Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Gota kill more!" Jeff said in almost a panic. He continued onward stabbing more coughing academy kids to death, slitting one girls throat and tossing her behind him to lunge at another girl and stabbing her in their stomach. Jeff pulled the butcher knife covered in blood out of the girls wound and slurped the blood off the slim blade with his tongue. Jeff proceeds to lick his non existent cheeks covering his yellow rotten teeth with the crimson liquid of previous stabbed victims. A coughing girl runs threw the halls and makes the mistake of passing Jeff, making direct eye contact. Jeff runs to her and catches up with her, tackling her to the floor with a heavy force of the will to end her life. She screams loudly over and over as Jeff holds her there and slowly sticks his knife deeper and deeper into the front of the girls neck. Jeff continues to smile wide and whispers into her ear in a haunting voice "Go...To...Sleep!" The voice echoes threw her head and her pretty eyes roll up into her head. She slowly stops screaming and her body quickly becomes limp. Jeff laughs and gets up off the corpse of the girl, walking down the hall in front of the Slenderman.

A dull roar could be heard, though the source wasn't visible. Even so, it was impossible not to know what it was. Having heard it for much of each day for who knows how long, Granberia knew that sound intimately. The roar of the crowds, the bloodthirsty fools hollering, demanding their thirst for battle be filled by proxy. They grew fat on the taxes levied on the peasants, and they made slaves such as herself fight for their entertainment. Oh, how she longed to wrap that heavy chain around their necks, to squeeze until their faces turned red from asphyxiation, until the spittle in the corners of their mouths frothed into blood-flecked foam, until the final crack. But it was not to be, try as she might, she could not escape her cage. even when she was sent out to the pit, she was always chained. Heavy chains, each individual link was a heavy weight in and of itself. Escape was impossible. She would never give up, though. Not until she had paid them back, and exacted payment for her services, in blood and flesh.

An atonal note sounded over and over, a note that she recognized as that of a sword's pommel being struck against an iron bell. The last match had finished, and the remains had been removed from the arena. Her turn was next. Getting up, she checked her equipment. She had gathered armor from her fallen opponents, the cobbled-together protection a meager barrier from the weapons that were leveled at her daily. Her own weapons were a pitted and dull sword, and a mace; this along with her own physical armaments. She had scales, scales that protected her much better than the armor she wore. But they could only do so much. It was a fool who went into battle foregoing even a single advantage. So she wore armor over her scales, that way she had an edge.

Her tail lashed at the dirt, as flexible and dextrous as any other appendage. She'd used it in battles, to trip an opponent or to give a solid blow to their helmet to stun them. Likewise, her opponents had targeted it, as one of the few parts she didn't keep armored. So it had it's share of scars as well. Even her hands, fingertips with sharp talons wrapped around her own weapon's haft, had born the brunt of more than one attack. No matter. She had learned to take a pounding, and get back up again. Even before she had been sent to the pits, she had been beaten. The slavers who had captured her, alongside so many others, had inflicted daily beatings on her, to break her spirit. In the end, she had had no choice, but to appear to give in, to submit. They wouldn't have stopped, otherwise. So better to pretend to lose one fight, to move to a more advantageous location for the war.

A proven true fact for any act of war, was that location was just as vital as strength in any true battle. She knew that once she was deemed broken enough, then she would be sent to one of three areas. One, and the one she had loathed intensely from the very first time she had heard about it, was the seraglio. The lord of this land was a vile, lecherous creature, and the stories she had heard had filled her with disgust. If she would have been sent there, she would have disemboweled him the first chance she got, and likely been put to death soon after. The second option had been to become a scullery maid. To handle the menial labor, the cooking and cleaning. That was certainly better than the first option, but the opportunities for escape were so numerous that they were watched far too closely. That wouldn't have been of any use. And finally, there were the pits. The life of a gladiator was generally short, but if one could fight and survive, then their lot in life could become almost tenable. Still a slave, but the popular warriors received boons from those that favored their victories. She was nowhere near well-known enough to receive such treatment, and that suited her just fine. As a nobody in the pit, there was always the chance she would be underestimated. All she had to do was keep surviving, and eventually her opportunity would come.

The note sounded a second time, that was her cue. Making a final check to be sure her weapons were properly stowed It amazed her how often someone else wasn't as careful, then they grew outraged when a quick grab relieved them of their last weapon. Marching with a measured, ready stride, she left her cell, the rusted iron door already left open at this late date, and began her walk down the tunnel. There were a pair of guards at this end, as well as just before the other. Not that there was much need, it wasn't like there was anywhere else to go. As she reached the midway point, she could feel the crowd's cries increase, the sound almost like a living thing. They had had their blood lust stirred by the last fight. Stirred but not satisfied. They would be out for blood this match. If she didn't slay her opponent in a sufficiently bloody manor, it was a distinct possibility that the lord would still give the thumb's down that was all the signal the guards needed to advance and finish off both gladiators. She had no intention of letting that happen, however. She would kill, regardless of her opponent.

Blinking a few times, yellow reptilian eyes stared out at the crowds for a moment before she locked on to her opponent. She recognized them, which was surprising in and of itself. The only other familiar faces she had seen up to this point were in the upper echelons of the ranks. Did that mean that she had finally gotten some recognition of her own? No, that wasn't it... Seeing the swagger that her opponent evinced, as well as the way that they hadn't even looked directly at her yet, the truth became all too clear.

Whoever had set this match up had every intention of her being a sacrifice to this new foe. She wasn't supposed to win. Well, she thought, as she tightened one clawed hand into a fist, plans never did survive contact with the enemy. Readying her short sword, she raised it up in the obligatory gesture of respect toward her opponent, then a second, longer pause toward the booth where the lord sat. Inside she despised them all, but she couldn't let that show, not yet. Her derision grew when she realized her opponent hadn't returned the salute, not to her. She'd make him regret that, or die trying. That was a distinct possibility, he looked powerful. Heavily muscled, his armor looked freshly polished and brand new, the gleam of burnished copper unmistakable. His armor was a full suit, complete, not a patchwork affair like her own. Likewise, his sword appeared to be brand new, no sign of wear or old bloodstains on it.

She finally lowered her sword, and awaited the call to begin. Already, the audience was cheering, screaming for bloody violence and death for their amusement. And they thought that the gladiators were the savage ones! She exhaled slowly, gathering herself, honing her focus down to just herself and her opponent. The world's colors were leeched away until everything beyond the arena was a bizarre shadow world where sounds were muted and actions inconsequential. All actions save one, that is. And there it was! The mallet struck the enormous cymbal solidly, sending out a ringing peal that heralded the next match's beginning.

Granberia was a lot smaller than her foe, she knew that that difference in size would give them the edge in a charge, as well as reach. So the instant that she heard the note, she was moving. Dashing at a slight angle, she hoped to be able to get behind her opponent, to have even a small window of opportunity to get an attack in straightaway. She kept her sword drawn, the blade cutting smoothly through the humid air as she ran. At times like this, she felt almost free. The wind in her hair, and no chains holding her back. If she could just drown out her surroundings, then she could maybe find a small portion of peace. But no, not this time. This fight demanded her full attention, one misstep, one mistake, and she would likely wind up dead. Already her foe had drawn back their blade and they now brought it down in a colossal strike, the blade hitting nothing but the sand under their feet. Even so, it sent up a cloud of the stuff to obscure their vision for a few moments.

That helped her more than it hurt, however. After all, sight was only one method for location an enemy. And her other senses were strong, strong enough that she could hear his armor clanking as he moved, smell the salty tang of sweat. She knew where he was. This was an opportunity she couldn't pass up, she rushed in to close the distance between them, before leaping high into the air. As she did, she heard the sound of a blade whistling through the air, impossible to tell if his strike would have hit her or not, if she had remained standing. Aiming her sword carefully, she pointed the tip of the blade at the giant's shoulder. The joints were the weak spots in any armor, even armor as new and shiny as this. If her aim was good enough, then she would be able to punch right through the thin armor guarding his shoulder, and from there take one of his arms out of the fight. He'd still be a threat, but much less of one, much easier to handle.

Her blade hit, and she frowned when she heard the sound of metal striking metal. The tip of her blade skittered and slid along the armor plate, she'd missed! She landed on his broad shoulder a moment later, but knew better than to stick around. She leaped off immediately, and just in time, his hand came up to try to grab her. She hadn't failed completely, though. as she had leaped off of her enemy's shoulder, she had spun, bringing her tail around in a solid swing to thwack right against the side of the man's helmet. The note she heard was more muted than the one signalling the match's commencement, but no less pleasing to her ears. As well, it looked like she had managed to daze her hulking opponent; they stood half-crouched and shaking their head. Another chance! She rushed in once more, but this time she sheathed her sword and pulled out her mace. Dancing around to the side of her opponent, she brought the mace's head crashing down in a heavy blow aimed directly at the back of his knee. A grunt of pain and the knee buckled.

At the same time, however, she had overstayed her welcome. A large fist reached out and landed a solid blow on her, knocking her back to tumble end over end through the sand. She finally came to a stop far enough away that she knew she'd lost the advantage. Already, he was testing his knee, putting his full weight on it with only marginal pain. She hadn't done as much damage as she had hoped. Whereas she could still definitely feel the pain from that punch! Even with a blow from an awkward angle such as that, it had still held amazing power, if not for her armor and scales, she could well have had her neck snapped. He was a monster! She staggered back to her feet, feeling a moment of vertigo when she had to bend over to pick up her dropped mace. Shaking her head to clear away the disorientation, she readied herself to meet the next charge.

Of course, she had no intention of meeting it head-on, she would hopefully be fast enough to get behind her opponent once more. Their armor was as strong as it was shiny, that wasn't good. She had hoped it would have been designed to look good, and nothing more. But no, it was definitely able to fend off any weaker blows she might bring to bear against him. that just meant she would have to hit him harder each and every time. He was rushing toward her, and the last thing she needed was him with momentum, so she rushed to close the distance even faster. Only to turn her charge into a somersault between his legs. Not wasting time, she sprang back to her feet before leaping onto his back, free hand's fingertips digging in to grab the lip of the armor over his back. He'd shake her off, or smash into a wall any moment now, she had to make this count.

Swinging back and forth, she got enough leverage to pull herself up a foot or so, just enough. Her arm straining under the weight of herself in full armor, she'd only get one shot at this. Shifting her mace to an underhand grip, she stabbed it down, aiming for the base of her foe's neck. Even that was covered by armor, but if she could hit hard enough, it wouldn't make a difference. The blow of the head of her mace against the copper plating the back of his neck rang like a bell. And so, too, must his head. Almost immediately, he stopped his thrashing and fell down onto both knees. This wouldn't last long; he would recover shortly. She had to risk it, she had to keep the pace up. Pulling herself up, her arm protested this further strain but still cooperated. Now she was balanced precariously on his shoulders, standing astride him. Switching her mace to a double handed grip, she took careful aim before bringing it hurtling down in a perfect half-circle, from above her head to between her knees. and directly into the narrow window for her foe's eyes. The copper was strong enough to not completely crumple, even with this savage a blow, but the damage had been done. She'd dented his helmet, driven the metal inward to dig into his face. Unfortunately, she hadn't blinded him, or indeed even done any real damage. But she'd done something, and with luck, also limited his visibility. If she could use that to her advantage...

She'd have to wait, though. At this last blow, she had seemingly woken the beast, he let out a primal roar of fury, before jumping to his feet, throwing her off effortlessly. She rolled just as she hit the sand, able to avoid wasting any time before getting right back to her feet. Now that he was enraged, she would have to stay focused on the task at hand. A cornered beast was at it's most dangerous when it knew it was cornered, or when it went berserk. If things went as planned, both of those criteria would fit her opponent soon enough. She would have to be very precise, and absolutely without mercy to survive this. As the giant rushed toward her, she pulled out both weapons and readies herself to meet his charge. Not directly, of course. Instead, she waited until he had brought his own sword up, high into the air, before she moved. As the enormous blade cleaved through the air as it hurtled down to crush her, she rolled to the side, and forward, springing off of the sand as she made a lunge toward the giant's side.

She certainly wasn't strong enough to knock him over, she'd need an entire group to pull something like that off. No, she had something much more brutal, and risky, planned. If it worked, it could turn the entire tide of the battle, give her an indisputable advantage. But that was only if it worked.

As she sprang toward the giant's side, she stabbed with her short sword, putting as much of her strength behind the thrust as she possibly could. Even then, all that she accomplished was to get her blade stuck, the point wedged into a minor seam between the thick armor plates. She didn't dare stick around to pull it free, either, so she was forced to release her grip on it and leap away. Even though she had put her all into that swing, she hadn't even scratched him, he barely even seemed aware she had tried anything. Already, he was turning around to rush toward her again. This time, he had the point of his sword leveled straight at her, to use it almost like a spear or lance. In the end, she had no choice, the moment she had lost her sword she had become committed to this plan.

When he charged, she waited for the last possible moment, until he was practically on top of her. Only then did she jump to the side. Too late! He barreled right past her, brushing her aside, practically shouldering her into the wall. The sheer force of his passing was tremendous, it turned her nimble leap into a chaotic spin. Yet, she wasn't worried, that was what she had been trying for. Using the spin to her own purpose, she held out her mace at a sharp angle, then put absolutely every last bit of strength she had into a final swing. Not at the armored giant, but at the grip of her sword. Not to knock it free, to drive it deeper. Just like using a hammer to pound a nail into a log, she needed something more to act as an amplifier between her effort and the target. Had it worked?

She turned back to look at her foe, the force of her swing having sent her staggering off. He loomed high overhead, glaring darkly behind his helm. A bass growl could be heard, as he raised his sword, death in his eyes. Only to pause, and cough. A great wracking paroxysm, a spray of blood burst from his mouth, spattering the sand in front of him with flecks of red. He tried to shake it off, but it was no use. Her aim had been true, the sword had punctured one of his lungs, and the internal bleeding that accompanied such a wound was slowly but surely drowning him in his own blood. Unable to draw a breath, he gurgled, staggering as he tried to remain upright. Finally, he fell, with a resounding crash that practically made the ground shake underfoot. He wasn't dead, but if something wasn't done soon, he would be. That wasn't her decision to make, though.

Granberia straightened up, before stepping forward, and onto the armored chest of her supine foe. Raising her mace to the lord, she waited. Would he give the thumb's up, or down? One would let her foe live, live to get medical aid, live with the rage at his defeat. The other would be an order for her to finish him off. There, his thumb pointed down. So it was to be death. She nodded, before crouching down and pulling her blade free from his side with a pair of screams. One, from him, he was still conscious enough to feel such an intense pain. The other, from the metal, pulling it free from the armor had been a task in and of itself. But she'd done it. Readying her blade, she moved up to stand just below her foe's neck. Within the visor of his helm, she could see the mute pleading in his eyes, begging for mercy. There was none to be given, the lord had given the order.

A moment later, it was done. Letting out a bestial cry, she raised the severed head, bereft of it's helm, in tribute to the lord. A massed chorus of boos greeted her, almost everyone in the audience had been cheering for her foe, had even had money wagered on his success. She'd made a lot of enemies, merely by surviving. But that wasn't her concern. Let them come, she would deal with them as surely as she'd dealt with him.

Stalking back into the tunnel, she left the head where it lay, but took the helmet instead. It wouldn't fit her, but it could still be used as a weapon, a bludgeon if nothing else. And the more options she had, the better she would be able to protect herself.

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The next evening, Granberia looked up from where she'd been focused on cleaning her sword. A pair of guards stood in front of her cage, staring implacably down at her. What was this, another fight already? There was almost never a match this late at night.

"Count yourself lucky, the lord has seen fit to invite you to his chambers. Such a proud warrior deserves the reward of his attentions." At the leer that could even be heard in their voice, it was evident just what form those attentions would likely serve. Protesting would be useless, if she tried to resist, they would just snipe at her from the safety of the other side of her cage, until she was unconscious and truly unable to resist. So she nodded, and got to her feet. She set her sword down at their order, knowing better than to try to hide it on herself.

The door to her cage was unlocked a moment later, and she was brought out. Still in chains, she could barely walk. But the fools had forgotten one thing, her tail wasn't bound. It wasn't time yet, though. If she tried to escape here, where the guards were the thickest, she would never get away. No, she had to wait, wait until the security was at it's lightest, then make her one and only attempt.

They led her down a labyrinthine series of corridors and stairs, eventually emerging in the light of the city's evening. Cooking fires dotted the landscape, and the smell of prepared food set her stomach growling. She ignored the lewd comment one of the guards made about getting her fill soon enough, and forced herself to wait for the proper moment.

Finally, her chance came, just as they were crossed a narrow walkway. On one side was a wall that went up and up, part of the tower of the lord's castle. The other side was a steep drop, down to a thin river many dozens of yards below. She made no pause, gave no sign that she was about to make her move. Instead she tore into action in a flurry of movements. Grabbing the guard's shoulders in front of her, she slammed him against the solid stone wall, hearing the satisfying break of his nose. Before waiting to see the damage, she stepped back and ducked under the club she knew was coming. Her tail whipped out and wrapped around that guard's ankle, before pulling sharply in the other direction. He screamed as he fell, for quite a while before he finally hit the rocks just short of the river.

The first guard was just beginning to recover from having his face smashed into the wall, when he felt the thick chain wrap around his neck. He tried to plead for his life, but a quick twist and the plea was silenced. Granberia spent a few awkward moments picking through his pockets- of which there were blessedly very few in armor!- until she found the keys to her chains. It was difficult, but she was able to unlock them, then toss them down into the chasm at her side. She was free! If possible, she would have liked to go back for her weapons. But that was entirely too risky for her one and only chance at an escape attempt. She'd get new weapons, that was the best she could hope for.

But still, those weapons had saved her life dozens of times, she owed it to them to go back and retrieve them. Nodding, she turned and bolted back the way she had come. even with all the twists and turns, she felt confident she could find her way. And if she was quick enough, she could go back and leave again before the alarm went out that there was an escape. There wouldn't be much time, though. That is, unless she caused a disturbance.

She saw the numerous cages ahead of her now, so she decided to risk it, to unlock each cage she came to. If there was a revolt en masse, then there wouldn't be enough guards to stop her. That would give her enough time to retrieve her weapons and finally be free of this wretched place.

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Several hours later, it was done. The village lay miles behind her, but she could still see the fires of rebellion. Let the lord deal with the other gladiators, or better yet, let them deal with him. If he survived, she would return to have her vengeance. For now, though, she was free. Beholden to no one and nothing. She could go where she wanted, do what she wanted. If she wanted to fight, she could. But if she didn't want to, then she wouldn't. Freedom!

She found a spot in the shade, low-hanging branches laden with fruit creating a natural hiding place. She crawled in, before settling down, still in her armor. Grabbing a piece of fruit, she dug into the first real meal she had had in months. A day or two to rest and recover, then she would press on. But where? She had heard of the Ninja Academy, a place that welcomed all to learn as they liked, without forced servitude or entertainment. Maybe she would go there, maybe that was a good place to lay low while she considered her options? Learn some new tricks, hone her skills, and most importantly of all, just live. It would be a good life, for a time.

Even as she thought this, she knew it wouldn't last. She was a fighter, eventually she would grow bored and frustrated, she would eventually have to go out and find a fight. To get her blood boiling, to get her heart racing. the thrill of mortal combat, the glory of victory or the humiliation of defeat. Try as she might to deny it, her time as a gladiatrix had changed her. She was a warrior now, and the life of a civilian was not for her.

Granberia could see the Academy ahead of her; it was hard not to. It was an enormous building, but while it shared the same scale as her last home, that was all it had in common. While her former home, or prison rather, was enormous and built to be defensible, this structure was just big. Since it was considered a neutral ground for all the different nations, there had never seemed to be a need to fortify it's walls. In her eyes, that was a fatal flaw, something that should have been remedied decades before. After all, just because an enemy had yet to bare it's fangs or intentions, that did not mean you welcomed them into your home. That was one of the earliest lesson a proper warrior received, how had these ninjas become so ignorant?

Nonetheless, she didn't have any better ideas of where to go or what to do. If the Academy wasn't up to the task of protecting it's students, then it fell upon the students to protect themselves. That much, she understood. after all, that was how she lived for the duration of her stay in Hidden Myth, and the pits. There was no one there who would help her, no one who had her best interests in mind. If they interacted with her, it was only because it was for their own benefit. So she had learned to be strong, learned what it meant to live for herself. To take from others when her own survival depended on it. She didn't like it, but then again, she didn't have to. She survived, and she would continue to survive.

With a slight shock, she realized she had already reached the Academy, her mind had wandered while she approached. But now she was here, and ready to learn what the Academy had to teach her. Whether she would go on to use any of what she was taught, only time would tell. But if nothing else, the training would be good, she could still become stronger that way, too.

As she entered, the large wooden doors groaned deeply, a bass sound that reminded her far too much of the creak of her cell's door. Of course, it had a similar purpose, it's size and unwieldiness serving as a minor security measure. After all, it was hard not to hear such a sound, especially if your job was to listen for it. Such as the young woman who came out to meet her before she'd gone a half dozen steps.

The young lady seemed peaceful enough, but there was a readiness in her posture, and a glint of power in her eyes. She was no mere secretary or assistant, she held power. At the moment, though, her role was that of registrar, her position one of welcoming new students and getting them settled in without fuss. She welcomed Granberia readily enough, though her tone was more business than any real warmth or pleasure. No matter. She led Granberia to her room, and informed her that she would not be expected for lessons until the following day. Before that, she had free use of the training yard and the cafeteria. But she was to avoid the records vault, and even the stairs that led down to it. Granberia nodded, she had no great urge to explore just yet.

Once she was alone, she turned and took in her room's details. A real bed, rather than the cot of barely padded wood. There was a door on the opposite side of the room, too. She opened it and peered inside, only to blink in surprise. It wasn't someone else's room, it was a washroom! There was even a shower! It had been so long since she had bathed with anything more than sand, she allowed herself the guilty pleasure of preparing a boiling hot shower straightaway. In the end, the shower ended up taking well over an hour. Even after the water had grown barely warm, she remained, enjoying it while she could. Eventually, though, she had to emerge. Now that she had finally had the opportunity to wash up, the next need to sate was nourishment. The registrar had said she had use of the cafeteria, so why not have an early repast?

It didn't take long to find it, though she did pause several times along the way, to stop at other doorways and listen for a moment to the current lessons. After all, she would be joining at least some of those classes the next day, why not be prepared? It hadn't been forbidden, and it could only help. Finally, though, she did make it to the cafeteria. Normally, one would look at such a set-up and think it somewhat sub-par. Several long tables with affixed seating, and the food was certainly nowhere near a fine restaurant's. But to her, it was another extravagance. Food in ample supply, that it wasn't fought over? A luxury! Yet she could hear a few of those already seated saying how the taste displeased them, how they wanted something better, fancier. Weakness! In a true battle, you used what you had, wasting time wishing for more was a sure path toward death! They would learn, eventually. Or they wouldn't, and instead they would die. If so, then they would surely deserve it for their undeserved arrogance.

She moved through the line, loading her tray up with plenty, before moving to the first open space she found, and sitting down. The person she wound up sitting next to sniffed in disapproval, then seemed surprised and offended when she didn't get the hint and move away. Instead, she was eating, methodically. Not wolfing it down, the sudden intake of this much more than what she was used to would only make her ill. When the young person next to her commented snidely that 'of course a lizard wouldn't have any manners'. she just ignored it. People could say what they liked, if this one thought ill of her, then so be it. If that turned to a threat, then she would confront them. Up until such a point, they could do as they liked.

Eventually the other person grew frustrated enough to get up and leave, and still she paid them no mind. That almost seemed to annoy them even more, and they glared at her heatedly before stomping off. Such a minor, assumed slight, and they had already declared her an enemy. Frivolity.

The rest of the day passed by without further incident, giving Granberia a chance to fully relax, and get some extra sleep. It felt odd crawling into that soft bed, and with her armor removed, no less. It was several hours later before she had finally overcome the oddly disconcerting feeling that she was sinking, and able to fall asleep.

Morning came, and with it came a fresh start. Granberia needed to get to her classes. Consulting the slip of paper that the registrar had given her, she saw that her first class would begin in approximately one hour. She hadn't yet familiarized herself with the Academy's structure, so she'd need that time to find her way. Setting out, she began to tedious task of tracking down her first destination. There were a few clues toward where it was, enough that she knew roughly which way to go. The first number was a one, that meant it was on the first floor. The second number was low as well, that meant it would likely be close to the main entrance. With those two hypotheses, she felt capable of figuring out the rest on her own, without winding up late.

She did find it without mishap, her predictions spot on. When she arrived, there were already a handful of other students, ranging in age from younger than her, to noticeably older. She gave each a cursory glance, to make sure that none of them posed a direct threat. And there was the young person from the day before. Actually looking at them, she saw it was a young girl. She was still glaring at her, and whispering something to a small group gathered around her. That could potentially lead to trouble, or at least it could if they weren't all soft from easy living.

She turned her back on them as she took a seat, but kept a portion of her awareness tuned in that direction. If they actually developed the guts to try something, she would be ready for it. And sure enough, just a moment later she felt a presence close in behind her. Making an educated guess, she pulled her tail up and to the side, and heard a voice mutter a curse. Really, stepping on her tail was the best that they had come up with?

The actual lesson was boring, she caught on to the basic concepts without any trouble. She'd already learned how to sense her own life energy, or chakra as it was apparently called, merely from a life filled with battle. Learning to manipulate it might be a bit more difficult, but she would master that, too. When the day finally ended, she was familiar with her chakra, and what she could be expected to do with it. Some of the things that had been mentioned sounded impossible, not to mention not terribly useful, but she'd give them the same consideration as the rest of the lesson.

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The next few days continued in much the same fashion. The classes were overall boring, but she did learn a few small gems of wisdom. Soon came the time for a practical application of their lessons. This, then, was what she had been waiting for. Actually getting up and moving around, she learned much better with such a method. The first challenge was to perform a Hensojutsu, to transform her appearance by using her chakra to create a disguise.

One by one, the class succeeded or failed, though most pulled it off. When it was her turn, she felt an especially fierce awareness directed at her back. Turning, she saw it was the girl from before. She still hadn't given up whatever silly grudge she had been holding on to. Was she going to try something?

She was. Just as Granberia was about to attempt the Hensojutsu, she saw a rubber band shooting toward her face. That would have been a distraction sufficient to cause her to make a mistake, had she not been expecting it. Before it could hit her, a hand whipped up to grab it, before returning to form the proper hand seals. A moment later, it was done. She had pulled it off, and the girl seemed more furious than ever.

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Finally, the last day of her lessons had come. Granberia had so far passed every challenge set before her. Maybe not with flying colors, but a solid enough performance that there was no question she understood what she was doing. and each time, that girl tried to mess her up. It had started with that rubber band. The next time, it had been a small stone. And so on, escalating each time. Whether the instructor knew and chose to ignore it, or if the girl was just that good at evading suspicion was impossible to tell. One way or the other, things would come to a head today. Because today was a trial by combat.

Everyone was paired off, and it surprised nobody that Granberia was paired off with her self-declared enemy. This would be a real fight, she knew that the girl intended to do everything in her power to win. That didn't mean she was going to let her. In fact, after all the girl had done, Granberia would enjoy returning that irritation in the form of a beating.

They both entered the small field given over to combat training. It had a small scattering of obstacles, objects to hide behind or use in other ways. A cluttered battlefield could be dangerous, by not seeing everything, you inevitably missed something. But with just one opponent, how bad could it be?

She found out several moments after the signal to begin had been given. She had been stalking forward when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Someone with black hair. But the girl who hated her so fiercely was a blonde. That could only mean that she aimed to win this, rules be damned. She must have called in some friends to ensure her victory. Assuming it was that group she had been whispering to a few days prior, that meant there were a total of four opponents waiting for her.

While that was hardly fair, she had faced worse. And here, she had her weapons, and her skills. Plus, she was already putting together a plan to eliminate her enemy's advantage...

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Granberia stalked forward, her gaze continually drifting to the left and right. Now that she knew that she was facing four instead of just one, she was slipping into that same mindset that she had before, when she was in the gladiatorial pits. That place inside of her, where the only matter at hand was how to survive, how to defeat her enemies before she was defeated. This time, it wouldn't be so easy. She had learned the same techniques that they had, so she knew basically what to expect. How those techniques, as basic as they were, all tended toward defense and avoidance rather than actual combat. With that, her enemies would only draw close when they had enough force marshaled to be sure of victory. She would have to track them down before that. Eliminate them one by one, to get rid of their advantage.

She had seen a glimpse of one a moment ago, but they could already be further away than she expected. What she had to do was catch one by surprise, then spring her trap. So she found a log, pitted from what appeared to be a fire. That would work just fine. Carefully, she slipped inside of it's hollow, and waited. Only a few moments later, she heard someone's approach. They made no pretense of hiding the sound of their approach, that was just sloppy.

A moment later, they even paused right next to her hiding place. Just as they were turning to see inside of it, she sprang into action; a hand whipping out to clamp over their mouth and pull them inside. A rather short but nonetheless brutal beating later, and they wouldn't be causing any more trouble. Leaving them unceremoniously stuffed inside the tree, she emerged. Glancing back, she got a good look at them before she moved her hands into the proper position. A pair of judicious applications of chakra later, and they had seemingly switched forms. Now she looked like the one she'd just incapacitated, while a clone of her normal form was placed in the tree immediately in front of the unconscious body. Perfect.

She turned back and resumed her search for the others. Now, she had two different tasks to maintain. One was to maintain this facade for as long as possible, and the other was to continue taking out her opponents. And speak of the devil, there was another one! She moved closer, quietly gesturing to get their attention. After all, they didn't want 'that lizard' to know they were there yet. The other girl, a redhead, whispered that she hadn't seen her yet. Now came a calculated risk. She said she thought she might have seen her, but just for a moment. Back in the other direction, by that large burned-out tree.

At that, the other girl's eyes lit up. Either from a desire to inflict pain on someone, or something more superficial, to take the enemy down herself and go up a few rungs on the social ladder. Not that either would happen today. She ordered Granberia to lead her to where she had last seen her, so she obliged. Why not? Retracing her path, soon the tree was just a short distance ahead. As she led the way, the redhead grew frustrated with the slow process and took the lead. When the swift punch to the back of her neck knocked her out, she didn't even have time to gasp or cry out before she slumped to the ground.

With that, the odds were a bit closer to even. Granberia had her clone come out from the tree, before stuffing the new body in with the old one. Next, the clone used a Hensojutsu to take the redhead's appearance. Now the hunt could begin in earnest. Even if her clone was an illusion, had no real presence, she could still serve a fine purpose for what was to come. Within only a few moments, she spelled out her plan, then they were off in different directions to carry it out.

What followed could scarcely be called a battle. Both Granberia and her clone ran off in separate directions, seeking the rest of the enemy. When found, they pretended to not notice them, and instead feign a sighting of Granberia. Cue a mad rush that doubled back on itself, exhausting the blonde and the brunette that were all that was left of the enemy's number. Only when they seemed worn out did the two paths coincide near that same tree.

Unfortunately the plan went awry there, as the two girls within had already managed to regain consciousness. They grumbled and complained as they tried to escape the tree. Thinking fast, Granberia pointed at one. "Look, that lizard is trying to use a Hensojutsu, to try to look like us! Look, she even got my bracelet wrong!" That, of course, was a lie, but spoken as it was, the blonde and brunette didn't doubt it and they both tore into their erstwhile friends. Only after they had done some decent damage to each other did Granberia reveal the truth. Just before she showed them how a fight was supposed to go, she dropped her own Hensojutsu, and her clone disappeared with a wave.

What followed was more brutal yet, ending with all four of the girls crammed into the tree's interior, a space barely large enough for two. It would take a lot of help for them to get out, and in the meantime, she had won. Nodding with satisfaction, she turned.

Just as a shadowy figure appeared at her side, lashing out with a kunai at her throat.

Only to meet her armored forearm instead, the ambush a failure. The instructor straightened up and shrugged. "I was going to tell you to never be too confident that you know an enemy's number, but it seems you already learned that lesson."

Granberia merely nodded, there was no point in telling a potential enemy everything she knew. There was one thing that she didn't know, however. "I do have one question for you. Were you aware of their combining forces from the beginning?"

The instructor glared sharply at her. "And if I was? Are you going to say it was unfair, that the fight was supposed to be one on one?"

"No. All I was going to say was that if you're going to resort to something like that, at least do a decent job of it. Those four, while a group, had no sense of teamwork or tactics, they might as well have been perfect strangers for all the good it did them."

"Feh, I don't need you to tell me how to do my job. Here," As he said this, he tossed her the headband that marked her as a graduated student, a proper ninja. "You can leave whenever you like, I have nothing more to teach you. Try to put that mind to work, don't die too soon. It makes me look bad." With that they turned and walked away, leaving Granberia alone. Alone except for the gaggle of vapid girls who had chosen her for a foe. A faint smile came to her face as she contemplated how long they would remain trapped. Walking off, she didn't care enough to stay and find out. She had better things to do with her time. Hidden Myth wasn't going to destroy itself, after all.
[7860 x 2 = 15,720 + 0 = 15,720 out of ??? ]

“I wonder if she’s cute….”

Jet Kazama, one of the Jin and current member of the Suzaku clan was seen relaxing on the rooftops of the Academy of the future shinobi. With one hand as a pillow for his head, bronze eyes looking toward the skies, he had the other hand resting easy in his pocket while he was chewing on a stick of watermelon bubble gum. It would seem from strangers’ eyes that Jet Kazama was already done with his training. That perhaps all that the boy needed was someone to escort him off of the premises after he had received his headband and the boy was off to explore more of these lands; Hidden Volcano to be exact. The truth was that was sort of correct; Marasol had sent Jet Kazama here to brush him up on the techniques that the Academy offered and that she taught Jet. In other words, today was review day. Marasol had enough influence and pulled some strings at the Shinobi Academy to where Jet would have a one on one session with a teacher instead of placing Jet with a myriad of students who were more than likely going to be lower than him in terms of performance. Even if there were some who were ahead of the pack, Jet had more experience and talent as a Jin to where his natural performance would outshine the others.

She didn’t tell Jet who her teacher was but the hint was revealed, stating that it was going to be a woman. Marasol also told Jet that it would be wise if he would begin to warm up and loosen his muscles before her teacher arrived. That way he wouldn’t “get his a** beat too badly.” He laughed when he heard Marasol said that. Jet didn’t know of his background but he knew he was a tough cookie to break. Because he knew, arrogance and some cockiness had followed. If Marasol was going to get one of these teachers to do his review then stretching wasn’t going to be necessary. Instead he was seen relaxing on top of the Shinobi Academy waiting for his teacher. The speed at which he would do his review would be equal to a quickie with a few horny adolescents; Wham, Bam, thank you Ma’am. “Blonde, or red head…eh it doesn’t matter, but with a nice body as well.” The bubblegum in Jet’s mouth began to expand into a small bubble before bursting silently on his lips, before he removed it with his pillow hand. And just as Jet Kazama was about to reach another stage of relaxation, he could feel the body temperature surface of his body slightly fall. His closed eyes narrowed in suspicion; there was no way sunset had showed up yet. And the overall temperature didn’t seem to be experiencing a winter frost. No, it was something else. It was a shadow, and from the position the shadow was in, that meant that someone was looking down on him or away from him. “Another teacher to tell me to come down? You can’t get a good view of the academy other than this!” he thought to himself as he sighed through his nose. “I’ll just sneak up later on…or tonight if my teacher-“His sentence was on ice when one of his eyes slightly opened to see just who it was that was ruining his tanning time. From the clothing that the woman had on, it was obvious that she was Jet’s teacher. It seemed that Marasol had pulled a fast one on Jet Kazama.“I was just going to stretch when you showed up…..”

Name: Jet Kazama
Codename: Hades
CP: 1500/1500
Level: Academy Student
Asura: Dormant
Words: 609

Marasol wasn’t Jet Kazama’s teacher per say. It was just that Marasol was stronger than Jet an even though she was a few years older than him. It was more of a sparring partner relationship, only it was Jet who was receiving the blunt ends of the stick most of the time. And today she had on her sparring gear, which from a first glance looked like she was dressing up to look nice instead of kicking some a**. But when one would engage in combat with her, it didn’t matter what she was wearing at the time. a** kicking sessions were still being delivered to everyone from Marasol. She had on snow white boots, chocolate brown stockings, a modified gi, and wrist guards with spikes protruding out from them. He wondered how many scratches she had caused upon herself when Marasol would rest her arms with the spike wrist guards before enough was enough. But not at this moment, for Kazama just wondered to himself how many times that he got screwed over because of his overconfidence. There was no point lying to her but Kazama figured he would give it a shot, even though the tone would easily give it away that he didn’t have the slightest interest in warming up. “Yes I was…kinda.”

The sparring gear gave it away that she was going to be Jet’s teacher for today. He let out a small disappointing sigh when he heard so. Jet thought that he was going to have some busty, blonde, redhead, brunette, fine looking teacher that he could spend dreaming about rather than trying to hit. But instead he was stuck with Marasol, which most of the time he was getting his a** kicked that checking her out was out of the picture. Especially since she did look attractive to his eyes. “You know what? Now I remember, I did a warm up before you even got here. A warm up to the warm up.” He spoke. “So you can bring that teacher out now and I’ll see you back at Volcano.” He finished with a happy tone, as if he got the last say. Closing his eyes again and using both of his hands now as pillows for his head it seemed like he did. Jet tried to reach back his level of relaxation once more, but after a few seconds, he felt a sharp force connect to his side. “s**t! ”he cried as he went from relaxing on top of the rooftops of the shinobi academy to flipping in mid air towards the hard ground below like a coin after being flicked by a thumb. Now while he couldn’t remember his background as a kid to now, his body still remembered the training that it went through. This would be illustrated when Jet’s body went from flipping in the air out of control, to suddenly look like he was in the pilot’s seat as he landed gracefully, with one leg kneeled and a hand to the ground. “I think you left a mark this time.” Jet claimed, looking towards Marasol who was still on the rooftops; still by his paradise spot. Jet guessed that it was time to start warming up, but seeing the ninja starts implied that he had lost that option as well. From here on until it was over, warm up was left up to Marasol. Just wonderful.

The time that it took for him to pull out his signature weapon and deflect the ninja starts was marvelous. When the ninja stars were lodged into the ground, he flipped his blade hilt up and treated it like a cane, looking towards Marasol as if to say “That’s all you got?” And almost as If the cold steel heard his question to Marasol, his cockiness, the ninja stars removed themselves out of the ground and remained in suspension for a brief moment. Hearing the sound of the ninja stars being removed from the ground, Jet looked to see them suspended in animation. At that moment he felt like he had ran into rabid dogs, where he felt that if he didn’t run, those stars were going to ruin his pretty face…and his kickass hairdo. Now the real warm up would begin.
Name: Jet Kazama
Codename: Hades
CP: 1500/1500
Level: Academy Student
Asura: Dormant
Words: 1258+708=1966

The Asura, aka Jet Kazama managed to get himself a headstart before the black ninja stars, that was now animated by Marasol went after him. The speed at which they were chasing Jet Kazama was at a speed to keep Jet moving. It wasn’t fast enough to where Jet Kazama would have to practically sprint with his blade in his hand just to get them out of his view; though that would be a bit amusing to Marasol. Instead it would keep Jet Kazama at a speed higher than a regular jog on the high school track or at a local park somewhere. The Asura took a quick look behind him, knowing that the stars were still behind him, then back in front of him to see a wall ahead that. The original plan was to get some cover and when he had a chance to get away from their view, perform the art of substitution. The substitution technique would allow Jet Kazama to switch places with a nearby object. And seeing as how this was the Shinobi Academy, there were plenty of objects around for Jet to switch places with. If he were able to pull if off, it would give him time to get the jump on Marasol without any interruptions. Jet Kazama was convinced that getting to her was the goal in this situation. If he could reach her then they could proceed with something else. Or perhaps this would be over when Jet would perform a few moves that he was taught during his stay with Marasol.

However he was heading towards a wall and the last time Jet checked the chances of getting away from the ninja stars if he did his Art of Substitution technique here would be slim. Marasol would see it, quickly redirect the stars towards Jet’s direction and the Asura would have just lost chakra in vain. Instead he was going to try a different approach. Taking one quick look behind him and back to where he was heading, he channeled his chakra, a portion of it anyway to his feet and maintained the connection. So as a result, when Jet Kazama got closer and closer to the wall, when there wasn’t enough distance left to run, he planted a foot on the wall which stuck to the wall like a magnet. From there he quickly transferred his other foot to the wall, which did the same feature and Marasol’s eyes would be pleased that Jet Kazama was now running on the walls vertically. With a grin on his face, he continued running upward and out of nowhere, made a quick stop in his steps and ran horizontally along the walls. His agility was such a good tool that worked in his favor in many situations. The ninja stars continued their assault on Jet Kazama, whose facial expression indicated that he was having fun with this; seeing this as more of a game of tag than review. Only instead of a hand tagging you it was cold iron that would leave a nasty mark if they connected. His direction was now heading towards his “teacher” Marasol, with her own ninja stars right behind him. With just a few seconds away he saw his teacher continue to channel her chakra into the ninja stars to still head for Jet. She was much smarter than that to get tagged by her own ninja arsenal and Marasol knew this. Yet he continued his assault still, and got within enough range to where he can extend an arm out and finally tag her after a leap diagonally upward towards her.

But when he had made contact with Marasol, her body felt different, lacking any real weight that Marasol had. There was also no sign of evading Jet Kazama’s contact. “Copy…” he murmured as the figure of Marasol had disappeared into a cloud of white smoke, leaving Jet in mid air as he was heading for a nasty crash. To make things worse, the ninja stars were still headed after him as he twirled his body towards the direction of them. With ninja stars heading for his body and the ground below, the best way to express this situation was for a panicked “s**t” that was heard from Jet Kazama, as his teacher appeared right behind him to watch him fall; getting out of Jet’s view successfully.
Name: Jet Kazama
Codename: Hades
CP: 1500/1500
Level: Academy Student
Asura: Dormant
Words: 2213+731x2(1462)=3675 words

If he didn’t have ninja stars on his back thanks to a certain someone, Jet Kazama would be able to land on his feet or on all fours like a feline. But if he did that, then he would have some nasty pricks in his back and Marasol would more than likely have the pleasure of watching Jet remove the black, steel ninja stars; all while trying to hold back laughter. Thinking quickly would be best in Jet’s situation and that’s exactly what he was doing. Falling over towards the other side of the rooftop, he was temporarily out of Marasol’s view. This would mean that if she stayed there she wouldn’t know whether Jet land on the ground or would perform a jutsu to make him appear in another zone in the Shinobi Academy. That also meant that Jet had a small window of opportunity to get some break time from Marasol before she would eventually see him and they would go back from scratch again. Hand signals from Jet Kazama were quickly being put in from his hands when suddenly, he vanished out of thin air; leaving only a flower pot in his place. The soil inside of the flower pot was pierced by the ninja stars instead of Jet Kazama’s body. Now it seemed like Jet had a chance to recover and rethink of a better strategy, or his next technique to perform. The sooner he can perform theses moves in the situations that Marasol was presenting to him the faster this can be over and he can relax again.

But it seemed like Jet’s planning would have to be put on hold temporarily. Atop of the rooftops there was a shinobi academy teacher who had saw Marasol on top of the rooftops along with the disappeared Jet Kazama. Casually, the shinobi academy teachers walked along the rooftops to reach Marasol, with one hand resting in his pocket. “Excuse me but I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to take your training with your student down below.” he requested. One the Shinobi Academy teacher was in range he reached out with his free hand to place it on the left shoulder of Marasol. When suddenly, out of pure instinct, as if she knew, Marasol had turned her body 180 degrees towards the Shinobi Academy teacher, with her arm extended in the process. Her spear hand aimed for the teacher’s neck would make a swift travel 180 degrees as well, with enough power to knock out an adult temporarily. The gravity of the situation that Marasol placed herself increased dramatically for a split second. That was until she heard the sound of the Henge no Jutsu wearing off from Jet Kazama and he was seen counterattacking; ducking and performing a 180 low sweep with his right leg towards Marasol’s. With the ninja stars out of commission for now maybe Jet could get some good offense going and keep Marasol so busy with his taijutsu that she wouldn’t have an opportunity to use the ninja stars. She would instead have to devote her time trying to avoid Jet’s offense.
Name: Jet Kazama
Codename: Hades
CP: 6300/6300
Level: Genin
Asura: Dormant
Words=5105-4800=305+524x2(104 cool =1353 words