Snippet #2416011

Adrik froze in his tracks when he heard the clinking of silverware on glass. Admittedly he was one of the crowd members who scoffed at the Cygnaran. To show such gall and arrogance to call all the attention to yourself it was something only a Cygnaran could do, it simply put a bit of ice over his heart. However, the young kovnik was not expecting appraisal to all the nations present. It was quite refreshing and really seemed to cut the tension in the room down a bit. Adrik took a look around and noticed an air of pride pervade everyone, the spirit of sportsmanship prevailed somehow. The Khadoran knew for a fact if these same people had been gathered in any other fashion it would most likely mean war.

Impressed, Novikov was one of the quieter claps in the room. Before he could start his stride again he saw Ridley walk away quite quickly. Adrik adjusted the shawl made of his warpwolf pelt trophy before pursuing the Cygnaran warcaster. He wondered if the rumor of 'The White Fang' had preceded him as he gave another glance over his shoulder at the rest of the room. Catching up to Ridley Adrik had to crane his neck a little due to his awkward stance. "You look pale as ghost." Novikov had been working on his Sulese for quite some time however his accent was still heard in his speech. "My name is Kovnik Adrik Novikov, I am from the Motherland."

He was sure anyone who could see him knew, Adrik was from Khador. His red armor and decorated bronze Khadoran anvil could mean little else. For the first time Adrik realized he had come to size up his competition and gather information, but he hadn't prepared anything to say in his mind. "Your speech was impressive, surprised to not see you cut from their stares." After Ridley straightened up Adrik watched as a man with a serving tray walked by them. With deft hands Novikov grabbed one of the small sandwiches and took a large bite out of it.

The Khadoran warcaster brandished the sandwich as though to bring attention to something before swallowing. "With the amount of cortexes your people make. I'm almost shocked to not see the servers be laborjacks." Adrik's confident smirk didn't last long as he finished the finger food. Leaning on the wall with the Cygnaran he looked out to the other people of the competition, trying to match eyes with at least the other competitors if not their escorts as well. The Khadoran looked at the female officer that had led the winterguard he was with. He found himself letting go of a sigh, if he didn't have this gift he would probably still be in her boots or even dead at the hands of the horrors Zevhanna had him up against. Shaking his head ever so slightly he pushed the memory of the day he had discovered his powers back deciding now was not the time to think of such things. His icey gaze returned to Ridley maintaining their conversation. Honestly Adrik was just killing a bit of time, Strakhov had previously told him that the dinner was to just gather everyone and make them full before a big speech from the competition's representative to greet everyone and announce the first event for tomorrow before sending everyone to bed.