• Graded • [The Crescent Arena]The Etzori iron heel shakes the rust off

[Gangui]

Ashan 1, 717, Late-Afternoon

The iron boot that was the state’s power poised itself to severely stomp out the embers of the recent civil insurrection. Seditious peasants were rounded up to be executed as an example to the population. Regardless of the citizens duly noted dissatisfaction with the current regimes failing grip on crime, the state’s authority needed to be flexed to keep them in line with the national agenda. The utter rejection of Immortal leadership naturally lead the government to demand worship of the state instead. It was speculated amongst the elite that in perfect circumstances this devotion to the ideology of mortal superiority produced the hardiest and most innovative population. The Etorzi peoples needed to buy into this pure nationalism so they could muster a strong enough power to not only compete, but dominate on the world table.

Raising a tall wooden pillar on top of a platform, the stage was set for the State to address the Citizens. The audience gathered was comprised of farmers, peasants, merchants, artisans, and other more sinister types from the Underground. Situated just outside the towering Citadel at the Crescent Arena, the mob was unconsciously reminded of the division between the elite and themselves. Packed in tightly together, the dreary cloak of sweaty anxiety covered them all. The hum of the crowd was low and grim. Everyone knew that was about to come was going to come would bloody in deed.

Gangui

Battered and bruised from the riots and subsequent consequences left his body weak and his soul passive. The barbarian stood at the very back of the massive group of people gathered in the Crescent Arena. Leaning against a stone wall, Gangui stood with crossed arms directly in a black shadow caused by the cold illumination of the moon. Braziers and torches blazed steadily on the stage. Flickering shadows from this unnatural light enveloped the mob as they waited in solemn reflection.

Conveniently his suit of armor included a large-brimmed plate helm to cover his face from the downward gaze of the State. Taking his time to breathe deeply, the wild man couldn’t help but focus on the burns that occurred from the pressurized water magic used to disperse the riot. It did not cut him so deeply that vicious scabs would form, however even a week after the event every slight movement caused ripples of pain. By default Gangui cursed the Immortals for his plight, but deep down he knew he should have been wearing his cobalt chainmail to protect himself. The bruise on his back and arm could not be reconciled that easily though, because even now Gangui had no solution to the horrible monster that flung him across the road right into a tree.

The silence that swept over the mob drew the barbarian’s gaze towards the tunnel that lead to the Arena’s back exit. Three heavily armored individuals, three merchants, three executioners, and three prisoners exited the shadowy curtain into the fire light and walked directly to the top of the stage. Gangui had never seen such dangerous and grim individuals in his life. Frowning, he shifted his weight uncomfortably and folded his arms in discontent. Tried to squeeze a few more inches from those around him, but when he failed the armored man reluctantly moved to an area with a little more room.

The first was a man who wore ornate masterwork black armor. A foreboding, ruinous sensation amongst the crowd seemed to follow his appearance as everyone whispered frighteningly. The mighty warrior withdrew to the far end of the stage to everyone’s relief. Next up was another black knight, though less bold in appearance than the first, beneath his visored helm a vile spider sprawled upon his chestplate. The mob seemed to buzz with excitement when this man took his place near the back of the stage alongside the first. The last in the procession was someone the mob did not seem to recognize readily; he wore no helm, nor any ornate cobalt plate. Gangui immediately recognized the Etzori army insignia on his armor, however. The man’s demeanor was sturdy and frothing with anger. He stood at the front of the stage. Behind them there was a brown bearded man dressed in a green tunic, leading three other merchants. Their presence was unlike that of the armed men. While they did not inspire fear due to a lack their lack of armor, they appeared more stately and noble. . Gangui didn’t like the look of them, regardless. The prisoners looked rather healthy, even chained up by three foreboding executioners.

The stage was set and the assembled group stood among the brazier light in plain sight for everyone in the crowd to see.

Shield Arm Tailog

Tailog took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Addressing the citizens of Etzos was not a position he usually found himself in. Selected directly by Marshall Royce to address the citizens, Tailog had little choice in the matter. Despite the coolness of the first day of Ashan, a single bead of sweat clumped up on the man’s brow. ...I’d almost rather be freezing my ass off on the Rharkorian campaign front right now…, he mused.

Glancing at the two dark marshals who stood behind him, he accepted their silent order to begin to spectacle, “Hear ye! Hear ye!” His rumbling voice echoed across the merchant’s plaza, bringing the buzzing voices of the crowd to a complete halt. Surprising relief washed over the Shield Arm when he realized he wouldn’t have to fight for the attention of the gathered horde of citizens.

“Bring them forward!” Tailog barked whilst pointing his finger towards the exit tunnel in an overly dramatic sweep of his arm. Slowly they waited as three prisoners were dragged to the front of the stage a long, slow procession. The sounds of their chains reverberated in the arena.

Tailog had never fulfilled the role of judge, but Marshall Royce thought he had it in him. As a man of the battlefield and not of the bench, Tailog naturally hesitated at the idea of proclaiming condemnation over any citizen of Etzos. To make matters worse, Tailog knew that the men being executed were innocent. A sickening feeling in his stomach made him feel as if he had been poisoned. He knew that the investigations into the riot had turned up nothing at all and these men were simply unlucky scapegoats; their blood was necessary to display a definitive end to the riot in the collective mind of the people. It was meant to remind them who truly held the power. Even if the actual root of the problem was not solved yet, the people needed to be sedated. Tailog understood all this, but his heart strings still pulled; he didn’t care one way or the other, he just didn’t want to be the one with the blood on his hands.

... ‘all you got to do is repeat the script, Tailog, no more or no less’.... If it doesn’t work it’s not my fault…. Fuck you Royce, why do I gotta do this...

As executioners ceremoniously dragged the three protesting men into position, Tailog mentally went over his rehearsed lines once more before bellowing to the crowd below. Marshal Royce coughed awkwardly as a mild gesture to push the Shield Arm forward with the plan, “These three men stand accused of inciting riots and conspiracy of murder! A coalition of the citizens of Etzos -- who are represented by the Ministry of Trade, Lord Trask-- have brought these charges forth!”

Tailog felt the tinge of disgrace in his saliva with the opening statement. His voice seemed flat and stifled in the crowded auditorium. The mob began to boo at his statement. The people were obviously not happy with what was going on and didn’t believe the accusation. Nor did they feel much power in Tailog’s voice. Thorden Trask looked at Tailog with a sharp glance, telling him to get on with it.

“Hear Ye! Hear Ye, people! Lord Trask will now present his evidence!” Tailog reluctantly bellowed.

The fragile looking merchant in the ornate tunic stepped forward and addressed his audience in full confidence, "Marshall Royce. Marshall Webb. Shield Tailog... Good people of Etzos! Our investigation into the riots have proven that it was all a conspiracy! I hold with me documents written by the accused! In them these three men planned not only to kill me, but to destroy the city all in one fell swoop!" He pointed a finger of condemnation at the accused while waving a pile of parchments with the other hand. The mob gasped and booed. Their continued dissent affirmed what Tailog had already guessed - they did not buy the story. The Shield Arm didn't know that the Minister would be such a great actor, but perhaps he wasn't acting after all. The partial destruction of the business quarter would likely infuriate one in his position. Regardless, he supposed, the people couldn't tell the difference.

The whispering that ensued was quickly quieted when Trask spoke up again. "My good people! Rest assured that these documents have been cross referenced with other documents to confirm the hand-writing was indeed from these three men! I have brought two witnesses with me: all scribes from the Citadel! All men of honor who hold no ties with the merchants or artisans! They will swear to it's authenticity and swear to the words written in these documents stating a conspiracy to kill me and to destroy the existing market with a bloody riot!"

Suddenly, it clicked in Tailog's head; Trask truly thought that these men had penned the letters, especially because they seemed to be aimed at him personally. Snatching the pages out of Lord Trask's hands, Shield Arm Tailog began to scan them. The mob couldn't help but whisper amongst itself. Thoughts ran through his head in a jumbled mess and he sifted through the evidence on the parchment...Only a fool would believe these letters... well played Royce. Or was it you Webb? Who bought the scribes' testimony off? The acting judge looked up from the pages seeking silent confirmation from the Marshals, but received none. Won't tell me, eh? Of course, I'll keep playing along...

"These letters are very convincing, Lord Trask," Tailog announced, "But are these scribes willing to swear oaths on the Rule of Law?"

The scribes stepped forward and each made their vows. The docile nature of the book worms and their humble task made it impossible for any reasonable person to deny the sincerity of their oaths. By the looks of it, the crowd seemed to be convinced too. Now it was time for the show to begin. Taking a big gulp, Tailog mustered up all the courage to give the final word of judgement.

"In light of this evidence and the testimony of the witnesses, I hereby--"

Marshall Webb

Everything was going as planned, until Shield Arm Tailog began to pass judgement on the three men without giving them a chance at rebuttal. The orchestrated scene had been painstakingly tailored in order to wipe away any doubts in the minds of the people to the validity of the execution. The plan would not work unless the condemned men not only confessed to the crimes, but asked for forgiveness. Marshal Webb had been working with Vuda for the entire week in order to plan this spectacle perfectly and he was not going to let the likes of Tailog mess it up so easily. Dark, bitter thoughts filled his mind, Why they hell did Royce insist on this fool being elevated into the position of Judge? I should have been filling that role.

Stepping forward, he squeezed a gauntleted hand on Tailog's bare neck and whispered through the slit on his helm, "You are forgetting something idiot..." The Shield Arm looked at him with the glazed fear from reprisal written on his face, "Go on now, correct yourself," the echoed whispered ordered politely.

Fear was just how Webb liked it, especially in this situation. Backing off, Webb watched on as the makeshift judge addressed the mistake to the crowd. Marshal Royce offered Webb no response for his underling’s mistake. Snarling under his plate helm, Webb held off his anger momentarily with plans to pull Royce aside later. Turning his gaze upon Royce’s man, Webb used his discipline to quench his anger. This shield arm is not ready for a role in politics... look at his hesitation, blast you Royce! Luckily for you, you didn't have to bet Tailog on anything real, the Etzori plebians are fools... look they are buying it completely, even the awkward mistake... now get them to confess, that is the key Tailog, that is where you earn your place among the elite That's how you win this engagement soldier.

To Webb’s amazement, the prisoners flung themselves at Tailog's feet groveling for mercy. They moaned and whinnied in a manner that seemed overly dramatic. The reaction of the prisoners seemed half hearted, as if they were assured life if they played a specific role. Webb could not readily decipher who planted this seed, but it was a surprising one indeed. He knew about the forged letters, but not the prisoners; men of the Underground no doubt. There is no need to entice the prisoners to put on such a show. Who are these men? Blast you Royce, is this your doing as well? Who is dying for the peasant’s crime? Damn it I should have looked into this...

Marshal Royce

The event was going splendidly in the eyes of the esteemed Marshal Royce. It took a lot of self control to stifle his knee jerk reaction to guffaw at every passing moment. At least the smile of excitement could be let loose due to being hidden by the helm. The execution scene was meant to be one of ominous fear mongering, but Royce could not play that role; this would in fact be the first time ever his torturing skills would be put on public display. This was an opportunity that fed the man’s ego greatly and one opportunity that he would not allow himself to miss.

Royce had played his pieces as best as he could to line up the event in his favor. He ensured with coin that his man Tailog was selected as judge so that he had political cover if any backlash to his actions occurred. The incriminating letters were obvious, however like his peer Webb, Royce too had not expected the prisoners to grovel, that was not the proper role for them to play at all. This would make the Eztori state look merciless, plus true rebels would not give up on their cause so easily. This would instead make them look like martyrs.

Webb, you little bitch, I knew you couldn’t handle a true patriot in your midst… You did this… You set up these blasted prisoners, now you make me look foul in the people’s eyes-- big mistake-- no matter, I’ll make their deaths extra painful just so you know…

Marshal Royce stared on as the prisoners now began to grovel towards the crowd admitting their guilt and apologizing to the people for their actions. Now, this is out of hand! Turning his head towards Tailog, he clenched a fist and waved it curtly. Finish it!

Tailog got the cue and waved for the guards to shut the prisoners up. He proceeded to immediately proclaimed their judgement, “There is no room in Eztos for rebellion! I hereby sentence you to no less than one-hour of torture until death! Let justice be served immediately!”

Though ever so slightly rattled, this played well into Royce’s favor as when he removed his helm a disgruntled look was on his face. Stepping forward he barked instructions to his helpers and began to lay out the instruments of torture on the table that was set before them.

127 Bits later

Each prisoner was hung adjacent to each other on a wooden tree trunk that had been fashioned into a pillar. They dangled by their arms, bound by cords. The truly grotesque manner in which the State executed these men would go down in the history books. They announced each punishment with despicable names, if only to ingrain them into the thoughts of the peasants.

The first heinous act was the “Etzori Tickle”. A iron rod was brought to white hot temperatures and used to burn the armpit’s of the condemned men. Sizzling flesh popped and smoked upwards, mixed with the cries of the doomed men. The smell drifted through the whole arena, causing some of the onlookers to cough and turn away. They also dragged the hot iron from the armpit all the way down the sides to their feet. It was an ingenious method, because as it burned it also cauterized the wounds. The flesh bubbled and scarred into what could only be described as mutated meat.

As if this was not enough, the next heinous act was dubbed “Displaying a traitor’s true self”. Slicing down the center of their stomach, the executioners slowly peeled away the skin from the ribcage in an agonizingly slow pace. Blood began to be lost in this process, but Marshall Royce was incredibly talented enough to only allow for minimal loss. Part of this assurance, the executioners broke their legs to concentrate the blood towards the bottom of their bodies.

Smelling salts were applied to keep the men awake, but sometimes these methods took time. If they passed out the time would stopped. The State truly intended for them to experience an hour of torture before death. It took nearly two breaks for the entirety of their punishment to be served.

Last, but certainly not least, they performed the “Traitor’s passage into the afterlife”. Despite the population’s inert fascination with vicariously seeing the execution, there was only so much they could handle. Using a very sharp knife and a strange vice device, the hanging men were castrated and disemboweled in a uniquely Etzori fashion. The three men died shortly after the excruciating action.

The crowd was flabbergasted, disgusted, entertained, and fearful all at once. This final torture caused most of the citizens to attempt their leave from the scene, however soldiers blocked their passage away. Something was coming up after the execution that the State wanted everyone to see...

OOC Note

Open to all, except those who intend to interrupt the execution ceremony. (And no it is not over yet) This is more of a exposition thread, but my character would like to discuss the events afterwards if anyone else decides to stick around until the end. Thanks for reading.

[Gangui]

High Marshal Brogen Pahrn

Waiting in the dark tunnel was relaxing and meditative for the warrior chief; the screaming from the other side of the threshold was the humming buzz that bolstered and calmed Pahrn’s soul. The foundations of Liberty will be made with the blood of men and Immortals... His grandfather had once uttered the famous words which had been copied and passed down so that he too could understand their meaning. Copious amounts of slippery wet blood leaked off the wooden stage and into the tunnel only to stop at Brogen’s feet. The High Marshal spat on the red liquid in ignorance, before turning his gaze to the words carved into the stone beam that marked the threshold into the arena.

“Otrah Nyi S’Tskar,” Pahrn repeated Ith'ession phrase outloud, “Only The Strong!” The inscription had been carved into the stone long before he was born. The engraving was worn thin from the ceremonial tapping of steel and bone on the threshold before gladiators entered the arena. Meditating on the thought in quiet stillness, he barely noticed as the blood began to envelop his feet.

Closing his eyes, Pahrn prepared himself. Thankfully all the details for the spectacle were taken care of by Vuda, so all Brogen needed to think about was his speech to the people. For the last two arcs Pahrn had been preparing for this moment. The words that he uttered would serve as much needed motivation for the common citizen, whom had not been reminded of their traditions for far too long. A wave of anguish swept over him at the thought of the Etzori people; they were fierce and strong, but would they ever understand the underlying reasoning and goals of the state? Brogen Pahrn had always been taught that the difference between those whom were cultured and those who were not was the consciousness over why the collective group acted the way they did. The mental understanding of this facts and the logical philosophy of the Etzorsi systems is what separated the elite from the people. Pahrn would not simply dismiss his people based on their sheer vulgarity either, because he knew that despite their lack of nuanced understanding they all still cried for justice from the Immortals and liberty from their grasp. However, Pahrn and his peers believed it impossible to fully teach the mob of these things in an extremely detailed manner. It was their duty as leaders to “gently” push the masses in the direction they wanted to see them grow. Brogen had learned to become hard and strong in these situations. Vuda had explained to him that Kings could not be good all the time, lest the folly of evil completely overrun such naive ideals.

Thus, the nobles of the state contrived such an execution. To Pahrn this was more than just the duty of the elite to keep the population focused and in line, nay, It was their cosmic calling to destroy the powers of the Immortals; the Etzorsi noble called it the “original hope”, in reference to the founding rhetoric and doctrine of the state. Whatever Pahrn had to say in his speech, he needed the people to be reminded, albeit in their own crude ways, of the divine mission of the state. Simply put he needed to spark a nationalistic fire and the first step was with this speech.

Three brass trumpets blazed a heralding cry in the arena, queuing Pahrn that the execution was all done and that it was time to address the citizens. Slapping the engraving with two gauntleted hands as the tradition had it, Brogen emerged from the dark onto the wooden stage. All eyes were on him as he stepped front and center of the antsy crowd of citizens. A grim look enveloped his face as he positioned himself with a confident, commanding aura. Otrah Nyi S’tskar! He reminded himself as he took a deep breath.

“Good peoples of Etzos!” Brogen announced in a loud, clear voice like the Saun sun, “Let us all take a moment to understand what has happened here today!”

Showing genuine concern in his voice, he gestured towards the people in a big way, yet speaking in short sentences as a way for the people to feel the gravitas in his message, “Remember your principles. Unlike the rest of Idalos. It is not about loyalty to a person. No! It is not about loyalty to cult. No! Not a religion. NAY!” Anger burst out momentarily from his voice before returning to normal as he held back his rage from them, “It is all about loyalty to our principles. Because, otherwise. We are just trailing in the wake of Immortals, as hacks and pukes. And the principle...Is very, very simple... A life in Idalos without the yoke of the Immortals on us!”

The crowd cheered, but this only angered him. This was not supposed to be motivation speech. Slamming his foot on the floor, “QUIET!!” The entire arena dropped silent in less than a moment and the anger that emanated from his soul enveloped those around him.

“Under the guidance of an unknown Immortal, these conspirators tried to spark a regime change under the petty guise of righteousness. The decent, moral, intelligent, hard-working people went crazy because of this and that is NOT Etzos!”

“If you hate the fact that these Immortals are controlling our mortal word from the in-seams... you can’t just turn around and let yourself get enveloped by these paranoid rabble… I believe you are better than that… remember what our ancestors fought for, remember what they died for! We stand on the shoulders of great men and we dishonor their name with our current actions!”

Teething with anger, Brogen took a moment of respite, before the feeling entirely consumed him. Will these dumb peasants ever learn? Will these people ever understand what is at stake here!? Why the hell do I even got to say this? They will never learn, no but we will spank them and explain to them over and over like children regardless.

Sudden deviancy from the plan spurted out of Brogens narrative, “From this moment onward, let it be written, that all those who perform actions against the principles of our people,” Brogan clarified, “Any rebels or conspirators against our cause... shall be publicly tortured until they admit their crimes and ask forgiveness for no less than one arc! There will be NO TOLERANCE for the Immortal agendas in our cities! THIS IS NOT MY WILL, THIS IS OUR WILL!”

Slamming his fists together Brogen stared down the entire crowd in the grim and terrible mood of mighty men. The message of the entire execution was finally being hammered into the people. Gesturing an armored hand at the exit, Brogen released some more rage, “You don’t belong here if you take orders from Immortals... That is the attitude we should all have…. Get out of here if you don’t listen to logic and reason!

The people in the crowd began to nod solemnly and agreeance to the High Marshal’s words, “As citizens of our glorious Etzos, you too are as much a part of the struggle as our fighting men... I vow to thee, peoples of Etzos, that we shall prevail...We shall prevail against the immortals… But… we can no longer tolerate this...We are done bending the rules!”

The crowd cheered and an applause ensued. This is what Brogen wanted for his people: order and civility so that they could support the cause.

[Gangui]

Gangui

Gangui crossed his arms in disgust as he watched the gruesome executions take place in the Cresent Arena. The precision and accuracy of the fully armored torturer was painstakingly apparent to the audience. The fear imposing images of skinned men and fleshly carnage were burned into the minds of all who had the unfortunate chance of getting caught up in the State gathering.

Clenching his fist, Gangui closed his eyes and bent his head down trying to calm himself. The sight was all too close to the heart for the barbarian; several arcs ago, chained to a stake like a wild anima, Gangui witness his beloved father brutally tortured until death. He hated Faldrun and his stupid ignorant minions. The State had played the role of destiny calling today, reminding the poor fool of the emotions he had felt the day his father’s sword was stolen. Cursing the name of Faldrun and the act of torture, the barbarian shivered under his armor. Holding back all his grief into a single point behind his eye, his trembling irises revealed his hatred to any who could see through the shiny metal brim that concealed his eye’s downward stare.

...Etzori Tickle? Displaying the traitor’s true self? Dulärêm... Then and there Gangui decided that Etzos was no longer his ally. The mysterious stone city had been a beacon of hope from the wilderness, but it had turned out it was eerily too similar to the actions Faldrun and his men. The barbarian understood this deep inside, but he could not put words to it. He didn’t know who to trust, not even his own feelings because he knew very little of the world outside his father’s teachings. The stories and the lessons from his father did not explain how the world operated, but only taught the lad how to act himself. It never explained to him the courage and the honor and the duty required to be a true man of freedom in a sea of slaves.

...You must learn the discipline of blood and metal…. Gangui mumbled one of his father’s sayings, to remind himself to steel his virtues in times of confusion. Opening his eyes after a long while, Gangui looked up at the stage again to see the grand finally: Brogen Pahrn himself addressing the peasants. The proffered words offered by the High Marshal did little to change the mind of the barbarian, no not after hitting the heart cords of his past. Sure he feared Etzos now, sure he was imagined the same would happened to him one day, but he would not accept servitude to the state no matter how much he might agree with their anti-immortal agenda. Everyone around him ate the words like they had been pursued down the Westride Plains without nourishment for days and came upon a feast.

Disgusted with the timid, peasant men in the crowd, Gangui immediately began to seek exit from the arena. Completely focused on the single minded task of exiting the arena, his mind barely registered the thunderous applause after Pahrn’s speech. Without regard to the people in the mob, he pushed them all aside while they remained suckling to the nip of the State’s performance.

Getting closer to the gate, the sudden image of a half-blood avriel entered his line of sight. Tilting his head, he suddenly recognized her, “Nightshade Eld!” Gangui tried yell in vain over the hooting and hollering, “Nightshade!”

Coming upon her, he lightly nudged her and made eye contact. She seemed surprised at first, perhaps not recognizing him in the armor. Pointing at the portcullis that marked the threshold to exit the arena, Gangui lead them just outside the arena towards a torch lit corner of the courtyard that was vacant. Being so close to the light made it hard to visually make out any details of the scene around them. Gangui could make make out the spherical pattern of the open-air-antechamber, but anyone hiding in the shadows would be shielded from his perception.

The muffled arena and sensation of wind on his face was greatly appreciated by the barbarian. Two hours of that shit was too much for anyone with any sense in their brains. Taking off his visored helm, he cautiously held it as to not ruffle the single blue feather. With his free hand he quickly pulled the string on the blue chainmail-hauberk to reveal his face.

“Nightshade,” Gangui cut straight to the point in a low tone, “I had no idea Etzos was going to include torture, I need to leave this place!” Hitting his chest, he held up his plate helm, pointing at the execution scene, “I don’t believe for a moment those men were guilty. I was there at the riot. I never saw these men. They are not men who work in the gutters. Etzos is acting like Faldrun….” Gangui displayed his displeasure and anger through solemn eyes, his lips and teeth hidden under a bushy mustache. Looking at Nightshade in the eyes, he hoped that she agreed with him; he knew if she sided with the executors, then he could never trust her again.

[Nightshade Eld]

Disgust. It was the only word that could possibly begin to describe what she was feeling in regards to this whole "show". Through the entire barbaric display Nightshade had stood towards the back like a proud sentry. As far as she could see she was the only pair of wings in the crowd. As well as the only one that could escape whenever she pleased. The guards couldn't necessarily catch something that could fly, not when it would take one hell of a marksman to knock her out of the sky. She'd spent a good amount of time in her life learning how to evade attacks, she considered herself to do a damn well good job at it. And yet despite the easy access to escape she had stayed, proud and tall dressed in black. The colors of mourning, she stood out like the reaper might of. The life taker however wasn't there to claim, she was simply there as a guardian. Her heart went out to those who were meeting their doom at the hands of the Etzori. The half breed huffed angrily and tossed her head the opposite direction of the display.

She completely blocked out the little speech the Pahrn gave to try and sway the crowd. She didn't care any longer, her patience was starting to run thin. But she refused to turn tail until she had stood her vigil. Guardian to the lives lost on the blood path that was Etzos in the last season. So much death, slaughter, and mayhem all caused by one man and the stupidity of the state. His words were lost on the half breed. She was born half of blood, and because of this she'd seen things no other in this arena would. The truth, the reality of the situation, was not lost on the half breed. To someone like her it was painfully obvious what was going on. And she didn't want any further part of it.

She turned to make her escape, the speech finally hitting its ending. She'd stood vigil enough, any longer and she'd be humoring the man before her. And that would be counter intuitive to the goal she'd set out this morning with. To give honor to those who'd been lost during Cylus. Her goal was finally complete, she wouldn't linger. As she got to the gate she heard a muffled yell which gave her pause. Did someone shout her name? Perhaps it was just her imagination. She moved to continued walking away before the cry went up once more. "Nightshade!" She turned about until a small nudge finally caught her attention and turned it in the right direction.

The voice was all too familiar and she turned with a look of shock. She jolted slightly with a tilt of her head. "Oh, hello Gangui, long time no see. It was Zi'da last time we crossed paths, correct?" She said. She completely recognized him and even gave him a small smile. Her demeanor became more gentle than the look of anger and disgust that had been on her face moments ago in the solitude of listening to the beast.

Gangui's reaction to what had just happened didn't shock her too much. In fact his reaction greatly mirrored her own. The first time she'd seen something along the lines of what they just saw, well, she'd been quite distraught for a couple of trails. The "criminal" had been innocent that time too...

"And now you know exactly why I stay," she said with a bitter smile. Her expression was both hateful and pained as she turned away from the man. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened. Won't be the last either. And you know what? It never gets any less wrong. When I first came to Etzos it was a last hope, a fleeting desire. And I was met with this. That's exactly why I've stayed. So I can try to stop this kind of thing. To make sure no innocent people are killed! They probably had families, kids, the poor dears," the half breed said. Her tone slowly became more and more agitated. Her wings twitched, flicking slightly and pushing the air to and fro.

"I'll help you leave," she finally said turning to him. It was obvious enough by everything she'd said and the look which painted her features that she completely agreed with Gangui.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 1st Ashan, 717

He’d not come willingly to the Crescent Arena, he’d simply happened to be near and was herded inside just like the rest of them. Rich and poor, young and old, all were brought to the arena to witness justice being served.

Finn stood squeezed between a thin old man with a short, salt-and-pepper beard and a woman in her twenties who couldn’t stop sighing and puffing her cheeks. His sight was occasionally cut off by a fat merchant with many golden rings on his fingers but if he stood on the tip of his toes he could catch a glimpse of the accused. He felt sorry for them.

Lord Trask soon entered the stage as Finn wobbled on his toes. He thought the man looked nervous but then supposed the merchant had every right to be anxious considering how large a crowd stood before him. Soon after Trask had spoken his first words, boos emerged from the crowd.

The crowd shifted and his sight was blocked again when Finn heard the accused begging for mercy. He trained his gaze on the ground. A raw cry echoed across the arena and when the merchant in the row before him shuffled to the side in discomfort, he could see why.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, Finn turned around and shouldered his way through the crowd, back towards the exit. Many more turned their heads away and sought to walk away, but a line of soldiers guarded the exit and they would not let anyone pass.

“I have to go back,” he pleaded with a particularly tall guard.

“No one leaves.”

“But I have to! My mum’s sick and my pet’s dyin and I’ve got to water the flowers and-“

“No one leaves,” the guard re-iterated, a little more forcefully this time.

"She's really very sick!"

"Kid..."

"I'm gunna be sick too if that there carries on for much longer," his voice trailed off as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the gleeful executioner.

"Are you deaf? No one leaves!" the guard insisted.

"My sister works with the black guard. Name's Zipper. She'd let me-"

The guard took a step forward and leaned in, squinting his eyes behind the slits of his helmet. "Wait a bit... I know you..."

"Can I go now?"

"You can go back to the Hall if you want. We might as well give you your own, permanent room there." The guard's gauntleted hand already stirred, ready to seize his shoulder, but Finn retreated a pace.

"I didn't do nuffin!"

The guard straightened himself again and let out a sharp huff through his helmet. "Not yet," he murmured. "not yet..."

Finn's shoulders drooped in defeat as he turned back around. He'd gotten all too familiar with the inside of the Hall of Rule and Reprimand, and he didn't feel like pressing his luck with the guard today.

While he had a knack for sneaking in and out of places unseen, he knew his limits. There was no way he was getting out of here without the guards stepping aside to let him through. Finn did not look as the long, slow torture dragged on and on. He didn’t need to look. Even as he put his hands to his ears he could still hear the cries and screams and the horrified gasps from the crowd. Why were people so cruel?

Then, a new sound hit his eardrums. The sound of trumpets. The screams had ceased and Finn mustered the courage to look towards the stage again. Thereupon stood Marshall Brogen Pahrn and even from far out, Finn could tell that the Marshall was furious. But why? It soon became clear. The immortals, as always, were to blame. Any other day he would have joined in the applause for the Marshall, but not this time. This time he couldn’t help but wonder who was more wicked: the immortals, or the Marshall who had ordered such an excruciating torture.

Glad for the whole ordeal to be over, Finn bolted through the line of guards who were just about to disperse to let the common people through. A voice called after him, but he didn’t care. He had no desire to stay in the arena any longer until…

“…Etzos is acting like Faldrun” he heard a voice say.

Finn stopped dead in his tracks and soon spotted the tall and weathered man to whom the voice belonged. He was talking to a half-breed it seemed and Finn narrowed his eyes at the two before stepping up to them. “I would quiet down if I were you,” he whispered to the pair. “I heard most of what you said, and if I were one of them,” he motioned his head to the nearest group of guards, “I would’ve thought you two were sympathizers, or worse, Followers.”

He shot a questioning look at the male and the winged half-breed. “You aren’t, right?”

[Gangui]

Crescent Arena Courtyard

Nodding at Nightshade Eld, Gangui decided he would fill her in on the quest he had gotten earlier, "Aye, I agree, bu--"

A tiny little creature popped his head into the pair's business before they could continue their discussion. The barbarian was already angry from watching the executions, however the words the boy spoke surged his level of wrath through the roof. Being called out on the mistake was what incited him and he knew it, but instinct made him blame the kid. Also, Gangui had a bit of a problem with being accused of colluding with Immortal.

Without thinking, he shot a gauntleted fist at Finn and grabbed him by the collar, pinching the skin under the ragged tunic. Leaning in close, a bushy auburn beard and spiteful eyes would be the only thing in the boy's vision.

"I serve no Immortal," Gangui spoke in an emphatic, yet quiet tone. Blue eyes widened and trembled as thoughts of murder filled his mind. Gritting his teeth he stared at the little boy for a while longer. Presumably he felt Nightshade Eld's presence behind him urging him to stop; whether it was by the half-avriel's words or touch the barbarian knew not, for he was totally focused on the little kid. Realizing he needed to compose himself, Gangui roughly released his grasp from the boy with a deep sigh of relief.

Looking at the guards whom ambled together in silence on the opposite side of the courtyard, the warrior confirmed that no one else noticed the blasphemous words he spoke. Pointing a steely finger at the boy, he rumbled quietly, letting his anger dissipate slightly, "You lie about me worshiping Immortals, I will kill you,"

Ignoring any retort of Finn, Gangui turned towards Nightshade and leaned in to whisper, "Let's get out of here and talk at the tavern--" He looked over his shoulder at the sounds of footsteps and voices,"--têskêth the crowd is getting out, lets move,"

Nodding at the half-blood Avriel, the two took their leave. Should Finn be standing in his way, Gangui would thoughtlessly push him aside as he was determined to swiftly exit the Crescent Arena.

Several bits later at the Second Story Inn

By the time the pair arrived at the familiar smoke filled common area of the tavern, Gangui's murderous rage had returned back to the righteous anger he felt from witnessing the unjust executions in the arena. Finding a place to sit down and talk was difficult during this time, so Gangui led Nightshade upstairs into the privacy of his room. Once the door was closed behind them and the lamp was lit, the barbarian finally broke the silence, "What the hell is happening here in Etzos!? I just... I don't..." Slamming his gauntleted fist against the wall, he let out an emotional yelp, "I need more wealth and more power! I am done letting these people just walk all over me, and the good peoples here!" Gangui wasn't quite sure why he said the last part. Perhaps it was his experience with the farmers?

Raising his hands up and shaking them towards Nightshade, he looked at her with wild eyes desperate for any opportunity to take action, "There is this mission I have been contracted to complete by the Etzorsi Museum. A vessel sailing down the Southwood river sunk many trials ago. The head man at the Museum wants some figurines," Rolling his eyes, he gestured upwards, "Some stupid statuettes, and he said he will pay good if they are returned to his possession. I was even promised some gold up front to organize a crew to get this job done,"

Unbuckling his plate helm he carefully placed in on the bed, taking obvious care not to ruffle the decorative blue feather, "I figure there will also be other treasures in the sunken ship as well," As he unbuckled his gauntlets, he looked Nightshade in the eyes with a solemn glare, "I can't do this alone. I need help from someone who still believes in honor,"

[Nauta F'mos Geey]

There was only one reason which had the Aukari at the Arena that trial and it was not because he was part of the show. F'mos went to get an idea of the extent of the city's investigation about that mess in Cylus and, whether he was at any risk for his forced participation of the riot. He might have been convinced the entire matter was resolved with the amount of detail put into the trial's festivities. However his inability to recognize any of those poor fools publicly tortured as the ringleaders was enough for him to identify it as a show for the masses.

That realization would have been enough for him to leave right there and then, but he had been told- ordered by another of the Black Guard that no one was to leave the Arena until Pahrn was done. The Aukari obeyed and posted himself at one of the many gateways to prevent any attempts to leave. With the display of what noncompliance could mean, no one wanted to start any trouble with the guards. F'mos himself just did not want to expose his identity as a false guard with stolen armor.

That task he adopted helped to distract him from the show. While there was nothing worse than the sight of an erupted Aukari, there was a risk the grotesque display might cause him to erupt with witnesses around him. Where there was time he did not have to waste to turn away some idiot which could not get the hint, F'mos tried to focus inwardly and not on the scene which troubled him. It was not because he might feel for the victims, but because he wanted to ignore the thoughts that it might be him where they were if he had been unlucky.

The false guard only had to concentrate inwardly to block the sounds outside as his helmet did an adequate job to hide his shut eyes. The screams of pain especially took a lot out of him. Maybe someone did slip through but without complaints from the other guards, he was in a world all of his own. Black and silent. At least he was able to maintain that peace until someone else came to ask if they could leave. Those stupid Etzori could only distract him and ruin his efforts to avoid witnessing the torture in the middle again.

This made it harder for F'mos to focus as images of Royce and his torture would sometimes pop into his mind with the screams. Definitely not the best conditions for the Aukari as he was taught to find a place with no distractions. While he did not erupt, his not so successful attempts may continue to haunt him with images of Royce for trials to come. If he had not known it already, Royce was definitely a person to be avoided in Etzos. Pahrn was another but only because the man reminded F'mos too much of the zealotry of Faldrun and Sirothelle.

It seemed like it would never end but finally the sheep were allowed to leave the pen. F'mos was on his way with the excuse he was on the "lookout for angry people" though he once out of sight it was right home for him. Or he would if he had not spotted a familiar face led away one which... might be familiar. Wait a break, why was he not tortured?!? While F'mos had nothing against the duo, Nightshade was not in his favor because of the way she mishandled his bird. A chance to distress her with her association with that troublemaker might just be the thing to alleviate the fire fed by the show of torture.

He found the pair's choice of the courtyard for their discussion advantageous to him. With so many guards about, F'mos was able to get into position without any hassle. The black shade of his Black Guard armor helped him to blend with the shadows he hid in. The fact that in his situation that any guard would stand at attention helped keep him confident there would be no issue with his attempts to keep still, so the pair would not be tipped off by his armour if it clattered with the pillars by him.

As much as F'mos wanted to reveal himself and call out the conspirators against Etzos, the topic of their discussion was too heavy and he lost his moment. The child which had gotten himself involved certainly did not help with his plans because children had a way of blowing things out of proportion. Even after they made their move the false guard had to consider what he would do next, whether he should tail the pair or call it a day.

[Nightshade Eld]

The half breed's eyes narrowed when the boy approached. She wasn't good at lying, but she couldn't very well tell the truth on such a matter. "We serve no gods," she decided to say. Instead of telling either a lie or the truth she settled on a part truth. After all, it was true that Nightshade had never served a god in her entire life, she believed in no gods after all. To her the Immortals were something akin to leaders. There were goods ones, bad ones, tyrants and benevolent rulers. Of course Night, having the nature she did, would never follow an immortal she viewed as corrupt. There was nothing "godly" about the immortals in her opinion. They squabbled like children and could be killed by the mortal hand. Night had always considered a true god to be an all powerful being. So therefore, if she had no god to follow, how could she be a Follower? It was twisted logic at best but it was the same kind of logic she applied to her relationship with Noth. If it helped her better understand her own situation then she would stick to it.

That was when Gangui seemed to snap. He reached out, grabbing the child. "Gangui!" The half breed yelped in shock. Her eyes widened and her heart dropped. The look in the eyes of the man seemed dangerous, almost murderous, though not quite that far. There was a clear intent to cause harm in every way that he moved. "Gangui! It's not his fault," the half breed cried. Her expression was a fearful one and her tone pleading. She wrapping her arms around his arm that held the child, but didn't try to pull him off in fear of what he very well may do to the child. Her entire being relaxed when Gangui released the boy.

"Right," she said in regards to the idea of getting out. She was more than happy to flee this mess. She was fearful, if they stayed much longer the situation might get worse.

(-)(-)(-)(-)

Once they were back in Gangui's room all of the fear and tension that had been growing in her muscles slowly started to fade. She breathed deeply and then released a sigh of relief. She allowed Gangui to speak and vent, listening quietly with a grim expression of understanding until he finally got on about the idea of the mission. As his eyes burned into her own she returned the look. A spark igniting in her chest. "You intend to start an organization or some kind of guild to reform Etzos, don't you? This is absolute insane," she said with a small laugh and a shake of her head. "But in my entire life I've been nothing but! Your cause is just, a leader I truly believe that I can follow! As long as you keep that trait about you, then my blade is yours," she said with a smile, extend her hand to make the dealing. It was true, he would never be able to do this alone. He needed a knight, a champion, someone strong enough and brave enough to wear his beliefs on their sleeve. That's exactly what Nightshade had grown to be. But in return he was going to have to become the just and intelligent leader the half breed demanded. A tall order, but one she was willing to help him bumble through.

With one simple word, honor, he had managed to strike a chord with Night. Her smile flared with confidence and strength, her eyes blazing with valor and courage, her blade sharp and ready to taste the blood of whoever opposed their journey for justice. Even if the world couldn't be equal, Night would endeavor to at least make it fair. And what they had seen this morning was neither fair nor was it equal.

"Let's get started. First I would say we should gather our crew, whoever we can find would be useful. Then we move on to getting supplies. We should have enough from the contractor to gather all of that, if we don't then we can dip into our own pockets and demand a higher pay when we get back. It would be best if you tried to do that, people don't usually respond to a half avriel well unless I've already been antiquated with them. How many nels would an expedition like this cost?" The half breed's voice slowly diminished in volume as they two went down stairs, going from a conversation to her own person planning. "Should I bring Storm? Yes, yes I should bring Storm," she said to herself. Her voice was loud enough for Gangui to hear but it was still a mutter for her own mind to muddle over. She would leave the barbarian to wonder who or what Storm was.

Once they got down into the ground floor of the tavern the half breed came to a complete stop. She glanced upwards, her eyes going a fraction wider. "Oh dear, it looks like a certain someone either told some lies, or someone over heard our conversation and jumped to conclusions," the half breed whispered to Gangui, seeing a Black Guard waiting around. Was he waiting for them? Or more so what he waiting for Gangui? The half breed was often rather picky with her words, so it would take a little more effort to twist what she'd said into immortal worship. After all, she'd said nothing directly slanderous about Etzos! She had just expressed worry for the innocent people of Etzos.

"What do we do?" She whispered quietly hoping that the Black Guard wouldn't notice them.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 1st Ashan, 717

A stream of curses landed right in the barbarian's face along with some spittle as Finn was forced to the tip of his toes. He scowled at the man and attempted to kick the fool between his legs but failed to hit him. Just as quickly as he'd been seized, he was tossed away again and Finn stumbled a few steps backwards over the stone ground, nearly tripping over his own feet. Gritting his teeth, he rubbed the reddened skin under his shirt when he came to a standstill. Finn barely heard the man's threat, his eyes were set on the half-breed who had seen to his release. Could she fly? He forgot about the accident for a moment and was about to ask her when he was thoughtlessly shoved aside.

Angered, yet sufficiently shaken by the barbarian not to act on it, Finn fired a hard stare at the pair's backs but otherwise remained still, taking a moment to assess the damage done to him before his eyes fell on one of the Black Guard looking in his direction. "What are you staring at?" he challenged, a bit more gruffly than he perhaps should have.

[Nauta F'mos Geey]

An actual member of the Black Guard would have responded to the incident. F'mos could only assume what had happened as it was the same sort of cry he made when Nightshade carelessly tossed his bird. In the end he decided it was not worth it to have his cover blown. He decided to treat it the same as he would have back in Sirothelle. The City Guard would not waste their time with so small an issue as whatever it was that happened to that child.

If anything serious had actually occurred, the Aukari knew there were real Black Guards which could deal with it while he, would not as he would disappear and remain uninvolved. He had seen plenty of them in the Arena on their deplorable task to keep the people in. Actual work they were responsible for in his opinion was the least they could do. It was for that reason the fake Black Guard decided to remain in his chosen post which would make for the perfect excuse if questioned.

As nothing else happened, F'mos only needed to wait for a few thrills after Nightshade left with the other man. At least enough so he could be sure their back was turned to their escape. He left the spot which had hidden him quickly to find the child and when he did, the child was obviously unhappy. Before F'mos could take advantage of the boy's predicament, he found that anger directed at him.

Over the past few seasons F'mos had gotten used to making use of another child so he clearly saw his opportunity. He did not believe the boy would attempt to escape and his gauntleted hand on the child's shoulder had only been to apply pressure in an attempt to scare him into compliance. City Guard Nauta never had to deal with children as they were rightfully fearful of what should happen if they misbehaved and, are much more sly in their misdeeds as Aukari were expected to be. In a voice he thought was most intimidating to a child, the false guard asked...

"Kid, that was nice talk there. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Out of habit it ended up the tone he used whenever he had to scold Lizzie, as in not too stern as he never liked the idea of her being scared of him. Regardless the result the child had quite the suggestion which F'mos quickly agreed to. He still had not gotten the satisfaction he was owed from Nightshade and their conversation had piqued more than his interest. "Sure," he said and nodded in agreement before he instructed the boy to lead the way. His size should make it easier for him to tail the two unnoticed, more than the imposing and recognizable colours of the Black Guard.

F'mos followed the boy to the second Story Inn. As he mistook the man as the proprietor, F'mos took the boy to the bartender and spun a story of the concerned Black Guard who wanted to reunite the boy with his grieving mother before nightfall where everything horrible happened. He left it to the boy to describe his 'uncle' as being injured by him no doubt would have left an impression on the child. With the information they got F'mos let the boy off while he paid for a room near the pair, an additional discretionary payment for the sudden request and an assurance there would be no trouble.

He quickly went into the room and shut the door behind him, a barricade for good measure. With a few quick few thrills he was in his new form and hopped out the window wings spread. As he feared even the flaps of his wings might betray him it was only a glide to where the pair's room and he perched still, although the shakes from the cold and his own lack of balance nearly made him crash instead of land. Even with the hustle and bustle of the inn patrons ready to enjoy the last few breaks of the day, F'mos was still able to listen into the window. All he needed to hear was how Nightshade summed up the conversation to bring a smile to his fanged face.

"You intend to start an organization or some kind of guild to reform Etzos, don't you? This is absolute insane..."

He listened on for longer, wings folded over and body slouched in the dark to ensure no one would notice the lazy bat. When the conversation was about to die down, F'mos reckoned he learned enough and quickly spread his wings with a hop again. With no need to remain hidden he beat his wings as hard as he could against the flow to get back into his hired room, grateful that the dark would mask his form well. Without delay he quickly transformed back, shut the window and got out. He needed to get back to the common room before the pair did.

As the child had played his part, the Aukari only gave a nod of acknowledgement and headed down on his own. He lingered in the common room for the unmissable black clad figure of the Avriel, and waited for the pair had spotted him. He made no rush towards the pair as he did not want to spook them, nor did he try to make any unnecessary movements other than to get himself to them. With a smile which would not be visible beneath the mask, he asked in a deliberately deepened voice only loud enough for the pair to hear, "reform guild, huh? Interesting..."

However F'mos had no reason to expose the pair's plans. Instead he decided to wait and see as the knowledge of its possible existence would be enough for him to take advantage of. All he wanted to do that trial was spook them, or more accurately Nightshade. When he warned them that "can't do anything with words, but we'll keep an eye on you" it was nothing more than to have them keep their wits about them when they proceeded with their plans. It would not do if they got careless and mucked it up themselves. If anyone was going to expose them, it would be him.

He did not say anything else not even on that mission of theirs, other than "insane..." which mirrored Nightshade's own words accompanied with a dismissive shake of the head. If they were not convinced they had to be careful after his warning, perhaps the word in parting would plant the belief there were ears everywhere, even in the privacy of their own rooms. With that he quickly left the Second Story Inn. While the 'grieving Avriel' was not actually in charge of a child, the Aukari was and he had to make sure Lizzie did not have her own experiments while he was out.

► Show Spoiler

Alright, this is Nauta signing off. Just wanted to shake things up for you guys a little so I think I'm done here Also...

Receipt:
Just going to be payment to the inn and for the purchase of a new black leather mask for this thread. Lazy to calculate and since the mask and inn is only in the sn, I'll just put it as 5gn since Nauta is overpaying for the inn as well.