Organization XIV - The Story So Far

Dispatch crossed his arms, looking around as the other teams started to move. The tournament and its rules sounded like pretty standard fare - though he himself was used to seeing a quarterfinal as well - but the little goat-man had left out one very important detail. He turned to the other three members of the group.

"So uh...what are the matchups?"

"Wait..." Gestalt said, turning to look around the arena. He swayed a little bit at the size of the crowd, but felt like he was better-prepared now. "...Did he say our teams were getting paired up? I didn't hear anything about this. So who are we fighting, and who are we working with?"

For some reason, he was wearing a leotard and sandals, not unlike the dashing man who'd just officiated the start of the Games. But the other guy wore it better. Probably had something to do with being absurdly-buff.

Jackie and Kandor were glancing around at any sign of what the teams would be, when--

BZHSAP!

--a gold-and-silver beam of light formed a corridor linking the teams near where Zeus and Hera were positioned. Though bright, it was still possible to see the figures in front of each brazier, enveloped in the light. As they looked--

BZH-BZH-BZH-BZH-BZHSAP!

--the rest of the teams were linked together. Midnight blue Athena and vermillion Apollo; crimson Ares and white Artemis; black Hades and cyan Poseidon; pink Aphrodite and purple Dionysus; burgundy Hermes and yellow Hephaestus. Zeus' team bore three figures, all hooded: One in black, one in red, and one in deep green, with a scarf of pink and orange hanging out. Hera's team bore four: a lanky man with a western style hat and chaps, scarf, and boots, a man with tight-fitting dark clothes and two knives at his waist, a girl in flowing robes that covered her hands and feet, and another woman in robes leaning on a staff, with a shock of red hair. 

Athena's team of three contained individuals who looked like they'd seen a few scrapes and might have seen better days, but were cheerful despite their seeming poor times: each bore worn-looking clothes, and included a bright, sunny blonde man, a silver-haired girl with pointed ears and red eyes, and another stocky figure whose gaze rarely flickered earthward, instead looking up at the sky. Apollo had championed three that Dispatch had seen earlier, a short man with bangs over his eyes, another tall man with slender fingers, who furiously scribbled notes, and a woman who still did not seem to mind that she was covered in paints. They were accompanied by a fourth person, a girl in a leotard and hair pulled back into a long, brown ponytail.

Ares was flanked by a duo clad in imposing armor, one in black, spiky armor with a huge sword on his back in a relaxed posture, the other in silver armor emblazoned with a sun and carrying with him a scythe. While the black-armored man kept his skull-like helm on, the other pale, gaunt man had long, flowing silver hair that made him look ancient. And Artemis, for her part, had three women around her. One was dressed regally and in fine silks, and whose eyes twinkled with hope and mischief. Another whose straight-backed posture made her seem incredibly tall, even disregarding her heels and cossack. The last was a girl in a blue cloak, with a design on the front that somewhat resembled Zeus' group.

Hades sneered as he gestured and made a grand showcase of the three imposing figures in front of him. Too big, too unwieldy, too violent was the hunk of metal that he could call a weapon, but the first figure, clad in golden armor, bore with him an immense mace and a look of pride in his sunken, green eyes. The next was another figure, not clad in armor, but dressed in leathers and carrying a sword nearly as long as he was tall. His black hair blew in the air, leaning against his sword in the dirt. The last was smaller than the other two, but bore a dizzying array of weapons that floated around him, in addition to a shield. The curls of his hair formed an auburn afro, as the short man sat in a trance. Meanwhile Poseidon was speaking animatedly with four who seemed like natives of the open sea, and were dressed for the occasion. The one in front was a young man with dark brown eyes and hair, with an expression full of hope. Flanking him were two women, one shorter with, strangely enough, iridescent purple hair cut into a bob, while the other wore a tight bun and an eyepatch. The last member hung back a bit, glancing over at his competition, shirt off and dirty blonde hair drawn into a long ponytail over his bronzed skin. Of anyone here, he strangely seemed to represent the Greek ideal the most as depicted by the statues and various art pieces the group had seen or glanced at so far.

Aphrodite (who Kandor refused to look at directly) had... what appeared to be less four heroes or champions and was instead in charge of presenting four figures whose looks beguiled the mind. The first that brought intrigue was the first definitively non-human presence in the area, whose figure was relatively humanoid... except for her lower limbs, which deformed into digitigrade legs of a wolf. Despite this, she stood at nearly eight feet tall, with sideburns, large eyes, displaced canine ears and a long mane of jet-black hair adorning her head. She stood in close proximity to a man adorned in regal clothing, bearing a white shroud that sat upon his shoulders, over a tabbard of dark green, fit tight over muscles that could only compare to the taller announcer. His only armor being bracers and greaves, he was equipped with a shield bearing the crest of a rose on his back and a mighty two-hander. Two girls spoke animatedly behind their backs, one whose fair skin was covered by blue and white monk's clothing, and whom idly twirled a slender wooden baton between her fingers. Her companion was another non-human, at least by standard metric, bearing a cat's tail curled around her waist and displaced feline ears top her calico-colored hair. Dionysus was currently celebrating with another non-human and his two companions. The first being an orc, dressed lightly in furs and pelts, adorned with bones and beads in his knotted hair, his grey-green mottled skin smooth and hair-free. Another tall man with crimson locks pulled back into a ponytail had pulled him into a sidelong embrace, the other man pulled in by his other arm. He wore a black cape with red underside and laughed loudly, contrary to his somber black attire. The last man laughed along, dressed in simple burlap clothing, with beads around his neck. His head shaven, he bore few remarkable features, but his face was etched with laugh lines and his eyes shone with good spirits. 

While Hermes' team required no introduction, it would be amiss to say that the team was anything of the ordinary, bearing an equal array of talented fighters and musicians, strategists and instinctual combatants. Jackie was flamboyant in her mood, taking the moment in with dance. Raising her arms up in the air, she shook her hips and twisted her legs from side to side, lowering to the ground before coming back up again. Kandor, for his part, merely assessed each team, before his gaze settled on the cloaked girl from Artemis' group, and then finally locking on the three from Zeus' team. Finally Hephaestus bore four armored champions, missing two of the six Dispatch had seen yesterday. Two stocky shorter men, both garbed in various robes and adorned with gems, jewelry, and each wielding small-looking maces. Another man stood tall at attention, his young face bearing the jawline of a man who had seen too much, aged beyond his years. And finally, there stood a woman with short, cropped red hair, adorned in light armor and carrying a spear.

Dispatch looked around at the competition, seeing all their faces but not quite absorbing them. There were so many. He hadn't thought about it before, but with twelve gods and all of them having a full team, there was always going to be a ton of fighters. The notion caused his hands to visibly twitch with excitement.

A few of the fighters caught his eye in particular. The man with the massive mace, for one thing, looked like trouble. Dispatch had fought his share of enemies who were way faster than their size would have suggested. The team of human-animals (Humanimals? he thought to himself) stuck out as well - the cat-girl in particular reminded him of a Saiyan, in the way that she coiled her tail around her waist, though the ears seemed to fit less than a Saiyan's.

Ultimately, though, he decided it would be best to talk with the team they'd be partnered with, and approached the straight-backed man with the clenched jaw. "Hey. Looks like it's you guys and us, eh? Whaddya think? We got this, or we got trouble?"

Having been gazing at their competitors and allies alike in no small amount of wonder, Gestalt checked his sword one last time to make sure it was secure. We're up against all kinds of people today. Still, if there's twelve teams, and we'll be paired, doesn't that mean there are only six fighting parties? That only leaves room for maybe three matches. Unless I'm missing something...


Jackie's look of enjoyment caught his attention. "You seem like you're having fun." It's a far cry from how she was acting back in Traverse Town. Good to see she's not beating herself up over it anymore. Well, if everyone's competing in good humor, I won't be the one to bring things down. His nerves began to fade completely, leaving him feeling almost eerily calm. It was a little weird, but he threw his arms up with balled fists, trying to get into the spirit of the competition.

The man blinked once, stirring from his reverie. He turned to look at Dispatch... and the tense look he'd had melted away, transforming in but a moment to a sincere smile. His eyes held a tinge of sadness, but the smile shone through his eyes even still. "Hail, young one, and good tidings to you as well. I've rarely encountered youths such as yourself, let alone such spirit and optimism. I trust in my companions and my sword, and seeing you in equally high spirits has spoken for your own vote of confidence. Truly, I had considered myself willing to test the mettle of your fists, sorcery, or swords, but perhaps not now at least."

"Cripe, Theo!" called the heavier of the two squat men. "Yer smoth'rin' 'im! Give de lad a chance, ay? How about ye name, forst? Mine's Braham. Brahaam Connill, atcher service, young man." His accent was... thick, to say the least, and likely unlike anything the group had heard of. "'At 'ere is Theodore Renault, 'is one o'er 'ere is Goeiz Timbers," he gestured first to the man Dispatch had spoken to, then to the man squatting beside him, who smiled and nodded once, politely. "And her o'er 'ere is Jill Radall."

The spear-carrying woman looked over calmly and sized up Dispatch in a single glance, raking him head to toe. "Interesting... I am, of course, Jill, as mentioned. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir...?" she said, waiting for Dispatch's reply.

Meanwhile, Jackie stopped her dance after a moment, but joined in again once Gestalt got going. "I... I think I'm really excited for this. I didn't think it hit me until I really saw everyone gathered here. These people aren't just our competition, they've made appeals to the gods and been found favorable...!" 

"I-it's l-like a r-romantic ideal, isn't... it?" Kandor quietly called over, his eyes still locked on the group of three. "I f-feel... sim...similarly. My f-friends... are ov...er there."

As if beckoned by the sound of his voice alone amidst the gathered crowd, the Dark Blue hooded figure whipped around, looking away from the group conversation she seemed to be having, and flew towards Kandor at breakneck speeds, past all the other contestants. 

"Ah sh--"

"KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIINNNNNNN!" screamed the voice, belonging to a girl, before she collided headlong with Kand... Kain, apparently, as the two flew back, rolling head over heels several times before coming to a stop near the brazier Hermes' essence hovered over.

"Well. Sup and salutations, silly sister," Kain muttered.

"Great grins gathered gregariously for glad greetings, Kainykins!" alliterated the scarf-clad one.

Dispatch looked over at the man and woman sprawled out on the ground. "The hell?" he mumbled to himself, wondering why they were suddenly both talking weird. They held his attention for a few seconds before it registered that he'd been asked for his name. And by another red-haired woman, at that, what was with all the red hair lately?

He turned back to...Jill? Jill. Not a really tough-sounding name, but she looked the part at least. "Ah, most people call me Dispatch." ...Actually, why did all the women he met lately seem to take so long to say so little?

"Dispatch? A fine name, and I imagine you've put it to good use," Jill commented drily. "Your calloused hands and shoulders-forward demeanor indicated you're not only hardworking, but confident and a little aggressive, perhaps assertive." She wagged one finger lightly. "Though, I suppose I'm not in much position to judge. Tell us about yourself and your crew over...." She paused, interrupted by a young woman yelling before tackling her sibling. "...there."

Dispatch shrugged noncomittally. "Honestly, I don't know all that much. I'm here because Magic Man over there said there was a tournament and it seemed like a good place to test myself, maybe find some people I've been looking for. Plus we're kinda looking into monster attacks on a bunch of different worlds together."

He scratched the back of his head, one eyebrow raised in confusion. "Anyway, what's with the compliments? You sound like you want something from me."

The man named Goeiz had his eyes light up with curiosity as he glanced over at where Kain lay, before attempting to disguise the motion by looking away again, toward's Dispatch. The motion did not go unnoticed by Brahaam, however, who laughed boisteriously at the moment. "Can't get enough, ay? Bloody hell, by Moradin' yer a skeevin' one, Goeiz!" The man prattled on, ribbing his companion as Jill continued. 

"Frankly, all I need is your best, for our mutual success. We're after crafting secrets, after all, which is why we enlisted in Lord Hephaestus' stead. Besides which, old Brahaam here felt a sense of kinship between his own god and this one, and bluntly insisted." She paused for a moment. "I suppose personal introductions are in order, then? How about we move back over to your group, then?"

Having leapt aside instinctively at the sudden, high-speed approach of the girl in the blue hood, Gestalt did a few short hops, rolling on the balls of his feet, trying to loosen up. He thought about asking Kandor if he was okay, but for a guy who had supposedly sacrificed his physical constitution for his magic, he seemed pretty okay with being bowled over. Not to mention, they seemed to know each other.

"...Yeah. It still hasn't sunk in for me yet." He admitted. "The only events I've been involved in were small-scale contests. You could fit ten-thousand-times as many people in here, and I think they did." Looking down at his hands, he noticed that he wasn't shaking anymore. He didn't know what to call this feeling, but he was happy with it. "...Jackie, let's go introduce ourselves. We should at least try and work together with these guys, right?" The swordsman gestured to the member of Team Hephaestus. "Look, Dispatch is already beating us to it."

Jackie nodded, not wanting to interrupt Kain's reunion for the moment. She turned and walked with Gestalt towards the other group. Theo gave them a small nod before turning to Jill. "It appears they themselves wish the same. Greetings, comrades. We are but a select few of Hope's Compass, hailing from Karr-Groth. We've introduced ourselves to your companion here, but once more, I am Theodore Renault. This is Goeiz Timbers, Brahaam Connill, and Jill Radall."

Jill smiled at the newcomers. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. I'd asked Sir Dispatch about your capabilities as a team, as I represent the Compass's strategist role... though perhaps I was a bit too eager, mm?"

"Yer bloody thirsty f'r knowledge 'n' power, woman!" cried out Brahaam. "Ye can't be serious 'bout being this desp'rate! Patience, Jill, patience. I c'n say a prayer o'er ya, if ya like."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to know what your teammates are capable of, is there?" Gestalt asked, his arms open. "It's not like we won't find out in the battles ahead, anyway, so it's better for us to discuss our abilities up front, so we can strategize fluidly in our matches."

Looking down for a second, he continued. "For that matter, if there are sports we compete in that aren't just fights, we might wanna know which reps to send forward, if we have to choose. I mean, if you need somebody for the Hundred-Meter Dash, I'm your guy, but I can't bench to save my life." He gave a weak one-armed flex.

Dispatch crossed his arms and cocked his head. Competitions that...weren't fighting? Wait, was that why Headless Chicken had been running laps? Was that his warm-up for an actual event? But, why would there be non-fighting events at a tournament? Weren't tournaments just contests of strength?

He laughed to hide his sudden bout of nervousness. "Bench? C'mon, Jesse, who lifts just weights? There's way better ways to get stronger. Like, one-handed vertical push-ups. With someone sitting on your feet. And if that's not enough, you can take one on each foot!"

Theo eyed the two men who spoke, nodding once before turning to Jackie. "And you, girl? What is your claim and addition to your own group?"

Jackie paused, before presenting her spear to the adventuring party. A small trickle of electricity shot down from her wrist, to her grasping hand, and to both ends of her spear. "I'm the daughter of a scientist and academically inclined, proficient with a spear, my wits, and a little bit of electricity. The ways I can use each are fairly direct, so I wouldn't claim mastery, merely establishment of the fundamentals."

Jill in particular seemed amused by this part, but held her tongue. Goeiz was the one to finally speak. "Before we begin the trial ahead, would each of you care to display your combat abilities in a small spar? We'd also be able to demonstrate our own proficiencies as well, and would make for good preparations. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I'd imagine such an arrangement agreeable, should the group as a whole decide as such." A voice came from behind Gestalt's group, familiar but different. Gone was his trembling timbre, replaced by a strange, cold academic chill. His words curt and jaw set, his entire façade worn away, Kain stood before them at full height with a measure of pride. "Kain Galdor, at your humble service and request. I conjure blazes," spoke Kain curtly.

Gestalt nodded in acknowledgment of Dispatch, but made no verbal response.

Patting Kain on the shoulder, he couldn't help but chuckle, thinking back to his introduction. "All bets are off, then? Well, if you're not hiding anything, I won't either. I'm okay with this little team-building exercise. I'm Gestalt, I don't have much power, but I'm quick. Nice to meet you."

He was tense, but he was starting to really dig this atmosphere. The cheering crowds and blaring trumpets, the sportsmanlike conduct exhibited by the other contestants, and the prospect of battle were getting him hyped up. A cynical part of him disparaged the contests he'd been in before as absurdly small-time compared to the Olympic arena.

Dispatch made a mental note of the change in Magic Man's attitude, but shrugged it off for the moment, chuckling at Jesse's agreement. "Alright, then. Looks like you're on. We got space in the arena, or you wanna go right here?" He assumed his fighting stance, just in case, bending his knees and holding his fists at his sides, around his navel but loose enough to block as he needed to.

Kain opened his mouth to let fly words, but before that could happen, he was cut short the the short blast of a horn. Turning to look at the figure who did so, they saw the same man in armor holding a horn in the center of the gathering spot. The other teams had started to mingle, and amongst these Jackie noticed that a red-hooded figure had been approaching them before being stopped by the horn, it's two companions missing.

"Attention competitors!" the man cried out. "The first round shall be not only a test of battle prowess, but of cunning! Each team will designate one member to be held as hostage by the other team!"

This proclamation came with it assorted grumbling and murmurs from amongst the crowd. A strange idea, to be certain. "From the combined teams, five may enter, with one being the offered hostage! You will be placed in an obstacle course, with the goal to reach the hostage and return to your side! You may not allow harm to befall your hostage, and you must have at least one man or woman standing in the end to proclaim your victory! You may set aside as many or as few as you like to govern the hostage. As with every round, you may fight to the fullest without fear of death, as these games have been governed and pardoned by Lord Hades! Contestants, you have two hours to make preparations! Meet again in the Vestibule for your matchups!"

Immediately once the speech was over, the various groups began speaking animatedly amongst themselves, with Team Hades and Team Poseidon immediately heading into the Coliseum proper.

Jackie huffed a sigh, leaning on her spear. "So out of each of us, we have to determine four to compete and a fifth to play hostage."

Brahaam nodded once. "Aye, we've much to think 'bout, and scant time fer it. Regardless of that boy's squawkin' 'bout a rear guard, we'd best be served lookin' at who can maintain an offensive."

"A hostage that can be a momentum-shifter is another valuable consideration," Jill interjected. "Upon rescue, making an escape unscathed is going to be a crucial asset. Goeiz can cast Fly on himself, assuming he is neither gagged nor bound."

"And what if I am? Should the proceedings result in a status where I cannot see, move, or act without my rescuer, I would be of little use, even compared to the rest of you." Goeiz's tone wasn't impolite, but simply factual. "My ability to resist physical assault is minimal, nor would this be a fitting round to use our boon."

Jill turned to Dispatch and the rest. "And what do you all think? ...aside from that, I would greatly appreciate taking each of you up on your offer. We need all the time we can manage, and nothing speaks louder than a quick spar." And with that, she lead the way to the inner arenas.

"Guys..." Gestalt said, a little more swagger in his step than before. "I say we put Dispatch up to be the hostage. I'm pretty sure he's the least likely to get hurt, and the second he's free the match is over, barring any opponents with ranged attacks. And besides, I can..." He looked at his hands, his expression slowly morphing into a scowl. "...On second thought, that plan might not work. I don't think I can place them that precisely. Still, if you're willing to take a chance, I might be able to get us an early advantage this time around. We'll definitely catch our opponents off-guard this way."

Moving ahead of the group as they entered one of the unoccupied stages, he shrugged. "But I suppose you want to see our abilities before you make any judgment calls, don't you?" He put a hand on his sword, his left foot sliding back. "Keep in mind that you're not the only ones doing the testing."

Dispatch crossed his arms. "Aw, what? It's only the first round, and you already want me to sit down and play nice? C'mon!" His tone was whiny, which was unusual for him, but then again, he wasn't usually asked not to fight. Although--

"Wait. Do I have to sit down and play nice? Because if the hostage is allowed to fight off their guards, that could be a real good idea."

"Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of being a 'hostage'?" Gestalt said, remaining in his stance without moving. The dramatic emphasis was kinda lost, but still. "...Actually, why do we have to choose a hostage? If we just needed something to rescue, a straw dummy would be enough. Maybe you can fight your way out... or maybe you're free to help in the escape once a teammates reaches you. I'm sure they'll clarify the rules before the actual event. Still, does anyone else want to volunteer to be our hostage?"

I feel like it'd be a bad idea to assume that the hostage can't act, because then it's encouraging us to choose the least-useful player for the position. That's not exactly sportsmanlike. But if we assume the hostage can act, then we might put up our best player, and if we're wrong, then they're basically out of the game. Still, Dispatch can fly out if he needs to, and he's got a hardy constitution, so if there are rules about the hostage being hurt, he's less likely to take damage. What about Kandor? Wait, I mean, Kain. ...No, I think he's done pretending to be feeble. It'd be a dick thing to do to ask him to play prisoner.

Jill spun her spear around in her fingers thrice before levelling it at the other party. "Lion's Formation. We'll have a short spar, and strategy afterwards. We'll also need to speak to our patrons, so... Ready yourselves." With a slight flourish, the other three from Karr-Groth assumed positions instantaneously. Brahaam stood in front, stance low, two grasping hands held out in front of him, one high, one low. Behind him and to his right stood Theodore, standing tall and straight, his blade glowing viridian as he drew it and held it in front of him. Behind him, and to Brahaam's left, stood Jill. She held her spear out almost like a pool cue, balanced on the tip of a single finger. And above them, floating in the air, hovered Goeiz, who was muttering to himself so fast that none could even read his lips.

Kain smirked. "About time I got to stretch again." Pulling the hood of his crimson robes up, Kain's fingertips smouldered, then burst to flames, the fire roaring up his sleeves and stopping at the shoulders in but an instant. Jackie took rear point, seemingly mimicking Jill and spinning her spear as she tossed it back and forth from hand to hand, her eyes locked on Jill's.

Drawing his sword and holding it at the ready, Gestalt's eyes lighted on the one called Goeiz. Looks like he knows a lot more about magic than me. The question is, is he going to blast us from a distance, or power up his friends? Refocusing on Brahaam, he lowered his stance a little. "I don't suppose we're going to fight to our limits, right? It'd be bad if we were too tired to handle the event because we got swept up in the moment."

Despite him saying that, his hairs were standing on end, and a smile crept onto his face. "I'll give you a demo you won't soon forget."

He waited for someone to make a move. The second it started, he wanted to show them his speed and reaction time in a way they'd understand immediately.

Dispatch gave a quick glance to each of his opponents. The two red-haired women were staring each other down, leave them. Magic Man and Jesse were looking at the other guys' chanter, and the big guy looked like he had some kind of throwing moves. That, plus being a little needled about being called "young" like he hadn't seen hundreds of fights, meant he had his target.

He jumped toward Green Sword, one arm cocked to block his chest, the other drawn back by his ear, ready to strike once in range.

Go!


Gestalt shot off to the side, aiming to slip into Brahaam's blind spot as quickly as possible. The one floating behind them might give away his approach, but even a little difference in reaction time could make or break this. Once he was out to the side, slightly behind his target, he dashed straight for him, aiming to slap him on the back with the flat of his sword. He didn't see the sense in going for a lethal attack right away. Not that it wouldn't hurt like crazy if it connected.