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View character profile for: Asealya SzKutak
Clean Up Crew
(OOC: Sorry this isn't superb and kinda lengthy, or if I got something wrong about the city ;)
- Ragodast, Bloodblitz Coliseum, Mid Afternoon, 3 DSTR-
The crowd was roaring with excitement and the greatest vigor as punches were exchanged in the circle below the elevated metal stands. Up above ground the hustle and bustle of Ragodast was quick to drown out the actions taking place in the Bloodblitz Coliseum. Most people knew about this place as sometimes even the important people would send their scum and criminals to fight. The best place for animals is in the wild after all. It had a bad reputation which caused most to keep including conversations on the down low. Not everyone knew the whereabouts, however.
Three guards were spread out between the entrance and exit. Humans, elves, faeries, and even a rowdy bunch of large goblins plagued the group. Fists were raised into the air as the lesser opponent, a short man, was head-butted backward and onto the stone flooring with a thud but after slicing his attacker twice with a knife.
Circling that arena with arms raised and cheers or boos echoed all around was none other than Asealya SzKutak.
Her shaggy head of hair stuck up in a few directions as she was radiating hostility, increasing when the cackling laughter from the goblins could be heard. Their little group had always strung mischief and crime through the city, they were pretty decent bandits which explained their money and why they were betting on fights. Always look out for the little guy was the creatures' motto. They never liked Asealya.
Her head shifted to the side to see that the man had gotten up. Looking broken and tired still meant ready and able.
It all happened so fast.
The woman broke into a flashing sprint toward him and gripped him by the shirt collar to throw out of the boundary line but was met with something else-- a flick of the finger and she was shoved backward six feet as if trampled by a battalion of armored knights.
Time had frozen.
Her head smacked against the ground, pressing play and spiraling a ringing noise through her skull. Asealya was dragged out of the circle by nothing in particular. Her spine was being twisted and pulled in every way. Writhing in agony as if her bones were melting, her shrieks silenced the stands of Dalenians who expressed an utter disbelief and anger.
While her pupils dilated, her muscles became tense and her body trembled. Whatever he just cast was ungodly painful. Like limbs being hacked apart by a dull blade dipped in flesh-eating poison. If someone were to take a bite right out of her very soul. Hurt was all she felt as her vision blurred and seemed to turn into an ocean of grey.
For the moment she sympathized with the anti-magic effort a kingdom over. For a moment.
Three of the guards had no hesitation to enter the circle and two of them were met with the same force; the man had instinctively stuck his fist into the minotaur's torso in hopes to have a similar effect. A wave of nothing washed over the somber creature as he wrapped one large hand around the traitor's throat and squeezed plenty tight. It seemed the magic wielder had found that spells don't work on minotaurs such as Mohrjak, and his lifeless body was a prime example of the consequence. Nothing ever really matched their kind, those magnificent bastards, who had seemed to disappear from Dalen entirely. Except for the one and only, that was.
The magic must've died with him as Asealya was released with a scream of painful relief, laying on the ground as limp as the man's body. Her blood ran cold as she swore of hearing an angel of death whispering to her, taunting. Breathing was hard to come by while the guards had checked on her. Words faded in and out but from what she understood the fight was deemed unfair and Asealya had technically won, which meant that the duke (who'd had an interesting in betting on fights) would get his money that he probably didn't need. Meant she'd get half, too. Whoever was holding the bet mattered most; a noble would mean a decently sized payment and asking to receive a portion was optional. You could always refuse a fight if you felt the betting terms not to your liking. Asealya thought the fighters deserved half all the time, but this duke-who-she'd-forgotten-the-name-of had agreed.
Rules of fighting were simple; no magic, never truce, don't kill anyone, and don't get killed. First one out of the circle loses. It was free reign from there. Nobody in Ragodast had seen someone break the rules of the Coliseum as consequences were always death. Especially for magic. Either fight right or don't fight at all. It wasn't exactly smart to bloody laws when they're easy to abide by.
What happened after that was a blur.
- Rural Ragodast Outskirts, Quinn's Cottage, Evening, 3 DSTR -
"It's been a few hours," a deep, soothing voice said.
Lifting up her shirt partially Asealya examined the scratches on her belly where the knife had struck her. She'd been able to regenerate but--like usual--wasn't able to do it entirely. Mohrjak tenderly applied the healing balm to the minor wounds while she kept a stoic face to the floor, watching how his wide horns casted shadows from the lantern's light. "Damn mages, at least he didn't use poison. That," he dabbed a few more globs onto her damaged bare skin, "would be a different story involving things we don't have." She shot him a smirk as he began to wrap it with scrupulous attention to folding ridges in the bandage.
"Nothing I haven't lived through before."
"Infection and continuous bleeding are still a threat, odamus."
She melted at his mysterious native tongue. "I can heal."
"Not entirely," Mohrjak grinned, standing up from the seat to tower at nearly seven feet tall, before a few loud thumps from upstairs disrupted them. Asealya grumbled something which quickly turned into a snicker between the two. "Quinn brought home another one, I see."
"This is her dwelling after all. A lady does what a lady pleases..." said the muscled man, checking her over one last time for anything he'd missed.
"Not sure she's much of a lady," Asealya turned to head up the stairs, "but she's sure somethin'."
Quinn--a pale green girl with wide hips and bright blonde curls that fell to her rear--had bumped into her on the stairs. Her long green fingers were covered in blood up to her arms.
Asealya's jaw fell.
"Hey! Since you're unoccupied as of now I was wondering if you could take care of my problem."
She stuttered in confusion as the girl's blonde curls bounced as she swayed. Quinn grabbed Asealya's wrists and led her up to her room. Upon opening the door, the two found a bright, flowery room with the body of a young man sprawled across the bed with a gushing wound in his neck. The wooden quill from the desk had been jabbed into his neck with obvious force. Some other things from the desk had been bumped off. Clumsy girl.
"What's with the quill?"
Quinn shrugged, "I invited him for tea because he was really, really cute and then I go outside to get some water and find him stealing my money. I know you got the quill for my birthday...but it was the closest thing I found. I didn't want to actually fight him."
The peasant's blood had seeped into the bedding in a large splatter.
Quinn clenched her red fists, "So?"
Upon closer inspection the corpse was just the son of a drunkard who constantly made a ruckus. Shouldn't be too big of a deal as he'd likely forgotten he even had a son. "Go wash up," she instructed the nymph, anxiously smudging Quinn's bloody handprints on her wrists around. A horse neighed in the stable out back which caught her off guard.
"Everything alright?" Mohrjak hollered from down below.
"I have to get rid of a body," Asealya responded nonchalantly.
He paused. "Again?"