Member
Shoe Thief
Sigil
Arty Fox
mickilennial
Ti
Festive
Hound55
Izurich
Simple Unicycle
Carlyle
Combatant sports had always been something significant to not only humans quite a few of the Mythics as well. It had always baffled the more peaceful-minded. Mori, up to a point, had always failed to understand why beings enjoyed hurting one another but this was to be expected from a passive Mythic such as a fay. Yet historically, mankind and Mythics both performed grueling combat trails against each of other for the sake of sport and entertainment.
While fights to the death have faded to obscurity, bouts such as this tournament were still prevalent everywhere in almost any form imaginable and the people loved them. The risk of injury or chance of injuring is a rush in some twisted appreciation, but let's face it, Mori had finally come to understand and even enjoy the process. Fighting provided relief, decompression to the troubled soul. All of this... "spectacle" was nothing more than troubled souls beating the troubles out of their lives while those that watched got to enjoy the mind-numbing distraction to tear them away from their lives. Sure, anyone can say "I want to make money!" or "I want to challenge myself!", but deep down these were all just excuses to their true selves. All beings were sick with a twisted side to themselves that was just waiting to come out, all they needed was a trigger. Most beings would never see that switch thrown but there was something present no matter what.
It was easy to judge, sure, but Mori was not pretending that she was some divine judge above all this. She was sick as well. Her trigger, a few years in the past, had shaped up her abandonment of her former self in exchange for this... enjoying and eventually participating in the spectacle of brutal sport alongside all the other degenerates.
There was also another reason to be here. The trail had gone cold about who had butchered Mori's people but with recent events like last year's tournament, there was the potential to find something or even better, someone to be the next step in her quest of revenge. Her detective work thus far was just keeping an open eye out for anything but eventually she figured she'd have to interact. At the moment, her lookout perch had her feet dangling off the ledge of some roofed-in section of the arena, above the rabble of spectators as Mori had always preferred to be left alone. It also afforded her a nice seat for the fights and even though MAVERICK could have enforced her removal, they didn't bother.
Few fights among the nomads had taken place before the motive of Mori's vigil was awarded with something. With her left antennae twitching, her extrasensory appendages had detected an atmospheric change taking place at some point during the last fight and rather than watch the exciting conclusion, she glanced with a calm curiosity, up to the sky watching it brew slowly into something more malicious than a clear day. Now Mori didn't pay attention to televised forecasts but being originally a Mythic of Life and Nature, she had a sense for things such as weather and this was not a natural occurrence.
Idling as the rain fell, Mori continued her studying gaze up, actually enjoying the feeling of rainwater mat down her air and slick off her skin. Nature, again, was something she had been closely associated with at one point and change as much as she did, it was still a part of her.
Minutes passed of her expectant gaze being pointed at the clouds, wanting something to occur that confirmed her suspicion but nothing came from nature. Instead, the movement all around her had symptoms of tension. Her extrasensory could almost feel the effects of things going around her and turning her gaze to the MAVERICK agents at around her level, their increased activity had provided all the confirmation Mori needed. Something was going to happen but what?
Mori's gaze further wandered down the stadium of barely controlled crowds trying to scurry off for cover. Most of these mundane people had no special talents or senses but even a few of them had some sense of something odd. Mori could see it in a few of their faces. Among the crowds, however, a stone-faced figure had seemingly become an unintentional beacon of relief to many of the humans in proximity. Mythics, despite being rare among society, always stuck out in a crowd after all. Although the large scaly mass dressed in traditional looking was clearly visible, Mori had limited knowledge of what he was. A dragon taking a human-ish form or maybe the product of some inter-species breeding? It was difficult to tell but if there was ever a case of Mori feeling that sense of unspoken camaderie, it was with her own kind. Mr. Dragon, here, was not a Faye but he was certainly a Mythic and by that classification, he made it in with Mori's condition.
Pushing herself lightly from the ledge, she fell a few meters before her wings began to rapidly beat causing a low drumming sound from the vibrations as she slowed her descent to the platform. Landing gently in proximity of Mr. Dragon, Mori took a slow studying glance from his toes to head before settling upon meeting his gaze. Being nearly a whole two feet shorter than him, Mori had to crane her neck upwards as she was dwarfed in comparison. "Hi Mr. Dragon." Mori spoke, her voice being distorted and lowered to produce a darker monotone in addition to her true expression being disguised behind a mask altered Mori's presentation to more sinister despite the cutesy way she addressed him. She paused and took a glance around before turning her gaze back to him. "Afraid of a little water getting your robes all wet? Or maybe, I suspect you already guessed it but seems like this tournament will end shorter than anticipated. That's too bad, huh."
