Welcome to Gaia! ::

[Round 2]

Deitric eyed Shinji slyly, with a hint of a smirk forming on his features. He'd taken a small, gold coin from his pocket with his unburnt hand and was turning it over in his hand to keep himself busy.

"That's the catch, with Heaven or Hell," the brave explained, the coin glinting as it played back and forth between his fingers, "You can't enter on your own: you have to have a team, composed of four fighters. Used to be three or four, but the rules change a little from year to year.."

The way Deitric spoke suggested he had some experience with the tournament, and that much was true. Twice he'd competed, and once - secretly - he'd served as an Eliminator, as payment for serviced rendered by Noah and his Foundation, which funded the tournament each year.

"I will be there, but I need a team, like you do," Deitric said, flipping the coin idly, letting it land neatly in his palm. The face of the coin had a denomination for '100' imprinted onto it.

"I intend to put together a team - you'd make a good member; you fight well," he offered. Not exactly subtle, but the tribesman preferred to get straight to the point.

[Round 2]

"Glad to hear it," he grinned reaching over to shake Shinji's hand. No crushing force - this time, anyways. Afterwards, the tribesman pulled out a small bag that had been cinched at his belt, dropping the gold coin back inside of it. The familiar clink of coins clicking together emanated from it. Deitric sat the hefty moneybag between them.

"That's about four thousand gold," he explained. The coins were marked from numbers ranging "500" to "5". No one really wanted to haul around four thousand gold coins; although the coins were preferred over paper money, they were still marked to provide different values for the sake of sheer convenience. Deitric might not have looked it, but he had quite a lot of money, thanks in part to his consistent participation in tournaments, and a bit of intelligent investing.

"It'll last you til the tournament. Get a cell-phone, pick up some clothes and things like that. I have some.. invested interest in the Lu-Bu Dojo, I'd suggest going there to train. Talk to Tres or Sieg, they can get you an apartment. I'll be spending some time there when I can. I'll send our other teammates there too.. when I find them. It's in Durem - shouldn't be too hard to miss, it's practically a landmark," the brave explained. With the sort of place Gaia was, it was a pain to keep in contact with people without resorting to complex magic, and his adopted hometown was nearly impossible to find. But Lu-Bu provided a training center and cosmopolitan meeting place - it was also one of the most famous dojos around.

"Sound good?" he asked with a wry grin.

[Round 3]

"I--.. should it bother me?" the fighter questioned, more out of curiosity than fear that her magic might affect him adversely. He ignorantly assumed that healing magic was all the same and that, relatively speaking, it worked for everyone. Everyone who was living, breathing, and made of flesh and bone, anyways.

He nodded in assent and tilted his head back to let her get a closer look at the underside of his jaw where the burn was worse than the rest of his face. The movement forced the cracked skin to stretch, and blood began to well up where it broke through beneath the charred skin. The sensation was vague beneath the pall of painkillers, Deitric barely felt it.

"James Eredas. We have known each other a while; I think he has been wanting to fight me for some time," he explained casually, ignoring the awkward feeling that he looked like a turkey, tilting its head back to drown itself in a rainstorm.

Content that this time, his hand hadn't had to contend with the crushing force of his one-time opponent, Shinji shook before turning his attention toward the small pouch of coin which had been placed between them. He was somewhat aware of the monetary system of Gaia, and he was well aware that four-thousand was more than enough for him, considering his ascetic views. With a nod of understanding, he scooped the bag up and deposited it in one of the large pockets of his new-found cargo pants. He enjoyed this style of dress, perhaps he would get himself some similar clothing that fit him better.

Following the nod of thanks and appreciation, the monk was silent as he listened to Deitric's proposal. This dojo seemed not unlike the temple he had spent his youth in, but perhaps somewhat more reserved, for more high caliber personnel. Not accepting raucous street urchins, at least. Regardless, Shinji was glad that he had been considered "good enough" to seek out such an apparently prestigious place of training, and nodded again, taking each word that was spoken and carefully remembering. Paying attention payed off, sometimes.

As Deitric espoused the game-plan, Shinji listened still, and was silent.

"Sound good?"

The tribesman asked, and the monk answered with yet another somewhat-understated nod. He knew what he had to do, and with that thought in mind, he had taken on a slightly more somber, thoughtful manner. The time for joking was over, for the moment. There was work to be done.

Getting to his feet, the monk leaned his crutch against the bench upon which the two men had been sitting. Gently applying more weight to his bad foot, the man managed to fight-back a grimace of pain and put up a front of fortitude and strength. The blood had dried, staining his pants in the vicinity of the wound, but since then the aggravated wound now seemed much more under control. Steadying himself on two feet, the monk took a short step forward, putting distance between himself and Deitric.

"I'll be seeing you, then, I suppose." he began, he wasn't particularly good at goodbyes. Or speaking seriously, for that matter. "I'll be in touch, man." Shinji added, that bit of slang still managing to creep into his speech, regardless of the seriousness.

"Good luck, you better win this thing, friend-o."

And, with that, Shinji began his trek. He seemed strong enough to tough it out, his damaged leg putting up little resistance as he began an even pace. There was much to be done, after all. He couldn't be slowed by... anything.