[h1][center][color=00a99d]Richtor[/color][/center][/h1]

Richtor's already pitiful attention span was torn in three directions at least. The big eye monster invited him to be an ally, the guy that was in charge of this whole situation told him to fight everyone, and now a familiar voice shouted his name. He recognized Sarah from his sister's job, but it didn't really make sense for a peacekeeper to be here. In all the chaos he felt a grin begin tugging at his lips as his nostrils flared as he stifled laugh. No matter what, a big fight was starting. If he joins the eye thing and the one that brought it out, he'd get to tussle with a Warlord and his bodyguards...Gah, but that thing was pretty big and probably strong. It even looked like a Nightmare! Option three was to just fight like the crowd expected, which would be fun too. 

His shallow thoughts were interrupted by a desperate shout from some stranger charging at him, their arm morphing into an imposingly sharp medical syringe. His slowly growing grin suddenly exploded into a hearty laugh as he turned to face his opponent. [color=00a99d]"Alright, that's better. That's enough thinking...I'd rather fight anyway!"[/color] Richtor's hand was raised to the sky as vague images of metal and lights shot through his mind. Out of those thoughts formed a massive arm with a fist the size of a dumptruck raised towards the sky just as Richtor's were. 

The massive robot arm's open palm slap collided with Richtor's assailant, completely overpowering the man and launching him like a ragdoll across the arena. Much to Richtor's dismay, the weakling didn't stand back up. He could see the guy breathing, but apparently he'd just decided to stay down and play dead. It figured that the only one willing to just charge in like that was probably the weakest one there. What even was that dream, a dream based on syringes? Worthless, seemed to be pretty new to their power too if their only plan was to just run in and spear the nearest person. 

Richtor 'reasoned' that the only guarantees for a good fight were the big eye thing and the boss guy himself. [color=00a99d]"Fine, eye-monster thingo, you're on! I want to punch that asshole right there!"[/color] He shouted, both his arm and the massive robotic one beside him pointed directly at Morski. The warlord, for his part, simply looked confused and offended by the display. [color=00a99d]" 'Sides, if he's gone, the shard's free game anyway!"[/color]
[hr]
The warlord in question stared on at the battlefield in shock. He'd expected this to be more chaotic than the one on one fights he'd forced dreamers into in the past...but this was getting out of hand. It hadn't been thirty seconds and he'd been challenged by at least two contestants, some of the others were still hiding in their cages, and a couple of them were clearly trying to eye escape routes. Maybe this was a sign that he'd need to be more specific in the future when looking for vict-contestants. Just when things couldn't get more ridiculous he heard one of these Dreamers had just offered to heal the others too, of all the moronic...[color=f26522]"For the love of all that is...KILL EACH OTHER ALREADY!"[/color] He shouted, causing his nearest bodyguard to tense up slightly at the sudden noise. He could feel his own Dream bristling slightly at the challenges from the fighters on the ground. Who did they think they were? The audacity to decide there was an 'option C' to their predicament in the first place was just unthinkable. [color=f26522]"You're all making it really hard to enjoy this, and after all the effort I put into getting it all together. Disrespectful useless weaklings, all of you!" [/color] Morski whined, his unnaturally razor sharp teeth visible to any that stared directly at him. He didn't doubt for a moment that he could take any of these Dreamers down himself, but some of them looked at least slightly troubling if he had to fight them all at once.