Mechanical Angels: Chapter 0
An introduction to the brutal world Veyurae...
Chapter 0 - Familiarity
Ho-ly. Shit. I have been working on this damned idea for a series for 5 FRICKIN MONTHS... It is actually almost painful to type right now... Anyway, this is a story about a prisoner who has been held for so long that he has forgotten his name. Still trapped, 49202 now fights for the amusement of hundreds of thousands of patrons in a brutal arena... I'll stop there lest I spoil any surprises. So, without further ado, Eldrin Rane presents... Mechanical Angels
*
"3636..." 49202 repeated the number again in his head.
"3636" 49202 had been tallying the number for years.
"3636" He repeated each number in painstaking detail, reminding himself of every day he'd been trapped.
49202 continued to repeat the number, over and over, until he heard the familiar sound of footsteps and the subsequent rattling of chains. He knew all too well that the Gamesmaster had just entered the cell, and that the many prisoners were backing against the wall and praying that it wasn't their number that got called out.
49202 didn't bother opening his eyes for these sounds anymore; he had heard them thousands of times and was too familiar with the sight for it to possess any meaning.
The familiar silence was shattered by an even more familiar voice as the Gamesmaster announced the 'champions' of the upcoming round.
"69322." Following a brief pause of silence, the sound of metal sliding against metal indicated that the named prisoner had stood up, as was protocol.
"67208." Just like the first, there was a brief pause before the prisoner stood.
"50003." Unlike the first two, there was no pause before this prisoner stood. With a number starting with 56-, the man had been in captivity for a long time.
"49-" The loud voice of the Gamesmaster was cut off as 49202 instinctively stood up. His confidence was drawn from the fact that he knew, very well, there was no other prisoners, at least in his tether, who had a number beginning with 49-. Though he had faced quite a few of them, 49's were becoming more and more rare. However, during the War of Water and Fire, if one were to visit an arena on any given day, they would likely see nothing but 49's.
After a recent match, 49202 knew that the arena numbering system stretched to at least 82000.
"Shut your fockin' trap!" The Gamesmaster screamed at some poor fool who had made the mistake of speaking up.
"You four! Get your shit together and get to the platform room!" It was at this point that 49202 opened his eyes, only to find that his feet were already following the memorized path to the gear bin-- the local name for the equipment storage room.
He surveyed the room, taking in all the dreary details that he was so used to seeing. Bodies of living corpses were strewn about, chained to poorly-attached metal rings that could easily be pulled from the grey stone in which they rested. However, no one dared to so much as look at their chains, their spirits were too dismantled for there to be any desire to risk the wrath of the Gamesmaster by attempting to escape.
49202 left the dismal room and proceeded down a barely illuminated hallway, following the two 69's. Both of the young captives seemed completely terrified, as were certainly not mistaken in their fears. Chances are, 49202 thought, that both of the boys would be early casualties. The group marched passed the barracks, in which the daytime shift fighters were desperately trying to sleep before the coming day's fights. 49202 heard rumors that the daytime fights were even more brutal and horrific than those in the evening. He heard tell that there would often be fights of all against all with upwards of 20 people. 49202 counted himself lucky enough to have ever only be assigned to the evening and night shifts.
After a short distance and a couple left turns, the four men found themselves in a small room filled with equipment slots. Each slot was a few hands across and wide, but went deep enough to hold the longest of spears. Each of the men approached their designated slot and withdrew a key from somewhere on their person. These keys were more valuable than anything else in the arena. If, during a battle, one managed to claim the key of another, they were permitted to claim the fallen man's equipment for their own. Doing so marked the few times 49202 had been allowed to visit the other three bases in their arena.
Through pure muscle memory, 49202 unlocked his repository and withdrew his weapons. In his right hand he clasped the hilt of a claymore that was roughly two-thirds of his height, and in his left hand a wide, curved, dagger. He inspected both items, then set them back in the slot.
49202 walked to the adjacent wall and opened one of several large wooden chests. Inside he found the armor he had claimed ownership of after his 'teacher' had been killed. The armor was one of the few complete sets, and the only complete three-quarter armor set, in the southern base. 49202 went about checking every piece of the armor to ensure it was all present, and in good quality. Despite some minor dents, the cuirass was in excellent form, the pauldrons and vambraces appeared a little worn, and rerebraces, couters, gauntlets, and tassets were fine. He pulled the final items from the chest, which included a strong leather belt he had tailored to his needs, a 20 hand length of faded cerulean cloth, a pair of tall leather boots, and a steel helmet.
Before assembling his own armor, 49202 looked around the room to assess his companions' equipment. He found that 50003 was already completely suited with thick leather armor, and holding a spear with a long blade. Checking on the two others, 49202 found that they were both staring at him.
"I don't mind if you stare at me, but you two better be ready when the GM calls us up." 49202 found it worrying that the two boys were so unprepared that they had yet to suit up. Behind him, 49202 could hear 50003 begin to sharpen his spear while waiting.
"It's going to be a Kingslayer game today..." 50003 casually mentioned.
"H-How do you know that?" Asked 69322. "You can't really be certain of what game is gonna happen until you're up there..." He pointed toward the ceiling.
Without interrupting the process of assembling his armor, 49202 chimed in, "When you two have been playing this game along as us, you start to get a feeling for what's gonna happen in the arena that day..." 49202's response effectively silenced the two 60's, who returned to preparation. 49202 took the opportunity to do the same.
49202 turned his attention toward 50003, "Who do you think they'll tag for the King?"
"Definitely not one of those two..."50003 stated, nodding in the pair's direction.
49202 looked over to see the two 69's fumbling to put on their chainmail. "Gods I hope you're right."
With all of his armor was effectively in place, 49202 applied the finishing touches; he stepped into both boots, feeling the cool leather tighten around his feet and calves. Then, he took the neatly folded cloth and wrapped it around his core several times, before tying it in a knot, leaving several hands of cloth to drape by his side. As a last step, 49202 grabbed his helmet. He refrained from putting on his helmet before entering the arena. He could not recall why he avoided doing so, but followed the rule all the same. From there, he had 50003 examine his armor to ensure it was adequately attached-- 50003 tightened his cuirass a little.
"Thanks..." 49202 muttered to 50003.
"We only have each other in this hell; without kindness, we'd have nothing." 50003 responded.
49202 returned to his slot, where he grabbed his claymore and knife. He slid the knife into a hidden pouch on the front of his belt so that only the cylindrical handle remained visible. The knife was the other gift his 'teacher' had left him; it possessed a unique shape, which allowed the wielder to hold the knife in their hand, with the spine running up their arm. As the knife's blade came to its tip, it curved out. This attribute of the blade made it perfect for parrying incoming blows, leaving the attacker vulnerable to 49202's claymore. The claymore is what gave 49202 an edge in the arena. Due to the size of the weapon, 49202's opponents often thought he would fight slower. However, in the years before 49202 was sentenced to the arena, he had mastered fighting with such a weapon. His skill with the claymore permitted him to wield it as fast as any average blade. During his first years in the arena, he'd met another skilled swordsman, who taught him a new way of wielding a heavy blade, such as his claymore, with fluid movements often associated with single-bladed weapons.
"You guys ready?" 50003 asked the pair of 69's.
"Yeah... I think so..." 67208 replied. His voice showed that he wasn't as scared as 49202 had thought.
"Well then..." 50003 said, standing up. "Let's get to the platform room..."
50003 marched out of the room with an irrational calm. Quickly followed by 69322 and 67208.
The way 50003 left the room made 49202 very suspicious. After living in the arena for so long, 49202 had learned to be wary of anything and everything. He put his concerns on hold and grabbed his helmet. He followed the trio of men, who would soon become his closest allies, to the platform room. They stood together on the platform as the door closed behind them.
Above them, the Gamesmaster, and his assistants, sat in the large room that surrounded a portion of the platform shaft. The room was far enough from the 'champions' to discourage any disobedience, yet still close enough for the Gamesmaster to be heard clearly.
"Okay cunts, here's today's shit-fest. It's a good, ol-fashioned, game of Kingslayer. Keep the king alive, kill the opposing kings... simple." He paused and checked a list he was holding.
"69322... You're the scout." A pause followed as the Gamesmaster checked his list once more.
"67208... You're the assassin." The moment of truth now lie before 49202 and 50003.
"49202... You're the knight." The pause that followed was different from the earlier ones, because everyone knew who had been picked as king.
"50003... process of elimination makes you the king..." The Gamesmaster paused and looked up from his list, "Try to die with dignity." After the final comment, the Gamesmaster walked away.
All four men looked at each other, their eyes having the conversations their mouth's could not. When their unspoken discussion came to an end, 49202 looked back toward the wall and prepared his helmet. He took in one last look at the world around him before taking in a deep breath, and sliding the helmet over his head, feeling the cool metal slide past his face.
*
Wow... It feels good to have that finished. This was the sampler of my upcoming series Mechanical Angels. This was SUPER fun to write and Part 2 should be out soon... And just as a reminder, if you want to encourage me to continue to write things like this is to give it a fave, rate it, or send me a note/PM if you're feeling ambitious. If you want to stay up to date with this series feel free to leave a watch. Other than that, I have nothing other to do than wish you a fair day.
Lohk'thera Khaaro,
Thii Koh'baran