CHPT 376: I Will Test the Waters-- Feel its Change as the Tsunami Comes.......

What an ironic-- yet expected turn of events. Somewhat expected with his luck.....

He'd entered the sleepless City of Heroes once again. Armed with weapons, transformations and knowledge on an old enemy from an unlikely ally. He'd been searching for them-- betting on the fact that they'd never see him coming. They'd never know the Lupine that they hunted was already at their door...or bloated loot-laden camp entrance...?

He was right. They didn't see him coming. But neither did he-- in a very literal sense.

The shock and abrupt entrance of the Raiders posing as Heroes flipped a switch in his brain-- lit a flame under his tingling skin. It reminded him. The memories were once real. The effects still raw-- like an unclean wound that festered and spread across his mind. The sight of the rugged band of men and women-- still smelling of the human blood they drowned their faces in, had a very aggressive affect on his metaphorical festered wounds.

Their faces-- their voices. They were like dull claws being run across the rawness in his mind. Saying he was lit ablaze was an understatement. But assuming he was without reason, was false. He came in with a purpose-- with responsibilities. And he held onto them. Wore them like the mask that covered his mouth full of sharpened fangs. He wouldn't change. He wouldn't make mistakes. Couldn't.

And with the understanding of how to maintain his control. It was even more unlikely. He was slowly beginning to learn it. Control. A subjective term for Lupines since it was different for everyone. For him, control was found through embrace. He needed to sit in his circumstances. Good and bad.

Easy enough. All he had to do was keep his eyes on them-- remember what they did. Not only to the fallen Night Runners, but to his psyche....his development-- his innocence.

He just needed to watch. A simple task that worked right beside his initial plan. A plan that transformed into something a bit more risky.

***

"[Risky indeed.....are you sure you want to do this?]" Arne asked...for the tenth time in the frame of ten seconds.

"Yes. It'll be good practice for me and provide a nice informational base for when the real thing happens." Claude replied, ears slightly bothered by the continuous clinking of metal and leather armor being moved around at his left and right.

"[And what about her?]" Arne asked.

Claude didn't need him to specify. His eyes panned off to the right. Ursula stood beside him, adjusting her arm guards and chest piece, moving at a pace similar to every other Night Runner occupying the training space within the GuildHall. Her face held a look similar to his own from beneath her mask. She knew they were Raiders about as quickly as he did. But she'd never experienced their violence. Maybe he was letting her feel more of his mind than he meant. Either way...

"It'll be a practice in control for us both...among other things." Claude said.

Before their conversation could go anywhere else, the giant old Raider rose at the end of the wall they occupied and moved to the opposite end of the room.

His walk was heavy. A sight exaggerated by the well covering silver glint of his armor. It hugged his midsection and shoulders like a second skin. It was unfinished-- like he was missing pieces of equipment on the forearms and hands. Odd for a Tank to be so scarcely guarded in such a specific area.

He also lacked a helmet, letting everyone see his balding braided head and disgusting greying brown beard.

The armor around his legs and boots clanked the whole walk across the expansive training floor. His calloused knuckles cracking in rhythm with the tune his gait created.

Claude's eyes followed him like a hawk, but his focus never split from the other three behind him.

The Archer. A thin and bald man with teeth rotten enough to match a Ghoul's in corrosive power. His limbs were wiry-- fast and energetic like a dog in need of a walk. He could tell even from the growing distance, the man was physically less impressive than the others, but his stamina was probably nightmarish. He reminded him of Jack-- only less slimy and deceptive.....and with better fit clothing.

Behind the Archer, a young man and woman followed. The woman had a bit more meat on her bones than the wiry Archer-- but not by much. Her standard issue light armor added to her bulk. One arm fully adorned by shining armor and leather straps, the other barren for more mobility. Swordsmen loved mobility.

It seemed the man walking beside her loved it as well. He wore no armor other than the thick leather covering beneath his cloak and hood. It didn't take a genius to realize he was an Assassin. Not an extremely deadly one either since Claude could hear him walk-- even with the sounds of all the armor and weapons. Either that or his hearing was better than he thought.

His eyes remained on them all the way across the hundreds of feet of polished natural floor. They eventually came to a stop at the very end. Claude could feel the others watching with him. Nobody as interested in them as his pack.

Blackbeak didn't make a sound from his shoulder. But he could feel his feathers ruffling faintly. Frosty remained in a similar state between him and Ursula. The cord he imagined in his mind that connected him to Frosty, held strong. A glowing tether of cyan fused Mana and beastial connection. They were in sync.

They all were so focused that when the Tank spoke-- the shockingly loud noise of his voice had them flinching in pain.

"Hello everyone!" His voice carried with the boom of a war drum, forcing all the Night Runners that weren't interested before to look up.

With his enhanced vision, he could see the faintest silver glow surrounding them. Himself included. The urge to keep his eyes on the man was stronger than before.....to the point that he stopped focusing on the others.

"[He's using a toned down Taunt ability to keep your attention along with some vocal boost.....impressive.]" Arne noted.

"My name is Erik....and that's all you need to know. I come from up north-- on a trip...for family..."

Claude's heart skipped a beat before he continued.

"And while I'm here, I thought I'd stop by the Guilds I could get into and break a sweat here and there, you know?"

A good portion of the other Night Runners nodded along, completely immersed.

"Anyway, by this point, me and my folks have seen a lot of training rooms in this...what is it called? This Hero City-- and I gotta say, they're boring! What the hell is this? A flat stretch of stone floor with a couple puddles, squares of grass and a firepit? No, No. Where I'm from, it's a little more diverse....a little more wild."

If he kept hinting at the fact that he was a heartless thieving criminal living in forests all across New Gloria, Claude would transform on the spot and start tearing everything to shreds.

"So." Erik said with a booming clap, "How about we up the stakes a bit...add a little challenge? My buddies here are getting bored of flat combat."

The Night Runners that littered the wall beside Claude and Ursula looked away for the first time, as if they were considering it, like a bunch of students being asked a question by a teacher.

Slowly, a few of the more socially expressive and battle hungry folk stood up in agreement. Unknowing of what was to come but eager to get into a scuffle of any kind.

In a matter of seconds, Erik had gotten his answer, once again causing his dirty long beard to twist with the smile of his unseen lips.

"Perfect. How about we have a little clash? A team fight for a monetary reward? I've heard FeliAlu City doesn't shy away from it's gambling origins.....heheh.."

As soon as Erik mentioned money. There wasn't a single soul that wasn't on board.

The life of a GloryHound. A simple one in many ways....

***

After ten minutes had passed, a bowl sat halfway between the Raiders and the Night Runners Claude waited amongst. It was filled with Bronze and Silver Coins that glistened under the glow of the torches lining the training rooms walls. The Night Runners were practically foaming at the mouth-- the only thing stopping them from charging the bowl seemed to be the fully armored Knight, standing beside the loot like a metal sentinel wielding a Rune-Written BroadSword. On his left chest-- pinned to the armor, a Gold Rank tag glistened like yellow diamond.

The rules were simple. A team combat simulation, they'd all put money up and the winner took their money back.....along with splitting the profits of the losing team. That definitely wouldn't end badly....

Either way, Claude didn't care. He just needed to see them fight. Win or loss, he had more than enough money to operate with a sound mind in this scenario. Not like it mattered much at the current time anyway. The money he had wouldn't buy him out of his current circumstances. He couldn't bribe the Moon. He couldn't buy the manpower of a thousand Angels or HellSlayers to combat the Demons. He couldn't buy his revenge. He could only study in combat-- which he planned to do. He could only hope it was worthwhile.

Rikah said the reinforcements would be stronger. He needed to know how much so.

Before he could think any more on the matter, he noticed everyone was up and ready. And Erik looked ready to speak again. He seemed to enjoy being at the helm of such things. Claude wondered how many Raiders he led on a nightly basis....how many Night Runners he murdered for profit.

"I'm no gambling man, but I'm ready to make all this money back!" He shouted, beating his armored chest.

The other Night Runners returned in a buzz of clanking weapons and trash talk, seemingly more enthusiastic than before.....for obvious reasons.

Even so, he was suprised by Erik's confidence. Worried even. There were only four of them. Compared to the Night Runners on Claude's side who were up by five members at least. Some of them being Gold Ranked.

That wasn't good news for him and Ursula in the slightest. If he was comfortable with the odds of a four versus nine to ten...that would mean he'd have to be well within the Gold Rank with a possibly deadly defensive Skill.

His mind raced with the possibilities of such a fact when the Archer suddenly moved on the other side of the room, standing on his tip toes to whisper something to Erik.

Claude turned his head so his left ear faced them.

"--See if he can catch another one of my shots?"

Erik shook his head, "Oh no. That's the thing. I think he could-- if not, he's very close."

The Archer scoffed, "So what?"

Erik's face went stony for a fraction of a second and Claude's nose twitched at the faint scent of human greed, "So, I'm going to get us this money. Speed and mobility at the drop of a dime like that is a beautiful thing....why do you think I tried to get you and her all the training I could? He's got it. I want to use it."

Following his words, Erik stepped forward, his eyes on the Night Runners. They moved across the men and women of varying classes and ranks. Calculating-- considering. Never standing still before settling on Claude. The smell of greed came again, as potent and inhuman as a wild Goblin. Suddenly the idea of putting Raiders in a game involving money felt worlds more dangerous. Too dangerous for a simple sparring match. A match he'd almost forgotten about until Erik spoke.

"Hey Reflexes! Why don't you and your buddy come join us!"

Silence...