Finding an Old Friend [Megara, Hercules]

It couldn't be. It wasn't possible.

Well, it was certainly possible that rumors that a man in a very dapper red outfit that wielded both sword and magic could've won a tournament. And it was certainly possible that this man was named Rojo. It was even very definitely possible that Alwyn could've heard rumors about such an event. Rojo probably hadn't shut up about it since he won. But Alwyn had a hard time believing that it was, in fact, the very same Rojo that helped to defeat Chaos alongside Alwyn and the other Light Warriors. As far as Alwyn knew, he was the only one that was sucked through that unstable portal and he had encountered neither hair nor hide of the others. In fact, Rojo's name was the only evidence he had that his friend was even out there and it was only rumors at best. This had all the trappings of a wild goose chase. But Alwyn's curiosity outweighed his logic at times. Sure, there were times where Alwyn was tempted to push Rojo off the canoe or into a dragon's mouth or off an airship. But Rojo was still his friend and probably in trouble. He'd never admit it, but he required rescuing as much as the other Light Warriors. He wouldn't even have the advantage of knowing ahead of time what world he was in or what enemies he'd face.

And so, here he was, on a very odd world, sticking out like a sore thumb in his choice of fashion among all the togas and sandals. However, he didn't seem to get noticed all that much. As he found out, lots of strange-looking people often came to this world because of the tournaments held by one Philoctetes. How convenient. Perhaps this Philoctetes was the one who organized the Mistletoe Mayhem Tournament. This certainly seemed the case, though it was a rather odd name for a tournament. Who'd call it such a name and why? Questions poured into Alwyn's mind but he put them inside for now. He had other important questions to ask. Getting directions from the townspeople, he walked toward the Coliseum, a grand building where tournaments were held. Alwyn considered it a bit much, but then again, maybe that was normal for this world. Who was he to judge? Alwyn pushed open the giant doors, something that took considerable effort. He quietly thanked Zest for all those times the Warrior spent making him do exercises. He said that a hero couldn't save anyone if his stamina and strength was poor. Not that it did that much good, but it was enough to open these doors at least. Alwyn also quietly apologized for being such a pain during those exercises.

Inside, Alwyn looked around to find a lobby of sorts. There were trophies on display and a list of rules hung up next to a doorway. From that doorway he heard... someone counting? "188... 189... 190... 191!" The voice sounded pretty gruff. Was there training going on? Sure, sounded like it. Alwyn walked over to a sign that was connected by chain drawn across the doorway. The sign very helpfully said "Closed" and was very definitely ignored. Alwyn walked over the sign and then continued into the Coliseum proper. It seemed large enough to house the entire city. Alwyn spied a marble square that had been built in the center, with four columns on the corners. In the center, a large powerfully-built man doing what looked like one-handed pushups. On the bodybuilder's back was a short squat satyr, who was counting the man's pushups. Was that Philoctetes? Or was the man Philoctetes? Huh... well, whomever it was, he'd know soon enough. Alwyn walked forward and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Philoctetes? I see you're a bit busy, but could I have a moment of your time? I have some questions to ask and I've been told you'd be the one to ask."