Legend Land: Tale of the Nameless God

Chapter 23.1: Showtime!

(Song contains explicit lyrics)

Part 1

Words: 1546

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"Come on, chop chop!" the thin man cries, gesturing to prisoners. Each one he points at is grabbed by a large guard, and ushered out through the open metal door. Some of the prisoners—new ones, by the looks of it—resist, but they're quickly disposed of.

"No, I won't go!" a young man shouts, breaking free of the guard and racing towards the announcer. He pulls a knife from his loose jacket and lets out a loud cry.

"Bet you some fried rat tail he leaves a scratch," Marazan rumbles with a nod to the youth.

"You want to gamble, against me?" Chayton asks incredulously. After the merest fraction of a second, he smiles. "Deal." Chayton shakes one of Marazan's monkey paws.

"Bastard!" the young man yells, lunging forward with his small knife. The announcer gives the guards an almost imperceptible shake of the head, and smiles at his attacker. The young man sinks his blade into the announcer's chest, who stumbles back in shock, before wordlessly collapsing. His attacker looks warily at the guards, who haven't moved a muscle. He turns to the crowd of prisoners and cheers, but no one makes a sound.

"What a good show, young man," the announcer says, rising up from the ground. He frowns at the dirt on his costume and flicks it off, casually pulling the knife out of his chest. "Normally, I'd feed you to the Grootslang, but I'm feeling merciful today. After all, red really brings out my eyes," the announcer leans in closer, his smile growing, "wouldn't you say?" He sinks the young man's own knife into his chest, letting the terrified youth collapse to the ground, spluttering blood past his tears. "Now the rest of you: move it or lose it!"

The guards snap back into action, grabbing the now-docile prisoners and moving them into place. I gingerly stand, and re-wind the toothed leather wraps around my hands. I lean against a small shack, trying to avoid cutting myself on the rusty metal and getting tetanus. I'd hate to get lockjaw and deprive every one of my voice.

You're doing it again. Focus. I shake my head and turn my attention back to the announcer trying to rub the blood out of his clothes. Good luck with that one pal, that shit stains.

"Looks like you lost," I tell Marazan and tilt my chin at the failed assassin's corpse. Well, perhaps "assassin" is too complimentary here. "Fear-driven fool" is much more appropriate. Chayton chuckles to himself and Marazan paws the ground with one of his hooves.

"Don't worry, I'll make it back," he replies.

"And how do you plan to do that?" Chayton says, leaning in and wiggling his fingers.

"By betting against him," Marazan says with a grin, nodding at me. I crack him against his beak before he can get his next words out. I hate when people talk about me like I'm not there.

He stumbles backwards and I duck under Chayton's wild swing, slamming my other fist into Marazan's stomach. I pull down and out, letting the reptile teeth do their job, and I narrowly dodge Marazan's vicious peck at my eyes.

BOOM! I go tumbling across the ground, and when I come to a stop, my hips ache from Chayton's kick.

"Son of a bitch." I spit dirt (I hope it's dirt) out of my mouth.

"Come on, rat," someone grumbles behind me. Strong hands yank me up and I turn to hit them in the temple with a hook. I miss completely, not because of their reflexes or my aim, but because of their height. The dwarven guard head butts me in the gut and grabs me by the hair when I double over in pain.