05-17-2007, 04:37 PM
Returning to the sounds of life Cold was, no sooner, bombarded by a roaming lot of miscreants. They wore uniformed attire and gestured wildly to him, talking amongst themselves in a quite evident fashion. Either they were village people or staff, either way they were a nuisance.
"King Cold, follow us." One of them, a woman, spoke for the lot, but hadn't managed to convince the changeling.
"Right..." Cold brushed past them, with their biggest man reaching nearly half his height. There was nothing they could do to force him to do what they wished.
"No, we need to get fighters situated in the barracks. The contest is going to start shortly and we need to get you prepped for the ventures ahead of you." She'd said. Cold simply gazed from one of her partners to the next, considering how to go about injuring them should they both attempt to grab him at once. "Your weapon and supplies await you."
"Don't you guys have a bar around here somewhere? I know I heard drunken singing." Cold asked, though by now he was walking amidst their triangular formation.
"Number eighteen, King Cold." The woman had mumbled, jotting something down as they ease into the elevator. Cold had to crouch somewhat, despite the extended accomadation. It was over too soon, with a plummet into the fathomless depths then a jolting stop where Cold's horn ended up goring through one of the white-shirted mens leg. They'd shoved the changeling into the barracks, then disappeared forever behind the closing doors.
"Number eighteen huh?" Cold mumbled, recalling the womans musings. The barracks were already occupied by a select few that had managed to scramble here before he himself, but they were the least of his worries. None of the beds could physically contain him. He'd heard someone talking of manners and good hearing so he turned to give scrutiny to who happened to be in the barracks with him. The wholehearted arrogance that followed was all too familiar. So he approached.
"Well, well... long time no see old-timer." His dark lips curled upwards when he greeted the wizened veteran. His heartbeat raced in his chest, anxiousness to test his prowess once again. He acknowledged the changeling as well, with a nod. "Son."
"King Cold, follow us." One of them, a woman, spoke for the lot, but hadn't managed to convince the changeling.
"Right..." Cold brushed past them, with their biggest man reaching nearly half his height. There was nothing they could do to force him to do what they wished.
"No, we need to get fighters situated in the barracks. The contest is going to start shortly and we need to get you prepped for the ventures ahead of you." She'd said. Cold simply gazed from one of her partners to the next, considering how to go about injuring them should they both attempt to grab him at once. "Your weapon and supplies await you."
"Don't you guys have a bar around here somewhere? I know I heard drunken singing." Cold asked, though by now he was walking amidst their triangular formation.
"Number eighteen, King Cold." The woman had mumbled, jotting something down as they ease into the elevator. Cold had to crouch somewhat, despite the extended accomadation. It was over too soon, with a plummet into the fathomless depths then a jolting stop where Cold's horn ended up goring through one of the white-shirted mens leg. They'd shoved the changeling into the barracks, then disappeared forever behind the closing doors.
"Number eighteen huh?" Cold mumbled, recalling the womans musings. The barracks were already occupied by a select few that had managed to scramble here before he himself, but they were the least of his worries. None of the beds could physically contain him. He'd heard someone talking of manners and good hearing so he turned to give scrutiny to who happened to be in the barracks with him. The wholehearted arrogance that followed was all too familiar. So he approached.
"Well, well... long time no see old-timer." His dark lips curled upwards when he greeted the wizened veteran. His heartbeat raced in his chest, anxiousness to test his prowess once again. He acknowledged the changeling as well, with a nod. "Son."