Red Rings (job w/ Digit)

Belladonna spat out a mouthful of sand as she pulled herself up from the ground. This was by far the worst way a mission could start... but seeing as she had not involved herself in many missions, less palatable ways could easily top the "Least Exciting Ways to Kick Off a Mission" charts. She looked around. This whole place was one barren desert. Deserts meant little water, which made up for that scarcity with lots of burning sun and even more sand. She could hear the raucous laughter of the men and women who milled around, beating a few people here and there into submission and feeling very good about it. Belladonna licked her teeth as thick boots strutted into her line of sight and stood before her. She was sure the person was going to aim a kick at her, or try to get a better look at her face. The latter was likely the case, seeing as she was obviously a stranger to these parts, and the unruly tresses that she called her hair obscured most of her face. A hand grabbed her chin roughly and jerked her head upwards.

"Perfect timing, punk..."

She had gathered whatever remnants of earth had remained in her mouth in a healthy glob of spit, which she issued with a decent amount of accuracy into her victim's eye. As the man made a surprised and angry sound and pulled back instinctively, Belladonna struck out at his face with her left hand, easily knocking him onto the ground. In an instant, she was on her feet, glaring out at the slavers from between locks of her hair, as she watched them ready their weapons.

Slavers...

Desert...

What was she even doing here, in the first place?

Backtracking a few days earlier provides more clarity to her self-imposed predicament. Belladonna had taken up a certain mission which was of interest to her. Unlike most dark mages, who enjoyed causing carnage that made the "good people" quake in their boots, Belladonna didn't see anything attractive in killing innocent people or engaging in the activities that would brand a person as an evil doer. However, it was her way of doing things that caused virtually everyone who came in contact with her to seriously question her morality. And seeing as most humans never tried to get closer to see her side of the story, they often quickly came to the same conclusion. She, for her part, had long discovered that it was better for her conscience and her sanity to never look back. And she had mostly stayed true to that creed.

Her interest in this mission was of course, as you would have guessed, not because she wanted to see blood and gore decorate the heavens and rain down on the earth. It was because she had sniffed out an injustice, which she wanted to see rectified. As as she believed. Those who partake of injustice, as well as those who actively supported it, were equally guilty, and would share the same fate. Oh, on another hand, she had heard that the location of the mission, an arena, seemed to be the attempts of certain politicians to consolidate power. Putting two and two together, anyone invested in slavers and gory arenas was not likely going to make a good despot (if there was ever such a word). Errings Rising, the guild Belladonna had come to affiliate herself with, was known to aim at the destruction of Order. She thought Order had its uses, but wherever and whenever she felt it was a front for oppression, she would bring it all down, as much as it was in her power to do so.

There was one other important thing about this mission. There was a boy that needed saving. Perhaps it was Belladonna's way of coping with the fearful things she did to those she felt deserved it, but she always tried to help those who she felt were at the brunt of the injustice. So, this mission was more or less the kind that she threw heart and soul into. And tact, of course. She had accepted the mission, packed a few essentials, and traveled...

... and had willingly found the slavers, and done a good job of getting kidnapped. From the details of the mission, she could have made her way in if she had a VIP pass, but she reckoned that it might look suspicious for one such as herself, who did not look like nobility of any sort, to possess such a prized and hard-to-come-by item. If she had tried to sneak in, or fight her way in, it was said that the arena had an enchantment that mysteriously whisked it away; a reason law enforcement couldn't get their hands on it. But that was her mission as a mage: to get her hands dirty, while taking out the trash.

Back to the present. Belladonna watched warily, breathing heavily, as the attacked man struggled to regain his senses, and slavers shouted things in a language she could not understand. Just as the slavers prepared to attack, a call brought everyone to a standstill. A man appeared, looking very un-Desierto-ish. If anything, his skin tone gave him away. No doubt, he was one of the people in charge of the arena, because he spoke quietly to the most important looking slaver, and she overheard a few words such as ready, and fight. Then he gestured to some of the captives, most of whom looked promising in a fight, and left. The chief slaver barked out some orders in his strange tongue, and his gang began herding the chosen captives into cages, which were mounted on large pack animals. Belladonna resisted to an extent, but allowed herself to be locked in. She noticed that some of the enslaved were foreigners, like herself. Smart choice for the slavers. That way, they would be harder to be looked for. She listened quietly as the captives talked in murmurs among themselves, and she heard someone mention the "Ring of Blood".

She smiled to herself. Worst way to begin a mission, but all things were going as planned for now.

Belladonna sat in her cage, her eyes languidly following anything that seemed to be of interest. There were many weapons in this place, which was definitely expected of a combat arena. There was a lot of activity, because, as she had supposed, a battle was coming up. She clucked to herself and shook her head. There were likely going to be people in the thousands, all cheering to see people get murdered in various grisly ways, and yet, they would scrunch up their noses at her for being a "dark" mage. So, who was evil? The one who affiliated themselves with those who fought against the establishment, or the one who reveled in dirty, callous acts, but hid behind a dainty hand fan, lavish cloths and 'court manners'?

She noticed that the workers in the arena, tough looking people, some of whom had many scars, began dragging out people from their cages. Many of them came out kicking and screaming, aware that they were little more than lambs being led to the slaughter. Belladonna felt sorry for them; they had not asked to be put in this predicament, but it was because of the wickedness of the ones in charge that this was happening to them. The more she lived, the more the accepted the creed of the Errings Rising. Where was the justice in all this? No, people like her had to make the justice for themselves. In a moment, the prison was devoid of much, save the remaining prisoners in their cages, and those who guarded them. She could barely hear the sounds of combat outside, but her heightened senses allowed her to realize that someone was being slaughtered. She hoped that it was not the person she had been sent here to rescue. Perhaps it was time for her to begin twisting things to her purpose. She had realized that it was something she was good at.

"58th Malediction Curse: Imperio!" she muttered under her breath, as she released a surge of overwhelming mental energy. The prison was not very large, and so her power overwhelmed everyone in the room, drawing them into her thralldom. A few of the guards resisted at first, but they soon discovered, the hard way, that Belladonna Black was not a woman to be refused.

"What is your bidding, my mistress?" one of the guards asked, as he unlocked her cage. Mentally, she will everyone else to act normally, so as not to raise suspicions from anyone else. As she walked out, she began to question the guards.

"I'm looking for a young man, Desiertan like yourself. He looks like a rich kid, definitely the kind that should be up in the boxes, rather than down on the sands. Seen anyone like that?"

"Yes, my mistress. He is currently slated for the next fight, where he will likely be killed by the Sandy Duke." Belladonna raised an eyebrow, and the guard explained: "The Sandy Duke is one of our regular patrons. He always fights in set-up matches, where he must always win. Those chosen to fight him are usually poisoned, so that they cannot operate at full capacity, making them easy kills."

Belladonna nodded. "Alright. Take me out to where they are preparing the next combatants. I must be placed in the arena alongside the rich kid. If possible, I want to face the Sandy Duke."

"It shall be done, my lady," the guard replied, with a bow. "But if it pleases my mistress, I must have to bind you in shackles, otherwise suspicions shall be raised. I sincerely regret this uncouth treatment of your person, and I apologize..."

"Do what must be done," she interjected. "This is just a little price to pay for victory. Act as if I am a mere prisoner, and not your mistress."

A few moments later, Belladonna walked out of the prison, with the guard behind her. She was taken to a large room, where people were being outfitted for the next battle. She could hear the commentator of the arena making mockery of the unfortunate soul who had just met his end. If she had her way, some serious blood was going to be shed today.

"Who is this?" a scarred man suddenly asked the guard accompanying her, as he looked her up and down. "A prisoner, of course," the guard replied. "I think Appleton wants to give the Baron some more... juicy sport." The scarred man was still appraising Belladonna with his eyes. "I thought it was going to be the soft boy... but the Duke would prefer this. She looks juicy enough, alright. The lucky bastard! Well, prep her up, then. Don't want to keep our 'exalted war lords' waiting." The scarred man said this last part with ill concealed disgust, as he turned to attend to other matters.

First, Belladonna was brought to a table, where various bottles stood. "I'm sorry, my mistress, but if you want to face the Duke, you have to drink this poison. Without it, there is no way he will accept to fight."

"Ahh, the poison, right?" Belladonna asked, and with one motion, she picked the designated bottle off the table and downed its contents. "Ugh! It tastes like *****!" she cursed as she dropped the bottle. Many of the inhabitants of the room were watching her, some looked sorry for her, while the others looked somewhat derisive. It was like they were saying to themselves, "we'll see how spunky she is, out on the sands." But Belladonna had an ace they knew nothing about.

Next, she was led to the armory, where she looked around for something that suited her. She saw a young man close by, looking shaken, but trying his best to stay calm and brave. He looked quite like the description of the nephew she was here for, so she drew closer and said, under her breath:

"Dahmin? Is that your name?"

His eyes widened, as he turned to stare at her. "Wha...? How do you know my name? I've never seen you before."

Belladonna smiled, and turned back to the weapons. "Act like we're just discussing. I'm here to bust you out, but you can't act like you know anything about this. I can't promise you much, but just know someone will be trying to keep your head on your shoulders while you're here."

She reached out and picked an exotic, wicked looking gauntlet, which covered the entire lower arm and ended in wicked claws. She tried it on, and it fit perfectly. After making various finger motions, she nodded and turned to go, when Dahmin grabbed her arm.

"Shush!" she said before he could speak. "No one must be allowed to know anything. If we're seen looking chummy, it might be harder to do anything about your case. Now, shoo."

Just as she walked away from him, the scarred man announced in a booming voice: "We're having our fights in quick succession." He pointed at Dahmin. "You! Step forward." His gaze then scanned the group, and finally rested on... "Ahh... the 'juicy one'. You both are next. The boy goes first. Cleanup crew, prepare yourselves. The Duke likes to be messy."

Belladonna glared at him, but he only returned a look that seemed to have pity. Then he called out something in his strange tongue and marched briskly away. Guards began ushering them outside, and to Belladonna's delight, she discovered that all the gladiators would be outside, at the edges of the sandy arena while the fights went on. She ought to be able to secretly influence Dahmin's match, if she had to. As for the Sandy Duke, she would relish gutting him, when the time came.

It would seem that Fate had other things planned. No sooner had Dahmin and his opponent appeared, and the umpire was about to introduce them, than a sword sailed from above and buried itself in the sands before them. Like everyone, she looked up, and saw a young woman, barely beyond her teens, with purplish-white hair. Belladonna raised an eyebrow as the woman mentioned her name.

Saraphina?!

Errings Rising?!!

This was her Guild Master?!!!

She had heard the name before, back at the guild, but had never met the person behind it. Unlike most people that would probably underestimate Saraphina based on her looks, Belladonna knew just how dangerous it was to do such, as many had looked down on her until it was too late for them. The only thing she felt slightly displeased about was that Saraphina seemed younger than she was... and was still taller?! Life was so unfair.

But Belladonna had to meet this lady.

She put her hand to her lips and stifled a giggle, as Saraphina unceremoniously crashed to the ground below. Then she regained her composure and glanced around. There was some sort of commotion brewing, but she couldn't tell what it was. It seemed that the umpire noticed it too, but so as not to have chaos, and keep the bets running, he gestured for the match to begin. Belladonna, although very interested in keeping the boy alive, started walking towards Saraphina instead. As some guards began filing out to get Saraphina off the sands, Belladonna murmured a spell quietly. A series of black tendrils suddenly grew out from the ground to ensnare the opponent Dahmin was up against. She wouldn't do much about the guards, though; Belladonna had met people who did not like others trying to protect or fight for them. If Saraphina was indeed her guild master, she was more than capable of protecting herself.

Ignoring the guards that were also headed her way for breaking ranks, she approached the white haired woman, a curious look on her face. "Queen Saraphina, is it? You're the Guild Master of Errings Rising?"

Of course, Saraphina had not mentioned her position in the guild to the crowd, but Saraphina would understand how Belladonna was privy to such information, when she set eyes on her. Belladonna had lost since lost her jacket, and her guild symbol, only partly obscured by her pants, would be visible to Saraphina.

Watching the guild master of Errings Rising allowed Belladonna to come to a few conclusions which she was sure were mostly correct: first, the young woman was very fickle. It was to be expected, running a guild that spat on laws and preferred to do as they pleased, while reveling in the chaos they caused. Chaos was actually an effective vehicle to get a lot of things done, and ironically, well planned mayhem could be put to much good use. Secondly, Saraphina was quite powerful. That was also to be expected, seeing as guild masters were not expected to be wash overs.

As she had watched the swords dance their deadly dance around Saraphina and into the hearts of those whom Saraphina was irritated by, she had made her approach towards the White Queen. Many would have thought that a stupid move, what with the seeming blood thirst of her guild master, but Belladonna was sure, in some way, that Saraphina would not mind granting her an audience. Saraphina's blades afforded the two women a moment to discuss, and Belladonna was not surprised that Saraphina had never seen her before. In response to Saraphina's query as to who she was, and how she had found the guild Belladonna said:

"The name's Belladonna Black, and I'm currently in a nomadic phase of sorts, as far as my life is concerned, so I don't get often to stay for long in the fortress atop Hakobe." She paused and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "As to how I found your guild, well, I spent much of my life running from oppressors, and much of that time was spent on Hakobe. It would seem that mountain is a good place to stay if you don't want too many guests. While there, I ventured to the top on one occasion, and let's just say the rest is history."

She watched Saraphina as she took interest in Dahmin, and almost laughed at the boy's confused, frightened face. As long as he didn't do anything stupid to piss the White Queen off, Belladonna was sure his safety was ensured. Dahmin didn't know whether to run from Saraphina or anything; he knew for a fact that she was too powerful for him to try to fight against. Besides, apart from Belladonna, she was the only person that wasn't interested in seeing his blood spill. If the White Queen said he would be well protected, he would take that chance with her. He glanced from one woman to the other, then nodded to Saraphina. Belladonna was inwardly pleased, because that meant that the mission could still end up being successful. However, there was another reason she was here.

Saraphina asked her to kill the officials, who were easy to spot from their manner of dress and Fioran accents. Some of them were from Desierto, however, and although killing them might pass across a political statement, surely a member of Errings Rising could not care peanuts about what laws and politicians wanted. Belladonna was feeling a little more... ambitious, though. In her eyes, the officials were not the only ones on her hit list. Since they were likely going to be easier to corner, due to their few numbers, Belladonna decided to take care of her "other targets" first.

She closed her eyes, and gathered together all the revulsion she could muster against exploitation and cruelty. Then she opened them, which were aglow with energy, as a strange green energy began coalescing around her body. In a loud voice, she called out: "Many of you "common" spectators are here just to watch people die. You care not for their lives, and so I care not for yours. As you have chosen a place of death for entertainment, I entertain you with death!" While speaking, she began to walk up invisible 'stairs', so that she was soon elevated some meters above the ground.

As the final words escaped her lips, the green energy erupted from her body like an explosion, surging forward with alarming speed and swallowing up most places of the arena. Interestingly, none of the gladiators were harmed, nor were Saraphina and Dahmin. However, everyone else whom the green energy touched were instantly corroded by the acidic essence. The screams that had previously ensued with the death of the proprietor of the arena now intensified a hundredfold, as everyone tried to get away from the deadly fog. Some people trampled on others, others struggled with closed doors, but eventually, all met the same fate. All, except the important officials Saraphina spoke of, the owners of the Ring. Saraphina had taken down their head, but the mission would be complete when the Ring of Blood was silenced for good.

In a moment, most sounds had ceased. Pale green light slowly faded but still mostly remained, a threat to whoever had found a way of avoiding it and yet leaving most, if not all of the surroundings intact. However, most of the living things that had come to watch gladiators die were gone. All that remained of them were bones, bleached bones that were partially immersed in some sickly green gunk that was supposed to have been their flesh.

Belladonna let out a deep breath and dropped back to the ground. "Now that that has been taken care of, where are those officials?" she murmured to herself as the left the sands in the center of the arena to find a way up to the balcony where they were. They had a saving grace, which was that they, being the most influential of anyone here, had their own special box from where they could watch the fights. that saving grace would be their undoing, however, because, from the movements she could see up ahead, they had not left their box for fear of her flesh eating plague. That fear would keep them holed in like rats, until she came to smoke them out.

Movement caught her eye, as two gladiators appeared in front of her, brandishing weapons. They cut off her progress and prepared to do battle. Belladonna sighed incredulously. "You know, I left the gladiators alive because here I was, thinking I was doing you a favor by killing those you sponsor your deaths..."

One of the gladiators interrupted her. "Our loyalty is to the Sandy Duke, and the owners of the Ring of Blood. You have crippled business today, and our patrons are not very happy. It is therefore their wish to see you die painful deaths... you, and the other white haired witch."

"If you think today is a good day to die painfully, be my guest," Belladonna said with a shrug. "I don't have any painless execution techniques, so it's your headache."

Looking at them, she could easily infer that these guys were tough. She could even sense magic power coming off them, so they could probably also use some sort of magic or the other. No matter, it would only make this mission more interesting. The second gladiator started to say, "If you surrender, however, our patrons..." Belladonna grunted impatiently and assumed a battle stance.

"We have spoken enough. Come!"

For a moment, Belladonna stared down the two gladiators, and they did the same, each watching for the best time to strike. Around them, chaos ensued; her death fog had ensured that the patrons were restricted to their box, and now, Saraphina had gotten to them. What once served as a very good means of protection had ultimately turned out to be their doom. The gladiators were aware that the "white haired witch" was doing a number on their patrons, but they had to trust in the abilities of the other gladiators to take her down. Their concern was with the strange, purple haired witch, who for some unknown reason, had taken the poison meant for those who would fight the Sandy Duke, and yet still seemed to have all her senses about her. Maybe it was affecting her, but she was doing a good job of bluffing.

One of the two gladiators, the shorter one, wielding an axe, glanced sideways at the taller one, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Then he surged forward with impressive speed, wielding his weapon with both hands and aiming for a horizontal slash that was sure to bifurcate her body if she held her position. Belladonna waited for him, till he was close enough, then ducked sharply as the axe whistled cleanly overhead, clipping away a few locks of hair unfortunate to have been in the way.

"Impressive. I almost felt that..." Belladonna started to say, but was cut off by movement overhead. She looked up in time to notice the taller gladiator airborne, a hefty mace forming in his hands as he prepared to smash it down onto her.

"Requip Magic?"

With a resounding boom, the bludgeoning tool of death came smashing down onto her with a speed that belied its size. Their tandem attacks had been so well executed, and with the narrow passage that Belladonna had been confined to, there was no way she could avoid it. There was a resounding boom, and copious amounts of dust, wood and stone were flung into the air. The shorter gladiator smirked, believing that the battle was over already, and expecting that his partner would heft a bloodied mace onto his shoulder.

To his consternation, however, his friend wasn't smiling.

Instead, a look of utter confusion had crossed his face, and as he tried to look over his shoulder, he was suddenly thrust away from his current position, and further away from the patrons he had been trying to protect. His partner stared in shock, as he crashed into a wall, breaking through the brick and entering the adjoining room. Then, Belladonna walked out of the dust, a finger pointed at him, an ever-so-slight smile on her face, her emerald green eyes seeming to pierce into his soul. Just then, Saraphina asked her to waste the patrons and enjoy herself while at it. Belladonna was not one to really enjoy killing, but against people such as these, those patrons who only cared about their macabre indulgences, she could find it in her heart to relish this.

"You got it, boss."

She turned back to the hesitant gladiator. "You're an interesting bunch, and I'm feeling really nice today, so maybe I'll give you another opportunity to walk away and live another day."

She suddenly gestured, as if she was firing a bullet from her finger, and the gladiator noticed a strange projectile whiz past him, missing him by a fraction.

"Missed..." he snarled.

"You think?" Belladonna simply replied, gesturing with her head, towards something behind him. The gladiator risked a glance, and to his horror, he noticed that one of the patrons had tried to run out and away from the slaughter. Whatever Belladonna had fired had hit him in the back of his head, killing him instantly. His body turned to ash as he stood on his feet, the charred bones only falling to the ground moments after his entire skin had flaked off.

"Isn't it hypocritical that one who so relishes to see death dancing would be averse to its embrace?"

Behind her, the taller gladiator emerged from where he had crashed into, his movements sluggish. "Beware," he called to his partner. "The witch has put a curse on my body. It feels so heavy." He stepped towards Belladonna menacingly. "No matter. The slower I am, the stronger I get. Whatever you did will not work on me the second time. Attack!"

This time, both of them charged, and Belladonna began to wonder if she had not been too cocky in giving them a chance to regroup. The taller one was obviously slower, though, but on he came, like a charging bull, preparing another one of his strikes. The axe wielding gladiator got to her first, and once again, he made a slash which she avoided. And she saw the mace ridiculously close, moving at a speed almost faster than what she had seen the taller gladiator exhibit.

"What in the...?!"

Instinctively, she used the arm on which she had worn the gauntlet to defend herself, but the mace plowed into her and sent her clean into the air, the gauntlet shattering into many fragments. With the amount of pain that screamed through her senses, she knew that her arm was broken in many places. Ignoring the pain, the immediate course of action she took was to look for her assailants. Being airborne like this opened her for a follow-up attack... and she was starting to dislike just how spry the guy with the axe was.

As she suspected, the man had made an impressive leap, the axe raised over his head, aiming to slice her in two. She twisted her body and turned on him, a dark rage smoldering behind her eyes, as she took a deep breath. The gladiator was surprised; he had not expected such a small bodied woman to still be conscious after such a powerful blow. Well, it was his mistake; he wasn't even close enough to stage his attack, yet.

"Venom Demon Exorcist's Rage!!!"

A bright green blast issued from her mouth with terrifying violence, and there was no way the gladiator could avoid it, unless he could fly. With a huff of exertion, the gladiator gripped his axe firmly, and performed a downward slash. To Belladonna's surprise, he cut through her signature attack and escaped mostly unharmed, although the force was still strong enough to thrust him away. Belladonna, for her part, performed a somersault and landed gracefully on the ground, back on the sands in the center of the arena. Judging from the distance she had traveled, thanks to the mace attack, the taller gladiator's major force was his strength. It was best to avoid attacks from both of them.

The two gladiators dropped to the sands in front of her, desirous to continue their battle and bring her advance to a halt. Belladonna's arm, which had been awfully twisted, and was hanging limp, suddenly jerked violently and straightened itself with a sickening crack. The young woman flexed her fingers as she watched the gladiators, testing that her muscles had been fully healed. She noticed that the taller man had some strange tattoos glowing on his body. Perhaps they had somehow negated the slowing effect of her Void Cicada. This was not going to be an easy battle. She liked it that way. She was sorry if she would disappoint the White Queen at this point in time, but Saraphina would have to deal with the patrons for now. In the next few moments that would determine the fates of the three, a simple slip up could be the difference between life and death.

"Alright then. Let's get serious, now, shall we?"