04-19-2017, 11:01 PM
Kicking open the door to the cell, his violet eyes were filled with an unknown emotion as he grabbed Doom, lifting him up by the arm.
"Just play along." Koal growled as he unshackled the man and dragged him through the hallways. Raiders who still trickled in the dark stone archways jeered and clapped the two on the backs.
"Where are you taking Doom, you heathen! I am not some puppet to be dragged and thrown about!" Koal snorted, keeping up the charade, and threw the green-cloaked man to the ground in front of a heavy iron gate.
"Puppet, meet floor. Floor, try not to hurt the puppet too bad." He steeped over to one of the handlers, a large, scarred hulk of a man. They exchanged a few words, a small laugh, and then the iron gate began to rise slowly. On the other side, a deafening roar of cheering spectators reached Dooms ears, and from his position he looked at Koal, beginning to ask a question.
"Why-"
"Listen closely. This is an arena, where they throw primes like you and me, against people stupid enough to think they can take us down. Don't kill quickly, but show no mercy. Give them a show, and you'll do well." He paused and helped Doom to his feet. "We will be heading down to the Blood Room. There you will prep yourself or battle." Doom gave a small nod, straightening his back slightly, still taller than Koal. Something about that irked the demonic swordsman.
Footsteps echoed in stone floors, bloodstains coloring the granite hues of red, brown, and black. A well sat in the center, a swirling pool of blood glowing ominously. Rusted and underused weapons sat on decrepit stands, and dust covered almost everything. Koal gave the familiar area no more than a second glance as he walked to the center of the pool, licking his lips, and slaking his thirst. The crimson liquid smooth his jagged nerves, and his body visually relaxed. He turned to a slightly perturbed Doom, his voice converting urgency.
"After our little stunt the other night, I've been kept on a short leash. Among other... less than enjoyable experiences. But what you said made sense. So I'm going to give you a heads up as to what to expect. The arena will not favor you. I'm fact, almost all odds will be stacked against you. Fight with distinction and cunning, and you should make it out alive." His hands reached up to the collar that both the Primes wore. "I've been working on a plan to get these off, I just need a little more time."
"Oh, and Doom?" The giant iron gate began to creep open.
"Good Luck."
"Just play along." Koal growled as he unshackled the man and dragged him through the hallways. Raiders who still trickled in the dark stone archways jeered and clapped the two on the backs.
"Where are you taking Doom, you heathen! I am not some puppet to be dragged and thrown about!" Koal snorted, keeping up the charade, and threw the green-cloaked man to the ground in front of a heavy iron gate.
"Puppet, meet floor. Floor, try not to hurt the puppet too bad." He steeped over to one of the handlers, a large, scarred hulk of a man. They exchanged a few words, a small laugh, and then the iron gate began to rise slowly. On the other side, a deafening roar of cheering spectators reached Dooms ears, and from his position he looked at Koal, beginning to ask a question.
"Why-"
"Listen closely. This is an arena, where they throw primes like you and me, against people stupid enough to think they can take us down. Don't kill quickly, but show no mercy. Give them a show, and you'll do well." He paused and helped Doom to his feet. "We will be heading down to the Blood Room. There you will prep yourself or battle." Doom gave a small nod, straightening his back slightly, still taller than Koal. Something about that irked the demonic swordsman.
Footsteps echoed in stone floors, bloodstains coloring the granite hues of red, brown, and black. A well sat in the center, a swirling pool of blood glowing ominously. Rusted and underused weapons sat on decrepit stands, and dust covered almost everything. Koal gave the familiar area no more than a second glance as he walked to the center of the pool, licking his lips, and slaking his thirst. The crimson liquid smooth his jagged nerves, and his body visually relaxed. He turned to a slightly perturbed Doom, his voice converting urgency.
"After our little stunt the other night, I've been kept on a short leash. Among other... less than enjoyable experiences. But what you said made sense. So I'm going to give you a heads up as to what to expect. The arena will not favor you. I'm fact, almost all odds will be stacked against you. Fight with distinction and cunning, and you should make it out alive." His hands reached up to the collar that both the Primes wore. "I've been working on a plan to get these off, I just need a little more time."
"Oh, and Doom?" The giant iron gate began to creep open.
"Good Luck."
"...If the soul is left in darkness sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness.”
-Victor Hugo Les Miserables
-Victor Hugo Les Miserables