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Maris Sanguine

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Maris Sanguine

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Modesty on Mon Jul 09, 2012 2:32 pm

{Lit/Adv+}
Futuristic Gladiators



The following roleplay is a
private roleplay between
Modesty and Kestrel.
While you are welcomed to
read along, we would please
ask that you send us a PM
to ask before joining. Please
be aware that there may be
adult themes present in the
following writing. Thank-you.


Maris Sanguine
══════════════════════

Kalita Vessh
• • • • • • • • • • • • • •



It was called Peacekeeping. Expeditions ventured forth out into the unknown to problem solve for other nations. It was to prevent those foreign dominions from self-destructing like they had, or so they claimed. They had been singing the same tune for millennia, they had been fooling themselves for too long. Even before Earth was a distant memory they had claimed good intensions when crying for war; history repeated. Then it was human versus human. Now, with their mother planet uninhabitable, man has taken to the stars. With each new world they would leave their thumbprint, instilling their teachings and knowledge to all races they stumbled upon. But everyone knew what they were really doing; conquering.

Kalita found herself on the Galactical Peacekeeping Alliance’s latest acquisition. The two suns were unforgiving, air thick and humid, and while she found herself on land the majority of the planet was covered in endless ocean. Scholars had named the world ‘Lapis Maris’ or the Stone Sea. Employed agents of the GPA, like she, had nicknamed it Seaworld. It was unknown to her if the locals had their own name for the place, but she somehow doubted that anyone had stopped to ask.

It was only recently that the young woman had found herself of the surface of the sweltering planet. The initial war had died down, with the majority of the mainland settlements being obtained either by force or persuasion. Somewhere in the water was a local rebellion group itching to take them out, but for the time being a sort of understanding had formed and with it a lull; they kept the water, humans kept the land. The break in fighting had allowed dignitaries to begin re-working the ruling body to form an easily understood government body along with the natives that had succumbed. While Kalita understood that it was some variation of an aristocracy the details were a little fuzzy greatly due to her lack of interest. She had been brought to Seaworld for her particular skill set and politics wasn’t one of them.

In creating a new nation there was always a bit of upset at the beginning. Humans, in their many years of experienced world-building, had learned that distraction was the best method in smoothing things over. Distractions as of late had turned into games: Gladiators. The warrior matches killed several birds with one stone; entertained the populace, rid them of unsavory criminals and allowed them to study the various (and intimidating) creatures of their newest home. Prisoners, charged with assorted crimes, were trained and pitted against the most terrifying beasts from the ocean depths. And that’s where she came in.

Kalita’s task at hand was to whip the unruly into fighting shape. Her duty was to get the games to be as entertaining as possible, to not disappoint the crowd by her Gladiators dying too quickly. While it was no small task to break men she was more than qualified. It wasn’t her first rodeo, and it wouldn’t be the last. Although with a flick of her wrist she had made men cower at her feet a Gladiator required trust and respect. It was a long journey ahead of them.

“Domina.” The title made her countenance stiffen slightly as she paused, turning to see the speaker. Even before eyes beset the tall, blonde man she knew the voice as well as any other; Deltin Belceraw. He was an ‘elected’ official of the new world of Lapis Mares, awarded title and land due to wealth and services on other endeavors. While the man was courteous and friendly, and very much her senior in rank, she didn’t like him any the more; politicians left a certain distaste on her tongue.

“Viscount.” She replied, emotionless, as he fell in stride with her.

“On time as always, I see. Such a lovely day for festives to begin, don’t you think?” He was babbling, mindless small talk that never amused Kalita. She didn’t even bother to nod her head or shrug. The noble waved his hand, flashing his many glistening rings in the sunlight. Deltin reminded her of a peacock—always decked to the nines and strutting around. He smiled. “Your brutes are ready for you.”

It was then they came to a halt. They were inside a giant coliseum that had been built recently to emulate those of the past. Rows of men, all chained, were standing before them. The prisoners, all from the planet, each had some sort of aquatic qualities like all the natives of the world. She cleared her throat, clasping her hands behind her back.

“I am your Domina.”

No greetings, no hellos. Straight to the point.

“I will be training you to become Gladiators. You will take part in matches where you will fight for your lives. Most of you will not survive. If you pay attention, try your hardest, entertain the crowd and have a bit of luck then you may be rewarded. You will learn to trust me. We will earn each other’s respect. I will not tolerate insubordination. “

And then there was quiet as she waited for their reply.
Image

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Re: By Blood & Stars

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kestrel on Fri Jul 13, 2012 4:29 am

Around Fuug were grunts, hisses, violent noises. Men who wanted to tear with their jaws, to put those puny limbs into their mouths and grind them to the bone. There was an uncontrollable desire to taste blood; a desire so great they forgot their desire to live. The walking dead; he had called them, and he stood amongst them.

Fuug didn't grunt, hiss or make violent noises. He just stared at the woman as if was an animal; reading her body, trying to predict little things, like where she would place her feet. Fuug was a hunter; calculations came no less natural to him than breathing. He possessed patience and an eidetic memory. This woman would be coded into his mind like a script inside a database. His eyed just leered.

'Domina' and 'gladiator' weren't words in any local language, but Fuug could see that his peers were very split on the term they did understand; 'insubordination.' First there were the walking dead, who would unleash their jaws the moment they were set free. Most of them predatory species. The most violent of all was Amom; a shaar. A shaar was a race with triangle-shaped teeth that made up the bigger part of their heads. They were slow swimmers, but deceptively fast at crawling. Their flat, colour changing bodies made great camouflage on the sea-floor. Shaars were predators through and through, hunting by ambush and taking on preys indiscriminately, often much bigger than their selves, than eating them for days. It was in more than one way weird to Fuug to see Amom standing up; he looked meek and unbalanced on two legs.

Then there were those who had been robbed of their courage. Shivering, young things. Fuug's nephew Tak was the first one who came to mind. He looked like he could blow up at any minute. Like Fuug, Tak possessed the ability inhale large volumes of water or air, and push his upper body's elastic skin to a limit; becoming humongous within an the blink of an eye. This was a defence mechanism; preventing the largest monsters of the sea to swallow them (or use their poisonous spikes on their sea-green skin to paralyse them from the inside) and intimidate lesser foes into running or submission.

Yet, these humans could never swallow Tak; the woman in fact must have been only three quarters of his deflated size and she had no reason to feel intimidated. Was Fuug's cousin panicking so much his memories of particle rifles had left him? Humans had tools that could blow away bits of stone faster than any of them could lunge or throw a spear. The entrails of their fallen comrades should have been the memory to linger in Tak's mind; a fear that kept him in place. Not one that made him lose his reason.

That last camp, of those possessing a fear that kept them in place, was the wisest of camps, Fuug decided. They practiced patience. Some, if not most, of them would turn into the tools their domina wanted forge them into; slowly forgetting their will to fight back or run. People like Tak would soon join a side, depending on which got to them first; bloodthirst or reason. The walking dead, they would die or convert. Even if they managed to kill their domina, surprise attacks only worked once and in a straight fight they were no match for human weapons. If the humans decided all were unruly, these gladiators would be powerless to fight back.

As their domina asked for their understanding, Fuug stayed back. He would observe quietly and attract as little attention as possible, until he decided where he belonged. His calculations could not be tainted by rage or fear. For now, he belonged nowhere but in shadows.
Do you come from a land down under?
Where women glow and men plunder?
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?
You better run, you better take cover.

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Re: By Blood & Stars

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Modesty on Mon Jul 23, 2012 12:48 am

Kalita Vessh
• • • • • • • • • • • • • •


“Yes Domina.”

A chorus rang out in response, echoing through the replicated coliseum in a vocalization of accordance and understanding. While accent was off, and some spoke words other than English, the meaning was there all the same, and nearly unanimous. Nearly was enough, momentarily, for the woman in black that stood with hands clasped before them; the rest would fall in line or perish through the training. Not all were in agreement, however.

Soldiers picked out three beings near the front that had not spoken and hauled them up before their peers. Kalita frowned noticeably, glancing sideways at the superior standing at her side. While her posture still remained statuesque, her head turned slightly. When she spoke voice was low, directly for the ears of the Viscount only. “Deltin, what are you up to?”

“It’s not me, I assure you Domina. It seems the counsel wishes to lead by example as usual.”

The distasteful tone in his voice caught Kalita by surprise, though any signs of such was only seen in a brief flickering over his facial features and then back to the crowd. Vision swept over the soldier, a captain by rank of his badges, that pulled the captives along by the chains that were fastened around their wrist-like appendages.

“Listen up, scum!” The grating voice of the soldier sneered. “Let this be a lesson to those that do not obey.”

As the captain reached for the plasma gun in the holster of his right leg, Kaltia made a move to step forward. A dark look shaded her eyes, anger seething behind pretty visage. Lips parted to protest, but paused as a large hand pressed against her stomach, blocking her way. “Remove your hand, Viscount.” Voice was all but a snarl, clearly comfortable in commanding and forgetting her place.

“I urge you to reconsider your actions, Domina. You don’t want to cross the council.” Deltin’s words were low, too, sensible and nearly pleading. He was right; she’d draw the negative attention to herself that would scrap the whole project. She’d end up on a cruiser out in space, heading to some other Law-forsaken planet with some other horrendous climate. What was arguable worse would be for the prisoners to see dissention in the ranks; a unified front was a necessity of war. She gritted her teeth as three charges rang out, three thuds of bodies hitting the dirt floor.

“Fine. Just keep that military dog away from my men so I can do my job then.” She replied, cold gaze fixated on the smirking features of the captain as he re-holstered his pistol. If the Viscount nodded Kalita didn’t notice. While she had no particular love for the native inhabitants of Sea World, the brutal slaying of kin did not a trusting relationship make. The council had little patience and didn’t understand her methods. There would always be opposition, particularly at first, but none of that wild spirit survived the Breaking.

”GPA Soldiers, dismissed!” The command was barked, cold and devoid of any emotion. The captain who had just made example of the non-responsive alien life forms stared up at her slack jawed; he had wanted to see the first round of training. His momentary pause ended abruptly, saluted pointedly and turned on heel. His brothers followed suit. Near the exits a few men remained, statue-still with guns at ready if any of the trainees attempted rebellion, and two others near-by awaiting orders.

“Trust is hard-won by chains.” Her voice rang out, this time addressed to the inhabitants that she would begin to shape into fighters for the games. Vision swept across them, again, quietly counting. What had been twenty was now diminished to seventeen, and would continue to dwindle as days went on. With any luck there would be a handful of survivors determined enough to duke it out for the shows. Her intensions were clear, she would release them.

The Viscount cleared his throat, a sheepish smile befitted on prestige lips, a gold-dusted hand waving in retreat. ”I think now is where I take my leave. Play nice with your new toys, Domina.” A low chuckle, the sound of footsteps retreating.

Kalita scarcely even blinked, mind completely absorbed in task at hand. Two fingers motioned to the pair of men at wait, pushing them to release the shackles befitted around wrists. Seventeen criminals were unbound, a dangerous idea to most, but a necessity for the trainer. Each man was still collared by a metal choker around throat, the only thing to keep them in line besides honour; a concept she wasn’t even sure if they understood.

Slender hand waved away her people, the pair exiting along with guards. It was she and them. Despite the obvious outnumbering of her to them, and her small and slender statue an obvious mismatched compared to the various sea-touched creatures, she didn’t quake. Composure remained calm, serious and very much in charge. Lips parted as she spoke again; ”Your collars limit your domain to the coliseum floor, the ludus and your chambers below. If you attempt escape, you will be executed. If you attempt rebellion, you will be executed. Understood?”

She waited, again, for the chorus of acceptance.

”Step forward if you are trained in combat.” First she would assess, then she would break.

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Re: By Blood & Stars

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kestrel on Wed Jul 25, 2012 8:19 am

Fuug watched as his peers hesitated, then stepped forward. Although a warrior and hunter, he needed time to assess the situation. He risked not obeying a direct order, but he needed to stay invisible. The less knowledge they had on him and the more he had on them, the better.

The woman was not in charge, this Fuug could tell. What disturbed him, however, were those who were. The soldiers used a kind of violence that Fuug had seen before; they used the ways of the outcasts. The outcasts were the kind of men and women that did not fit into tribes like Fuug's. Often they were poorly suited to hunt and gather, and poorly suited to lead and care. They would grow restless and attempted to dominate through nothing but violence. They would maim and kill their people to instil fear in others. Vicious, and often knowledgeable, the outcasts were, but they were mad. Outcasts were to be removed from tribes. Fuug had taken two lives this way. If the outcast weren't killed, they would be banished and live a short life of solitude before dying; long before their time.

What riddle had occupied Fuug was the authority these men, human outcasts, practised. Their Domina showed no signs of fear, neither did the man she called 'viscount' and yet they stood back. It was as if these humans were a tribe filled with outcasts...

Fuug continued to observe and overhear. He listened in to a conversation between merfolk. “Those wounds are burns,” a female said. They were talking about the men who had been made an example of. “Those weapons harness the power of fire.”

Among the warriors who had stepped forward, there were merfolk too. Fuug felt pity for them. Although they were a good species, feeding on the tiny creatures that blurred the smell and visions of hunters such as himself, merfolk were no match for many of the other races present. The merfolk were closest to the humans in appearance. They possessed colourful fins on their chins and from their skulls to their spines (similar to human hair) used to attract mates. These fins hindered their swimming abilities. The fins on their wrists and ankles compensated slightly for their agility underwater, but slowed their movements on dry land. Merfolk made poor fighters and only fought among their selves. Others welcomed them to roam their territories.

Amom, the shaar, had stepped forward too. He had remained vicious and would die before he surrendered. After all, he didn't know better. Fuug's parties had skirmished with many shaars who tried to invade their territory, but no shaar would surrender, not before they took as many lives as they could. The only reason Amom hadn't fought yet was because he was chained. When his shackles were removed, he dropped himself to the ground. Amom could walk on his hind legs, but shaars were not built as a bipedal species. The position he took, Fuug knew, but both he and Amom thought the human didn't. Amom's colours blended well with the sandy underground of the arena the shaar pressed his flat body against. His back was relaxed, but his limbs were ready to propel himself forward. Amom laid in wait for the Domina, expecting her to get impatient and when she got close enough; kill her by ambush. Fuug carefully studied their Domina. Her eyes, her muscles. Here she would prove herself a warrior, he mused to himself, or else she would die to fangs that cut through flesh and jaws that broke through bone...

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Re: By Blood & Stars

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Modesty on Mon Aug 06, 2012 9:51 pm

Kalita Vessh
• • • • • • • • • • • • • •


Green eyes, steady and every watchful like those of a hawk scanned the crowd of new recruits from her elevated platform. She was quiet as she observed; much like the hunters she had been trained to sense mood and intention between subtle movements. While the species were different on the current planet, most behaviour seemed to be universal across the universe. There were whispers of words in reaction to the example. She couldn’t understand the words of the foreign language, but the fast relay between words and response gave impression of fear. Although a fearful subservient was easy to control it lacked a solid foundation of trust. Kalita grimaced, she would have to backtrack in the Breaking in order to reinstate some of the fundamentals of their future bond. Her distaste for the Captain’s antics was already growing.

The seventeen that remained hushed as she began speaking. As usual, her words were crisp and well enunciated. Her tone was on par with the mood, not letting any of her personal opinions dictate the facts. The woman was unsure if language barriers would be an issue. Her people had been on Seaworld for some time, though meetings with the locals had been brief and violent in general. If any didn’t understand she wouldn’t have time for an English lesson. They would need to adapt, or fall behind. For the most part they had seemed to understand enough.

As the thought crossed her mind the shackles were removed, and one of the self-proclaimed warriors dropped to the ground. Thick-lashed eyes narrowed, waiting for the figure to rise again, though he didn’t. His outline blended with the sand so well that each time she glanced away it would take her a long moment to find him again. The Domina momentarily wondered if the creature had collapsed. She had been assured that these were the sturdiest of breeds, able to live on land as much as in the water... was it possible the council had made a mistake? It was highly unlikely.

“Rise, pupil.” Kalita remained motionless on her pedestal, commanding from a prominent position. Her words were low, calm, forceful. It was an order. It was confident. It was to no avail. The being stayed camouflaged on the sandy floor of the auditorium.

”Rise and resume formation.” She said, again, louder. It was at such a moment that she took the opportunity of scan the crowd. Eyes of other combatants flickered between her and the missing man on the floor of the arena. They seemed nervous. Some, the ones with coloured fins that reminded her of mutant versions of the fairytale mermaids, inched away. Something wasn’t right. She raised her left hand and made motion for those close to him, the fallen one, to back away.

It was without hesitation, though perhaps marked caution, that she strode between the newly release prisoners to the location she had last seen the one that disobeyed. If there was one thing that she didn’t tolerate it was games. If her gladiators obeyed her and trained hard she would be as kind as protocol allowed. If they didn’t? Well, if they didn’t they would be in a world of pain. In her twenty-some-odd years and numerous experiences with other species, Kalita had procured a rather dark and intimidating list of torture methods that would heal and allow strong-willed candidates to fight and be maimed again and again until they learned their place.

”I will ask no more than a third time, and heed the warning tone in my voice, fall in line or be taught to.” Her voice was quieter now, clearly concentrated, but holding all the force it had still. Left hand, with deft fingers, removed the coiled braid at her hip. It’s length unfolded, revealing a whip. With a tightened grip it shuddered to life, energy in blue coursing through it. Much like the soldier’s guns, this item was powered by plasma. It was nothing close to a toy, and by the stance that Kalita took, she knew how to use it.

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Re: By Blood & Stars

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kestrel on Tue Aug 21, 2012 4:00 am

The domina could ask as often as she wanted. To threaten a shaar out of hunting was like trying to tame it. Their primal instincts differed greatly from humankind. Amom had picked a fight and he was going to end it, one way or another. The muscles in the shaar's limbs tensed as the woman drew closer. He tuned in to her breath and waited for the domina to exhale; then everything happened fast as lightning. With explosive power, Amom launched himself at Kalita! The aim was her neck; Amom's jaws could crush her air-pipe shortly after impact.

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Re: Maris Sanguine

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Modesty on Sun Nov 11, 2012 1:51 pm

Kalita Vessh
• • • • • • • • • • • • • •


It was with a burst of fury and aggression that a cloud of sand containing Amon erupted from the coliseum floor. There was no strategy or cunning; it was with pure rage that the being leapt. His jaw unhinged, teeth sharpened and directed at what he perceived threat. Kalita had met many species, from many different world, that were like him; there was only one mode: attack. In a Darwinian principle, these species lived in a kill or be killed world. To them there were no other factors, no other options. For a brief moment she pitied the creature; the council had misjudged, Amom was not a breed that would survive the Breaking. Successful candidates throughout her process needed a high level of intelligence when it came to learning and problem solving… this one wouldn’t change.

Those thoughts were fleeting. There were more pressing matters, like the rows of teeth that numbered in more than she could count that quickly, targeting for her throat. Kalita threw herself backwards, slamming into the ground with a thud that would have forced all the air out of her lungs had she not just exhaled. Her body told her to stay still, gain her bearings and take a breath, but reason pushed her on. It had been a narrow miss. She had felt Amom glide through her hair and hit the ground behind her.

Kalita arched her back, jumping to her feet. Green eyes scanned the sand; she had lost sight of the assailant again. The Domina froze. She waiting, listening, watching. Behind her she still heard murmuring in languages she didn’t understand. In her peripherals she saw a set of guards advancing. Her hand rose, flat palmed and telling them to stop as they joined the crowd. These were things unimportant; the camouflaged creature in the sand of utmost importance. If she missed him and he caught her unawares she was certain that his repetitious teeth would tear her flesh like butter. The danger was all the more clear by the fact her whip lay a few meters from her, scattered in her fall.

Another inhale. There: movement. A small displacement of sand as Amom propelled himself towards her, his outline suddenly discernable against the like-hued floor. Kalita threw herself sideways, feet in air in a handless cartwheel over Amom, confusing him. It seemed his usual prey wasn’t so agile. Vision skipped between outline and her whip, judging distance. If he launched while her back was turned she would be dead, but if she didn’t retrieve her weapon she had no chance. She dove, hand gripping the familiar weight of her favoured weapon right as another eruption burst from ground floor.

Kalita flicked her wrist; the blue plasma-charged length cracked out and struck the heavy figure moving through the air. The scent of burnt flesh became apparent. Whatever moisture the aquatic creature held in his flesh had multiplied the strength of the weapon. It was with a heavy, dead thud that Amom fell. He didn’t rise. Kalita did, her fingers flicking the power off and curling the weapon into a submissive state. Her breathing was labored as she wiped sweat and spit away from her mouth. There were a few scrapes, and in the morning she was certain that there would be new bruising, but she had come out victorious. It was clear that this career encompassed her life. Two fingers rose, beckoning the guards to come forward. They obeyed, dragging the lifeless body away.

Another down: sixteen left. She’d lost four in the first hour, things didn’t look promising. She turned to face the whispering crowd, slow and calculated. Catching her breath, Kalita ordered them loudly.

“Fall in line or follow him.” She was done playing.

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Re: Maris Sanguine

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kestrel on Wed Nov 14, 2012 6:21 am

His eyes did not betray him. The domina had single-handedly felled a shaar.

Fuug did not understand the complications of the whip she wielded (other than it burning like fire,) but it had been by her own strength and instinct that the domina had escaped the jaws of death. Twice. A feat not many lived to brag about. Perhaps she would never know, but Kalita Vessh had earned Fuug's respect as a warrior. It was a shame she belonged to a tribe of outcasts.

The line reformed a few inches before the previous one; an irrelevant detail Fuug remembered. For the first time he had found himself in the domina's plain sight; he stood far in front of his peers. Fuug turned his back as he returned to the line. His eyes met those of his cousin; Tak's expression showed his every emotion. Fuug made a slight nod sideways; a sign to stay back. Amom wouldn't be the last to challenge the domina. The walking dead would not forget their bloodthirsty so easily. For as far as Fuug could count, there were four of them left.

Having returned to his position, Fuug turned to face their domina once again. Two more of his peers followed after him before the line was complete again. “All has changed, but somehow we are back to where we started.” Fuug heard one of the merfolk whisper.

“No,” Another replied. “This is where it all ends.”

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