Bloompeak , Day 57, Turn 200AW

“ CUT HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF! “

A voice could be heard screaming over the intense pounding crowd. The arena was within full display - stone columns filled to the brim with denizens of Ania. From all shapes and sizes. From the Sea folk, the Tidewalkers. The Brutish orc’s. The tanned and bronze toned humans that hail from the lands of Onyxshade also filled these seats. Even elves. You see, this was not a place for trivial racism. In the arena, it was simply the art of killing. It was the one thing that all the people of Ania could agree on. No matter what, they were always willing to put their differences aside here.

Expanding for what felt like an endless amount of acres, it held a capacity of 200,000 people. The top rows for those too poor to get proper seating - have mirrors placed along rows in front of them - a projection powered by alchemy. These same mirrors could be seen through various placements around the interior of the arena as well.

In the middle of the sea of screaming faces was the arena grounds itself. Laced in sand and metal. It was caked in blood from the various battles. The large open space above the arena let the sun or moonlight in for every bout, shining down and illuminating for all to see. Aether crystals mined from the base of the world crust - made possible due to the crude and inhumane practices of slave labor. These glowing blue crystals were slacked deeply within almost every wall within the establishment. Used as light sources to light the way during the more… dark and dank placements within the inner corridors of the arena.. In fact, it seems as so with every turn one could see one of those glowing, almost buzzing crystals that this world sought out for so hungrily.

  This place alone could be seen as the crown achievement of this society or so they deem it. In their eyes the arena is law, it's what keeps this world from returning to the dark ages again. When foul sorcery and war ruled the world. It’s placement alone it stood - right in the middle of a seedy and forever shifting city. Situated in the center of the Capital of Cirmish located in the Orc lands of Hammershine. In this city, the arena reigned supreme. This municipality, despite being the home of the world's most famous politicians and nobles, is very well the lands of Jasaler the Swift.

An Elven man watched the arena bout from a distance. In the crowds, but within a booth of his own. Spectating the battles with a golden jagged gaze that could pierce one's very soul. He was lean, with a fair toned body with deep crimson hair.

“ Which one were you betting on again Jafar? “ The elven man’s gaze on the fight was broken, shook out of it as if he’d been placed in a trance of some kind. Elegantly, he swayed his ring covered hand over to his goblet of wine, dosing the liquid down past his lips. Making sure to keep the cup tilted up as to not drip any of the substance on his very expensive attire, though roguish in its design. He sat in a booth with another, the one whom just spoke to him. A Fae woman, with long dark brown hair, and golden brown skin. That almost glowed when stared at for to long. With a small star tattooed on her forehead. A symbol for her family of course. And finally, two rather large blue radiant eyes.

“Excuse me Melinda. I seemed to have been lost in thought. I was watching the fight, but… Although I am here physically, I cannot say the same for my mental state. We have a set of new recruits joining within my ranks. My mind went back to that, however… If you must know. I feel as though Swift-Claw will win. She's faster than him. Despite him having her in every regard in terms of strength. Besides, The steaks here are hardly noteworthy. The dispute is between some Human Noble and Fairy noble fighting over land. Land that either side is just going to mine for aether for their own gain, using slaves, its the same shit over and over blah blah... “ He trailed off that last bit, dosing the rest of the wine back before slamming the goblet onto the table. " I think we should be better focused on if my package you were to acquire from Metalnine made it here, as we agreed. "

The woman cocked a brow. fueled only by annoyance. “ Wait, you think Magnus is going to beat Darnuvin the Half-Giant? '' She said, almost offended by his statement. '' You have too much faith in that Beastblood. '' She retorted, having ignored most of everything else Jafar spoke of. Her bright purple dress was of Valorun Empire design. Long slender drapes that hugged against every curve. With slits that showed various forms of exposed skin all over her body. The Valorun people were those whom lived in the skies. Their bodies fully adjusted to the cold temperatures from living above the clouds. The frisk winds don't bother them. In fact, they weren't affected by most of this planet's climates at all.

“That *Beastblood* as you say. Has won the last ten matches she’s been in. You shouldn’t let your prejudices get in the way of fact. We all know that the Fae enslaved them first, and pretty much up-rooted all of their homes. That doesn't mean however you have the right to look down on them just because you feel they are beneath you."

"Wait what? That's not what I--" Cut off, Jafar would speak over her.

" It's the same fate your kind wished on mine as well, and there isn't anything different between you and I. Aside from the removal of my own wings… Something I thought you understood. The only thing that gets in the way of that degenerate process is The Shepard, and myself. Goldcrane is the Elf Capital of the world. A safe haven for my people, and if not for it, then we would have suffered the same fate as that same warrior down there has. Years and Years of enslavement. Some of my people manage to slip through the cracks... hauling as slaves... Underhanded, all of it. . But not for long... Not if I have something to say about it..."

He allowed his mind to travel as he stared out at the fight once more, speaking to her without looking at her. " However despite those small downfalls, all of the good we've done is thanks to the chivalrous work we do with the likes of courageous people like you. Those of the A-Shar clan are of one of the few Fae Nobility permitted to stay upon land and cloud city. Though it takes the strongest Magic’s imaginable to break the curse of steps. Funny how Fae cannot leave cloud city - yet have no desire to. As you know, the curse was placed upon Fae Kind after the events of The Great War. That’s why I need you. You, a Fae, that can be above ground and in the sky. Thanks to the like of your family's contribution to stopping the Great War. Which is celebrated amongst all races, your family line are full of real live heroes. “ The crimson rouge said as he smiled from ear to ear.

“ And that’s why you must stay focused. The rest of the Fae are bound and forever to stay amongst the clouds. And yet their influence even from above is enough to cripple thousands. Millions even. They buy land that they will never walk on, to mine ore they will never need…“ He says, sliding fingers through his hair.

“ Your kind would see you as a traitor if they knew you worked with the likes of me. But despite this you are in fact a hero, a little ignorant however that will fade in time.“ He spat back at her, but would turn with a handsome smile. The rogue's dark crimson hair draped down over his bronze and flawless skin. She huffed at him once he took her hand. Inhaling his scent for a moment, allowing it to flood her senses long enough to sway to him, like she always did.

“ I do understand, it’s just. “She sighs. “I’m Sorry, you’d think after two years and everything you’ve shown me about the wrongs my people have committed - I'd start getting used to all of this by now. I suppose my ignorance is a bit of a slow burn… after all. I am a hundred and fifty years old. And… old habits die hard I guess.” She pauses, turning back to watch the fight. By now, Swift-Claw was crossing blades with The Half-Giant in a swift exchange of metals. Sparks flying off of their weapons in rapid succession as they dashed and dipped past one another viciously. It seemed like a disgusting and teeth-bitingly close match. Blood spraying all over the brown canvas during their violent act. “ But then again... “ She said, sighing. “All of this sneaking around, passing letters in the dead of night, killing and stealing. I know that everything that we do is for the betterment of the elven people and the fairy people. But, sometimes I just have a hard time knowing what's right, and what's wrong. “

Jafar laughed, pulling himself up to his full height, standing over the railing of the booth that they shared. His fingers gripped tightly to the wood so hard that the surface cracked under his embrace. Soon after turning around to glare at her, like a man possessed. “ Sway your doubts, woman. Everything we do is for the better of my people, you fool. My people are your people, we are the same. The racial stigma placed on us was designed by the same ones who tossed my people out…” The elven bastard turned his gaze up, staring back at the clouds. He reached his hand out towards them… and the sound of the crowd, at-least to him, became a hum in the background. “ Can you imagine it…” He said while he allowed the air to fill his lungs. Obsessive eyes tracing every cloud, over and over. As if he were searching for someone in them. “ Can you imagine not being able to fly into the air, and taste the breeze of endless blue again... Or rather can you imagine not being able to return to your home, while also being rejected in another. Despite being placed there… against one's own coalition. “Dropping his hand finally from the now shattered woods, he continued to speak. “ Fae who disobey the laws of the Valorun empire are sentenced to be Outcasted. Wings plucked, and tossed down from the heavens, into hell. “ He laughed, ranting on like a poet again.

Before she could say anything further, the doors to the booth came open. Upon glance, it was clear that some of Goldcranes finest came with him on this trek to the capital of Crimish. Although, they didn't look like Knights. Elven cut-throats, with tattoos and long piercing blades on their hips, dressed in the same type of Roguish attire that their leader was wearing.

“ All is prepared, boss. “ Said a bald elven man with a beard and dull gray eyes. He looked young, but the lines under his perforations would say otherwise. He was as long as a pole, and as broad as an ox.
“So that means that My lady did manage to occupy the package then. '' Spoke the crimson haired devil. Melinda, a bit confused by the men’s sudden and intrusive nature, would nod her head before clearing her throat. The way her eyes trained themselves on the elves… Her Fae hands stayed hovered over the blade on her hip. It was clear, her racial tensions were still there. She'd obviously been a lot more tolerant for the likes of Jafar. But one's prejudices built that deep within them don't just go away that easily. No matter how many times you try to fool yourself otherwise. When she shot a glance at Jafar his eyes went down, to her hilt, and back up to her face. A smile sliding across his own visage as a result.

“ Ah-ah, yes. While you were... rambling like you always do. I was trying to tell you that we managed to get the eggs. I don’t quite understand why you, or The Shepard would want something like that though. And getting them was no easy feat either. We had to kill the Dragon's father, you know. The Order of Burn won’t take lightly to you keeping dragon eggs away from their Kin if they were to ever find out. That’s looked at as a governmental offense - and a direct violation to the arena. Having such creatures is considered within the act of harboring war weapons. It's imperative that Dragons be with Dragons... or they won't learn sentience, they'd just become mindless monsters. I understand what we're doing is right, but now it just feels like we're getting ready for a full scale uprising. If we get caught i--”

“ We won’t get caught. “ He cut her off. “ Don’t worry. Thank you Lady Melinda. We will be in touch again. These eggs, when hatched, can do wonders for us. We could perhaps find another secret to flight, and acquire other ways to receive which was taken from us. “ The other elven men grow quiet. His words boiling a silent rage within them, one they all shared with him. He kissed her on the cheek, and she took his hand into her own as he slipped away with his men. Leaving her in the booth alone with nothing but her thoughts.

Swift-Claw sliced through the Half-Giant’s head