Vynirakk found himself once again in a situation he could have easily avoided if he’d used half a brain. Maybe even less than half.
He’d been wandering around The Pyramid, something he’d been told time and time again not to do. Had he listened the first time? No. Did he listen this time? No. Was he likely to listen next time? If he survived, probably not. Despite the fact he knew a number of the staff there he still wasn’t technically allowed to be there. This meant avoiding most members of staff as well as the clients and the slaves. Since he was none of the aforementioned. A difficult task considering the place was swarming with all three near constantly.
Anyway there’d been a close call and that meant he’d had to jump into a room. He was lucky he supposed, that the room was empty. Well, there were no beings there at least. There was on the other hand a doorway. Now that might not come as much of a surprise to anyone. Rooms have doors and doors need doorways, that’s kind of how they work. What was odd about this one was the fact it stood in the centre of the room, completely unsupported. Maybe it was an art piece? He’d thought to himself naively. Upon closer inspection however the doorway didn’t even have a door. No, that would have been for to conventional for this godforsaken place. Instead of the door - he’d rather foolishly expected - there was only a billowing inky darkness.
That instantly reminded him of Zelt, a feline that was most definitely not meant to be fucked with. Though... He’d thought to himself at the time. The sun was up. She’d be asleep, or dead, or what ever it was they did. He might be able to... He’d not finished the thought before reaching out with one of his limbs. The instant his hand made contact with the gloom it had oozed up his arm and enveloped him. The frequency with which he’d been enveloped in shadows was becoming alarmingly high these days. That was his last thought before he hit the floor. Well before he hit a floor.
That’s where he was now. Crumpled rather unceremoniously on a dirt floor. He let out a sigh he instantly regretted as his breath swept the dust up into his eyes. Vynirakk chastised himself internally before raising cautiously to his feet. What on earth was that sound? He wondered. It was a low din, like thousands of voices cheering or yelling or something. He’d not noticed it until now what with all the dirt in his eyes.
Vynirakk manages to clear up the vision of at least two eyes and takes a quick look around. This was not the pyramid, this was not his home. This was not a place he knew. Shit, he thought to himself. He was in a small chamber, he guessed. No more than a few meters squared. The walls were made of pale sandstone he reckoned at least. He sweeps the room in a sort f three hundred and sixty degree ark and is brought face to fact with thick wrought iron bars. He didn’t need half his brain to know this was bad. He didn’t even bother trying to move them, that never worked. Ever.
The din was getting louder and louder. That was also not good he figured. The only light in the room came from a torch that flicker pathetically on the wall. Who even has a door that goes nowhere? He screamed internally. What was even the point? His thoughts are cut off again when the iron grate began to grind down into the ground. The cheering - or what ever it was - was reaching a fever pitch now. Well the only way is forward, he figured to himself, grabbing to flaming torch and cautiously strolling up the tunnel that had opened before him.
As he made his way through the tunnel - towards a light he might add - the shouting was getting even louder. He could make out shapes in the light at the end. Shapes of varying sizes that bounced off one another. It wasn’t long before just one shape remained, as the last of the others slumped to the ground. Vynirakk had half a mind to turn back, but he didn’t much like dead ends either and so did not. Another poor choice he’d no doubt regret later. Sprinting the last few yards towards the light he threw the torch onto the ground. Emerging as he did into what could only be called a sandstone Colosseum. Not good...
A quick scan of his surroundings quickly confirmed his guess. Sand, weapons, passed out, bleeding or otherwise disabled bodies... His eyes shot towards the last shape. A short, female being. He figured by the shape at least. No fur, no scales, no chitin... But lots of arms, more arms even than him. He had his thoughts rudely interrupted for what he figured was the third time now by a booming voice.
“Next round!”, it bellowed. “Mutant verses Riiva!”, the crowed - of which there were many - roared in unbridled joy and blood lust.
Vynirakk stared blankly at who he assumed to be Riiva. Understanding there and then what was expected of him. He could not be more against it. He was not much of a fighter. She looked like she was. He had to get out of this!
“I’m not fighting a girl?!”, he called out into the crowd. His voice no doubt swallowed up by their chanting of, Riiva! Riiva!
He was in trouble. Lots of it.
