Xundar

@velaaru_of_illea: Xundar paused, turning once more to face her. "Given that display of power, I must must consider your statement to be true, even if it seems a boast." His eyes narrowed. "It makes me wonder what a creature of such exalted power is doing competing in bloody games on a remote world, hmm?"

@velaaru_of_illea: It was not often that the champion of Battleworld was genuinely impressed, but this was one of those times. Grizzlons were not particularly clever or subtle opponents, but killing one with such ease was still no mean feat. She had demonstrated that she would indeed be a competitor in the games. "Indeed. Most efficiently done, young Vel'aaru." He rose, striding to the door, and beckoned for her to follow him. "Consider yourself accepted into the games. Now come with me; we will find you garments more befitting a warrior."

@velaaru_of_illea: There it was; that inner fire that the truly great possessed. Something in her relatively brief life had given her a hatred that defied any measure of time or experience. Still, having the heart to be ruthless was only part of the equation; one still required a degree of skill to be able to execute it. Nodding to her without a trace of humor, he turned towards the door, barking out an order in a guttural, almost bestial language. Almost instantly, the entire door frame was filled by a miniature mountain of fur and muscle - one of the Grizzlon bodyguards that Zedracus insisted accompany his champion. The ursine ogre wore no armor, but carried a heavy, spiked maul, made entirely from some steel-like metal. The weapon must have easily weighed 80 pounds, but the monster holding it handled it as though it was a wisp of grass.

"I much prefer simplicity," he spoke, returning his gaze to Vel. "So let us make this simpler, still." He once again addressed the Grizzlon, as he waved one of his four meaty hands at Vel'aaru. "Kill her." Without hesitation, the beastly minion sprung forward with a snarl, its weapon swinging in a devastating downward arc towards the Illian's head.

@velaaru_of_illea: Although his eyes narrowed at the statement, the champion did not laugh. This Vel'aaru appeared very young and rather frail, it was true, but he knew better than most that battle prowess was not restricted a single physical type. Some of his most stalwart foes had appearances that would have caused many warriors to scoff. Granted, they had died at his four hands, as all his foes had, but that fact did not diminish their honor. "I see." At this point, he would normally give a hopeful information on where to report to be considered in the preliminary rounds, but this one had piqued his curiosity."Well then, younf Vel'aaru, how would you like to hasten your audition process?"

@velaaru_of_illea: Ah, so that was it, then. He had cautioned his master that sending his unencrypted message would result in visits from beings who had interests outside of the games. "Indeed I do, young one; Zedracus has been my patron since I was a very young gladiator. Are you here to observe the Inevitable One's games, then?"

@velaaru_of_illea: If the newcomer's act was a ruse, it was a masterful one. All evidence pointed to her being as young and inexperienced as she appeared to be, which made her presence here that much inexplicable. "Welcome to Eristes then, Vel'aaru," he boomed in response, his mouth widening in rather menacingly tusked smile. "I would introduce myself, but am I correct in assuming that you know who I am?"

@velaaru_of_illea: In combat, the ability to read an enemy's body language often meant the difference between life and death: the sudden widening of the eyes before an attack, a shift in the way the muscles tensed before a strike intended as a feint, and so forth. Xundar had not become arena champion merely by virtue of his immense physical prowess and ability to heal; he was also a consummate warrior, in every sense of the word. However, even a novice would have picked up on the sudden shift in the young alien's manner. She had taken notice of him, and it would be a safe bet that she recognized who and what he was.

The massive Eristian made no moves towards her; if her tense posture was any indication, that would likely cause her to bolt for the door, and then he would have to chase her down and risk hurting her before he could gain any information from her. Instead, he locked his hard eyes upon her face, and spoke, in as casual a manner as his booming, growling voice allowed, "What is wrong, young one? Is the milk of my world not to your liking?"

@velaaru_of_illea: The Eristian probably would not have taken any notice of the newcomer, had it not been for her request. For starters, manners such as hers were essentially unheard of in such an establishment, and the beverage she asked for so politely was highly unusual. Unless she came from a world where "milk" was a euphemism for some kind of cocktail, of course...

Sizing the young alien up, he realized that her appearance was equally incongruous with the surroundings. By all accounts, she seemed as though she had barely reached adulthood, if in fact she even had. She had a earnest expression, and was dressed in a manner more befitting some highly-civilized academy, not a cutthroat bar on a world that was more wilderness than otherwise. Still, he had seen enough in his years to have learned not to make judgement solely on appearance, and he remained where he was, curious to see how her request would play out.

@velaaru_of_illea: The reigning champion of the Battleworld arenas sat in the shadowed corner of the dingy cantina and glanced about the establishment dispassionately. He did not bother attempting to conceal his presence and identity; his reputation for battle prowess ensured that the common scum gave him sufficient personal space, and if a particularly arrogant or desperate ruffian decided to test him, well, what better way to scout out potential gladiators? Eristes' unregulated shanty towns were a veritable hive of the most dangerous and degenerate sentient life-forms in the universe, so he hoped to conscript a few of the more notable specimens into the upcoming bloodsport contests.

At the moment, however, his prospects were not encouraging. The taproom had seen its fair share of violence since he has arrived, but all of it had been fairly humdrum brawling, with no one demonstrating any notable skill or panache. The arena crowds were accustomed to exotic displays of battle prowess; any gladiator who was not, at the very least, a master of the craft would not hold their attention. Still, Xundar had the patience of a seasoned veteran. Taking a long drink of the potent local ale, he bided his time, his trained eyes continuing to evaluate all who came and went.

@la_espada: Been somewhat enraptured by spear combat ever since watching the Hector/Achilles battle.