Hot off the Punches
Log Info
- Title: Hot off the Punches
- Emitter: Chay
- Characters: Chay, Zeke, Halani, Cryosanthia, Azog, Merek, Braelnoir, Aya
- Place: A03: The Colosseum
- Time: Monday, March 02, 2020, 3:59 PM
- Summary: Chay is selling the Alexandria Tribune in the Colosseum, while Zeke is looking for a quiet place to have lunch. Halani, likewise, is looking for an interesting place to dine as well. Cryosanthia arrives, on an out of control Swiftclaw, which runs all over them spectator stands and finally licks Halani. Azog arrives, having heard that people were seeking him, and Cryo indicates she is eager to use the device again to see if she's improved. They retire to the Arming Room, where the machine is, and test themselves on it. While doing so, Merek and Braelnoir arrive, and also evaluate themselves. Aya makes an appearance, and everyone decides to relocate to the Fernwood Pub.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A03: The Colosseum *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Crafted largely of stone, the Colosseum sits heavily in the midst of the district. Effectively a giant arena, seats form its sweeping sides like the forefront of a great stage. At its center is a stained, stone floor. Each end is overseen by the opposing statues of Kor and Angoron, their arms raised and each holding weapons in gestures of triumph. Staged at a crossroads, their stone gazes stand in eternal challenge over the battlefield floor. Angoron's statue appears to have something of a smirk, opposing Kor's dreadful scowl.
Construction here is on the massive scale. The Arena's stone form was carried piece by piece from the Redridge. Borne on the shoulders of ancient oruch and formed by the tireless hands of the khazad, it is second to none in ancient craftsmanship. Old tribal and clan symbols, nearly worn away, reveal themselves when blood and sweat pools in their minor crevices. Their unusual display brings to life, if only for moments, memories of warrior traditions past. It is for this reason the Arena serves as a diplomatic grounds for some cultures, as well as sport and competition.
Beneath the arena's stage are preparation rooms for competitors, and retiring areas for the wounded. Here, warriors are tended to by aids and medics, by coaches and priests. Tarianic laughter echoes from the chambers on the Angorite side. These unseen areas run alongside a cleverly, khazad-designed system to flood the arena's floor for certain performances. When flooded, the arena draws waters from the nearby Tornmawr. During these occasions anything is possible, as even the Nar-Sektoth have been known to visit from far off Am'shere, and display their powers beneath the gods' banners.
The encircling seats provide a grand view, while vendors often walk the aisle ways between, selling food or taking bets. Clear as blood is the single, red line drawn down the arena's center between the twin statues, daring an opponent to cross.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Chay 7'0" 292 Lb Sith-Makar Male Rust-and-orange sith, with ash-toned scars Zeke 6'8" 239 Lb Sith-Makar Male A blue-scaled sith-makar in shadowy robes Halani 5'4" 120 Lb Human/Xian Female Shortish, dusky skinned woman with almond shaped eyes. Cryosanthia 6'7" 245 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, lithe white lizardgirl with tattoos. Azog 7'0" 350 Lb Orc Male A huge male orc with long black hair in a topknot. Merek 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. Braelnoir 5'11" 246 Lb Siver Chimera Female A rough and tumble brunette wielding a scythe and a feral grin. Aya 4'7" 105 Lb Shadow Elf Female Mul'niessa. Braided hair. Simple clothing. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
There are no crowds here today. Random people in the stands, yes, but those few are either here to watch the training in the pit below, place wagers with each other (because even practice bouts can be exciting, right?) or other, perhaps shadier, reasons. Halani is of the former. She's a bit ragged looking, hair not kept completely back with her headband, her robes and ribbons in need of a good washing. And mending. Her arms are cross and resting on the railing and her gaze is on a few of the pairs of fighters below.
"Peasse to your nesst. Peasse to your nest. Peasse to your--" Chay makes his way, oh so carefully, along the sparse lines of the Colosseum. One person, twenty, it does not seem to matter. He watches them all with a hunter's wariness. A faint twitch-muscle beneath the scale. He wears a long trenchcoat, made for the weather and by now, quite worn. Its colors are the dyed, dark greens of the jungle. A little out of place in the city.
There's at least one more sith-makar in the stands, standing already somewhat back from the railing, but watching the ongoings with wary interest. Every once in a while the sith's eyes dart around to the people nearby, but for the most part they pay him no heed. Contrary to the blue-scaled siths' normal demenor, the sith has his hood pushed back, and his cloak pulled away as well. This reveals both the six long horns on top of his head, and the crystal arm and leg that he bears to the light. Now and again his right hand lifts as if it might touch that crystal arm, or fix the cloak to cover the limbs, but it does not. Instead he stands still with a little basket to his right side and uncomfortably watches the ongoing.
"No! Stop... stop you. Don't each that! Oof. Sorry ma'am." There is a loud clattering of something heavy. A swiftclaw is in the stands, with rider, who is having difficulty controlling the beast. The pair are wandering up and down the stands as the Swiftclaw goes after discarded meals that have ended up under seats. Some of these meals only recently in the hands of spectators or ne'erdowells who wisely decide there's no reason to pick a fight with a giant lizard that has a smaller one along for fun. "C'mon ssshh... what's your name. Why didn't I find out your name. No, stop. Peace on your... lookout!"
No one is actually in danger, although their current trajectory is homing in on Zeke.
Halani squeezes up against the railing to give Chay room to pass... she glances at him out of the corner of her eye, then squeezes more upon realizing just how large he is. Then her eyes widen when the swiftclaw and rider enter the scene. Her hands grip the railing, as if preparing to vault down to the pit below.. then she relaxes somewhat when its direction becomes more obvious.
Azog has come to the colosseum because he was told people there were looking for him. So now he is looking for them. He is still in his winter coat, though it's worn open today as it's no longer wintry cold.
Deep breaths. Deeper breaths. The lean sith-makar (hunter-caste by the build) stops at a somewhat clearer space on the steps. "Escuse me, sser, this one's apologies, sser," he says to Halani. And then, raises his voice, "Tribune, ssers! Hot of the presses, ssers, and--"
An oruch bumbles by where he and Halani stand, and stuffs a hot dog in his mouth.
"--get the news ssers, and it doubles as a napkin!"
The oruch gives him a look. Chay offers a blink. And then--then there's a swiftclaw. He looks up, going tense. And for some precious moments, frozen!
Zeke notices the swiftclaw as swiftly as one might, noticing the ruckus and then the trajectory of said creature with alcricity. The sith freezes in place and then dropping his green eyes to the basket at his feet, swiftly picks something up out of said basket and slids the rest behind him with his tail. Said tail gives a little flick as the sith-makar realizes that there is indeed a familiar figure on the swiftclaw - belatedly. Already offering out with his right claw the treat that the swiftclaw is surely making its way toward him for. A sweetmeat treat. Zeke hums low in his throat as the large riding lizard aproaches, the sound calming and bobs a head toward Cryosanthia. "Peassssce. Peasssce on your nessst."
The swiftclaw scents fear! This is more interesting than a treat. Although, the location is remembered. The beast's head whips around to focus on Halani, or perhaps Chay. The nostrils flare. Prey over there! Their direction is suddenly changed.
"Peace on your nest Zeeeeeeee..." Cryo wails as she nearly falls off her ride, spotting Zeke after he called to her. She slides half out the saddle, holding on and trying to pull herself back up as her swiftclaw hops down several benches towards Halani and Chay. The white-scale pulls back on the reins, "Stop, stop, stop, stop!"
Halani's eyes widen further into great, big, NOPE size.. her legs swing over the railing and she sidles to her left, putting Chay between her and the charging raptor. "Sorry," she tells the tribune vendoring Sith, though she doesn't entirely sound it... maybe she figures swiftclaws and sith'makar are basically the same. Surely it wouldn't eat Chay, right?
Azog looks around, looks around? "Hello!" he shouts. "Was someone looking for me?!" Well, that's what he was told. They must not be here now. He looks around, shrugs, and will head up to the stands to watch the training for a while, since he's here. And there's that white Sith riding an out of control raptor. Somehow this does not surprise him at all, nor does it particularly worry him, so he continues on as he was going even as others scoot out of the way.
"Are you--sorry, sser!" Chay says to the repositioning Halani. He starts to lift the Tribune again, and then he sees that someone's falling out of the saddle. A scaled is falling out of the saddle. He looks quickly over towards Zeke, and, "Excuse me, sser," he says to Halani, then, not waiting on an answer.
The hunter-caste takes off at a quick-step at an angle towards the swift and Zeke and past Azog--just in case the swift goes the opposite way.
And he's hurriedly, awkwardly, stuffing the Tribune papers underneath his jacket as he does! Stuff. Stuff stuff! Crinkle!
The raptor is going /away/ from Zeke now. Treat denied. Zeke thinks quickly, realizing that the raptor is not chasing after someone else. Namely Chay. Or likely Chay. He drops the sweet meat treat and reaches out to add his own weight to the reins as they go by. "Stop!" He says, but not in common. He says it in draconic, knowing that the swiftclaw was likely trained in that language. His claws dig into the ground, and the crystal one makes an odd noise agaisnt the ground.
The raptor runs headlong! With Zeke's weight on the reins, and more importantly, his commands in draconic, the beast is pulled to a stop. Right in front of Halani. Fetid meat-breath washes over her as the swiftclaw exhales.
SLURRRRRPP! She is licked.
Cryosanthia finds herself mostly in the saddle, one leg hanging down, and if it was possible for the white-scale to turn colours with embarassment, she would be a close match in blue to Zeke. At least on her cheeks. "Oh. Right. Draconic, would have worked much better."
She works herself free and slides to the ground, opposite Zeke. She's being somewhat truthful when she says, "I think a Mul'neissa spooked my swiftclaw. Thanks Zeke. Apologies Halani. Oh hello Azog, I was looking for you."
Halani's knuckles squeeze, then prepare to let go as Chay moves away from her and the swiftclaw seems to bear down upon her. Then, like a switch is flicked inside her, Halani relaxes. Rather than jumping she closes her eyes and breathes out, as if she were finding some inner circle of calm. To which she is rewarded stinky lizard breath and a tongue that roughs up her face and leaves some of her bangs momentarily suspended in the 'up' position. Her lips curl slightly into a grimace, and she cracks open one of her eyes as if she needs the confirmation that her head is still on her shoulders and not inside a swiftclaw belly.
Azog watches curiously as Chay zips past him, and shrugs a bit. Well, maybe he should help out, if the situation requires it? "Going to ...?" he starts, to Chay, but well, yeah, he /is/ moving towards the raptor, and already past the big orc, so Azog will head that way also, in case they need help. But no, no help is needed. The raptor just needed to lick someone. They're just like puppies. If puppies weighed 1200 pounds and ate small animals.
When Zeke speaks up, Chay follows. He echoes the same word, 'Stop!' in Am'shere's draconic. The People separated ages ago from proper dragons and draconic culture--so their language--
...well. It's mostly draconic. Just...
Not, exactly. Dialect, in those fancy words of the softskins, in those fancy words from quill-pushers and phrase-wranglers.
'Stop, please!' he echoes. And makes his frame very still--so difficult. So difficult, here with people. In a...colleseum. 'Please, tooth-and-fang. The sshaman has assked you ssto--'
And--then it's slurping Halani. Slurping, with doubtless stinky swiftclaw-saliva left behind. '...thank you, sser,' he says. And, then, glances up towards the awkwardly-hanging speaker, a scaled he does not know. He hesitates again, and seems to have found himself closer to Zeke. No idea how that happened. It just happened!
It's MAGIC!
Zeke nods very low to Halani, an apologetic motion toward the woman who was unfortunately licked by the swiftclaw. "Peacssse on your nesst." He offers the greeting with that same apology in his voice before turning his attention toward the swiftclaw. His words had been echoed by Chay, whom earns another nod, this one warmer and with more familiarity. Only Cryosanthia's movement to the ground distracts him and he realizes suddenly how close /they/ had been and busiess himself distracting the swiftclaw from its new friend. Stairing into its eyes and stroking its face with his right claw gently. "Ssso many people you were just exsscited."
Green eyes flicker toward Crysanthia and Azog, but Zeke stays where he is, soothing the raptor in his claws. He does not release it as he does not want it wandering off to make /more/ friends.
"There, there, calm down. It's okay. " Cryo is also petting the raptor on the neck, and searching her pockets for a treat. Not that this behaviour exactly deserves a reward, but there will be one for staying put now. She dips her head towards Halani. "I'm very sorry, things were fine until I neared the field, and then we were suddenly in the stands."
"Thanks Zeke. Peace on your Nest," She nods to the other sith, lurking behind the blue-scale. Things seem to be under control, finally.
"Soooo... " Cryo attempts to be casual, keeping up the petting on her raptor as she looks around. She asks generally, "Why were you here? Placing bets? I came to see if Azog had his machine out."
Once the swiftclaw's attention is diverted, Halani swings her legs back over the railing and shuffles to the side a step or two. Then she proceeds to wipe her face with the wrappings on the back of her wrist. The smell, yes, its bad, but to be honest... the smell in a place like this isn't great anyways. All manner of food aromas, the number of unwashed bodies that frequent the stands, the sweaty and often times bloody matches below. It would be downright toxic if it were an enclosed building. "Is no worries, Cryosanthia," Halani tells her after. "This one is fine." She tilts her head to Zeke in response to his bow, then looks at the oruch as Cryo mentions him. "This one was just here watching. Looking for the best fighters."
Azog has more or less joined the conglomeration of mostly sith, and he says to Cryosanthia, "I have brought my machine, yes. It is in the arming room, where the gladiators prepare themselves. They did not wish me to leave it out on the grounds because it would get in the way of events." Anyway, he doesn't stink, he had a bath ths month.
Zeke nods his head again to Crysanthia. "Thisss one doess what one can." Which seems at the moment to be soothing a swiftclaw that is getting plenty of attention for its misdeeds. Zeke releases the beast to Crysoanthia's custody and takes a step over to retrieve his basket though he sets it off to the side again once he has retrieved it. The treat he had offered to the swiftclaw is gone mysteriously, but he doesn't worry overly much about it. Instead he considers his answer to Crysanthia's question. "Thisss one wassss looking for a placsse to eat. Thisss one hasss not been to the colloseum before and wasss not esspecting... ssso many people." Which is saying something considering the fact that there aren't that many people here.
"Oh, nice! I know where the arming room is. I want to poke it, see if I've gotten any better." Cryo says enthusiastically. She seems ready to bound off right now, but contains herself.
She indicates Azog, in an answer to Halani, "I think he's one of the best you'll see. Munch, possibly is comparable. I've been hoping to watch them duel at some point. Pretty sure there will be some good betting going on when that happens."
Cryo nods to Zeke, "I've never thought to eat here, it would be entertaining. Lots to watch. I usually eat down by the riverside, where I can watch the ice and boats go by. Sometimes in the marketplace, when I'm not at the Fernwood."
"It was well-done sshaman," Chay says to Zeke. The hunter had stood back a while, watching the swiftclaw and its interaction. And then--well, then? he lowers his muzzle to Halani. "This one apologizes if one bumped into you. It wass not this one's intent." Indeed, the way he's standing seems to decry touch at all--there's, well.
Take the concept of 'personal space' and double it. That's how Chay do.
"Peasse to your nessts. I...it is perhaps there are a number of people today, sshaman. One had hoped for a few more, sser, to ssell the papers. I...this one...peasse to your nest," he says to the sith-makar speaker. "This one is Chay, of hunter-caste. Honor to the Empress."
Halani just shakes her head at Chay, raising her hand close to her chest and then flicking her fingers away. A dismissive gesture... or 'don't worry about it'. Then she assesses Azog. "Seen him around," she admits. "Might be fun to watch." And, of course, an eye is always on that swiftclaw.
Azog eyes Cryosanthia, says, "I am probably not inconsequential in the plans of the strong, but I am not yet as lofty as you say. Munch commands strange powers, and I am just an oruch as the gods created me." He eyes Halani, and says, "I ... you tried my machine once before, I think? As I was bringing it on a wagon through the city?"
Zeke flicks his tail in embarassment and looks away from the attention. Claws twitching toward his cloak by habit but falling short. "Thisss one hasss found that a quiet place to enjoy onesss meal issss difficult to find in Alexandria. Thisss may return to eating meals at the Ssoldiersss Defencsse at thissss rate." The blue-scaled one lets loose a sigh which suggests that this is not a desired result and glances around at the people nearby. Many of whom are watching due to the commotion. Their attention serves to make Zeke more nervous and the swiftclaw snorts at him, reminding him of its presence and he gives it a serious look.
Cryosanthia hops up on the railing, her feet hooked around a lower bar, her tail hanging over, she is well balanced and on the same height as her raptor. Able to look down on it even, and potentially control the swiftclaw better. She's the bigger lizzer now! "Peace on your nest Chay, this one is Cryosanthia, Speaker. Honour to the Empress." She keeps forgetting the last part, she assumes it is assumed, which will work fine until it isn't.
"Well, that's true Azog, I've seen him turn into a dragon and he has that talking axe that becomes an Earthbreaker, but you hit things pretty hard and are really focused on it. That might be enough to overcome strange powers." Cryo speculates."Alexandria is pretty busy. I think the riverbank is the best bet."
A penny drops through, "You sell papers? I'd like one. What's in them?"
"You found it comfortable, sshaman. Perhaps...perhaps there is something to that," to Zeke, of the Soldier's Defense. Chay quiets for a moment after that, and then, "Ssa, speaker. This one ssells them on behalf of the Tribune. I--yes, sspeaker," he says, and the penny drops and he reaches out, grasps it quickly to tuck away.
"There are updates on the sstate of Goblintown, sser, and sseveral of the merchants. Interviews, sser." The penny jangles as it hits a few others. The paper rustles as he draws it out, and hands it over. It reads: ALEXANDRIAN TRIBUNE across the top of it.
To Azog, "A machine, sser?" he asks.
"Ahh..." Halani responds to Azog, "You're probably right. This one has taken a few hits to the head, yeah?" Halani slaps the side of her head with the palm of her hand a few times for emphasis. "And sometimes it's hard to... well... this is a big city, yeah? And many, many, many, many strange things and strange people. And many strange things." Which is probably why she's not buying a paper... too many strange things.
Azog offers a shrug to Cryosanthia. "In the hearts and minds of most Alexandrians, the lowest mage is more awesome than the mightiest warrior. I think that is why Jareth, who I try to model myself after, grew tired of the city and has left us." He bows his head for a moment. "-He- was a mighty warrior, I was like a child at his side." He sighs wistfully for a moment. He smirks to Halani, and nods to Chay, "A machine, indeed. It allows you to track your growth and progress, so you can watch and see as you grow in power and skill. Like a weightlifter, who can lift heavier and heavier weights. But for fighting people."
To Chay, Zeke can only nod. It /is/ a comfortable place, and yet... One could spend too much time in a single place. Zeke seems pensive now and he stands quietly in his place listening to the others talk of this strange fighting machine which Azog has come up with. Agreement is to be had with the statement that much strange happens in this place. A nod. Very much strange happens in Alexandria! Zeke watches the others as they converse.
"Neat!" The white-scale sith-makar takes the paper and scans it quickly for strange things, then tucks it away to read later. Perhaps there will be some useful conversation starters at the Fernwood. Talking about the weather gets tiring.
"This one has never met that one." Cryosanthia tells Azog, "He would be a sight to see. I'm not sure the machine measures me correctly, but it's a measurement."
She looks over at Halani, now able to look down at her as well. Although her perch is so casual it's oddly comforting. It's not a pose adopted by those attempting to look serious. More one of a game fan that wants to get closer to the field, or in her case, talk to the stands. "Well, we could all go see the machine. That's what I was here for. Then poke it."
Halani slowly turns her head to look back into the pit as if torn... then she rolls her shoulders in a shrug. "This one would like to see it.. see if he is right. She looks up at Cryosanthia, then over at the swiftclaw and Zeke, and then finally at Azog. "If he wants to show it off."
Azog explains to Cryosanthia, "It doesn't matter of it measures you correctly. It measures you consistently, so you can chart and measure your growth." As to Jareth, he says, "I haven't seen him in years, myself." To Halani, he says, "By all means, come into the arming room down below and try the machine yourself. It is quite useful, I've found." He peers to Zeke, to invite him along also, and will lead the parade down into the rooms where the gladiators prepare for fights.
"Thisss one will decline." Zeke shakes his head. "Thisss one will take the sswiftclaw and tie it up outssside for you Cryrosssanthia." He nods politely to the other sith-makar and picks up his basket. With this short explanation and farewell the blue-scaled one takes his leave of the group.
"Well, that's a point." The palescale says, hopping off the railing and landing beside her swiftclaw. She is very happy he offers to mind it for her, and releases it into Zeke's care. Her instructions to her swiftclaw are in draconic, "Obey. Follow Him. Be good."
"This one is ready!" Cryo follows along behind Azog. She looks back once to guage distance and keeps that in mind for managing her tail.
Halani pushes away from the railing, sidesteps Zeke leading the swiftclaw away, then bows slightly and flourishes grandly (or what she believes to be grandly) for Azog to take the lead. "After you, oh mighty giant."
Azog will lead the way to that ready room, then, where a couple Angorites have gotten the device, which looks like a training dummy on a broad steel platform, set up and operational. The mannikin's got a metal grill over it's 'face', which consists of a switch, a red and a green bulb for eyes, and two rows of glowing glass bulbs with what appear to be number-shaped filaments inside. He goes up to it, lifts the faceplate, presses the button, and drops the faceplate. The red bulb eye is lit, and Azog reminds Cryosanthia, "When the green light lights, you fight it as hard as you can until the red light lights again."
The white-scale sith-makar nods. She draws her rapier and drops into a fencing stance, tip of the weapon up and ready. She watches the green light, waiting for the fade. When it does, she launches her flurry of thrusts and lunges. Her tail whips in counterpoint with the motion of her arm. Stab, stab, stab, she keeps it up for the full two minutes. When the red light comes on again, she drops her arm.
"Well, what was the number on that?"
Azog watches Cryosanthia's attack, and he nods slowly. "You have improved," he concludes, flipping up the faceplate so the numbers are clearer. The raw score is 4.25 and the Dragon Rating is 2.0. He dials the dial down from 4 to 2, and says, "Compared to when you started ...." and the two numbers are 4.7 and 4.5. "So you are facing greater challenges, but your capabilities have increased as well."
Cryo perks up, grinning widely, "Oh! That is great. Feeling a little better now." Her tail is all aswish. She looks at Halani, "Do you want to try Next?"
Halani watches the whole process with first one eyebrow raised, then the other, then both lowered.. Once Cryosanthia is finished, the xian monk starts pacing around the machine, as if that would tell her how it worked. "This one doesn't... what do those numbers even mean?"
Azog shrugs to Halani about what the numbers mean. "I do not pretend to understand. But when you grow in power and see that they increase, that is good. Or if you know two different styles and are not sure which is more effective, you can compare them. That is what they are for. Apart from comparing your combat styles and charting your growth, I do not think it has much meaning," he admits.
Cryosanthia nods encouragingly, "You should try it. I'm curious if my Ice dagger is any different, it wasn't before."
Halani looks skeptically at the machine, though her fists start to tighten around their wrappings as if they were of a completely different mind than her. "Ehhhh... maybe. It would be interesting, maybe, to see what the machine says, anyways, yeah? So... does it need to be.. uh. Reset?"
Merek pulls his longcoat shift about him, while the beltcape begins to whip in the wind a little bit. He wears his white and black attire, while he has a sword upon the back. He is coming upon where the people are gathered about the machine. He takes a drink of the vodka that is with him, while he places a goblin-made cigarillo into his mouth, lighting that.
Azog nods to Halani, and will reset it. The numbers go to 0.0 and the red eye lights. He'll step back, and give her a moment to get into position. The light will then go green, and she can have at it. He nods a greeting to Merek as he approaches.
Cryo nods at Merek when he arrives. She's stepped back to give Halani room and watches with a curious interest as she tightens her wrappings.
Halani waits until the light goes green... and then she launches. It's hard to describe that as anything else. Halani flies at the machine foot first, heel out, and crashes into the dummy's centre. As she lands, an elbow knifes in, then a trio of swift punches. Halani rolls away, then, as the light turns red and seems to slow back down, just a tad, her shoulders rising and falling a little more as her breathing catches up with her.
Merek nods back to Azog, then to Cryo, while he waits about to watch people on the machine. He does take a drag from the cigarillo, and asks, "You all doing alright?"
Azog watches Halani batter the test dummy for two savage minutes. She's attacking so quickly that the alert might notice that it's not registering -every- hit. She's just that fast. But when the light goes red, the numbers read out, 'Final Score: 38.0' and 'Dragon Rating: 4.1', and Azog nods gravely. "You are very capable." Merek gets a nod, and he says, "I am fine."
"That's... effective. Wow." Cryosanthia says, her tail curling in.
Halani shakes her head slowly. "This one sees what.. Azog meant. A measurement only, yeah? Doesn't... can't account for the actual fight. This one was hitting as hard as she could, no defence... but maybe should have been more cautious in a real fight. Or maybe the fight was something which didn't stay still, or flew around invisible, yeah?" She clenches her fists. "And it still wasn't enough anyways." She looks at Cryosanthia, then at Azog. "This one wonders what your score is, yeah?" She steps further away from the dummy machine then, seeing and recognizing Merek to whom she bows her head slightly.
Merek waves a bit to Halani, and nods to the woman, then his attention looks back to Cryo and to Azog, "Interesting, I might like to try eventually, although I'm not great at these things generally," he admits.
Azog nods at what Halani says, and he agrees, "It's not so much a combat simulator, as I've said, as a way to measure your training and compare your techniques. I've tried half a dozen different strategems to measure my power, to decide what is most effective in each situation, which was my original purpose in devising the machine." He nods to Merek. "Let me know when you would use it. It normally stays with me at the Temple of Garganos Behemoth," Angoron, that is, "but as you see, sometimes I bring it out to share."
The white-scale attempts to encourage her friend, "There's no reason to wait Merek. You must have something you use for physical emergencies. Any spells that will make you stronger for two minutes. You can attack it and get a rating. I'm fairly certain I am the worst one here."
Or not! A silvery figure in black makes her way into the Colloseum to see what's going on, tails swaying idly behind her with each stride. She notes the collection of folks she ranges from passing to buddy in knowing and she raises a paw to wave with a greeting, "Heyo!"
While she has been getting more accustomed to the unusual levels of strangeness going on these days, Halani is still a bit taken aback by Braelnoir's arrival. Because, there's not normal, and then there's Not Normal. But.. then she spies the sign on Braelnoir's neck, and she remembers. "Oh. Uh. Hey....o." Her hands come together under her chin and she dips her head slighly again.
Azog cautions Cryosanthia, "You are interpreting too much, I think. Even if your total rating is lowest, you have other skills that you bring to combat that the machine does not measure. Skill and wit are not quantifiable," he says, echoing Halani's earlier comment. Braelnoir gets a double-take and a slow nod, hesitant. "Hello?"
Cryo nods to Azog, "I'll try to keep that in mind. Thanks, I need to hear that. This is Braelnoir. She's... well she got transformed by that artifact that Kaelyn lost. She's a good one. I met her briefly before. She had a scythe. Now she has... paws."
Merek nods a bit to Cryo, then to Azog and folk, "What do I need to do?" he asks.
Braelnoir is kinda glad she got all the blood off of it. She considers the makeup of the group, quirking a wry smirk at Halani's response, though it expands into a grin that threatens to split her face at Azog's reaction, "How're y'all doin, tonight?" She lightly touches a paw to Cryo's shoulder, "We took down th'Black Mask together. Been a while, how ya been?" Merek's question pique's an eyebrow, but she lets the Angorite answer and figure it out from context.
Merek waves to Brae when he sees the woman, and nods a bit.
Azog will step up to the machine, flip up the barred faceplate of the dummy, and reset it. The red eye is lit, the bulbs reset to 0.0, and as Azog steps away to let Merek in, he explains to him, "When the green light is lit, you beat on it until the red light comes back on." When Merek is in position, the light does go green.
Halani takes a step off to the side and a little away from the reunion. She's staring mostly at the machine now... or maybe her gaze is looking past it. And she's quiet, possibly to avoid interrupting the process of Merek's evaluation from Azog's machine.
"I'm well." Cryo replies to Braelnoir, nodding at the shoulder-paw. She's also standing back out of the way. She leans her head to whisper, "My score got a little better, so I'm satisfied."
Azog peers at Merek as he punches the dummy for a gruelling two minutes. The raw score reads 0.6 and the dragon rating reads, 0.1. He says, "Your forte is clearly not melee combat. I am sure you bring other capabilities to a party." His tone is regretful. Not everyone can be a melee monster like Halani.
Merek looks between people and nods a bit, then it's to Cryosanthia, Braelnoir, Halani, and Azog. "I uh, I will give it a try," he says, then he maneuvers forward while he begins!
Braelnoir nods and looks over as Halani edges away and, with a shrug, assures her, "It ain't catchin', luv." then looks to Cryo, "Oh, so'sis the machine ya's talkin' about the other night, then?" Then, with new interest, watches Merek wail on Azog's contraption.
Cryosanthia nods, "Well, usually he's been hanging back, and helping with spells. Definitely brings something else to the party."
"This is the one." The white-scale sith nods to Braelnoir. "It doesn't measure everything, but as Azog says, it measures the same thing consistently."
Merek looks to that result and blinks with a nod, while he pouts a bit, "Well, I imagine it's because my focus is magic," he says.
Azog nods to Merek about his focus being magic. Azog has opinions about magic, but he keeps them to himself. For a change. He peers at Braelnoir, and says, "If you're capable of fighting, you can use the device."
"She is really capable!" Cryosanthia assures, bouncing on her feet and eager to see.
"I can fight, luv, no worries, there." Brae replies with the usual swagger of the young and she pat-pats Merek on the shoulder in passing, "My turn!" she singsongs. She doesn't settle into a stance so much as just starts wailing on the thing, putting as much oomph as possible into it. Granted, she has to hit it in a a slightly wierd way, but it sounds like she's givin' it what she's got.
"This one wonders if the machine could be modified to test how well one defends, as well?" Halani queries, watching each other person try their luck at smashing the dummy around. "Seen some jousting dummies that swing about when you hit them. And it seems powered, yeah?"
Azog watches Braelnoir bash the machine, and he nods approvingly. When the test is complete, a light in the head goes red, and the scores show 'Raw' 2.5 and 'Dragon Rating' 1.2. Azog simply nods.
"Maybe," Cryo answers Halani, "I think that might be even harder. My defense strategy is not being hit, but I know a bunch of others that use shields."
"Your score was pretty good Braelnoir. You should have used the claws on your paws. I used my rapier."
Azog says to Halani, "It would have to be a completely different machine to test how well a person can defend themselves. I am not sure how I would even measure it. Something like what you describe, though modified quite a bit."
Merek looks between the people there, while he nods a bit to Brae, then he smiles. He does shift attention to the skies a bit, "What are you all planning for your evening?" he asks.
Braelnoir cants her head a little, "See?" she grins, patting her chest with a paw, "Bad. Ass." She looks to the others and, "So, how long y'all been at this?"
"A little bit. I swung by on my swiftclaw to check things out. Well, mine for the day." Cryo explains, "We met, Azog was about, and I got to see I've improved a bit. It was nice. I don't have plans Merek. I might go see what's up with the Fernwood."
"The swifclaw that nearly ate this one," Halani points out, her own contribution to the explanation for Braelnoir.
Another evening finds Aya entering the Colosseum. Whether for direct training, observation, or a combination, it has become a waypoint. The sounds of impact and conversation draw her towards the arming room, as, in her experience, most generally wait until on the grounds proper before assaulting one another.
In the Arming room are a couple humans, a white-scaled sith-makar and a silver-scaled chimera standing around a machine which looks like a punching dummy. A few others are about, mostly gearing up, and the leaving the four to their device.
Merek looks upon the place, with a nod, looking back then to Cryo and Brae while he thinks about it. He does look a bit thoughtful while he takes the cigarillo and places that up. He then nods, "Mind a bit of company? I need a drink. It's been quite a day!"
Braelnoir nods, "Sure, I could use a pint." she replies with a shrug, looking to the others, "I miss anythin' exciting, lately?" She catches sight of the dark elf from the other night and gives a casual, "Hey." She looks between Cyo and Halani, "Luv, yer supposed t'feed yer mounts, y'know...." she teases.
"It ate! This one is sure. And, has a name. It only mildly tried to eat her." Cryosanthia defends her animal care skills. "Not that much special."
She looks over at Aya. Nods slowly, keeps watching her.
"Time to find a fight," Halani tells herself. Then, towards the others, she puts her fist in one palm and bows over it. "Good night. Oh, and... Crysoanthia?" She pauses, as if considering her words. "Ah.. Azog's machine is very neat, but like he said... it doesn't tell the full story, yeah? And it's probably easy to cheat against." Then she offers a much less formal, finger to the forhead and then flicked out, farewell, and then scampers back out into the pit proper to find someone to beat her up.
"Thanks Halani, I'll keep that in mind." Cryo waves after her as she leaves. "Well, I'll get my Swiftclaw, and see you all at the Fernwood."
Dramatis Personae
Chay
No brilliant or gemstone red, this rust-and-orange sith-makar nevertheless resembles fire. The scars along his shoulders and back speak honestly of a harsh life. From his shoulders to midback, the criss-cross of whip left ash-gray lines. Below, the lines scatter and shorten, turning to dashes, then to dots further down and towards his tail. One could, if one were being poetic, call it an inverse logs-and-ash pattern, but that's not what it is. Hard life, it says, in an open way. An honest way. Around his neck is a silver necklace, depicting the Great Silver, with her wings outstretched, and her muzzle drawn wide, depicting fangs. At his back, a bow and several arrows. Both hands are wrapped in heavy tape, like a prize fighter's.
Cryosanthia
Cryosanthia is a tall, lithe lizardgirl with flamboyant mannerisms and a flashy style. Her scales are a bright, snow white, complimented by her frills and keratin-scale 'hair' which are the pale blue found in glacial ice. This gleaming tapestry is marred by dark tattoos gouged in her hide, green-black in colouration, which at times have a dark glow. Her snout is long and tapers elegantly. Her legs and tail are likewise graceful, despite being a significant portion of her size and mass. She seems light on her talons and energetic, head glancing quick from side to side. Her eyes are bright and like her frills, the palest of blues with a dramatic slit pupil.
Cryosanthia's clothes are a simple kit of kilted leather armour in white. It is close fitting enough to seem a part of her, but it lacks the lustre of her scales having instead a dull finish. She has sandals that leave her talons free, as well as a hat that is hanging to the back as often as it is on her head. A long blue feather is tucked into the woven band. Finally, she wears a cloak, likewise fashioned from white leather but with a satin interior that matches her eyes. It gleams when the light catches it right.
Belted to her hip she has a rapier, a couple of pouches, and a tiny bag on a thong around her long neck.
Halani
Halani has the dusky skin and almond shaped eyes typical of the Hin. It's only a closer look which reveals the mixed pedigree; lighter coloured eyes, a slightly less delicate bone structure, slightly fuller lips to name a few. She is on the smaller side, with half of her dark hair done in a long braid reaching almost all of the way down her back. The rest of it tends to curl around her cheeks and jaw, framing her face when it isn't osbcuring it.
She is garbbed in loose fitting robes which have been dyed dark blue. The leggings are baggy, though they narrow down by her feet to be stuffed into soft, yet warm looking leather boots. The robes are sleeveless, revealing arms with well toned muscles and a few violet markings in the form of circles and swirls running down her forearms. A black sash, decorated with small bronze discs, is tied around her hips serving as a belt to keep the robes closed.
The robes alone might have suggested an austere existance. This notion is dispelled by the several bracelets Halani wears on each wrist and the necklace of multi-coloured beads partially covering the vee of the neckline of her robes.
Two pairs of wooden handles attached by small chains are tucked into her sash.
Zeke
This sith-makar has scales of a deep blue color, a touch dark particularly toward the extremities but still very clearly blue. Six large sweeping horns adorn Zeke’s head, the forward two are more vertical but those after the first set follow the shape of Zeke’s head with a little sway. There are small scars around the base of each horn, as well as around each claw. Their source seems to be self-inflicted and nearly decorative rather than caused by combat however.
Zeke wears a chain shirt mostly hidden under layers of robes in shades of black and gray, and is usually hooded in a cloak of the same color. The robes are sheared short just around the hips and cover a pair of black kapri-style pants slit up the side of the leg and tied with a thick midnight-blue string. Zeke also wears an odd arm-slip up the arm that is not made of crystal.
Had that not been mentioned before? Both the left arm and leg of this sith-makar are made of a beautiful crystal that gleams brightly. The arm is bare from the shoulder down for the convenience of getting it in and out of clothing, but is usually covered by the fall of Zeke’s cloak.