Welcome to the Colosseum (Tournament Signups)

[Magus]

What he had learned from the townspeople wasn’t much, but it was enough to know that he could travel somewhat freely, so long as he was careful. Soldiers and guards all over this parcel of Camelot were looking for escaped prisoners, though none specifically sought him out. He’d summoned clothes to make himself look enough like a common traveler, complete with a hooded robe, sack cloth pants, and a heavy rucksack filled with camping gear, preserves, and other survival equipment. He would need none of it but all of it added to the illusion.

The prison was conveniently located almost exactly halfway between the Colosseum and Minas Tirith, so the distance he needed to travel wasn’t far at all, and a summoned horse helped to expedite his journey without drawing any undue attention.

Twice he passed by travelling sentries, and only once was he stopped. The search was brief and not thorough; a quick glance in his rucksack and a few questions about where he was headed. He was honest; many would be interested in the events at the Colosseum and so it would hardly come as a shock that people would be on the road headed toward it.

The rest of the journey passed without event and Magus arrived, trotting his horse past a couple of other travelers and hitching it up at a post with several other horses. He looked up at the Colosseum sat on top of a short, squat hill, and at the bustling crowd that had gathered at its entrance.

All around the building, too, were events of all kinds. Carnival games, food stands, mobile shops, fireworks and displays of showy magic and cantrips. The whole place crackled with a lively energy that danced and swirled around the heavy, gloomy energy that ebbed and swelled around him.

He picked his way through the crowd toward the mouth of the grand, ornate stadium that loomed over him, glaring down with its hundreds of statue-filled eyes and felt a shiver pass up his spine as he passed inside of the structure.

There, to his left, was a fairly unassuming table with a man dressed in regalia, a large, ornate book, and a black-feathered quill & inkwell. A sign above the table read “GLADIATORS REGISTER HERE.”

The attendant shot him a sideways glance, sizing up his intentions. “You know there’ll be Primes competing, right? Some fantastically strong. You might be killed.” And we don’t come back like they do he didn’t need to say.

The hooded traveler stepped up to the registry and waved his hand toward a blank spot on the grand page. There, amongst the other signatures, Magus flashed up in ornate letters, the script sizzling into the page. “I am a Prime.”

The wizard-incognito turned away from the booth and wandered further into the ornate structure, hoping to dodge the crowd as much as possible and stay out of sight – especially from the authorities – until it was time for the fighting to begin.