Evemek: Condemned

With the recent advance of their champion, the ring was current unoccupied for the big part. Albeit, they still had a few gladiators, longing to clash steel. The Lionheart sunk into a seat by the pit, as he stared at the men displayed before him. There was a grand yokai and then Evemek. It wasn't much of a comfort, but he figured Amyas could use a conditioning.

A whistle reverberated in the plaza, alerting his loyal Ookami to ground. With the Ookami's arrival, Mathayus parted a set of thin lips. "Alright, Amyas. Go inside the ring, your opponents are in the pit." In a sideways glance, he'd gesture towards the large Yokai and Evemek. Sure the odds weren't in his favor, but they were pleasant at the very least.

"No complaints. If I was in the ring in your place, I'd squash them." A determined expression was captured by the conceited noble, who remained firm on the lineup. He then returned to idly glance at the door, confirming that no official entered their hidden pit.
(Mathayus Lionheart)
No sooner had the Ookami arrived did he regret his decision, immediately and unceremoniously ordered into the fighting pit below. It was not a place that evoked good memories, recent failure in defeating the seemingly invulnerable Neries draining much of his interest in partaking in the arena bouts.

He breathes a sigh, intentionally taking the stone steps down at a casual pace. This time over, Amyas opts to keep his cloak on; all he wished to do was survive this and get out as soon as possible. Taking up the Harvester in both hands, the usual stages to infuse his form with mana and summon the wind to his aid are undertaken.

"Are you sane this time, Krausite? Though I guess it doesn't matter in the pit."

That's right. This doesn't matter-- though he would assuredly put in the effort in hopes of securing a victory. No matter how many charms against Occultism he had on his person, it would never be enough to fully ward away such an unpleasant touch so contrary to the Ookami's existence.
(Amyas)
Something had changed in this boy, having been shown the error in his ways. In reverence of such truth, his head was lowered as to cast shadow over his visage, courtesy of his auburn mane.
The question directed towards wasn't given an immediate reply, at least, not of rhetorical nature. Midst a close room, the vessel conjured an outbound halo of dust, commanded by generated gales that'd encircle the magi on its way to the outer-most walls of the arena, harbinging dust and fickle particles of debris along the way.

This, introductory discharge was hardly of any remote magnitude capable of phasing, even an ordinary personage devoid of magical enhancement. It was, merely that, of display.
It was naught but a single pulsation: A prelude to what was to follow.
"... I could never be a Krausite." He admitted, in expressed forlornity. " I'm just a sinner..." Rise was given to his head to provide gander upon Amyas, "--Like you..." He lacked manipulation over the aeromantic arcane, as Amyas according to former demonstrations of prowess-- Albeit, seemingly contradicted such with his entrance.

" I was condemned here, sentenced to death in a pit akin to dogs thrown at one another for the sickly entertainment of a malefic audience."
From the palms of his hands laden at his sides, orbical fabrications of ebonic miasma churned from oblivion to fit his lax digits; With further expansion, spheroids within both hands would succumb to sublimination, consuming his form in their veil to transmute his facade into one of nightmarish origin-- Seemingly crafted from the contorted envisionments of the mind.

"... I have no purpose set out to me..." He started, Eglencenin's speech voicing through him.
"... I have no value granted of me..." He went onward...
"...-- and I have nothing more the bind me to the common weakness."
A hand reached out to his side, to summon a pole of the intangible element, illuminating its amorpheous stature with the clenching of his extended fingers around it, materializing it from... Thin air?
No, this was clearly an illusion being played out with the added works of the occult... But then, why was it preformed before Amyas' very eyes without reverence to one's capable to defy and dispel it?

Prying this incomplete conjuration from its place in space, rapidly accellerated its manifestation process-- Sounding off the song of steal unsheathing. A four pronged stub to the end of this, eldritch weapon of one's possesion housed four acuminate points, likely intended for the sole purpose of gouging and deboweling unfortunate individuals in one's way. Yet, the fact of its illusionary existence continued to deny such likeness... For a boy of such stature, could never claim divinity-- Could he?

The only unoccupied hand one had left was stretched out to protrude this animated veil forth, to summon a triad of daemonic compatriots to their aid: Chimeras of serpent-dominated attributes.
" ... On some level, this is nature... Right? " He asked of Amyas, "... I call it, payback."
(Evemek)
From the opening of the dungeons, doth a gargantuant form be revealed. Chains rattling as it was directed into the Pitt. Sand billowing forth, harkening to it's arrival. A befouling taint doth eminate.

Revolting and blackening. The sensation induced a feeling of dread. However faint to linger upon the yokai's countenance. Depravity doth swirl as darkness ebbed enveloping the yokai in a faint black likened pulse of occultic predominance, akin to fire oft a black nature.

Chain's pulled from it's frame, doth clink and clank as they fell upon the sand of the pitt without any fanfare. It's lone limb doth raise, with it does the falsity of a superimposed imagery cascade forth. Darkness that seemed to swallow ones being. A darknness that craved to feast upon all remnants of one's shell. Or was thus not mere trickery of the light dropping down to entreat upon the yokai's shadow likened skin.

"..." It's peresence hung. a bleak invasive quality that lashed into the minds of those within the Pitt. Imagery doth flow. A row of white jagged fangs that gleamed and shone with hunger. The desire to rip flesh asunder. Biting into organs underneath and watching as blood doth eek from a broken form. Hissing the Giga lashed forth, running through the sand. Instantly attacking at the frame of Amyas.
(Eglencenin)
It was a daunting prospect to face even the weaver of Illusions on his own, Amyas' own hand in their previous encounter simply being one of distraction whilst Pasha did the heavy lifting. Even worse, the depraved man observing in comfort from the stands had allocated the delusional faux-Krausite an ally in the form of a monstrous, hulking Giga Yokai.

Though he was no stranger to Yokai as a resident of Wychwood, even such an accomplished hunter as he would have a hard time with one of such a size whilst simultaneously fending off a demented Magi of Evemek's caliber. An analysis concluded that he was likely to lose, the opposing ranks bolstered by various lesser creatures of dark origins.

He grits his teeth, a silent curse laden upon Mathayus a few short moments prior to the opening clash of the battle. One look upon Eglencenin had given way to the conclusion that attacking such a resilient monster would be a foolish endeavor without a full commitment to its destruction, his target instead being the one whom had taunted him.

The Giga Yokai is ignored, as are the lesser minions; unlike the misfortunate duel with the Neries, neither possessed the ability to invalidate the wolfkin's most valuable asset-- Speed. Merely a blur to lesser observers, he completely bypasses most and brings upon the Magi heavy and numerous blows from his fearsome scythe.

Each swing of the polearm gives way to another immediately after, a flurry of attacks completely devoid of form. Though unable to land a finishing blow sufficient to sever the man in two, an accumulation of lesser cuts and gashes stains the sand below red; an execution is averted as the greater yokai at least makes an intervention, distracting the Ookami's attention if only for a short while.

A hurricane of swipes is intermittent with graceful steps, the muscular creature's claws finding naught but perhaps afterimages; it suffers the same fate as the Magi, unable to fight any longer yet not entirely dead. Everything had been moving so fast, the scattered limbs of those smaller yokai foolish enough to get in the way scattered all over-- yet silence falls as all that stands straight is a weary Ookami warrior.

He casually steps back over to his initial opponent, lowering the blade of the Harvester to rest against the man's throat; a glare is cast into the stands above, Amyas' formerly soft features both bloodied and fierce. Not a word is spoken-- the victor's eyes fall upon Mathayus, presumably awaiting the judgement of the arena as to whether the man's life were to be spared or not.

This was one he held little inclination to spare, but rules were rules.
(Amyas)
{NARRATION} It had been long! Far too long since the crowd had gazed upon blood, but today they'd make their own fortune. With the defeat of both Yokai and Human, the crowds rose into commotion. Screams and shouts alike boomed out in the tiny area, repelling against walls in echoes. All of them screamed the same shout, as each individual in the room burst with blood lust. "BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. KILL KILL KILL!" The pattern was quite similar to the aforementioned phrase and their expression distorted with ugliness. You could tell that they wished for one of the heads to roll, if not both. Their gazes set upon the man whose scythe edged against Evemek's throat, with determined gazes they screamed in unison. "DEATH!" They were akin to vultures, who had yet to see a pray for days. Albeit, the Lionheart had yet made a single decision, but it was clear where he leaned. With a single palm raised in the air, the crowds behind him were silenced. "Let the defeated speak." A rather simple, apathetic sentence was spoken and it was deprived from sympathy. He only wished to make it more entertaining. Now, it was up to Eglencenin to brandish his best vocabulary in a charismatic speech, else they'd see his head truly roll.
The yelling and cheering had garnered the yokai's attention. It panted, exhaustion settling upon it's entity. A grin arose upon it's face. Malevolent and malicious. A tone iof rvetus disgust doth speak. Mental presence festering forth into a lurching pulse of occultic providence. Prominent tone issuing forth, in a deep baritone.

"Ah..truly this sight..it fills me with entertainment. It brings this one joy. To see thine race more like mine at each utterabce of thine phrases. Death..carnage and slaughter. An occuranceof the strong domiating those whom are the weakest. Yet..I ask thy entities. Is this human weak? He stood forth and fought with I against a strong opponant. Surety thine action is resultant of bravery. The desire to survive and grow even further to sate thine bloodlust."

The Giga gave a chuckle stating to the Magi in the crowd. They're bloodlust discernable to it's crimson gaze. "Is this one whom giveth strength truly deserving of his existance being torn asunder.? What of thine humans whom contribute nothing. ARE THEY NOT MORE WORTHY! Those whom do not use magic should earn thy emnity and loathing. THEY ARE UNWORTTHY TO EXIST. THEY DO NOTHING..BUT..CAUSE STAGNATION! THEY ARE THE ONES WHOM SHOULD HAVE THINE HEADS PARTED!" Cleary the Giga was attempting to incite the crowds bloodlust in another direction. Intent on galvinizing the magi into attacking the Non magi in the crowd. Utilizing their bloodlust to cause even further carnage and slaughter.. The Giga rose it's hand gesturing to the non magi within the crowd. Dark malignant power surging forth upon it's being. Depraved malevolence that ebbed without recourse or fear. In the Pitt, power was everything!

"If they are alllowed to exist. Then surely they will seek to sever the strong. To rip thy beings asunder in jealousy of thine magical power, to try and seize it for themselves. To bring forth death to thy families. No! This human magi should not be killed. He should be venerated for showcasing his power. His potentcy for adaptability and growth should be nurtured He is one whom can help fellow magi seize more power. To attain furthered strength. Do not end his life so soon, when he is not the one whom is deserving of death."

Here the Giga paused, tone reveberating in the minds of all with more inciteful intentions. A tone filled with desire to incite furthered bloodlust and horror. "Come now those whom wield magical power. Show me why you are strong. Show me why you are deserving of thy strength. Lash out against thy aggressors before it is YOU whom are placed in this position. BEFORE IT IS YOU EXISTING AT THE PLEASURE OF THOSE UNWORTHY TO WIELD MAGIC!"
(Eglencenin)
Never had he felt so worthless-- So incapable of fending for himself. There was nothing that could undo such tormentous scars forced upon his person. All he wanted was to make a difference in this world, to be a part of it as a servant to Kraus.

Though, he came to learn that his purpose was meaningless-- Just like the others, he'd die like fodder for the entertainment of these malignant masses. What did he commit to deserve this?
Though, considering the fact that the very individual that dubbed his person, 'scum', he doubted he'd be provided any leniency.

This was an arena, intended to bring upon the deathmatches of gladiators captured and volunteered from what one came for the thrill of battle. The only reward for championship as he had come to learn of it, was freedom, something he'd never see with the influence of his own volition. Albeit, this daemonic partner that sided with him, that spoke in his defense... He intended for his survival! ... Even if, his words would dare to agitate the audience further.

Would it result in sealing his own fate? Or was this a ploy to spare Evemek and sacrifice himself? Mankind had been known for being deluded into such antics in other situations before... What made this possibility any less plausible than the next?
Of course, the scythe was at -his- neck, not Eglencenin nor this Ookami combatant.

" I wasn't strong enough." He admitted, "I messed up, because I made mistakes.." He continued, heart beating through his chest and leaving him lost for much words to speak thereafter. "--B- But, that's not all I've got!" He exclaimed, "I can get stronger, and I, -I can give you a better fight. I promise." He was on the verge of crying... But to tear up now... Wouldn't it doom his fate? What hope had he in such predicament.

"I can get stronger. I can prove myself worth a second chance." Breath shuddered, for he could already foresee the blade decapitating his form. "Give me another chance, and I'll become your champion!" It was a bold claim, granted he was so far out of his league. There was no concievable way that he could muster up in the heat of the moment to justify aforementioned claim, but he was hoping on whatever it'd take for another day to breath-- Another reason to hope of eventual escape.

"--A- and when that time comes, you'll finally be able to bear witness t- to... A real fight! "
It wasn't much of a speech as far as he was concerned, but a plea. Whether said plea would reverse what potential positive or negative reaction from the audience granted Eglen's own, he did not know... All one could do, was wait... And pray to a god that had forsaken him long ago.
(Evemek)
Their speeches were quite, different from what Mathayus expected, but he wasn't a normal individual. After all, his thoughts were far from the regular patters. An eyebrow twitched explosively with the Yokai's speech, as a pair of vermilion irises darted across the stands. Alike him, most of the participants were baffled by the incoherent words of the abomination. It told magis to slay those who paid for entrance, sustaining their daily lives?

Confusion was tracked upon their facial features, but a bit of its words made sense. Who knew, in the future they might be in the pit fighting for the Lionheart's entertainment. Fear gripped their hearts and the magis within the crowd stood up from their former position.

However, the Lion of the Den swiftly rose from his seat. A stare belonging in the eyes of a lion traveled across those incited by the speech. "Those of you who dare to rise, or even think of the notion..." His eyebrows gestured for the execution at his side; the neries who recently became champion. "..Will have a very perilous blade at your throats." With that, the Lionheart returned to his highlighted seat.

The Crowd was not happy! Most of the non-magis began to throw tomatoes and garbage alike at the Yokai. Their ire had been invoked with his speech and the words of Evemek made their wrath turn. The pompous noble was able to hear chants, begging for the Yokai's death. This atmosphere reverbrated throughout the arena for minutes, before the conceited youth came to stand for a final time.

A metal clad gauntlet rose from his sides, with all fingers except the thumb peeling inwards. Only a thumb was risen in the air, but soon to be directed downwards. Confusion was tracked upon most of the crowd's features, but then the organizer directed it towards Eglencenin.

"Death of the rebel." A lionhearted glare set upon the creature, who had the decency of attempting a rebellion in his court. The Lionheart returned to his seat, with an idle glance towards Amyel. It was time to prove his loyalty.
(Mathayus Lionheart)

Amyas stood firm throughout those pleas given to the crowd for leniency, the Yokai in particular displaying a nuance unexpected in its unpleasant act of mass-telepathy that had brushed rudely upon his mind. Its intellect would likely be its downfall however, as playing dead would likely have been a better option than to anger the crowds against it.

Projectiles of various sorts fly past in Eglencenin's direction, anything uncomfortably close so casually diverted by an unseen gust of wind and but a flick of his hand. At Mathayus' judgement, a long several moments passes prior to a reluctant removal of the blade at Evemek's neck.

It wasn't so much he cared for the man's life, but that taking orders of such magnititude as to spare a life was an uncomforting thing for a fiercely independent mind as the Ookami's, entangled within various organisations purely for personal benefit rather than any genuinely felt loyalty.

That ought be earned with more than simply human crowns.

"Seems you'll have your second chance, Krausite."

Amyas ignores the previous denial, literally kicking the man while he's down as he raises the haft of his scythe to rest upon the blade of his shoulder. Golden hues with a feral gleam turn toward the wounded Yokai, a snarl as light footsteps approach the hulking creature with a brain inversely proportional to its mass.

"And you should have stayed quiet. I've little love for this, but you." Anger. Given his free hand, an exaggerated vertical chopping gesture just for the crowd-- accompanied by an invisible force, gravity weighing down upon the defeated Yokai sufficient to bring its neck closer to the ground, speaking too low perhaps for those in the stands to hear clearly.

"You're just like the other monsters out there. My kindred live closer to you than the humans-- we don't make the same mistakes as those arrogant to enough to believe you can be made use of."

He meets the creature's eyes without fear, little to be had in a powerless beast as the small form of the Ookami is supported by both a natural hatred of the creature and the roaring of the crowd-- They wanted blood, and they would get it. The Harvester is raised in both hands, a firm grip as mana surges through Amyas' form as to empower physical ability beyond human limits.

"Saekanis only comes once."

Asena's opposite is invoked, the black wolf symbolising 'The End'. The blade is thereafter brought down in an arc, a flash of steel severing the creature's head at the neck--, the aspiring rebel executed at Mathayus' order and staining the arena yet further with seeping gore.

A hand is raised to the crowd, fore and middle finger together outstretched as well as his thumb in an unknown gesture. He cuts the air, casting the blood off his scythe and departing the carnage-strewn sand without apparent care.
(Amyas)
 The Giga snarled. A malicious hiss slithered forth to rent through the air. The Giga roared in anger at the waste thrown it's way. Malicious power ebbing forth to envelop it's entity. Dark power festered forth, an aura of pure darkness generated across it's frame.

Death came for it. Death lurked as it's ambitions seems to pale before it. Unable to be fulfilled. Yet would the yokai go quietly to it's death? Nay it would not. With the threat of it's oncoming death. IT ROARED! Mad voice lashing out. "I CURSE THEE NON-MAGI! THY BEINGS ARE SLATED FOR EXECUTION!"

The Giga shouted mentally. A grasping cadence of malevolence doth surge. Gripping it's being. Resolve doth glimmer, as it groaned. Pain it ebbed from within. It could almost imagine the risen blade sinking into it's flesh. Feel the swing as air was displaced from said downwards strike. Feel the bitter chill of the sword slicing into it's already wounded frame.

Already it could feel it. The blood that dripped from it's wounded frame. THe agony of a slice into flesh. Bitter and coldly piercing without remorse. Without any hesitation does the blade swing downwards. Inserting itself into flesh. Piercing a strike across the Giga's chest. A deep injury that cascaded forth more life blood. PAIN! As the sword was removed and further more brought into it's frame in a swift jabbing motion. Sinking into abdominal flesh, with a wet noise. Akin to bloodied leather being dragged across a surface.

It's remaining eyes began to dim. Vision began to swarm, in and out. Blackening rapidly. Stumbling the Giga fell to its black knees.. Lone arm grasping the ground. It began to breath, great wheezing breaths, stilling as the pain began to fade to numbness. Life-blood dripped forth across the arena sands. Staining the once blood likened wastes a disgusting purple. It slumped forth Upon the ground.

Vision doth fade more. The yokai let out a final gurgling breath, blood dribbling across it's black lips. Giving the executioner enough time to full execute it's frame by swinging his blade downwards to part the Giga's head. Should they wish, or the executioner could simply leave it to lay upon the sandy waste, to die a slow death in it's final moments. It's vision faded. Blackness rising to meet the Giga's fading vision.

Could it really die here? Should it die here! Surely it had more it could accomplish? It's death..surely it could resist. In someway gain a final bevy of power to stave of what was to come. Either it's head being chopped off, or to prevent the slow death that grasped it as it lay into the sand. In a pool of it's rapidly spreading blood.
(Eglencenin)
With the death of the Yokai, the crowds of gladiators and observers began to cheer intensely. However, the Lionheart remained firm in his seat; thoughts of the former charade blurting in his scalp.

"A rebellion. What a devious yokai" The mere thought of it brought shivers across his back, but luckily it was stilled by his swift speech, devoid of errors. He knew better than to invite Yokais onto the sound, if not to slaughter them the first day. They were too much of a wild card and he never knew what Occultist'd rise in effect of their vile words.

As the vulgar beast meet the blade of Amyas, he nodded contently in the Ookami's direction; the vassal had proven to be loyal. Henceforth, he'd refer to him with a title....

Clothes fluttered as Mathayus came to a swift rise, staring over the wicked scene before them with a grin to match its demeanor.

"I have decided! Amyas will henceforth be referred to - at least in the ground- as The Sonic Reaper!" With his loud call, the crowd stood up and clapped in his effort. As for the mess before him, a hand beckoned for the servants to clean the corpse up; they intended to throw it back into the Wychwood.

"... Toss away this ugly beast. As for Evemek, he will have one last fight. It will decide either freedom or... well, you know the tale." It was in this manner that he introduced the next fight, glancing over for one of the guards to amass the remaining gladiators who had yet fought.

Before him, the middle-aged Occultist, Nexon Salazar had been brought. With a stare of iron, he surveyed the man for a short while, before making a verdict. "Bring a winged monkey. It's time for the last battle." His tone was sharp, alike blades refined by the greatest of blacksmith. As his stern voice donned away, the Lionheart returned to seat upon the wooden benches.
(Mathayus Lionheart)
{NARRATION} Greater Yokai was carried away by NPC cleanup patrol and then tossed into nearby bushes. With a shrug, they returned to the building.