10-11-2015, 09:56 AM
Tall, sweeping archways of white stone spanned over the bandit, elegant pillars lining each of the hallways that spanned the vomitorium. Hallways split from the main passage, lit by skylights that cut through the structure. Ahead, the stadium and the throngs of attendants finding their seats. The sunlight, the din of voices, excited yet constrained, the sale of food and trinkets. It was so oddly pleasant to her, especially considering the bloodsport that would soon unfold. It was, in a way, novel to them. They were having fun with their little tickets, waving their little flags, eating their popcorn.
The bandit stepped out of the way as a mother and daughter passed, and she couldn’t help but notice the child’s wide eyes staring up at the well-armored marauder. Unaccustomed to children looking at her with anything but terror, let alone with a look of wonder in their eyes, the bandit simply stared back. As the girl’s eyes lingered on her, the woman held up her hand and offered a crooked smile. The mother dragged her daughter into the seating, her bright eyes never leaving the bandit until they were out of view.
The bandit looked down at her blood-covered top and rugged, rusty armor, and for a moment she felt an odd sense of pride from the girl’s attention. It felt good to somehow not evoke an instant reaction of fear from a child. Just as the warm feeling reached its acme, a broad-framed Charr slammed his shoulder into her back, grunting, “Watch it, freak.” That was more like it.
Rolling her eyes, the bandit chose to let it go. It wasn’t the first time that some muscle-bound agro whack-job tried to start some shit with her for no reason, and she knew it wasn’t the time and place to splatter his insides on the fancy white walls.
Instead, she pulled her phone from her pocket and made her way down the side corridor, finding it much less populated. The direct sunlight from the openings above was also nice, as she was still a bit nervous about the damp coolness that permeated the Colosseum’s darker corners. She flicked through the devices screens, slowly reading through the tool-tips that popped up. Her mind caught on a few words, the less common terms challenging her limited vocabulary.
Instinctively, she squinted and tapped the screen, and a small voice chimed out, “operating,” in a pleasant female voice. Almost startled by the phone’s help, she recoiled and blinked. “Yo, I don’t remember trying to put this on here,” she said to herself. “Hey, uh, phone, can you hear me?”
The little plastic device didn’t respond, and she exhaled in relief. She shook her head, almost slapping herself for not realizing it, but she had created the phone. It would work exactly how she expected it to. All the tutorials and help boxes were things she had assumed would be there, and everything they had said so far made sense. Even the words she had stumbled over were probably things she’d expect to find on a fancy technological device, and even then she had assumed that tapping it would reveal what the word meant.
Laughing under her breath, she swept all of the helpful tips out of the way and tapped a large icon in the shape of a simple circuit, the word “Dataverse” below it. She had wondered for so long what the special verse was all about, and she was almost ore excited to explore it than she was to fight in the competition.
A simple, bland interface greeted her, a small news ticker streaming along the bottom of the screen. In the middle of the screen, two more colorful icons read, “Mail” and “Search”. She clicked on the Mail image, and read through a few of the tutorial steps. When she was sure she had it figured it out, she swept them away and began to compose a new message.
When she hit send, a cascade of pride rushed through her, and she had to restrain herself from sending her companion another message about how the previous message had been her first ever message.
She looked up from the device as a few more stadium-goers passed by, watching them pass and shifting her weight on the wall. She was shocked to realize that she hadn’t noticed them until they were within a few feet, despite their heavy footsteps and light conversation. She nervously fumbled with the item, but decided to simply pay more attention rather than stop toying with it.
Backing out of the messaging application, she poked at the search function. An open field stared back at her, the blinking cursor flashing back at her expectantly. Not really knowing what to even look for, she typed the first thing that came to her mind: Camelot.
A long list of sites popped up, most of which were informational in nature. Near the top of her search bar, she noticed a convenient button which was aptly named, “Most Likely To Interest You”. She selected the feature, and the wall of text descended down into a handful of results. Laughing out loud, she praised the tool when she saw that the item at the top was, “Collosseum Tournement”.
Blazing through the forum’s brief introduction, she hurriedly slammed on the capslock and began typing.
The bandit stepped out of the way as a mother and daughter passed, and she couldn’t help but notice the child’s wide eyes staring up at the well-armored marauder. Unaccustomed to children looking at her with anything but terror, let alone with a look of wonder in their eyes, the bandit simply stared back. As the girl’s eyes lingered on her, the woman held up her hand and offered a crooked smile. The mother dragged her daughter into the seating, her bright eyes never leaving the bandit until they were out of view.
The bandit looked down at her blood-covered top and rugged, rusty armor, and for a moment she felt an odd sense of pride from the girl’s attention. It felt good to somehow not evoke an instant reaction of fear from a child. Just as the warm feeling reached its acme, a broad-framed Charr slammed his shoulder into her back, grunting, “Watch it, freak.” That was more like it.
Rolling her eyes, the bandit chose to let it go. It wasn’t the first time that some muscle-bound agro whack-job tried to start some shit with her for no reason, and she knew it wasn’t the time and place to splatter his insides on the fancy white walls.
Instead, she pulled her phone from her pocket and made her way down the side corridor, finding it much less populated. The direct sunlight from the openings above was also nice, as she was still a bit nervous about the damp coolness that permeated the Colosseum’s darker corners. She flicked through the devices screens, slowly reading through the tool-tips that popped up. Her mind caught on a few words, the less common terms challenging her limited vocabulary.
Instinctively, she squinted and tapped the screen, and a small voice chimed out, “operating,” in a pleasant female voice. Almost startled by the phone’s help, she recoiled and blinked. “Yo, I don’t remember trying to put this on here,” she said to herself. “Hey, uh, phone, can you hear me?”
The little plastic device didn’t respond, and she exhaled in relief. She shook her head, almost slapping herself for not realizing it, but she had created the phone. It would work exactly how she expected it to. All the tutorials and help boxes were things she had assumed would be there, and everything they had said so far made sense. Even the words she had stumbled over were probably things she’d expect to find on a fancy technological device, and even then she had assumed that tapping it would reveal what the word meant.
Laughing under her breath, she swept all of the helpful tips out of the way and tapped a large icon in the shape of a simple circuit, the word “Dataverse” below it. She had wondered for so long what the special verse was all about, and she was almost ore excited to explore it than she was to fight in the competition.
A simple, bland interface greeted her, a small news ticker streaming along the bottom of the screen. In the middle of the screen, two more colorful icons read, “Mail” and “Search”. She clicked on the Mail image, and read through a few of the tutorial steps. When she was sure she had it figured it out, she swept them away and began to compose a new message.
Quote:To: Caret
CC: Caret
BCC: Caret
Subject: Hey
caret i am using the dv!!!!
i went to fight in a stadium in camelot
call me when u can
u have my # rite?
c u soon
-b
When she hit send, a cascade of pride rushed through her, and she had to restrain herself from sending her companion another message about how the previous message had been her first ever message.
She looked up from the device as a few more stadium-goers passed by, watching them pass and shifting her weight on the wall. She was shocked to realize that she hadn’t noticed them until they were within a few feet, despite their heavy footsteps and light conversation. She nervously fumbled with the item, but decided to simply pay more attention rather than stop toying with it.
Backing out of the messaging application, she poked at the search function. An open field stared back at her, the blinking cursor flashing back at her expectantly. Not really knowing what to even look for, she typed the first thing that came to her mind: Camelot.
A long list of sites popped up, most of which were informational in nature. Near the top of her search bar, she noticed a convenient button which was aptly named, “Most Likely To Interest You”. She selected the feature, and the wall of text descended down into a handful of results. Laughing out loud, she praised the tool when she saw that the item at the top was, “Collosseum Tournement”.
Blazing through the forum’s brief introduction, she hurriedly slammed on the capslock and began typing.