Here We Are Now, Entertain Us [Amalea]

[Azraeth]

For the roleplay tournament. Trying to keep posts relatively short (200-300ish words), so we can go semi-turn based. <3!

He could hear the roar of the crowd, though it was mostly background noise, drowned out by the very present sound of the music hammering into his ears. Nirvana. He hummed along to the tune, the lyrics feeling oddly appropriate. He had certainly loaded up. And even the sound of the band seemed to fade away, because it was little more than a trigger. He didn’t listen to get pumped. He didn’t need that burst of adrenaline in his system to act. No. He needed it to help center everything inside of his skull. He felt anchored to the ground under his feet, his hands dangling at his sides, the digits of one curling in to form a fist. He wore a leather jacket. His shirt was this barely there wisp of red cotton with a plunging v-neck that would have granted view to his chest if not for the dangling glint of glass and silver reliquary filled with the ashes of a revenant.

His jeans were worn in and torn in some places, like at one knee. His belt was only there to hold the scabbard of his sword. One could make out the holsters of his gun underneath his jacket on the opposite side, to allow for quick, though careful cross-draw. His eyes were closed. And then they were opened. His pupils were so wide that they nearly consumed the entire blue of his gaze, and they very slowly contracted down into the slivers which easily identified the dragon kind. He pulled his earbuds out, and the cheers became rowdy and overwhelming. Yet the Mystic heard nothing but silence. He was focused on the space across from him. He didn’t know who he was up against. His intention in joining the underground tournament hadn’t been to win. What he wanted was experience. Raw and visceral.

[Elizabeth]

It had come up during the Thanksgiving fiasco that Amalea was in some sort of '**** fight' with someone named Azraeth. She was positive that Elizabeth had heard that name a time or two before, she was still not certain just who they were. Still, as nice as the person may be, she was not here for them, but for Amalea. Apparently a few evenings prior, Amalea had a fight with a group of people and she mentioned shooting people in the head. Impressive for a human-even one that was more than what she seemed.

And while that little facet of information was interesting, Elizabeth had learned quickly that '**** fighting' usually resulted in people betting on the '****' they favoured. Well, nothing against this Azraeth, but Elizabeth of course had her preference on who she was going to bet on tonight.

As promised, Amalea stopped by to pick her up so that Elizabeth knew where the fight would be. Either the woman was afraid Elizabeth had a poor sense of direction (which may be true), or she wanted to ensure that someone would be there supporting her tonight. Charles, Elizabeth assumed would show up at some point, but it seemed that there were a few connected to the male that were taking part in this sporting event. She wondered if that implied something, or if it were just 'luck' so to speak. Either way, it would be interesting and exciting to see how the events of tonight would play out.

Wearing

[Doc]

Doc was just finishing a beer while talking to several other on people there to watch the fight. He was wearing a black tee shirt that said “Team Amalea”. Their conversation had centered around how he knew Amalea, and what her ‘stats’ were. They were trying to get Doc to give them hints so they knew how to place their bets. Doc had just smiled and said ‘She’s a damn fine hunter. Watched her hold her ground against a dear’. And by ‘bear’ he meant ‘loupgarou’, which in Doc’s mind was worse than a bear. Nodding affable at the them, he tossed his empty solo cup and moved to get a spot by the fence, before it filled up.

As he made his way to the pit in question, there in all the dirt, rust, mire and filthy benches, stood Lizzie dressed as if she were there for high tea. She stuck out like a rose in the desert. She was surrounded by bikers, thugs, and gang members. But it didn’t seem to phase her at all. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she might actually be having a conversation with a big burly biker wearing only a leather vest, jeans and boots. Doc lost no time in getting to her side.

“Lizzie.. You made it.” He eyed her attire, “And a wee bit over dressed.. But lovely.” He looked in the pit, “Have you spotted for Amalea?”

[Elizabeth]

"Well, I know for a fact that while she may be a woman, that it appears given the recent results, this round of...'fighting' seems to be dominated by women." Elizabeth said with a casual shrug of her right shoulder, her eyes glancing at an area that seemed to want to trap the opponents in it, or keep the crowds out. "So, two thousand dollars, was it?" She asked, blue eyes back on the man who was sitting right besides her, who let out a bark of a laugh.

"Feel bad tak'n your money, sweetheart, but lessons learned. Two big ones it is." He said, holding out a big burly paw for her to shake. Slowly, Elizabeth reached out a hand and returned the shake, with a smug smile on her face. "May the best...individual win." She followed up with, before she heard her name and turned to look at Doc.

"Doc. Good evening." She said as her eyes flicked over his clothing, which was more or less like everyone else's in the area. Was she over dressed, or were they perhaps under dressed? "Do you know that I read once, that when gladiators fought in Rome, that everyone who went to observe such things wore their very best, because it was the spectacle of the time frame?" She casually mentioned with a shrug of her shoulders, blue eyes glinting in amusement.

"Oh! If you mean bet, of course. I was just making my arrangements with Viper here. Two thousand dollars." Once she read a '**** fight' winner won six thousand dollars from their bet. If she won, Elizabeth would have four thousand instead of two. A decent win. "They have their doubts because these sorts of events are typically won by men, but I happen to see things differently." She winked at him, before glancing to the arena area.

[Amalea]

She had been excited when she had heard the rumor than an underground pit-fighting style tournament was being held. Sure she regularly fought in The Gauntlet as part of Voodoo’s monthly brackets, but this was an opportunity to test her skills against a new opponent. Or rather, it would have been had the red-head not been paired with Azraeth for the first round. She had seen him fight and fought alongside him, however this would be the first time she’d go head to head with the Dragomir male. She had known upon entering the tournament that she wasn’t likely to win it; vampires did tend to overpower humans, after all. It wasn’t an issue though as she was more interested in testing and honing her skills than any prize.

She had heard a rumor that one of the female fighters had chosen a classic schoolgirl outfit to fight in; if it was true, she had to give the woman a ton of credit. She wasn’t as daring and had gone with a more conservative outfit. A form-fitted black tank top was paired with an equally form-fitted pair of black leather pants. Much like the night they had gone in search of the odd blood-buying humans, a dagger was situated in her ankle holster with its cousin in the one upon her upper arm. Another was hidden in a special slit in her pants. A couple of properly holstered firearms with extra clips of ammo in concealed pockets rounded out her main weapon choices. A black leather jacket kept everything covered and out of sight as to avoid unwanted attention on her way to the pit.

Her red tresses had been twisted up into what appeared to be some elegant updo though it held a deadly, though decorative secret, a pair of throwing daggers. It was hard to say if it was that or her choice of outfit that seemed to draw attention from the gathered crowd as she made her way through the venue towards the pit. She grinned as she saw Elizabeth, whom she had brought with her earlier, though she still wasn’t quite sure what was up with the woman’s outfit, but to each their own. She gave a small wave as she saw Doc with Liz, which was unsurprising to the red-head. Her attention was quickly claimed by the pit and her opponent as she approached and took her position opposite of him.

“Fancy seeing you here, brother-mine,” she grinned as she discarded her jacket into a relatively safe corner.

[Flynn]

The first rule of fight club, was you do not talk about fight club.

Of course, as soon as Azraeth had signed up for this underground tournament, he had come home and told Flynn all about it, including his reasoning for taking part in the first place. The learning experience. It wasn't about the rush of adrenaline, the potential pleasure that could come from kicking the **** out of someone, or even the joys of winning. No, just the fact that he could say he did it, and the takeaways that came with it. What a nerd. The thought was an affectionate one, but no less the truth. Hell, the guy probably would have agreed with him, anyway.

And even if Az wasn't in this to win, that wasn't about to stop the human from coming to the pit to root for him. The screams were deafening, and the air smelled of stale beer and body odor as everyone huddled close together to get the best view of the center that they could. The white t-shirt with 'Team Dat Azz' written in big bold letters made it obvious enough who he was there for and more than a few shady characters had approached him, seeking out bets to be made on the winner of the fight. Flynn had just waved them away, or pushed them away in one instance. It was one thing to make bets with his partner (which he totally had), and another to do so with the rowdy crowds whose only interest were the profits. That wasn't to say all of his money wouldn't have gone to Az, but he didn't need any additional motivation to get rowdy with the rest of them.

He took up a spot on the vampire's side of the pit by the fence, taking in that intense expression of focus on his face. It would have been pointless to yell, because it would go in one ear and out the other, at the moment. And as Amalea finally appeared, the paladin smirked with a shake of his head, arms crossing over his chest. Only those two would end up against each other in the first round of this thing. He had seen them both in action, and Az more than once. Each of them was a force to be reckoned with on their own, but he assumed they had been in this position before. The Dragons had those tournaments, and Flynn would have been surprised if Az and Lea hadn't faced off before. Maybe even more than once. Regardless, he had never been there to witness it, but he found himself curious. It would be an interesting fight.

[Azraeth]

Well that was certainly ironic wasn’t it? Az had gone in to the tourney looking for new foes to face, new skills to pick up, and he was immediately challenged by Amalea, who he might have faced off against during one of the Voodoo Dragon tournaments. If the vampire was surprised to see her; it wasn’t betrayed on his features. If anything, a smile grew out of the neutral expression he wore. Well. At the very least, if he was going to lose in the first round, he knew he was going to lose to someone worthy of fighting. And Lea certainly looked like she was ready to head into battle. “Looking hot, sis!” He called out across the arena.

Wait.

Wait a second.

He cleared his throat. Totally not an awkward thing to say.

“I hope you know, I’m not about to go easy on you!” Of course. She already knew that. That was the law of the urban jungle that was Harper Rock. Even the kind ones. Even the ones who seemed like they should have been soft - they weren’t. They couldn’t be and survive. Spines of steel, with blades instead of vertebra. That was what it meant to struggle and thrive in the darkness.

He expected no less from her than her best. And he knew Lea well enough to know he wasn’t walking away from the fight without hurting. His gaze only briefly danced away from her, to settle on one particular face in the crowd. Or rather, a shirt that had arms folded over it. ‘Gonna tackle you to the floor and eat you later, babe!’ he mouthed to Flynn before he began to move briskly towards Amalea. He reached behind him to pull his ritual dagger from its sheath against the small of his back. He dug the pointed end of it into his palm. A small amount of blood welled.

He formed a fist, and his fingers came away smeared in the redness.

Ding ding.

Fight was a go.

You overpower Amalea with your mystic powers. Their blood simmers and corrupts as they writhe in agony.

[Storyteller]

==========AUTOMATED POST==========

Azraeth has initiated a battle against Amalea. Awaiting outcome.

[Amalea]

The red-head had to giggle at the vampire’s opening comment, especially after the delayed clearing of the throat. It’s not as if she minded and she certainly understood even if the spectators had not. It was the simply the nature of their relationship. Not for the first time was she grateful for facing him first knowing that no matter what he would be gracious either in victory or defeat. Her past wins against vampires in the more official tournaments had not been accepted with grace by her opponents. It was a shame, but she wasn’t going to hold back just to keep from bruising someone’s ego.

She smirked at his statement knowing he spoke true. Then again, she wasn’t about to hold back, so it was only fair. A coy smile tugged at her lips, ”I’d certainly hope not.” That she wasn’t going to give him any quarter was left unsaid as was the fact that she’d be insulted if he did hold back. There was no doubt that both of them were leaving here with injuries; if they didn’t then they weren’t giving it their all. That thought didn’t even bear thinking about as there was no way either was going to give the other an easy victory which was one of the other reasons the blood thief didn’t mind facing him first.

She smiled slightly as she saw his gaze flicker upward, figuring Flynn had come along to cheer him on. It was adorable. Hell, they were an adorable couple. While he was occupied, her eyes swept over the crowd easily picking out Liz, silently thanking the woman for her unusual dress as it made her easier to find, and by extension, Doc. She blinked as she got a decent look at his shirt; that was unexpected. Idly, she turned her attention back to her opponent knowing better than to keep her eyes off him for too long.

As she expected, he began to advance on her indicating that it was time for their deadly dance to begin. Her eyes kept careful watch of his movements as she took a step backwards, confident she wouldn’t be backing herself into a corner. The appearance of the dagger was of no surprise; weapons were bound to come into play sooner than later. Given the close quarters, a dagger was a good choice. It was a bit surprising to see him cut himself rather than lash out at her. Recognition hit her a moment before his chosen spell; the red-head bit her lip at the pain of the blood curse.

Eyes narrowed as her own dagger dropped into her hand, nicking the tip of her finger before the hilt settled into her palm. She took a couple quick steps to the side as she responded in kind. Tit for tat was completely fair, right? In truth, she had planned it as her opening move anyway. It’d be interesting to see if his next move was the one she had planned to use herself.

You overpower Azraeth with your mystic powers. Their blood simmers and corrupts as they writhe in agony.

[Storyteller]

=========AUTOMATED POST=========

The battle is over. Amalea's team are the victors!