Spirits of the Earth

To Yasmin's ears, the world went deathly silent when the leopard tackled her to the moist sands.

It was like this whenever things got bad. The world swam out of focus, the background noise melted away, and suddenly it was just her and her opponent, the here and the now. Everything else ceased to exist as her own world narrowed and focused to a single point, and she moved without thinking, through sheer instinct.

She was aware of the leopard's hot breath against her face, of its gripping claws digging into her shoulders like sharp, searing sparks of flame, of its wet, gleaming fangs flashing as it prepared to tear out her throat.

And then she was aware of her own arms moving, of her slippery hands twisting her sword in her grip, angling the blade upward. The leopard went for her, and she thrust up.

The world swam back into noisy focus and sped up to proper speed again as her sword slid up through the leopard's jaw and up into its skull. With a grunt, she gave the blade a sharp twist to be sure, and the leopard shuddered once before going very still.

Which, of course, meant its full weight collapsed onto her.

Leopards weren't very big as far as large cats went, but exhausted as she was right then, it felt like a lot. Heaving a breath, Yasmin shoved the dead animal off of her to the roaring applause of the crowd. She climbed to her feet shakily and planted her sandal-clad foot on the leopard so she could wrench her sword out of it. Then, with a wide grin up at the crowd, she saluted with her sword and took a bow, turning to face all sides of the Colosseum and even blowing kisses to some of the spectators.

"Thank you, all!" she called, still beaming. "It was a pleasure having you all here! Watching me, yet again, slay some cornered cat! Yay! I know how exciting that is! Apparently! Because blood and death! How exhilarating! Whoo!"

Not that they could hear her. Certainly not over all the noise.

She gave a final bow and then turned to limp out of the arena where several men, including her master, were waiting to tend to her. It was only when she was out of sight of the crowd that she stumbled and collapsed against one of the attendants, who caught her and set her upright again.

"Ugh, sorry," she said, wiping a hand across her face and smearing red there. "Damned cat got me good."

And he had, for the front of her right thigh had a good, deep scratch in it from when she'd jumped back too late and gotten raked by the leopard's claws. Blood streamed from the wound, which another attendant had begun to bandage.

Yasmin shrugged, grinned. "Not as good as I got it, though." She glanced back at the arena where a small crew was cleaning up after the leopards. Plural. There had been two, at first. One would have been too easy or something.

"Still not good enough," her master, a tall, strong man, interjected. "This is the second time you've faced injury in as many weeks. You're getting careless."

"Careless?!" Yasmin said, eyes going wide. "Are you kidding me? We're talking my life here! That's pretty much the last thing I'm careless about!"

"Perhaps careless was the wrong word," her master said with a roll of his eyes. "You could do better. I've seen it."

Frowning, Yasmin wiped her nose. "Ohhhhh. You lost some money gambling today, didn't you? You know, you need to stop taking bad bets. I'm not gonna be able to buy myself out of this if you keep losing our--"

Her master shot her a look that silenced her.

Once she was properly bandaged up and the bleeding stopped, her master took her by the arm. "Let's go. We'll find you a healer. Again," he said, and pulled her along, grumbling something about her upkeep costing more than what he earned in the shows.

Wincing, Yasmin stumbled after him, out of the Colosseum and out into the sunlight of the Essyrni marketplace.

Another day, another healer, and all she really wanted to do right then was sleep.

Gutztomp was next to enter the arena. He didn't come often, but the crowd was always garanteed a good show when he did. Though he wasn't allowed to wear his armor in the arena, he didn't. It gave him the opportunity to show off his greenness. His opponent was a bear that he would fight bare handed. It was only fitting. The crowd was in an uproar as the bear entered the arena and Gutztomp tossed his axes aside. This was going to be good.

A sudden roar of excitement and shocked gasps filled the Colosseum then, and Yasmin stopped when her master grabbed her shoulder. "Something's up," he said, and turned her back toward where they'd come. "Let's take a look, shall we?"

Yasmin puffed out her cheeks in annoyance. "Can't it wait until after my leg's fixed, sir?"

He gave her a withering look that answered that question, and with a huff she limped along with him as they headed up and into the stands to get a better look.

And there, in the arena, was a giant of a creature, a green-skinned humanoid who was currently facing off against a bear. She heard whispers around them, talk about how the man was a volunteer, and her lips curled into a scowl.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Yasmin watched the fight with disapproval, silently hating the creature that wanted to do this willingly. And yet, was he not an orc? And was that not what orcs did?

It would be interesting to see how this played out--though, personally, she was more interested in getting her stinging thigh mended.

Gutztomp cracked his knuckles, neck, and shoulders in preparation for his tussle with the bear. It shouldn't last long. The bear advanced on Gutztomp and stood on its hind legs, roaring as it did so. Gutztomp chuckled at the beast until it swatted him with a massive paw. While one strike from a bear could easily break a man's back, it simply made Gutztomp stumble backward a step or two. He was very unhappy now. The bear moved to strike again, but Gutztomp struck first. A large green fist crashed into the bear's face, knocking it to the sand. The bear immediately retreated from its obviously superior opponent. Gutztomp laughed at the bear as it ran from him.

"Is dat it," Gutztomp shouted. "Give me somefing better ta fight! Dat was pathetic!"

Yasmin didn't like the way her master's face broke out into a wide grin at the orc's final statement--his final statement after scaring off an enraged bear!

The bear had been the final opponent of the day, but if the orc wanted to face something else...

With a slap on Yasmin's back, her master gave her a shove. "You heard the beast!" he said. "Go on. Get out there!"

"What?"

"I don't believe I stuttered, Yasmin. Get. Out. There. Give him his fight! I need to make up for the money you lost me."

Yasmin gaped at him, then motioned at her bandaged thigh, which had become a little stained with blood. "With this?!"

"Yes! Go!"

"You'll lose even more money when he kills me, you know!"

"Then I'll bet on your failure," her master said with a sly smile as he handed her back her scimitar. "Now go! Give him his fight!"

"Let me at least grab my shield--"

"No time! Get your ass out there!"

Yasmin wanted to punch him. She wanted to punch him right in the side of his head, punch that smug smile right out of his skull with a knock-out blow. Instead, she turned and stormed away from him, limping as she walked, and headed back down. The portcullis opened for her as she made her intent known to those operating it, and she strode on through. She tried to change her body language from one of stiff anger to its usual relaxed one, and the crowd roared when they saw her return. Disguising her limp with a little cheery bounce in her step, Yasmin waved again and saluted with her sword before turning to face the orc.

"Hey! You!" she called to him with a grin, though it was more of an angry grin--of course, the audience wouldn't be able to tell that she was only flashing her teeth in something closer to a snarl than a smile. "You, with the face! You got something on your--oh. That is your face." She frowned. "That's unfortunate."

Pointing her sword at him, she slid into position and held her free hand out to him, beckoning him to come at her. "Well, come on already! I don't have all day. You wanted your fight, so come get it."

Gutztomp burst out laughing at the small human that came to face him.

"Is dis a joke," Gutztomp asked. "You're downright puny. I said I wanted a fight."

Gutztomp laughed again. This would be even quicker then fighting the bear. This had to be a joke. Surely there would be other accompanying her. He was hoping for at least two others to join her. Maybe three if he was lucky.

Of course he would laugh. Yasmin felt like laughing, too, getting pitted against a guy that had punched a bear in the face and won. But she only gave a shrug in response and stalked cautiously closer, beginning to move in a slow circle around him. She had watched him fight; he could sustain heavy blows, having taken a swipe from the bear like it tickled him, and though he was obviously strong, he had moved rather slow. His tactics had appeared rather simple and straight-forward.

She just couldn't let him hit her.

"You wanted a fight, so fight!" Yasmin said, heart pounding. "Maybe this can be a little warm-up for the next one! Come onnn! Don't leave me hanging here now! Are we gonna fight or are you just gonna stand there looking stupid? I mean, if I'm so puny, why are you hanging back? You couldn't be scared of a puny thing like me, could you?"

Gutztomp merely shrugged and began stalking toward her, not bothering to retrieve his axes.

"If you insist, runt," he said simply.

When he was only a few steps away, he suddenly picked up the pace and charged Yasmin, swinging his. If could floor a bear, he could easily knock her head clean off with one punch. Unfortunately he would only be fighting this one person. He had been hoping for, at least, a four-on-one. All well, he could easily get that after this was over. It shouldn't take long.

Herrick whistled plainly, stepping out of whatever the hell the Essyrni called a "crapping room" and stuffed his hands into his pocket. For once, he wasn't prowling around in the shadows, hoping to snatch a nice piece of loot off of a wealthy patron's belt. He was on break today, and decided to visit the festivities in the colosseum. Given, he still had his weapons on his person, and he was still in his armor, but what kind of man with a few enemies didn't these days? The crowd had become especially thunderous, and he hoped he didn't miss anything good while he was relieving himself.

He stepped back out onto the seating area, and observed the current fight for a few moments. There was a woman fighting an angry wall of green muscle, and he took this in as he found his seat again, which was at the front.

"What's all this, then?" He asked the man next to him, and the well-dressed merchant replied with a shrug. "Big bastard over there punched a bear in the face, asked for more, and that woman volunteered."

"She VOLUNTEERED?!"

"Yep."

"I've got a hundred pieces that say the orc's going to be on the floor by the end of this." Herrick said with a sly smile. The man next to him smiled even wider, and shook his hand. "You got yourself an arrangement, stranger." The man said, and Herrick nodded and stood up. "Wait, where are you going?" The man asked as  Herrick adjusted the straps on his light leather armor, checked his pistol, and made sure his rapier and off-hand dagger were secured onto his belt. "Going to go put that orc on the floor. I also hate to see an unfair fight." He chuckled. He patted the man on the shoulder, and stepped off the ledge that kept the gladiators out of the stands.

He landed lightly on the sand, and drew his rapier and dagger, both ringing with magical energy. He focused on the charging orc, and changed his dagger to a throwing position. "C'mon, dagger, daddy needs a new pair of boots." He whispered, before throwing the dagger. It straightened itself out mid-air, flying point first towards one of his legs.

Alright. Time to try to survive this thing.

The orc suddenly charge and raised his fist, and Yasmin readied herself for his swing. It came, his fist big as her head (or bigger!), and Yasmin ducked and fell into a controlled roll, dodging out of the way and jabbing at his foot with her sword before bouncing back to her feet with a pained hiss as her leg twinged. She stumbled as she landed on her bad leg, caught herself, and retreated quickly, putting some distance between them.

She was unaware of the dagger flashing through the air, headed for the orc's leg.

Gutztomp moved to take another swing at Yasmin, but then he paused. He looked down and saw a dagger in his leg. Pulling the dagger out as if it were only a splinter, Guztomp eyed the newcomer. This was a little better. Now there were two. Guztomp casually retrieved his axes from the sand where he had dropped them. Which one should he kill first? Definitely the new guy. The girl could be safely ignored. There was no way she could harm him. Guztomp advanced on the newcomer.

"Dat cheap shot just earned ya a world o' hurt, ya git," Guztomp said. "Come and get it."

Hey, Herrick! Did you see that big bastard pull your dagger put his leg like it was nothing? We're screwed, man! echoed through Herrick's head. He had hoped the orc would at least acknowledge the pain, but it seemed to have same effect on him as the effect a thrown rock would have on a brick wall. He glanced down to the pistol on his belt. It was a dragon-hunting pistol, the last of its kind, complete with a rifled barrel long and wide enough to accommodate its ammunition, which were musket balls about half as big as an orange. He decided he'd reserve it for emergencies. At the moment, he needed his dagger back, which was lying tantalizingly on the ground beneath the giant's legs.

A really stupid idea floated to the top of his head, and his tongue acted upon it before his brain could clear it for use. "Why don't you come get me, huh? You chicken or something? Or is your skull so thick and brain so small you've temporarily forgotten how to walk?" He retorted, cracking his biggest shit-eating grin. He hoped he could provoke the orc into a charge as the brute trudged his way over.

[OOC: OMG. EPIC DERP. DON'T POST WHILE MEDICATED KIDS. xDDD]

Yasmin's eyes went wide when she saw the orc pull a dagger from his leg like it was merely an annoying thorn. A dagger? Where had that come from--

That was when she looked where the orc was looking and saw him. There was a man there.

In the arena.

With her.

A guy she didn't recognize, that was certainly not dressed as a gladiator, but who was armed nonetheless. And in the arena with her.

Mother of Hakeshna.

"Whoa, hey! What are you DOING? Are you crazy?" she yelled, and bolted after the orc as he grabbed his axes and advanced on the man instead of her. "Get out of here, you idiot!"

Not that she didn't delight in the idea of some stupid audience member getting his comeuppance, but she wasn't being completely selfless here, either. If she could be perceived as a hero, she might earn her master some coin. Which was a small step closer to freedom.

Stooping, she grabbed a rock--a piece the Colosseum wall that had crumbled off--and chucked it at the orc's head. "HEY! Over here, moron!" she called, and jabbed at the back of his thigh with her blade--to get his attention, to make him turn. "We're not finished here! And you!" she said, looking back to the man. "Butt out! This guy's mine!"

(OOC Um...Herrick jumped into the arena. He's not in the stands :P )

Gutztomp scowled at the man. That was a big mistake on his part.

"You won't be able to walk once I'm through with ya," Gutztomp roared.

Gutztomp charged the man with his axes ready to cleave him clean in two. This guy won't be so smug once his top half is no longer attached to the bottom. Orks in and of themselves were dangerous. An angry ork, especially an ork angry at you, was an nigh unstoppable force of destruction.

Herrick looked at the charging pillar of green with a look that was one part determination and fifteen parts bravado. Almost to answer the orc's charge, Herrick released his own mighty battle yell. It was obvious the orc was going for a horizontal swing, so it would make his own maneuver a bit easier. Right when it seemed they would clash and Herrick would be short two legs and his ass, he dropped to the ground, Gutztomp's axe passing right over his head as he slid under the massive orc. He made sure to thrust his rapier upwards into his inner thigh before passing completely under him, coming to a well executed stop right by his dagger. He was back on his feet quicker than a whip, with his off-hand now occupied by his dagger. He seemed slightly flustered, and all too fortunate to be alive. Note to self: never throw a dagger at an orc he mentally noted as he collected his thoughts. "Well, at least we've narrowed it down!" He called out. "You're just stupid!"

The new guy wasn't bad, Yasmin had to admit.

Well, there went the hero plan!

The audience was going wild over this new twist, but Yasmin blocked the noise out and focused. Competent fighter or not, he was messing up her fight! And just when she'd begun to get a read on the orc, and an idea of what she needed to do! Hacking and slashing at a creature that could punch a bear and take a dagger hit like it was a twig was...not the correct strategy. Obviously, his skin was thick and tough; her scimitar blows only seemed to annoy him, and he'd shrugged off the bear's attack.

"So what does that make you?" Yasmin barked at the newcomer, flanking the ork's other side. "Stop showing off! You're not gonna win that way. His skin's too tough! Hey, you!"

That she directed at the ork, smacking him with her sword to get his attention. "Hey, ugly! What're you doing? You haven't even touched us! What's with that?"

Smacking him again and retreating fast, she stuck her tongue out at him and made a rude gesture with her free hand. "Come on! I thought we were fighting!"

The rapier didn't even cut deep enough to draw blood from Gutztomp's tough, leathery hide. Gutztomp turned and faced the man again. Before he could answer his insult, the girl spoke up.

"If you bastards would hold still dis would be a fight," Gutztomp roared.

Gutztomp charged again, but this time he displayed a bit of cleverness. As he closed the distance to Herrick, he swept his axe through the sand like a shovel, throwing a tidalwave of the sand straight towards him. Let's see how crafty he is when he can't see.

Herrick shot Yasmin a glance. "Call me old-fashioned, but I don't like an unfair fight, seeing as your leg's hurt and all." He said with a smile as he pointed his rapier at the bandage wrapped around her leg, which was quickly wiped off as Gutztomp advanced on him again. He sidestepped the sand with a deft spin, having been in one too many brawls and fights to be caught by the old "dirt in the eye" technique. he rolled to the side, out of the way of Gutztomp's mad charge again. "I don't suppose you had a master plan?" he snarked at Yasmin, and he reoriented his dagger in his hand. "Believe me, you'll be thanking me later." He added, and his arm flashed forwards, sending the dagger in Gutztomp's direction, the dagger magically orienting itself so it pointed straight forward in its lightning quick path towards Gutztomp's left eye.

The dagger flew straight and true, but Gutztomp didn't turn around fast enough to present his eye as a target. Instead, the dagger bounced off of his thick skull causing Gutztomp to swipe at the back of his head as if shooing away a bug. This was getting irritating. Gutztomp advanced again, slowly this time. Now there would be no jumping. This guy would have to fight him head on.

Yasmin barked a laugh. "You could call it a plan," she said, though the truth was she never really had one; she made things up as she went, because the arena was unpredictable and she needed to keep on her toes. "You're getting the idea of it, anyway! Keep doing that! you're not going to cut him, so just keep moving!"

Hopefully he'd get what she meant. She didn't want to tip her hand if the ork was smart enough to catch on, but if they kept moving, kept getting him to charge like that...maybe he'd tired himself out? Even an ork couldn't keep going indefinitely! Right?

As the man dodged the ork's sand and tossed a dagger at his face, Yasmin dodged around to the ork's rear, nearly stumbling as pain shot through her leg, and smacked the ork hard on the ass with the flat of her blade as the ork advanced on the man.

"If you had a speed faster than slug, we might have a battle!" Yasmin shot back at him, and gave him a hard jab in the rear to drive home her point before retreating fast, gritting her teeth as her leg twinged.

As much as she was loath to admit it, one on one she may...not have done so well. She was in pain, and already tired from her previous match. If it took a while for this ork to tire, she might have been in trouble on her own.

Herrick's confident smile slowly melted off his face like a chocolate in an oven when his dagger bounced off of Gutzomp's head. He was starting to doubt the craftsmanship of Adelan enchanted weaponry, especially the bit that said the dagger could cut through steel plate. The ork turned to face him again, and slowly started stepping towards him. He stood paralyzed for a brief millisecond before his hand shot down to his belt and clasped around the handle of his dragon-hunting pistol. It came off of his belt with a clink, and the hammer sounded off with a hearty click when he pulled it back. He'd used it before, and turned another man's chest into a distant memory. It was a firearm designed to kill dragons (if aimed right), and was a last resort at this point.

"Too thick skulled for a dagger, eh? take this then, you tough bastard!" Herrick yelled as he leveled the foot-long barrel at Gutztomp's center torso, and pulled the trigger. The pistol kicked back in his arm like an angry mule, a billowing cloud of powder smoke and deafening noise taking up his senses as the extra large bullet exited the barrel with all the force and vengeance of a runaway carriage being pulled by rampaging elephants.  Firing the gun in one arm (although it was a pistol, it was meant for two arms) sent lances of pain running up to his shoulder as he visibly flew back a foot or two. it wouldn't put him out of the fight, but it still hurt like hell. While the powder smoke was still thick, he scrambled to his feet, wincing away the pain.

Orks maybe dumb, but Gutztomp was familiar with what a gun was. Gutztomp dove out of the way just in time as the gun was fired. He stood, brushed himself off, and rolled his shoulders.

"Now then," he said. "Let's get down to business."

Gutztomp continued his advance confidently. The human had used up his ace in the hole and was dumb enough to hurt himself. It was almost too easy now.

Had to fight hard not to sink her face into her hand. "That was the complete opposite of what I suggested you do..." she groaned when the man's own master plan failed epically.

Looked like he wasn't going to listen, the pigheaded man. Just had to hop into the ring and try to save the woman he viewed as a damsel. Fool was going to get himself killed!

Skirting around the orc, gritting her teeth at the pain in her leg, she retreated with the man and jabbed her elbow into his side to get his attention. "Listen to me! Would you? Instead of doing this? Because this isn't working!" she hissed at him. "Look, he wants you. You pissed him off. So I suggest you stop with the hacking and get running! Tire him out!"

Herrick huffed some air out of his nose, shaking the last vestiges of pain out of his arm. "Worth a shot..." He muttered to himself as he shook the sand off. "What do you think I was going to do afterwards, sit around and gawk? Cut me some slack, woman, I could be sitting in the stands, watching tall green and cumbersome over here floss himself with your spine instead of being down here!" He retorted, not taking his eyes off of the orc as he started backpedaling. He had to admit, after his displays of hippopotamus-like agility, he wasn't expecting the orc to be dodging anything anytime soon. "Besides, it would've probably put him down if it hit..." He muttered to himself again. He took up a proper combat ready pose, and stood his ground. He was done screwing around, and if was clear that the orc was too. He tried to give Yasmin some kind of signal to flank around, which consisted of tapping his rapier on the ground behind him, and then leveling it at Gutztomp. "Right then, you want to have a bit of a tango? It takes two, big guy. Let's dance." He  said confidently as he held his stance.

Now we were talking. The man was finally ready to fight. His sword was awfully puny though. How could anyone fight with a sword that skinny? Gutztomp approached the man and started swinging his axes. There was no way he could stop him with that toothpick sword, especially when there were two axes being swung at him at the same time.

Yasmin puffed her cheeks out, biting back the comments she really wanted to say, because there was no time for snarking amongst themselves when there wan an orc to fight! Instead, she gave him a look and said, "Just...keep him busy," she hissed. "We're not gonna win by fighting him."

Hopefully he would listen, because the orc seemed intent on ignoring her and taking him out first.

Catching his signal, she limped around to the orc's other side to flank him as he advanced on the man, axes swinging. Good, good. Those axes looked heavy; he surely wouldn't be able to keep up such fancy maneuvers long! She cut her eyes to the man as he got into position, but only briefly, before she hefted her scimitar and lunged, favoring her left leg, and swung her scimitar as hard as she could at the orc's side. She didn't expect it to do much; what she was going for was annoyance.

     Laughing could be heard from the edges of the area in all the shadows. "You thinks that will work!? hahahahaha truly this should be good!' As the voice muttered talking to itself a shadow revealed a body raising from it the shadows themselves coiled around the body then fell away, no they more oozed away like a lifeless mass fo tar sliding off a bone removed from a tar pit. Revealing a elf clad in leather armor and cloak and three blades on his back was all that could be seen of the figure.  "Well go on try and fell the beast!" The voice mocked

Herrick kept up with the orc, dodging his axe blows. Thankfully, the orcs fighting style was as sophisticated as a tavern in a pirate cove, so he was able to sidestep and jump away from the swings. He looked over to Yasmin, and saw that she had actually caught his message, and was moving in behind the orc. Herrick hoped that she'd be able to get him to turn around, even for a few moments, their survival depended on it. He reached down to his belt, and pulled out a climbing hook, brandishing it in his hand like it was a weapon. He started running his idea through his head. Could he pull this off? Maybe. He'd seen big bruisers like him before, and with luck, Gutztomp's overly muscular nature would keep him from being able to reach behind him. At least, that's what he hoped.

Yasmin's strike managed to draw blood, but in his rage Gutztomp had not noticed it. He was intent on killing the man in front of him. All this jumping and ducking was getting annoying. There had to be some way to hit this guy. Gutztomp stepped up his efforts and advanced on the man as he swung. He couldn't dodge forever. One hit was all it would take.

Herrick was not sure how much longer he could keep this up. The axes were like a wall of blades that kept him out, and the arena wall was getting closer with every swing he avoided. He ducked one swing, jumped away from another, and then it happened. His foot slipped on a wet patch of fresh blood and his other buried itself in the sand, leaving him teetering on one foot.  The magic in his rapier kicked in, and his foot promptly slipped out from under him rather than burying itself in the sand. He fell backwards, and the axe grazed his chest, ripping through his light armor like it was nothing and leaving a cut across his chest. The blade caught on a strap, and he flew to the side, and came to a rolling stop. He quickly got up to a crouch, teeth clenched. The blood flowed down his armor, but it wasn't a major wound. He stood back up, took his dagger out of its sheath again, and wordlessly tossed it to Yasmin. If she caught it, she'd immediately know it was magical, because it hummed with power.

Herrick resumed his stance, a smile still on his face. "That all you got, sack for brains!?" He called out, gritting his teeth.

"You'll be da one with yer brain in a sack," Gutztomp retorted, advancing again.

He'd finally got him. It wasn't much, but he still hit him. There would be a lot more blood coming out of him soon.

     Nogard watched with amusement and slight curiosity, then it happened the orc landed a blow! Nogard quickly drew his largest blade on his back a black blade with an green set of veins flowing through the blade the green pulsed with magical energy. Whispering something and then plunging the blade into the shadows before him suddenly copies of the blade emerged from the shadows of the man on the ground bleeding and started to spin and act as a wall. "Get up fool!!" Nogard wasn't truly taking sides he merely wanted to see a good fight.

Shit. Yasmin grimaced when the man slipped and took a hit, but thank Hakeshna he had some protection. Not enough, though; not for a creature that strong with blades so sharp.


Thankfully, he got back up and got out of the way. For a moment, she thought he was done for--and he might still be, judging by the way he was bleeding. Someone was going to tire out, and with the damage he'd taken, and the way the both of them had been running around...

They needed to do something fast.

Catching the dagger he tossed her way, she almost dropped it when she did. It thrummed with energy. Magic? Was this his plan? Because she was behind the orc now, and she'd opened a wound up in his side--and like a chink in armor, that was exactly what she went for.

Unaware of what was going on on the opposite side of the orc, she lunged at the creature and stabbed the dagger into his bleeding side.

The spinning shadow blades gave Gutztomp pause. What was this sorcery? His thoughts were interrupted by a dagger being thrust into his side. Gutztomp roared in pain and anger. He grabbed hold of the arm that stabbed him, and hurled the owner as hard and as far as he could. He then pulled out the dagger, grumbling to himself. That had actually hurt. There were a lot of people butting in on his fight. It was beginning to get annoying. No more holding back.

"Ah!" With a yell, Yasmin went flying, and when she came back down...

Crack!

Thankfully, it wasn't her head. Out of sheer luck she'd managed to get her hand under her as she came down, saving herself from worse injury at the cost of her wrist. It snapped under her weight as she hit and she fell into a tumble, rolling several feet before coming to a stop. Her body was bruised, several nasty cuts and gashes on her bare skin where the sand had dug into her, some still embedded in the cuts. Biting back a scream of pain as she clutched her wrist to her chest, Yasmin scrambled to her feet, wobbling unsteadily.

And winced as something hot and wet dribbled down her leg.

The fall had jostled the gashes the leopard had given her, soaking through her bandage. Great. Just wonderful. And her sword? She found it several feet from her, and looked from it to the orc before making a limping dash for it.

Herrick looked on in unexpressed horror as Yasmin went flying. That tumble looked nasty, and he supposed there wasn't much he could do about that. But there was one thing. He had his chance. The orc was distracted, and now was his chance. He reached down to his belt again, and his hand clasped around the hilt of Cheesecutter, his magical short sword, specially forged to be used in conjunction with his rapier. He drew the straight, two-foot blade out of its sheathe, and it rang out. Both his rapier and Cheesecutter started glowing magically, the link between the two weapons activating.

He moved forawrds. Whether the black blades surrounding him moved with him or not, he didn't care. He'd duck out of the way if they didn't. His sprint towards the orc was as quick as lightning, and his blades were twice as fast. Cheesecutter was enchanted to break any armor, and he was fairly confident this orc's "armor" would stand no chance. He opened up with a slash aimed at the achilles tendon with Chesscutter,  and a subsequent stab with the rapier at the same spot. Then he leaped, intent on burying two feet of magical short sword into Gutztomp's back, all the way to the hilt.

Now that the annoying woman was taken care of, Gutztomp turned to face Herrick. He had not been expecting Herrick to come flying straight at him, but dodging wasn't his style. Instead, he swung his axes at Herrick as he flew at him. Gutztomp knew full well that he could take a hit better than a human, so he would probably come out on top despite any injury he received.

Sword in her good hand, Yasmin turned to watch--

And gaped.

Because something was crazy-wrong with the stranger's shadow (what the hell!) and not only that, but he was still intent on attacking the orc with brute force. Why wouldn't he listen to her?! She had only attacked the orc to try to get his attention, and it failed because he was so intent on murdering the man. And now this guy was probably going to wind up another smear in the sand.

"You idiot! Stop that and run!" she yelled. "You need to wear him out!"

Herrick ignored what everybody else said. It was his one fatal flaw as a thief. He was never really open to the idea of running away. He ducked under the orc's axes again, and rolled under him. He found it almost ridiculous how this bastard just seemed to ignore injuries. For Christ's sake, he had cut his Achilles, and the bastard didn't even stumble. He had to hit him somewhere important, somewhere where he couldn't just shrug off the pain and ignore the bleeding. As he finished the roll under the orc, he stopped himself with his heel, and he switched Cheesecutter to a reverse grip, and thrusted towards the orc's spine.

Herrick's blade stopped dead as it hit one of Gutztomp's vertebrate instead of the sweet spot in between. Gutztomp spun around to face Herrick with a sweep of his axes, and he even attempted stomping on Herrick as well. This human was awfully annoying, and he wouldn't hold still and fight properly. The single-minded ork had forgotten about Yasmin by this point, intent on breaking Herrick in two.

Fine. Fine, he wasn't going to listen to he? Then she wasn't going to help him. He could have it his way!

Arm still clutched to her chest with her wrist throbbing terribly, Yasmin hung back and simply watched, shaking her head slowly. "Alright. Don't listen to me. That's all well and good by me. It's your funeral," she called.

Fine. She'd just let him get stomped by the orc, and once he was out of the way, she would finish this thing properly. Until then, she remained back where she was, ready to spring into action when the time was right, but conserving her remaining energy until then.

Herrick nimbly avoided the stomp, making sure to land another seemingly minor cut on the orc's leg as he passed. Was his new plan near suicidal? Sure. Could it have been a little better thought out? Probably. He tuned out Yasmin's yelling. She didn't get his plan, so she had no real valuable input, except the one last piece she was about to give. He ducked under an axe swing, and cut a smoke bomb off of his bandolier with Cheesecutter, spiking it into the ground with the hilt and jumping away as it exploded into a thick, choking cloud of black smoke. He took the opportunity to take a breather, and looked over to Yasmin.

"Lady, you need to wise up to what's happening. That orc wants nothing but to kill me right now, so you've got your chance." He said, and he grasped Cheesecutter in his teeth for a few moments so he could lay his pistol and an ammo cartridge on the ground. "Make it count." He said, taking Cheesecutter back into his hand and adopting his stance again, waiting for Gutztomp to come out of the smoke.

Gutztomp had not expected to be suddenly surrounded by smoke. That human was crafty, but it wouldn't be enough.

"Damn you, humie," Gutztomp roared as he emerged from the smoke. "Just die already!"

Gutztomp advanced on the human again. This was getting real old real fast. He swung his axes in rapid succession in order to ensure a full-on barrage of steel. Let's see if that human is clever enough to reattach his limbs like Gutztomp can.

...Oh dear.

Limping over, Yasmin grabbed up the pistol and ammo with one hand, and then just stared at the man, lifting the pistol and giving him an exaggerated shrug, expression incredulous. She knew what it was. The problem was, she'd never used one, never loaded one. Goddess, she'd never even touched one!

And with her broken wrist, she would have to do it all one-handed.

"Fantastic idea! If I knew what I was doing with this!" she called to him.

Herrick looked at Yasmin with an incredulous expression. How could he have forgotten? They didn't have guns in Essyrn. "Under the the barrel, there's this rod you pull out.  Take that and use that to push the bullet in as far as it'll go. Then you gotta...oh shit!" He was interrupted by Gutztomp coming out of the smoke, axes a' swingin'. He jumped away from the first swing, and was now steadily backpedaling away from the orc as he swung his axes. "You gotta pull the thing on the back until it makes a loud click then you're good!" He said, pausing between dodges to speak. He hoped she could figure it out, the coliseum wall was coming up behind him, lurching closer and closer with every backwards step he took.

"Hold still," Gutztomp roared as he continued his attack.

Luckily for him, the wall was getting ever closer. Once he had this puny little human trapped against the wall with nowhere to run, then he could end it. He would have no problem dealing with the girl aftwards. Things were starting to look up.

"The thing on the back," Yasmin repeated. "So descriptive! Alright, just...don't die, you idiot."

Since the orc was rapidly advancing on the man, its back turned, Yasmin knelt down in the sand so she could have an easier time figuring it out. She had to use her injured hand a bit to load the thing, which was difficult; broken bones were strange, her wrist feeling not only intense, tear-inducing pain but the strange sensation of being disconnected. She couldn't move her wrist if she'd tried, and her fingers barely worked as a result. They all connected to the wrist.

Using mostly her right hand, though, she managed to load a bullet, and managed to 'pull the thing in the back'. It clicked, which meant she was good to go? Better hope so!

Getting back to her feet and wobbling a little on her bad leg, she lifted the pistol with her right hand and took aim.

...Her first shot missed the orc completely and nearly took out Herrick instead.

"Shit! Sorry!" she called, and hurried to load another bullet. He better not complain. Wasn't like she'd ever fired one! Her skill was in melee. Aiming again, she fired off another round.

That one, at least, went for the orc's back.

Herrick nearly shit himself when the bullet tore through the air. His rapier started glowing in his hand, and rather than go right through him, the bullet merely grazed the buckle on his shoulder pad, leaving little more than a scratch. It took out a fairly large-sized crater out of the arena wall behind him, which was now dangerously close. He saw her loading again. "Just a little longer..." He whispered to himself, and he felt his back touch the wall. He didn't have a little longer.

Gutztomp smiled as he finally had the human trapped. Before he could finish the job, he felt something impact his back. Gutztomp grabbed a hold of Herrick's shirt, lifted him up, and turned to see that Yasmin had the gun. He couldn't leave her to just fire away at him like that. Gutztomp slammed his forehead into Herrick's and then went for Yasmin. Breaking her arms should keep her from bothering him anymore.

Finally! Yasmin's heartbeat quickened when the orc started for her, but it was exactly what she wanted this entire match. Hopefully the man was still conscious--or alive--to see this.

"Oooh, you don't like this thing, do you?" Yasmin said with a pained smile, waggling the pistol and retreating fast. "Better come get it!"

She kept her retreat circular; going in a straight line meant getting backed against a wall (like a certain someone!) which meant death. She also made sure to keep a safe distance away; the orc's reach was long and she was not about to risk it.

As she moved, she struggled to load another bullet, and dropped one in the process. No time to retrieve it from the sand. She kept on moving, and managed to get another in. "Better hurry up, you snail!"

Fortunately, Herrick was able to move his head away from the incoming wall of skull that was Gutztomp's forehead in a way that diverted most of the force to the side, but he still took a hell of a hit. When Gutztomp dropped him, he fell flat-arsed on the ground, head swimming and spinning in all directions. He could vaguely make out Gutztomp moving towards Yasmin, and he slowly tried to get onto his feet. His attempt was met with failure as he fell over again. He wiped some blood off of the corner of his mouth.

"Looks like you'll be short 100 pieces, AND your life!" A mocking voice said from above him, and he looked up. It was the asshole he bet with. Herrick threw up his arm, middle finger extended prominently as he attempted to stand up again, bracing himself on his rapier. He made it to his feet, and promptly spit out some blood that was pooling from a cut inside his mouth. He could only hope that the damage he did was enough to hasten the orc's downfall. He might be ignoring his wounds, but it didn't change the fact that he was still bleeding from all of the cuts Herrick made.

Gutztomp angrily stomped after Yasmin as she continued to avoid him. She was awfully quick for someone who was injured.

"You won't be so quick once I rip dem legs o' yer's off," Gutztomp growled.

This one was quicker than the man. At least the man would fight back, this woman just kept running. Surely she would tire out eventually, but so would Gutztomp. The question was, who would tire out first? Yasmin was injured, but Gutztomp had to carry around a lot more bulk than she did. Only time would tell.

Yasmin was quick, but only out of necessity. Her leg was throbbing, but when the choice was either endure and survive or stop and die, she could deal with the pain; she'd experienced more grievous wounds than that. Right now, though, it wasn't the pain that would get her, but sheer exhaustion. One fight against two leopards, and now this long, agonizing battle, and her with a wounded thigh and now the dizzying pain of a broken wrist.

She felt ready to drop, but pure adrenaline kept her standing.

Even that wouldn't hold much longer. The sun was beating down on the both of them, the heat scorching, and Yasmin's body was slick with sweat. Even if she had the inhuman stamina to keep on moving indefinitely--which she definitely didn't--the heat and dehydration would get her. She was losing water rapidly, through sweat and through blood, and as she moved she stumbled and nearly fell, but managed to right herself an keep going.

If the orc hadn't been so distracted with the man for so long, which had given her time to stand back and rest, she would have already been done for.

She had no more teasing comments for him. She had to save her breath, and she prayed he'd tire soon, because as she aimed the pistol to fire off another shot, the world spun, and she didn't pull the trigger because she wasn't sure if she was actually aiming at him.

Herrick stood there for a few moments, watching the woman run away from the orc and avoiding his blows. She wouldn't last much longer, he needed to do something. He shook his head, but the spots wouldn't go away. He finally felt something warm trickle down his forehead, but it didn't take a genius to tell that the orc had just busted him open. He had very few options as of this moment, and time was running out. Even he was breathing hoarsely, not used to the sweltering heat. He raised Cheesecutter, the blade singing with energy. His eyes went from the blade, to the orc, and back to the blade.

He flipped Cheesecutter into the air, grabbing it by the blade like a throwing knife, and following up by throwing it at the orc in general. He didn't care where he hit, as long as he hit somewhere where it hurt enough to take his attention off the woman again. Cheesecutter straightened itself out mid-flight, orienting so it would go in point first.

It wasn't long before all this running and axe swinging made Gutztomp begin to tire. However, being an ork, he continued on. Rest was for the weak. As he continued after the woman he tripped over his own big feet, causing the knife thrown at him to miss. Gutztomp got back to his feet and continued on. She was still managing to outpace him. How well could she outpace an axe? Desperate to land a hit, Gutztomp hurled one of his axes at Yasmin. If it missed, it would take a sizable chunk out of the arena wall.

The orc was getting uncomfortably close, and for a moment Yasmin thought she might be in trouble, for she was having difficulty keeping ahead--but then he tripped over his own feet and fell.

Which was also unfortunate, as the blade whizzing by missed him.

Damn!

But the distraction at least gave her the chance to summon up the dregs of her strength and put a little more distance between them.

At least, until he threw his axe.

Too weak and exhausted to nimbly dodge, Yasmin did the only thing she could do--she let herself stumbled and fall backwards, landing flat on her back, as the axe wheeled by overhead and slammed into the wall behind her. It was a costly move, even if it saved her life--now that she was down, she was simply too exhausted to get back up, and even though she tried to scramble to her feet, the world pitched dizzily and she toppled back down. Blood dribbled from the reopened wound in her thigh, dripping into the sand, and Yasmin swayed unsteadily for a moment before she began to crawl away backwards, which was awkward because she only had one hand.

She paused only to throw her scimitar at the orc, not hoping for injury at this point, but only for distraction. He was tiring, too; even a big brute like him couldn't last forever.

Herrick watched Cheesecutter miss. The dagger zipped back around, and headed towards Herrick, embedding itself in the ground in front of him. He was too weak to reach down to pick it up. He gave in to the urges of his legs, and he plopped down to the ground, his back against the arena wall. He closed his eyes, dropping into the inky blackness of unconsciousness.

Gutztomp lazily swatted the scimitar aside with his remaining axe as he continued his advance. His feet were dragging through the sand as he walked, and he was breathing heavily. Finally, he had made it to within striking distance of that bothersome human girl.

"Now I've got you," he panted.

Gutztomp raised his axe to finish Yasmin, but instead of swinging his axe forward, the rest of him went backward along with. He landed with a loud thud, a small plume of sand accompanying his impact. The he was too much, and he was tired out all the quicker by his own bulk. Gutztomp lay unconscious on the sand. It was going to take more than a couple men to move him out of the arena.

For a moment, Yasmin thought this was it. Maybe this was how she was going to go, snapped in half by some stupid brutish thing. As opposed to some other stupid, brutish thing, of course. She always knew it would be in the ring; she had just always hoped for something more...memorable.

She watched the axe rise, scrambling backwards as fast as she could, but it wouldn't be enough, that thing was big enough to split her down the middle--except, apparently, also big enough to to pull teh orc backwards.

She watched him fall with wide eyes, utterly floored by what she was witnessing, but down he went, the ground vibrating under his weight, and...

He didn't get back up.

With a relieved groan, Yasmin let herself flop backwards onto the sand, panting heavily and feeling on the verge of heat-stroke, but it was over, goddammit. It was finally over.

And around her, she heard the roar of the crowd.

It was a draw. Today, they were all coming out of this alive.

Rolling over onto her side, she had been about ready to shout something out to the man, but that was when she noticed he was kind of unconscious, too. Or dead. Hopefully not dead. A group armed attendants strode out into the arena to collect the bodies--in this case, living ones--and two hauled her up between them while a group went to try to handle the orc. They dragged Yasmin past the man right as two others hoisted him up.

It was straight to the infirmary with them.

Herrick came to in the infirmary, slowly awakening. At first, the world seemed like a blurry mess of colors and light. It smelled like blood and misery,  and the air was stuffy as all hell. In the distance, he heard a man scream out in pain. He blinked again, and his vision improved slightly, and he was able to make out a stone roof. He tried to sit up, and was able to do so after a bit of effort and some pain. He looked at himself, and found that he wasn't in his armor. He had a single bandage around his chest, and when he felt his head, he found another wrapping around the spot where Gutztomp's headbutt connected with his temple.

He looked around to see more beds, both unoccupied and occupied, and it dawned on him that he was in the coliseum's infirmary. He looked to see who his neighbors were, and found that to his left, there was a sleeping man missing an eye, and to his right was Yasmin. Herrick smiled. "Hey, you awake?" He called, laying back down and turning his head towards her.

"Yup!" came the cheery reply, and Yasmin cracked an eye open and turned her head toward the man. "Been awake a while, actually."

She looked weary, and certainly felt it, but she'd be fine. She had a splint on her broken wrist, a bandage around her thigh, and some bandages on her shoulders from when the leopard had pinned her down. She had a few scratches and bruises here and there from her tumble, but other than that, she was just tired and dehydrated. The healers had been giving her water, slowly, so she didn't sick up, and demanded she rest. It would be another month before she could fight again, thanks to the broken bone--officially, that is. Yasmin could see her master shoving her back into the ring long before it healed and just telling her to fight one-handed.

He was a peach like that. He knew he could make money on her death as easily as he could on her victory. Man was probably livid right about now. Sure, she'd made him a fair amount through her victories, but he owned enough gladiatorial slaves that losing one wasn't his concern; it was just expected collateral.

Looking the man over, her lips twisted into a lopsided grin. "You're lucky you're awake at all. You're damned lucky you've got all your extremities, too. What in Hakeshna's name were you thinking, anyway, jumping down there like that?"

As the two talked, a fair amount of grumbling, arguing, and cursing could be heard as five men worked on moving Gutztomp. They had long since given up on carrying, so they were trying to drag him instead. It was a frustrating process, but it was comical to those viewing it. Eventually they just decided to leave Gutztomp lie where he was. He wasn't sitting out in the sun anymore, so he should be fine where he lay. The five men dropped Gutztomp's axes onto the sand next to him and quickly left. None of them wanted to be near him when he woke up, and they didn't want to get in trouble for leaving him in the middle of the floor. So, there Gutztomp lay, with passersby making a note to give him a wide berth.

Herrick seemed to think for a few moments, his mouth screwing up as he fixed his eyes on the roof. "You know, I don't quite know." He started, rubbing the back of his head. "Call me old fashioned, but I couldn't just sit there and watch a woman be killed, especially in a fight she wouldn't have won. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you were forced into it, too." Herrick explained, sitting back up with a groan.

He extended an arm across the gap between their beds for a shake. "Herrick Tavish's the name." He said as he cracked a smile of his own. If Yasmin took his hand to shake it, he'd pull it in to kiss it.

Yasmin gave him a look, eyebrow raised. "We're all forced into it, except for the crazy ones like you. That's what being a slave means--doing things you don't want to," she said, picking at the bindings on her wrist. "Would you have done the same for a man? Or just assumed a man could handle it and women can't?"

Still, despite her slight irritation, when he extended his hand she clasped it with hers, lips quirking into a smile. Either it was a foreign flub on his part, extending his hand out to her first, or he viewed her as an equal, despite what he implied about her competence in the arena.

Except she was not at all familiar with Herrick's particular follow-up.

She blinked when Herrick kissed her hand, her cheeks coloring despite herself. In Essyrn, women often kissed cheeks in greeting--but men certainly did not kiss women in greeting. Startled, she jerked her hand away. "Uh, Yasmin," she said, feeling dumb for being thrown so off balance. "Yasmin Kader."

Herrick smiled one of his crafty smiles when Yasmin pulled her hand back. That was for all the yelling she directed at him. "Oh yeah...I forget sometimes the Essyrni have slaves. Pardon me, this is the first time I've come here." He said, placing a hand on his chest, which elicited a small wince from him. "It wouldn't have mattered if you were a man or a woman. You had an injured leg, you couldn't have handled it." He stated, crossing his arms.

"What, do you think I take you for a damsel?"

"I should hope not," Yasmin replied with a grin, pleased with his clarification. She hadn't survived five years for nothing. "You'd be sorely disappointed."

Lifting her arms over her head, she gave a slight stretch; this bed wasn't the most comfortable, and she'd never been good at keeping still. Even tired, she was fidgety, one foot bouncing under the thin sheet. That, and she was a little anxious. She was not looking forward to facing her master later.

"Anyway, you're lucky I am a slave. I don't know about your peoples' customs, but here, that little 'hello' of yours could've gotten you in trouble. Just for the record."

Herrick scoffed at Yasmin's last statement. "Trouble? I don't care about trouble. I'm not exactly a law-abiding citizen." Herrick said, leaning back and dropping against his pillow. He seemed to think for a few moments, before sitting back up, a smile on his face. "Say, I've been here looking for a good score, waiting for Connlaoth to cool down from its mage crisis. I'm sure someone like you would know someone who needs a good robbing?" He said, his smile returning.

The pair was interrupted again, but not by men's voices this time. This time it was Gutztomp.

"Get off me you little worm!"

The statement was followed immediately by a cry of pain that sounded like it came from a young man. A new arrival, a slave, had never seen an ork before and made the mistake of investigating. Unfortunately for him, Gutztomp had already regained consciousness and was sleeping. Orks did not like to be disturbed while they are sleeping. The poor boy had gotten his arm broken in two by a very grump Gutztomp. Everyone cleared the area and hid, some hiding in the room that Yasmin and Herrick were in. Gutztomp was not only a sore loser, but a sore loser who was had just been disturbed from his slumber. Nobody dared to be anywhere near him. It was probably the best course of action at this moment.

Yasmin had been musing over just how to answer that one when the unmistakeable voice of the ork interrupted her, followed by a boy's scream. Then the infirmary was a mess of movement, people rushing around--and many rushing inside their room as though to get away. Errr...

With a look Herrick's way, Yasmin sat up with a grunt. Seemed the ork was around, too, and already awake and causing trouble. Not good!

"Hmm...I'm not liking the sounds of that," Yasmin remarked. "We may have a sore loser on our hands. Do you feel well enough to stand?"

"Well enough to stand? If it means getting away from mean 'n green over there, I'm well enough to run." Herrick said, and slipped out of the bed. As soon as he stepped off, however, he paused. He momentarily lost his balance, and lurched to one side, but swiftly recovered.

"Now, where're my things..." He muttered as he glanced around, before finally finding his weapons and armor deposited into a neat little pile next to his bed. He didn't have time to get on the full suit of leather armor, so he just strapped on the hard plates and tied the rest into a bundle, which he kept under his arm. With just the leather plates on, he could easily pass as a gladiator. He put his weapons and gear on his person, and tied a loose black cloth so it covered his face from the nose down.

"Right then. Shall we, my lady?" Herrick asked, and he held out a hand to help her out of her bed if she needed it.

Gutztomp began his search. He wasn't finished with those humans yet. None of the slaves or gladiators were strong enough, or brave enough, to try to stop him. Anyone who got in his way were tossed aside. It wouldn't be long before he reached the room that Yasmin and Herrick were in.

Yasmin could hear the ork's footsteps, for he was not a light walker--and it seemed they were getting closer. Grasping Herrick's hand, she hauled herself out of bed and onto her feet, landing lightly on her good leg.

"Ah, good to hear!" she said with a grin that didn't reach her eyes, and released his hand. "Because we may well have to run."

Her scimitar was gone, likely returned to her cell, and it made her feel naked right then. Facing an ork in the arena, armed, was one thing. Being chased by one, unarmed, through the infirmary was another. Worse than that, though, was the fact that she couldn't do harm outside the arena, anyway. Not even in self-defense. If she did, it could easily be held against her, and she could be held accountable.

"And you, my dear," she added, looking at Herrick as she began to fall into a limping jog, "should probably leave, before my master catches me talking to you."

"Your master? Catch me? The best manhunters in Adela couldn't catch me, my lady. Besides..." He said, and tied his long hair into a ponytail. Now, he looked like a completely different person, like he belonged in this colosseum. "I don't know who you're talking about. I'll meet you later. Don't worry, I'll find you." He said in perfect Essyrni, stepping outside with his remaining gear bundled under his arm, including his weapons, which were hidden inside the bundle in case the ork recognized them.

Just moments after Herrick had left, Gutztomp's search brought him to the infirmary. Looking in the door, he saw Yasmin. Guztomp bared his teeth and tried to get her, but he was too large. Between his sheer bulk and the axes on his back, he could not get through the door. He could have easily removed the axes and slid in through the door sideways, but orks weren't exactly known for intelligence.

"Come 'ere so I can break ya," Gutztomp roared, reaching his arm through the door in a vain attempt to reach her.

Yasmin had been about to follow Herrick out, but that was when the bloody ork came stomping through. With a gasp, Yasmin stumbled backwards and away from the thing, eyes darting around the room for something to fight with--but then the ork got stuck.

On his own axes.

But it might not be long before he figured it out.

Staying just out of reach, Yasmin held up her hands in a placating gesture and smiled her winning-est smile. "Hey now! I know you might be a wee bit out of it still, but the match is over, friend! It was a draw, which means we're all even! So just...calm down, now..."

"Dat wasn't a fight. All you did was run around," Gutztomp growled, still trying to get in. "Get over here an' fight me da right way."

"I've no interest in fighting you," Yasmin said with a shake of her head, taking another step backwards. "I don't fight outside the arena."

Herrick stopped walking when he heard the commotion. Sure, he felt great having just walked past Gutztomp without the giant orc being none the wiser, but now he couldn't believe that he was going back towards the brute. With one swift motion, he snatched an empty glass bottle off of a table and flung it towards the back of the ork's head, melding into the shadows before the brute could turn around.

Gutztomp spun around after a bottle had shattered against his head, but he didn't see anyone.

"Who threw that," he shouted. "I'll rip yer arms off!"

Herrick breathed, and cupped his mouth in his hand. He looked at the exit, and at the hallway which led off deeper into the infirmary, coming to end at a sharp corner. He focused on the corner, and spoke.

"Why don't you come over here and find out you dumb lug!" His voice came, not from where he was hiding, but from around the corner all the way at the end of the infirmary. Hopefully, it' would give Yasmin enough time to run out of the exit to safety.

Gutztomp immediately stormed toward where he thought the voice came from. He turned the corner and began charging down the hallway in search of his next victim, but he couldn't find anyone. The coward was probably hiding somewhere.

Oh dear. Yasmin heard Herrick's voice, and really hoped he wasn't pulling another stupid stunt. Still, as soon as the ork went charging down the hall, Yasmin slipped out the door and limped her way in the opposite direction as quickly as she could. Hopefully, Herrick had an escape route, himself!

As for Yasmin? She headed out the infirmary and toward the barracks. Around her, soldiers and other gladiators were rushing by, called on to deal with the threat within. With any luck, that would be a good distraction for the ork--and would, you know, put a stop to his rampage.

Herrick watched Yasmin leave, and went right after her, He didn't talk to her, he didn't even acknowledge her, just brushed past her and disappeared into the crowd of gladiators and guards. He was pleasantly surprised just how easy it was to trick the ork, but then again, orks weren't known for their cunning or deductive skills.

Before long, he was out of the arena proper, and back in his full armor, walking towards the exit gate. He opted for the side exit, as it was less traveled, and turned on his heels to head out. He stepped out into the air, and his nose instinctively scrunched up. No matter how many times he came here, he would never get used to the overpowering smell of coffee that blanketed some areas of the city. He quickly disappeared into the alleys, intent on finding out who his new friend was.

Gutztomp stomped out of the arena with the detainment force still attached. A gladiator hung off of each arm and another one had his arms wrapped around Gutztomp's leg. Needless to say, he was one very unhappy ork. Not only had the first to humans escaped him, but he never found the guy who threw the bottle either. Picking the gladiators off of himself and tossing them aside as if they were just annoying parasites, he took a look around. They were nowhere to be seen. Gutztomp stalked off to the nearest tavern. Beer fixed everything.

Once Yasmin was out of the chaos, it wasn't long before she was spotted by a soldier. The man quickly took her into custody and escorted her back to her cell in the barracks, since she...was technically not supposed to be wandering about unsupervised, anyway. Not that there was anywhere to actually go within these walls. Each entrance was heavily guarded, and she was injured enough that she wouldn't get far, anyway.

And she certainly wouldn't get far without drawing attention, wearing the clothes of a slave with obvious injuries. That wasn't suspicious at all.

Oh, the soldier had given her lip for wandering around unsupervised, but she mostly ignored it and went along without complaint. And before long, she was shoved back inside her cell, the door locked behind her.

With a sigh, she flopped down onto her cot. She was alone for now, but she knew it wouldn't be for long.

It had been an hour since Herrick made his exit from the colosseum, and he found himself walking back towards it, holding a playbill in one hand and a cup of coffee he nicked from a street merchant in the other. "Oh, Yasmin. Ever the small-time celebrity, are we?..." He muttered to himself, reading the playbill. "Two leopards? Girl's got spunk, that much is true..." He continued, and sat down to read it in its completion.

Once he was done, he crumpled it up and threw it away, and finished the coffee, setting the cup down on a nearby barrel. Getting back into the arena was easy enough, as there was always a show going on.

It was the barracks that was the challenge. He slipped past the guards by climbing up onto the support beams that snaked all over the ceiling and travelling along those until he reached the cell. The next challenge was finding Yasmin, but after inspecting the ground for a few minutes, he was able to find her trail. A woman's feet, with a slight limp. He followed it to her cell door, ducking past guards and gladiators alike, until he reached it.

He raised his hand, and rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. "Yasmin, it's me. Herrick. Don't be alarmed, I'm coming in." He whispered, and went to work picking the lock.

Yasmin had been laying back on her cot, content to doze for what time she had left, when a knock at her door had her sitting back up. That was odd. Her master certainly didn't knock. But before she could call out a, "Yes?" a voice came to her from the other side.

And had her bolting to her feet, wincing as her leg smarted. She pressed her hands to the door and leaned against it so he could hear her. "Herrick? What? What do you mean you're coming in?" And then she heard it; the slight click of a lock being worked at. Yasmin sank her face into her hand. He had to be joking.

"Have you lost your mind?" she said, eyes darting around the small room nervously, though there was nothing to see but her meager belongings. "If my master catches you, we're both fucked!"

Herrick groaned, pausing with his picks still in the lock. "Gods, woman, do you expect me to stand out here with my ear to the door? Settle down, trust me..." He whispered, and the lock finally clicked open. "There we go." He muttered, and swiftly entered, silently closing the door behind him. he pulled out a small iron rod out of a pouch on his bandolier, and tapped it against the door.

The lock clicked behind him.

"Nice cell you've got here, Yasmin. So, where were we in our conversation?" He asked her, nonchalantly sitting down on her cot and leaning against the stone wall. He had all the bravado of a master criminal, and oozed confidence like a foreigner oozed sweat in the desert. He also had the biggest grin on his face, like he got a kick out of things like this.

"I see how it is. You failed to get me killed the first time, so now you're going for round two," Yasmin muttered, pacing her cell. "I swear to Hakeshna, of all the crazy, foolish--"

The door swung open, and Herrick stepped inside and made himself comfortable. Yasmin turned to face him, injured arm relaxed at her side, other hand planted on her hip as she stared him down. She could not believe this. Absolutely could not.

"I believe we were at the part where I was telling you I'm expecting my master at, oh, any moment, whenever he deigns to appear," Yasmin said, keeping her voice low. She fidgeted, picking at the binding on her wrist, and kept close to the door so she could try to hear outside.

"And that when he shows up and there's a strange man in my cell, of all things, it's not going to be pretty. Not for you, and not for me. Was that the part you meant? Or did you mean the part where you wanted to discuss criminal things, because I'm a little curious--do you want to live here, like this? Because that's the path you're headed down, friend!"

"Listen, there's something you don't understand here. You think I'd lock myself in this cell with you because I'm some kind of idiot? I think you take me for a fool, Yasmin. A good thief always has a way out. My way out just happens to have a timer on it, so I'm saving it for when I need to use it, understand?" He said, and sat up. "Also, you could thank me. I did save you down the-" he stopped and put a hand up. Glancing around, he opened his mouth as if to speak. He had extremely sharp hearing, honed by years of navigating in the darkness during clandestine operations. "There's three men coming. Two in armor." He said, and immediately jumped to one corner of the room, planting his ear against the wall. "Yeah, definitely coming this way. Be with you in a second." He whispered, and he turned the gemstone on one of his rings. Suddenly, he vanished, without a trace. Herrick had rendered himself invisible and incorporeal.

Thank Hakeshna he could vanish, because when Herrick announced three men approaching, Yasmin about had a heart attack.

But then he was gone, and Yasmin blinked in confusion at the place he'd been before, hearing the footsteps growing closer, she took a quick seat on her cot. A key turned in the lock right as she sat down, and she did her best to look bored and casual as the door swung open.

In the doorway stood the soldiers and they were flanking a tall, strong-looking man in his middle years. Faruq Darzi, her master and a notable merchant. And he did not look amused. Glowering at her, he took a step inside her cell. "Why weren't you in the infirmary?"

"Good evening to you, too, sir," Yasmin said with a cheeky smile and a wave, but a quick, stinging slap to the face took care of her smile. It wasn't a hard one; it left her cheek red, but wouldn't bruise. It hurt, but Yasmin recognized it as a warning blow.

"Don't 'good evening' me, girl. I asked you a question."

"Apologies, sir," Yasmin said, sobered. "I thought that was rhetorical, because surely you'd heard, you know, about the ork. The one that tried to kill me, and that then tried to kill me again. In the infirmary."

From the look on his face, he hadn't yet received that news. Yasmin shrugged at his silence. More than likely, he had only heard that a soldier had found her wandering off alone, if that soldier himself hadn't received the news when he'd found her. "I was just trying to protect your assets, sir."

"Oh, don't give me that kaadir shit. The ork tried to kill you again? Tough shit! Maybe if you'd hauled your ass up and finished it when you had the chance, that wouldn't be a fucking problem! But no, instead you let it end in a draw! Are you trying to play the opposite of how I'd bet? I bet on a flawless victory, and you get mauled. I bet on your victory yet again, and it's a pathetic draw? And with help, too! Whoever that crazy man was..."

He must have seen the way Yasmin's eyes widened, because he barked a dry laugh. "What? You thought I'd bet on your defeat?"

"Actually...yes, sir."

Faruq snorted a laugh. "Suppose that's what I get, thinking you're smarter than an ork. You need to wise up, girl, because at the rate you're going, it may be the safer bet. In any case, consider the money I lost today? Subtracted from your funds. Do better next time, because if you become a liability, I will sell you. And you know I'm the best you're going to get."

Yasmin grimaced. In some ways, that was true. Faruq wasn't a kind man. He beat her in his fouler moods, and he only cared for her well-being the same way someone cared about their horse--they kept them maintained and healthy, but would sell them if they underperformed or let them be slaughtered if they were lamed. She was only valuable to him while she was useful. But at the same time, he'd never flogged her or branded her, and he'd never tried to use her for her body. And, as an incentive for her to perform better, he set up a fund for her: a tiny portion of her victories went into it with the promise that, eventually, she would be able to buy back her freedom.

He had enough slaves and enough money that he dangled that carrot in front of his slaves. And it worked; Yasmin certainly found it good motivation. Of course, she also knew that the honest truth was that Faruq figured none of them would live long enough to buy their freedom.

But even knowing that, that slim hope kept her going.

He was better than many masters.

He was better than the master she'd had before him.

"Understood, sir," she answered at length while he glared at her.

"Fucking right it's understood. Now, I sure hope you're comfortable, because after these last few debacles, you're not leaving that cell except to train. You hear? I think I've been too soft on you. Given you too many privileges. You want 'em back? Earn me back my money."

And with that said, he turned and slammed the door shut behind him, and Yasmin was, frankly, surprised that was it. She had expected more yelling, more smacking around. Hrm. Some part of him likely realized this whole situation was partly his fault; he'd shoved her into the arena, injured, to fight the ork. He wasn't kind, but he also wasn't stupid enough to miss his own mistakes, even if he'd never admit them to her.

Yasmin waited until the sounds of footsteps faded, and then, with a sigh, she flopped backwards onto her cot. "Looks like that was it," she muttered, rubbing her cheek. But though it stung, the loss of privileges stung more. Faruq knew the best way to punish her was confinement. "You can come back out."

Herrick watched the exchange between Yasmin and Faruq from the corner, pressed against the wall with everything looking like it was silhouetted in white. One of the side effects of turning yourself into a poltergeist  is that you tended to see the world as they do. When Faruq slapped Yasmin, Herrick wanted to stand up and cut his throat out, to plant Cheesecutter into the side of his neck, and watch as he went limp and crumpled to the floor.

But he did nothing.

When Faruq left, and Yasmin gave the all clear, Herrick reappeared, sitting on the side of Yasmin's cot. "I told you he wouldn't catch me." He whispered and turned around slightly to both rest a leg on the cot and look at her. "You know, I have an idea, Yasmin." He said as he leaned back, resting his back against the wall again and crossing her body with his torso in the process. "Maybe I can help you look better in the eyes of your master. You willing to hear me out?"

As Herrick reappeared, Yasmin didn't turn to look at him. Truth be told, she hadn't wanted him here not only because of the threat of getting caught, but also because she hadn't wanted anyone to see...that. It was embarrassing. Sure, Faruq hit her, but he tended to do that in private rather than public--probably so as not to make a scene, because he did hate public scenes. Yasmin could handle that.

Having someone as witness to it, though? Thank Hakeshna he seemed to know better than to comment on that, because it was humiliating enough in private. Here she was, a gladiator, a woman that knew a hundred and more different ways to kill a man, who could break her own master's body without breaking a sweat--but she couldn't defend herself against him.  If she rose a hand against him, it would be worse for her, and so, instead, she had to do what was far more difficult: be passive and take it. She didn't like that Herrick got to witness that.

Finally turning her head toward him, she gave a little shrug. "I'm all ears," she said. "You came here for a reason, correct? It'd be silly for you to break in here and me to not hear you out. That'd be an awful lot of effort for nothing."

(short post is short)

"Eh, I've done worse things for nothing." Herrick said, shrugging his shoulders. "Used to work for the Adelan crown, but that's a story for another day, Yasmin." He added, and straightened up.

"Tell me, how often do you visit your master's estate?"

Yasmin sat up at the question so she could see Herrick more clearly. "Not that often," she said, head tilted curiously and eyes slightly narrowed--not out of suspicion, but rather in interest.

"A few times, when another slave isn't available and he's felt unsafe. I've been his watchdog before. Why do you ask?"

Herrick smiled at her answer. "Problem is, your master's probably got guards, and a complex, so I need to sneak in to scout the place out, and then return a different day with all the proper gear for the job." He started, and sat up. "Now, using some relatively harmless poison, I can make sure the usual guard is invalid for the night, forcing him to rely on you to keep watch. I come in, do my scouting, and then you fight me off, making it look like you defended your master from a burglar or assassin." Herrick explained, and then crossed his arms.

"How does that sound, Yasmin?"

Yasmin could hardly believe what she was hearing. She didn't reply for several long seconds, several long seconds she spent staring at him blankly.

"You really are a few dates short of a fruit basket, aren't you?" she said, then barked a laugh. "Wow. That sounds utterly ludicrous, but...heh! Count me in. Sure. To be quite honest, I don't give a camel's right nut if you do manage to case his place and rob him blind. However," she said, holding up a tattooed finger.

"I hope you have a sound escape plan. We didn't face each other in the arena today, and Hakeshna willing we never will, but that means you don't know what I'm capable of. And if I face you there, I'll have to make this look legitimate. And that means I may end up really hurting you. Faruq can tell when I pull my punches."

"Pull your punches? Don't worry about that, I'll be fine The only reason I didn't do so well against that stupid ork is because I'm not used to fighting guys that big. Against you? Don't worry, it'll be a good show." He said, putting extra emphasis on the word "show", as if they were planning a set of gladiatorial games.

"Anyways, after I make my escape, I'll lay low for a few days, then come back when the usual watchdog's on watch. I'll smash a few coffers, tip a few vases, and run off with his jewelry. Hell, I might even knock a few guards out. All I need now is the usual watchdog's description." He said, and stood up. He extended a hand to shake again.

" Do we have an arrangement?"

Yasmin glanced at his hand and then back to his face, studying him for a moment. It was strange, this man wanting to help her out of the blue like this, for him to just leap in and risk his life for a stranger and a slave. And now he wanted to case her master's place? The whole thing was odd--not because it was a selfless act, because it wasn't; Herrick would be getting plenty out of the arrangement. It just felt...

Well, like it had the potential to go very wrong, very fast. Like it could be a set-up, even. Hakeshna knew Faruq was a suspicious sort. But to stage such an elaborate trap?

No. If he didn't trust a slave, he simply got rid of them. He didn't need evidence, and he wouldn't waste the resources. It was too much work.

Still, if Herrick did get caught when she wasn't there...

"Swear to me that nothing we've discussed leaves this room," she said. "No matter what."

Herrick looked down at Yasmin, smiling. "Do not worry, my lady. Not a single word will escape these lips." He said, and glanced around for a bit. "I know this all may seem so sudden to you, but don't fret about it. It's how I make my living." He said, and turned for the door, pulling the small iron rod from his bandolier again. He tapped it against the door, and the lock clicked open. He looked down at his ring, and turned it again. He disappeared, the door cracked open, and then closed.

Two more knocks on it, and the lock clicked closed.

He'd return to the rafters, and start gathering information for the casing, which would take place that night.

(OOC: You want to do a bit of a time skip?)

OOC: You got it!

---

Yasmin hoped he had a plan, because with his sudden departure, she hadn't had a chance to give him the description of Faruq's new guard. However, with any luck, Herrick would either figure it out through his own research, or find a chance to reconnect with her before it went down. He hadn't even confirmed whether or not this was happening that night or another night!

For a moment, Yasmin had felt a little panicked over that, but then she realized it didn't matter.

If Ahmed fell ill and Faruq came to fetch her, that would be her cue. All she had to do until then was rest, and rest she did.

It was dark when Faruq roused her from sleep, swinging the cell door open and coming to nudge her ribs with his foot. "Wake up, girl! Get up!"

With a yawn and an annoyed look, Yasmin sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes with her good hand. "Huh? What's going on?"

"A change in plans is what's going on. Ahmed's useless tonight, too busy heaving his guts up, so you're taking his place. Don't give me that look! You've been loafing around here all day, you should be rested enough to stand around a few hours."

Which, truthfully, was what the job normally entailed. Since Yasmin had been owned by Faruq, she had never heard of anyone attempting to actually break into his home, but money made people paranoid. And of the slaves Faruq owned, it was Yasmin and Ahmed that he trusted. For all that he gave Yasmin a hard time, she had never gone against him; after the master she'd had before him, she had never felt any need to. Besides, it would only get her killed.

And so it came to pass that Yasmin found herself in her master's home (which was more like a tiny palace), patrolling the familiar halls with her scimitar at her hip, dressed in a simple linen shirt and kilt, her face covered with a slave's veil that left only her eyes uncovered. It was quiet in the building, and Faruq had long since gone to bed, but Yasmin knew what it all meant, and her body thrummed with nervous, excited energy.

This whole thing was crazy. And there were so many ways it could go wrong.

But if it went right, she earned back some of her respect--and got a little subtle revenge in there, too.

The only trick would be fighting one-handed and on a bad leg, but even that should be okay. She had gotten some rest in, had a good meal and had her fill of water, and this was all to be staged, anyway. Hakeshna willing, it would go both smoothly and believably.

The night had come, and Herrick breathed the cool air in thankfully. He thanked the gods for a night like this, because he was wearing his full gear setup. A menacing black cloak that covered his head and mouth, leaving only his nose and his eyes visible, a veritable trove of all kinds of tools on his person, and all of his weapons. His leather armor still looked the same, but the mottled brown color of it would help him blend in with the buildings. Apart from all his gear, he also had some parchment and a pen, so he could map the premises and take down notes.

First, there came the preliminary scouting. He took out a hand telescope, and observed the front of the estate for about ten minutes, taking note of the guard patrols and the layout. He mapped this out, including lines to represent the guard routes and even drawing the things he could hide behind.

After he did this, he dropped from the rooftops, and ran the short distance across the street and jumped up against the wall, climbing up its rough surface. He peered over it cautiously, then pulled himself up and over, landing silently on the grass that edged the courtyard. He snuck through, and entered the estate proper.

He spent the next hour or so lurking through the halls, mapping it as he went. He made sure to swipe some pieces of silverware so he had something to drop when Yasmin fought him off, and went on his way. Then, that's when he heard her.

With a gait like that, it was obvious there was someone with a slight limp patrolling the halls, and he immediately knew who it was. Herrick prepared himself, then moved out into the open, about forty feet ahead of Yasmin, as if he meant to cross the hall.

And there it was. Her cue.

A figure moved into view, and though the figure was covered head to foot, it had to be Herrick--because it was a figure that was not supposed to be there.

Showtime!

Whirling around to face him, careful to put her weight on her good leg, Yasmin drew her scimitar with an ominous hiss. "Halt! Stop right there!" she called, loud so her voice would carry--and hopefully rouse her master. She pointed her sword at him and glared at him from over her veil as she fell into a defensive stance, her body thrumming with the thrill of an impending fight. Sure, it would be a fake fight--but her body wouldn't know the difference, for to her, each and every fight she'd ever been in was real, was life or death.

She would have to be careful not to incapacitate him.

"Drop your weapons right now! Right now! This is your only warning!"

Herrick smiled under his cowl, and turned around, drawing his rapier. As opposed to his casual self, this Herrick was different. This Herrick looked at Yasmin with an imposing glare, but a friendly smile appeared temporarily, visible under the cowl that was tight to his face. "Show me a good time, Yasmin." He said, just loud enough for only her to here, and the smile's impression disappeared. He slowly drew his rapier, the blade ringing with magic.

Suddenly, from two doors on his left and right, a couple of guards burst forth, one from each door. They had their scimitars drawn, and murder on their face, but Herrick was unfazed. Cheesecutter flashed from his belt into his hand, and he flipped it upside-down into a stabbing position, promptly driving it into the neck of the guard who came closest to him first.

The man died immediately, his spine severed from the neck down, and Herrick twirled out of the way of the second man's downward swing, leaving Cheesecutter in the first's neck. The first fell over, knocking the second out of balance as he turned around to face Herrick, and Herrick capitalized by planting his rapier hilt-deep into the second's chest, right through his armor and just below his heart.

As planned, the man let out an agonized yell, trying to find a grip on the rapier's blade as he slowly slid backwards off it. A twist upwards, and the blade entered his heart, causing the second to collapse backwards, dead. Herrick directed his eyes at Yasmin again, and chuckled. "A better time than those two." He whispered, and pulled Cheesecutter out of the other's neck, putting it back onto his belt. He charged forwards, aiming a series of downward slices at her, with plenty of time in between them for her to realize where he was swinging and defend herself.

They'd have to pick up the fight once Faruq arrived, but Herrick was intent on taking it slowly, so Yasmin could get acquainted with his style of combat, figure out his telegraphs and his movements. He intended to speed things up when they were actually watched.

The guards were killed, and Yasmin watched them die without a word before she headed for Herrick, sword crossed in front of her. It wasn't that death no longer upset her, though years in the arena did force a certain level of desensitization on someone--for their own survival and sanity. It was that death no longer shocked her.

And so without another glance their way, she charged to meet Herrick, her scimitar arcing down to deflect and parry. She didn't put her full strength into it, for she could feel Herrick was holding back, too. Instead, she slowed down, made her motions a little more deliberate, made her body language more obvious. She didn't try to hide her intent but instead let it show in her muscles and face in some obvious "tells". She would mask them again once Faruq arrived, but for now she focused only on teasing out Herrick's skills and observing the way he moved, and adjusting her style to compliment his--which, she assumed, he was also doing.

She also had to adjust for his weapon; scimitar against rapier was certainly different, his blade quicker and more whip-like, hers solid and inflexible; his longer, hers shorter; style versus strength. She took notes as they telegraphed their moves, and soon understand what she would have to do to "win".

And that was when Faruq stumbled onto the scene, in his bedclothes and yelling in mortification.

Meeting Herrick's eyes as she held her blade against his, she smiled beneath her veil. "Showtime," she whispered. "Let's not kill each other."

Without waiting for his answer, she swept his blade to the side and moved in close to follow up with a jab toward his middle.

Herrick's smile flashed for a brief moment under his cowl before Yasmin broke off and begun her attack, for real this time. Through the short amount of time they had to romp by themselves, he had managed to pick up on all her telegraphs. Although his rapier was enchanted, he knew he'd be better off dodging than trying to parry her scimitar with it, given the sheer weight of her blade. He twisted to the side, whirling around her as he stuck close to her body, practically using her to support himself as he did so.

As he passed by her, he quickly whispered "knock the pistol out of my hand" into her ear. As soon as he dodged around her, his hand went for his pistol, and he removed it from his belt. Blisteringly quickly, he had it drawn, and by the time she should have been able to turn around, he was lifting it to point the barrel at Faruq, his thumb slowly pulling back the massive hammer of the firearm.

Goddess, how tempting it was to not knock that pistol away.

How tempting it was to find out if Herrick would actually shoot Faruq should she fail.

For a split second, too quick for a posh man like Faruq to notice, but perhaps just enough for an observant fighter like Herrick to sense, Yasmin hesitated. But then she was moving again, her blade whirling as he pointed that pistol at her master.

Without thinking, she thrust her free hand out and struck him a hard downward blow on the wrist to dislodge the pistol before following up with a sweeping blow with her scimitar to put him back on his toes.

Herrick's finger was in the process of placing itself on the trigger when Yasmin knocked the pistol out of his hand. If she didn't stop him, he was fully intending to pull the trigger, although he'd only graze Faruq's leg, exactly the same part where Yasmin was clawed by the leopards. Some would call it pointless, Herrick called it poetic justice.

Rather than let it fall to the floor, however, he stuck out a foot, catching it on the flat of his boot before it slammed against the ground and had a chance to misfire. Then, Yasmin swept her scimitar low, and Herrick kicked up into the air, clearing the scimitar and sending the pistol into the air and barrel first into a vase full of flowers, where it went off, completely removing said vase from existence and leaving a small crater in the floor. The pistol sat in the crater, covered with soil with a smoking barrel.

In response to Yasmin's sweep, Herrick stomped down on the flat of the blade intent on pinning it down to the floor as he brought his rapier hand upwards, intending to uppercut her with the swept steel wrist-guard of his rapier.

Yasmin kind of regretted knocking that pistol away.

Dammit. If only that vase could have been Faruq's head!

But oh well, the show must go on!

With her scimitar trapped beneath Herrick's boot, she looked up just in time to see his gauntlet coming for her face. She reacted reflexively, letting go of the sword and falling backwards just in time to feel the graze of steel against her chin. She caught herself on her good hand, hooked both ankles around Herrick's leg, and yanked his leg out from under him before lurching forward and snatching up her scimitar. She didn't wait to see if he'd fallen; she only needed him off balance. But she bounced back to her feet and swept behind him, aiming a kick for the back of his knee to try to get him down.

Herrick let himself be tripped up, spreading his arms to maintain his balance as Yasmin swept his foot out from under him. He had to admit, he was having some fun with this. As Yasmin's kick to the back of his knee came towards him, he made to swipe her leg away with the blade of his rapier before her kick connected, a defensive maneuver which turned out to be unsuccessful. He fell forwards, landing on his palms and cartwheeling back to a standing position, whirling around to face Yasmin. She wasn't the only one that was nimble here.

He pretended to have some kind of injured muscle from the kick, leaning slightly on his left leg. He lunged towards Yasmin, entering into a rapid-fire series of thrusts aimed at her legs and hips.

OOC: That awkward moment when you remember your character has a broken wrist. Um. Oops? xD *edits last post to mention landing on ONE HAND. xD*

----

Yasmin noticed the way he favored his left leg, briefly hoped she hadn't hurt him too badly, and swept in to meet his strikes. She parried the first few, letting him put her on the defensive, but on the next one she parried with the back of her blade, locked their blades, and twisted her sword so the curved edge of the scimitar faced him. With a quick sweep down, she jabbed the point of her scimitar into his chest--thankfully encountering the hard armor he had protecting him there.

"Let's wrap this up," she whispered as their positions brought them close together.

For as much as she liked to show off, especially while Faruq watched, her body was still a mess of bruises and pain.

Surely enough, Herrick's chest piece stopped the scimitar, the curved weapon leaving nothing but a deep cut in the tough leather. It helped that scimitars weren't that much optimized for stabbing, and that she wasn't really trying to run him through.

His eyes looked into Yasmin's as her blade lock brought them close together again. Something about the look in his eyes said he was having fun, and that they should definitely spar like this again. "Leaping stab. I'll leave my side open. Capitalize." He whispered back, and pushed her back just enough to force her back a few steps.

Herrick lept forwards, jumping into the air and following up with a leaping stab. It would be an easy enough move to sidestep, and if she did, she could land a non-lethal yet convincing-enough looking slash across either his back or his side.

Yasmin fought back a grin, for a grin would give it all away as staged. But as she met his eyes, it was clear that he wasn't the only one having a good time with this.

"Got it. Don't die," she said, right before they unlocked blades and he shoved her back.

As promised, he leaped and stabbed, and Yasmin indeed capitalized. She stepped to the side and slashed her blade across his open side in a hard blow that could have mortally wounded anyone else--but she trusted he was prepared for this, and knew what he was doing.

Herrick spun with the slash, diminishing its effect to a nasty looking flesh wound while making it look like it hit him a lot harder than it actually did. He didn't try to hold back the harsh, pained yell that escaped his mouth as he fell over and came to a kneeling stop right by his pistol, which he quickly snatched up.

He stopped to sell the injury a bit more, before he shakily got to his feet and adopted a limping sprint towards the nearest window, crashing through it. He landed flat on his feet, and took a moment to get his bearings before dashing into a nearby alley, heading straight for his temporary safe house. He did stop, however, to dig into his pockets and go over his map in the darkness between the buildings, before moving on.

Tonight had been successful indeed.

That looked nasty, and Yasmin hadn't actually expected him to get cut. She had assumed he'd protected himself enough to withstand a blow--but this certainly did sell the defeat better.

But it also made her feel a little queasy inside, because if he hadn't been precise, if he hadn't moved at just the right moment, that could have ended very badly for him.

But as he ran she chased after him, though she came to a limping halt when he crashed through the window and vanished into the night. Panting from exertion that wasn't at all faked, for he had given her quite the workout, Yasmin leaned forward with her hands on her knees and her head down and gulped in air.

It had worked. His stupid, foolish, crazy plan had actually worked.

Now to see if it worked on Faruq.

Straightening back up, she sheathed her scimitar and headed for her master, lips a grim line and beads of sweat on her skin. "He's gone, sir," she said, and bowed low. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop him."

Faruq looked pale, his eyes wide as they moved over the slaughtered guards--all fully trained men, and not a slave among them. They had chosen this work, which made their deaths a little less terrible to Yasmin, though she knew they would still have families and her heart went out for them. Still, unlike her, they had made their choice.

"Stop him? Girl, you..." The man worked moisture back into his mouth. "He did all this?"

Yasmin nodded again and chanced a look up at him. "He did, sir. He was headed for your room when I came upon him. He was making off with this." She nudged several pieces of silverware that had clattered to the ground when Herrick fled.

If possible, Faruq grew even paler. "And you stopped him..." Yasmin and he both knew that with the guards dead, if she had failed--or not performed--then Faruq would have died. She could have let him die, but instead, she defended him.

She nodded again. "Of course, sir."

Faruq looked at her, long and hard, as though seeing her for the first time. Then he smiled, a relieved if still frightened smile, and clapped her on the shoulder. "Well, Yasmin, my girl, I must say you've surprised me," he said, and shook his head. "That business I said earlier, about your earnings and confinement and such...let's wipe the slate clean, shall we? Come, walk with me. We need to fetch the guard. We'll talk while we go, about your...privileges, and how I think it's safe to say you've earned yourself a reward tonight."

With a hand still on her shoulder, they headed out together, and it was an effort not to smile.

It had worked.

Herrick sprinted through the narrow alleys of Essyrn, the adrenaline of ten minutes ago now fading into a dull ache in his side. Using a stack of crates as a boost, he jumped up against a wall, running up it as he gripped the edge of the roof and pulled himself on top. He got himself oriented before sprinting off in the direction of his safe house, clearing the small gaps between the several buildings swiftly and without problem before he arrived.

It was the rooftop attic entrance to an abandoned tanner's shop, and he glanced around before unlocking the small trap door and jumping inside. He landed softly, and made the usual visual sweep for unwanted guests before relaxing, and setting himself down into a chair.

He rested for a few minutes, before deciding to address the shallow cut in his side with a few layers of bandages after he stripped down to his underclothing to sleep, eventually slipping himself into a bedroll. He'd find a way to contact Yasmin tomorrow, but that was tomorrow, and now was the time for sleeping.

Hours later, after the guard had been contacted and the bodies collected, they had returned home and Yasmin's master had gone back to sleep. As for Yasmin? She spent the night outside his room, serving as sentry until her master awoke.

By the time morning came around, Yasmin was dead on her feet, so it was relief when Faruq had her escorted back to her cell to get some sleep. They would discuss her privileges later, when she was rested, he claimed. Which was fine by Yasmin, because she was sore and beyond tired, and it wasn't long after entering her cell that she collapsed onto her cot and drifted off into an exhausted sleep.