Completed [The Spinning Coin] Gambling And Possession [Bolivar]

[Noaru]

Radjutlas

Fall 51, 513 A.V.

The Spinning Coin was known for more than just gambling; it was known for its death battles! The place was being set and crowds steadily began to gather around the stage; individuals who were not as interested in the on stage event, went to gamble in order to sate their appetites for lust and the loss of money…or gain of it. There was an atmosphere of excitement being created by the overwhelming anticipation circulating within the minds and bodies of the impatient spectators. Amongst the spectators, clever pickpockets waited for the event to start—those with sticky fingers were very patient.

A man walks through the smaller crowds forming near the Spinning Coin; he was excited about the event. He had been looking forward to the supposed dog fight that would be starting. Drake was the name of this person, who stops in the middle of the crowd to turn around after feeling the sensation of being watched. The gambler shakes-off this eerie suspicion and continues to walk towards his favorite gambling establishment. Gold miza’s rattled in his coin bag which was wrapped firmly around his belt and hidden beneath his brown robe.

Noaru levitates over this gambler, his presence and existence went unnoticed. Noaru looks over the crowd and stares in amazement. There was a large cage, hovering over an open space: a stage of sorts. The spirit levitates over the crowd and watches its inhabitants, as they entertained themselves with alcohol, conversations and of course, gambling. Noaru was careful, he needed to be, he was unsure as to what his next move would be. A large body of meat-suits was right in front of him and yet he couldn’t get his actions together—indecisiveness, strikes again. The sound of glass being smashed echoes through the crowd followed by the loud scream of a woman. A young maiden storms out of the Spinning Coin, her dress was completely soaked and she smelled of alcohol. A few people laughed at this woman’s misfortune while others were more occupied with what was going on at the table she came from.

Two men were fighting; however, the fight was quickly interrupted by a few spectators who saw this as an opportunity to make money. These two gentlemen were going to duke it out on stage in a match…a death match. Where only one man will rise victorious while the other mans pride...will die. Noaru grinned, this was a perfect opportunity for him to cause some mischief, and he just needed the right moment to intervene. A few more people entered the establishment after the word had spread—two strangers were going to fight in the cage. The majority of the crowds were not crazy enough to bet on two complete strangers, this ordeal could have been rigged to get their money, but one person was crazy enough to bet on the fight… Drake. This crazy, gambling maniac places only four gold-miza’s on one of the men on stage, he waited for someone to make a bet against him.

Get The Party Started

[Bolivar]

I should really stop doing this.

Not really quite used to all the excitement going on around him Bolivar was feeling just a bit out of place at the Spinning coin. Coming for the merits of gambling, if there were any, and staying for the chance to watch an interesting bout. There was no chance that the squire would stop the death match from starting in any case. The merits of gambling showing itself as Bolivar both sized up the men before wondering who was the more experienced of the two.

Death matches are so hard to bet for.

Granted it was the death of one's pride. The measure of worth a man had on their pride differed with each person Bolivar had met making the venture seem difficult. But Bolivar had a trick sizing up the competition, just a little nothing that helped the squire make a decision whether it was right or wrong. Both men waited with quickened breathes and stern stares at each other... any minute now Bolivar's choice would be made for him. A quick feint of a strike was thrown by the smaller man to which his opponent reacted decently. There it was. Amidst the prancing and preparations the larger man revealed his capable demeanor.

Beside him a regular said his piece offering up the hearty wager of four mizas. Looking at the man Drake had bet for grimaced slightly realizing it was the same man. His offer was met with some form of hesitation, of course the fight could have been staged. No point working a day just to throw most of it away in a single gamble. Of course if the bid was a bit lower. Pulling out a single Miza from his persons Bolivar watched Drake look at him with apt anticipation before raising his own bid on the fight.

“Two Mizas on the same man. This offer goes out to the first five that lay their coins on the line besides me.

Slamming the coin down with authority to issue his offer to all of the gambling den Bolivar quickly took out the remaining on hand mizas he had on him and tossing the small coin pouch for all to see. Perhaps the would smaller amount risked along with knowing that if things went awry the losers would have four others that could perhaps “persuade” Bolivar to give them another chance. It felt like an assured win for Bolivar, if not he would would have to stay away from gambling until he found himself a stable income. On the off chance he did win and go back to the dormitories...he would have made 10 mizas. Not like he knew what to do with his coin, knowing little of the city entertainment wise except the Spinning Coin.

oocAn interesting point to start us off in. Perhaps we can touch up on the problems with the two escalating the at the end of the thread to match the calender?

[Noaru]

Radjutlas

Let’s Rumble!

The silent crowds, suddenly springs with life! A few people were jumping into the air—many had eyes that were gleaming, completely set for blood. The roaring crowd did care for their money and heard Bolivars bargain. The people that were still sane looked at one another and strained to talk to each in the screaming and rambunctious crowd.

One gambler who was crazy enough to bid his money walks towards Bolivar and Drake with a nice and fat bag of undeserved money. The chubby man waddles through the when a foot casually sticks out of the crowd. The chubby man face-plants, his body smashes against the ground with a solid thud.

The people scramble across the floor to chase the money that was now rolling towards Drake’s and Bolivar’s feet. Drake jumps out of the way of the crazed mob, fearing that his legs would be torn from their sockets and placed into pockets. The two fighters were led and brought on stage. A lot of their features could be seen under the bright light.

The one Drake had bet his money on was a muscular man who stood at least six-feet tall, he had big arms which arched outwards and hung at the sides of his body. This gladiator-like figure had pale-white skin, green eyes and a cleanly shaved head.

The other contestant had tan skin and was as equally tall as the opposing figure standing across from him. This man had dark-brown eyes, low-cut black hair and looked agile for a man his size and stature—he displayed a confident grin. The cage was being lowered onto the stage and the men that led the two battlers on stage, left quickly.

The cage was just inches off the ground when the Pale-fighter threw his right fist forward but misses as his opponent ducks and rolls to the right in order to add a few meters between himself and the Pale-fighter.

The crowd was everywhere, flowing and crashing into each other, tables and chairs. The place had turned into a torrent—all who were caught in its tide, would be swept away.

A few coins were spread across the floor near Bolivar’s feet; however, there were eyes peering down on the little droplets of gold. Drake was standing on top of the table he had jump on and was cheering for the Pale-fighter; his money was riding on the fighters shoulders.

Noaru watched as the madness below him escalated into tumult, it looked as though a riot was about start but this was just pure, unadulterated excitement. The spirit watched as the fighters on stage danced to the tune of their beating hearts and rushing blood.

He wanted in but who was he going to posses? The fighters probably had strong wills, wills that would fight against his influence should he try to invade on their battle. Noaru needed an opportunity to strike: a moment when one of the focused minds was out of place and absent. Noaru knew how to be patient and he waited above the crowd, watching as different events and plots unfolded.

The bet was still on Bolivar could now walk away with free cash, if he was to pick-up the coins that fell on the floor and the contestant he truly liked the most. The opposition rushes the Pale-fighter and wraps his arms around his waist; he focuses some strength into his legs and slams his foes body onto the stage.

The Pale-fighter greeted his friend with an elbow to the temple and a harsh headbutt to the face. The opposition tumbles off his foe and stumbles back onto his feet, his vision disorientated by the two hard consecutive blows to the head. The Pale-fighter hurries to his feet, runs and then drop kicks his challenger—his boots meeting the soft-tissue on his foes face.

Get The Party Started

[Bolivar]

Well... What did you expect being so inconspicuous?

Shifting his weight near the fighting cage Bolivar steeled himself for what came next. Shoved every which way left and right of the cage the squire took care to hold on to his money tight as the crowd scrambled for the coin. It was a naive thought to simply pick up the man's coins without repercussion. Someone could pocket your coin while you were distracted or even fight you if it really came down to it.

So I'll just stand here and pay attention to my coin and this fight... let's see if I can keep my spot in the front here.

But soon the crowd was getting to that level of unruly that made even the squire on edge.

Perhaps a fight would break out and even out the excitement?

But no the fighters in the cage were the only ones exchanging blows and the atmosphere electric. The sounds of coin being dropped at Bolivar's feet made the squire squeak uncharacteristically as the horde crashed the squire against the cage.

Once again keeping a tight hold on his personal purse Bolivar was able to ward off most attempts from the pickpockets amidst the crowd. That was until a pair of hands seized his shirt and pulled him into the crowd. This Bolivar was prepared for as he went along with the pulling motion straight into the agressor with his shoulder.

“Oh lookit that. You pulled me a bit too hard eh?”

Contemptuously turning away Bolivar peered back to check on the fight. Which was going exactly as he predicted. His fighter was still quite a ways from winning but it looked like it was an easy win for the squire. Looking to the left and right of him Bolivar paid close attention to those who stood beside him at the edge of the ring. Some had their coins out for the wager the squire gave them. He had to be careful and keep watch lest they try to retract their bets.The crowd insatiable as the battle raged on in the bit Bolivar mused furiously, questioning why he was even here in the first place.

Drinks are lousy, people aren't the best of company and if I'm not careful I'll end up without me knickers.

“Why do I even bother? “

The fights didn't seem to deviate from the squire's predictions. The thrill from just gambling being lost in this aspect Bolivar gave out a sweltering sigh as he rested his head on the fighting ring.

[Noaru]

Radjutlas

Let’s Rumble!

Noaru was quick to seize this opportunity. The opposition was knocked-out cold, his body laid motionless on ground. He twitched his fingers occasionally and other than these spontaneous movements, he looked as though he was dead. The Pale-warrior turned around towards the crowd with both fists held in the air; he knew that victory was here, it had to be his! The opponent was knocked-out and all he needed to do was be patient for the two escorts would come and pick up this trash.

Inside the defeated wrestlers mind, everything was black and utterly void. He could feel the cool stage floor on his bare skin, he could hear nothing but silence yet could feel subtle vibrations beneath him. The thought of defeat rung in his ears and the only thing the wrestle could ask himself was, did he lose the fight or die? The opposition couldn’t accept defeat, not after what that wench did to him, not after what this pale-faced jerk was doing to him either. A painful set of emotions built up inside this man; resentment, regret, wrath—all these things were tormenting his mind. However, his body would not move, his will was weakened and his pride had been torn down.

Noaru invisible to the naked-eye, casts a brief shadow above the unconscious man’s body. The ethereal disappears upon entering the wrestlers back, leaving those who did see the shadow to question whether they had seen it at all. The wrestle wallowing in self-pity feels a presence, a force enter his body. This thing took root like a corrupted seed and he could feel it branching out, taking hold of him. He would have resisted, stopping the intrusive forces advancement… until it spoke to him.

“ I can help you. I can move your reluctant body, fallen warrior. ”

The wrestler pauses as he could not understand what was speaking to him. He figured that he must’ve taken a harder hit than expected because there was no way that something was talking to him. The force spoke again—almost demanding his cooperation after sensing his doubt.

“I’ve possessed you for a reason, young soul! I will move your body, say the word…say yes. ”

The wrestler could feel that the force had almost taken complete control of his body. However, there was something that this force wanted… access to a place its tendrils could not reach. The wrestler was quiet, he was certain that this thing could not forcibly enter his mind, it needed permission. This force would move his body, help him obtain victory and revenge but at what cost? The wrestler knew that his pride was at stake and he openly said yes to the force within him. Noaru grew partially accustomed to the body he had just possessed, it was strong and sturdy: a body he would have had, if he’d been mortal.

The crowd had been silent for two chimes, watching the Pale-warrior pace the stage—back and forth he went. The Pale-warrior had wasted his energy which would lead to his undoing. He watched as his unconscious opponent rose to his feet. The Pale-warrior could see and feel something fundamentally wrong with his opponent. He stepped forward but took only one step to say.

“Hey, you alright? I think you should call it quits man. I hit you with the full weight of my body. ”

Noaru heard the Pale-warriors words and stared through hits hosts vacant eyes—uttering not a single word.

Get This Party Started

[Bolivar]

A resounding hush went through the crowd at the revival of the other fellow. Though Bolivar had already collected from those that took the squire up on his offer the squire watched with mixed anticipation at the sudden development. Slightly pitying the fighter who wanted to keep going on and slightly curious what had caused the sudden change in demeanor.

"Hey look at that! He's getting back up. Give us our money back this fight's not over yet."

A staunch look was given from Bolivar letting his betting opposition know that he will not in fact pay them back. Beside him Drake noisily was arguing with the man who took up his bet with limited success. For Bolivar it was worse. Three different faces were upon him. That would mean six different fists that he would have to face if this went on any longer.

"The match is more then over. It's been called, your guy lost, end of story."

Another wave of complaints washed over Bolivar as he drew back from the insistent demands of the losers. Two chimes. Two whole chimes he was defenseless on the floor. Any fool could see that was a lost on the man's part. Though that same man suddenly got up without any apparent damage. Either that or he was hiding it well. A shout came up bringing Bolivar back to the problem at hand. The three individual problems to be exact.

"Tsk. Damned fools. Can't you see that he lost? Damned fool is going to get himself killed if he goes on like that."

They didn't care. What they did care about was the six mizas in total they lost. Two of the original five left without qualm but these remaining louts. They hung on to the off chance their little dark horse got them something good. Rolling his eyes at the thought Bolivar fetched three mizas. One for each of them.

"Look here. If the fight continues even with that obvious victory from before and on the slim chance that the guy brings back a win the next round of ale is on me with these three mizas."

The amount actually the total value of five drinks Bolivar did not exempt the two who took the loss well. Looking to the two both giving the squire an appreciative nod looked back at the three who seemed fussy at the lost. A shrug from one signaling his surrender on the terms, another seeing the first give up followed suite, the last insisting he at least gets the two mizas he betted back. Bolivar would have to work on persuading him later. Possibly through some pressure from his fellow betting peers or simple intimidation. Speaking of fellow betting peers.

"Oh man! What audacity! I should have betted on THAT guy."

Raising his eyebrow in veiled interest Bolivar brought the same three mizas he offered his former betting partners with. Holding the three gold rimmed mizas between his fingers Bolivar deftly provided a flourish with the coins to catch Drake's attention before giving him his offer.

"You really wanna make that bet? Three Mizas says my pale beauty will be the one on top here."

An agreement made Bolivar chuckled haughtily at the new proposals being thrown around. Of course it was only natural to bet even after winning such a healthy pot. Worst case Bolivar would have to pay the six mizas back and still be ahead by 4 gold rimmed ones. Now this was why he regularly visited the gambling hall. A thrill of winning and gambling with a hefty amount of coin. An illusion at times but sometimes so real it was almost rapturous.

All there was left to do was watch. It was outside the squire's power. It was infuriating and gripping at the same time. Feeling his heartbeat rise as the fight resumed Bolivar could only speculate on what spurred on the sudden revival of the fallen man. Bolivar did not first notice the man's revival earlier but he was well aware of the man's state now. Either hiding his injuries surprisingly well or it was something else entirely. From Bolivar's perspective it was all to clear the numerous advantages his fighter had over him. Pounding hard along the ring Bolivar tried to galvanize the pale fighter to action.

"What are you waiting for? Give him a proper send off. That's all he needs now."

[Noaru]

Radjutlas

Let’s Rumble!

There was something seriously wrong with this situation. The opposition stood-up and was moving but his eyes were completely white, as he smiled at the Pale-warrior. The Pale-warrior looked into his friend’s eyes—this was not the man he knew and grew up with as a child. Actón was the Pale-warriors name; his title was what temporary replaced his formal and polite name. Luke was the oppositions name; he was always challenging others when he was younger and thus, as time passed, he was called the Opposition.

Luke could feel the invasive consciousness trying to get to something and resists against its advances. Noaru growled in the privacy of his thoughts, he sensed that his host was hiding something; memories or secrets that could be valuable. The ethereal knew that, in time, he would be able to access ‘‘that little region of the mind’’ his host was guarding so fiercely. Noaru focused on his host’s body, he moved Luke’s fingers which twitched in response to his influence. The ethereal advanced to the rest of his host’s body, causing the muscles within Luke’s body to jerk.

Actón couldn’t believe what he was seeing and what shocked him the most…was that the crowd began to cheer. The Pale-warriors face told a tale…of disbelief. These people were insane! The crowd probably did not care or they were oblivious to the fact that possessed man was about to fight on stage. Those two chimes or so that had passed gave Noaru enough room to seize control of Luke’s body.

He rushes towards Actón with a clenched fist tucked to his left side and propels it forward. Actón snaps out of his daze and with barely enough time to be able to raise his arms and guard his face.

Luke’s fist makes contact with a hard impact! Actón stumbles backwards and winces in response to the pain on his forearms. Noaru had no intention on holding back—the strength of possession knew little bounds.

Get This Party Started

[Bolivar]

It took a bit longer on the sidelines but already Bolivar could tell something was amiss. The expressions worn by both fighters told each in turn was a marker for Bolivar to go by. Still unsure about his hunch Bolivar clenched his hesitantly wondering all the while.

Something is amiss. Though what I cannot say.

It might have had something to do with his fighter's demeanor. He was panicked all of a sudden. There wasn't much that could demoralize a warrior, even more so when he was winning. The only thing that would unsettle such a champion was something out of his control or realm of mastery. Which usually meant magic of some sorts. The thought rushing to Bolivar's mind slowly changed the squire's demeanor from unsure to being galvanized to action.

A few steps made and Bolivar was quickly thrown back by the excited crowd. Snapping his head at the commotion Bolivar quietly dreaded what came next. There was no way he'd be able to snap the crowd out of their fervor. It would require a trait long lost on the squire, the ability to sway the masses. Even a minor, unruly bunch like this there'd be no way for him to really put an end to this sudden situation.

Hearing the Pale warrior's body crash into the edge the cage near him Bolivar had a first hand view of the start what looked to be a slow unbearable decline for his fighter. For now nothing came to mind, Bolivar's eyes grew wide at the realization his teeth grinding out of anger and his thumb rubbing consciously on his open palm.

[Noaru]

Radjutlas

Let’s Rumble!

The bitter despair that filled Luke’s mind, chocked him! What was he doing, no, what was this spirit doing to his childhood friend? A series of thoughts flooded Luke’s mind, telling him to consider what he has done and released upon his best friend. He watched, as this entity manipulated his body and used it to punch, kick and knee his friend, Actón, in various parts of his body. Actón guarded against the heavy blows that pulverized his muscles and bones. However, Actón did not believe his body would last. He only hoped that his friend would come to realize that he was being controlled by his own dark emotions.

Noaru continued his assault; he grabs Actón by the arms and smashes his head into the humans face. Actón back slams against the metal of cage. Actón, his mind was nothing but a cauldron of muddled thoughts. The blow he received from Noaru, gave him a short concussion. Actón could barely hold his guard and he wobbles trying to maintain his fighting stance. Noaru kicks Actón’s left leg, forcing the man to fall to one knee. A puppeteer is not conscious of the puppets pain; he simply does what he must in order to keep the show going. Noaru was the same, he was not aware of the fact that his host—Luke, was suffering.

Luke had several sprained fingers and his forehead was bleeding yet a permanent smile was etched upon his face—madness. Luke could not endure the pain any longer and he rebels against the spirit within him! Noaru’s reaction was swift; he anchored his being deep within the human’s consciousness and refused to let go. Actón tackles Luke and pins him against the stage floor. Noaru struggled to maintain his control over Luke’s body. Noaru’s problems only grew more severe, once Actón decided to tackle him. He could not handle two humans at once!

The crowd cheered and watched in excitement as Actón attempted to place Luke in a sleeper hold. Noaru thrashed and broke free from Actón’s hold; he punches Actón in the face with a clenched right fist and fractures his nose and Luke’s four fingers. However, Noaru finds himself being forced from Luke’s body in that moment—defeated. He watched as the two men remained exhausted upon the stage; blood trickling down their faces. Noaru conceded his defeat and ventures off stage to hide from the light. A shadow, Noaru's shadow, looms over Actón and Luke before disappearing from sight. A few souls in the crowd notice this shadow while the rest of the crowd cheers on, expecting more.

oocI'll end the thread after your post!
Get This Party Started

[Bolivar]

The thought of stopping the match with a show of reimancy crossed the mixed blood's mind. It really would have made it so much simpler. Just a slight show of force to quiet the crowd, to stop their interference from what must be done. The slight creeping feeling that crawled up a select few from the crowd persisted as Bolivar tried to find the source of the unease. Watching the two fight with a renewed vigor, one with a sudden merciless bloodlust that should have shocked onlookers. As the squire jostled as he tried to enter the ring he saw many were indeed put off with the display. A look of recognition and realization sprung from their faces as some looked hopelessly whilst others joined Bolivar in an attempt to stem the gratuitous violence.

"Stop the match! This fight has gone on too far!"

Bolivar's voice was drowned out in the crowd as the few who moved against the fight were held off by the grunts that worked at the Spinning Coin. The jostling eventually grew pitched as a sudden punch was thrown and a whole mess of brawling erupted. Bolivar himself found himself grappling with another man, faltering slightly as his size gave the man a slight advantage. Grabbing the man's shirt Bolivar wrest himself just enough purchase to notice the fighting pair in the ring slumped over exhausted. And perhaps the silhouette of a foreboding figure evaporating into the air.

What was that?

The squire watched mesmerized for a moment, jaw opened wide. The perfect target for a right cross that slammed into the squire's jaw before he fell back. Moments later puzzled by why exactly he was on his back the sight of a man advancing on him sprung the squire into a panicked frenzy. Squirming and pushing every which way Bolivar was only able to break free as he was assisted by another wanting to stop the fight. Scrambling away Bolivar looked back at the fighting pair. Spent, used and with no one to attend them.

"The fight is over! Stop fighting!"

His voice barely registered as the chaos ensued. Forcing himself back up Bolivar found new resolve as he found himself in need of doing the order's work. The need to stop the fight outside was much more pronounced since the fight inside was over. Those two needed help and they needed it now.

"Goddammit. STOP FIGHTING! ENOUGH!"

Strengthing his point by breaking up a grapple between two patrons by shoving the both of them to the ground. The action was enough to give him some notice to those around him but there were still some who carried on. This was the time where Bolivar the man was not enough. This was the time where Bolivar squire had to set things right.

"Anymore fighting and the Knights will hang you by your thumbs overnight! Any takers?"

That was enough to stop all but one unaware combatant, which Bolivar promptly forced to the ground with a look at the ones around him. Quickly they ganged up on the sole fighter who was made aware of the squire. Glancing around once more to make sure the peace was kept Bolivar met every stare from the crowd with a look of authority. A report had to be made. The slightly elevated mood swings and the sudden fervor of one of the fighters had to be taken down. Looking at the pair in the ring Bolivar waved down the workers of the Coin to relieve them.

"Take them to a healer. Someone of the order will arrive shortly to bring them in for questioning."

Nodding slightly, Bolivar made doubly sure that all of the duties expected him was done for now. There was still much to do. A report, finding someone to report to and possibly some reflection on what was the source of this... pandemonium.

"Carry on."