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The Arena (Secondary Thread)

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Wilhelm arrived on the deck of the old oil rig he'd been told was called The Arena; stepping out of seemingly nowhere he casts a look around. The exterior wasn't much to celebrate, except perhaps for how well it served to downplay the significance of the location.

He was somewhat surprised though to see Legend out to greet him so quickly, though he'd been told that the guardian here was certainly competent enough.

"Welcome Wilhelm von Treissen, now also known as Exile. Your, I suppose 'patron' is the best word, has informed me about your situation. He's graciously decided to pay whatever tab you amass in pursuit of your currently set goal."

The white haired mage took off his hat, held it against his chest, and gave a slight bow as he was greeted.

"Well, thank you Legend. I have been informed of your roll and the rules and purpose of this place; rest assured that I have no intention of breaching any of them. With that said, I bid you a good day."

His piece said, the tall shapeshifter once more dons his black bit of headgear and heads towards the main building.

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