Samantha rose from bed early to begin her prayers, lest she attract the attention of one of the watching lesser Gods. Certainly, attracting the attention of a watching old God would have been worse, but a town like Dasgad had no need for a God of such caliber to be watching. If any would judge her lack of prayer an insult to the Gods, it would be one of the lesser Gods.

To be made to pray even as one of the lost was a joke, to Samantha. As if the world had not had enough of her it had decided that one last irony would be needed. She not only had to pray like everyone else, but she would get absolutely nothing from it. It was annoying. It didn't infuriate her as it had Micheal when he was lost, but it irked her. Sitting on a prayer mat at first bell and lighting a candle was not her idea of a good time. Not that she had many of those to begin with, of course. Miserable was the word on everybody's mouths when they saw 9one of the lost, and being lost only strengthened that statement.

But that didn't stop Micheal from trying anyway. Being lost was supposed to be the end. Oh, you might live another few decades after the fact, You might even live all the way to the end of a mortal life. But even so, it was still the end. Once you became lost it wasn't just as if the Gods had forsaken you (which they absolutely had) but the world as well. When Samantha became lost, she lost everything and blamed herself because of it.

Micheal went the other way. He made it his goal to fight the world if it meant killing the Gods. If he had to kill a few million along the way and destroy the world order? well that's just the cost of doing business. The best that Samantha had hoped for was to work in a steel factory until she died. Maybe she would one day earn enough to own an apartment on one of the stone paved streets of hedgeside, away from all of the smog and death of dockside. More likely she would die when an arrogant chosen decided to try and take a lost for a wife and she cut his throat while he slept. not a bad way to go, all things considered.

Between them, though, they had found something. With Micheal, Samantha felt like she really might overcome being lost. overcome being lost, she thought wistfully. She really might manage it. If she didn't die trying, that was.

After doing her morning prayer, Samantha moved onto her morning training.

The tournament was a duo tournament past the second round, and would shift back into a solo tournament past the semifinals. That meant that training was normally done with one's team members, which for Samantha meant waiting for Micheal to come to her. As much as she had enjoyed her trip to the first hall, she wasn't exactly eager to make a second. It would be better for Micheal to come to her, since someone with eyes like his would fit in perfectly with the rest of the lost in the lower halls.

That left her by herself to train until he decided it was time to work on their plan or their team work.

Rising from her prayer matt and putting her candles away, she left the dorm hall and went out into the streets. It wasn't exactly against the rules to go out into the streets as a lost, but there were enough chores that saw a lost as a walking target that most avoided it

The air was cold in dockside, and there was a perpetual darkness all through the air like a sickening miasma. Smog from the factories had darkened the sky and clogged the air. The paved stone roads, an innovation of innovations, had been caked in soot and dirt since before her parents were born.

Dasgad was a briny shithole if ever there was one. It ran on factories that produced the means of empire. Steel, coal and iron churned from the city like sewage into a cesspit. Modernisation, they called it.

Samantha ran the paved streets from Dockside to Hedgeside for three hours before returning to her dorm at the orphanage. Her skin had been covered in a layer of soot, making her otherwise pale skin a ghostly grey and black. She looked like one of the Mydrians from the stories her parents had told her when she was a girl, stories that she had repeated in great detail to Micheal and the other kids at the orphanage who'd never had anyone to tell them scary stories. The frightened sobs that night still warmed her heart.

_______________________________________________

Pip dodged out of the way of a quick probing attack sent her way, and the projectile launched like an insect into the nearby wall. The wood where the projectile hit shattered into splinters and cracks before a loud groaning of wood spoke into the streets.

She charged into the thing that had sent the shot at her, bobbing up and down in order to make the small creature miss its next shot. A crashing blow from her foot sent the thing headlong into the paved stone of the walk way, caving in its green skull and exploding bone and blood onto everything around. Brain matter, viscous dark red, leaked from the things skull in a gelatinous ooze. Pip fought the urge to hurl.

Goblins were rarely an issue to chosen, especially those past the bone rank, and that went double for the cities. This one had used a projectile launcher that Pip had heard about in her travels. A weapon able to kill a chosen from a hundred span away, usable just as much by a lost as by a chosen. It might finally give lost a reason to exist beyond satisfying the depraved urges of those around them. She hoped that would be the case, at the very least. Armies were always in need of more weapons and bodies to throw at their enemies.

In this case, it had allowed a lowly goblin to present a challenge even to PIp. She would not have been killed by the launcher, of course, but if she were hit in the head and brain, things would not have transpired so smoothly. Losing brain function was just as inhibiting to a lesser God like Pip as it would be to any human.

Pip left the stinking corpse of the goblin lying on the dusty street as she made her way to the orphanage. Someone would clean it up eventually, she reasoned. After all, no one wanted the corpse of a goblin ruining the resale value on their house, not to mention the musk it emits after it drops dead.

Seeing a factory town like Dasgad was an experience unfamiliar to Pip. She had learned most of what she knew of human cities from book of epics and the tales told by the Gods in her homeland whenever she could get one of them to speak more than three words to her. The tales told of the great cities of the empire, built long before steam and coal had made them obsolete.

Castles, palaces filled with decadence and glittered halls, the building of myth and legend populated her notion of what a human city was. Dasgad, however, was real. The smog filled sky was not where a story would take place. There would be no acts of daring or feats of heroics that would take place in the steel factories.

The only thing Pip saw where the lives of the ordinary going about their decidedly ordinary existence. Dasgad would not breed legends, only mundanity.

So as she walked through the darkened alley ways, so perfect for her abilities as they were, she marveled. Never had she expected a city to be so dark and glum. Soot covered walls, paths and even people. Even Pip's own skin had become covered in the falling smog of the factory. Gone was her faintly purple skin, replaced by the smudged black of factory fumes.

It was almost a disappointment when she arrived at the doors to the church that housed the orphanage that was her goal.

Large, simple wooden doors were what stared back at Pip. More a wooden slab than a door, it felt oppressive in some brutally simplistic way. There was no ornamentation, nor was there any thing which may set it apart from any other door on the street. It was simplistic to its absolute extreme. Only a single iron knocker was visible on the door, and with some trepidation, Pip struck the thing three times in quick succession.

A weight settled in the pit of her stomach as she waited for the answering call. A church should have been home to Pip. She should have hoped to one day have her own church dedicated to her worship from her followers. Truthfully Pip never liked the idea of having enough followers to form a church, but it was something that all of the lesser Gods one day hoped to achieve. To have a church was to have a foothold on the mortal plane beyond one's shadow. It was a right of passage to be called one among the powerful of the new Gods.

"Enter!" Came the roaring shouts from the depths of the church. Pip jolted in surprise, surreptitiously looking around to make sure no one had noticed. She then pushed open the doors in a slow and deliberate manner, straining to see what was on the other side.

"Quickly, you wretch!" Another shout, louder and more vexed than the first, made her jump in her skin. The door swung open to reveal the crooked and bent form of am elderly priest dressed head to toe in religious regalia. White robes, embroidered with silks of purple and gold, fine shoes that would make a king weep, and even a large and curving hat atop his head.

on no, she thought. he's one of them.

___________________________

Micheal woke with a start in his soft, wooden bed. He tore the covers from, himself and repressed a scream as he tried to grasp his bearings. where was he? Who had taken him out of the lower hall? Where was his finger?

realisation struck him like a hammer as he looked down at himself. He still wore the robes of a kingdom orphan - these ones were even nicer than the ones he'd worn when he was one of the lost. The difference being the blood that coated them. Micheal had woken up covered in blood a few times, more than a kid ever should he would argue, but never like this.

The blood on his robes wasn't the deep scarlet that would have come from a deep injury, or even the all too familiar broken nose. The blood wouldn't have even come from a deep cut, let alone something more severe than that. What made it so astounding was the sheer amount of it. From head to toe Micheal was covered in light red blood stains that had come from his training. He had figured out that, because of his excellent control of his body, Micheal could sharpen his apostle so long as some of his body went along with it. Hence, blood. So long as he was willing to take a little blood loss, Micheal could have some of the fine control of his apostle that would allow him to sharpen it.

He still felt it was too little to stand on equal footing with someone even in his own rank, but it would close the gap between himself and some of the other apostle wielders that would enter the orphanages local tournament. it other words, it would be his equaliser. Micheal smiled a true, happy smile at his progress. He was one step closer to hi goal. The Gods wouldn't know what hit them. Samantha would also become a chosen. It was all coming together. Finally.

knock knock.

Huh? A knock at the door? who on earth would be knocking on his door? Samantha? no, she was far too smart to come traipsing into his room in the first hall. She was a little emotional, sure, but it had only been a day!

Micheal walked over and opened the door to be met with someone who was absolutely not the short black haired girl that was his best friend. In fact, black hair was just about the only thing Samantha and the girl that stood before him shared at all. Where Samantha was only barely taller than him, this girl towered over him. Where Samantha had the signature half-starved look that all of the lost, himself included, sported, the girl in front of him looked well-fed and healthy. Worst of all were her eyes. Both huis and Samantha's were a pure black, With Micheal's having a white line the shone down the middle. The giantess in front of him shared nothing of the sort.

The girl looked down at Micheal with nothing short of pure and absolute scorn. “so, “ she said to him. Even her voice made him feel as if he were below her, which if Micheal remembered properly, he was. “you're the one that brought that filth to the first hall,” she finished. Micheal's blood ran cold and he prepared to fight.

He would lose. That wasn't even a question. He had beaten the boy after class a few days ago, but that was because Mark (as he had discovered was the boy's name) was still only the lower middle of the bone rank. This girl on the other hand would be the upper reaches of bone rank. She would be faster, stronger and more proficient than him in any way he could think of. By the time he brought his apostle up to strike her, she would probably already have bashed his skull in with nothing but her fist. he still had to try. If she went for Samantha, there would be nothing he could to to stop her, and there would be no one that would look twice to a chosen killing a lost girl like Samantha.

“Please, you can't really think you can take me, can you?” she laughed at him. Micheal felt the blood rushing to his arm stop cold before her gaze. She laughed, but underneath that was a loko of pure cunning. She had noticed his plan before even he had. “i'll gut you look a wyvern before you can move three steps,” she spat, the first sign of outright hostility that she had spoken to him.

“you think that will stop me,” he said simply. There was truth to it as well. If her first shot didn't kill him, he would make it count. He could probably survive a hand through the chest long enough to get a shot on her skull. Chosen were durable enough. At least he hoped they were.

“I have no doubt you would try, you tenacious little sea cucumber, but that's not why I'm here,” she spoke with some amusement, causing Micheal to fall from cold fear and anger into unbridled skepticism. “not here for what, exactly?” He asked, though he suspected knew the answer to that well enough. “I'm not here to kill you and then your friend, you briny simpleton. Just because you look like a nert anus doesn't mean you have to have the brain of one,” she said coyly.

“Just because you look like a cold-hearted bitch doesn't mean you have to be one,” he said without skipping a beat. A look of shock passed over the girls face, quickly replaced by a wicked smile. “Oh, so you have some spirit. that's good,” she said. “My partner needs to be spirited if he wants to survive,” she finished.

Micheal, for his part, contemplated the right ratio of indignation and anger that would feel right in the given situation. He decided going full throttle on both would work well enough. “partner for what, you coral-brained sicko,” he said with feigned calm. “the tournament, of course,” she said with voice cooler and more venomous than Micheal could have imagined coming from anyone without two fangs and an unhinged jaw.

“And why, in all of the Gods names, would I do that?” He asked.

“Why? Well that's an easy one, my dear lost. If you aren't my partner, I'll simply kill you and your friend,” she said with a simple grin and nothing more, as if she were talking about the weather to an old friend. Micheal looked at her smiling face and decided she wasn't joking. She hadn't even twitched after saying that she would murder him, and he had no illusions as to her not getting away with it. He would disappear and the world would see it an just another lost finding his was to his ancestors. He might still have tried to take her out anyway, but the risk was too big.

He probably could have at least done some damage if he went in for a suicide charge, but it would be a close thing. He might put a scratch on that smug face of her, at the very least, but he didn't dare. He knew what she would do to Samantha if he even tried it. A predatory smile appeared on the girls face at Micheal's silence. “it would appear you see my point,” she beamed at him. “I do,” he said, glaring at her. “good,” she said. “I'll see you at the training hall in the market square after fourth bell,” she said as she turned away from his door and left. Micheal never even got the girl's name.

Micheal shut his door and prayed to the elder Gods for the next few hours. He had a distinct feeling he would be needing it today.

_________________________________

“you see dear, the circumstance surrounding your arrival here is truly horrible. Truly horrible indeed, but there is so much more to the matter than that,” the elderly priest intoned to Pip. He had started talking as soon as she got through the door and hadn't stopped. One would think a man of the cloth such as he would be able to read the room, acute as he was at interpreting the absolute nothing that was the Gods replies to his prayer, yet here she was.

“losing one's parents is an awful thing after all, but at the end of the day this holy church only has need of those that can truly give back to the community. Even our lost work hard in the factories and mills. Why, just the the other day three of them lost arms and legs! such commitment,” the man actually smiled at that, like it was some fond memory. “So unless you have some way of participating in the orphanages affairs, we simply cannot accept you,” the affably loud priest said. Pip hated priests a great deal despite being a God herself. It was meant to be her dream to have a legion of her own under her command, but honestly, she was creeped out a little by them.

“I can fight,” she said, interrupting the old priest in the middle of another long winded tirade. “w... we... well you should have said that to begin with, my dear!” he sputtered, continuing on with pure joy. “we're always in need of more hands to clear out the monsters infesting the outskirts and the local hives. It's the orphanages job to do that sort of thing, you know,” his recovery had been quick. Pip internally applauded him for that, at least. She may find him creepy, but at least he was good at his job.

“of course you're welcome in the orphanage,” he smiled and reached down for a handful of paper work. “Can you handle a shelpiece?” he asked with a smile, as if it were the most normal question in the world, nevermind the fact that Pip had never in her life heard of a shelpiece. “why would I need... that thing?” she asked hesitantly, afraid her lack of knowledge might give her away. She had thought she had spent enough time with humans not to be tripped up by simple words and phrases, but here she was, clueless and on the verge of being hunted down by an affable, if annoying priest.

“a shelpiece? oh, they are those new fandangled machines that fire metal at things. They can take the head off a nert at a hundred paces! Marvelous things, those,” he said, smiling and reminiscing at what she suspected was that exact scenario in his head. It was also at that moment she decided she wanted as little to do with this strange man as possible.

“I saw that you were lost and I simply assumed you used one of them to fight,” he said. “lost aren't really good for much else in a fight unless they have one of those marvelous little things,'' he rose from his seat. “unless you have been found, of course,” he said, staring intently.

Pip thought for a moment before replying in the affirmative. “Why that's simply excellent news! Another found within only a month? what are the odds?” he laughed madly up at the ceiling, causing Pip to feel incredibly disturbed, rightly so, in her mind. “That means I can stay at the orphanage, right?” she asked sincerely. It may have had a crazy receptionist, but the orphanage was still Pip's best shot at finding some peace from humans above stone rank.

“Of course my dear,” he shouted wildly. “we'll just need to figure out your proper rank, is all,” he smiled at her with a glint of madness in his eyes, causing Pip to shiver. She wondered what that would mean to the sadistic man.

“how do you feel about tournaments?” he said, and Pip winced.