scaramouche

“You’re not ok, not even close,” said Noah.“It’s fine, the pain is receding.”“The pain’s disappearance doesn’t concern me as much as its arrival. What happened?”

Towards the middle of the semester, Mrs. B. devised an assignment where we had to act out a soliloquy from any Shakespeare play. I chose Marc Antony’s “Friends, Romans, Countrymen” speech from Julius Caesar. As we had to be in costume for extra credit, I brought a flat sheet to school to fashion into a toga of sorts. There was a supply closet in the front of the room where people could change. Boys would pretend to peek in the closet when girls were changing. There wasn’t much to see for the most part, as girls might throw a long night gown over their clothes to play Juliet. The door locked on the outside when closed completely, so the few kids with major changes could do so with some privacy.

Back outside, the fifth fight garnered some attention. It was between another church agent and the only other beastman in the tournament, now that Roc had defeated Ingram. Cain, he was rhino-based, and at first glance, Noah thought he was a fiend, but only because of his outrageous stature. In his semi-transformed state, the man was over seven feet tall with limbs like tree trunks and devastating strength, and the long horn growing from the bridge of his nose had gouged multiple opponents. As a beastman, he was almost on par with Kaisen, a natural-born juggernaut with physical and magical talent. The problem was his attitude, having killed all his opponents with great pleasure.