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The first rounds were over. Trolls poured out of the arena to stretch, grab a bite to eat, and reenact some of the more thrilling moments from the battles on their buddies. Contestants were let out as well, after having been given a quick once over by a medical drone. The first round postings had been taken down, and in it's place had been tacked the trolls who would be advancing.

Your name is Sarcel Cincil. You're a blueblood- a highly pathetic example of one, anyway- 6.4 sweeps old and incredibly incompetent.

And you are so <******** pissed it's not even funny.

Seriously, she had never felt so mad. The medical drone had given her a look over and patched up her injuries; or mostly her bashed up knee. Her pants were still stained where the resulting blood had poured out, and her ribs were sore as hell. Her face still stung, not from the slap but from the indignity of it all.

Instead she limped out of the Colosseum without even a glance back. No one seemed to be noticing her, that was good at least. She had heard Sempur had won, but she wasn't sure about the redblood.

But you know, she didn't care. Screw the formalities, Sir could suck it. She didn't even care at the moment.

Although on that note, she really hoped she wouldn't run into the blueblood. She simply didn't feel like dealing with hi at the moment, especially because she knew that he would degrade her in public, tell her how pathetic she was and how could you lose to a orangeblood that is like leagues below you and you're giving your caste a bad name.

Her head really hurt. Her dignity really hurt. Her everything really hurt, although her leg hurt the most in the physical sense. Seriously, that girl had swung her shovel hard.

So she limped around, looking completely choleric as she did so. Part of her wanted to wait for Sempur and offer a sincere, if not completely bitter congratulations, since it was polite after all and she was well... happy for him, not that she expected him to lose, but a victory was a victory.

He had even fought against a highblood! She hated the color purple, she really did, so she felt like she should at least say congrats if only for her own selfish reasons.

But at the same time, the confrontation...

No, Sarce really didn't want to stick around any longer. Maybe if she left now, she wouldn't have to be embarrassed like she already was. But...

Yes, she would stick around, if only for a little bit. She would wait for Sempur, give the most acerbic of commendations, and then leave weather he liked it or not.

On an unrelated note, she did wonder about that rustblood. Fellah, was it? He was a big hulking brute, she didn't doubt he lost for a second. Big guy probably crushed his competition to death before the thing even started. Victory by default. Not that she'd go mosey on up and ask him about it; he was scary as hell.

No, she was going to wait right here. Stop walking so her agonizingly pained leg would stop screaming at her for relief, and stand with her arms crossed like an upset child. She wouldn't even go over to Sir if she saw him, no, if he wanted to belittle and humiliate her, he'd have to come up and do it on his own terms.

Or maybe she should just get over it. Some other time.

It hadn't taken long for Zeffer and his lusus to go check out the list after the round two pairs had been posted up on the big door. The blueblood was surprised at the results. "Mystery combatant? What the hell does that mean?" he asked as he squinted at the list. He was sort of disappointed. He'd really wanted to go against the greenblooded chick, or maybe even that other vicious blueblood he'd rooted for earlier that day. Battle of the 'hawks. It would have been pretty epic, too, but it wasn't in the cards for this tournament, he supposed.

"It means that they can't count." Arcus' rattle twitched in agitation. This little turn of events put him on edge just a little. He hoped it wasn't some young subjugg that they'd let into the event as a late starter, or something like that. That might spell trouble for his kid, but hopefully the coordinators of the tournament would have the sense not to pair a youngster like Zeffer up against something too dangerous. One Alternia, you never could tell about those kinds of things.

"Oh. Well, this should be interesting. I wonder who it is." Zeffer glanced up as he thought, and drifted away from the roster so other trolls milling about could get in and take a look. As he made his way through the crowd he bumped right into another blueblood he recognized from an earlier fight, and laughed with embarrassment once he'd recovered from the slight collision. "Woops, sorry about that." She'd been accompanying that nasty mohawk guy, hadn't she? He grinned, remembering her name right away. He'd seen part of her fight. Sarcel!

"Hey, I remember you. Pretty good fight, it was really close. You'll get 'em next time." He couldn't help but feel kinship amongst those of his own blood color. It felt like a natural thing to do, and he gave her a toothy little grin, hardly noticing how upset she looked.

Oh how wrong Sarcel was~ The terse response was only a go-ahead to an inquisitive soul like Zeffer, and he tilted his head, leaning it down as if to get a better look at her face. It had been a while since he'd spoken to another blueblood. So many higher-ups dwelt within the Four Fronds, and a lot of his friends belonged to lower castes and lived in other cities. This would be a great opportunity to meet more of his own color, he figured, and since he hadn't had the pleasure of running into Mr. Mean Mohawk yet, he'd talk to his lady friend instead. The thought made him grin, and he wondered how well they knew one another.

"Yeah, I get into a crowd and turn into a clumsy b*****d." he snickered, and buried his hands into his pockets. "I'm Zeffer. You're, ahh...Sarcel, right? I only got to glimpse the first part of your fight. I was rootin' for ya though, go bluebloods, n' all that." he grinned, almost in a warm way, and his frank tone suggested that he wasn't mocking her much at all, really. He had that playful look on his face, but it was one of a generally mischievous nature, rather than a condescending one.

"I saw ya come in with that crazy lookin' angry guy. He seems like a hoot. Waitin' for him? The med drones might still have a hold of him. Guy almost got his skull bashed in." Zeffer laughed a little. It had been one hell of a fight. He was sad he hadn't been around to see them all. It was amazing to see how heated some of them could get, and he was sort of sad that his own hadn't been as vicious or as brutal as Sempur's. Next round, perhaps.

Arcus had slithered up behind the two youngsters, and said nothing as Zeffer chatted up Sarcel. He lifted his head above the crowd and peered about, wings folded tightly to his sides as he observed the sea of black hair and brilliant orange horns.

Abrila stumbled rather stupidly out from the corner of... somewhere. She had just finished with the medical drones and she was feeling a bit better, if rather dopey from her nap. But that wasn't unusual for the orangeblood. Dopey came as easily to her as crazy came to subjugglators. She dragged her shovel along the ground, not really caring if it bumped into anything or anyone.

She let out a huge yawn, stretching her free arm behind her back, which made the sleeve of her loose sweater slip down to reveal a thin arm. She was scrawny for someone who used a heavy weapon like a shovel. It was no wonder she felt so exhausted after swinging the thing around.

Eventually she came back to the stadium door, which now had a different set of names written down on it. Since the crowd had thinned out a bit, she made the effort to get close enough to read it this time. She scanned it and found her name, then read the name of her opponent. Aprife Invasi... Hmm. Nope, no one she knew.

Abrila moved away from the list and rested her shovel against a wall. She would take the time before her next match to look around, and perhaps catch a moment of shuteye or two.

Her head was beginning to droop when she noticed a pair of bluebloods chatting idly. Normally, she wouldn't have thought twice about them, but she clearly had met one of them. Sar-something. Her opponent from the first round.

Briefly she thought about getting out of there. She didn't know how the blueblood would react if she was noticed, especially after her loss. How could she know how the minds of highbloods worked? She could be bitter about losing.

Then sleep consumed her worry. Meh, it didn't really matter, did it? Besides, trying to get out of there in a hurry would probably bring her more unwanted attention than staying put. Abrila crossed her arms and leaned heavily against the wall beside her weapon. In moments, light snores could be heard.

Minist walked around the square, casually munching some hoofbeast jerky she had bought from some troll in the stands. Her lips were pulled down in a slight frown. Maybe her expectations had just been too high? After all, just because a troll dresses in a militaristic fashion it didn't mean they had the fighting skill to match. Maybe if she had just viewed that last fight as two regular trolls duking it out she would have enjoyed the beat down handed to the blueblood. She had to admit, that greenblood had some amazing skill. She wouldn't be surprised if she won the whole tournament. Ah, but then that meant Zeffer would lose.

Stopping in her tracks she gnawed thoughtfully on her jerky. It would be pretty epic if Zeffer won. Even more so if he beat that greenblood. Somehow she didn't see that happening. He seemed to have lost some steam in his last match, only winning because of the time limit. He seemed to go into a manic state during his fights. That could be his downfall.

She shook her head. What was she doing thinking all this? She wasn't going to join the betting pools, not with her beetles. She should just enjoy the fights and whatever their outcomes may be. Now, during the downtime between the fights, she needed to find someone to bug. Someone to pester before her jerky disappeared. The young yellowblood's eyes scanned the crowds searching for a target. Who would give her some amusement?

After a shorter break than the one previous, a new notice was hung up on the now-crowded wall. In an attempt to make it stand out, someone had thoughtfully and artistically daubed the corners in a reddish brown ... paint.

Sempur stopped in his tracks, tensing as he felt a hand on his shoulder, if even for the slightest tap. And worse yet, that laughter. There was nothing he hated more than being mocked, and this was mocking at its finest. Worst. Whatever! He rounded on the offending troll, as always, immediately glancing down at the symbol and ah, a yellowblood. Really. He returned her stare, lip twitching but otherwise his face was blank (honestly, expressions kind of hurt now with such a busted nose), fist clenched at his side and all he could think of was how she was not even fit to speak to him, much less look at him like that. So many insolent lowbloods, so little time.

The crowd milling about them would make a good audience. Sempur would avenge his bruised ego, show that he may have maybe sort of technically lost perhaps, but that didn't mean any filthy lowblood could just waltz on up and insult him. Not that that greenblood could either. Point is! Even if he was an exhausted mess, he felt the familiar rage building, hyped up and ready to teach her a lesson, beatdown style. "Don't you question me. A greenblood like you—" Sempur abruptly cut himself off, catching his mistake and fumbling awkwardly to correct it. "Y-yellowblood. A yellowblood like you should... know their place." He finished weakly, obviously rattled as he broke eye contact to stare at something else, anything. Oh god he could not get Pyruet off his mind and it was driving him mad.