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Graduation Proclamation: Honor Society


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Monday, June 8th, 2015
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Time had become a distant memory.  Day in and Day out the three teens had been dragged out to fight for the entertainment of an alien audience.  Never as a team.  Always one on one in a staggered order until they were left exhausted.  Their clothes were torn, their bodies battered.  And worst of all they hadn't spoken to anyone in a week.

At least not out loud.  Errant, had been acting as a communication relay from his cell when it wasn't his turn to fight.  Perhaps serving as the only saving grace in keeping a measure of sanity.  Each of their cells remained completely unlit.  There was no mattress, the food in their trays were flavorless gruel.  They were essentially in completely sealed 4' x 4' rooms.  There were guards posted outside of each of their cells, sight unseen.  All armed with staves that acted as blasters.

Despite their imprisonment, their spirits had not been dampened in the slightest.  Escape was on all four teen's minds.  Ranked slightly ahead of revenge.

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Tona Baudin lay in the dark, her hands creeping blindly over the floor and walls and ceiling like spiders, searching for a crack or an opening. She heard the babble of other voices in the back of her head and her own harsh breathing, but she stayed silent unless someone addressed her by name; she was in Hell, and hanging on to the last bits of her sanity with an iron grip.

It was almost ironic. Tona had been born to death and struggle in the harshest dimension in the multiverse, and was one of a handful of Claremont graduates that had actually experienced war. This wasn't war, though. She was under lock and key, trotted out to fight and kill for the amusement of the masses and then herded away into the dark again. She had heard stories about this sort of thing, of Omega's gladiatorial arenas where the victors would be 'rewarded' with transformation into a drone. She didn't know exactly what her captors intended -- she didn't even know who they were, the guards where completely armored and might well have been robots for all they responded to the students -- but in the darkness her imagination created the most horrific scenarios. So she spent every waking hour trying to find the limits to her cell, and hopefully a way to escape.

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The thing that stuck out to Thaelia were the floating video cameras.  Watching her every move as she fought.  The lack of water in between turns dragged out to entertain the hedonists in the audience was made all the worse with the idea that their audience was bigger than those in the stands.  The fact that it was the very same design of camera that Endeavor and her had found the day she was taken didn't lighten the mood any.

The whole affair lacked honor.  It left a foul taste in Thaelia's mouth and an emptiness elsewhere.  She couldn't even call upon her usual endless pit of anger and passion.  Who has been chosen?  Thaelia asked the mental relay.  Having just been thrown back in the cell it was safe to say she wasn't the next teen dragged out to the arena.  If no one else responded it likely meant Errant had been the one picked.

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  • 2 weeks later...

GM

It didn't take long for Glamazon's question to be answered.  Two guards opened Cerys' cell and walked in.  Intending to drag her out to entertain the masses once more.  Armored head to toe in a black armor designed to keep them  unidentifiable.  A featureless headpiece with smooth golden faceplate served as the only indicator that they even had eyes.  Not that said eyes were visible.  Their gloves were rounded in such a way that one couldn't even make out if they had digits and if so how many.  Still they remained humanoid in shape.  Which was better than could be said about the topheavy audience, four legged beings with tiny limbs that appeared as if they could in no way support their rather large bodies.

"Stand, Terran"  A digitized voice demanded of Blodeuwedd.  The teens were all familiar with the guard set up now.  Two guards would drag them through the hallway.  But, the two outside of the cell would not move.  They would only be handed a weapon once in the arena, usually of poor quality.  Where there would be at least six guards waiting in case they tried to make a run for it.  Not to mention the guards posted throughout the building (assuming it was even a building they were inside).

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Blodeuwedd had spent most of the time in meditation preserving her energies focusing on what needed to be done until the right moment came to take action. Her focus was on surviving day to day just as she’d been taught over all those years. Unlike some she had no powers to call upon to fight the battle, but she’d had trained her body over the years to use fight until she was capable with most weapons or even unarmed.


Rather than be dragged around by the guards she stood under her own power and walked with a certain amount of pride and dignity, they wouldn’t break her will that easily.


“I just have to go go something for a few minutes, shouldn’t be too long.”

As strong willed as she was she wasn’t looking forward to doing this for much to longer.

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  • 1 month later...

 

This, this was what Errant had been bred for.  What he had been molded to be.

 

And he was failing.  

 

He was not really a fighter, a survivor perhaps, but not the combatant that the others were.  His ability to protect himself was limited, and tested, again and again.  Like his physical limits, his mental ones were taxed, keeping the network going between the others as much as possible, while guarding his own state away from them,  trying to not have those thoughts and emotions of others (friend, foe, and audience) was crashing over him and swallowing him up.

Like the others, he was fighting off the attrition while still looking for an escape.  Even if he felt that this was an overall losing battle, for himself, but he could help keep the others afloat.  It was a light at the end of the tunnel, and he focused on it.

 

'Count your steps to the arena, please, Cerys.'  It would seem the telepath was up to something.

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GM

 

After about three minutes of walking Blodeuwedd was brought inside a small elevator.  As always the inside of the elevator was the first sign of light the prisoners were treated to upon exiting the cells.  Her four captors stared forward.  Unmoving, it almost appeared as if Cerys was surrounded by statues.  But, she knew from past experience if she so much as moved an inch they'd ready their weapons.  Fourty Five seconds.

 

That's how long was left on the elevator.  From the moment she stepped inside, Cerys could overhear the anxious cheers of the crowd.  The sycophants wanting to see the Terran warrior shed more blood for their amusement.  The intercom system in the elevator allowing her to hear what lie the presenter was telling this time  "WELCOME ONE AND ALL.  A NEW BATTLE EMERGES THIS TIME TERRAN SWORDSWOMAN BLODSOMETHINGOROTHER TAKES ON BROODNARK THE DEVOURER IN A BLOOD MATCH AFTER THE TERRAN DARED TO KILL THE DEVOURER'S SON.  WHO WILL STAND?  WHO WILL FALL?   ONCE MORE LORD ABBOLYSH PRESENTS AN EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT LIKE NONE OTHER."

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  • 4 weeks later...

Blodeuwedd stood there stoically as they went through the preamble, only a scowl on her face showing how displeased she was with the whole thing. As much as she’d like to make some show of defiance right now, she was pragmatic enough to know that such an effort would only endanger her friends and be much worse for herself.

 

Around 150-160 steps depending on the person's stride. If you have something planned best to wait until I keep them “entertained”!

 

With a single sweeping gesture she drew Dyrnwyn the eldritch blade burning with it blue flame and held it downwards but ready for action.


“Let’s just get this over with.”

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  • 2 months later...

Of what importance is that?  Glamazon finally asked with genuine curiosity from the comfort of her cell.  Her fists balled up all the while.  Normally, it'd be about the time  she'd find herself punching away at the cell's walls.  If not for the fact that the last three times she attempted that the guards always came in, overwhelmed her en masse and shocked her.  Apparently not appreciative of the noise the Atlantean demigoddess provided in the otherwise mind numbing silence.

 

It was the longest period of her life she had gone without being submerged in water.  And every second was awful.  The only comfort, was that her immensely smarter surface friends would figure something out.  At least that's what she told herself at first.  Now, they were past the point of comfort.

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  • 1 month later...

'I need that for the layout in my mind.'  And then he strummed his web, trying to feel the walls around him, the path beyond while merging the information with what Cerys said, and then he distributed it, giving them more pieces to help create a greater whole among all of their thoughts.

 

'When Cerys comes back.'  It was higher risk, he knew, but he was going to try and blow the doors, as they hadn't really tried to constrain his telekinetic abilities, especially when he was taken.  Or at least he thought that, but he shared the plan as a map in his mind, about how he was going to try burrowing through his door, and then hit their doors, so they could grab her and make their escape.  During that, though, they needed to get information as to where to go, but right now it was them being separated that was the issue.

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Tona gritted her teeth at the conversation happening in her head. "When Cerys comes back. While we leave her out there to bleed." She aimed a kick at the door to her cell; it didn't do anything but make her toes sore. "The guards are divided and not watching us. We should attack right now and save Cerys!" It wasn't a strategic plan, and if Tona had been outside she might have had a cooler head. But right now her friend was bleeding for what little comfort she had.

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  • 4 weeks later...

GM

 

In the Arena, a ten foot tall cyclops with tusks looked down at Blodeuwedd.  It's arms were like tree trunks.  The chipped stone club it held onto with one hand showed signs of having weathered many a battle.  Its body was covered in scars, easily visible due to the fact that the cyclops had no shirt.  Broodnark the Devourer was a primitive sight to behold.  Especially in comparison to the two wiry beings next to him wearing proper advanced armor.

 

Apparently, the battle was to be against a team.  Broodnark allowed two insectoid aliens to accompany.  Not too dissimilar from praying mantis.  With the exception of the the fact that the Mantis' scythe like forearms had been replaced with laser axes.  "Kreee."  One of the Mantis screeched leaping across the floor and attempting to cut Blodeuwedd down the middle.

 

The Welsh warrior easily backflipped out of the way of danger before he could connect with his laser axe.

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Blodeuwedd had studied under some of the finest warriors in the Order, and some time among those of Freedo City itself. Avoiding blows like those from the warriors was almost second nature and she could still concentrate on other matters.

 

If you have something planned now would be a good time. I would figure most people are sufficiently distracted.


Landing in a crouch she held Dyrnwyn in front, a pause to prepare and show her skill, of before striking back out at the gladiator in one fluid motion.

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'I am sorry it took this long... something is going to happen  any emotions I've been abating for you all may come back...'

 

Then Errant turned his powers inward, and they could feel the link stop sharply, a backwash happening to fill the void of what had been there.  Negative emotions were powerful things the way they could twist a mind, even warp a body.  This place was filled with them, and he took them in, turning to the door that led out to the hall.

 

He wasn't sure he could do this, he had been the only one who hadn't tested the door, well not overtly.  He gathered information, he demonstrated only his telepathic abilities.  He had to figure out this puzzle, work out the knot he had in his mind.

 

He flung himself to the door, two steps and a leap, slamming both knees into it along with his hands, as his telekinetic abilities hit as well.  Aiming for where he hoped the weakest parts were, as he let the emotions surge through the telekinetic surge, and rip at the metal itself beyond the impact.  It was not his nominal subtle self, it was loud and the metal screeched like a demon in a wood chipper.

 

And he was on a timer, not knowing how long he could keep this up.  Or how much damage it would do to him in the process.

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