A Nation's Wrath

Phisoxa went silence for a moment as if to observe his reaction looking to see if she pulled a heartstring or not and then she turned away and rushed out the door, strutting like she was in a bad mood into the hall, and barely giving the cloaked man a look before walking down the hallway. Her face showing no emotion but her eyes saddened.

 

Seeing the woman go past Torxber turned right around and headed back to Mixt. It was the best time to talk and get answers from Mixt. "Well well, that took long enough" Torxber said casually as he entered the throne room "I guess that went well, I mean if you were trying to hurt her" he said.

 

A long story short, a walk through dimly lit corridors seemed to be all Adrian needed to get his head cleared. Already, a plan was forming in his mind, though only in a generalized skeleton manner. He could win the tournament; it would be easy if the rest of competition was at the same level as the people he had fought to get to the final stretch. From there, it was certain that he'd be able to pick up some material or informational means by which he could carry out his task. Once that was taken care of, he needed only a fair amount of time in which to venture. Eventually, he'd be able to backtrack to home, and follow whatever trail there was to be followed. That sounds solid, he told himself as he rounded the corner that brought him to the inner-most hall.

He noticed immediately that the lighting for the hallway he had entered was more luminous and effective. The lamps that decorated the walls and ceilings were more numerous and expensive than they were elsewhere in the stadium's innards. Further down the corridor as he could see, a carpet had been placed over the floor, and two guards stood perched on either side of a small archway. Certainly that was where the host of the events would be found, if not a high-society type. If it was true that the other competitors would seek an audience with the tournament's host, then, Adrian knew, that well-kept and guarded corridor would be the place to catch one or two of them.

His pace quickened as he stepped forward along the corridor. Each fall of his foot seemed to speed him up, and intensify his spirits. He wanted to see his competition, to study them, and more so know them; it would make life far less stressful down the road.*

He arrived at the flanked archway, and exchanged official glances with the guards, glances that said that he was par of the event, and allotted access to places commoners weren't. Through the archway was a staircase, spiraling gently up towards an unknown destination. He lingered, and took a hesitant step forward before stopping himself to think about it. It might not have been as helpful as he thought it might be to meet wry the others in a place other than a battleground. What was there to see in place where fights weren't apt to break out?

"You going up there or not?" one of the guards snapped.

"Yeah... I suspect I will," Adrian said coolly. He proceeded through the archway, and up the spiraling stairs up to a second floor level. Looking to the left and right, he proceeded to walk in the latter direction down the hallway towards an opening that seemed, by the light comic through it, to lead out to his destination. He kept walking, and albeit being nearly run down by a frantic young woman, made his way to the throne area, where the man he recognized as the tournament host accompanied by a masculine figure adorned in a black hooded coat. "Seems this is a popular place," he muttered.​

 

"Quiet popular" Torxber said at the new comer into the throne room, he didn't like more people, he wanted to get answers and he wanted to use them to help him win or figure out what the hosts real obejtives where "It seems everytime I come to talk to our grand host here someone else seems to be doing the same" Torxber said, a hin of frustration in his voice.

 

"Well I wouldn't say it was my goal but it was an interesting effect of improvisation." Despite the stoicism, this was the closest thing to a joke that Lord Pride had made in a long time. "But I doubt that is what you wished to talk to me about Torxber." As he said this he noticed Adrian walking in. Knowing that Torxber was unlikely to speak in the presence of a stranger when he had waited for Phisoxa to leave he decided it best to take care of the new comer first. "Ah, Adrian. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"

 

The hooded man had been first to speak up, and the first to take a stab at Adrian. The frustration in the man's voice was certain, but the young warrior didn't particularly care for that feeling; not from someone he didn't know. He gave that man no reply in words. He merely glanced at him as though to say "hold your horses," and looked to the one known as Mixt, to whom his gaze grew more patient and honorable.*

"I'm sorry," he said more respectfully bowing his head quickly. "You owe me nothing for the pleasure of my presence. You see, it wasn't your for pleasure that I came this way. I was informed that this throne room might prove a point of congregation amongst the combatants in the tournament. I would assume, based on the present company," he nodded his head towards the hooded man before continuing. "And*the one that just burst out through the halls, that my information was accurate. It is, after all, my opponents that spike my interest as of now.

"But I can see now that my presence is of little consequence or favor at the moment. If you wish for me to leave, then I will more than happily do so."​

 

Mixt nodded "That would be appreciated. The one that just left is known as Phisoxa, and if I'm not mistaken there was another person that was out in the hall, though I can't vogue for them being a contestant since they did not come in. I think like you their presence is less about me, and more about the other who come here. Either of them would be good places to start in your endeavors."

 

OOC: FFFF... Sorry about that, went on a break and decided not to tell anyone. < < >>

Phisoxa's heart ached making her stomach sick but she resisted showing any emotion as she stormed down the hall and neared the corner that had a pair of large open doors that lead outside into the city. Phisoxa stepped outside and could smell the scent of a living and breathing city. She could easily run away and leave this city but for some reason a unseen force had a grip around her neck almost as if it were a noose made of invisible chains. Phisoxa wandered the streets, her hands out in front of her as she stretched her fingers. She didn't know where she was going, but she just felt the need to walk and to keep walking.

 

”Of course. I’d like noting better.” Adrian made his leave, providing Mixt a gentle bow of his head as a paring gift. It wasn’t a common event for Adrian to exchange pleasantries, not to that extent anyways; it was his commitment to put on as thick a mask as he could, to avoid being forcibly removed from the tournament running. He was certain that his natural animosity towards strangers had cut through every layer of his interactions with the two people. From his narrowed gaze at the hooded man, to the masked lack of true respect for the host, his disposition was evident, even if not addressed in earnest. Fortunately for him, they had chosen not to chastise his lack of formality, perhaps as a reward for his attempt to show honest courtesy.

He stepped out of the hallway from the throne room into the corridor the young woman had almost floored him moments before. Yet he arrived there only to have forgotten precisely what direction he had come from. Stopping to backtrack his path, the images of his walk played through his mind in an overhead view. He turned right after the spiral staircase, and then headed down the corridor. That was where the young woman had run passed him, almost running him down. And then the hallway into the throne room had been to his right when he arrived there. “So then… that’s right.” He walked down the hallway to his left, wondering where the young woman had gone, and if she was even in the mood to “get to know” her opponents-to-be. “Maybe someone else would be better to start with, but then, I’ve yet to see any of the others.”

He thought about it for a moment. It seemed that the woman, whose rush had had him intrigued for one reason or another had stowed away someplace well out of the way of others. He wanted to meet his competition, but not so desperately as to go chasing them around the entire arena complex, or the city around it either. Once more, he backtracked his path, returning to the hallway just outside of the throne area. He would meet with the man who had been so impatient with him moments before. He had some bark, but it was left to debate whether or not the man had the bite to match it. Adrian was determined to find out first had, one way or another. And thus, he awaited the warrior’s exit from the throne.​

 

"Well now, that was rude" Torxber said looking at Mixt, "I at least waited for the others to leave, but to barge in like that, well its tempting fate a little. Anyway, as I was about to say, or ask, what are your intentions with this tournament and can you really grant any wish, do you you have a favrioute and will I lose if I kill my opponents?" Torxber asked, all these question and he planned for a single answer for all of them.

 

"Right to the point I see. Very well" Mixt commented as Torxber finished his list of questions. Having no trouble keeping them straight and trusting that Torxber could do the same Mixt answered each question in a similar manner. "I intend to find the strongest among us and name them as Wrath, for who could be better to lead an army? I cannot grant any wish, but I will try to find a way to grant any request. Were I to be unable to grant the wish the victor would be allowed to make a new one. I do believe some are better suited for the job than others, but I will let the tournament speak for itself. If you kill your opponent the match will be declared over and I will judge it. During the duration of the tournament I have arranged that all contests be brought to an infirmary a moment before their deaths, in or out of battle. There will be no penalty for battles done outside your matches."

 

"Simple, I like it. Well I guess then there is no real reason to be part of this tournament, but I think I will stay around for the hell of it" Torxber said, he was acting cocky because he was actually in a bad mood from being interuppted and from watching Mixt and Phisoxa's talk before, but he hated showing his actual emotions.

 

OOC: Alright, again I find an RP that I'm in that I had forgotten about. Sorry for the long delay between posts. :P

IC: Kana Rya had intended to return to his room, but after wandering aimlessly around the halls for the better part of ten minutes (Not a very long time but forever for the sixteen year old), he finally had to admit to himself that he was absolutely lost. Still, he managed to blame someone else, as nothing ever could be his fault. "Ugh, don't these people know how to HANG A MAP?" He yelled to the empty halls as if someone would hear him and come out to help. No one came, however, and he continued on his way, muttering under his breath about the "Lousy service around here, I THOUGHT the contestants would be treated better than this." Turning a corner, he walked on for a few moments before coming to a fork. The hall split off into two different directions, and he stood for a moment, trying to decide which to take. Sighing, he pulled a small gold coin from his pocket and flipped it into the air. One gold coin, his entire inheritance from his rotten parents. That was all he was able to lift before running off. It wasn't worth much, but he liked the way the gold looked when it caught the sunlight. It landed right side up, with an engraving of Lord Mixt on the front. Kana Rya smiled. He regarded Mixt as his idol, rumor around the village had said that Mixt had had humble beginnings, and now look where he was. Ruler of the world, with his picture on Kana Rya's coin. Mixt had inspired Kana Rya to leave his two-bit town, leave his farmer parents and dead-end life for a better future, hopefully as Wrath, happily serving Lord Mixt and building up armies for his hero's disposal. Crushing his enemies with an iron fist, annihalating all who defied his lord. Well, the toss had come up heads, so he turned to the left and walked on, heading wherever the hall might take him.