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He raises his weapons in preparation as the gates open... then lowers them. These creatures are pathetic. Most of the dwarves look hardly capable of putting up a fight if they wanted to, and the weapons they wield do them no favors in that regard. They should call this what it is. This isn't a battle; it's an execution. Radric always hoped the Dawnflower would forgive him for killing in the arena; it is a matter of survival, after all. But this... this is something else entirely. "Ahh! A dwarf!" he yells in his best childlike Undercommon. He dashes forward and swings, keeping his rudem up defensively, aiming for the creature's weapon so that his swing might appear to be batted harmlessly away.
He grins at Lorelei, unable to resist the temptation. "Hey, I think I make a great drow." He points his rudem at her accusingly, with as serious an expression as he can muster under the circumstances. "Now fight others to the death for my fleeting amusement, or I'll have you flayed for insubordination! Come to think of it, I might have you flayed anyway, because that sounds really entertaining."
An entertainment? This could either be really good, really bad, or anywhere in between; drow tastes for entertainment seem to vary widely. He says nothing as he is stripped naked, covered in dark paint, and given a white wig-- presumably to make him look like a drow. A very small drow, he thinks with a chuckle. Could anyone possibly be fooled? When he's helped to select children's clothes, it suddenly makes much more sense. He still has very little idea what all this could be for, though when he and the others are invited to choose their weapons, it gives him a big clue. I'm starting to lean toward "really bad"... Judging by the drow guardswoman's complete disregard for Hull and himself, and her large disregard even for Kyzrak, Radric guesses that he's expected to defer to Nathrae and Lorelei. He keeps his mouth shut, and waits for Nathrae's permission before picking up his accustomed pairing-- a rudem as his fighting style weapon, and a kukri as his off-hand weapon that, really, has gotten much more use of the two. So far, he has yet to use his rudem at all in the arena. That may change today. He really only has the energy for one more good spell today, not counting the minor tricks that are at this point effortless to him, and he might need it.
He nods toward the halfling girl. "We'll make it quick." She would be somewhat pretty, if not for the ridiculous haircut. Knowing all too well where her mouth had been recently, he gives her a quick kiss on the cheek and leaves. "Back to the cage?" he asks Jade, dangling the key victoriously before putting it in a pocket.
That... actually worked out pretty well. He knows the results of that spell can be unpredictable; once again, it seems, sheer luck has pulled him through. As the guards search through the fat drow's things, he leads the halfling girl into the room, doing his best to appear nonthreatening. Clearly the guards didn't notice it was him who cast the spell-- wouldn't want to push his luck here. The halfling girl rushes over to help her master after the guards leave the room; Jade orders him to do the same, and he does, but not without grumbling in the process. "Just fixed the situation, a little more gratitude would be nice..." Between the two of them, they manage to get the unconscious guard back onto the couch. He quickly takes the key from around that big neck, trying to place his shoulders between his hands and the halfling girl so she wouldn't notice. The fewer people know about this, the better.
He puts out a hand to stop Jade from moving any further in, seeing that their presence doesn't appear to have yet been noticed (hoping that where his hand makes contact is high enough or low enough to avoid awkwardness-- her chest is out of his accidental reach, but her more important part is not). He pulls her to the side, out of sight. "Looks like he's already got a nubile adherent of somebody-or-other. That key being around his neck is going to make things a lot trickier."
He watches Kyzrak be led away by the beautiful drow, and is for the moment quite jealous. If he knew the kinds of fates that awaited the others, he would've been only too glad that Jade took him by the hand and pulled him in the opposite direction. Upon hearing her suggestion, he sticks his tongue out in disgust. "I sure hope you're talking about you. Or anyone else, really. I'm not getting any closer to fatso's drowhood than I need to, and I sure as nine hells don't want to see it."
"While I do love a good worship service," he says as he admires the priests and priestesses he can see going at it (not a total lie, given the nature of the worship), "my friend here's right." He nods at Jade. "We're looking for someone."
He briefly peeks under the sheet himself, to see what it is Kyzrak is talking to. During the conversation he says nothing, occasionally sharing a glance with Jade. Afterward, he follows the dark elf down the tunnel. "I don't know," he says hesitantly, "stealing from a guard is kind of a big deal. Do you have any idea what sort of trouble we'd be in? We've only just gotten on their good side. We don't have the kind of pull for them to go easy on us. If we screw this up, we're probably dead." Not unlike being in the arena, he realizes. Only if we do this right, we don't get any accolades... yet. He grins. "I'm in."
He notices that the crowd seems to like the contrast between Jade's fighting style and his own, her brute force to his measured finesse. He decides to play this up. While she brutally carves into the body after the creature falls dead, seeming to revel in the grotesquery and carnage of it, he drops his stance and wipes his knife off on his leather armor. He turns to the crowd, away from Jade and the body, raises his arms and gives an elaborate bow. He hears a smattering of laughter among the cheers, but it sounds more like approval than mockery. "The halfling won!" it seemed to say. Yes he did, Radric thinks with a smile as he and his allies are led out of the arena to prepare for the next round. "Good job, Jade!" he says after they've left the sand, knowing she did most of the work. He hopes to change that in the next round, when he has a chance to contribute more meaningfully.
I'm no stranger to challenging encounters. A CR 4 against a party of level 1's isn't out of the question-- sure it'll be challenging, but not impossible. Frankly I'm with ProfPotts, I'm not a fan of when people complain about encounters being too difficult-- that's what makes the game fun! I once pitted my players against an encounter I was pretty sure would slaughter them (and it did) for story reasons, and most of the encounters I built myself (I was running an AP) were at least two above their APL. Because as a player, I prefer fights that are really difficult.
I think using it that way on a human(oid) might work pretty well-- I've considered doing that in other campaigns. Against a barely-intelligent creature, though, probably not. Remember that many creatures don't rely on their eyes as heavily as we do, so if they can see something but they can't hear or smell it they might just ignore it.
As the gate drops, he closes his eyes. He'll have plenty of time to watch the creature. He limbers up his muscles, relaxing them. He hits his kukri against his rudiarius and twirls in place, feeling the sand beneath his feet. I can do this.
Wary of the creature's probably-poisonous fangs, he moves in with Kyzrak.
Radric spends the next few days honing his physical skills, his magic ignored. Though his rudem is a dead giveaway that he can use the arcane arts, he knows that his limited spellcasting and his lack of any impressive-looking evocations are not what will sway the crowd to his side. His dance is. He focuses on it exclusively, doing his best to practice with different people who use different styles... and a different sort of style practice some nights with Aspexia. ***** The day of the event arrives. Despite all his training, Radric is as nervous as a blushing bride-- well, as nervous as he assumes a blushing bride would be. This is it, he tells himself. The first big fight. That one a week ago was just practice. This... this is the real thing. With a real audience. That's the part he's most nervous about: the crowds. The fight he can handle, or at least he hopes he can. He waits for Aspexia to return with the numbers, in the meantime checking and re-checking his armor, making sure it's fastened. When that's done, he twirls his kukri to calm his nerves.
He dodges and weaves around Kyzrak's swings, dancing his dance just like he was taught. Having had no experience with anyone not practicing the same style before being brought here, he was sort of surprised himself with how well this seemed to work. When given the opportunity, he darts in for a jab himself, not taking the time to properly attune himself beforehand.
He slips past his opponent's defenses, though of course the blow it deals is negligible. When Pharnox gives them their assignments, he nods and prepares himself again.
After breakfast, he looks for a sparring partner out in the yard. The others are already paired up at first (except Jade, who gets pulled aside to talk to Aspexia, but the noise in the yard prevents him from hearing the conversation), so he toys with the practice dummies for awhile. When the break is over, he finds Kyzrak. "Practice?" He twirls his wooden kukri and assumes a stance, relaxed but prepared.
Aspexia: He blushes when she mentions his tryst on the stage, while taking in the info she'd just given him. Sardavic... That must have been that drow who seemed so intent on our performaces that night. He wrinkles his nose in disgust at that last bit. "I'm not an executioner." Realizing then that he was in no position to make such a claim, he plays it off with a chuckle. "Then again, I guess for now I'm whatever they tell me to be. I'll find you someone to train with. I'm guessing your next bout will be no cakewalk-- they'll want you to 'prove yourself' or whatever." He shrugs and turns to leave... then turns back to her, a slight smile on his lips. "One more thing. If Narsius really will be that bad tonight, you're welcome to share a bed with me." His smile becomes more apparent as he finishes his offer.
"Interesting... Sure, I think we can work something out. I'm not used to a trident personally, but I'll ask around. And I'd be happy to give you some pointers about how to use magic and fight in melee at the same time; that is, if you have any spells you can use without a rudem." He jingles the silver coins he'd slipped out of his footlocker. Best keep their location hidden at all times; less likely for them to get stolen that way. "As for the betting, I was actually wanting to bet on myself to win my next bout... if you can tell me the odds against me," he adds, not wanting to simply take her word when it came time to collect. The way he sees it, if he lost, being poor again would be the least of his worries-- if he was alive to worry about anything at all. "Do you know the schedule?"
He uses the distraction of the fight to go find Aspexia. With Pharnox and Ilvaria elsewhere, he doesn't expect the other gladiators would care if they saw him talk with her. He leans against the bars of her cell, his arms folded, trying to appear non-threatening (as if he could appear threatening even if he wanted to). "Sorry for whatever you thought I said earlier. I've got some questions for you."
The red-haired woman's scowl makes it pretty clear that she had misunderstood. He rolls his eyes. Guess I'll just have to find her the old-fashioned way. But not now. The moment had passed. Maybe tomorrow.
He notices Ilvaria's expression change ever so briefly when Nathrae catches Pharnox's attention, but he doesn't quite catch what the expression says. Then it's back to the Ilvaria they already know. He snorts when he overhears Pharnox's justification for his actions. So their opponents were allowed to be slaughtered just to motivate the others? Tough crowd. ***** He watches Hull's fight with amusement but does not get involved-- at least, not right away. He hopes that if a gladiator turns up dead in the barracks, that the drow slavemasters wouldn't care overmuch.
He gulps down his porridge eagerly. It's a far cry from the lavish meals he used to enjoy at the temple (and he always had a hearty appetite), but this stuff isn't bad. Certainly better than what he was eating as a new recruit. After breakfast he spends some time training, then watches Pharnox's mocking treatment of Aspexia out of the corner of his eye.
He easily noticed that she'd been playing the broken-wing gambit all morning, exaggerating her pain, though if she was hoping for pity Radric thought it unlikely she'd get any. His guess is confirmed when Pharnox strips her of her signature fighting style and assigns her a new one, with a healthy serving of scorn. After watching her go through some (rather clumsy) routines with her new net and trident, he decides that now is probably the best time to ask her about bets. If she has connections, perhaps making her feel useful would improve her mood (and her opinion of him). He catches her eye and flashes some quick hand gestures, not wanting to attract attention to either of them. We need to talk.
He starts to make a quip about other people having sex with her, but with the immediate crisis averted, he suddenly realizes just how exhausted he really is. He smiles a tired smile and responds in Undercommon. "That'll do." He leaves her and crawls back into his own straw, succumbing at last to sleep. Hells of a day.
He smiles. Glad that's over with. Maybe I can help him out. He walks over to where the two drow females were lying, chatting in the high drow language he didn't understand. "Listen," he says, keeping his voice quiet and apologetic, "the dwarf is a lot of things. He's stubborn, he's stupid, and he's arrogant. But we need him, and he needs us. And Segovax is right, we're in this together. I'm sorry he's acting the way he is. I'll try to talk some sense into him. Try not to kill him."
He takes the silver and better quarters offered to him later eagerly, and the approval of the older gladiators with grace. He talks with those who will talk back, trying to make some friends around the place. Without any other distractions, he doesn't fail to notice some of the things that had changed among their little group-- Lorelei had not taken well to her tryst with the dwarf (Thank Sarenrae!), and seemed to resent him. The other drow female and the big half-orc looked like young lovers, at least as much as the stoic tower of a creature could look like a lover. The drow male had been led off by Ilvaria... for what, goddess only knew, but Radric could guess. For himself, he was no longer sure what to think about Crocus, and couldn't quite get a read on her either. "Open your eyes, stoneskull," he says to Ivan. "She hated it. None of us had any choice, but I wouldn't brag about it or she'll hate you too. In that arena we're supposed to have each other's backs... you don't want more enemies than you've already got." EDIT: He could hardly get the words out of his mouth before Lorelei came storming over. "Whoops... Too late."
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