It wasn't a bed - heck, it wasn't any more than a blanket sprawled across what could have possibly been a slab of stone - but it would do. It was better than nothing, anyway, and sitting on it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been...

...had it not been for the incessant whining of a certain Xodrian who for some reason could not wrap her head around the fact that they were stuck there.

"It's fine," she laughed, shaking her deep violet hair. "This is all very fine. I'll just call for Pynioa and we'll get out in no time."

A couple groans echoed around the room - namely one from the Bacrosian in the corner. He stood up and stretched, pressing at different points in his shoulders. After a pregnant silence, he took his time in staring the Dragon Rider dead in the eyes.

"Shut up."

Another period of unneeded quiet swam through the room. Algorsolam was the only one to break it.

"Oh please, is that all you have to say to her?" His voice sounded strained, as if he was attempting to keep something back. A mischievous smile spread across his features and he simply sat there.

Orin stepped towards the younger man, his lips curled in contempt. "You wanna start something here, human?"

As soon as Algorsolam went to retort, a hand was slapped over his mouth.

"He surely does not, Mister Neowylde! Obviously, it is way too early to really start a fight!" The speaker took a break to let out a nervous chuckle. "How about you, uh...you save up all this pent up energy for the arena!? Doesn't that sound like a great idea!?"

Algorsolam took a minute too look over at the culprit of his soundlessness and immediately recognized him as the Fire Elf.

What a savior, he spoke to himself rather sarcastically.

Orin seemed pleased with the thought of possibly beating the human to a pulp, and headed to go sit back down - yet not without sending an evil glare towards the Dragon Rider who continued to complain throughout the whole dilemma.

"Now listen here, Algorsolam." The elf spoke his name like a curse just as said human was on the brink of suspecting him as a nice guy. "I don't take kindly to...your kind...but I certainly am not going to let you get your skull smashed by an oaf like that before the actual game has started - I'm not taking that kind of pleasure from the people. Got it?"

Algorsolam laughed. A male of such a small stature was threatening him, and he actually thought it would work. "Got it."

Zerukaster frowned. "Good."

As the elf, too, left, Algorsolam sighed. Starting fights wasn't necessarily his favorite thing to do, and yet here he was, picking battles he couldn't win - or at least, battles that required a scrawny elfish kid to 'save' him.

Calming himself down was a smart idea, and he thought better than to get up to do it. What he definitely didn't need was a bunch of mystical creatures staring him down (and, let's be honest, calling him names) as he sought peace.

Taking in the area around him seemed to do the trick. All of the walls were purely blackened stone. Far from smooth, small pointed pieces seemed to jut out at every possible anger. Wooden poles seemed to act as an attempt at keeping the ceiling at least mostly raised, but they didn't do even a decent job.

'Beds' were littered in any possible space, with little crevices of walking area between them. A door sat at the very corner of the room, yet it was too small for even the small cleric boy to walk through completely upright, let alone Gawain - who had to practically crawl through it.

A screech ripped through his concentration. He looked up, only to see the purple haired Dragon Rider, Altairienna, held up by her hair.

Her face was beet red with what could have been anger, but also could have been pain. She clawed at the hand that had purple strands firmly in its grasp, but to no avail could she get it off.

Algorsolam wanted to laugh, he really wanted to but he couldn't bring himself to actually do it. Instead, he simply watched intently.

The hand belong to none other than Orin, whose face almost matched the color of Altairienna's - definitely anger this time.

"I could have sworn to Arawn below that I told you to keep your little mouth shut," he growled.

The woman only squeaked in response. Gritting her teeth, she began to try and kick at Orin.

"Neowylde, come on," Gawain called from the opposite side of the room, "you're better than to pick petty fights with girls like her and you know it!"

Orin made a noise that sounded awfully like a gurgle and yanked on Altairienna's hair one last time. Letting her fall, he stalked back to the place he had deemed his own and sat as if he was a three year old going through a temper tantrum.

"Amusing," Algorsolam mumbled to himself, "awfully amusing." He continued to sit there and watched all of the others communicate amongst themselves...not that that was actually really happening. Besides little quarrels between themselves, legitimately nothing was happening.

That is, nothing was happening until the tiny door at the corner slammed open and a loud booming voice echoed through the room.

"ORIN AND GAWAIN - GET UP AND GO, MEN!"

-

Herp derp there's a first chapter that's only as long as it's prologue.

I know, I'm a disappointment BUT I CAN PROMISE YOU THAT THE STUFF ONE WOULD EVEN REMOTELY CONSIDER AS JUICY MATERIAL SHALL COME LATER.

PROMISE. LIKE STRAIGHT UP.

OKAY MAYBE NOT.

IT REALLY DEPENDS ON YOUR PERSPECTIVE, BUT WHATEVS.

:D

- AVeh

[UNEDITED]