Battleworld

@inevitable_one: Her smirk never wavering, Spine grabbed the refilled glass. "Sure. Let's hope I don't get bored." She arched a brow before downing the drink. "Let's see how this goes."

@spine_: I kinda noticed that after skimming the bio. Got a kick out of the last name.

@_grifter_: Hehe. Yup. ;)

@inevitable_one: Me and you still gotta do something man :P

@spine_: Smiling with self-satisfied malice, Zedracus once again raised his glass in toast to her. His mind was already reviewing any number of existing situations in which her abilities and ruthlessness would be of great use. "Excellent. I wouldn't concern myself; I have found that the Imperium is many things, but never boring." A snap of his fingers summoned a bowing and scraping major domo. "See that this warrior is given quarters to her liking, access to the training holodek, and whatever consumables, weapons, or other resources she requires."

@xenon_: That we do!

@inevitable_one: What would the Imperium want with the King of a country full of natural Vibranium :P

@xenon_: Hmm...he would probably start by sending a scouting team...

@inevitable_one: Send em'over! Heck yeah!

@inevitable_one: I have an idea, lemme PM you if that's alright? >_>

@spine_: You...He's the enemy! A bad guy.

@inevitable_one: Her lips spread into a fuller grin as instructions were given. "Nice. Guess I'll go make myself at home. Look forward to doing business with you, Inevitable." She rested a hand on her hilted hip before making her way over to the domo to be escorted onward.

@zauberin: Stabs Trinity with Vibranium and gives her the genetic key to awesomeness!

@zauberin: Phffft. Look at all the bantha dung I give!

@zauberin: "Guards, remove this interloper." >;P

You all gonna die.

Uh oh, Zauby's getting violent lol.

@_grifter_: I didn't even do nuthin'! v_v

@zauberin: Sayin you all gonna die isn't violent? lol

@_grifter_: .....No? >_>

@jaegerjaquez: Righhhhht.....

I was kinda hoping that you'd have Trinity drop a post. Its been a while since I've seen her in anything since she took leave of Avalon.

@_grifter_: She's around. And she should be. Maybe she'll stop by after the station.

@jaegerjaquez: Hunts...

Message broadcast across the cosmos

Attention warriors, mercenaries, and other specialists in the field of interpersonal violence:

Zedracus the Inevitable, Supreme General of all Offensive Efforts of the Abyssal Imperium, has decreed that Battleworld, Crucible of Conflict, shall henceforth be conducting open auditions for upcoming gladiatorial events. Fighters established and aspiring are welcome to test their mettle in one of the planet's countless arenas. Demonstrate your skills to the adulation of the crowd, and reap the glory, honor, and attention of powerful and wealthy employers! Exemplary victors may even be granted an audience with the Inevitable One himself!

@inevitable_one:

An audience with the Inevitable One.

The Imperium has taken everything from me. It's time that I took something back from them.

Space unfolded itself as the alien teen known only as Vel'aaru arrived on Battleworld. There had been a time when she could not use Void Teleportation to travel between planets. A time when she had needed a ship for that sort of transportation. That time had passed.

The teen girl slipped her handheld from her skirt pocket, quickly checking it and adjusting her personal environment to Battleworld's, making it not only survivable but comfortable, before bringing up a minimap and checking it for the nearest actual establishment. She had a lot to do if she was going to clear the entire tournament, meet with the Inevitable, and destroy him.

She inhaled slowly, closing her minimap and crouching down, hugging her arms around her knees. She missed Kelly. It seemed like she always would -- like losing the only companion who had seemed to understand her had left a gaping hole in her that couldn't be filled. Not with adventure or vengeance, nothing. Vel'aaru had no purpose anymore, and with her innocence lost it seemed like that was the only thing left that mattered. Purpose. So she'd make herself one... give herself something to do. Something that she could pretend mattered. And that thing would be to bring the Imperium to its knees.

@velaaru_of_illea: The reigning champion of the Battleworld arenas sat in the shadowed corner of the dingy cantina and glanced about the establishment dispassionately. He did not bother attempting to conceal his presence and identity; his reputation for battle prowess ensured that the common scum gave him sufficient personal space, and if a particularly arrogant or desperate ruffian decided to test him, well, what better way to scout out potential gladiators? Eristes' unregulated shanty towns were a veritable hive of the most dangerous and degenerate sentient life-forms in the universe, so he hoped to conscript a few of the more notable specimens into the upcoming bloodsport contests.

At the moment, however, his prospects were not encouraging. The taproom had seen its fair share of violence since he has arrived, but all of it had been fairly humdrum brawling, with no one demonstrating any notable skill or panache. The arena crowds were accustomed to exotic displays of battle prowess; any gladiator who was not, at the very least, a master of the craft would not hold their attention. Still, Xundar had the patience of a seasoned veteran. Taking a long drink of the potent local ale, he bided his time, his trained eyes continuing to evaluate all who came and went.

@xundar:

This place was foul. A hive of scum and villainy the likes of which Vel'aaru had never before seen, reminding her of just how inexperienced she really was. After having found the nearest town to her location, the illian girl made some modifications on her handheld, adapting it to mimic the credit frequencies of this planet's currency -- enough money to survive in this place before anyone found out, if they ever did.

Wandering into a little... what was it? Some kind of tavern? the alien girl smoothed her skirt out over her slim, pale thighs, crawling up onto a stool and curling her flipper-like feet around the legs of it, tail swishing idly behind her. "Milk, please," she asked the barkeep politely, not noticing or acknowledging the four-armed beast beside her. "Cold."

@velaaru_of_illea: The Eristian probably would not have taken any notice of the newcomer, had it not been for her request. For starters, manners such as hers were essentially unheard of in such an establishment, and the beverage she asked for so politely was highly unusual. Unless she came from a world where "milk" was a euphemism for some kind of cocktail, of course...

Sizing the young alien up, he realized that her appearance was equally incongruous with the surroundings. By all accounts, she seemed as though she had barely reached adulthood, if in fact she even had. She had a earnest expression, and was dressed in a manner more befitting some highly-civilized academy, not a cutthroat bar on a world that was more wilderness than otherwise. Still, he had seen enough in his years to have learned not to make judgement solely on appearance, and he remained where he was, curious to see how her request would play out.

@xundar:

It was a moment before the bartender -- some bizarre, many-limbed alien -- managed to decipher her request, and actually deliver it, treating it as if Vel had just asked for a glass of pure maple syrup. A mixer, possibly, but certainly not a straight drink. Smiling, the illian thanked the man and deposited a transfer of funds to the bar, waving sweetly and then finally taking a sip of her drink, letting out a pleased coo. It was cold, pleasantly so, and while it was a little bit thinner and sweeter than what she had acclimated to on D-082, it was very much to her liking. Her tail swayed contently as she flipped out her handheld, examining it as she enjoyed her seat and her drink, assimilating ever more information on Battleworld and, more specifically, the important faces and events that would likely end up being of interest to her.

One of the first entries she skimmed, of course, contained a picture... a picture of the man sitting across from her. Xundar, the Battle-Fiend. The Many-Armed Torment of the Sands. Spooky indeed.

Iridescent violet eyes shifted to examine the man beside her, using her peripheral vision, but her body language belied her sudden revelation. Her tail's movements became firmer and more sudden, her two long, featureless toes tightening around the legs of her stool.

@velaaru_of_illea: In combat, the ability to read an enemy's body language often meant the difference between life and death: the sudden widening of the eyes before an attack, a shift in the way the muscles tensed before a strike intended as a feint, and so forth. Xundar had not become arena champion merely by virtue of his immense physical prowess and ability to heal; he was also a consummate warrior, in every sense of the word. However, even a novice would have picked up on the sudden shift in the young alien's manner. She had taken notice of him, and it would be a safe bet that she recognized who and what he was.

The massive Eristian made no moves towards her; if her tense posture was any indication, that would likely cause her to bolt for the door, and then he would have to chase her down and risk hurting her before he could gain any information from her. Instead, he locked his hard eyes upon her face, and spoke, in as casual a manner as his booming, growling voice allowed, "What is wrong, young one? Is the milk of my world not to your liking?"

@xundar:

Vel'aaru let out an awkward giggle, her tail stiffening entirely before starting to take on a "forced-casual" sway, as if she wasn't threatened in the least. "It's good, actually... not quite as good as it was in the last Sector I made my residence. Buuut I suppose it's best not to live comparatively, right?" she let out a nervous chuckle, taking another drink of her milk and tilting her head to face the massive Eristian. If he had known what planet she hailed from, and understood the significance of its name, this champion may have been as afraid of Vel'aaru as she was of him. But despite her abilities and her accomplishments, Vel was a young girl, alone, on a mean planet, and just across the bar from her was the biggest and meanest one of them all.

"I'm just, ah, hehe, I'm new here, is all," she tried, her skin tinting with a blush. Another gulp of her milk and she flicked her handheld off, sliding it back into her skirt. "My name's Vel'aaru."

@velaaru_of_illea: If the newcomer's act was a ruse, it was a masterful one. All evidence pointed to her being as young and inexperienced as she appeared to be, which made her presence here that much inexplicable. "Welcome to Eristes then, Vel'aaru," he boomed in response, his mouth widening in rather menacingly tusked smile. "I would introduce myself, but am I correct in assuming that you know who I am?"

@xundar:

"Thank you!" she said genuinely when Xundar welcomed her. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all, huh? She then put on her best serious face, trying to act flippant but still a bit impressed. "You're Xundar, I know. You're the champion of Battleworld. You've..." she paused, wondering if she should play her card right away. But honestly, what was there to lose? "You've probably even met the Inevitable, haven't you?"

@velaaru_of_illea: Ah, so that was it, then. He had cautioned his master that sending his unencrypted message would result in visits from beings who had interests outside of the games. "Indeed I do, young one; Zedracus has been my patron since I was a very young gladiator. Are you here to observe the Inevitable One's games, then?"

@xundar:

The alien girl swallowed softly, cleared her throat, then took another drink of her milk. "Not observe," she said after a long moment, inhaling through her nose. "Compete." She tilted her head away, awaiting the inevitable peal of laughter. She knew she didn't look like a warrior -- she wasn't one, she hadn't even graduated! -- and she was used to people thinking she wasn't capable.

@velaaru_of_illea: Although his eyes narrowed at the statement, the champion did not laugh. This Vel'aaru appeared very young and rather frail, it was true, but he knew better than most that battle prowess was not restricted a single physical type. Some of his most stalwart foes had appearances that would have caused many warriors to scoff. Granted, they had died at his four hands, as all his foes had, but that fact did not diminish their honor. "I see." At this point, he would normally give a hopeful information on where to report to be considered in the preliminary rounds, but this one had piqued his curiosity."Well then, younf Vel'aaru, how would you like to hasten your audition process?"

@xundar:

"All I have to do is get there," she said, her face lowering, her eyes darkening, her ill intent finally bleeding through. The torment that ran through her, months under the affections of Mi'ane, had twisted her into something she hadn't been before, and that new person showed now. "I can take care of the rest."

She breathed in, finishing her milk and setting it gently on the countertop before turning to Xundar, her piercing violet eyes gazing directly into his. "You give me an audition, and I'll give you a champion. It's that simple." The illian's voice lowered. "Exactly that simple."

@velaaru_of_illea: There it was; that inner fire that the truly great possessed. Something in her relatively brief life had given her a hatred that defied any measure of time or experience. Still, having the heart to be ruthless was only part of the equation; one still required a degree of skill to be able to execute it. Nodding to her without a trace of humor, he turned towards the door, barking out an order in a guttural, almost bestial language. Almost instantly, the entire door frame was filled by a miniature mountain of fur and muscle - one of the Grizzlon bodyguards that Zedracus insisted accompany his champion. The ursine ogre wore no armor, but carried a heavy, spiked maul, made entirely from some steel-like metal. The weapon must have easily weighed 80 pounds, but the monster holding it handled it as though it was a wisp of grass.

"I much prefer simplicity," he spoke, returning his gaze to Vel. "So let us make this simpler, still." He once again addressed the Grizzlon, as he waved one of his four meaty hands at Vel'aaru. "Kill her." Without hesitation, the beastly minion sprung forward with a snarl, its weapon swinging in a devastating downward arc towards the Illian's head.

@xundar:

Vel'aaru did not move from her seat, tilting only slightly to observe the grizzlon as it charged. Imperium scum. Fiends. Enforcers of Nordok and his foul crusade. Dark creatures with no remorse or hope for redemption.

She didn't feel bad about killing them.

The illian neither moved, nor gestured, but as the grizzlon grew closer, so it grew slower, crawling to an eventual halt. It's mace was still held above its head, it seemed like a perfect imitation of life, completely frozen still as the atoms around it simply stopped, willed to do so by Vel'aaru. The alien teen turned to Xundar, her eyes hardening and not leaving the champion's as a tiny bubble of Void swelled within the beast's brain, growing and growing before suddenly collapsing, causing a controlled implosion of the grizzlon's head.

Vel then turned back to the bar, gesturing to the bartender for another milk as she released her hold on the beast, causing it to gently fall to the floor with a soft thud. "Simple enough for you, k'jak?"

@velaaru_of_illea: It was not often that the champion of Battleworld was genuinely impressed, but this was one of those times. Grizzlons were not particularly clever or subtle opponents, but killing one with such ease was still no mean feat. She had demonstrated that she would indeed be a competitor in the games. "Indeed. Most efficiently done, young Vel'aaru." He rose, striding to the door, and beckoned for her to follow him. "Consider yourself accepted into the games. Now come with me; we will find you garments more befitting a warrior."

@xundar: The illian pouted, gesturing to her little academy outfit. "But these are like... my garments," she said with a sulk, standing up from her stool and settling onto her bizarre legs, so similar to that of a hooved biped but just slightly bizarre. "You really think armor is what will help me win the games? I survived in the center of a star!" she pouted, tail lashing, and not thinking that she may be giving something away that shouldn't be.

@velaaru_of_illea: Xundar paused, turning once more to face her. "Given that display of power, I must must consider your statement to be true, even if it seems a boast." His eyes narrowed. "It makes me wonder what a creature of such exalted power is doing competing in bloody games on a remote world, hmm?"

@xundar:

"I...!" she started, then paused, chewing her bottom lip. "My reasons are my own," Vel grumbled, folding her arms beneath her tiny breasts, tail lashing again, annoyed. Crumble the Imperium! she thought angrily, but then closed her eyes, trying to relax. Tried to remember the Void Soul techniques that she'd been teaching herself -- she had to relax and flow like water.

@velaaru_of_illea: "Hrmm..." he pondered, once again appraising her. Her obvious power was so very at odds with her manner. "Well, I suppose battle is a better place for you than at a gaming table. You would not bluff so well, I think." He resumed striding towards the door. "As for your clothes, the games are as much about pageantry as they are about prowess, young one. The crowds seek a performance, and not merely quick kills. You have the ability to win great honor, but you must also have the appearance."

@xundar: "So... what were you thinking, then?" she arched a brow, turning her own gaze to her clothing and willing them to change, taking on a darker, armored appearance similar to a character she had seen in a terran television program, "Xena." She then flexed, looking more than a little silly -- her girlish physique simply didn't lend itself to an intimidating appearance. "Like this?"

@velaaru_of_illea: He raised an eyebrow inquisitively at her sudden change of attire. "Yes...that does look far more suitable to the arena, though I would suggest a different stance. Now come; Zedracus has provided a magnificent feast for all who intend to participate in the coming battles. It would not do to be late."

Meanwhile, the preliminary matches go on...

He's so nice polite I almost don't want him to die.

@inevitable_one: Yes, I am quite the gentleman, aren't I?