The Oculus Solis Arena - Lobby & Seating Area

Zephiros would come upon the huge arena right behind Aegon. The blonde-haired traveler wore light clothing suited for the warm weather of that particular day, with a striped shirt cut with a low neckline and light tan pants made of a cool fabric. He wore an interesting looking necklace as well with a few colored beads hanging from it. Over all this he wore a darker tan windbreaker. 

He would casually stroll up to stand beside Aegon, his hands buried in the pockets of his windbreaker. He would look up at the huge coliseum that stood before them, letting out an impressed whistle as he took in the sheer size of the building, 

"This wasn't here the last time I was in Isra, hot damn. How did they even build this monstrosity so quickly? You'd figure it would take a whole lifetime to build something so big..." Zephiros would shrug, casting a side-long glance to Aegon who stood beside him, "Don't mind me, though. I am Zephiros if it matters to you. I am looking to sign up for the tournament coming up, are you here to do the same?" he asked inquisitively. If he was not, at the very least this man could possibly give him some directions to where exactly he could sign up.

Zephiros was capable of fighting with his adeptness at wind magic, although it wasn't his primary use for it. He figured this tournament would be a great way to at least get his name out there at least. After all he had to start somewhere.

Zephiros would extend his right hand to shake the taller man's hand with a firm grip.

"Nice to meet ya, Aegon," he said in a friendly tone. Zephiros' attention would break off of Aegon soon thereafter to watch the ornate orbs float through the air around him. Zephiros' eyebrows would raise slightly in surprise at their appearance but otherwise would not inquire further.

Aegon spoke again then, a few moments after they had disengaged their handshake, "Yeah, I guess you could say I am a mage. I am going to be signing up for the magic bracket. Never really had much talent fighting with regular weapons after all."

Zephiros would raise his eyebrows slightly in curiosity as Aegon spoke, following after the taller man at a brisk walk. 

"Magic has always been reliable enough to me. How exactly did you learn your lesson about standard weaponry being more reliable? Did you have a bad run-in with a knight or something? Perhaps been stabbed before?" Zephiros asked a large amount of questions, mostly in an effort to sate his curiosity. He was still quite young, despite his talent and easily intrigued as was part of his character in the first place. 

"I am guessing you have been practicing fighting with regular weapons then, if you are looking to see how you stack up against the experts then."

Zephiros would listen attentively as Aegon spoke, explaining a couple things. He would look slightly confused as he took the mithril artifact that was offered, though he wasn't focused on the offered object immediately, 

"Well, you surely don't look like you have been alive for a long time," Zephiros said somewhat uncertainly. He would examine the object, which looked like the hilt of a sword or something. 

"So I just channel my magic into this? Seems easy enough." Zephiros would do as he was instructed to do, his somewhat naive nature lending to him not inquiring further about what the object would do exactly as he began to channel magical energy into it.

The hilt in Zephiros' hand now flowing with his magic would compress the air around it. The air would solidify into a crystalline bastard sword that looked to made of diamond a yellow pulse of energy would occasionally wave through the blade. The traveler watched the young man's reaction. "Fascinating no?" He looked forward to the arena, they were at its entrance now. "I believe its time we finish our registrations." He held his hand out for the return of his artifact.

The 27th of May; beautiful day to hold a tournament, a beautiful day to have off.

As Madame Naoki makes her way down the road toward the Oculus Solis Arena, her hair moves in tandem with the angle sleeve of her new dress, fluttering softly in the breeze. She glances up to see a smattering of clouds drifting across the sky. How pleasant it is to have warm weather for a change, and be able to wear warm weather clothing, she muses.

Flanked to the right by Artemis and to the left by a senior Sun Marshal, Naoki casually locates the end of the queue to enter the arena, and takes her place in line behind an elderly man, hands folded behind her back. A few curious glances are aimed in her direction, and murmurs sweep the crowd as it collectively becomes aware of her presence. It is somewhat strange to see the leader of one’s government standing in line with the general citizenry, afrer all. She counters the stares with pleasant smiles and friendly ear twitches, acting for all the world to simply be yet another citizen, here to watch the matches. One flanked by uniformed guards, perhaps, but still. She could have rode in on a litter made of solid gold, this is quite humble.

Eventually, the stares mostly break off, though a few rolling whispers persist as informed citizens point her out to their uneducated companions. Having not participated in very many public presentations, this is the first opportunity many of them have had to look upon her. However, her pleasant smile remains, mind far from the situation at hand; almost daydreaming.

But the line moves forward at a steady pace, a testament to the staff administering the event. Before long, it is Naoki’s turn to deposit nine silver coins in the admissions box; three each, for her and her companions. As the passes through the primary entrance from the interior of the city, the guards flanking the grand gate snap to a simultaneous salute, and she nods politely in response.

After passing through the gates, she meanders away from the primary flow of foot traffic into the seating area of the area, off to the immediate left of the hallway. One of a few such alcoves off to either side of the primary thoroughfare, a pair of stone doors blend subtly into the floral detailing of the curved wall. It is up against one of these doors that Naoki leans, bending one knee to place the bottom of one espadrille up against the door, and crossing her arms beneath her chest. In this position, she settles in to wait, here, at their agreed-upon rendezvous point. Her company should be along shortly enough, and until then, Naoki will wait, the corners of her lips still turned slightly upward.

The Sun Marshal assumes a position directly in the center of the alcove’s entrance, a steely gaze sending gawkers on their way and scanning the passing crowd for individuals of interest.

The Priest Connor o'Murph had come to Isra in search of a stolen artifact, when he heard about the tournament he decided he ought to join. The priest loved to fight and he thought he may spot the artifact while here since it was a weapon. He was excited for an opportunity to use Silverline instead of his fists.

Soon Lamina arrived to the arena lobby, most likely with Biggs, as he had been the one who paid for a re-equipment. A full replica of her old attire was not entirely feasible given what was available in the markets and what Biggs had in coin, but she had the necessities covered. Most importantly, she had a tail of her hair tied up slightly aside her head with a string of beads and a red feather, and a long red ribbon hung loosely from its tie around her bare right arm. The red feather and ribbon, to her, were her good luck charms... and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt some inkling of excitement...

"I certainly hope so, otherwise this was a lot of wasted effort."

Alden lounged in a seat looking utterly relaxed. Of course look relaxed and being relaxed are two entirely separate things. Even in a place where he was in theory perfectly safe the assassin's eyes were constantly scanning the crowd. He had little to no interest in the actually spectacle of the fights. He could typically judge skill within the first few moments and once he had there was no reason to pay attention. The spectacle didn't appeal to him, he was inured to violence. He saw no excitement or entertainment value in this prearranged fights.