Mixology
Servant:"My liege, your crowd awaits." The servant bowed before his master. He made sure to keep his posture straight and respectable in front of the ruler.
King: "It's always the week before the event they become rowdy; it never fails to amaze me." The King complained.
Servant: "Well, surely you cannot blame them, my Lord. This is one of the most celebrated televised games and it has been sometime since they have received any information regarding this year's battlefield."
King: "I guess your right. I'll be frank and say I'm quite excited to see what's in store for this year's game."
Servant: "Well, I was assured this year won't be disappointing."
King: "It had better not. There is a lot riding on this and that damn host had better done a great job finding competitors."
Crowd: "MIX! MIX! MIX!"
King: "I see their chanting is always annoying never the less."
The King strolled across his royal bedroom. He walked over to the marvelous, glass-framed doors that led to the balcony outside. The King breathed quietly, he hesitated for a moment to recall his speech. The King's eyes blinked a few times, noticing the crimson lace that surround the doors. The King gripped onto the handles and pulled away.
The roaring crowd spotted the doors widen. They yelled into a louder chant. The Lord blocked his eyes from the blazing two suns that smiled at him. King could see hundreds of different races parked below his balcony that crowded the royal territory. King observed that they all had been controlled by his loyal guardsmen.
King raised his arms as a taunt, he shared the massive glory that the citizens treated him with. He could sense his lackey behind ushering for him to start his speech. The King sighed and elevated one palm to the crowd as a signal to stop the pointless shouting. The crowd immediately settled down awaiting for the introduction.
"Well, how have all of my perfect citizens doing this fine afternoon? I know they are thrilled like I am. This is after all, the day of Mixology!" The King snickered when the crowd bursted into a cheering chant again. "Alright, alright!" The King ushered for the citizens to settle down. "We don't want to be here, forever." The King added.
"For those that aren't familiar with Mixology, well let me give you a brief explanation. This is the event when our helpful soldiers take the liberty of their spare time to retrieve participants from different worlds. These participants are issued into three-man teams, if a participant is clearly stronger and more compatible by surviving on his own, he'll work alone. Their goal is to endure an incredible experience on a random world where they are to survive and fight against the other teams. The winning team is rewarded with an abundant amount of their world's currency, a wish, and a trip back to their home planet. The losers of course remain just a causality on the planet."
The crowd stayed motionless as they were accustomed to this informative briefing. This briefing was to gather newcomers and increase the ratings of Mixology. The King started to announce more about the following topic.
"Now I can't really explain who the participants are, but I was promised that are pretty entertaining. Now onto the battle world! This is obviously the time in which a randomized choosing is going to select where our participants are going to duke it out in." The King punched the air giving the crowd more excitement to scream on.
A projector flashed above the King's head. The projector showed numerous planets that were chosen to be in the drawing. "Let the choosing commence!" The projector blinked repetitively in an instant. Everyone could only see blurs of the planets and anticipated the world chosen.
The projector slowed down its pace. The citizens could glance at the worlds more clearly. The projector halted it's flashing and ended on a planet, therefore choosing the battlefield. The King grinned when noticing the planet at first glance.
"Well, the projector chose Proboutania! Proboutania, the planet home to the harsh, cold climate, frozen lakes, and pouring snow. The highest degrees recorded on the planet are said to be 10 Celsius. The inhabitants of this planet are the athletic hunters that will possibly give our participants a fine challenge. These athletic natives go by the name of “Warhoks." Warhoks tower over six feet tall and carry an arsenal of weapons such as spears,arrows, and swords that they carve from their trees and rocks that surround their huts. Their trees and rocks somehow provide durable and sharp material capable of making a quick kill. They are intellectual creatures that have planted traps throughout Proboutania. The only other existing creatures that are worth of mention are the savage,thousand-pound, primates, Oplas. These white gorillas rarely travel in packs and will charge at anything that even breathes air. They are incredibly strong and capable of throwing you to the Sz'aryu.”
The citizens laughed heavily from the inside joke. They had been listening and were satisfied by the decision. They applauded and whistled for a couple of minutes before dying out to hear more news regarding the game.
"Now the other roaming monsters are just pathetic pests that feed the Oplas' and Warhoks' appetite; however, this does not mean the other wild life will be a challenge. They will certainly give the contestants trouble. It has been nice, announcing this day once more, but I need to attend to some other matters. I liked to give thanks to all of you for making this happen, the soldiers for giving up their precious time, and to anyone else that I may seem to be forgetting. I love you all. "
The King dragged his legs back inside, he had his ears perked when hearing the delightful sound of a musical sensation of ongoing claps. The King glared at his lackey who had been observing the whole announcement. The King closed the glass doors behind him.
King: "They are preparing Mixology?"
Servant: "They are preparing Mixology."