He never came to these things, not usually anyway. In fact, this would be the first time a tournament took place that he wasn’t in…in years. Probably more of them than he could count, not excluding backwater affairs where nobody even really knew civilized combat. Still, word through the grapevine said this tournament had some up-and-coming stars, and he was always looking to recruit. So, he figured with nothing better to do for the time being he should come check it out. At least, that was the logic six days ago when he decided to show up. Now of course there seemed to be way too many posh people in the lobby, and he was far from their normal ilk. They kept eyeing him askance, what with his combat gear and gigantic sword on his back. Standing in the corner, arms covered by the rough material of his black coat and crossed over his lithe chest, he watched them with the same contempt. At any moment, he could wipe them out, but they posed him no threat – and for now his job was to watch, not assault.

Unfortunately. 

His gray eyes continued on past them to look at the guy presumably hosting this thing, Liaison. The man looked familiar, like maybe he saw him somewhere before. Though, he wasn’t exactly sure if he knew the man or not – and for now it was of no consequence. He looked over the schedule, attempting to see if he could pick out a name that might be a big winner. His keen hearing picked up words from the guys sitting at the front, discussing the odds they saw for each fighter. Bets were going back and forth, and Lysander perked up at that. Gambling, drinking, and whoremongering was generally his preferred past time. So, with no alcohol being offered to him as yet (and with him deciding to do this right, he needed to stay sober), he walked over to the richest-looking guy he could find. Pulling out a large bag, he dropped it on the table with a solid [b][i]thuuunk[/i][/b]. The top spilled open and a few gold coins slipped out of it and onto the white table. 

[i] “Give me twenty-million credits on Xaih to win it all.” [/i] 

With that, Lysander turned and walked toward the doors that lead to the hallways outside the viewing room, deciding to go off in search of the cafeteria. Of course, a fucking map would have been nice. Nowhere did he see one, and he supposed he should have asked for directions. Now, though, lost in the hallways so hopelessly that he couldn’t even remember which direction his last turn took him in, he simply continued to wander. Maybe someone would come along eventually and find him, or he’d eventually find what he was looking for, or neither. Who knew? He continued like this for a few more minutes, before he found what seemed to be a room with some chairs and the words on the wall reading “Fighters Only”. 

[i] “That’s oddly non-specific. Which fighters? I’m a fighter, but does it mean tournament fighters? Well…damn, I don’t know. Maybe one of them can help me find my way back, though!” [/i]
 
Stepping up to the door, it simply refused to move. It seemed automatic, but for some reason it didn’t want to open. Sighing, he touched his finger to the seam – and sent the shadows from beneath and around the door through into it, where they overpowered the locking mechanism and pushed it open – all the while convincing the latch that the door remained closed. With that done, he took a step into the room and looked around. There was only one person here, and he wasn’t sure but she looked oddly familiar too. From the description he received from his spies about this thing, it was definitely the one calling herself Xaih. He knew a Xaih once, and this girl looked a lot like her – but it’d been a long time since he’d last seen her. He presumed she was laying somewhere dead and gone by now. 

[i] “Um yes…my name’s Lysander, and I represent The Mystic Dominion…but I seem to have gotten myself lost. Could you maybe tell me how to get back to the main viewing room?[/i]