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"What have you had to contend with so far? I have only gotten out to one of these things, and I am not inclined to see another. Nasty business. Very nasty."

Luciva sighed at the forgetfulness of her friend. Every single time she had come out of the arena (with one notable exception) she had travelled straight to this shop to be tended to, to discuss the battle, and to get away from the crowds and stares of the rest of the city. It wasn't that Luciva didn't love her friend Leix, all fifteen feet of the snake-tailed woman currently coiled around the rafters of the apothecary that served as her home, but sometimes the naga woman was...grating to say the least. If not for her skill with medicine, Luciva was not sure how or why they would have met, but was glad they had. With a brief frown, Luci ignored those mushy thoughts in favor of speaking: "The spider was first, and that destroyed five entrants before I was admitted. Then the duels with the three humans that had won the earlier rounds, then the..." Luciva paused mid-sentence. She had been counting off the kills on her clawed, black-furred fingers, but paused suddenly, unsure if her next words would be unwise.

Luckily, Leix didn't acknowledge any of the sudden awkwardness. "Yes, you killed a naga next, my girl. I remember that one." she said. The serpent-woman didn't seem upset by that fact that one of her own kind had neatly murdered her best friend. Or perhaps she should be upset that Luciva was off killing naga? Luciva wasn't sure how others handled the subject of intra-species conflict. Her people had always had it fairly easy in that regard. The plain-dwelling Feid just avoided each other unless it was absolutely required. It was a well-established fact that in large groups, with any sort of organization, the catlike Feid were dangerous, if not unstoppable. Accepting some loneliness was the only way to assuage the fears of the other races, and so Luciva spent most of her time avoiding her own people as well, choosing to befriend the half-monsters that lived on the lakeshore, instead. That, she had determined, was much healthier. There was one exception that had been made to that rule in recent memory, though. Hopefully it wouldn't come back to haunt her. "Is that all, Shadow?" Leix asked, jumping on Luciva's sudden, long silence.

Luciva chose not to take the time to argue the pet name. She hoped it was mere affection and not possessiveness. All the scaled races were prone to coveting things that were not theirs to have. "Yes, that is all for now. I do not know what else will come. I am the last contender." Luciva said, lowering the claws she had been counting on to tug at her polished lamellar armor, adjusting its fit slightly. The arena would need her in only two hours, and she would need to be ready. Leaning on one of the pillars that held up the roof of Leix's shop and workspace, she stared up at the naga absently, considering what could be coming. Also, there was something comforting in watching her coils slip from rafter to rafter, wrapping around a post or beam, sliding smoothly over-

The grinning face of the naga popped up in Luciva's vision, having snuck up on her in the meantime, causing the Feid to let out an annoyed hiss. "You will not be so distracted when you are on the field, I hope? They could throw anything against you. The dragons are not stupid, though they may appear distracted and flightly. You should not think that they will not find something to challenge you."

Luciva shrugged off the implication, turning away."I am ready. I have prepared for this." And it was true. She had not lived long in the city, not as long as some, but since Luciva had arrived from the plains she had left behind her past, done everything in her power to work towards this one goal. The Silver City was the only bastion of real civilization in all of the Northlands, and here her people were treated like animals, more prone to picking through trash or stealing than being productive. The Clans had been crushed, after all, the Feid would not control any land, not for generations. The thought brought a contemplative frown to Luciva's face, which Leix inspected intently, though at a distance now, seeing the gloom fall over her friend. They had been broken, yes, but they would come back. Luciva would see to it. If she won this tournament, after all, they would have a place in this city, one of the Feid would sit on the Silver Guard, the gladiators that served as guardians to the city's dragon-lords. It would all fall into place after that. Respect, wealth, power. She could hire and train a contingent of her own kind, the city's discomfort with organized Feid be damned. They would have a place again.

"Oh, you know I do not like when you do this, Shadow." Leix cautioned, her face sunken with disapproval. "You are thinking those dark thoughts."

Luciva snorted, then offered only a brief, false smile to reassure her friend. "I am allowed a few dark thoughts. It is not you who will be fighting to the death later this day." she said, picking up and strapping on the long, thin blade she carried, its scabbard of dark leather settling in its familiar place at her right hip. A Feid using a weapon? How ridiculous she must seem to the humans. All the better to put them off guard.

"I make again my offer to brew you a tonic or potion that will give you terrible strength, unbeatable speed and unbreakable bones, Shadow. I will gladly make this for you if you merely promise to return safe." Leix spoke softly, then slid, backward, low to the ground under one of her workbenches, surfacing on the other side surrounded by her glassware and bubbling alembics.

"I will fight and die under my own power, alchemist." was Luciva's only response. It was not clear if the dragons checked for that sort of thing, but there were rumors that they would descend into the arena personally to devour those that attempted to fool their blood sport.

Exactly what sort of creatures am I planning to serve? Luciva considered this suddenly. The three silver dragons that ruled the city and would ostensibly by the only creatures to outrank her if she won were...aloof, enigmatic. They were magnanimous some of the time and vicious in other instances. They even commanded other dragons, managing to tame the wild creature that lived out on the Northland plains, organizing a tournament when it arrived in town, to appease their brassy kin's notorious bloodlust and insatiable cruelty. Maybe the path she was on was not ideal, if such were the creatures she would end up working alongside...

Luciva's thoughts, tending as they were towards darkness and seriousness, were not prepared for a brisk rapping at the door. Her hand touched the hilt of her weapon long before she remembered what reasonable social interactions were like. Killing your friends' customers was probably not 'reasonable'. Leix had already shot across the room to open the door, and in the light of early afternoon-...

Oh, no.

Standing there, with an expression halfway through anger and happiness (interesting, that was how she had left him last night) was that damned cream-colored Feid Artion, in his brown shirt that barely covered his arms and the insufferable way he checked the entire room before having the decency to make eye contact. When he did at last, Luciva made certain her expression was set in clear disapproval. Some part of her brain called out to leap across the room and knock him over, stop that grin that only seemed more smug the longer she looked at it, maybe claw him more than she already had, just to put some fear in the scrappy, pale thing. Or maybe just to get her hands on him again.

No, definitely not that last one.

"Oh, welcome again little cat. You certainly do not need more medicine, do you? To bring life to a statue, perhaps? One made still by a naga's venom?" Leix said, almost singing it, her voice seemed to be more grating than usual, suddenly, and Luciva's burning eyes flickered towards her friend, who was all grins. What did she think she knew? Yes, Luciva had bedded him, yes, but only to get him to leave her alone! Now he had come back and was on the doorstep of her one safe place in this city. Luciva dimly noted that she didn't feel any less safe, but that was well beside the point. Having him here suddenly was all so distracting. The warrior that Luciva had trained her entire life to become wasn't amused, and crushed a few conflicting feelings in order to take charge.

Her arms raised and folded across her chest, blocking whatever staring Artion wanted to do, and set her teeth before half-growling "What brings you back here, Feid? I have no more gold to give you."

The smile that had graced his muzzle melted as Artion beheld her indifferent stance, then he snorted and smiled again. He didn't believe she was shrugging him off! Why not? Maybe she should hit him, that will show him. Maybe pin him for a while so he stops acting like his opinions matter so much. "I came back because I have two things you need to hear, Luci." he said, stepping into the room. Artion was not terribly muscular compared to her, but had perhaps a half-inch of height. He held something tight in his right hand, but she refused to break eye contact with his blue gaze in order to check. He walked close enough that were he anyone else she would have broken his nose. Why didn't she? Why couldn't she? A tiny part of her brain was screaming out to bloody him and just leave him in a heap on the ground, to assert some sort of dominance. Why did she feel so threatened?

"Speak." she managed to get out. The constriction in her chest from having him this close made her words come out unnaturally coarse. She had been going for clipped and impatient, but the word reeked of the barely restrained violence she had considered.

Blinking sharply a few times at her attitude, he spoke quickly "The first is that I have been looking into those men that came after you yesterday, down in the arena. They were paid by someone, and I think I've found out who and where. If you come with me now, there's still enough daylight to check into it. The both of us should have no problem covering a couple warehouses by the docks, and I doubt there's more than a few humans involved." Then the grin came back, and Luciva's self-restraint broke.

Her claws came up and caught his collar (she had aimed for his neck), causing the leaner Feid to throw his own hands up in surprise. "You are an unimpressive thing, little scrap of a Feid," she said, pulling slightly on the coarse fabric, "You are ignorant and presumptive and this once I will set you straight before you get yourself hurt. In two hours I face my last opponent in the arena. There is no time to crawl around in the docks with some street-born Feid looking after concerns that are not my own. You are asking for my help because if you go alone you will die, beaten to death by humans for their own amusement. When I am in the Silver Guard, there will be nothing a coterie of humans can do to threaten me, so you should look to your own safety." Luciva's words had taken on a vicious, almost violent tone over the course of the brief complaint, but she still stood by them. Most of them. What right did he have to ask for her help? She was busy, after all. Why was he trying to help her anyway?

Leix, for her part, seemed only too happy to stay out of the whole altercation, merely resting her upper body on one of her workbenches, propped up by her elbows, grinning from ear to ear. Taken aback by Luciva's aggressiveness, Artion responded as Feid tend to when faced with other incesned Feid. He escalated. "Is that so? I certainly hope you live until then, because if you've somehow forgotten in the last day, there was an attempt made on your life that didn't have to do with the arena you hurl yourself into for no reason!"

"I have every reason! I am doing it for you and your idiotic, street-bred kind. You are clearly making no move to elevate yourself out of the garbage you were born among, and so I will have to do it for you, by will and steel, both of which you are here to beg off of me!" she was nearly shouting at this point, but he was so close and she had every right to defend her personal space.

That is definitely why she was shouting.

"Fine." Artion responded, throwing his clawed hands in the air, backing towards the door. Luciva relaxed considerably as he pulled away, into the doorway. "If you have better things to do, I'll just worry about nests of assassins for you. If you can't be bothered to investigate because of your mission to save all us poor scraps, I will do so myself. Go to your damn arena, go and fight. If you won't worry about yourself between deathmatches, someone will have to do it for you."

"That's what I've been saying!" Leix bursted out, then ducked quickly back behind her glassware when both Feid's heads turned quite suddenly to glare at her. In her mounting anger Luciva was not willing to admit that the Naga and this Artion had arrived at the same conclusion independently. She wouldn't admit that her obsession with the tournament and her training perhaps bordered on death-wish. She would worry about these assassins, but later. Not when her goal was so close.

Artion stood in the doorway, arms still spread wide. "One more thing, then." he said, finally opening the claw that had been so steadily closed, revealing a pair of golden coins. "I am not a whore." And with that the pale Feid threw the coins across the room at Luciva, who caught them with one hand, the snap and suddenness of the motion starting Leix slightly. Clearly the Naga had forgotten just how quickly her friend moved in the right circumstances. Without wasting a moment, Luciva strode across the room, causing Artion to flinch in the doorway as the muscular black Feid drew close to him. His eyes went wide, however, when she grabbed his collar for the second time and drew him into a vicious kiss. Luciva did not entirely know what she was doing, but quite liked the moment for as long as it lasted, the two of them caught in the sunlight and shadow of the doorway, her dark fur contrasting with his creamy pelt. After a long moment locked together, she broke the kiss, her clawed hand lingering on his collar for a moment, before suddenly balling into a fist and punching Artion out the door. He stumbled backward, sprawling into a heap on the long pier that lead to Leix's home. She tossed the two gold pieces onto his supine form, snorting dismissively as she did so.

"Yes you are." she offered, then gave him the briefest of grins before ducking back inside and barring the door. Leix was there, hands balled into fists under her chin, the Naga's expression one of absolute joy. Luciva was immediately disgusted, with both herself and her friend. "He is!" she began to argue, but Leix only giggled, then suddenly composed herself, smoothing down the long white dress that covered her upper half, making sure it hid the place where emerald scale met skin. "Do not say a word, Leix!" Luciva cautioned.

"I do not know what I would say or why I should be happy. Not at all. You do things, yes, and Leix only helps on occasion. I do not know what happens in the mind of my Shadow. Could be anything is going on in there." Leix said in brisk sentences, busying herself with tidying up a workbench, trying for all the world to appear aloof and uninterested in Luciva's love life. Good, the Feid thought, her brow setting as she watched her friend. She would prefer to hear the end of all this. Though maybe, perhaps, she could see Artion again, if he did not die in the meantime. Slowing in her work, Leix paused and offered a few more words: "The world is not simple, Shadow. He is not entirely wrong. You will not hear these words, but there must be some who do not want to see a Feid sit on the Guard."

Snorting by way of response, and fulfilling the prophecy that she would be ignoring those words, Luciva checked her equipment one last time, fetching a satchel off one of the tables, checking the weight of spare clothing and equipment inside to make certain it was hers, then threw it over one shoulder and shrugged at Leix. "I will be the next Guard, or I will not be alive to care."

Leix, smiling sadly, only nodded, watching her friend walk out the door and into the Silver City. Still, the snake-woman would not go see the arena again. Nasty business. She'd had quite enough of that for one life.

---

Though she had flirted with uncertainty earlier in the day, it took the end of the tournament to convince Luciva that something may truly be amiss with the dragon-lords that she sought to serve.

In the arena, surrounded by the muted chatter and jeers of the crowd, Luciva was presented with her last foe. She had not considered before this moment exactly where the monsters she had faced had come from. Who had caught them? Or who had bred them? What about the naga? She had thought, in the moment where she faced it alongside Artion (not that the scrap of a Feid was any help) she had thought that it was another competitor, just like her, trying to earn some respect for its people. Now, though, watching the gate rise to release her opponent onto the field, expecting another massive beast to kill, Luciva was not disappointed in either the size or ferocity of her opponent.

Still, she had not expected to face another Feid.

Standing there, boots dusted over with the dirt of the arena, blade drawn and, she thought, ready for anything that came out of that gate, Luciva had felt prepared. What she found was that she wasn't. The number of questions raised by the appearance of such a creature was immense. What lumbered from the tunnels under the arena was not some city-born Feid boy like Artion, but a full-grown berserker, probably found somewhere out on the plains. Who had hunted such a creature down? His hulking frame, all golden, leonine fur and powerful muscle, suggested that no single man could have brought him in alive. He had none of the neatly cropped, trimmed fur of the city-Feid, Luciva included. Instead his fur grew wild, in a long mane that lowered halfway down his bare back and chest, braided in places with twine. It wore nothing beyond those braids, and hunched forward rather than standing tall. Still, the Feid monster remained taller than Luciva, growling slightly with anger.

Her mind swimming with questions, Luciva had only moments to consider them as the beast paced his way slowly across the thin, packed dirt of the arena, gauging her as he closed the distance. Who had brought him in? Why was he so angry, what had they done to him? Told him? Would he understand if she spoke? This was a plains-born berserker, the ancient Feid that once terrified a continent, the reason that they were so hated, and he had been brought here to die at her hands. This was the very past she had hoped to revive with the power that this tournament would earn her, and she was being asked to kill it. Forced, even, as the fights were to the death. A part of her had drilled too long and hard to be distracted for long by such questions, though. It shuffled through tactics, stances, techniques. The placement of her legs widened to counter what was likely a grappler's stance, her blade shifted from her side to her front, knowing that her first strikes would need to be in its vitals. Then it was a matter of surviving those razor claws, the inescapable muscle of his legs and unbreakable grip of a beserker. Legends said that they could choke a human to death even after they had died themselves, such was their desire to kill.

She didn't let it get to her, though. Luciva had come prepared to die. A fearless opponent is not the same as a brave one, and she had prepared for, well...not this, but this was not so different than the monsters that had come before.

How could she think of her own race in such a way?

A plume of dirt exploded from under the claws of the leonine Feid as he broke from his hunched stance, suddenly upright and bearing down on her with incredible speed. Her armor suddenly seemed a liability, and a part of Luciva wanted to tear it off, bare her own claws, rip into this thing and show it that it had no right to be here in this arena, this was her territory and she would disembowel this male for setting foot here. Luckily, that part of her was not in control, and the cool thoughts and rote actions of the warrior overtook her. Her feet danced away from the rushing creature, to one side, letting it unleash the power of its charge into the empty air. Her weapon, almost operating on its own, flickered across his collar, his chest and once against his back, short gashes appearing where she had delivered the force to split skin. All that time spent honing the curved sword suddenly seemed worthwhile. Luciva settled back into her open stance, waiting for the creature to turn and rush again, perhaps expecting the whole affair to be easier than it had seemed. The sooner it was over the better, she thought. She was not, however, so lucky.

The Feid seemed to ignore the blood suddenly matting his golden fur, turning it a dusky brown from its previously lusterous yellow. Nor did it seem to think through its next morning, only letting out a low growl as its legs caught open air and bent slightly to hurl itself sideways, directly towards Luciva. It had recovered from its failed charge much faster than she had anticipated, faster than any opponent she had faced before. Is this what her enemies were always so surprised by? How much had she become like the humans she had fought, to be surprised by such a simple reversal, the sort that even Feid kittens could manage? There was little time to consider it as her sword was suddenly gone, buried under the wall of muscle and claws that hit her. The angry thing in her heart raged at the closeness, she felt her claws slip out, but would not let them rule her.

Luciva's back hit the ground, and she tried to roll, but his weight was too great, and her legs only barely got up enough to keep teeth from her own thoat. His muzzle was open, snapping, frothing even. Was this how the rest of the world saw her and her people? Was this feral, murderous thing the empire that she wanted to ressurect? The moment of doubt did not encourage Luciva, but this was a fight now. She would see it through. A claw closed around one of her wrists, but she twisted out of it. The thing wanted to grapple and she did not intend to give it the opportunity. How much did it weigh? Well over two hundred pounds. She had lifted more with her legs. With a scream of defiance she had not thought to summon, she kicked both boots upward where they rested on his chest and was rewarded with a splash of sunlight as the arena opened up again, no longer buried in bloodied, dripping fur. Luciva stood sharply, as fast as she had ever done so, her head swinging around for her weapon, her mind trying to ignore the desire to use her claws. She would win this properly or not at all.

The glint of metal caught her eye suddenly, from where the wounded Feid was making his own recovery. It let loose a roar, clutching at his chest. She hadn't even realized what had happened when she had been tackled. The hilt of her sword almost winked at her from where it was half-buried under fur, blood and flesh. She paused as the sound of the arena began to return to her ears, watching the berserker try to breathe with one lung, clutching at the hilt but wincing from the pain. He was more like a wounded animal than a thinking thing, uncertain how to deal with this tool that had been used to kill him. Looking up, the creature growled at her, face set between anger and pain. Luciva saw his eyes for the first time, a bright, piercing blue, all too similar to Artion. She couldn't move. Not to secure the victory, not to put him out of his pain. She found, for the first time on the arena floor, she couldn't even muster up the will to keep fighting. The dragons knew, she realized. They were every bit as clever as Leix had given them credit for. They had wanted to know if she was willing to kill anything for the power and influence that they had offered in this tournament.

And she had done it.

The Feid curled in on itself, still picking at the weapon, growls turning to whines, and eventually hacking coughs, blood flecks splattering across his muzzle. Luciva stood in the dirt, claws out, her own chest heaving gasping breaths after the fight, watching the beautiful creature die.

It was only after a few long moments, watching the life bleed out of her kin, that she realized that the dragons were speaking to her again, inviting her to their palace on the lake to be inducted into the ranks of the Silver Guard. The roar of the crowd and the thousand sights and smells of the Silver City rushed back into her awareness that she realized she had won.

Though it certainly didn't feel like winning.

---

The tunnels that fill the arena did not all run under its surface. Some of them, perhaps better tended and less prone to strange, reddish-brown smears on the floor, actually rose through the sandstone walls of the immense structure and up onto the balcony where the dragon-lords watched the sport below. Ostensibly, Ahani considered, this existed for the dragons to be waited on while they watched what was happening.The entire serving staff that populated their palace was, the last the elf had seen them, cleaning up yet another bloody mess in their dining hall, re-threading entire carpets from the monsters' claws and generally repairing the damage they caused with every breath and motion. This meant that they were not all available to perform their traditional duties of suport: polishing scale, sharpening claws, fulfilling sudden and strange appetites. Instead, those unenviable tasks were left to the few exhausted-looking humans that populated the tunnels through which Ahani now moved. It occured to her that they must ascend the hundreds of feet up these uncomfortable stone stairs multiple times in a given hour, often carrying the heavy loads that the dragons might demand at any moment. Clearly the arena was not designed with these servants in mind. As well it wouldn't be. Ahani hadn't known any of the silvery dragon-lords to be particularly concerned with what the lesser creatures of the world were doing with their time. The sooner she, and more importantly her own dragon, were able to flee this city, the happier they would both be.

Opening the door at the top of the stairs, that which lead out onto the balcony from which the four dragons had been watching the arena, Ahani could only too clearly see the misery this whole affair had brought on her lover. She was of the opinion that he needed occasional misery to remain humble, though admittedly with the dragons the word 'humble' never quite applied. Wondering if the dragons even felt the same spectrum of emotions that the elves did, Ahani was careful to remain against the wall, out of sight, hidden among the flow of servants. Cael was certainly feeling something, she had to admit, the way he had flattened himself against the ground, long neck resting on the sandstone floor, barely able to see the action below. She took a moment to admire the way muscle rolled under his scale as he restlessly shifted, , larger than his silvery cousins' sleek frames.

Practice had taught her to interpret some of his expressions, the toothy visage didn't really smile, but an open mouth generally was similar. His neck was raised if he thought to intimidate or was startled, but would lower if he was fearful or depressed. So too would his head tilt in curiosity or go still when he contemplated deeper thoughts. Such thoughts often paralyzed the massive creature with introspection, often leading to the conclusion he had to take some violent or direct action.

Or a letcherous one, she reminded herself.

So her lover was depressed. He had complained frequently enough of the tedium of watching other creatures fight, of the relative boredom of being fed rather than hunting, of his restlessness to return to his home out on the plains. Homesickness, she had tried to explain to him. "I do not like it." had been Cael's only response to having such a complicated emotion described in detail. The assertion had a certain elegant simplicity, she had to admit. But still he remained, and she had not been able to convince him to make his excuses and flee his cousins' hospitality. They were considerably smaller than he, and a stunning silver-white to compare to his yellow sheen. It is not as though they could stop his attempt to return home. The three were inseperable, two males and a female, who entwined as they were and eagerly watching whatever transpired below could not apparently care less about an armed elf among their servants. If she had been an assassin, their defenses would have been poor indeed. Bizarre, wasn't the whole purpose of this affair to add another guardian to the ranks of their bodyguards? Why had she never seen any of these rumored Silver Guard?

Still, with the three of them distracted, Ahani could take the opportunity to speak to Cael, and given how she had managed to avoid him for nearly a full two days (there was an entire city to explore, after all), the elf could only hope to dispel some of his homesickness. It never even occured to her that her absence may be the reason for his fugue. She approached him on the soft soles of her leather boots, getting one hand over the dragon's neck and running her other along the scale of his cheek before he could even react. When he did he leaned wordlessly into her touch, the weight of his head and heat that ran under his neck were familiar and pleasant now, not nearly so frightening as they had been when they had met. "Dragon." she said, in her native language, as she had first addressed him those months ago. The word carried great implication in its two syllables. It meant a dozen things. "Lover", yes, but also "monster" and "stranger" and "ally". She did not forget his nature, and so long as she was present, neither would he. She kissed him once, just above the ridge of one eye, before walking before him. Cael curled upward, rising on his front legs to sit and inspect her.

"You are still wearing those skins, elf." he said. Of course, he was inspecting her as usual, probably imagining ripping what little hide and leather clothing she had fashioned off again. Hopefully not. This really was her last set. The clipped sentences and no explicit questions were usual for him. It was always somewhat of a riddle to know what the beast really wanted, but she was getting better at figuring it out. They spoke the elven language with each other, as always. Partially to obfuscate their meaning to others, and partially out of familiarity.

"Yes, and you are still trying to rub off your polish on the floors and cushions. We are not changed too much by this city yet. Do you still suffer among all this generosity?" the elf asked, mirroring his tilted head but being careful not to smile.

His head lowered somewhat, to come level with her own, and with it came his approximation of a whisper, instead of his normal bass growl. "My cousins do not threaten or wound me, but I think that life in this city may come with its own sorts of wounds. They give much importance to their tournament, and I do not see why."

Placing one hand on his snout, half to silence his mounting annoyance (which lead to a louder whisper) and half to touch his scale again (the feel of it never failed to thrill!), Ahani nodded her assent. "I know you suffer, dragon, but I have been in this city, and may be able to give you some reason for it." she said, and seeing the curiosity in his face, continued.

"Your cousins say this tournament is for the sake of recruiting some creature into a cadre of guardians, to defend them from Slayers and the like. I think that is perhaps not true, because I have not yet seen one of these Silver Guards since arriving, and neither has any individual I have questioned since my search began. That is not the cause of your suffering, though. You need not be here for such a tourney. There is another thread that has been wound around this event. Your cousins have made it clear to those dwelling in this city that this blood and conflict is to appease you, done for your pleasure and satisfaction." Ahani explained. She had spent most of her time away from Cael wandering the streets, overhearing conversations, asking questions when she saw people alone. After the first day, witnessing the violence that occasionally overtook the citizens, she began to carry her bow as well, though she had not had reason to use it.

Cael sighed in response to the explanation, lowering his head to the ground, eyes half-lidded with boredom. "If that is true, they are doing a poor job of it. I am hardly pleased." he said.

"That is merely what they say, dragon. I do not think it is true, and I do not think that this is done for your benefit. What they say is that you are a bloodthirsty beast, a monster that kills any that enter the plains. In all the Northlands, they say, only the Silver City is safe from your depravity. They claim to be able to appease you with only occasional offerings, such as this tournament. The stories you have built in your jealousy and territorial violence, dragon, have allowed your cousins to gather some hold of fear on the people here." This is what she had come to say. It had taken her some time to deduce, but now that she had, Ahani had been in a rush to tell Cael, to see if it drove him to push away his cousins and finally return them to his grotto, where she would no longer have to hide among servants and deal with all the noise and clamour of the Silver City.

No luck, however. Cael merely snorted. "I doubt that, elf. And if it were true, what trouble would it be? So more creatures avoid my home. A favor is done, and if this tournament is the payment for such a favor, delivered only on occasion, then I shall pay that price. It was good to see my cousins again for a while. I just...miss some comforts of the Grotto." he said, the great amber eyes that had been closing opening suddenly to look at her. She stared back flatly.

"They say you are a murderer, a destroyer and a rapist, and only your cousins keep you in line. Do you have no pride?" she asked, now annoyed that her plan didn't seem to be working.

The dragon sat up again, mouth opening slightly as he looked down at her. She recognized the way his gaze sank lower than it had before, no longer content with merely inspecting her face. Not this time, dragon, she thought. "I do not want to fight my cousins. I do not care for the opinions of this city, and their lies do no harm to me."

"Lies?" she asked, her stare somehow flattening further until Ahani thought she would bore a hole in his shimmering forehead with the sheer weight of her disbelief. "I can most certainly vouch for at least one of those, monster." She did not call him monster often, and only when she was annoyed. Cael merely drew closer, however, hot breath running through her hair as he gave her one of those gaping, draconic grins.

"Now that I have you, elf, I have no need for such things." he said. This was his attempt at flattery, or perhaps flirting? No matter, Ahani was already annoyed. Her plan to escape the city had hit a vital snag, and on top of it the only creature that she loved was considering mounting her rather than trying to help. Ahani threw her hands in the air in exasperation, turning away from the dragon, who nudged her in the back with his snout with gentle imploration. She ignored him, making for the staircase again. Fine, she thought, he could stew in his arousal for a while. She would find some way to reveal this tournament as a pointless, manipulative excercise. Ahani pushed past the servants again, descending to street level. If her dragon at the heights of the city wouldn't help, then perhaps something in its depths would.

She already had some idea where to start looking.

---

The fight had been hours ago, and she had won. The fight had been short, even, almost a disappointment after the long bouts she had survived to make it that far, and she had won. The idea still gnawed at Luciva, and she found that she could approach it with nothing but discontent. They had found a berserker, the creatures she knew were among the most noble and ancient disciplines of her kin. They had found it and she had killed it with one of their weapons, with a sword rather than her claws. They had made her kill her own kin, the one thing she thought she had been fighting for. What crimes had it committed? What had made it a monster rather than another competitor? She had called it that, in her mind. "monster", the word had been, and she had killed it as such.

And she had won.

She wanted to kill something. Or rather, something else. A tiny, screaming voice had been railing against her since the fight, telling her to strip everything off and run out onto the open plains. To run something down and kill it in the open, with nothing more than her claws. She had fought that impulse her entire career in the arenas. Something about being around the other Feid, fighting it, seeing the way it raged and grappled and tried to bite at her, it had awoken a dormant part of her instincts, and Luciva did not like it.

She had, however, spent a great deal of time learning how to fight this impulse. Once the dragons were done speaking, done inviting her to their palace the next evening, she stripped her armor, packed it away in the arena's armory, and set out from the tunnels at a run. A few of the guards tried to congratulate her, or at least say something, but she was in no mood, dashing past them at the steady pace she had used for training. She had intended to run to Leix's shop, but upon seeing that it was closed, oil lamps long since extinguished as the naga performed some mysterious task elsewhere, Luciva realized she hadn't really wanted to see Leix again, so she kept running.

The running gave her time to think, but the thoughts only fed her anger, and her desire to run. She had been so certain that the tournament and its outcome. Now that it was over, she wasn't so sure. Her employers, these dragons that she would meet the next day, had forced her to kill one of their own, and to prove what? That she could? That would be obvious. That she was willing to? That seemed more likely, and she had to admit from their perspective it would make sense. They wanted someone who would kill for them regardless of the circumstances, and Luciva, over the course of exhausting herself on miserable excercise, realized that she was that person. By the time she had come to a stop, leaning on a lamp-post, near the docks, chest heaving and lungs burning, she had reasserted herself over this latest annoyance. Yes, she would kill her own people if that was the price it would take to liberate them. That did not make her a hypocrite, merely disciplined.

So resolved, Luciva took the opportunity to straighten her back and try to determine where she had ended up. The sun had nearly set, in the distance over the lake, and she was on one of the long docks that made up the lakefront property of the city, mostly comprised of warehouses and the residences of barge-workers. A cool breeze rustled through her black fur, thrown from off the lake, and she wondered why she had taken this path. Usually her running was merely around the outside of the arena. Luciva had intended to return there after she realized Leix wasn't available, but instead she was here on the docks. Why in the world had she run out here? It was one of the downsides of letting your body do whatever it wanted while the mind worried over other things. Fine, she thought, turning in place, she could walk back. It was nearly dark anyway, though she wasn't nearly tired enough to retire (after a showing at the arena? a run that seemed to have taken over an hour? What was wrong with her today?) When her head came up to chart a course back towards the looming, standstone arena, she found she was not alone.

In the path at her front, Luciva found herself facing down a trio of armed humans. The collar of her green shirt drenched with sweat, Luciva must have looked a pathetic sight to the armed men, and indeed they were all male. She marked their stance, their weapons and their intent, broadcast by wary glares and clenched fists. One blade, that was dangerous, but a pair of short lengths of wood would almost be laughable to Luciva if she had the breath to laugh. Humans had a complete lack of natural weapons, and tended to make up for it by hitting each other with their arms and fists. Ludicrous battering that took far too long to kill, almost as though they were playing. Still, Luciva was in no condition to fight at the moment, and these men clearly had violent intent, spreading out as they approached in an attempt to surround her. It would have made sense to run if she had felt up to it, but at the moment Luciva recognized she was in more danger than she had wanted. The docks had always been dangerous once the sun was down, but this was ludicrous, it had barely set and she was already set upon.

Then again, why hadn't she expected this?

Artion was right (and she hated to admit it). There had been an attempt on her life once already after a successful bout at the arena. Someone clearly did not want her joining the Silver Guard, or perhaps just hateful sentiment towards her Feid status was enough to make another attempt to kill her when she was already weakened. She hadn't helped, of course, by running in circles and stewing in her own thoughts rather than moving somewhere safe and resting after her victory. Yes, Artion had been right, and she had run straight to the docks in her stupid, stupid haze of frustration and anger. Well, she thought, as that same anger welled up again, directed entirely at herself now, she could certainly give them something to worry about. Her claws slipped out, and with them came a feeling of great relief, releasing some of that miserable tension that had haunted her since the arena. Yes, this could be exactly what she was looking for.

"Hear you did real good out on the arena, Feid." one of the humans growled, or as close as they ever came to growling. It always seemed like a desperate approximation. He was ostensibly their leader, with his messy black hair and a noticable scar on his collar "Doesn't matter much, though, you don't get to see the inside of the palace after all." Well, that cleared that up. Clearly the intent of these few armed men was not benign. Luciva considered how she would get the long-bladed knife away from their leader before she was stabbed. Well, stabbd too many times. The sad truth of being unarmed in a knife fight was that one could expect to be stabbed. The only question was where and how many times. The men were still spreading out, trying to surround her. They didn't seem to be complete idiots, Luciva thought, backing herself towards the waterline, the men without knives would likely try to grapple and let their friend do the killing. Glancing off the pier, Luciva saw the water below, fairly still as the lake tended to be. She didn't want to swim to escape them (or swim at all, it was no great love of hers), but it was becoming a preferrable option to being murdered. They seemed to recognize what she was considering, and decided it was time to make their move. From her flanks, both thugs dove for her arms while their leader sprung quite suddenly for her stomach, glittering knife leading.

Luciva couldn't vault backward in time to reach the water, and felt strong fingers close around her arms. She twisted out of one of the many clinging hands, but couldn't escape all of them. The knife was all she could focus on, trying to twist and squirm so it struck something less vital than her torso, trying to mitigate the inevitable hot pain of being cut. Strangely, however, the man bearing the weapon only tumbled towards her with an astonished look on his face, the blade clattering onto the cobbled street out of his grasp as he fell forward, a dark spot blossoming on the back of his shirt. His friends (well, more likely hirelings or co-conspirators) looked just as surprised as Luciva when they beheld the feathered shaft protruding from the man's back. They rallied magnificently, however, one swinging his wood baton in towards Luciva's head, perhaps attempting to finish the job before worrying about why his friend was shot.

Whoever was helping the Feid was more than capable of pulling a second arrow in that timeframe, however, and that man too tumbled backwards, this time into the water below. The last would-be murderer decided his chances were better if he were to run, and let go of Luciva's arm in order to turn tail. Rather than appear completely helpless, Luciva gathered her breath and bounded after the man, bearing him to the ground, sinking her claws into his shoulders, letting the scream of pain that he released out relieve some of her frustration. Try to resist it though she may, it felt good to use her claws, to feel flesh give way underneath them, to have a human writhing in pain. She dug in further, just to ensure the sensation lingered, and indeed it did, sending a satisfactory tingle down her spin. The uncomfortable thrashing of the creature below her, and more importantly its helpless groans and screams caused the Feid to let out a sigh. This was what she had been avoiding all day, what she had been suppressing with steely discipline and resolve.

It was not to be, however, and Luciva heard the sharp approach of footsteps behind her, even through the haze of pleasure that she was reveling in as she kneaded the skin of this pinkish, arrogant creature she had caught. How dare it try to kill her? How dare it hide behind its weapons and its gang of allies rather than facing a Feid claw to claw? The footsteps ceased when they were close enough to step in front of Luciva, and she felt her upper lip curl into a snarl. This was her kill, after all, not for someone else to steal or interfere with-

There was a thunk as another feathered shaft buried itself in the writhing human, this time in the back of his head, ending his struggles in an instant. Luciva scowled, standing sharply to face down whoever had stolen that moment from her. Her vision sharp enough in the dim light of the evening, Luciva made out the contours of another creature, narrower than the humans, curved to suggest femininity, long brown hair in a single braid and bedecked in leather and fur rather than the comfortable cloth that most of the city favored. Strangest of all was her face, angular and tanned, ending in ears that sharply extended backwards into points.

Ahani stepped neatly backwards at the look in the other woman's eyes, offering up the space that she demanded. The elf was really getting quite good at reading expressions in things that weren't elven.

Her gaze having settled on the elf, Luciva grappled with several things to say. Part of her wanted to attack the creature for finishing her kill, part of her was curious and wanted to know where she had come from, part of her wanted to apologize for the blood dripping from her fingers, staining her fur and, as she absently wiped the claws on them, her pants. "...thank you." was all she managed to say after a few moments, then added "Who are you?"

"I am Ahani, of the Greywood. Are you alright? I saw those men following you, and realized that even as fast as you were, they would chase you until you stopped. I saw you in the arena?" Ahani said, the last statement raising as a question, although she had not meant it as such. Something in the Feid's stance had her on edge, but the feline creature seemed to realize that and relaxed somewhat, still self-consciously cleaning the blood off her hands. The gesture actually reminded the elf of Cael.

Luciva nodded, acknowledging the words as she set to inspecting the corpse, hands staying away from the mess that was once its head. Somewhat awkwardly, the Feid lifted the bloodied arrow to offer it back to Ahani, who merely waved her off, so it was tossed aside. "Then thank you again. I am Luciva. I do not know who these men were, except that they are like others that attempted to kill me for my victory yesterday. I had hoped to keep one..." she said A part of her mind finished that sentence with 'to torture for a while'. "...to keep one to interrogate. Why were you watching them?"

The elf didn't answer immediately, instead stepping over to the first man who had died. In the distance, it seemed a few others had come outside (probably all the screaming didn't help) and were watching them inspect the corpses. This city had no-one who would take responsibility for deaths on their streets? Unimpressed, Ahani busied herself with searching the corpse. "I have, in my life, seen people captured by groups. I could not let it happen again and not act." Ahani admitted, then glanced over and gave the Feid a long look. It had been obvious how she had been kneading the man to cause pain, how she likely had no intent to interrogate. Still, the creature seemed lucid enough now, and not dangerous. Perhaps this gladiator would have the answers she sought. Ahani gave up the search of the corpse quickly, sighing at the damage she had done.

Luciva's fingers, however, danced over the corpse she had been handling and produced a bloodstained scrap of paper, which she took and, standing, leaned on the nearby post again for a moment of recovery, beginning to read. 'Alive would have been better, yes.' it read, 'But if it is this creamy white-orange color that you describe, then you certainly have the wrong cat. The black one is the competitor, we do not know the relationship she has to the one you seem to have taken. Learn that relationship if you can, but kill him when you are done.' Luciva read the letter twice, but its meaning was clear enough from the first read. The elf approached smoothly, seeing her frown. "What is it?" Ahani asked.

"They have taken Artion." Luciva said flatly. Why was she so bothered by this? He knew he had no chance if he had gone to investigate these assassins without her. Why had he done so? Why was the pale scrap of a Feid so weak? So stupid? Why did he constantly need her help? Her frown progressed to a snarl.

"Not someone you like, then, Luciva?" Ahani asked.

The forward question caught Luciva off her guard and caused her to gape for a second in disbelief. "I...no, he is just stupid. Stupid and useless, and has been looking for these men since they tried to have me killed yesterday. I told him to not bother, as they weren't any danger, but he ignored me and now has been..." She paused a moment, suddenly the seriousness of this scrap of paper becoming clear. "I do not know if he is alive."

Ahani nodded. "Then we will learn." she said, gesturing along the docks, towads the few individuals that watched them at a distance. "These men did not come from far. Their leader carried a key to one of these large homes." the elf explained, holding up the sizable key on a leather strap and indicating the warehouses. Luciva didn't bother to correct her mild misunderstanding about the purposes of the buildings.

But the elf's sudden interest in helping her seemed strange to Luciva. She had come from nowhere, killed without being asked, and now was offering to put herself in possibly more danger for someone she had never met. Were all elves like this? Or did she want something else? Ahani's gaze, where it met hers, was only flat and unassuming, devoid of any betrayal of emotion. Luciva nearly hissed with annoyance, and decided if the elf was being unclear then she would get clarity first. "Why do you offer this, Ahani?" she asked.

"Because," the elf answered after a moment's silence, "those that are taken should always have someone that desires their return. If you will not..." the statement trailed off, that impossibly flat gaze locking on Luciva's again.

"Bring the key." the Feid said, turning along the street, towards the warehouses. The crowd that had gathered while they searched the corpses moved away from the pair of women. Focused as she was on the task ahead, Luciva did not hear their words. Ahani, however, could pick out every single one. These people recognized Luciva, named her Silver Guard, and would not interfere. Maybe this is how it works? They are named Silver Guard and get themselves killed too quickly to stick around? It seemed unlikely. Ahani picked up her pace to keep the distance between her and the Feid short.

Together, in relative silence, they began to check each warehouse door along the docks.

---

Luciva had been a soldier long before she was a gladiator.

Feid grew quickly, after all, and fought young. Much younger than the humans, who would shield their children from warfare until they were well-grown and almost too old to learn the instincts that let one survive a skirmish, much less a war. Feid fought with their siblings and peers (though, unlike dragons, were not known to commit fratricide often). Gender did not matter. The males fought the females as assuredly as they fought among their own sex. Out on the plains, in her nomadic youth, Luciva had torn the skin and fur of more than a few of her own people. They were always quick bouts, for poor reasons. They fought over scraps of meat or walking order or merely out of boredom. It was all to train themselves for the inevitable. Eventually the roving bands that had come to break up the Feid tribes, to ensure they would never organize again, came to do just that. Those that fought died. Luciva had long suppressed the truth of that day. She had survived because she refused to fight, and was therefore spared. She was never any good at using her claws. Such a well-adapted youth was easily drafted into mercenary work, but was only given the simplest of tasks. Rarely asked to handle a sword, it would be years before the young Luciva taught herself how to use one. She would learn from mercenaries and adventurers, travelers that didn't care or know about the Feid and how dangerous they were. One learned other things among mercenaries, too. For instance, exactly when it was appropriate to press your luck. Often, if you were working for someone else's gold and it was your life at risk, the answer was 'never'.

Luciva had never been terribly good at following instructions. A generous individual would chalk it up to being 'headstrong'. A less generous but perhaps more accurate assessment would use the term 'death-wish'. Perhaps that was why she was so much more comfortable in the arena. It just made sense to risk her life against other creatures. What other skills were worth having?

At the moment, this elf was trying to explain to Luciva that stealth might be in order. That was exactly the sort of talk that ruined perfectly good soldiers. Creeping around on your stomach was a good way to die on your stomach. "...on the roof. It is likely that there is a weakness or hole that I can observe through, and perhaps see what else waits inside-" the elf was still talking. Luciva finally cut her off with a sharp gesture and a sharper glare. They were both pressed up against the door, the large brassy padlock of which had accepted the key that Ahani had found. Ahani claimed to be able to hear two voices inside, but Luciva couldn't make out specifics over the sound of the light waves on the lake.

"We are not wasting more time." Luciva said. She didn't bother to spare her rationale or reasons. Artion's condition was still unknown. If he was being subjected to some sort of interrogation, then surely he was in more danger. If he didn't know anything, he would appear to be resistant, and therefore likely be treated more harshly. It occured to Luciva that from what she knew of him, Artion was the definition of 'appearing not to know anything'. An insufferable, idiotic Feid who was getting in more trouble than he was worth.

Yet here she was.

Luciva stepped away from the door, glancing at the edges for hinges. None, meaning they were internal. She knocked with one balled up fist, claws still out, then shifted her weight backward onto one leg, waiting. Ahani gave a look of disbelief and moved to one side instead, shaking her head as the Feid bounced restlessly. Footsteps from inside the warehouse approached the door, and there was a rattling as someone touched the small metal grate that would allow them to see outside. Whoever it was never got a chance, as the spin of Luciva's legs and hips brought the full weight of her lower body against the door with one brutal kick. She had bet, and rightly, on the guards inside expecting the door to still be locked. When the heavy piece of wood burst inward, it carried all the force of the kick and its own weight straight into the face of the man who had sought to see who was knocking. He was unconscious before he hit the floor, and from the way his head impacted with the dirt, probably wouldn't wake up at all. Making to step neatly over the mild obstruction of his body, Luciva intended to head straight in, riding the element of surprise to a quick victory.

A hand on her collar, however, stopped the Feid. Ahani tried not to think too much about how wet that hand had gotten due to the feline creature's sweat, but pulled back sharply. Hissing her annoyance, Luciva stumbled backwards, thrown off balance by the unexpected yank. She rallied sharply just in time to turn around and miss the crossbow bolt burying itself in the wall just inside the building. "Your enthusiasm may deafen you, Luciva." the elf said, apparently unimpressed. With a sharp tug of her own, Luciva repossessed her collar, giving Ahani a glare. It was, the elf figured, about as thankful as she was likely to get. Hopefully the other one would be more talkative, if he was still alive. When the creature entered the building again, Ahani was right behind, the pair of them lower to the ground.

The inside of the warehouse was a mess of boxes and shelving. The dim space inside was lit only by oil lamps against the walls, but to Luciva it was as bright as day, her green eyes reflective in the gloom. It was all pointless, Ahani determined, trying to make sense out of the apparently useless building. What use did a bunch of humans have for empty boxes? The occasional brick? If she had asked, of course, Luciva could have pointed out the differences between abandoned buildings and those that were still seeing some regular use. The Feid, however, was focusing on staying low, trying to make her way closer to the back of the warehouse, where another human in dark cloth clattered his way through the motions of reloading his crossbow. He stood at the top of a short, steep set of stairs leading ostensibly into a basement level. She would have called him amateurish, but it seemed a waste to insult someone before you killed them.

By the time the pair of women got anywhere near the crossbowman, his eyes had gone wild with nervousness. He had certainly seen the door open the second time they entered, but it would be surprising to think that he knew their current positions among the maze of crates. Still, he was dangerous, if only for one shot, and as tempting as it was to use the elf as a distraction, Luciva decided not to. She was, after all, getting used to having someone around that wasn't an idiot like Artion, or a coward like Leix. Even if the thin woman was over-cautious. Luciva glanced across the room. How in all hells had she gotten mere feet from the crossbowman? The elf was pressed up against a box, eyes apparently half-closed, pointed ear cocked in rapt attention. Could she hear the way the man was facing? Endeavoring not to be impressed, Luciva decided it should be her that got the kill. This waspish thing had stolen enough from her, after all, and she could easily clear the twenty or so feet between her and the crossbowman before he turned and fired. Running through the process in her head, Luciva ducked and ran out of cover, dashing across the open floor, low to the ground and watching for the inevitable bolt that would come her way.

Until she realized she was only running towards a corpse. The elf was already putting away her bow, head still tilted. "I don't think there are any more." she said, straightening her neck to watch Luciva. "Thank you for the distraction. That was very clean." The elf glanced towards the man's body. The shot had been nearly perfect, straight into one eye, and Luci hadn't even seen it happen. Luciva stared in disbelief. A flash of anger had her considering ripping out the woman's throat, but she didn't seem smug, merely sincere.

"There is no upper level." Luciva said at last, measuring her words carefully, now somewhat unnerved in this elf's presence, "We don't know if more of them will return soon." With a roll of one shoulder, she gave a glance down the stairwell. A door. Probably secure storage, or hallways for individual storage rooms, or offices. It didn't matter which. Tight spaces, and this elf had really only shown herself comfortable with a bow. If Artion was here, he was down below. "I can clear the lower level. If you keep lookout and can make sure I'm not interrupted..." The elf was already nodding, pulling her arrow out of the man's corpse and cleaning it on his clothing.

"I can." Ahani said, mounting one of the boxes in the back of the chamber, crouching to watch the door. When this was all over, Luciva told herself, she would need to figure out exactly where this creature came from, and why she was so intent on helping. Bowing her head and moving briskly, Luciva descended the stairs into the bowels of the warehouse.

---

Between the elf's smug competence, the miserable encounter at the arena and the multiple attempts on her life, by the time Luciva actually found Artion among the narrow hallways and storage rooms of the lower warehouse, she was furious. Nearly splintering the locked door that held the captive as she yanked it open, Luciva had expected to find a battered, ruined Artion. Her mind had already run through the scenarios. He would be just curled in a corner, covered in his own blood, staining his creamy fur with deep brown and red streaks. She could imagine the welts or cuts along his arms and legs, the way he hung limply from a chain tied to the ceiling, already dying, well beyond her power to help. It was stange, then to have him look up sharply on her approach and grin like a madman.

"Luci!" Artion cried. From her vantage point in the doorway, she could see that he had hardly been the recipient of any rough treatment at all. He was, rather than near-death, actually quite hale. Someone had certainly strapped the cream-colored Feid to a chair, yes, and probably taken at least one good shot at him given the dark ring around one eye. But...his bindings were rope rather than chain, and his claws should've been enough to escape them. Instead, he still sat there, bound, wearing that hooded brown shirt and simple pants of the same color that she had last seen him in. Well, the last time she had seen him dressed at any rate. Briefly suspecting a trap, Luciva looked around the room cautiously. "There's nobody here." Artion assured her, "You won't believe what they told me once I convinced them I knew something. There's a whole conspiracy concerning the Guard, and I think someone in the Silver Palace knows more."

Pacing around the room once to be certain that they were alone, Luciva did her best to ignore Artion's rambling monologue. She had spent the entire day suffering, since the arena she had faced nothing but annoyance and danger and now that she had found the one person that she had come to rescue, it turns out that he didn't seem to have suffered at all for his disappearance. Satisfying herself that the room was empty of any threat, Luciva approached the door and, using a sturdy length of wood from a broken crate, barred it completely. Given the thing opened outward, it would be extraordinarily difficult to enter without breaking the bar.

"Are they still out there?" Artion asked, as Luciva turned and strode towards him with a glower of annoyance still in her eyes. "What are you doing? If you help me out of this I can help you if there are still more of them out there. I don't think they'll expect-" Artion tried to say, but his statement on the unexpected was cut off by exactly that. For the second time today Luciva grabbed the back of the creamy Feid's head, squatting slightly next to the chair he was bound to in order to silence his stupid, stupid words with a kiss. Artion, perhaps to his credit, was silenced immediately, and offered up his tongue to entangle with hers. Luciva closed her eyes as the lighter Feid submitted to her kiss, letting the sensation of his warm, wet tongue running roughshod over hers sink in.

When she finally broke away from his face, it was only to speak. "Shut up." was all she offered, and Artion's mouth snapped shut. Though his expression still radiated confusion, it was now mixed with some uncomfortable shifting and slow, deep breaths. Swinging one leg over his lap, Luciva lowered herself onto Artion, letting her breasts press up against his chest, feeling the way he shifted in the chair, uncertain if he should be trying to escape or saying something. His confusion only sent waves of contentment through Luciva, and she realized she much preferred the smaller Feid where he was now. Beneath her, silent, waiting for her next move or instruction. Letting her body slide down his somewhat, Luciva dug her clawed hands into the back of his shirt, piercing it and pricking into the skin under his light fur just enough to make him flinch, and just enough to be rewarded with a little whine of uncertainty. "You should know, you pale scap of a Feid, that I have spent this entire day risking myself for your sake." she said, adding "I have been denied the opportunity for a satisfying kill." It felt so good to admit it, to just say it outloud to another Feid, someone who would understand the impulse and what it meant. Sliding one clawed hand up his back, to grip the back of his head, she leaned towards one of his pointed ears, feeling it twitch at the closeness, giving the lightly furred tip a small bite before growling into it: "You'll have to do."

Realizing in an instant her intentions, Artion's mouth opened, maybe out of excitement or perhaps out of protest, but Luciva didn't want to hear it. Throwing her weight forward, onto his chest, the pair of them toppled over backwards onto the wooden, plank floor, Artion's claws trapped underneath the chair he was bound to. Ignoring his whine of protest, Luciva stood, and when she was absolutely certain she had the male's attention, began to tug the green fabric of her pants downward, revealing inch by inch her hips, the wild tuft of black fur that grew on her mons, and finally the dripping folds of her sex, and the shining trickle of lubricant that had wound its way down her leg. Luciva had, after all, been very frustrated today.

Artion's mouth opened in disbelief, which certainly simplified her next move. Dropping to her knees, the thin Feid below her watching the descent with rapt attention, Luciva dropped her glistening sex down to Artion's face, letting her juices run down the sides of his muzzle as she ground herself there against his open mouth. Still struggling to get weight off his arms, Artion let out another whine, words quite denied to the smothered male. "I am not asking." Luciva growled at him, and after a moment she felt his rough tongue slip out of that open mouth, running its broad length across her folds, parting them ever so slightly as he teased at her clit. Luciva's eyes closed again in rapture, her hips grinding against him, the smooth muscle of her thighs clenching the sides of his head, letting that warm muscle do its work, building in intensity with each stroke. Tingles of electric pleasure running down her back, Luciva was more than willing to remain where she was, her breath catching as the lover beneath her worked her slowly towards release. This was what she had been looking for all day, the sensation of control and the warm flush of sex. Panting, her head thrown back, Luciva let herself go, her body quaking as orgasm washed over her, the dark fur or her legs and sex suddenly shining with a wash of her juices.

Basking in that momentary warmth, Luciva leaned back, sitting on Artion's chest, heedless of his discomfort. That had been...a start, she admitted, but this release had been denied to her so long that her body was still hot-blooded and restless. Considering how to handle that, Luciva was surprised to feel sudden pressure on her thighs, and the thin pricks of claws. He had released his hands! The creamy Feid whose chest she sat on asserted his weight suddenly, sitting up in order to slide her into his lap, his clawed hands closing around her shoulders, digging into the damp fabric of her shirt and bringing her face to face with the pale, scrappy Feid. His blue eyes watched her uncertainly, but the way his face was stained with her juices nearly made her laugh. "I do not want your words, Leeds." she said to him, careful to use his surname in case he grew too familiar.

Far away, in the back of her mind, a miniscule voice pointed out that her pants were off, she was seated on the lap of a male and had recently drenched his face with her sexual leavings. Familiarity was long past. The voice was quickly drowned out as the rest of Luciva reasserted itself. Still, it had made a decent point. Perhaps there was something to be said for wasting some time here. Her arms came up and over his shoulders, hands meeting behind his neck as she stared back at her Feid. Yes, he was pale, and yes, he was...perhaps thinner than need be, but Artion certainly had wonderful eyes. His gaze softened as they watched each other, the uncertainty and threat that he was worried about bleeding out of their silent tension. And there, in that moment of silence, holding and watching each other, things suddenly made more sense.

She had run from the arena and all its pain and uncertainty for this instant of relief. Someone who didn't have any expectations for her, who barely knew who she was. There was something comforting in having a creature who you could return to. Especially after risking her life, time and time again. She had been alone with her fights, with her suffering, and yes: with her death-wish, until this creature came along. When he returned to the apothecary shop, saying he was seeking those that would hurt her, she had been angry. Angry he would risk himself. Angry she couldn't help him. Angry and uncertain why someone would finally try to help her after years training and fighting alone. Fine, she thought, her grip on him tightening instantly to bring the Feid flush with her once again. In his eyes she had seen some sort of genuine affection. It was annoying.

Also somewhat nice.

Reaching up to lift off her shirt, Luciva stripped herself entirely naked. Her black furred breasts finally free, she could feel the effect her body was having on her partner, the sudden hardness growing in his lap, the rough prickles of his spines could be felt even through the fabric of his pants. When he reached down to remove them, however, her hands were already there, holding the rigid length of the Feid's shaft through that cloth, causing his jaw to clench and a groan to escape his lips. "You put yourself in great danger, Leeds. This is my price, this time." she said, knowing the implication he was a whore would anger him. It did, and his lips curled back in a slight snarl before she squeezed with her clawed fingers, cutting off whatever retort he may have managed. "Exactly what I thought." Luciva purred, kicking the now unneeded chair away, along with the scraps of rope that he had shredded.

Pushing him back sharply onto his back, the black Feid slid herself down his body, catching the edges of his pants with her thumb-claws, dragging them with her until he was bare down to the knees. There it was, she reasoned, the prize that she had thought. Artion's shaft was slender, but long, and as she cupped it in the palms of her hands and worked its barbed skin up and down, she let him moan his approval. "You did not ask for this, Leeds, and yet you are crying out already." A dollop of pre beaded at the tip of his length, and she dipped her head only momentarily to lick it, setting Artion shuddering. It was almost too much fun to tease the thin Feid, to let him suffer now that she had found release. Working her hands up and down the length again, she coaxed more whorish sounds from her toy, letting him buck his hips into her hands, only to have them withdraw and refuse him the satisfaction he desired. Releasing him at the top of one of his thrusts, she grinned down at his desperate expression. "You had best be capable of repaying me." she said, needling him with the talk of debt as she held his shoulders, sliding back up his body to rest against his bare, lightly furred chest. Her fingers danced in that hair for a while, marking his ragged breath and the mounting tempo of his heart.

"Luci..." he managed to say, the words bringing her out of her contented reverie. With a sharp glance, she snorted at him. "If you will not stay silent..." she said, letting the threat hang in the air, then almost gently, she took each of his wrists. The creature beneath her was still uncertain, but she merely dragged them above his head, letting her breasts slide against him as she stretched out, resting her warm nethers against the slick length of his shaft. She rubbed back and forth there, holding him down, feeling him try to struggle. It actually surprised her how the male didn't seem capable of breaking her grip. Perhaps he didn't want to, or perhaps he relied overmuch on flexibility rather than actual strength. Still, the feeling of him struggling under her touches was the same as that which had been denied to her earlier by the elf. This time she would get what she wanted. Blood rushing under her muzzle, heat building in her chest, Luciva lined up her sex with artion's slippery shaft, and, after a moment's warm embrace, dropped herself down.

The sudden sensation of being filled was unmistakable, and Artion was already desperate for release, his hips trying to find leverage to thrust up into her, but it proved impossible, pinned as he was by the black Feid's superior strength. Instead she rocked against him, letting the length inside her rub generously along her inner walls, clenching and hissing as she took her pleasure from the male. Ah, but she could stay here the rest of the day, riding him, the feel of the hard shaft inside her, Artion's little groans of pleasure and the way that his fur ran pink with his own blush. Her hands finally slid off the panting Feid's throat and shoulders, releasing him as her back arched backward, bouncing gently in his lap as she rode him out, striving for that mounting, inevitable climax. Slipping around behind her own back, her claws came to rest on his churning, needy balls, her lust-addled mind marking the heat building there as hers and hers alone.

Suddenly, the creature she had pinned could hold out no more and Artion let out a hiss of satisfaction, and there was the familiar prickle of pain along her vaginal walls as the spines of his cock extended, digging in to her sensitive flesh and causing a rush of pleasure to accompany the splatter of his warm seed in her depths. Unable to remove himself, Artion's hips locked in a thrust, elbows propping himself up, either to spare her the pain of those tugging spines or to hilt himself more deeply inside, Luciva didn't care. Looking down into his climaxing expression of rapture, she was suddenly moved to grab him again, wrap her arms around this male, cling to him as her claws dug into his back, binding them together as assuredly as they were already tied. But it wasn't enough, she merely gripped him there, on the edge herself as his twitching member continued to unload itself in her. She felt his seed dripping out around her sex, running down her thighs in narrow rivulets as she began to pump again against his flagging erection. In frustration, she shoved him backwards again, the strike of his back on the ground in his already dazed state only stunning Artion further.

"That's it?" she asked, and with deliberate slowness lifted her burning loins off of his shaft, letting the mixture of her juices and his seed drip onto his lap. Some vindictive part of her mind thought to make him watch her finish her own climax, teasing him about it, letting him live with the knowledge he hadn't been enough. It had certainly worked before in provoking desperate energy out of the scrawny Feid, but looking down on his suddenly apologetic expression, the way his blue eyes glittered up at hers, clearly so happy yet uncertain, she could only grin momentarily. "I'm not done with you yet." Luciva said, turning in place from where she straddled his chest, lowering herself to be presented with his still-slimy shaft. Her clawed hands closed around it slowly, feeling him twitch in response. With carefully lowered hips she presented her own dripping sex to the male, throwing what she hoped was a smoldering look over her shoulder as she did so, growling "Get back to it."

Luciva's back arched instantly as Artion's muzzle burried itself again in her folds, rough tongue apparently heedless of what he had already deposited there, lapping and stroking, his fingers rose to join the efforts, their furry lengths pushing into her in short, sharp thrusts, but stroking leisurely on the way out, sending tingles along her spine. Reacting appropriately her tail curled around his neck like a black collar, its weak tugs urging him deeper and faster. Robbed for words, but not without means to reciprocate, Luciva wrapped both her claws around Artion's flagging cock, the tiny barbs tickling her palms as she ran her hands up and down its length. With careful licking and just enough suction along his tip to bring him back to full mast, Luciva worked the length, only pausing when Artion decided to swirl the wet muscle of his tongue around her clit, stroking it with a slow lapping pass. She let out a whine of satisfaction, surprising even herself with how much relief the sensation brought on. The male's hips, though, had begun to thrust up into her touches and licks, and his glistening shaft was clean again of his own seed. Luciva did not let Artion see her lick her chops before she turned and lifted him once again into her arms.

Clinging to the Feid, her hands locked around his neck where they sat together in the middle of that storage room, Luciva saw the way he gaped and tried to say something. Her limited experience with the male had taught her that whatever he said would probably be vapid and pointless, and she needed release far more than she needed his words. Luckily, her solution seemed to work out for everyone. Carefully guiding his shaft with a thigh, she pulled Artion into an upright, seated kiss again, locking them together as she let his length slip once again inside her. Breaking the kiss she looked him in the eyes, her tone half fury and half rapture, "Harder. Now." was all she said.

Maybe it had been her fault for pinning the Feid the first time, but Artion's enthusiasm for their second bout put the first to shame. His first thrust actually struck Luciva's hips sharply, sending a flash of discomfort to her consciousness, but his second and third were not far behind and his rough length pounded her passage deliciously. A sudden pressure on her chest tore a gasp from Luciva's throat as his clawed fingers found her nipples, engorged as they were with arousal, and played with the blushing buds shamelessly, pinching and rolling their short nubs. Apparently this assault on her senses was not enough, and the male saw fit to lean his head in as well, rough tongue running wetly across her neck, his head nodding as he licked shamelessly at her fur, leaving it shimmering in the wake of the slick muscle. Oh gods, she thought, bouncing in his lap, the sensation of being roughly mated, all while her body was aflame with his touches and licks, it had been exactly what she had sought. No wonder she had sought him out, no wonder she had barred the door and demanded to be taken on the floor. What the scrawny Feid may lack in strength he certainly made up for in coordination and, when premitted, enthusiasm. His ragged breath only added to the cacophony of slick sounds and her own building moans.

"Yesss," she hissed at last, feeling the clenching of her own walls as her own orgasm rapidly approached, "yes, yes." Her cries of assent almost embarassed her, but she was too far gone to try and stop them now. In an attempt to say something more coherent before pleasure claimed her completely, Luciva leaned in and softly nipped at Artion's ear again, taking the pointed tip in her teeth before hissing "Much better, Leeds. Now end it." He did so immediately, on command, one final thrust burying the Feid in her again, letting his seed spill forth in short blasts. Luciva came with him, a wash of her warm fluids soaking their bodies, leaving their embrace suddenly sticky. Luciva didn't care, shuddering as she was, her claws digging into Artion's creamy fur as the orgasm washed over her. She didn't even notice that her teeth, where they had once nipped the tip of his pointed, fluffy ear, now bit in hard enough to draw blood. She screamed, heedless of who could hear her, letting the pleasure of wrapping herself around this beautiful creature carry her mind away. A dim glow of warmth and pleasure settled over the pair of them as they fell, together, onto the wooden floor, still tied by his barbs, the fur of their legs a tangled mess of sticky lubricant and his white leavings.

Artion's exhaustion was clear, his chest heaving against hers, heart hammering away beneath the soft, creamy fur. In the glow of her own contentment, Luciva could not remove her hands from the Feid, tilting his head back towards hers with gentle, insistant motions and demanding another kiss with the press of her muzzle to his. He obliged, sharp breath still coming through his nose where it briefly touched hers, and their tongues entwined as their bodies relaxed. Feeling the length inside her go soft, the spines that had held her in ecstasy retreating, Luciva pulled away at last, feeling the gentle tug on her fur as the sticky mess that held them together finally parted. Artion ran a hand through her hair, mercifully he was too exhausted to give her another one of those stupid grins. All the better, then. "What was that all about?" he asked, out of breath. "I mean, it's not that I'm complaining but are you sure that it's safe to be-..."

Cutting him off with a light slap to the side of the head, Luciva snorted her annoyance. He had been so good when he wasn't talking. Especially when he chose now of all times to be lucid. Relenting somewhat at his hurt expression, she sighed. "You are a fine creature when you are silent, Leeds. Graceful, skilled even. You do talk too much, though. If you do not want to complain, then don't complain." Luciva said, then gave him a long lick on the cheek with her own rough tongue, a move that seemed to surprise the pale Feid. He reached up to touch where her tongue had passed over his fur. "The less you talk, the more likely it may happen again." she said, standing, glancing around for her shirt and pants. She hadn't even remembered kicking off her boots. A brief look downward confirmed that Artion still had his on. Smirking, she made to dress, the pale, scrappy (magnificent? a part of her mind asked, she ignored it) creature followed suit. Silently they shared some scraps of cloth that had been stored in the room. Neither made to clean up the mess on the floor.

Straightening his belt, Artion turned to face her. Much of the color that had been in his cheeks had gone out, now, but he still had an unmistakable glow, even in the light of the oil lamps. Jerking her head towards the door, Luciva moved to unbar the door, removing the crude barricade she had made. She wrenched it open in one sharp movement.

Leaning up against the wall across the hall, her arms folded, the sole of one boot lifted to rest next to her knee, was Ahani. She stared flatly at Luciva, as always, for a moment, before her head tilted slightly to the left to glance behind. Artion's hands instinctively moved to cover his crotch, albeit he was still dressed. With an almost leisurely slowness the elf glanced down at the floor, where her sharp ears had picked out the quiet splatter of two drops of fluid, and the undeniable dampness that stained the inside of Luciva's pants. Her gaze coming to rest on the Feid's green eyes again, Ahani spoke quietly "I don't think the dragons will have much use for a guardian who is with child." Right, Luciva realized. She would have heard the screaming and grunting, wouldn't she?

Luciva merely shoulderd past her, cutting down the hall to the right, the very picture of unconcerned. "Don't be ridiculous, elf. I am not in heat." she said, head held higher than any such minor concerns. Artion, who was still attempting to be modest as he stepped out into the hall, stared in disbelief at Luciva's retreating back.

"You're not?" he practically shouted after her, mouth gaping, but she only kept walking, so he ran, hands still modestly clutching his groin, to catch up.

Ahani, whose expression remained carefully unreadable, was glad the low light and colorless vision of the Feid in darkness didn't give away her slight blush as she fell in behind the pair of them, retreating from the warehouse.

---

Leeds certainly talked a lot, now that Luciva had given up on protesting his presence. Oh, he and the elf shared a long conversation about conspiracies and the evil of the Silver Guard, how their absence from the Silver City's affairs of state meant that they had been circumvented by some insidious faction. She did her best not to listen too much to his madness over the course of the next day. It was certainly worth watching him as he gesticulated and hypothesized, though. His energy was remarkable. It only redoubled when she said that he should attend her induction into the Guard. He hadn't remembered the tournament, but for some reason it didn't bother her anymore. It was nice to have someone that didn't care about her career. For far too long, her career had been all that Luciva was. Artion didn't seem to care, and it was...refreshing. It would be nice if she had more to say to him, though she couldn't imagine what that would be. All the talking he did made her self-conscious, so she ignored it or told him to shut up. It was easier that way, and he didn't seem to mind.

When they arrived together at the barge, one of only a few that had liscense to cross the lake and dock with the Silver Palace at its center, Artion and Luciva stepped on board with only minimal fuss. The men who were tasked with rowing the vast wooden bulk had been told to expect Feid, though they falsely believed for a moment that Artion, as the male, was the one that had won the arena. Luciva didn't say a word, letting Artion fumble over himself to appear humble and wholly incapable of such feats. It was nice to have someone around to do the talking. When the elf that they had parted amiably with yesterday arrived, however, and stepped onto the platform without so much as a word said or a batted eye from the captain, it was Luciva that spoke.

"What are you doing here? Are you following us?" she asked.

"Not quite." Ahani answered, nodding her head towards the looming standstone palace in the center of the lake. When a glare hinted that that answer wasn't enough, the elf joined it with a shrug. "We all belong somewhere." she said.

Luciva wasn't sure she agreed, but kept it to herself as the three of them took the long ride across the still waters, towards the Silver Palace.