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RE: =EC 2025= Grand Arena

 
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9/2/2025 20:57:49   
roseleaf320
Creative!


Something about this beast is wrong.

As Marrow sprints across the arena, xe tracks its body in the side of xyr vision. It is still— almost impossibly so— the quills on its back raised like a hissing cat. The hunter pauses xyr breath, pulling xyr cape in to stop its flap.The beast is like a deer standing frozen after hearing a noise, deciding whether to run.

But when the beast makes its decision, the deer becomes… something else. Marrow catches the moment its eyes lock on xyr form, and it is like something dead has snapped to life, bones jerking into movement with impossible speed. Xe finds xyr own eyes snapping to the creature, abandoning the silver gleam in the sands. Its head follows the hunter’s movement with perfect smoothness, pulled by an invisible string, its pupils wide.

The hunter has only enough time to feel the liquid-hot instinct rising in xyr stomach-- to name it fear-- before the beast charges.

Electricity crackles under its visceral shriek as it runs, two limbs bounding faster than Marrow could ever hope to match. The hunter stays low to the ground and shoves Light’s gift in the berry pouch at xyr collarbone, barely missed by the beast’s earlier tear. Not yet. Each star in Night’s sky was intentional, painted tales and thoughts for the living to see. The Light’s glass surface makes it clear: Marrow has one chance to place xyrs, and it must count.

Xyr prey raises a claw as it tears towards xem, its curve almost dark in Marrow’s view, backlit by the sun’s gaze. Marrow digs the fingers of xyr right hand into the sands and pushes forwards, gritting xyr teeth as the tear on xyr shoulder stings in protest. The claw sweeps over xyr head, its movement fluttering the ends of the Paragon’s hair as xe slides under the beast’s body. Let’s see if this slows it down. Xe reaches to xyr side for a dagger, hoping to catch the beast’s ankle and bring it to a hobble. But the twist sends a surge of pain through xyr waist, its path curling across xyr stomach and up xyr side to trace the broken root beneath. Marrow lets out a yelp and skids from beneath xyr prey, xyr fingers never even making it to the dagger’s hilt. How far did your damned roots spread? Marrow curses, knowing xe may as well be yelling at a boulder.

Too far, Marrow answers for Ulvenne. How much of you is even human, and how much has turned to root?

Marrow plants a foot, spins to face xyr prey again-- and nearly chokes as the beast’s tail smashes into xyr back. Spine-root shatters as the tail's sharp tip slashes clean through it. Pain, flaming hot, courses up Marrow’s neck and down xyr tailbone, a swarm of fire ants bursting from a log as it’s peeled open. Dead wood digs into skin, deeper, deeper, and Marrow shrieks as xe is flung like a toy across the sands. Fragile. Fallible. Not enough. Xe didn’t even get a knife out of its rotten sheath. Xyr body skids to a halt in the sands, and perhaps the beast will kill xem now, as it should. Marrow closes xyr eyes and sobs in agony, for the pain and for xyr failure, for the dark, empty loneliness where Ulvenne should be. Spine and liver root fill xem like parasites, huge masses that should belong but don’t, eating and eating. They are swaths of void in Marrow’s body where xyr heartbeat just dies. Heart and neck will follow soon, the scent of their rot already consuming Marrow’s senses, withering like blighted ferns. Marrow wails, and it is as if the Earth itself wails with xem, mourning its loss. Marrow has ruined everything. Kill Ulvenne? What was xe thinking? The People of Ulve would die without him, and now Marrow gets to be first, alone and shattered by the very thing that used to caress xem, because xe has betrayed him.

“And so has favor been withdrawn from Drakesthai Morian, Paragon of Earth."

What?

The scent of rot fades, and Marrow realizes it was not from xyr roots but from Earth itself, withdrawing. Leaving its Chosen, while Night remained. With Marrow.

Darkness’ Chosen blinks away mud-stained tears to find Earth’s amidst the battlefield. The man with more metal than Ulve’s entire forest. He teeters, barely standing, against Radiance. Marrow recognizes the crimson that floods from his stomach, its glint ugly and dark in the sunlight as it rushes to take its place on the sands. And in Radiance’s hand-- barely visible through Marrow’s earthy tears and covered in that same crimson that glints ugly in the light-- is the hunter’s dagger.

He had driven Marrow’s dagger, moonsilver and goldbirch, into Earth’s Favoured-- and Earth had recoiled.

Light’s Favoured needed xyr gift. And it worked.

Marrow brings a hand to xyr Night-painted face, smudging xyr tears aside. The gift of Light, the single star of Marrow’s Night, feels warm in xyr pocket.

It’s about time xe lit it.

Xyr crossbow lies heavy in the sand, only a few paces away. Perhaps luck had brought xem towards it. But as sunlight ripples off the sands, Marrow can almost feel the roots of the forest beneath xem, controlling every little shift. In Ulve, it was never just luck.

Marrow drags xyr body slowly toward the weapon, desperately hoping the beast will not notice xem. Each pull sends waves of agony across xyr broken roots, forcing Marrow to hold down a retch. As silently as xe can, the hunter reaches into the pocket by xyr collar.

The beast sees Marrow. Its eyes lock, just as before, an unsettling, unmoving pinpoint aim. It barrels towards xem like a rockslide; but this time, Marrow is faster.

Just a single spark.
A fraction of their power.

That’s all the hunter needs to light a blaze.

A flick of xyr wrist sends Light’s gift flying from its pouch into the air. Fingers lock around xyr crossbow and heft it towards the gift as xyr freed hand grasps frantically at a dagger. The beast’s hot breath fills the hunter’s nose with the stench of lightning. But instead of flinching, Marrow does the first thing xe teaches velvets not to. Marrow closes xyr eyes.

Glass shatters into broken, discordant notes. Dark’s Paragon watches xyr own thin veins backlit through xyr eyelids as the world fills with light. Xe reaches xyr arm out blindly, goldbirch and fingers like a single limb, and slashes down with the fierceness of a cornered animal. And as the Night’s Chosen attacks, shoulder and spine burning, xe holds xyr breath for xyr star’s verdict.

What could I do with just a little bit of god power?

Anything.

Flesh parts under the hunter’s blade, the scream of Energy’s beast rumbling under its skin before it reaches xyr ears. Marrow’s eyes open to a burst of bright red, blood streaming down the beast’s thigh onto Marrow’s fingers. Triumph surges through xem and xe twists, pulls, and rips the knife from the beast. Humans are fallible, but in this moment, Marrow is not human, xe is Night’s Favoured, Ulvenne’s beloved, Light’s gifted, and a killer. The Paragon feels it surging through xem, numbing xyr wounds, heightening xyr senses. It raises Marrow’s injured arm, dagger pointed towards xyr prey’s exposed throat. As a searing burn drills through xyr shoulderblade, it keeps xyr grip solid, xyr footing stable, and turns the worst of the pain into a numb prickling buzz. The Paragon lowers xyr arm and turns xyr head towards this new assailant. And when xe sees Radiance, battered and lying prone on the sands, the power pulls xyr first thoughts from hatred to laughter.

What, was I taking your god’s glory away from you?

“Can’t let me get the kill myself, Radiance?” Xe calls, voice lilting like an injured bird. Xe can barely even hear xemself over the beast as it howls-- I’ll cut your vocal cords, next, fiend-- and the buzzing that blazes in xyr ears from within.

God-power. Marrow doesn’t need the Lords to kill Ulvenne, or the cursed wolves that plague xyr clan. Xe just needs enough power to do it xemself.

Post #: 26
9/3/2025 21:26:27   
  Starflame13
Moderator


The acrid tang of ozone, of the breath of sharp stillness preceding a storm, subsumed the air of the Arena. Hair stood on end as sparks danced across glass, the Pillar of Earth coming alive with static. Smooth, lacquered surface glowed as the lightning at the woman's temples crawled downwards, curling itself around her like a rippling cloak. Her head tilted back to let lose a roar, the beast-like call splitting a spider web of fissures just beneath the surface of her form. It held for a single moment - then lightning split the sky to crash into her extended hand, pieces of class shattering and cascading downwards in a cacophony to accompany the resounding echoes of thunderous boom and furious cry alike.

“And so has favor been withdrawn from Zephyra, Paragon of Energy.” Their voices rumbled low and deep, reminiscent of a squall observed from far away. “The Pillar of Energy has shattered - and we now bear witness to her choice, and to her Lord's rage.” Alone intact, bone-white fangs plunged to bite deep into the crimson sands below, surrounded by shards and fragments now sparkling against the Arena sands.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 27
9/4/2025 13:17:21   
kavyraya
Member
 

As the bass leaves my throat, the world still remains beyond white. The flash peeled the world out of my skull and left nothing behind. Just heat. Just ringing.

I’m crouched, twitching, tasting my own blood in my life as the buzz trickles out of my serpentine body. My claws scrabble for meaning. My leg is wet and hot with pain. My eyes are useless.

But the air?

The air sings.

The current shifts – small tremors across my spine, too soft to hear, but loud to me. He’s moving slower, maybe not even moving at all from the sands. Wounded. Trying to be quiet. My maw twists into an ugly grin.

The sand betrays every little motion here.

And I feel the buzz of his nervous system. The weak static that lives inside him. It skips, broken– shoulder click, breath hitch, foot drag.

I don’t need to see. I know him. And I’m done waiting.

OVERRIDE.

The word isn’t spoken. It’s carved into the base of my skull, burned into muscle memory. It hits like pulling a trigger buried in my spine. It’s not a feeling– it’s a detonation.

My spine flares, sending a surge down my limbs. My quills stiffen. The armored plates hiss and lock tight against my spine.

My whole body snaps forward – push– lunge. I feel it deep in my spine. The click.

Muscles coil, then fire. Joints click smoother than they ever have.

Pain? Slows.
Noise Gone.
Time? Stretches.

I move.

Not like before– this isn’t instinct alone now. This is pure precision, pure speed, like lightning finding the shortest path to the ground. My wounded leg screams but it obeys. Everything obeys.

For two– maybe three heartbeats, I’m not thinking. I’m just fast enough.

I can hear his heartbeat now.

I can feel it jump as he senses me coming.

And I am already there. I pounce before he can turn or move away. The pads of my hindclaws hit him hard. This old man flattens further into the sand. His weapon swings uselessly against my snout– but I’m too charged up to care; I’m the one over them, they’re the one under me. Pain spikes through my wounded leg, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop. I feel the panic through his nervous system.

I dig my claws in– not to tear, just to hold. To be close. Close enough.

”You will activate the burst only on command–” “Again, Zephyra. You just burned the wall. Try it again.” “You don’t get rest until you learn to discharge and recover on your own. And I know you can understand me. Get up!”

I remember.

The lab. The screams. The seizures. ”Again, Zephyra.”

I remembered how the lights overhead burned cold. The floor always smelled like metal and antiseptic and blood that had dried too long. ”You fired too soon. You wasted it.” I was on my side, twitching. Electricity still in my bones. My lungs wouldn’t fill right. My claws wouldn’t close. “You’re supposed to shock on target, not the wall behind it. You were two meters off.” I hissed. I think I growled. Maybe whimpered. They didn’t care. I remember my spine overheating, the pain like acid under my skin. I’d shocked the wrong target– again– and collapsed. They didn’t come to help me. They just watched. ”Recovery window is still too long. You want to lie there like a broken fuse while they put a bullet through your skull?”

I didn’t understand all the words. But I knew what failure felt like. I knew what came after failure. Cold pads. Straps. More needles. I remember being scared of the sound my spine made when I discharged wrong. The high whine that came before the heat. The static that lingered like poison.

I remember not wanting to scream, but screaming again. And the way they always said, ”Good. Now again." I remember the way they shocked me until I got it right–

The sounds of the arena flood back into my hearing. I breathe hard. Chest rising, falling. The world seemed to shake with my pulse– sharp, bright, wrong. Everything hurts.

The weight of my body pins the old man below me, but my body seems to quiet. Too still. My remaining claw twitches, spent. Smoke curls from the vents along my back, tinged with the scent of hot metal and blood and burning sand. My muscles tremble.

No more overdrive. No more override. No more anything.

I am empty.


The air changes. Shivers crawl along my hide. The taste of the storm comes– ozone. Power. But not mine.

I lift my head, slow. My eyes catch movement– not prey, not foe– something that happened to the other pillars. It is alive, glowing like heat-glass just before it cracks. The woman with the fangs on her neck. I smell the stone and the currents. Electricity rides her shape like a second skin, and when the scream comes, I flinch.

That sound.

The roar splits the air like talons through flesh. The ground trembles. My quills bristle as light splits the already-bright sky, crashes down, and strikes her. It blinds. Deafens. Glass rains down around her like broken stars, hissing against the sand. Then–

”And so has favor been withdrawn from Zephyra, Paragon of Energy.”

I freeze.

I don’t understand the words– not all. But I know my name. Zephyra. It booms through my skull like a million speaker-boxes crackling all at once.

”The Pillar of Energy has shattered–”

I don’t know what that means.

–and we now bear witness to her choice, and to her Lord’s rage.”

A sharp sound tears from my throat. Half snarl, half cry, head lowering down to the old man and gnashing my teeth so close to their sagging flesh.

But I look to the sky. There is no Lord there. Only clouds, scorched and twisted, weeping broken lightning across the arena in response of the pillar cracking to a thousand pieces. The sand glows golden mockingly beneath me.

Am I bad?

I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did wrong. My claws curl into the old man’s feeble body, just gripping, not scraping, holding– while I feel the electricity within me hush down to a discordant whine, almost leaving nothing left but a tiny spark that makes my heart race. It hurts inside– not just the tiredness now. Not just the pain in my legs, my back, the sparks sputtering uselessly from my spine.

It hurts in the place where I feel.

Why did they say my name? Why did they take it away?

I make a sound: high, keening. I don’t mean to. It just happens. My jaws tremble, still stained with the heat of the battle. The vents on my back hiss softly as the last of my power fades. My tail thumps once against the grit.

A shadow falls across me, long and jagged, cast by the shattered figure in the center of the storm.

I was good. I tried to be good.

Didn’t I?

I step off the old man. My muscles twitch again, spasming with the last echoes of overdrive. Smoke curls from the vents along my back. My claws, remaining three, dig into the sands unsteady. I shake my head, trying to clear it. Sparks flicker one last time across my spine, faint. Weak. I don’t want to fight anymore.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

Blurred shapes dance within my vision… But it is returning. It goes wide, narrow, wide again. The light is different. Maybe I’m more hurt than I realize, I think. Why is the light softer? Something in the air changes. Not danger, not anger. Something else.

Then– I hear it.

Not a growl. Not commands barked from handlers, sharp and cold. Not the roar of storm or steel. A voice. A voice that feels like a small, strong hand against all my wounds.

”You can go home now, little reptile.”

My head snaps towards the sound, beyond the jagged pieces of pillar left. No one moves. I couldn’t even hear the shouts anymore. But the voice is there– in me. Little words I understand, more so feelings. Warm. Safe. Calling.

I stare. Where the pillar stood, now broken and crackling with fading light, something new has opened. A gate. Not made of bars or shock-grids. Not the heavy slam of the containment walls. This one is … different.

It looks like a cave. Dark. Curved. Stone and shadow and safety.

A memory claws up from somewhere deep.

I remember curling in tight spaces. Cool, damp walls pressing around me like a shell. No lights. No voices. Only the low hum of the world and the gentle flicker of electricity rolling off my back, my tail curled around until my snout. I remember hiding there after long days. Days of drills. Days of pain. Of shock-collars and noise and anger I didn’t understand.

Caves were quiet.

Caves were mine.

My foot lifts, uncertain. My claws twitch. I look back at the arena, at the cool, calculated faces of Brown Cloak and old man. Sands. Blood. Smoke. Judgment.

Then forward– to the cave. To the dark. To the voice that said home.

I step.

My muscles tense– waiting for the buzz of a shock baton, the sting of punishment.

But nothing comes.

I step again.

And again.

And something inside me changes. The confusion doesn’t vanish– but it melts, just a little. A tremble shakes my chest. My lips pull back– not in a snarl. In something… something else. My claws gallop faster now, kicking up sand. My tail twitches behind me even if I’m still trying to balance my three remaining limbs.

A sound bubbles up from my throat, high and strange.

Joy.

I’m sprinting now. I don’t look back. I don’t care who watches. I don’t care if they understand.

Because I understand.

The cool shadow is a balm against my aching wounds as I fly into the darkness. I am going home.
Post #: 28
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