"Your choice of win method is very hazardous for a tournament for entertainment and honour. I had half a mind to engage in melee with you myself since you called no denizens to your aide. Why so few allies to fight at your side?"
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
MTG: The RPG Character: Zenith RIP Krensae Fluidtail: Sleep well with the fish
"Oh, I've never felt comfortable making someone else do my work for me. Now, I'm fine with cooperation. It's just that with summons I am in control. If I must be under control I'd rather be taking it away from someone else. I can resurrect my opponent's fiends if I must." He then thought about Krensae's first comment. "I can see what you mean, being hazardous in a tournament like this, but I believe I can hold my own, alone, if I must."
"Perhaps we shall have a rematch at a later date. You depend much on what your enemy does, or doesn't. I wonder how you fare facing someone lacking creatures for your machination? You will wish more fodder or minions on that hour." Krensae flicks his tail when he finishes his speaking. "But I shouldn't be negative. A win is a win, and a loss is a loss, no matter how you slice the meat. I wish you luck should you face Aramil...be wary of that one."
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
MTG: The RPG Character: Zenith RIP Krensae Fluidtail: Sleep well with the fish
"I know who you speak of, He is quite powerful, but I believe if I can move faster than he, if only a little, I will come out on top. You might say a match between the two of us would be a coin toss."
Off in the stands, a fair distance from everybody, three people are watching the proceedings with interest. Sitting left to right, a brown-haired woman, a dirty-blond haired man with dreadlocks, and a man whose face is obscured with a hood and cloak.
"I should be in there," the woman grumbles.
"I told you that it would not be a good idea," the middle man says. "You're impulsive, and we can't afford scandal right now. Especially with the incident at Lat-Nam."
"That still didn't excuse him giving me lip about it."
"And you proved his point by nearly singeing his eyebrows off."
The woman whips around and glares at the man who just spoke. Before she could speak, another man held up a metallic claw in front of her.
"We are trying to maintain a low profile. Dropping firecats on potential recruits in public is okay, but there's a reason you remain hidden when you do it. Control yourself."
She harrumphed, and folded her arms, smoldering. This is one word that should be taken literally when it comes to this woman.
"I assume the scroll is safe?"
"Yes, Sir. I've been studying it in my spare time between missions and training."
"Good. I want to know what it is within a week. I also want your melee combat skills improved. I don't want you crawling back with a bloody nose telling me you failed again."
Silence descends between the group, as they return to look at the arena matches. The man in the center stares at Circle 1, squinting at Aggron, and the glint off his scales... or at least he thinks it's scales...
"That man looks familiar," the man on the right says.
"Who? The one fighting the Selesnyan woman?"
"No, the one with the whirlwind around— wait, there are two Selesnyan women in here?"
There's a 'hunh' from the middle man. "The Conclave is well represented here. Where do you recognize him from?"
"...I don't know. I feel like I know him..."
"Well, we shall see if it's worth trying to recruit him."
More silence.
"The Selesnyan man put up a good fight."
"It was certainly an excellent fight. I really thought he wouldn't be able to survive the shade, but he pulled through."
The man on the left looks over at another fight that just finished. "You see? Fire isn't all it's cracked up to be, Baltrice."
The woman harrumphs again. "Stupid druids."
Cyouni strolls into the stands area of the Arena, pausing to look around for a seat. Spotting one, he quickly vaults into it before anyone else can take it.
His seat secured, he leans back to watch the matches...
Dodaer had replied to Wynn's advice with only a simple nod. He knew his satchel needed a lot of work. It was the main reason he needed money. But he wasn't too pleased with being told what to do. He hid his emotions, though, and continued on his way to the stands. Once there, he quietly made his way to a secluded spot so as to watch the matches in peace.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Sig credited to my basic GIMP skills.
There's something about a homemade avvy that makes you feel proud no matter how much it sucks.
Cyouni chuckles slightly to himself, leaning slightly forward to peer at Circle 1. His eyes flick to each combatant, and he gives the slightest of nods to himself as he recognizes each. This shall be interesting, indeed...
Tearing his eyes away from the match with some reluctance, Cyouni's eyes flick briefly over each other match. Recognizing the ones that are obviously nearly complete, he barely gives them a passing glance. The final match, he looks at carefully, trying to gauge who has the upper hand. Shaking his head, he returns his attention to Circle 1.
"What in the..? Disqualified? That's absurd! Aramil won fair and square!" Roger shouted toward the ring. He wasn't alone in this either. The crowed was throwing out quite mixed reactions. It was clear, now, who was rooting for who.
"Beleren, go scope out our little telepath friend," the middle one says to the man on his right.
The cloaked man merely nods, and makes to go get some refreshments. On the way back, he goes back by a different route.
——————————
A cloaked man excuses himself as he passes by a few rows in front of Aramil. He's holding what looks like some kind of sausage in a bun, and two bottles of a local brew. He glances up, and locks eyes with Aramil. The man gasps, and freezes.
Aramil instantly recognizes that face.
He remembers that he broke the man's arm. And stabbed him through the leg. In a certain library...
Tai blinked at the assault his fellow Selesnyan underwent. "No...I...meant...that guy over...excuse me..." Tai replied, before stalking off towards the mind-mage.
RIP Krensae Fluidtail: Sleep well with the fish
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
RIP Krensae Fluidtail: Sleep well with the fish
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
"I should be in there," the woman grumbles.
"I told you that it would not be a good idea," the middle man says. "You're impulsive, and we can't afford scandal right now. Especially with the incident at Lat-Nam."
"That still didn't excuse him giving me lip about it."
"And you proved his point by nearly singeing his eyebrows off."
The woman whips around and glares at the man who just spoke. Before she could speak, another man held up a metallic claw in front of her.
"We are trying to maintain a low profile. Dropping firecats on potential recruits in public is okay, but there's a reason you remain hidden when you do it. Control yourself."
She harrumphed, and folded her arms, smoldering. This is one word that should be taken literally when it comes to this woman.
"I assume the scroll is safe?"
"Yes, Sir. I've been studying it in my spare time between missions and training."
"Good. I want to know what it is within a week. I also want your melee combat skills improved. I don't want you crawling back with a bloody nose telling me you failed again."
Silence descends between the group, as they return to look at the arena matches. The man in the center stares at Circle 1, squinting at Aggron, and the glint off his scales... or at least he thinks it's scales...
"That man looks familiar," the man on the right says.
"Who? The one fighting the Selesnyan woman?"
"No, the one with the whirlwind around— wait, there are two Selesnyan women in here?"
There's a 'hunh' from the middle man. "The Conclave is well represented here. Where do you recognize him from?"
"...I don't know. I feel like I know him..."
"Well, we shall see if it's worth trying to recruit him."
More silence.
"The Selesnyan man put up a good fight."
"It was certainly an excellent fight. I really thought he wouldn't be able to survive the shade, but he pulled through."
The man on the left looks over at another fight that just finished. "You see? Fire isn't all it's cracked up to be, Baltrice."
The woman harrumphs again. "Stupid druids."
His seat secured, he leans back to watch the matches...
The creator of Maro's Magic 8-Ball!
Tearing his eyes away from the match with some reluctance, Cyouni's eyes flick briefly over each other match. Recognizing the ones that are obviously nearly complete, he barely gives them a passing glance. The final match, he looks at carefully, trying to gauge who has the upper hand. Shaking his head, he returns his attention to Circle 1.
That's the only sound the two men make, watching Squee lead Aramil out of the arena.
You should have been more careful with your magic, Aramil. Not everyone is as observant as you...
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
He makes no other overt reaction, appearing to be neither for nor against Aramil's disqualification.
The creator of Maro's Magic 8-Ball!
After a quick scan, he took a seat at some of the highest seats, always more at ease the higher he was.
The cloaked man merely nods, and makes to go get some refreshments. On the way back, he goes back by a different route.
——————————
A cloaked man excuses himself as he passes by a few rows in front of Aramil. He's holding what looks like some kind of sausage in a bun, and two bottles of a local brew. He glances up, and locks eyes with Aramil. The man gasps, and freezes.
Aramil instantly recognizes that face.
He remembers that he broke the man's arm. And stabbed him through the leg. In a certain library...
The creator of Maro's Magic 8-Ball!
"I must say, I never thought I'd see the likes of you again. Here for round two?"
I must admit the same. Flexing your mental muscles, I see?
"Perhaps. I want you to be perfectly aware that we're on even ground."
Even ground as in 'neither of us can attack the other without lots of unwanted problems?' Yes, for now, let's call it a truce.
"Make no mistake, I have no desire to fight you. We were merely on opposite ends of a specific interest the last time we met."
The creator of Maro's Magic 8-Ball!
"What do you want?"