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MOBS tournament lounge

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Lounging area inside of the Holosseum where participants can wait for their match to start, or cool off after concluding a match. All food and drink is complimentary and the lounge is open 24/7.

Tournament lobby

Edited by supernal

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Apprehensive and excited. That's how Erekall felt when he entered the Holosseum. He had seen an advertisement in a local inn a week before about a new type of tournament pitting powerful fighters against each other for entertainment. He cared not for the prizes or the fame but felt it was a good way to stay sharp as he had been on the road for a while now and did not get that much time to dedicate to his training since he left the monastery. Who knows he might even learn some new techniques by studying his opponents.

Walking into the main lobby the young monk was almost overwhelmed by the extravagantly decorated entertainment complex. It was always hard for him stepping into these impressive buildings as they clashed so intensely with the asceticism preached inside the monastery where every building had the same rectangular shape and white walls. Many found the boring architecture depressing but for the monks it was a way to calm the mind and soul. Erekall quickly registered at the desk and was shown the way to the competitor's lounge. The room in question was not much better from the lobby with it's bright lamps, expensive carpets, lavish furniture and banquet tables full of more food he felt he could it in three lifetimes.

Seemingly the first one there, Erekall grabbed an apple from one of the tables, and sat down on the ground with his back to a wall and his legs crossed. He drew from his pool of vital energy and fed some to his necklace in preparation for the battle while eating and then closed his eyes, falling into a meditative state. This would allow him to regain the energy he had put away without sleeping in order not to miss the time of his battle.

 

@-Lilium-  Ready when you are!

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Trilith adopts a slight cant to her head so that it rests on her left hand. Lazily, her eyes work from left to right as she looks over a flyer. Albright had its fair share of tournaments for entertainment but none of them had prizes. The idea that people could fight for monetary gain isn’t completely foreign, so much as it is a luxury that no one enjoys. And while there are better things she could do with her time; a Queen needs both money and a castle. The Gaianist weren’t going to learn the folly of their ways unless she could spread the word, which requires resources… resources that the refugee camp is in short supply of.

Leaning forward, she drops the flyer to the coffee table and retrieves a saucer and teacup. Sips are taken as she contemplates the first match. It is a rematch, really… sort of. She had crossed blades with Louise, who is but also isn’t Dove. It hadn’t ended favorably for her the first time, and the prognosis is questionable at best even now. "A castle would make for a great temple." As beneficial as the monetary gain would be, the iota of fame that came with it could only further help her cause. People listen to the famous, regardless of if they're credible. "Win or lose, it's free advertising as well." The comment is for herself, a reassurance that she is making a good choice.

 

Edited by Generic Perfection

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There was a feeling in his bones, like lightning was coursing through his veins. Though he was opposed to the idea of wearing something more modern it was far greater then spending hours to re-modify his armor after he tore it open. For now he would suffice with using the 'fast patch' inlay to his armor and be content in wearing what Bear picked out for him. The view from outside was amazing, but not uncommon now thanks to seeing the world that his friend had taken him to. This 'hoodie' was kind of comforting, the material was fleece and it was lightweight as well...and in his color too. A dull purple with yellow and some blue stripes running through it. The front zipper was undone to be open to show off the design of the tank top he was given as well. On the shirt was a replica of the Ardesian house emblem. A lion's mouth half opened with twin blades crossed in a 'V' formation underneath the lion's head and at the end of both handles, a trail of black smoke. His pants were tan denim jeans with multiple pockets on them. He had his daggers strapped to the belt that went with his pants. His feet were adorned with 'tennis shoes' though he wasn't a tennis player he was confused why he was wearing them. Lastly there was Darius's good luck necklace which was the tooth of a Worg the orc was given as a gift. In his ears he had music playing from Bear's MP3 player playing some pumped up music making him feeling like running wild. He made a note to get one of these for himself and have it loaded up with music.

The elf was quick to move to the door, hearing the fans outside shouting and cheering for the contenders, he was just glad he wasn't one of the people they were shouting for. He didn't need the attention right now. Once inside the place was awe inspiring, he spun around with his mouth half open. "Daaaaaamn......" It was fancy and large with the other contenders and a few 'VIPS' by the looks of it. Aldorto made his way over to the railing of the top row and leapt over, rolling on the way down and shouting at the top of his lungs. "Wooooo!!! Hahahahah!!" The wolf felt damn good to be freed of the prison he'd endured with Grey. He felt the hood on his jacket fall back once he stood up. "Ahahahah! Hell yeah, Wooo!!!" Aldorto ran for the edge of the next balcony and leapt over again enjoying the mobility and getting a feel for the clothes. It felt easy to move about in them. Once he stood up Aldorto turn around to see some eyes on him. 

"Hahaha...ahhh..so who's ready for this ehh?" The almost white haired elf was hyper and amped up to be in another fighting tournament. Last one he partook in was when Darius was still alive and the two of them paired up. He was hoping not to loose his spirit for fighting and honor Darius's memory. His fingers felt the edges of the tooth as he made his way back up the stairs to get acquainted with the other fighters after his display of joy over having his own body again and also of being in a tournament again.

Edited by Fennis Ursai

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Karma. Always rearing its damnably ugly head in her direction. At least this is how Ina perceives it to be. She slinks in to the Lounge with very low expectations of the place. Freckles, her current companion nestled against her chest. A hapless appearing child in a grown-up’s world.

Until her mouth opens, that is. Words vomited with truly acidic properties, spew every which way. Targeting all who dare look in her direction. If only her angst could somehow be quieted. Or not. Either way it is what she is at the moment. And taking a little advantage of it here and there doesn’t seem to hurt. When it isn’t aimed in her direction.

Gimme a drink!” Demands set forth to the wandering waitress as she painfully carries her burden into a curled position on her lap. Clambering onto the seat a small victory with the heft of her friend slowing her down. But it is done. And she sits with a relatively slouched posture, a twisted smirk adorning her features. One that eventually becomes an irritated frown. The waitress having returned with a shake of her head at Ina, while sliding a Shirley-Temple at her.

At least give me extra cherries!! All of your kind always skimps on the damned cherries!!

Without a word, but a blatant eye-roll, a small bowl of brightly red cherries is fetched and eventually brought back. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!!

The entire bowl is dumped into the glass. Bubbles rupture, allowing the fizz and pop of red tinged soda tickle her nostrils as she lifts the overfilled glass for a drink. After a moment of enjoying the drink, it is placed carefully back onto the table. Amber eyes follow the turn of her head as she takes in the vast...emptiness plus three old folks in the lounge. “What a bunch of geezers you are!” Possibly a private joke, but it elicits an unabashedly pointing finger and rancorous laughter.


@Kallielaios

Edited by -Lilium-

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"What an asshole." The comment is made between sips of tea. Setting the cup on the saucer, Trilith stands up and then levels her finger at Freckles the pig. "Look here. Keep your kid in check. Children need discipline. Maybe try smacking her every now and then." Her hands lower to her hips as she marches toward the pair. "It doesn't matter if she is your direct offspring or not. Clearly she is your ward. If you can't control her, I will definitely see to having you excused from the premises." Her brows furrow as she glares at the piggie. "I understand the troubles of being a single parent, but this is no place for children. It is certainly no place for misbehaving rude children." Her right foot taps on the ground at a rapid and grating pace. "How do you expect to win a fight when you have a child to worry about anyway?"

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A response by Freckles is given in the drop of lazy lids, pink flesh coiling tightly against the lap in which it lays. "Ya know, it's no one's fault but your own that you're alone, Hag." Dainty digits curl against the dew speckled chill of her Shirley Temple as Ina lifts it to take another sip. Freckles continues with his lazy gaze even as Trilith's frame gains closure in distance. 

"I bet that rocking chair on your porch is dusty. Maybe you should throw some lace on it and take a seat before you break a hip. Crocheting may better suit someone your age anyways." Maybe it isn't such a good idea to sass someone of her stature...?

What are you getting at?

I'm just saying, there is always some sort of consequence for every degree your salt level rises.

Pffft. Let her feel her age, Freckles. She's old and washed up. You'll see. Someday that pretty skin will be wrinkled and whatever light there is in her eyes now will fade away. Just like the rest of the world. Old and alone.

Maybe, but even you're wrong sometimes.

This counteractive thought is illustrated with a snort heard throughout the room. Yet Ina ignores it with a profound sense of entitlement like most children her age. Uncaring of the world's current state of affairs. As they do not seem to adhere very well to her chosen environments. 

"We're too young to have any children. And that's too great an expectation for a stranger to place on a child, but I bet your grand kids just looove you. Don't they Granny?"

This isn't going to end well.

Edited by -Lilium-

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@-Lilium-

There was a bit of a commotion that caught his ears, the others starting to get the fighting out early. The elf hopped up, climbing up the balcony railing where he sat with his legs dangling down just above the ground. "Well well, looks like we have a loudmouth pomp trying to start a fight. Might I suggest holding it for the fights. I'd rather not have blood filling my nose before we get to the real fights ladies." His eyes shot over, mostly staring at the one he was referring to as 'loud-mouth'. "Just because this is a open bar and a lounge doesn't mean you get free rain to make a mockery of the place." 

A chuckle from his lips for a moment before he moved to be standing on the railing. It was a damn good feeling being free again, maybe a bit too much. Normally he wouldn't shoot off but today was a special day. Not every day one get's to be part of a tournament. The elf's eyes shot over to the other patron of this bar. (@Generic Perfection)

There was something peculiar about her, her scent, that was it..had to be. The air of being someone important...of course the same could be said of 'loud-mouth'. 'hmm must be some nobility...great..we won't get along.'

@Kallielaios

Another whiff filled his lungs, more of the monastic scent...fragrances of dirt and unwashed feet, some bit of herbs as well. A monk, he was certain, from the sounds in the area, or lack there of to be more certain, they must be meditating. That would be another indicator of not wanting to make too much noise, less the concentration be broken.

For now, Aldorto would walk along the balcony railing fiddling with his dagger hilts, enjoying the feeling of having his balance and his body to himself once more. This would be a good way for him to kick start his 'returning'. For now the thought of learning where to poke and prod at these contenders was going to be a fun game. He was hoping to learn what he could of them before having to face them in a fight. Something he was already looking forwards to.

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Trilith raises her right hand up, across her chest, so that it rests near her left cheek. For the briefest of moments it looks like she is about to deliver an epic backhand across Ina's face. Truth be told, she is seriously considering it. In fact, she isn't just considering giving her a light slap. Rather, she considers slapping her hard enough to knock her fucking teeth out and dislocate her jaw. Children in this era certainly needed discipline. "You know." She lowers her hand, "If I had ever spoken to an adult that way, I would have been beaten within an inch of my life or possibly burned alive." She pauses as to collect her thoughts, before finally leveling her index with the girl's face. "If there were more people like you in the world, I think I'd be less inclined to try to save it."

The Saint Queen's index finger jabs forward and taps the edge of the glass holding the mix of ginger ale, grenadine, and maraschino cherries. A single pulse resonates with the silica causing a single large crack to snake its way from the edge of the cup to the bottom. "Oh well, can't expect much from swine." The statement is made as she turns away from pig and child, and begins to walk away. A few steps later and the glass vibrates excitedly again, a half step after that it explodes. Ice, glass, cherries, and red liquid splatter every which way. Trilith pauses and glances over her shoulder to look back at Ina. "Of course you'd spill your drink. You should be more careful."

Edited by Generic Perfection

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An entrance door slammed open to the sight of a dressed down, moody Jack Dashing, as she entered the lobby to await her next fight.

"Ms. Dashing!"

Hidden behind the great walls of her raised-collar, hooded jacket, and trademark sunglasses, Jack glared at the oncoming annoyance to see her cobalt-haired executive assistant, Azriel, excitedly bumbling his way over to greet her. Without waiting for him, she slumped into one of the nearby cushioned chairs in an area sparse with participants. Azriel hovered over her with his sparkling, buoyant attitude, tapping the edge of his crystal array clipboard with a stylus to tame his excitement.

"What a great match - !"

"Hold your presumptuous tongue, kid," she spat, then reminding herself that he was not the source of her frustration, "Sorry," she grumbled, "It wasn't a good match. This entire setup is rubbish." She removed one of her hands from her jacket pocket and waved it with her words, referring to the room, "I won, Azriel, because my opponent froze up. Not because of my skill, not because we had a fabulous exchange of blows and I bested her. Do you know I can't even see the crowd when I'm in that thing? Pfft." She sunk her face behind her raised collar to mope.

"Yes, but," Azriel brought the clipboard to her face, "It's not all bad. The fact that you never solved those murders isn't even coming up in any of the feeds that I've been following. Most of the chatter if focused on the face plant you took -"

"Azriel," Jack's voice thinned under full-body restraint as she held back a deep urge to react to his statement with something more, "Maybe let's not talk about all that shit right now," she seethed through her teeth, "I just want to relax before I have to go back into that -" she whirled a hand at the door from whence she'd come from over a shoulder before retreating again into the darkness of her big jacket, "...Contraption."

Edited by ~Harlow.

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Victory was a strange sensation he hadn't been accustomed to in a very long time. Granted, there was still much of the tournament to be had; He still felt the glory and honor of managing to come out on top against a paladin no less. His hulking form straining through the doorway as the nearly eight foot dragonborn entered the lounging area for tournament. The sword damage across his body still burning with residual holy magic. That damned paladin gave it his all, that was for sure. 

Zobuuriis making his way up the small flight of stairs and seeking solace in relaxing at his own table for the time being; not aiming to be distant, but also not wanting to be the center of attention his red scales always forced upon him. His form requiring three unfortunate seats to accomadate his weight. He was not accustomed to such a pleasant environment and it was a welcome change. Elendaron was a rough place to call home when you were considered a scaled demon. Terranus felt more accomadating at the very least. 

All it did was bring her tiny visage into the forefront. He couldn't enjoy himself for long, he wouldn't allow himself. Not until he found the answers he was looking for. Answers that may be at the end of this tournament. "Hope" His rumbling voice muttered.

Another strange sensation

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"Hail, warrior." A familiar voice said, and the half orc Tor'Gal joined the dragonborn at the bar for a drink. "You fought well. I am honored to have gotten to fight you with all my strength. If only it were enough to actually win." He gave a scoffing laugh and ordered himself a drink.

"Guess you're the better monster after all." Taking a drink, he tried not to think about what would happen when he returned to Yh'mi. This was supposed to be his chance for victory, a stepping stone towards bolstering his comrades with the funds they desperately needed. "I wish you luck on your next fight. We'll see if they still cheer your name in reverie when it's against someone more human looking than the both of us."

It was hard, Gaia was it hard not to sound bitter at that bar. Defeat in Yh'mi was usually what lead to one's death, which served the paladin well in motivating him to do his best. Now though, he just felt like a loser in a tin can. 

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The dragonborn was wittling of all things; a small knife with an oaken hilt carving away at a small figurine. It was a strange sight to see such a behemoth working on something so small, with care. His dull irises that burned like dying embers. He was surprised to hear a voice he recognized; let alone the one of his opponent. It took an exceptional character to swallow his pride and congratulate in such a manner. "A good fight" he affirmed in that cavernous tone. "Paladins fight for our future. You fight for mine" His words simplistic, and methodical. Language wasn't his strong suit. He had gone nearly his whole life without knowing any common tongues. Slaves needed only their strength and obedience. "Honor in that"

Zobuuriis taking a drink from his heavyset stein and sighed "Monster no more, want to be...craftsman" he said, waggling the knife idly "But lost something...need to get it back...being monster will help. You...orc? Half human. Strong" he said with a small grin before it vanished. Zobuuriis shaking his mighty head "no, dont want name shouted. Glory long behind me. Humans never accept, but i have" He said. He didn't hate their kind or the mirror species who felt the same. He knew red dragons were the worst of the chromatic lineage and he knew he couldn't escape that.

 

"Why are you here? Seek glory? Acceptance?" He asked; a hint of curiosity on his tongue as he finished off his stein and quickly replaced it with another; setting the figurine and the knife down on the table as he gave Tor'Gal his full attention. "Today we fought, maybe tomorrow we friends" he said with a wide grin. Teeth large and jagged from lack of care, but genuine all the same. 

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