[Saga] [Part 3] Bringing their A game.

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Robbed of light, sight filled with blackness, the weasel woman had no choice but to rely on her other senses. In her ears, the rattling of the chain crawled past the roaring crowd. Tickling her nose, the scent of burning oil seeped through the bag. In her mouth, the taste of iron trickled slowly across her tongue. Beneath her feet, the narrow beam trembled with each motion from the contestants.

And then...

There was a sixth sensation.

Yumiko didn’t fully understand the feeling lingering in the back of her mind. It was a fleeting flash, an unspoken whisper, all too easy to dismiss as imagination running wild. Yet, she clung to it regardless. It felt honest. Something was approaching, it told her, coming from that direction...

Without hesitation, the blind woman jumped. A rush of rattling steel and scorching heat passed narrowly beneath her feet. Softly she landed back on the quivering beam. Her arms flailed, trying to beckon the balance back into the rest of the body. The crowd roared wildly.

“Woah, shit, a lucky dodge!” The announcer deduced.

The samurai’s heart was pounding at a deafening pace. Her mind raced even faster, trying to process what was going on right now. She was still in the contest, somehow. There was the whisper again, telling her of a presence hopping closer from the side. Like a cold breeze, it brought shivers down her spine. Worse yet, the rattling sound approached fast again.

Moving on pure instinct at this point, the warrior crouched. Something swooshed over her head, brushing against the sack. Pushing with all her might, she bounced back up and felt the flames claw at her clothing. Close, much too close.

But not close enough.

“The Hell?! How is she doing that?” The harsh voice questioned.

Little by little, the blind samurai was getting used to the rhythm. The rattling was her cue to jump, the heat passing her sign of safety. As for the competition, the whisper without words told her when someone drew too close. This was a battlefield, she didn’t need to wonder about intent. Everyone around her was oozing with ill intentions.

One presence in particular suddenly flared with bloodlust. “Alright, to Hell with this boring bullshit...” The familiar voice was barely audible among all the chaos. “Nine Inch Nails.” The ominous mutter was followed by a series of slashes, screams and splashes.

“Watch it, bub!”

“Ow, my beautiful faaaace!”

“Hull damage: Critical!”

“Oh dear, my clothes~!”

As the rushing presence reached Yumiko, it felt like time slowed down to crawl. The whisper inside her head erupted into a silent scream. Danger! Reflexes took over. Fight or flight... She chose the latter. Just as the presence took a swing at her, a gust of wind yanked her into the air. Something sharp whizzed narrowly past her chest.

“Game over... I win. ...Huh-?”

Coming down like a living hammer, the samurai bashed the foe against the narrow foothold. ...And right in the way of the flaming chain. A hefty smack sent the bloodthirsty presence plummeting down. Cold water put out the flames with a soft sizzle.

While the crowd cheered wildly, the announcer was less than pleased. “No, no no! You bitch! It wasn’t supposed to go like this!” A lever clicked and the chain stopped... But the ranting only started.

“You were supposed to jump in place, all nice and jiggly, until the chick with the biggest bazongas wins! Then you all jump down to get your shirts wet! The crowd gets a show, I’d go rub one out, everybody’s happy! But noooo! You just had to go and ruin it, you stupid, ugly b-”

A rush of movement finally stopped the torrent of vulgarity. The familiar presence was back, having crossed the distance in a single bound. “Go ahead... Finish that thought...” Not even the cold bath had put out the burning bloodlust.

“Bah... Fine, the show’s over, folks! Go fuck yourselves! Oh, the winner can pick or whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

Yumiko, meanwhile, was utterly lost. She still stood on the contest platform, trembling from the adrenaline rush. Was it over? She clawed at the sack weakly, unable to free herself from the bind.

Words: 702
Thread Total: 7052
Saga Total: 25 312

Tough boots tapped lazily against the platform. A familiar voice approached the samurai. “Hold still... Don’t wanna nick you...” She felt the presence, but there was something different about it. Her instincts had fallen silent, offering no warning against it.

Suddenly, a series of slashes tore the bag apart, along with the collar, as if they were mere paper. Yumiko squinted at the sudden flood of light. Once her eyes adjusted, she found the green-haired pirate before her. “Mine thanks.” Bowing her head, she offered her gratitude.

...Only to be rejected with a lazy wave of hand. “Don’t mention it... Seriously, don’t...” Circe turned away. Her long nails receded slowly, almost like growing backwards. What manner of sorcery allowed her to do that...?

The samurai’s puzzled gaze visited the other contestants, who had gathered below the platform. All of them were injured, bearing bleeding claw marks. ...Almost all of them. A crimson blush flared across her features, when she spotted a beautiful, blonde woman in shredded clothing flaunting her figure without a care in the world.

Reflexively, the swordswoman averted gaze. H-how shameless! Were all foreign women like this? And she was supposed to choose one of them for the crew? While lost in thought, she stepped behind -and promptly bumped into- the only vaguely friendly person present... Circe.

The crowd took that as a decision, as did the green-haired musician. “Oh, you’re picking me?” She scratched the back of her head idly. “Eh, I guess I’ve got no choice... I’ll follow you... For now.” Her half-closed eyes narrowed with strange intensity. “But this doesn’t make us friends... Just keep that in mind...”

Yumiko watched silently, as the rocker strutted off. She hesitated briefly, before heading in a different direction. It was strange... For a brief moment there, she didn’t feel the slightest bit uneasy around the odd blademaster.

Meanwhile, the shameless woman waved to the crowd, wearing a smile that could make one fall in love at just a glance. “Yoohoo, gentlemen~ Could anyone lend me a shirt~?” The most enthusiastic audience members were practically tearing their clothes off, offering them to their new goddess.

The samurai couldn’t bear to watch... She hurried away, off to find her crew. For once, she had survived a game without suffering any physical injuries. Only mental ones.

Words: 385
Thread Total: 7437
Saga Total: 25 697

Weasels were elusive creatures, it turned out. When the twins reached the jump rope arena, ‘Mustardseed’ was nowhere to be found. Even the newcomer, Circe, had to admit she didn’t know where the woman had gone. One second she had been right there, with the other contestants, then she had wandered off.

Now, not all who wander are lost...

But Yumiko sure as hell was.

Somehow, the weasel woman had managed to end up on the other side of the island. She snuck between stalls, glancing around warily. Finding her way in the wilderness was far easier than in this mad carnival...

Originally, the disguised samurai had simply tried to avoid crowds. The mere idea of getting trapped in the middle of these savages made her hair bristle... Thus, she had taken shortcuts and detours around the confusing island. And for all her efforts, she had been rewarded with... More people. At... Every... Turn.

Now though, a new challenge taunted the warrior. The alluring scent of ale tickled her nose. Like the song of a mythical siren, it drew her towards the doom. It was a quaint little stall, like a bar counter without any chairs. A rotund, little pirate with an impeccably curly mustache was serving pints of foaming gold.

When the swordswoman wandered close enough, the round fellow flashed a disarmingly friendly smile. “Ah, you are ze fee dame who won drei games, ja? Come! Winners drink kostenlos! Come, come!” He beckoned excitedly, offering her a big pint.

‘Mustardseed’ stared at the offered gift cautiously. She really should have been trying to find her way back, but... Her tongue felt like sandpaper all of a sudden. It begged for a cold drink.

Well...

Perhaps...

One wouldn’t hurt...

Words: 286
Thread Total: 7723
Saga Total: 25 983

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