Raised a brow and gave a slight smirk- to make the man smile would have been impossible, but to coax a smirk from him was easily done. "I am Warlord Vannoth Mors... I don't really mind what you decide to call me. You'll find me easy to deal with- until you give me a reason to be harsh. Now then. Come with me- we can talk more privately at my rooms. . . If you're going to be stuck with me, you might as well know who I am." he actually offered to walk with her, to lead her to where he intended, rather than what most people would have assumed the massive brute would have just scooped her up and hauled her away to be violated in brutal fashion. Few would know the truth behind what he was Really doing- including Zevi and perhaps the princes. Vannoth was the nicest of men when trying to see who you are- then he finds you and all kindness goes out the window, unless he's impressed of course.
Vannoth Mors was not a very flashy man, no incredibly fancy clothing, no shining armor. He stood in these chambers as a silent statue of a man. Any rage, manliness, strength or power that radiated off him was out of sheer pain. His shoulder had been killing him since watching the tournaments, and being jostled in the crowd that was there was almost enough to set him off in the stands themselves. He was beyond unwilling to show this rage before the princes, that would surely be a death sentence as berserk warriors were frowned upon.
He had spent the rest of that day distracting himself in private, and even up until this meet he was loathe to do anything but truly attempt to relax. It was found to be hard to do, as one of the warrior he had brought to the city had decided a lapse of judgement would be safe and clapped him over the shoulder, planning to state "You should have fought, my lord!" . . . It became a viciously bloody mess in the street. One does not simply harm and touch Warlord Mors without dying. It was poor taste, and not something that needs to happen in the presence of the princes.
In this room? He was a grim statue. Standing there as if he were about to receive orders or a command. He had a great fur and cloth cloak along with what everyone could clearly tell was his "Sunday Best"... pristine, clean, never been worn before. He hung on every words spoken, and lightly examined all that were there. No one here was a push over, or undervalued... and there was a fair number. To be one of them was a honor he took in stride- however, it came with an attachment. He couldn't help but find that Zevi and his new bride were, for lack of a better statement, small and cute. Then it came to His turn. He gave the prince a bow hindered bow- with his shoulder acting up, he was not keen to move too much. As the gem was brought to him he looked her over. To his surprise he found her somewhat attractive- though he restrained himself to say it was more like finding a flower beautiful, or having a craftsman's trade and found a beautifully made piece of work. He waited until the princes were done speaking " So. I find myself wondering. Am I dealing with another spitfire, or are you content to cower in fear?" Any who had seen his training sessions would know this question. It was dangerous. It changed how he treated you- defined your next few days, would it be hell or would it be survivable? How would it apply to this poor gem was anyone's speculation. Only time would reveal the answer, that and the gem's choice. As they were "dismissed" He would lead his newfound prize to his rooms, his minor estate. Small, simple with a yard and a singular guilty pleasure. A garden. Private, clean, and outside of the glances and bustle of the Drakken crowds. Something he and, as he thought, his new bride could certainly be happy for an escape from.
I missed a post before, and did relatively nothing so I gave a bit of filler, but more importantly Vannoth isn't the greatest fan of people in general, so he as well has decided to lead his new bride well away from the annoyances of the crowd and of the acquaintance. It was also left open to allow more conversation between Kuki and Vannoth as they made their way through the crowd and get to a more private location
that day when your friend for 8 years ditches you permanently... and you don't care so much that you sit there looking at a RP wondering "... should I just stop because I don't Do anything?"
After a rest for the night Vannoth decided while he might not be able to avoid it, he might not be called to participate., and nothing short of a prince would make him fight in this tournament. He made his way to the tournament grounds to watch and offer advice to young warriors and fighters He dressed and prepped his blade, soon to make his way there- and likely scowl and grumble any one who dares bother him. there was a time before his raid on an outpost were one could say Vannoth was a happy, and even 'kind' . . . That time has long since passed, and his mood grows ever more sour, and his temperament even more vile. Of course he did not speak much, but being well known for his explosive temper there wasn't many who would really willingly test the boundry.
As he entered the tournament grounds he made his way to seats and found his place among peers- somewhat near Zevi. He still had No intentions of fighting this day, he had already earned his prize and suffered every day for it, though should a prince or the princess demand it of him, he would fight and woe be to the man who is set as his opponent.
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