the main event

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Even though it were only the opening "acts", the crowd was electric in a cacophony of bays and jeers. For, on a mid-tier level of the sewers, just when the air grew still and cool and the bustle of the markets above were silenced by layers of concrete, one of the most high profile of Spades-run fights was occurring.

It was not a grand and elegant spectacle, as one might see in a theatre at the Inner Citadel, with a layered ring of seats coiled around a large center stage. It was crowded, people throwing elbows and shoving about tiers of railed walkways to get a better look at the box shaped arena low in the center. For in that walled arena was the show, a promise by high-ranking Spades to be the most blood-curdling and vicious exhibition ever hosted by the Spades that year.

A mass of people thronged at the lowest most level, the one just above the fight area, and only grew excited as blood from the opening fights splattered up at them. Then, as the floors went up, the amount of people that milled about shrunk. These were where the vendors were, the food and bars under Spade's jurisdiction, selling steaming (and questionable) skewers of meat and offering drinks, the quality of which was a gamble. In Spade's tradition, drug bunnies maneuvered about the crowds, singling those out who were susceptible to their charms or heavy in pocket, convincing them with pretty, batting lashes to enter the gang's prolific drug business. Drug runners and dealers also attended, to initiate the business part as drug bunnies lured potential clientel to the shadows.

Poorly lit, begrimed and thrilling, it was a Spade's tournament, through and through. From a higher tier, Atlas watched. He was a cloaked figure, leaning against the rails, observing quietly the affair below. He had a hand in the organization of such an event, and the concept was his alone, but he rarely made a physical appearance. It was the headline act that drew him to this particular match, one he had handcrafted himself: The Lone Wanderer vs. Mama & Papa.

Tacitly, he brooded amidst the mute grays and blues of the Crossroad underground, as the announcer's voice split the area, staticky and broken by the single sound device the Spades used, yet audible over the audience shouting below and the agonizing groans of the losing fighter in the pit. It was almost time for the headliner.

Tag : Ian Donnaghan, Spades & Other Event Goers

OOC Notes:

This is a Spades event, however, anyone can attend the show (within reason). The setting is underground, beneath the Crossroads, and is a hyped-up fighting match between the Long Wanderer (Ian Donnaghan) and two Reapers, a "mated" pair coined Mama and Papa (for narrative sake). The opening tournament, which play out in this post, are a series of human (or passably human) fighters, of which can be played by player characters if you choose.

Do whatever you want! Chat with a Spade, drink some of the swill offered above the arena, do drugs (rancor maybe?), sell some of their food items and drinks, taunt the fighters or be the fighters! Maybe you want to jump in the Pit, as a spectator, and join the fight (who'd be crazy enough to do that though?).

This thread will have two phases. The second phase will be marked by a surprise event. This is Phase I.

OOC notes are optional, but it may be helpful to readers to know what's going on in the thread and who they can interact with. It may also help to indicate what floor you're on, for positioning's sake.

Floor 0: The Fight Pit, Readying Rooms and Infected Pens
Floor 1: The Main Spectator Area and Betting Booth
Floor 2: Where most of the vendors and drug dealers are
Floor 3: A quieter viewing space with some private areas (the level Atlas is on)
Floor 4: The highest floor, where spectators come in and are directed down

Happy fightin'!

Posted 08-20-2021, 09:36 PM This post was last modified: 08-25-2021, 04:46 PM by Atlas

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Within the confines of the preparation rooms, Ian continued to ready himself for the fight ahead. He tightened his gauntlets, making sure that they would remain in place for the duration of the coming fight. Suffice to say, he was somewhat uneasy; Ferals and Hunters were one thing, but Reapers were something else entirely. The first were predictable in their savagery, whilst the latter could be spooked and distracted...but Reapers? They were the only non-sapient Infected that made him anxious because they were so damnably unpredictable...now, he was fighting two of the fiends at the same time.

"Bloody Reapers...."

He muttered to himself, as he reached for his glaive; he could be excused for it, since he was facing two of the most dangerous Infected out there. Personally, Ian suspected that the Jabberwockies captured Reapers for their reproductive capabilities; more newly-Infected scrubs were likely to survive due to the Level IV's tendency to leave the bitten alive...which naturally means more chattle for the fighting pits of the Jabberwockies. Taking the great blade in hand, the Vampire took out a whetstone and began to sharpen the blade and its barbs; the blade was designed in a manner that made Infected healing significantly slower due to the sheer amount of tearing damage the barbs would inflict onto a target if stabbed...if the blade doesn't cleave a limb off. Next to him was an old, red-painted oni mask; due to the audience's love of his theatrics so far, he felt justified in wearing it...felt it would put on a better show. His coat and his blades would still easily distinguish him from the rest. As the Doctor waited for his 'name' to be announced, he continued to polish the glaive.

Tag Atlas

Posted 08-25-2021, 10:44 AM This post was last modified: 08-25-2021, 10:44 AM by Ian Donnaghan

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By circumstance of chattering patients, Micah had learned about the fight. They were Spades lackeys, come for the free healthcare as was agreed upon by the doctor and the gang. And they were not quiet about this supposed event, to be due within the next two days at the undergrounds. Normally, gossip between his clients hardly interested the doctor, as he had no desire to know who left whose kid or who succumbed to their addictions. But this little curio was intriguing to Micah for one particular reason- the presence of "badass" Infected.

When he attend the event, he forewent the white Cypher coat and accompanying slacks for a plain, gray sweatshirt, layered over plain jeans and accompanying sneakers. If it weren't for the tense way he held himself, stressed out of his element, he would have looked like any other event goer. Yet the crowds, the smell, that dark corners that loomed over them like horrific beasts, it was quite unlike the sterile confines of his lab, or the low walls of his apartment. This was the dubious side of the Stronghold, the criminals that Micah saw being escorted in handcuffs, scruffy, dirty and out of place in the pristine surroundings of the Military Headquarters. They were free here, unhanded, to explore their profane desires. Micah wrinkled his nose at it, thoroughly disturbed, and he wasted no time stealing himself away from the higher levels of the underground chamber to seek entrance to the Infected pens.

The precursor to the main event, something about a lone wanderer and a mother and father, carried on in vicious fashion as Micah had found the stairs to the lower levels. It was expectedly guarded, the substantially vigorous of the Spades posted by the double doors where the low grumbles of Infected sounds emanated. The doctor was abysmal at subterfuge, and the guards only laughed when he stated he was hear to check up on the state of the Infected.

"Only one mans' allowed to do that and he's three times as wide as you. Fuck off."

Well, that would throw a wrench in his plans.

Tag : Jabberwockies

OOC Notes:

- Micah wants to sneak into Floor 0. He's at the guarded doors. Can someone help him break in maybe?

Posted 08-25-2021, 04:26 PM This post was last modified: 08-25-2021, 04:29 PM by Andromeda

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With his elbows leaned on the railings, Keade watched the processions with half-hearted interest. It was a rousing experience, the crowd loud, intoxicated with the electric energy and most likely the drink offerings upstairs. He could smell the bitterness of cheap ale on their breaths, as they heckled and taunted the fighters below, two sweating and bloody bodies engaged in no-rules combat, one armed with a longer, slender knife, the other with fists dressed in brass. The one with armed knuckles threw themselves forward, and Kaede thought, along with the crowd that collectively sucked in their breaths around him, that the knife-wielder would have him by reach alone. But the fist fighter expertly stepped out of the way at the last moment, the knife so close it must have took off a few whiskers from the stubble that peppered their jaw. At the same time, their fist came up to balance off the momentum and connected into the other combatant's jaw. Once, twice, before those brass knuckles came back bloody, and the victim's cheek was a shredded mess of red and white.

The crowd screamed, brayed, engulfing every other sound around, including the announcer's. It seemed the only ones to react mildly in the immediate vicinity were Kaede and his compatriots, two other Infected that flanked him. The smell of blood was enticing, but Kaede forced his fangs down in a pained expression. Whereas all were chanting on the man with bloodied fists raised in triumph, Kaede's stormy eyes were drawn to the victim, the apparent loser of the fight. From his eyes a ring of yellow accompanied blue, a stretch of chamomile sand against a reckless ocean, the telltale sign of the Infected's hunger. He had struck a deal with the Spades- the losers, should they be left alive by their opponents, were to be given to the River Styx.

Kaede would have to wait until the end of the opening tournament, however. He retreated from the railing, then, when the smell of blood toed on irresistible. Instead, he stole away to the betting booth, staking his money on the main event in the favor of the Infected. That was, until he noticed that his pockets were empty, and with Infected reflexes caught a shadow scuttling away as quick as they could between the press of the crowd.

"Hey!" Kaede called, taking off to follow the thief's footsteps and nearly toppling the person behind him over.

Tag : Jabberwockies, Kaleb Winchester (maybe)

OOC Notes:

>Kaede is here because the losers of the opening fights were promised to the River Styx by the Spades.
>Was watching the fight but had to stand back because blood is tasty
>Was going to bet on the fight in favor of the Infected but someone stole his money and now he's chasing them. Would someone like to be the thief or the person he knocked over in his pursuit?

Posted 08-25-2021, 05:02 PM

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He really doesn't like it here.

The cacophony of smells that mix together in a sort of swampy haze, the heat from bodies as people swarm like locusts to the front of the viewing area — but most of all, the germs. Kaleb doesn't honestly believe that anyone was keeping the place in immaculate condition, which meant everything was hazardous for the germaphobe Infected. Even with the heated surroundings, Kaleb was dressed from head to toe, a heavy coat on with long sleeves that extended down to the leather gloves covering his hands. He stands next to his twin brother, Kaede, the only reason why he was currently there tonight.

They had struck a deal with the Spades — well, Kaede had, considering he was the 'front' of their organization — and the two of them had made their way to the event to make sure they would collect on their prizes by the end of the night. Doing business with the Jabberwockies, who ruled the underworld, was always a good idea, even if it always made Kaleb feel positively ill. It doesn't help when some silly human drinks themselves so drunk that they vomit all over themselves.

Which is what was currently happening in some corner. Kaleb can smell the stench and moves closer to his brother, a gloved hand raising to pinch his nose in disgust. But suddenly Kaede is off, and instinctively Kaleb moves after him, even if he's more concerned about weaving his way through the crowd in such a way that they wouldn't touch him. He's not all that concerned with what his brother's up to, which is why he's surprised when he's suddenly bumped into and thrown backwards — by Kaede, even if it he doesn't realize it in the heat of the moment — separating the twins and casting the germaphobe into the net of gang members.

"Kaede?" Panic immediately blossoms in his chest when he can't spot his twin, and as someone else bumps into him and throws him off once more, he gags and swiftly pushes his way to the edge of the crowd.

If anyone knew his true identity — that of an Infected — surely they'd find him to be an awfully pathetic sight. Clutching the nearest wall as he shuts his eyes, trying to distract himself from the swirls of nausea that plague him. He can feel other people's touches crawling over him like some kind of insects and in a blind panic, he shrugs the jacket off of himself and throws it away. He'd just have to burn it when they got back home anyway at this rate. All he wants is— Opening his eyes, he once more tries to locate his brother in the crowd of people.

Tag JABBERWOCKIES, Kaede Winchester

Posted 09-02-2021, 10:04 PM

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‘The Morrigan’ was a name on the betting boards that caused the tongues of those unfamiliar with the Crossroads to wag. Those who spent the majority of their time underground, crowded around the pit and roaring their encouragement to spill blood, had seen it before. They knew her when she was just Aspen, a faceless Club who seemed to take to the blooded sands of the pit as a self-appointed punishment. Body wrought with bruises, jaw held stubbornly aloft to withstand a fist she could’ve blocked. It’d only been the last eight or so months that she had begun to appear under the alias many here associated with the arms dealer. It was common knowledge she was a Sniper; one that didn’t mind whose hand was behind the money so long as the assignment didn’t affect the schemes of the Clubs. Presently, however, it did beg one to wonder: why did The Morrigan choose to reside in The Pit? Why did she choose to be feasted upon by crowds in a territory not her own? One spectator’s guess was as good as the next.

The Old Dogs would tell you she had a taste for it; a wizened nod given to the moment when blood ran down her chin and a savage grin of bloodied enamel was given to her opponent. She did it because it filled some particularly rotten gap in her soul. Others would say she lost a bet. It was a punishment from higher up - don’t be foolish. Clubs handle club business. The popular vote was that she used these public spectacles as a means of reminding people that although she brought death at a safe distances behind a long-range scope, she was just as capable of ruining your day up close.

Maybe it was a mix of all of the above.

The Old Dogs knew who to bet on.

A mixture of cheers and disappointed boo’s followed in the wake of the suffocation that coloured her opponent’s face; hands clawing for purchase on the thighs that had locked around his neck. The fight had turned into a grapple within the sands when each seemed driven by exhaustion in the end. Blood poured from the split in her cheek, her head throbbing from a particularly nasty cuff across her ears but she’d held on. She could squeeze the life out of him; hold him prostrate on the earth - his dislocated shoulder snug against her side, his arm warped in her grasp. He’d stopped struggling, a bloodied, mucus mess held within her constricted form. Calm violence clung to her features, disturbed only by the flicker of her gaze as she would eventually release him. Aspen could’ve killed him; if it weren’t for the facts that he was a Spade and she was in their den, unattended. Frustration was a rasp in her throat as she shoved the unconscious carcass aside and plucked herself up from the sands.

Through Floor 0, she wandered - the crowd a faint ebb above her as she picked her way through the preparation area. She paused momentarily to nod towards Ian, smile sharp and brutally impish, “I’ve got money on you, mate. I’d prefer if you weren’t splattered across the sands, huh?”

Aspen didn’t wait a round for a response as she reached the guarded doors that split the floors. The door was opened enough for her to squeeze through; a scrap of cloth wiping at the blood that had poured down in her cheek in the process. It was pocketed just as she came face to face with Micah; the guards guffawing between themselves.

Gaze drifted over the man, out of place amongst the crowd that funded this place. “If he’s curious, let him in.” Aspen interjected, drawing the guards’ attention. “Worse case scenario, you won’t need to feed them later.”

She stepped aside with a flourish of her hand, confidence in the flippant movement as if the guards would agree with her. Aspen was distracted, however, her free hand prodding at her face, ribs, and belly. A basic check for broken bones but all she found was the sting of bruises.

The bruises would become the colour of ‘Grave Green’ and it suited her awfully well.

Tag @"Jabberwockies", Micah Scofield, Ian Donnaghan

OOC Note:
- Aspen was one of the human contenders leading up the main event. Her opponent was a Spade who lost. If you want your character to be said Spade, go for it!
- She's bet on Ian to win.
- She's currently interacting with Micah at Floor 0 doors with a half-assed attempt to persuade the guards to let him passed.
- She'll eventually mingle with the masses above deck.

Posted 09-10-2021, 10:10 PM

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Greed played the most part in how she landed where she was now. That, envy and self preservation. Afterall, if she couldn't get away from the filth that she had unfortunately been born in, she might as well swim in it. She had to become a fish, one which could seamlessly go through the currents of all the muck that was the Jabberwockies territories. But she was not just any dumb fish. Eve had to be a fucking predatory fish. Pretty to look at but still deadly.

She had done everything and anything to hold the power and authority she wielded now, and such authority must be known. This was what she thought to herself as she delved deeper into the winding maze underground the Crossroads. In a decollete gown which color rivals the dark skies, a pair of sheer arm-length gloves and a choker made of rows of pearls, Eve strutted on her heels with confidence as if the very ground itself was blessed to have her walk upon it.

On the third level where there were a few individuals cocooned within their private viewing spaces, her eyes singled out a lone figure at the railings, and she couldn't help but smile. Although he painstakingly appeared to be trying to camouflage with the dark, there simply was no hiding the cold radiance of his pale skin. Eve made her way towards him, her little pets a few steps ahead of her and bodily removing insects from her path.

"I didn't think you'd come, you usually find these things boring." A short giggle passed her dark lips as she fluidly moved to invade his private space, winding both arms over and around his cloaked shoulders. "But we gotta have one thing clear baby, I get credit for Lone Wanderer. I found him first." Pressing her body against Atlas, she shifted her hands to run over his silver locks and tugged him down. With a decisiveness, Eve then captured his lips with her own, trapping his lower between her teeth and nipping at his cool skin.

"You have to reward me after this is over." she crooned after she pulled back, reaching out to smear more of her lipstick on his pale lips. Then, with a wink, she detached herself from Atlas and proceeded to descend to the lower floors with her entourage.

Eve did not bat an eyelash at whatever was happening on the next two floors, leaving it to her pets to make a path for her or resolve whichever problem that made her nose twitch. The crowd that has gathered at the double doors of the lowest floor, however, made her pause. With mild interest, she watched as Licorice tried to weasel his way past the guards. She continued to observe as another fighter emerged from within the doors and flipppantly tried to convince the guards of the same thing. When both attempts only gathered a dismissive scoff from both men stationed at the doors, Eve couldn't refrain from laughing.

"Oh my, this is just so painful to watch." the steady click of her heels reverberated in the small hall as she sashayed her way towards the group. With a snap of her gloved fingers, Jawbreaker, her most reliant musclehead, grabbed Micah by the elbow and pulled him out of Eve's way.

"Licorice darling, you can come in but Jawbreaker here has to have you in his iron grip. Can't have your sticky fingers poking where it shouldn't," she winked and then blew Micah a kiss. Then, turning to face the other woman, Eve put on a saccharine smile. "Congratulations on your win, Morrigan." Features turning sharp despite the smile on her face, she stepped forward and upfront the other.

This close, her heart skipped faster than when she had kissed Atlas earlier. She knew what the other woman was capable of but it did not deter Eve from invading the other's personal space. Reaching out, she trailed a lacquered nail against Aspen's jaw and crooned. "But for your sake, know your place." she hissed and then pushed her out of her way.

Another pet pushed the doors open for her and the young woman made a beeline towards her prized warrior. Emerald eyes gleaming with excitement and self congratulatory exhilaration, she stepped into Ian's room without reservations. "You have such a peculiar taste for accessories," she hummed as her gaze landed on the oni mask beside the crouched fighter. "I personally think it better if you show them your pretty face but I understand your desire to continue playing with mystery."

With hardly any caution, Eve sashayed then languidly sat on the bench next to the Lone Wanderer, leaning towards him yet still keeping a good distance between them. "Shall I give you a good luck kiss?" she giggled. She redid her lipstick on her way down and thus, she thought no traces of her kiss with Atlas was present. However, with an Infected's keen sense of smell, one would recognize the Spade's Ace's scent on her.

Aspen O'Hara Atlas Micah Scofield Ian Donnaghan @Jabberwockies

Ooc notes:
-Eve came from Floors 4 down to 0 (made out with Atlas on 3rd lol)
-Jawbreaker, spade lackey, is currently holding Micah and dragged him past the Floor 0 doors (currently NPC, but feel free to play him or insert him into your replies)
-Eve left them (Aspen, Jawbreaker, Micah, and 3 other cronies) within the floor and headed to Ian's room by herself
-She will eventually go back up to the 3rd floor
-The dress and the hairstyle she's sporting, minus the shades lol

Posted 09-11-2021, 10:48 AM This post was last modified: 09-11-2021, 10:59 AM by Eve Lovell

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Her dulcet, perfumed scent flooded over him. It brought a stir of excitement in his stomach, as cool eyes flickered over to watch her svelte form swaying from the darkness that seemed to stretch eternal in the Spade's underground. He watched her, as a predator watches its prey entice them- no, more as a man watches his woman tease and agitate him until he decides to reach for that delicious and unattainable fruit. His attention was wrested momentarily, yet completely, from the proceedings below, where a fighter by the name of "Aspen" had just bested her opponent and won a healthy round of bets.

Before he could wrap his slender arms around her waist, her limbs found his shoulders and he exhaled quietly at her touch. He had not realized how stressed he'd been, and moreso, how little people he had to expel his anxieties too. Her smell, her curves, the way her full lips pulled into that enchanting smile, it enraptured Atlas more than he cared to admit.

"And miss the chance to see you? I would never."

These feelings he kept stowed away in the deepest corner of his psyche. He would never admit to have become enthralled and met her eyes with a gaze that feigned aloofness and control. Her delicate fingers entangled themselves in his waist length hair, like were spinning a fine silver blanket from them.

"Does it matter, doll? All your credit is mine in the end," he informed her with a raspy drawl. He had a clawed finger go up to touch the plump softness of her feminine face, yet she was quicker and reached up to pull him in for a kiss, one of the few sources of warmth in the underground draftiness of the arena.

"If this fight goes as planned, you'll have more than that," Atlas said, grinning back at her, before she snaked her way out of his grasp, threw him back a wink and retreated into the shadows, her entourage of "pets" trailing behind her like heeled dogs.

He found his gaze stuck to her for a moment too long, and wrenched himself from watching those subtle curves press against the outline of her elegant dress back to the festivities below. The last tournament fight had taken the arena, and the crowd was restless as they grew impatient for the main event.

Tag Eve Lovell

OOC Notes:

The last tournament fight is occurring in the arena- place in your last responses soon before the main event!

Posted 09-18-2021, 02:41 PM This post was last modified: 09-18-2021, 02:42 PM by Atlas

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