Another day at the office...- Jygust 30th 1225 - TT - Open

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Another day at the office...- Jygust 30th 1225 - TT - Open

Post by Callara »

Jygust 30th - Early Tradetide

The sun shone brightly down upon the young woman who strode through the streets of the city of Roque d'Ancourt. The folk on the street went about their business, a healthy bustle of activity telling the woman that it was a good day out for trade and business. She even had to avoid a few people, children running past her or the odd merchant that tried to peddle his wares to the woman garbed in black, a slender staff in her one hand, a cowl and a dark bandana covering her once beautiful eyes.

Eyes which no longer saw.

She could not see the sun shining down upon her steps as she walked the path from the hut of Ushuaia, where she had spent the morningtide like every morningtide; training in the art of her mindcrafting. There was improvement, but the added difficulty of having to learn a new way of perceiving the world had slowed it down considerably. Her training now involved a manner of perceiving the Tether that was foreign to her, watching patterns, the fabric of reality, rather than the actual reality itself. It was hard. Like trying to figure out how an airship works without knowing anything about it, instead of just sitting down and enjoying the ride.

Such was it that she made her way through the streets on this day. She could not see the people's faces, flesh and form, but she could feel them, sense their blood and read their auras. They told her if the people around her were happy. Most were. It was a good day, good for trade, good for politics. She had received word yesterday that the elusive Council of Nine was meeting soon, and that there was information to be pried from people within her reach about the location of said meeting.

"Yes, it is a good day for politics." Callara thought as she followed Sun to the arena where her office was. The monstrosity she had never seen, but which held the key to her growing grasp on the city.

"And soon, that grasp will tighten."
Last edited by Callara on Tue Jul 15, 2008 10:44 am, edited 2 times in total.
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The Broken Blade Arena

Towering three stories tall, the ‘monstrosity’ (as some residents called it) which is the Broken Blade Arena towers over neighboring buildings fairly easily, a complex visible from any corner of Roque although some vantage points show more than others. The first/ground floor houses vendor booths, the ‘cheap seats’, betters boxes, and (most importantly) the killing floor, a large, circular expanse of sand and scrap, ever-present blood-flecks on the wall that have been there since day one providing a fitting décor to the smell of both death and feces which seems trapped in the sand. Four closed and locked portcullis-protected openings are the only entrances to the confined battleground, open hallways leading to the audience seating areas, booths, and stairwells leading upward.

The second floor houses a set of suites which run along the outer track and are used for either business or housing by visiting nobility as their slaves compete in the contests or to bed trollops in celebrations of victories past. The second floor, along the inner track, also plays host to the more expensive balconies and boxes, close enough to the killing floor to allow the show to be viewed, but far enough away to prevent a combatant from making a successful bid for ‘unexpected encores’ involving their owners or, in the case of sentenced criminals, the lawmakers who put them there.

The third floor is largely empty, save for a small suite reserved for the manager and a set of offices opposite the arena which are where the manager, vendors, slavers, and staff all function to keep the arena running. At the back of the offices, via a door to which only the owner and manager hold a key, lies a short hallway and a safe where the house winnings are stored.

A basement below the arena serves as a holding area for both the living and the dead, its only entrance and exit through the northern portcullis on the killing floor.

The Broken Blade Arena is managed by a blind woman named Callara and a heavily tattooed former combatant named Jeet-Belan, but there are always a pair of guards posted at each door on the first floor ready to assist or impede visitors during ‘off-hours’, ticket sellers in their stead when a match has been scheduled.


“Callara…my blind bookkeeper…”, the voice sounded from behind her desk as she opened the door to her office, the tones both light and mirthful as if she had walked in on two people in the middle of sharing a joke. Some of her practice within the recent weeks had involved identifying individual ‘shapes’ as far as being able to ‘see’ people and Callara could recognize the form of Jeet-Belan resting in one of her ‘guest’ chairs while the owner of the new voice, an unrecognized mass, sat behind her desk as originally mentioned. The mass gave a small nod toward Sun. “Very inventive. I like that.” The unnamed man chuckled as he rose and moved toward a guest chair himself, allowing Callara to take her rightful place as ‘head’ of the office if she wished.

“My name, as I am sure that my accomplice has mentioned once or twice while getting you settled in, is Raphael Terrel. Lord Terrel to some but, let us be frank, what do titles mean among friends, mmm?” He gestured toward the desk with another nod. “Jeet-Belan and I were just going over the books. We seem to be off to a wonderful start, wouldn’t you say?” he asked candidly, the tone of his words at the end adding emphasis to the question mark where, under normal circumstances, a facial expression would have done the same. During her orientation, Jeet-Belan had mentioned the name, in passing, as the purse behind the arena, and it was clear that Raphael was anxious to get her take on business thus far as well as any other thoughts that she might be ready to put to voice.
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Post by Callara »

OOC: Will (have to) make some general assumptions on the state of affairs at the arena. If any are out of line, feel free to correct me.

Callara walked over to the desk. Knowing her way around the office she had only taken recently, along with the presence of the two men in their respective positions, made it rather easy to comfortably make her way to her own chair in which she sat down. The nod towards Sun made her wary, but not to a large extent. She just hoped Sun wouldn't be scared away.

During the time she had "worked" at the arena she had seen neither the building nor the books that held the accounts of the wages, bets and maintenance costs. She had been witness to a number of fights already, which amused her to an extent. Every now and then, just to appease the blood spirit within, she wielded some of her magic on an unwitting soul down there, feasting on the blood energy released from his inevitable demise at the hands of other gladiators. She had become somewhat of an energy vampire, the blood readily available in the arena and as such a feast of sustenance for the beast within. Subtle hints dropped about her "gift" to "predict" the outcome of a fight made for a nice bargaining chip with the incoming gamblers and slavers looking for a quick buck, in turn providing her with leverage, influence.

Regardless, with losing her sight she had not lost her wit and after she was thoroughly briefed on her position in the arena she had made sure to acquire an assistant to aid her in penning down the results of daily coin counting and reading her the day to day affairs. With her measure of aura perception now, it had been easy enough to find one that chose not to play her or lie to her, abusing her blindness. Those that tried suffered a round in the pit.

She had made sure to secure a name for herself during the start of this operation. She rewarded those that aided her, and punished those that thwarted her severely, brutally even. Not shunning death.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance Lord Terrel." She was genuinely pleased to meet this man as she was almost certain he held a seat in the Council of Nine. Aside from that he had been the one to provide her with this opportunity to stop cutting up herself in favor of letting others do the cutting for her. "I think it is safe to say the arena is doing quite well, yes. People come in, as does their coin. Thus far we're at a nice profit margin over the previous moon and costs of construction and maintenance are covered abundantly." Her father was a trader so she had picked up a few terms here and there. Even though she was never much of a math wiz she had enough brains to determine if money outgoing didn't outweigh incoming.

All the while she tried to get a feel for this man, his aura and his form, the beating of his heart. She wanted to make sure she could recognize him again, aswell as feel what was going on in his mind.
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Although Callara could, through the course of the meeting, work at memorising Terrel's aura and heartbeat - and even his form if she tried hard enough, his mind stayed elusive and hidden, darting out of her way just when she was making a grasp. If she tried the same with Jeet-Belan to test for accuracy, however, she would find Jeet's mind fairly graspable.

After a few attempts to get a lock on Terrel's mind, Callara heard a lone chuckle with no qualifying statements.

"So..." Terrel finally said after a burn or two of going over her documentation, noting the changes in handwriting in the still-young ledger. "Besides our agreement with the merchants and Roques, as well as the gambling, do you see anything about the arena..." he said, a small unseen smirk on his face at the jab at her disability. "...that needs changing or could be improved upon? It is brutal sport, I know, and there will be times when the desire to attend, at least by the locals, will wane simply due to oversaturation but..." he continued, closing the ledger with a thump.

"You seem to be a fairly bright woman, Callara... Inventive, resourceful, meticulous... I would love to hear your thoughts either here... or in a more informal setting, if you prefer."
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"A more informal setting?"

Callara contemplated this for a flicker. This might be an opening she could use to find out more about the council's whereabouts. Even though she did not much care to lock heads with someone who seemed to have similar powers to her own, it was something worth considering. Terrel seemed like a sly and cunning man, something she could appreciate. If only he could be persuaded to see things her way...

"Even though we both know I see fairly little about anything..." She replied sharply with a wry smirk on her face "...There are some possibilities to consider to keep things interesting and fresh. Settings are not very important to me anymore. I find it difficult to enjoy them."

He seemed to have fairly little regard for her disability, so either he thought her a fake or capable of more than she was as yet.

"But if you prefer to discuss these matters elsewhere, I'm certain you have an idea as to where. Anywhere is fine by me really."
Last edited by Callara on Fri Aug 08, 2008 11:25 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Callara contemplated this for a flicker. This might be an opening she could use to find out more about the council's whereabouts. Even though she did not much care to lock heads with someone who seemed to have similar powers to her own, it was something worth considering. Terrel seemed like a sly and cunning man, something she could appreciate. If only he could be persuaded to see things her way...

"Even though we both know I see fairly little about anything..." She replied sharply with a wry smirk on her face "...There are some possibilities to consider to keep things interesting and fresh. Settings are not very important to me anymore. I find it difficult to enjoy them."

He seemed to have fairly little regard for her disability, so either he thought her a fake or capable of more than she was as yet.

"But if you prefer to discuss these matters elsewhere, I'm certain you have an idea as to where. Anywhere is fine by me really."

Raphael chuckled at her words and turned toward the door, offering Callara his arm if she chose to take it, lowering it if she decided to walk it alone. “'interesting and fresh', you say? I could not agree more, for I love chaos – don't you? It is the only constant that one can rely upon, for even water – once stagnant – is undrinkable because of the stench and taste of neglect.” he began. “As for settings...”, he continued as he made his way out of the office, leaving Jeet-Belan behind to close up the books officially. “Surely a woman as intelligent as yourself knows that the physical is hardly relevant to the nature of something – I have seen the most weathered of hags a shining rose of a person and the most beautiful women in the lands vile and despicable cutthroats you can imagine. The same can be said of places, my dear, for within how many battlefields have rabbits and wildlife roamed among death and in how many houses of grandeur have the true wars been waged?”

He gave a small pause, allowing her to venture a guess to the redundant question if she so chose. “No, my beautiful blind girl, you may well see settings far better than most and just not realize it yet.” Callara would feel a breeze as Raphael led her out onto a balcony terrace and then hear the scraping of wood upon stone as he drew out a seat for her. A fresh presence, flickers later, would signal the arrival of a servant girl and another figure – a large, hulking man – the former of the two bearing what sounded like a tray burdened with glasses, a snack, and a chilled bottle resting within a bucket, the latter standing post beside the entranceway.

“Pay no heed to Ethau, Callara, for you and he are in the same boat – so to speak – but his eyes have been in darkness far longer than yours, I would venture.” There was the tinkling of glass as the flutes were moved closer and then the gentle gurgle of fluid filling the containers. “I have no intention of getting you drunk, Callara – it is fruit juice and nothing more.” he offered without being asked as he placed a glass in the air between them and gave no hint as to its location, testing her abilities once more.

“You will find in time, Callara, that I keep my mind clear for a great many reasons – surely one of which, you have figured out – or will...very, very soon...” He smiled, and it was a smile that Callara could see, his 'face' hovering before her in the Aether, as clear as it would have been had she retained her eyes.

It was decapitated bloodlessly, the neck fading down into nothingness, the eyebrows rising and lowering twice in mirth before the visage vanished, leaving nothing but the world in the manner in which Callara had recently become accustomed to seeing. Patiently, he continued to hold the wineglass aloft for her.
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Callara took the arm that was offered to her. She was suspicious of the man's motives, but she had been raised to travel the trade society and some etiquette was hard to disregard, even though she may have wanted to.

That was ofcourse completely besides the fact that it made walking a lot easier.

The location of the glass was somewhat of a mystery, but the hand that held it was not. As Terrel spoke he held it out to her and she was about to grasp it when he pulled his little Aetherial show. Needless to say Callara was quite shocked. Had her eyes been able to show this they would have widened, her face strained in a visage of utter disbelief. Now however, the corners of her mouth twitched as her hand was left suspended in mid air aswell. After the face disappeared she finished the motion she had started and took the glass from Terrel, sniffing it briefly before taking a small sip.

"You wield your abilities with a casual grace, I must admit. Something that must have taken some time to practice. Where did you learn what you know?" Her question was asked with sincerity. She knew little of what she was. She knew she wielded magic and that it was magic she could control without words, unlike mages. Yet of this magic little was known and now here was a man that seemed to wield the same powers of perception and control but without the second-hand feel Ushuaia gave to it. Ushuaia was a mage born and raised. He taught her in his way. It had proven to be a difficult path, but she was learning to walk it.

But what this man could do was beyond anything Ushuaia had shown her. Aside from the fact that he was obviously trying to impress her for reasons she could not yet see, with powers he was confident she wielded to some extent aswell. She had to find out more. Not in the least because if the entire council was comprised of people like him, she had no chance at taking them out. If he was the only one...there were other ways of obtaining control.
Last edited by Callara on Mon Aug 11, 2008 9:33 am, edited 1 time in total.
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“So...” Raphael said, his voice calm and non-mocking. “You can still see after all... Interesting.” He sat in silence, the songs of Roque d'Ancourt's avian wildlife chirping in the air beyond their terrace as Callara spoke, questioning his abilities. “The illusions? Nowhere near as fancy a place as the University in Sierra, I assure you. But they do come in handy, don't they? And yes, my dear, I do wield them casually, as is my right – for it is my power to possess and use as I see fit, no?” He took a sip of his own juice and smiled – not that she could see it, but he let the smile be heard in his voice. “Now, the aural perception did come from fancy tutors – men probably long gone from Roque's shores by now, a gift from my parents as a means of grooming their little boy for rule one day – father was ever a stickler for a good Lord having the skills to be able to tell more about a man...or woman...than mere faces, bodies, and words let on.” Another sip was taken.

I trust Mister Belan implicitly and, by virtue, his choice of people for hire. When he first spoke of you back in late Chyril, he spoke of...how did he put it...oh yes... 'a stubborn bitch who won't play our game.' that is it. Do not be angry, however, my dear Callara, you will find that I absolutely loathe puppets and puppet shows, but will treasure a 'stubborn bitch' until my dying day. 'Stubborn bitches' rule the world, no?” Raphael gave a small chuckle. "Jatek – a man you have not yet met – had devised the little message we sent you, asking you if you wished to be a ruler...the queen, an activist...the knight, or just a part of the game – a puppet...the pawn. When word got back to me in the form of ale thickened with somewhat expensive marble, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I must meet with you one day. The sheer yahren that Jatek had spent hand-carving each piece in that set, hoping to get them back with only the hint of ale on one, depressed poor Jatek so much that he was unable to properly bed a whore which, in turn, depressed him even more - taught him a lesson in sacrifice, however - not everything in life goes the way you plan and hope for, correct?”

He gave a small pause and took another sip. “I am sure, if you are half as smart as I have assumed thus far, that you think we have little spies everywhere – in the shops, streets, even looking up through your privy-hole to make sure that you have wiped your arse throughly, but rest assured that we do not – we have, as a precaution, noted your travels on a few days, never prying into why you go where you go, but just a vague idea of where you go. I can only assume that you keep good company, as not a single banner has been lifted from the arena coffers that has not been accounted for by a change of handwriting in your ledger and a bit more blood on Mister Belan's floor, so please – rest assured that, as of now, you are considered a person that I trust and, my dear, mine is not a trust to be bought lightly – you have earned it thus far. You need not worry about my little 'eyes' any longer.” He paused for another sip.

“Yet it is your eyes which still bother me, Callara - I can tall by the lack of scars on your brow and cheek that your vision was not lost in a battle, rather as precisely as possible as not to mar your beautiful features. Nor have I been informed of you seeking vengeance for one who has wronged you, so I can only stop and wonder...why?” He gave his juice a stronger pull and refilled his glass – hers as well if she needed it, purposefully allowing the bottle to lightly kiss the lip of his own flute to give her the clue that juice was about to pour.

He had answered his question and the ball was, figuratively speaking, back in her court.
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Post by Callara »

"Kantrips...It's all a joke to him." Callara was a little let down. She thought for a flicker this guy might actually teach her something but all he had was his sight apparently. At least, as far as he told her and considering she could see his aura all the time, if he lied about it she'd be able to tell.

"Oh well, so much for worrying about another powerful mage then." She couldn't help but smile as she emptied her glass and held it out as he offered her a refill, the shape of his hand around the pitcher and the pouring motion telling her enough even before he indicated she might be able to get her glass filled aswell.

"Your friend Jatek is a fool. If he doesn't want his toys broken he should put them in a glass case instead of letting stubborn bitches play with them..." She drank from the glass some more, small sips. Ever aware that without alcohol beverages could still contain other substances. "As are you if what you say is true. You trust me, which is flattering. I do not trust you in the slightest. We have only just met and me keeping a ledger clean of thievery like the runts who try to steal from blind women would have it..." she sipped from the glass again and smiled, reminiscing of the last assistant she had splattered against the wall for trying to steal from her. " "...does not mean I am to be trusted."

Honesty worked best she found. Honesty was easy when you held all the cards. And Callara had a firm grasp on the situation again. This man made himself appear to be powerful but he did not know everything. She guessed he had no clue what she really was and if he had any idea of what she was up to he kept it to himself quite well.

"As for me losing my eyes..." She emptied the glass and placed it on the table, her hand around the base. "...it was the only logical next step."

"And that's all you get from me on that."
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Raphael calmly sat back in his chair listening to Callara as she explained her definitions of trust and foolishness, a smirk on his expression all the while, silently observing the nuances of her speech, expressions, body language, tone, aura, and - most importantly - her use of logic in her arguments. Even her defensive nature about her eyes told him volumes more than she could assume, but he kept this largely to himself. She and Ethau went under the same guise, but he preferred the way that Ethau, strong and willful Ethau, managed to hide it just a bit better than Callara for it had, indeed, been her remarkable abilities to overcome the blindness which had led him to probe deeper - had she used the wisp subtly, giving the outward appearance of needing a stick to find her way around or shown some form of weakness, Raphael would have been none the wiser.

But not Callara...that is not Callara's way. She is willful and ambitious - time to find out how much so... Raphael thought as he emptied his glass and placed it upon the table. Despite how nonchalantly he appeared to wield it, his magic was taking a toll on him with the myriad of shields and illusions in place as well as the probing - it was time to bring the meeting to a close. "So..." he muttered with a chuckle. "You do not trust me, and I am a fool for trusting you? That is an admirable outlook on it, especially since we have only just met, but you are young yet and will learn over the yahren that trust, like honesty, is best in small doses - neither ignoring it nor glutting upon it." With that thought, he rose and gave a small bow.

"I am a tad disappointed, I will admit, in your attitude, Callara." he mentioned, both he and Ethau prepared should she lose her temper, the renegade Kanthrop's blades already out and body poised just inside the doorway. "With the way that you handled the Council's initial invitation, the loss of your eyes, and the job that you have done despite your handicap, I had hoped that this little rendezvous would have given me more reason to trust you - not less - making it easier to invite you closer to my little circle of friends..." Out of sheer habit, his eyes stayed locked on where hers would have been.

"Take care, Callara, and keep doing as good of a job as you have been, mmm? I am sure our paths will cross again very, very soon." he finished, a smile on his face and his hand extended toward hers, willing to offer her help in rising when she was done with her drink. In order to give her a hint as to how good both his hand and poker face really were, Raphael relaxed his illusion, letting her taste the water for what it really was, the sweet nectar of the fruit only a dream within her mind all along.
Last edited by Gutter Rat on Sat Aug 23, 2008 8:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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OOC: Basing some of my observations on Kanthrop dev. I had no clue Ethau was Kanthrop earlier.

Callara got up well before Raphael could extend his hand out to aid her, mental blocks rising faster, growing more dense with every passing flicker as she started to realize what a fool she had been to underestimate her opponent in this way. His companion baffled her. His aura was unlike anything she had ever seen. Aside from the myriad of human coloring his aura seemed intertwined with silver and blue lines that were persistently present in a shape she had a hard time determining. The blood spirit within her called, screamed, roared for blood, her mind coming to an acute boil as this man seemed to present her with the same condescending tone his fellow Jatek had done those moons prior.

"Let me get one thing straight here." She nearly hissed as her mind lashed out in rage at his, the blood spirit overtaking her magic as her words intertwined with the bright blue of her powers beating against his mental blockade. "You come into my city, barge into my office, call in your whatever being thug you have there to watch your back and you claim to trust me less AFTER this little conversation of ours?!" Her hand wrapped around the glass in pure rage, snapping it, causing drops of blood to drip onto the table, the sacrifice a chosen one to enhance the attack she made on his mind. She channeled the anger towards him like a barrage of sharpened blades, with the sole purpose of cutting down whatever barriers he had against her to cripple his mind and bleed the life right out of him. On the outside it would appear like she was merely standing at the table, speaking in a tone that clearly reflected the measure of insult she felt. Through the Aether an entirely different battle was waged. Callara cared not how powerful this man was, nor did the spirit within her. It screamed at her for his death. Instead she channeled it like she had practiced with Ushuaia, focussing it's and her own anger into a powerful magical blade that kept striking at his mind. Focus and control were difficult with the spirit being so overly present, but she knew that only focus would allow her to get optimal results.

"You claim to trust me, for which I call you a fool. But really you do not trust me at all. You merely want to test me, see what you are dealing with since all you have is the pathetic tales from your stupid goons that you send to spy on me. The ones that I leave alive to reach you. You have no idea who you are dealing with, nor do any of the Council you preach about." She enforced her attack, her rage boiling to a frantic storm inside of her, her magic focused on him with the sole intent on seeing more blood for her spirit to feed upon.

Her spirit...yes. Acceptance was the only way. It was never her mind and the blood spirit. It hadn't been ever since she had accepted it into herself. Now it was her spirit. She was the blood and the blood was she. And she would be the one to teach this condescending prick the lesson of his life.

Perhaps the last one he'd ever learn.

"Either of you two..." Her mind was focused on Raphael's, but her words were meant for both men in the room. "...has a choice. There is always a choice." She called upon every ounce of power she had saved up from all those tides in the arena, draining the life force from the losing parties and shaping it into a massive sword of destruction to wield before her mind's eye. "For a flicker I thought you might be able to teach me something, but you know NOTHING!" Still, her body would be standing still, not seemingly doing anything but talk. "You have made your choice when you started treating me like a child again. That just leaves your odd friend by the door. Perhaps he will know who to side with after this little chat is truly over..."

With that she decided to finish it. She made a final push to strike down the foolish man who had sat before her, conjuring his pityful illusions for her. He had started out with such promising motives. To bad he had chosen to walk the same path Jatek had by treating her like a foolish girl.

Perhaps she was a foolish girl.

But she was not one to be treated as such, and she would make it the last emotion he ever felt. One of pure regret he had ever crossed her. She would watch it bleed from his eyes as her mind locked onto his and meant to crush it like the glass in her hand.

Perhaps she would meet with a blade between her ribs.

Perhaps the one holding it would know who was the true master in the room.

It concerned her not.

To her, Raphael Terrel was already dead.
Last edited by Callara on Sun Aug 24, 2008 1:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Gutter Rat »

To Ethau, nothing had happened - to his untrained eye, it appeared that Raphael stumbled backwards as if struck by a fist, a small stream of blood trickling from the noble's nose as his head lashed back and fore from the unseen impact. Raphael saw things differently, naturally, and his eyes narrowed on the blind woman, words forgotten for the flicker - the sheer gall that she had to actually attack - and such raw, emotion-driven power...it was quite unexpected of her as he had been hoping that she would act like a typical mark and plead for a second chance to be trusted, especially with her ambitious vibe. However, if she was willing and able to bite the hand that fed her, she should also be ready for when that hand turned into a fist.

"Stand down...", he muttered, holding a palm out toward Ethau, never taking his eyes off of Callara. "Naughty girl...so niiiice..." he hissed, wiping at the blood with the back of his other hand. "But welcome to the Nether..." Raphael lunged without physically moving, his mind afire with flaming tendrils of Mindcraft weave, buffeting her defenses as she had done his, flashes of sensations from all five senses misfiring all over her awareness, the soft squirming feel of maggots within her eye sockets, the crawling of unidentifiable bogs upon her skin, the shreik of some sort of angry beast hungry for the kill sounding in her ears, the taste of death and decay upon her tongue...

...and the sight of a featureless man standing where Raphael stood, his arms and hands outstretched, his fingers jointless, writhing snakes in her vision, their heads lashing out at her over and over, their milky fangs blank and featureless for the strike, bloodied and emptied of venom on the return.

Callara would feel her own shielding withstand rest of this round of attack but, as Ushuaia had often warned, there were many mages out in the world who would drag battles out purposefully, saving their hardest hits for last and focusing on shielding as an effort to wear their opponents into submission and, as it stood, Callara would have to struggle with Raphael a bit more to determine if he were such a mage.

The fact remained, however, that the arena of their minds stood well the chance to become just as bloody of a battlefield as the killing floor below them.
Last edited by Gutter Rat on Sun Aug 24, 2008 11:52 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Post by Callara »

Callara's mind was struck with images she knew created by this man before her. He remained the fool though she had to admit she was rather impressed with his counter attack. It felt similar in some ways to how she had felt, all those moons before Ushuaia took her eyes. Her mind overwhelmed with senses she could not control, feeling, sight, sound all bashing into her skull making her go slowly insane. Even the lessons of Ushuaia had not hardened her enough to withstand the calling of the blood in the end, but she called upon it now to counter this attack.

She lashed her magic back to her, calling upon the blade to shape into a shield. The lessons of Ushuaia to focus her efforts on a single objective now put into effect, his words on envisioning reality, on seeing it for what it truly was before her. The energy of the world usually a subtle stream. In this room the stream had become a raging whirlpool, within which two figures now stood daring each other.

Again he spoke his condescending words as he wiped the blood from his nose. The spilling of blood freeing up more energy which she soaked up into herself directly. Her spirit soared to new heights as it's power was once again called for and had once again succeeded in drawing the precious scarlet gold from the living, in service of the power of blood. She attempted to cleanse her mind, seeking the inner focus, a point of centering to withdraw to as she had back when her eyes had clashed with the blood, countering the headaches that, by then, had become an ongoing onslaught on her mind. She withdrew within herself to find the space of calm, of darkness. The space where she once again might find the power to speak.

"Naughty?" Her face contorted into a wry smirk as she raised her head once more. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

With that she lashed out once more, this time not focusing on the man's mind, but on his heart. The blood within him roared, adrenalin no doubt causing the muscle to strain in pumping the blood rapidly through his arteries. Every little one of which visible to her blind eyes. She wrought her energy into a claw to grasp the heart and squeeze it, pushing out all the blood so as to cripple the flow for a flicker, maybe two. Cripple it so that his mind would not get what it needed...life.
His mind being his weapon, it was no doubt shielded better than the rest of his body. She counted on him not to have realized where her powers truly emanated from, and what they truly meant to any living being.

For yes, he might be strong of mind. But was he strong of heart aswell? She would not make the mistake again of underestimating this one. But even the most powerful of men had weaknesses. She had no doubt in her mind that she would find his soon enough as the blood within her riled, cheered her on and rejoiced at the prospect of death encroaching.
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader

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Post by Gutter Rat »

"Raphael?"

Jeet-Belan's voice came from the doorway as Raphael backed slowly toward it, his own defenses rising and offenses lowering as he and Callara found an unspoken rhytm like that of battle weary swordsmen calling wordlessly for flicker-long truces between strikes. Callara would hear both mirth and admiration in Raphael's voice as the Lord answered back. "Not now, Jeet - don't you know not to interrupt a man when he is dancing with a beautiful woman?" Her attacks were skilled, he would give her that, but she still had a bit of a problem with allowing emotion to rule her offenses - applying might where control might be an optimal weapon in its place.

Perhaps she needed an example...

Jeet and Ethau watched in morbid amazement and minimal understanding as their employer stopped retreating and rushed Callara physically, one hand finding the back of her neck while the other circled her waist in a violent parody of a waltz, his forehead pressed to hers, their noses touching, their lips almost close enough for a kiss. The pain in his chest was increasing and he answered it back with the pain of a dagger slipping rhythmically in and out of her side.

"There are..." he grunted past the constrictions "...far easier ways... to grab hold... of my heart... my dear..." Callara would feel the sticky warmth of blood soaking into her clothing and smell its crisp aroma in the air arount them as Raphael held her close and swayed to music that only they could hear.

The slow, mournful violin of Death as he drew closer and closer to them both.
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Post by Callara »

OOC: I'm working under the assumption the dagger is an illusion. If it's not, just nudge me and I will correct.

The proximity of the man to her was disturbing. Callara had lived a sheltered and short life, never knowing the joys and pains of a man and woman being together. Within the current context all it raised was dread and she felt the urge to throw up as she felt the dagger sink into her side.

"No..."

She didn't feel it.

She felt the dagger sink into her side, with his hand writhing it around like it was a scoop sifting around her insides. She smelled the blood pouring from her body.

But she didn't feel it.

She hadn't been just Callara for a long time now. The Blood intermingled with her own mind having given her senses beyond those of the ordinary man and woman in the street. It always told her when blood was spilled, as it would crave the released energies and suck them into itself, empowering her with even more energy to feed her magic with, strengthen it with. Her own blood spilled, in such amounts, should trigger a wave of energy. But it did not. It was a hoax. He was playing with his limited understanding of the five senses, not knowing she had another that told her this man was playing her for a fool.

She felt his hands around her neck and waist. She nearly gagged. She sought within herself to find if there was still but one wound, the cut to her hand. Briefly, as she did not want to release her grip on the muscle inside Terrel's chest, which was something he could probably feel most clearly. Her right hand seeking the small knife she used to release blood from herself, the small inconsequential blade hidden within her robes. Her mind attempting to ignore the false input to her senses he attacked her with.

Had she had the time to reflect on it, she would think it highly ironic that the one thing he sought to attack her with was the exact thing she had been training hard to counter with Ushuaia. If she walked away from it, she should make sure to give the old mage a hug.

A hug? Now something else inside of her was likely to throw up.

"You know..." Callara whispered as she leaned in to speak softly into Terrel's right ear, as the hand holding the blade struck up swiftly into his side at roughly the same height where he had thought hers to be. "Next time...you might want to use a real dagger..."
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader

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Post by Gutter Rat »

The reason for Jeet-Belan's intrusion became evident to all but the combatants - Callara blinded by choice and Raphael blinded by his strange infatuation with her - as the pair turned and moved at Raphael's lead, her blade sunk to the hilt in his side but no traces of blood yet to be seen in his tunic, a small throng of investors and slave owners gathered within the third-tier hallway of the complex watching in what, at first, was silent confusion. The sight of the knife and the looks on the pair's faces soon cleared all of that up and the air was shortly filled with the type of chatter that those halls had heard many times before in the short lifespan of the Broken Blade Arena.

"Two lance on the girl..."

"Are you daft? He's got some weight on him and she's a lass... Three lance on Terrel to win..." More and more voices chimed in, the men betting on a battle that they could not even witness, save for her still bloodless blade.

"Ten Circlet!" The ante had risen and risen fast. "Ten says he will..." there was a sentence-dividing thump as Raphael swiped his hand around to the front of Callara's throat, pushing her bodily against a pillar and twisting away from her small blade which exited as bloodless as it had gone in, its lone tooth tasting naught but the padded armor beneath his clothes. For a man in Raphael's line of work, one never entered any meeting with nothing between his skin and a blade other than a simple tunic.

For Raphael himself, the pain was becoming excruciating, having elevated from something akin to heartburn to feeling as if he had been struck in the ribs by a hammer forged in the Nether itself. His stunt with illusionary pain had failed on her when it had worked on countless others - truly she was well versed in her art. His eyes glanced down at the glint of light from her blade as he, like she, had not felt the stabbing attack and was unaware that she had attempted, despite her comment.

"I adore blonds, Callara... I really do..." he grunted, still tuning out those around him. "But ask anyone and they will tell you that I...", he continued, his breathing labored as the fingers of his other hand curled tightly against themselves and pulled back, his palm nearly wight and bloodless from both the strain of the 'odd' fist and her rather successful and ongoing attack, his other hand tightened and white-knuckled against her smooth skin. "...much prefer... redheads..." With some of the last of his physical reserves, he lashed out, his palm striking her forehead and the back of her head striking the dense pillar in return, a tell-tale spot of crimson about the size of a freshly-baked potato on the stone column behind her as Raphael cast her bodily to the ground and staggered back a few feet, his hands clutched to his chest as her grip on him faded...for the burn anyway.

"Someone fetch the healers..." came Jeet-Belan's voice from above Callara's temporarily prone form. There was a low murmur of disapproval from many in the crowd, their visions of fast money fading as quickly as her grip on Raphael's heart.

"The fight over?" one man mumbled as Jeet-Belan gently touched the side of her neck.

"No, gentlemen..." Jeet answered, rising once more and resuming his vantage point next to Ethau who stood nearby, blind, silent, and with blades sheathed. "She's coming round, I think, and I have five crown against any man here who thinks that that little 'love tap' did anything more than....piss...her...off..." His words ended in a chuckle as Callara would, indeed, feel the stun lifting. Her lessons, as the haze around her mind slowly cleared, would remind her that even a master of an art - any art - must have concentration to do that art well and Raphael, if only for a short time, had succeeded in breaking that focus.

A few feet away, a shaking and sweating Raphael prepared what he had remaining of physical and mental defenses in anticipation of Jeet-Belan winning his latest wager in abundance - from what he had already sampled of her rage and power, only a fool would counter the former gladiator's ante.
Last edited by Gutter Rat on Wed Aug 27, 2008 7:36 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by Callara »

"Son of a bitch!"

She would have yelled it out, but she rather directed her anger inside. The blow to her head came quick, forcing her to drop her focus on her mental attack. As he threw her to the ground, she felt the pain eb away already however, enforcing Jeet's assessment of the situation.

'He isn't out to kill me."

He had the advantage on her when it came to physical strength. Callara was not built for a fist fight, something she had suffered just now. Her mind started to build up energy again as her hand went to the back of her head, a small trickle of crimson gold touching her skin, making her spirit soar with rage and power.

"He has no idea what he does. The more blood he draws the stronger I become. This guy thinks he is playing with me, seeing what I can do. Well, I'll make sure it's the last thing he ever sees."

She got back up, her cloak and hood draped over her body and face as she rose from the ground. Slowly, like the shadow of death itself. If her eyes could gleam red, they would have. The spirit within her coming to a slow boil as she started gathering her power for another attack. Terrel was tired, both his mind and his body were weary. Yet he still stood aswell, to defy her. Perhaps to lash out at her again. But he would not get close anymore. Her mind would not allow anyone to approach her. She walled herself in as she channeled the pain and the anger she felt inside, amassing it into a single powerful focal point.

Her lips once again curled into something of a smile, her unseeing eyes pinned on the form of her opponent, his heart still beating in his chest. His pain was evident from the way he poised himself. It would not take much more for him to break.

"Such a pity..." The amassing energy inside her was culminating as her right hand reached out into a claw, too far away to actually touch him, but clear enough a channel as she charged her magick through to Terrel's heart once again, lashing at it not only with magick now, but with a single crushing movement of her hand to emphasize the strike. She didn't really need to make the gesture. But hey...the crowd wants a little something too...

"Here you are, standing in front of a person you can not commit to killing..." Every word she spoke emphasized another shot at his heart, pure but focused rage streaming into him with every syllable, no longer unchained but directed with a single purpose. Her exterior spoke with a calm but threatening tone as her body was poised completely erect, the black and red of her garb accentuated by the small trickles of blood from her hand and head.

"Such a shame for you that I have no such reservations..." The dark malignance would be almost tangible, and most certainly audible to those with the ability to sense it. Every fiber of her being screamed for blood. Every node in her brain channeling that rage into the attack that now struck once again at the heart of Raphael Terrel.

"Focus is the key? Then focus you shall have, master Ushuaia."

"Time to die."
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader

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Post by Gutter Rat »

In the Blood vision, Callara saw the man draw his hands together symbolically as well, an intense migraine enveloping her as she watched Raphaels' abused heart once more writhe within her grasp, deep in his chest....

The crowd was chanting - cheering - yelling...a smaller scale of the death cries that she had often heard rising from the stands surrounding the killing floor. Without even knowing her name, many in the throng were rallying her toward victory...

She tightened her grip as he tightened his, the two of them engaged in epic struggle... His attack high and hers low, the fire between them both invisible and all consuming...

The roar of the crowd was lost to the roar of the blood in her ears, which soon gave way to the roar....

[hr][/hr]

...of the ocean as it gently tossed the Emerald Dream, the sight of the ship itself distorted and nightmarish, boards warped into the carved visages of disembodied heads, all silently screaming, their blank wooden features liquid in surrealism and moving, their mouths opening and closing in unison, calling out a word that she could not hear. There was a mighty push from below the ship and Callara was pitched violently against the misshapen bulkhead, one of the mouths opening like a porthole to allow her to gaze through.

A massive storm threw lightning in such density and frequency that it lit up the darkness like the mottled twin of the sun itself, illuminating the waves.

The water - the water was as blood.

After a flicker, the mouth nearest her ear uttered a sound.

"Callara..."

She would find confusion as to what the word meant as the room and everything within it collapsed into nothingness.

[hr][/hr]

"Callara..." There was a man standing above the battered blond - she could hear him but not see him, her vision darkened...perhaps by bandages or perhaps something had happened to her eyes before waking. His voice was as unfamiliar to her as the word which issued from both his lips as it had from the mouth of the grotesque aboard the ship. Judging from his tone, the man was both happy to see her finally awake and concerned that she had been sleeping. "Callara..." he repeated, using that term...or was it a name of sorts? "When you were delivered two tides ago, the men who brought you told me that you killed a man. Would you mind telling me why? I do love your ambition, my student, but you take unnecessary risks, I fear and that could well get you killed."

She would feel him sit on the edge of the bed, guiding a cup of water into her hands, but even his touch brought no memory of his name or her own identity. Her mind, she would find, retained its skills, her blood its power, although both would be weakened for a day or two. She had killed a man, as far as she knew and, unbeknown to her, he had returned the favor before passing - at least for the foreseeable future - and the memories of the woman named Callara...her life...her loves...her ambitions...lay either dead or dormant within the confines of the woman's damaged mind.

OOC: Great fight, please see PM and the thread is still open unless you want to close it.
Last edited by Gutter Rat on Thu Aug 28, 2008 7:24 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by Haikan »

Thread skilled:


Skillz for Callara:


*Conversation
*Resolve
*Blood Magick
*Manipulation of Energy [MindCraft]
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