Resdreillhm Palace

Eiurin

There was a hum running through her mind, the pounding of her blood in her ears as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. The young woman narrowed one of her eyes, lashing falling partially over slitted, golden orbs as she observed the opponent in front of her. A smirk slid across her face as she took a step carefully to her right, her opponent circling her just as well. The woman was tall in form, slender in figure--yet the leanness of her muscles indicated she was a fighter. Her fingers twitched just slightly as her smirk widened into a crooked upturn of lips. Her opponent refused to approach her first, watching, waiting. Her opponent was a larger man, surely twice her weight and fully clad in armor. He held his polearm professionally, the grip indicating he was not new to long-range combat.

She stopped abruptly, the turn of her heels bringing up dust from the ground as she did so. The figure tensed, as if sensing the oncoming attack. The woman whistled once in amusement before trilling her fingers together. There was the faint sound of metal scrapping against metal and the man looked utterly confused. For the woman before him looked human, albeit in skimpy clothing, but a normal woman nonetheless. She shifted her weight to her left foot as she pushed forwards, taking dashing steps towards the other. He instantly raised his polearm in front of his body to fend her off but at the last moment, she bent her body backwards and slid against the ground.

He hesitated and she twitched her fingers once more before allowing the metal to rush to the surface of her skin. She could already feel the bones in her hand shifting, altering, the skin becoming sleeker and smoother. Her hand morphed into a metallic claw and she swiped upwards, cutting into the side of his calf through the gap in his armor. The man let out a yell of pain but this did not deter him from spinning his weapon around in an attempt to connect with her body. The woman flashed him a sly grin as she allowed the weapon to nick the side of her arm, all for sport of course. These dim-witted people didn't seem the type to be entertained by a purely, one-sided fight.

The man drew false confidence out of this and drew his weapon back to thrust it forwards in an attempted jab to her stomach. She leaned back before she could be hit and grabbed on to the end of the weapon with her claws. With a malicious light in her eyes, she dug her claws into the metal, her clawed fingers instantly melding into the steel with ease. The man tried to rear back and pull his weapon away from her but she held on tighter and the weapon fell out of his grip. He swore, probably trying to re-evaluate his strategy on how best to attack her while she held his weapon. The metal that was touching her claws began to melt away and was absorbed into them, the man's eyes widening in horror.

Dropping the polearm, which was now just a stick, the woman eyed him through her mismatched eyes--one narrower than the other in an unsettling type of way. Giving a short laugh and a shrug of her shoulders, she winked at him before darting towards him once more. In a desperate attempt at defense, the man grabbed the partially useless polearm and fended off her blows, her claws razing against the stick with a ferocious velocity. She was intentionally not grinding it to bits, which she could've done long ago--she had to make this look good to ensure her victory was a success and not simply a "win". The man's eyes darted from his weapon to her claws and he turned over the longer stick in his hands and flicked it upwards. This actually caught her by surprise and it hit her right beneath her chin, the force of the blow enough to make her stagger backwards a few steps.

Her eyes flashed as her annoyance at him grew. Well, playing nice had just gone out the window. This little piece of shit thought he could hit her and she would take it kindly? Oh no.

A wicked gleam entered her eyes and she tilted her head to the side, jumping back several feet. The metal was already running through her body to her shoulder blades and the bones mutated as the metal slid out from under her skin. The crowd cheered louder as there was a slight ripping noise--an unfortunate section of her top had been snagged by the sharp edges of her wings as they protruded outwards and had been able to stay intact. The man trembled, ah yes, that look someone got when they realized that attempted resistance would be futile. She smirked cruelly as she spread out her wings and, with the darkest of sweet smiles, she flapped them once--small, metal blades coming out from the ends of her wings and penetrating through his armor with ease and into his flesh.

The man screamed but she quickly silenced him with one more blade straight through his throat, the yells turning gurgled. He gaped upwards for several more seconds before his body limply fell forward, already dead before he hit the ground. Wiping just a slight coating of perspiration from her forehead, the woman looked up as the trumpets blared to signify the end of the match. The crowds yells were thunderous and the girl merely raised an eyebrow. Funny how the people here seemed to worship carnage so. The announcer for the match looked nervous as he wandered into the large arena she had been battling in, stepping around the body and holding what appeared to be something she had heard was called a "microphone".

"A-And that brings us to the conclusion of the match! This newcomer surely doesn't mess around... It seems the young Princess Ignivicarian VI has chosen a lovely champion! But... ah, it seems your name isn't written down here, Miss ah... Miss..." She grabbed whatever this stupid device was from him and spoke into it clearly.

"It's--"

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Liandre

The young princess had been sitting on the edge of her seat, biting her lower lip as she gazed down at the events. As she had predicted, the white-haired woman was certainly lethal in battle. Such prowess would work well in the future, though it made her nervous to watch. As a rule, the royal did not attend these events for she found the carnage rather unnecessary. But this woman was her champion, her chosen guardian--and as the sponsor of such a woman, it was the princess' responsibility to oversee the events. Even if the sight of blood made her squeamish...

But when the woman grabbed the mic from the announcer, Liandre immediately went on high alert and stood up in her seat quickly. She couldn't let any of the others know about her guardian's name--the steambots would use that information to figure out that....! "S-Stop!" She called from her seat high above the arena, having stood up in her excitement. The shrill voice of protest echoed through the stadium and it seemed at once, the people had silenced down in surprise. She blinked, aware that she was being eyed by the king and the other royals who were attending the event. She cleared her throat anxiously.

"I-I mean, she does not have a name. The Metal Champion should work just fine." She tried to say firmly as her gaze slipped down to her feet. She had allowed her excitement to get the best of her and now her shyness was increasing. The announcer fumbled and tried to take the mic back, but not before the woman got her two cents in.

"Yeah, Metal Champion. Whatever, fucking posh idjits. Glad you enjoyed the blood, prin~cess~" The girl ended sarcastically before shoving the mic back in the announcer's hands and sauntering to the arena's exit. Liandre peeked upwards to see the woman being escorted between two of the steambot guards that were stationed by the exit. She sighed in relief; thank goodness that catastrophe had been aver--huh? Right before the woman was taken away, she raised up her middle finger in a rather offensive gesture. The sight made Liandre blush as she sat back down slowly, blue locks tumbled over her lap.

The king cleared his throat, giving a flick of the wrist. "Don't just stand there like an idiot, bring the next one in." He said with a dismissive voice. Liandre tensed a bit as she thought of the coming match. Those poor chosen, forced into the arena like mere fodder... There was not a part of the Battle Royale that struck her as entertaining or charming in the least--the very idea made her cringe. But hopefully, so long as her companion didn't stray too far from the plan, she'd be able to save the survivors by the day's end... Hopefully...

She looked down at her lap again, taking out the small mirror she always kept on her person. 'Oh Eiurin... please come through for me.' She thought wistfully as she stared at the object. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of gold and a slitted iris reflected back at her; the moment passing too quickly for her to evaluate. Before she could disconcert whether or not it had her imagination, she received her confirmation as a sarcastic voice filled her mind.

'I know, dumbass nymph.' Liandre gave a tremulous smile at the nickname. The connection vanished as the other must've severed it but the princess felt more reassured. Maybe the plan might be a success after all.

~Taran Mortair~

“You,” the coordinator pointed at Taran with a pen. “Get up, you’re next.” He sighed and stood, walking over to the steambots who were guarding the long entryway to the arena. He smiled and nodded at the girl who exited, before entering himself at the steambot’s command. He hated this hallway. It was far too long for his liking. He would have preferred that it was a simple gate from the arena to the waiting room, but instead it was a long tunnel like hallway. Once he exited, he took up his position, and watched at they let out the person who’s life he would end today. He truly pitied his opponent. The thing that was fighting him was so twisted that it was barely human anymore, it spread it's limbs out on the ground, planting itself like an animal. There were several horns protruding out of its body, where the bones overgrew. Its face was long like a dog’s and a bone plate covered from the tip of the nose to the back of the head, leaving holes only for the eyes and nostrils. Taran could not even tell if it was a male or female. It bared its teeth and gave a primal snarl challenging Taran to attack. He wanted nothing more than to end this thing’s life to end its suffering. He knew that it probably did not know how bad its life was, but that did not matter. The problem was, that if he simply put an end to the creature immediately, the audience would be disappointed. If the audience was not happy, then his handlers made sure he was not happy.

He spun the long pole in one hand through his fingers for a few seconds at a high speed before snapping it to a stop by planting it in the ground. The length and placement of the sharp, bone, spike-like horns would make it extremely difficult to fight this thing empty-handed, and would therefore take longer and require him to use his imagination. Two things the audience loved. He deliberately walked forward to the thing, seemingly casually and with his guard down. A thousand strategies were running through his head, a habit that his Master drilled into him in their daily training sessions. He could even hear the old man’s voice telling him his favorite sayings. ”Always calculate, always plan. Go into battle unprepared, then be prepared to lose your life.” Right now, he was judging the creature’s territory boundary. As soon as he crossed the line, the thing would pounce. The key was to accurately interpret the thing’s reactions to his approach. He had to be prepared in case he attacked to early or too late as well. And on top of all of this, he needed to make it flashy. He hated flashy stuff, but it made the audience happy. Ironically, the only person in the audience whose opinion truly mattered to him was the only one who hated flashy fighting even more than he did.

He almost caught the thing's reaction too late, but he was barely able to counter on time. He and the creature jumped off the ground simultaneously, the thing’s mouth open to bite, and its twisted, clawed hands ready to grab him. But Taran was ready. His body was twisting sideways, his feet spinning around at a high speed like a windmill. Before the beast could do anything, his heel came crashing down on the top of its head in a solid axe kick. The creature’s head instantly changed trajectory and smashed into the ground as its body flipped forward over onto its back. Normally, he would follow through with more attacks; however that would end the fight too soon. Instead, he landed on his feet and rolled several feet away setting a new stance. The first was improvised, and he only used it because the crowd would eat up his confidence. This time, he brought himself down to the beast’s level. It looked as though he was mocking the creature, but in actuality, he was using a type of reptile based kung-fu that his Master taught him. The creature rolled over and shook its head, sneezing. It saw him and made an odd noise between a bark and a snarl before leaping at him again. His right leg was out front, so he rested his weight on his left leg, and two front hands, brought his right back, and snapped back out like a whip in a tail kick. His leg looked like rubber in its fluid and powerful movement, and was solid enough to break three of the bone spikes off at the base and throw it off to Taran’s left. It recovered much quicker than the last time, and was pouncing again in a second. Taran crouched down and brought his left arm up, letting the thing bite on. It’s arms wrapped around his waist and shoulders as the thing gnawed on him. He fell back, making it look like the thing caught him off guard. He pretended to struggle as its claws groped at his dougi trying to slice into his skin with no luck. Its teeth tried to tear out chunks of flesh from his arm, but it remained intact. After a few seconds, he stopped pretending, and stood up with the creature still attached. Showing that the thing was not hurting him, he swiped his right arm down, breaking off all the spikes on its back, leaving broken stumps and translucent skin. He grabbed a remaining spike on its shoulder and threw the thing off of himself. He waited for it to recover again -this time a bit longer than the last two- and when it pounced, he caught it underneath its jaw, flipped it over belly up, and threw it against the ground at his feet.

He gave a depressed sigh before looking down and whispering to the creature, “My deepest of apologies, friend. I hate to toy with you so. Please forgive me.” Then without hesitation, he grabbed it by the throat, and threw it high into the air, repelling it farther with his gravitational ability. He then ran over to where he left his Naginata, and in one fluid movement, grabbed it, rolled on the ground, and threw it while upside down in mid roll. It was something that he had been practicing for months. His handlers encouraged him to have a “finishing move” of some kind, and this was the best he could do. Most people liked it, because they could not tell when he threw the Naginata. He hated it, because it was far too impractical, and felt awkward. It flew through the air, and stabbed the creature straight through the back of the head, behind the bone. It was dead before it hit the ground. He walked over to the corpse with the same attitude he did when the fight started, and pulled the staff from the body. He pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped all the blood off from the blade, and the bit that got on the head of the staff. He always did this as soon as the fight was over. He did it to show the audience that he hated to kill, and nothing would ever change that. The blood on his precious blade was abhorring to him. And he wanted them all to know.

“Congratulations to our victor, Taran!” the announcer yelled over the microphone. He seemed to be scarred to come close to Taran, but he came out anyway for the announcement. “Yet another victory for this long lived Flawed, you all had better enjoy him while you can, this will be his last year!” He said with a clearly fake pity voice. Taran was one of (if not the) oldest of the Flawed, and would be executed in 11 months. He had been in many arena fights, and almost everyone knew who he was. His eyes turned from his combative black and red, to his furious dark green as he looked at the man in the eye. The announcer did not know what it meant, but he knew that there was a reason behind the change, and he could guess what was going through the warrior’s head. Silently, he spun the Naginata around with his wrist, bringing it against the back of his shoulder with the blade up. He bowed to the man respectfully before spinning the pole back to the front of his shoulder relaxed, and turning on his heels to walk back toward the steambots guarding the exit.

Screw all of these people. The words were silent, but he unsuccessfully willed every person in the room to know his thoughts.

Orfhlaith sat in the seat beside the King. Where she was forced to sit. Where she was always forced to sit. She had to make sure that her prediction would be correct. Which it would. It always was. The red head swivelled her eye to look at the guards that stood either side of her. As if they could hold her there. She had seen what they would do if she tried to leave without permission. Three times she was stabbed, seven she was knocked unconscious and twice she was beheaded. Yum. Just what you want to see before breakfast. Orfhlaith crossed her legs and looked down at her flinching hand. It clawed at the air desperately, twisting in its joints maniacally. She pressed down hard on the limb and made a face as the movement became more frantic.

Really. You don't seem to understand you are a limb. If I press down, you wouldn't suffocate. She grumbled mentally, outwardly showing no emotion. The royals were looking forward, eyes trained on the Battle Royale. The overseer fought the urge to yawn. Of course the woman with the metal flaw was going to win. You didn't have to be a seer to know that. Orfhlaith let the corners of her mouth curl slightly as the Flawed put in her opinion on the announcer's mic. Ah, so she did opt for the hand gesture. Lovely. Orfhlaith was concerned that it wouldn't happen. A one in three chance but she knew she didn't have to worry. Her previous visions told her this was one who had to be watched. The princess had obviously "chosen" a good champion...the red head smirked. Oh, how the princess tried to hide things. Obviously she had forgotten about her palace's plaything. The overseer frowned as her hand shot up into the air and then settled back down. The muscles were really starting to hurt from all the constant moving. Orfhlaith looked up in time to see one of the Flawed fighting get stabbed in the back of the head. The blood gushed and was soaked into the thing's fur. She sighed. This was getting boring. She had to leave sooner or later. The red head couldn't very well stay here all day. There was something else about to happen. Something much more important. But before Orfhlaith could put her plan into action, an unwanted presence was behind her. She rolled her red eye. Really. You didn't need visions to know this guy was coming. You could smell his cheap aftershave a mile or ten away.

"Good day to you too." Orfhlaith whispered, eye still fixated upon the match in front of her. Oh dear, that was all the blood splatter they could muster? How dreadfully boring, even more so than normal. The overseer heard a little intake of breath and smiled viciously.

"Oh, I do apologise. You haven't quite managed to relieve yourself of that deplorable pick up line. I am oh so sorry. Do let us start again. Here, you say your bit and I'll just pretend I've never heard it before." The overseer replied monotonously. Honestly, does this man never give up? Not even here, in the Battle Royale, surrounded by the Royals? Desperation was not the word.

"Oh, Orly, you know I love it when you do that!" The overseer winced at the name.

"Call me that horrendous name and I shall have to take action. When in relation with that name and by extention, you, may my thoughts be bloody or nothing worth." Orfhlaith spoke almost melodically, imagining an actor speaking the part. Silence greeted her. Of course.

"Oh, of course. Hamlet? Shakespeare? No? Thought as much. Being uncultured must be awful. I really feel for you." The overseer reverted back to her flat tone, eye glazing over as a new lot of visions came into focus. Boring, boring, oh, a murder, boring, boring, knew his wife was going to have an affair, boring, boring, blah, blah, blah, really, he couldn't tell his girlfriend was cheating on him? Orfhlaith rolled her eye. You didn't have to be the overseer to know that she was two more layers of make-up away from standing on the street corner. The redhead sighed and forced herself to listen to the guard's babbling.

"Comm'on, love! Jus' one drink?"

"Which you shall spike full of some not so legal drugs to get me in sleep with you? Get thee to a nunnery..." The overseer muttered, before looking up at the man for the first time.

"Oh and how is Anya? Still doing the drug runs?" She asked sweetly, watching as his face paled. Ha. He had forgotten she would know. Poor woman was ripped apart after she stole the substance. He had helped. A little cruel for an ex lover but ah, priorities. Besides. There was worse ways to die. Another bomb vision wormed its way into Orfhlaith's mind. Oh great. New bomb, new problems. Where were they finding this decrepit excuses for weapons?

When Orfhlaith finally concentrated on her surroundings, she almost swore (but didn't. Would be terribly improper to call someone a son of a female dog with the King beside you). She didn't have much time left. The overseer stood without thinking and winced as a hard grip clutched her left wrist, stopping her from leaving. Her hand writhed beneath the too tight grip and the redhead was forced to look at the King. His meaty fist was clutched around her slender arm and Orfhlaith felt the eyes of the Royals bore into her. She washed her face of any emotion, looking no one in the eye.

"Where are you going?" The King asked, eyes glinting. Orfhlaith took a deep breath before giving the King a smile that would never reach her eyes. He didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, nowhere. A lady does have to visit the ladies room every now and then, m'lord." The overseer spoke clearly, her voice laced with innocence she didn't possess. She watched as the King's tight grip loosened just as she knew it would. He clasped her left hand gently and Orfhlaith was never as thankful as she was now that her hand never obeyed her. She would have wanted to slap the man. Instead her limb now hung thankfully limp. The King moved her hand gently to his lips and let her wrist go. She felt like shuddering as his lips brushed her skin. Fantastic. Now she would actually have to go to the wash room to get rid of the vile essence on her hand.

"Do hurry now. I never like to have you too far from hand during these times." Orfhlaith didn't have to be a mind reader to grasp the hidden meaning behind that statement. I need to keep you under control and keep my status. "My champion shall be fighting soon, my dear, and I would like to have you nearby to watch." You better be right.

The red head nodded solemnly and hurried out of the Royal's box, stepping around the princess who would try to trip her up. Really, jealously was so childish. Although that horrid woman was very childish even though she was pregnant. She hadn't told her king as she wasn't married yet. And everyone knew what a bastard son could do in the delicate balance of the Royals. Orfhlaith had thought about telling the King but regrettably decided not to. Even though the scandal would be simply delicious, Orfhlaith was smart enough to know when to wait. Besides, when the child was five, that was when things would get very entertaining. The overseer stepped out of the Royal's box, side stepping the noble man outside. This must be Luther, the one who was after Princess Liandre. The overseer smiled cattily. Oh, it was nice to know things before the people themselves did. Orfhlaith gave the nobleman a thin smile before hurrying away. Time was of the essence and she had to be there at just the right time. The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers just as Orfhlaith passed her first "checkpoint". The overseer smiled her Cheshire Cat grin.

Right on time.

Perfect.

The princess turned her head to the side gently, lashes tilted downwards as she shielded her vision from the sight of the death matches. As it always had, the mere premise of such barbaric activities made her uneasy and sick to the stomach. Already, the sinking feeling had settled within her and her chest felt heavy with the knowledge that just below her, one of the combatants was going to die shortly. It was a horrifying sport yet the people had come to adore it.

She grimaced, forcing herself to open one lime-green eye an shift her gaze over to the man sitting meters from her. King Resdreillhm, the man who seemed to enjoy these games more than anyone, was tilted forwards in his seat with unnaturally eager anticipation. He had specially invited her to his booth once he learned this would be her first year attending the "festivities", as he called them. The warped light in his eyes as he stared at the proceedings of the match made her question faintly why he always seemed so excited to see the carnage. Outside of the Battle Royale, in fact, the kingdom did not indulge in idle wars--the king was always conscious when it came to losing his own men. But when it came to the flawed...

The petite fingers balled up into a tightened fist at the thought. He did not care and a king like that was not the man she wanted to be resided over by. A shuffling noise and a flutter of a red skirt brought Liandre's eyes further down the line, where a young woman stood up and walked around the back of the king's seat. For a moment, the woman and the girl met in gaze but the moment passed quickly as the other turned and left the booth. Just as she did so, a guard slid into the area, straightening and walking over to the king. The guard bowed slightly, whispering something in the man's ear. Whatever it was, made the king let out a shout of bitter laughter, turning his eyes upon her.

"Liandre dear," The use of the endearment only made her cringe but she hid it behind a soft, inquisitive smile. "It would appear you've caught the unfortunate attentions of Luther." Raised eyebrows from the princess indicated she had no idea who this was. Luther? The name did sound familiar, though she had only heard it in passing during a formal event with the von Kriegers. The faint whispers that she had heard, the son was not much of a source of pride for the father, but that was as far as she could guess.

The king waved his hand, clearly not waiting for her judgement to tell the guard a response. "Let him in," The man said gruffly. "If he pulls anything funny, throw him over the side of the balcony." The guard bowed once more and left through the curtains to the door in the back, leaving Liandre to ponder just what Luther could be like to warrant such odd behavior.

Whilst Luther was waiting for Victor to return from inside of the royal booth a somewhat peculiar woman wearing red stepped out, grinning slyly at Luther as she passed. His curious gaze followed her as she walked away, his head turning to the left slightly as he did so whilst one of his trade-mark smirks began to spread across his face. Something about all the red, despite his abhorrence for the bright color, mixed with her pale skin seemed delicious, but it was the twitchy hand she had which truly intrigued him. It seemed so much… fun.

Fortunately it did not take long for the guard to return, and at the most opportune time of seeing Luther’s head become nearly parallel with his neck. A polite cough was used to catch the young royal’s attention. “The King has permitted your audience m’lord. Do behave yourself in there; I wouldn’t want to have to throw a drinking buddy over the balcony if ya ken.”

“I wouldn’t need to behave myself if everyone else was less dull and obtuse! Don’t worry yourself though; I have no choice on the matter during the Battle Royales.”

The guards barely had a moment to spare to move their pole-arms from his path before Luther barreled his way, politely, through the doorway. As per usual King Resdrollhm was engrossed in the match taking place before him as were the others in the royal retinue, all except the lovely, little Liandre. What on Isallia could have prompted her to come to these games?

“Good day to you my liege, I hope these games are proving to be as exciting as ever, yes?” Luther forewent the traditional hand-kissing nonsense most of the Nobility went about doing with the King, a fortunate luxury his singular personality provided, for some reason most people considered his condition to be contagious. They wished it was so. His queer-smile returned soon though as he approached Princess Liandre.

He intentionally positioned himself to her right so that when he bent over to take her left hand and kiss it that he would be blocking her view of the carnage taking place down below. Even at such an orthogonal position his clothing refused to sag in the slightest…so uncomfortable.

“Dear Liandre, what a surprise it is to see your beautiful visage grace our presence on this day.” One of the King’s retinue grudgingly offered up their seat next to the princess as Luther nearly sat down on top of the unfortunate soul. “To think I haven’t seen you since the gala at my family’s manor! Of course I would go into hiding too after any event hosted by my father, the dreadful man didn’t even have any entertainment planned! Please dear…,” His gaze drifted down to look upon her hands, which he had somehow come to clasping, and he raised them up, also bringing his face closer to them for a keener inspection, “Oh my, you have such dainty little hands, how adorable,” Luther said sincerely as he dropped both of them and the gaze directed at them, instead bringing it to look her squarely in the eyes, a practice many Royals found disquieting, “You must tell what brings you here today! Don’t worry; you’ve no need to feel like telling me the truth. I would love to hear whatever outrageous tales YOU have to offer me!”

Liandre eyed the man from beneath full lashes, who smiled down at her kindly. It was odd for a royal to be so open and so energetic, most were rather posh and collected. But the way this prince regarded her was direct. In a way, it was heart-warming but she couldn't help but feel it was almost too direct. Royals avoided such blatant eye contact, after all, to avoid offending each other.

A faint blush coated her cheeks as she attempted to answer his line of questioning. "A-Ah, well... it..." She stuttered, wondering how best to go about this. He did say she could exaggerate, for all extents and purposes. And the young princess had read quite a number of books in the palace libraries so she knew many tales and stories. With this in mind, she pushed a strand of her blue hair behind her ear and spoke once more. "It started off as a wondrous mission, you see, to a far away land full of fierce, women warriors. They belonged to a rather large tribe and once a year, would do battle with a male tribe that also lived on the island." As she spoke, she gained a bit more confidence in her story-telling and licked her lips before continuing.

"The champion I chose was in fact from this tribe of women and is the fiercest of them all. She wished me to be present so I could witness her bring honor to her heritage." She heard a nearby royal clear their throat, though no one objected to her story. Why should they? No one knew precisely where Eiurin came from and her fighting prowess raised quite a number of questions. So why not create an extravagant story to fit the metal woman? Liandre paused, finally having paid attention to the fact that Luther was holding her petite digits in his own. She gently drew her hands back and placed them in her lap, trying her best at a light laugh. She really was bollocks at this royal thing.

She moved her gaze downwards, unable to hold his stare any longer. They were unsettling, those eyes! Bore right into the very depth of her person and this feeling made her shiver slightly. Liandre faintly wondered if this was how most people were and if she merely had missed it simply because she always avoided contact. She took a deep breath, still speaking to him in her dainty, small voice whilst staring at her lap.

"I-I apologize, I'm not very good at this... sort of thing..." She trailed off shortly and fidgeted. What was the polite way of cutting off these conversations? She was anxious to check up with Eiurin. The Battle Royale was a few rounds in and she wanted to be sure that the woman was holding up okay. Mind, Eiurin would probably tell her she was needlessly worrying but still... She couldn't help it. The woman had agreed to help her and it was the least the princess could do to check up on her.

What a pity, she’s even more shy than most. Luther lamented to himself, it would certainly be a chore trying to make this one rise from her shell. Good, he loved a good challenge to be had. The young Royal let out a light chuckle at the conclusion of her little story; it was definitely amusing, if somewhat hard to swallow. He did enjoy a good tale every now and again, and luckily the young princess had risen up to the challenge well enough for the moment.

“Oh no my dear, it was marvelous, well done Liandre, you should see the look on most people’s faces when I ask them to tell me a story. It’s almost as if they believe I’m a child!”

The princess had retreated back into her shell even further by then, trying desperately to avoid Luther’s gaze. I couldn’t have scared her off already, I’ve been much too reserved to have done anything like that. He noticed Liandre shivering slightly, it was actually quite a nice day, but the girl was a dainty little thing and the balcony seats did tend to catch a decent breeze for the better part of the day. Adding that to just daring the thought of spending the day with the King was enough to make Luther shiver, much like he did when looking at the uniform he was forced to wear.

A brilliant thought struck Luther’s mind suddenly. Obviously the poor girl must be intimidated by the audience, that could be the only reason she was so easily turning from his brilliant charm, and here he was thinking he had scared her somehow. The only choice he had left was to get her away from the King and company for a short while, everyone needed to stretch their legs occasionally did they not? This would give him ample time with her alone, thus allowing her the privacy to open up more; well that was the plan anyway.

Luther stood up hurriedly, and luckily his impeccable sense of timing came at the end of a match. There had not been a single intermission between any matches so far, so one could not possibly be far off, depending upon how the King was feeling that might be a long while. Not to worry, the young Liandre looked to be having a dreadful time just thinking about the fighting taking place down below them.

“Dear Liandre, would you care to accompany me on a stroll? By the looks of that shiver you seem to have a chill, and nothing warms the body up better than a nice walk! There’s also the chance you could visit your competitor quickly, I doubt her next match is going to be soon,” Luther turned towards the King and bowed deeply, sweeping his right hand outwards and tucking his left across his waist, “That is if your majesty has no qualms,” He turned his head towards Liandre this time, “And naturally if you desire so Princess.”

The small hand in her lap tightened as the girl considered his words. While she did desire to leave the viewing stands, she planned on doing it alone. There were things to discuss with Eiurin, things that could only be discussed between the two females. However, she had a feeling it would be improper and rude to decline his invitation. The king had already reclined back in his seat and regarded the pair with a nonchalant expression.

"I doubt your charms will be enough to win her over, boy. You've had little success among the high tier royal families. However, I do believe a break is in order. Liandre, entertain his company." The princess bowed her head in defeat, careful to hide the disappointment in her eyes. She was a princess and it was naturally upon her shoulders to sometimes do things that she may not prefer to do. So it was with a heavy heart that she lifted her head, smiling as warmly as she could at Luther.

"Thank you for your offer," She said, hair sweeping behind her as she took his outstretched hand, using it to steady herself as she stood up straight. She cast a look over her shoulder at the king, who had gone back to disregarding their existence. A crease in her brow and a small bite to her bottom lip was the only sign of displeasure she'd show towards that man. She quickly reconstructed her look into her most pleasant for Luther as they exited from the booth.

Perhaps it looked a bit odd, now that she thought on it. They were getting a lot of odd looks from passerby. The small girl assessed herself next to him, his silver, gray-ish hair and her azure, blue locks. She was a good head or two below him in height and much more petite to top it. But perhaps it wasn't the bizarreness of their outwards appearances that were making people stare. Now that she thought on it, she had heard just a bit more concerned Luther--words spoken by his father at the gala. She remembered faintly that there was talk of him being a lady's man and a charmer, and compounded with the king's words, she could not help but feel this was true.

She looked up at him but said nothing, having eased her hand out of his the instant they had left the stands. The walk from the viewing platform all the way down to the visiting area (restricted and only royals were allowed access to see their champions) was surprisingly short. Considering that with her small golden key, she was able to give them a lift in the steam-powered elevator that took them straight down several stories to the area. She had down here only once, when she had first seen Eiurin off before the tournament began. She rather hoped the woman wouldn't mind a surprise visit...

Moments later and they had arrived at the bottom-most floor. One of the guards saw them and for a second, she could've sworn she saw Luther and the guard exchange a look. Did he know the castle staff...? She dismissed the thought as the guard bowed to her.

"A-Ah, My Lady, what brings you down here with... ah... the young Lord?" The guard ended hesitantly, shifting his gaze to Luther's in a somewhat accusatory manner. Liandre admittedly had no idea what was going on so she decided to ignore it, for now.

"I-I'm here to visit my champion, Luther offered to escort me. Would you mind terribly...?" She said in her shy voice. The guard blushed lightly as he complied, opening the door but shooting a glare to Luther as he did so. "Thank you," She said, embarrassment highlighting her voice in an undertone. She was at a loss for how to separate herself from the prince and privately hoped Eiurin had some sort of plan for that. She walked down the corridor, passing by several empty cells--empty holding pens now for the dead flawed. She felt her chest tighten as she forced her eyes away from such a sight.

"I'll save them somehow..." She thought with a melancholic air, for it was the only way to comfort herself. Exactly five doors down and two to the left was the room Eiurin was being kept in. The slot at the top was a bit too high up for her so she shakily stood up on her tiptoes to barely see inside.

"E-Eiurin?" She called softly, gripping the edges of the viewing window to keep herself from stumbling backwards. Sometimes, she disliked being so short. Eiurin was laying on the bed, knees bent and legs crossed, arms behind her head. At the sound of her name, the flawed turned, golden orbs narrowing.

"Oh, the prissy noble girl, what an honor." She said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. Eiurin did not bother to stand but her eyes passed over Liandre as she gazed behind the princess, seeing the man behind her. The metal user narrowed her eyes carefully and addressed him with a much colder tone. "Oi, stupid wise-ass, this isn't some playpen or brothel. Go find your fuck-buddy elsewhere." Liandre flinched at the language and settled on her feet normally to peer at Luther with concern.

"I-I'm sorry, w-what she means to say is--"

"I said what I meant." Eiurin spoke up loudly to cut her off. "Piss off, prince-boy, short-stuff obviously came to talk to me and was just being the polite princess she is and didn't tell you no earlier." With that, the woman simply stared at Luther with cool indifference. It did not matter if she was in this cell and he was outside. Regardless, she'd still be able to beat him to a pulp and made sure he knew it to by the intensity of her look. Stupid royal playboys.


The King’s insult forced a chuckle from between clenched teeth. It was true he had little, honestly no, success with any women hailing from Royalty. His reputation as a womanizer was somewhat unfounded, although it was true he did lay with the occasional peasant and tried a bit harder than any would at wooing a maiden, but what truly hurt his chances with any Royalty was the perception as him being unsound of mind. Just because someone wanted to do things differently, wanted to experience life without all the burdensome tradition, they were marked as an outcast amongst the upper-echelons of society. That was the main reason he frequented the common-taverns and acted as he usually did, if they did not like his way of thought then they could all be damned.

Liandre’s half-hearted smile was nearly enough to break Luther altogether at this point, as if the dreadful suit his father made him wear during times like these was not enough to do so. Honestly, all of the frills, they were just ghastly! He went on through with the motions though, using his outstretched arm to help balance the young princess as she stood up on those rather uncomfortable-looking high heels. He should know how uncomfortable they might be, the frock incident again you see. When they finally exited the spectator stands though, despite his already sinking heart, Luther let out one of his trademark laughs.

He waited a few moments, long enough for them to leave earshot, before breaking the somewhat tense silence. “Oh dear Liandre, you are very brave, inept, or desperate, and probably some combination of the three to actually take me up on my offer! You do realize just how this will look don’t you? I mean, most people consider me to be some diseased, lunatic whom they’re waiting to find running through the streets stark-raving mad and naked one of these days don’t you?” Another peal of laughter burst forth from Luther’s gut after happily speaking about the truth of the matter.

The giddy Royal, for what else was there to be but giddy in such a world full of tedium and hate, twirled around nonchalantly and began to walk backwards, perching his right hand behind his head and using his left to steady the sword at his hip. Everyone had already started to look at them as per usual, something he had grown accustomed to bearing, but the Princess might not be as familiar with the phenomenon.

It seemed he had been correct in his assumption, for not soon after he had turned had Luther noticed the Princess become somewhat more…aware of the kind of looks being aimed their way. Some people just take too long to catch on don’t they? “You know, you’re about to earn quite the reputation being seen with me in public. I’m not quite sure why though, apparently only harlots deign to spare me the time of day. That’s not quite true if I may say so myself, I’ve really only slept with a few on accident, it can be quite hard to tell when a woman really does like you when drinking is involved, not quite so much when you’re not though. I would have to say my one fatal flaw would be I love a good chase, is it my fault there are no women amongst the Royalty capable of withstanding a man of my singular magnificence?”

Things were much quieter after this particular burst of conversation, if just for the fact that Luther was intent upon humming a tune from the play, “I Want to Be Your Canary,” which had been playing in the area for some time now. He even continued to hum the tune whilst they were thundering down to the visiting area in the deafening steam elevator, honestly how could they have been using this technology for so long but still not learn how to soften the noise just a smidge?

Luther had been down in the visiting area many times, but for the most part that was when he was still young and his father was grooming him to be his pride and joy, it was such a pity not everyone could be as enthused with Luther as he was with himself. Nowadays he came in much less frequently; sometimes his father bothered to ask his opinion on a fighter, and that usually came with mixed responses from his father. Occasionally he was in tune with his father’s thinking, in which case he would receive a slight nod of approval if they proved capable and forced to admit his failures as a human being should they prove otherwise, and other times he would be ignored should he think differently. The guards were the same though, some were friends who loved to drink with him, and others wanted to strangle the life out of him, most wanted to do some of both.

Just a few nods here, a couple of winks there, and many smiles later and they finally reached Liandre’s destination, the cell of the fiery-woman who seemed to spew metal from her pores. A laugh bellowed forth from his gut at the response he received, it had been at least three days since someone had insulted him in such a way, it was quite endearing actually. “There’s no need for apologies Princess, this one is feisty isn’t she? Oh my, there is someone I do hope you can meet someday, he’s a rather good friend of mine, and you are of a similar demeanor if I’m not mistaken…I do believe he is afraid of a good woman though, is there any chance you could help him out with that? I would be indebted to you if you could you know!

She certainly did have a mean stare, but nothing compared to his father’s the day he wore that frock. In return Luther gave her one of his head-turned-sideways giant smiles and twiddled his fingers as a good-bye gesture. “Well Liandre,” He said whilst bowing deeply, “It was a pleasure meeting you! Hopefully I might be able to run into you again, but now I definitely must take off this atrocious outfit peacocks would be ashamed to wear! That and I must try and get to sleep sometime soon, I must tell my friend about your friend here…”

With that said Luther quickly twirled around and proceeded to wander amidst the visiting area. It would not be long before a guard asked him for his golden key as proof he was visiting his champion, of which he had neither, so there was nothing to do but enjoy the sights and maybe make a new friend.

The basement was three floors above him. The royal asses, six. But still, the rumble of his latest creation could be heard. Dust and chemicals fell of the shelves. Granted, the chemicals were there only to make the room unsettling, but still, he'd have to clean up.

More rumbling. The creature was magnificient, much like the ones with the X-ray vision and the wolf-esque smell. Gargarin prided on his monsters being the best. They looked terrifying but were nary a threat. They were designed for a specific purpose. To make sure the battle went for long enough. They had barely any meaningful attacks. Everything these monsters did had to be flashy, to look good. They had a good defense, but the complimentary weak spot of each monster made them easy to fight against.

Gargarin looked at the man on the table. Around him were three cauldrons of molten iron. The rumbling stopped, as if on cue. Cheap thrills, he called them. The big monsters that were easy to kill. It had surely terrified the public. It had been specially made for its competitor. A short woman with no physical prowess. That is, until she used her finisher. She was, in all likeliness, gotten scared. And confused. That was important. He knew she could beat it easily with her move. It was her confusion that kept her from using the attack too early. The crowd were loving it, he was sure.

The door to his lab was kicked in with such force that the clamps broke and the door fell to the ground. It was better than last time, when the man who loved breaking Gargarin's doors kicked it. He went through the door and got stuck, the splinters destroying his leg. Thunk. Step. Thunk. Step. Thunk. Step.

"Come in, come in," Gargarin spoke with mock excitement. He hated the man. Truth be told, he hated everyone, everyone who stomped on his uniqueness. But, this man, this man was different. This bastard wore the same hat as Gargarin sometimes did, just to get on his nerves. Intrusion of uniqueness! Gargarin wanted the man on the operating table. He would make a nice monster. He was already mentally one.

"Why the fuck are they all dying so easily out there. The audience-"

"The audience are loving it. In any case, how long has the fights been going on? An hour? If I send in the big guns now, what will left for the Grand Finale?"

"They'll be bored till then."

Gargarin looked at the operating table. The man on the table was mostly dead. The injection worked perfectly. Soon, the serum would result in a monster. He had tweaked the serum for this man specially. The serum really worked well when what it was doing to the body matched with what the person always wanted. This man wanted the truth. The man on the operating table started screaming. In pleasure, thought Gargarin.

"How was the big guy?"

"Hmm... he scared the public, and the girl, I think. I thought he was going to kill her. But he just missed squashing a few times. And then, she made it night."

"Took in all the energy and super punched the monster."

"Yes, that. Did you make him miss on purpose?"

"Maybe." Gargarin looked at the man. The man wanted something badly. What was it? Just tell me, and I'll set you free.

"But," the man said, "we need something now. Something that'll kill one of the Fallen." He looked at the man- no, the monster- on the table. It was squirming around in pain. "What about this?"

"This here, is overkill. I don't wish to use him now. I'm saving him for Taran."

"Why didn't you create him before? Taran's match is up."

"Not for today. For Taran's last match. The King will proclaim that if Taran wins, he will get his freedom. Unfortunately, he'll die in the match."

The man studied the monster. It still looked human, but slowly the molten iron around the chair started moving towards the man's body. It would be beautiful, thought Gargarin.

"A man made of iron isn't going to beat Taran."

"Oh, you are right. One can only wonder what this beast can do to beat Taran, survivor and conqueror of many. The man, you see, is evolving. His brain, much like ours, has many parts. Parts for emotions, parts for understanding what the eyes see, parts for controlling the body. However, a lot of these parts are wasted on monsters like him. And so, instead of removing these parts, I have rewired them to his eyes and nose and ears. This man can see the future."

"The what?! The... the future?" the man was flabbergasted. Gargarin smiled. Even though he was weaker than the man, in this state of shock he could beat him. Then, he could turn him into a monster. He moved a step closer but before he could strike the man regained sanity and gave Gargarin a stone cold stare. Gargarin turned around and began writing down notes. Most of the iron had now covered the man on the table. Steam bellowed off the man's body, burning his skin. The man was still alive, and all thanks to the serum a torture method wasn't working.

"You see, a man can lie to another man, but not to his own body. The body does what it's told, so if a man lies to it, it will do something wrong. You may know that to move any part of the body, chemicals move from the brain to the body part. That is why the body does not move when you chop someone's head off. Well, this man can sense these chemicals. So, he will know what his opponent is thinking, what he is planning, everything."

The nobleman's assistant was impressed. He spoke, "Impressive. But still, I need something good right now."

Gargarin pointed at the door behind him, "Take your pick. I have already the monsters from the Finale upstairs for preparations."

Orfhlaith walked down the hall, her head held high and smile playing upon her lips. People stared. But don't they always? People had very little to keep their little minds amused anyway. Of course she was going to grab attention. She wasn't a royal yet she most definitely acted like one. She was also definitely a flawed. Her writhing hand proved that even if no one knew of her abilities. She was a half and half. She was a hybrid. She was, therefore, disgusted and feared. She didn't mind. Better to be feared than treated as a joke. But she watched as people looked in the royal box and saw her sitting beside the King. She knew what they all thought of her. More fool them. She swished her long hair out of her eyes as she went down the hall, annoyed at this minor problem. That bomb was much more trouble than it was worth. However it would do no good to be down in the flawed holding pens and explode. That would just be terribly inconvenient.

Besides, this was more of a double check of the double check. She was rather sure that the bomb wasn't going to explode but she really did not want to take that chance. And she wasn't all that sure the double check was all there.

Her hand convulsed violently, grasping at the air with desperate motions. She frowned at the limb. Now, really! Calm down! I have all this under control. No need to panic. To her surprise, her hand actually ceased its frantic movements apart from the occasional twitch. Orfhlaith nodded to herself. Apparently, talking to the hand actually worked. Oh, the irony.

So she moved down to the rooms where this monstrosity would be held. She leaned against the door frame, her red eye taking in the room. A large dirty blob of metal sat in the middle of the dark, messy room. Oil slicks were artfully dispersed around the floor and there was a lone scientist, working within the mechanisms. Orfhlaith rolled her eye and slowly moved forward. Her boots clicked against the floor, the noise distracting the scientist who looked at her in fear. Of course, she was merely a shadow to these people. A plaything of the King's. She grinned viciously before leaning over and flipping a switch.

"W-what are you doing?!" The man spluttered, holding a wench in a defensive position. Orfhlaith's red eye looked him up and down before she rolled her orb.

"Really, I was merely making sure we exist in the next half hour. Flipping the wrong switch? And you call yourself a scientist? Standards round here really are slipping." The overseer mused, her smile becoming slowly more vicious. The man looked terrified. She looked at the wench that he held and smirked. Now, this fight wasn't active in this time stream but really, it was too much fun not to re-enact.

"Now what are you going to do with that? I hope you weren't meaning to attack me. For, I, my dear, can simply slip away." With that the young woman moved gracefully to the left, stepping in behind the scientist and pulling him into a backwards stretch by grabbing his hair firmly. He looked her right in the eye as her left hand graced his thin reedy neck.

"As you can see, this position isn't very good for you. In fact, it's an awful position for you." A thin sharp knife slipped into her left hand and she quickly swapped positions. Her left hand held the man's head tightly, muscles convulsing every now and then, earning slight whimpers from the scientist. In her right hand, the knife lightly caressed the man's artery.

"Now, there is a little lesson to this scene. Do you wish to hear it?" She cooed gently as he gulped hard. His Adam's Apple bobbed and she let out a little hiss as the knife pressed down hard against the throat. He slowly nodded and the redhead grinned. Suddenly, the hold, knife and young woman were no longer behind the scientist and he fell to the dirty floor with a thud. He looked up and found himself face to face with the crouched young woman, who smiled viciously.

"The lesson is, my dear, always flip the right switch, Artem Jater, or you will have to answer to me." And with that, the overseer stood up and strode out of the room. She could almost feel the fear from out in the hall and the vision of everyone horribly dying was also gone. A win-win situation all round. The overseer let loose a peal of laughter as she made her way to the flawed pens. It was now time for the main attraction. The big event was just about to start and she was going to have fun playing her part. Oh, so much fun.

"Roll up, roll up." Orfhlaith laughed again, eye flashing. "The show is about to start."

~~~

Orfhlaith made her way around the flawed pens without hanging around. She didn't exactly enjoy being down here as it reminded her of a fate she just missed. If the government hadn't noticed what she could do, she would have been here. No. She would be dead. Orfhlaith knew that for sure. She had seen it enough times, flashes of her own vocal chords being turned into ribbons by monsterous claws, spears flying through her body to hit the opposite wall while leaving a trail of gore behind. Never pleasant. Seeing the future is all well and good and she may be able to foresee attacks but the King was known to release another flawed into the arena to speed things up a bit.

She wouldn't stand a chance, with or without her abilities.

Not that that would be her punishment. No, that would be a waste. She wouldn't get such a privilege. The redhead stopped and shuddered gently as flashes of memories flew to the forefront of her mind. The overseer growled to herself and moved those memories to the back of her head. She didn't need those right now. She had more important things to worry about at the moment. The redhead moved into the shadows to the left of an empty cage as the nobleman, Luther, passed by. Just on time. Good, good. Orfhlaith stood for a second, musing on who must have occupied this cage. Not that it mattered. In death, no one cared about the flawed. Come to think of it, they weren't all too important in life either.

Orfhlaith left the shadows and carried on her way. She passed many a flawed that she knew were going to die. The girl worrying her lip would be decapitated. The young man practising with a staff would be impaled upon a sword. The overseer closed her eyes as she passed the King's champion, a horrible animalistic thing with a slobbering jaw and claws as long as knives. She knew he/she/it would win. She had seen it. She also felt a tendril of doubt seeping into her mind but quickly dismissed it.

It would do no good to worry when you already knew the outcome.

She noticed that the blue haired princess was still conversing deeply with her "champion". The redhead knew she had at least five minutes before she should interrupt. This seemed as good a time as any to reorder her current visions. She stood against an empty cell and mentally flicked through the threads.

Hmm. Boring, boring, death, birth, sex, sex, flawed being turned into mush, apocalypse, theft, the King...Orfhlaith bit her lip hard. The King did not look happy she had been gone for so long. She grabbed her left hand tightly as it convulsed, obviously mirroring her anxiety and fear.

Stop it now. We both know that he wouldn't be a problem for us. Come on now. We have first impressions to make and it simply wouldn't do if you are panicking like that. Orfhlaith grinned as her left hand lessened it's movements. It was still twitching but at least it wasn't as bad anymore. The five minutes were up and Orfhlaith had things to do. She slinked behind the princess silently and leaned against the cage behind her, red orb glinting with an indistinct mix of emotions.

"Oh my. What do we have here? A party? How delightful. Am I invited, per chance?" The overseer asked, her malicious grin widening at the look on the princess' face. Too much fun, really.

(Eris) "No, fuck off. It looks like your period came hella early and screwed up your dress" A voice from inside the cell called out. Orfhlaith grinned and without skipping a beat, she returned the favour. Gladly.

"Looks like your period attracted wolves and they ate your dress." Then, moving away from the cage she leaned on and moving a little closer, she carried on with an expression of mocking thoughtfulness. "That or you shop at "Sluts-R-Us". I don't really care, true be told."

Before the woman inside the cage could reply or the princess could open her mouth, a call caught their attention.

"Orly!"

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy..." She turned to the two in front of her. "Excuse me two minutes." She turned and was greeted by that obnoxious face in front of hers. She let out a cough as his aftershave overpowered her senses.

"What do you want." The redhead asked, voice flat and emotionless. Her red eye flared underneath her red fringe. She knew what he was going to say but really, common courtesy dictated that she let him speak. Unfortunately.

"The King sent me to find you! He thought you had gotten lost, Orly!" The guard reached out and grabbed her wrist. The left one. Her hand instantly reacted by trying to claw at the man's hand. The overseer mentally praised her limb. Good job, dear. Finally doing something I want you do to.

"I am not lost and I do not wish to return to that vile man's side. And what have I told you about calling me that?" She hissed, eye a hard red. The guard frowned and went to pull the young woman to the Royal box. The redhead sighed heavily. Of course, she couldn't just listen to her. No, of course not. It wasn't as if she knew exactly, to the last detail, what was coming or anything like that. Oh, of course not. Mister Big, Brawny and Dumb over here obviously knew best.

He obviously didn't know her very well.

She didn't take to being forced into things kindly. The overseer pulled a thin dagger to her right hand and with controlled familiarity and ease, thrust it deeply into the man's shoulder. The guard bucked at the pain and fell to the ground, releasing Orfhlaith's arm. The overseer brushed her arm down casually and looked back up at the two women in front of her. She was about to carry on her conversation with the delightfully entertaining metal user inside when the guard on the floor groaned in pain. Orfhlaith rolled her eyes.

"Now really. Do be quiet. You are fine! Not in one single future do you die, which is a little disappointing really. A bit like opening that huge present in the corner for Christmas and discovering it was a hideous jumper..." The overseer trailed off, hands on hips, looking down at her victim. Her left hand drummed gently against her hip as the man groaned in agony. The guard eased an eye open and looked up at the red haired woman. He then slowly grinned.

"Heh. Anyone e-ever tell you t-that you look incredibly h-hot when you're angry?" The redhead blinked for a second, for once honestly confused. Sure, she had seen him say that in a vision but she didn't actually know he would say it.

"I just stabbed you and you are still trying to flirt with me?! I do not understand you, Torn. But that doesn't matter. Just keep quiet; I'm trying to have a civil conversation here." With that she looked back up at the princess and the flawed, hand writhing and locking in the muscles, with a catty grin stretching her features. She brushed back some red locks that had spilled upon her shoulder and look at the people in front of her. Her single red eye flashed in the low light.

"So. You were saying?"

Liandre

Liandre eyed the retreating figure of Luther, who had somehow taken Eiurin's insult rather well and casually played it off as he sauntered away. The princess watched him for only a few seconds more before leaning back up on her tiptoes to see inside the cell. The metal girl yawned, thick lashes falling over her eyes as she adjusted her position, lying on her back and putting her hands back behind her head. Liandre fidgeted. She had never been good at knowing quite how to approach the flawed, or even speak to her in a conversation for that matter. Eiurin had the unfortunate habit of making anyone nervous and for the petite girl, who barely socialized as it was, this made this much more difficult.

Her fingers shook from trying to support her weight as she gripped the frame of the viewing window. Eyebrows furrowed in determination, Liandre worked up her nerve to address her champion. "H-How are you feeling after the first match?" She inquired, trying a bit of an ice-breaker into the conversation. Eiruin liftedwhere up one of her hands, the tips of her fingers morphing into bits of sleek metal that she lifted to her lips. The woman flicked out her tongue, letting it slide up the steel with nonchalance.

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?" The princess had to guess that this meant something along the lines of "well" and she nodded, adjusting her weight from one foot to the other.

"That's... that's good to hear!" She tried for a smile but the rather nasty look Eiurin shot her from underneath black lashes was enough to make Liandre falter. "U-Um... I wanted to speak things over with you--before the next round of matches." The blue-haired girl looked over her shoulder to make sure there were no guards in the vicinity. After verifying there was indeed no one, she pushed closer to the door and lowered her tones to whispers. "At this point... I-I believe only the strongest of the flawed will be left. From what I've researched, after we pass this round, we will move into an elimination round where all but two of the victors will be left alive." This was enough to make Eiurin actually turn her head towards the princess, though there was an odd smirk on her lips. Was the woman... amused...?

"Ah," Eiurin began with what seemed to be care. "So they want us to fight each other then. Pick each other off like lint off their clothes or some shit." Liandre flinched at the language but nodded all the same.

"R-Right. That's the moment I want to initiate my plan. It's the only time all of the remaining victors will be in the arena in any interval and the only... only chance we'll have to rescue everyone. And I was--" She was cut off by a rather firm wave of the hand by Eiurin, who had tensed up considerably. Liandre teetered on her heels, losing her balance faintly and nearly lost her grip on the window. She tried looking over her shoulders once more to see what had Eiurin so on edge. She needn't have made an effort to try and spot what was causing the woman discomfort for the presence identified themselves with a lilting voice.

"Oh my. What do we have here? A party? How delightful. Am I invited, per chance?" A rather unsettling grin came from the woman in red who had made herself known, shivers going down Liandre's spine. Eiurin clearly heard what was going on outside the door and spoke up in an irritated tone of voice, the usual harshness coming on a bit heavier.

"No, fuck off. It looks like your period came hella early and screwed up your dress." The princess immediately went to go object, there was no need for this fighting! It made her rather nervous anyway, and she was already anxious with this woman here. She was not sure who this woman was exactly, save that she lingered around the king. It did not seem like a fair assumption to think this was some high-class consort or brothel lady of sorts but why else would one linger around such a cruel man? He had all the advisers, informants, and other such members of the royal court right at his fingertips. But he never seemed to tire of collecting whores, so perhaps this woman was one of them. The wariness surely showed on her face for the red-haired woman's grin widened.

"Looks like your period attracted wolves and they ate your dress.That or you shop at "Sluts-R-Us". I don't really care, true be told." The vixen gave a fiery response indeed to Eiurin's quip. Liandre decided to fall silent, for it did not seem her voice was really of any significant merit in the current conversation. She could only hope her champion knew what she was doing.

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Eiurin

The metal woman in question was anything but amused as a frown overtook her features. The voice outside the door was deeper than the whelp-princess' and infinitely more annoying. She could just about see the woman from out of the corner of the window but had already turned her gaze away, looking back up at the ceiling. Eiurin didn't enjoy attention-whores or busy-bodies. She wasn't going to even attempt a response to this stupidly irritating woman who barged in on others. There was what sounded to be a crash outside as someone seemed to clamber into the hall outside. Really, what the fuck was it with all these damn intruders? A furrow of her brow indicated her quickly deteriorating mood.

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy... Excuse me two minutes." Came the voice of the red woman. Well, good fucking riddance. The princess was enough to deal with, she did not enjoy all these retarded visitors. Eiurin ignored the sounds that were coming from the hallway, instead focusing on rather artful ways to kill all the people who had come upon her today. Okay, besides blue-hair. She kind of needed that royal prissy-pants to get back to her home. After witnessing the ways of things in this city, she'd take her world any day of the week. There were a few more shuffling noise and what sounded to be like gasping pants (HA--anything sounded like sex when you couldn't see what the hell was going on) before the annoying voice spoke up again, sounding ruffled but playful.

"So. You were saying?" Eiurin bothered to look over towards the window, seeing the little princess flit her eyes nervously between the cell and the woman. The metal flawed shrugged her shoulders. She wasn't going to save miss socially-awkward twice in such a short span of time. Liandre seemed to come to grips with this and forced her small voice out.

"W-Well, um... My champion's just had a long day--I.. um, hope you'll understand?" The princess was using those appeasing tones of voice. Ugh, grated on her ears, that did. "I-In fact, it would be best if I returned to the proceedings... I was only wishing her good luck anyway. S-See you soon, my metal champion." Liandre was careful not to say Eiurin's name. Personally, the flawed did not see what the big deal was but apparently, names could be used by the steambot or some shit to track a person down. She didn't like taking orders from the princess but it'd be best to listen to the royal's words, at least while she was in this strange world of Isallia. It was with this line of thinking that Eiurin breathed out heavily and dismissed the girl in bored tones.

"Yeah yeah, what the fuck ever. Get lost," She said with a wave of her hand. That other woman better have also taken the hint. Eiurin did not want anymore visitors.

Liandre hurried from the cell where Eiurin was being kept, following the hallway she had initially taken with Luther earlier. Though admittedly, perhaps, she should've stayed to properly escort the red-haired woman out, she was disturbed by the woman's presence. The small princess had not been exposed much to women of the night and part of her wondered if she should've behaved differently. One of the guards nodded to her as she walked past, opening the door for her politely. She didn't look up to meet his gaze, instead tilting her head downwards and brushing a thick strand of her hair behind her ear. Liandre had been down to see Eiurin too long--somehow, she had a feeling the king was going to be quite impatient with her when she returned up to the viewing booth.

Turning on her heel as she rounded the corner, the girl entered the elevator, mind abuzz with thoughts of what was to come. As the machine whirred to life and brought her up the floors, she briefly thought of Luther. She had left him down there; oh well. He didn't have a visitor's key but somehow, she felt he would be alright. He seemed eccentric enough to talk his way out of any situation besides and in all likelihood, had probably returned back upstairs while she was still conversing with Eiurin. The elevator came to a halt on the topmost floor and she departed, heels clicking on the ground as she began her walk back to the balcony.

Liandre's heart felt a bit heavy in her chest as worry began to claw at her insides. They were getting very close, the preliminary matches must've ended by now. It made her antsy to consider that soon she would have to move into the next part of her plan. Though she had been mapping it out for months now, back and forth with Eiurin and covering all the details, she knew from experience. A plan that was applied into motion often went awry due to outside elements and unforeseen causes. There was no way to properly predict every single possible event to take place, after all. And it was the things that she couldn't predict that were making her feel particularly uneasy. If something were to go wrong, if something were to interfere... oh, she couldn't bear the thought of failing the poor flawed. They had not asked to be imprisoned and used as mere stage puppets for cruel amusement. She had to save them--she just had to...!

The princess took a deep breath, realizing with a bit of small shock that she had come upon the booth once more, more quickly than she had anticipated. She swallowed, soothing her features back into the controlled, calmly visage she adopted around the king as she curtsied to one of the guards. He hurriedly bowed and opened the door for her, the small girl sliding inside and working her way back into the proceedings. Almost instantly, she noticed the king, who was casually reclining in his seat. At her approach, he turned his head, a thin smirk on his lips as she took her seat some feet from him.

"Ah, Liandre dear, whatever took you so long? Nervous about your champion?" The girl tried her best to smile back at him, deciding to evade his question with another comment.

"The turnabout for this year's match is rather interesting, is it not? The flawed do seem to be a rather diverse bunch." She watched as the king's jaw tightened but in an instant, it was gone, replaced by a chilled smile.

"Quite, though sadly none are a match for my own," The man paused, as if in thought before continuing. "Tell me, what do you think of the one down there?" He pointed to the young boy who had just destroyed the last of his opponents in an array of feathers. Liandre had not caught much of the match but from the looks of things, he was quite formidable. To her surprise, he did not wait for the announcer, merely glaring up at the audience. The intensity of the look made her feel sorrow--how much suffering had he gone through to contain such bitter rage at them...? The winged-boy turned back to the steambots, which escorted him through the exit, like all the champions before him. Liandre looked away, the sight of blood was making her queasy, and forced herself to look back upon the king. The man was regarding the whole scene with sick amusement.

"He's a feisty one, though I don't see him lasting long when it comes to the elimination matches..." Seeing her chance, the princess did not hesitate to interject. Through all her research, she only had the bare knowledge when it came to this part of the tournament.

"Elimination matches... my lord?" She added quickly at the end, trying to appease King Resdreillhm's ego. Her subservience worked like a charm and he chuckled, giving into her question.

"Aye, elimination matches. It's much like picking off the scum from your boots. I'm sure many of the... victors won't make it through the round." She furrowed her brows but did not speak, only nodding her head for him to continue. "Ah, I forget, my dear. You have not attended any tournaments before now. The champions, much like your own, are gathered in that holding pen," Here he gestured off to a gated area that was on another side of the arena. "It's a resting period so they can gather their strength, form futile alliances... up until the elimination round. There, all will be gathered to do battle until only two of them are standing. Then we move into the semi-finals." Only... two? Her hand clenched into a fist. That was too little, she truly would have to do it now--just as Eiurin had suggested and just as she had imagined.

The king took little notice of her rising discomfort, turning to one of his royal aides instead. Liandre's breath faltered a bit as she began to consider all that she had been told. If what he said was true, which she was pretty sure it was, then her best bet to release all the flawed would be during the next round. Which meant... the machine would have to be ready. She shifted her eyes up, one of the attendant's nearby catching her line of vision. She re-focused her gaze back down to her lap with a sigh. This wasn't going to be easy. Creating a distraction large enough to free the flawed would be difficult enough. Getting to the scientist's laboratory where the transdimensional portal was kept would prove to be frightfully more challenging. But still, it was a task that needed be done and she refused to give up before she tried. Her hand instinctively settled atop her mirror, which was safely in the folds of her vest.

For the first time since she started this whole mission, she felt a trickle of doubt. And the princess could only hope she knew precisely what she was doing.

Luther

Luther was rather nonplussed with the competition this year’s Royale had gathered; of course he found this to be the case for practically every year. It was always so dull when you knew the outcomes of the Royale before it even started, a fact his father had never cared to admit was the truth. The King had some uncanny ability to choose the winner every year in a row, and even a simpleton could deduce by those results that there was plenty of book-cooking going on around here. None-the-less he continued to peruse the fighters currently penned in their cages and awaiting the next blood-bath to commence.

“Excuse me m’lord, but may I see your key?” The young guard, who must have been new due to the fact that Luther did not know his face, sternly inquired with a rather guard-like look slapped across his face.

Luther did love toying with the new ones. He reached inside of his shirt, where the key would be had he had one, and began to pat and search his body frantically as if he were looking for it. The expression on his face was overly-exaggerated and the gasp he let loose fit the expression perfectly, surely the guard would not be stupid enough to take this seriously. “My key, it’s gone! Some rogue must have picked my pocket; I demand the scoundrel be found immediately!”

The nobleman was unsure whether he was a better actor than previously thought, or the new-boot really was just that stupid, but the man immediately came to attention and began searching the room with a piercing gaze immediately. “Do you know what the perpetrator looked like m’lord?” It was so nice to finally meet a guard who didn’t suspect him of any mischievous activity… it had become such a rare occurrence as the years wore on.

Should he do it? Luther had the sudden urge to give the man Liandre’s description, and it would be such a wonderful prank to play on her when he thought about it. His father would be furious though, and the frock incident was bad enough for one lifetime to be honest about it. Could he really pass up this chance though? Definitely not was the only answer he could imagine.

“I think it might have been a certain lady, she was all over me earlier you see, very touchy-feely if you know what I mean. The girl was…”

“Don’t listen to that blow-hard Geoffrey, he’s just yankin’ your chain and tryin’ to cause trouble. I’ve known the little bastard long enough to tell when he’s blowin’ smoke up yer arse!”

If the voice calling out from behind him wasn’t so familiar Luther might have been offended by the remark, but the man speaking was one of the guards who wanted to strangle him half the time. He was a rather unfriendly man who went by the name Daniel, a rather unfortunate and dull name if Luther was any kind of expert on the subject. The lanky royal turned around flamboyantly and raised his arms as if moving to embrace the man with a rather sour look planted on his face currently, he decided it was best not to though, he looked somewhat serious and grumpy at the moment.

“But Daniel, it was merely a small jest you see, surely there’s no harm done with an innocent little joke is there?” He titled his head to the right slightly and made a somewhat pouty look to show his good intent, but it failed to register any kind of response.

“Don’t be givin’ me any of that nonsense now. It’s best if you just be movin’ along and takin’ that royal arse of your’n back up that elevator and stay outta our way down here. Don’t make me report this to General von Krieger now or there might be an incident very similar to the one that gave you that pretty scar on that face of your’n.”

Luther gave a sigh of exasperation, no matter what he said or did would convince this one otherwise, so the young royal shrugged his shoulders and bowed half-heartedly to the two guards. “If you so insist my good man then I will see myself off and be on my way.” With that Luther took off towards the rickety, old, and obnoxiously loud elevator with his family’s booth as the intended destination. The thought of stopping by Liandre teased his mind, if only just to both the King one last time, but the elimination round would be starting soon and he didn’t want to press his luck any further than he already had today.

Eiurin

It had been terribly unpleasant for the woman, for that stupid, stupid red pixie slut fairy refused to leave the vicinity of her cell. Being snappy didn't seem to be the proper approach with this red-haired vixen, so instead, she had opted for ignoring the consort. Oh sure, little miss pain-in-my-ass had forced her presence anyway for a time, bantering on and on about choosing right and altering paths to make sure stuff panned out right. Eiurin had never been one for the cryptic bullshit and pretty much had tuned out the entirety of the statements in favor of a mental image of the girl dying slowly whilst being impaled in a bed of spikes. That was a nice image, yes, she could work with that. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, the metal flawed refused to comment and eventually, the other had finally left. Gods above, that was annoying. It didn't seem as if she could catch a break, however, as it was merely moments after, right when she had been about to curl up on her bed that there was a loud knock at the door. Oh, what the bloody fuck...

"Get on your feet, freak. We're moving you to the waiting quarters." Ah, it was one of those retarded guards who thought he could order her around. How utterly amusing. She'd comply, she was good at playing. And wasn't that all she had been doing for the small princess anyway? She'd been putting up with all this abuse and topsy turvy society just for the sake of the desires of a whelpling who had no concept of the world outside of her own. But Eiurin did. She knew the world out there. It wasn't a sanctuary, the princess was wrong. But it was too late to change things and she had agreed to this doomed plan anyway. A plan she had promised to force success upon. She was a fool.

She clenched her fist, stepping up from her bed and adjusting her features. She would not show this uncertainty to anyone else--she had a reputation to uphold after all. So she tilted her chin up, walking over to the door just as the guard opened it. There were two steambots in the hallway, her escorts, she could presume. Eiurin put her hands behind her head, for all intents and purposes, she had never had those negative thoughts to begin with. She lowered her lashes slightly as she huffed out.

"Well, I don't have all day--seriously, you're leading me to my lovely darling death." She let out a scoff at her words, golden orbs moving between the steambots seamlessly. There was no response, the bots just turning as she wandered out, hovering on either side of her. Most likely to prevent her from making an escape, if any--how endearing, as if she'd really try to run anyway. They led her to a different elevator than the one she had taken up to the arena, shoving her in somewhat roughly. Eiurin glared at the machines with as much malice as she could put into her glare, a feat she had gotten quite good at. The bots hesitated for a few seconds before inserting an odd-shaped jagged key into the pad on the wall. The elevator whirred to life and she sighed as it brought her up several flights, making a creaking noise the whole way up. These devices really needed to be quieter. It was grating on her faint headache.

The platform came to a halt, the woman stepping off of it with a frown. There were other flawed here, the ones she had spied on that had also fought in the previous matches. She didn't want to bother moving near them though, choosing to recline on the floor nearest to the exit. Her antisocial mentality wasn't shared, apparently, by all of the occupants of the area for one spoke up, his voice smooth and warm. An odd combo and one she instantly disliked for it was so out of place. Hmph.

“Greetings, I am called Taran. I look forward to getting to know each of you. If I may ask, what are your names?” There was a silence that settled about--oh hey, that priestess girl had made it. The girl was pale as death and leaning against a far corner. Eiurin took the opportunity to gaze around the room at the others to get a better look at them, at least--she wasn't sure how long she'd be stuck with these idjits but if the plan was successful, it was be a pretty, shitty long time. The one that had spoken up had a calm visage about him, ugh, absolutely infuriating. She took her eyes off him immediately, turning her gaze to the winged boy who looked just as irritated as she. It was he that spoke some sense, his voice chilled and distant.

"Why get to know us? We're all going to die anyway. What's the point?" Her thoughts exactly. Minus the dying. Eiurin didn't entertain that thought with a great amount of pleasure. She yawned, taking the tips of one of her metal wings and running her fingers along it carefully.

"What an absolutely splendid point of view." She said with sarcasm layering her voice in nearly suffocating amounts. "Since we are so obviously going to die, we might as well decide who is going to double-team up together to kill the others. And in case you were unclear on it, I am totally snagging dibs on the winged asshole. He looks like tons of bloody fun." She was careful to drown out the question of names with her own natural brand of snarkiness. Though personally she didn't understand it, Liandre had been very firm about Eiurin keeping her name a secret. She could abide by that desire, at least. Introductions would do little anyway--if that stupid slut's words had been any indication, the elimination match would be coming sooner than they had expected. And she would have to be ready.

Orfhlaith was allowing herself to be dragged to the Royal watching booth again. She mentally sighed. She was rather hoping that telling Eiurin to go right would fix the visions. But apparently, the fates still hadn't gotten over the fact that she could mess up their plans.

Damn PMSing fates.

But her skin crawled as the King had a tight grip on her wrist. Her left hand grabbed at the material of her skirt in frantic gestures. She wanted to tell it to stop but that would just grab the king's attention. So instead she tried to pull her hand out of his grasp.

"I can walk myself, you know, sir. I do know where the booth is." The redhead grumbled, her tone as monotone as ever, her red eye betraying her distaste. Despite the King's attempts of getting rid of her attitude, some things wouldn't change no matter how much drugs you used. The seer may have understood the control the King had over her but that didn't mean she had to just accept it all the time. She hoped.

The king, of course, was not amused in the slightest by her antics and replaced his casual stare with a more firm look. Yet his little flawed was not nearly so intimidated, showing her displeasure quite clearly. "Walk yourself...?" He said smoothly, in a voice coated with veiled threats and unstated cruelty. "If you can make all the steps all on your own.... dove." He let her out of his grasp, let her try to walk on her own. He knew better than anyone else that her system could not fight off the drugs forever. But he'd give her that "freedom" that she desired. She and he both knew it would not last for long.

The two walked in silence, as if both waiting for the moment that she would falter. She was a strong one, he would give her that, but stupid, despite her ability to see all the paths on the time stream. Yet still so delicious...

Orfhlaith winced as her red boots caught on the stairs again. Depth perception was not her strong point but she would not let this monster drag her around like some doll, like one of his whores. She set her face and carried on walking, head held high and unfaltering. Until she tripped over the King's out stretched foot.

The overseer knew it was coming but couldn't stop in time. Even if she had managed to avoid him, she had seen the possible outcomes. All of which were...slightly more unpleasant. The King never did like it when she saw his actions. She fell down, hitting her face on the higher steps. A tiny pained gasp fell from her lips as her forehead bled down her face, blinding her with red. She looked back up at the King, unable to mask all of her fear as she wiped the coppery substance away.

The man was unpredictable at best and he could have a few reactions to this. Not many were all that great from her point of view. And being locked up again was something she strived to avoid. Especially as the advisor did like to come and mock her.

So was so precious, laying upon the floor like that like some wounded puppet. He did enjoy her best when she was sniveling and trembling in fear. He extended out a gloved hand for her to take, a maclious smile on his face. "Care for some help, dear?" He asked. He did not have to wait for a response from her, grabbing her hand and pulling her up on to her feet. He pulled her towards the elevator in a swift stride, not wishing to waste any more idle time merely wandering the hallways. He had death matches to oversee, today was not a day to be tottering around with no sense of purpose.

He pushed her into elevator, though she did not bang against any of the walls, he made sure the force of his push was just enough to tell her not to get any smart ideas. He inserted his master key into the slot, taking them back up to the top floor where they had come from. Grabbing her once more, he led her to the booth--guards moving to either side of the hallway to make room for him. One of the guards posted outside the booth door hurried to open it in time, the king striding into the area without so much as a look at the one who had accomodated him. Servants were nothing, wastes of space only meant to do menial labor at best.

He sat down in his chair, catching the sight of Liandre, who tensed up the moment she saw him. That flutter of a half-smile on her lips told him her discomfort and the warm smile he gave her only worked to increase it. Foolish princess. He smirked to himself as he turned from her, pointing to the seat next to him.

"Be seated. Quivering in the corner doesn't suit you," He commanded to his little flawed.

Orfhlaith bit her lips as she sat down, blood still leaking from her head. She didn't worry about the Royals raising any eyebrows or asking questions. She had been seen around the palace with worse before. The redhead sat uncomfortably, eye never settling. She spotted the princess staring at the King and shifted anxiously. This had better work or else... The "or else" didn't bear thinking about, the consequences were dire.

She swiped at her cut again, frowning at the blood that now coated her hands. The monster beside her was unlikely to let her go clean it off after her little side journey. She let out a shaky breath as she reshuffled her visions again. The rest of the flawed were in the mass pen. Good, good. It was going to plan so far. The overseer nodded to herself, relief showing clearly. The King must have caught her expression as he leaned closer, giving her a look that made her inwardly flinch. This was important, this was the part were her visions played a big part. She had to know for sure (even though she had said to him it was impossible to know exactly...) what was going to happen. This was the part of the Battle Royale in which her neck was most on the line. Orfhlaith met the King's gaze with a stubborn look in her eye. She would not show her fear to this disgusting individual. Because that would mean he was closer to winning.

She was always so stubborn, oh he liked that, he liked that in her... Heh. He gave her a crooked smile, both of them knew precisely what he was thinking and he was making it no secret to her at all. Raising one of his hands, he brought his focus back upon the arena.

"Raise the alarms--the people have been kept waiting long enough." One of the assistants nearby gave a shaky nod and ran off to the side, pressing a switch on the far panel. A loud sound rang from all around the area, seeming to come from all directions simultaneously. The noise was loud, blaring, and a sound everyone knew well. The royals in the crowd cheered, rising up from their seats in eager anticipation. The alarm had gone off--the matches were about to begin...!

Four large pillars rose from the ground, each at one end of the enormous colloseum that housed The Battle Royale. They raised several hundred feet, radiating off steam and energy to high degrees. Each pillar began to shake and released a beam that connected to the other in a crisscross pattern high in the sky. When all the lines had joined with one another, a dome began to appear out of thin air, wrapping around the entirety of the arena. When these energy fields reached the ground, the alarms ceased their blaring. The barrier had been set.

This was always the best part of the tournament, in his opinion. The barrier was made so that none of the flawed could escape the arena, if they dared. The energy field would secure them inside and the only way to disable it was to strike all four pillars at a hidden spot all at the same time. He had assigned this task to four of his advisors, all of whom would be killed anyway after this whole thing was over. Couldn't let that little secret get out, now could he?

He stood up from his seat, grabbing a microphone from a nearby servant and speaking in his low voice. "Citizens of Isallia, we now move into the Elimination Matches! Do not forget, there can only be one winner..." He trailed off, oh, the viciousness. He was going to be looking forward to it.

Orfhlaith bit her lip hard. This better work or she would not be a happy little flawed for the next couple of months. She spotted the King's flawed and hoped upon hope that it survived long enough. If not...the redhead dashed that thought away. That flawed had better last long enough, for both of their sakes.

Luther

Luther thought about how he despised boredom with a fiery-passion so fierce it could match the sun’s heat whilst waiting for the elimination round to start. He could not ponder for long though, hanging upside-down from one of the rails guarding the hallways overlooking the stadium tended to force the blood to rush into one’s head. Such a position did seem to draw undue attention, but at the same time it could reap brilliant ideas as well. He had not gambled in a long time, well long being a relative term anyways but who really kept track, and an exhilarating bet was a sure-fire way to peak his excitement. Of course the best bets always had the highest stakes and smallest reward…well in his own opinion anyways, there were some who liked to argue on that point but they obviously had not experienced the same level of ecstasy he had whilst gambling.

With a fresh smile splattered across his face the young Royal swung his arms upwards to help launch his torso up and grab onto the railing. Luckily everything in this particular area was lacking any steel-reinforcement, the renovations had not made it this far as of yet, or that particular escapade would have proven doubly-boring and required an even more outrageous bet on his part. He stretched out languorously like a cat, trying to give his body time to readjust to its new position so as to avoid and blood-rushes or possible fainting, for a few moments before proceeding to strap on his sword-belt he had laid down nearby. A whistle, or whatever semblance of a whistle he could ever manage to fashion, burst forth from between puckered lips as the nobleman set forth once again for the King’s booth.

First things first though, and unfortunately that meant checking in with his parents. He couldn’t understand why his father felt so, but the man always insisted upon sending out a battalion to search for him if he disappeared for too long a period of time, probably afraid that Luther might lead a rebellion of joy and spontaneity, that and he wanted to consult his father very quickly, just a mere question to pose that would affect the exact parameters of his bet, Luther hated asking the man for advice in matters such as this, but he wanted to make sure his bets would be taken in the first place. The lanky Royal sauntered into their booth easily, sliding quickly into the chair to the left of his father.

“You needn’t worry dear Father, I’ve been behaving myself as any good lad should, but before I go, I wanted to ask you a quick question.”

His father feigned indifference to his voice until hearing his son speak about a question. This prompted the old man to actually turn his head and look at Luther with a somewhat fixed-gaze, showing Luther that he indeed was curious and open to a discussion, at least a serious one. “Speak up now Luther we haven’t much time before the next round begins.”

“How many of the other contestants do you think the King’s Flawed can take down this year?”

“Making a wager are you?” The tone in his voice marked a lack of surprise, he did not care when his son gambled, and at least it was a somewhat normal activity of which he could approve. “Knowing the King’s history with choosing Flawed and from what I have seen so far today?” He paused here and stroked his beard thoughtfully for a few moments. “At the least three, maybe four. The competition seems rather stiff this year, but I bet the King’s Flawed will pull through, as always.”

“Hmm, I would have to agree with you there. That ‘Metal-Champion’ and the girl with the beads seem to be the strongest of the other contestants. If it wasn’t for the King’s unbelievable luck in these matters I would dare say my choice would fall between those two.”

“The metal-girl seems a bit too brash and untrained, but she does seem to have an overwhelming amount of experience for someone her age. If she can hold her temper, which doesn’t seem quite likely, I think you may have a point. My money would say she gets distracted and taken down when she starts to tire out though. As for the bead-wearing girl… she may have extravagant moves, but all a smart fighter needs to do is wear her down and wait for the right moment.”

“You think so? I’m of the opinion the Metal-Champion is more prepared than that, I don’t know why but I have this sense that her instincts are somewhat above-par when compared to the others. I would agree with you about the one with the beads, but she seems a little too smart to let herself be taken down in such a fashion.”

“I might agree with you, but several of these contestants are trained and experienced in the arena. When too many unknowns are thrown into the grinder all you can really trust is training and experience, and you should know that as well as I do Luther.”

“Oh well, I guess I’ll just keep on dreaming. I must bid you farewell though Father, Mother. I must make haste to make my bets before the next round starts!”

Before they could even begin to respond Luther had already skyrocketed up and out of their booth, his feet hurriedly carrying him towards the King’s Booth. This time he was able to enter much more easily for some odd reason, the guards just kind of let him walk on by without even so much as a, “Halt, heathen!” It was rather strange, but Luther was a person who loved strange more than most.

This time he shortened the formalities to a mere half-bow and a rather gracious, “M’liege,” before approaching the King and kneeling to the man’s right. He kept his tone level and his gaze respectful, a somewhat surprising and uncommon feat of normalcy most would never expect to see from him, as he directed his inquiry upon the King. “King Resdreillhm, sorry to disturb you so close to the commencement of the elimination round, I was wondering if you would care to make a wager with me?” The young royal was displaying seriousness rather uncharacteristic of his known demeanor, he wanted the King to take this bet seriously, even though it was a win-win situation for him, and hoped this show of level-headedness would catch his attention.

The king had just sat down in his seat after his announcement, almost immediately accosted by the presence of Luther. This young fool. This noble would forever be a thorn in the side of nobles, but that much was to be expected. A disgrace to his father, a disgrace to his heritage. Yet, there was a tinge in his voice of seriousness that forced the man to actually bother to take out his time to regard the young royal.

"Speak then," He ordered curtly. While his mood was much lightened by the upcoming matches and the new batch of flawed, Luther was one to always dampen the mood significantly. And if it were not for the status of his father, the king would've had the other killed long ago for his insolence. As it stood, he would stay his blade. For now.~

“I would like to wager that your champion cannot defeat even three of the other competitors. If you win I will sequester myself from Royal Society until you see fit to let me return amongst the Royals. I want nothing in return if I win. You may know that I prefer dangerous bets that would do me no good if I win.”

It was as if Luther had read his mind, for his proposal was so in-line with his thought pattern. King Resdreillhm tilted his gaze back towards the arena, more so as to glance over at his little fallen girl. She was still rigid in her seat with fear but she had not yet voiced any objections, clearly this was not a bet he was going to lose. The man smirked, not turning back to Luther as he spoke to him smoothly. "Always the fool, Luther, making bets when you know the odds are stacked against you. However, I am not an unreasonable man, I will humor you..." He said his last words rather softly, veiling the threat in his words casually. He had no intentions of losing the bet for his champion never lost. This was a pre-determined battle. He chortled to himself, what a buffoon.

A slight grin spread upon the young Royal’s face as the King acquiesced, it seemed like the day’s thrill might not be lost yet. “Please know that I am most gracious for your acceptance m’liege. I wish I could take your advice, but I am but one of those people who does not find pleasure in taking certain bets, we are a rather strange and small portion of society to be sure.” Luther then stood up, bowing respectfully, and made his way over to the beautiful Liandre once again. He bowed respectfully, but refrained from any other overly-flamboyant gestures as before. “I would care to make a wager with you as well Liandre. Please know that it is a win-win situation for you as well.”

Liandre jumped, surprised that she was being approached. She had been fiddling with the mirror she kept in the folds of her vest, fumbling with it now as she hurried to stow it back inside before anyone saw. If Luther had noticed, he made no motions to indicate it and she breathed out, trying to force a smile on her lips. She trembled in her effort, truthfully, she had not been in the mood for smiling recently. She was far too worried about the events that were soon to take place and putting on this whole facade around the king was rather wearing on her... Still, she made herself try and after a bit of doing, her lips finally upturned in a sweet smile with only the faintest edge of hesitation.

"You seem to be in a strange mood... but I-I suppose it would be alright to indulge." Her nervousness got the best of her. She was so unused to all this social contact! Though Luther had been rather harmless earlier so perhaps he wouldn't do anything out of bounds this time...

“I would like to wager that your champion does not make it to be one of the last three competitors in the arena. If I win, I would like to the opportunity to take you out for a day, if you win then you shall never hear from me again.”

She blinked slowly, trying to take in what he had just said. Her stomach had dropped, her eyes widened in the process. Take her... out? What interest did he have in spending time with her? Was there a catch...? No, he had just spent time with her--had she really been that interesting he wanted to speak with her more? They hadn't really said that much though... She shook her head, realizing that she had left him hanging awkwardly and tried to think of a proper response.

"U-Um, well, that is, you see, I..." She fumbled with her words, unsure of how to approach this situation with care. She had never been good at this sort of thing! It was all so unfamiliar... And with the current state of affairs, it seemed she would automatically be slated to lose! Of course Eiurin would not be one of the last three because by that point, there wouldn't be any of them left in the first place... At least not here, in Isallia... Wait, did he know about that? No, there was no way he could've... She tried to keep her face straight and at last murmured out her decision.

"I... I suppose..." Her small voice came out, the girl unable to decline his offer. She had been raised to always be polite and her instincts took over. And Luther really wasn't all that bad, she just couldn't figure out why he wanted to pass time with her. Oh well, part of the mystery of the young noble, she supposed.

Luther did not let the smile beaming inside the depths of his soul display more on his face than a mere smirk and twinkle in his eye. This would certainly be a most exhilarating of elimination rounds, and he could not wait to see the outcome of this potentially momentous day. There was a conundrum though, what if he lost his bet to the King and won against Liandre? He certainly could not be able to take her out for a day if that should happen... if he had been a more traditional fellow he might have been a bit more cautious and worried than at the moment. What would be the fun of that? He proceeded to sit down in the next available seat, about three down from the Princess and many from the King, but his enthusiasm for the next round did naught but strengthen.

---

---

Eiurin was half-tempted to flip off this (cool) asshole as he back-talked her, moving past her towards the entrance of the holding room. He seriously needed to learn some ma... psh, screw that, her manners were not even worth noting in the slightest. She stared at him, a snarky reply ready on the tip of her tongue when she was drowned out by metallic clicking.

She tensed a bit, shivering a little in anticipation of what was to come. Liandre had gone over this part of the plan with her many times--too many times that it had come to annoy her greatly to reflect on it. She was going to have to bide her time--hold her own in the coming battle. Whle several or so minutes may seem like nothing to the little princess, that was quite awhile inside of the arena. Not that she doubted her own skill--she was pretty badass herself.

Eiurin cracked her knuckles, flicking a bit of hair out of her eyes as she straightened, getting up off of the bench she had been reclining on. The whirring came to a halt, the bars over the entrance to the arena slowly raising. If any of them had thought about possibly hanging back, spikes jutted out of the wall behind them. She narrowed her eyes, noticing that the wall was steadily inching closer to them--making escape a moot point. Not that she was about to back down from this challenge--she wasn't a coward. She walked into the large, open space set up for the elimination round, her chin held high and lips set in a thin line. She shot a look up into the stands, instantly able to spot the royal prissy pants out due to her blue hair. That was such an obnoxious color, seriously.

The booming voice of the cocky king reached her ears but she did not pay much attention. Already, she had noticed the high volume of misshapen flawed about the arena--but there was one missing... She scanned the area--nope, it wasn't here. The flawed that belonged to the king had apparently not been released yet. A yell from over her shoulder came from a golem-like being who charged at her, arm contorted into a sort of spear. She smirked and bent her knees, waiting until it was nearly upon her before jumping atop the weapon. It went to fend her off, swiping its arm in an upwards arc to get her off of it. She used the momentum to make herself temporarily airborne, diving at its fast as her smirk grew. Her hands were already claws as she penetrated its eyes, screams from the creature soon following.

She pushed off of it, slicing down its torso on her descent to the ground. The flawed tumbled onto its back behind her, already dead before it had completely fallen. Her attention was already shifted to the flawed that had grouped together--she had been correct when she had casually stated that some would be teaming up to kill the others. She did not let this deter her, running at the group and then shifting her weight so that she slid on the ground. The friction from the movement burned her exposed skin a bit but she paid it little heed, spreading out her wings so that they sliced the legs of the flawed as she slid by. She got up, breath hitching a bit as she did so. Her eyes traveled up to the stands again where the princess watched from, face pale and lips pursed in worry.

Stupid girl better be doing what she was supposed to be--she hated wasting her time.

---

---

The small, blue-haired girl found herself almost paralyzed as she watched the brutality, eyes widening as she took in every moment. It was just so horrible to even look at--how she the king possibly get enjoyment out of watching sheer murder? And why were the people in the stands cheering? She fought back a near sob of fright as she thought Eiurin was about to get hit, but the flawed girl was quick on the uptake and sliced her opponent in no time. Liandre breathed out in relief but this feeling did not last for long--she had to get to moving. If her estimations were correct, this match wouldn't take nearly as long as it usually did. The champions that were surviving so far were quite powerful. In some respects, this was a very good thing but it made her current task at hand difficult.

The girl looked over at the other occupants of the stands, the odd red eyes of the king's.... adviser... staring her down as she got up. She felt uncomfortable with that kind of intensity upon her and immediately shifted her gaze downwards to the floor. As she went to move towards the door, a cool voice caused her to come up to a halt.

"And where are you headed in the middle of all the activity, Liandre?" The king called out to her, not moving an inch from his seat. His eyes were disgustingly fixated on the match, taking in every detail, yet somehow he managed to spot her out despite her efforts to stay under the radar. However, the princess had her current pale complexion on her side and she made a bit of a show of making heaving gestures and holding her stomach.

"A-Ah... I'm unused to the sight of blood, Your Majesty." It wasn't a lie, she really wasn't used to it at all. "It has made me a bit queasy and I just need some... fresh air." She ended a little hesitantly--considering they were outside, he may not take to her words all that well. Some silence passed between them, the girl rooted to the spot and not daring to move. The king cleared his throat, waving his hand dismissively at her.

"Do return with haste, my dear, you will miss the best part." She did not like the way his voice dipped when he said the word "best", but there was little she could do but give a meek nod of agreement The guard moved to the side as she walked past him, leaving the stands and finding herself in the hallway. Liandre breathed out, feeling a bit better now that she didn't have to see such brutal carnage. But there was no time to relax, she had to get moving!

She turned right, walking towards the far staircase. Ordinarily, no one came this way. The only ones that ever occupied the east wing of the castle were the scientists. She was sure... sure they must've still not been back in their labs yet. All scientists were called out of their quarters to supervise the barrier that was currently erected over the arena. Just to make sure that nothing went awry and, more importantly (for them at least), that none of the flawed tried to make any quick getaways. The steambots had also been called away for this very task so her walk through the castle was a lonely one indeed.

The princess rounded the corner, eyes hesitantly taking in her surroundings to make sure she was alone. She nodded to herself, shuffling forwards slowly and taking out her small key. She pressed her palm to the wall, a little ding! sounding seconds later and a slot opening up in the wall. She inserted her key into the lock, turning it to the side. A part of the wall to her left caved inwards, sliding to reveal the door to the upstairs labs. And... the place where they kept the gate.

She darted inside quickly, wall closing up behind her and leaving her in pitch-black silence on the other side. She took deep breaths to calm herself, walking blindly forwards until she felt the cold surface of another metal door. She pushed it open, sunlight streaming through the glass windows above and restoring light to her present location. The upstairs labs were elegant, much more well-equipped than the common ones on the other levels. Only royals and elite scientists were ever allowed up here--and she had only been here once before. The time she had brought Eiurin over....

She drew out her mirror, peering into it. "H-Hello? Eiurin, can you hear me?" The sounds of clashing metal suddenly filled the room from her mirror. There was no clear image from the other side, Eiurin must've been using her claws at the moment.

"What is it! Damn it, could you not interrupt me when--what the fuck, that winged asshole just took my kill!" Well, at least she was feisty...

"I'm sorry to disturb you, I-I just... How is everyone holding out? I'm in the main room and the device is just some meters from me." A horrid sound erupted from her mirror, sounding like flesh being torn or something equally gruesome. Whatever it was, all that danced upon her screen were flashes of crimson and silver--and the sounds of Eiurin's panting.

"Yeah yeah... the ones that were in the holding room seem to be holding out--" Eiurin's speech was a bit choppy, the woman speaking while she was battling--at least as far as Liandre could tell. "--But it ain't pretty down here so you better be happy your little prissy pants is up there."

"Are you ready...?" Liandre asked quietly, trembling a bit in nervousness. She had been preparing for this for months--but now that is was upon her... now that she was here...

"I've BEEN ready, fuck, that is one ugly-ass... Whatever--the sooner you do your stuff, the sooner I don't have to look at the one-eyed freak show over there. Now, some of us can't be talking and yapping so you do your thing, and hurry up." The image, and the sounds that came with it, faded from her display and her mirror shimmered back into normalcy. She stowed it back inside of her dress with a sigh. She could only hope that the fight left in Eiurin would last--she needed every ounce of it in order for all of them to escape safely.

She stepped towards the machine, fingers skimming over the control panel. It would only take a few minutes to set up, hopefully, everything would be coordinated...

---

---

That whelp of a princess had been gone quite awhile now. The king absently glanced at the clock overhead--getting some fresh air didn't take as long as this. But that girl was a frail one and this was her first time attending. He licked his lips as he gazed in a demented sort of adoration at the events unfolding before him. Ah, the smell of blood, the clashes of weapons, metal, flesh--everything about the Battle Royale was simply wonderful. But... even though he was satisfied with the gore... it was taking too short of a time.

The flawed this year were more powerful than he had given them credit for being. They were wiping out their enemies with more ease than he had anticipated. He couldn't afford to have this match go by this quickly--unforgivable, inexcusable! He reached out, grabbing a handful of his assistant's shirt and pulling the man down. The man stuttered at the sudden force, falling to his knees as the king looked at him coldly.

"You, report down to the mid-level of the basements and bring out the other flawed." The assistant paled a bit, blinking several times and nervously trying to stutter out a response.

"A-Are you sure, sir? T-They were not reported as ready, Sir G-Gargarin said--" He was cut off as the king pushed him forwards, the man toppling on to the ground roughly.

"I don't care what that madman said. I am ordering you to go release the experiments... and then tell that crazed scientist of mine to release my flawed... once the experiments have experienced a few kills." The assistant quivered, getting to his feet rapidly and bowing as he practically bolted from the stands. The king was always such a cruel man! It was frightening having to be in his presence... The assistant proceeded to the elevator, taking it down to the mid-levels of the basement as he was ordered. There were a few scientists stationed around, one of them glancing up at his approach.

"What are you doing down here? Surely the king can't be..."

"I'm afraid he wants them released." The assistant confirmed with a grim expression.

"But they are not ready! The experimental flawed have not received all the training they should've, they are not set to be released until the next royale..." The assistant shook his head. He felt the same way but no one dared disobey the king. Not a single one of them.

"He ordered it to be done. Release them into the arena." The scientist sighed in resignation, opening the door and leading the assistant inside. There were many children behind the bars, looking battered and abused.

"As you can see, these are definitely not ready... but there are a few, one in particular that should strike interest for him..." The scientist trailed off as they came to stand outside a holding pen. There was a woman inside with silver hair, though he could not see her face due to the grim lighting. The assistant didn't spare her much of a glance, only nodding.

"Then those few will have to do." The scientist nodded, moving to the control panels to release the few flawed and summoning up some steambots to escort them to the arena. Whatever the king was hoping for, it wouldn't be a pretty sight...

Luther

Luther’s nonchalant demeanor belied his true surprise at the turn of events this Battle Royale had taken so far. He was currently lounging rather inappropriately in a chair next to the Princess he was trying to woo, with his head and left arm dangling over the left-hand side next to Liandre whilst his right hand clasped his should to create a makeshift cushion. His right leg, currently hooked over the arm-rest on the right side, was swinging back and forth lightly, the heel of his boot making a slight thud sound whenever it connected with the side of the chair. His eyes though, if anyone were to look at them whilst observing the fight they would find those normally placid-orbs now engaged and flush with calculation.

To be truthful he could never grasp why they insisted upon having these death matches every year, well of course he understood the reasoning behind it, at least the bit everyone knew about, obviously there must be ulterior motives besides choosing the leading class and keeping the Flawed in check, he just could never come to see the logic behind it. The pragmatist and utilitarian hidden in his mind knew the flawed were much more useful alive than dead, of course that’s why they made these death matches, letting them live would make things much too tricky to keep their society in order. Naturally this forced Luther to reconsider his philosophical views at times, but this was a rather tricky subject to be honest about it. No matter how he tussled with it there just didn’t seem anyway for everyone to win from this point, either force the current ruling classes to accept their physical inferiority and relinquish their power willfully, not a popular concept, or continue on with this farce and lead to some eventual civil-strife.

The sound of the Princess Liandre sitting up next to him and having King Resdrollheim call out to her brought the young Royal from his drift into the contemplation of societal philosophy, he assumed there would always be time to think about such things later. The poor dear did seemed rather pale, at least more so than she had been earlier in the day, and she soon rushed out of the King’s Booth. If his Father had been a different man he might have been able to do the same during his first Royal, but he was a general’s son, and there were some things even he could not avoid. Despite his disdain for the needless loss of life Luther had grown rather accustomed to the Royale and did enjoy watching the battles, especially the ones such as now where it turned into a free-for-all between the best of the contestants. That was probably the biggest reason he took on such a care-free demeanor during the Royale, he wanted to stifle the piece of himself most similar to his Father.

This seemed like the perfect opportunity to steal a little more free time with the delicious little Liandre, but the King seemed highly displeased with her departure and the current turn of events in the Royale, things were progressing much more swiftly than usual…strange how the King’s Flawed seemed not to be anywhere in sight. Regardless though, with the bet he had with the King at the moment Luther could not risk leaving the booth until after this round finished, if he denied the King the possibility of having a chance to gloat would be unconscionable. It was such a shame… he was certain Liandre was about to fall madly in love with him but he would just have to wait a little bit longer though, that is if his bet didn’t backfire on him.

The Royale raging in front of the crowd brought Luther’s thoughts to Nobunaga, the curiously similar figure with whom he conversed in his dreams from time to time. He wondered what the man would think about such fights as these, how he might fare in them, and even if he would participate. Luther felt he knew the survivor fairly well, and the man did have a penchant for fighting from what he could gleam, but he had very reserved opinions when it came to fighting, he couldn’t picture Nobunaga fighting if it wasn’t of the utmost necessity to his survival, but then again they forced the Flawed into these situations so that might not be a problem. As for how he would fare would be entirely up to the opponents he was paired with, he could definitely seeing the reptilian-like individual making it to this round, but much farther than that would be up to luck and fate, which he seemed to have amble amounts of good and bad for either one, respectively.

It was all the same though, he highly doubted such a situation would ever arise, and he doubted they would ever meet outside of their dreams. Strange to think though, but they had never spoken about the Royales and he could not think of a reason why, they’ve had ample time to discuss many things, but he had never broached the topic as of yet, he might consider doing so their next time out, or in depending upon how you looked at it, so as to gleam a bit more into Nobunaga’s mind. When Luther looked again at the King he seemed extremely perturbed, and grabbed furiously at one of his attendants and whispered something to the man hurriedly. Whatever it was it seemed the attendant was somewhat shocked and disturbed by what the King had told him while he rushed from the booth quickly. The King must be planning something for this round…hopefully it didn’t ruin his chance to take Liandre out on that date.

---

---

"Oi, what the hell?!" Eiurin bit her lip as she jumped backwards, skidding a bit on the ground before she was able to catch her balance again. She had been focusing on her opponents, vaguely keeping an eye on the other flawed who had made it as far as she. Somehow, the small group of ragtag fighters had made it. Tch, too bad one of them hadn't died--it would've made the coming job a tad easier. Sure, she had anticipated a handful of them. But not this fucking field day that was occurring out here.

She swore again under her breath as she observed the fact of not one but two new arrivals, both female. The silver-haired chick looked like she hadn't seen a day of battle in her life and that other one seemed to just be going through motions to defend herself. Whatever the case was, their presences were totally unwarranted and were causing frustration.

As she sliced into yet another opponent, the white-haired vixen growled. Honestly, when she had signed up for this mess, she was pretty sure she hadn't signed a "well sure, do what the fuck ever and why not throw in about a dozen other unwanted problems while I save your sorry ass" contract with the princess. No, she had volunteered an "I will kill stuff while you save people and then I'll be done with your stupidity" agreement which apparently was not turning out well at all. Why dd things always have to go abysmally wrong?

"Poufy skirts!" She projected her words towards the princess, glancing quickly at her claws to make sure that the blue-haired royal could hear her. "I hope you are a fast thinker 'cause shit's probably about to blow up in your face."

There was an intake of breath from the other line and then the nervous voice of the princess. "What do you mean...?" Eiurin gave an exasperated sigh as she kicked one of her opponents to give some distance between them.

"What do you think I mean, dumbass? Your plan, I hope it's adaptable and you better start that crap up real soon. There's some other broads down here and I ain't gonna be accountable for 'em." She heard a shuffling motion very faintly, though it was hard to make out over the sounds of battle. There was another pause, a long one at that (or perhaps it seemed that way because she was fighting, whatever) before the girl spoke up.

"I don't understand... there wasn't supposed to be anyone else... I-I..." Eiurin took the time out to lift one of her clawed digits to her face just so she could glare into the metal.

"Oh no, don't you chicken out on me! I've got enough shit to deal with and this is ALL your fault anyway. So you better damn well take responsibility and do something right now. Or my foot is going to be shoved so far up your ass that--"

"O-Okay, okay!" The reply was hurried, just as Eiurin had predicted. Ugh. No backbone, that girl. She'd definitely have to teach her some courage at some point. Well, if that shy prissy-pants didn't die first in all the pandemonium. She had made a bet before she came here about that.... Eiurin cut off communications as she re-focused on the battle at hand, flicking her gaze to one of the four pillars that stood at the outermost corners of the arena. Too much time had passed--it was now or never.

---

---

Liandre nervously put the mirror down, her petite form shaking from what she had just been told. There was no way she could've miscalculated, she had snatched a list of all the flawed in this year's tournament before it all began! Everyone was supposed to be accounted for, the machine only had enough steam power to transport the numbers she had predicted. But now... but now these two additional people... She couldn't merely leave the flawed behind but that meant that not everyone was going to make it through! And then what--what was she supposed to do? All her plans would fail if she didn't at least...

No, she couldn't think like that! She had to be strong--she had to believe in the cause she was fighting for! If she didn't, then no one else would and she was the only one that would be able to save them. Two more wouldn't make a difference, she'd succeed! With her renewed confidence, Liandre changed the interface on the machine to a holographic projection of the arena. The four pillars were highlighted in orange, indicating that the barrier was fully functional. If she remembered the sequence correctly, she would have to slide this bar to the left and then...

She fiddled with the controls, adjusting each knob and each setting slightly so that the changes wouldn't be overly noticeable. She had to do everything gradually, just stay focused on the task at hand! She nodded to herself, fingers hovering over the last of the controls. Well, she could only hope everyone was ready. And with that, she took a deep breath and slid the interface all the way to the right. All at once, the holograms of the pillars glowed a bright yellow before dissipating into a white-ish hue. It only took a few seconds but they faded into a monotonous color, the orange of the barrier fading with them.

Outside, she could already hear the yells but she tried her best to ignore them. Already she was changing screens, tiny fingers moving about to start up the machine that would take them to the parallel world. It was all on Eiurin now and hopefully the woman would remember the directions she gave on how to get to the laboratory. The flawed had already been here before so thankfully, it wasn't anything new. Liandre furrowed her brows--she could only pray everything was going to turn out okay.

(***This is being posted for Loki as she is currently attending a private summer school where she has no interwebs access***)

.

Although Orfhlaith was never truly surprised, a few things could catch her off guard. Like the assumed impossibility of the pillars ever dying away to nothing crumbling away and leading the previously barely secure future of a flawed escape. Sure, she had had visions beforehand but she had dismissed them as the threads of time seemed to choke this idea to death. Really, what was one tiny vision among thousands of others proclaiming that nothing like this was ever going to happen. Orfhalith cursed inwardly, the back of her hand still pressed against blood flowing from her temple. She should have known, should have thought ahead although she knew that even if she had told the King, he would have dismissed it also. It was just a barely there thread after all, a partial future. Her red eye was drawn to the King automatically, awaiting his response.

This could go one of a few ways with the King, none of the them particularly pleasant. She hadn't forseen this properly, couldn't have told the King definately. There was no way to foresee this properly, it was a freak thing, completely out of the blue.
"The dam has broken, surely, now we shall all drown." She whispered as the waves of violence overflowed the stands. "The red waves shall crash into us like hammers and anvils."

Now, the story must carry on and she had a part to play. However, that part involved getting to the laboratories and avoiding the King and his Guards. As well as death. It was rather vital that she avoided death. It would make everything a lot more difficult. Orfhlaith's left hand twisted violently to the left, curling up into a ball as the screams grew louder. The overseer turned towards the King. She may have to disobey his orders to go to the laboratories but she felt it was necessary to find what he wanted her to do. After all, she would need his permission for the guards to let her leave the Royal Stand. Guards always did become a little overprotective when there was mass hysteria. Didn't they know this was somewhat tame compared to a few of the Armageddon visions Orfhlaith had recieved over the years?

And they called themselves hardened warriors.

---

---

Motherfuckers.

Eiurin had been so wrapped up in the conversation with the princess that she hadn't been paying attention to that one asshole. The one that had just cleanly connected a kick to her stomach. That stupid piece of... The force of the blow knocked her to the ground and she spat out the sand that had flown into her mouth upon contact. Yuck! That was just plain nasty. And who did this arrogant jerk think he was anyway?! No one just hit her and got away with it. She got up quickly, glaring at him as her wings spanned out. She was going to cut him into little tiny pie--

"I've had enough!" A loud yell drew her enraged stare from the boy upwards to the stands. The king was on his feet looking absolutely beside himself. He had the microphone he used earlier up to his mouth and he screamed into it. "Release my champion this instant! Don't let any of them escape!" Oh well, sucks for him, that was exactly what they were planning. Hey, what was that idiot over there doing? The flawed frowned at the monk who somehow (even though she was pretty sure his code was the most retarded of all) was still alive. Oh jeez. They really let the ball drop on the survivors.

A few more shouts and she looked away from the others, narrowing her eyes. Her hand clenched in a fist as a low rumbling filled the arena, the ground shaking beneath her feet. At the far wall, a gate was rising, a guttural and primal growl sounding from behind it. Before the gate was even fully open, a creature of annoying size bounded through, tearing the metal to bits as if it was nothing. It was misshapen and contorted, as if it had been warped beyond comprehension. It bellowed in rage and swiped at the nearest flawed.

From the looks of it, those poor bastards were dead the instant it hit them. Well this was just fan-fucking-tastic. Honestly, the barriers were down already, this was just... pointless jibber jabber. The creature, however, did not seem as fascinated by the flawed as perhaps the king would've hoped. It soon turned around, noticing those in the audience that had not yet moved. It yelled, throwing itself into the crowd and demolishing a large section of the concrete.

Whooooooa shit. She wouldn't want to have to fight something as ugly as that thing--it'd be kind of sad to have to kill it anyway. It was sort of doing her job for her. It was no lie or well kept secret that Eiurin had been fantasizing about how to kill every single one of the audience members before this whole thing was through. Whatever, it was providing the perfect distraction anyway.

"Oi, idiots!" She called out to the few surviving finalists. "Ya gonna stand there gawking? Come with me if you want to--fuck it. Just get the hell over here or I'll slice you to pieces." She ended with a rather menacing smile, particularly in the direction of the young priestess. No one ever said she had to play nice with them anyway. All she had to do was lead them to where the princess was waiting. She'd get to go back to her world and things would be back to normal.

That was what was going to happen, damn it, and she was not allowed to let a few unexpected events totally ruin her efforts.

---

---

How come no one listened when she called out to them? Stupid idiots! The winged boy had been the first offender, running off and doing his own thing but (of course) got his ass whooped within seconds. Knocked out cold, that ridiculous moron. The silver haired female was smarter than him, though, and immediately had come to Eiurin's side with a thoughtful light in her eyes.
"What do you need?" It came out a bit breathlessly but it still seemed genuine. The metal flawed rolled her golden eyes and placed her hands on her hips as she observed the group.

"Not until the other dumbasses get over here... not sure what the hell they are thinking." She grumbled, none too quietly for that matter. Eiurin had no qualms about insulting someone as loudly as she wished and if they were offended, well, sucks to be them! The monk seemed equally as stupid as the winged boy for he had willingly gone into the fight to retrieve the unconscious dead weight.

Really, was this some kind of pity play or some shit? They had places to be, literal PLACES to be, and this idjit right here was going around and saving some guy who had abandoned the main group to be a selfish jerk. And then once he picks him up, the monk goes and tries to continue attacking the large beast! Were these guys incapable of even THINKING properly? Ugh.

The boy soon learned how futile his efforts were and, after throwing a distraction a ways from them to call off the creature's attention, returned to the small ragtag group of flawed with a shake of his head. “My apologies, friends, I wanted to come straight away, but I had to escape the… Thing’s attention first. You wanted us to gather here? I am assuming that is because you have a plan on escaping. One that I am most interested in, I’m sure.” Eiurin rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

"Yeah yeah, save the sucking up speech for later. First of all, I'm not your friend so don't get the wrong idea!" She hissed at him with narrowed eyes. "Only doing this bullshit because miss prissy-pants wanted to save all you dumbasses or whatever..." She frowned, glancing over at the stands nearest them.

"Anyway, with that thing causing problems for the audience, we'll have time to make our escape. Pretty sure that fuck-up of a king ain't gonna be keepin' his eyes on us with all that destruction." She smirked a bit, as if amused by the fact of the carnage. Eiurin hadn't grown up in a casual environment. She was used to freak accidents and murders--stuff like this was partially run-of-the-mill for her. Though the enemies where she came from weren't exactly as tall as that giant of a flawed.

"It's best if we stick together from here on out. Just to make it clear, I've got NO responsibility if you die on the way. I'm only going to bring us to where the princess is waitin'. So each man for himself, what the fuck ever." She ended on a shrug and flicked a bit of hair out of her eyes.

Without further ado, the girl was already scampering up the wall with ease and lifting herself into the first row of the stands. She raised her arm and waved a bit to signal to the others to follow her. No matter how much of a distraction that large flawed was providing, if they didn't move fast, the opportunity would be lost. She was certain, judging from what Liandre told her, that the king had ways of controlling his champion. And she sure as hell wasn't going to stick around to find out how.

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Luther had been stolen way from his spectacular visit with his doppelgänger Nobunaga rather quickly, leaving the Royal extremely displeasured with having his new discoveries torn from his grasp before he could begin the necessary amount of experimentation needed to exploit them properly. He had not yet opened his eyes to confront whom-so-ever or what-so-ever decided it was best to disturb his regal slumber, utilized in this instance for the passage of time until the Battle Royale passed into its final stages, but something already seemed rather amiss with the atmosphere surrounding him. The world seemed to be shaking down to its very core as the screaming of thousands resonated throughout the cavernous hallways of the stadium and fashioned a terrifying symphony of pain and despair. Such an odd turn of events this year, usually the screaming comes from the Coliseum’s core, not its periphery.

The somewhat eclectic and always eccentric Luther Gottfried von Krieger finally deigned enough excitement was in the process of maturing to warrant his further inquiry into the matters at hand, only to confront a situation which was nearly enough to peculiar to render him dumbstruck, nearly that is to say. One would have to admit that his upside-down frame-of-reference, a point-of-view with which he was wont for which to add amusement to any situation, aided to the confusion of the scenario currently placed before his still sleep-muddled eyes. It appeared as if the Coliseum’s barrier had been rendered null and void for the time being, at such an inopportune time as when the Royale was still taking place, leaving the monument of death and deception exposed to the exploitation of one monstrously mammoth, or so some might consider, Flawed.

Now that he was much more familiar with the current state of affairs his mind began working busily as usual. Could you imagine how much trouble one, maybe a few by the looks of things, could cause in so little time as I had been napping? Of course not, an event such like this could not be orchestrated nor operated by the fly of one’s seat, or at least he hoped such was the case or his reputation for mischief might be at stake, but must have taken quite some time to develop into maturity. Luther slithered and slid through the horde of spectators, fleeing from the portion of the stadium which had been rent asunder by the fearsome beast, but he was always one to flow against the current, and in this instance closer to the danger at hand. Always leave it to the guards and soldiers to flee from the scene when the peril has finally arrived and warranted their actual necessity. Of course the irony of his current garb was not lost upon Luther as this thought crossed his mind, but he never considered himself much of a soldier to be fair.

As Luther continued on towards where the devastation was the worst, being the type who preferred standing in the eye of the storm than the perimeter, a horrid thought struck the young Royal’s mind, one that nearly brought him to halt mid-step. Liandre! What if the love of his life, though they had just grown acquainted this special day, the day of her first visit to the Games, had come to some injury? The thought of her coming to harm sent a chill of terror coursing down his spine, all the while clouds of dust and mounds of debris began clogging his path. Was that smoke billowing thick in the air, had a fire started this quickly? He would needs be check on his intended bride-to-be’s condition at a later occasion, tending to their wager at her bedside if necessitated, as the moaning and groaning of the trapped, injured, and stunned began growing ever louder with each step. Luther felt there was no such thing as an innocent in this world, but someone had to help the spectators left behind by their terror-stricken comrades, and if things went south with the King this benevolent act would surely strengthen his position in the public’s watchful eye.

Luther was making his way through the debris as quickly as was possible due to the circumstances, shouting for assistance wherever it could be found and stopping to assist those whom he could, but this situation was much too peculiar to be without consequence. What was the intent of this calamity? Obviously chaos was a goal of the perpetrators, if them dropping the protective barrier shielding the spectators from the Flawed was to be of any significance. By now his sword-hand remained ever-vigilant and clasping his weapon when other duties did not require its utilization as he continued farther down his current path, surely the Flawed still in the Pit would attempt some form of escape . . . The Flawed . . . Luther quickly shut the thought to the back of his mind, there were circumstances of import which necessitated the majority of his faculties at the moment, his love to unravel plots and pursue intrigue must needs be wait until the present crises had been averted, the catastrophe facing the crowd and his wagers with both the King and the beautiful Liandre.

(Shorter post this time guys :O I'm a little pressed for time as college is approaching and all but I promise the next one will be nice and lengthy <3)

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Were those nerds seriously socializing when they were running for their lives? This was just fan-fucking-tastic."Hey, punks!" She called over her shoulder, about ready to rip that monk limb from limb since he seemed to be the instigator of this meet and greet. "This isn't some random group date, keep it in your fucking pants! Aren't you a monk?" She questioned with narrowed eyes, but it was more rhetorical than anything else. She really didn't care enough to try listening in to his answer.

She shot all of them the dirtiest look before leading them further down the hall, glancing over at the distant arena. They were making good time, she'd admit that much. For all their yacking, at least they kept their legs moving. The king's champion was still wrecking havoc off in another portion of the castle. She'd say poor bastards but she didn't really feel bad for 'em. Nope, they were just necessary as part of the whole distraction.

She tsked as they rounded a corner, catching sight of the elevator at the far end. "Come on!" She yelled at them, picking up the pace as she moved quickly towards the exit. Finally, something GOOD to see. They'd be in that elvevator and through the portal where Liandre would be waiting for them. And then she could be shot of all these losers. No one said she had to take care of them once they entered into the parallel world, after all. She just had to get them there. That was the deal.

Pah. Morons, the whole load of them.

As they drew closer to the elevators, she grabbed a knife from a fallen guard and threw it in front of her to strike one of the remaining guards in the throat. Whether or not his death was instant, well, that didn't matter much, did it? The point was he was out of the way and she had little care for the rest. She just wanted her peace and quiet back. Ugh. She shouldn't have ever agreed to this, such a damn headache.

She took the key from around her neck that the princess had given her and pushed it into the slot, turning it until she heard the click. The doors creaked open and she darted inside, urgently gesturing to the others to follow. "C'mon, c'mon. You can chase skirts later, monk. All of ya, get inside the damn elevator so I can be rid of you sooner! And possibly save our hides if you're lucky." This day was FAR too long.