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He had already revealed quite enough. Anything she had learned tonight would be near useless once the tournament started.

"Perhaps I am," she said, swishing her soda tiredly, "But I already know a bit, seeing as you are fairly muscular, you are a strong, right? And you have a this thing against pants."

Then the long awaited brackets board came up. Red turned to listen and watch.

"Well, looks like fate, or they saw us talking and thought we were shacking up, so they decided to make us fight from the start. I hear they tinker till the last minute with these pairings. One way or another, we're going to get to know each other a little better."

Red left the tip and stood up.

"Need to sleep off the booze, I'm trying to build my tolerance, but it isn't working. Well, good luck to you."

She started walking, her destination was her room, where she would take the advice of the big man himself and get some well deserved rest.

"I won't be so shy on the battlefield, so think about having pants," she smiled.

After leaping out a time-warp...

Iopurl was sat at a table close to the bar, the surrounding tables were full of people drinking and enjoying themselves, talking and laughing, smiling and winking. However, the table Iopurl sat at was empty, but that was the way the Beast preferred it, he thought. He had always been alone, it was nicer to be without company, one didn't have to think of what to say, what not to say; it left very few complications.

As the brackets had come up Iopurl had scanned the fighters listed rather nonchalantly. He didn't know anyone here, and any names he'd heard he hadn't bothered to put a face to, so why should it concern him too much what name he was destined to face.

His thoughts were interrupted rather abruptly by some drunkard stepping up and away from the bar, cursing obscenities and knocking into people left and right. The sight amused Iopurl, and if he could have smiled he would have. Reaching for his own bowl of water, the large manimal brought the lip to his mouth, and poured the contents down his throat in one swift motion. Water was so cool and refreshing. The druid would have no poisons in his body.

"My friend."

Iopurl called out to Seth as he was flailing and screaming.

"I think you've had enough. Maybe you should find your room."

His bowl was still cupped in the palm of his large clawed hand as he said this. The beast tilted his animal head as he spoke, and leaned back in his chair. He didn't want any trouble, and he didn't expect this drunk man to offer him any.

"..."

Her opal eyes slid to the side at the booming voice, only very slightly showing an air of irritation. If anyone had asked her, the call for attention was little less than aggravating, and it bewildered her how such a volatile tone of command had worked its magic. But, of course, no one was asking, and the voice had achieved its purpose, one way or another. If nothing else, it certainly proved to her one thing...

...she was a long way from home.

Had it not been for her prolonged silence, the woman likely would have stood out as odd, not because of any one feature or trait, but simply because she didn't look right. Her long hair fell about her shoulders like sheets of black ink, blending into the like-colored satin dress wrapping her subtle curves. Long and slender legs were left bare, save for the heels bounding her feet--also black, as were the gloves about her elegant hands, and the color of her lips, though they seemed in no way painted. The only thing that wasn't black was a deep, dark red, something akin to a garnet--indeed, it was certainly some sort of precious gem, hanging from her neck by a black cord. But what made it truly strange was the paleness of her flesh, so white that the woman looked like she'd stepped out of a black-and-white comic book or television, had it not been for the stone.

Turning slightly in her stool, the woman's stare drifted to the brackets displayed upon the giant screen, though she wasn't entirely sure why--it wasn't as if she knew any of the participants. Perhaps it was to try and get a sense for which might be a good fight to watch? Though, they'd probably all be broadcast anyway...

"...strawberry daiquiri," she murmured, her hand drifting to the side to hand her empty glass to the bartender, all without moving her eyes from the screen. She would wait for the weight of the glass to leave the delicate grasp of her fingertips, and then allow her hand to drift down, her forearm laying lazily upon the counter.

How had this woman gotten here? Why was she here? What interest did she have in the tournament? None were clear, but nor did any of the surrounding guests seem to question or mind--indeed, to them, she had simply always been there, and some sort of foreboding aura kept those of weaker will well away.

The beast had been reclining in his chair, watching Seth, but it became very apparent the man was going to attack when he turned with such force, a fist leading his twist. Had Iopurl remained in his recline, the punch would have struck him square in the head, sending his body flying from the chair, and the back of his head to the cold marble ground. As it stood, he saw the punch coming from a mile off.

As the fist soared through the air, Iopurl slammed down on his chair, bringing it off the recline, and flinging him out it's seat. This served to bring the Beast into Seth's very personal space, in fact it brought the two chest to chest. Iopurl's speed coming out the chair would be more than enough to dent Seth's forward momentum. Regardless, the punch would either graze off Iopurl's arm, or miss him completely as he stepped inside the arc the fist was going to make.

With bowl still in hand though, Iopurl didn't finish at launching himself out his chair. The beast brought his palm up to Seth's face, his palm having a bowl in it. He meant to crack the bowl with Seth's face, or Seth's face with the bowl. It didn't matter which way it happened.

As the Beast got close to Seth, those surrounding backed off. Unless they GRAPPLED scream the two would have to break away from what was inches away from an intimate hug, and Iopurl didn't intend to simply walk off the distance.

((Ohhh, lemme have my fun.

Anyhow, I should make my post now. Better late than never I always say.))

"Impatient rabble..."

As Midus Sonners gave his speech to the competitors and attendees down on the ballroom floor, a tall figure stood off to the side in the shadows of the balcony curtains behind the chairman.


But "figure" was all that could be said to describe him. He looked more like a statue than a man, standing like a seven-foot-tall wall of iron. With how little the figure moved, he could be easily confused as an inanimate suit of spike-studded armor adorning the interior of the balcony. What little light that hit him from within the shadows reflected off of him as if every inch of his body was made of steel.

That was to be assumed, of course, wasn't it? Any man dressed head to toe in armor such as that would look the same way. But anyone with acute senses could tell something was off. No "man" stood so coldly as the giant armored warrior standing off to Midus' side in the shadows. Even the most silent, unshakable warriors stood with some semblance of life in them.

Here...there was no life at all.

"We will see how their impatience fuels their fighting spirit," said the voice echoing from the darkness of his horned helmet. "I do not like being disappointed."

((How tall is Seth?))

Some would say to hold a bear in a loving embrace is a death wish. The same could be said about the scenario Seth found himself in right now. As Iopurl smashed the bowl into Seth's face with a moment of satisfaction, he found himself pinned around the waist, with his bowl-less arm now pinned to his side as well. A normal man would have worried, but Iopurl was no man. The furry beast-warrior would destroy this Hume would presumed to grab him.

As Iopurl looked down at Seth to see his next move, he found his snout smashed in by the end of Seth's forehead. It didn't take Iopurl a second to react. His head whipped back, nose pointing in the air, and he let out a colossol howl of pain, the sound echoing through the ballroom as the Beast felt pain surge through his entire face, and down the cords of his neck. Being struck in the nose was tremendously painful. The blood began to boil within him, the animal rising to take over his mentality. Seth's next headbutt would strike him in the throat, cutting off his howl mid-howl. A strange choking-gargling noise met Iopurl as he lowered his head to counter-act further headbutts and try to catch his breath again.

In the mean time his free hand, his left, rose to Seth's right cheek. His claws would tear apart the cheek like a knife through butter, the sharpened digits leaving nothing but ribbons where before there had been recognizable face. If Seth did nothing to protect his eye, that too would meet a gruesome end as the dagger-like nails served to pierce it. Seeing as Seth was so unfortunately linked to Iopurl with both hands at that moment, it seemed unlikely he would be able to do anything to save his face or eye.

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