Oh, What NOW? [Open]

[Deleted]

She stood only five foot two if she was lucky.

Even in her boots, the little princess looked a lot like a dwarf compared to the guy on the other side of the ring. Sure, she was cute and a lot of catcalls had gotten her attention, and blush, but they always underestimated her. Yeah, she was little and pretty, but she was a damn good fighter and a scrapper. Even if this Lycan did beat her and she made it out alive, she would find him later and take care of him. He didn't know who she was...none of them recognized her thankfully. Being held back from the public by her parents had been a good thing turns out. Her hazel eyes had turned to a violet color because of the lights and she stared dead at the big Lycan as he licked his teeth and blew her a kiss. A growl leaked its way through her own teeth and she couldn't wait to taste blood again.

Five years ago, Varali Amaris Mingan was a cute little girl with pigtails. She would ride on her brother Savan's shoulders and he ran around the castle shouting for mom and dad to come watch them fly. Five years ago, she was sitting at the dinner table, a birthday cake as big as her with a big twelve on top just for her. Five years ago, she was happy, there were no worries that mom and dad might be dead that same night. The very night of her birthday.

Anger swelled up in Varali's chest and she growled loud enough for the other Lycan to hear. It was pathetic; her a daughter of the House of Mingan fighting like a savage in some underground arena like a peasant. It was...beneath her to an extent. But after her parents were murdered and she became lost from her big brother Savan, she had to fight her way to the top. It was the only way she could get money because she was not about to become a whore and sell her body. No, the day she lost her virginity would be the day she found someone she truly loved. Yeah, she was a romantic deep down inside, but her mother had read all those stories to her when she was little and they stuck with her.

The bell went off and Varali stretched out her arms to prepare for her fight. Hopefully this time she wouldn't end up with broken ribs.

[thecrimsonraven]

"50 says she don't make it half way through the round."

"Oill take that bet!"

"Hah! She'll be lucky if he played with her first!"

These shouts were thunderous and common. Between barked bets and saliva lined snarls of the lycan regulars in the grand stands; there stood one black figure that seemed quite out of place. Sporting a well tailored suit and a bowler hat, white eyes shot out against the mangle of fur, musculatures and bearing teeth. There were only two things that made lycans humble: the lash and the leash. For Hazaar, as he stood in the ocean of sweat stained spectators, it was hardly the most ideal place. Dim lit and darker natured; only torch fire and poorly placed spot lights made the center ring a highlight of attention. Even from there it was visible; those two ghost circles slicing out at the seemingly unfair fight before him, focused on the tiny creature that had made it's way in from the cold. Fashioning himself a gentlemen; one would think he'd have intervened before this even got underway. The Cheshire cat grin, teeth bearing pearl, told a different story. This girl stuck Hazaar's curiosity like a match at the bottom of a fuel line.

Hazaar had always felt a slight affinity for lycans and the other more bestial races. He felt a kinship in a similar dislike for vampires, though he was not totally opposed to him as others were. Perhaps it was simply because he found their raw, physical strength such an alluring material for his experiments. He'd always wanted to carve up a lycan or two and see how what forms would come from stitching them together, the thought even washed over him in the crowds. He pursed his lips as the little girl gave out her war cry; tiny and impudent against the tidal roar of bets being thrown catcall taunts, he couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed for her. She didn't seem to bear a slaves mark, so she couldn't be fighting for someone's amusement save the crowds. Yet she wore a look as if she'd fight, money or no. There was a passion in that petty roar, not showmanship. Among the majority of the patrons, the outcome seemed already accounted for.

[Deleted]

Talk about sticking out like a sore thumb.

The lycan fighting ring was not really the ideal environment to find a white angel, and especially not an archangel. Nevertheless, Malachi Logos was there. He was sitting farther back from the ring, in the small, close quarters of the underground room. It was, like most places of this nature, set up with the fighters on the ground and the audience rising on all sides around them, watching and yelling and shouting all manner of things in the style of the giant Coliseum of Rome. The crowd had simmered down momentarily between fights, but now excitement was beginning to rise again, the usual bets flying but now with an array of catcalls mixed in.

Malachi had come here for the purpose of keeping his eye on the role of slavery in these fights. He was interested in all the actions below the surface of the bustling city, especially to do with the supernatural communities. The angel was not there to stop any wars or keep crime low, but to protect the innocent, and keep the influence of the unhuman away from his human ward. He was particularly interested in the slave trade here, hoping to find a way to root it out of the city and free those hurt by it, human or not. It was an all-pervasive thing, seeming to have touched every race that roamed here-- even, most chillingly, his own.

He was the sort of person who had a hard time blending in a place like this. Besides the otherworldly beauty that was the boon of every angel, and his incredible white wings, invisible only to humans, he was a clean and calm man. The roiling, raucus mass of lycans and others around him didn't seem to bother him too much, though he was somewhat tense. His brown hair, somewhat longer in the front as though it remained in the same haircut he'd had since the 30's, hung slightly over the man's forehead as he leaned forward in his seat, intent on the goings-on of the ring below. His eyes were bright and intent under studious brows, blue-grey like a stormcloud. He wore a white well-fitting cotton t-shirt over broad Slavic shoulders, the fabric thick and soft and well loved. His pants were simple military olive ones, straight through the leg and easy to move in. Some sort of tennis shoe finished off his attire, a casual one that was easy to maneuver in. He wore a khaki jacket over it all, finding the underground chilly even when inhabited by so many hot, screaming bodies as were here. His elbows were propped on his knees, hands clasped thoughtfully and covering his mouth. He kept his wings pulled close to himself, but it was impossible to keep people from seeing them, and those around him kept a distance.

Of course it was a woman who was preparing to fight next, from the wolf-whistles and catcalls she got; from his vantage point in the stands, Chi could see that she was a small one. He wondered what she was doing in the ring-- the sorts that usually fought there were large, rough-n-tumble men or those who were forced there. But-- he leaned in closer, if that was possible, hands moving to his knees. She seemed more eager than anything, not like the timid ones who were thrown in the ring, knowing they were about to recieve a terrible beating. It was no secret that people died in the bounds of that ring every night. Chi's wings resettled themselves suddenly on his back, his interest and his concern piqued.

[Deleted]

This wasn't where she belonged.

Varali snapped out of her daydreaming after stretching out her limbs and sighed. Tonight she had to win. She was running low on money and she was starving frankly. Food had been hard to come by when she didn't want to do nasty things for it. She was not going to stoop that low. Never! She was a Mingan woman and Mingan women did not sell theirselves. They had pride. She had pride. Probably more than some would think her little body could contain. But it was there underneath that mop of wild chocolate brown hair of hers and hazel eyes that shone so beautifully. She was a proud Lycan, little or no.

The catcalls were nerving as she stepped up to her opponet and looked up at him. Way up to be exact. Varali was scared to death on the inside, but wasn't going to let this hunk of mucsle scare her out of a meal and things she really needed. A low growl emmitted from her soft baby pink lips and she bared her teeth. They grew of course and so did her nails. He was going to get hurt even if he did win and killed her. After staring him down for a few seconds, Varali moved swiftly to the side. He was big, if she could keep him moving and avoid his blows, he would get tired. Thus letting her have the death blow if she was lucky enough to put enough force behind it.

They went around and around exchanging fists, teeth, claws, and even some really nasty kicks that caused at least one of her newly healed ribs to break again. Varali was not too tired, but she knew that this guy wasn't going to loose to a girl unless she killed him. She hated killing them. Honestly, it was brutal and sick, but she had to do it in order to survive. Varali jumped him before he could move, her teeth finding the flesh of his neck. If only she could just hang on. Just hang on and she'd be okay. She felt another rib break and she groaned through the fur and flesh she was tearing apart. A leg was dangling oddly as she scrambled about for a better hold and she was sure her shoulder was dislocated.

And before she knew it, she was on her back staring up at bright lights. She could hear the dull roar of the other Lycans. Their taunts and jesting about her. But she couldn't hear them. Everything was slowly fading in front of her eyes and she tried to speak, but words wouldn't form. The sad part? Varali did in fact win, but she was either fainting, or dying. Her lashes covered the tops of her cheeks as she rested her head back, letting whatever this was pull her under and down deep.

[thecrimsonraven]

The fight bell stuck out, as did the little girl behind cage bars and blood drenched banners. Lycans always tended to duel like wild animals. Fast and with purpose. There was no finesse, no faints, parries, spin or dodge. Bear flesh and little else. A single exposure becomes a beacon of weakness. Not even the ruckus of the patrons withstood the ferocity of the bout. As the finishing bow was executed, the crowds grew still. Every beast and monster
watched, slack jagged. Even the necromancer wore a face of concern from behind the swaying shapes and stifled shadows, but he couldn't deny a deep curiosity about this little cage fighter.

Hazaar slipped his smooth fingers into his left breast pocket, pulling out another pocket watch with an engraved hourglass etched into it's front. Popping open the cover he noted the measurements. Not even 30 seconds and the fight was done; start to finish it was a tug of war that ended with a blood mouth, broken body and an adult lycan bleeding to death. It was then that the crowds gave her their cheer, an underdog victory in every ironic sense. Shameful comedy was something Hazaar couldn't help himself to, and gave a chuckle to the room wide joke as he took this as his cue to do as he does best.

Making his way past the innumerable creatures that stood in his path, Hazaar slipped through the crowds with ghostly ease; taking what opportunities he could between elbows and shouts for encores that were striking up. It was in these lower ranks that he stopped momentarily; the perfect white feather catching him off guard. An angel was hardly common fair around here; but he had no time for new curiosities in the zoo, pressed onwards through the now reawakened crowds. Finally he found his spot, dropping from the stands and onto the sand covered floor that sunk around the arena. Brushing off the dust, kicked up by his short drop; Hazaar waited for the final outcome. Everyone knew what happened to those that died in the ring. If their killer did not claim them, the necromancer always paid a fine price. A sly smile came over Hazaar as he watched the girl shift in and out of consciousness. She was badly damaged, even from his poor lit vantage point. The thought of two new corpses for his table was more then worth visiting this place.

[Deleted]

Malachi watched the fight progress with the expression of a man used to violence but still somehow upset by it. The pointless fighting in a place like this, where lives were lost for the sake of entertainment, had always bothered the gentle man. However, in as many years as he had walked the earth, his emotive blue eyes had grown accustomed to the sight of all sorts of wounds, and the fighting that caused them as well. There were few sorts of ailments that he hadn't personally experienced, even mortals ones; he was a healer, yes, but a defender as well. There had always been those who sought to kill a white angel as soon as lay eyes upon one, and Malachi, in a mortal body, died like anyone would. The difference, in his case, was that he had always come back. The small advantage of being a creature of divine origins, perhaps.

The angel's eyes flickered between the two opponents throughout the very short and bloody match. He seemed calculating and tense as he watched; he'd been in enough fights to understand tactics and styles. Chi sensed the girl's fear even through the crowd, but her face was valiantly steadfast through it all. She was quick, too-- which meant to him that she was smart to play on her strengths. The woman was weaker than her opponent, but smaller and lighter on her feet. It was a riveting match for the onlooking crowd, who roared with the fighters at every connected blow, every bloodletting. Except, of course, for the silent angel, who sat tense, concerned and worried amidst them as the girl killed the man who was tearing her apart.

And then, in a crash of bodies to the ground, the match was over. Chi rose to his feet as the crowd swarmed to block his view. He could tell that the girl had won without looking; his empathetic sense had picked out both of the fighters long before chaos had ensued, and the male lycan's emotions had blinked out. The girl, though-- was she even still there either? His wings fluttered behind him, confused and still worried. He had a chivalric sense still in him from olden times that caused him to be far and away more concerned with the beautiful little princess than the brute she brawled with, and it was alive and well now.

Malachi pushed forward through the crowd, having a harder time of it than some on account of his stature and the huge white feathery things attached to his back. Still, those who caught view of who was pushing past them tended to jump back at sight of him, if only out of shock at seeing someone like him here than anything else. He held onto that empathic trace he had of the girl in his mind like a rope through the crowd to the floor. He stepped down into the sand pit, matted with blood, with a light hop, his wings fluttering out behind him momentarily in the manner a bird's wings would flutter when hopping a slight distance.

Blue-gray eyes looked over to the other man who'd entered the ring after the fight was over; a human? No-- Malachi had a psychic sense for these things. He was human but not quite, perhaps a mage or a necromancer or something like that. The angel eyed him warily for but a moment before moving towards the girl who seemed to only just cling to life. He wasn't sure what the other person was doing in the ring; he didn't look like the type to be designated to clean the ring after the fights. But, then again, if he was a necromancer as Chi suspected, he'd be interested in the dead some way or another.

Well, Malachi was in the mood to rob the grave slightly, and save the life of a pretty young girl. And she was both, in surprising quantities-- surprisingly pretty and surprisingly young. What in God's name had she been doing here? The angel didn't waste time staring at her while her life shuffled down the mortal coil, though. He rubbed his hands together very quickly, his hands igniting in a golden glow. One he placed on the woman's forehead, and the other on her shoulder just above her heart. The wings of the angel shifted slightly to shield his kneeling form from the sight of the crowd and of that strange man with the pocketwatch.

The angel did his best to concentrate and move quickly for the time being; the brutish crowd wouldn't be exactly thrilled to see him saving the girl, and the stranger unnerved him. Chi's eyes seemed to be flooded with the same golden light as he worked-- he would do what he could to bring her back to consciousness. Her other wounds were extensive, and would've taken him a considerable amount of time...time he didn't have kneeling breathlessly on the sand of the fighting ring. Malachi hoped she'd wake up soon, he wasn't sure how long the denizens of this cruel place would leave him alone...

[Deleted]

Pain swelled up inside of her again, and was silently begging for a realease. It didn't matter if she never got to see her big brother again. It didn't matter if she would never get to kill those other Lycans. Nothing matter but the pain. If only the pain in her body would stop. Varali let out a small whimper as her body rolled against the sand, her trying to get up and destroy her opponent. Had he died? Did she kill him? Varali wanted to cry just thinking about it. She didn't want to kill him. She had never wanted to ever kill anyone. But they came and took her life away. Her family. That had drove her to be a brute like she was tonight. A monster in her own eyes.

Varali felt the darkness pulling her down again, her breath coming in short gasps as she scented the necromancer. She had to stay alive. Even if she died later, she had to stay alive long enough so he wouldn't get her body. Her soul would never rest that way. Sick freak! Anger mounted in her, but was soon snuffled out before it even really began. Exhaustion was taking over as she laid her head back down and watched the lights flicker on and off above her. She just had to stay alive long enough to make sure he never got her body. Just that long and then she would be at peace.

It seemed peace was going to come before she ever got the chance to get out of here. Varali's eyes caught a movement near to her and she turned to see someone walking towards her. No! They were coming to take her away. But she couldn't even move, so she let a wail of anger and hurt tear through her. This wasn't fair! She never got the chance to tell Savan she missed him or goodbye. And she never got her revenge. She wanted that so much it hurt. Her life revolved around her parents killers and she had to find them. She just had to!

What was that? Varali opened her eyes to see a pair of big grey blue ones staring down at her and she blinked confused. Who was that? She couldn't really see all that great since he was blocking the lights somehow and yet she could in some sense. He was big was all she could tell right now. But as he rubbed his hands together, Varali knew just what he was. "Who are you?" Her voice sounded dry and throaty as she coughed up some blood. She squirmed under his touch, but kept still otherwise. He wasn't going to hurt her. She could feel that much about him. Now the other guy-- not so much. And as soon as she thought that, she fell down. Deeper than before.

Warmth spread through her limbs, her entire being. Varali let out a gasp as the feeling ran all over her body, the pain melting away somehow just by his touch. He was an Angel, a White Angel. She could feel it now as she slowly regain consciousness. Her violet eyes opened slowly, blinking in a rapid beat, as she started to wake back up. His eyes were glowing gold like his hands now! Varali wrapped her hand around one of his wrists and clamped down with her nails to let him know she was awake, she just couldn't move yet. She wanted out of here and she wanted to thank him. "Thank you." A small smile lit up her face before she settled back down into the sand to look back up at him.

[thecrimsonraven]

Even against the howls and cries of a crowd whose blood lust was still not sated; even in the peaceful sanctuary of white angel's wings and healing touch; a menace still crept in like ivy vines over castle walls. Blooming and flowering beneath the skin; a presence that stretched itself outwards to overcome all others. A potent as the scent of corpses. The sound of heavy buckled boots filtered into the tender scene between the blood stained princess and her self imposed savior. That black form moved across the white sands thick with impact, sweat and blood. The crunching of course stones underfoot, the silhouette of a bowler hat appear just beyond the kneed angel's board shoulders. In a tone some where between disappointment and relief, the necromancer gave himself a voice above the shouting of the crowds at their apparent intervention.

"Oh...she lives." A wicked, sharp toothed smile was caught in the light as pearl white eyes stared down into the girl's. A pale, but well kept hand with green painted fingernails placed itself on the angel's shoulder, a hissed whisper coming from Hazaar. "Well then I suppose that means this mean fellow here..." he moved off slowly, he hand slipping from the angel and deathly fingers running across his wing. His foot steps were heavy, but the malice filled sound would die away from the now healed little girl, as he approached the still bleeding male lycan. Throat torn out and life long left, the necromancer dipped a hand into his hip side pocket; taking a handful of what looked like red and white sand. He let it flow from his fingers and paced a circle around the finished corpses before pouring a pile onto the chest. HE took out another pocket watch and, going down onto his hunches, pressed the cover against the pile of fine sand; the deep etching on the watch being let in a negative on the dead lycan.

Hazaar surveyed his work, even as the crowds continued to grow restless and several black forms dropped into the fighting pit themselves, teeth bearing and evidently not happy about the outcome of the duel. Even in the pit light it was plain to see they were large and, in true mob mentality, ready to become involved in their favored sport. The necromancer took a step away from body and had a look around. "Hmm...they don't look very accommodating." He replaced his pocket watch and gave the angel a look of concern. They weren't enemies after all, just the different ends of the same process. He paced back to the two as the corpse behind him began to sink into the very sand it dropped upon, leaving only the magical circle he'd hastily prepared. The crowds above began cheering on for more entertainment as the large lycans began to encircle the three figures at center ring. Standing on his toes, Hazaar leans over the front of the wings to look the angel and the girl he enshrouded. "Well...I don't know about either of you; but this is starting to look a little worrying." He gave a nervous grin, but just behind him the lycan packs were slowly closing in.

[Deleted]

Chi monitored his little impromptu patient carefully as his magic did it's work; to his surprise, she seemed to wake up briefly. Her eyes, a rather unexpected purple, shone up at him through her pain. "Name's Malachi. I'm going to help you." His voice was laced with a need for brevity, the stress of the situation apparent in his voice. Malachi wasn't the sort of man to be incredibly stressed, but he also knew that he needed to move quickly. After that, she seemed to fade out of consciousness again, if only for a moment. The warm light emanating from the hands and eyes of the angel-- a strange sight indeed-- didn't waver as he spoke, and if anything intensified after Varali blacked out again. Only now was he contemplating whether running out to heal her before God and everybody was really the best game plan.

Ah, well. Malachi Logos had never been any great shakes at planning. Consequently, he was also very bad at chess.

He heard the girl's gasp of awakening just at the same time that Hazaar's voice slithered into his ear from behind him. The necromancer did seem somewhat relieved, which the angel took for a good sign, but still dissappointed. Odd! And what was odder was the hand that the man placed on his shoulder, as if he was a statue the human was leaning over to get a glimpse of the lady. Which was, in short, discomfiting but not offensive. The feeling of a stranger's pale fingers stroking his wing, however, did send a bit of a shiver down the man's spine. He was happier when he heard the footsteps stalking off, he supposed in the direction of the aforementioned 'fellow.'

Naught but a cursory glance of interest was cast at Hazaar as he went to his work. There was some witchcraft or other going on, which didn't bother the white angel nearly as much as one might've expected. No, what really perplexed him was what Hazaar wanted with the body. Chi had never made much of a study of necromancers, and besides that from the few he'd encountered he was aware that most of them worked in very different ways. Malachi was like that in most parts of his life. He tended not to pay much attention to things that didn't affect him directly, but somehow through the ages he would learn the information anyway. Had he not been so old, Chi would probably be a very naieve man indeed.

He had just turned his attention back to the girl when he noticed her eyes had reopened. Another thought flew through his head questioning how such a pretty little thing had found its way here, but he would probably get a chance to ask later. The fingers of one of her hands wrapped around his wrist and applied some pressure; he looked down, though his pupils were quite hidden by light. "You're welcome." His voice was quite light and gentle, but had a strange little echo to it that happened sometimes when he was being all angelic, as now.

Hazaar had returned, and Malachi looked up, his anxiety becoming more clear as the fever-pitch of the crowd's unrest rose. "Yeah. I think it's about time we left." If the necromancer was worried about the situation the three were in, then Malachi would count him as at least an ally for now. Certainly he'd need all the help he could find in getting out of this mess with the girl still intact. Himself, well-- he'd been in worse scraps than this, and a man who knows he can't die doesn't have much to fear. Chi looked back down to the girl. "I'm going to pick you up, which is going to hurt you, but we have to go or else I think we'll all be dogfood." It was more of a warning than a request to pick Varali up, but he made it sound like somewhere between the two. He'd turn to the necromancer, one eyebrow cocked in a wry sort of look, given their increasingly unfortunate situation.

"Do you have any ideas?" Usually, he would just fly away, but the ceilings in the underground were low and easily blocked by large, unhappy lycans. Besides, the necromancer hadn't been cruel, he couldn't just leave the man here to deal with an auditorium full of pissy, half-drunk brutes.

[Deleted]

Malachi, that was a perfect name for an Angel. And Varali could see that he was a really sweet one too, which benefited her greatly. "I'm..." Here was the problem: she could tell him her name and he know it blah blah blah. And by telling him her name, she could just possibly risk the necromancer or one of the other Lycans recongnizing her from her family's histroy. It was a rumor that the little Mingan princess was still alive, but few of them knew it was so very true. Looking back up at him, she smiled, "Call me Minni. They do." They did because she was so little anyway. She fell out again, thinking about how he was so cute saving her and all. Then she felt more warmth throughout her body doubled. He was really trying to heal her.

That shocked her. Other than her family, no one had been nice to her in forever. She felt gratitude towards Malachi as she rested against the sand. And when she spoke again, she heard the necromancer and snarled. They terrified her. She had heard so many stories of what they did to corpse when they were left out here and Varali was sure that he loved to experiment on bodies. He would probably just love to do something to her body. She shivered lightly against the sand and Malachi's warm hands felt pretty good right about now. Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched as the body sunk into the sand. And he had seemed so disappointed that she was alive and well! Varali sniffed just like a little princess and closed her eyes from the sight.

How did an Angel get here? Especially one as nice and sweet as him? She guessed that if she ever saw him after this she could ask. Well, she probably would see him after all of this because she was pretty sure she couldn't get up by herself just yet. Maybe in five minuets or so, but not right now. And they didn't have the time to be wasting on her really. The other Lycans were hungry for blood as she laid there in the sand oozing with it. Did his voice just echo? Varali looked back up at him and grinned. He was cute and well, pretty brave for doing this for her. She owed him big time.

The crowd was growing in anticapation of blood and more gore. Varali watched the exchange between the Angel and necromancer with intrest. They needed a plan and well, she was sure she could think of something here in a second. At least they had Hazaar to help them do some magic if they needed it she guessed. That was always good to have on your side, not the other. "They want...me..I was supposed to die." She was sure that they could hear her if they were listening anyway. Varali watched in incoming approach of the other beasts and growled at them almost silently. Her attention was drawn back to Malachi's blue grey eyes and she nodded slowly. She understood what he was trying to convey and she really didn't mind. They needed to get out of here and she was going to do everything she could to help them do just that.

"I do," she spoke up as clear as day. Her violet eyes were shinning brighter because she was feeling pretty great compared to earlier. She sat up enough to look at them both in the eye and she grinned, "They have to...respect me..I won," it was easy to see that she was tired, but trying to fight it. "They'll back off...long enough..for us to go." She hoped they listened to her, she was sure that the Lycans would get the point if she used her real growl. Not the petty war cry from earlier, but the real one of an Alpha's daughter. "Please? Trust me?"

[thecrimsonraven]

Hazaar watched with a tilted head as the angel literally glowed when he was tending to the wounded child. It was a tad bit melodramatic but the necromancer couldn't exactly complain if it got the job done. He'd always held that white angels were the most valiant show offs. Still a look of some concern crept onto his face when he turned to look at the increasingly terrible odds that seemed to be multiplying in the dim lit corners of their situation. He looked over his shoulder at the angel now bearing the girl in his arms with a twisting grin.

"Well...I do have a few tricks up my sleeves..." Usually that sort of statement was just metaphorical, and just meant he had a plan. But this necromancer had taken it a bit too literal and actually slipped his left hand down his right sleeve, digging into a hidden pocket inside and produced three, small, flat bone discs. Burnt into each were symbols similar to the one on his pocket watches, but these were more rigid and spiked, almost mechanical; while those he'd used before had an organic flow to their design. Before he could continue however, the hidden princess fought her exhaustion to speak up above the raging crowds around them. He gave her a curious look again, a visual questioning of her state of mind at this point after such a beating. "My dear girl, as beautiful a show you put on, I don't think now is the time for theatricality." His words were laced with an undermining logic. But he shot a glance into the slow approaching hoards, hearing comments about his hat and how they'd split the pretty one's in half when they were done made him rather agitated.

He clenched his fist around th bone discs, a tiny outpouring of a deeply hidden anger, his face more cheeky then enraged. He lowered his hand to his pocket and looked down again at he wounded girl. "My usual tact at this point would be to blow a bone blade tunnel right through them...but that mite be a bit too messy. So lets try her way right yes?" He gave them both a sly smile and steps aside, waiting for the angel and his evidently new ward to make their move against the oncoming walls of matted fur and gnashing snarls; so he could follow suit with whatever was going to get them out of this torch light nightmare.

[Deleted]

"Minnie? Nice to meet you." Chi thought privately that it was a sort of an odd name, but trusted that she was telling him the truth. He was like that, unfortunately, trusting people a little too much to always tell the truth or do the right thing or whatnot. He almost always gave people the benefit of the doubt, though he had a bit of a short fuse with black angels and demons, the natural antagonists to his personal life story. Still, he had met those among them that he liked, and even allied himself with them at times. The great age of the angel had taught him the virtues of having an open mind about these things, even if he sometimes got a bit hasty. No one was perfect, of course-- well, except the guy he worked for. Made things difficult, sometimes.

The girl's smile made his own face twist into a sort of wry grin, a bemused look that generally indicated he was laughing inwardly. There she was, lying on the sand in a blood-spattered fighting pit, quite mangled and surrounded by a horde of creatures who'd been really excited to watch her die...grinning like it was her birthday. Malachi couldn't help but be a smidge amused, and he also couldn't help wondering how hard the girl had hit her pretty little head. It was an odd expression to be paired with glowing golden eyes, though, one part roguish and one part pure. As to the bit of melodrama? Well, his powers worked how they worked and he'd never questioned it, but deep down in him, Chi was as vain as an eagle. The man couldn't help but enjoy an inborn flair for the dramatic. After all, Hazaar was right in assuming the white angels were somewhat showy. They all had those large, obvious white wings and most had some power or talent or other. Malachi's just happened to be that ability to glow.

The white angel stood with 'Minni' held cautiously in his arms in a fluid motion, not finding the tiny young woman terribly heavy. Still, he didn't want to cause her any undue pain by moving her much, so he tried to keep her as still as possible. Malachi's gaze flickered from the necromancer to the girl to the mob before them, and then to the things coming out of the strange man's sleeves. They looked to him like little bone frisbees with queer little etchings, a strange thing to find up someone's sleeves. Chi supposed, though, that they had some kind of magic or other in them, and didn't comment. His eyes, now faded back to the usual color since he'd mostly stopped his healing efforts for the moment, moved down to Varali. When she spoke now, her voice was much stronger and healthier-- he supposed as a lycan his healing power had only boosted her own natural regenerative ability. Chi had forgotten about it, in his worry for her life. The angel wasn't always the brightest crayon in the box.

The necromancer's point couldn't be denied. The angry mob didn't look like something Varali could placate with anything but her death. Still, they'd have a backup plan in whatever messy deadly thing the other man had planned. If all else failed, he'd do what he could flying, or trying to fight them off, or...something. Malachi frowned down at the lycan in his arms, not in dislike but in thought and concern. "Alright. Can you stand?" She was probably still weak, but as the necromancer didn't seem to have a better plan, and strategy was not Mal's strong suit, he figured it was their best chance. He'd put her down if her answer was in the affirmative, or otherwise hold her up if she needed him. Chi was a good man, a pure man and a strong man, but he had never been known for his mind.

[Deleted]

Varali smiled as best as she could given the circumstances, but felt pretty dog tired. She would have to explain to him why she had given him her nickname, or one of many, later. Right now she just couldn't risk exposure. Plus it would get all three of them killed if the Lycans found out that she was who she was. It would be BAD, really bad. But what got her was that he trusted her. She could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. Strange, she thought Angels were supposed to be a little more...cautious. Who knew? At least the necromancer had not bothered her about it yet. He seemed like the type that would know too.

At least she had made him laugh in a dire situation. That made her almost able to laugh, but she wasn't quite there yet. He probably thought she was crazy from hitting her head. The Haazar guy sure thought so. Varali looked at him with a frown and sighed, "I know that was a show...I know this isn't. But trust me." She could have hit him right then for underminding her if she wasn't so banged up. And if this Malachi wanted to show off, who cared? She sure wasn't opposed to it as she looked back up at him as he glowed. She wished she could glow, or was that the pain making her think that? She couldn't be too sure, she just knew that she had to do anything she could to get the out of here. Even if it killed her because Malachi was trying to save her, and even though she was a tid bit afraid of him, so had Hazaar.

When Malachi picked her up and stood her on her feet easily, she nearly lost her breakfast. Stars formed in her eyes and she closed them until the dizzy feeling had passed. She wasn't in horrible pain, but the motion had made her a little sick. But he was gentle, so she was not too worried about becoming hurt again. Her violet eyes took in the crowd of her own kind and she sighed heavily. Why? Why her and why now? Varali was angry, hurt, hungry, and tired. All she wanted was tonight was to get her money and go find a nice place to lay her pretty little head down. Was that too much to ask? She stared at the necromancer's toys and frowned. They looked rather eerie and creepy. They were deffintily something she was glad was not being thrown at her. Her eyes met Malachi's again and she noticed that his were a blue now. Wow, they changed colors. And she could actually focuse better too since he had healed her. Her own body was beginning to heal itself as she stared up at him, bemused with his looks and grateful that he had decided to help her.

It didn't look like either man was going to listen to her. She couldn't blame them. She was tiny and they probably thought she won soely from good fortune instead of her own talents. But she could fight and wasn't afraid of the other Lycans, she just wanted them gone. Plus she owed it to them for helping her. It was an honor thing. And a pride thing. She gave Malachi a bright, hopeful smile, really praying that he would listen to her. When it was affirmed that he had, Varali could have dance. She did have the power of persuasion! "Yes, I can stand." As he sat her down on the sand, Varali tested out her limbs quickly. Still weak. But that didn't mean her lungs were. She gave them each some space but walking towards the middle of the ring and closer to the beasts that were raging because she was up and walking. Taking a deep breath, Varali let out a growl so firece, the monsters had to cover their ears and some began to howl. As the growl died out, Varali stood up straight and snarled, "Back. Off." Her voice was husky and a little frightening as a cold front rolled off her of like an Alpha's. Soon they were clearing off and tucking their tail between their legs before she felt another dizzy spell. "Uh, a little help here?" She sat down on the sand shaking all over as she watched the monsters walk away slowly.

[thecrimsonraven]

Hazaar stared blankly.

Still quite in shock.

How did something so massive, so ferocious come from someone so small and petite? He stood there, eyes wides and lips slightly pursed as the girl lycan, who had only moment before been slowly loosing her grip on the waking world, let loose such a howl of the damned that the very hell around her had turned tail and slinked off. Her voice, something deeper then just words, was like a rolled up newspaper to these animals. A symbol of power that the necromancer couldn't help but feel a little privileged to have watched. Now he was rather glad she didn't just end up another body to carve. To be honest he didn't enjoy working on children; even if they weren't human any more.

Even as the roar tapered off into a command soaked with finality; Hazaar seemed frozen with surprise. He was still nonplussed as to just how this worked, having visited these fight pits so much and never once having seen lycan's put in their place by mere words, let alone the words of a girl child. But as the powerful bark left her, so too did what was left of her strength. The snarling shadows turned on them; shuffling back to the stands and some even leaving the arena completely. It had indeed been quite the displace of lycanthropic prowess. His heavy boots left deep impression on the upheavaled sands as he approached the girl, sitting down in the wake of her own expended energy. Slipping the bone discs back into their hiding place up his sleeve, a gentle hand would sneak it's way into 'Minnie's' peripheral vision, an offered aid for her to stand.. Slightly pale and green finger nails, it was something warm and welcoming in the air of cold sweat and collective mutterings of the pacified crowds. "Bravo, Miss.Minnie." There was something similar to reassurance in that husk voice of his, something that had been missing before but had now found reason to be revealed. "Hazaar, gentleman necromancer at your service."

[Deleted]

When Varali responded to Hazaar's questioning of her ability to convince the mob to back off, Malachi's eyebrows flew up in a bit of shock. Sure, he'd just seen her take out a lycan twice her size in under a minute. Sure, he thought she was a tenacious little thing for clinging on to life as she had. And yet, this response surprised him. There was some pride in her, that she was so righteously upset by someone questioning her ability. Like a little prince, only with the weight and regality of a woman. What a bizarre sort of person to find in the Pit. The angel continued for the few moments that followed to hold her in his arms rather effortlessly, until she assented that she'd be able to stand on her own.

Malachi set the woman down gingerly, the surprised emotion melting into one of thoughtful concern as her feet steadied themselves on the ground. It was one thing to say you were able to stand, and another to actually do so. Standing was one of those things that sounded easier that it actually was when you'd lost a lot of blood like Varali had. Malachi had spent a very large amount of time healing the wounded, and being wounded himself, and he could tell how much blood someone had lost just by how they reacted. Varali's intermittent spurts of unconsciousness were certainly not a good sign. All the same, he figured she'd have a few moments of time on her feet, give or take a bit depending on the strength of her heart and how much blood had already regenerated. After awhile, though, the angel knew she wouldn't be able to stay upright. There just wasn't enough blood in her body to keep a steady stream to her brain. It was an odd feeling to have, like all the energy sapped out of you.

And yet, for now, she was doing quite well. Malachi looked on with trepidation as she walked towards the wall of snarling beasts, his body tensing and wings lifting in case the crowd decided to come after her. And then, that incredible sound that came out of her that he felt in his bones. It was as though a 10-foot wolf was snarling out of the mouth of a beautiful young woman-- the noise resounded around the domed underground structure and amplified it. The angel, like Hazaar, was quite flabbergasted. He stood dumbstruck for a few moments afterward, his eyebrows arched in perfect awe. Hot damn. Well, wonders never did cease. Malachi hadn't quite known what to expect out of Varali, but it certainly hadn't been that. The once threatening horde of lycans before the odd trio in the sand pit now looked like ones that had been very angrily told off by an alpha-- the angel would've thought that was what she was by now, except that, well, she was fighting in the modern equivalent of a gladiator battle.

And then, the little princess succumbed to that problem that he'd predicted would soon surface-- bloodloss that made her dizzy and weak. Chi followed the necromancer as they both made their way to her little crumpled form, he slightly behind the much paler Hazaar. As the other man helped the girl to her feet, he looked on and noted the necromancer's name. Hazaar? It sounded like a war-cry to the old angel. Maybe that was where he got it-- something told Malachi there were some interesting stories to be had out of this one. He tucked his wings as he took a few steps closer to the pair, hands similarly tucking into the pockets of his jacket and face a mask of impressed bemusement. "That's quite a talent you have, miss Minnie."