Thread: Festival of Warring Races ||Lagertha x Google||

As the two Elves before him struggled with the sheer volume of the ale placed before him, the princess who would soon be his prize apparently also not particularly fond of the taste, Jandrax merely made himself comfortable by lounging back in his seat. He had seen the avarice in the eyes of the princess when she recognized the metal before her and he was well aware that the Elves hadnt been able to acquire much of the raw ore in some time. It was a rare metal of course and Dwarves seemed to have a monopoly on it these days though Minotaurs would often sell their services as mercenaries to the mountain dwelling folk in exchange for the precious element. Elves, at least in his estimation, were far too proud to make such deals and given that Dwarves were cut throat in trade it was really the best way to get any quantity of the stuff. To his eye both of the Elves were drunk, though the taller one handled her drink far better than the princess she was with. Perhaps it was experience that came with age though as always with their kind it was difficult to be sure which of them was actually the older one. The signs were there though, slight slurring of the speech, balance being just a touch off, and of course the scent of strong drink coming from both of them, the taller one had a much more potent trace of it though she displayed less of the signs then the princess was. That was a curious thing to Jandrax, the princess was inebriated enough to perhaps think she and her companion stood some sort of chance but the other one appeared to have her faculties intact. If this was the case then why offer up the princess to him as his prize for winning, was this part of some royal political game or was it just one elf taking advantage of another for their own amusement. These people, never straight forward, always plotting and planning. Minotaurs were not stupid, in spite of the stereotype, but they were a rather straightforward people, seeing no point in convoluted schemes that made things overly complicated when a simple answer would get the same results all the quicker. It made Jandrax suspicious though the warmth from the two points of ale that he had just consumed and the mention by the princess of her virtue could it be that his prize would be untouched? were enough to make him cast aside the doubts. They couldnt poison him, the little one would make a poor assassin if she tried to murder him outright, and if she turned out to be some sort of mage then her power would be severely dampened in a labyrinth city as Minotaur Shamans were always on the look out for a flare up of unfamiliar magic and were quick to drain it before any potent spells were cast. If this was going to lead to an attempt on his life then it would be a poor one and if it was an attempt at espionage then he was being woefully underestimated. As he relaxed he never stopped looking around, observing the relaxed behavior of the Elves, the decadence prevalent among most, picking out a few who carried themselves with the poise and grace of a warrior, sizing those up and considering how they might fare in a fight against his horde. So far what he was seeing didnt impress him, this was far from the mighty kingdom that he had fought against for nearly a century, these people seemed to be little more than a collection of hedonists who wouldnt have the courage for true and proper battle. Soon enough he would invade these lands, crush all opposition beneath him, and subjugate each and every one who survived so that they might learn their rightful place serving the strong. You must really want this gromil to allow yourself to be a part of this wager. He oberserved, turning his full attention back onto the elven princess, eyes roaming over her hungrily. Even as he watched she was having to fight to stay conscious, not putting up to much of a fight but all the better for him. He felt he had seen enough of this festival and would be content leaving early if such a prize came with him. Raising his right arm he drew attention to a torc that was on his wrist, the two ends that bent up and were capped with stylized bull heads, the thin and twisting bands of metal that made it up were alternating the purest gold and finely wrought gromil. Or perhaps you know that you will loose and entered for a different reason As he spoke the last words he moved his left hand down to his pants, adjusting his crotch and drawing attention to the evidence of his excitement, now partially engorged and given a better indication of its proper size. Mockery in those words, wanting to discourage the princess, wanting her to accept that she was beaten already.