RP:Inspiring The Hottest New Merch

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

Summary: Where the foundation is set for Ina profiting off someone's death. That, and a lot of unnecessary commentary.

Tar Pits

A large clearing in this stark and frightening forest is filled by a circular pool of black bubbling ooze. It appears to be a rather ancient tar pit around forty feet across with numerous smaller pools of similar shining black ooze. The clearing is well hidden and judging by the large marks and dishevelment around the edges of the pool many poor creatures have not seen it coming and have fallen into the thick warm sludge and been drug down into its murky depths for an unpleasant end. The smell around the tar is acrid and and a thick stench of ancient decay hangs in the air like a sickening miasma. The place is eerily silent bar the strange bubbling and popping of air bubbles that rise to the surface of the tar and burst sometimes spectacular with a large pop sending splodges of tar in all directions scarring the nearby landscape and slowly increasing the size of the pool. Though it will be some time before it could be considered a threat.

Arlyeons' ventures involving being a bookie haven't been the -most- successful. Which is why she's running a different hustle today- Overpriced concession food. That's right, Ina is now handing out overly chewy candy, freshly roasted sausages, and grog for a notable mark-up- with no competition to be found. Partly because said competition can be found stuffed in a barrel and under the influence of some serious soporifics. "Ja snooze, ja lose." Still, considering this is yet -more- crimes, she's not here as herself. No, Ina's here -looking- like the normal vendor, so they can take all the flak for the price mark-ups. Aoife said to Jinfeng, "You really do get assigned the worst battlefields, don't you?"

Jinfeng said to Aoife, "this land is truly cursed."

Meri said to Aoife, "Excuse you."

Aoife said to Jinfeng, "Mostly just full of the dead, I think."

Aoife made her way away from Jin in preparation for the fight. Skirting the actual pits on behalf of the sheer stench, if less for safety. Settling in to watch.

Meri :: Today’s duel will take place at the edge of the tarpits. The seating for spectators has been placed a good distance away from the edge of the pits, ensuring that they are plenty safe. The duelists, however, run the risk of getting pushed in by their opponent. The set up for the seating area is the same as it has been for the duration of the tournament. The crowd has the basics, while Balgruuf gets to sit in a comfortable and cushioned seating area. The Frostmaw Giant might be a battle hardened warrior, but that does not mean that his backside needs to suffer needlessly while watching a bit of bloodshed. As soon as Balgruuf has been made aware that both combatants are present, his commanding voice announces the matchup for today. “Today we are watching the second battle in round two of our annual tournament. It is between the fiery Demeter and the nimble monk, Jinfeng. Best of luck to both combatants.”

Ina from her cozy vantage as a generic-looking vendor, takes a bite out of a corn dog. "Nimble mook- hehehe."

Jinfeng was truly sent to fight at the nicest places. This place did not reek quite as badly of death as the last place he'd been to, but it was still quite unpleasant, much as his distaste for the place doesn't quite show on his face. Yin was strong here, as well, though again not quite to the degree of before - life surrounded them, and a quirk of the field meant that, by trapping the bodies and life energy of those that fell into it, while the air above the pit and the gasses it exhudes were nearly pure Yin, the tar itself was near to saturated with the energy of Yang harvested over the many, many years. Jinfeng enters the arena, dressed once more in his azure Hanfu, this time with a pair of long knives crossed at his back. the knives themselves were made of wood, but weapons they were still. They would serve their purpose. He stands on the edge of the tarpit, looking out into it for a moment, then turns to face Demeter, reaching behind himself to pull free those wooden blades, holding them backhand, the flat of their blades pressed against his forearms. "It's a pleasure to see you again. Shall we?" His arms move forward, settling into a relaxed fighting stance.

Aoife actually resizes, in a flash of light, to take up a seat. So as to avoid being sat on while making use of the provided comfort. Though even resized she was a petite thing barely larger than a child. Her dark hair and pale skin making a striking contrast as she folds her legs up and wraps her arms around the lot. Giving her face a rather smooshed look as she rests her face against her knees, looking for all the world like a profoundly bored bewinged teenager. Which wasn't all that far from the truth.

Demeter entered the arena where she will fight Jinfeng, a black cloak upon her person and hood on her head. Will steam swirling off the fabric as it erupts into flames, burning away to ashes at the ground revealing Demeter’s choice in armor.The cursed avian’s armor consists of a black armor suit, spiked shoulder gauntlets in the shape of wings. Across her chest plate a firebird, upon her back a shield used to where she can either use to protect her front or protect her wings.While the right one was wrapper only in the area where it is healing from previous battle. To her right hip is a magnificent sword of platinum hue, detailed with a large ruby resembling a phoenix eye, moving around as if it was looking about. Along her plated legging hold her six throwing daggers, which were beginning to release steam. Black band makeup across her eyes, one going up and down across her lips making the scars across her face seem more dominant then usual, nose more crooked than before thanks to Dawn. On the neck hangs the same ruby-like phoenix eye that has been enchanted to keep her wings from catching ablaze. In Demeter’s right hand she holds her spear identical ruby to the of the sword, while the left holds a bottle of whiskey half full. A black cigarette pinched between her pale pink lips, puffing out smoke as a firebird lands nearby disguised as an owl. Lifting up the hand that holds the spear to hold the cigarette while taking a long swig of the whiskey, placing the cigarette back between her lips. The right side of her head, she has shaved, rest of her hair in braids with razor blades glistening with any light that reflects. “við hittumst aftur, þú skalt koma fyrir logum mínum í öskuhaug!” She yells out, with a smirk. “That means we meet again, you shall befall my flames in a pile of ash!” Demeter stands her full height of six foot, the smirk still present as she knew blood will be shed again.

Loravelle checks that her headscarf is on right and its matching face cover is pulled up over her nose so only her eyes are visible once she's sat down. Not that she wants to be hidden. It's the tar stench that she's trying to block out. She frowns a little at the combatants. Should've worn hanfu today instead of her mother's clothes. The tan abaya she's wrapped in is comfy, though.

Ina notes the discomfort that certain other audiences are having- especially given they lack the cloying scent of fried grease and sweets to mask that of the tar. "Also, iffun the venues got your stomach lurching- try our patented scent-be-gone nose guards." Also known as, torn strips of dish rag that have been soaked in lemon-scented water. That's it. That's all your 1 gold is buying you.

Jinfeng chuckles. Demeter -was- quite aggressive, wasn't she? In that case, no need to leave her waiting. He begins to approach, as before his posture seeming like one in no hurry, almost gliding over the ground, his robes hiding the movement of his legs almost entirely, and yet he approaches her with a swiftness that belies this grace. As he does. his knives flip smoothly into a forward grip, and he begins to slash, arms moving in a wide circle, both arms lashing out simultaniously, first at her right shoulder and left hip, then rotating clockwise and continuing the motion into a secondary slash, the left blade now aimed at her shoulder and the right at her hip. One would think these blades merely bludgeons, and thus likely ignore the slashes, to their peril. In fact, Jinfeng's Breath flowed through the edges of the blades, causing them to rip and tear into flesh, stone, and even to some degree metal on contact, and hardening them until they were no less durable than blades of steel, the results of which should his attacks make contact would likely be no small amount of damage, as if the limb in question had been slashed by a chainsaw. As his attacks finish, the blades would immediately continue their spinning motion, returning smoothly and rapidly to their guard position, ready to intercept any counterattack.

Demeter noted the two wooden weapons, thinking wood weapons against a pyromancer in a pool of tar, he was carrying two matches in her mind. Taking a long draw from her cigarette but not too much as to keep it lit, once more taking a drink from her whiskey. Keeping that in her grasp as well. Twirling her spear around with one hand, the steam from the daggers moves up spreading along her body as the rest of the flesh begins to emit its own steam. The black ink about her form began to twist and change colors to that of crimson as a sign she was getting ready to cast her fire. Turning her head side to side with echos of popping sounds, rotating her shoulders with a soft bounce she was ready. As Jingfeng approached she studied the movement of his hands, which way his fingers may twitch trying to determine how he would move them. He caught her off guard with the first slash, causing the blades to slice along her shoulder as she moved to drop slightly and push off to the opposite side of which his second blow to her hip was missed. Blood begins to trickle down off her shoulder, no sound of pain nor any sign of pain visale on the face. The swig of whiskey she took earlier as he approached was put into use, the cigarette butt became a tiny flame as the avian plucked it from her mouth. SPitting the whiskey outwards makes a trail of flames go forth towards Jinfeng’s face. With that she swings the whiskey bottle towards Jingfeng’s head in hopes to knock him to the ground. Her cigarette placed back between her lips as the spear was twirled around her back to her front in both hands, taking steps back.

Jinfeng had his eyes open. His qi flowed through the air around him, as it always did, and as usual when fighting within melee range of the monk, it made all deception and trickery useless. as Demeter began to spit flaming alcohol toward his face, he was already dropping toward the ground, body angling forward as he kicked off the ground, ducking under bottle and flames both as he passes her, the edge of one of his blades aimed for the gap in her armor just under her ribs as he did so, aiming to open another deep gash which, while she may not feel pain, -would- slowly drain her from blood loss and reduce her mobility through simple muscle damage. He'd follow up with a rising cut, already expecting her to follow up with what seemed to be the orthodox avian follow-up to such an attack, that being a buffet with a wing, Jinfeng planning to either slash at the back of her arm to disable it or, should she indeed make this attack,slash across her wing to hopefully prevent her from taking to the air for the rest of the fight.

Jaxson appears once more through magical means to arrive at the most recent fight, the contestant again here to study potential future opponents.

Demeter watched as the monk dropped to the ground dodging not just one attack but both, leaving no marks or damage done. Demeter needed to keep her cool or her flames would become chaotic and hard to control. Focusing on what Magik had told her, find what helps you. As before her thoughts went to her friends, calming her temper. Jinfeng kicked off the ground, moving his blade towards her ribs, twirling her spear around to knock it away from her ribs. The next attacks that came seemingly aimed for her wing, again she had to try to focus touching an avian wing or trying to arm it was the quickest way to spark their temper. Luckily her shield had her wings covered as she spun around, digging her spear into the tarry ground to pivot herself up and over into a cartwheel in doing so aiming to use her boots to kick off of Jinfeng’s shoulder not to harm but to place tar upon the robes. Once she landed, she flicked her cigarette towards the robes even if the tar did not land she used this as a distraction. Sweeping her staff upwards, as if she was going to aim for his neck, only to spin it around in her palms to send the bladed part to slice along the back of JInfeng’s knees. Hoping to make it hard for the male to do any kicks, slow his movements. Taking steps back, pushing off the ground as her wings sprung free pushing her away from him long enough to put the spear away, pull her shield free and get a grip of her sword. Pulling it free from the sheath as flames sparked to life along the blade.

Ina, in their role as a generic seeming vendor, continues to hawk 'their' wares, "Getcha' sausage, ya snausage, ya whole 10 inches. Good to tha' last mouthful, n' lemme tell ya- ya won't go back after these." The foxkin pauses to glance over to the fight, staring for a few moments in the hope of some fresh blood to help whet peoples' appetite for a drink.

Jinfeng frowns slightly, body swaying back slightly as he takes a step back and to the side, pivoting out of the way of her attempted launch. This time, he does not adjust his grip on his blades, instead lashing out with a punch aimed near her center of mass, though oddly enough this wouldn't cause any physical pain or even damage. In fact, should it make contact, he'd force a measure of his qi -into- her, along the channels formed by her tattoos and natural magic, likely causing her power to surge inside her for a moment as it courses through her. "You know, I'm quite insulted. Are you really going to insist on holding back?" He'd follow up with another blow, knocking her back slightly as he actually propels himself away... directly into the tarpit, where for a moment it seems as if he'd end up sinking into it, trapped, likely fatally. Instead, as his feet lightly touch down on its surface, onlookers would see traces of golden lightning beginning to spread out over its surface, his Yang reaching down into the tar, both enhancing its surface tension to allow him to stand atop it as if it were solid ground, as well as allowing him to drink deep of the life energy it had stored, filling himself once more to the brim with the qi of those who were trapped here. "Come, let's give these fine people a show, shall we?" He lifts up his blades, swivelling them into an upright position once more, lifted up in front of his face, as if about to slash downward at any moment.

Lita is a bit late to the party but makes her way to the spectator stands to snag a seat, trying to see around Trish to catch up on the fight. She scarcely recognizes it's even Trish as she tries to brush the vendor aside, nose wrinkling slightly at the stench of sausage. She offers a small smile of apology once realizing who it is though. "That short on cash?" She asks with a playful smirk.

Kanna looks rather shiny today. It took four rounds of lye soap scrubbing and lavender oil soaks before Meri, Quintessa, and Magik had agreed that the bard no longer stunk like the Gamorg rivers. Based on today's location, it seemed as though another round would be in order if they hung around here too long. "Keep fresh." She murmurs to herself to renew the spell that keeps her body from decaying.

Magik said to Kanna, "Keep fresh."

Loravelle perks up a little at the sound of Ace's voice. She turns her head to try to locate the lady, lowering her face covering from her nose to gauge if it still smelled awful. ...It still does, now with the stench mixed with food. She tugs the covering right back up over her nose and goes back to watching the fight.

Meri said to Kanna, "You smell lovely today. Lavender?"

Kanna gives a sweet smile to Magik as cactus thorns start to grow under his seat. To Meri, she gives a nod with a laugh. "I'll be smelling like this for a while, but it's better than before."

Lita offers a little wave to Loravelle and gestures for the girl to move closer, patting the seat next to her.

Meri is using Magik as her seat, Kanna! Don't make him yeet Meri into those tar pits. RIP Meri.

Ina brushes themselves off a bit after that brief bump, if only because of how -easily- it is to gunk up the uniform with tar. From there, she'd simply afford Lita a bit of a wave, and a beer on the house, "Have ja -seen- the markup ja can get away with on these? S'great. I pulled in a good bit a gold on selling -literally- dirty rags. Watch." Here the foxkin clears her throat, before turning her focus onto the crowd, "If the Tars got yer nose in a tickle, try one of our patented nose guards- sure to ward away foul odours. Enjoy a fresh citrus scent, while ya watchin' the bloodbath- just 1 gold a pop." The fact that the smell is bad enough to make that price palatable is one thing- But what makes it worse is that the nose guards are literally small rag strips soaked in lemon water . . . that she had used to wipe down the concession station she's using as her hub.

Meri said to Lita, "At least someone here loves me."

Loravelle switches seats right away, settling down again in the seat Ace pats. “It's nice to see you,” she greets.

Magik smiles right back at Kanna even with those thorns starting to prick into his rump. He can take it. Right? Wrong. He doesn't want to cause a scene so he plays a scenario through his mind while he smiles at Kanna, killing her in about eight different ways until he finally stands, scooping up Meri in the process. Something something better view for the fight?

Demeter felt his fist make contact with her, feeling whatever it was enter her. Making Demeter gasp as her fiery magic gained strength. His second blow was blocked by her shield causing her feet to slide backwards from the velocity in which his strike had birthed. Now there was distance giving the warrior the moment to do what she was building up for the entire time. “Ekki halda aftur af sér, byggja upp. Borðaðu logana mína; not holding back, building up. Eat my flames, monk!” After the pyromancer bellowed such out, a loud whistle came forth as the owl that landed nearby as Demeter entered the arena came forth, but as the owl got closer to Demeter the feathers began to turn to ash. The owl began glowing a deep crimson as flames sprung to life, showing this owl to be a firebird. Giving out a loud rumbling screech, landing upon Demeter’s shoulder that was injured. The steam that had been flowing from Demeter’s body erupts into dancing fiery shapes that took on what one would assume would be a large phoenix, a new form of wings sprouting free above her large midnight black wings. Such wings would not catch aflame due to the enchanted necklace she had taken from her homeland. The fiery second pair of wings grew in length by four inches as they mimicked the flapping of the firebird’s movements, with Demeter's loud whistle the firebird took off. At the firebird’s tail feathers the flames about Demeter followed, no flames left present upon the lamashtian’s person. Once the firebird gets close enough, he darts to the left then to the right. Before getting a foot away from Jinfeng the bird took off skyward, causing the flames that took the shape of a phoenix to charge towards Jinfeng aiming to drive into his chest wanting to burn a hole straight through.. While doing so Demeter had flown upwards

Meri has been spared from those tarpits. Magik is her hero. This is why she is marrying him.

Lita is fairly certain Trish is either a genius or entirely bat- crazy. Either way, she's a fan. She tosses Meri a rose from her seat, probably one she's swiped from Trish, and murmurs a thanks for the beer. She sips at it, makes a face and promptly sets it on the floor. Pass. Mouse has joined her though, which is refreshing. "You too." She offers in greeting with a smile. "A little surprised to see you out this way." At least without the pirate. "Wouldn't think the tar pits would be your scene." Ina is -not- responsible for the quality of the booze once it's exited the tap. Or at least, that's what the small print says on the sign over the concession booth, alongside some scrawl related to trace amounts of tar being in the air, and thus any concession items.

Loravelle has half a mind to buy one of those patented nose guards but she doesn't have a single coin on her. She loves the smell of lemons. “I don't usually come to these unless -” The girl doesn't finish her sentence but Lita most definitely can fill in the gap. There's a distinct lack of pirate nearby. “I like gardens more, if I'm honest. For kite flying.”

Jinfeng smiles as he sees the firebird coming, his muscles relaxing slightly. He takes a deep breath, then exhales as the fire makes its final approach. Then, just as it reaches him, he spins the knives in his hands, slashing them down and out to the side, through the flames. Yang was the attribute which governs fire, the embodiment of the blazing sun and the burning heart of the mountains, of life and light. Demeter was powerful, and this flame mighty, but she was not a master, and her fire had already been tainted, in a way, touched and filled by the golden light of Jinfeng's Yang qi. As such, as it touched the blades, it would be cleaved almost as if it was physical, and he would sweep it to the side, where it would carve channels through the semi-liquid tar beside and behind him, stirring up great waves through the pit... just as Demeter, in an... interesting tactical maneuver for one who presumably doesn't have the training to walk upon its surface, aims to land upon it. To be honest, even if she could stand upon it, the turbulence created by the waves of flame and tar spreading out behind him would likely ruin any footing she might have had to make her attack, protecting against that as well in a single elegant maneuver.

Demeter saw that tar waves coming, giving a quick whistle as the firebird came back around grasping her by the injured wing in efforts to help Demeter fly upwards. Grabbing her spear from where she stored it away after putting her shield up, quickly attaching a rope to the end of the spear. Launching it downwards in which it would pierce through Jinfeng’s right thigh, lifting him up off the ground as she flew up higher, high enough to jerk the spear free ripping back out of his thigh to drop him a good ten feet to the tar pit below. Blowing him a kiss that switched her hand into a crude gesture, “I had fun.” Landing out of the tar pit, raising her spear in the air giving a roaring of a yell as she was victor.

Joan said to Jaxson, "Whooo! That avian is awesome, yeah?! And Jinfeng put on a good show."

Ina saunters over to the side of the probably somewhat flaming tarpit, and begins to roast a sausage over it. Not so she can eat it- mind you, it'd be super toxic, in all likelihood. No, it's more so she can then toss the sizzling greasy snausage at Jinfeng as his body undoubtedly starts to sink into the soon-to-be-molten tar like this was a scene out of Terminator.

Ina said, "Woo. First Tournament Fatality, let's go!"

Demeter shouts over to Jinfeg, “Drinks? Anyone else that wants to go for a drink? I need a drink and stitch my shoulder up.”

Ina said to Demeter, "Uh. I think ja killed 'im, toots."

Demeter jerked her head around to Arlyeon, "eh he is fine, he is a monk they are hard to kill. He just resting, I think.

Lita had gotten distracted by the end of the fight. She vaguely remembers Lora mentioning something about gardens and kites. "I've no complaints about a good kite on a windy day. Though it's been a lifetime since I've flown one." She stands and stretches a little. She'll leave Trish's beer and just hope it won't cause hallucinations or something.

Jinfeng didn't exactly enjoy getting his leg impaled. He likely especially didn't enjoy being dropped back into the flaming tarpit, wherin he immediately sinks below the surface with a quiet slurping noise.

Loravelle 's eyes light up. Lita flew kites too? "We should go kite flying sometime," she blurts, then immediately wants to call the words back. Suggesting to spend time with others wasn't something she was very good at. "I m-mean, if you want to, sometime," the maid stammers.

Ina actually keels over laughing, to the point that she nearly falls over into the tar pit. A prospect that's sobering enough to force her into skittering back. "Ch'yeah. No. That was quintessentially a dirt nap, sistah. But, uh- Good job. You'll get far in life if ja can be that cold-blooded again." The semi-generic-totally-not-a-foxkin-vendor goes to plant their hands on their hips- only to recall all the grease there, instead sufficing with a cheeky finger crossbow motion at Demeter, "If yer buyin' drinks though, I'll take ya up on that, somewhere that ain't tastin' of tar, bitter defeat, and roast monk, though."

Demeter grumbles as she looks at Jinfeng as he begins to sink, with a heavy sigh and eyeroll she jumps upwards, flying over above Jinfeng. Using the same rope tossing it down giving Jinfeng a chance to grab ahold, she might’ve won but this wasn’t war where she shows no mercy and kills anyone standing in her way. This was a tournament for gold, not glory. Maybe a little glory for the warrior’s guild. “Grab on, Jinfeng.” Looking to Joan, “Yes, but first drink and pre first get him out of this.” Using her wings as fast as they could go to try to direct the flames upon the tar to go opposite of Jinfeng.

Aoife let out a deep sigh of the sort of concentrated annoyance and irritation usually reserved for those going through puberty. With an eyeroll that could dismiss entire pantheons of deities she leans back in the chair, flopping her head and arms back over the top of it, staring down the sky. "Yeah, no. Sure. Just nap down there why don't you, dolt. Not like I got anyplace that doesn't smell like death and farts to be. Stay down until the next age, see if I care."

Demeter speaks to Aryleon, "Yeah, I be buying! Celebration of us making it to round two."

Jaxson didn't mean to ignore Joan, but is heavily lost in thought as he watches the fighters, so much so he doesn't hear the woman speak to him before he takes out a clove cigarette and lights it, still lost heavily in thought.

Jinfeng had less -begun- to sink and more pretty much immediately vanished beneath the surface, the surface of the lake already effectively liquid due to the flames and the turbulence washing back and forth over it. By the time Demeter would reach him, he'd already be gone.

Joan didn’t mind if Jaxson didn’t hear her, the vampiric healer did show up rather late to this last duel and snuck in as quite as well the undead she was and had spotted the young noble, having made her way towards him mid-fight. Sneaky quite undead that she was! Demeter was given a wave to acknowledge she hear her and agreed! Booze and stitching.

Demeter didn’t see Jinfeng, “Does he do this often?” She spoke to Aoife, “Like, do I have to dive down to get him? Tar takes forever to get out of wings, and my wing is starting to flipping sting.” She shrugs, “Eh, I tried. So sad, anyways! Where is the closet tavern?” She moves to land down beside Joan, “I’m buying, drinks on me!”

Ina looks a little bit confused when Demeter goes out of her way to try and save Jinfeng, "Why wouldja toss a guy inta flamin' tar iffun yer gonna change yer mind a minute later. Just own the fierceness. Ch'yeah. ...Also, he'll be happier this way. We can all gather round, and fondly remember .... that guy. Whoever he was. Okay, maybe fondly forgotten." Ina's rambling continues, even as she makes her way to the concession stand to begin packing up all the food items, and file away her earnings for the day. She also might be in the process of shedding her whole generic vendor look, in a much more literal fashion- given that she goes from everyday dork armed with her voice and some grease-stained work clothes, to a red and black furred foxgirl in a, 'I love TOW' Tshirt and some brown trousers. She's very prompt in returning the work clothes from where she got them, too- which is to say, inside a barrel, carefully wedged atop the legitimate owner of the items. And in case anyone asks about the change from before and after she meanders out of a changing room, "What? Fur gets in tha' food, otherwise."

Joan waits near the wounded avian, waiting to see if the monk resurfaced, once the avian warrior woman moved Joan would follow and join, who was she to turn down free booze?!

Lita is a little taken aback by Loravelle's sudden suggestion but she's not mad about it. "Sure. Beaches out the island get some really good wind days before the big storms." She has to go buy a kite now. Where does one get a kite? "We'll catch up soon, yeah?"

Demeter gives a nod to Joan, then looks to Aryleon, "Not war, this just a tournament I figure I should try not to let him die. He sunk, gone." Shrugs, "Do you know where the nearest tavern is?" Once answered Demeter would take off, heading to the direction.

Loravelle ;; "Y-yeah," another timid stammer from Lora. Did she just make a friend and plan an outing with said friend sometime? Which kite should she bring?! "See you soon, Ace," she waves.

Ina probably should saunter off after Demeter, especially given the free booze- but there's one last thing she wants to address. Namely, that distressed-lookin' *squints* Pixie? Except that, it's a garden variety pest that's a few too many shoe sizes too large. "Hey kid, ja lookin' outta sorts- so I'm guessing ya bet money on that guy. 'N not on him being barbequed- which is a shame, I was taking some bets with 10 to 1 payouts on fighter fatalities a bit ago." Ina pauses, before going to give the pixie a reassuring pat. "What I'm tryna say is- I am sorry for yer' fiscal loss. But hey, If ya want, we can always run a friendly bet on whose doomed ta die in tha' next round." Wow, this is just. Wow. And it's even worse when you consider that Ina's reassuring pat is more likely to be a source of bad luck for Aoife. Just. What the heck?

Aoife blinked at the girl rattling off things about bets and bad luck at her. "....I'm his babysitter." She explained, rather dryly, before shrinking back to a ball of light with a small 'pop!' and zipping off before anyone else came up to offer any condolences. She was already annoyed enough at Jin's hijinks without people insisting she hold a funeral or something.

Ina said, "Wow. That one's gonna be hard to explain to the 'rents, then."

Jaxson watches as the events of the match die off, people leaving the area by both normal and magical means leaving the crowd far less than it was previously. Damn well near a ghost town. A thick plume of smoke hangs around the warlock, who seems to have his eyes on the tar pits, as if he is pondering upon a heavy thought.