Asha looks somber - a rarity for her, as Simon already knows - as she considers her teammate's words. "I don't... thank you, Simon. Perhaps I do need help," she says at last, "but I must trust that my brother has not forgotten me, or himself, so completely. For now, if you want to help me, help me find him. What happens after... we will see." She looks away, and her hand touches the small carving of Shelyn that dangles from her neck. After a few moments, she looks back at Simon. "I am afraid I know little of this 'Golden League,' but I don't think I care for them very much. Have you heard anything, master Greer?"
"I imagine it must be a local thing," Simon says, spreading his hands as far as he can with Asha hanging off one of his arms. "Which is not saying a lot, as this is a rather large continent. From the sound of it, they might be a crime syndicate of some sort, with an accent on the 'sin'. Perhaps we might enquire from another local...?"
"Perhaps tomorrow," Asha demurs. "The night is coming on, and we have some rather important engagements tomorrow. Also, I need to... think... on this a bit more. Let's go back to the inn."
"Most assuredly," Simon says.
He pats Asha's hand as he leads the way back to the inn.
"Things will look a little better with the dawn, dear lady," he says, smiling gently at the beautiful Monk. "They usually do. Rest, and tackle your problems with a refreshed mind. It's what I always try to do."
When you return to the Pavilion, the mood has taken a turn for the festive. Long tables of food and wine have been set about the fight stage, and drummers pound out a rhythmic beat for dance troupes scattered about for the audience's entertainment. The food is a selection of Tien and Avistani delicacies, with much of it being fare fresh from the ocean. There are many familiar faces here partaking in the feast, but several people you had seen last night are absent - to the victors, go the spoils, it seems.
Of the victors, you note five of them sitting together speaking with one another. Three of them are familiar to you - Gomwai, the scarred and tattooed hobgoblin; Risha Coaltongue, the Avistani woman you met on the boat here; and Mol Kor, the half-orc priest of Gorum that raced against Asha and Zarina.
The other two are a human male wearing chainmail and carrying a greataxe. He is tall and broad, well-muscled and bears the scars of one who has been the victor of many conflicts. The other is a comely half-elf woman wearing striking robes of a deep, emerald hue. Her skin is pale, but her hair a fiery red.
Curiously, they are all eating and drinking their own rations, rather than eating the feast provided by the tournament.
As Simon and Asha return to the more-familiar parts of the village, the monk notices the stream of people heading toward the pavilion, and her mouth drops open slightly. "The feast! I completely forgot about it! I never forget about food!" For a moment, at least, her melancholy appears to fall away, and she laughs delightedly. "And I almost kept you from it as well," she adds to Simon apologetically. "Come on, we don't want to miss it!"
When the two of them find the rest of their teammates in the pavilion, Asha greets them all warmly, taking her seat eagerly and clapping her hands for the dancers. After a few moments, she notes the presence of a few familiar faces at another table, and her eyebrows lift slightly. Did they form a team after arriving, as we did, or was this a long-standing arrangement? she wonders.
"No worries, my dear," Simon says, chuckling at Asha's apologies. "At my age, a little walk before dinner is a good thing. It helps get the old insides working."
Once inside the Golden Pavilion, Simon cordially greets the other Warriors of the Five Elements, takes a seat and... spots the competition.
"Interesting," Simon thinks as he sees the team of five... and that is pretty much all. They are apparently a rival team, and he has no occasion or reason to change it at this time.
"Excuse me," Simon says as he flags down a server. "This is a delightful feast, but my needs are... modest. Might I bother you for some boiled fish, boiled rice and a small salad, with another pot of the Pavilion's unsurpassable tea?"
"No worries, my dear," Simon says, chuckling at Asha's apologies. "At my age, a little walk before dinner is a good thing. It helps get the old insides working."
Once inside the Golden Pavilion, Simon cordially greets the other Warriors of the Five Elements, takes a seat and... spots the competition.
"Interesting," Simon thinks as he sees the team of five... and that is pretty much all. They are apparently a rival team, and he has no occasion or reason to change it at this time. The red-haired half-Elf, however, draws his attention. "The Ruby Phoenix is dead," he mutters to himself, and looks away from the other group. "She must be."
"She had bloody well better be, master, or else you won't get the artefact," the little voice whispers in the back of his mind.
In his hands, the sword cane seems to jump a little as Simon's hands spasm.
"Excuse me," Simon says as he flags down a server. "This is a delightful feast, but my needs are... modest. Might I bother you for some boiled fish, boiled rice and a small salad, with another pot of the Pavilion's unsurpassable tea?"
Perception
Zarina didn't notice anything other than Asha and Simon returning from their little adventure. She nods at the others as she continues her simple meals made from her rations and her own flask.
It looks up at his goblin, and whines to him.
"Everything smells delicious, but I want what they're having. I mean, they could be eating ham, but they're not. HAM!"
"What am they eating," Poog asks suspiciously, looking toward their potential rivals. "It no am what everyone else am eating!"
"...What?" Asha looks over at the goblin, distractedly.
"It say they am eating something else. Maybe they am odd like Simon but they am no looking feeble like him."
"Poog mean no offense, Simon," he says after a moment, realizing he might have insulted the older human.
Zak settles down to the meal with a healthy appetite and digs in to the offerings with gusto. With a mouth full of food, he notices the other group eating their own rations, and turns to his companions quietly. "What's with not eating the food here, look at that group, all of them are eating their own rations?"
"Doesn't seem that strange to me, to be honest. I have been doing the same. I just do it because I don't really trust any of the competitors or judges to be fair. I've seen cheating the last time I was here. If you are concerned, you can share my rations and water...."
"None taken, friend Poog," Simon says, inclining his head to the little Goblin. He smiles wistfully. "Better that my stomach becomes tender than my joints, hmm?"
His eyes glance over to the other group when he hears the discussion, and he smiles. This smile, however, does not reach his eyes. "Who feels like having a friendly chat with the competition and finding out whether they have... heard something? Or better yet..."
Simon's eyes harden as he whispers a single Word and makes a gesture.
Additionally, you recognize the human male sitting with the quintet.
It's Darys Shrike.
Your spell does detect the presence of poison - all of the wine comes from a single source, which appears to be tainted.
"The wine," Simon says in a sharp voice, clearly audible to anyone who cares to listen. "All the wine has been poisoned!"
Zak's eyes narrow and the color drains from his face, only to be replaced with dark red splotches. He pushes the food away, his appetite clearly lost and a firm line set to his jaw. After a minute of grinding his teeth, he slides over next to Asha and speaks with her quietly.
"My new friend, I ask of you a favor, of acceptance for what I must do. A man sits with that group who's head I will carry back home. I know your vows uphold justice, but trust me when I tell you the man is a cold blooded murderer and he kills for profit, his death will be justice. I know this because it was my best friend that he killed and me he left for dead many years ago, simply so he could steal what we possessed. I need no treasure from the vault if we are victorious, I will give that to you to further your holy vows in trade for the right to take this man's head. Please, grant me this favor!"
"Excuse me for making a scene, friends, but I must live with my conscience," Simon says as, with a wheeze of effort, he stands up on his chair and raps a spoon against a bowl.
"Excuse me!" the old man says, his voice carrying. "My fellow competitors! I should like to ask all with the power to cast that they execute the cantrip known as Detect Poison if they have studied it for the day!"
"Cheating in the tourney, yet again!" Zarina rages, as all of her old feelings about the last one begin bubbling to the surface.
Asha looks around, astonished - although she had been too interested in the dancers to start eating or drinking yet, she is almost as angry and horrified as Zarina. "What is going on here?" she shouts, looking toward the Emissary's table. In the hubbub, she does not seem to have heard - or at least registered - Zak's plea.
Poog heaves a heavy sigh and goes to look at Zakarras, poking him repeatedly in the liver.
"Here, you am eat this," he says, pulling out a leaf and handing it to his companion.
He then turns to his terrier companion and offers him the glass of wine in front of him. "You am want this?" he asks hopefully, scowling as It bares his teeth and growls back at him.
To treat poison means to tend to a single character who has been poisoned and who is going to take more damage from the poison (or suffer some other effect). Every time the poisoned character makes a saving throw against the poison, you make a Heal check. If your Heal check exceeds the DC of the poison, the character receives a +4 competence bonus on his saving throw against the poison.
A hedge witch can minister to a diseased or poisoned target, redirecting the affliction into herself. For a poisoned target, the witch must tend to him as a standard action; he makes his next saving throw against the poison as normal, but the witch suffers the effects of the failed save instead of the poisoned creature. For a diseased target, the witch must tend to the sick person for an hour; he makes his next saving throw against the disease as normal, but the witch suffers the effects of the failed save instead of the diseased creature. The witch does not actually become poisoned or diseased (and is not contagious and does not need to be cured), but suffers the effects of the affliction as if she had been. The witch normally uses this ability to extend the life of someone near death, giving him time to recover. This ability has no effect if the witch is immune to disease or poison. This replaces the witch's hex gained at 8th level.
Zak sniffs at the leaf, then decides what can be worse than already being poisoned, and eats the offering from Poog. "Thanks, my green skinned friend, I do believe I'm feeling a bit better already." Zak squints a single eye and a small trumpeting sound is heard from behind him. "It, was that you? Jeez!"
It growls at both Poog and Zakarras, barking a few times at his goblin. It glares up at Zak, snarling a bit at him.
"That was not me! Trust me, you'll know when it's me."
There are a few gasps as Simon shouts out his warning, and a few of the contestants begin casting spells of their own. "It's true," says the Vudrani woman Asha had noticed here before. "All of the wine is poisoned, though I cannot tell the type."
"But I can," says a squeaky voice. It is traced back to a corpulent Tian-Shu man with a ruddy complexion. An equally fat pig sits at his feet, and plates filled with piles of food sit before both man and beast. He grabs the goblet before him, and tosses the tainted wine to the ground. "Crimson hood, derived from the venom of cobras. Odorless, tasteless, but rarely lethal." The pig snorts once, and continues eating from his plate. "Quite right, Xinai. The rest of the food is untouched."
The contestants begin shouting loudly and indiscriminately - some direct their anger towards the Emissary, some towards the monks serving the wine, and others begin pointing fingers at one another.
"There was trickery here before. I don't trust the Emissary or the monks at all. Can any of you conjure food? That might be the smart decision from here on out."
"I'm afraid that is not the kind of magic I practice, Ms. Zarina," Simon says as he laboriously gets down off his chair with the aid of his cane. "I can, however, be relied upon to scan every drop and morsel presented to us as nutrition, and of course it is impossible to poison the viands at every single stall and store in this grand city. We should be alright."
Raising his voice again, Simon addresses the room: "My fellow competitors, please calm yourselves! Surely the Emissary and his staff can be relied upon to pay for the services of local priests to purge those who have partaken of poisoned wine. Fighting here is useless; let those who have partaken of the wine proceed in an orderly fashion to the nearest healing-temple and see to their health.
An investigation of this cowardly assault, prior to the second day of the tournament, must be conducted in a cool-headed, rational fashion, not by rage."
After her initial reaction, driven by the violation of her sense of justice, Asha listens to Simon's words and tries to aid Simon's effort. "Yes!" she calls out to the crowd. "We must all seek justice in this, not vengeance!"
Poog shrugs, sitting himself back down and tucking back into the food.
He'll keep an eye on the five contestants It first spotted.
"So you claim, old man," says the fat man with the squeaky voice. "But I can sense you carry poison upon yourself as well. How do we know you didn't poison the wine yourself to play the hero?" The angry voices of the competitors begin to turn your direction, but Asha's impassioned plea directs them away again.
"SILENCE!", cries the Emissary. He has risen from his throne, and his face is red with indignation. "There is a time and place for fighting within the arena, competitors, and this is not it. If you begin to experience any physical problems this evening, the church of Abadar will take it upon themselves to remove the effects. As for accusations - leave this to my staff. Rest assured, the culprits will be discovered, and dealt with to the furthest extent of the law." He turns and storms down the back of the ziggurat.
The monks do their best to restore order to the evening, and while the fireworks over the bay are quite beautiful, they do little to settle the tense mood over the tournament grounds.
"I do carry some poison," Simon says with calm dignity, addressing the fat man. "For my weapons, and none of it lethal. I'll fight an opponent tooth and nail and break him down as I must. But I will not poison him before a match. I will submit to truth-reading magic, if this august company demands it; I do not carry lethal poisons, and I did not touch the wine to befoul it."
Having spoken, Simon sits back down and beckons one of the servers. "Tea, please," he says. "And some boiled fish, boiled rice, and a small salad, if possible. Thank you."
The server swiftly brings Simon the bland repast he requested. As he chews on the unseasoned rice, he hears a familiar voice.
Your father would never have suffered that fat fool's uncivil tongue. Just whom does he take the Greers for, exactly? I have half a mind to give him a good bloodletting...
Asha turns a wary eye on the group of competitors who seem to have known about the poison, but she shifts position to do so while also being able to talk to Zakarras. "Now, Master Zakarras... I think you were asking something extremely troubling of me. Can you repeat it?"
Simon frowns a little at the voice, but stoically continues to chew his way through his meal.
"Perhaps he would, perhaps he would not. But father is not here, and I am. I see no reason to dirty your blade or the family name with the blood of a fool, when all he does is flap his gums at us. Patience, mighty blade. Patience..."
Poog shrugs, slightly disappointed as nothing bursts into flames, and returns to his food, sure that he'll be able to handle any other poison that might be in it.
"Dear Asha, simply put, I want to take that man's life as punishment for the murder of my friend and attempted murder of myself. I know not what form of trial of proof you usually require, but I give you my word that this man is a cold blooded murderer." Zak holds his gaze steady, a firm line set to his jaw.
The remainder of the evening passes without further incident, and you make your trip back to New Harbor to rest after your first sucessful day. You are awakened by a servant bearing a small tray of food. "I hope your rest was refreshing, Warriors. You are not scheduled to fight until this evening, so you may spend the day as you wish. The Emissary has issued another challenge for all remaining contestants - this time, one of archery. You may, of course, watch the proceedings, or simply explore Xielan as you wish. We are at your disposal." He bows and leaves the tray in your room. It is simple fare - a pot of hot tea and a bowl of rice porridge with a stick of sugarcane in it for sweetness.
"Zakarras! Sounds like this one is your cup of tea. I've seen you with your bow. You'll make mincemeat of the competition!"
"Archery, count me in!" Zak starts his daily routine of checking through his gear and equipment, making sure everything is in order. He'll wait for the poison detection exercised by Simon before enjoying any of the breakfast.
Before anyone eats, Simon runs a check on it with Detect Poison. After this is done, he bows to Asha.
"Shall we attend, milady, or would you prefer to take a walk?" he asks, smiling sweetly. "Then again, it might be better to attend the archery demonstration in case our comrades have need of us."
Your cantrip does not reveal any poison in the area, other than that which you carry.
"Our meal is safe to eat," Simon pronounces once the spell has run its course. "Tuck in, do. In truth, I do not expect more poison soon; the mystery coward will probably try a new tactic, since his attempt to befoul everyone's drink with red hood was scuttled."
Asha is silent for a moment as she considers Zakarras' words. When she finally does speak, she does so with great sadness. "You ask for what I could never give you, my friend. Permission to commit murder is simply not something I would ever offer; it is not within my oaths nor within my soul. And if you were to try to kill this man openly in the streets, I would try to stop you as I would anyone who tried to kill another without provocation, as I would try to stop him were he to try to kill you as he slew your brother. But I rather suspect you plan to kill him within the tournament itself, and there I cannot stop you. But I ask you - I beg you - not to take that course. If you truly seek justice, remember that vengeance is never the best path toward it. Your brother's killer has blood on his hands, but ask yourself: would your brother want you to share that stain? Every life is a thing of beauty, and every soul recognizes that beauty in the world around it. Nothing that lives can fully deny that beauty, and that means there is always hope for redemption. Turn this man from his past and convince him to work for the betterment of the world, and you will have truly found a way to honor your brother's memory." She sighs, gripping Zakarras' hand before turning away.
"I would not miss Zakarras' show for the world," Asha smiles in response to Simon's question. "Every performer understands the value of a good audience, and it's time I did my part in the stands!" She digs into her food with gusto, smiling and laughing, the shadows that hung over last night apparently completely forgotten.