by tooth & claw dragons

where darkness and chaos reign...
Welcome to the land of dragons and elves; demons and death. Here, you may weave tales of all creatures, great and small - magic is found in everything, and many worlds one can explore are open for discovery. By Tooth And Claw Dragons, often shortened to BTACD, is an original high fantasy role-play site with over eighty species and ten solid worlds, fifteen years strong. Freedom of creativity is boundless within the established lore, and member suggestions are not only accepted, but encouraged. We release new content monthly, and are always expanding our wondrous Realms. Come and play with magic, honor the great gods, and beware the balance that governs all...
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 Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness, Agent, Fyfergrund, and JPG
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PLAYERS INVOLVED: @JPG @Agent @Fyfergrund

SETTING: Z'Leaf

WEATHER: get dry inside it's rainin cats n dogs

TIME: 30 days before Current

CHARACTERS INVOLVED: Morgan Roth and Sedna (JPG), Dira (Agent), Balthazar (Fyfergrund)

This post has been edited by JPG: Today at 03:16 pm

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When the ruling classes become too busy to give a shit about a particular part of town, that makes it easy to fence things. Things that might have not be smiled upon by most. Things like people. Or pets. Or people pets. Stolen objects, dangerous objects, objects that should never be placed in the hands of humans.

And behind a door in the wine cellar requiring a special pass to get past the bouncer, one could find all these things being sold. Not to mention get a neat show – a show that involved two things fighting to the death. Could be men, women, beasts of all sorts, armed to the teeth or even with the brutal savagery of bare-knuckled fisticuffs.

And so, in this dimly lit underground cavern, lit up by torches and filled with the roaring drunken brutes in fine aristocrat threads, screaming as Sedna, the minotaur gladiatrix, delivered a helmet denting blow with the flat of her twin-axe – giving a small spin of the two-headed monstrosity of the weapon as her opponent fell - one of the two axe-heads snapping off from the blow.

Sedna, clad in a leather harness revealing her chiseled musculature, only looked on with a look of...boredom? It was hard to tell. The minotaur did not gloat. Did not celebrate. Instead, she buried the spike of the remaining axe head's tip into the ground and just looked to the host of ceremonies, seated high in a balcony with a mask engulfing his portly face along with his son.

In fact, anybody who would have been anybody wore a mask while down here as to prevent each other from ratting. It was impossible to tell who was who.

As he looked down upon the broken shell of a man, having barely been able to touch Sedna with his pigsticker of a weapon, he looked to the roaring crowd, attempting to gauge what would earn the largest amount of coin.

He started to turn his thumb upward. A roaring throng of boos and hisses, with some loud-mouthed noblewoman yelling “OFF WITH HIS HEAD.”

Well. That answered his question. He started to turn his thumb downward. A roar of approval from the bloodthirsty crowd.

A young xeriin boy, a Forestkin squirrel, obviously paid bitlets in coin to do what he did, looked to the signal. Then looked to Sedna, swallowing with a gulp, his squirrel ears drooping. “Y-you heard the master of ceremonies! The Pit's Bull is to execute the challenger!”

The man raised his head, and reached out to the xeriin boy and minotaur. “Just...make it quick.”

The xeriin boy bowed his head and shut his eyes, as Sedna drew back her now single-sided axe – aiming for a clean cleave.

This post has been edited by JPG: Jul 8 2018, 02:41 PM

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Amidst the raucous cheering and yelling, one set of eyes seemed as dispassionate as the minotaur's. She was a fine specimen of her kind, but her lack of outward emotion and the ease with which she had dispatched of her opponent left the tiger xeriin paying more attention to the richly ornate goblet he held in his hand. More specifically, to its contents.

As the crowd around him roared in approval as the minotaur raised her ax to finish off her fallen foe at the directive of the master of ceremonies, he raised the goblet and took a long swallow of wine, bejeweled clothing and goblet glinting with reflected torch-light. The mask he wore was likewise studded with jewels, though his large frame and tigerish features weren't so easily hidden. Even sprawled on a couch, he looked like he could give the minotaur a hard fight.

He drained the goblet, then let his arm rest on the back of the couch, displaying the empty goblet which was rapidly filled by a watchful servant. Or possibly slave. Whichever the case may be, Balthazar didn't much care. He idly raised a claw and lightly scratched the side of his face. "Wasn't much of a challenge. She's not even breathing hard," he observed. A human against a minotaur wasn't much of a match at the best of times, and The Pit's Bull was a hardened fighter and killer. Maybe too hardened.

Or... Balthazar gave her an appraising look, raising the goblet to his lips once again as he idly wondered how deeply she was repressing her feelings and emotions. They had to have been buried deep for her to remain as she was. Otherwise, one such as Morgan Roth wouldn't have allowed her near any weapons without some means to ensure his own safety. He probably did have precautions in place, knowing his reputation for cunning.

He found himself wondering what it would take to coax her out of her conditioning. A small, lazy grin crossed his face. Such an endeavor would be rather entertaining, he suspected. In more ways than one.
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