Fight:Quintessa vs. Gevurah

Presented by The Redskull Trophy Ring

Summary: It's a battle of pets vs pets! Though the fight had been billed as Lionel vs Quintessa, our favorite blonde protagonist was nowhere to be found. Conveniently, Gevurah is ready to fill his shoes--too conveniently, in fact. The drow matron had arranged Lionel's disappearance for an opportunity to meet Quintessa in the ring. Quintessa brings her best to the fight, but Gevurah brings her worst. Can the changeling cope with drow treachery?

Redskull Trophy Ring

Orikahn cracks his knuckles and surveys the crowd. From his ringside station, old Kahn doesn't have the clearest view of the stadium seats, but it's easy nonetheless to see they've drawn a packed crowd tonight. The murmur of attendees has already swelled to a roar. Drums and horns echo through the lively arena. Long banners of oxblood and cream hang from the walls and ceiling; the official colors of the Redskull trophy ring. Dressed in the same colors are dwarven security staff and ushers, busily patrolling the stands and eager to keep things moving smoothly. Despite their best efforts, these events seem to have a rowdy history. The band sounds a fanfare! Things are about to kick off. Dressed in a kilt to match the other staff, Kahn makes his way to join the wealthy dwarven backers at the ringside. The preparations are coming at last to a close, and the contestants should be entering presently.

Quintessa rides upon her golden cockatrice, Bloodbeak, as her vassals follow behind, pulling a massive cage upon a cart. Inside the cage a giant tarantula from the Dark Forest reaches out with its massive limbs, trying to grab at anything that comes close. The journey from Vailkrin had already taken a few servants from the changeling (victims of her spider), but she doesn't care. She's here to defeat the Butcher of Vailkrin, Lionel, and prove that she is the better battle field tactician. A little pet duel would be the prefect way to illustrate that not only can she fight, but she can also lead as well. "Over there!" Calls Quintessa, ordering her vassals to move the caged spider into position at the mouth of the arena as her mismatched eyes survey the crowd. Already she saw some familiar faces. "Excellent. A good turnout." The hex blade snaps her reins, having Bloodbeak do a couple of quick circles around the arena before she takes center stage. "I am Quintessa Dragana," She yells to the crowd as she draws her katana, "And tonight, victory will be mine!" She holds her sword aloft soaking up the roar of the crowd.

Vexar looked at Quintessa.

Khitti arrives by herself, clad in her usual attire of black and darker shades of purple, and sits somewhere near the middle of the grandstands, a spot saved for Lanara and Meri should either show up to watch the match with her. Quintessa, when she showed herself in the ring, would get nearly every ounce of Khitti’s attention. Both swords, Tenbatsu Kaji and Embershard, is with her, the former floating besides her as it had at Lanara’s party--because swords with entities in them were weird like that--and the latter on her hip. You’d think weapons would not be needed in a place like this, but the last time Khitti was here--the day she’d gotten Tenbatsu Kaji, in fact--all hell broke loose. Thankfully, she’s not pregnant this time around and can get stabby if necessary. Olive-green eyes watch Quintessa like a hawk, observing the girl’s form, body language, taking in her every move. Khitti’s own features echo of the rage she felt lately, darkly painted lips pressed into a thin line, and her ultimate judgy-face on for all to see. It’s more than your typical mom-judgy face that she usually has on. No, this was super saiyan levels of judgement--it’s definitely over 9000.

Kreekitaka had a seat directly above Orikahn. He'd have preferred to be in the ring himself, if he was honest, but he had to admit that the station he had tonight was an honorable one. I'll let the question of who got the lights punched out of them so that Kree could be the judge of this fight as an exercise for the reader. As he stepped out into the light, wearing -not quite- his finest kilt and cape, he took in the scene with an unreadable emotion in his body language. He hadn't been in a fight arena in so, so long, and now he couldn't even participate. Alas. Well, perhaps being the judge of seeing others fight will raise his spirits. He clenched his facial crushers in greeting to Orikahn below him and kept an eye out for the battlers--until Quintessa arrived. Hm. Good fighting spirit, it seemed. Excellent. And he'd heard something about Lionel being here as well? This could be interesting after all.

Kasyr looked at Ihrakah.

Ihrakah stands monolithically up at the rear of the stands, staring down mutely at the ring with a cold balefire blue that leaks mist through the slots of his visor. A clearing in the mass of spectators surrounds him, as the towering hulk of rusted, dusted and barnacle-encrusted armor absolutely reeks of rotting seaweed and stale seawater. Not that Ihrakah cares much, or at all. Those sorts of concerns sort of wane a bit after death. With his anchor planted firmly on the stone before him, Ihrakah grasps the blackened steel ring at its hilt both hands as he studies the scene below in silence. When Quintessa rides in on her mount, retinue in tow and proudly announces her claims of imminent victory, the paladin snorts, blowing a fetid cloud of vapour from his slits of his helmet; finally some response from what may very well have been mistaken for a large, smelly armor-stand. The iron-clad sentinel stands to attention, expectantly awaiting the violence that is sure to unfold below.

Aira arrives -almost- late to the fight at the Redskull, but at least she made it before the important stuff like imminent bloodshed and violence. The huntress strolls in wearing her usual attire--leggings, shirt, underbust corset, and knee high leather boots, her platinum hair knotted in a braid over her shoulder. She doesn't hesitate to make her way down to the first row ringside where she knew Orikahn would be. Unfortunately, the seats all seem to be taken by those who have no doubt paid decent coin. Aira doesn't care though and she stands before a dwarf with her arms crossed menacingly over her chest as she glares down at him with a scowl. "Move." He sizes her up and looks like he might object but her hand beings to inch towards a very sharp dagger on her hip and decides against it. Grumbling obscenities under his breath and calling Aira a few unsavory names, he stands and shuffles off to find another seat allowing the foxin to plop down and smile smugly.

Raphaline looked at Ihrakah.

Quintessa has Bloodbeak take her to her spot on the sidelines. Why wasn't her opponent here yet? Did he chicken out? "Hmph." She expected more from the Steward of Frostmaw. Placing her sword back in its sheath, she idly scans the crowd again, mismatched lingering on Khitti and her floating sword for a moment before she returns her attention to the task at hand. The daggers she was staring didn't seem to bother Quintessa, but she was still confused. Honestly, if it wasn't for the Tenbatsu Kaji, the changeling probably wouldn't have noticed her. Either way, the hex blade is getting impatient. "Where is he?"

Gevurah, a long time admirer of bloodsports (the bloodier and less rule-laden the better), had long kept tabs on The Redskull Trophy Ring. Those dwarves put on a great, bloody show. While missives from The Skull (as super fans like her like to call it) have always delighted her, the most recent fight announcement snagged her attention fully: Lionel versus Quintessa, Kasyr’s favorite little student, for reasons instudious and scandalous. Vakmatharas provided his favored disciple with a ripe opportunity for spectacular revenge on that smug, disloyal, short-sighted, impulsive, idiotic kensai. The matron rearranged her evening plans.

Lanara arrives a few moments after Khitti, wearing a gray off-the-shoulder sweater dress, which modestly touches her knees. A pair of black knee-high boots adorn her feet, and her long locks are pinned away from her face with a black headband. The witch takes a glance at the ring, as the massive spider circles within and awaits his opponent. “Wow!” Not a huge fan for seeing any sort of animal abuse, Lana then turns her attention to Quintessa, who declares that this will end in her victory. A faint smirk is given at the self-assured woman, as Lana spies her best friend in the middle of the grandstands, and so she makes her way there and takes a seat beside Khitti. “You look super invested in this fight! How are you doing?” The last time she had seen the redhead wasn’t the greatest, as she was nursing a bottle of whiskey and talking to a sword. As they engage in small talk, she sees a familiar blonde angrily glaring at a dwarf that had rudely taken her seat, so she calls out, “Kick his ass, Aira!”

Lanara looked at Ihrakah.

Alex like, flips his hair emo style and stuff.

Lanara looked at Khitti.

Khitti grins, almost cruelly, as Lanara comments on her investment in the fight and Quintessa finally sees the redhead. “Oh, it’s not the fight I’m interested in. It’s the fraud standing down there with her pretty bird.” It’s then that Khitti stands up, puts her hands up around her mouth to help project her voice a bit more and yells, “QUINTESSA DRAGANA IS A GODS DAMNED FRAUD AND A THIEF! BOOOO!” More shouting ensues, laden with many a curse word and more booing before Khitti finally takes her seat. That grin is now gone. What? No. That was never there. It’s been replaced by an innocent smile, an eventual proper greeting to Lanara. “I’ve never been better. How are you?”

Magik action : scans the arena, searching for any clues as to who Quintessa's opponent may be. Seeing no signs, he plops back down in his seat, mumbling to himself.

Orikahn spots Aira, and his face lights up. Usually, his life in the frozen north was kept separate from his life in the caves of Craughmoyle, but tonight makes for a welcome crossover. He gets to have a plus-one. "I checked the concession stand, but they don't serve snacks like you," Orikahn teases her. That's apparently his way of saying hello. If Aira has a witty retort, she'd better make it fast. The horns and drums sound again, signaling the second contestant to enter, but... odd silence follows. Cue Lionel, yes? Awkward seconds stretch on, but the infamous Butcher of Vailkrin is nowhere to be seen. Kahn and the backers look to one another in confusion and concern, and a troubled murmur circles the crowd soon after. Has some ill fate befallen their contender? More worrisome still, how are they to have a fight now!?

Vexar blinks slowly; then blinks again. Still not entirely sure how he actually happened upon the packed arena, the man quizzically...indeed, with a quirked brow and wrinkled frown, almost comically...surveys the venue. Bookies and gamblers; elite and peons; lovers and fighters; all encircling a stage duly equipped with a variety of players. It would appear an event or competition is imminent. Satisfied with the conclusion to which his sage reasoning has led him, the vampire takes up claim to a standing spot along the balcony rail from which he will take in the….ordeal? The bulkily cladded man is quite in the viewing lane of several onlookers, yet he pays no heed to the shouts and swears of disgruntled attendees behind him as he enjoys the prime view he’s found.

Quintessa shoots Khitti an angry glare of her own. She'll remember that. After a moment of silence the changeling shakes her head. "He's really not coming?" Quintessa cannot hide her disappointment.

Lanara concludes her shout to Aira and sends a blown kiss the vixen’s way, making certain to remind herself that after the fight she would see if the woman was up for a scouting mission for the Adventurer’s Guild, later in the week. Who knew what mischief they could get up to, or what they would uncover?! As she crosses her legs and orders an ale, she’s startled by the sudden outburst from Khitti, and her eyes widen. Quintessa was a fraud?! The witch doesn’t know the woman, aside from the fact that she had come to both events that she hosted, and that she worn an elegant gown and won the best dressed contest. Khitti sits down, amid the cheers and jeers, and Lana lightly elbows her in the side, “What did she steal?!” There’s a brief pause, before she replies, “I’m doing well, staying out of trouble… Mostly.” Aside from the fact that she crushed a man’s windpipe a few nights prior, after meeting up with Tiber for dinner.

Lanlan looked at Ayras.

Gevurah knew well where Lionel was, because she had asked Lanlan to plague Lionel’s descent to the Underdark. In the waning minutes before the match, with Lionel a clear no-show, Gevurah knew that her lover had succeeded. Now Gevurah had only to follow through with her part of their wicked plan. There were some logistical considerations. Tonight’s match would be one of those lame pet fights. No matter. Gevurah would make do. The matron approached the officiants with an unleashed phase spider, and an umber hulk in a cage pulled by a lizard. The matron submitted her name as a last minute contestant. Once accepted, she joined Quintessa on the stage and made no florid self-introduction. She did not need one. Instead of her usual piwafwi, Gevurah donned a heavy, black leather cloak over a long, snakeskin dress and riding boots. At her hip, seven vipers writhed from the braided handle of a whip. Her black leather, bottomless satchel (figuratively and magically speaking) hung from her shoulder beneath the cloak. The matron flashed her teeth in a predatory grin at Quintessa. “Surprise,” she said. Then her glowing red eyes scanned the crowd in search of her true mark, Kasyr. Finding him, the matron winked. Looking back at her opponent, Gevurah was moved briefly by the aspiring noble’s ambition and potential. Gevurah had rather liked Quintessa, in spite of a few mistakes. But alas, Gevurah’s hatred for Kasyr trumped whatever dark promise the drow saw in the changeling. Gevurah walked to the edge of the ring and shrugged off her heavy cloak. It fell in a heap just beyond the ring’s edge. She then extended a hand towards the cage to unlatch the door through some unseen, arcane means. The umber hulk charged at her as she unclipped her seven vipers whip and lashed the red and yellow vipes at the insectoid creature to inject him with a twin venoms that made him obedient to her tongue clicks and snaps. She snapped her fingers. The umber hulk squared its shoulders and glared across the ring at the tarantula.

Lanlan loved helping his matron. One of his favorite ways to help was by maiming her enemies. His mission today wasn't explicitly to harm, it was just to distract/delay. But with drow there was an assumption. So Lanlan, with the help of Gevurah's spy ring, identified Lionel's path and set a trap for him on his way to Craughmoyle. Lanlan internalized a map of the main tunnels long ago, but he'd only begun to chart the many tributaries, it wasn't worth the danger. One tunnel, he recalled, seemed to be intentional. It was carved from men with tools not nature. Surely it was going to be a dwarven mine or road, however, it never would be. There was a a sudden and slippery slope, that steepened into a sheer cliff. Lanlan took the obnoxious signage down that warned of imminent danger and death, and plastered over the abyss an illusion of even, steady ground. Illusionary torch sconces lead to implied safety. Lanlan himself was disguised as a dwarf foreman, stood on the main road into Craughmoyle, and interrupted Lionel on his path. "Sorry mate," he told Lionel. We had a cave in earlier 'n the day. Gon' af' take the scenic route this time." He directed him to the abyss, and waited a while to make sure he didn't come out of it right away. Then he'd meet Gevurah at the Redskull trophy ring.

Alex sits alone despite the large crowd surrounding him. The bard nearly snoozing in his seat as his open palm pushing his cheek damn near his forehead in absolute boredom. Sure, there was excitement and chaos all about but where was the fun? The drink, the gossip and the music? Certainly it was about with the massive crowd but nearly none seemed to notice the man and those that did wrote him off. So with his hair a mangled mess, he simply licked his chapped lips and rolled his oceanic eyes in a bored toss before slumping down in his seat and muttering something about snow and the forest. Whatever that means.

Aira looks over her shoulder when she hears Lanara call and encourage her to get her seat back. She smirks at the witch and offers a wink in reply to the blown kiss before turning her attention back to the ring. It wasn't -her- seat, she just happened to want it, and that dwarf was in the way. Thankfully he made the right decision by vacating before there was an opening fight to kick start the main one. Her attention is stollen by the sabercat and she's pleasantly surprised at his flirtatious tease. She rolls her copper eyes at Kahn and scoffs, albeit with a pleased smile on her lips. "I think someone has been into the catnip again." Further conversation is cut short by the drums and horns that signify the other contestant is about to enter. Only...Lionel is conspicuously missing. The huntress arches a pale brow as murmurs begin to spread like wildfire around the stands.

Mahri's late, which isn't really unusual. Hearing that Quintessa is taking part in this tournament, she is of course here to cheer on the young baroness. Finding an out of the way place to sit where she can still watch the action, the lycan settles in to observe and make mental notes on both the changeling's skills and that of her oponent. That changes when Gevurah walks out and the wolf's attention is settled on the drow matron.

Magik loudly boos Gevurah, throwing a dead rat and a pickle at her.

Khitti || “House Dragana,” Khitti said in hushed tones to Lanara. “At least that’s what I’ve been hearing from people when I’m Vailkrin. The rumors aren’t even just limited to there. I’ve been hearing it everywhere. There’s no way Larewen would leave everything she’s worked for to some fledgling. I’ve known Larewen since I set foot in Lithrydel. I -lived- in that goddamn house. Protected the goddamn thing and Larewen against an attack from Emrith a couple years ago. There’s no frakking way she’d do it.” The more she talked about it, the more irritated she got--and to relieve herself of that anger, more boos were spouted towards Quintessa.

Kreekitaka was getting impatient too, though it may have been harder to tell. Uyeer don't have the most expressive face, and those unfamiliar with their body language would just see Kree's paddles rattling against each other more frequently and his facial crushers exploring the air like antennae. Something, however, caught his eye. Something he'd only heard stories about. Ihrakah was the name that floated through his mind as he took in the towering mass of armor. But that was impossible. Ihrakah was a myth, a tale invented by the abyssals to frighten people away from their deep lairs... but here it was. Watching a fight, just like him. Shouldn't be possible. The wheels in Kree's head turned, visibly, but soon his attention was dragged back to the ring. Where was Lionel, and who was this?! He raised his voice and stepped forward, using his natural baritone and colosseum's construction to project his voice. "Was HHHTHere a change I am unaware of? Has Yionoh been so DAH!eyayeDAH! HHHTHaTAH! we mus' use a sTAH!anDAH!-in?" And alas, it still wasn't him. "...So be iTAH! I am KreekiTAH!ka an' Io be judging your evenTAH!." Wait. The authority of his position dawned on him. His facial crushers clenched and he made a small, maliciously-pleased rumble. "An' so you are boHHHTH aware, whoever wins..." dramatic pause for effect, "fighTAH!s -me-."

Kasyr is at least consistent. He's still maintaining his trash-panda aesthetic, given the bags under his eyes have continued to darken, along with the coating of dust and detritus on his hair and coat. Suffice to say, when he actually arrives in the arena, he doesn't actually bother trying to find a choice spot- instead shuffling through the rows and collapsing into a crowded spot between a pair of belligerent dwarves. At least he's not going to have to worry about microsleeps. Suffice to say, he's a bit confused at what he sees. "What the?" The matron's wink is sobering in a way that the stimulants he's been imbibing haven't quite managed. And might have the swordsman glancing over the rows in search of Lanlan, even while inwardly expecting to find nothing.

Mahri looked at Ihrakah.

Quintessa tightens her grip around her reins as she sees Gevurah step forward as her new opponent. "But- You?" There is fear in her eyes for a second before she remembers the dark promise of the giant insectoid that lived under Black Pond. "This is..." Her pointed teeth are reveled as she gives the Drow Matron the biggest grin she's ever had. "Perfect." Quintessa begins to laugh maniacally. "You come willingly into my web? So be it." The changeling motions for them to release the spider and bars are lifted, allowing the arthropod to scamper out of the cage. It's many eyes franticly gaze around, sizing up the umber hulk. It raises its fount legs up in a territorial stance, five inch long fangs drip with venom as it stares the beast down, waiting for it to make a move.

Orikahn is abruptly pulled into a huddle with the backers. Truth be told, none of them had anticipated the change of contenders. Gevurah was bad news, but a no-show was worse news. What choice did they have? Without delay, ringside officials make a few quick changes to their plackards. Q VS G, the boards now read. The confused crowd takes the hint, and murmurs turn into an eager roar of anticipation. The bookies haven't lost a beat, and they're now hawking bets: Gevurah three to one.

Lanara considers making a comment that she heard a rumor that Lionel was to be Quintessa’s contestant, but she holds her tongue. There was bad blood between the warrior and the templar at her side, and it’s just as well that Gevurah makes it known that –she- is the one that is going to battle tonight. At least there would be less drama, right? The drow winks at Kasyr, as she injects the umber hulk with venom, clearly intent on making some chaos. “Every time she’s around –something- goes horribly wrong!” She’s sipping her ale and hoping there won’t be a pile up of bodies at the end of this event, like at the Samhain shindig. Khitti’s next words have Lanara’s jaw set in a thin line, as the mention of anything related to Larewen put her in a sour mood. “That woman –deserves- to have her house stolen, her life taken by an idiotic ex, and all the karma that the Goddess delivers to her door. She’s done nothing but hurt those she’s sworn to love, abandon friends and family, and fed off of Taly and my own leftovers for years.” Inhaling sharply, Lana glances at Quintessa and Gevurah as they size each other up in the ring, “Do you want any popcorn or ale, Khitti? I’m going to head to the snack bar…”

Lanlan takes an inconspicuous spot in the stands and ignores the contestants for now. He's more interested in identifying spectators who he would mark as person's of interest. He sees a dead rat and a pickle soar into the ring after some jabroni boos Matron D'Artes. His long spidery eyebrows flicker and twirl and illusions disguise them as roses. The effect is multiplied and the jeering voice in the stands is echoed by plenty of cheering ones; all fake, disembodied figments. "For you Gevurah! Matron D'Artes!" The ground at her feet is all red roses now, forming a ring around her. Finally Lanlan, spots Kasyr, and loudly finds his way to a seat behind him. "Ah! I hoped I would find you here," he tells Kasyr nonchalantly. "This should be good."

Aira looked at Lanlan.

Mahri's eyes wander about the crowd, picking out a few familiar faces, even Lanlan's as he settles behind Kasyr. Since she rarely smiled anyway, to say she frowned would be something different. Instead, she scowled and debated encouraging one of those dwarves to change seats with her since she and Kasyr were such good friends now and all. In fact, that seemed to be a really good idea and with enough incentive in the form of coins she gets the seat she wants, the excuse being the view was better here and the dwarf might just find it more convenient being closer to the ale anyway. "Kasyr," she murmurs by way of greeting even if he didn't hear that low tone over the din of other attendees.

Khitti smirks at Lanara, “Oh I’m well aware of the hell Larewen puts people through. She’s betrayed me about as many times as Lionel--who so obviously won’t be showing his face around here. Probably for the better because I’d likely interrupt the match to shove my swords down his goddamn throat.” Yeah. She knows he was supposed to be here. RIP “But that mansion--that family--was my home for quite some time until Hildegarde enlisted me for her war. And became such again after a while. This girl is lucky I’m not a goddamn vampire anymore or else I’d rip her apart.” She takes a moment to consider what else might be at those concession stands, “Whiskey, if they’ve got it. I suppose ale or whatever else if they don’t. And popcorn sounds good too.” The shifting between speaking of outright murder to what she might want to eat and drink was so fluid, so nonchalant. Speaking that way had surely increased with Khitti in the past few weeks. Once Lanara leaves, she yells, “FRAUD! FAKE! QUINTESSA IS A FAKE!”

Ihrakah takes stock of the combatants as they exchange witticisms and ready their respective beastly companions. The paladin pays little attention to their words, instead studying the two prospective fighters. His concentration is briefly interrupted as a distinctive guttural and staccato dialect booms around the arena. Uyeer. With an unsettling shriek of rusted metal on metal, Ihrakah turns his head and regards the source of the voice. There, an uyeer, above water. How curious. Ihrakah's eyes blaze briefly and a deep gurgling rumble echoes from the giant's throat as he stares at the uyeer. "Kreekitaka..." the stinking edifice grumbles, as rivulets of foul water drip from his mouth guard with each syllable. Memories stir in the giant's skull, memories of jawbone blades dully clashing in the dark, memories of black blood clouding the water. Memories of war. The giant rumbles approvingly at these memories, then turns his attention back to the ring with another spine-tingling shriek. The uyeer could wait, right now there was carnage to observe.

Aira watches as Orikahn consults with the other backers and they discuss the new, last minute entrant. She knew they would accept it as there was no way they'd be refunding any money here tonight. Truthfully, the huntress cared not who fought who so long as the was a good, dirty, bloody fight. Leaning forward, the foxkin rests her forearms atop her thighs.

Gevurah :: “You’re cocky for a girl who’s accomplished nothing and had everything handed to her,” Gevurah replied. Her hands moved in the fluid, martial sign language of the drow in which her phase spider was fluent. The spider phased out of this plane. The matron then clicked her tongue. The umber hulk looked at the cockatrice. No, wrong target. Gevurah clicked her tongue again, and the umber hulk looked at the giant tarantula. Correct, good insect boy. Gevurah began to rhythmically snap her fingers. The insectoid beast’s eyes flared then bruised and burn and bubbled in a hypnotizing pattern. It attempted to ensnare the tarantula in its hallucinogenic gaze and render the spider momentarily stunned, stupefied, confused, high as a kite. Once Gevurah suspected the tarantula was vulnerable, she double clicked her tongue and the umber hulk charged forward on its powerful, ape-like forearms, launching its body clear over the spider’s head and fangs to come down like a cannonball on its fat thorax. While the crowd’s attention was on Gevurah, Quintessa, and the monsters in the ring, Gevurah’s discarded cloak flattened itself on the dark, stone ground, spread itself wide, and rippled like a leathery shadow as it moved, near invisible, around the outside of the ring towards Quintessa.

Kasyr, considering the less-than-welcome attention he's getting from Lanlan, also happens to present enough to actually take heed of Mahri's proximity. "Hey. It's...good to see you?" He squeezes his eyes shut, one hand coming up in a 'hold on' motion.- which seems more aimed at Lanlan, to be fair. "Not you. I could have done without that, enfin." There's a second pause there, before the swordsman gets a squinty look, "...Hoping to find me though? And here I thought you'd want to avoid round 2."

Eleanor slipped in quietly all shadow and subterfuge, placed her bet on Gevurah's beast, and found herself a drink.

Orikahn flags down a concession cart and persuades them to part with a keg of ale. Some short moments later, the keg is tapped, and there are full, heady flagons aplenty for the ringside VIPs. Seeing Aira's hand is empty (and never knowing her to turn down a drink) the big cat pushes a mug her way, and just in time. The cat's eyes go wide as the umber hulk rushes by. If Aira hasn't grabbed the beer, he might easily drop it in sheer awe. He'd never heard of such a beast, much less seen one. The think was like the misbegotten child of a cockroach and a gorilla.

Lanlan looked at Mahri.

Eleanor said beast but she really meant aberration, because let's be honest, the umber hulk looks far from normal.

Lanlan noticed Mahri take a seat relatively close to him, not that she wanted to. Of course she wanted to sit next to Kasyr. His gaze lingered on her either until she acknowledged him, or it became clear she was not going to. "You! I remember you. You were there when I helped Quintessa and Kasyr!" He shrugs and smiles modestly, "It was nothing. I was -happy- to do it. Anyway. I'm Lanlan. What's your name?" Then he'd turn to and fro from non-human to non-human. "And do either of you know who the judges happen to be for this fight? Where might they be?

Mahri crosses an ankle over her knee and crosses her arms, plainly ignoring Lanlan, and gives Kasyr a slight nod. It was the combantants that she's paying attention to then, eyes narrowed as she watches the Matron more than the Changeling.

Mahri said to Lanlan, "I might not know all of what happened, Drow, but helping is not something I'm sure you did." She doesn't give her name. Then, to Kasyr, "How are you doin'?"

Quintessa snickers at Geverah assertion that she had everything handed to her. "How ironic coming from a highborn." The hex blade flicks her wrist in the direction of the tarantula, flinging a curse that connects with the arachnid's body. A purple glow overtakes its form for a second before it flies into a raging panic, the curse filling the spider with fear. It's not like these things ever followed orders anyway. Mindless as it was, it would be completely immune the the hypnotic gaze of the umber hulk, instead scurrying backwards out of the way of the slam. When the umber hulk lands, the spider begins to scrap its own body with its legs, loosening the urticating hairs all over its torso and spreading them in a cloud that engulfs the beast, causing irritation and pain if gotten into the sensitive eyes or nose. With the distraction attempted, the tarantula lunges forward, long, furry legs wrapping around its prey as it attempts to sink its fangs into the monster, injecting it with paralyzing venom.

Aira will never, ever, EVER say no to free booze and it's with a genuine smile that she moves to accept the flagon of ale that Orikahn is bringing her way. It's just at the right time, too, because the prime hunter seems distracted by the umber hulk. This results in a less than graceful hand off and some beer slops over the sides of the mug and onto Aira's leggings. It's a good thing she's not the sort that fusses over her clothes otherwise she might have been angry. The huntress peers around the sabercat, eyes wide as she watches the match progress.

Ayras was, it seemed, late to the party. Her writer was surely to blame. Regardless, the vampire woman simply meandered the spectator stands for a while before she found herself a place to seat herself, legs crossed at the knees. Strange eyes settled on the arena floor where the combatants were - as well as, it seemed, minions? - to watch the fight. Regardless of the victor, it would be an...educational display for the death knight.

Lanara ives Khitti an encouraging smile, because that’s what best friends were for, right? To support you in all endeavors? Even if it meant that she hated seeing the redhead get so worked up in Larewen’s favor, and calling out rude remarks to Quintessa? “You deserve that house… Maybe you should take it over, Khitti?” Either way, the bloodsucking brunette would get harmed in some way, so it brings a semblance of reassurance to the witch. Sadly, Quintessa would be a casualty, if she continued to upset Khitti! “Perfect, I’ll be right back!” Lanara makes her way to the concession stand and orders two large buckets of popcorn, a massive tumbler of ale for Khitti, and a box of chocolates. After paying the dwarf, she makes a small detour over to Aira, her brows raised in delight as the sees the umber hulk. She may have to get one of those! “Aira…” Leaning down, she whispers in the vixen’s ear, “I apologize for blowing up the other night. News of my brothers passing is still fresh and painful. I was wondering if we can meet up later this week? Maybe doing some scouting in relation to that wolf medallion? I’ll sent you a letter!” Business complete, she returns to her seat at Khitti’s side and hands over some snacks, “They didn’t have whiskey, so I just got you a large ale.”

Alex manages to peel his eyes open thanks to the sounds of the crowd surrounding the spectacle and the sight of the creepy spider thing allows him to widen them even further with a stunning silence as he finds himself scooting closer to his neighbor. The lucky victim suddenly greeted with a charming and sly "Oh, hi."

Orikahn definitely won't notice that he spilled beer on his date. He's too busy watching the plume of spider hairs flying upward in a swirling cloud toward the umber hulk. Now *those* he's seen before, and his nose tingles at the very recollection. While unpleasant memories prompt Kahn to scratch his face, an alert dwarven aeromancer in official colors is quick to circle the ring and blurt an incantation with practiced ease. The air between the spider and the crowd shimmers, and luckily for everyone but Gevurah and her pets, the irritating cloud attack is safely confined to the ring.

Orikahn looked at Lanara.

Lanlan was instantly annoyed by Kasyr in a way that was hard to repress. Because he -was- hoping to avoid round two. He leans back in his seat and takes a breath. "I thought I needed to talk to you," he said almost boastfully. "Quintessa did too." Lanlan pursed his lips scornfully and shook his head, not that Kasyr could see that without craning his neck. "That was a misunderstanding. I wasn't at Venturil and I had no idea you idiots let Luffy die." He shakes his head regretfully and mutters a drow curse-word. "Just here to watch."

Aira's vulpine ear gives a twitch when Lanara appears at her side and leans down to whisper in her ear. She tilts her head to the side to catch the quiet words among the raucous jeers and cheers of the stands and the fight in the ring. "Look, I'm not going to lie and say I liked Scandal because I didn't. But I was unaware that he passed and the manner in which he did. And I -am- sorry for your loss." See, the huntress could be nice sometimes! The promise of a scouting mission is met with an empathic nod and passive wave when the witch begins to walk back to her seat. "Let me know!" she calls after Lanara.

Lanara looked at you.

Lanlan said to Mahri, "My name's Lanlan," he reminds her. "And neither of you need to appreciate the help. Poor boy needed all the help he could get though didn't he!? Haha"

Orikahn looked at Ihrakah.

Khitti thought over what Lanara had said about getting a hold of House Dragana, but kept her thoughts until the witch returns. Olive-green eyes widens as she takes in the massive size of the ale she’s given. It’s akin to how her son gets when he sees literally anything chicken-related. “That’ll do just fine,” she says with her thanks. “As for the Dragana thing, I don’t really think it’s right for a non-vampire to just take over like that. It’d be worse than what this girl is doing. The city’s had enough chaos for years and I don’t particularly want to add to it. Maybe if I was still a vampire but…” Nope. She wasn’t going to go down that path. Nuh uh. “Besides, Brand would never live there. And I don’t trust Dominic to not wander off and get eaten by spiders as big as Francis or any of the Vailkrinians. He’s a plump, tasty little morsel and no one would be able to resist him.” Look, Khitti still has dreams occasionally about eating people. It’s not her fault. Really. “If anything, I’d probably hand it over to House Mahara.” Khitti takes a huge gulp of her ale as she eyes the match. “Here’s to hoping Gevurah wins. If she doesn’t kill the girl, she’ll at least put her in her place.”

Gevurah circled the ring to get a better view of the fight, but did not yet intervene. The umber hulks were clever creatures, and frequently ate tarantulas. The gorilla-insect’s natural instincts would serve better than the drow’s high-minded tactics. And indeed, the umber hulk, a predator of spiders of all types, knew of the urticating hairs. Without instruction, it shielded its sensitive face and eyes with its wide forearm that was protected by a carapace as strong as platemail. The creature spun out of the spider’s direct trajectory but remained close to the tarantula’s descent to grab onto one of its eight legs and use the spider’s own momentum against it by battering it into the stone ground, then, hopefully having landed enough of a strong grip, repeatedly lift and batter the spider against the ground over and over and over like a bird cracking open a walnut. Outside the ring, the leathery cloak reached Quintessa and lurched up in the shape of a large mantaray. The cloaker’s white belly and sharp teeth briefly flashed just before it dove towards the back of Quintessa’s head and shoulders to envelope her in its leathery, constricting embrace. If successful in ensnaring its meal, it would bite into her head. Either way, it moaned a supernaturally terrifying moan. Every creature and person in the room, even Gevurah and her umber hulk, was at risk of fleeing in terror as the eerie moan struck fear into every beating (and unbeating) heart. In fact, the umber hulk’s courage gave out and it quickly abandoned the tarantula and fled the ring, chittering as it used its fists to launch itself in a barreling charge out of the stadium and out of Craughmyole (battering some innocent bystanders who had the misfortune of being in its way). Gevurah, more accustomed to the eerie, steeled her resolve and did not flee. She reached into her bottomless satchel to prepare herself for whatever came next.

Mahri slides a look at Kasyr, judging for herself how he's fairing before twising in her seat to stare at Lanlan. Silently. Really, he's not worth the words wasted on the breath it'd take to say then. After that brief moment, Mahri leans over to speak quietly to Kasyr.

Mahri whispered something to Kasyr.

Lanlan could see Gevurah's sneaky attack on Quintessa beginning to come around, so he called on a distraction with an upward twirl of his index finger. His entourage of dark elves began to occupy the stands in front of Kasyr. They wore illusions to look like humans to avoid being instantly recognized as Lanlan's people, and stood ignorantly, chatting with each other about nonsense, apparently they haven't seen each other in a long time! Meanwhile Lanlan grabbed Kasyr's shoulder with some urgency. "Listen Kasyr. I'm sorry about Luffy. I really am. I lament ever helping you and Quintessa enlist her aid, that we didn't would mean she would yet live." He sounded very earnest. Very sincere.

Orikahn pulls his attention away from the action just long enough to see Lanara walking back to her seat. "That friend of yours," Orikahn comments as his eyes briefly sway in time with Lanara's receding derriere, "where do I know her from?" His fuzzy brows furrow with the strain of recollection. Putting names to faces wasn't really the cat's forte. As matters stand, he might never get the chance to remember now, because things are happening in the ring that will demand official attention. Truly, the treachery of the drow knows no bounds, for Gevura's attack falls well within the definition of foul play. The use of an evil cloak was wicked enough, but magical terror? That takes the cake. From the first unearthly notes of the cloaker's howl, a frightened silence ripples through the crowd, and screams soon follow. Fans leap up in their seats. Drinks, bags of popcorn, and half-eaten pretzels fly hither and thither. The startled band is the first to regain their bearings, and they are quick to strike up a heartening, lively march. Many of the ushers and security have fled out the exits, but those with their courage intact shout for everyone to remain calm. If something isn't done soon, this frightened crowd might turn into a mob stampede.

Kasyr briefly wonders if this is some sort of peculiar fever dream, if only because of the perversely casual manner in which Lanlan addresses him. The manner in which he turns to ignore the drow is incredibly deliberate in turn, some modicum of warmth forced into his voice as he addresses Mahri, "...Been better. How about you? I'd been meaning to- " It's what Lanlan follows up with that stops him in his tracks, his expression starting sour, and then twisting into something a bit more difficult to discern. "...What? What?! So all of that was-" A very stupid misunderstanding. His teeth click together sharply, a faint hiss escaping from thinly pressed lips as his attention flickers back to the arena, " What did you want to talk about?" His ears crop up when Lanlan grabs his shoulder, but he doesn't shy away from the motion.

Kreekitaka was from a race that routinely wrangled and raced manta rays, so the shape was a familiar one to him--but the sound it made was not. By habit, his claw went to his jawblade--and then the fish-thing went for Quintessa! Was that an attack of Gevurah's? Was it... legal?? He hauled out his jawblade and tapped it against the edge of his box to get Orikahn's attention. "Can she DAH!oo HHHTHaTAH!.?" he asked, trying not to project to everyone, but if the colosseum naturally carried his voice and spread rumors of foul play, that's not his fault... 02:16:02You looked at Kreekitaka.

Orikahn looks to Kreekitaka and makes a frantic "cut" gesture across his own neck.

Lanlan said to Kasyr, "When I was in your dream. I saw some things. Dreams are weird, as I'm sure you know (though not as well as I), and sometimes things need to be interpreted. But sometimes, we may have visions. Things that can be seen in a dream, that can one day be made to occur in the waking world." He kept half an eye on Gevurah between commotion while he worked to gain Kasyr's complete attention. "I believe I've a notion of how to bring Luffy back."

Quintessa allows the spider to fight on its own for now. After all, its predatory instincts would serve it well while it still lived. Meanwhile, Quintessa eyes Gevurah suspiciously. This was all too convenient, the traitorous Drow must have been up to something. Mismatched eyes gaze around the crowd for a moment. Did Gevurah embed assassins in the crowd? Quintessa then spots Lanlan and she knows something is up. Umber hulks and phase spiders weren't the only pets the matron brought with her, it seemed. Her attention snaps back to the match, watching as the umber hulk easily griped the spider's leg and slammed it into the ground. A loud crunch emanates from the leg as the tough exoskeleton is crushed under the sheer brutality of the umber hulk. After the second slam, the spider's leg snaps off, allowing it to escape as it rolls a few meters away. Giant tarantulas possess some natural defenses against umber hulks, but it was clearly out matched. Dazed and missing a limb, the giant spider slowly raises off the ground. Meanwhile, on the sidelines atop her golden cockatrice, Quintessa remains unaware of the cloaker than stalked her. However, Bloodbeak was not so easily surprised. Always looking for something smaller to eat, Bloodbeak spots the cloaker as it attacks Quintessa and spins around to intercept it, throwing Quintessa off the saddle and into the ring with the spider and umber hulk with a loud "Oof!" when she hits the ground. Bloodbeak snaps his sharp beak down, attempting to rip it into smaller, more bite-sized chunks to eat. Even if this hits, it's not enough to keep the cloaker from wrapping around the cockatrice's helmet. As the the eerie noise echoes throughout the arena, Bloodbeak frantically shakes his head back and forth, trying to shake loose of the annoying creature. Inside the ring, Quintessa rises to her feet in time to see the umber hulk flee, the creepy noise unnerving her but now having enough effect to send her running too. The changeling doesn't even have time to laugh at the fleeing creature for the wounded spider turns and charges her, knocking her to the ground with a forelimb before baring down to bite her. With only a second to react, Quintessa draws her sword and stabs it through the spider's head, destroying the brain, ending all movement and aggression. The giant torso collapses on top of her body, pinning her legs underneath it. Things were certainly going downhill quickly.

Quintessa dropped 1 giant spider.

Mahri's eyes land on Lanlan's hand, effectively taking the lycan druid's attention away from the fight and the illusion covered drow, which was then on Kasyr's shoulder. Between gritted teeth, the wolf warns her friend, "Don't believe him Kasyr. I don't trust him." And that's all she'll say because unfortunately she has work to do and not a lot of time to do it in. Getting up, she'll hope that Kasyr heeds her advise. In passing she invites, to Kas not Lanlan, "Stop by the tavern soon."

Lanara had felt Orikahn’s stare upon her derriere, but let’s be honest? The witch doesn’t turn heads, she breaks necks, with that delicious derriere and pretty face just begging to be gazed upon. Munching on her popcorn, she nearly chokes, as she cannot help but giggle in regards to Khitti referring to Dominic as ‘plump’ even if it’s said with sincerity. He truly was an adorable little boy! “Hm… I don’t know this House Mascara that you speak of, but anyone besides Larewen, sounds good to me. Heck… I’ll even help you!” Of course she butchered the actual name of ‘Mahara’ but it was rare that the witch ever got anyone’s name correct. All of a sudden it seems like hell is within the ring, as the evil cloak rifles around with malicious intent! Lanara quickly shovels more popcorn into her mouth as things are starting to get interesting. “Why does the winner get to battle Kree? What the heck sort of a prize is –another- battle? Especially against a Uyeer?” Of course she was a fan of the legendary designer, what female wasn’t? But.. She preferred to see human-like forms in the ring.

Eleanor stepped aside of someone who nearly bumped into her in their bid to put more distance from themselves and the duel. The woman arched a brow, gaze sweeping over the stranger before returning her attention toward the fight. Her gaze honed in on Gevurah, and her brow rose higher. Amidst the shadows, she smirked. Thereafter she moved farther into whatever darkness she could find, switching her attention toward Quintessa. She studied the changeling closely as she fought off the creature, perhaps intrigued by her response.

Aira's gaze flicks back to Kahn and away from the fight when the prime hunter inquires about "her friend." Perhaps unfortunately, his pendulating gaze as he watches Lanara's swaying hips as she walks back up to her seat is not lost on the huntress. This is not a behavior that most woman like to witness of their mates, even semi-feral ones like Aira. "I don't know, -Kahn-. Maybe from when she was in a bikini, wrestling her sister in the mud?" she practically spits out. "I need a drink." Never mind the nearly full flagon of ale she has in her hands, the vixen stands abruptly and begins to walk rather huffily towards the concession stand when the hellish howl reverberates around the stadium. Aira's vulpine ears fold back against her head as terror grips at those around the room and people begin to flee. Unfortunately, Aira gets caught up in the mass exodus and, caught off guard, and gets tangled in the pushing and shoving towards the exit.

Khitti, who was once called the Queen of Spiders--and soon after, the Mother of Spiders once her lovely spider-son Francis came over from the Shadow Plane--feels her heartstrings pulled as Quintessa’s spider is viciously stabbed by the #FakeBaroness. She’s going to have to go home and hug Francis tonight. She also chugs the rest of her ale, in memorial of such a majestic creature. RIP

Mahri looked at Khitti.

Khitti smirks at Lanara. “-Mahara-. One of the House’s leaders, Bradyn, has recently joined the Devout’s Guild. It took me some time to think about it, but in the same letter I sent to him about this girl,” she says, motioning to Quintessa, “I asked about rejoining the Necromancer’s Guild. Jessamine and James, the two hybrids from the Shadow Plane, their magic is odd. I’m hoping Bradyn’ll let me continue my studies in the House’s library. If you manage to see him in the guild hall or wherever, just be mindful of how you talk to him. He’s uh… very… stuffy… as per the usual with nobles.”

Gevurah cackles deeply in the back of her throat as Quintessa tumbles into the ring and is nearly paralyzed by her own spider. The matron focuses on the changeling for now, ignoring the cloaker and cockatrice with the full knowledge that the cockatrice will likely win, but not without a fight. The cloaker uses its tail as an anchor to try to drag the cockatrice towards the stands where it may trip. The matron has time. “I had hoped we’d work together again. Really. But… well, Vakmatharas has other plans for you.” With Quintessa momentarily pinned, Gevurah has even more time for a more brutal, awe-inspiring finish. The dark priestess lifts her free palm and points it at Quintessa’s chest as her fingers twitch into an esoteric, tense symbol. Her ebon wrist twists inward towards her own chest as she recites an incantation. Calling on the power of Vakmatharas, Gevurah attempts a gruesome, primal death (one she can so rarely enjoy in combat) in which Quintessa’s ribs pop out of their cartilage moorings as her lungs and heart expand and threaten to burst out of her chest, clear through her flesh. As the spell gathers pace, Gevurah’s own chest heaves in and out, her breath shallow and quick as if her body’s mild distress is a guide for the type of death she’s inflicting on Quintessa.

Kasyr's brain is rattling as the hellish scream continues to resonate- his teeth gritting harder by the moment as he suppresses the ingrained desire to give into the desire to depart. Sleep-addled as he is, the desire to get away is stronger than it normally would be, but there's something bracing about the growing calamity, and cemented by what Lanlan ultimately says, " You're...serious? " A quick sidelong glance towards the arena has the Kensai's jaw shifting, "...Or just telling me what I want to hear." Mahri's words clearly hit home. Congraulations Lanlan, you have Kas' full attention right now, and there's a distinct scent of ozone starting to sink into the air, "Convenient timing, anyways." And when it comes to fight or flight, there's certainly options that the Kensai prefers.

Kreekitaka paused in confusion at Orikahn's gesture. Wasn't it HIS job to stop the fight, not Kree's? Another glance at the ring showed even more rule-breaking at hand, and he waved a claw towards them. "You cannoTAH! say she is ayoweDAH! TAH!oo acTAH! yike -HHHTHaTAH!-."

Lanara frowns slightly when Khitti mentions that she’s rejoining the Necromancer’s Guild, but she understands the need to learn all there is to know about dark magic. It’s not like Khitti was going to go around using her powers for nefarious means, she wasn’t like Gevurah! Plus, with the marks on her hands, and so many visits to and from the Shadow Plane, it probably was for the best that she be prepared and ready to face whatever was thrown her way. A nod is given, as Bradyn is mentioned, despite the fact that Lanara had little if anything to do with nobles in her lifetime. “Hm. I’ll be sure to be polite.” The witch is charming to a fault, on most days, but she would be extra careful about this dark magic user, since Khitti held the male in high regards. She trusted her friends judgment. People in the audience are screaming bloody murder as Quintessa is surely about to face her imminent death, and poor Aira is pushed towards the exit! Lanara stops eating her popcorn as she can sense the powerful spell that Gev is weaving, and she glances at the redhead, “I think it’s about to get ugly in here… Well, -more- ugly than it’s been.”

Ihrakah watches the cloaker with impassive interest as it skulks around the edge of the ring, bearing down on the younger of the two combatants. Ihrakah's balefire eyes narrow; subterfuge, it was disgustingly dishonourable, but what more could be expected of a drow? A drow plys deceit like a merchant plys coin, it is as currency in the Underdark, with thrones won and lost in trickery alone. The giant grunts, exhaling a gout of vapour as he watches Quintessa tumble from her mount, who takes the hit for her, then rather carelessly takes the life of her own minion. Quite an interesting battle tactic, to be sure. When the cloakers shriek resounds out around the arena, causing mass panic, Ihrakah remains in position, as still as a statue. While the eerie howl does elicit faint memories of terror in the paladins mind, his utter disregard for self-preservation smothers any inclination to flee. Death isn't as bad as you think, so why run, eh?

Gevurah looked at Ihrakah.

Eleanor had a weird taste in her mouth, like copper pieces, and she worked her jaw as if trying to dispel it. Her gaze shifted first toward Kasyr and then Gevurah and back again, and the smirk she'd been holding onto earlier faded into a vague frown. She took the growing tensions of the event to be the perfect time to leave, and helping herself to another drink on the way out, she was gone into the night.

Khitti seems to be taking the chaos and screaming in stride. “Oh, this happened last time I was here. Gevurah and Shishi were fighting to get Tenbatsu Kaji. The sword didn’t like it. It came to me. There was shenanigans. It’s totally fine! Plus, I can just shadowstep us the hell out of here if I need to.” Sorry, Lanara, this fight is only just getting good! “Wooo! LET’S GO GEVURAH! LET’S GO VAKMATHRAS! Kick her to the void!!”

Lanlan doesn't believe he needs to say too much to convince Kasyr he's telling the truth. "Right about everything," he says. He's serious, telling Kas what he wants to hear, and the timing -is- extremely convenient. "You'll have to get her eye out of that frozen hillbilly town though." Lanlan has no way of knowing where Luffy's last remnant of existence is, right? So he must've had this vision.

Orikahn mouthes a silent "ah" as the recollection strikes him. Yes, she was the girl from the mud-wrestling cage match. "That's right, how'd you..." He turns around, and Aira has vanished, "know..." Meanwhile, things are developing quickly. Though the band does their best to put some courage back into the crowd, they haven't managed to stop the surge. Several of the wealthy dwarven backers themselves have fled, but one with bardic talents still remains, and he climbs up beside Kree on the judges' podium to shout in magically amplified tones: "Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain calm." His placid, authoritative tones echo over the panicked throng. Orikahn, meanwhile, readies himself to leap into the ring and break up the official fight. Rules are rules, and it's plain that Gevurah has broken them. The cat's face wrinkles in a feral snarl, but as he takes his first step toward the contenders, he freezes. Some sixth sense stirs his psyche, and his eyes snap up in time to spot Aira being swallowed by the crowd. He hesitates, torn between duty to the Ring and duty to his Mate. Truthfully, he'd tried to defer, but Kreekitaka is right. It was Kahn's responsibility to call the fight. Well! He who hesitates is lost. The contestants can sort themselves out. Neglecting his duties as an official, Orikahn sprints off like a bolt toward Aira as she disappears in the surge. In fleet strides, he springs railing to bannister to column. In a prodigious leap, he springs onto a banner and glides down it, claws shredding the fabric as he glides down and, before she can disappear beneath trampling feet, snatches Aira's upraised hand. His grip on the banner clenches, and he pulls hard to pry the foxkin out of the throng and up to safety.

Quintessa struggles to free herself from under the dead spider, using her sword as a lever to pry the spider from of off her. Gevurah was getting closer, if she didn't get up soon she would lose her opportunity to destroy her. Outside of the ring Bloodbeak thrashes around recklessly, throwing himself into what remains on the crowd, crushing bystanders and bleachers alike as the three meters of armored terror tries to escape the cloaker. He smashes his helmed head repeatedly over and over on the ground, trying to smash the creature into oblivion. Down in the ring Quintessa can feel the oppressive force of Vakmatharas, and she knows it is now her chance. The hex blade exhales, her own oppressive aura expanding as a black mist that fills the floor of the arena, carrying with it her malice and hatred for Gevurah and her patron deity. Quintessa can feel Vakmatharas's own power, so she focuses on it and wraps her own aura around it, engulfing it, stifling it, and then ultimately nullifying the curse completely. As the pain in her chest disappears, Quintessa cackles madly. "Yes, it work!" She pulls her legs from under the spider and rises slowly, his mismatched eyes gleaming with murderous intent as she brings her sword to her side. "Vakmatharas cannot save you any longer." She says, stepping forward slowly, "You've spent your life kissing his feet for nothing!" Quintessa rushes forward, bringing down her sword with enough force to bisect the drow, attempting to split in from shoulder to hip in a diagonal line.

Aira is fierce and mighty and large...in attitude, but not exactly in stature. She can hold her own but with a swell of people she's easily overcome and one wrong move sends her down on one knee and she runs the risk of being trampled. Pulling her knife won't do anything except illicit more panic so she feels trapped. She's looking for a way out, completely oblivious to what's going on in the match, only to feel her extended arm being yanked up by Orikahn. With his help she manages to anchor herself safely along a banister. Aside from a torn knee in her leggings and few scrapes she's fine. "I guess this makes up for you looking at Lanara's ass," she comments as a means of thanks with a small smile. "Maybe you should do something about that?" she adds inclining her chin towards the chaotic match.

Gevurah‘s eyes bulge in surprise as Quintessa completely nullifies the spell. The high priestess immediately recognizes the power behind Quintessa: Caluss. How? With her chest still heaving from her spell, Gevurah is slow to react. Just before the black mist shrouded the drow’s vision (both light and infrared), Gevurah saw that Quintessa was almost free of the spider and will be coming for her with the sword. The cacophony of panic in the stadium masks Quintessa’s footfalls, so the drow cannot rely on her ears either. By the time Quintessa is close enough for Gevurah to see Quintessa’s heat signature through the mist, the spellblade will be too close for Gevurah to evade the sword. Like a goalie defending against penalties (ooc note for the nerds: this is a soccer reference, see me after class if you need an explainer), Gevurah must choose to dive left, right, or stand in the middle before she even sees her opponent’s strike. It’s pure luck. Maybe Gevurah will get lucky. She dives to the left. The katana cuts cleanly through the snakeskin dress, down Gevurah’s sternum, across her lower two right ribs, and through to her hip. Blood pours like water from a spring and the drow howls in pain. She aims a cone of fire in the direction from which Quintessa struck, hoping to burn the spellblade alive, but in the mist she’s at a heavy disadvantage. She runs, weakly, slowly, pressing her hands onto her bleeding wound, aiming for the edge of the ring, but trips over the tarantula leg that her umber hulk had ripped off prior to the cloaker’s attack. She falls with a thud and the leg pushes into the wound. She’s seeing stars and struggling to stay conscious.

Kasy was in the process of rising, but that specific line of inquiry causes him to pause entirely. He hadn't mentioned where he was carrying Luffys eye to anyone, nor should anyone have been privvy to the idea that it was still intact. It's enough to abate the Kensais ire, for the moment, "If you're lying, I -won't- just stop at just you, this time. " The swordsman finally does finish rising to his feet, though his movements are less hostile than originally planned, his hands simply finding their way to his pockets as he takes in a quick survey of the pandemonium that's since taken root in the room, "...So, uh. This what you were here to see?"

Khitti || Things are definitely taking a turn for the worse. And while Khitti is always in situations sort of like this, Lanara definitely is not. Or, not as often, at least. “Alright, alright. Maybe we -should- go.” She checks her cup to make sure she didn’t miss any ale--she didn’t, sadly--then shoves a whole handful of popcorn in her mouth. “Come ‘ere,” she said as she swallowed the snack, an arm held out to reach around Lanara’s waist and keep her close while Khitti shadow-stepped them away from the majority of the chaos. In some alternate universe, this whole event would probably be some crazy sort of date, and Khitti’d smooch Lanara, and whisk her off to safety. Look, -this- Khitti can’t deny that her best friend is attractive, okay? Even though she’s never actually said it. But, she does do the whisking her off to safety thing! To the nearest exit that isn’t being assault by a stampede of crazed spectators trying to also get the hell out.

Orikahn dropped 100 funnel cake. Gevurah picked up 1 funnel cake. Gevurah picked up 1 funnel cake. Gevurah picked up 1 funnel cake. Gevurah is tempted to take all of them cause drow gonna drow.... Gevurah ate 1 funnel cake. Kasyr picked up 1 funnel cake. Kasyr picked up 1 funnel cake. Kasyr picked up 1 funnel cake. Kasyr picked up 1 funnel cake. Kasyr picked up 1 funnel cake. Kasyr picked up 1 funnel cake. Kasyr picked up 1 funnel cake. Quintessa picked up 1 funnel cake.

Kreekitaka had seen enough. Orikahn had run away, neither combatant was paying attention to the rules of the fight, the crowd wasn't paying attention anyway because of the scary whateverfishcloakthing, and it was time to wrap this up. His jawblade tapped loudly against the little area in which he stood, each hit resonating a little deeper as the weapon charged up power, collecting energy with each impact. One claw tugged at the ripcord that dumped a half-dozen different potions into his water tanks. And just as Gevurah was cut into and started to flee, Kree leaped into action--literally, hurling himself from the balcony down towards the fight below, aiming himself for a spot between the two combatants. As he reached the ground, his jawblade swung out and downward, blunt side facing the ground, and the uyeer triggered its enchantment to release a colossal shockwave that blasted across the arena as though a bomb had gone off in the middle, likely clearing away the black mist and making enough thunderous NOISE to drown out every other sound in the arena, leaving the colosseum silent for a brief moment in the aftermath of his attack--hopefully enough to knock both competitors off their feet--well, Gevurah was already off hers by now, but he couldn't have foreseen that when he made the jump. Rising to his full eight feet of height and raising his weapon again with an angry twirl, he pointed to both of them. "Cease! You are boHHHTH in vioyation of HHHTHe TAH!erms of HHHTHis fighTAH!"

Orikahn picked up 1 funnel cake. Kreekitaka picked up 1 funnel cake. Orikahn picked up 1 funnel cake. Vexar picked up 1 funnel cake. Magik picked up 1 funnel cake.

Magik said, "Ooh. Funnel cake." Magik cheers for Tessa and boos Gevurah regardless of what may be going on. And more boos for anyone booing Tessa. Boo to you too.

Lanlan catches a glimpse of Quintessa pinned hilariously under her own giant tarantula, and then sees Gevurah stalking closer with victory in mind. Lanlan knows what's about to happen. He's seen it before. She'll stand above her helpless victim and end her short life in the beautifully grotesque way that is her signature. So dramatic, so personal, so bloody. "Okay get on with it," he mumbles, not realizing something's gone wrong in the spellcasting. Where was the kaboom? Then a dark mist fills the air, obscuring the combatants. It wasn't Gevurah. She wouldn't deprive him of seeing her bloody triumph. It better not have been Gevurah. There's an agonized wail that echoes even louder for him than the combined cheers and jeers of the entire arena. Lanlan jumps out of his seat and starts shoving his way through onlookers. He looks to his left, finds a D'Artes agent. In the drow language, he orders: "Gather everyone. Circle the fighting ring and close in. Three stay behind to block him." Then he runs into the mist, calling out Gevurah's name into it blindly and waiting for a response. Essentially playing Marco Polo. Then Kreekitaka lands, trembling the earth under his feet and clearing the mist. His sense of balance fails and its difficult to determine how to plant his feet to find the ground. He chooses wrong and hits the ground. In an instant he's standing. It's Quintessa he sees first. D'Artes fighters will reach her first. He scans the arena. There she is. He sprints to Gevurah's side, arriving with two of her minions. He unclasps his cape and the three of them use it like a hammock to carry her out of the ring. Upon his exit, he sees the soldiers closing in around Quin and Kreekitaka. He strikes an imaginary match and throws it on the ground. In one second, behind the ring of drow footsoldiers, a blazing ring of fire bursts to life behind them.

Gevurah was just getting back up when Kreekitaka knocks her back down with his booming landing in the ring. She’s too weak to catch herself properly, and her head hits the stone floor hard. Her vision begins to tunnel, but she prays to Vakmatharas for strength and is imbued with just enough energy to try and get up again, to make her escape on her own, to survive as she always has. But then Lanlan arrives. Normally the presence of an ambitious former patron would send a matron into panic mode at a time like this, but instead Gevurah lets herself succumb to the sweet pull of unconsciousness, mollified by the knowledge that Lanlan won’t let anything bad happen to her.

Quintessa hits the deck as the flames threaten to engulf her, barely escaping as the ends of her hair are singed again. As luck would have it, she'd already had her hair burnt off once, keeping it short had already paid off. The hex blade is about to move to disarm Gevurah, quite literally, when the strange crab monster that was hanging above drops down to stop the fight. Quintessa braces herself against the shockwave, growling furiously as her obscuring mist dissipates. "What?" the changeling cannot understand him when he talks, but is still quick to rise to argue with him. "Step aside, Crustacean! The cave elf must die!" In the crowd, Bloodbeak has finally ridded himself of his helm (and the cloaker attached), sending it flying across the arena with a finally shake. Without his special visor, the cockatrice is more dangerous than ever. Keen bird eyes spot his master in peril, and the three meter bird leaps from the stands into the ring, rushing by the drow hit-squad to join Quintessa, who swiftly climbs upon his saddle. With her katana pointed at Kreekitaka, Bloodbeak makes passive gaze attacks at the drow, trying to petrify them before they can even move to attack. "See? Quickly, now, let's join forces to destroy them!"

Orikahn climbs onto the banister beside Aira. Her words of gratitude strike him askew, and the huntress earns herself a dubious smirk. Kahn can ponder on this exchange through the coming days, for there is plenty more work to be done, and now that he's in the stands, he plans to put himself to use there. A fleeing crowd is just a frightened herd of another kind, and Kahn has instincts enough to deal with those. Now that Aira is safely out of harms way, the sabercat leaps down into the fray and does his part to help steer the panicked egress of attendees. This he does with piercing roars, nipping fangs, and stinging claws. All-in-all, it's hard to guess whether or not he's served to mitigate or exacerbate the issue, but one thing is for sure, the crowd is definitely moving faster! At least Orikahn pauses to pluck up the occasional fallen before they can be trampled. That counts as helping, yes?

Ihrakah stirs as the fight reaches its climax. When the drow's blood is drawn, the giant grumbles approvingly, however when he notices the uyeer begin to ready himself to join the fray, the armor-clad giant reaches one hand down to grasp the shaft of the anchor, hauling it up from the ground before dropping it with a resounding clang on his pauldron-clad shoulder. Grinding and groaning, he takes one heavy step down the stands after another, soon bringing him towards the edge of the ring as Kree launches himself into the fray. As the uyeer's jawblade releases its energy into the floor, Ihrakah's eyes glazed blue in appreciation at the destruction. Once he has reached the ring's edge, Ihrakah heaves his anchor aloft once more, holding it like an executioner's blade over the empty space. "YeTAH HHHTHe fighTAH conTAHinue" the giant growls at Kree in his own dialect, a foul spray of fetid water spurting from his faceplate as he stares down the uyeer.

Aira picked up 1 funnel cake. Aira vanished before your eyes, perhaps never to be seen again.

Kreekitaka rumbled ominously. The cockatrice's gaze attack, in a surprising twist of fate, didn't even seem to make Kree slow down. Instead, the crabman snapped a pair of knitting needles into his claws from his utility belt, already prepared with sturdy thread. Needles already in motion, tentacles moving so fast you could barely see them, what was simple thread became a lariat in a heartbeat, and the rope was flung neatly towards Quintessa and her birdthing, attempting to lasso either the creature's neck, the rider, an ankle, or some combination of all of the above. Then, with a sturdy tug, the crab's next move would be aimed towards bringing whatever he had caught to the ground. "No," he said, as much of an answer to Ihrakah as it was to Quintessa. "HHHTHe TAH!erms have been broken. I mus' enDAH! HHHTHe fighTAH! here." And declare a winner, said a small voice in the back of his head, reminding him that he's the judge, not the ring marshal, but apparently also the ring marshal tonight? "An' I mus' aoso pick a winner!' he roared, raising his voice to try and salvage what was left of the audience.

Kasyr might have a vested interest in what Lanlan has been selling to him with those words- but there's a secondary reason that he kept so much of his attention on the drow. The deceptive nature of the man, and his talents are somewhat hard to miss, and there'd been a lurking suspicion that he was going to meddle in the endeavours occurring. It's why Kasyr isn't really all that surprised when the agonized wail sets the illusionist in motion. The fact that he finds himself with a trio of playmates courtesy of Gevurahs protective playmate isn't lost on him, either, especially given the language Lanlan used to address them, "Is this really the time?" Trying to take another step forward results in a pair of swords being raised, and a crossbow being leveled at his head. "Right." His thumb flicks beneath the hilt of his katana in tandem with a spark of electrical energy, abruptly projecting the blade clear of it's sheathe in a blur of motion that sends it crunching pommel first into the throat of the man sporting a crossbow. Before he even has time to crumple to the floor, or the illusion has time to fizzle apart, Kasyr's catching the sword during it's ricochet, bringing it down to split one of the swordsman in half, before flicking it straight up through the lungs of what would have been the sole survivor, and Slamming him violently down the steps of the stand after Lanlan. "You get back here you little Sh-" Kasyr's at this point found himself on the heels of Kree and Quin, and he's -less- than impressed that there's even more soldiers. "It's a trap. Of course, it's a trap." Probably meant for Quintessa, no less- which is about the point the Kensai's spitefulness ramps up straight into overdrive. Suffice to say, when the swordsman reaches into his sleeve, there's little surprise that it's to withdraw a Mithril scalpel- though when it's hurled, it lacks the usual fanfare of ozone and crackling lightning. Mostly because it's aimed for Lanlan's back- and if there's even a fraction of truth in what he said, the swordsman needs him alive. ...Just not intact.

Quintessa struggles to keep up with what the crabman was doing, his tentacles quick and off-putting. She narrows her eyes of blue and hazel, trying to keep up with the moments, but before she realizes what's going on, the loop has tightened around her. At the last second her blade slides between her body and the rope, but that doesn't keep her atop her mount. Slamming her into the ground with her second "Oof!" of the night. Her katana slices through the rope swiftly before she picks herself back up again, glaring at the crustacean. "Fine, the match is over." Quintessa's glare flickers over to Geveruh's unconscious form and she spits on the floor. "But our fight isn't over. I'll hunt this bitch down later."

Lanlan and another drow are lifting Gevurah out of the ring and directly into the stands where they can find her cover and get her stabilized. With a wave of his hand, he stunts the dancing arches of his illusionary wall of fire to see if anyone had designs on following them. Her soldiers were fodder, and he all but ensured they'd be victorious or dead, wrapping them in an imaginary blaze. They had no choice but to advance. Kasyr had other choices, and he didn't make them. Lanlan sees a silvery twinkle between himself and Kasyr. "No." He curls his fingers inside his minion's collar and yanks, pulling him in the path of the scalpel with one hand while he steadies Gevurah on the ledge of the stands. He hears the subtle puncture in his meat shield, and climbs the stands. He loops Gevurah's arm around his shoulder and finds her insignia on her person, activating it. He leaps, and with the levitation magic waiting in her insignia, they float high and far in a huge arc.After passing behind the shadow of a stalactite, they mysteriously vanish.

Kreekitaka looked around, now that there was a lull, and now that the soldiers were fully distracted by--was that Kasyr?--and the fire in the ring was still raging, and all this nonsense that had occurred had ruined his good fight, and nobody was paying attention to who he declared the winner anyhow, and both contestants didn't follow the rules... so, Kree decided, screw it. He'd judge this match based solely on who he wanted to fight. And he knew exactly who he wanted to fight. "HHHTHe winner is... Ihrakah," he announced, loudly enough for Orikahn to hear it, walking over to the giant in a pile of armor and attempting to raise his hand to the crowd, "because I wanTAH! noHHHTHing TAH!oo DAH!oo wiHHHTH eiHHHTHer of your wickeDAH!, -sneaky- TAH!acTAH!ics. You boHHHTH oughTAH! TAH!oo be ashameDAH!, an' I hope your moHHHTHers eaTAH! you."

Ihrakah growls at Kree's response. "TAH!erms… HHHTHese women DAH!oo noTAH! care for your TAH!erms. Yet HHHTHem deayo wiTAH eachoHHHTHeyo in HHHTHeir own TAH!erms, wiHHHTHouTAH! your inTAH!ference". With his vehement speech complete, the giant takes a ponderous step over the edge of the ring, as if walking into thin air, before he drops into the ring, landing on his feet with a resounding crunch of metal. "When DAH!iDAH! HHHTHe Uyeer ever care abouTAH! TAH!erms in HHHTHeir wars?" The giant holds his anchor before him like a fighter would a broadsword, its curved tines facing upwards as the giant faces off against the uyeer.

Quintessa shakes her head is disbelief. "Who? No! That's against the rules! He wasn't even in the match. Mistrial! We need a new judge, this one is daff in the head!" Quintessa is fuming. Some rando in the crowd didn't deserve it.

Kasyr doesn’t seem all that perturbed at Lanlan’s last minute interposition of another meat shield. Really, somewhere between introducing his fist to a soldiers face, and in turn, introducing what was formerly that soldiers sword his companions groin, the Kensai musters the time to provide Lanlan a one finger salute, before getting back to business. At least the adrenaline is helping keep him awake. He’ll just, need a nap after this, likely. "This is so stupid, quand meme." The end is more or less nigh, and here they were stabbing each other. Again.

Orikahn has been asked to stop "helping" usher the frightened patrons. Well phooey. The sabercat climbs down through the messy seats, playing a silent game of hopscotch as he avoids stepping in a puddle of beer here and a mat of soggy popcorn there. Eventually, he arrives at the ring to find a few stragglers bickering on the field of combat. "Hm? Clear out. Show's over." Orikahn shoos them along. Nevermind one of them is the judge and another is one of the fighters. "Fight's moot without a crowd. Look." Sure enough, the last of the crowd is filing out now, and bedraggled janitors are creeping in with brooms, pails, and sullen eyes. The fight may be over, but their day has just begun.

Quintessa looked at Ihrakah.

Kasyr said to Orikahn, "You need better security. The audience getting ambushed, quand meme."

Kreekitaka had some disagreements to sort out. To Quintessa, he said, "You DAH!isquayifieDAH! yourseff. As has... whoever your opponenTAH! was. So you boHHHTH yose. So I pick who I wish TAH!oo fighTAH!." He gestured to Ihrakah next to him. "An' I wanTAH! TAH!oo fighTAH! him. To the big pile of metal, he said, "HHHTHen I am even more jusTAH!ifieDAH! in sTAH!opping HHHTHem." He gestured around to the empty stadium as he started to move towards the exit. "NoboDAH!ee came here TAH!oo see HHHTHem sTAH!ab each oHHHTHer in HHHTHe back yike cowarDAH!s. HHHTHey came for a fighTAH! of a DAH!ifferenTAH! sorTAH!. If HHHTHey wish TAH!oo syay each oHHHTHer ouTAH!siDAH!, iTAH! is of no concern TAH!oo me, buTAH! I haDAH! a job TAH!oo perform, an' I beyeev I have DAH!one whaTAH! was requireDAH! of me."

Kreekitaka said, "An' I wanTAH! TAH!oo fighTAH! him."

Orikahn said to Kasyr, "Oh yeah?" Rather than take a bit of sensible advice in the face of yet-another-fight-gone-awry, the unruly sabercat glowers menacingly and balls his hand into an upraised fist. "Secure *this.*"

Quintessa quivers with angers, only barely able understand a little of what Kreekitaka was saying. She wasn't about to stand down yet. "Gevurah is the one who cheated, sicked a cloaker on me and everything! The moment the crowd panicked and the drow tried to assassinate me, the match was over. I only defended myself! If anything disqualify us both, but don't give the victory to some plebeian simply because you want to fight him! That's bias favoritism! This isn't about you- you- you- Stupid crab!" The changeling is too angry to think about the fact that she's insulting something that could easily crush her.

Kasyr's attempt at some modicum of self control is relatively short-lived, given the days he's having. Channeling all the haggard energy that can only be coaxed forth by days on end of insomnia, the Kensai returns the glower, "I thought the spectacle was over, but you're doing a good job of making one of yourself, monsieur."

Orikahn folds his arms over his chest in cool appraisal. Rather than stoking the coals of Kahn's ire, Kasyr's retort (or perhaps the mirrored glower, more than anything) seems to have earned a flake of respect from the sabercat. "You've got warrior juju," he observes. "Security, hm?" Orikahn scratches his chin and nods. "And I suppose you'll be the one doing the securing, hmm?"

Ihrakah stops in his tracks, his blazing gaze flickering with surprise at the uyeer's response. Frozen stock still while he processes this information, Ihrakah finds himself experiencing an emotion he hadn't come across in quite some time. Surprise. As he lowers his anchor slightly, he regards the uyeer with narrowed eyes of suspicion, yet curiosity. "I was misTAH!aken HHHTHen." He eventually grumbles, a ponderous cloud of mist hissing from his helmet. "You surprise me, KreekiTAH!ka. I have known onyee uyeer who care noTAH! for ruyes and honour, I haDAH! HHHTHoughTAH! you no different. BuTAH! I stand correcTAH!DAH!." With a screech of metal, the giant turns his head to regard Quintessa. Lapsing out of uyeer dialect, he addresses her in as clear Common as he can muster, though it is slow and shot through with unsettling gurgles and splutters of fluid. "I apologise for being brought between you and your victory. You are correct, your opponent indeed transgressed. I was not a participant and your victory should be rightfully granted." Ihrakah turns back to Kree with a wrenching groan. "HHHTHe chiyod is noTAH! incorrecTAH!, she TAH!ransgresseDAH! onyee in seyf defence, aybiet overyee exuberanTAH!yee. She DAH!serves the honour she has earneDAH!. AfTAH! HHHTHis, I, EeeRAH!KAH! wiyo gyadyee face you in combaTAH!"

Kasyr could have done with some more fisticuffs to keep the adrenaline going, and stay awake. What he's left with instead are the cooling embers of his irritation, and the fact that's he's possibly volunteered himself for something. "I -could- help, yes." That doesn't sound enthusiastic, more resigned, than anything- but this is what he gets for opening his mouth, "Probably someone more magic savvy, too- given they smuggled a strike force into here." There's a sort of offhand gesture towards the soldiers, but given they're in various states of maimed and murdered, well . . .

Orikahn considers Kasyr's observations and finds himself agreeing. Well, yes, the did infiltrate the crowd with covert militant operatives, didn't they? "Easy, stranger," before you put us all to shame. Orikahn slowly extends a hand for Kasyr to shake, should the swordsman accept the gesture. "This is good talk. I like good talk. I like good talk better," he slides Kasyr a sly, dry glance, "with good drinks. We can continue this conversation next door," where you can't embarrass me with obvious improvements to security that we haven't implemented yet.

Quintessa turns her head to the giant, her mismatched eyes softening as he actually agrees with her. This surprises her enough that she actually feels bad for insulting him, he wasn't a plebeian at all; this was a man of culture! She gives him a smile and nod before turning back to Kreekitaka. She furrows her brow, trying to follow. "Fine, you're right, I should have actually trained the spider instead of herding it into the arena and hoping it fought well. I will at least concede to that. Killing it was... regrettable but necessary." She has calmed down enough that she finally puts her weapon away. Quintessa scoffs, but she doesn't argue. Victory by technically felt hollow but it was still a victory. Something to defame Gevurah with when she spread word that she'd lost to Quintessa in the Red Skull Trophy Tourney. The changeling smirks at the crab monster. "What, scared of a little girl?" she laughs at Kreekitaka. "I don't care about fighting you. There's nothing to gain from it. I only did this to get to Lionel, but that fell through. Fight whoever you want."

Kasyr passes the pilfered sword between his hands for a moment, before finally deciding to bury it into the body of one of the nearby drow on the ground, at about which point he does return Orikahns gesture to shake hands. “That, that sounds alright, oui.” The kensai pauses for a moment, before carefully adding, “Oh, et it’s Kasyr. ..Azakhaer. If we’re doing introductions. Though- I might have someone come along if the offer of drinks can be extended to one more?” Quintessa’s given a sidelong glance during this, the swordsman wriggling his fingers at her in an effort to get her attention- in the hopes that her current bits of banter with Kree aren’t apt to consume the whole of her attention.

Ihrakah makes no response to Quintessa, keeping his attention trained on Kree. "ITAH! is seTAH!aDAH! HHHTHen." The giant raises his anchor once more and his rear foot slides backwards in the dirt that coats the cement floor of the arena as he assumes a readied stance. "Clear the arena!" He shouts in a burst of bilgewater. "HHHTHen we wiyo fighTAH!"

Orikahn shakes the kensai's hand firmly, then follows his gaze over to Quintessa where it looks like her argument with the judge is finally beginning to abate. "Bring her, yes, that is good." Introductions, right. "Kasyr... bless you. I am Orikahn. You will call me Kahn." The feline releases the handshake and cracks his knuckles. All-in-all, he looks pretty unphased by the night's disastrous events. You might even say he seems pleased with himself.

Quintessa notices Kasyr and her mood improves ten fold. "Mon amour!" she rushes to his side. "You watched my match! Everything was going well until that snake cheated, but what can you expect from inbred cave elves?"

Kasyr quirks an eyebrow for a moment, before he reaches over to Quintessa and begins to ruffle her newly shortened hair. "Looks good on you. ...The hair I mean, though- I guess there's something to be said about the blood of your enemies." He draws his hand up to his face, the back of it covering his mouth as he suppresses a yawn, before he carefully adds, "Before the trap sprung, Lanlan said he'd figured out a way to bring Luffy back. Part of what distracted moi." Part of why the kensai hadn't tried to explicitly murder the man. His attention flicks back towards Orikahn about about this point, doing his best to adopt a friendly expression, and ultimately just managing to look marginally less worn out than he is, "C'est un plaisir, Kahn. :Lead the way, if you would.. I don't venture to this region all that often, to be fair. Haven't had a need to in some time."