[center][img]http://s20.postimg.org/dz6wbvzm1/Shakra.png[/img]
[h2][color=lime]Shakrais Mahavedya[/color][/h2][/center]
The sun had only started to peer its brilliant rays over the mountainous horizons when a certain young man proudly strutted his way out into the relatively quiet streets. Despite it being the crack of dawn, the streets were already sparsely populated with people hurrying back and forth; preparing for the undoubtedly busy day ahead. Shakrais himself would be performing centre stage later that day, and the mere thought of thousands, if not tens of thousands eyes gazing upon him sent a shiver of euphoric excitement up his spine.

“A truly worthwhile stage shall be prepared I’m sure” he stated, raising his arms high above himself, stretching them out as if he were attempting to communicate with some heavenly being. Unfortunately the only response he got from his bizarre ritual was a few raised eyebrows which quickly turned away, hurrying away to complete whatever errand they had set themselves for the day. The self-declared tyrant maintained his stance for a good half-minute before lowering his arms and huffing dissatisfied. He’d heard from travellers that the people of Bach were prudish stiff-necks, but their inability to comprehend his clearly evident intentions was simply unacceptable.

This wouldn’t do. This simply wouldn’t do at all.
Glancing around the streets, the tanned youth pranced his way across the street, and slipped into the nearest alley, his bare feet stepping silently across the still cool stone path, sidestepping any unruly mess the inhabitants of this overpopulated settlement had made. In all honesty Shakrais had no ideas as to where he was going, turning corners based simply on his intuitive whims. Fortunately it didn’t take very long before he came across what he’d been looking for. A makeshift slum-like hideout made of discarded boxes and cloth. From within the sound of several sleepy snorers could be heard, each little street-rat dreaming of a life that would remain a dream for as long they lived.

A gentleman would have dismissed the sight, turning a blind eye and walking off in the opposite direction, but Shakrais was neither cultured nor polite. “Rise and shine little peasants!” he shouted suddenly, banging his fist against the roof of the little shack. The sudden racket immediately dragged each and every inhabitant of the hideout awake, many scrambling to their feet, and attempting to hide anything which might incriminate them. A few even tried to flee the scene, thinking that the guards had come along, but Shakrais stood firmly by the entrance of the shack, smiling confidently as cautious eyes retreated back into the safety of their home.

“No need to be shy my dear scumbags, I don’t intend to cause any harm to you or your bizarre little doghouse, I’m simply looking for a certain someone and was hoping you could point me in the right direction? Of course, a reward shall be dealt to those who prove themselves worthy” Shakrais declared, reaching for a pouch he had tied to his waist. 

The mention of being rewarded, combined with the heft pouch was more than enough for several eager young boys to come darting out like the loyal hounds they were. The remainder of their transaction was simple enough and within an hour Shakrais was guided to the home of the person he sought…

[hr]

As the street began to fill, and contestant from the respective schools began to make their way to the tournament grounds, a certain tanned youth stood above the rest…. Literally.

Standing atop the shoulders of a huge burly man that looked as if he’d eaten children for breakfast, Shakrais stood tall and proud, his arms crossed over his chest as he arrogantly looked down at the commoners who hurried to step aside before gazing up at him with incredulous confusion. 
“Onwards my dear Goliath! Let the seas of filth part way as a prelude to my grand entrance” Shakrais laughed proudly. 

The man beneath Shakrais’s feet mumbled something about his name being John, not Goliath… but wasn’t really in any position to complain. He’d be foul-tempered when a crazy young man surrounded by street-waifs turned up at his door. Even moreso when the man revealed he had sought John out solely for his massive physique. John; the Blacksmith would have quite happily slammed the door in the arrogant man’s face were it not for the palm sized jewels Shakrais had handed each waif, acting as if he were some old lady giving away free food. When Shakrais offered a handful of precious gems in exchange for a few hours of service, the man simply couldn’t refuse. And hence there he was… acting as the chariot for Shakrais’s more bizzare than grand scheme to gain the attention of his surroundings. They say that idiots and smoke like high places…. And since Shakrais clearly seemed to believe people were looking up at him with respectful awe… he was quite clearly the former.