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 Posted: Sun Sep 22, 2013 11:29 am
Norse mythology features a grand hall for dining and drinking one's fill. This is only meant for the hand chosen warriors escorted here by the legendary Valkyrie, destined to fight in the final battle called Ragnarok. Though this is not the true Valhalla. This is a Hotel meant for the stay of the competitors. A full feature hotel that one enters into the lobby, and the main floor complete with a restaurant/bar, a full featured gym (including free weights, universal machines, sauna, pool, hot tubs, and even a spa), and even a ballroom for any hosted events. The floors stretching above the main floor are all host to vacant rooms meant for the competitors. Rooms are assigned in the order applicants are received and are free of charge to competitors. Though spectators wishing to temporarily resides where the action is must pay top dollar to reside within the walls of Valhalla.
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Posted: Sun Oct 20, 2013 10:39 am
NOTE: To compete in or watch the tournament, one does not have to reside within this hotel. It is merely provided for convenience. Competitors Spectators
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 5:02 pm
[!]Valhalla[!]Needs of a gambler…[]~O~[] [!] ~”Bone is inch by inch...”~[!]  So... This was it? It certainly had Tzak's personal "flair" about it, and that was saying something. Calling it Valhalla also sounded like his idea of something cool, but it came off as being more of an annoyance to Eric. Not that he was ever easily impressed. The violent young-man had quickly sniffed the bar out, and was busy drowning his rage in some particularly dark liquor; comped by the tournament funds as he was, quite literally, down to his last bit of cash. You learned to make $20 go a long way on the streets, and that was a hard habit to change... The Thai boxer ran his right hand through pitch black locks; Eric's hair always tending toward the shaggier side, and never well kept. That messier aspect fit him, though; Plain white t-shirt, and khaki cargo shorts...A pair of worn-out chucks that, perhaps long ago, had been dark gray. Simple, light... His clothes served nothing but their purpose. Meanwhile, set into the defined tan of his face, a pair of golden-brown eyes burned like an open flame; something churned beneath that gaze, like a furnace gone wild. Maybe that was the secret to his expression... A perpetual scowl of anger that left his lip curled up into almost a snarl. Despite that, his hands were steady...carefully lifting his glass, and taking a sip, before returning it to the bar. There was a tension to him, certainly, and it felt so barely constrained as if to burst! And yet... Eric stayed very still. Like stone. [!] ~”…Stronger than steel.”~[!]
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 5:14 pm
The thud of a leather boot echoed briefly upon hardwood as a man stepped into the bar, his dark brown eyes searching the room as if looking for something. From the expression on his face a moment later, it was evident he had found it; his mouth curling into a smile as he beheld the bar. With a quick step, and the muted jangle of weaponry upon his person, he strode up to the bar, leaning on it almost conspiratorially as he ordered a glass of cognac. It was only then that the appearance of the man caught up with his ease of entrance; he was dressed in a most assuredly anachronistic way... as if he had stepped from the pages of history itself. Billowing cotton sleeves and tight breeches, embroidered with a gold and silver filigree in a matter most baroque, glittered even in the dim bar light, a contrast to the close-cut leather vest that hugged his torso. Platinum glinted at his belt, the basket hilt of a rapier tucked away into a plain black leather sheath, and a dagger on his thigh. Gloves of black suede peeled from his hands, the strange man took a seat next to the brooding fighter and glanced over, appraising him with a glimmer of amusement in his eye, though he said nothing. He simply doffed his hat, the white feather in it following belatedly the motion of the wide-brimmed headgear in comic fashion, then turned to his drink.
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 5:27 pm
[!]Valhalla[!]Needs of a gambler…[]~O~[] [!] ~”Bone is inch by inch...”~[!] With an audible crack, bone against bone, Eric turned his head to regard the obvious f*****t at his left-hand side; sucking in against his teeth as he tried, admirably, to contain the venom that coursed in his every vein. But it was hopeless. The young brawler raked up, and down, the gentleman fop with those hellish eyes...Almost as if he were looking for something in particular. "What...the actual -******** you wearing?"There was the faintest hint of an accent behind his words, but it had long given way to the much more common "Gaia standard"; not that this helped to disguise the obvious contempt they contained. He deliberately paused, stretching his sentence out as if he were questioning someone mentally challenged. Something he absolutely believed to be true. But hey, Bishop had always attracted wierdos...So it was just as likely that this "Ye Olden a**-clown" was some sort of prostitute, or entertainer, set aside for the opening ceremonies. Regardless, one thing was for certain... He had chosen to stand next to the wrong bull. [!] ~”…Stronger than steel.”~[!]
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 5:33 pm
The man cocked an eyebrow at the sudden surge of outrage from the man beside him, having not truly expected such an outburst of rudeness.
"Pardon?" he inquired, truly confused by the question. As if it weren't obvious.
"I should imagine it is quite clear I am wearing clothes, sir. Is that not custom in these parts?" The renaissance man's eyes did a quick sweep of the room. There did not appear to be anyone particularly naked, unless one chose to count the scantily dressed barmaids. His frown deepened as he returned his gaze to the seething boxer, pausing to take an appreciative sip of his drink.
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 5:47 pm
[!]Valhalla[!]Needs of a gambler…[]~O~[] [!] ~”Bone is inch by inch...”~[!] Oh...a smart-a**. Well that changed everything didn't it? Eric, in an unfathomable gesture of hostility, allowed a slight chuckle to pass from his throat; Harsh, and cruel, it barely constituted a laugh. Clothes...it had been a pretty clever play on his own words. Very literal... "And here I had my money on you being some sort of weird-a** hooker, but it seems like you might just be retarded...or something..."He'd lift his glass again, offering a gentle salute to the handicapped gaylord, before downing the remainder in one gulp. "Barkeep...Another whiskey...Leave it hot."And, just that quickly, Eric seemed to have forgotten the other man entirely; a blessing, if he could appreciate it. Though, as these were complete strangers, the gentleman could hardly be expected to know whom...or what...had just chosen to ignore him. [!] ~”…Stronger than steel.”~[!]
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 6:15 pm
"Retarded, sir? I had surmised I was quite early, actually... If I'm not mistaken, the tournament is not yet supposed to begin for another two days hence!"
The foppish man downed his drink, and inhaled deeply, cocking his head to look back at the man in shorts. "If you were looking for prostitutes, there are a number walking about the establishment..." he finally offered in a conciliatory tone, gesturing at a passing wench whom he gave a charming smile to, and a wink.
Perhaps the fighter was just sexually frustrated?
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 6:22 pm
[!]Valhalla[!]Needs of a gambler…[]~O~[] [!] ~”Bone is inch by inch...”~[!] Didn't know how to quit when he was ahead... The bartender placed the drink down in front of Eric, who promptly reached out to collect it; Not with his right hand, as was usual, but with his left. "Suppose you didn't get the message at first..."With a sudden ferocity, he lashed out with his occupied hand; carrying the glass, and its contents, outward with the obvious intention of throwing it in the handsome fop's smug...annoying...pompous...arrogant face! "Get the hell out of my face!!"The brawler's features, on the other hand, had twisted fully into a scowl; the rage building as he attempted to drench this bothersome pest, and send him packing. If that didn't get the message across... Well... Eric had other methods. [!] ~”…Stronger than steel.”~[!]
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 6:36 pm
The baron, for such he was, blinked in surprise. That was a mistake, as the warm whiskey splashed into his face, stinging his eyes something terrible, and he stumbled back off the stool, wiping at his eyes furiously, though this probably only made it worse. To top it off, he now reeked of booze, the amber liquid staining his white cotton sleeves. For a few moments he stood there, bent at the knees, hissing in pain as he tried to wipe and cry out the stinging alcohol, before he finally was able to retrieve a drinking bladder from his hip and quench the burn, dousing himself in cool water. With now red, bloodshot eyes, he regarded the brash fighter with a cold stare. "Never...!" he began, pulling his gloves back on, and tossing aside the deerskin canteen... "... have I ever been so crudely insulted in my life!" With a rasp of steel on steel, a rapier blossomed into his grip from the muted sheath, it's fine blade reflecting the focused lights of the barroom ceiling. He leveled it at the boxer. "Apologize, or taste my steel!"
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 6:40 pm
Valhalla:Bar Nothing astonishing came from this demented individual, immediately bypassing the lobby and like its appropriate theme searched for the booze. An emblematic fashion choice for the malevolent b*****d, donning on a crimson demin cut-off vest with dark violet sleeved shirt with obscene images overlaying it. The lower portion wore black jeans and dirty leather boots, completing whatever this ******** called a wardrobe.
Trademark bladed dreadlocks still accompanied the outlandish brawler, perverse eyes cloaked through tinted welding goggles glancing at the two engaging in an amusing conversation. Pursuing the one capable of leading him under the table from copious amount of liquor would get his gratitude, whether or not it was something they wanted was a different matter entirely.
" Barkeep I want something that a viking would drop from and if readily available a broad to warm my lap. The service here is incredible, getting a front row seat to the entertainment right before the tournament!"
Parading about with that eerie grimace toppled with a sarcastic tone that only emulated him malicious demeanor and obviously the joys of watching chaos ensued between people. Swiftly grasping onto the bottle that was intended for a glass, moistening his mouth full of ale while getting acquainted with some strangers.
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 6:50 pm
[!]Valhalla[!]Bring it…[]~O~[] [!] ~”Bone is inch by inch...”~[!] He was up, and around, in an instant; hands flashing out to either side as he caught a stool-rung in each palm, and hoisted them up. Manufacturing from the potential world a pair of solid, wooden, boxing gloves. "That's it!! You wanna fight!?"Eric's words were a roar, and he brought both of his impromptu weapons to bear against one another with a loud crack; digging in to the floor with his back left heel, even as his right food slipped forward. Barstool-gloves pointing legs outward at the intended target. "Don't blame me when you die, b*****d!!"The young, wrathful, fighter had no intention of meeting his end here...or anywhere, for that matter. That left only one possibility...one suitable outcome. Prepare to meet the Tiger. [!] ~”…Stronger than steel.”~[!] ImNoHero [[OOC :: Sorry about your bar, Hero. pirate ]]
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 7:21 pm
Improvised weapons. The Baron smirked despite the continual bleariness of his eyes, as a tear rolled forth down his cheek. How crude.
Obviously, despite their completely awkward bulk, the barstools were, nonetheless, a distinctly effective bulwark against his own slender weapon. But the Lord Kelvin had not reached his status as a renowned swordsman for no reason, and he well knew that brute strength was best met with fluid dexterity.
With a flourish of his blade, he started forward, point before him as he strode brazenly forward at the fighter, as if to attempt to strike past the barstools. The confidence... nay, swagger, was all part of the act, a convincing feint for...
...his sudden drop. In mid stride forward, Kelvin's knees bent, his blade whipping down to follow as his torso lowered abruptly... and his entire body shot forward across the floor diagonally past the fighter's legs like a bullet train at 60mph, in a path that Eric had ironically cleared for him by grabbing his impromptu shields. Steel flashed past unprotected calves, as the frictionless surface below the Baron's soles shot him forward a good ten feet, to come to an abrupt halt behind the boxer. His coiled legs providing suitable leverage, he was once again on his feet almost as soon as he had stopped, whirling around to jab the extended rapier in his hand into the midst of his adversary's shoulder blades.
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 7:39 pm
[!]Valhalla[!]Bring it…[]~O~[] [!] ~”Bone is inch by inch...”~[!] Before he'd ever finished his initial move forward, or even initiated that first strike, Eric too had gone on the offensive. He swung wide with his right hand, whipping that stool violently forward as he launched it directly into the face and torso of the as yet un-dipped gentleman; Throwing himself, bodily, to the ground in a right-forward roll that would...in theory...be masked beneath the encroaching threat of his projectile. The second stool being violently ejected towards his foe's unprotected feet, in the hopes that he would attempt to push through the first chair...and move forward. An action that would leave his legs entangled in unrelenting wood, and send him plummeting to the ground. If everything went according to plan, the Thaiger would end up in a low crouch just to the outside of his befuddled opponent's left-hand side. A table, and more chairs, just within his own reach. Even angry, or perhaps especially so, Eric had to consider that blade his primary threat...Regardless of the retard who held it. [!] ~”…Stronger than steel.”~[!]
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Posted: Thu Feb 27, 2014 10:36 pm
A young woman entered the lobby of the hotel, eager to drop her belongings off in the room that she had acquired. There were a few people a bout, mostly employees and a few others she assumed were fighters. But what caught her attention was the noise coming from the bar, she knew the sound all too well. But alas she was not willing to play with the boys yet, there were things she needed to attend to first, not to mention she didn't want to get wrecked before the first match.
Giggling to herself she signed in at the front desk and had her bags sent up to the room, it was a double just in case her husband decided to join her. Then again this was a tournament and they were both here to win.
Frowning at the thought of sleeping alone in such a nice place she decided she might go and have a drink after all.
Wandering into the bar she gave the boys a wide birth as she circled around and found a nice comfy stool to which she could sit and watch the brawl. Her attire was not something she might be recognised in, since she was actually wearing clothes for a change. Black patent pants and a red t-shirt. Not to mention the usual spiked collar and knee high combat boots.
"Whiskey, neat. and do you have any of those little umbrellas? I wana feel fancy."
Yes, that's right she wanted a freaking umbrella in her drink.
Flicking her silver streaked black hair back over her shoulders before leaning forward with her elbows planted on the bar counter. An amused smile gracing her plump lips as she let her eyes wander over those gathered here.
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