The Atavist's Tryst - Round 1: The Ljinstal Underground (S?)

The Atavist's Tryst - Round 1: The Ljinstal Underground (S?)
The Atavist's Tryst - Round 1: The Ljinstal Underground (S?)
Somewhere on the peripheries of existence, a trillion and two eyes observed a coral reef - the tiniest point of focus in the swirling of everything.

The last two eyes closed, dimming the near-nothingness ever so slightly. A mouth below them grinned a small smile, upon which the collective gaze of a billion eyes flocked.

Atavist hummed, and spoke to the eyes without moving a muscle.

It is a fine thing. In its infancy yet, but all things must suffer that, no?

This primordial state was what, in all my searching, eluded me. The appeal is impossible for one of my tenets to ignore.

Though I suppose - if to the beginning I return - I should be
The Atavist, should I not?

Tendrils of hyperexistence lashed about the golden-eyed creature. Probing. Questioning.

Yes, my friend. laughed the Atavist. I do believe it means I shall.


Welcome to the 2n/3rd battle of (S?)! This is my second battle with an express and priority invitation to Battling newbies. Much of the preamble for battles in this "season" can be found here, but here's a summary of Grand Battles in general.

A Grand Battle is competitive writing in a collaborative guise. The premise features a character per player, who have been collectively thrust in a battle to the death by a godlike being who moves them from one locale to the next every time one of them dies.

For the players/authors, this means they must write about what their characters get up to in these locales - which may entail anything from physical fighting, arguments, scheming, or dealing with the locals. Unlike a regular roleplay, players are encouraged to use other players' characters. Characters cannot be killed mid-round; instead, the weakest/least contributive player is eliminated at the end of the round and their character is "written out" by staging their death in a "deathpost". This process of elimination continues until one remains - the winner of the Grand Battle and an eligible entrant into an "All-Stars" battle.

The time/writing investment varies - early-game is faster-paced and features shorter posts, but mid and late-game posts may be much longer. The Reserve system lets you ask others to not post possibly-contradictory narrative until yours is completed and posted. Reserves are negotiated between players, for the most part - a successful battle often relies on good communication between participants. #grandbattle IRC is the go-to spot to connive with your fellow battlers.

The Atavist's Tryst will feature six players. Signups will conclude in a week from this post. Calibornio, bigro, and Red709 have (by submitting an acceptable profile into my first S? battle) been offered an early spot if they wish to take it. Note that Elize's S? battle, Sublime Showdown, is also accepting applicants.

- Bigro - Line 12C and Passenger (#FFA500 on Black and #A9A9A9)
- Calibornio - Dmitri Weinberg - (White on #0E4603)
- Goat Boss - Bano Najafi - (#460F39 on #ECDCE4)
- myw - Rider King - (#8B4513)
- Red709 - Satu Merk and Samael - (#33CC99)
- Woffles - Sachihata and Si Né (#BB3333 and #6600BB)

[u]Name:[/u] A useful substitute for "Oi, you!"
[u]Gender:[/u] Whatever you and they prefer.
[u]Colour:[/u] A [color=#hexcod]text colour[/color] to distinguish between players. Keep it readable, gold is reserved for the GM.
[u]Race:[/u] AKA species. Give a brief description if it's especially weird.
[u]Equipment/Abilities:[/u]Tools of the trade, where the trade is survival in their harsh world.
[u]Description:[/u] A brief overview of their appearance and personality, to give other people a feel for how to write for them.
[u]Errata:[/u] any additional information you'd like to include. A writing sample is not necessary.

*All godlike beings appearing in this work are separate from the S1-3 and Season Intermission canons. Any chromatic resemblance to "real" gods, living, dead, or neither, is purely coincidental.
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
Can I make a conditional reserve, in which this is only a reserve if I don't get accepted into SS?
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
(06-24-2013, 11:31 AM)!? Wrote: »Can I make a conditional reserve, in which this is only a reserve if I don't get accepted into SS?

RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
in which I should post the slightly cleaned up profile of satu but I'll do that later

E: let's see how this looks then, I suppose
E: oh so the word for "has both sexual organs" is intersex, right then
that needs to change on the gender tag

RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
I will take the spot if I do not end up getting the spot in the other one ?_?
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
(06-24-2013, 04:11 PM)Cat Wrote: »I will take the spot if I do not end up getting the spot in the other one ?_?


Oh and just to be p much tight here. Edited version.

RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
Accepting the reserved spot. Also, just wondering since this involves a coral reef, is there going to be a plot connection between this battle and the other one?
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
Nope, that's simply the Atavist observing Battle One with its trillion-eyed Grandmaster. The Grandmasters apparently know each other. The battles themselves are not scheduled to intersect.
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
I actually haven't done a Grand Battle ever, so I'll reserve here.
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
I'm in SS, so by my own rule I'll limit myself and null my reserve here.
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
Name: Rider King (Arthur King)
Gender: Male
Colour: Brown or something
Race: Mutant (from the marvel universe, basically. I didn't want to explain it any more than that)
Equipment/Abilities:One of these babies: [Image: 26652.jpg]
A chain.
A cool butterfly knife.
A pretty sweet bike that probably won't survive the first two rounds.
An amazing pompadour.
A gold comb.
Mutant ability: Basically Bayonetta, but a dude. Preference of pompadour based violence.

Description: He's the king of bikers. A cruel, angry individual (he probably had a bad childhood) who awakened a mutant power when he was about 15, so I hear. With that power and wanton cruelty and other bad biker stereotypes, he became feared everywhere. Cross him, and he'll kill you. He's done it before. Beat a man to death with his pompadour for challenging his authority. It was horrible, man. And then he combed the blood and teeth out. Augh. That probably wasn't the first time, too. Definitely wasn't the last. He gives us all a bad name, really.

Errata: he looks like this:
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
Name: Kayle La'Tryst

Gender: Male

Colour: Dark Green(#006600)

Race: Human

-A large green Wizard hat.
-A set of Wizard robes with most of the lower part cut off for mobility.
-A pair of jeans.
-A custom double-ended wizard staff (made from sticking two half-staves together)
-Two hand triggers, designed to have a triggered device placed in them to be activated on hand shake. They currently both contain parazappers.
-A belt with many pouches, containing:
---A bag of assorted gummies
---A tin of sound chews
---Two rolls of pop-fizz mints
---A jar of living jelly cubes
---A stack of origami choco-birds
---3 rolls of soda-fizzes
---A roll of deep-mist mints
---A box of sugar-bombs
---A few disorientation firecrackers
---5 climate bombs (swamp, lake, desert, forest, mountain)
---A whole load of pressure triggers
---A few parazappers
---A few lightblinders
---A few megascreechers
---A few aquasoakers
---A few gluecoaters
---A few slipsliders
---A stack of quarter-size forgepaper
---Some slip-papers
---A can of camo-spraypaint

Despite his time training in wizard college, Kayle only really knows how to cast a few spells, primarily the ones that he thinks seem "cool enough" or that help him with his pranking. Mostly flashy attacks and illusions respectively. However, could probably cast some of the more basic of the other spells if he really tried.

Description: Kayle is a 20 year old guy, standing 5 foot 6. He possesses a shock of unruly ginger hair that always seems to be stick every-which-way.

He hates school and studying, especially being forced to learn things that he considers to be useless or stupid, but is a very competitive person otherwise. He enjoys candy almost as much as he enjoys pranking people, and he likes pranking people a lot. He is fairly hot-headed, and tends to operate under a "Fireball first, ask questions later" type philosophy. He is also generally quite clever, devising new and interesting ways to use existing items, such as his double-ended staff.

Errata: Kayle is a wizard, and a very powerful one at that. At least, that's what he's been told. Born the child of The Grandmage and a powerful Elemancer, his magic aptitude was about as high as it gets.

He was placed in the best of preliminary magical schools by his parents, and managed to generally coast through the first few years, putting in as little effort as he could while relying solely on his aptitude to get him through, and what classes couldn't be passed with simply aptitude alone he cheated at.

Eventually, after barely making it through the last year of preliminary school, Kayle was placed in his father's own Magical College, where he generally did as little as he could. He spent all of his allowance on pranking tools and candy, and started going to some underground mage fights after hours.

His father, noticing Kayle's falling grades and visits to these fights, was preparing to have a talk with him, to explain to him that he could no longer adjust his failing grades, and that he would have to actually work, or get expelled. However, by the time that he arrived at Kayle's room, he was already gone.
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
due to a literal loss of internet access from my home, and an unknown factor of how easily/reliably I would be able to get access elsewhere, Satu will have to withdraw until further notice. If the situation resolves before the battle starts, withdrawl will be rescinded
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
Daaaang, this leaves us several profiles short of a full complement. Gamestart will have to wait until I get a bit more interest and profiles drummed up.

(I have not completely forgotten this; just been hecka busy)
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
Name: Bano Najafi
Gender: Girl
Colour: #460F39 on #ECDCE4
Race: More or Less Human
Equipment/Abilities:Weapon of choice is definitely Fists.

She has control over bodily fluids ('cept saliva and urine) and mucosa within a 25 meter radius around herself
she can freeze, boil, displace/replace and raise/lower the pressure of anything within said radius and what her powers apply to, including herself. this power is only active when she chooses it to be, which is generally rarely. It's painful, and taxing.

She also has minimal healing abilities (she heals at around a 30% faster rate than normal humans.)

Description: Bano is 15 years old. She's 5'8", but seems taller. slightly ruddy golden-brown skin, dark brown eyes, waist length (and thick) black hair. Markedly arab facial features and a circular tattoo of an eye within two rings and surrounded by a third, dashed ring on the bottom left side of her face. Built slim but solid, and not curvy. Her look of vague annoyance is constant.

She's very sharp and generally unfriendly, no-nonsense and impatient, sometimes leading to open hostility, although she rarely acts on it from annoyances alone. She is self-sacrificing to a definite fault and latches onto people she makes an attachment to (but sometimes it's just a matter of the people she dislikes and she people she doesn't). She firmly believes in loyalty to friends and found family to the point where she will refuse to betray anyone she considers to be either or both of those.
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
hhhhh. things /might/ be working out. possibly. if I don't confirm things to be ok by two weeks from now (and if the battle hasn't started by some miracle), just rescind my reserved spot please
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
Alright, I have changed my application profile thingy, because the last one wasn't very good. The new profile is where my old profile is, a bitways up the page.
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
I'm torn: the rate of posting I've experienced is making 2 battles manageable, so I could easily create a profile for this one, but at the same time... would you wait two weeks to see if Red could enter before deciding even if another profile came in? I'd hate to be the reason he'd have to wait for another battle...
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
Does being back from a prolonged absence count as "new"?

Reserve (for better or worse)
quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
I'll know if I got the job by tuesday
I can still play even if I don't, it's just far more inconvenient...

So uh I'll decide whether to stick around or let someone else take my spot by friday as said

E: Luckyyy~ I'm back in, guys. sorry for holding things up, but I was trying to decide if it would be worth it to have to go to the local library once a week to be able to make posts on something that isn't a 3DS

that's not necessary any longer so
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
woop zoop there it is!

Names: Sachihata and Si Né
Gender: One is male. The other isn't anything.
Color: What does that mean? I don't know what that means.
Race: Human (sort of) and God (sort of)


Sachihata is a shaman. His powers consist, among others, of contacting the gods directly – he is on friendly terms with a handful of them – divination, leading a sermon or performing a sacrifice for one god's favour in particular, demanding miracles or boons from them in return and raising the dead, no strings attached. He also has a fine sense of picking up on prayers and rites of other people and immediately discerning the customary gods when he travels somewhere new.

Beyond his deific skills, the shaman has just enough martial arts training under his belt (this belt is by no means a black one) to know his way around unarmed combat, and strengthens his style with the transfiguration of Qi. He uses the Tiger Claw System, and applies Qi to its clawing and grappling motions to deliver jolts of it to his opponent.

Si Né is a god, but he doesn't know whereof, and so far the only clue he has to his identity is the temple he awoke in: firstly, people who reside inside it don't even age a day. Secondly, the temple is a safe haven against curses, hexes and other malignant influences. Thirdly, the inhabitants of the temple can only leave on their own volition. Third-party teleportation has no effect either, which proves a point even for grandmasters. (Nobody said they can't whisk away the entire temple, however.) He is rather touchy about his amnesia, and fills in this blank by constantly accepting native deities as his own personality, copying their looks, myths, past, and prowess, much to his companion's annoyance.


Sachihata is a tan, well-toned but considerably gangly man, somewhere in his thirties. He wears a leather breastplate adorned by colourful leaves and feathers, an ordinary loincloth, two copper bracelets around his wrists and makeshift sandals that have suffered some wear and tear. His black hair is tied back by a green bandana. His body is covered in light chalk markings that form intricate patterns on his skin which seem to carry so much meaning that wiping one off him would cause gravity to reverse, or something equally disastrous. If it weren't for these, he would look more like a fisherman than a shaman. His preferred way of tackling problems is to sit down and work on it until it's finished, but he is not as smart as he is wise, and has trouble thinking outside of the box. He is somewhat of an opportunist, but values his fealty over his life – hell, unlike death, can be avoided rather than postponed.

Si Né is nothing. He has no looks or personality until he assumes that of another god. And until he does, he has the uncanny ability of being entirely forgettable: nobody seems to remember meeting Si Né himself.


Sachihata has written all of the ceremonies he's learned so far in a book he calls the Telenomicon (which he thinks is a cool name) and carries that book with him at all times. Of course, if they only required someone to say the right spell, the dead would be raised left right and centre, and as such most of the rituals require some kind of items. Wards, seals and other items that are paper-thin fit right between the relevant pages, small items like runes, tarot cards, dice, candles, et alii fit into a pouch which he carries around his shoulder, hanging by his waist.

Si Né has nothing, but his easily influenced mind tends to conjure props so that he would fit the bill perfectly. Sometimes, when Sachihata is busy, he hands the Telenomicon to Si Né for safekeeping.


- Sachihata is responsible for Si Né being born at all: he was the first to pray in his empty temple after all his followers suddenly vanished, and because of that he feels somewhat responsible for the god's predicament. The two share an interesting relationship.
quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - ((S?) - signups open!)
The Atavist blinked, went through the motions of rousing itself, laying the thousand details it had gathered and sorted and winnowed out in the darkness surrounding it.

Contestants. A first location. A script. The Atavist pored over it again, disregarding the fact it could pause and review each syllable of its monologue for centuries and its audience would never be the wiser. There was comfort in familiarity.

The Grandmaster readied itself, readied the empty space, and sought-

-and looked up-

and five beings stood, immobilised and likely disoriented, awaiting the Atavist's command.

A moment, requested the Atavist, glancing to a space to the left of a man on a motorbike, clearly reserved for a sixth. They didn't wait long before the group was whole, a young man slipping in from no real direction and frozen in that shared moment of confusion.

Excellent. And with that, we may begin.

The Atavaist smiled, stood, and made a sweeping gesture that finished in a bow. Its form was more or less that of a human, if you had to guess, male. No clues could be gleaned from its body or attire, for its inhuman eyes blazed like a sun lurked behind them and rendered the rest of its body in harsh, confounding shadow. The Atavist's gaze was the only source of light in the emptiness, and the Grandmaster kept it averted. Demure, almost, if not for the omnipresent feeling it watched your every futile twitch through some other unseen eye.

Welcome, my contestants. The six of you have been selected for a tournament, referred to by my contemporaries and I as a Grand Battle. I am the Atavist, and it is my pleasure to introduce you all to one another.

The Atavist glanced up, eyes (and light) on a shivering creature with long, red hair. The blinding beam just made him look even frailler, and exposed the sorry state of the steam train behind him.

The train in its heyday was known as Line 12C, and the man standing before it is Passenger. The last it carried, in fact. 12C itself feeds off the negative energy of its occupants, but without a destination or a supply of passengers, its hunt grows desperate.

Its gaze flicked to the next down the line, but the contestant's expression gave the Atavist pause.

Is there a problem, Master Weinberg?

Dmitri couldn't actually say anything in response, but if you listened carefully you could hear the faintest searing noise. The Atavist snickered, and one would realise the shadows on the lower portion of its face weren't odd, they were the sharp angles of a dull metal clamp. The thing resembled a respirator mask, at least superficially, but there was no way for the Atavist to breathe, or even move its jaw. The Atavist itself seemed unfazed, still affixing an distressed Dmitri with its sunlike glare.

Dmitri Weinberg, crisply spoke the Atavist, finally taking the brunt of his gaze off the boy. A vampire. An ancient monster of the night with a surprisingly delicate complexion. Do not be fooled by his disarming appearance - he is no novice with that sword, and much of what folklore would say about his kind holds true for him.

The next contestant also glared back. She looked even younger than Dmitri, but somehow even more furious at this treatment.

Bano Najafi. This formidable young woman's power is manipulation over nearby humours. Blood, phlegm, even the acid in your stomachs is hers to command. The application itself is taxing on her, however, even with her accelerated healing.

The fourth had almost been kidnapped mid-slouch. Unlike Pasenger, his machine (and his immaculately styled hair) fairly gleamed in the sun.

King of the bikers, Rider King. The one amongst you most used to combat, if the suite of weapons he has on him is any indication. There is little about him that would not be extremely detrimental for your continued survival, up to and including that ridiculous hairstyle of his.

The Atavist had a special smirk for the latecomer, which really only registered as something akin to a solar flare. Satu Merk, playing host to Samael the Third Eye. He was travelling the multiverse, seeking Samael's creator to rid himself of the parasite- The Atavist smirked even wider, pulling a nondescript device out of nowhere and crushing some vital component beneath its thumb, before tossing it at Satu's feet -though now his quest has been waylaid. Satu boasts a perfect memory; Samael, when it opts to cooperate, can manipulate vision.

And finally, we have Sachihata, emissary to most any god he encounters on his travels. A magician. A practicioner of rites. His deepest relationship is with... a non-entity. A god of domains unknown, forgotten by the god himself.

And now that we are summarily acquainted, allow me to reveal the first round.

The Atavist closed its eyes, and this time the darkness wasn't mitigated by the faint glow of its pores through its exposed skin. The light which replaced it was sudden day, true day. A metropolis awaited below the still-stationary contestants, zooming up to meet them from below. Their descent slowed as the surface rose up, only to be interrupted by a cold white flash on the horizon.

They didn't feel the shockwave, but the effect on the buildings around them was immediate. Unnatural winds actively tore at everything on the surface, rendering the bustling scene inhospitable in seconds.

The contestants continued to fall, through the concrete, into the city's underground. The subway. The sewers. Humanity's surviving remnants. The Atavist awaited them, standing on the deserted platform like a mere commuter.

Welcome to Ljinstal, or what remains of it. This city was once amongst the most populous in the world; this central station in which we stand would have seen millions pass through every day. Until some cataclysm ravaged the world above, making the planet's surface a hellish desert of scouring winds, ceaseless through day and night.

The survivors were those who, for whatever reason, were underground when the disaster struck. The resourceful amongst them have survived, if not quite flourished, over the years.

The Atavist fixed each of them, one at a time, with a light these human-carved caves had likely not seen in decades.

I have brought the six of you here to fight to the death. You will not leave the ruins of Ljinstal until one of you

is dead.

The Atavist chuckled, dispersing its contestants through the caves with a gesture before vanishing in turn.

RE: The Atavist's Tryst - Round 1: The Ljinstal Underground (S?)
"...Bitch called my hair ridiculous. I'll kill it for that."

The Rider King reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes as he looked around, his massive pompadour swaying with each slow head turn.

"The fuck is this. A subway?" He asked out loud. A moment more of observation told him yes, it was a subway.

With the obvious established, he tried to make sense of the last few minutes. One moment he was rolling into his favorite shithole in the area, and the next...

"Next, some asshole with glow in the dark eyes talks shit about my hair. What a cocksucker. RrrrRRRGGHHHHH!"
In a flash of anger, he swung his head back and forward in a sudden motion, thrusting out with his hair to drive the end of it into the subway wall. Cracks formed at the impact. The Rider King breathed out, slightly less infuriated, and turned his head to face one of the two directions he could go. The injured wall now had a large skull shaped indent, matching the shape at the end of The Rider King's hair.

"So the fucker says something about fighting to the death, and now..."

And now he was here. He drew and lit a cigarette in a well practiced motion, and took a deep breath. The nicotine flooded his lungs, filling him with a hazy, peaceful feeling. He breathed out the smoke in a jet, somewhat calmed.

"Whatever." The Rider King declared, starting his beautiful motorcycle. It roared to life, and echoed loudly throughout the subway. Drawing the accelerator, The Rider King and his steed flew forward into the dark tunnel. In contrast to the speed the mount, The Rider King slowly enjoyed the cigarette. Taking one hand off of the handles, he lightly held the cigarette and puffed out a trail, feeling the drug wash through him. Apparently, the nicotine was bad for him. At least, that's what the label on the cigarette box said. Some nonsense about cancer and some other medical crap.

Whatever the cigarettes were supposed to do, it really didn't matter to him. He was invincible, after all.
RE: The Atavist's Tryst - Round 1: The Ljinstal Underground (S?)
"u...hhhh... owwww...."

Satu sat up, groaning in pain. He'd fallen on his face when the Atavist threw him into Ljinstall.

"hhhhh... where are we...? it's... dark?" the young book lover muttered as he looked around, attempting to find something of use in the darkness around him.

"...Uhhhhhh... hm. Hmmmmm... hmm... it's.... maybe I should just try looking around...? No I ... I'm not sure I wanna run into any of the other people we're supposed to fight... I'd rather just leave... uhhh... hmmm well might as we-OW"

Satu's series of mutterings and contemplations were quickly cut short as Samael, tiring of its host's indecision, decided to smack him upside the head with the book he was carrying. Knocked flat on his back by the impact, he groaned as he sat up once again. He was used to abuse like this, but that didn't make it any more pleasant, and... and...

Satu's eyes widened in panic and he began scrambling around, patting the ground and looking every which way. "Book where's my book where'd it go Saaaaamaaaaeeeeelllllllllllllllllllllllll where's my OW"

The first edition hit its owner in the back of the head this time, bouncing off and landing about a foot in front of him. Nearby, several small rocks moved together into the shape of an arrow. Satu winced as he sat up, his vision changing to a spectrum that made the darkness around him less of a problem. As he picked up the tome, he noted the pointer. A sigh escaped his lips.

"A-alright, Samael. Alright... we'll... we'll go your way. But if we find anything that could tell us more about where we are, we're stopping to check it out, and I don't care what you do... also c-can you not do that with my book again? you scared me...!"

with that, Satu began walking down the tunnel in the direction the rocks, moved into that formation by Samael in order to communicate its opinion more directly than could be done with blunt trauma to its host's head. Hopefully the eye's hunch wasn't completely worthless.

More like, hopefully it won't get me killed... Satu thought grimly, striding along the tunnel, following what he had - now that he could see them - determined to be train tracks. As he did, he contemplated what was happening.

He'd heard of Grandmasters like the one that dragged him here, mostly in whispered tones and dusty legends. This was one of their games. A game only one of the 6 that were dragged here could win, or survive. A game occurring for no reason other than to entertain the Grandmaster hosting it.

"Just my luck," Satu muttered bitterly. "And I just bought a bunch of new books, too......"

With a sigh, the booklover decided that his best option was to start reading the first edition he was carrying - which counted amongst the number of new pieces of literature he had acquired - as he searched for anything of significance. And with that, Satu began to read.

Samael's only reaction was to roll in Satu's forehead, expressing its dissatisfaction.

RE: The Atavist's Tryst - Round 1: The Ljinstal Underground (S?)
As Dmitri got up from the hard concrete floors of the deserted subway lines, he thought about the events that had led him to his current situation. Even though they probably had no relation to him being entered into some weird fight-to-the-death competition. The last thing he remembered was crashing on the couch of his apartment as soon as he got home, exhausted for no apparent reason, since he hadn’t been partying, studying, or doing anything remotely active all day. Next thing he knew he woke up to some weird guy with a metal mask talking about some grand battle involving him and 5 other people.

At first, Dmitri thought it was just some weird dream, maybe somehow related to his unusual lack of energy earlier that day, but everything the metal mask guy was saying seemed a little too real. And as the implications that he had been forcibly entered into some tournament for guys like the Atavist (apparently, that’s what this guy called himself) to watch for entertainment or something equally demeaning, Dmitri began to get angry at this crazy-powerful asshole.

As the Atavist finished introducing everyone - with Dmitri not really paying much attention – the vampire started to reach out a hand toward the douchebag until he suddenly realized a city had appeared below him, seemingly out of nowhere. And then he fell and ended up on the hard concrete. Not really concerned with the other contestants at the moment, his age toward the Atavist clouding most of his judgment, Dmitri decided to keep track of his surroundings before going any further.

On the ceiling, there were a few dim lights that wouldn't allow much vision for most humans, and a vampire-sized hole from Dmitri’s fall. The walls were peeling and looked a beige-ish yellow color, with a few posters here and there that were too damaged to understand clearly, although Dmitri thought he could make out what looked to be some sort of crown. A few hundred yards in front of him, there was a set of subway tracks, with a little more light than the other areas and Dmitri thought it would probably be a good place to go to find out more about Ljinstal.