Th3King0fChaos

The Hourglass Order

---

The Showdown

---

---

It began with a drumline, and then flags, trumpets blaring, and tulip petals falling from the sky. First marched the champions of Tosatsu, and then the champions of the Darhannics, the Angics, the Femrigr, and the Chosen Creed. Finally came the Quentic Greats. Each group was led by its current champion: those who made up the Elite Six. They filed in and raised their weapons. The arena thundered with applause, cheers, and the stomping of feet.

It continued like this for a little bit longer, a few of the newest arrivals not quite sure what to make of it until they noticed the others looking up the sky with an anticipatory reverence. Suddenly, two towering beams of pure light leapt down from above and, from them appeared two colossal six-winged angels.

Valenand, archangel of Vigor, and Forticand, archangel of Bravery, alighted on a platform in the stands. They glanced over at each other, smiled and nodded. The path of champions parted and the combatants entered to thunderous cheers and salutes: two friends who'd trained for this, who shared both a goal and a burning desire to win, but only one could...

"LET THE FINAL BEGIN!!"

Desmond knew this would come, and he was filled with both excitement and wariness. He made his way to the arena as there he would see Edyta once more. He smiled as lightly leaned on a spear and said, "Seems we've finally made it".

He kicked the bottom of the spear and flared it for a moment before taking it into both of his hands, "Let's dance!"

Edyta smiled sidelong at Desmond. The crowds had liked her for her clever ruthlessness and panache just as they'd admired him for his innovation and doggedness. The cheering was about evenly split. "Ballroom, ballet, or square?" She grinned, extracting two wicked-looking sickles - Zamrazenie and Palenie - from her robes and her face became serious. "Eshiran empower you, Desmond." She marched towards the platform where the two archangels watched, surrounded by pentangels, and bowed deeply before them. Taking her cue, Desmond did the same. For a moment, as both bent low, their eyes met. Then, Edyta straightened.

Then, Edyta disappeared.

Desmond stretched as he began to walk forward. He looked around as he thought about the different areas that she would come. He spun his weapon around as he began strike the ground with his spear tip.

The strikes kicked up the dirt and created dust in the air. Desmond magnetized the dust to give himself a buffer for his sensing when Edyta does try to appear.

"Already trying to end this?", Desmond called out to the wind.

"I'm here, Desmond," came her voice from somewhere to the north-northeast. There was a fantastic wave of heat and force and the dust crystallized into swirling shards of glass. "I'm not always in greyspace."

Desmond chuckled, "Oh~! spooky~!"

Desmond began to leap back, taking a few moments as he needed to leave the dusty area he created before it was turned into glass as well.

A smile came to his face as he dug his hand into his bag. Out it came with a glove on it and holding a dagger. He reeled back as he launched the dagger at Laska with Kinetic and Magnetic energy.

Edyta called upon her maelstrom to intercept the dagger, not yet quite willing to give away her full arsenal of tricks. At the end of the day, if it came down to a contest of magical strength, it worked to her benefit. If she could get Desmond into a tug-of-war instead of playing into his cunning, she could win.

As the dagger neared Laska's maelstrom of energy, it was melted within moments. Desmond chuckled to himself as he realized he needed to get more cleaver. He couldn't rely soley on just tricks as she was going to use her absurd power against him.

She already knew a good portion of what he could do. Tricks alone would not be enough. He needed to get either more cleaver or get more power.

So why not pull a trick out of the bag?

Desmond reached into his bag and pulled out a pistol much different that they would know from their time.

As he began to fire multiple rounds each one magnetically charged to fly in different ways to try and find an opening.

Edyta tried to move the maelstrom into the bullets' path, but there were too many for it to cover all of them. Instead, she used her skills as a binder and as a kineticist. She conjured a gas that she called 'deadening air' but that people of later times might know as sulfur hexaflouride. It was thick and would slow the bullets. It was thick and easy to manipulate with her kinetic prowess. It was thick and utterly inert to chemical reactions. It was thick and absolutely deadened magnetism. She grinned wickedly.

Desmond laughed as he continued to fire, "Love to see the creativity!"

In the midst of the firing he began to jog and try to circle around. As before he finished firing he flicked his hand. Out from his bag came 3 cleavers he would send around the other side trying to pincer Edyta.

Edyta's deadening air continued to do its work but, instead of dodging Desmond's attack, she darted forward, right at him, as quickly as she could, and leaped. A massive wave of kinetic force spread out from her in a ring shape, aiming to blast the incoming projectiles off-course and hammer Desmond in advance of her arrival in melee range or force him to focus all of his meager capacity on drawing it away.

Desmond smiled, "Real cleaver!"

Desmond had to not allow her take an advantage. He dropped his gun to prepare for Laska to come into melee range.

He allowed the cleavers to be thrown around as he drew in the kinetic energy Laska produced and sent it back out to try and put up a meager defense.

It was enough not to be thrown on his ass or flattened, yet he still felt the impact like a cudgel to the stomach.

Desmond planted his feet as he began to chemically dope himself and meet Laska in melee with his spear, "Now we're talking!"

She'd added small hooks to her sickles to catch his spear. Otherwise, she relied on her nimbleness to dodge instead of blocking, and her ability to overwhelm his magic with her own to prevent tricks. She moved to catch his spear with one sickle, twist, and keep in motion, either cracking it, wrenching it away, or forcing him to retreat, while aggressively zeroing in with the other. All the while, she tried backing him towards one of the arena walls, a whirling dervish of fire and ice, threatening his weapon with one of hers and his body with the other.

As the sickles came down onto Desmond's weapon and then up it, he realized that she was either going to disarm him or kill him.

Neither option was a good one, yet he needed to make a choice. And a weapon is just a weapon. A tool is just a tool.

Desmond let his weapon go as he lunged and dipped back to dodge the sickle. As his hand slid across the shaft of his spear, he coated it in an invisible fire before he let it fully go.

He moved to put his back against the wall as he put up both his hands, beginning to to enhance them with kinetic magic to prepare to deflect.

"Man, do I love a woman who can kick my ass".

Her sickle slid down the spear's shaft, but Edyta did not grin. She did not lose focus. She slashed at Desmond, expecting him to push back, but then she felt it - a sudden heat - and realized what he'd done: the same trick from his earlier match. If the deadening air she'd filled the arena with made it burn less, it still burned.

She had been trained to deal with pain, however. The skin reddened and bubbled and cried out in silent pain, but she grit her teeth and, without stopping, plowed right through it, drawing the coldfire away and hammering Desmond with a slash that he could...

not

quite

stop.

The sickle missed his head. Desmond was too quick to get caught like that and he managed to partially deflect it, but it sunk deep into his shoulder and Edyta's pupils dilated instinctually at the sight of blood. She flung the spear free and spun on the spot, hoping to rip the sickle out for maximum damage, fling him, and plough her other one in. "Man, do I love a man whose ass I can kick."

Desmond gritted his teeth as he was slashed deeply in the shoulder by one of her sickles and was just barely able to defend himself from the other. As the moment when Laska tried to rip it out and fling him, Desmond went with it. He used his own physical abilities plus a further kinetic boost to launch himself and flip himself over Edyta.

His face winced for a moment before he was upside down and smiling at Edyta, "Glad we're a good match then".

Desmond pulled his hand up as in that moment 5 thin wires of crimson and gold light ignited. Leading from his hand swinging around from where he was and past somewhat around Edyta.

He pulled on the heated and electrified wires to try and wrap them around her further as an attempt to slice her.

The deadening air continued to blunt Desmond's attacks, but it didn't stop them. He had the same pain tolerance that she did and had turned desperate defense into offense *so* quickly. One of the wires scored her across the shoulder, leaving a bloody slash, and her muscles seized up for a moment, but she boosted herself free with kinetic magic, scrambling away just before they could wrap around her. She needed something new. She needed to put him away without using the ability that nobody knew she possessed, despite what Manfred might've said at the start.

She reached with her magics for the blood bubbling out of Desmond's shoulder and started to pull it from his body and his manas' grasp. She pulled, now, with *everything* that she had. She pulled, and began to cast her most powerful spell.

Desmond's face began to wince and his eyes bulged as he could feel the blood be pulled from him.

He couldn't even conceive the thought of him winning a contest of strength of manas between himself and Laska.

He couldn't win like this. Not without doing something *crazy*.

This had to be all or nothing.

In this moment of pain and desperation, Desmond uses her dulled awareness and sense of pain to began to use chemical magic to begin to dull her thoughts further, to skew what she sees.

When Desmond landed, he came down sliding as he used his magic to try and fight the pull of blood Laska was doing, he couldn't let himself be blood drawn.

What he did

In the midst of his fall, Desmond is using chemical magic and primordial magic: {Skew Subjective} to make Laska not be aware of when Desmond did his pull of the wires and when he landed, the cleavers that were attached at the ends were coming her way

One moment, she was on the precipice of victory. The next, a cleaver was slicing through her trailing hair as she leapt into greyspace. Only a preternatural danger sense honed over years of combat and training had warned her. It was purely instinctual. She hadn't thought.

*Desmond, you magnificent bastard.* He always had irons in the fire. He did and she loved it, but... she'd made a critical error. The cat was out of the bag, now. She was a greyborn. She'd outed herself, and there was no un-revealing her trump card. Even if she won this match, she'd go into her matched against the Elite Six with no real bullets left in her proverbial gun, and combatants that experienced definitely *would* have fought a greyborn before.

Desmond hadn't revealed his trump card yet. What they'd discussed during their training, what they'd worked out, what they'd agreed on: he still had it. She'd blown it. She'd blown it when she was the stronger one! She'd blown it when she had the better chance. They needed to win to get to that hell and get Tommy back from it. She'd move mountains if she needed to.

Edyta Laska smiled. *And that's it, really: you're smarter than me.* She didn't have much energy to work with, so she waited. She waited just long enough that Desmond might momentarily let his guard down - that he might try to set something bigger up. Then, she'd leap out and catch him mid-cast and one of them would win or one would lose. She served the God of Death, after all, and how *glorious* it would be to experience that for herself without truly dying!

*Three*

*Two*

*One.*

Into the breach!

Desmond laughed and smiled as he said, "Looks like it's my win".

Desmond flared his hand as the cleavers were let loose and were sent flying in different directions. He chuckled to himself as he waltzed his way over to the center of the arena, binding up his shoulder wound as he prepared for the finale.

He began to waltz and stamp, kicking up dust as he magnetized it. As he moved he placed his hand into his bag as he pulled out another glove wire and put it on. He began to hum to himself as he raised his hands into the air and launched the wires high. They shimmered and shined as they streamed up and fell down gently. He twirled and spun around as he hummed. Twining and binding the wires together, forming a net around himself, like flowers in across a meadow.

Then he dropped the gloves as he pulled out 4 daggers and 2 more gloves. He threw the daggers high as he let them float there with his magic. As once more he produced the wires, twining and whirling around and other wires already set to bind the net and then finished by binding them with the daggers.

And then, he bowed.

Edyta and Desmond had trained together and, just in case they were ever to meet, she'd built up an expectation in him: that she'd do the typical greyborn thing and show up right behind him to stab him in the kidneys.

Desmond bowed and his net - deadly and intricate and exhausting to have constructed - drew inward. Edyta appeared just a split second after it cleared where she now stood: firmly outside of it. Instead of a melee attack, she did something simple: an arcane lance with all of the power she could draw on short notice. Desmond, forced to adjust his trap lest it close on *him*, did not have enough mobility or energy to stop it and the deadly beam punched clean through his abdomen.

His eyes widened. *Her* eyes widened. I've killed Desmond, she realized, and she didn't know how to feel about it. They stood there and stared at each other for an endless moment, and it occurred to her that she should probably finish him off because that wound was a slow and painful way to die.

Then, he smirked. He just smirked at her. For a moment, Edyta thought she felt unfathomable pain. The world disappeared.

Desmond leaned his head back as once more he laughed. He looked to Edyta as he said, "Sorry about that, I had to make sure you didn't feel any pain from the wires".

As there was one thin set of wire that came. Heated and electrified it was meant to cut through the center of the net after a few moments, making sure Edyta didn't have to suffer within it. However, now it had saved Desmond by cutting Laska before she could finish him.

As he tried to laugh once more he felt a pain streak through him as he looked around.

And realized, that was it. He now needed to face off against the Elite 6. Strangely, he was not nervous one bit.

The Hourglass Order

---

The Prelude

---

---

3 days of training in secret, Desmond had access to an arsenal of weapons that he could not even begin to imagine. He wanted to take every single one, he wanted to play with every single new toy given to him, yet this was the armory of Eshiran, so he could only train with them during this time. Desmond had all the weapons the collective knowledge of life and death had, yet he needed to choose what would be his weapons to succeed. From blades and swords with guns mounted in them, to miniature cannons, to guns that seemed as advanced as the ones he was given by the Sirrahi. From simple weapons to weapons made from kites, wires, chains, and even tools known for gardening.

Any tool one person could think to fight another, they will do all they can to make it work, so they have it in the armory. Desmond took every weapon he could, played with them all and trained with them more. Every waking hour, every sleeping moment, every single second of his life, was to fight. Now here? He could do it all, constantly without failure, without worry, he could play with anything, and if it would kill him, he would come back.

Edyta and Desmond trained like madmen, they fought and used weapons they were not used to. They needed to become proficient enough with other weapons to never show off their true skills. For Desmond, this was his life. He never knew what he would have at any time in a fight. He has dueled countless opponents in the academy, he has been jumped on his walks, he has been forced to fight at night with no light, and being raided by the enemy. He has needed to learn to fight with chairs, bottles, pitchforks, shovels, and hoes. Hiding in plain sight was a weapon, a tool that required one to learn more tools. And it showed here, yet he took to certain weapons with some fondness, out of his own comfort, or more so, out of some familiarity of another using them.

After days of fighting, and endless hours of training, with no breaks, no rest, and no sleep. They spent their 3 days filled with only fighting each other like maniacs. Using death itself as a tool to forgo sleeping, resting, and even the need to eat. They trained like maniacs, as right before the day of the tournament, they had finally rested. For a few hours, they walked the city, and had a view of the heaven that for one, they always dreamed of, and for the other, never believed in.

---

---

Desmond and Edyta chose different paths, Edyta wished to watch the matches, she wanted to try and watch to see if she could find any weaknesses or specific things she could do to increase her chances of victory. For Desmond, he knew what it meant to rest, as he walked the city. The bazaar was marvelous, filled with countless wonders, as it was more lively than even some of the greatest cities he could think of. Even Ersand’Ernise paled in comparison, it made sense, not only did every soul that could be here in a celebration, but then from 6 other heavens, souls of countless warriors and other heavens came to this occasion. Desmond walked the streets, with nothing on him but his clothes and a smile. He took off into the Bazaar and there, he had nothing, yet it required nothing. Here in this land, you could have anything you want, the people here received food when they wanted, items, trinkets, tools, and even money. All one needs to do is wish it, then it will appear, so Desmond walked the streets, wished for money, and spent it. A simple life really, there was no struggle unless you wished it. There was no worry unless you asked for it. It was a good life, yet, Desmond wasn’t sure of this feeling. As he walked the streets, it felt like something was missing. He couldn’t tell what it was, what it could have been, yet as he saw the countless people moving, completely carefree and excited about the countless events, he felt strange.

Desmond stopped and looked up to the sky, it was as blue as one expected, the air was as cool as one wanted, and everything felt perfect. And yet as he stands there, it all felt so hollow. He felt like there was nothing for him to do, he could fight, he could eat, he could do as he pleases, yet there was nothing to do. There is nothing to change, there is no true conflict, this was heaven, and there was nothing to do more.

Desmond’s thoughts were broken as he heard a woman with a high-pitched and somewhat cutsey voice call out to him, ”Hey! Hey kid!”

Desmond tossed his head as he saw flying above the crowd of people a small woman with red hair, small white wings, and a small leather book and quill as he flew over towards Desmond. Desmond tilted his head as he said, ”Delli ansim?”

The woman neared and almost flew back in confusion as she said, ”What?!”

Desmond sat there for a moment as he looked to the woman who seemed confused with his response.

The woman waited a moment longer before she began to laugh, ”Yes! Delli ansim you are!”

Desmond waited a moment, he realized that maybe that was some descriptor instead of some term that Numi used. She did laugh as well when he called himself that as well. Maybe it was something that was calling someone dumb, since when he heard Numi say that he was falling from the sky. Desmond tilted his head, “Hmm? Does that mean nothing?”

The woman waved her hand as she finished laughing, ”Ah, no, sorry, yeah it is just a name of endearment. I didn’t expect you to say something like that though! That’s probably why you got that aura!”

Desmond looked to the woman, she was floating and flapping her wings with a big smile. Desmond began to have a smile grow on his face as he said, ”What kind of aura do you mean?”

”You have the aura of a winner! A real champion’s presence and face. Trust me! The odds are in the favor!”, the small angel like woman spoke in a great cheerful voice filled with an incredible amount of pride in her words.

Desmond nodded and smiled as he said, ”Yeah? Well how many winners have you picked out?”

The woman’s smile slightly wavered and shifted as she said, ”Ah…well…I’ve seen 1 get close. Well 2. But those were unlucky breaks! But you! You have something different. Something greater!”

Desmond nodded his head, his smile began to shift to a curious smirk with a cocked eyebrow, ”How long have you been making odds and betting?”

The woman’s face slightly shifted more now, ”Ah…well…maybe 3000 years?”

Desmond nodded his head as he said, ”I see…”

Desmond began to walk away as the Odd’s maker began to follow Desmond, ”Hey! Wait up pal! Wait! I’m serious!”

Desmond shook his head as he chuckled, ”Well, if you wanna bet, you can. I guess you can follow me since I got nothing else to do. But what’s ya name?”

The woman was taken aback for a moment but then a smile came on her face as she flew up next to Desmond and said, ”Ah! Maryzel!”

Desmond nodded his head, ”Good to meet you, name’s Desmond. Desmond Catulus”.

Desmond and Maryzel began to walk around. She constantly talked and asked him about his plans in the fights. Desmond kept her in the dark, always making jokes about the different fighters. Desmond made slight innuendos, gestures, and other things as they walked the streets and watched fighters as they passed by.

”Why aren’t you watching the trainers more? Don’t you want intel on your competition?” Maryzel asked as she flew around Desmond looking out around him and watching other competitors, seeming to constantly write down things she sees them use.

”Why should I? It will do me no good”, Desmond answered matter of factly.

”Well seeing others will allow you to know what you need to look out for!” Maryzel squealed out as she sees more fights happening, many of which could be great for information gathering.

Desmond chuckles as he says, ”Let me ask you. Statistically, how much will that actually help me?”

Maryzel takes a moment before saying, ”If you watch every fight, 100% chance of winning!”

Desmond chuckles once more as he shakes his head, ”No. Me watching the fights will give me some insight, however, it will also make me too focused on the possibilities. Think about it, how many fights do I need to win to face the Elites?”

Maryzel thinks for a moment, ”You’ll need to win 8”.

Desmond then lightly rolled his hand, ”Out of how many fighters?”

”256 competitors”, Maryzel said as she seemed slightly confused but still following.

”So out of those 256 competitors, I will need to face 8 of them. Meaning I have somewhere near a 4 percent chance of watching the right people I need to. Within the 4 percent chance, I need to hope that I find something that I can use within the time I watched”. Desmond said as he lightly chuckled.

Maryzel looked to him as she listened further.

Desmond gestured out towards the rest of the city, ”Let’s say I spend that time relaxing and letting my mind wander. How much do you think that will increase my odds of winning?”

Maryzel answered hesitantly, ”Uhm…I don’t know…zero?”

Desmond laughed, ”Hahaha, true statistically it is hard to say, but it is also hard to say otherwise. What if that rest is the difference between winning and losing?”

Maryzel then points out, ”What if the watching is the difference between winning and losing?”

Desmond lightly flicked his hand towards Maryzel, ”Well, let’s say if that’s true. With the 4 percent chance of it helping to watch the fights and the near 0 percent chance of not watching, I’d say that there is a low chance anything I do extra now will change much of anything. So why not enjoy the time as I see fit? After all, if you focus too hard, you miss the little things. Besides, aren’t we in heaven? Why be so worried?”

Maryzel nodded her head as she now followed Desmond, still curious of what he meant. In 4 hours, he will have to fight constantly. He had to be prepared to face some of the greatest challenges the gods could ever give. And all Desmond wants to do is buy small trinkets, and walk around the city.

Yet as she watched him walk, how he relaxed, it looked as if she was seeing a man walk slowly through time. As the city moved at a fast pace, constantly swirling around him, Desmond walked through it all without a care. It seemed like the city moved around him, as it moved one way, he moved against it. A single man walked with such a carefree attitude in the city, it seemed as if he was in his own world frozen in time.

This was it-, Maryzel thought, This is my dark horse.

---

---

The Climb to the Top

---

---

4 hours, of relaxing and taking in the sights of the world, using his time to not even worry. Yet as a bell rang it walled all to the colosseum, and a voice then rang out through everyone’s mind.

”ONE AND ALL! THE TOURNAMENT OF HEROES BEGINS!”

Maryzel turned to Desmond, nervous but excited, ”Okay! Looks like it’s showtime! Let’s head over to see who your first opponent is!”

Desmond nodded his head as the two left to enter the colosseum. When they entered, Desmond was guided down to the underground area to await his time. For many arenas like this, the gladiatorial arena was quite glamorous, yet the underground area for the fighters would often be quite lackluster. Yet within heaven, something like that would do no justice to what would be the hall of heroes.

The halls of the area were made of gorgeous white granite, the floor was made of a soft wood that felt quite nice under the feet. The area had a sense of elegance to it, and many within it were relaxing in ways they saw fit. Some enjoyed quiet moments, others enjoyed food and beverages, while some even enjoyed the company of others, without the care of anyone else.

Desmond just walked, caring for none others, as he was guided to a small room that would be his area he will return to after each fight. Desmond looked around the room, it had a bed, a chair, a chest, and a wardrobe. He sighed as he walked to the bed and threw himself onto the bed. He laid there for a moment as he looked at the chest, he swung his legs around as he stood up and opened the chest, within was just a small note, ‘This chest will be your arsenal’.

Desmond closed the chest and thought of a dagger, as the moment he opened the chest up again, within was a dagger of the exact shape and size he thought of. He smiled, as again he closed the chest, and thought of a weapon. As he opened it, what appeared was a large shovel. Desmond began to chuckle to himself as he took the shovel and began to swing it. It was heavy, weighted in certain ways that were not quite right. He put the shovel back in and began to think of it again, this time modifying it to better suit his needs when wielded. He did this over and over again, changing the shape of the shovel, the weight, the size, and even what materials he would use. Making it a weapon all its own.

Desmond did this over and over again, making a new weapon and redesigning it, over and over, to make the perfect version for himself. Then he placed it next to the wall before he summoned another weapon. Repeating as he waited for nearly an hour before he was summoned for his first fight. Maryzel came knocking and opened as she said, ”Hey kid, your match is going to begin-”

Maryzel was stopped in her tracks as she saw the countless weapons flooding the room. As in the center was Desmond as he turned and said, ”Oh, hey! Alright, how about you pick what I’ll use hu?”

Maryzel looked amongst them all as she saw something that caught her eye, ”A…shovel?”

”Alright, shovel it is”, Desmond said with a confident smile as he grabbed it and walked out.

Maryzel followed flustered, ”Wait wait wait! I didn’t mean for you to use a shovel I was curious why you had one!”.

Maryzel tried to pull on Desmond to make him return to his room and grab a different weapon, yet he walked on. He even began to laugh as he said, ”Too late, we’re gonna be late if we don’t hurry”.

Maryzel followed, yelling and with worry as they neared the entrance to the colosseum. There stood countless armored warriors, fighting with blades and weapons larger than themselves. Each preparing for the fight of their life as they are prepared to prove their existence.

”ON ONE SIDE IS THE GIANT OF HOGH MUNKHELAD!”

The colosseum shook and rattled with the excitement of multiple different heavens worth of warriors roaring with anticipation.

”THE BEAST OF THE KILLING FIELDS!”

Maryzel came flying over to Desmond as she tried to plead with him one more time, even over the roars and applause of the countless souls, ”Come on, we can get you a different-”.

”YORM KALLIGAR!”

Maryzel then saw the smile on Desmond’s face. This was not the face of some idiot, some fool who never saw combat. It almost made Maryzel shutter, as the face Desmond made seemed almost inhuman.

”ON THE OTHER SIDE IS THE BLACK WOLF!”

Desmond’s hand gripped his weapon with such vigor that Maryzel could swear she heard the handle had cracked. His eyes were transfixed and that was like a predators.

”THE DARK HORSE!”

Desmond wore a smile more wicked than any other. It reached from ear to ear as the moment the gated doors lifted open, an intense pressure washed over the both of them as Maryzel shrunk back in fear. While Desmond walked forward into the ring, against the overwhelming pressure.

”DESMOND!!!!”

Desmond walked into the overwhelming and exhilarating scene of the world’s greatest combat arena. He could feel the energy flow into him as his smile grew, and his eyes landed upon a man who stood somewhere near 5 foot 2, giant for a Hegelan. His eyes were erupting in fire as the man roared with such power it shook the ground. Desmond could tell this man was monstrous in terms of power.

And Desmond smiled even bigger.

As the two combatants took up their weapons, they faced off, prepared to prove their existence.

As the man roared in fury.

Desmond smiled so greatly, that when a shadow was cast over the arena, his face looked like that of a demons.

A Devil, smiling. Ready to prove who was the monster.

[From here you do not need to read any of the hiders. However they will provide context to certain things as they are some of the fights and interactions Desmond had during his tournament to face the Elite 6]

Beginnings

The two men fought within the colosseum like they had nothing left to live for. The energy swirling through the area was something akin to a storm billowing. With Yorm’s overwhelming power in the gift, he paired it with a weapon that would fit his grandeur, a maul. The size of his weapon was similar to that of a fully grown Yasoi man. He wielded it with such deftness and ability that one would forget that it weighed anything. Yet for all of its power, and all of the skill of the user, it never touched Desmond.

Desmond danced within the arena like he had no worries. Slight steps and shifts as he dodged large swinging attacks that would turn a man into dust. Hops and dips as he moved out of the way of cones of condensed energy and pressure sent out by Yorm to turn him into dust. Desmond moved fluidly through the fight, as he showed first, his skill in movement. Desmond never allowed the man to ever find a moment to plant his feet, Desmond always made sure to leap, fly, and dip away. Always uses the most minimal amount of magic possible to hide his use in the first place. Then, Desmond showed his skills in combat with a shovel.

Desmond chopped and cut with the shovel in a similar fashion like that of an axe, yet as he moved around Yorm, he changed how he fought with the weapon. The shaft was used like a polearm, the shovel head was sharpened and flattened to create a long thin edge and a solid thick point. He sliced into the man’s chest, arms, shoulders, and legs. Desmond ripped the man apart slowly, thick cuts and holes were punched into the man as Desmond stood in the center of a destroyed arena.

The silence in the entire colosseum was deafening, not a peep or sigh was heard. It was the yelling of 3 women who started the roar. Desmond turned to see it was Erika in the stands while from one entrance of the arena was Laska and at the other was Maryzel. Desmond began to wave toward the crowd as he lightly bowed and left for his room once more.

As Desmond left for his room Maryzel followed him as she began to sing his praise, ”Wow that was amazing! When were you gonna tell me you were a professional Grave digger?!”

Desmond laughed as he said, ”Why would I tell people what I’m good at?”

They walked quietly as people watched him walk, much of their preconceived notions of him was broken, yet they needed to figure out what was his next move.

As Desmond entered his room, much of the weapons were now set into a large weapon rack rather than spread out and across the room. Desmond nodded his head as he looked around, ”Nice, seems like things will get interesting in here”.

Desmond threw himself onto his bed as he laid back, Maryzel looked to Desmond as she tilted her head, ”Well what are you gonna do now? Won’t you be watching the other competitors?”

Desmond shook his head, ”Nah, the only person I care to watch is Edyta Laska”.

Maryzel looked strangely for a moment as she began to look at some of the other notes she had from odds sheets she had seen from other odd makers. Edyta had very solid chances, she has had multiple sheets that put her as a near favorite in her bracket and even in the entire tournament. She looked to Desmond as she said, ”Yeah, makes sense, she is a favorite to win”.

Desmond nodded his head, ”Yep, so wake me up when it is her next match. I wanna sleep till then”.

Desmond awoke for Edyta’s match, he had spent no more than an extra minute in bed, however, the little bit of time was all that was needed. The moment Desmond made it to the gate of the arena, he saw she was already standing over her opponent. Victorious in combat with such a quick speed that she didn’t even break a sweat. Desmond clapped and whistled for her as he waved to her before she left for the other gate.

Desmond made his way back to his room as Maryzel flew next to him, ”Okay, you will be up soon, your odds have been submitted and you have a very low chance in this next round”.

Desmond turned to Maryzel with a cocked eyebrow, ”Oh? What makes you say that?”

Maryzel flips through her sheet as she begins to talk about his next opponent, ”She is a very well-known Ogauraq warrior who fights with very powerful and potent ice magic. Her skills are nearly impossible to predict as she can lay countless traps across the ring as any water will be a place for her to use her magic”.

Desmond nodded his head as he said, ”I see I guess I should be-wait an Ogre what?”

Maryzel tilted her head as she said, ”An Ogauraq”.

She flew in front of Desmond and pointed off to a large man. He stood at well over 10 feet tall and looked to have been quite literally built from stone with how much muscle he had. His hair was thick as it covered his head and face, with the hair on his face nearly coving it entirely. The man looked to Desmond and snarled. Desmond’s head shirked back as he said, ”Hopfully she is nicer than him. He looked like he is a little too hungry”.

Mryzel shook her head as they began to head back to Desmond’s room. Desmond asked as he began to look through his weapons, ”Alright, how long until my fight?”

Maryzel looked at her sheet, ”10 minutes, why?”

Desmond chuckled as he said, ”Think of a number. Go”.

Maryzel tilted her head as she said, ”What?”

Desmond then said again, ”Number now”.

In that moment of hesitation, Desmond then yelled once more now, ”Hurry!”

Maryzel flew back as she said, ”Oh! Uh! 8!”

Desmond nodded his head as he said, ”Alright, you seemed to have some good taste”.

As he pulled out a large staff with a long think metal spike, Maryzel sigh in relief as she picked something that looked like a weapon. Yet with a quick flick, she saw that the weapo was not what she expected.

It was a pitchfork.

Maryzel cried out, ”No! You can’t be serious!”

Desmond laughed as he took up the pitchfork, ”Completely serious. It wouldn’t be in here if I didn’t have some confidence”.

Maryzel sighed she looked at the pitchfork. She tried to look at it closely. Maybe it had some tool or piece that made it special. Yet she could not see anything. Maybe it was because for herself she had little way with the gift, yet all she could do was hope as Desmond lightly swung the weapon for a moment. Maryzel hoped that some contraption would come out, some strange device that would make it very strong or even be able to kill with ease. Yet as he swung it, she realized it was a simple pitchfork.

Maryzel shrunk, he’s toast.

In The Mountains

Desmond stepped to the gates of the arena as he began to hear the announcer for the arena scream out the next match.

”WELCOME TO THE SECOND ROUND OF THE BRACKETS!”

The yells of the audience were incomprehensibly loud. The stone shook, and from the wood floors, the bits of dirt that built up in the floorboards billowed up and dispersed across the floor once more. Desmond could feel his eyes shaking as his vision blurred from the tremendous yelling and cries.

”OF OUR COMPETATORS, ON ONE SIDE, THE SILVER GALE OF THE MOUNTAIN!”

”NAJA!”

A cool wind began to fill the arena as it picked up and nearly blew people out of their seats. They cheered and shouted at the show of power.

”ON THE OTHER SIDE, THE WOLF WHO BEARS HIS TEETH TO THE HEAVENS!”

”DESMOND!!”

The gates launched open as Desmond walked out to the center of the arena. There he saw his opponent, a woman who towered nearly 9 feet tall. She had pale white skin similar to snow, and her silvery hair fell down her shoulders and continued far past. Nearly reaching past her knees even while braided and bound. She held a staff in one hand, a bow slung over her shoulder, and she held a large water skin. Her gaze was harsh and cold as Desmond winked at her, ”Hey darling. Don't suppose you could go easy on me?”

Her head tilted for a moment as she spoke in a somewhat deeper and slow voice, ”I can't. Stand. Weak men”.

Desmond chuckled as he winked at Naja, ”Oh don't worry about that. I'll can make sure you can't stand”.

Naja raised an eyebrow as she leaned on her staff looking at Desmond's pitchfork, ”Oh? Farmer can. Handle. Me?”

Desmond flared his weapon as he said, ”Oh baby. It is not about the tool, but how you use it. And I can tell you haven't had a good working in some time”.

Naja smirked slightly as she brought her weapon up as the two faced off. Waiting for the first person to move.

Naja was the first to move as the cold wind she first billowed out began to increase in fury. The ice began to build and Desmond's skin as his began to turn blue slowly. A sigh left his mouth as he began to take in the energy of the wind. Filling himself with energy he began to create a heat layer between his skin and the cold wind and began to induce multiple chemical processes to allow himself to fight against the wind chill.

The moment Desmond stepped forward, he spun his pitchfork in his hand, and then he saw the first trap, under his feet was glass. More aptly, the entire floor of the arena began to be covered in a glass-like layer of ice. Desmond saw the moment he moved the light in the reflection slightly changed. He used kinetic and magnetic magic under his feet to slide even more freely on the slippery surface.

The moment Desmond used this magic, he slid to the side and barely slipped out of the way of a beam of light that shot out of the ice. An audible yell of excitement filled the arena as the fighting began in earnest. Desmond slid across the area with such grace it looked as if he was not just sliding, it was as if he was floating. His smile never faded as he asked while sliding, ”What made you do magic with ice and water?”

Naja did not answer him, she unfroze the water under his feet to try and trip him and refroze it into multiple large ice spike to be sent up into him. Yet as he floated over the ice spikes, his magic seemed to launch him up with the ice rather than let him be touched by it. Sending him into the sky as he carried the momentum and had him now eye to eye with Naja. ”Now this is more like it”, Desmond spoke with his smile as he chuckled and laughed.

Desmond then launched himself forward as he took his pitchfork and aimed to skewer Naja. Yet before he could make contact, Naja slipped to the side and began to slide across the ice with a scraping and cutting sound. Desmond saw as Naja slid she left a thin line of ice chips that would be picked up and launched at him. He twisted and moved as the moment he touched the ground again he continued his own slide. The two circled the arena following each other as they tried to find a moment to strike.

Desmond ski’d with a smile, he had no care of the world as he moved around the arena, while Naja’s eyes aimed for Desmond. Desmond chuckled as he turned to Naja, ”You ever ski’d with Threshers? It’s a real treat”.

Naja began to speed up as she aimed to stick close to Desmond, as the moment she neared, she swung her hand, sending out multiple ice needles. Yet as they were launched, Desmond stopped suddenly. Leaving Naja confused as the ice needles that were meant to pepper him all missed. ”Oops, sorry lovely, but how about we stop with this little chase hm?”

Desmond turned as he launched himself at Naja, he knew she was going to have an advantage in a prolonged fight. She had an area set up to fight with, her magics seemed only to grow stronger as she somehow created more ice. Desmond’s solution was to force the fight into melee.

He dashed at Naja as the moment before he neared, the ice under him and near Naja was turned into water. As the moment before he allowed Naja to take control of it, he used chemical and magnetic energy to hydrolyze the water, turning it into what seemed to be a cloud of steam, which was actually hydrogen. Naja’s eyes widened as she realized that the ‘steam’ Desmond created was not able to be turned back into water as she took up her staff and swung it at Desmond. The melee began.

As Naja swung at Desmond, he dipped low and away from the swing. Even if it was not perfectly accurate, with her size and the staff’s massive size, it felt as if he was dodging a log rather than someone trying to hit him. Yet her height was something that was also a disadvantage here with a weapon. As Desmond dipped, Naja’s staff scraped against the ground past Desmond, showing Desmond where her effective range was. Desmond stepped closer as before he struck for the kill, he needed to find out her toughness. ”Sorry about this, but we can do this again later”.

The moment Desmond stepped in and stabbed at Naja, he felt a change in the air as the moment before the pitchfork touched Naja’s skin, Desmond launched himself back.

The Naja exploded in steam, as the arena exploded in excitement. Desmond slid away as he continued to slide back through magic, as he watched Naja appeared completely fine. He realized then that she was manipulating temperature, not just ice and water. A smile was on Naja’s face, ”Scared. Farmer?”

Desmond smiled back, ”Not even close. Honestly, it just makes you hotter”.

Desmond then stood up fully and snapped his fingers. As he chemically bound multiple chemicals with the now large amount of free-floating hydrogen he created to then ignite it and create an explosion around Naja.

The explosion was strong enough to be felt from even where Desmond was, yet he could feel the draw of energy that told him Naja defended herself. As the smoke cleared, the roar of the crowd only grew as Naja said, ”Seems. Farmer is. Interesting”.

Desmond laughed as they continued their fight. Since Desmond had already shown his hand, he decided to use it more liberally. As Desmond moved across the ice, he would constantly melt the ice, hydrolyze it, and turned it into hydrogen. Desmond had a thought, why hadn’t the rest of the crowd been affected by the cold, or more so, what stopped the entire arena from being turned into dust by a very powerful mage?

Desmond took a bet, as he continued to form more and more hydrogen while defending himself from the cold and Naja. A constant stream of ice attacks and light beams launched out constantly at Desmond. He danced around the field as he dodged and shifted around the constant stream of attacks as he even began to launch attacks of his own. As often he tried to get into melee countless times, yet Naja never let him close enough for him to try and strike with his pitchfork. As she even began to taunt Desmond, ”What wrong? Farmer. Why run? You’re boring. Me. That what. Farmer. Want?”

Desmond laughed as he said, ”Of course I don’t want to. I never liked the idea of leaving a woman unsatisfied. But you’re a tough one. So I had to work you up for this”.

It was in that moment Naja began to feel dizzy. The air was light as Naja immediately began to try and fight off a chemical attack, yet that wasn’t it. As she tried to take a breath in, she realized her lungs felt like they were burning. She lowered her head as she quickly realized that he was doing something to the air. Desmond slid around as he then continued to taunt now, ”Looks like it was working. Took a lot, but now even your knees are beginning to shake”.

Naja looked to him as she lifted her hand as she began to form a light in her hand, as she was going to shoot Desmond with multiple high-speed light lances, yet before she could, she noticed Desmond’s smile grew. A shadow was casted over he face as she realized, she did the wrong action. The moment the light heated the air up enough, she saw near her hand, the light grew brighter as fire began to spread across her vision.

Then the entire arena was consumed in a ball of fire.

Desmond figured it out, the entire arena was sealed off in a different space, meaning that no interference from the outside could be done. And no one can use magic from within to affect the outside and the colosseum in general. This meant that the hydrogen Desmond was forming was trapped within and the moment Naja lit the hydrogen, it engulfed the entire arena.

The moment the fireball that consumed the arena dissipated, both Desmond and Naja were on the floor. The arena was silent as they waited with bated breath for either of them to stand or for the announcer to speak. Desmond was the first to rise as he looked wet yet other than that he was not even touched by the fire. He began to walk towards Naja who seemed to be covered in burns and seemed barely there. As Desmond was now standing over her, he said simply, ”Here, let me finish you off”.

Desmond took up his pitchfork and quickly stabbed her in the throat, aiming to sever her spine. Killing her nearly instantly.

In that moment. That dead silent moment. Desmond lifted his hand, and bowed. As the crowd erupted into a roar of excitement. Applauding the scene as they witnessed another upsetting victory as not only did he win 1 fight, but 2 fights. Using magic or other tricks to win the impossible odds.

The moment he rose, Desmond turned and began to head back to his room. He saw Naja’s body was no longer there as he turned to head back through his gate. Maryzel was there clapping and crying out, ”YOU DID IT!!!!”

Desmond nodded his head, even with the yelling in his ears, ”Told you I’d win”.

Maryzel nodded her head as she then saw blood come from his ears, ”WAIT. ARE YOU OKAY?!”

Desmond then shirked back, seeming the yelling of Maryzel now got to him, ”OW! Stop yelling so loud, I just got my hearing back”.

Maryzel covered her mouth for a moment as she said, ”Sorry, I just saw the blood and had to make sure”.

Within that same moment, the blood disappeared as Desmond spoke, ”Yeah, the explosion blew out my ears, thankfully it seems once I was out of the arena I was healed. Pretty neat”.

The moment they made it to his room, Desmond said, ”Tell me when Edyta’s fight is on next. I wanna rest”.

Maryzel nodded as she headed off to check the brackets for when her fight would come on. As Desmond entered his room, he set the pitchfork into his chest as it disappeared, taking it out of the selection pool. He took a moment to then clean himself up a bit, before he laid down.

As no more than a moment later, a knock came from his door. Desmond was curious who would come to his room at this moment, as he stood up and opened the door, to be met with a gorgeous sight. Naja was bending over looking in as she said in a somewhat seductive manner, ”Hello. Farmer. May I. Come in?”

And before Desmond could answer, she lightly pushed against him and came into his room. A smile flashed across both of their faces as the door shut lightly.

The sounds heard from within that room was loud enough to be heard from the arena.

Stout Power

The many who fight within Eshiran’s arena was not only the largest and the strongest. But among them were many of the stout and small. Hegelans fought with great fervor and strength, while the Cazenax fought with strange magics that are both strange and with weapons that seem to make little sense. Yet it was the Cherune that interested Desmond the most. They were easily noticed among the shorter races. For Hegelans had wide builds and long arms that reached quite farther than one expected. For Cazenax they had a very signature thin look, with oddly shaped limbs and larger hands. Yet for Cherune, they were small and stout all around. They had shorter arms, legs, and bodies in general. It seemed they were similar in nature to Hegelans, yet it was their arm lengths and faces that were much different. For Hegelan, they wore beards, and had wider faces. For the Cherune, they had more rounder and proportionally larger heads, with more often having a very clean-shaven face.

Among the Cazenax, he has fought with them, yet against was a different story as his first fight after his fight with Naja was with one.

There was a loud banging at Desmond’s door as he opened it up shirtless, it was Maryzel as she said, ”Your fight is on soo-why do you have no pants?”

Desmond chuckled as he said, ”Yeah sorry, you caught me at a bad moment”.

Desmond turned as he quickly snatched up his pants as he began to put them on with his shirt. He then asked, ”What number are you thinking about”.

A voice let itself be known as it said with a giggle, ”9”.

Maryzel looked in as she saw a sight she was not ready for. She went out into the hall for a moment before she saw something more. After a few moments, Desmond came walking out with a longsword. Before Desmond closed the door he gave a whistle and a wink before he closed the door. Maryzel took a moment before she spoke, ”You could have warned me”.

Desmond shook his head, ”It just happened, Can’t really say much either way on it”.

The two left for the gate of the arena once more as there they could hear the screams of the colosseum and the announcer once more.

”WELCOME TO THE THRID ROUND”

”OF OUR COMPETATORS, ON ONE SIDE, THE MUD WIZARD!”

”ELGUIRO-NAXO-CUIAN!!!”

A thick pungent air filled the arena as a thick smell of mud and oil stuck to the lungs.

”ON THE OTHER SIDE, THE YOUNG WOLF WHO CONQUERS THE MOUNTAINS!”

”DESMOND!!”

The moment Desmond stepped out into the arena he saw the area was now slick and with large mounds of mud. Desmond looked around as he curiously began to look around. There he saw a small Cazenax man with a large purple robe, a matching large hat, and a staff.

Desmond tilted his head as the Cazenax man spoke, ”Youws zo fwucked”.

Desmond then felt his sword began to feel incredibly heavy as he felt his longsword slam to the floor and stuck. Desmond looked to it as he turned to the Cazenax as the man started running at him like a maniac. ”Alright, I’ll try not to be too rough”.

The two men rushed at each other as the moment they made contact, the little Cazenax tackled like a cannonball as Desmond felt the wind get knocked out of him and was knocked on his ass. The Cazenax began to climb onto Desmond as he tried to put his claws into Desmond’s eyes. However, Desmond was not a slouch in a brawl. Desmond launched himself up into Elguiro’s nose as it knocked him back. The Cazenax began to fall back as Desmond began to rise up and grabbed onto Elguiro’s arm and threw him again.

The two began to brawl in the mud like two children. Yet Desmond laughed the entire time as he threw the small man around like a child. Their strength was similar, from Desmond’s size and larger build versus the Cazenax’s smaller yet more powerful magic.

The mud began to cover them entirely, as there was laughter filling the air. For many, this was a great deal of humor in the fighting. Between the countless large and intense fights, this was a time of humor and light hearted feeling.

However like any fight in the Heaven of combat. There had to be a winner.

And one person had to die.

The fighting went on for multiple minutes as the size of the two fighters truly began to show through. As the two fought in the mud, Elguiro began to heave as he had to wade through such heavy mud that he was feeling exhaustion build up. For Desmond, he had fought like this countless times. He had fought in a great deal of different situations, environments, and in many different states. For Desmond, he was smiling as he began to lift the smaller man up and took his head and slammed him into the mud.

With Elguiro’s head in the mud, Desmond began to lift his foot and began to slam it down onto Elguiro’s head over and over again. Slowly blood began to fill the mud as it turned into a more darker and clay like color as blood began to fill it. Desmond began to lift his foot one more time before stomping once more and finally stepping back.

Desmond began to shake his head as the mud began to slip off in an almost unnatural way. Almost as if he had never been touched by the mud as be began to perform a light bow and then walked away from the arena. The cheers of the crowd began to fill the arena as Desmond picked up his sword and met up with Maryzel.

”Did you need to fight like that?” Maryzel was curious why Desmond fought like that rather than trying to fight with more deftness or skill as he’d shown.

Desmond chuckled, ”Well I thought that it would be both fun and also a way to show off”.

Maryzel tilted her head, ”Why you trying to show off?”

Desmond nodded his head, ”Yep, if I was to fight any smaller people. I want to make them fear me if they get me into close range. Which will make sure they won’t try to overwhelm me with brute force”.

Maryzel nodded her head, ”Well wouldn’t they just overwhelm you from range”.

Desmond chuckled, ”I have a plan for that”.

---

Desmond moved to his next fight where he took his sword with him once more. He wanted to use it this time around rather than just punch as the announcer then began to call them in. Desmond lightly hummed to himself as he looked to Maryzel, ”So, that’s been 3 fights so far, so that means the time between fights will get faster and faster right?”

Maryzel nodded her head as she said, ”Yep, there will be shorter and shorter times between your fights. Until you get to the finals, that is where you will be having an hour time to prepare as they do a highlight reel of your fighting”.

Desmond nodded his head as he rubbed his chin, ”Nice. Hopefully I will meet a few other nice women”.

Maryzel shook her head in shame as the announcer called out.

”WELCOME TO THE FOURTH ROUND”

”OF OUR COMPETATORS, ON ONE SIDE, THE ONE! THE ONLY!”

”MUROX THE HUNTER!!!”

Desmond nodded his head as he thought why a hunter would be in the category of the warriors.

”ON THE OTHER SIDE, THE BROWN WOLF!!!”

”DESMOND!!”

Desmond laughed as the gates threw open and out came a smaller man in full armor. He carried at his side a large satchel, a small blade, and a torch that seemed to emit a white fire.

Desmond looked to the man for a moment, ”Hey you ready there bud?”

With that came no response. The man just opened up his bag and pulled out a strange metal box. At first, Desmond tilted his head until he felt an intense energy begin to form in the box. There the lights dimmed and opened to show what seemed like a small sun with a magnifying glass.

A beam of light sprung forth from the cube as it grew in size. Desmond dived out of the way as the beam nearly hit him as he began to run. The beam of light followed him as it carved into the area. The stone was instantly scarred, as after a few moments the light beam began to slowly destabilize before being stopped. Desmon saw the cube was red hot before being put back into the man’s bag.

Within a few moments, Desmond began to figure out what was happening. That box must have been some strange device like he had seen before by other Cherune. Numi lived in some strange flying ship that was heading towards a flying city. He couldn’t be sure what he was facing, however he had a thought. The moment the box was put away, he then pulled out a strange gun and began to fire. It was small like the handgun Desmond was given by the sirrahi, and fired rapidly.

However as Desmond moved, he realized the man was very familiar with the weapon as the bullets fired precisely and with a great level of skill. Desmond however noticed when it was being fired, the man must have a low level of RAS like himself as he was allowing the weapon to recoil. Desmond knew countless high RAS gunmen would just absorb the energy out of principle. Yet for those who had lower RAS, they needed to use the little bit of capacity they had well, so they would more often use magic to enhance their attack rather than to do such a simple yet slightly important thing.

Desmond knew that they had to be somewhere near each other in power. Desmond began to think as the bullets continued to fire. The bullets shifted and moved to follow Desmond, however with his years of experience, dodging a few bullets was simple. All that had to be done was make sure they never had a chance to squarely target you.

Desmond kept count of the bullets, he needed to know how many shots he needed to dodge. As he counted to nearly 20 before the man stopped firing and put away the gun. It was then Desmond realized that his bag had to be similar to the chests. He would have reloaded his gun rather than put it away, which meant he must have every tool he needed here.

He’s going to try and find what tool works. Desmond instantly pivoted as he dashed at the man. The smaller man saw Desmond and flashed his torch at him, yet nothing came from it. Most would have fallen for this, however Desmond knew this spell well. Desmond held up his hand and then instantly launched out a kinetic blast, seeing the air waver for a moment, he knew he could then act. Desmond snapped his finger and chemically triggered the invisible fire in front of him and create and explosion that created a shockwave. Desmond knew the weakness of the spell Cold Fire, those who knew how the spell worked could actively trigger it before it made impact with them and create a concussive wave. Desmond took the wave head-on as he drew in the energy and launched it out like a wave infront of him. Constantly drawing in more energy and releasing it to create a shield against the energy as he continued his charge forward.

The moment Desmond was close, he saw in the corner of his eye the box Murox originally had. As it was open and the light in the area changed. Desmond could tell there was a smile underneath Murox’s helmet. Yet there was one on Desmond’s face as well as he mouthed, ’A little too early’.

As the box unleashed it’s light with unrelenting power. Yet as it ‘cut’ into Desmond, Murox realized that the image fades. As there stands Desmond, 10 feet back as he is had just thrown his sword like a spear. The longsword flew like a bolt of lightning as it punched right through the helm of the Cherune man and punched through the back of it. Dropping him dead in a single moment.

There Desmond stands in the middle of the arena as a quick yet decisive victory was made. An applause filled the arena as he once more bowed. Desmond began to look around as he saw the Murox had disappeared, yet something strange was left in Desmond’s mind, ’Why do the weapons stay?’

Desmond went over to see, the box that was firing it’s beam had now been turned black and slightly melted. Yet what he wanted was sitting there, Murox’s bag. Desmond took it up and began to walk away, he wanted to know what it was, and if it was left in the arena, it must have been left for a reason.

And a reason it was. The moment Desmond had left the arena Maryzel squealed out, ”You did it!!”

Desmond nodded his head as he said, ”Yep, oh yeah, I was wondering, is there a reason people seemed to lose items in the arena when they are felled?”

Maryzel nodded her head, ”Yep! The reason it happens is to act as spoils for the winners! This is a way for older souls who would never know about weapons in the future to then gain the knowledge of those weapons and use them!”

Desmond nodded as he looked to his new bag, ”Very nice”.

Desmond smiled as he left for his room. He began to inspect his new spoils, as within was a handgun, a pair of gloves that is able to produce enough steel wire to reach up to 50 feet, and is able to produce this wire from all 5 fingers, a lighter, and a small box that seemed able to create a high pitch noise, it was actually inaudible to Desmond.

Desmond nodded his head as he wanted to try something, as he thought for a moment as after a moment he reached into the bag and pulled out a dagger. A smile then spread across Desmond’s face. Yet he was then interrupted as he heard a knock from the door. Desmond went to the door and opened up as he saw now 2 people at his door, there was 2 shorter women as one seemed to be wearing a flowy white dress as the other seemed to be in armor.

Desmond’s head tilted as he realized the other woman was, Murox. He assumed that was a male name, but apparently it either wasn’t, or it was a name she went by. As the one in the dress spoke, ”Hello~, we thought you fought well and wanted to talk to you about what was in the bag since you seemed very interested in it”.

Desmond took a moment and thought, as he nodded his head, ”Sure come on in”.

The women walked in as Desmond gave them a wink before he closed the door.

Snake Eater

Desmond’s next 2 rounds were simple in nature, the moment Desmond began to find random Cherune tools, he decided to use more powerful tools from his arsenal to win his fights more handly. For his first match, he persuaded Murox, or known to him as Gloria, to allow him to be able to make her box which she called the ‘Divine Wrath’. He used the to cut 2 of the competitors in half right away, it was an effective tool, however, he knew after twice he would not be able to do it more than that, but it was what he needed to hide other tools. Such a simple trick was not enough against the more powerful in the tournament, he was lucky it worked twice in the first place.

Now he was into his 7th match, the one right before he would hopefully meet with Edyta and they would face off to see who would try and fight through the Elite 6. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that point, yet he also hoped so at the same time. It would be one last push for Desmond to maybe give her the extra edge she needed to reach the top. Since in the end, the weapons they find can only be claimed when you defeat the person holding them.

Yet before Desmond gets his hopes up, he needs to face his next opponent. Desmond now waited at the gate as he had his satchel with him and to his side a scythe. Maryzel looked to him, ”Okay. This is your semi-finals. What’s your plan? Are you gonna use your great skills now?”

Desmond shook his head, ”Who said I wasn’t?”

Maryzel stomped her foot in the air, ”You obviously haven’t! No one who is serious would be using a random weapon everytime!”

Demsond laughed, ”Who said it was random?”

Maryzel began to become flustered as her face grew red and she seemed to only grow in anger. Yet her anger was stopped as they heard the announcer speak once more.

”WELCOME TO THE SEMI FINALS”

”OF OUR COMPETATORS, ON ONE SIDE, THE EXALTED!”

”KAZUMIE NINE!”

Desmond tilted his head for a moment before he realized what that meant, we has facing a Sirrahi.

”ON THE OTHER SIDE, THE WOLF WHO CONSUMES THE HEAVENS!”

”DESMOND!!”

Desmond is beginning to think that the announcer might be a little to privy to information of what is happening in the rooms of the fighters, however he finds it quite funny as he shakes his head and heads out. There he sees an interesting sight, a Sirrahi woman. She wore clothing he was familiar with, what it reminded him of was that of Nikanese clothing as he looked and thought she must have been from there maybe some life times ago.

Desmond lightly bowed to her as he said in Nikanese, ”Hello lovely flower. May I have this dance”.

The Sirrahi woman slightly cast her gaze to him. A small smirk appeared on her face as she spoke back, ”I suppose since you can speak properly, I can entertain you”.

As the air became heavy, Desmond lifted his head as he could see that she wielded an enormous naginata maybe the size of an Ogauraqand wielded it with such elegance it seemed to blow with the wind. Desmond took a breath in as he put is hand into his bag and pulled out a pair of gloves. He took hold of his scythe and prepared to fight. This was going to be a fight that had no gimmicks, it was going to be a show of pure force.

The first to act was Desmond as he dashed forward, he immediately flashed a bright light as he tried to give himself a moment to try and close the distance further while also trying to see how sharp are the senses of the Sirrahi. He had thought of countless times what he would do when he first met Sileen over a year ago. From the countless things he knew, they had very sharp senses, their sight was strong, and their sense of smell and hearing must have been strong as well. He needed to try and figure out what he things were similar between them and the snakes he knew.

As the light flashed, Desmond felt a wave of energy launch out at him, as he slammed the staff of the scythe into the ground and vaulted high into the air. He reached into the sky as it took a moment for Kazumie to take notice of him and react. As Desmond began to fall she said, ”Seems this is already over”.

Kasumie raised her spear and thrust as a line of kinetic energy was to punch through Desmond. Yet in that moment, Desmond pulled with his hand and in mid-air he shifted in the air, dodging the thrust. It stunned the audience for a moment as Desmond then began to swing on what seemed like air. Yet Kazumie could tell there was the shimmering of a wire he was holding. He began to swing like he was in a jungle as he began to pick up speed, yet Kazumie could not tell what he was taking hold of. It took her a moment to see there was the shimmering of arcane light bending. She dispelled it in that moment to see, there was a giant kite the size of a house high in the sky. Her head shirked back in astonishment as for most who fought in the arena knew at this point that it was separated by different temporal spaces. So she couldn’t tell how it was working.

Desmond smiled as he laughed in the air as he called out to her, ”How’s the view?”

Kazumie swung her naginata as she demanded from Desmond, ”How are you doing this?!”

Desmond laughed once more as he cast his hand that was holding his scythe out as he was riding the kite, ”The spaces are separated yes, however, there is a slight area between the arena and colosseum where the spaces are connected. You can slip things through there. Think about it. If the spaces weren’t connected somehow, then we couldn’t hear in or they hear us. Most wouldn’t know or even think of this as very few do spells of this nature. However, I thought why not try? After all, weather mages would be screwed over if they couldn’t make a cloud right?”

Desmond laughed more, as the moment Kazumie was going to sent a strike at him in frustration, she felt from her side a threat. She turned and swung out as there she struck multiple wires that nearly cut her. She deflected them away as Desmond flicked his hand and recalled them. A smile grew on Desmond further, ”Why so mad? Don’t tell em you’re upset because you didn’t think of this?”

Kazumie again swung her naginata, as she aimed to slice Desmond in half. Yet the moment the attack came near him, his moment instantly changed as he began to fly backward. Every now and again, Desmond drew in the energy of the attacks, converting it into magnetic energy as he sent it into the wire he was holding.

Desmond continued to taunt Kazumie, ”Oh lovely, I never thought I’d meat someone like you here. Why not we talk for a while?”

Kazumie seemed to begin getting flustered, Desmond used much of the knowledge he had learned from the Sirrahi books to understand how they spoke. What seemed to be informational, and even from the encyclopedia, within the author’s notes there were jokes and other things that told Desmond what he needed to know about their culture. Most importantly, he knew that they seemed to have a strange relationship with other races, and more often than not, it seemed they had a strange level of empathy for others.

Desmond used this as a distraction, and maybe as an actual pass. He needed to make sure she never thought to look at what he was doing, so he often would throw bombs or other objects to make her look away. Using Cold Fire, and even delayed triggered spells from projectiles. He needed to buy himself time.

Kazumie took up her naginata once more as she began to build a maelstrom of energy around her. The winds began to grow in speed, up to the point where it even began to become visible as she said, ”I do not know what your games are, but enough!”

Desmond laughed as he said, ”Oh lovely, love at first sight. A love birthed much the same as one setting eyes on the first cherry blossoms of the summer”.

Desmond never knew if a Sirrahi could blush, let alone one who wore makeup, however from the slight wavering in the energy storm Kazumie was creating, he thought she just might be blushing.

And it bought him enough time.

Desmond drew in the last bit of energy he could before he threw his hand out once more, aiming it for Kazumie, as then she noticed it, from high above she could see a storm cloud somehow formed and now all the energy poured into his kite and began to launch down onto Desmond. Yet it passed through him as it continued and flowed into the wires that were reaching out to her.

She took this moment and stopped her storm and tried to draw in the energy, and that was it.

Desmond used the moment that the maelstrom of wind dissipated as his moment to attack. He used the magnetic energy that was flowing and began to fly at high speeds down onto Kazumie. Taking up his scythe, Desmond streaked across the arena in a moment as the moment he neared Kazumie, her face showed a sign of shock, then a smile. Desmond’s smile was so large that for many who fought him they couldn’t help but smile. It felt as if it was a child enjoying the summertime. Few could resist such a smile.

And like a thunderbolt, Desmond slammed into the earth. After a few moments, the dust cleared as there lay Kazumie Nine’s body, her head taken form her shoulders, and Desmond, his arm and leg cut cleanly off as he was burnt. However, the one to show signs of life was Desmond, as he coughed and tried to life himself. The arena roared in excitement as they watched Desmond slowly rise up. His body began to heal as the moment Kazumie’s body disappeared he finally was able to get up and give a bow. For many of them, they never knew something like this could happen. A man who had such little magic could ever challenge these great souls.

Desmond pulled from his bag a pair of pants as he put them on and left. There Maryzel was screaming in absolute excitement as she flew directly at Desmond and hugged him tightly, ”YOU DID IT!”

Desmond held her for a moment as he said,”Yep, but you already knew this would happen right?”

Maryzel flew back as she turned her face from him to not show she was blushing, ”Yes of course. I already knew you would at least get this far”.

Desmond laughed as he made his way back to his room, there he saw a note. It was from Laska telling him good luck, Desmond nodded to himself as before he could even open his door, he felt something wrap around him. He turned to see it Kazumie as she was now towering over him. Desmond asked, ”So what do I owe this pleasure to?”

Kazumie smiled as she leaned in for a kiss, as Desmond opened the door.

The two made their way in before the whole colosseum knew what they were to do.

As Demsond had battled his way through the many trials to now meet a friend in combat. All he wished for was for one of them to make it to the Elites. No matter who is was, Tommy was their prize.

The Hourglass Order

---

Arena of Gods and Men (and Women)

---

---

Collaboration between: @Force and Fury, @jasbraq, and Myself

It was a grand place, rising up from the idyllic countryside, busy and bustling and much in contrast to its bucolic surroundings. People of all shapes, colours, and sizes thronged about. There were the usual humans, yasoi, hegelans, and eeaiko, but also more exotic sorts: cazenax, ogauraq, sirrahi, and even cherune, meerami, and... another reptilian sort that Desmond, Edyta, and Fiske had never before laid eyes upon.

There were sights, sounds, and smells that were incredible. Of the first, a marketplace with wares from across space and time, constructs of metal and other odd materials that moved as people did to train and fight with them, and fantastic beasts both real and competely imaginary. Why, there was a three-headed dragon: a real hydra! There was a winged horse! There were centaurs, griffons, and unicorns, as if plucked straight from arists' and children's imaginations! People seemed to come and go from nowhere. There was a tall and ornate platform in an Avincian style and they either appeared or disappeared when they stepped upon the bullseyes there. Some great beam of light swept down to either extract of deposit them in this place.

A hundred different languages were spoken, yet all understood each other. From inside the great arena could be heard the clash of swords, the sizzle of magic, and the thunderous shocks of explosions, rising above or falling below the surging voices of a great crowd.

Then, there was the food and drink: all sorts of food, aromatic and perfectly prepared and utterly delicious-looking. The fine scents rose above the usual reek of sweat, blood, and ash that one might expect in a place of combat. Wine, ale, juices, milks, and other unfamiliar drinks could be found by the great barrel.

All about them were statues and monuments to the greats. These lined the roads, in addition to great cypress trees, swaying in a refreshing breeze. Angels stood at the doorways of some of the larger public buildings. Others seemed to be directing souls one way or another. Then, in a handsome public square where souls of every sort imaginable bustled about, there stood three great leaderboards:

H U N T E R
W A R R I O R
R E A P E R

This was but one of the five great hubs of Eshiran's heaven, and they walked through it, both strange and familiar. Manfred twisted and smiled. "You like it, huh?" he teased, and Edyta nodded in her birdlike manner. There was an expansive garden, somehow serene, full of trees of innumerable types that seemed to commemorate the lives of people. Souls came and went from these trees, which opened up to embrace them and release them. The nun could not say why, but perhaps it allowed them to somehow interact with the living world.

Erika seemed quite at home: an 'old hand', so to speak, while Manfred at least appeared to know his way around. "You see, the afterlife isn't just some idyllic thing," the latter remarked to his companions. "There really is a lot going on. We're preparing for something, always. At times, we're called upon to intervene. Those who've made good with Dami can always reincarnate and..."

Erika shook her head and he trailed off. "Sorry," she interjected, "but the less you know, the easier it will be to return you to the land of the living, assuming that's where you want to go." She shot them a sympathetic glance. "Now, we need to find the Ministry of Semi-Damned Souls. Let's see..."

Desmond began to look around at the wonders of this arena. At first, he would have assumed a place like this would have been a place where arms were sold to be used within Colosseum. A constant arms race to create the greatest weapons to prove who is the best.

Yet here it was different than he thought. It was a bazaar, filled with countless wares. Beasts who transport people. There are even strange platforms that seems to make people appear and dissappear in a pillar of light, possibly some kind of temporal magic manipulating space-time. Even stranger was where trees enveloped people and let them out.

Yet what was most interesting to Desmond at this moment was the 3 large billboards that read: Hunter, Warrior, and Reaper. He was curious what it meant as he tried to see them more closely and see what was on them.

Fiske rode the hand of the hunter as they passed what seemed to be beyond the previous hunting grounds. The decorations around them were the things of beauty, even if he didn't like the whole idea of putting others up a pillar of supposed greatness. Leaderboards that seemed to venerate the most boorish of the people here, this really was one of the heavens he prayed he would've never had to set foot in... the only other that was worse would be Dami's.

It was clear to Manfred that these friends of his from the other side were curious about various things they'd seen, but they still appeared as animals. He blinked. "Oh, I can take you there, but Erika's right, and she's been here for a good while. You'll be stuck as animals until we can get you sorted."

"If we can," the huntress amended.

"We'll do it," Manfred responded with absolute confidence.

"Didn't that kind of typical hero bullshit get you killed?" Erika teased.

"But then I ended up here, didn't I?" he joked, but those who knew him well could probably see that the accompanying smile did not quite reach his eyes.

"I don't like their bureaucracy any more than the next person who isn't stupid," Erika admitted, "but you see that leaderboard that you're looking at so inquisitively there, big guy?" She regarded Desmond directly for a moment. "The only reason they're not coming to fuck you up right now is -"

"Because you're handsome little devil," Erika interjected.

Manfred arched an eyebrow. "And because you're with us. Hunter score is based on bagging animals. Some are golems of Oraff's heaven. Others are damned souls. People gun extra hard for those." He glanced down at Fiske. "More times dead means more sins burned away and a quicker trip to heaven."

"Basically, we've gotta deal with the angels if we wanna get you three back to normal or at least the two of you who aren't damned."

Out of all the things he saw, the one thing he had full interest in were the trees that seems to be rather busy. What would be so significant about these trees, he wanted to see.

The rat tapped on Manfred's palm and pointed towards the trees that seemed to house souls.

Desmond listened as he looked at the score boards. When he heard about what they were, he was a little upset.

He was hoping it was a board about the great hunts of people in the land of the living. He hoped more he was actually on the list.

However, it did feel pretty good when Erika called him a handsome devil. He chittered and cooed in response.

Yet, they were right. They needed to get into a more human form. As if they were animals, they could be hunted down. Who knows what happens if they die here.

Desmond didn't wanna find out.

He nodded to Manfred and looked to Fiske trying to say, "We. Go. Angel. Body Good".

Fiske overheard the one thing he did not want to hear.

Why did he have to die over and over to cleanse himself of his sins? What kind of messed up god gets off on seeing people die until they barely even register dying as a big thing in existence?

The little rat shivered in Manfred's palm. He didn't want to go to this heaven, let alone any of the heavens for there was so much good he could still do. The boy just couldn't accept his fate yet

Then he heard Desmond speak to him, giving Fiske a little more hope. "Me. Body Good. Too?"

Desmond couldn't be certain. Fiske actually died. He was sent here and was expected to fulfil his sentence. Yet that was no reason to say it. There was no reason for Desmond to allow Fiske to saty, when there might be a chance. He chittered and nodded as he said, "Yes. You Too".

Fiske couldn't help but doubt the other. He had actually died whilst Desmond was here with something weird. "Let's. Hope." He did not try to show through his mannerisms. He was nearly considering asking Manfred to kill him continuously.

Edyta did not strictly follow them, for what it was worth. Largely, she soared overhead, taking in this place. She'd found that having wings was a revelation. Certainly, she could hover and even fly with the Gift, but it took energy and constant focus and was far from the effortless ease of this.

Eshiran would not abandon her, she knew, or Desmond. Of Fiske, she was less certain and she cared less as well, though she'd not be so uncouth as to say so. Gradually, they zeroed in on a midsized building between two larger ones, and she came in to land, walking awkwardly in her avian way amidst the others.

They were ushered into a small foyer, almost impossibly ornate with its scullery, marble floors, and illuminated walls and ceilings. A number of doors led off of it but, first, there was an obnoxiously cheery-looking angel sat at a desk. Immediately, upon them entering, she perked up. "Well howdy-do there, friends!? She had the shiniest blonde hair that Edyta had ever seen, the rosiest cheeks, and the most perfect frilly white outfit. "What brings ya here today?" she chirped.

The building they entered begged to be inspected with a closer eye. It's a building of the gods, they wouldn't mind a little piece missing, right? . . . But alas his thumbless dexterity for grabbing things were nearly non-existant.

This angel, she was practically blindingly shining with how cheery she was. It made Fiske want to analyze the looks of the woman. Her hair, her face, every small detail was being forced into remembering.

Then the important answer to her important question arrived. Fiske puffed up his chest and bravely proclaimed.

"Squeak."

Desmond looked around at the countless beauties in this world. The building they entered was a gorgeous with a very modern baroque style.

The building even had the slight gothic design within the gaudy and pristine white walls. All of which seemed to lead them to this almost too happy to be there angel. She spoke with such a high and happy tone that it felt as if she was speaking with a child's voice or even that of a chirping bird.

Desmond leaned over on Manfred as he chirped and whistled as he tried to act suave even in his small form.

Manfred seemed taken with the angel. "Why, clearly the pleasure of your company, Hilarix." He reached for her hand and kissed it and she blushed even redder. "Oh my, Manfred!" she giggled. "Not here!"

Then, Erika cleared her throat. "Manfred, sure you shouldn't be in Ipte's?"

Manfred winked, casting a sly glance at Desmond, but then he cleared his throat as well. "Actually, we're here about these three." he gestured towards the people-animals. "Anything we can do to get them back in some more... familiar forms?"

Hilarix considered, pursing her lips and making a 'thinking' face. "Welp," she answered after a moment, "The stork and this cute little honey badger -" She smiled at Desmond. "Those aren't damned souls." She leaned forward quite interestedly. "Quite a rare occurrence." She glanced Fiske's way for a moment. "You know what he is, though. Right?"

Before Manfred could answer, Erika nodded. "Semi-damned."

"Sadly, yes, for our little friend." She extracted a small amethyst gem from her desk and held it out to Fiske. "Watch what happens when I hold this out."

Desmond raised and lowered his eyebrows as rapidly as a badger could to both Hilarix and Manfred before he chirped and laughed. He began to listen, taking in the information, much of it already being what he knew, yet now with some demonstration.

Desmond looked to the small gem and wondered if Fiske could resist touching such a lovely shiny.

Fiske's tiny little eyes stared at the man holding him with what seemed to be disapproval, though it would most likely go over the flirting man's radar.

Then, this devil in a angel's disguise tempted him. Oh, how she tempted him. A small amethyst gem that he could hold. It looked so shiny and the cutting was perfect. One of his little rat paws reached out as he tried to resist the urge to just jump out of Manfred's hand to grab it. A anguished squeak followed suite.

The angel nodded somberly. "You can take it, little fella. It's okay." She twisted to face the others. "You can see the clear strain on his face as he attempts to resist the temptation." She shook her head. "My diagnosis is terminal scumbaggery." She made a pouty face. "Sadly, he will have to burn off his sins through repeated deaths." She blinked a couple of times and her smile returned. "But then he'll be welcome in heaven and we just can't wait to have him here!" She clapped excitedly, bouncing up and down.

It appeared to be an effort for Erika to keep an even face. Once things had calmed down a bit, she had a question about the others. "So... how about them?" She arched an eyebrow. "The direstork was a Rezaindian", Manfred clarified. "The badger was a cool guy."

Hilarix considered once more and one could almost imagine the steam coming out of her ears from all the thinking. She held up a finger, advising them to 'hang on', ducked behind her desk, brought out a large book, and dusted it off. "Oh, by the way, if you want to see how many deaths Mister Guupguup here needs, I can give you a ticket and you'll just go to the second room on the left!" After that, she spent the next couple minutes flipping through pages and reading.

Finally, she perked up and rose. "Good news is that we know what it is! It's a special backdoor ticket into heaven - sort of bypasses our system." She furrowed her brow. "Usually, only really high ranking angels - well, and of course the Gods themselves - can give those out." She stood, scampering around the desk, for 'scampering' was the only way to describe her movement. "Bad news is that you'll have to meet the boss directly." She pointed to the end of the foyer, where a forbidding-looking staircase led up to a landing with a single imposing door.

Desmond chuckled and laughed as Fiske was given the professional opinion of 'Terminal Scumbaggery'. Though repeated death did not sound like a very good treatment to solve it. Yet she was the professional. She even seemed excited with the idea as it would mean he would be welcomed into heaven.

After her time of thinking and figuring out things, Desmond finally received an answer that would get him a step closer to regaining his body. He would have to talk to the head honcho himself.

Which in the heaven of Eshiran, was not at all intimidating.

In the Audiance of Death

The stairs creaked with every step and, while Laska flapped and squawked in excitement, Manfred swallowed nervously. "We should be on our best behaviour," he advised. "I've only met him once, you know, and once was enough."

They arrived at the top and... something had been 'off' about their perception of size earlier, for the door was truly colossal. They stood there, hesitating over whether to knock, wait, or just enter when, all at once, the door opened with a creak. It was a vast space, and a great oak desk stood before them inside the room like a fortress. The room itself was full of rich dark woods, hard-edged metals, and the busts of various beasts bested in the hunt mounted on the walls.

A towering angel with great black wings slouched in a high-backed chair as light streamed in from the windows behind him. All at once, upon their entry, he rose. "Desmond Catulus, Sister Edyta Laska, and Manfred Hohenfelter." He scowled, looming over them. "You have thirty seconds to convince me not to liquidate you three."

The moment Desmond reached the top of the stairs, the feeling of ominous and foreboding fear set in. Whoever this was, they wanted to be feared.

As the stepped into the room, there stood a monster of a man. He knew their names, and knew of their arrival. So he mist have known why they were there, and he still threatened to liquidate them.

That must mean he wanted them to fight for their lives, with words.

Desmond couldn't do anything, except try and squeak out, "I'm. Too. Pretty. To Die!" Joking was his first and last defense mechanism as in this situation he hoped that Manfred can think of something to say to not have them to get turned into mush. As Desmond is unsure what would happen here if he died.

The pentangel began to draw his sword and Edyta Laska flew straight for his face, beak sharp and needlelike, but his reflexes were preternaturally fast and he batted her away. She swerved at the last possible second to take only a glancing blow, and landed gracelessly on a chair, squawking at Desmond not to talk but to fight! Manfred moved to step in, but the black-winged titan held up a hand, shook his head tightly, and the Kerreman froze in place.

Taking to the air once more, Laska squawked out a simple instruction: "You left. Me right. You below. Me above." However, short of attack again, she pulled up, avoiding the deadly swipe of the pentangel's sword. She let out a horrifying shriek that caused everyone in the room to recoil in pain... except for the honey badger, tough little S.O.B. that he was.

Desmond dashed into the fray, there was no need to tell him to fight. The moment the man was getting ready, Desmond knew what this meant. In a land of death and combat, it seems everyone only speaks in violence.

He dashed to the desk, using it to obscure line of sight of him and the large bastard. Desmond aimed to follow up with Laska distracting him to one side by going around the other and trying to slash and bite at the Pentangel's achilles tendon. An attempt to either bring down the bastard or force him to look his way to let Laska breath for a moment or attack him while he's distracted.

The pentangel was stupidly nimble for his size and he leapt over the desk, nearly coming down with a heavy steel-toed sabaton on the honey badger's head, but Desmond was able to dodge and slash at his achilles tendon. It was a clean strike, but he met with nothing but steel and couldn't break through.

This bought Edyta enough time to swoop in at the titan's head, but he got a wing in the way and deflected her. Tumbling through the air, she caught herself and circled around, darting again for the back of his head. A sword stab narrowly missed Desmond and now, he appeared to have an opening!

An opening is an opening no matter the situation. If one believes every opening is a trap, may it be found by luck or not, then they would never win. And Desmond is a winner.

Desmond used this moment the giant missed his sword stab and his partner coming for his head as a moment to strike. He dashed forward, lunging as he leapt high and mightily. Aiming for the one spot almost every animal has a weak spot.

Desmond just hoped the man didn't have a cod piece. Because biting metal sounded quite painful.

The pentangel made not attempt to even dodge and, when Desmond's teeth closed around the place where he'd aimed, he met with the steel he'd expected.

However, such was the honey badger's bite force that his victim flinched and grimaced anyway, batting at him desperately. Heavy fists pounded the small creature, which remained doggedly latched on despite the barrage. Meanwhile, Laska closed in and raked his scalp with her talons.

Then, that was it. The pentangel clapped his hands together and both animals found themselves seated on a pair of chairs in front of him, with an alarmed-looking Manfred and a recently-arrived Erika to either side. "Great showing!" their former opponent announced, adjusting himself with a grimace before he sat and dabbing at his scalp. The wounds seemed to disappear, as did any on either of the animals. "And sorry for the violence, but we're all rough types here, right?" He cracked a grin, leaning forward with his elbows on his desk. "That backdoor you two were given into here comes with strings attached, you know. You've gotta prove yourselves worthy."

"Some warning might've been nice," Manfred grumbled, "No?"

The pentangel smiled smugly. "No!" Then, he clasped his hands, businesslike, and all in the room could feel a sizable surge of energy. It focused on a large globe that was sitting on the desk. "Please touch it and regain your human forms."

Desmond had from one moment aimed to take the manhood off of a man to now talking to him in a corgial manner. What a strange place, and no wonder it was so strange. They were given the pass into heaven after they had to prove themselves!

Desmond chitter and laughed at the situation as he looked to the man and those standing at the sides of the desk.

Then to the orb that will return to him his body. As with his small badger hand, he reached out to the orb.

The stork that was Edyta blinked in its avian way, before reaching hesitantly out. It laid a wing upon the globe and then, all at once, there was a skinny human girl with red hair and freckles standing there in a nun's habit. She looked over at Desmond and, sure enough, he was himself again. "Oh thank Eshiran!" she exclaimed, nearly giddy at the sound of her own, true voice. She immediately made the sign of the Pentad and began praying.

Desmond stretched in the moment he saw his hand change. He brought one hand to the back of his neck as he said, "Oh man! You don't know what kinda crick in the neck you have when when you gotta walk and fight on all fours".

Desmond could tell he at least had what he had on him from when before he bit the apple. Which meant he had clothing and his gun at least. Sadly not his pistol, however he had no clue where that was. Once Desmond finishing checking himself he did one more stretch as he saw Erika and gave her a smile with a light wink to Erika before he said, "Alright seems we've got our bodies back. Guess that's step one done".

He lightly slapped his knees, "Now just gotta do everything else and then some". As he looked to the big man behind the desk. He was curious of what the man would like to say. As there was no need to keep them here in this way if the magic of the Pentangel would be enough to return their forms.

The Pentangel loomed over the trio, but he no longer seemed the hostile force he'd been earlier. "Well, I take it you've come to retrieve Manfred, here?" His eyes flicked the Kerreman's way and he cracked a lopsided smile. "You're welcome to ask, of course, but it must ultimately be his -"

"We are not," interjected Edyta, standing there in her clerical robes once more: pale and cold as ever. "He is, of course, ever welcome to return with us should you see fit to grant this, but I would never deign to pull a soul from his well-earned eternity."

The angel furrowed his brow. "The little rat, then?" he arched it questioningly.

Edyta shook her head once more and looked to Desmond. So did Manfred and Erika.

Desmond cleared his throat, "No, we originally came here for a man named Thomas Kavanaugh".

Desmond tossed a light smile to Laska, "Someone important to her-"

He continued, "-and myself. Yet we have no clue where he may have been sent".

Desmond chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head, "So I guess step 2 is: Do you know anything on where he may have ended up?"

It came to Edyta that she had not even found out how Fiske had died, so focused had she been on besting one challenge or another on her path to recover Tommy. She glanced Desmond's way and nodded deferentially. "It's as he said. Tommy is a dear friend of ours, taken in a manner that I doubt -" follows our lady Eshiran's will. "- any party involved is satisfied with." She barely avoided the blasphemous statement. "We humbly seek an overturning of his sentence." She bowed deeply at the waist. She'd have been willing to prostrate herself before this black-winged angel if it might've made any difference. In fact, she began sinking to her knees to do exactly that.

"Hold." said the pentangel, and she could more not another inch. hesitantly she rose. He pulled a great tome from a nearby shelf and flipped through it. The very letters on the page seemed evanescent: shifting and changing even as he read. "Kavanaugh, right?"

"Yes, my lord. Date of death: Velles the 13th of this year."

He nodded and continued to scan, his finger tracking down the page until - "Ah!" he straightened abruptly. "He's... in Oraff's hell." Regarding the two of them, eyes flicking briefly in Manfred's and Erika's direction, he pursed his lips. "That is... summarily outside of our jurisdiction."

"Is there a way we can travel there?" the rezaindian pleaded.

"Between heavens, yes. Between this heaven and this hell, yes again, but to travel to another God's hell, you'd need special permission, especially as non-residents." He shook his head in both confoundment and regret.

"You know how long that will take, Ostiarusand." It was Erika, and Manfred grimaced at the words.

"One year, seven days."

Manfred winced at the number. "Plenty of time if yours is unlimited," he remarked, glancing Desmond's way, "But for the living..."

Desmond listened, he knew Tommy wasn't going to be easy to find, however he didn't expect it to be this hard. He listened to them as they broke down the situation.

Leaving nothing much in actual choices for them.

Desmond nodded his head as he continued with what Manfred was going to say, "We don't have that kind of time. Is there any other way? Maybe some way to speed up the time it will take for us to get that special permission?"

"And, truly, you feel he is worthy of returning to the land of the living?" Ostiarusand crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes skeptically.

"I..." Edyta Laska looked down, threading and unthreading her fingers. She both took and released a deep breath. "...was sent to gain his trust and kill him." The rezaindian did not hang her head. She held it high, jaw tight. She twisted to regard Desmond. "In truth, I wear a robe darker than that of the Red Rezaindians." Anyone with a half a mind would know what she meant. "He willingly accepted the possession of a demon that must've been..." She trailed off. "At least of the fifth tier." She shook her head. "He endangered everyone around him without saying a word of it."

"And, yet, here you are begging for us to return him to the land of the living." The pentangel hardly shifted, but for his eyes, to evaluate Desmond, Manfred, and Erika briefly. "Bit of an extreme change of heart, no?"

"He..." Edyta swallowed. "He was good," she said simply. "I soon got a sense of him and I believe he did nothing out of malice. He was a fool because he was raised to be and never had the chance to be more."

"I can see right through you," said Ostiarusand. "You love him." The angel was implacable and the nun's cheeks flushed deeply. "I..." She swallowed and looked at her feet. "It is not within the rules of the order to abstain from all pleasures of the flesh." Her eyes flashed for a moment as she met his. "I serve." She went to a knee. "First and foremost, I serve. I..." She seemed to stop herself from saying something else, but he noticed. "Out with it, girl." Ostiarusand was commanding.

"Forgive me for it sounds arrogant, I know." She bowed her head deeply, not meeting his eyes anymore. "Mother Eshiran came to me in a vision and offered me two black apples. One for myself -" She gestured at Desmond. "- and one for him." Hesitantly, her gaze slid up towards the pentangel's.

"This is known to me," he replied, "and it is not what you believe." He shook his head. "I cannot approve this. He is a sinner who has earned his just desserts." His arms fell to his sides and he pushed off from the desk to stand straight. "Your other friend: there may be hope for him. His sentence is light and, if he makes amends with Dami, he may yet live another mortal life." He reached out to close his book.

"I beg you to reconsider, Lord Ostiarus!" Edyta prostrated herself before him. "I beg of you only this! I was visited by -"

"SILENCE!!!"

The pentangel's great black wings unfurled and the tips seemed to stretch the entire room, end to end. His eyes became fathomless pools of black. "I am Ostiarusand: arbiter of the gate!" His sheer power was crushing, humbling, divine! Manfred and Erika were driven to their knees as well. Desmond, alone, managed to remain standing. "Your associate has committed a cardinal sin for which he is unrepentant and I have made my declaration," he roared. "Be gone from my presence!"

With that, they found themselves standing in the hallway outside the great twin wooden doors. Their eyes darted amongst themselves and Edyta hung her head. Then, Erika spoke. "Actually, you know what," she said, "I think there is a way."

[youtube]youtube.com/clip/UgkxUIOuA6DKegIFN0h7…

Desmond stood at the door now rolling, his shoulder and neck as he said, "Never liked it when they do that shit. Always gives me a crink in the neck". He hoped that would give some reprieve for the moment, at least showing them there still was fight in him.

Because for Edyta, Desmond knew she was the one who must be closest to breaking down because of this. What was in front of her was her struggles personified: her duty versus her own wishes. It was a story of a woman who loved a man and her struggles of what she was raised to believe and do. And right infront of her, when she thought she had the blessing of the gods, a Pentangel stopped her and even admonished her.

Desmond rolled his shoulders once more before he tossed his head to Erika, "Oh? And what way is that?".

Erika smirked. It was the exact same devious little smile that came to Desmond sometimes when he had a subversive idea. "Well," she said, "once every year, as a way of marking time - it tends to bleed together once you've been up here a while - we hold a tournament."

Manfred's eyes widened. "Ah! Yes, that!" he exclaimed. "I'm entered in the Hunters' section." He turned to face her, brow furrowed. "But... isn't it full?" He was walking towards the stairs and he tilted his head. "It...has to be, right?"

Erika smiled as she waved them down. "Well, the hunters' bracket is, and I imagine you'll be spending twenty-five hours straight blowing up various beasts."

Manfred nodded. "Naturally."

They began to descend and she twisted about to regard them. "The reapers' tends to fill quickly as well," she admitted, hopping the final two steps. They made their way towards the door and she smiled sweetly, "But not the warriors'."

"But why not?" asked Manfred. "Occurs to me that should be the most popular of them all."

They approached Hilarix at her desk and she looked up from whatever she was reading. "Well it historically has been," Erika countered, "But, for the past couple decades, it's become increasingly dominated by a few... overpowered souls. Nobody feels like they have a real chance to win." She shrugged.

"Aren't you entered?" Hilarix pointed out, having overheard them. She leaned forward with a twinkle in her eye.

"But naturally, Hillie."

"Well, then... not to be rude," Edyta began, "but why'd you enter if you have no chance?"

Erika shrugged. "Well, the reward is an audience with Verusand himself, who can grant you just about anything, and... it's something of a family obligation. One of those big bullies is from the family I married into back in life." She winked. "I've got to at least try to sock it to him, huh?"

"You're not an Avalon by birth?"

"Gods no!" Erika retorted, rolling her eyes. "If only I were!" she laughed.

"You were a Steinbauer," Manfred added, "Right? Married into those Enthish." He nodded in Desmond's direction. "No offense. You've actually got teeth, unlike the others."

"Something like that." Erika leaned her elbows upon the desk's railing. "Say, Hillie, I had a crazy notion. Do you know how many places are left for warriors? I thought we might make our way over to signups."

Hilarix held up a finger to tell them to wait a second, took out another book, and flipped through it. There was an extended pause. "I would fight," said Edyta, smirking, sidelong, at Desmond.

"Ah!" exclaimed the desk-angel, looking up with a big smile. "Three!"

"Three!?" Manfred sputtered, "When I checked this morning, there were a dozen!"

"Oop!" squealed Hilarix. "Two!"

Desmond chuckled and laughed as they spoke. At least there was some light to be had. They just had to fight, some of the greatest souls in one-on-one combat. What could go wrong!

Desmond smiled to Edyta, "I would too, but it seems like they are already getting taken up". Desmond then began to lightly jog away, "Last one there has to carry the trophy of the winner for the rest of their life!"

Desmond laughed as he began to speed up to run over to the sign up boards. He remembered seeing them and even being told about them when they were heading over to this place.

Desmond's takeoff was so sudden and so fast that it took everyone but Edyta by surprise. "I promise to be merciful in victory," she taunted back, disappearing into greyspace. Moments later, Manfred was there as well. "Wouldn't wanna lose to a girl, wouldya limey boy?"

But then there was a flash ahead of them and it was Erika. Manfred laughed at the absurdity of it. They were there at the boards not two minutes later. Desmond was just pulling up to a stop when, suddenly, the space in front of him wavered and Edyta appeared. She shot a look back at Desmond, though it was only seconds before Manfred and Erika showed up as well. "I'd like to sponsor these two for the warriors' event," Erika added breathlessly, hands posted on the desk, leaning forward.

"These two backdoors?" The angel manning the desk looked up.

"No, Michaelis, the other two backdoors." She rolled her eyes.

"Yes yes." He waved her off dismissively. "No need to bring out the snark, now." He looked down at a pamphlet and pursed his lips. Then, with some alarm in his eyes, he looked up. "Names!" he called out, "Quickly!"

"Uhh... Edyta Laska!" the nun practically shouted.

"Desmond!" added her partner, "Uh, Catulus!" It wasn't a real last name, for bastards didn't have those, but it was what he'd always gone by.

"Fingerprints!" the angel chirped, motioning for them to quickly bring their hands forward. He all-but grabbed them, pulling them forward and pressing them onto an inkpad. "There's only one spot left. We need to reserve it. Decide who's going out of you two." He grimaced and shook his head quickly and regretfully.

Edyta swallowed and looked at Desmond. "Rock paper scissors?" she suggested, and he didn't have time to think about it. He could read her, and he'd always had luck on his side, just in case. "Bet!"

"Rock."

"Paper."

"Scissors."

"Shoot!"

Both came up with paper.

"Rock."

"Paper."

"Scissors."

"Shoot!"

Both rock.

"Rock."

"Paper."

"Scissors."

"Shoot!"

Edyta was rock, Desmond was paper. He'd risked it for the biscuit and lost. "Registered!" the angel replied, almost before they were finished. He stamped a form with her print and clapped a book shut around it. Magically, it disappeared. He looked up at Desmond. "Sorry, lad. Wish you could've gone too."

"Well, could I... possibly give up my spot in Huntrers'?" inquired Manfred. "I probably have a good number of these left in me."

Michaelis nibbled his lower lip, slid another book out from his desk, and flipped rapidly through it. He looked up and regretfully shook his head. "Heh, sorry, kid. You need to be related - sibling or in the same direct line. I was hoping you might be, but no dice." He paused before the disappointment could set in too deeply and, biting that same lip again, flipped through some more pages. He paused and let out a snort. "Well ain't that something..." he murmured, looking up. "You, on the other hand -" He pointed at Erika. "You can. You know he's your great-great-grandson."

Desmond turned to Erika, a silent moment was had. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His great-great-grandmother was her. The luck of such a feat was incredible, however more so, who she was. Apparently she was of the family of Avalon, which meant so was he.

He was some bastard child of a noble. The thoughts began to flow through his mind, what his life could have been like. What he would have been without the struggle, the pain, the loss, the sacrifice.

The...

"Well, ain't that crazy? Never would have thought to meet someone who is actually blood related to me". Desmond chuckled as he shook his head. Coming a little closer to Erika, "So you're my Sin-seanmháthair(Great-grandmother)? Hu. Never would have thought she'd be a young as me". Desmond then began to laugh as he rubbed the back of his head.

"You shoulda seen me when I was old," she laughed, a little bit overwhelmed by the entire thing herself. "I was pinching cheeks and baking cookies and kissing my grandkids right near the ear so they'd ring." She winked, but then she shook her head in disbelief. "The gods work in mysterious ways... Wow!" She let out a low whistle. "I'll give him my spot, by the way," she told Michaelis, but then she turned back to Desmond. "Come here," she said, holding out her arms and motioning him forward. "You're family: flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. It's... an honour."

Desmond smiled as he opened his arms and took hold of Erika. He chuckled as he held her as he said, "Yeah I guess the gods really do". Desmond held her for a little longer than needed and a little tighter than would be expected. More feeling than needed, more personal than he wanted.

He was here for another.

To help a friend retrieve another. He was here to save him with the grace granted upon Edyta. Not himself.

This was not about him.

However.

He might allow it to be about him for a little while.

Just long enough to feel it.

This feeling.

Of another's love.

Erika squeezed back, perhaps longer than she'd wanted, longer than she' meant to. It was easy to become disconnected here in eternity, but here was living proof of a future in the world of the living: that her existence had created something and made a difference. She tightened her grip momentarily. "You're gonna tell me all about it," she told him. "Everything, and I'm just gonna listen and -" She shook slightly with laughter in his embrace. "- maybe ask questions like a five year old." She let her arms fall away and flashed him a confident smile, though her eyes were definitely a bit red-rimmed. "But first, you're gonna win, 'cause that's what we do." She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "And stick it to our revered ancestor, huh?"

Desmond shook his head in agreeance, a smile resting on his face all the same it has. Just this time, his smile was soft and sat on his face calmly.

"Yeah, I can't wait to tell you-", he chuckled as he then continued, "Let's see if our ancestor is all that they say he's cracked up to be".

"Well, yours, technically," she corrected, "I just married in. Found me a sugar daddy." She winked.

Manfred looked from Desmond to Girl Desmond. "This explains... so much," he remarked. "Well, at least we didn't turn out to be related." It was his turn to wink, and he winked at Erika.

She shot him a warning look.

Manfred grinned. Even his mustache seemed somehow... pleased. "Hey Desmond," he called, leaning in with a sly smile.

Edyta's eyes darted between the three with growing trepidation.

"HeyDesmondIfuckedyourgreatgrandma."

Desmond's smile never dissappeared as he turned to Manfred and says, "That rat you carried to the desk bangs your sister".

Erika was in hysterics. "It's great 'cause it's true!" she hollered, "and you were the last one to know it!"

Manfred blinked. He blinked again and his mustache drooped. In that moment, he just may have found motivation to consider returning to the living world. "I..." He considered, brought up short. Then, all at once, he threw an arm around Desmond. "Well, now that we know who you are, ol' buddy, just keep in mind that none of your family is safe! By the time you make it back here for real, you might have to call me papa." He grinned, but there was just a tiny hint of uncertainty to it, deep below the surface.

"Desmond," said Sister Laska, "I am happy that you have learned of a new family member this day." She smiled. "Manfred, I am happy that you, too, have gained a new family member." She smiled... sweetly.

On that note, they departed for the colosseum. Visitors from other heavens - Darhannic, Angic, Creed, Tosatsu, and even Femrigr - were arriving from those strange trees they'd sighted before, but they weren't the only attractions. There was, not so far outside of the colosseum, a listing of all 256 contestants and their odds. Edyta found herself appearing on the board ranked 149, with Desmond ranked a good deal further down at 237. "It's because I'm greyborn," she tried to assure him, but there was probably more to it. He'd always been underestimated for his low RAS and this appeared no different than usual.

Yet, there were certainly opportunities to prove these naysayers wrong. There were myriad training grounds all around, each focused on training any one of a hundred different skills and even combinations of skills. Anybody could watch, and the oddsmakers certainly did. If it wasn't money that the people up here gambled with, it was prestige, dares, and favours. In any event, it took the rest of the day for Edyta's and Desmond's tour to finish.

Eventually, after wishing them both luck, Manfred headed off to train for the hunt. "Three days," he told them. "Use every hour you're not sleeping," added Erika. She shook her head. "Some of these guys train year round."

"Good luck," said Manfred. "I'll be around. I'll check in." He scowled. "I'm going to bag me a Fiske or ten."

With a snort, Erika turned back around. "They're all going to be looking for you to fight as a greyborn," she told Edyta. "They'll have traps for it. They'll have counters." She wagged a finger. "But they're hardly paying attention to your icevein skills, and greyborn are rare enough that most won't even know how to fight you unless they watch you train."

She turned to Desmond. "When people without substantial magic come to heaven, the Gods unlock their magic, at exactly a RAS of five." She smiled conspiratorially. "You're so low 'cause they all think you're one of those, and you're new, too." The smile became a smirk. "No idea how to use magic." She shook her head. "They'll have no idea what hit 'em."

She regarded both, then. "Train in secret. Hide your techniques, hide your special weapons." She gestured at Desmond's rifle and Edyta's sickles. "Hide your true strength." The sun was hanging low in the sky now and she reassured them that she'd had quarters made for them. This was heaven, after all, and anything could be had when one wished it.

The next day, they began training.

The day after, the six elites arrived.

The final day before the event, the bracket was announced.

Then, on the fourth day, they fought.

"Squeak. . . " He knew it would be like this, there was no true way out of this. He did not even want to tell her off for her rather irritating 'diagnosis', but the motivation to rebel waned.

Fiske stared at Desmond, his laugh stung harder than the words of the angel itself. "Hope. Gone." he squeaked before carefully jumping out of Manfred's palm and next to the amethyst. carefully grabbing it and hugged it, making himself a ball around the gem.

Waiting For Death

Erika sighed. "Well, I guess you're with me." She glanced up at Desmond again as he bounded awkwardly up the stairs. She plucked Fiske, still holding the gemstone, with a single hand from his place, and headed towards the second door on the left.

"Oh, wait! No no no!" Hilarix cried, and Erika twisted about, brow furrowed in annoyance. "One," she counted, pairing it with a gesture, "two."

"Look down," the angel advised and, when they did, there it was: a tiny little door that a full-sized human couldn't possibly have fit through. Erika blinked, twisting up to regard the others, who were close to the top of the stairs. "Well, Fiske, I didn't know you in life but, hopefully, I'll get to meet you for real soon enough." She lowered him towards the floor. "Looks like this is where we part ways.

He still had his amethyst. He still had himself - in a sense. The brightly-lit door beckoned.

Fiske stared at the woman who lowered him down and nodded as a response to her words. He faked a sense of confidence to at least try and reassure Erika. He awkwardly walked on his hind legs towards the small door as he held the amethyst.

One more look back at the two women before he entered. What's the worst that can happen. I'll probably be hunted by a 'angelic' cat of some sorts seeing how ironic this hell tries to be. He snickered to himself as his doomed fate began to sound comical to him.

Fiske blinked and the moment that his eyes adjusted to the light, he beheld an... unexpected sight. Inside was, simply... a waiting room: an animal-sized one. There were five kiosks behind glass barriers with tiny, bored-looking angels attending to the needs of various... critters.

As the guupguup entered, a rabbit on a bench looked up from a newspaper. A pair of geckos sitting beside each other chatted. A cockroach paced anxiously, and a handful of mosquitoes eyed the others with hunger and suspicion from a corner.

There were at least four other rats of various sorts, a shrew, a grape dragon, three worms, a stag beetle, three centipedes, and a rather bored-looking lobster. A buzzer sounded and a letterboard displayed a symbol that looked like a... a shiny white round ball with the number 37? Fiske watched as a sparrow hopped up eagerly to one of the windows with a pearl in its mouth.

Most of the critters were small and harmless, but that grape dragon was worrying, as were a pair of snakes, a scorpion, and... a large and hungry looking black cat that already seemed to be eyeing him. Fiske's eyes flicked between the cat and his treasure, and he noticed the number 64 on it. He would have to last... that long.

Fiske was rather amused by the tiny angels, perhaps in some way they were even less fortunate than him. Tiny and working for the bureaucracy. He looked around the room and sat close to the bored lobster, he hoped to have become blessed by crustaceans after being mauled by them. They at least weren't much of a enjoyer of rats like the snakes or the... cat.

He impatiently stared at his little amethyst then back to the letterboard, then back to the amethyst and so forth. But he had come to realize that all he could really do now was wait.

And wait, he did. One my one, numbers flicked by. Mosquitoes buzzed up to the desks. Rats scampered over, and the lobster clicked and clacked. Thankfully the cat was one of the first to be called up and, after shooting him a sidelong glance, she was gone.

Time passed, Fiske's stomach gurgled, and there was an unusual sort of music that softly filled the room's background. This, surely, must've been an extension of hell, for the sheer tedium was almost unbearable. Yet, new animals came in: a couple of spiders, a ferret, two frogs, and a sparrow, and they broke up the monotony somewhat. Old animals scampered out after heading to the desks. Others seemed to glow and then disappear.

Up ticked the numbers and, once sixty was reached, he was officially on notice. Rapidly, sixty-one appeared, and then sixty-two, but it was ages before sixty-three was called, since one of the clerical angels had gone on break. The clock on the wall ticked almost mockingly. The frogs kept croaking in a tone that could only vex. Then, sixty-three! he tensed up in his seat and checked his amethyst again, but he need not have worried.

He had a further ten minutes before the noticeboard let out a click. His ears perked up and his eyes darted over. It was, indeed, sixty-four. He was sixty-four! Lugging his crystalline treasure, Fiske scampered up to the cubicle. The angle regarded him tiredly, managing something like a perfunctory smile. "I'll need your full name, your sin, and your pawprint here, please." A large paper was slid out from behind the desk, along with an inkpad.

He looked at the paper, what name was truly his? Are the names he gave himself and acted under not his? Are the names he stole to get into places he wasn't allowed allowed to even be his? Most of the people knew him as Fiske, but was he Fiske or was that just another role he played. At times it would even confuse the owner of said names. But there was one name they would probably ask for. The one name that he wanted to forget, the identity he wanted to fade away.

His birth name. An obsolete, failed identity. . . But still the groundworks of what is, or rather was Fiske.

The rat grimaced before dumping his nail in the ink and writing the name that the gods would probably see as his true name
||Floris Hohnstein von Albesatz-Danzau||

Sins? Life-preservation would be a sin of the goddess of death, of course. They probably wouldn't accept that wording, so it would require the word he disliked.
Cowardice

And to finalize the documant the rat inked up his paw and pressed it on the paper.

ฅ

"Excellent, Mr. Hohnstein." The angel took up the document, his eyes poring over it approvingly. "Just a moment, please." With that statement, he reached below his desk and pulled out a very large book. In the background, a frog eyed some mosquitoes and the clock ticked.

The angel flipped through pages and it was difficult to miss that the very letters and pictures on them changed, sometimes so rapidly that no human - much less a rat - could've hoped to keep up. Finally, they stopped, and the clerk looked up. "I sympathize with you, Mr. Hohnstein. You do not strike me as an evil man whatsoever, but my discretion in this matter is limited. I hope you'll understand."

What, truly, could Fiske have said?

"In order to purge the effects of the cardinal sin of cowardice and the lesser sin of recklessness - quite contradictory, if I do say so myself - from your soul, you shall be required to remain in this lesser form and, in it, to die..." He paused, poring over the book once more and scowling. "Ah! Six-hundred-thirteen times in the hunt." He looked up. "I'm very sorry but, should you approach this with vigor and expediency - and should you find a good hunting ground to occupy - I anticipate you'll be finished in less than a month." He tried on a supportive smile. "It takes some centuries, you know."

With that, he flipped some more pages and there appeared, in the oversized book, something like a ticket. This, he handed to Fiske, also producing a stamp. "Hand out, please!" He waited for a moment. "This will stay with you, through deaths and through transformations."

One of the mosquitoes fell prey to the frog in the background. "It will count down your remaining sins to be purged. You shall lose your fear of death and then, in the end, your hunter may find himself the hunted, yes?" He nodded. "Godspeed, sir."

Dying hundreds of times? How is losing the fear of death going to solve anything?! That would just be losing a part of the human soul. The desire to survive would just be weakened. The rat shivered at the thought of having to die so many times. The only thing that made him somewhat less scared or stressed was how supportive the angel was. He was a much better judge of character than the woman was before. . .

Fiske puffed up his small chest to respond to the other's encouragement with vigor. He was right, there was no point in being scared if he just comes back time and time again, right? He saluted the angel before his little paw was extended outwards towards the stamp.

The Hourglass Order

---

Into the Heart

---

---

Collab between @Ti & Myself

Once the talking was finished and the plans had been set in motion, it was time for them to get to work. Marz and Maura were to head to the ship to try and see what was happening within and get a handle on the other factors of the situation. When he neared Maura’s strange ship, he sighed, it wasn’t quite finished, yet he had enough time now to know what he needed to do for it. He took in the energy of the waves of the ocean and began to charge the multiple different pieces of metal with magnetic energy. Once that energy fully filled the metal, he began to twine multiple spells together. Holding out his hammer, Marz began to move the countless metal pieces into place and have them stick together through the magnetic energy sticking them together. Then he lifted the countless rivets using the same magnetic and kinetic energies he lifted the plates with and now slamming the plates together to the hull of the underwater ship with rivets.

He took the clockwork engine and began to charge it with his magics as well. Intertwining the energies as he began to form the countless gears onto their axles and sprockets. As the engine began to form, the gears began to go together like lovers. The interlock of the gears teeth just like fingers wrapping around each other, binding with each other. As they begin to wind tighter and tighter, a love is formed, just like the engine that has now taken shape. The moment the engine was formed, Marz used the great well of energy called the ocean to fill himself. He used this vast source of energy to exert tremendous force upon the large, multiple ton brick of metal and set it into its housing.

Once the engine was in place, Marz sealed it with the proper metal sheets and set in the axel needed to drive the paddles of the ship. Marz continued his building as he even began to form the platform under it. It had multiple logs, which allowed it to roll with some ease. As the moment the underwater ship was needed to be set off, Marz began to take in the energy of the waves once more and began to launch it into the platform. Forcing it to move as, the platform and the ship began to roll forward and into the water.

Maura observed as Marz worked diligently, surrounded by an army of puppets on standby, ready to provide assistance. The Hegelan, a master of his craft, was deeply engrossed in the rebuilding effort. Maura knew better than to intervene. Instead, she offered a thumbs up, a sign of appreciation, as he completed his task.“Masterful work, as always,” she praised.

Once in the water, Marz began to help Maura into the ship before he entered and closed it up and did one last check of the ship. He began to use kinetic energy across the interior of the ship causing lots of force across the ship, and took note of the few faults in the ship before he nodded and believed it was acceptable as is before they set out.

As they travelled through the water, the ship was quite dark if they did not use magic to navigate. Marz didn’t need much light, with his magics, he increases his own dark vision through chemical alterations of his sight and light manipulation as they travelled. Yet they still needed a bit of light as the fighting above was creating shadows that played weirdly. So much so that Maura spotted some shadows moving in the distance in such a strange way that it looked like the whip of a fishy tail behind some rocks.

If someone didn't know better, they could mistake it for a normal shadow. Even someone who was a little suspicious, they could mistake it for any other marine life. But Maura and Marz aren’t the norm, they both know better. They took this as the Meerami had seen the submarine. A chill ran down their backs as they realized in the dark they hid and watched. However, thankfully, the Meerami haven't struck and seem content with hiding away for now.

Marz began looking around more as he said, ”Seems ey’re expectin’ us”.

“Then let’s give them a warm welcome.” She moved her hand toward the lights, flickering them on and off in a pattern, communicating out into the water before them. “If they know that we know they are there, they know they don't have the element of surprise and will be less likely to ambush us. And if we don’t make any threatening moves, they may stay back and be content with watching us. Don’t want to test this thing against a horde of suspicious dragon-mermaids.”

After a while longer, they were finally near the wreckage, here the lights from the surface were completely dim. So they had to turn off their lights and use the gift to sense. They began to stretch their senses, they could sense the intense kinetic energy roiling throughout the sea, the arcane energy was low, so they had to search through a different way. They began to transform the massive kinetic energy around them into a little bit of magnetic energy and began to send it out like miniature pulses. Eventually, they found the energy connected with another metal object, they had to be near the main hull. From here, they began to sense around, and slowly, but surely they eventually found an opening. From what they could sense, they realized that from the multiple large sheets of metal, one was blown apart and had countless pieces of metal launched outwards.

After navigating the area so as not to damage Maura’s ship, they entered the opening. When they were able to break the surface, Marz was the first to leave as he used arcane energy to light the place up.

It was apparent to his inspection of the area that the ship experienced an internal explosion that had ripped a hole in the hull, it was likely the cause of the ship crashing in the first place, whatever it was. Fortunately, the resulting entrance was submerged in water because it couldn't be spotted by land or ship. Maybe the Royal Asper Company did not know of it yet, which Marz thought would give them some of the best cover coming in and out when needed.

As Marz looked around, he realized the submarine surfaced into a wide metal lead-lined space with enough gray steel-grates walkways, ladders, and pipes to still make it feel claustrophobic. The area resembled a steam room but was much different to what he was used to seeing within even the most advanced forges or even ships of his people. The space was much bigger than any steam room he had seen on a Clockwork ship, and there were at least four times the pipes branching off in different directions. However, the first convergence point of the pipelines led to... nothing. Five pipes at leg height and four pipes well overhead lead to a space where something big once lay, a slow drip, drip, sounded from the residual water that once flowed through them. Whatever was once here, it had been looted already, and it wasn't the only thing. This plantroom was nothing but adjoining pipework leading to an absence of meaningful machinery.

Marz turned to the ship and Maura, ”Oi, it seems a little ‘ard ‘ere fer ya. Ye wanna stay ‘ere or try yer luck?”.

Maura surveyed the condition of the ship’s interior. "When designing this vessel, rollerchair accessibility clearly wasn’t on their minds," she remarked with a bemused expression. "And that was before the wreck."

Maid Malena came up alongside her. "However, my loyal servant here shouldn’t face such difficulties." The Maid Puppet performed a curtsey toward Marz as a sign of respect. "We can control things from here or help you find another exit if needed," Maura offered, her voice filled with resolve.

As Marz left with the puppet, he chuckled as he said to it, ”Slave driver ‘eh tin man? Let’s see if ya can be useful”. As Marz looked around, a question came to mind as he saw more and more places where pipes were leading to and no machines were there. Who had looted this place? The Royal Asper Company hadn't managed to get inside yet, and the locals hadn't either. The only group who seemed capable of this feat was the Meerami, it was certainly them, right? As they turned the corner, a clue lay pinned to the wall.

It was a calendar open to the current month made of a shiny, plastic-like paper, but what most drew the eye was the calendar picture. A young Hegelan woman knelt on a beach towel holding two steins of what could only be beer. She had short ginger hair and was topless, with only a delicately parted beard to cover each of the nipples. Only one race could appreciate the tasteful beauty of a feminine beard, this was a Hegelan ship. Any Hegelan could go their entire lives without so much as touching a sea vessel, and yet the truth was staring them right in the face.

The Maid pointed at the picture, then pointed at the empty space around them. Where were the other Hegelans? No one had previously discussed or mentioned them. This was a disconcerting fact.

Marz then realized something as he began to look around, another truth had dawned on him. This ship wasn't powered by coal. This was a steam room, so one would expect to see evidence of a coal burner. While it may have been taken away, did the looters also go through the effort to meticulously clean the surfaces of coal dust. This is no easy task, as Marz knew well. So if it wasn't coal, then what had powered the ship?

Marz was about to begin inspecting the pipes for possible residue, until he felt a strange presence. Then he heard it, a faint singing in the distance. They were not alone on this ship. It sounded like it was getting closer, moving with purpose. It was a haunting, eerie melody that felt ominous in nature, and maybe even spoke of potential hostility.

Marz looked around as he saw at that moment an exit that has most of the pipework leading towards it. Marz immediately began to run to the door and was going to follow the pipes. As Marz began to run, the puppet followed fast as they began to clear sonic magic traces coming from behind them. Whatever was producing the sound, it was casting some sort of spell. As they ran, those traces were only growing stronger as the two leave the room and down the corridor. They are being actively hunted and, and they were losing ground even with their magics.

Between the corridors as they ran, Marz was able to follow that corridor and more pipework started to line the walls. This had to be the way to the power source, if it was not in the area they found themselves in. Yet this was not the moment to try and beeline to it. Their pursuer will only follow and will just have a conflict wherever they end up. So they needed to make something happen.

As they ran, Marz began to pull in the energy of the water outside the ship and fill himself with kinetic energy. He used this energy to begin to throw open doors, break pipes and create small barricades. He began to rip up metal plates, and everything else, he needed to get them used to it. Once they turned a corner, Marz pulled in even more energy as he focused it all across the multiple doors and walls down the hallway he would go down and throw open all the doors and pipes. Forcing them all open to look like they had gone down that way before Marz and the puppet slipped into one of the close doors to hide.

In the dark, quiet room, the sound of the singing was haunting. It sounded both eerie and now, soothing. The sound both grated against the ear and calmed the mind. This feeling made Marz feel incredibly uneasy. As he sat there in the dark, he wanted to turn on a light. He couldn’t tell if whatever was following them was near or far. The presence seemed almost impossible to tell where it was. Yet the moment the song sounded almost blaring, it then began to become quieter, and then, the singing stopped. It was in the moment of pure horror, that Marz began to hear a faint slithering grow closer. Then, the singing began to start again, as it began to come through the cracks in the door. Marz began to feel sleepy as the song reverberated from all areas at once. In this state, the hiding place had locked him in with the voice. Yet he couldn’t think of fighting it, rather he thought about trying to outlast it, and maybe whatever was producing it would leave thinking they were not here.

Marz began to take his hair and began to cut come of it off. Then he used the oils and chemicals within his hair to make it more hardened before he stuck 2 wads of hair into his ears. From there he began to use his ear wax and chemically produced more to try and create some seal against the sound. Yet it was only a stop-gap as the sound reverberated through his chest, in his lungs, in his mouth, and his nose. Anywhere where air could exist, it reverberated within him, and he could feel the sleepiness set in.

Through this singing, Marz began to feel how the energy bounced off of the walls, how it shook the metal, and how it reverberated under his body. He could sense all around him as he tried to figure out what to do next, yet it was useless. He felt his body slowly grow limp, it was until the skittering of some creature that interrupted the song. Malena positioned herself in front of Marz and went limp, and gave of the appearance of being inactive and incapacitated.

Leaving Marz and the puppet in an empty room, it was euphoric, the silence and the near unconscious state. It however was interrupted as an intense rush of adrenaline and magnetic magic rushed into Marz that awoke him. Marz almost launched himself to his feet as he heaved and looked around for a moment. He took a breath in and sighed, taking from around his neck a necklace with a gorgeous red gem on it. The gem glowed with a whitish magic for a moment before dimming. Marz nodded to himself as he looked to the puppet and said, ”Pretty close there, eh? Let’s see wha’ they’re keepin’”.

As Marz and the puppet traveled further into the ship, they realized it was far larger than they even first thought. As from traveling from the front of the ship to just the center area stretched their sensing between each other to the very limits they could perform. As with Marz, he is unable to pick out Maura’s ship anymore since she went into low-power hiding. Yet, the search was worth it, as Marz was able to witness a contraption so magnificent that any lesser man would consider it the work of the gods.

Marz and the puppet found where the pipes lead as many of them went into a room. Once they entered the room, they found it was a small room, maybe no more than 3 meters wide walls and multiple spots where desks were. The only thing left in the room seems to be a single door which hid a ladder. Marz was skeptical that this would lead them to their destination, yet they needed to know. After climbing down the ladder, they entered a somewhat small yet spacious area. At first, they thought the area had nothing within, the room had nothing attached to the ceiling except some wires to hold off the grated catwalk that led to the center of the room. There were no energy signatures able to be sensed at first, as it felt like this place was more empty than normal.

Marz had a strange feeling about the room, there had to be more, as he began to look around. When he entered, he was confirmed this was not some great big machine to act as the ‘heart’ of the ship. Yet, he hoped to have found something like that. He hoped there would be some great large spherical device that would hold a large fire within, or even something more impressive. Yet as he inspected the room, he couldn’t sense much of anything. It was not until he neared the center of the cat walk, he could finally sense the faintest energy within the room, and it was terrifying. Under his feet he could sense the faint signature of one of the most intense energies a man can produce, atomic energy. The Maid continued to look speechless as it examined the surroundings.

Marz then began to inspect the room again. It was a small mostly sealed off room no more than 6 meters length wise and 10 meters across. The room stood assumedly 5 meters high, yet as Marz looked down and cast a light magic, he could see he was wrong.

Underneath the catwalk were 8 strange cylindrical devices that were 10 meters tall and 2 meters wide. Those 8 cylinders were split into 4 as they were on either side of the catwalk. The cylinders were set around this device that held them and seemed to have countless wires, pumps, metal plates, and tubes that lead between them. Marz began to inspect them as he noticed that there were railings made of thin metal that restricted his walking yet allowed him to walk onto the large cylinders. As he stepped onto them, he began to inspect the devices further.

As he knelt down, he began to look into where the cylinders were, countless pipes and wires that filled the bottom area that led to the rest of the ship. From this one point, it was powering the entire ship. This massive, nearly 400-meter long ship was powered by this small room. The heart of the ship.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Tarak fought like a madman even while being jumped and mounted. Some of the Misfits tried to break it up, others stepped away as they thought they would be punished if they got involved. The fighting was like a mosh pit that made it difficult to almost know who they might hit. Yet as a gunshot rang out, the fighting stopped. Tarak even stopped as he had just grabbed the little shit and nearly threw his rat ass.

There was only one thing to follow.

Back in Tarak's bunk area, he threw water over his back which only irritated his wound more, however, he wanted to clean the blood and sweat. He sighed as he began to wipe himself down and people began to cry out from the pain.

"Ah why were we hit!"

"We did nothing!"

"Quiet down, we take these because we are together".

"Maybe you were!"

"Hey stop yelling! Some of us are licking our wounds in peace!"

Tarak sighed as he began to stand up and made his way out to the common area to start talking with them. Tarak took a breath in and began to walk among them and tried to just talk to them to let them vent. Even though they were all adults and had been in fights before, disciplinary action of this nature was not something they were used to. For many of them, they thought they had left this type of stuff behind. However, after much of their ranting and complaining, many settled down, and some seemed to even forget the pain as they talked and laughed among each other.

As physical pain meant nothing when they had been given countless good news. They wiped out a lance of mechs, and retrieved countless pieces of material and equipment, with now Reya returned with some good news. A little pain with the pleasure made the good times feel better.

Tarak left the Misfits to their own devices, they had settled and now, he went to look for Reya. He wanted to talk to her directly about what had happened with her time. Also to make sure she knows he's fine, whatever that's worth.

The Hourglass Order

Into the Afterlife

---

---

Made in collaboration with: @Force and Fury & @jasbraq

---

---

Where All Rests

Fiske had found himself in an eerily similar position to the other two. He was... a guupguup. Oh, the irony! Poking his head out of a burrow, he peered about, only for a great hawk to come swooping down. He barely made it back underground alive. He was a human, though: a person! Surely, there there had to be some way escape this wretched existence, or was it simply his fate to be killed dozens of times in various creative and macabre ways until his penance was complete?

That was when he heard the gunshots. Poking his head up and out of his burrow, he witnessed a goose fall mere meters from him. Quickly, he ducked back underground, but not before he caught a brief glimpse of the hunters coming to collect it. Such were the benefits of being a rodent: small, inconsequential, and generally beneath sapient notice. Two of them, he did not recognize, but the third was unmistakable. The third one, he knew! This could be a golden opportunity or a guaranteed death. What to do!?

From one cruel joke to another, huh? Escheran can shove it! I am not a coward! . . . sometimes. The guupguup was still surprised that the Pentad would condemn him to such a fate. He had been a good person, right? He hadn’t taken any lives, and tried to stand up for those who couldn’t. To think only Ipte was a smart enough divinity to see him as worthy for heaven.

He can’t truly be stuck here, right? He has so much still left to do. He hadn’t even apologized to Marci. Speaking of, that hunter’s face was undeniably one he knew. . . but how could he convince the other not to kill him.

He tried to speak but could not, he tried to cast an intricate illusionary version of himself. . . and even if his visualization was flawless, there was no Fiske. His normally boundless illusionary prowess was so severely limited. . . He awaited the other’s approach.

And once he was somewhat close enough did he cast his sentence, one small word at a time.

NO

SHOOT

Just two small words took a lot out of him already.

HELP

████

It left him utterly vulnerable. . . his life was in the other’s hands.

The mustachioed hunter looked down, near his feet, and leapt back. "Ach! A Guupguup!" He scrambled to put up some sort of chemical defense and readied his rifle, but then he heard it: "Chitter... Chitter. Cheep."

But he saw something as well: words in the air, and his eyes widened. "No shoot." He murmured, reading. "Help..." The last one was a bit hazy, and then it struck him. "Help Dory?" He straightened, stroking his chin, and the other two hunters with him - both Kerreman sorts with big guns - turned to him quizzically. "Well, are you going to shoot it?" asked one, clutching her rifle.

"Nein." Manfred held a hand out. "Ich glaube, ich kenne diesen kleinen Kerl." ||No. I think I know this little guy.|| He crouched and regarded the small creature before him. "Just who are you and what's wrong?"

The Guupguup was utterly ecstatic, his rather badly constructed paid off big. It relied too much on the other than he would have hoped but at times one must. . . trust in others. Getting this exhausted from such simple illusionary words made him beyond annoyed at his own gift. This isn't a life worth anything. The endless VOID would be preferable to being unable to continue his art.

His tiny heart beat at a rapid pace as he was about to push his gift further.

DORY BROTHER.

The panting little rat signalled towards himself the best he could.

HELP

ESCAPE

The words began to get more wavy and hard to read.

ME

WEAK

Help

The guupguup lowered his head to show a bow of some kind

Please

me

help

N-ina

The boy had so much unfinished business and he was one of the best blessings he could have been given. He will apologise to her whenever if they ever meet once again... but it might be easier to convey the message to them with that name.

Manfred Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau scowled. His two companions had ranged ahead with the dogs, focused on a distant dragon that seemed to be wounded. He did not like hunting wounded prey. There was no sport in it and even less honour. "Ah, Dory's brother. Yes, she mentioned one. Well, I see you've gone to hell." He pursed his lips, mustache perfectly upturned as always. "Truth be told, I was about to pop you with the Gift. Guupguups are quite... dangerous." He stroked his chin pensively. "You seem to recognize me, however. How, and how do I know you're not a bad fellow?"

For a moment, the absurdity of it all - he was talking to a poisonous rat - struck Manfred, but he rather liked the odd bit of absurdity in his afterlife. The perfection of heaven could get... boring at times.

The Guupguup signed the other to wait, for he needed to draw in what little manas he could. Fiske did not show any caution of hostility whilst doing so. After he took his moment he began to get his words out once more.

He pointed towards himself once more

Coward

Mythomaniac

A rustcoloured liquid would run down his cheek. Revealing this could be his death, it brought him immense amounts of stress.

BUT

He quickly added.

Tried to be

Better

His ears pulled back all the way back against his head, heart rate raced. He heart what kind of man he was. . . He prayed that he was more forgiving and humane than the pentad were.

Manfred seemed to consider for a little, drawing back. The other two hunters were waving him over, and there were rifle shots in the distance. He ignored them for the time being. "Fiskel?" he proposed tentatively, tilting his head to the side. "Fiske Flachstruach?" Fiske was the only person who fit that description who would be the right age and whom he may have known. "Or... maybe not."

Fiske looked up to the hunter with hope in his eyes, nodding his head quickly. In truth, he did not even know that he would know his name

Fiske

He pointed to himself.

Is Floris

He once again pointed to himself. He could dance. Perhaps he wasn't sent to this punishment because the Pentad were close-minded but for something greater. . . No, probably not. .

Manfred scowled. Then, he nodded, businesslike. "Well," he decided, "the biggest issue is whether you're in three hells or four." He held a hand out for the rat to scamper aboard. "If it's the latter, you are, quite frankly, fucked, my friend." He bit his lower lip. "If it's the former, you have a shot."

The little rodent made his way up the hunter's hand. Relieved to hear the rather good news. He tried to remember the trial of his soul.

3

He remembered three outliers whilst the two other weren't the most opinionated about him.

Iptin . . . Big love

Eschiran . . . Thune . . .Big hate

Oretz . . . . Dami . . . Lukewarm

Where Few Travel

In the distance, one could hear the thunder of hoofbeats, growing in volume and closeness. Unfamiliar though this form was to her, Edyta spread her wings and took off, trying to get the lay of the land. There were hills and valleys, rivers and idyllic thickets. A handful of lodges were nestled in the prettier spots and, further away lay a great colosseum, evoking an Avincian style. A couple of other large birds circled on the thermals and, perched on a minor promontory, she noticed a small froabas. That would not hesitate to make food of either her or Desmond, she realized.

She also came to the conclusion that she was... a clumsy flyer, and she resolved to land momentarily. That was when she heard the crack of gunfire. It echoed through the formerly serene air and a large goose fell to the ground. Hurriedly, she flapped her way down, honking and squawking at Desmond, clacking her beak in the direction of the nearest lodge. The people were both their truest enemy and, paradoxically, their only hope. She considered taking off again, but that might make them even more of a target.

Hopping and bounding in her birdlike manner, she began trying to lead him to either safety or death. The two made slow progress and, a couple more times, she briefly took to the air. On the first, she witnessed a party of hunters bagging a large lionbear, laughing and smoking as they gathered round its magnificent fallen form. On the second, she caught the eye of the froabas and landed as quickly as she could. Letting out a quick squawk of alarm in Desmond's direction, she went to hide as the dragon swooped towards the valley they were currently traversing.

Desmond followed the Direstork he believed is Laska. He spent much of his time learning how to move in his own body again. Walking took some time to truly learn again, yet it did not take long as it felt natural for him to walk and move. He was slow among the two of the as his stride was somewhat wide and short versus Laska's birdlike hopping.

Yet even with this slow movement, Desmond was willed with quite a bit of energy. He even began to play as they walked, even when Laska seemed worried, Desmond showed some enjoyment of the situation. It was never a thought to occur to Desmond to be in a situation like this. It was comedic. Yet the moment that Laska began to squawk and run, Desmond looked up.

He could see above him a dragon begin to descend into the valley that Desmond and Laska found themselves in.

And as if his form was telling of Desmond's own personality.

He stood his ground.

Desmond ran forward as the Froabas dived down for him, a large slash went across the back of the Honey Badger, yet that did not stop the smaller animal. Desmond noticed the thing he needed, there was a weakness, and a chance.

The Honey Badger turned to face off against the Froabas who had now landed and began to turn to face its prey. Yet before the Froabas could fully turn, the Honey Badge had charged towards it and nearly made it to its underside. However in the spin, the Froabas whipped its tail and slammed it into the Honey Badger to launch it.

As Desmond flew, he began to figure out his speed again. He was much slower than how he knew. He knew what he needed to do, he just had to persevere until the time came.

The Honey Badger stood again and rushed the Froabas again. Preparing for a counter charge Desmond was ready to dodge. However, he wasn't ready for this small Froabas to have grown enough to be able to fire a fireball. As it unleashed a singular fireball which slammed directly into the Honey badger. As it exploded and sent it flying like a child throwing their rag doll.

The moment he landed, Desmond felt dazed. His mind was swimming as he felt his body was light. He couldn't control his actions, yet he could see the Froabas moving closer and closer to him.

move.

The Honey Badger's front legs tried to pull itself up, however it was unable to as they slipped.

Move.

As the Froabas moved closer, the Honey Badger began to move their back legs. Yet, all that happened was that it's face was being forced into the dirt more.

MOVE.

The Froabas was now over the Honey Badger as it opened its mouth again. The sound of clicking began to fill the air as the Froabas was ready to incinerate the Honey Badger.

"MOVE!"

The Honey Badger leaped up. Dashing between the legs of the Froabas. As the ravenous beast on the cusp of death opened it's mouth and let out a high pitch chittering roar.

It's jaws slammed shut.

The honey badger had drawn the dragon's ire, and that had given the direstork a chance to take to the air. If the wide open sky beckoned for her to make a getaway, then it knew nothing of Edyta Laska.

Forward Desmond charged, hissing and snarling, and the froabas lashed out and sent him tumbling. In doing so, it left itself open. Edyta darted straight for its eye, but it twisted its head just on time and she flapped frantically away.

Yet, there was the honey badger once more, hurtling in at the great beast's underside. If she could've called out, "Desmond, watch out for the -" tail, she'd have done it, but he took another blow. This time, she swooped in and raked its eyes with her talons.

It roared in pain and frustration but there was Desmond yet again. This time, his efforts were met with a fireball and it seemed to put him down for the count. The dragon advanced, fixated on Edyta's ally but, so doughty was the little beast whose form he'd taken, that he twitched, and then he staggered, and then he rose.

The froabas reared back, its throat letting out a horrible clicking as it prepared to incinerate the little badger. In doing so, it left itself wide open. Edyta gathered her speed, braced her neck and, at the very same moment that Desmond surged forward, slipping beneath the beast, she plunged her needlelike beak into its rippling neck. It roared and staggered and then Desmond struck.

Taken from both sides, the dragon cried out in agony. It thrashed and wailed and its eyes bulged in pain. Desmond emerged from its underside, a bloody mess in his maw. The beast struggled in panic, bleeding profusely from two separate horrific wounds, and the decision was a simple one: pursue and finish it off or let it flee.

Desmond looked to the Direstork and chittered to it, he tried to tell Laska, 'Good job'.

He then turned to the injured dragon running away. He had a thought for a moment, they should leave it, however, it will attract the attention of other people. They could use this situation to their advantage, as Desmond began to march forward the only way a badger would be able to. One leg in front of the other, high steps, while making happy chittering noises for some reason.

Ready to either finish off the dragon or try and get out of a terrible situation.

The bird regarded him and squawked, having just dug her beak out of the beast's neck. It was... frustrating not having use of abilities that she normally took for granted. The honey badger trotted forward quite... jauntily, and she found herself bounding after him. One never left a defeated enemy alive if that enemy was truly an enemy, after all, and she found herself wondering if the dragon could act as a shield for she and Desmond.

They had been moving for not more than a minute or two, stalking the wounded beast, when the barking of dogs interrupted what they were doing: hunters! Figuring that flying might be of use, Edyta quickly took to the sky and, not a moment later, she sighted the intruders: A pair of humans - one man and one woman - rushing forward, rifles drawn.

The crack of a rifle split the air and the dragon roared. Frantically, it began to flap, rising unsteadily into the sky. A second shot rang out, barely missing it. The dogs dashed forward, in its general direction, but they could not fly. She circled a bit out of the action, recognizing herself and Desmond as secondary targets. Indeed, one of the three dogs seemed to be sniffing in his direction now that it had lost the dragon. It limped through the sky, its chest and flank covered in blood, one of its wings struggling. She almost felt bad, but it had tried to kill her. Such is as Eshiran wills it.

Down below, The hunters had paused and were taking aim once again. Their rifles didn't seem to be pointing at her or Desmond, but then one of the dogs let out a low 'woof' in his direction Be smart, Desmond. Have a plan! The hunters were speaking Kerreman before going quiet, about to fire. How could she show these people that she was human and not some beast to just be slain? What could tell them?

Desmond saw this as a chance. There were 2 people, multiple dogs, so he couldn't act foolish. This was the time for action. He knew what he had to do when he heard them began to speak and knew they were from Kerremand.

Desmond began to rock back onto his hind legs and began to balance himself. He held his hands high, and began to sway his body. He began to sway and move his arms up and down. As he began to try and sing an old Kerremand marching song that he remembered from the Huulendam - Kerremand war.

The sounds being made, were...accurate...enough. Those who would know the song would have a solid recognition of the song, Desmond hoped. The song was named Ericha, it was a song about missing ones home, and their lover.

With the chittering and chirping that a Badger would make, few people would be able to know that he was in fact trying to sing.

Just before firing, the hunters shifted their rifles at the sound of a decent-sized animal drawing near and a dog raced towards Desmond snarling and yowling.

Then, he began dancing and... well, the dog certainly didn't know what to make of it. It continued woofing, confused, and half-circled, not approaching any closer at what it must have considered some sort of odd threat display.

The barking was making it difficult for the hunters to understand the honey badger's intentions, exacerbated by its less-than-stellar singing. The two of them glanced at each other for a moment as if to ask, "should we just shoot it?"

Then, blessedly, the dog seemed to nearly swallow its own tongue in its overexuberant barking and this provided a blessed pause just as Desmond hit the chorus. "Hey Fritz!" exclaimed the woman, "I think it's singing -"

"Erika!" he cut in. She glanced at him. "Yes?"

"Not you, dummkopf! The song!"

"Oh, yes, that was the name!"

"Well that's weird," Fritz remarked. "He doesn't have that hellish aura that the damned animals usually do."

"But he's clearly a human, or was," she countered, "And likely a countryman."

Fritz pursed his lips. "I think he sings with an accent."

"Truly, Fritz?"

"Yes, a Honey Badger accent. Quite distinct," he remarked.

Erika cracked up. "Luci, Max!" she shouted, and the dogs turned.

"Großmaul!" added the other, and the final dog backed off a bit, still barking discontentedly.

"Why don't you leave our little friend here alone," Erika decided, "He's quite the intriguing mystery."

"Oh, you can stop dancing now," Fritz added, "unless you like it."

It was at about that moment, above them, that a direstork swooped in on the wounded dragon and tore clean through its already-flagging wing. The beast began to plummet and the hunters and dogs all turned their attention to the scene, raising their rifles and hackles once more.

Desmond saw that the two hunters began to lower their rifles and even talked to him. Desmond finally fell to all fours again and let out a sigh, a slightly chittered sigh, yet a sigh nonetheless.

He looked to the two hunters, he was about to try and communicate, yet was then halted by the sudden sound of a large crash. he turned to see the dragon had been taken down. And seeing Laska. He began to call to her, standing on his hind legs again as he began to wave his hands to signal for her.

"Scheiße!" called Erika.

"Mein Eschi..." murmured Fritz.

Then, the Honey Badger got the Direstork's attention. She flapped her wings a couple of times and hovered above the group. The dragon crashed to the ground, mortally wounded, and the dogs leapt upon it to finish it off. There was every chance that it had once been a person.

"Fritz," began Erika.

"Mhm?"

"They're both people-animals, right?"

He scowled, considering. "They must be, but there's no hellish aura."

Erika nibbled her lower lip, lowering her gun. "I think we should tell Manfred about this."

"Where is that upturned-mustache cat weirdo anyhow?"

"Last I saw, he was playing with a rat," she remarked.

"Hah! How fitting."

"Perhaps these two have come for him."

Fritz seemed to consider. "He hasn't been around for all that long I suppose, so it's possible."

"Do you think that rat was -" Erika began, and Fritz shook his head. "No way of knowing until we meet back up with him."

Edyta alighted close to the group but not so close as to alarm the dogs. "You two!" called Fritz, "follow us. We're headed to the colosseum. We'll see if we can get you sorted there."

Then, in the distance, hurrying over a hill, came - well, it was not just some random man named Manfred, but the one they'd actually known in Ersand'Enise. He had a guupguup in his hand. It was bracing itself against the wind, its little whiskers fluttering, its fur ruffling.

"Manny!" called Erika. "Is that another human-animal?"

"It is!" he called back, "and I know him, luck of all luck!"

"Does he have the usual aura?" shouted Fritz, but Manfred was a good deal closer. He arched an eyebrow. "Yes. Why?"

Desmond tried to call to Laska, yet still found it difficult to even try and produce a word. He wanted to ask if she was alright, yet he had to be well enough with seeing she seemed uninjured. Desmond then shook his head and began to turn to their new 'friends' Erika and Fritz. Desmond's ears peaked up for a moment when he heard the name Manfred, yet he didn't get his hopes up.

A Manfred who likes cats with a mustache? That could be the one he remembered, yet, this was the land of the dead. Everyone who had ever died could be here. Those similarities could just be a fluke. Right?

Desmond perked his head up and turned to Fritz when he spoke of them heading to the colosseum. The Honey Badger nodded and chirped and followed.

They had not moved very far however when they found Manfred. Desmond's ears launched up as he began to run forward. Chirping and squealing.

Was it a sign of aggression? For a Honey Badger? Probably. But for Desmond, it was happy. Desmond had nothing but fond memories of Manfred. And a feeling of loneliness since the last missions they were sent on by the school. He had lost countless friends. Many he had only made goodbyes to them at the school and never saw them again. People he would never see. Many, he couldn't even imagine what happened.

Friends, who he would never know what was their last wishes. Their last moments. He could not do a single thing to help them. All that he could do. Was cry for them.

And now here. Desmond ran forward and tried to jump to his hind legs to hold onto Manfred's leg. Chirping and chittering happy noises.

The usual aura? What the hells did that even mean? It sounded like it was bad news for him and all he wanted to do was crawl into himself and hide but he knew nothing of the sort was possible right now. It was then that he noticed two other animals. A racoon-ish animal? . . . and a stork!

He leaned over the hunter's fingers to witness the Honey badger hug Manfred's leg. Is this another person he knows?

Fiske's sight returned to look up to Manfred's head.

Friends?

"Oh, because ours didn't," Fritz answered.

"One dances and sings," Erika contributed cheerily. "The other is a bird that kills dragons."

"I think they killed the dragon together," Fritz amended. "Our avian friend was just at it longer. The badger had song in his soul and had to -"

It was at about that point that Badger-Desmond began his cheerful flight towards Manfred. The Kerreman's eyes widened in alarm, but he knew enough about the species to tell that this wasn't an attack. Fritz was right, as well. There was no hellish aura. Then, the animal started... humping his leg!? "Agh!" he shouted. "I know you're excited, but -"

Well, he wasn't humping it, per se. Perhaps Manfred was a bit to familiar with the antics of a different Fritz: his dog. He tried to keep his hand steady, lest Rat-Fiske fall out.

"Whoa!" he called, "Whoa there! Who are you?"

"We've no idea who they are either," continued Erika. "They're far too smart to be animals or creations, but they don't have the aura of damned souls."

Manfred arched an eyebrow, glancing down at Desmond and over at the stork, who seemed far more reserved. "Well, I know that this little fellow is a rather unfortunate relation of someone I knew in the living days." He held the rat on his palm out for all to see. "His name's Fiske. That familiar to either of you?"

The direstork went still for a moment. She blinked. Then, she took a few rapid steps toward Manfred and, particularly, the guupguup named Fiske.

Desmond looked to Manfred and the others. He listened to how they spoke. Damned auras, neither him nor Laska had one, which meant they were sent here somehow, yet they were not damned. Good that makes things easier

Yet the one in Manfred's hand did. He too seemed to hold intelligence, yet he had an aura. Which meant he had died and was now punished to be here. Something that makes sens. Yet what didn't make sense was when Manfred then referred to the damned soul he found as Fiske.

Desmond's eyes widened as he allowed himself to step back. His mind raced for a moment as he processed that thought. He couldn't make sense of it. Fiske died. Then thoughts began to seep in.

It happened again. Another one died. Fiske was here. How? Why?

Coincidence.

That's what Desmond wanted to believe. Just a coincidence. Desmond breathed in as he steadied himself.

It's a coincidence.

It had to be.

No.

Too many things are lined up. A coincidence now is impossible.

That had to be the Fiske he knew. Maybe.

Desmond look to Manfred and nodded as he was going to use this time to try and figure out a way to make sounds that sound like words. Desmond tried to squeak out in a certain way to say, friend.

Edyta Laska stalked right up through the middle, ready to go on a diatribe. Indeed, she spoke, but not a soul understood what she said, and it was just as well. "If that's Fiske, I sympathize that Lady Eshiran has called him here," she began, "He did not strike me as outright evil." She tilted her avian head to look up at Manfred gravely, taking Desmond in as well. "However, this is a damned soul. Does that mean nothing to any of you!?" She shook her head. "This is not the sort we should be working with!" She swallowed, her large beak clapping open and shut as she did so. "We are here to rescue Tommy and..." She trailed off, perhaps recognizing her own hypocrisy. Thankfully for the direstork, nobody had understood anything she had said - merely noting that she had become rather animated.

Manfred, meanwhile, strained to understand what Desmond had said. He pursed his lips. "Mein freund," he remarked, pained, "I don't understand a word you're saying." He paused. "I know, you, don't I... is there any other sign you could give?"

It was at about that point that Edyta raised her wings, first bringing them together as if in prayer and then holding them over her head in crude imitation of a nun's habit. She held them out like sickles and slashed them about.

He could actually understand them? Who else do I even know that was damned?

He squeaked in return to the other. whilst casting a name he thought it could be Silas? It can't be Niallus, right? Maybe it was the other Eskandish dork. Fiske just looked at the other. Sven? He stared back at Manfred then back to the honey badger, than to the Stork. . . who made him feel somewhat uneasy. He turned to the Honey Badger with a rather scared look. They He pointed to the Stork. Friend?

Desmond looked to Fiske, he realized that he can understand him. Desmond nodded his head as he gestured to Laska and said, "Friend!"

Desmond gestured to the large stork again as he squeaked out, "Nun. Laska".

He then tried to stand on his hind legs. He balanced as he put his hands to his chest to gesture to himself and squeaked out, "Me. Desmond".

Fiske flinched at the mention of the nun. "Nun?! Here?" His squeaks sounded rather panicked. If he remembered she wasn't from one of the fun orders like the Hundrians. . .

"Desmond!" It was then that his squeaks became filled with joy, before sadness kicked in once more. ["You. Dead. Too?"

He looked rather hesitant. "Me. Tell. Manfred?" Fiske wanted to ask since a person's name holds a lot of weight.

Manfred started, glancing at Erika and Fritz. "You're a nun!" exclaimed the former. "Ah, yes, my sister was a nun," Fritz added. "Liesl, is that you?"

Edyta shook her head and crossed her wings in an x-shape. She tilted her head, regarding Manfred steadily as Fiske and Desmond chittered and chirped at each other in excited tones. "Mein Gott!" the magusjaeger exclaimed, "You're Sister Laska!" He shook his head in disbelief. "How on Oraff's green Sagand did you get here!?" He twisted to regard Desmond. "And you..." He considered. "Not Marci, right?" He glanced down at Fiske as well, who'd mentioned Marci. "Not Dory!?" He'd said she was in trouble. Perhaps this was part of it!

Desmond shook his had, "Not. Dead".

He then nodded his head to allow Fiske to give Manfred his name.

Fiske looked quickly regarded Manfred to make him feel more at ease. He shook his head before casting words. Not. Them. A little annoyed feeling boiled up as he could do nothing more than what some would consider parlor tricks... Even if others would refer to his illusions as mere parlor tricks they were not the same.

Manfred considered for an extended moment. "Desmond!" he exclaimed. "Desmond! It has to be!" He shook his head. "You're the only motherfucker I know who's crazy enough to go to hell without dying!" He paused. "You're not dead, right?" He glanced at Erika and Fritz. "Is that even possible?"

Desmond began to laugh. He nodded as he jumped up and down to confirm, not only is he Desmond, but he's not dead.

The little rat only looked more confused. How can someone willingly think of becoming the Heavensent's prey...?

"Why. Here?" Fiske asked. Nobody would have even noticed his death so it can't be for him. But he wouldn't know who else they would grab. "For. Manfred?"

Desmond shook his head as he gestured to Laska, "No. Laska".

Desmond then gestured to the colosseum to refference Eshiran, "Sent. Save. Tommy".

"Right."

The boy knew that he was already one of the damned. Perhaps he would given a nicer animal form after being helpful for one of his only friends left.

"Me. Help." He stood rather proud. his little furry chest puffed up.

"Desmond, ol' buddy. Holy shit. Count on you to do somethign like this, but why!?"

Meanwhile, the Kerreman pair looked at each other. "I've heard of it," Fritz admitted, "but I don't know for sure." He looked Erika's way. While he'd been in heaven for perhaps a few decades, she'd been here for well over a century, perhaps even two. She smiled at the display, perhaps with a hint of wistfulness, and nodded, dropping her unserious demeanor from earlier. "I've only seen it a couple of times, but it's possible." She shouldered her rifle and started to turn. "A sort of backdoor into this heaven, or even a hell."

"Well, are they stuck as animals for as long as they're here?" Manfred prodded, glancing at Desmond. "Or longer? I mean... they can't be, right?"

Fritz shook his head helplessly and Erika paused. "I... think there's a way, but I don't know it for sure," she admitted. There was something about the honey badger. It was as if she was being ever so slightly pulled in his direction when she was close to him, almost.... magnetically, but it couldn't be. She shook her head. "We should get to the colosseum. I think I know who we can talk to."

Desmond turned to the conversation being had. It sounded as if they had a thought that could work. Among anything, it was something to go on. Desmond nodded to them as he squeaked out once more in both excitement, and also preparedness.

He turned to Fiske as he said, "Let. Go".

Before turning to Laska and trying to give a honey badger thumbs up. Their plan worked.

Whatever it was from the beginning.

"I'll stay behind and deal with this carcass," offered Fritz, and he and Manfred exchanged a handshake and half-hug combo that ended in a couple of backslaps. "Holy shit. Desmond." He shook his head. "Get over here and hitch a ride on my back. You're looking even shorter than usual," he teased.

The direstork seemed to arch an eyebrow, if such a thing was possible. "What?" Manfred rejoined. "You have wings, Sister. Use them."

Erika smiled and shook her head. "What if someone else wants to bag himself a direstork?" she queried. Still, she felt a pull towards the man-turned-badger. She knew what it meant, but she couldn't figure out how.

In any case, they set off, Fiske's proud little chest puffed out, his fur ruffling in the wind. They set out for the Colosseum and, hopefully, a solution to their multiple dilemmas.

The Hourglass Order

Beach Side 'Work'

---

---

The moment Marz had made it to shore and built the sand bunker wall, he sat behind it as he saw everyone else begin to set to work. Marz took the moment to rest as he began to check if he had everything on him. He had his clothing, his armor, his tools, his hammer. Marz nodded to himself as he began to unstrap his bag from his back. It was a mostly sealed bag, there were however some places water could get in.

And sadly it did.

Marz began to empty out his bag to see that water had filled it completely. He saw his multiple bottles were sealed tightly enough that water seemed not to leak in. Yet his other items seemed not so fortunate, his extra clothing, papers, calligraphy tools, and even the spare food he brought were all drenched in the salty brine of the sea. Marz took in a breath and then cursed something foul.

He never liked the water. He tolerated it at best. Yet he was plunged directly into it and got all of his nice things wet.

He began to shake his head and gathered his things. He bound the sand together with binding and magnetic magic to form a solid almost rock-like surface as he used it as a place to begin to dry them with arcane and chemical magic. He began to target the water molecules on the outside of his things and began to evaporate them quickly. After this, he began to create a bone-dry surface that would absorb the water from the things to dry them more quickly. Once finished he stood up and began to look around. Which leads to him finding the strange boats. They were simple in make and nature. A product of their environment and use Marz could tell. With even the cannons being hastily and haphazardly placed upon them, these were boarding vessels by nature. Yet from the cannons' mountings, it must mean that they are preparing to fight what seems to be the interlopers of the sea here.

It was not long from this time Marz, much like the rest of the group, was met with the locals. Mahal was the first to find them, and they seemed well enough. From what Marz understood, some were to be guided to meet with their leader. While those who wish to build what Maura brought, should do so from beyond the tree line. Marz nodded his head, "Fair enough". Marz began to collect his things as the locals seemed nonhostile, he would prefer not to have to fight them. It was not why he was here, and he'd prefer to do what he needed for the job and nothing more.

Once Marz retrieved his things, he returned to the boxes Maura brought and was greeted to...no one.

Everyone else seemed to have run off to interact with the locals and left him with the task of building what Maura brought.

All on his own.

"Gurg Lagh'e", left Marz's mouth with such vitriol, that even if no one knew what he said, they knew what he meant.

---

---

After Marz had spent the better part of his time building the strange contraption that Maura brought, he wasn't quite finished with the work. The beast must have been broken down in such strange ways to allow it to be transported in crates that Marz was essentially rebuilding it from the ground up. Magic may have been the greatest gift the gods have given to crafters, yet it did not make the process any less tedious.

Marz was somewhere near half of the monstrous contraption being rebuilt when he was fed up. He kicked a rock hard enough to launch it through one of the metal sheets before he dropped to the ground with a loud thud. He had sat down and began to look off in the distance, there he could see toward the encampment and see the bonfire, some laughter could be heard as Marz took up his bag.

Marz began to walk out of the treeline where multiple of the men around the campfire took notice. They looked to him as if scanning Marz, many assumed he would have been off doing gods knows what. Yet there stood a man, whom many assumed was easily twice their senior based upon Marz's facial hair, some gave a little respect, while others did not care. An older man, who had a beard much as magnificent as Marz's own, gestured for him to come over.

"What want?", the man's words were choppy, his voice was low and rough, yet even in a normal conversation, seemed to bellow out with such power that it reverberated in the chest.

Marz opened up his bag, pulling out a clay bottle, "Make friend?" A silent look was shared between the two. The man asked with a raised eyebrow, "Fire Water?"

Marz's smile grew large as he nodded and said, "Hotter than sun".

The two bearded men looked at each other, smiling wide as they said, "Friend".

---

---

There now stood a gathering of over 30 men dancing around a large roaring fire. Each one flushed with loose swaying and speaking with slow and slurred voices. Marz had brought out one clay bottle as the first to take a drink was Marz's new friend. Even though the man stood a solid 6 feet and had a gut as wide as a sail, the moment he took a single swig of the drink, it was over. The man's eyes bulged, his nostrils flared open, and his eyes began to water. He took it down, however, it burned so much it felt like drinking boiling water. He coughed for a good few moments, as multiple of the men stood up, thinking Marz had just poisoned him. Yet a moment later the man bellowed out such a hearty laugh that it shook multiple people from their makeshift seats.

He stood up and slapped Marz in the back so hard it sounded like a drum just sounded. He began to laugh as he walked over and began passing the drink around to the others. Another man walked over to Marz, somewhat of a younger man, however, he adorns himself somewhat differently from the others. He seemed to be covered in multiple large tattoos, and carried on his hip a blade, unlike the others around him, which many carried different yet much less intensive weapons to make. Very little metal seemed to be used, so the single blade on his hip must have been important. The man spoke more softly than the loud and almost roaring men who surrounded the fire, yet he had his own presence, as he spoke with a little better Avincian, yet it was possible in this situation, "Hello, I am, Kai, Pa'aori".

The man seemed somewhat happy to see he is able to speak with someone who could speak Avincian. Marz answered while inspecting him more, "I am Marz-", Marz began to hear around him the sounds of people talking about them, he heard multiple of them say the same thing, Pa'aori. Marz assumed it was some kind of title rather than just some piece of a greeting. "Grand Smith".

kai's face lit up as he heard the word grand. Marz took it as he knew what the word meant but not the full context of the word yet it must have been some kind of significant meaning. Kai nodded vigorously, "I, am grand, gifted". Kai continued to nod, very proud of both his speaking and his status as 'grand gifted'. Marz takes this as him being able to use magic, and must be filling some kind of spiritual role as a person able to use magic to a greater degree than others through either some rite or training.

Marz nodded as he pulled out another bottle, "Pa'aori, drink?" Marz offered to Kai as a gesture of good faith. Kai waved his hand in front of him to decline, "No, no drink. Fight. No drink". Kai declined in a way that made Marz find to be somewhat loose. Kai must be a good Pa'aori, yet Marz had other ideas, as he spoke in a somewhat saddened voice, "No friend?"

Kai waved his hands in front of him now flustered as he tried to right what happened, "No. No. No Friend. I mean. No-". Kai began to stutter as he seemed to stutter and flutter as he realized that he wasn't saying the right things. It was then a loud bellowing laugh came from behind Marz, "Pa'aori, no friend?". Kai continued to get more flustered as they two began to speak and exchange in a conversation. Marz could not tell what was being spoken, however from what Marz saw the giant of a man had a smile as wide as the sea as he flustered Kai more and more.

It was then both bearded men spoke in unison, a shadow almost casting over their faces as all that could be seen was their smiles, "Friend?".

Kai looked at the bottle, he knew he shouldn't. They shouldn't be drinking, not before a fight. However, this was out of diplomacy's sake, right? Just one drink was okay.

Right?

---

---

There standing on top of multiple trees, on a platform was made using wood, and the leaves were hardened and bound by magic to make a platform, Kai. His face is completely red and flushed, covered by a wooden mask that Marz made from some of the wood using his 'Grand Smithing'. He stood above a crowd of over 60 men as he stepped forward and roared with such a voice that it could almost be mistaken for cannon fire. He slapped his chest as he began to chant and stamp as many of the men below him began to follow in unison. They yelled sloppily, yet loudly and with enough power to feel the sand beneath their feet shake and shift.

It seemed as if he was performing some kind of grand ceremony. Many chanted on, maybe something like a war dance. Or possibly a giant shared drunken moment that will live long into memory as it will go down in infamy why you do not take a drink from a short bearded child. In any case, Marz joined in, yet soon was picked up by some of the other men as they began to parade him around, calling him by some title, Ahi'pu.

The chanting and roaring continued as Marz supplied them with strong enough booze to kill a dragon.

And they drank it up like a beggar sitting next to a forge.

The Hourglass Order

---

---

Hunters and Hunted

---

---

Desmond Catulus

---

---

Desmond's eyes opened, he took a breath in, and found himself...digging through...bramble?!

Desmond subconsciously began to wince in pain, yet he found as he moved twisted in the bramble, if felt...good? It felt like it scratched just hard enough to itch the back, yet not hard enough to hurt. Desmond was curious, he began to rummage through the bramble, seeing what was within, yet before he could even reach in, he noticed something, his hand was different. He had a paw with extended claws, he turned his hands to him to see he had foot pads, with fur of black, and as he looked higher up his arm some white. Desmond began to rub his hands into the bramble, it didn't hurt, not even when he leaned into it, well, it did hurt, it just felt as if he didn't care.

Desmond then sensed something, a very powerful smell, he twisted his body to see a massive Direstork just a ways away. He tilted his head as he made his way over, every now and again pawing at the ground to see if the bird would respond, yet it looked to him. Desmond sighed, 'This had to be Eshiran's Eternal Hunt, and we were sent here as prey'. Laska forming as a giant bird was quite funny to him. 'Her big beak matching her big mouth', Desmond chuckled to himself.

Desmond began to cast his sight about, into the great wonders this world was. Great seas of green, winding rivers and deep valleys, comfortable hunting lodges, and in the very distance, a coliseum. Desmond pondered for a moment, 'Where to go? Hm, we might be trying to reach the coliseum, that, had to be where we had fully reached heaven'

Desmond nodded to himself before his ears picked up the snap of a gunshot. Multiple began to ring out as that confirmed it, this was the Eternal hunt, and they were in prey. Desmond gritted his teeth, it would be easy to fight if they were other animals, yet they were a Direstork, a large bird no doubt, yet it was not a beast who was intimidating, and a Honey badger. As a Honey badger, they can be fierce, yet being the size of a small child didn't do any favors.

Desmond began to look around, they needed to survive, and hopefully find a way to get a more appropriate physical form.

Desmond the Honey badger turned to Edyta the Direstork as he made multiple reverberating whiles and squeaks, 'If we show up at a Lodge, they'll maybe think twice in shooting us', as he began to move towards one of the lodges. They needed to survive, this is the only chance they had in doing this, so they needed to do this smart. First, they needed to figure out where the shots were coming from, then they need to move to a place with more people. They may be hunters, however, if they show human signs in a place where the hunters may not fire, it could give them some way to find what they needed to do here.

The Hourglass Order

---

---

Casted Into the Deep

---

---

Marz Mohfolk

---

---

"I CAN'T SWIM!"

A loud slash was made the moment Marz hit the water as he sank beneath the waves. Marz felt himself sink deeper and deeper into the water. Marz began to look around as he realized he was only going further and further into the water. He drew in the energy of the waves as he began to propel himself up towards the light, where the moment he broke the surface he came out like a majestic beast of the sea. His long majestic hair and beard flowed as he landed back into the water.

Where he proceeded to start drowning again.

He proceeded to perform this same dance with the sea over and over again as he evaded cannon fire and figured out where the land was. Thankfully it seemed all he needed to do was follow where multiple students who began to move the large crates. Marz performed his majestic swimming all the way towards the beach, whereupon launching himself out of the water one more time, he flew for a moment and landed with all the grace a rock being spiked into the sand would.

Marz began coughing up water as he looked around, "So, how was my swimming?"

Marz began to stand up as he used kinetic and magnetic magic to pull the water off his body. Once Marz made sure he was fine he began to intertwine his magics to begin pulling sand and water together to create a mound of sand, thick and large to give them some haven if the cannon fire was to turn on them.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Scrapyard Brawl

---

---

The Phoenix Hawk was scorched and burned, the once white and gray paint that covered the machine was now marked with black scorch marks on the back and across the armor. The machine whined and groaned as it had been put through much punishment that it was not ready to forget. Yet it carried on, finally into warmer pastures as the scrapyard that the Green Knights had taken up to be their base of operations was now in sight. Even though it was ram shack in comparison to the many more illustrious places the Green Knights had found themselves in before this entire endeavor. There was a faint feeling of comfort from it, at least it was not in some dark cave that could barely keep the heat in.

As the Phoenix Hawk finally moved into the scrapyard, the great machine seemed to sigh as it began to lean back into its' bay. the great machine almost looked to have slumped down once the reactor was shut down. The cool air began to warm quickly around the machine as it seemed to release all the stress it had accumulated within the past day. The man within the machine let out a sigh as he adjusted his helmet and began to gather his things before leaving the great machine.

Tarak took hold of his bag as he began to pass it through the hole where another person stood to take hold of it and pull it out before assisting Tarak with his own exit. His size has been an issue in several machines, often many had to be modified to fit him, and the Phoenix Hawk was no exception. Tarak shimmied his arm and shoulder through first, then his head, then his other shoulder and arm, shifting and switching till he was able to slip out far enough to finally yank himself free.

Once out, Tarak sighed and began to head down from the scaffolding, beginning to scratch at his neck as he began answering the off question here and there as he made his way down, but kept it light. It was not until he made it to ground level the itching stopped. Tarak's eyes flashed and flickered, he felt incredibly uneasy, this never happened to him before. The itching normally required him to go to great lengths to stop if not wait for it to subside after an hour. Yet in this moment, it was gone.

Then, Tarak felt what could be described as a baseball bat slam him directly in the stomach and bring him down to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Through gritted teeth and shock, he began to yell out himself as he took to defending himself before lashing out at his assailant.

Most of the Misfits were in shock, many watched in horror as they didn't even think something like this would happen, not now, not in the middle of a mech bay.

Yet some soon began to get their head wrapped around the situation.

Many stayed out, some assuming this was some misunderstanding or that one of them deserved what was to come.

Others instead brought themselves back and were not going to let it stand.

The music blared out louder and louder making it hard to tell who was yelling, or why.