Violence at Heart.

[EffyDearest]

Avian stared at the ground, blood dripping from people who scattered across. Lifeless now, they had once been soldiers, sent into the arena to fight against a Demon Warrior. They had no training, and Avian thought it was unfair. "How pathetic to send to the leader of the ring," he mumbled. "I am one of the most feared opponets. I don't even need modern day technology to end the lives of an small army."

Avian was forced into the arena years ago, when he was found abandoned, in his demonic state, terrorizing an old man. He was captured by a fierce gladitor, who trained him, and showed him to the arena. The first thing he ever saw, inside its mounted rock walls, was the leader.

The leader loved seeing fights, and created the arena with his hard work and skill, and later named it, "Violence of heart", which was fitting, as they had a choice to fight. Unfortunatly, Avian didn't. They gave him a room, and everything he'd need, if he fought. He accepted, and trained, and trained, under any circumstance. Two others had the same fate, but he was never permitted to meet them, which made it hard to make friends.

Years passed, and the leader of the arena took his leave from old age. The gladitor who raised him, now known as Darthis, became its new leader.
Now Avian fought, thirteen years old, the youngest to ever become a champion in the arena.

"Is that the best you could do?" Avian yelled, watching the seethin crowd cheer for more. He sneered at them. "I really don't need your cheers to do good," he said to them, full of sarcasm. He loved being cheered, and they loved watching him fight.

He gripped the hilt of his sword, Noctoro. Noctoro was his favorite blade owned, given to him by will of the old leader. The man loved Avian, and had this, and a few other items in his will, named to him.

Noctoro was a light blade. Its sleek, black metal encrested to a point, and small curves, where two more pieces of metal came, to hit more damaged attacks. The hilt had two turquoise rings on it. One at the top, where the blade came into the hilt, and one at the bottom, where underneath, a small emerald poked out. A dragon was etched into the blade as well, which made it interesting to look at.

"Has no one the guts to fight me?" he said, the crowd growing quiet, awaiting the next gladitor to arrive. No one came.

"Avian, calm down," a voice said, coming into the arena, who Avian turned to, and immediately say that it was Darthis. "I have specially sent for two people to come. They will have you fighting, until you both want to stop. You'll finally meet the other two teens who you were never allowed to see," he said.

"This is not a deathmatch."

[koobi kitsune]

Valentine, pronounced Valenteen, sat in a shadowy corner, the darkness hiding all of his body save for his lone red eye which glowered out of the darkness like a burning coal. Valentine was an 18oo year old, though he looked a mere 18, vampire cursed to fight for the countless lives he had taken in his youth. Well…countless wasn’t exactly the right word he was sure that if someone truly wanted to they would be able to count how many lives he ruined, the number being well into the thousands.

The young vampire still recalled they day they had caught him. It had been after a particular fruitless night of hunting, only one measly little girl, so his body was severely weakened so he dare not risk facing the sunshine. After a good night of hunting and several bodies drained, he would have been able to fend off a the meager force sent after him, only tens guys, but since he was weakened he was only able to take out six before they had him in chains smelted from crucifix. The vampire was taken before the holy church and sentenced to death. Before the sentence was carried out a man stood up and said “I will pay for the sins of this boy, and in return I wish to have him under my control.” The church disagreed, saying that Valentine was a demon and need to be judge by God, however not even the holy church is safe from the temptation of money. They man to whom Valentine owed his life…was the leader of an arena.

The child was taken to the arena and trained every day, put up against enemies twice his age and skill and always came out on top. It didn’t matter whether he was outnumbered by 1 or 100 the vampire always came out on top. As long as he had his broadsword, Spiderbite, he was unstoppable. He was buried with his sword before he turned and it had been with him for ever. The sword itself was of craft not seen in this world for centuries, a beautifully crafted broadsword of green glass that glowed an un-earthly sickly green. The swords handle was etched into the shape of a large spider from which the blade sprung. Spiderbite was too heavy a sword for most men to wield even in to hands, but with the cursed strength of the undead Valentine could wield it with only his right hand.
A guard approached the vampire, startling the young man out of his thoughts.

“It’s time to go Valentine” his said, his voice thick with an accent Valentine did not know, nor have any desire to know.

“Very well” Valentine sighed, standing up and strapping his sword to his back and following the guard out of the room. Now that the young man was no longer hidden in darkness his whole body could be seen. His slender, wan almost, and paler then death itself. He wore nothing but a par of black pants and a leather trench coat. The young vampire was missing his left eye but his other eye glowed red even in the light. His hair was jet black and hung behind him, reaching almost his shoulders. The guard pushed open the door and led the boy into the arena.

[Madcat]

Marsaica (MARZ-eye-ka) waited patiently in her own cell for the escorts to arrive and take her to the arena. Today was to be her first time meeting the other gladiators this arena often boasted of to those who wagered their money in the stands. She'd only heard snippets of rumors and whispers about them, the training staff and servants too fearful of reprimand to speak directly to her on the subject.

She sighed and rolled her neck, shaking the braids in her bright red mane until the beads clicked. She'd woven small hooks in there, too, a nasty surprise for anyone who'd thought to grab her hair during a battle. It'd only happened once since she'd added them.

She was short, too, in stature; a lithe, compact frame with angular features, narrow hips, with freckled, sun-bronzed skin now starting to pale after so much time indoors. It'd been weeks now that she'd been here, and her time outside in the exercise yard had been all too infrequent in her stay thus far.

Still, she did not complain. She went where her masters in the Guild sent her, fought where they told her to fight, killed who they told her to kill, and it was here, to this arena, that she had been sent, to fight, to kill. She idly wondered how much her contract was worth to the Guild, how much whoever owned this arena was paying for her extended stay. She did not wonder, too much, at least, at how much money her name was earning in the rankings. The roar of the crowd every time she fought told her that she was a popular attraction, and allowed herself some vanity in the graceful ballet of fire and death she wove across the killing floor each time she was summoned here. So much the better if it drove those faceless masses to bet more on her. It increased her value to the client, and thus to the Guild.

Mars banished these idle thoughts from her mind as she heard the click of boot heels coming up the hall behind her. That would be her escort, she imagined, the ceremonial guards that brought her out to the arena. A mere formality, she supposed, to give the image of the gladiators as caged animals, servants to the will of the crowd, slaves to their desires for blood-letting and violence, wild beasts too dangerous to set free. She snorted at the pageantry of it all, the long, pale-skinned tail growing from the base of her spine swishing calmly.

At fourteen, Mars suspected she was among the youngest champions this arena had seen, at least in quite some time. Though many of those she'd defeated already had been twice, or more, her age, none had the skill to defeat one such as her, born to the blade and the killing arts, mind, spirit and body forged into a perfect weapon. As dangerous and sometimes painful as it was, she suspected that this, at least, was a more glamorous life than that of a courtesan, a common enough fate for the feline Anhime (AN-him-may).

As the door behind her opened, the guards arriving to escort her to the killing ground, she reached out with her hand and mind, lifting her short, leaf-bladed sword from its rack, silken wraps trailing from its hilt and scabbard as it floated through the air to her waiting palm. Tying the sash around her waist, over her crimson bodyglove, she let Derita's Silk-Tailed Wailer ride flat across her back, its wire-wrapped grip within easy reach to her right.

The gate before her rattled open, the guards, faceless behind their polished black masks, taking positions to either side of her, halberds held upright. She stepped lightly forward, sauntering in the sassy, cat-like fashion of her people, her toe-claws sliding in and out of their sheaths as she walked, and made her way out onto the floor of the arena.

[EffyDearest]

(Damn it, had to retype =.=)

Avian sighed, as Darthis walked away. He would meet the two teens, and fight, but no killing? So, I'll finally meet them, eh? I wonder if their mean, like a true demon. Do they act like a little kid, like I do? Thoughts cluttered his mind, only making the situation worse, as he couldn't answer a single word to them. He sighed, and stared at the ground, a tiny beetle grabbing his attention, and grabbing it with it's movement.

Suddenly, the aren'a door is opened, and Avian's head jerked to see who was at its end. Avian could faintly tell the clothing places on the person. A coat of some sort, maybe? Or was it just his vision, playing tricks on him from the distance? He looked down, just a tad, and saw black pants. "Wow," Avian mumbled, this guy looks completely interesting."

As he continued walking, another person followed, and Avian couldn't tell any details. They were too short, as him, to take any features from the distance. He decided it best to just patiently wait, wether the anxiety was killing him or not. He grasped his hilt tighter, and waited in silence.

[koobi kitsune]

Valentine made no motion that he saw either the girl next to him or the boy in front of him as he made his way out into the arena. The vampire stopped six feet away from Avian, look the boy over in disdain. Surly these two were not the other "champions" he was suppose to fight. These two must be here was a warm up for Valentine. After all the tales he had heard about the other champions he had a hard time believing that this cat-like thing and this...this...this boy were the two champions he was suppose to fight.

The vampire turned toward the closest guard and drawled out, his voice dry with no emotion at all. "You don't expect me to fight these two do you?' he asked, casting another disapproving gaze at the two other people in the arena with him. "These two wouldn't stand a chance even if they teamed up against me." he continued. "Now where are the real challengers" he asked, his voice cold and dead.

[EffyDearest]

Avian stared at the man who now stood. He was insulting him, complaining to a guard this wouldn't be a fight? Surely, this would be a hell of a fight, if his talk matched his fighting skills. Killing not allowed though? Thats the saddest thing Avian had ever heard. This man looked like he could use a few chops to the head, and a few bloody stains on his clothes.

"I'd keep quiet," he said coldly. "You'll find no challenger is above killing you. They all have reasons to fight, and you wouldn't fight us now, if it weren't for the fact that your skill could even match with mine, and the one behind you." He glanced past him, to the gladiator behind him.

"Mine name is Avian," he ended, waiting, watching. He was analysing this man, and found it very simple to pick out a tactic to kill him. If only he was allowed to.

[koobi kitsune]

Valentine gave a sharp bark of a laugh before offering his hand to the child with a sneer. "The name is Valentine" he said simply, grasping the other boy's hand in a vice like grip. His hand was cold as ice and he had no pulse. "And I would watch what you say, little one. If it wasn't for this foolish rule of no killing you would be dead all ready, mark my words." The vampire laughed again before braking his death-grip. "Still" he continued "you stood up to me, that took guts. Maybe you won't be such a bad opponent."

The vampire turned around towards the cat girl. "And you, little one" he said. "What makes you so sure that you can stand up to me." Valentine literally towered over the girl, a fully 3 and half heads taller then her. "You and your little tail and little sword...do you think you can really stand up to me."

[EffyDearest]

Avian didn't wince when the vampire grabbed his hand painfully. He was determined not to show weakness. This guy would wind up mocking him for every bit he showed, and make him feel even more angry that his own bounds would reach. He hated it when people acted like he would take it, and laugh about it.

When he turned and insulted the girl, he had to admit the guy had good vision, or his was really bad. "I said don't judge people," he shot. "You only will find, that is to be your downfall!"

[Madcat]

Marsaica rolled her head to look up into the vampire's face, arms folded, giving off the air of a bored, insolent teenager. "Stand up to you?" she asked, rhetorically,"No. You're too stretched out for that. Take you down? Certainly!"

Had she known she'd be fighting vampires today, she might have added a bit of garlic oil to her nail polish, but she hadn't. Oh well, she'd just have to get creative, and hope this one wasn't of the kind that turns into bats or smoke or whatever. That, she was pretty sure, was cheating.

Cheating? Wasn't stepping into the ring already dead a form of cheating? Oh well.

[koobi kitsune]

"Well it seems the little cat has claws" Valentine grinned, his elongated fangs glittering in the torch light that lit the arena. "Still I doubt they will be of much use...though I do hope you prove me wrong pretty kitty" he said with another laugh.

Valentine looked over to the pair of guards at the entrance to the arena. With all the pagitry this place made him out up with he was sure that the fight hadn't started. After all there had been no grand announcement made, nor any single at all that the trio was to start fighting, so that vampire stood silently, his body tense ready for something to happen