Metz had plenty of time to sum up every strange and new individual that milled around the throne room as he awaited the beginning of events. He was unsure what to expect of course, fighting in a tournament for the amusement of others was not something he would usually be willing to utilize his skills for. Still, with the fate of his home world perhaps caught in the balance there was really no choice for him, and if he had to fight to bring life back to all he had ever known, he would.  He had killed for far less in the past.

Dark thoughts that were not his own ran through his mind, drowning out the compassionate man had the capacity to be and replacing them with the cold efficiency he knew he needed. It was not a pleasant process, knowing that he had to sully himself in order to preserve life, holding onto the heroic idealism that was his ultimate motivation was not enough to completely come to terms with what he had to do. He sighed, looking down at himself, equipped for war without even being aware he was going into it. Who was he really kidding? The war hadn’t ended for him, not in twenty years, but there was a small chance that a few more acts of violence could see it done with. Now that… that was worth fighting for.

His head shot up as the first rounds were announced, the general hubbub resulting in him piecing together who he faced. It was not someone he had picked up on at first, but quite clearly there was some kind of furred humanoid creature in Torm apparel standing among the others, and he was his first opponent. He was armed, firearms by the look of the holsters and the metal on show, two of them. From an initial glance he could already tell they had a more efficient design than his own weapon, potentially valuable equipment if he was allowed to take arms from the fallen. There was however an overall feel about the creature that Metz recognised, so attuned to magic himself (almost painfully so, if he were to be honest, as his body yearned desperately for magical energy) he could feel something similar in the creature. However that assumption was only from a cursory glance, and the effect of the condensed magic all around him as Skallagrim manipulated the webs of the Nexus prevented him from any precise investigation, such an act would require a subtle change to his sight.

“Let’s get on with this.” He said to himself, staring across the throne-room at his enemy of circumstance. With the all too familiar thought of battle in mind, he disappeared.