Thorin II Oakenshield (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
takingback) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-07 05:46 pm
takingback) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-07 05:46 pm
if this is to end in fire
Who| Thorin Oakenshield and you
What| The King under the Mountain arrives and proceeds to be the grumpiest new arrival.
Where| Various locations within the Training Center.
When| A week after the last Arena.
Warnings/Notes| Rude behaviour, most likely. Will match format!
A: District 2 suite
To say that Thorin takes things well upon his arrival would be akin to saying the water is red, or that the grass is purple. The chairs, the tables, the strange tubes of light on the ceilings -- everything is alien to him, stranger even than the sights he would see in the other towns of Men, in Bree, in Laketown. Where is the wood? The carvings? Tapestries, candles and lanterns?
He paces around the room once, twice, muttering something inaudible in khuzdul before rounding on the table and kicking it, hard- hard enough to send whatever decorations were set on it flying to the floor. It's not dignified, and even less productive, but at least it gives him a fleeting satisfaction of defying the order - of the room, and also of those who brought him here.
The Avox he runs into at the door gets a glare and a growled-out I don't need your help in response to his inquiries as Thorin pushes past him, leaving the suite.
B: Central commons, near the elevator
The box... moved. Without anything visible moving it, no one there to make sure the machinery worked, no one to release counter weights to pull it back up -- it baffles him. The sound made it seem like there was something moving it, and something must have done... but despite the similarities with the machines the dwarves had used for centuries in their mining, Thorin can't quite wrap his head around it.
Which is why he abandons his plan of "look at no one, talk to no one" and turns to whoever is closest to the elevator doors, his tone as gravelly and serious as if this was a matter of extreme importance.
"How does that- contraption keep moving without any weights to pull it back? Is there a wizard's spell on it?" If there is, it's rather a poor way to use their spells, he thinks. Gandalf would certainly not waste his time with something that can be made to work mechanically.
C: Central commons, restaurant
He's used to the stares. Weaving between the long, soft benches, groups of chairs and the chattering people left and right, his stature is as much a hindrance as it is an advantage - people pausing in their speech, moving away a little so he could pass, well, that wasn't too bad. But the stares.
At least one thing is still the same, in the world of Men.
Carefully avoiding looking at anybody, his plan to bring as little attention to himself as he possibly could, Thorin makes his way to the restaurant area, both to find food - battling a dragon makes you rather hungry, if you wouldn't believe - and to see if he can pocket some of those knives used for eating; not the same as having a sword or an axe, but better than being completely unarmed.
What| The King under the Mountain arrives and proceeds to be the grumpiest new arrival.
Where| Various locations within the Training Center.
When| A week after the last Arena.
Warnings/Notes| Rude behaviour, most likely. Will match format!
A: District 2 suite
To say that Thorin takes things well upon his arrival would be akin to saying the water is red, or that the grass is purple. The chairs, the tables, the strange tubes of light on the ceilings -- everything is alien to him, stranger even than the sights he would see in the other towns of Men, in Bree, in Laketown. Where is the wood? The carvings? Tapestries, candles and lanterns?
He paces around the room once, twice, muttering something inaudible in khuzdul before rounding on the table and kicking it, hard- hard enough to send whatever decorations were set on it flying to the floor. It's not dignified, and even less productive, but at least it gives him a fleeting satisfaction of defying the order - of the room, and also of those who brought him here.
The Avox he runs into at the door gets a glare and a growled-out I don't need your help in response to his inquiries as Thorin pushes past him, leaving the suite.
B: Central commons, near the elevator
The box... moved. Without anything visible moving it, no one there to make sure the machinery worked, no one to release counter weights to pull it back up -- it baffles him. The sound made it seem like there was something moving it, and something must have done... but despite the similarities with the machines the dwarves had used for centuries in their mining, Thorin can't quite wrap his head around it.
Which is why he abandons his plan of "look at no one, talk to no one" and turns to whoever is closest to the elevator doors, his tone as gravelly and serious as if this was a matter of extreme importance.
"How does that- contraption keep moving without any weights to pull it back? Is there a wizard's spell on it?" If there is, it's rather a poor way to use their spells, he thinks. Gandalf would certainly not waste his time with something that can be made to work mechanically.
C: Central commons, restaurant
He's used to the stares. Weaving between the long, soft benches, groups of chairs and the chattering people left and right, his stature is as much a hindrance as it is an advantage - people pausing in their speech, moving away a little so he could pass, well, that wasn't too bad. But the stares.
At least one thing is still the same, in the world of Men.
Carefully avoiding looking at anybody, his plan to bring as little attention to himself as he possibly could, Thorin makes his way to the restaurant area, both to find food - battling a dragon makes you rather hungry, if you wouldn't believe - and to see if he can pocket some of those knives used for eating; not the same as having a sword or an axe, but better than being completely unarmed.
no subject
It is an interesting concept, and so when the woman near him scoffs in scorn towards those of the curious bystanders, he simply watches her for a moment, assessing; and when done with that, he nods.
"I would expect nothing more of those condoning this madness." Such a high opinion he has of them, obviously.
no subject
Cassandra had some experience with celebrity, with being put on display. A long way down the list of potential heirs to the throne she may be, but being ranked in the lower regions of the top 100 had not stopped her from being dusted off and taken out as a doll on display as a child. This world, however, took it to entirely new extremes, the citizens harassing any tribute in sight out of their love for the blood sport. And with the most bizarre requests. What use her mark upon a piece of parchment would do any of them she had not the slightest idea, yet it had been requested or her more than once this evening. Until she had driven a serving fork through the offending 'autograph book' and put an end to such talk.
"Join me, if you have a mind. I believe I have given enough offence to spare the table any unwelcome guests. At least for the remained of this one meal."
no subject
"... You have my thanks." It is not often that he expresses gratitude right off the bat, like this, but dire circumstances, as it were. He will take the offered refuge, now, and perhaps find out something more about his purpose here than what he was told, some hours ago.
no subject
It was near physically impossible her tone to be dryer with that comment- really, the things these people granted importance.
"I am Cassandra Pentaghast."
no subject
"Thorin, son of Thráin." He nods his head in greeting. Traditionally, the dwarven greeting would include an at your service, but he rarely includes it, not with anyone.
no subject
She pauses to take a small breath, mentally calling upon the Chant. It was not in her nature to simply sit and complain about the injustices of the world. Granted, it was more her desire to do something about them. But grand gestures were not, at the moment, an option. Instead she could focus on offering the same fair warnings which had been given to her.
"Their interest in the details of our daily lives included."
no subject
"I was told the battles we are to fight are nothing but entertainment, but they failed to tell this would extend to our lives here in confinement."