Ansha glances at the escort, then at Kieran. "I'd get bored in the tent. I'll stay here as well."
She then looks to Qhude and Picklebeard and smiles broadly. "Congratulations, you two. Well fought."
By the time Qhude is led to the rest of the party, the adrenaline has flowed out from his system and he has returned to his more dour countenance - though he holds his head high. Glancing at his armanents, he takes pride in the fact that they are stained more with the blood of his enemies than his own.
He takes the congratulations of the others stoically, not showing much outward sign of recognition. Internally bemused by the Dwarf's antics, his mouth is as though a river after rain - swelled to bursting and always surging.
"Feh, I have no wish to stay and watch the remainder fight. I shall return to our tent. How fared Tebati in the run?" he inquires flatly.
"She would tell you herself, I am sure, but one of her competitors has deafened her," she glances at the escort. "We are told it will only last a little more than a half-hour from now."
Ansha looks at Tebati and smiles. "She took first place."
"Do as ye wish lad! I'm gonna see the fights!"
"First place, eh? Good fer her!"
Qhude looks upon Tebati appraisingly, before nodding and extending a clenched fist - tapping it on his chest then raising it to the sky in congratulations.
On his way back to the tent, he requests of the guard "Can you bring some water?"
Of course one of them says with a bow, sending one of his lackeys to fetch water for the group.
2 VS 6 , Full V 6
2 VS 4 , Full V 4
4 VS 5 , Full V 5
5 VS 3 , Full V 5
Those who remain to see the others fight witness a further five battles, identifying the other five teams of the six as-
2. A team made up of all Mwangi, favouring skirmish tactics and a combination of bows and simple weapons. Their pair are easily defeated by both the bounty hunters Qhude and Picklebeard narrowly beat and the adventuring party from Avistan who made use of magic to easily vanquish them.
3. A team of pirates or smugglers (no one is sure), using the same mixed tactics displayed against your team. Unfortunately for them they are defeated by virtue of skill at arms by the mercenaries.
4. An adventuring party from Avistan- the paired fights featured an Elven wizard who easily defeated the Mwangi with the use of a well placed Color Spray. The wizard and his archer companion were defeated soundly by the mercenaries, who made use of well-timed shots and flanking maneuvers to disrupt spellcasting, then finished off the archer together.
5. A team of disciplined mercenaries, they won both of their matches against the team from Avistan and the pirates/smugglers by martial prowess and tactics.
6. The team of bounty hunters (or possibly slavers)- after losing to Qhude and Picklebeard they entangled the Mwangi pair in nets and cut them apart, the lean man doing much better in melee this time with his axe.
A chorus of trumpets announces the end of the mornings trials and the current scores are displayed on a massive board displayed in the middle of the arena, the announced shouting out the scores for those who can't read.
Team 1- 20 points
Team 2- 14 points
Team 3- 10 points
Team 4- 14 points
Team 5- 10 points
Team 6- 10 points
Eventually, you all find yourself back in your tent with water and food being served to you all. Fans are clamouring to see the winning team and are being held back by your guards.
As soon as Kieran and the others who stayed behind to watch the rest of the bouts in the arena are back in their group's tent, the half-elf describes the other fights to the ones not present. He does make it a point to make his story as exciting and theatrical as possible, at least without resulting to hyperbole, knowing that he is providing much needed information about the other teams and not just putting on a show for his companions to enjoy.
"And that was that...," he concludes with a smile, almost expecting an applause for his performance. "I should think the adventurers, being the team with the most varied members," he continues, taking care to look at the people making up his own team and allowing a soft 'huh' to escape his lips before going on, "will prove quite a challenge in the teamwork part of the competition. As for the others, the bounty hunters or slavers and the smugglers or pirates -not sure what their true 'professions' are- seem particularly ruthless. The mercenaries, as expected, are quite good at working together. As for the Mwangi, they seemed to be skirmishers, but I believe our own Mwangi companions might have a little more insight as to the way they tend to do battle."
Ansha decides to amuse herself by walking over toward the tent's entrance, blowing kisses and waving at the crowd with a smile. She doesn't seem to mind the fact that she hasn't really done anything yet, and that the fans are probably cheering for the Mwangi natives and the dwarf who have already won their trials--she's going to milk this for all it's worth.
"Not a bad show. We saw our competitshun, fer shure.. but I donnae if I'd call'em that. Qhude and me could easileh take any of them, ain't that right, lad? Now where'd he go off to?"
Picklebeard wanders to Qhude in the tent.
In the time it takes for the fights to complete and the others to return, Qhude takes the water from the guard - thanking him. He moves to the edge of the tent and sits upon the ground with the water next to him. He begins the task of removing his arms and armor, giving them a rudimentary wash with the water. It has the effect of removing some of the soaked blood, but the underlying fabric is still marked with motley red stains of varying vintage.
After he has removed the cestus and all his armor (leaving him garbed only in his shorts), he closes his eyes and raises his amulet to his lips for a kiss. May you smile when you look down upon me today father.
He then retrieves his pipe from his bag, packing it with some flayleaf, and settles in place to smoke. Which is how you find him as the rest of the party arrives.
Yup, mark off a dose and lets have a fort save. I expect you to track doses, addiction and effects on your end.
Have started a 'Current Notes' at the top of my profile for addiction / effects tracking outside of combat.
Yup. Your also fatigued for an hour and have a +2 bonus vs mind-affecting effects.
I will ensure to keep up to date as time goes on.
As Qhude continues to smoke his pipe, a thick heady smell is evident around him. Although his muscles are relaxed and he seems calm, there is a sadness and dead quality to his eyes.
The dwarf comes into the smoky tent and takes a few sniffs.
"I know tha' smell..."
He sees Qhude smoking from his pipe.
"Qhude! I didn't know you ta smoke tha pipe!" He calls out surprised.
Upon entering the tent, Tebati goes back to her glass charms where she hung them and runs her hand through them. She cannot hear their chime, but the gleaming colors remind her of her home. She takes a moment to stretch her muscles and then lies on her back on the floor, looking up at her charms. When she notices the strange smell in the tent, she looks over at Qhude's pipe and shoots N'bellocq a quizzical glance.
As the others return to the tent after the fights are over, Tebati becomes aware of something other than the constant ringing in her ears: faint sounds of the crowd outside are beginning to register in her ears. She sits up with a relieved smile. "Cousin," she murmurs to N'bellocq and thrills to hear her own voice, "my hearing is returning!"
Taking a deep draw, holding the smoke within a few moments then exhaling Qhude answers Picklebeard "Care for a draw little one?"
"Oh nooo.. us dwarves stick ta alcohol! The stuff me family brews is enough to keep me faithful from other kindsa things!"
He laughs.
"I don't mindya doing it though. Ye earned tha right today out there, I'd say..."
She winces as the dwarf's booming laugh cuts through the dissipating fog in her ears. "Perhaps unfortunately," she adds to N'bellocq. "How fared the Mwangi team?" she speaks more loudly, addressing the others entering the tent.
Jakob paces back and forth in the tent. Feeling surrounded by the 'fans' and getting a headache from the leaf smoke. He talks to no one as he contemplates his coming failure.
She winces as the dwarf's booming laugh cuts through the dissipating fog in her ears. "Perhaps unfortunately," she adds to N'bellocq. "How fared the Mwangi team?" she speaks more loudly, addressing the others entering the tent.
"Yer favourite pack o' jungle fairies got wrecked by tha boys Qhude and me whooped in tha second fight and then got walloped again by some pair o' adventurers. Better luck next time fer 'em I guess."
"Two of the teams are already down a member," Tebati tells him flatly, "which cannot but hinder them in the final trial. We must endeavor to keep our advantage of numbers." Her gaze moves to Jakob's nervous pace, and she shakes her head slightly in disapproval. "A half-orc and half-elf both died in the Trial of Endurance. The travelers from Avistan have prodigious magical resources, although every bit of it they must expend in the early trials subtracts from what they can draw on later. All of the runners seemed honorable but the two who fell; we can hope that the rest of their teams will prove the same."
"This team has persevered so far. Each event has not been quite what we might have expected. That might be in our advantage in the next two events. Jakob, Ansha. I know the two of you are going to be out of your element. But stay flexible, and try your best and we will honor your effort with cheers from the stands. Good Luck."
N'bellocq comes alongside Quude. "I only caught the fight after the race, but you fought well." Turning to Picklebeard, "And you Master Dwarf, if we get some winnings out of this, I guess I owe you a beer...or somehow I suspect, a few."
Accepting N'bellocq's and Picklebeard's praise from his place resting languidly on the ground, Qhude continues to quietly listen to the conversation ongoing. Feh, they worry like a bunch of nursemaids over a fussy infant.
"This team has persevered so far. Each event has not been quite what we might have expected. That might be in our advantage in the next two events. Jakob, Ansha. I know the two of you are going to be out of your element. But stay flexible, and try your best and we will honor your effort with cheers from the stands. Good Luck."
Hearing the sound of her name, Ansha momentarily turns aside from baiting the fans to remark in a much more somber voice and expression than she was displaying to the crowd, "Your support is much appreciated, N'bellocq. I understand they will be passing out stones to the crowd to throw at any particularly bad performances...."
With that, she turns back to the crowd with an almost-exaggerated smile painted on her face.
"Pray that they do not release devils to tear to pieces those who fail to meet the crowd's approval," Tebati tells her darkly.
Ansha turns to Tebati with a sour face before putting her crowd-pleasing mask back on. "I witnessed that, and it is not reassuring. Hopefully, a few cantrips is enough to please the crowd."
Qhude offers sagely "Judging by the cheers during our bouts, all you need do to win their approval is spill some blood."
"I am certain you will do fine, Ansha," Kieran says with a smile, right before taking the elf's hand in his and placing a kiss on it. "I should think simply getting on that stage would be enough to win us the Trial of Performance." The words and gesture are meant to come off as flirtatious and teasing in more or less equal amounts, which is nothing out of ordinary for the half-elven scoundrel.
"And remember, some of us will probably be watching you as well. If anyone from the crowd gets too anxious to try his hand at stone-throwing...," he quips, "well, duck. I doubt we will be able to stop them in time."
"Is it just me, Qhude, but yer friends be over-analyzin' errythin'? Like har har I woodunt be surprised if they licked the damn side of tha tent and declared the taste told 'em Ansha here will do just fine! Like Ansha ain't nuttin' but a regular ol' fairy princess with a few tricks up 'er rear but I'd be a bearded gnome if she ain't smart. Yessir. She'll figure it out. No use lookin' at tha livers o' a street cat or usin' maths and playin' against tha other groups! Trust yerself and yer friends and it'll get you far. That's the dwarven way if ye throw in gettin' sh%tfaced on ale too!"
"Qhude is right. Show these people some blood or some skin and you will not need to fear stones."
Jakob's voice is tinged with disgust and regret.
"Tabati, I am coming to share your opinion of my countrymen."
Tebati gifts Jakob with a wry smile. "You are not all bad," she admits. "Just when you all cluster together and try to pretend you are still in your homeland. This land will welcome you, but it is not your own." She shakes her head. "Your priests of the Wealthy Father-god are probably already drawing lessons for their sermons from the Trial of Endurance: 'The two contestants who tried to hinder others rather than rely on doing their best in their own strength died for their vices.'" She shakes her head again. "They were the slowest and the illest-suited for the race. Had they not hindered the rest of us in the run, they would only have been the farther behind and would have died in their virtue just the same."
Ansha smiles as Kieran kisses her hand. "Your confidence in me is inspiring, sir. Truly, I feel that I could succeed at entertaining the deities themselves propped up by your support," she says, laughing lightly and melodramatically placing her free hand to her forehead. After he releases her hand, she finally moves away from the tent opening and takes a seat at the table, fishing out the intricately-carved wooden box that contains her fortune-teller's deck from her belt pouch.
"I don't think telling fortunes is going to work for the Trial of Performance, but perhaps you would allow me to tell your fortune, Jakob?"
Tebati gives a snort of derision when Ansha pulls out the cards that she turns into a cough. "The smoke is getting a bit thick in here," she remarks, waving her hand in front of her face. "I wonder how much longer it will be before the next set of trials. I'll step outside for some fresh air and ask."
The flayleaf in his pipe now turned to ash, Qhude taps it out and re-stows it in his backpack. Drawing himself to standing, he goes through a few stretches to re-vitalize himself.
"I don't think telling fortunes is going to work for the Trial of Performance, but perhaps you would allow me to tell your fortune, Jakob?"
Jakob smiles wryly. "It would be an honor Ansha. Though I think the only card you will draw will be the eight of hooves."
Ansha gives Tebati a bemused, knowing smile and then draws a card from the deck, turning up a card displaying eight gold-filigreed longswords. "You were close, my friend. An eight of swords. Your heart lies elsewhere, does it not?"
Tebati chafes at the limitations put on her by the Trials. She is no less a prisoner outside the tent than in, but feels more on display as she sees people point at her and stare. "How much longer before the second set of trials?" she asks the guards, her voice tight with tension.
About twenty minutes milady comes the polite reply. We're waiting for you to confirm your team.
Tebati nods, then ducks back inside, leaving the flap slightly open to allow the pungent smell of flayleaf to dissipate. "There is still time to turn tail and run," she tells Jakob and Ansha. "Twenty minute before the second set of Trials, and your names have still not been officially submitted."
To Jakob: "Almost time for the reckoning... or have you lost the stomach for it?"
To Qhude. "Oh no. I'm ready to take my lumps for the greater glory of Sargava. Dulce et Decorum est, don't you know."
To Guard. "Please confirm Jakob Mulle, me, for the Joust."
To Ansha.
"Your heart lies elsewhere, does it not?"
"Well, when we find it we will both have the answer to that. Come on time to sign up."
Tebati watches Jakob and Ansha go quietly, offering them a nod of well-wishes. After they have left the tent, however, she draws up close to N'bellocq and murmurs, "Cousin, you must endeavor to make the best showing you can individually. I fear the colonials are unprepared for the rigors of the Trials. If they should fall, we may hope to attract attention by our own merits."
Picklebeard looks to Jakob "Boy- I donno much aboot joustin' but tha only words I got fer you is stick on that damnable horse like black on a drow!"