Round One: Prisma vs Marcus (D10)

[hesper hart 🐺 d9f]

The tribute stands with bare feet in loose dirt and mud below the dark, damp arena. If they look up, they see light and dust pouring in from the cracks in the wooden flooring. And already, they can hear the cheers, the calls for death. A man-sized bird cage comes to a stop at the ground in front of them and if they aren't wise enough to step in on their own, the peacekeepers will shove them inside. Once the gates are locked behind them, they'll know for sure though: this is officially it. No amount of hope will save them now. Only sharpened steel.

As they rise into the arena, the crowd's applause grows overwhelming in its noise, bleeding into a force of sound like a wall, pushing the tributes further into their cages.

"What an exciting show we have planned for you all today!" A voice the tributes may or may not recognize as belonging to Harlan Godfrey booms over any other voice to be heard.

The tributes will notice that they are standing in a courtyard, with a lush green carpet of grass, and they're surrounded on all sides by a gigantic hedge maze. If the tribute bothers counting, they'll also notice 12 different gates encircling the area, each with a bulky padlock the tributes will be able to make out with ease. As if calling to them, the key ring at their hips grows heavy.

They also notice another cage like their own on the other side of the courtyard, occupied with their own district partner. At the same time, both cages will open. As both tributes climb out of their cages and into the arena, they'll both notice a table nearby, full of rather basic-looking swords of all sorts of different shapes and sizes, though some are obviously missing. They'll also notice a few of those swords have been left lying in random places on the grass, undeniably covered in blood.

"Up next to fight, our District Ten tributes: Prisma Undine versus Marcus Emberstatt!"

---

Weapon: Sword

Prisma Initiative - 20.17
Marcus Initiative - 81.8

Retro Engine Link: Here

Reminder that tributes have not been granted any stations for this games including weapon modifiers, accuracy, first aid, or even stealth. As a result, both tributes will need to make non-attack intro posts before they begin attacking. If tributes refuse to fight each other, please let me (Dars) know asap so that I can schedule mutts for your fight. As always, 24 hour posting rules are in effect and will be enforced.

This fight will conclude once either tribute has died, and you both have until Friday, 28th of April at 6 pm pst to finish them yourselves, or mutts will be deployed to finish the job.

[ryan]

this is not home is it? he is confused by all of the processes and rituals that he has been told to follow. to be quite honest, he feels like this is all just some elaborate plan to try to scare the living crap out of him.

marco would appear out of no where, pull down the curtains from this charade and they would go home, albeit, marcus still more pissed at him then ever because he wanted to launch some elaborate plan against him.

but they did make it all seem so real. like this was all marcus's fault as to why he was here. he is frustrated and calm all at the same time. biding his time is all he can do, because he knows well if he tries to make a break for it.

he will be shot on site.

and so it becomes the game of playing along for a young boy this is pretty quiet as is. even though his district partner tries to coax a little more out of him, marcus is a hard sell. he had a feeling that getting close to others here would only lead to turmoil. it was always some sort of scheme that the capitol was coming up at the end of the day. a lesson to be learned. that is all he can think about, the mans voice playing in his head just like when marco had left the house for good the second time.

his district partner does though, seem like she isnt a bad person. it just seems like she was drawn into this situation just like he is. the capitol is a big and scary place, even for someone like marcus, but it does feel a little bit more like home thanks to prisma and to terra.

they are rushing them into cages in the morning, and marcus barely had time to even get into a relaxed state. this was high stakes as is. a little time to really grasp the reality of everything that was going on wouldnt have killed the capitol now would it?

they dress him in some weird bedsheet and put a giant key ring on his right hip, it feels heavy. then a cage comes down but it does not open. not right away at the very least. marcus counts the seconds as best as he can. 1. 2. 5. 3. 9. 7. 4... one of the peacekeepers hears him and as soon as the cage opens, he is shoved in it. "thats not even the right order." marcus had never heard a peacekeeper speak before.

however, the cage ascends and now they are out of sight. when he is lifted into what he thinks is the arena. he hears nothing but constant applause and cheering for him. he is off put by this. he hasnt done anything yet.

harlan's voice plays over a speaker. marco had always been the type to pit things against each other. so when marcus hears the word versus, he is alarmed for a moment, but does not realize what was said before or after due to the sound of the crowd.

he walks around for a moment, the grass out of full view as he never had the best vision. he wonders why they planted grass in here that is clearly suffering from some sort of rot, the brown color almost too noticeable from where he was standing.

another cage appears, and prisma comes walking out and marcus has a dumbfounded look on his face. he waits another moment, for another cage to appear out of nowhere. there has got to be more than this. he turns around and faces the speaker for a moment, and then notices that there is a table with sharp long knives, some of them missing, and then upon further inspection, some of those long sharp knives are strewn about the grass, glowing a dark red, just like the grass beneath it.

thats not rot.

thats blood.

he looks to prisma, and then he looks to the keys on his hip.

"why do i have a feeling that none of these are going to open any of these padlocks?" marcus looks at prisma for a moment, and then up to the crowd. "i never expected them to be so cruel." marcus is trying to convince himself that he knows the answer, that maybe this is all just an elaborate dream, that he can pinch himself and he will wake up at home with the man and his new sisters and new family and nothing will have changed.

"well prisma..." she stands there, probably just as confused as he is. "are we gonna face this head on?" marcus thinks he knows the answer.

he just wants prisma to deny it just a little bit longer.

[djed carnelian . d8m [kap]]

After your interview, they give you a single roll of bread for dinner. It's the only thing you've eaten since they took you away from District Ten, and it's heavenly. You notice that it's a bit stale, but you ignore it. It's food— the quality isn't important to you. It's just something to aid in filling your stomach.

The next morning, you're pulled from the windowless room they'd been keeping you in and are dressed in a strange sort of outfit. It's one large piece of fabric that reminds you, in a way, of a bed sheet or curtain. They wrap it around you and also put a sash overtop of it. It's a strange getup, but you're sure it's something for Capitol appeal, so you don't say anything.

You're quiet as they escort you to the arena, but on the inside, your brain doesn't slow down. You have constant nervous thoughts, your anxiety peaking as you know that your time in the arena is about to begin. You could very well be dead in the next ten minutes, and you didn't like that thought. Your legs shake as you walk, and there are tremors in your hands.

As they Peacekeepers try to usher you into the cage, your legs freeze in place. You can't move, no matter how much you try to will yourself forward. You're terrified.

With a half-shove half-drag from the Peacekeepers, you're placed into the cage and immediately fall on your butt. The cage is closed behind you and you can feel tears forming in your eyes as your new cell begins to rise up into the arena.

When the sun breaches your vision, your eyes take a moment to adjust, both because of the light and the tears that are within them. You blink through it. A tear falls down your cheek and you wipe it away as you take in your surroundings.

The first thing you notice is the overwhelmingly loud applause of the crowd that is gathered there to watch the Hunger Games. A death match. They've come to watch a death match. What sort of sick people are they?

You can hear the voice of the announcer— a Gamemaker, you believe you've heard him referred to as. The words of his that stand out the most are his last ones.

"Up next to fight, our District Ten tributes: Prisma Undine versus Marcus Emberstatt!"

They were pitting you against each other. This was what you'd decided at the reaping that you wanted to avoid. You wanted to avoid fighting the one person here who would remind you of home. You didn't want the guilt of killing him, or the pain of being killed by him. Surely that would be too much.

Your legs start shaking again.

Your cage door unlocks and swings open, and you look at what's before you. You're in a grassy courtyard, a cage containing Marcus Emberstatt sitting on the other side. Between you is a table littered with swords of all sorts. There are even some on the ground that look to be dirty. No, not dirty. Bloody. It churns your stomach.

Nervously, you step out of the cage, afraid of what might happen if you refuse to come out. You take a deep breath, and you hear Marcus say something.

"Why do I have a feeling that none of these are going to open any of these padlocks?" he asks, referring to the keys that each of you have at your waists. He looks at you, then looks to the crowd. "I never expected them to be so cruel."

You nod in agreement.

"They've got to be sick to want to watch a bunch of teenagers killing each other."

You choke a bit on your words, tears threatening to fall again.

"Well Prisma..." he calls you by your name. "Are we gonna face this head on?"

For a moment, you freeze. Then, you take a few shaky steps toward him.

"We don't have much of a choice," you admit, your voice's volume a bit low as you're too shaky and afraid to speak up. Although, he should still be able to hear you as you close the proximity between the two of you just the slightest bit more.

"I'm going to do my best to get home. For Rein. My brother," you explain with tears in your eyes. "So I can't just stand here. We'll have to fight."

You're shaking so badly that Marcus would most certainly be able to tell.

You approach the nearest sword— one of the ones on the ground— and pick it up. It's stained with someone else's blood, but you're scared to go near the table, just in case Marcus claims a sword from there before you can and strikes you down without you even having a weapon in hand.

"Alright," you say to him, tremors audible in your voice. "I'm ready. Should we begin?"

[ryan]

its not even funny at this point. the air in the vicinity smells of copper and saltwater. this has had to be going on for hours at this point. if marcus and prisma were from ten, that meant that they had were probably almost finished.

that was a haunting thought.

he had listened to prisma as she realizes exactly what he is saying at this point. this is cruel, so so cruel, but there is nothing they can do now. they are powerless, hungry, and beaten down to the point where the only thing that does matter, is survival.

marco would have been the better choice to go into this hellscape, but things always seem to work out for him. it was sickening, bile building up from the thought of him getting to spend his life being free from any repercussions.

then he thought about his father, and how on earth his new sisters were going to take up the mantle if marcus did not come back from this.

that is what made him actually spew the bile in his stomach all over the arena floor.

"they are sick, i am sick, i guess that is just something we have in common." marcus stands back up and wipes his mouth as he grabs the keys from his waist and holds them in his hand. they are heavy, they probably could be used as a weapon in here, but he knew that was not their intention.

they were meant to create false hope, and marcus is just not interested in that.

this whole situation is grim, but he needs to remember what he wants to get home too. not marco, not his father, or sisters, or new mother, or even his birth mother. none of them mattered here anymore. all he had was his self.

"well, at least we both have something to fight for then?" marcus offers as prisma is already heading towards the grassy patch, picking up a long knife from the ground and holding it up. her hands are shaking, even from the distance that marcus is standing at.

he had a feeling that neither of them know what it was like to kill another human.

marcus knew what it was like to take a life, an animals life, but he always made sure that they had lived a full and healthy one before they served a greater purpose.

prisma is not here to serve as marcus's greater purpose.

that is the scary part.

so he walks up to the table, picking through blades until he finds one that is comfortable in his hand. prisma has already armed herself, and marcus has now placed the keyring that was once on the side of his hip onto the table. a trade that did not equal each other.

he faces prisma, taking long deep breathes as he realizes that he is going to have to kill someone in order to go home. it is an absolutely awful experience. it racks through his brain and he is cursing marco's name.

"as much as i wish we didnt have too prisma." he is sullen and sad and ready to give it all up. he doesnt know what it is like to be a man.

"we do. i am." he arms the long blade and holds it out, the light refracting off the blade for just a moment.

one of the last beautiful sights he would probably ever see.

"can we please talk about anything else though?"

he rushes past the table and into the grassy area where she stands. just as scared as he is.

"anything."

[D10M marcus emberstatt attacks D10F prisma undine | sword]
j|KDY52yiCsword
[1069 -- Deep Gash on Neck -- 10.0 damage
(Sword)]

sword

[djed carnelian . d8m [kap]]

Marcus heads toward the table to grab a sword. You let him. He trades his keys for it, like it's some sort of barter system. The keys for a weapon. The illusion of help for the reality of blood.

He agrees that the two of you have to fight: that neither of you have a choice in the matter. He lets the sun glint off his blade and makes one last request of you before coming in your direction with his weapon ready.

He wants to talk about something else. Anything else. You want to grant him that wish, but you don't have time to think of what to say because before you know it, he cuts into your neck. You want to yell, but it hurts too much to let out sound. Instead, you let out a groan of pain. Your weapon is ready now, as if instinctually ready to retaliate.

"Marcus..." you say, trying to get the words out of something to talk about other than the inevitable death of one of you. "Tell me about something you love. One of your—" you cough. "—favorite things. Art's my favorite. Painting and stuff."

You don't wait for his answer, though. You only wait for an opportunity to strike. You hands are sweating on the handle of the sword, but you're determined not to let it slip.

You don't want to keep your eyes open, but you know it's the only way to hit your target, and the only way to get home alive. So, you look him in the eyes for a moment before focusing on where you need to hit. Somewhere vital, if you're lucky. Or, perhaps unlucky.

You swing.

[d10f prisma undine attacks d10m marcus emberstatt, sword]
uvHcS5vytBsword
[1111 -- Shallow Cut on Left Forearm -- 3.5 damage]

sword

[ryan]

he does not wait for her to speak. instead, he thrusts his arm forward, and while she tries to move out of the way, his blade finds her neck and plants itself deep. this is a feeling that he hoped he would never feel.

however, that was going to be an unrealistic expectation going forward.

the sight of blood made his stomach do somersaults but he kept it all down this time. there was no more bile left for him to throw up. the groan of pain coming from prisma was enough for him to realize that someone was going to die here.

all he was waiting for was for her to make the next move. then there was a reason to really live.

"animals." he says rather complacently, that was, until he felt a light knick against his own arm. he can feel the blood trickling down his skin. it is hot and stick, but he does not go to wipe it. "back home, were supposed to be all about gas and petrolum right? " he says to her, scared of what is going to come next.

"my father had different dreams i guess." it was enough to distract him from the fact that he was going to have to land another blow. that he was going to have to try to take this girls life. "what are your favorite things to paint?" he asks with grit teeth and fear clouding his eyes.

the long knife is heavy in his hand, but he knew he needed to raise it up. he knew that if he was going to make it out of here alive, then he was going to have to do this again and again until he was the last one standing.

this was all just a huge nightmare that he could not wake up from.

and the capitol didnt care.

so for now, they can just keep talking.

its the only thing that will distract marcus from the thought of needing to swing his blade.

which he does.

[D10M marcus emberstatt attacks D10F prisma undine | sword]
Q_CTUsdifPsword
[1043 -- Stabbed in Hand -- 8.0 damage
(Sword)]

sword

[djed carnelian . d8m [kap]]

You aimed for his chest but hit his forearm instead, barely leaving much of a mark. You're almost grateful you hadn't done much to him, but there's still a surge of guilt in your chest for even doing as much as you did. You don't want to kill him, but you have to if you want to go home. You're shaking, but a little less now as the adrenaline starts pumping. Your hands are still sweating and it's hard to keep a grip on the sword— maybe that was why you hit his arm instead of his chest.

Marcus tells you about his love for animals: how it was different from District Ten's vision. Your district back home was about gas and petroleum, not animals, but maybe one day that could change. You nodded in response to his words. It would make the District a hell of a lot less polluted, and there was certainly the room for it. You wondered what sorts of things Marcus liked about the animals and genuinely almost asked him. The conversation was a good distraction from the fight, but perhaps it was too much. You weren't fighting very well.

Still, when he asked you a question about what you liked to paint, you gave him an answer.

"Landscapes, mostly," you manage to get out with another cough, your neck still bleeding quite badly. "The skylines of the factories. The sunsets over the trees. That kind of stuff. I like all the different shades and colors I can make for things like that."

You see him readying to swing his sword and go to block it, but instead of blocking with your sword, you make the mistake of blocking with your hand, as if blocking a punch rather than a blade, and the weapon stabs right into your hand. You let out another yelp of pain.

You grimace through it, and try to continue the conversation.

"My favorite colors to paint with are all the yellows and oranges. I think they're really pretty."

You try to ignore the pain.

"Do you have a favorite color? Or a favorite animal?" you ask through the pain. "I'm partial to cats." You let out the slightest laugh, trying to make the situation a bit more lighthearted even though at this point, you're almost certain that Marcus is going to kill you, whether he really wants to or not.

You make eye contact with him again and take a deep breath. You know it's a mistake giving him any sort of warning before your strike, but you feel you need to, and that's why you look at him. You don't really want to kill him, but you know you need to to get home. You make your swing, tremors throughout you.

[d10f prisma undine attacks d10m marcus emberstatt, sword]
mZrqck4Rczsword
[1121 -- Deep Gash on Back -- 8.5 damage]

sword

[ryan]

there is a certain grotesqueness to all of this. his sword passes through prisma’s hand. there is blood on every inch of the blade, but he does not stop. this is wrong. this made him feel like a villain. he was no different than marco.

but prisma does not falter. she is calm, albeit, in pain. he cannot tell anything more than that. but she speaks, and she speaks so eloquently even with two deep gashes in her body.

she talks of skylines and factories, and marcus is sent home for just a moment. ”i havent seen a factory in a long time. but i guess thats because i dont leave near the town square he admits as he takes a step back.

he listens to her more, and all he can think about is marco, and just how soft her demeanor was, even now. its hard to see another person like this. ”blues and greens.”. he is thinking about if he can really do this. if he could kill someone else. he doesnt have a choice. he turns around for a moment, trying to ready a swing, and prisma sticks him right in the back.

he screams in pain, but he knows that he has to pull through. he hates this, hates it so much.

but he doesnt have a choice.

”i took a liking to the pigs at the farm.” . he still thinks about them, to this day. they are so sweet when they want to be. but they also could be oh so evil. ”docile when they want to be…” he holds his blade, even through all of the pain.

”but oh, oh so vicious..

And he strikes.

[D10M marcus emberstatt attacks D10F prisma undine | sword]
GmlmskwMCrsword
[result)]

sword

[djed carnelian . d8m [kap]]

You listen to his words. You make a mental note of his favorite colors: blues and greens. If you make it home alive, maybe you'll paint a picture in honor of him, in those colors. Although, you knew it wasn't likely you would have that chance.

As Marcus turns his body just a bit to swing at you, you stab him in the back. He lets out a yell of pain, and guilt immediately fills your chest again. Your whole body feels constricted. Nothing calms you down right then— tears are welling in your eyes again, but you refuse to let them fall quite yet.

He tells you about the pigs and the two sides to how they act. They're like people: multiple parts to their personality. They're complex. You can see why he likes them. You nod in understanding.

Then, in the moment you're readying to strike him, just like you'd done to him, he cuts into your back. It's not as deep or as painful as the other hits he'd made on you, but it still stings. You can feel it burning as the blood pools on your strange clothing.

The white of the fabric is turning to crimson, bit by bit, threatening to match the sash they put over it.

You cringe at the pain, but do your best to form more words.

"A bit like people then, eh?" you say to him. "Complicated. They're not broken down to just one personality trait. They're complex."

You get ready to swing again.

"Like us."

Are the two of you just pigs?

[d10f prisma undine attacks d10m marcus emberstatt, sword]
02IN8YiVV6sword
[1171 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage]

sword

[ryan]

a slight give is felt in his hand as he watches a small pool of blood form. he never thought he would be this resilient in the face of death. he could already feel his breath stagger, but he kept his composure, as that was all he could control here.

prisma on the other hand already looked tired. maybe this was just the toll that all of this would take on them. the body was fickle after all. marcus knew all about that. days in and days out, he would be exhausted, but the man always told him that it was worth the hard days work.

marcus never fully believed that.

calling people pigs, each other pigs even, wasnt a stretch. in fact, marcus took some pleasure in the fact that primsa could connect the dots, even now. it wasnt the best situation, right here, right now. but marcus did wonder if in some other universe, that prisma and he could have been friends.

its a fleeting though, he comes back to the scene just with enough time to notice that she is about to swing again. he side steps, his body feeling limber even with open wounds gushing.

"like people, but simpler i suppose." marcus nodded, "their complexities only go as far as their needs. food, shelter..." he trails on for a moment.

"... survival." he says calmly as he realizes that in this moment, they are just like the animals that he described.

"they are not like us in many ways though." he adds, his sword arm now pulling back, trying to think of anything else.

"they dont feel regret."

and he strikes.

[D10M marcus emberstatt attacks D10F prisma undine | sword]
tpsMu5rn9lsword
[1024 -- Severed Right Hand at Wrist -- 9.0 damage
(Sword)]

sword

[djed carnelian . d8m [kap]]

The way Marcus speaks after you fail to connect your weapon with his flesh makes you feel like you understand him better than you expected to. He admits that the two of you are indeed like pigs, but with something a bit extra: a feeling of regret. You know exactly what he means. He probably doesn’t want this fight any more than you do.

He swings his weapon again, and it cuts clean through your wrist this time. It’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt. You let out a scream so harsh and loud that you’re certain the other tributes, wherever they may be, would’ve heard you. You feel yourself getting lightheaded and black spots are starting to appear in your vision. You want to speak, but you can’t. You just need to accept that you’re going to die.

You try to breathe to calm yourself down, but your breathing is uncontrollable. You feel like you’re suffocating as your body shakes and wobbles. Unsure of what to do now, your brain feels foggy. So, you do what you have been doing: the only thing that makes sense. You ready your weapon again. Except this time, your eyelids are pulled shut tighter than they’ve ever been. You don’t want to see the weapon coming at you when he kills you. You just need to swing at him: show the audience you’re still fighting.

You need to show Rein that you haven’t given up, even when your fate is inevitable.

[d10f prisma undine attacks d10m marcus emberstatt, sword]
VSSu7qTXo9sword
[1037 -- Deep Gash on Left Bicep -- 8.0 damage]

sword

[ryan]

he watches as her hand goes flying into the air. it is a clean cut, something that he never thought he would be able to do. he is horrified, at the sight of this, at the sheer power of his own hands, and his own will to live.

marco made it very clear to him that he thought that marcus would never be able to prove to anyone that he could put under immense pressure. marcus had always been the silent type after all, completely okay with the minimal amount of people talking to him. interacting with anyone else that wasnt inside his immediate bubble was almost impossible, even when they would take trips to the district square, marcus didnt do much of the talking.

the man did not force him into it, because he never wanted to make marcus uncomfortable. there was already so much he had been through, and even more that the man had blamed marcus for already.

at the time at the least.

he wonders what his family might be thinking now. marcus now becoming a monster in front of their own eyes. he wouldnt have been shocked if he were to survive this, that they never speak to him again. what he is doing now, is what nightmares are made out of.

prisma still has fight in her, even without a hand attached to her body. one hand with a huge gash in it, one hand gone, and she is still standing there, trying to prove that even when someone is at there end.

they are still powerful.

marcus does not hear her speak, he just hears screams and whimpers, but she is holding that blade in her hand. he can sense the fear, just like he could when it came to the animals back at the farm.

"please dont go quiet on me prisma." he is sullen in his delivery of that phrase. he does not want to do what he has to do in order to go home. that is the gravity of this situation. "tell me anything you want."

humans are like animals too.

"the quiet is too much."

[D10M marcus emberstatt attacks D10F prisma undine | sword]
I4tbfXSAi|sword
[result]

sword

[djed carnelian . d8m [kap]]

The quiet is too much, he tells you as you block his blade with what feels like is probably the very last of your strength. He wants you to say something. Anything at all. For some reason, though, it feels like there's not a single word that will surface from within you.

You try to breathe, but everything feels strangled. You try to focus your eyes on Marcus, standing right there in front of you, but it doesn't seem possible. You grip your sword with your remaining hand, knowing you can't swing as hard without your other hand, but that there'd be so many other things you couldn't do, either, if you made it home alive.

What would become of your art without your other hand? The painting might not be the most effected, but what about your sculpting, or the little wooden models you liked to put together?

How would you cook for Rein when you got home? You wouldn't be able to take care of him as well as you could before if you went home like this. Although, you were pretty sure at this point that you weren't making it home.

So, you took a deep breath, and you said what you wouldn't be surprised if were your last words. To Marcus. To the world.

"If you make it home, Marcus," you start. "I want you to take care of my brother. His name is Rein. Please."

You take a strangled breath.

"That's all I can really say," you tell him, tears falling down your cheeks.

Sobbing, you swing for what you could only assume would be the last time.

[d10f prisma undine attacks d10m marcus emberstatt, sword]
iG1OaG8PQCsword
[1004 -- Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage]

sword

[ryan]

the sounds of metal on metal is almost deafening. his hand recoils just for a moment. he is confused, but also, he is slightly glad that this moment could be prolonged just a little bit longer. he was not ready to kill another human.

not yet.

he does not know anything about prisma except for the things that he was told here. her favorite colors. her passions. her favorite animal. however, none of that was going to make him feel any less regret. one of them wasnt going to walk out of here, and he had to be the one to do it.

she swings her blade at him, and he can feel a cut on his head. light droplets of blood start to pool down his face and onto the grass below, staining it. it feels hot on his face all the way until it actually does fall off.

he grimaces for a moment, his body still limber even with a giant gash in the side of his arm and back. prisma though acknowledges the silence and she does say something.

she wants him to take care of her brother if he makes it out of here alive. it seemed like a fair thing to ask someone when they were dying, however, marcus wasnt sure if he was going to make it out of here alive himself. he knew what could happen in here. there was no way to be certain that any of them would be safe.

this was death though they were talking about, and quite frankly, anything is a reasonable request. marcus knew that.

"i will primsa." marcus feels a little heavy after this confirmation, but he promises himself that he will do whatever it took to honor any lives that he did take in this arena.

"i will."

and he swings.

[D10M marcus emberstatt attacks D10F prisma undine | sword]
h8gEqPRX9Usword
[1077 -- Deep Gash on Left Forearm -- 8.0 damage
(Sword)]

sword