VisitingTheHellfireClub3The Novice looked over at the newcomers, then back down at the cur. "What sort of a game?" he asked. "Or... challenge?" "I still rather have my heart set on the Runaround," said Lahire, glancing at Argent. "After all, one can always play cards." Argent's lips curled into a smile below his mask. "The Runaround it is then. If our honoured guest is prepared for the challenge ... " "You'll have to forgive a lowly Novice for asking, but what *is* the Runaround?" Devon's words were proper, but his voice held an almost bored sound. Lahire laughed. "Got sand, this one," he said to Argent. Turning back to the Novice, he said, "The Runaround is... something of an obstacle course. You really have to see it to understand." There was something faintly creepy about his obviously vastly improved mood. Moving down the slick marble walkway and entering Hell passed the guards at the low archway, a tall figure dressed in deep crimson and black entered the room. A mask that was a strange mixture of a lion and donkey covered the face as the figure looked up and down the two long tables as he moved slowly through. The one known as Valefor was back in Hellfire. "Well then, go ahead... why don't you go first and show me," the Novice suggested. Argent gave a little laugh and looked expectantly at Lahire. The Cur regarded them all amusingly over his freshly-refilled tankard. "Well, come along, then, all who are interested," said Lahire, offering a pointed glance to the Cur that was as good as an invitation. "But as for going first... I think we'll get our wager straight before I compete. I'm a bit low on funds, having been trounced mercilessly at cards, as usual, earlier this evening." The 'as usual' was a bald-faced lie, of course, and the playing cards embroidered all over his costume made that rather obvious, but he didn't seem to notice. He continued, "Suppose we wager something more interesting than money?" He was leading his party toward one of the further recesses - this one an uncovered archway leading to a room that seemed to be lit more brightly than the rest. "I don't bet unless I know what I'm betting on," the Novice spoke in flat tones. He stayed where he was - if they were that interested in his company, they'd speak to get him to move. Lahire turned - he was already a few feet away, and regarded the Novice coldly. "And you cannot know what you are betting on unless you come with me and view the Runaround." He shrugged. "However, if you are afraid or otherwise unwilling to play, I quite understand. But if so, say so immediately and cease wasting my time." The Cur pushed himself away from the table and stood up. His tweedy robes fell to either side of his roundness and he unconsciously kept pushing them back into place. "You might as well come see, Boy. The bet could be interesting." He laughed and took one more drink before moving to follow Lahire. The Novice sighed. "Very well then. Lead on.". And followed. Argent was closest to Lahire of them all. "Shall I make any ... arrangements?" he asked. Lahire raised his eyebrows at his friend. "Ah, subtlety... I can't read you, Argent. I'll get us a tester for the course, if that's what you mean - and I think we can forgo opening the Pit tonight... Did you have anything else in mind?" As he continued onward, he snagged a tall redhead wearing little more than a black leather corset and pressed a few coins in her hand. She looked at him and he whispered something in her ear and then gave her a few more coins. After a brief hesitation, she nodded. "Electra will demonstrate the Runaround for you, Novice," said Lahire. Jongeleur wandered up at this point. "What's up?" he wanted to know. "Lahire has Electra demonstrating the Runaround to our Fawn here," said Argent, indicating the Novice. Jongeleur grinned and propped himself up against the wall to watch. Lahire led his merry little group into the brightly lit chamber at the end of the hall. It turned out to have once been a chapel of some kind - there were still faded paintings, votives and other offerings in some of the niches on the wall. The room was quite large and torches blazed on the wall at intervals of about two feet, giving the entire place the appearance of being on fire. In the center of the room there was a large bed of dead coals connected to a furnace and bellows, and above that there was... a contraption. The entrance and exit to the Runaround were raised platforms about two feet off the ground. They were connected above by two tracks of metal piping and about each were fastened a set of handcuffs. Below, the contraption was much more complicated. The redhaired girl - Electra - climbed up to the starting platform and Lahire hooked her into the manacles. "The Runaround tests balance, agility and strength," he said. "Usually we light the coals, but for our lovely whore here, I think we'll leave them off." To the the girl he said, "You can go slow, pet." Electra set her feet along the first challenge - two long wooden walkways balanced at the middle like see-saws. She had to slide the handcuffs along the bars above her as she balanced on the see-saws, and there were dips and divots in the bars that meant occasionally she could hang from her wrists and not cause the wood to dip, but occasionally she could not. Three times the see-saws tipped and she stepped into the cold coals before she made it to the second challenge. The second challenge had a solid base to stand on, but Lahire set three heavy wooden dummies swinging across her path. It was likely, even if they hit her dead on, that the handcuffs would keep the girl from falling in the flame, but she would be bruised and her wrists would be highly abrased. She waited for a few moments, trying to get the rhythm down and then darted forward. Her timing was not good however, and Lahire actually stepped up and grabbed one of the dummies to keep it from hitting her, letting it fall after she had passed. In the final challenge, there was no platform at all between the bars and the coals. "We call it opening the Pit," Lahire explained, stepping forward again to demonstrate, "when we make this final challenge difficult - usually we remove the manacles here, and add these to the ankles." He held up two new sets of manacles attached to heavy metal balls. "I don't think we'll do that to Electra - and possibly not even to those of us who compete while the fires are lit." He looked at the girl. "Show him what to do." Electra raised her eyebrows and rattled the manacles against the bars. "But you won't fall," said Lahire, smirking coldly. The girl made an obscene gesture in his direction, eliciting a soft laughter, and began to move, hand over hand, down the bars. She did lose her grip once, and the sharp jerk against the manacles caused her flesh to cut and bleed a little, but she caught hold of the bars again and finished the Runaround. "Good girl," said Lahire, climbing the final platform to unlock her manacles. The Novice watched as the girl made her way through the Runaround. What could be seen of his expression beneath the hood was analytical, eyes carefully following her progress, measuring distance from bars to beam. The Cur closed his eyes for a moment, sealing in the vision of the girl moving within that black corset. Then he stepped forward to address Lahire. "Nice setup, but why would this body want to do it?" He gave his belly a jiggle to emphasize his point. Argent laughed. "You don't have to do it yourself," he said. "You can bet on someone else doing it ... " "I'll do it!" said Jongeleur enthusiastically. "Or back their opponents," added Argent smoothly. Jongeleur glowered behind his mask. "Precisely," said Lahire. "Jongeleur will run the course. And I will run against him. Any other takers? We *do* need some witnesses to score our runs - our pretty Electra might do for one if no one else would like the job, but I feel she might be a bit biased, after my little joke." He slid an arm around the corset and kissed the girl's long neck. She tossed her head in response and said something exceedingly coarse. Lahire did not seem offended. The Novice did not watch their byplay, instead still surveying the equipment. "I'll do it," he said, words clipped and abrupt. He raised one hand, looking at his wrist, and frowned, envisioning possible marks. "I cannot end with marks in any obvious locations." Lahire laughed behind his glove at that. "You can wear these," said Jongleur. He walked over to the wall and removed some strips of sheepskin. "You wrap them round your wrists," he said. "Under the cuffs, you see. It stops the cuffs from chafing." "Of course," said Argent mockingly, "not everyone is such a weakiling as to require padding. Do it without - and I'll back you against Lahire." Behind his mask, his eyes were watching Devon mockingly. Devon looked at the sheepskin, then waved them away. With a tight smile he said, "I'll do it without." "Your vote of confidence touches me," said Lahire to Argent. "Somewhere. So, we have three contestants. Do we have stakes?" Argent shrugged. "I've lost quite a bit on Rook this evening," he said. "And I'm betting against you ... what can you put up against my bay stallion?" He glanced across at Devon. "You'd better be worth it, boy." The Novice's chin lifted. "I will be better than him." His voice held quiet confidence. Perhaps a bit of arrogance. He wasn't sure what to name as stakes himself, and waited for the others to sort it out, and hoped he had the coin in the pouch from Romeo to cover it. Lahire's expression had grown more serious and he gave the Novice a sharp look at that. Returning his narrowed gaze to Argent, he said, "I have women, servants and art. Which would you prefer?" "I'm out of the ready." said Jongleur, who was unabashedly wrapping the sheepskin around his wrists. "Anyone take an IOU from me?" "I will," said Argent. "I'll wager you fall on the coals before you half complete the second obstacle." He looked at the Novice with amused superiority. "You can stake what you choose, you know. Fuego's vouching for you - if you're not good for the money, he'll stump up. Or pay us back in other ways." Jongleur sniggered. The Novice bristled. Lahire raised an eyebrow. "You can bet what you like," said Jongleur, "but you can't bet on yourself - unless someone wagers you - like Argent's done with me." He didn't seem overly concerned that his companion had just wagered that he could be badly burned. "I can't bet that I'll complete the course more cleanly than either of you?" The Novice snorted. "Pity that, since it's a bet I'd win." The Novice waited then, to see if someone would take him up on that. "Oh, you can bet on us failing," said Lahire, "as Argent did with Jongleur. It's only a mild distinction and easily got round. And I will bet... over and above whatever Argent chooses of mine to stake his bet... I will bet that both of my opponents end the evening marked - either by the chains or the fire. The loser or losers of the bet will present themselves to Lord Mephistopheles for a task... that is, if he's around when we finish. If not, to the High Table. Takers?" "Define marked," the Novice said. "After all, he," he indicated Jongleur, "uses the sheepskin while I'll be going without. It would be far more of an accomplishment for me to end with a minor abrasian than for him." "Did you get so bored with cards that you're bringing a Novice in here, Lahire, Jongleur?" a dark voice asked from the shadows near the door. "I got so bored with cards that I thought we'd try the Runaround, yes," said Lahire, glancing at the new arrival. "The fact that this young man is a Novice is really irrelevant to the situation - I thought he looked to be somewhat athletic. Would you play, bet, or judge, my friend?" "There are other ways to screw oneself up than running through that contraption. I'll stay back here where one should keep one's self. So, my answer is none of the above. Just a spectator," the same voice said from the shadows. "Marked means marked - scratches and bruising don't count of course. Cuts, major abrasions, or burns from the coals." Lahire glanced at Jongleur. "As for the equality of the wager, I fear life is not always fair. You could still use his pretty little wrist-protectors, or you could back up your statement earlier that you would do better than I by wagering that you will not misstep." He shrugged. "Or you can decline my bet." Argent turned, and smiled. "Not even a bet? You're usually happy enough to take my money, aren't you?" He looked back at Lahire. "And as I'd like to watch you bow the knee to Mephisto ... I'll take that bet too." "I'll take your bet," the Novice agrees quietly, tension in the lines of his body. Lahire sighed dramatically. "I can see I am not going to be popular tonight," he said, his voice dripping with false moroseness. "Very well. Electra will have to judge, as no one else is willing and impartial. Shall we cut the cards for who goes first?" A deck of cards appeared in his left hand. The Novice lets Jongleur go first, and then will folow with his own cut. Jongleur turned the card over - and grinned. "The two!" he said. "Looks like I'll be going first - unless you want to reverse the order?" "Not a chance, my unlucky friend," said Lahire, extending his hand toward the Novice. The man known as Belial had emerged from the arcade with a brisk stride, a smile on his face. He crossed to find a drink at the banquet table and then began to wander, playing the voyeur to any and all of the amusements, interested as much in the room and it's decorations as the people. Eventually he found himself a spectator at the Runabout. The Novice reached out to cut the deck, turning up a nine. He showed it silently to all observers. Still in the shadows, having only turned his head to glance as Belial walked over to watch the Runabout, he leaned against the wall. He made no move to further enter the conversation or what was going on. Making a Novice go through this course was ludicrous in his mind. At this point, from the room he had disappeared into with his redheaded goddess, Rook emerged. Amazingly as well manicured and straightened out for what he had likely been doing, his gaze turned to the festivities at hand. A smile and a well-sated look on his face was a tell tale to those who had seen him in the Club before just how pleasant his time alone with his companion had been. His eyes intently studied the situation. Lahire cut the much thinner deck himself, and drew the seven of spades. "Ah," he said. "I do hope the tarot meanings don't extend to playing cards." He raised his gaze to the spectators. "The order is this: Jongeleur, then myself, then the Novice. Would anyone like to place final bets before the match starts?" The Novice stood quietly, waiting, and watching with a calculated, quite serious, look. Rook looked in the pouch, now considerably and visibly reduced in size, shook his head, and then settled in to simply watch. The Cur shook his head, setting his jowls wobbling. "Never had the chance to watch the Runabout. Don't think I will, either. There are better ways to spend my coin." He turned toward the doorway. Argent nodded a signal to one of the waiters who stood by, and the man reached one of the torches by the wall and set it to the bed of coals. Jongeleur, his face lividly pale by the sudden glow, watched as the waiter walked around, lighting the coals at various points. "Look on the bright side," said Argent with a cruel smile. "The coals won't be nearly as hot as they will be later on." Jongleur gave a tense nod, and then jumped up and down a few times, shaking his arms and legs and generally preparing himself. Finally he sprang onto the two wooden walkways, balanced at the middle like see-saws, which constitututed the first of the challenges. He held out his hands for the metal cuffs to be fitted over the sheepskin ones he wore. Then he raised his arms and slipped the chain that linked the cuffs over the bar. Slowly he began to move forwards, sliding along the seesaws. He had the advantage of height which meant that when the walkways dipped he was, for the most part, able to retain his footing/ But he wobbled towards the end - and one foot went into the coals. There was a gasp - but he snatched it free fast, and his tight grin showed that it was an area that the coals had not yet really heated. He leapt off at the end, and his face was a little shiny with sweat. "Get me some ale," he said. "Before I do the next one." Lahire glanced around to see if anyone was interested in running for ales. The girl, Electra, who was judging, said, "Nine for part one." "I'm getting one for myself." Rook announced. "And I am magnanimous enough to get you one, Lahire." He scanned to see if anyone else wanted one. "My thanks," said Lahire. The Novice said, "Get me one," although his attention didn't leave the Runaround nor Lahire. "By your leave milord." Rook said with a grin back at Devon. It seemed to mildly amuse Lahire that he was the subject of so many gazes when Jongeleur was in the middle of assaying the Runaround, but he simply looked forward, focusing his own attention on the contestant of the moment. The shadow against the wall had no interest in ale at the moment or the contest going on at the moment. He had an interest in cards, a game for the mind and for luck, but no games were going on. If they were, it was a case of drunken foolery. Valefor turned back towards the Runaround, something he never dared try to manuever before nor was foolish to try. "Well," said Jongeleur, chagrined, "if no-one's going to get =me= any ale." He stalked off to the second obstacle. "Alright," he said, as he poisitioned his wrists over the bar. "Who's swinging the dummies?" He was now looking decidedly pale in the light from the coals. "Have no fear, my friend," said Lahire. "The ale the Rook is bringing is for you. I seem to be acting Master of Ceremonies, that is all. For your second question... perhaps one of our esteemed audience would like to participate? A chance to set the mannequins swinging, Valefor?" Rook returned at this point, carrying several flagons of the ale. He pushed one toward Devon and another at Lahire. The third seemed reserved for himself. "And you do a good job of it too." he said to the latter after taking a quaff. "One does one's best," Lahire said with a falsely modest smile. He took the flagon over to where Jongeleur was waiting and unhooked one of the youth's chains so that he could drink. "What would happen per chance if one of them hits the good fella thanks to me?" Valefor asked, stepping out of the shadows. "He missteps into the coals," the Novice said, still watching Jongleur. "The same person should handle this for all three of us. If you'll lose your desire to do so if he," the Novice nodded to indicate Jongleur, "falls, then we can't say either mine nor his," a nod to Lahire, "have had the same experience with a different person at the push. Can we." Valefor shook his head, leaning a shoulder against a wall. "Not that I care about what happens to all of you. What shall I get out of doing this? This is Hell. All should get something out of doing a little piece of evil in this world. I should be entitled to it as well." "While it is possible, considering how tall our dear Jongleur is, that a foot might brush the coals in the second challenge, the danger of the dummies is that they cause major bruising and sometimes broken ribs. They are quite heavy. And as for a recompense for an act of evil, if you receive no personal satisfaction I think we have little to offer you. My purse was lightened earlier and most of my livelihood is on the line in this little contest... But perhaps our new Lord Belial will set the dummies swinging for nothing?" Lahire turned to the man who had joined the crowd most recently. For a man who was famous for always looking bored, he seemed abnormally attentive. "Rook, you and I could do it together," said Argent. "Put some serious swing behind it." "Hey!" said Jongeleur, looking worried. "I'm intrigued by the game," Belial admitted. "One supposes the view is better from closer." He removed the white cloak lined with a dark maroon and tosses it over a side table so it doesn't come too close to the coals. "It would be horrible to see anyone truly hurt, but each of these men seem to have taken the risk upon themselves, and I would seem to be more impartial than most." Belial walked to the dummies and tested their weight before he sent the first swinging. Jongeleur swallowed and then set off on his run. Perhaps it was the alcohol or perhaps he was not naturally agile, for he hesitated, moving backwards and forwards into the path of the first of the dummies, which caught him a glancing blow. That undsteadied him even more and he waited too long before attempting the second dummy, only to have it crash fully into his ribs. He yelled, missed his footing - and yelled even louder as his foot descended onto a pile of hot coals. He drew his foot up again quickly, but all could see him wince with pain. "Enough!" he yelled. "Feign I!" Even so, without the dummies swinging, he had to be helped from the end of the course and sat sulkily down to drink the rest of Lahire's beer will the Club surgeon was summoned to strap up his wrists. "So," said Argent, seemingly not discomposed by his friend's mishap, "who's next?" Lahire did not seem bothered by Jongleur's injury either. "I," he said. "Judgment?" Electra said, "Three on the second challenge and a forfeit on the third. A total of twelve points." Lahire smiled. He swung the chains down toward the first platform and manacled his own left wrist. Then he glanced back for assistance with the other. Rook chuckled. "Still a passable score." "Indeed," agreed Argent. Then he stepped forward and fastrened Lahire's second cuff. "You know," he said conversationally, "I am sure that there are certain faction on Aquila that would pay handsomely to keep you in chains." "Hush," said Lahire. "None of that talk. I'm someone else tonight." With that, he stepped forward onto the shifting block. His balance was admirable, he only slipped once and it was close enough to the end of the challenge that he was able to heave his body, using his arms and legs all the way upwards and forward onto the next platform. He avoided any burns but at the cost of severe lacerations on his wrists. Blood was visible through the sleeves of his white fencing shirt. He wobbled on the platform but found his balance, sliding the manacles a little further along so that he could stand straight and take a few moments for a breather. Electra's eyebrows were trying to climb into her hair. "That was flashy," she said. "I give it an eleven for originality and only a minor misstep." The Novice breathed in slow and steady. "You are both marked already..." he commented quietly. Argent nodded. "And with his wrists mashed like that, the odds on you, Novice, will shorten. I might make a stake myself ... if your opponent was anyone other than Lahire." Lahire inclined his head in a gesture of thanks for the comment. "But I never said that I would not be marked," said Lahire. "My bet was that the two of you would be as well... and Jongleur at least has proved me half right. Will you set the dummies swinging again, Belial?" The Novice scowled, but could not dispute the wording. The mannequins were still moving a little, but at such a slow, minor rocking speed that they could not do any kind of damage, and one would have to shove them out of the path somehow... A shake of his head, and he set them moving, at a steady rhythm, similar to what he had done for the first to cross this test. Lahire darted forward, dragging his manacles across the pipes. Here his slender frame was an asset, for he seemed to be both quick and agile... but perhaps his wrists had taken more damage from his trick earlier than he would like to admit, because his arms seemed to be a little bit behind the rest of his body... The second dummy glanced off Lahire's left elbow, and he gritted his teeth against the pain, stopped still for a few moments and just watched the third one until he could dart past and onto the third platform. "Well, he's through," said Electra to whoever was nearest her. "But that pause in the middle was rather boring. I give it an eight." The Novice continued to breathe in long, quiet, deep breaths as he watched without speaking. "Not bad," said Argent grudgingly. "Are you up for the third? Do you want some ale to fortify you first?" "I always finish what I start," said Lahire. "And ale would only cloud me. I'll celebrate after this is over. That is, if I end with enough money to celebrate *with*. Now, shall we change our minds and open the Pit, or shall we play nice?" "Mister St- I mean, Count Lahire," said Electra, eyes widening. "He's a Novice and you're already pretty cut up." "Silence from non members, please," Lahire replied without any heat. He was looking at Devon. "He wants to know if you want to put the weights on your legs," the girl put in, obviously not bothered by Lahire's comment. The Novice smiled tightly. "No weights. I'll not sink myself for your amusement." "Good on ye," said the girl. Lahire shook his head. "I would have had to do it first," he said neutrally. "Would someone remove the cuffs please? We do want it to be possible to fall." Rook set down his drink. "I'll do it." he offered. "Thank you," said Lahire. He adjusted his sleeves to look at the cuts on his wrists, then shrugged, seemingly unconcerned, grasped the bars above him and began to go hand over hand across the coals. It must not have been easy, especially with gloves on, but Lahire showed startling facility. He lost his grip with his right hand once and hung just from the left, right foot brushing the coals, but he did not fall. And he completed the course. Electra applauded. "That's a ten. Total is twenty-nine. That's excellent, but beatable." "A glass of wine, if anyone would be so kind," said the Count, descending the steps from the end a little gingerly, favoring his left foot. "And a drink for me." The Novice's last drink had disappeared, his glass standing empty, and he set it down on a handy surface. He moved to the start of the course and surveyed it, moving alongside what he could, examining it before he went back to the start. Fuego called to the group as he entered the room. "You're not putting him on the Runabout?" He was stripped to the waist and still glistened with a light sheen of sweat fromsome exertions. His flame red cloak was wrapped around the Cur's former "present" and as she followed him it seemed that she wore little else. "And what is this going to cost me," Fuego asked. The Novice paused mid-movement as he was about to shrug out of his cloak. Sharp eyes noted Fuego's reappearance. "A drink to start, Fuego, before I take this thing. And if I make this without marks, nothing more. Even if not," he shrugged, and the rest of the cloak fell away, revealing the youth's slender, wiry build. He folded the cloak and dropped it to one side. "If not, *I* present myself to Mephistopheles for a task. You are out nothing, unless you choose to bet." He stretched his fingers, rubbed his wrists. "The current high score is 29. You could bet on my success. Or lack." His voice was tight, likely from nerves, as his attention focused upon the course in front of him. Lahire, in contrast, seemed completely at ease now that his ordeal was over. The physician, who had finished with Jongleur, came over to bandage Lahire's wrists. He started to remove the boot to check if his foot was burned at all, but Lahire waved him off. He smiled at Fuego. "You brought a worthy man here tonight, Fuego. I only had to bait him a tiny bit to get him on the Runaround. I'm sure he will be quite all right." Unable to help listening to the conversation, Rook gave a nod of agreement. "Well, he can't do any worse than Jongeleur," said Argent. "Hey!" said Jongeleur. "I nearly managed the second one, didn't I?" "Nearly," said Argent, "isn't good enough." Jongeleur growled. "Now, now," said Lahire in a condescending fatherly tone, "Jongleur had the courage to try the Runaround, after all, and I don't think he ought to be insulted for it. And I believe our brave Novice requested a drink? As did I, in point of fact." He raised his eyebrows at the gathered congregation, finally settling his gaze on the only non-member who was fully dressed (albeit scantily). "Your serving wench, too, am I, now?" said Electra sourly, but she hurried out of the room and returned quickly with a glass of wine and a large tankard of ale. "Think that's what you were drinking," she said to Devon, handing him the ale first. "If you'd have rather had wine like the Count, I'll drink the beer for you." She winked. Then she brought the wine to Lahire, hips swishing all the way. "The beer is fine." The Novice lifted the tankard in silent salute, then quickly downed half of it. There was tension in his skinny shoulders as he flexed his arms. "So..." he looked at Fuego, then turned away a moment to set down the tankard, before looking back again. "Any bets before I get this started?" While Fuego considered his response, the Novice retrieved the cuffs and fastened the first about one wrist, latching it tight and testing that his hand could not slip through. Argent stepped forward, smiling beneath his mask. "Need a hand?" he asked, and reached to fasten the second cuff. "I can handle that, Argent," the bare chested Fuego answered, stepping in the way. "If I'm right, you likely have some stake already set on this." "My only interest is in bringing the Novice home alive and not leaving myself in debt to one of you depraved souls." The laughter in his voice took the edge from the insult. "And any of you would've counted upon that." "They rejoice in having that," the usually quiet Valefor said from the shadows. "In having Fuego refuse to play?" Lahire chuckled. "I think not." The Novice's scowl sank into a tight smile. "He," he nodded at Argent, "handled the cuffs for the others." A brief pause, then, "I don't want anyone saying you cut me slack, so I'm fine with him doing it. You should put money on this. I'm going to complete the course, and I'm not going to come out marked. Bet on either. Unless you don't think I can." The thin smile tightened, and he stood on the platform, his free wrist held towards Argent. Despite the alcohol imbibed, the Novice stood straight with no sign of wobbling. Fuego held up his hands in acceptance. "I'm not one to bet on a friend's injury, but unmarked? That =would= be impressive..." Argent reached out and fastened the cuff - not so tightly that it pinched - but good and firm. "I don't cheat," he said - the words aimed more at Fuego than the Novice. "Whether there's money at stake or not. And if you say otherwise, you'll face my challenge for questioning my honour." "I wouldn't suggest anything of the nature, Silver," Fuego answered. "I was reassuring the boy and removing such doubts that observers might have." "Unmarked? I'm unsure, but unburned I'd be willing to bet. What's the stake?" "I think the implication was that Fuego would cheat for his friend, and I suppose only a friend can say such a thing," said Lahire. "But I do think that our Novice is being a tiny bit greedy, trying to finagle more money out of us... I've already put up more than is in my pocket, after all." He sipped his wine. "If the Novice wins ... we're to offer ourselves in service to Mephistopheles," said Argent with a smile. "If he loses ... then he pays the forfeit. Want to suffer alongside him?" "So nothing else to sweeten the pot, just my hide on the line to make it more interesting to you?" Fuego seems to consider this for a moment. "Nothing to gain..." He gathered the girl and his cloak about him and settled into a chair, his hand slipping beneath. Compared to the downcast looks of earlier, she seemed much happier with her new master for the evening, giggling at his hidden touch. "Get on with it then, Novice," the flame masked noble suggested. The Novice's shoulders stiffen again, and he starts breathing slowly until the tension relaxes out. Belial shook his head at the young man, noticing the pink pucker of a scar on his shoulder. "Please do," he agreed in a bored tone. A smile curves the Novice's lips. "Very well." He threw a glance at the others, then the smile grew as he moved forward. His balance was evident, almost light on his feet. He rested enough weight upon the chains to aid in his balance, holding his upper arms out, elbows crooked. He moved with the rocking of the seesaw balance beam. He wasn't perfect, rocking slightly from side to side, but recovering constantly, keeping moving, steps back and forth, almost up on tiptoes until suddenly he was at the end of the first challenge without having fallen. He stopped, taking a long breath and letting it out slow, then looked at the others. "My drink, before I go on. And if you'll do the honors when I do." A nod to Belial. Electra said, "That was as near perfect as I've seen, so I'll give it a thirteen." Lahire originated a slow, soft applause. "Top marks. I'm impressed." As usual, he didn't sound anything of the sort. Jongeleur was scowling, but Argent brought the drink foward to the Novice. "Here you go," he said. You'll need your courage for the next one ... " Belial clapped softly in appreciation before setting the dummies swinging. Rook gave a nod and smile of respect to the Novice. Romeo's hands appeared again and he joined Belial's applause. "Looks like I've taken a safe bet, but I wouldn't want to speak too soon." The Novice nodded and took his drink, gulping it down before asking Lahire to fix his cuffs again. He ignored the others as he started forward. His steps were easy, the beam causing him no difficulties. But the timing of the swinging dummies kept his complete attention. He made it past the first, then the second by the skin of his teeth as it swung past his back, just barely brushing him and knocking him slightly off balance so that he wobbled and had to find his place again. He paused, watching the third one swing, then darted forward. His hands twisted in the cuffs, hands gripping the chains above the cuffs, and he pulled himself up, swinging past the dummy and out of the way, landing back on the beam. A few more quick steps forward and he had his balance again, stopped and breathing hard. He got to the end and waited to be unhooked. Once his wrists were clear of the restraints, he showed skinny wrists. There was some redness as would have been expected, simply from the cuffs. But there was no further damage. "Oh, splendid!" exclaimed Electra. It seemed that the girl was getting some kind of crush on the Novice. "Have to cut a point off for the glancing blow, but that's a twelve." He grinned at her. "Well done!" said Argent. He looked sidelong at Lahire and smirked. "It looks like we have a match on our hands, doesn't it?" Although he himself was not addressed, Rook nodded at Argent's words. "Not at the moment," said Lahire. "That young man has outscored me twice already - if he does so again, I'm afeard I've lost three wagers tonight. And then I shall have to go out and kill someone to keep my reputation intact." His tone was light and dry, so it was impossible to say if he was joking. The Novice squared his shoulders and shook out his arms, getting bloodflow down into his fingertips as he looked at the bars over his head, then down at the coals. He handed off his empty mug and then set to the next task, going hand over hand along the last length of the course. He was not so facile at this part, skinny arms showing strength as he swung along, but not the speed nor balance of the first two parts. He slipped in the middle, catching himself in a twist on the one arm, fingers whiteknuckled as his stomach muscles went tight to hold his feet at a safe height, just barely above the coals. He kicked out, swinging with the one hand and catching the bar with his other, then made the rest as quickly as he could to land on the other side. From the way he stood, it appeared that despite the slip, neither foot had touched the coals enough to make a difference. His face was flushed and he was breathing hard. He brought both arms up and crossed them, waiting for a verdict. Rook looked toward the girl, but the smile on his face suggested his overall approval of the Novice's work despite the slip. Fuego stood and clasped Novice to his chest. "That was wonderful. I don't think I could've done near as well." He turned to Lahire, seemingly unconcerned with Electra's decision on the matter. Argent, however, turned to regard Fuego with something of an ironic spark in his eyes. "I suppose next time, Novice needs to find his own face," the topless young man chuckled. "I can't keep sponsoring him if he's going to draw the... respect... of so many members." "Indeed," drawled Argent. "But this seems a little effusive for you, Fuego. In public at least ... " He smirked. "Perhaps you and your friend should retire to one of the private booths ... " The Novice stiffened when Fuego's arms went around him, and he just stood stock still at first. The comments of the others seemed to startle him out of the shock, and he pushed roughly away. Fuego turned and glared at Argent, but kept his tongue. Electra glanced at Lahire before she said, "Congratulations, Novice, you've won! That final one was only a nine, but that adds up to a total of thirty-four, which is enough to beat Lahire." The Novice grinned at her. "Didn't I say I would?" "Now let us see if there are any marks on him," said the Count, who was bearing his ill fortune with as good a grace as he was capable of. The Novice found himself a place to sit, and showed both wrists and feet, both unmarked save for the slight redness of the cuffs having been fitted tightly. "Now that is simply disgusting," said Lahire, draining his wine glass. "Very well, I suppose I had best make my pained approach to the Dark Lord. As for your bet, Argent, if you'd like to stop by the house tomorrow I shall see you taken care of." He rose gracefully to his feet. Electra was looking speculatively at the Novice. "Well, now you've won," she said, "I don't suppose you'd like to take a turn in one of the little rooms - to relax. I can be quite affordable, to a man of your talents." She raised an eyebrow at Fuego. "Unless you're... I don't know... shield brothers is what they call it?" "We're *not*," the Novice said emphatically. "Electra can be quite...enthusiastic, Novice." Rook put in with a smile. "That's a good idea, Novice," Fuego agreed. He seemed proud that his friend had won, but had no desire to press his luck. His eyes wandered toward the High Table. Belial shook his head and offered a word of congratulations before retrieving his cloak and heading for the exit, his eyes scanning the room for Virgil. The Novice glanced at Fuego, only to see his distraction, then turned back to Electra. "Not tonight." He offered a smile, let his eyes roam over her. "It's my first night here and I want to save a few delights for when I come back. But a kiss to whet my appetite?" "A winner like you," Electra said smokily, "can have a kiss for free." She waited, sizing him up. Ignoring the rest of the conversation, the Novice moved with quick steps to capture Electra in his arms. One hand on her waist, the other at the back of her neck. His fingers tangled in her hair as he tugged with a firm, light touch to tip her head back as he gave her a long, slow kiss. His hands held her in firm grip, keeping her from moving closer or further away as the kiss went on, and he did not release her until she was nearly breathless and he had to break the kiss. Then he grinned. "Wow," said the girl, catching her breath. "Just... wow." "Interesting show.. Perhaps I'll participate another time. I prefer my luck with cards instead of hot coals. A game anyone? Excellent stakes once more," Valefor offered from the wall. From the doorway, Lahire looked back with a self-mocking expression on his face. "I've lost enough for tonight, Valefor. Ask the winners." He gestured at Argent and Devon, then went back into the main chamber. "I think I'm just about done, and ready to end my first visit on a high note," the Novice said. "After all, better to come back a winner than to crawl back having you only know me as having lost," he grinned. Fuego went back to his chair and recovered his cloak from the girl, exposing her to the room at large. "Fetch my tunic from where you left it," he chuckled as he patted her on the ass to sent her on her way. "I think it was a capital time," he decided. "And the exact time to leave for the evening." |
