Battle with Darknuts
Alakazam found itself grabbed and thrown at Sabrina, who just barely dodged the thrown Pokemon. While the force used on Alakazam might've been beam-splintering, he was still a Pokemon and they can resist a lot of things that would kill a human. Alakazam certainly suffered damage, but not damage that wouldn't have been sustained in a normal Pokemon battle.
"Alakazam, another Psychic blast, " Sabrina ordered. Once more, Alakazam attempted to fire a beam of psychic energy at the Darknut, hoping to stall it a while longer... But this time, Alakazam would keep bobbing and weaving while blasting it, trying to avoid it getting to maximum speed this time.
Sabrina however had an idea, but she needed the help of the others. Concentrating, she attempted to telepathically communicate with the others there, even the Dusknoir.
We need to get these knights to fight each other instead of us, Sabrina said to the others telepathically while keeping an eye on the Darknut battling Alakazam. They should easily be destroyed by their own attacks.

The lone Servbot jumped at the sight of the tall and very much imposing Darknut. Tron stared up at the Darknut, letting out a barely audible "Oh...". The Servbot ran behind Tron for cover as the Darknut prepared to attack it and Tron. Tron took one arm of the Gustaff and rushed up to the Darknut with the arm drilling into its sword arm. The Servbot could only watch to see if the attack could work against it.

Noel didn't expect that. What kind of warrior throws away his shield? But it wasn't time to worry about that as her body had acted on its own, jumping high into the air to avoid the shield turned buzzsaw. But she wasn't out of Danger yet. The knight was coming right at her and she was sure if she let him hit her it would be fatal. Now way is she gonna let herself lose here.
Almost instantly magical formulas ran through her head as she synched fully with Bolverk.
"Fenrir!"
She called out the name and if you blinked you would have missed it. Her guns glowed and shifted form combning into a rocket launcer, which she fired at the Darknut without a moments hesitation.

The Marked Ninja didn't have much trouble dodging the Darknut's stomp, doing a jump and a flip back with incredible grace. He searched for an item, for something in his pocket, but he couldn't hold back the look of disappointment as all he had with him was a rock. Right... when the world gives you lemons, do a lemonade. He sent Owain a sharp look and made a brief motion with his head towards the right side of the Darknut.
Before Owain could ask what that meant, the Marked Ninja started walking around the Darknut's left side, throwing one, two, three rocks at him, getting a little close and then jumping back, always looking like he was about to make his next attack... all a ploy to distract him so Owain could attack him from the back.
Owain quickly leaped back and out of the blade's arc, if staying alive wasn't at the top of his priorities at the moment he may have been a bit showy about it like the Marked Ninja. "A helmet... within a helmet?!" he thought to himself, "I sure hope its not wearing another helmet under there..."
He heard what Sabrina broadcasted, but before he could start forming an idea for the suggestion the Marked Ninja caught his attention. Head to its right? For what? And just what good could stone throwing possibly be but as a minor, distracting... annoyance...
The Marked Ninja's message was received as Owain dashed around the Darknut for a better point to strike its back from. As he got close, he spun into the air again and brought the full force of his sword down onto the Darknut.

The ghost pokemon's body faded back into reality, as he narrowly avoided being cut in two, the slash making a mark on his tail. Dusknoir evaluated his opponents and allies before deciding his plan of attack. If he just dove in, he wouldn't have a chance to strategize. He heard and Sabrina wanted them to fight eachtoher, but he wasn't sure how she wanted to do it. The fact that a human had telepathy was not astonishing because of the already unusual humans he's encountered here.
Dusknoir decided the best course of action was to strike unseen. He backed off from the enemies and floated back to the ground. He sent a message only to his allies. "Don't know what you have in mind but I'll strike Alakazam's target from behind." Dusknoir formed a ball of ghost energy and dropped it to the ground, where the pitch black energy blended in with the pitch black floor. It moved silently, weaving around and finally coming up to strike the Darknut from behind.



'''In the Throes of a Dying Universe'''

"But perhaps I am forgetting something, no? I am filling in for the Old One, after all. Oh, of course. Our story. Now, listen carefully..."

----

'''The Marked Ninja and Owain'''

There were no rocks. The Champions were currently suspended over a boiling red star. Nonetheless, the Marked Ninja would find them - in the palm of his hand, as he scooped them out of the air. Omega was missing things in the midst of his glee.

His target barely flinched at the feints, meeting each one with grim readiness. Its good hand clenched and unclenched on the hilt of its greatsword. The dagger in its shoulder glistened, bubbling blood. Then, just as the Ninja jumped forwards, it lunged with a great calculated thrust, taking him apart from the waist down.

Or it would have if Owain hadn't smashed into it sword-first. The Darknut teetered and its stroke went wide. And in that one second, the airborne Marked Ninja would see a clear path from blade to unguarded neck...

----

"Great can mean many things, can't it? We were great once, the Old One and I. Our entire race. Can't you see the resemblance, my ducklings? There's a space between the worlds that you can't see, and we learnt how to walk it. Fly it, with our ships and our research teams and our colonies."

----

'''Sabrina and Dusknoir'''

Alakazam's barrages of telekinetic energy hit the hulking knight again and again, dislodging more and more plates as it tried to shrug them off and press forwards. But the Darknut was inexorable. Almost half of its armor was on the ground. Every crunching impact caused a muffled grunt of pain. But it pressed forwards, shield arm raised. Forwards, forwards, forwards. And then it struck. The Darknut swung its greatsword at Sabrina's squishy body -

Only to be stopped by a sudden ''thwack.'' Dusknoir's sphere had hit home.

Struck in the back like its comrade-in-arms, the Darknut froze, looming over Sabrina like a great statue. Then, with crushing finality, the back plate of its armor fell to the ground. Its mailed fist tightened into a vice, clasping its sword in a deathgrip of defiance.

 All was silent.

Something exploded out and shot a glint of silver towards her shoulder at point-blank range.

----
'''Tron and Servbot'''
Battle with Darknuts
Alakazam found itself grabbed and thrown at Sabrina, who just barely dodged the thrown Pokemon. While the force used on Alakazam might've been beam-splintering, he was still a Pokemon and they can resist a lot of things that would kill a human. Alakazam certainly suffered damage, but not damage that wouldn't have been sustained in a normal Pokemon battle.
"Alakazam, another Psychic blast, " Sabrina ordered. Once more, Alakazam attempted to fire a beam of psychic energy at the Darknut, hoping to stall it a while longer... But this time, Alakazam would keep bobbing and weaving while blasting it, trying to avoid it getting to maximum speed this time.
Sabrina however had an idea, but she needed the help of the others. Concentrating, she attempted to telepathically communicate with the others there, even the Dusknoir.
We need to get these knights to fight each other instead of us, Sabrina said to the others telepathically while keeping an eye on the Darknut battling Alakazam. They should easily be destroyed by their own attacks.

The lone Servbot jumped at the sight of the tall and very much imposing Darknut. Tron stared up at the Darknut, letting out a barely audible "Oh...". The Servbot ran behind Tron for cover as the Darknut prepared to attack it and Tron. Tron took one arm of the Gustaff and rushed up to the Darknut with the arm drilling into its sword arm. The Servbot could only watch to see if the attack could work against it.

Noel didn't expect that. What kind of warrior throws away his shield? But it wasn't time to worry about that as her body had acted on its own, jumping high into the air to avoid the shield turned buzzsaw. But she wasn't out of Danger yet. The knight was coming right at her and she was sure if she let him hit her it would be fatal. Now way is she gonna let herself lose here.
Almost instantly magical formulas ran through her head as she synched fully with Bolverk.
"Fenrir!"
She called out the name and if you blinked you would have missed it. Her guns glowed and shifted form combning into a rocket launcer, which she fired at the Darknut without a moments hesitation.

The Marked Ninja didn't have much trouble dodging the Darknut's stomp, doing a jump and a flip back with incredible grace. He searched for an item, for something in his pocket, but he couldn't hold back the look of disappointment as all he had with him was a rock. Right... when the world gives you lemons, do a lemonade. He sent Owain a sharp look and made a brief motion with his head towards the right side of the Darknut.
Before Owain could ask what that meant, the Marked Ninja started walking around the Darknut's left side, throwing one, two, three rocks at him, getting a little close and then jumping back, always looking like he was about to make his next attack... all a ploy to distract him so Owain could attack him from the back.
Owain quickly leaped back and out of the blade's arc, if staying alive wasn't at the top of his priorities at the moment he may have been a bit showy about it like the Marked Ninja. "A helmet... within a helmet?!" he thought to himself, "I sure hope its not wearing another helmet under there..."
He heard what Sabrina broadcasted, but before he could start forming an idea for the suggestion the Marked Ninja caught his attention. Head to its right? For what? And just what good could stone throwing possibly be but as a minor, distracting... annoyance...
The Marked Ninja's message was received as Owain dashed around the Darknut for a better point to strike its back from. As he got close, he spun into the air again and brought the full force of his sword down onto the Darknut.

The ghost pokemon's body faded back into reality, as he narrowly avoided being cut in two, the slash making a mark on his tail. Dusknoir evaluated his opponents and allies before deciding his plan of attack. If he just dove in, he wouldn't have a chance to strategize. He heard and Sabrina wanted them to fight eachtoher, but he wasn't sure how she wanted to do it. The fact that a human had telepathy was not astonishing because of the already unusual humans he's encountered here.
Dusknoir decided the best course of action was to strike unseen. He backed off from the enemies and floated back to the ground. He sent a message only to his allies. "Don't know what you have in mind but I'll strike Alakazam's target from behind." Dusknoir formed a ball of ghost energy and dropped it to the ground, where the pitch black energy blended in with the pitch black floor. It moved silently, weaving around and finally coming up to strike the Darknut from behind.



'''In the Throes of a Dying Universe'''

"But perhaps I am forgetting something, no? I am filling in for the Old One, after all. Oh, of course. Our story. Now, listen carefully..."

----

'''The Marked Ninja and Owain'''

There were no rocks. The Champions were currently suspended over a boiling red star. Nonetheless, the Marked Ninja would find them - in the palm of his hand, as he scooped them out of the air. Omega was missing things in the midst of his glee.

His target barely flinched at the feints, meeting each one with grim readiness. Its good hand clenched and unclenched on the hilt of its greatsword. The dagger in its shoulder glistened, bubbling blood. Then, just as the Ninja jumped forwards, it lunged with a great calculated thrust, taking him apart from the waist down.

Or it would have if Owain hadn't smashed into it sword-first. The Darknut teetered and its stroke went wide. And in that one second, the airborne Marked Ninja would see a clear path from blade to unguarded neck...

----

"Great can mean many things, can't it? We were great once, the Old One and I. Our entire race. Can't you see the resemblance, my ducklings? There's a space between the worlds that you can't see, and we learnt how to walk it. Fly it, with our ships and our research teams and our colonies."

----

'''Sabrina and Dusknoir'''

Alakazam's barrages of telekinetic energy hit the hulking knight again and again, dislodging more and more plates as it tried to shrug them off and press forwards - in vain. But the Darknut seemed inexorable. Almost half of its armor was on the ground. Every crunching impact caused a muffled grunt of pain. But it pressed forwards, shield arm raised. Forwards, forwards, forwards. And then it struck. The Darknut swung its greatsword at Sabrina's relatively squishy body -

Only to be stopped by a sudden ''thwack.''Dusknoir's sphere had hit home.

Struck in the back like its comrade-in-arms, the Darknut froze, looming over Sabrina like a great statue. Then, with crushing finality, the back plate of its armor fell to the ground. Its mailed fist tightened into a vice, holding its sword aloft in a gesture of defiance.

 All was silent.

Something exploded out and shot a glint of silver towards her shoulder at point-blank range.

----
'''Tron and Servbot'''
















The Marshes of Ia-Kong, Campsite
Sazh awoke with a hacking, phlegmy cough.
He sat bolt upright, eyes widening as he grasped at his throat; it was so gummed up with sludge that he could barely breathe. He scrambled for the bank of the river, dropped to his hands and knees, and retched violently; it took almost a full minute before he finally managed to get his pipes clear, and by that time he’d broken out in a cold sweat.
He straightened up, groaning and pale. “Man, what…”
And that’s when it hit him. The fight with the hydra came back to him, flashing before his mind’s eye with crystalline clarity; that giant lobster thing, grabbing him from behind while he was distracted and pulling him under the water.
The tainted, disease-ridden water.
A sinking feeling lodged itself firmly in Sazh’s gut. “Aw, hell…”
He’d tried his damnedest to keep from opening his mouth while struggling with that thing, but either some water must have got in anyway or the germs had infected him some other way. Whatever the case, one thing was clear: he had the sickness.
Hastily, Sazh reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the mask the Riverrock guards had given him the day before; thankfully it was still dry, and he slipped it over his mouth. Hopefully its magic could keep the plague germs in as well as keep them out; and if not, hopefully the others still had their own masks…
“Everyone?” He paused, biting back another wad of phlegm. “Don’t wanna alarm you, but now would be a good time ta put on yer masks.”


The Scaled Nations, Village of Threshold
Sleep for the peacemakers had been untroubled, the protective wards set around the storehouse seemingly having done their job. Shortly after dawn an envoy had come knocking, informing them that the moot had begun; and now Link, Jack, Elizabeth and the rest all stood in the middle of the moot hall, at the centre of a ring of seated chieftains.
The other nine chieftains were an eclectic bunch, finely-attired lizardfolk whose scales came in a wide variety of different colours. Some had small hornlets running along their jaws or rimming their eyes; some had crests of feathers or flesh sprouting from the backs of their heads; some had webbed toes and fingers, while others had long talons. Some were tall, some were short; some were thin as a post, while one chieftain was so rotund and swollen he seemed almost more like some sort of man-toad than the same race as his peers, and had to be carried into the room on a palanquin because his legs simply could not support his girth.
Once they were all assembled, and the chieftains’ retinues had taken their places beside their respective thrones, Shinuaq’tan spread his arms wide. “Welcome, brothers, ” he pronounced gravely. “Let this moot commence. We are here to discuss a matter of great import to our Scaled Nations—the attacks that have plagued our settlements these past weeks. Over the next few days, we shall determine once and for all what is to be done about the Riverrock situation.” He nodded to the Champions. “These warmbloods represent the great city of Riverrock; they submit that the attacks were not carried out at their city’s request, that Riverrock is innocent of any crime in this matter—”
“Uh lahkelay storrhay!” the corpulent chieftain interrupted, his Common carrying a peculiar accent vaguely reminiscent of France. “What proohf do zhey have to support zhis claimuh?”
Some of the other chieftains nodded, while others began muttering with their retainers in their own language.
***
Outside the moot hall, Selim stood with a small group of lizardfolk children. He’d been permitted to be exempted from the proceedings on account of being so (apparently) young and innocent, but he was not without an escort; one of Shinuaq’tan’s guards stood nearby, keeping an eye on the human youngster with ill-concealed boredom.


The Marshes of Ia-Kong, campsite
That sinking feeling in Sazh’s gut intensified as Sayaka let out a cough of her own and he took in Luigi’s sickened, dishevelled appearance. Noticing that panic was starting to set in amongst a few members of the group, he spread his arms in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.
“Aight, people, just stay calm, ” he said, as calmly as he could manage. “Panicking ain’t gonna do us any good; so long as nobody takes a dip in the river an’ everybody keeps their masks on, this stuff shouldn’t spread. I hope…”
He looked to the Brandt, his eyes following its banks to the west where it disappeared deeper into the marshes. Whatever the source of this plague was, it [i]had[/i] to be further up the river; they had to find it and destroy it, before…
Sazh grimaced, fighting down a sudden wave of nausea so powerful it almost doubled him over. “Damn it…”
Touching a hand to his chest, the l’Cie cast a simple spell. Watery blue light flashed into being around his form for a brief instant, fading into a subtle corona that was barely visible. That Vigilance spell would help, at least; it wouldn’t stop him from suffering the effects of the plague, but it would help keep the worst of the symptoms at bay until…
Until they did what needed to be done.
Mind made up, he made his way to Luigi’s side and dropped to one knee. “C’mon, man, ” he said, not unkindly, “this ain’t no time to be lyin’ around. Got work ta do…”

The Scaled Nations, Village of Threshold
The corpulent chieftain sputtered indignantly, his jowls trembling with anger. “Do you suhg-jest zhat we are so simple as to be manipulated by an outside force, warmblood?” He slammed a fatty arm down on his arm rest, and looked to his fellow chieftains. “Eet would be juhst lahk a humain to zhink us all stupid enough to be played like that!”
Angry murmurings filled the air. Some members of the congregation were nodding enthusiastically, while others were shaking their heads in disagreement; and some, Shinuaq’tan among them, were keeping a tight leash on their emotions, keeping their expressions carefully neutral as they surveyed the entire scene.
“Besaides, ” the rotund lizardman went on, “do zhey not have cause to carry out zhese raids? You yoursehlf just said zhat Rivvairrock eez dealing with plague and zhe undead, ” he reminded Elizabeth, pointing imperiously at her with one fatty finger. “Zhey want to push south into owair lands to get away from zhese zhreats, and push us out even furzhair zhan zhey already have!”
***
The lizardfolk children paused in their game and glanced at Selim. Some seemed wary of him, others confused; perhaps they didn’t understand Common yet, as their parents did. Perhaps they just weren’t sure what to make of the child of a warmblooded race.
Tentatively, though, one child approached him and held out what was unmistakably a ball.


The Scaled Nations, Village of Threshold
The corpulent chieftain looked as though he were about to blow a gasket as he listened to Jack’s words, fatty fists clenching and unclenching in barely-contained rage. Other members of the assembly seemed to share his anger, glowering at the Samurai; others, however, seemed to have entered into quiet discourse on the merits of what he was saying, while others were regarding him skeptically.
“Sssay that we accssept your argument, ” another chieftain began, his tone neutral and cautious. “What manner of power could arrange orchessstrate sssuch eventsss, and without drawing attention to itssself? What you sssuggessst iss a ssscheme of no sssmall complexssity.”
“And what, ” said another through her interpreter, “could such a power hope to gain from this?”
“No!” The obese chieftain slammed a fist down on his armrest, with so much force the wood cracked from the blow. “Ah wheel noht hear whatehvair else zhis warmblood has to say—not unless he proohves heemself! He has slaighted owair honour, and such must naht go unchallenged-uh!” Shinuaq’tan narrowed his eyes. “Then you invoke the rite?”
“Indeed ah do!”
“So be it, then, ” Shinuaq’tan sighed. Straightening in his throne, he raised his voice. “Korbulex of the Tundus tribe has invoked the rite of trial by champion! Let this matter be decided here, as was done in the days of our ancestors.” Turning to face Jack, he said, “As the challenged, the right to dictate the terms of the combat lies with you. Would you prefer the use of weapons, or will you fight unarmed?”
***
This seemed to excite the young lizardfolk. They turned and headed towards the side of a nearby building, gesturing for Selim to follow. “Pok-ta-pok!” some of them shouted with glee.
If he followed them, he would find that the wall had a thick stone hoop protruding from it some six or seven feet off the ground; oriented perpendicularly to the ground, the hole in the ring’s middle was just the right size for the ball to fit through, and just high enough that the children would have to work at it.
“Pok-ta-pok!” said the child who’d given Selim the ball. She bent her arm and slapped a hand to her elbow a few times, swinging the arm sharply upward as if to demonstrate how the game was played. And just in case Selim didn’t get it, she pointed to the ball in his hands before pointing to her elbow, then at the hoop.


The Scaled Nations, Village of Threshold
“The combat shall take place here, on this very floor, ” said Shinuaq’tan. “In accordance with our laws, we chieftains shall hold witness that none may deny the outcome.” He looked to Korbulex. “Who do you nominate as your champion?”
“Ah nomeenate zhe greatest warrieur of zhe Tundus tribe-uh, ” the corpulent chieftain announced, straightening imperiously—as much as he could manage—in his throne. “He eez a mastair of many weapons, and a student of various martial forms; as a hatchling he evehn lairned zhe principles of zhe fabled Bo-ran Dau, at zhe feet of no less a figaire zhan zhat order’s grandmaster!”
As he spoke, a lizardman dressed in a simple, hooded stepped forward from Korbulex’s retinue and strode across the floor to stand opposite Jack. Slowly the challenger reached up to draw back his hood, revealing a face lined with scars and old wounds; eyes as cold as flint regard the Samurai with predatory appraisal, as the challenger shrugged off his robe to expose his wiry chest and arms.
“I am Khex.” The challenger punched a fist into his palm and bowed deeply to Jack, never taking his eyes off the Samurai as he straightened up. “You ssseem ssskilled. I look forward to tesssting myssself againssst you.”
While he introduced himself, two men from Shinuaq’tan’s retinue wheeled out a rack full of various weapons. Polearms of various sorts competed for space with numerous different kinds of staves, cudgels, hand axes, daggers and swords, some of which looked like they might have come straight out of a smithee in Jack’s own homeland.
“Choose your weapons, ” Shinuaq’tan said gravely.
The Servbot's worries were mostly unfounded. Whether it was the shock of the drill or the shock of the diminutive girl having the drill, the Darknut failed to follow through with its swing. Which was fortunate, because it would probably have crushed her on impact. As was evidenced two seconds later. Arm screeching and trailing sparks, the Darknut lifted the staff (with Tron attached) overhead and ''swung''. Before she knew it, she would find herself travelling towards the ground at a bone-shattering speed.

----

'''Noel and.... her Bazooka, I guess'''

Shieldless and swordless, the Darknut could only take the missile head-on. The explosion was deafening. Bits of twisted metal flew everywhere. The detonation itself was incredibly clean - it seemed even dust had to clear Omega to exist here.

The smoke cleared. The knight nursed its dead arm, rapier in hand. Owain was right - the Darknuts did have armor under their armor. Light chainmail, with ornamental dress - the change was


When the smoke cleares
















The Marshes of Ia-Kong, Campsite
Sazh awoke with a hacking, phlegmy cough.
He sat bolt upright, eyes widening as he grasped at his throat; it was so gummed up with sludge that he could barely breathe. He scrambled for the bank of the river, dropped to his hands and knees, and retched violently; it took almost a full minute before he finally managed to get his pipes clear, and by that time he’d broken out in a cold sweat.
He straightened up, groaning and pale. “Man, what…”
And that’s when it hit him. The fight with the hydra came back to him, flashing before his mind’s eye with crystalline clarity; that giant lobster thing, grabbing him from behind while he was distracted and pulling him under the water.
The tainted, disease-ridden water.
A sinking feeling lodged itself firmly in Sazh’s gut. “Aw, hell…”
He’d tried his damnedest to keep from opening his mouth while struggling with that thing, but either some water must have got in anyway or the germs had infected him some other way. Whatever the case, one thing was clear: he had the sickness.
Hastily, Sazh reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the mask the Riverrock guards had given him the day before; thankfully it was still dry, and he slipped it over his mouth. Hopefully its magic could keep the plague germs in as well as keep them out; and if not, hopefully the others still had their own masks…
“Everyone?” He paused, biting back another wad of phlegm. “Don’t wanna alarm you, but now would be a good time ta put on yer masks.”


The Scaled Nations, Village of Threshold
Sleep for the peacemakers had been untroubled, the protective wards set around the storehouse seemingly having done their job. Shortly after dawn an envoy had come knocking, informing them that the moot had begun; and now Link, Jack, Elizabeth and the rest all stood in the middle of the moot hall, at the centre of a ring of seated chieftains.
The other nine chieftains were an eclectic bunch, finely-attired lizardfolk whose scales came in a wide variety of different colours. Some had small hornlets running along their jaws or rimming their ey toes and fingers, while others had long talons. Some were tall, some were short; some were thin as a post, while one chieftain was so rotund and swollen he seemed almost more like some sort of man-toad than the same race as his peers, and had to be carried into the room on a palanquin because his legs simply could not support his girth.
Once they were all assembled, and the chieftains’ retinues had taken their places beside their respective thrones, Shinuaq’tan spread his arms wide. “Welcome, brothers, ” he pronounced gravely. “Let this moot commence. We are here to discuss a matter of great import to our Scaled Nations—the attacks that have plagued our settlements these past weeks. Over the next few days, we shall determine once and for all what is to be done about the Riverrock situation.” He nodded to the Champions. “These warmbloods represent the great city of Riverrock; they submit that the attacks were not carried out at their city’s request, that Riverrock is innocent of any crime in this matter—”
“Uh lahkelay storrhay!” the corpulent chieftain interrupted, his Common carrying a peculiar accent vaguely reminiscent of France. “What proohf do zhey have to support zhis claimuh?”
Some of the other chieftains nodded, while others began muttering with their retainers in their own language.
***
Outside the moot hall, Selim stood with a small group of lizardfolk children. He’d been permitted to be exempted from the proceedings on account of being so (apparently) young and innocent, but he was not without an escort; one of Shinuaq’tan’s guards stood nearby, keeping an eye on the human youngster with ill-concealed boredom.


The Marshes of Ia-Kong, campsite
That sinking feeling in Sazh’s gut intensified as Sayaka let out a cough of her own and he took in Luigi’s sickened, dishevelled appearance. Noticing that panic was starting to set in amongst a few members of the group, he spread his arms in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.
“Aight, people, just stay calm, ” he said, as calmly as he could manage. “Panicking ain’t gonna do us any good; so long as nobody takes a dip in the river an’ everybody keeps their masks on, this stuff shouldn’t spread. I hope…”
He looked to the Brandt, his eyes following its banks to the west where it disappeared deeper into the marshes. Whatever the source of this plague was, it [i]had[/i] to be further up the river; they had to find it and destroy it, before…
Sazh grimaced, fighting down a sudden wave of nausea so powerful it almost doubled him over. “Damn it…”
Touching a hand to his chest, the l’Cie cast a simple spell. Watery blue light flashed into being around his form for a brief instant, fading into a subtle corona that was barely visible. That Vigilance spell would help, at least; it wouldn’t stop him from suffering the effects of the plague, but it would help keep the worst of the symptoms at bay until…
Until they did what needed to be done.
Mind made up, he made his way to Luigi’s side and dropped to one knee. “C’mon, man, ” he said, not unkindly, “this ain’t no time to be lyin’ around. Got work ta do…”

The Scaled Nations, Village of Threshold
The corpulent chieftain sputtered indignantly, his jowls trembling with anger. “Do you suhg-jest zhat we are so simple as to be manipulated by an outside force, warmblood?” He slammed a fatty arm down on his arm rest, and looked to his fellow chieftains. “Eet would be juhst lahk a humain to zhink us all stupid enough to be played like that!”
Angry murmurings filled the air. Some members of the congregation were nodding enthusiastically, while others were shaking their heads in disagreement; and some, Shinuaq’tan among them, were keeping a tight leash on their emotions, keeping their expressions carefully neutral as they surveyed the entire scene.
“Besaides, ” the rotund lizardman went on, “do zhey not have cause to carry out zhese raids? You yoursehlf just said zhat Rivvairrock eez dealing with plague and zhe undead, ” he reminded Elizabeth, pointing imperiously at her with one fatty finger. “Zhey want to push south into owair lands to get away from zhese zhreats, and push us out even furzhair zhan zhey already have!”
***
The lizardfolk children paused in their game and glanced at Selim. Some seemed wary of him, others confused; perhaps they didn’t understand Common yet, as their parents did. Perhaps they just weren’t sure what to make of the child of a warmblooded race.
Tentatively, though, one child approached him and held out what was unmistakably a ball.


The Scaled Nations, Village of Threshold
The corpulent chieftain looked as though he were about to blow a gasket as he listened to Jack’s words, fatty fists clenching and unclenching in barely-contained rage. Other members of the assembly seemed to share his anger, glowering at the Samurai; others, however, seemed to have entered into quiet discourse on the merits of what he was saying, while others were regarding him skeptically.
“Sssay that we accssept your argument, ” another chieftain began, his tone neutral and cautious. “What manner of power could arrange orchessstrate sssuch eventsss, and without drawing attention to itssself? What you sssuggessst iss a ssscheme of no sssmall complexssity.”
“And what, ” said another through her interpreter, “could such a power hope to gain from this?”
“No!” The obese chieftain slammed a fist down on his armrest, with so much force the wood cracked from the blow. “Ah wheel noht hear whatehvair else zhis warmblood has to say—not unless he proohves heemself! He has slaighted owair honour, and such must naht go unchallenged-uh!” Shinuaq’tan narrowed his eyes. “Then you invoke the rite?”
“Indeed ah do!”
“So be it, then, ” Shinuaq’tan sighed. Straightening in his throne, he raised his voice. “Korbulex of the Tundus tribe has invoked the rite of trial by champion! Let this matter be decided here, as was done in the days of our ancestors.” Turning to face Jack, he said, “As the challenged, the right to dictate the terms of the combat lies with you. Would you prefer the use of weapons, or will you fight unarmed?”
***
This seemed to excite the young lizardfolk. They turned and headed towards the side of a nearby building, gesturing for Selim to follow. “Pok-ta-pok!” some of them shouted with glee.
If he followed them, he would find that the wall had a thick stone hoop protruding from it some six or seven feet off the ground; oriented perpendicularly to the ground, the hole in the ring’s middle was just the right size for the ball to fit through, and just high enough that the children would have to work at it.
“Pok-ta-pok!” said the child who’d given Selim the ball. She bent her arm and slapped a hand to her elbow a few times, swinging the arm sharply upward as if to demonstrate how the game was played. And just in case Selim didn’t get it, she pointed to the ball in his hands before pointing to her elbow, then at the hoop.


The Scaled Nations, Village of Threshold
“The combat shall take place here, on this very floor, ” said Shinuaq’tan. “In accordance with our laws, we chieftains shall hold witness that none may deny the outcome.” He looked to Korbulex. “Who do you nominate as your champion?”
“Ah nomeenate zhe greatest warrieur of zhe Tundus tribe-uh, ” the corpulent chieftain announced, straightening imperiously—as much as he could manage—in his throne. “He eez a mastair of many weapons, and a student of various martial forms; as a hatchling he evehn lairned zhe principles of zhe fabled Bo-ran Dau, at zhe feet of no less a figaire zhan zhat order’s grandmaster!”
As he spoke, a lizardman dressed in a simple, hooded stepped forward from Korbulex’s retinue and strode across the floor to stand opposite Jack. Slowly the challenger reached up to draw back his hood, revealing a face lined with scars and old wounds; eyes as cold as flint regard the Samurai with predatory appraisal, as the challenger shrugged off his robe to expose his wiry chest and arms.
“I am Khex.” The challenger punched a fist into his palm and bowed deeply to Jack, never taking his eyes off the Samurai as he straightened up. “You ssseem ssskilled. I look forward to tesssting myssself againssst you.”
While he introduced himself, two men from Shinuaq’tan’s retinue wheeled out a rack full of various weapons. Polearms of various sorts competed for space with numerous different kinds of staves, cudgels, hand axes, daggers and swords, some of which looked like they might have come straight out of a smithee in Jack’s own homeland.
“Choose your weapons, ” Shinuaq’tan said gravely.