Having friends was kind of weird.

For me anyway. Back on earth I just avoided people. I wasn’t paranoid or anything I just had other stuff going on. Sometimes they’d come up and talk to me, we’d make conversation for a bit, and that was it. I never took it any further than that. A girl actually asked me out once and I just flat out refused. Figured I’d have time for relationships later. Would be too much of a hassle for me. That was me as a human.

As a bast I found myself much more open. Hell, I’d made a friend within twenty four hours of arriving. Granted it was kind of a fire forged friendship seeing as he saved my life and all, but I still consider it impressive for me. I guess you could put Faultless in the same category, but the others at the Hall evolved completely naturally. I was accumulating friends like a Facebook addict.

I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the new body, maybe it was the near death experiences, maybe…maybe it was just this place. The dominant species on this planet had what was essentially a religion based around the concept of friendship itself. It could be some ambient aura it emitted that just made people naturally want to form bonds. Bonds based on the ideals represented by the Elements of Harmony.

However, this theory posed a problem for me. One of those ideas was honesty. And it made sense. If you wanted to keep your friends you couldn’t bullshit them. Therefore any relationship started on lies was almost certainly doomed to fail. And since I spent an hour lying through my teeth to these people whom I had befriended, the natural assumption was that there would be hell to pay later.

Not that I really cared at the time because I FUCKING SOLD IT!

Yeah, I felt bad about lying to them after they’d been relatively nice to me, but I wasn’t about to tell them the truth! I don’t know whether to call myself an alien, a demon, or a dimensional traveler, but I knew they’d call me crazy. Besides, I happen to think that the lie was a much better story.

It started off simple enough. I was born in a tribe of bast far to the south, right where the jungle began to turn into desert. It was a modest sized tribe called the Khajiit. It wasn't the largest group or the strongest, but we got by. I don’t remember all that much of them.

One of our neighbors, I think they were called the Xener, decided to wage war on us one day. I don’t know whether it was for land or battle lust or some dishonor we did them, but the reason must have either been really good or really petty because they didn’t leave any other survivors. For some reason they let me live. I think they just wanted a kit and chose me at random since anyone would have worked. Or maybe it was my parents that pissed them off. It never occurred to me to ask.

The largest one there, a huge white brute with the features of a lion, picked me up by the neck and showed me everything they did. He made me look at the burned houses, the slaughtered people, the burned out husks of everything I’d known. He described in detail everything they had done to the individual members of my family. He made me feel like I’d been there watching instead of huddled in the bunker with my older sister. He looked me right in the eye and said to never forget what had been done here and to tell it to all who would hear.

Then he hit me over the head and tossed me in a sack.

I was six at the time.

I woke up hours, maybe days later in a village not too far from mine. The Dalk weren’t all that different from the Khajiit. Maybe a bit more superstitious. They patched me up, gave me food, asked me what happened, and even invited me to stay with them. Granted I had to live with this nutty old crone that smacked me with a stick if I so much as spat the wrong way, but I could live with it. Was better than being dead after all.

Took years until I figured out what I was. Even longer to realize the repercussions.

A warning. That’s all the Dalk saw me as. A reminder of what would happen if they ever did something the Xener didn’t like. They spread the tale of course, to every tribe in the area. And everyone who heard it saw me as nothing more than bad luck. An omen. Someone who should be avoided. I could see it every time I walked down a street or went out to get the crone food. Looking back, she was the only one who didn’t seem to give a damn about it. Pity I never got her name.

Eventually I’d had enough and swiped a dagger, a shortbow, and a quiver full of arrows from the armory. It wasn’t that hard to sneak off. A part of me still thinks they let me go.

From there I wandered from village to village, staying just long enough to get what I need, but leaving before they could ask why a thirteen year old was traveling alone. Always I went north. North was the direction that would take me farthest from everything so north was the direction I went. I zig zagged my way up and across the jungle for five straight years, backtracking and trail blazing without purpose during that entire time. By a mixture of good hiding skills and a monstrous portion of pure, stupid luck I managed to not get myself killed.

Of course that luck had to run out and its end came in the form of a small camp of outcasts I met at age eighteen. They seemed nice enough, their fire was warm, their cooking smelled divine, and a couple of the girls were throwing me winks so like an idiot I joined them.

And that’s how I woke up drugged, robbed, and without any clothes on a tree above roc infested cliffs.

And from there I really got into the story.

I had them laughing their asses off when I mistook my tail for a snake. The climb down and the brush with the roc had them all slightly, but only slightly, impressed. My capture, caging, escape, and suicide dive off a cliff had them on the edge of their seats. And who wouldn’t be when the price for failure was being dinner? Bar turned a bit green and Alpine nearly fainted when I described, in detail, everything Ren had told me about the severing of my arm. I really enjoyed talking about that for some reason. Should that worry me?

Of course I omitted a few things. Somnambula’s visit and the night on the cliffs were unpleasant and private respectively and I’d rather not relive either. Though I kept my time with the Vren and the subsequent freak out. And, of course, the second I mentioned Nadene it was all smiles and ribbing which turned into boos when I insisted, despite all their protests, that the most I’d touched her was a handshake. Honestly, they tried to make me promise to go back one day and finish what I’d started like a man.

Anyway, the rest of it was pretty much standard adventure story stuff. Ancient temples, capture, combat, jailbreaks. Already said all this once and nothing more needs to be said on it. Though I might have embellished a bit on how big Atheris was…and how many Skaven there were…and possibly added an extra fight scene or two to the jail break…small stuff, nothing too important.

The first name got called right after I’d finished. Some unicorn named Dim. He made a big show of it too, prancing up to the door and taking a bow. Several people clapped and added encouragement, yelling the standard well wishes you get during scenes like this. Apparently as long as we were in the same waiting room we were allies.

Normally you’d think there’d be some kind of tension after that, but there wasn’t. People weren’t too worried about getting called yet. After all there were sixty-four fights and they were all happening the same night. The countdown had started, but we were nowhere near the finish. As such, people stayed relaxed.

Relaxation, however, could easily turn into boredom. And boredom was unacceptable! So to stave off the boredom I got a few stories in exchange for mine. Five actually.

Alpine had been raised on a farm outside Stalliongrad. And yes, she was just as excitable as a filly as she was now. She was around eight when people figured out that she was pretty damn strong, even for an earth pony. Not only that, but she had the reflexes of a rabbit with heroine for blood. It made her more than tough enough to handle farm work, but left her without the patience for it. So when she was old enough, she packed up and headed for the city and the ‘more exciting side of life’. And, this town being what it is, it wasn’t long before someone tried to mug her. All he took was a free two week trip to a hospital and gave her the knowledge that she really loved fighting. All that combined meant it was only a matter of time before she was signed up for the tournament. Apparently she had a day job in a warehouse, moving things around.

Calcite came all the way from Gem Fido, a beta in a den there. He didn’t say which one and he didn’t say why he left. Just that he had a disagreement with those above him and it was either stay or risk getting steel in his ribs. Eventually he worked his way south to Stalliongrad as outcasts were want to do. Got himself involved with a carpenter, said they needed someone to build ships and carts. He had apparently learned some amount of woodworking in the place he refused to talk about, so he took the job. Spending a lot of time swinging mallets and hauling wood attracts attention so within three years someone offered him a ticket.

Bar was, believe it or not, from Ponyville. Said he hated the place. Too small, too quiet, and too lazy of a name. But, like a lot of pegasi (especially one named Barometer) he joined the weather team. First chance he could he got himself transferred to the Stalliongrad team. Because it was ‘close enough that moving wasn’t too expensive while still being far away from that sugar filled nightmare’. Only time he went back was to visit his folks and those never lasted long. A loudmouth pegasus with a ‘hot temper and hotter hooves’ didn’t remain anonymous for long so someone picked him up pretty quick.

Abigail was actually born in Stalliongrad. Lived here her whole life. Unfortunately it was in one of the slums, but she came from a tough family so they made due. There was a lot of the standard street urchin stuff. Joined a gang of kids, got into a lot of fights, had to teach herself most things. People kept saying it was strange to see a D-Dog in a library, but it paid off. She managed to scrape together enough knowledge of metalworking to talk herself into being apprenticed by a blacksmith. Scraped together enough cash to get out of that shithole and now she lived in a place that could almost be considered decent and was well on her way to acquiring her own forge. Blooded AND intelligent dogs were hard to find in this city so she had no shortage of backers.

Clipper by far had the longest to travel. He came all the way from the Zebra Isles. For reasons he didn’t even understand, his parents hopped on a boat to Equestria when he was little. They also picked Equestria’s most notorious city to live in though he thought that might have been because of the high minority rate. He didn’t remember when, but at some point he figured out that he had a real love of styling manes. And as you’d expect from a zebra colt in the most racist city in the land who liked to cut hair, he got into a LOT of fights. But he kept at it and now his motto is ‘I fix manes and mess up faces’. It came with a reputation and one free ride to fight club.

I am heavily paraphrasing of course. Telling the full stories would take all night. Hell, it practically DID take all night. By the time all the stories had been finished, Alpine, Clipper, and Calcite had already been called in for their matches. Didn’t know if they won and I wouldn’t find out till tomorrow. They wanted everything to be as secret as possible.

The numbers had dwindled down to ten and we’d been reduced to discussing food when it finally happened.

“Hey, cat!” Didn’t even need to say my name. More bast need to come north. “Your name came up!”

“Well, looks like it’s time.” Abigail smiled at me. She looked ten times as confident as I felt in that moment. “You think you’re ready?”

“Maybe I am.” I tried to smile back, but I was later told it looked like I was trying to hold in my stomach. Pretty accurate I have to say. “Maybe I’ll get stomped in the first minute. Hard to say really.”

“Mind your legs,” Bar said, giving me a look that suggested I’d just slept with his sister. “Just cause they can’t kill you doesn’t mean they won’t try to maim. There’s always a few new cripples every year. Don’t become one of them.”

That did not help settle my stomach. If anything it took it to swing dancing. Still I swallowed down the bile and thanked the both of them for the conversation. Really wasn’t any point in lingering beyond that. If you stayed in the room for more than a minute that pink mare started yelling at you. She didn’t look at me when I passed her. Just went back to reading a thick book she had pulled out shortly after the speech.

I took a deep breath when I reached the door, preparing myself. It was premature. The door lead to another long, grey hallway. I jumped a bit when it slammed shut behind me. That was never a good sign.

I didn’t hear anything besides my own soft footfalls. I had assumed I’d hear something on my way there, the murmur of the crowd, some kind of announcement, but there was nothing. Just me and my thoughts. My nervous, increasingly panicky thoughts…

This whole thing was a mistake. I wasn’t a fighter! I’d never even thrown a punch until three months ago, now they expected me to beat the shit out of somebody I didn’t know who probably had a ton more experience than me? While I was down an arm? This was going to be a slaughter. I was gonna limp out of here a cripple! More of a cripple anyway…

Yeah, I apparently beat up some mugger with a knife, but I was drunk! Being drunk changes things! In both good and bad ways!

God I needed a drink…

They made the hallway too long. Too much time to think…

The door I reached was unimpressive and unadorned. Simple whitewashed wood you’d find in a newly built house. The only thing that made it stand out was a little yellow light on the wall beside it. It came on the second I came up to it. There was no mistaking it as my cue to enter. I took another deep bracing breath and entered the arena.

It was totally silent.

There was no roaring crowd, no music, no announcement or anything except the door creaking open and shut behind me. I was in a flat pit with a layer of sand covering hard concrete. The walls were the same grey stone that made up the hallways and rose a good thirty feet before trading off to black windows, heavily tinted so I couldn’t see inside. These stretched to a ceiling that matched the walls in every way. The circle might have been three hundred feet across, plenty of room for its purpose. There was absolutely nothing in it.

Nothing except for the thick, pug looking diamond dog steadily advancing toward me.

“Hey,” I said to him.

He charged.