Angélique had stopped screaming. She turned her head to Grant. "Callan's chest and head flags, Grant. Now!" She ordered Grant. She had barely caught sight of the airborne dragon above his smoky wall of flames.

When he dropped in front of her with a thud and shot out his tail towards her chest, panic suddenly shaken the girl from her composed and calculating spirit. In a flash, she saw the monster that was standing in front of her, intending to stab her heart with its tail. Instinctively, she brought her arm in front of her chest to shield her body, and screamed. The fear that had taken hold of her made her forget the Dragon in front of her was a classmate. The scream she had let out to move the Dragon from his spot couldn't be compared to the shriek of terror that just came out from the frightened black-haired Angel. It was the unbridled power of an ear-ravaging screech that was directed to the dragon standing mere feet away from her.

Grant had followed Angel's lead, as she had said to do. Then the dragon came to play, and he tried not to get too close to the action there. A battle between the screamer and the god damn dragon. Actually, that sounded familiar. He had no time to dwell on that thought as Angel had just gave him something to do. He shrugged, "Sure," and sent out his chains toward his target. Callan, his former teammate and now enemy. His chains darted separately, for the chest and head flags as directed.

Marcus grinned as he looked upon his current target: Callan was currently straddling Sander. An effective, if compromising position. It wouldn't take too long for him to run past; all he was doing was trying to throw Callan off enough for Sander to get the upper hand. But, the urge to meddle was just too tempting. So, without stopping, Marcus ran by the two figures.

"Try not to have too much fun, you guys!" he shouted, taking advantage of Callan restraining Sander and trying to swipe the flag that almost blended in with her hair.

Marcus' words ran through her train of thought like a conniving lasso, bringing her more embarrassing thoughts back to the forefront of her mind. It was enough to make her flustered, but not enough to get her to give up the advantage of her position-- not yet anyway. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his hand reaching for the flag around her head and ducked sideways, loosening her grip on one of Sander's wrists in the process.

Damn - missed it. Oh well. He'd done his job, now he locked eyes to his next target: Kusari, the raptor girl.

Sander Lorraine | Grant Rotem | Callan Webb

---

_{Collab with @Baklava @RedDusk @Deathmyster}

Callan was faster and stronger than he had ever thought. Before he knew it, he was pinned to the ground, the scent of fizzy drink filled the air as the aquamarine-haired girl lean over. Fortunately, Marcus was there to back him up. As soon as he felt Callan’s weight shifted and her grip loosened, he followed the movement with his hips, intending to push her off balance. All the while, he yanked his left hand free and made a grab for the collar of her hoodie, fingers brushing the skin beneath as he pulled her down.

Feeling the unnatural warmth of his skin against her neck, her eyes widened with surprise and she tried to pull away, grasping the assailing wrist that had broken free. Her movement only served to help Sander in his attempt to throw her off balance and her weight shifted far enough to the side for him to do just that. He was definitely stronger than the average person-- though not quite as strong as she'd been expecting (hoping?). With a baffled glare, she couldn't quite find the words to ask what the hell he was doing. You're supposed to grab the flags, creep! she wanted to scream, but was too busy prying his hand off of her hoodie without tearing the fabric. Managing to slip her fingers between his and the collar, she forced his hand away. Fingers interlocked, she mentally swore.

Sander struggled harder beneath Callan, throwing his weight around until she was no longer looming above him. For all his effort, Callan was more powerful than him, and that only spurred the thirst on. Like a cornered beast, his power lashed out, engulfing them both in a red glow as the blood siphon was set in motion. He blinked, eyes wide as warmth seeped into his skin, pulling his right hand from her grip as if it burnt him. Scrambling to his feet hastily, he dashed a few steps backward, eyes still on Callan, a curious mixture of rage and confusion clouded his expression.

Her grip tightened around the flag around Sander's left wrist as he knocked her off, tearing it away. Getting back to her feet, she looked down at the flag in her hand, noticing the red glow that engulfed her as well as Sander. Something felt... off. Like a gradual chill. She tried to ignore it, dropping the flag to the ground as she darted towards him, pretending to reach for the flag around his chest from his left, but keeping her eyes on his opposite wrist. He'd try to block her for sure, which would possibly allow her to grab his arm and claim his other wrist flag.

When Sander saw Callan move toward him, he turned to face her fully, red eyes gleaming as he moved to meet her half-way. He noticed the outstretched hand, but paid it no mind as he charged, intending to slam his entire body into her, his own hands reached for her soft fle—flags. Flags. The flag around her head. He hastily adjusted his gaze.

"For sure" huh? Again with the hasty assumptions, Cal. This guy was something else. Callan ducked and pivoted out of the way, not unlike a matador might do with a bull while swinging her hand aligned with her pivot foot forward, accidentally grabbing a fistful of Sander's shirt as well as the flag around his chest. Once past him, she kicked her foot out, hoping to catch the back of Sander's calf just enough to throw off his balance as the momentum from his charge continued to carry him forward.

Again, from the corner of her eye, she saw something coming at her. This time it was a chain-- Grant. She spun sideways, swatting at the two incoming chains, but her arm passed right through them. Shit. He went straight for the head and chest. The pitiful sound of velcro filled her ears as the two flags were knocked off her person. She grit her teeth in frustration-- what was she supposed to do against THAT? Her eyes fell on Grant. Sander would have to wait. She couldn't let him sit back and rip all her flags off that easily. She took off towards Grant. If she could just reach him, she could tear all of his flags off with no trouble at all.

The sound of torn fabric filled his ears, but he was already beyond caring at this point. His fingers caught air as he stumbled forward, reeling from the momentum of his own movement. The ground rushed up at him, but he steadied himself on one arm and one knee, before standing right up again. He turned around, only to find his pr—opponent moving in another direction. With gritted teeth, he sprung after her, arms wide open in preparation for a tackle.

Give me a break.

"Rrgh." The pair hit the ground hard, tumbling several yards across the plaza. Having the wind knocked out of her, Callan found herself being the one sprawled out on the ground this time. Blinking up at the red-eyed Sander, she took a second to catch her breath.

The chains reeled back to their owner quickly, and both of the flags landed straight back into Grant's hand. That dealt with that. The next moment, he was looking ahead and seeing an impending truck full of pain coming toward him nonstop with the name Callan. He was ready to have his chains dart out once more, but it seemed that was unnecessary. His teammate lunged out and they both tumbled to the ground. That was that. Grant could guess that Angel was in no condition to give orders at the time, so he just went ahead and let his chains dart ahead immediately, going their separate ways for both of Callan's ankles as Sander had her pinned.

Sander gripped Callan’s neck with his left hand, fingers digging into her flesh. He lifted then his right fist and struck down, aiming for the aquamarine-haired girl’s face.

As her head turned sharply from the impact, Callan could feel the same gradual chill from before. It crept over her lungs, which were still screaming for air, over the pain in her neck and newly busted lip, and over her hand as she weakly reached up to grab Sander's wrist as if searching for something to anchor herself. Her head was reeling and she could taste blood in her mouth. Opening her eyes, she saw Grant's hazy figure and two more chains snaking towards her feet-- looking to take two more flags, no doubt....

No. No fucking way. All at once, Callan's grip around Sander's wrist tightened. I'm not losing that easily, she internally growled. Pushing out some of the blood that had gathered in her mouth, Callan grabbed Sander's free hand with her own, shoving both of his arms away from her. She glared furiously as she put more force into one shoulder, trying to turn him enough to get a leg free.

Callan struggled beneath him, and Sander knew enough that he couldn’t hold on to her for long. He fought each and every one of her movement, even when it was obvious that the odds weren’t in his favour. When he felt the world tilted as Callan pushed him off, he leaned in, going for that exposed flesh connecting Callan’s neck to her shoulder, teeth gleaming.

Her back arched suddenly and she screamed, less from the pain, though it definitely did hurt as his teeth broke the skin, and more from surprise. What the fuck was he doing?! Her question answered itself as she felt the chilling sensation suddenly pick up the pace. That red aura... she was-- she was losing blood? "GET--" Callan released one of Sander's hands, balled up her fist and drove it into the side of his head, "--OFF!!"

The impact to his temple effectively threw Sander onto the ground, where he landed heavily on his side. With a short tumble, he ended up on his back, one hand pressed against his face, as if trying to soothe the ringing in his ears. He blinked a few times, eyes unfocused, before eventually turning to his side in an attempt to get up.

Grant could see see the struggle between Callan and Sander nearby. In the meantime, his chains had sped to the former's ankle flags, ripping them off. Without a second thought, as the aquamarine haired girl slammed her fist into his teammate's head, his chains dropped the ripped-off flags instantly and went for the two remaining flags on her wrists, homing in quickly from her ankles, up.

No, no, no, no. Aggravated and flustered in equal amounts, Callan scrambled to her feet and towards Sander's ankles. She hastily ripped the velcro flags off as if they were simply in the way before gripping his ankles under his pant legs while awkwardly side stepping to properly position herself. She tucked her busted lower lip into her mouth as she stared at Grant while swinging Sander's body sideways, exhaling sharply through her nose. She spun around once before launching vampire boy towards Grant, immediately dashing after him.

Grant had had been focusing on her wrists, but her frantic movements away from his chains made it so he couldn't land them... wait, she was pulling Sander's flags off, and then... shit. Shit, this was bad. He knew what she was going to do. His focus instantly shifted when Callan grabbed Sander's ankles. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as she stared at him. There wasn't enough time. The concrete was just coming up to form a thick wall as she swung, spinning. It was almost up just as Sander was flung. One of his chains sprung from the concrete, the process even more draining. The first thing he focused on about Sander's flying body was where the chains made contact. His pants. He willed them to stay in place as his other chain pulled the concrete up, that familiar weight against his entire body. He could only hope it was thick enough.

Firm hands gripped his ankles and before Sander could protest, he was airborne, flying backward at breakneck speed. He caught the sound of tearing fabric once again and a small part of him was vaguely concerned. At least until his back hit something hard. The impact rattled every bone in his body, the noise reminding him of sledge hammers being brought against cement pavements. Pain radiated through him, but he pummeled through it, crazed eyes locked onto Callan still. He twisted, getting himself out of the dent he made on the wall, then landed on his knees and arms. It took barely a moment for him to shake off the shock, then resumed charging at Callan.

"No," Callan grumbled as Sander crossed her path yet again, just before she could finish closing the short gap between herself and newly annoying wall Grant was hiding behind. As much as she wanted to keep tussling with Count Crazy, she needed to put a stop to those chains. She tucked her shoulder and flung her arm across her body to knock him out of her way.

The blow slammed against Sander’s midsection, sending him a few steps backward. However the blood mage recovered quickly and resumed his charge, eyes glued on the spot of red on Callan’s neck. Both of his arms were outstretched as he lunged toward the girl.

Hm... Sander seemed to be getting stronger. She'd expected that blow to send him a lot further than it did. And then there was still this wall to deal with.... Callan turned to face Sander in a crouch, waiting until just the right moment before grabbing one of his outstretched forearms. She stepped out of the way, using his own momentum to slam him into the concrete wall and flipping him onto his back in the process.

Just as Callan made a grab for his arm, he lunged forward with the other, grabbing her upper arm while his caught arm twisted in her grip and tried to grab her right back. Soon though, he was slammed against the wall once again. His breath hitched, but his grips didn’t loosen one bit. As bits of crumbling concrete fell on both of them, Sander planted his feet firmly against the ground, throwing his entire weight against Callan.

Panic. Grant stumbled back a bit as the wall began to crumble. His defenses were crumbling. Callan was aggressive. He just needed to get her wrist flags. His eyes quickly darted around in panic before he realized what was in contact with his chain. Quickly, the plan was concocted. And instantly, it was put into action. With Callan now in sight, and Sander grappling onto her, Grant's remaining chain darted to Sander's pants that hung in the air with the other chain, making contact. The remains of the wall crumbled, and as it did, the chains reeled back, lowering, in level with Callan's head. In one swift movement, they pressed against her face. The chains in contact with both ends of the pants, and they wrapped around her head, manipulating them so they would merge into one singular, tight wrap around her head, and against her face, to make sure that it would be extremely difficult to get off. Grant was ready to take those remaining flags from her.

Callan wasn't about to let Sander get on top of her again just like that. Widening her stance, she skidded back a few feet, locking Sander in a awkward grappling match as the pair collided. With arms busy keeping Sander from doing whatever it was he was trying to do-- she wasn't sure what his objective was after getting nailed in the face-- she was once again powerless to stop Grant from doing whatever he wanted. Which, at this point, appeared to be wrapping what could only be, judging from the denim texture and the bare legs of her opponent, Sander's pants.

It was claustrophobic and exacerbating and embarrassing and a slew of other things she was trying to focus on besides describing it as 'smelly'. It wasn't an unpleasant smell-- a mixture of cologne and... something else. If she had to explain it, she'd say 'natural musk', but she didn't want to explain it. She wanted it off of her face.

Panicked, she bent her knees and jumped as high as she dared. She could feel the ground giving beneath her feet as she launched herself. Hopefully this would be enough to get out of range from Grant (assuming he had a range) and free an arm from Sander so she could pull the pants off of her face.

That seemed to do it. Callan seemed caught off guard from the jeans that had just been wrapped around her head suddenly. This was Grant's chance. Or so he thought. He was confused from Callan bending her knees until she shot herself off the ground. Shit, he couldn't let her get away from his range. He could've just let it be, but he knew that she would be persistent.

She had to be stopped, now or never.

A moment after she shot into the air, as she reached for the pants wrapped around her head, before she could get too far, Grant had his chains reel in a small amount before pulling the jeans that were wrapped around her head toward the weight of Sander, who was still grappling onto her, to pull the both of them back down to the earth below them. A moment after, he watched as the two subnaturals shoot back down into the earth with a mighty thud. That HAD to have dazed her somewhat. Grant began to make his way to the small crater that they had just made in the concrete. He needed to grab those flags quick.

As soon as they both hit the ground, Sander was already shrugging off the worst of the impact. He pushed at Callan’s arm in another attempt to get the higher ground, while raising his right fist, slamming it down on her obscured face.

He achieved this easily as Callan frantically tried to pull at the magically adhered fabric to no avail, disorientated from the failed jump and being yanked to the ground by her head. At first she paid little attention to Sander's weight on top of her, panicking more over the pants until something hard collided with her cheekbone. She shouted out in alarm and vexation, throwing a blind arm across her body, hoping to hit Sander.

Around the edges of her body, something dark began to pool like inky black liquid.

Sander landed another punch, seemingly wild with bloodlust. Callan's stray arm struck his shoulder, but he recovered soon enough.

Harder this time, the side of her head throbbed horribly. The sound of Sander's breathing was quieter... everything was getting quieter. A-am I gonna pass out? Then she felt it. It wasn't a physical feeling-- just something she knew. The inky black liquid surrounding her seemed to be getting more solid.

"S-stop!" she shouted, her voice muffled from the fabric as she tried to warn him.

A third blow was on its way, but at the last second, it landed on the cement, inches away from Callan’s head. Stop, somewhere in his head, a voice echoed. His. He remembered. This was a game. It ended. He had to stop.

“Stop! Fucking stop!”- Pressing both hands against his face, he growled into them –“Stop it!”

Almost immediately, the glow around them dissipated.

The impact of Sander's fist in the ground by her head allowed her a sigh of relief, but it wasn't over yet. It was still there. Waiting for a reason to come out. At least Sander seemed... preoccupied. Unable to see, she wasn't sure what was going on-- if someone had grabbed him or if he was talking to himself. She lifted her head and tugged at Sander's pants hopefully-- still stuck. Letting her head fall back she tried to calm down and focus on her breathing, which by now had grown a bit uneven and ragged. She balled her hands up into fists and pressed them against her forehead, dealing with her own inner demon.

Grant was witnessing Sander beating Callan a couple times over the head as he was jogging over. Just as he got there, the struggling between the two seemed to stop, only to be replaced by internal struggling. He didn't even realize how heavy his own breaths were after he had just jogged over. He had his mind set on what to do. He walked over to the pair, and he reached down to her wrists that were, fortunately for him, close together, and ripped both of them off. She was out. Grant tossed the flags aside as he let out one last breath before his chains retracted from the jeans that were wrapped around Callan's head. The moment they did, they lost their tight, wrapping properties and merely laid on top of her face, loosely.

Marcus Howell | Kusari Bloodworth

---

_{Collab with @Piercing Light @Chasers115}

This fight was already a mess. Siena had already vanished into thin air, likely to find Christmas, but Chris had been baited out of position and was now already suffering from a major wound as a result. She would have a little talk with him later, right now she had her eyes focused on the other team. Sander was currently being dealt with by Callan. She would help her in a moment, right now she had to deal with scarface over here, heading towards her like a man on a mission. Instead of waiting for him to come to her, she sprinted towards him. Using her malformed leg, she was able to close the distance in a speed that was likely unwavering. She looked as if she were about to kick Marcus, however she jumped at the last moment to plant her clawed foot on his chest. Her aim was his flag, so her claws were positioned to tear it away. She paid attention to her own flags, making sure not to leave any obvious openings.

Marcus slowed down a bit as Kusari came rushing at him, far faster than he'd been expecting her to with her freaky leg. Seemed like the asymmetry wasn't bothering her one bit. Almost too late, he realized that he was about to literally get his ass kicked, and he angled his body so the left side of him would take the full force of the impact. It was only when Kusari jumped that he realized she wasn't going to kick him after all, but was instead going to plant her feet directly into him. Her leg hit him firmly in the arm, and pain ricocheted through him like an electric current. Far more pain than he expected.

His intention had been to reach up with his free arm and grab the flag around her leg, but the sickening sound of his humerus snapping like a twig and the uncontrollable cry of pain that escaped his mouth quickly blew all his thoughts of strategy out the window. Now, as he hit the ground and rolled, the same electricity sparking through him with every inch he tumbled, his arm reflexively grabbed where Kusari's foot had just bent him like a plastic straw. The sound of static immediately filled his ears, and anybody nearby would hear the same sound, seemingly coming from the spot Marcus had just been standing previously.

He disappeared out from underneath Kusari, reappearing in the same spot that the static was coming from. His arm had fortunately downgraded from 'excruciating pain', to a more manageable 'blinding pain'. His arm still dangled loosely, but not jutting at the odd angle it had been previously. He shuddered as his body evaluated the new, slightly healed injury, making a mental note: some injuries, but not all injuries. Good to know.

He wanted to scream, and he wanted to cuss out the crazy fucking bitch that had just broken his goddamn arm, but he kept it all inside himself. Seemed like this friendly game of Flag and Seek wasn't going to be as 'friendly' as he'd originally hoped.

Kusari raised a brow as Marcus suddenly blinked from his position, an audible static accompanying it. She had heard he could do something like this, but seeing it was still surprising. It seemed she had broken his arm when he moved it to intercept her attack, glancing down she could see that the flag on that arm had been ripped off and was now under her clawed foot. At least there was that.

She didn't think about lingering on regretting her fellow student's injury, instead she ruthlessly rushed him down. She moved her hands to grab his head, and pulling it down raised her leg to force it collide with her knee. At the same time she attempted to snatch away the flag on his head.

Alright, round two. Marcus organized his strategy in his head; as soon as she got close, he was gonna flash, and try and snag the flag off her leg, since that was the most likely part to be coming at him. He focused, waited for the right moment to try and block her incoming attack with his arm. Or that's what he would have done had his arm actually come up to defend himself once again. It wasn't as healed as he thought, and that left him with an inability to block as intended.

He had a brief moment of useless flailing to realize his mistake, before he felt her hands on the back of his head, and saw the rapidly approaching knee. In a mere instant, pain blossomed across his face, and the world spiraled as stars flashed across his eyes. He stepped back to collect himself, feeling the flag around his head rip off as he did. The world seemed to double for a moment; tears welling up in his eyes and the blood pouring out of his nose. He staggered back for a moment, reaching for a rewind that wasn't there.

Alright. Now he was pissed. He readied up his next move. It wasn't going to be nice; the time for a nice fun game was over. Hopefully, his slightly staggered stance (and completely on purpose, yeah, totally.) would scream 'easy prey', or else he'd have to improvise. Time to see what this thing can do..

Kusari blinked at the second of Marcus's flags. Taking them had been a bit too easy so far. Was she perhaps taking this test more seriously than the others? She looked at Marcus, his arm was a mess, and his nose was leaking red. She was trying to knee his forehead, she must have missed. It wasn't as if she enjoyed hurting him, she just felt compelled to win this test. As if it would prove something.

"That looks pretty bad. Once we find Lily I'll ask her to transfer your wounds to me. But first, I'm going to need the rest of your flags, Marcus." She walked over to him, expecting him to not be in good enough shape to fight back. She reached for the flag on his chest, intending to yank it away.

Marcus stood still, eyeing her cautiously as she approached. He was waiting for the sudden burst of speed, another blow to head to come flying at him, but it didn't. He almost felt bad for what was about to happen next. Almost. He gave his bloodied face a quick wipe, offering the girl a pained smile as she calmly walked up to him.

"It's fine, just consider us even." he said, prepping the jump.

Her calm approach had made it easy. She was wide open and right next to him when he activated it; chest, head, and then head again. In a brief moment, where time seemed to stop, Marcus made his move. He snatched the flag from Kusari's chest, snatched the one from her head, and then did something that was probably unnecessary, but damn did it feel good:

He decked her square in the face. A nose for a nose.

The sound of static ended slightly to the right of Kusari, and Marcus breathed heavily as drips of crimson spattered on the ground. His good hand held two of Kusari's flags, and he eyed her cautiously, waiting to see what kind of effect the punch had on her. It wasn't for vengeance, he reminded himself. It was breaking even - all part of the game.

"Oh..." Kusari was currently looking up at the sky, her head having been knocked backwards by Marcus. Her nose bled for a few moments before being surrounded by her signature dim light. She couldn't tell what exactly it was she was feeling at the moment. Shame? Embarrassment? She sat down on the ground, and looked at her right leg. No, she was just angry to the point that it had boiled over into a stoic calm. "I've been wondering about this for a while... Guess I'll try it out now. Good thing I'm flexible." She said positioning her right leg over her left arm. Just below the elbow she sliced her own arm off with no hesitation.

The limb fell to the ground with a disturbing thud as blood began to pour out like a macabre fountain. The pain sent a wave of nausea through her head, almost causing her to go into shock. But she didn't. Her body was stronger than that wasn't it? Next was her right arm, which would be a bit more difficult. Due to the awkward angle she had to slam her arm against the talons on her right leg. It took three times to sever the arm completely, by this point she was covered in the splatter of her own blood, and her teeth were chattering as she shivered in pain.

Marcus stood dumbfounded. Of all the things he expected Kusari to do after being punched in the face, this was not it. He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole situation. The way she brought her own arm down on the talons threatened to make him sick. The ease at which her talons sliced through muscle, the blood pouring out of her, and the sound of tearing flesh was not doing anything to help with that. He'd have been traumatized if he didn't know that her arms would grow back, but even still...the utter ruthlessness of it made him shiver with an emotion that he couldn't quite put his finger on. A mixture of fear and confusion, perhaps. Plus, there was the matter of what the hell he was supposed to do in this whole situation. Should he call for help? Should he grab her flags while she was dismembering herself? Did he need to even grab her flags if she tore her entire arm off her body? Was the fight going to end if she just ripped herself to shreds?

"Hey...uh...Ref?" he said softly, looking down to his leg. The question was directed at his ankle cuff, as he figured that'd be the most likely place somebody would be listening from. "What...er...what exactly should I do about this?"

The boy's cuff beeped loudly. "I spy two wrists with flags still on them, Mr. Howell. Thought you knew how to play this game?" Beep.

Marcus sneered his face at the cuff in disgust. "Aw god...you're gonna make me grab the flags off her dismembered arm?" he said, sighing loudly. Apparently the game was still going, even though Kusari was now 50% more stumpy. He inched closer to one of the discarded arms, trying to judge her movements so he wouldn't get another swat to the face. When he felt he was safe, he leaned forward real quick to grab the entire limb, and jumped backwards.

The next few moments were spent girlishly flailing the arm around, trying to get the velcro to loosen without actually touching the limb. Such a task was made even more difficult by the lack of extra available arm he had, but after a while, the sound of ripping velcro awarded him the fruit of his labor. A single extra point. One gross, horrifying point. He left the arm where it lay, looking towards the next one. Something caught his eye, however; Kusari's stumps were...sizzling?

"K-Kusari...are you gonna be...okay?" he hesitantly asked, looking her in the eyes and taking a few steps backwards.

But it turned out to be worth it. Her left arm grew back into something that surprised her, it grew into a tentacle. The feeling of this near alien appendage growing almost made her vomit, it was as if the pale red tentacle was sizzling into place in a foam of hydrochloric acid. This could be... handy. But she'd rather have another actual hand to work with.

Ask and you shall receive apparently. Her right arm grew into something resembling her leg. The new flesh of her arm was smooth and the same color of her skin, but it was a bit bulkier. The circumference had increased basically. As for her hand, the top of it and the palm looked horrible. The bones in her hand had thickened, and were clearly visible, and there were smooth red claws where her fingers should be. The transformation of her body complete, she found herself letting out a chuckle. She really did look like a monster.

She turned her head towards Marcus, her red eyes like that of a beast. "What was it you said? Consider us even?" She flashed a toothy grin. "I have no intention of making this even."

Marcus had identified the feeling that rose in his gut. It was definitely fear.

Angelique Lachance | Christopher Francis

---

_{Collab with @Dragonmancer @Riffus Maximus}

The scream that Angel delivered stopped the dragon dead in its tracks, even causing him to recoil as the sound petrified and shook the beast, pressing him to the ground. The dragon would writhe and thrash about before going into a state of temporary paralysis.

Seeing the dragon pinned to the ground as it took the full brunt of her scream, it thrashed violently before succumbing to paralysis. However, by the time he flailed about, his tail had sweeped onto the black-haired Aberration's side as she tried to side-step him, sending her flying a few feet away. With a groan of pain emanating from bruised ribs, Angélique slowly got back onto her feet and started jogging, clutching her side where she had been hit, at a moderate pace towards the pile of clothes that was the dragon's treasure. If she could take advantage of the time he was being held into place, victory for her team would be closer within their grasp.

For a short while the dragon was motionless but after the 15 second mark Chris started squirming and stirring from his position. After five seconds the beast sprang up, sprinted, then leaped into the air, aiming to pounce down on Angel as she drew within reach of the flags.

Just as Angel was about to reach the pile of flags littered among Chris' clothes, she barely caught the sight of the Dragon that shook off his paralysis and taken of skyward, intending to pounce her from above. Another wave of panic settled into the X-marked as she saw him about to collide on her with great force.

"What are you waiting for, weakling? Are you just going to let yourself be crushed by this scaley dickhead?

No time to waste. All or nothing, she figured. She'd meet the pouncing dragon head on, turning towards him just as they were about to collide into each other. When Angel started screaming, she could feel the monster's powerful front claws punch into her shoulders. Almost head to head, she'd literally scream upwards into the dragon's face, making him feel the full up-close knock back and stunning effects of her screech.

The moment the dragon's claws touched her shoulder a tremendous force of sound scrambled the dragon's conscience once more, but this time the blast had also knocked him back a few feet, preventing her from being crushed. However launching the beast in the air caused its tail to uppercut her jaw as it flew into the ground on its back, sprawling for a moment before paralysis set in.

Angel was sent reeling backwards from the force of the dragon's tail slapping her as her shriek sent the dragon flying away from her. She would've screamed some more from the pain of having her shoulders pierced by razor sharp claws, or her jaw nearly dislocated from the power behind the tail's uppercut.

Angel had landed straight into Chris' pile of clothes, but at first she didn't even acknowledge the cushion she fell on. Her mind was numb, dizzy from that vicious hit. She had difficulty moving her arms around, the claw holes into her shoulders made it quite painful as she tried to move them. It took her a few seconds for her eyes to recover her sight, but she noticed everything was blurred, less dark than usual. Did her shades got knocked off again from her face?

"Damn... guess I'll have to request a new pair if this keeps up." she muttered, suddenly feeling the fabric of clothes as she was regaining her senses.

While Angel started to recover, Chris was still somewhat paralyzed. However once he came too he quickly spun back to his feet. In such a rush to stand up that debris of dirt and grass rose around his figure above a small crater. Gleaming red eyes glared at Angelique for being near his treasure before he quickly darted out of the smoke and towards her figure. He once again tried to pounce on her, but avoided his claws from striking her. Instead he tried to pin her to the ground by landing directly above her and placing the dull sides of his claws onto her hands.

Still recovering from that last collision, Angel couldn't see the beast rushing towards her from afar, nor could she see him through her blurred vision until he was right in front of her. By then, it was already too late, the creature had pinned her down to the ground, its claws maintaining her into place. Not that her hands would do much against an opponent of that size though. She tried to struggle but she wasn't able to get free, Chris too imposing in this form. She glared at him back with her vivid emerald eyes.

She hissed something under her breath, something that sounded like a faint "Get off of me." A strange mix of terror and anger began surfacing, her naked eyes making her emotions much more real now that they weren't hidden underneath a pair of opaque black shades.

Chris hesitated due to her emotions being visible, but the monster was determined to help his team. His maw would first gently rip off the flag from her hand, then the chest. He was careful not to actually injure both her and her clothing. Afterwards he began to position himself to remove the other flags on her person. Though trying to be quick being careful was the priority, he didn't want to accidentally kill her or harm her anymore than he had to.

The more flags Chris was removing, the more embarrassed Angel felt. Being so cautious as he removed her flags - especially her chest flag - made her feel somewhat pissed off, yet somehow a strange feeling of ease settled. Her mind was fueled by the anger of losing this battle, but her panicked mind waned as the ferocious dragon seemed gradually becoming a human. Hell, if it wasn't for the fact they were fighting each other on this god forsaken clearing for a stupid game of flags, she could swear the creature on top of her felt like a lover carefully undressing her.

Angélique flushed when her mind had taken her into this thought. What the fuck was she thinking? She shook her head, trying to clear off this image from her mind. She had to get out of this predicament. She was starting to lose, and if it kept on going, she'd lose for real. Fortunately, for an unknown reason, the dragon haven't covered her mouth, her only real line of defense.

Are you going to let yourself be done in shamefully like that, petty girl? You giving up already on his gentleness? How cute. Why not ask him on a date when you both are done here while you are at it?

Her teeth chattered, rage bubbled up inside. No, she did not have something for that scaly-ass freakshow, nor was she going to let herself be defeated in such a humiliating way. Anger fiercely flashed into the metal-singing ex-rockstar. He dare look down on her to not take measures against her, then he will pay dearly for that. Just as Chris positioned himself to get the remaining flags off her, her mouth opened, letting out another ear-ravaging shout from the depths of her lungs.

Chris was surprised she'd be so reckless as to shout at him again, the dragon was blasted off of her and fell directly below her, landing on a few of his flags as the beast struggled to get up before entering a state of paralysis, and falling back down.

Angélique struggled back onto her feet, still feeling a phantom feeling of the dragon's warmth and pressure that had kept her pinned not a few seconds ago. Her shoulders hurt like hell, but sheer willpower, adrenaline and anger fueled her into standing up and trying to win this challenge. She would make her way to Chris, still immobilized from the sheer power of her voice. From the few pieces of clothing that were free from the dragon's body, she would rip them from the ground, taking the flags with her.

To see a dragon in this state before her, it felt incredible. To wield enough power to topple a dragon, now THAT was exhilarating. It made her want to do more, feel more of this power surging into her. Pay this creature back in kind for the pain he had brought her, for the creatures that maimed her friends, for those who had killed them.

With a sinister gleam into her eyes, she did not even wait for Chris to stand back onto his legs. She shouted once more, wanting to make him roll out of the way, make him feel the shame she had felt when she was pinned underneath him, make him beg for her to stop

The dragon rolled over from the blow, still unable to move from the shellshock of her scream.

A wicked grin formed onto Angel's lips as she saw the dragon roll over, now exposing whatever remaining flags he had underneath him. She walked up to the creature lying down on his back, like a vulgar dog punted into submission. She couldn't have felt more alive than right now, as she knelt beside the dragon and ripped the flags from Chris' pants. He was now out of the game, and Angel had come out on top. There was a strange pride that had risen deep inside, akin to the time when she had become to be nationally renowned as a musician.

"He deserved it..."

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