You all find yourselves heading to Eleder, the colonial capital of Sargava. You had not managed to get quite that far south your last trip to southern Garund, only hitting the northern border during your visit to the Kaava lands and the grippli of Kihirik Village.
You're not sure why you're being sent back to the jungle, just that you were selected specifically for this particular mission and are to meet up with Venture-Captain Finze Bellaugh in Eleder for the specifics. Though it has been stressed that you need to arrive before a very specific date... which is why most of you find yourselves en route now, for it is not a quick journey, as you are all well aware.
Eleder, the capital of Sargava, is alive with activity when your ship finally docks after its long voyage from the Inner Sea.
There is an almost palpable hum of excitement in the air that seems to be raising everyone's spirits, while the oppressive heat does what it can to beat it back down again. Unlike your previous trip here though, you quickly grow accustomed to it, like an old friend... the heat of southern Garund barely noticeable anymore.
The crowds and bustle do not get any less as you move away from the Portside district into the city itself, everywhere you look people seem to be gathering and celebrating. From overheard conversations, and a few inquiries, you soon learn that one of the areas biggest events is due to happen in only a few days. The Sargava Chalice. Apparently some sort of physical competition.
People have come from all over for the event, explaining all the crowds, and excitement in the air. It also explains why finding a room is nearly impossible. Luckily, the local lodge was expecting you, and has a cots set aside for you.
Unfortunately, not everyone you were expecting has arrived. There is no sign of either Monty or Tad, neither of them were on your ship, though you were lead to believe that they were on their way as well. You can only assume they caught a different vessel, or are staying elsewhere.
You're still not sure why you've been brought here, though it is not hard to surmise it has something to do with the Sargava Chalice competition, given the date you were encouraged to arrive by.
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Mr. Monty appears from around a corner, growling at the flail hanging from his back.
How many times do I have to tell you? Azlanti is a dead language! Keep it to the basics! It's not my fault you guys use intonation to differentiate between directions!
HEY! MY people didn't descend into barbarism and cannibalism thank you! Or need I remind you what was in that temple I found you in?
As he walks up to the rest of the group, he rubs his forehead and looks to Fali.
Fali, I swear, I apologize for every joke about people in your head talking all the time.
Monty's eye twitches in frustration.
Out of all the trials my masters and the gods themselves have given me, you are truly the worst Slitherbane.
Eventually, you are summoned to the office of the Venture-captain of the Eleder lodge. It is a small room, in the back, but sporting a fantastic view of the harbor through a large open window. Through it, the sweet scent of pipe smoke vies with the salty morning breeze coming off the harbor.
Venture-Captain Finze Bellaugh is already there, waiting for you. He is a large, portly Mwangi man, with a bald head and a bushy black beard.
"Come. Come. Welcome!" He exclaims, with barely contained excitement, as he motions everyone to sit. He himself quickly settles into a comfortable-looking padded chair behind the office's lone desk. The room sports only two large brown couches otherwise, though there should be enough room for everyone.
Finze seems to be on a similar line of thought, as he frowns for a moment as he does a head count. "Weren't there supposed to be six of you? They said there was a grippli too." He quickly shuffles through some papers on his desk, then nods. "Yes. Tad. Where is Tad?"
As it becomes clear you are not sure what happened to Tad he sighs and shrugs slightly. "Well, I'm sure he'll show up." He pauses, a frowns working its way onto his face. "I hope he'll show up. We wouldn't want to go into this a man short."
He leans back in his chair, patting his belly and smiling again. "And I have some fine work for you, for sure!"
"As I'm sure you've noticed, Eleder is a hotbed of activity at the moment." He waves one hand back towards the open window behind him. "It is not usually such a tourist attraction, but everyone is all hyped up for the annual Sargava Chalice competition, which is set to get underway tomorrow morning!"
"If you haven't had your ears talked off by the locals about it yet, the Sargava Chalice is an annual overland team foot race, held just outside of Eleder." He points towards a map of Sargava on the wall. "The course, well, that changes every year, but generally speaking, it tends to cross some of the wildest territory Sargava has to offer... from the Laughing Jungle in the south, all the way to the Bandu Hills up north... and everything in between!"
He flashes you a bright toothy smile. "With all the unrest in Kabuto forcing us to close our lodge there, I've long felt it would be a great way to up our image with the locals... but the idea never gained much traction... until now. This year the Pathfinder Society will field a team, and you have been chosen to represent us!"
He pauses, while you take a moment to ponder the revelation.
"Of course, there's more to it than just traveling cross country." He continues, shaking his head slightly. "You also have to do it pretty much naked! Part of the survival element. Participants get a single set of mundane clothing and that's it. You can bring no tools. No weapons. No knick knacks, magical or otherwise. No items of any sort. Not even any food or water. To win this race, you must scrounge up, create, or find everything you might need to feed or defend yourselves out in the wilderness. And of course, get to the finish line before any of the other teams doing the same thing."
"Now, be sure, we are not putting you through all this for no reason. There's more at stake than just upping our profile in the region." He looks around subconsciously, as if someone might be listening, before going on. "The race is named after the prize awarded for winning it: a finely wrought golden chalice that was discovered during the early days of Eleder's construction, when it was still just a Chelish colony. Ordinarily, the winners just get their names engraved on it, but we've made special arrangements with the Sargavan government to allow us to take possession of the Chalice for a year, should we win. Our studies indicate that the chalice is no simple trophy, but actually dates all the way back to the ancient cyclopes empire of Ghol-Gan! Not only that, but there are hints that it is also a key! A key that can unlock ruins long sealed by magic!"
"So," He concludes, sitting back in his chair, the more exciting news delivered. "As you well imagine, it is imperative that we manage to secure the Chalice for the Society this year. I've been told that you have all spent considerable time in the wilds of the Expanse, and are well-versed in the dangers and challenges you might be facing. But more than that, you are also all used to operating as a team. It is for both of those reasons that we decided to enlist you specifically for this task. You came highly recommended from Nantambu. Hell, even Rand didn't say anything bad... a miracle in itself."
He chuckles to himself, before going on. "As I mentioned, things don't kick off until tomorrow morning, so you should have time to familiarize yourselves with the region as best you can." He points back towards the door you entered through. "The library next door contains a great many books on the subject, so feel free to peruse it, if you wish."
"Otherwise," He adds with an expansive shrug. "Do what you need to in town, maybe have a big meal... I doubt what you manage to scrounge out in the jungle will be quite so filling. Just remember, you will not be able to bring anything with you when you start the race."
His tone gets serious for a moment, "And I would strongly caution you against trying to cheat in that regard. The officials are apparently cracking down rather hard on that this year, and our goal is to raise our reputation in the area, not jeopardize it or our chances of retrieving the cup as our prize."
"I'm sure you have lots of questions."
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The tall, blonde warrior stop pouring herself a drink.
Just a few clothes and that's all? Interesting choice. Hope my friends have Nothing against tatooed girls. We should have a strong meal tonight and some rest.
She drinks her glass, anyway.
And I guess stealing the chalice, putting a fake one, and giving the true chalice back after a year is out of question? I'm just studying the opportunies here...
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Monty chuckles.
Ya hear that Slitherbane? Gonna go get a cup that belonged to your people! Well, I'M going to get a cup, I think you have to stay here.
Hey, it's not my fault your creator didn't think a magic weapon needed legs.
Well maybe you could convince them otherwise... oh wait, you refuse to speak in anything besides that ancient language, and since I'm one of the few people that speak it, your out of luck.
Yeah Yeah, excuses excuses....
Turning to the others, Monty rubs his tail against his chin in thought.
Going without Slitherbane, or any weapons for that matter, doesn't matter to me much. Did without him for plenty of time, and I can still fight just fine without him. But that might be rougher for the rest of you, no?
He turns to Fali.
Will it mess with the residents in your head to much if your forced to leave your relics behind sweety? I imagine you won't be able to do your séance without them right?
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Brady seems to agree with Monty. "Yeah, I'm going to be fine--well, mostly fine--without much of my equipment. These fists are usually all I need."
"But the rest of you..." His mind goes to something as simple as Tad's holy symbol; he turns to Bellaugh. "Are you certain there's no way to get some items to us out in the field? I promise you our competitors will be trying to do the same; we'd be at a disadvantage if we didn't try ourselves." Something lights up behind his eyes at what he said.
"Speaking of competitors... who are we competing against? Something tells me the Aspis Consortium wouldn't miss this--if only to deny the Society its prize! Who has won in the previous years... are they still competing?"
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Dale looks up from the couch he apparently fell into at the start of the meeting. His head still swimming and swaying with the breeze. Dru swore those drinks were mixed lightly. I think she underestimates the true power of her body's metabolic power verses alcohol compared to the rest of us. Merely a sniff should have told her those were at least 50/50 if not stronger... maybe that's what 'lite' meant.. more on color than alcoholic percentage..
He finally starts to come out of his stupor as he catches something about no knick knacks, no tools... "Did I just hear you say, and I quote "You also have to do it pretty much naked! Part of the survival element. Participants get a single set of mundane clothing and that's it. You can bring no tools. No weapons. No knick knacks, magical or otherwise. No items of any sort. Not even any food or water."?
[b]"This could prove very problematic... I can't imagine leaving my poor note book behind! Nevermind my alchemy supplies... although I can likely scavenge some replacements for some things. How safe is this route? No armor or weaponry could prove extremely dangerous! I'll need to look at the maps and spend some quality time in your library... I've much to do! Yes much!" He finally pauses a bit to look at the venture captain and let his knowledge flood his senses about the topics at hand.
When that country fell into civil strife after the death of Aroden, about a century back, Sargava decided to declare its independance.
When Cheliax finally resolved their internal strife, they sent a large fleet to reclaim the upstart nation, but the government of Sargava entered into a somewhat one-sided alliance with the Pirates of the Shackles to keep the Cheliax navy at bay. An alliance that continues to this day... and a cost that is taking a heavier and heavier toll on the city's financial situation every year.
Still, it seems to be doing well regardless, relying mostly on the shipping trade, and the export of valuable minerals and gemstones from the mines further inland. It also has a few internal strifes of its own, mostly having to do with relationships with many of the native populations.
As for Bellaugh you do not know anything beyond the fact he is the local Venture-Captain. You recall Arvelos mentioning him a few times during your time in Nantambu, but nothing more.
What you know about the race itself was minimal, until now. Though you seem to be mostly caught up now! The fact that the physical chalice itself might be a remnant of the Gol-Ghan empire is new... and you'd love to get a look at it yourself!
Bellaugh gives Brady a disappointed look. "Really, the first question you ask is how to cheat the competition? We have no control over how other teams approach this, but we do have control over how we do. You were picked specifically because we thought you had the skill sets to overcome the challenges, and give us the best chance of winning. Fairly."
"And no, we're not going to steal it." He adds, with a put-upon glare at Dru.
He seems a little put out that the first two comments involve trying to game the competition.
"As for who else is entering," He continues, "That we don't know. If past years are any indication, there are usually about half a dozen teams, give or take. Entrants are not required to officially announce themselves until the opening ceremonies tonight. You will all have to be there, of course, as immediately afterwards, you will be sequestered away and taken to wherever the start line is this year."
"I have heard that a group of the Song'o halflings might be planning to join." He offers. "Apparently its quite the talk around town, given how reclusive they typically are. I expect the Trail Hounds will enter again this year as well... though after what happened last year, it's hard to say." He shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Haven't heard anything from the Consortium though. They usually do not go into things that won't make them a profit, and luckily do not have much of a foothold in Eleder in the first place. Either way, you will find out tonight. You can announce the Pathfinder participation, along with the rest."
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Dale relays what he knows about the city and the race, which isn't all that much really. "With maybe some time spent in this library I can help figure out how best to remedy some of our short comings? On the issue with weapons I'm sure we can scrounge up clubs and quarterstaves easily enough yes? Maybe even fashion some slings from a bit of torn clothing?" His ears perk up a bit further as Song'o Halflings are mentioned...
Dale waves off the VCs concerns with Dru and Brady "I'm not sure you read our file fully from back in the jungle. We've had to pull out all the stops to make it out in one piece. Dru and Brady are merely trying to keep all angles covered, as good agents should yes?"
He pulls out his notebook and starts writing furiously, knowing full well he'll need to leave it behind in the coming days. "A few questions if I may?" He says this as a question but leaves no time for rebuttal, quickly following up with a list of questions.
"Do you have an idea of how long this race is? Time or distance? Gathering food and water is time consuming, and knowing how long we can last without using such time could be helpful."
"Do you know who in the recent past has won this race? Who could be our biggest competitors? Also, does anyone else know of the chalice's history?" He turns and speaks in an odd language in Monty's direction:
"Can you and the Society personally guarantee the safety and intellectual integrity of our possessions? I never travel without my notebook and leaving it behind has me very anxious." This contains some of my most important life's work, and they want me to leave it in a box of clubs and daggers like a garage sale?
The Song'o are a tribe of reclusive halflings that hail from deep in the Laughing Jungle. You seem to recall reading somewhere that the halflings tribes from that section of the world are all cannibals... though that might just be a rumor. It is odd to see them enter the competition though, as they are apparently very skittish and wary of outsiders, almost never leaving their jungle homes.
As for the Laughing Jungle, it takes up much of the southern section of Sargava, its western edge not too far from Eleder itself. No one seems to know where it got its name from, though...
Bellaugh merely shrugs at the remainder of Dale's questions, patting his prominent belly. "I have never had cause to test how long I can go without food." He replies. "The races have typically lasted five or six days, I think... though I think I heard they shortened the course somewhat this year."
"The Trail Hounds won the competition last year, though only one of them survived to get his name on the trophy. Fellow named Philt. I'm sure he'll be at the opening ceremony." He frowns slightly pausing a moment before adding more. "There are rumors he won by butchering all the rest of the contestants... but again, those are only rumors. I believe the race officials investigated... and his name went on the cup, so apparently they found no proof of such claims."
"As for your possessions, the race officials lock all that away at the conclusion of the opening ceremonies... returning it afterwards, of course. If you have some things you'd rather keep here, we can do so." He gives Dale a rather offended look. "Though I take offense at your tone young man. Please remember who you are talking to. If you do not trust your fellow Pathfinders or their Venture-Captain, you are free to store your possessions wherever does make you comfortable."
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"I would rather leave my holy symbol and holy text here, if I can. I don't like the idea of someone who might not respect them handling them. However, I need to take them with me for now to show the tattoo artist what I need."
Tad goes with Dru to find a tattoo artist. He trusts her experience to help him find someone who is trustworthy. He uses the line drawing of a holy symbol in his holy book to show the artist what he wants, since that is probably easier to copy from than a 3D holy symbol.
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Still dressed in her uproariously colorful clothes and headscarf, the middle-aged half-elf that is Faliana spends time chatting with her group of friends having come over on the boat with most of them. Right in the middle of her suggesting they go visit her second cousin who runs a tavern in the docking area of town she gets interrupted by the man she most wanted to see... and his shiny new toy. She spends a few moments watching the two interact in shock before giving him a flat angry look.
"You told me to go on ahead AND to try learning Ancient Azlanti, which was not an easy task mind you, because you were going and picking up THAT thing? You KNOW I don't like it! We could have had a nice boat trip over with everyone else, but nooo, you had to get the speaking weapon that hurts me if I pick it up. Any grief it gives you is well deserved!"
In a huff she sits down as far away from the offending object and it's man, muttering responses in broken Azlanti at it and Monty's back and forth. She does, however perk up for the briefing, but as she listens she starts thinking. "We'd have to go without anything? Well that's disappointing, I finally was able to pick up the yellowheart longspear I'd been wanting, and I also got a nice necklace and a headband... Wait, Nothing?" She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small velvet bag which she gently holds and rmoves the contents, showing her spirit's relics. "... Including these? Ashava-damn! This is going to be more difficult than I thought!"
She stares at the pile of things in front of her until her eyes alight on what looks like a wolf tooth and a small idea of inspiration dawns on her face. "Wait, things that are part of our bodies are allowed, right? If I say replaced a tooth with this one, would that be an issue? Otherwise, I don't know how much use I can be."
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Brady grumbles at the admonishment. Just like the Society, give you a task that requires loose ethics, choose you because your ethics are loose, then tell you to be ethical. Bah!
He's silent for the remainder of the briefing, listening attentively, but clearly certain that any additional questions of his won't lead to any good answers.
"I'll leave my stuff with the officials; that's alright. I'm sure there'd be a crazy outcry if they were pillaging the contestants' things."
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Monty blushes as Fali gives him a well deserved verbal thrashing.
Now sweety, I know you don't like him, but he can't help how his magic works, any sting was unintentional! Right Slitherbane?
If a look could kill an inanimate object, Monty's surely would have destroyed Slitherbane.
I said, RIGHT Slitherbane?
Monty gives a small huff and shakes his head.
I didn't want to miss the boat ride sweety, I promise, and hey, if nothing else at least we can spend this mission together. That is always for the best isn't it?
He gives her a pleading smile.
At mention of the wolf tooth, he hoots a bit in laughter.
Oh my sweety, the lengths you'll go to. The wolf's tooth isn't magic right? If so, it might be easier for me to hold onto it... can tuck it into fur somewhere and we'll have enough trouble finding it!
He hoots a bit and smiles and gives her shoulder a soft squeeze.
It'll be alright. Even if we can't sneak it in, your no slouch with your spear and will be helpful even without the extra folks in your noggin to help out.
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Dale raises an eyebrow as the VC gets upset "Oh. Sorry, I was concerned with leaving things with the race officials. I'll be much less anxious leaving my more personal belongings here at the office, thank you." He does indeed try to smooth things over with the man, he is their boss after all.
He does poke Monty as he starts talking about Fali and her use of the spear "What part of NO equipment did you miss out on? I'm sure we can fashion a crude spear if needed, but nothing near as good as the yellowwood ones we were gifted." He quickly returns to thoughts on the race and calculations.
Before everyone runs off like hyena's after their next and maybe last meal, Dale urges them to check out the library to do some research. "Wouldn't you at least like to get a better understanding of the local terrain? Perhaps the edible plants of the area? Possible replacements for magical components?" He looks at the group.
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Monty shrugs at Dale.
A spear is a pointy stick. My people have been making pointy sticks for a long time. Sure, it won't be as nice, but it'll still be a pointy stick, and Fali is good both with Pointy Sticks, as well as her fists...
Why, she's amazing with all of her body! Or is it just that her body is amazing! Hohohoho!
Monty chortles at the joke as he waggles his eyebrows. Even those who don't speak the ancient language can understand the telepathic groan from the weapon.
Course, I'd be happy to help you find a stick in the Jungle my sweet Fali, and fashion it as you need...
Nah, to easy, no finesse to them. Besides, it's Fali's stick, not mine, though I will say her stick always was bigger, Hohohoh!
Dale, you've never really given the 'no food' thing much thought... you know there's probably a limit, a few days at least, but you've never had course to research it! Fluids are usually the bigger concern.
You do feel a little peckish right now... and it has been a few hours at least! A data point!
Bellaugh merely shakes his head slightly, at Drusilla's question. "We won't know who's going to be involved 'til tonight. Can't comment on the teams' until we know who they will be! That being said, supposedly folks trying to cheat has been pretty bad the last few years... which is why they're cracking down on it this year."
He doesn't look directly at Brady, though you can tell the comments from earlier are still fresh on his mind.
"Anyway, feel free to make what preparations you need to." He finally says. "The ceremony will begin as soon as the sun sets, at a tavern called the Filling Cup. Should be easy enough to find, half the town will be trying to get in. I'll meet you there. Try not to be late!"
Dale, you will end up spending the remainder of the day buried in books in the library. Not because it takes you that long to find anything useful... but because once you are surrounded by so much information, you more-or-less lose track of time.
The first things you find are a complete series of almanacs, that talk about weather in Sargava... each summarizing the information from the previous, until the more recent volume has data from almost a century of observations!
With over a hundred years of data to reference, you are able to do some calculations of your own, and come to the conclusion that it is highly likely to be wet for most of the race. Cloudy and drizzling. Of course, given it rained almost last time you ventured out into the jungle, you don't find that overly concerning... in fact it might keep the temperature's down and relatively cool. So heat exhaustion probably won't be a problem... which is unfortunately, as your group is used to such conditions...but now the other groups probably won't have to worry about it either. There will be the possibility of flooding in low-lying areas though, if there's enough precipitation. As well, it is coming close to storm season, so there is the possibility of such by the end of the week. Hopefully it will be over by then though, so likely not a concern!
You spend some time reading through some reference material on the local area, and learn that most of the water sources east of Eleder tend to be clean and free of diseases. A relief on one side, as you recall the Pox that hit you on your trip to Jalunth and would not be eager to go through it again, but again, having easy access to fresh water negates another of your advantages in the upcoming race! You do find one of the books rather interesting, as it talks about explorers crafting makeshift water containers out of some of the local bamboo plants. That same book also talks about several edible plants, insects and mushrooms
common in the area, with drawings of each.
A series of geological surveys distracts you for a bit, mostly talking about the minerals and gems being mined in the local mines, but as part of the report it also talks about the fact that much of the Bandu Hills is made up of volcanic rocks, and contain abundant deposits of obsidian. You're Dru could do something with such resources, as far as crafting weapons goes.
Another book talks about the Laughing Jungle, on the other side of Sargava, and you note there appear to be no end of hardwoods that grow there, many of which would also serve for creating weapons, or tools. The book also has a large section of diagrams and descriptions made by local native tribes, on the construction of many such tools and weapons!
Brady, spends most of the afternoon, just walking about town talking to folks. Even his normally surly nature is not enough to dampen the local spirits, and he finds no end of people willing to talk to him!
It becomes clear to you, pretty early on, that the entire Sargavan Chalace event is a huge source of income for the city. Not just for the commerce that happens, and the influx of visitors to pump coins into the economy... but also because there appears to be a huge gambling operation set up around it all! Most of which appears to be controlled by the government. It would not surprise you to learn that the majority of the profits come from here.
Based on what Dale mentioned earlier, about the country's history, you suspect events like this, and the coins they pull in from them, are just one of many efforts by the government to pay off the Shackles pirates and mercenaries that keep Cheliax off their backs.
Much of the talk, from the locals, has to do with questions about what the race organizers are doing about cheaters. Apparently it had gotten quite out of hand over the past few years, and they are cracking down on it this year! The general consensus seems to be that start time penalties are going to be assessed for more minor offenses... but
major infractions are likely to lead to outright disqualification this year!
As you go, you do start to note a more subtle undercurrent to everything, mostly from the native locals, and mostly having to do with political discontent that appears to be quite widespread through the entire country, with its roots apparently in Kalabuto, but reaching even to Eleder. The race also seems to be serving as a distraction to the locals from such discontent... even they getting dragged into the excitement of it all. Though you do hear rumors of a native group possibly entering the race this year to protest in some way.
All in all, everyone spends the rest of the afternoon, preparing or relaxing, or getting ready for the evenings festivities.
But, by the time the sun sets out over Desperation Bay, all six of you find yourselves at the large tavern known as the Filling Cup. The place is packed, and you'd guess has been all day. Venture-Captain Bellaugh is already there, and seems to be gamely defending a small table off in one corner, and quickly motions you to join him, over the din.
"Ah, good!" He says, almost shouting over the crowd. "Utilinus isn't hear yet, but I'm sure he'll making his opening speech soon enough! Get a drink, get a chair!" He glances around with a wry smile. "If you can find either."
Once you're settled, he huddles you up, and gives some last minute instructions. "So, once the Grand Custodian gives his introduction, all the groups who intend to participate will be required to announce themselves."
He points over to a rather rough looking group across the room. "See the woman there, with the scar. I think that's the new representatives of the Trail Hounds. That hard looking fellow beside her, that's Philt. The only survivor of last year's winning group.
He glances around the chaotic mass of people. [b]"Not sure who else is here to enter, or just here to witness. Either way, one of you will have to make the announcement for the Pathfinder team. It's usually customary to play yourselves up a bit, though often entrants seem to spend more time taunting or insulting the other teams. All in good fun, yes?"
He laughs, clearly the introductions are a big draw for many, just to see who can construct the biggest boasts, or trash the most heated talk.
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Dale stumbles into the chaotic scene, rubbing his eyes a bit and holding his stomach. He tries to make it inside but the crowds are a bear. "Excuse me... yes coming through? Excuse me!" He makes absolutely no progress until he starts ranting and raving in a deep, dark language like a possessed lunatic at the local riff-raff blocking the doorway.
He smiles as they part and he heads over to the table. "I made it! And I'm STARVED! Did I miss dinner?" He makes his way towards whoever looks like they work here to order anything off the menu to stop his growling stomach.
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Much to Dale's dismay, he will find it extremely difficult to catch the attention of a barmaid, and by the time he does, he is even further dismayed to learn that the kitchen is closed, and they are only serving beverages! For the time being, his stomach remains empty after his long day of study. Of course, even that much takes a fair bit of gesticulating and trying to shout above the din of the crowd...
At least that is, until the noise levels suddenly drop and attention focuses towards the far end of the room where a small platform has been erected.
An elderly man steps onto the platform, dressed in the elaborate ceremonial regalia with a sword and sun emblem of Iomidae emblazoned on it. Bellaugh quickly motions you all to pay attention.
"That's the Grand Custodian." He says, suddenly excited despite himself. "Baron Utilinus. Looks like we're about to start."
And indeed, everyone else seems to have realized this to, as attentions seems to have turned towards the the elderly priest. The Baron surveys the throng of people in the tavern with a slight smile on his face, clearly enjoying his part in all of this, the stands tall to address the crowd.
He calls, pointing one finger at the crowd and tracing a horizontal arc to encompass everyone.
There is a loud shout of acknowledgement from the crowd, and loud cheering.
He continues, once the cheers die down.
Again, more shouts to the affirmative, and cheers.
He goes on, his voice ringing out over the assembled voices.
He cries. With that last, he lifts up a large golden chalice over his head, and the crowd once more breaks out into raucous cheering! All around, people are looking around, to see who will be first to step forward and announce their entry, though no one seems in any particular hurry.
The Grand Custodian does not appear to have expected any immediate responses either, as he steps down off the platform after his speech, and sits at a table nearby, with a few of the race organizers.
Already you see a couple of people forcing their way through the crowds towards the platform the Grand Custodian just vacated.
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Monty flips over some of the crowd, landing on the podium with a flourish.
If ya don't know my fuzzy face by now, You should! I'm Monty of the Pathfinders! Swift of fist and tail! Slayer of bat demons and more!
He continues waiving to each pathfinder in turn.
With me is Pathfinder Brady, the iron fists, who's fist have beaten iron golems into scrap! Who fought devilfish in the bay of absalom and lived to tell the tale!
He points to Dale.
But we have Pathfinder Dale, who's so hairy he's an honory Vanara! But be careful laughing at him! The man has more knowlege than the entire library of absalom all together! Nothing escapes his keen mind, so watch out!
He leaps over and pecks Fali on the cheek and raises her hand up.
Faliana, our first beautiful warrior, who's spear has skewered a hundred Charau-Ka! She speaks with the wisdom of the ages, and hosts spirit of the great warrior Moke within her!
He bounds over to Dru.
Not to be out done, we have the Maiden of the Stalwart Spear, the Bodyguard who has brought her charges from the depths of the mwangi expanse alive, who has fought demons of blood and mist, we have Drusilla!
He turns and lifts Tad up to one shoulder.
And Last, but absolutely not least, we have Tad! This little grippli has saved more lives than I can count, several of them my own! You'll never find a more devout servant of the goddess of light, and this little guy can practically bring the dead to life!
He points at the crews and winks.
Don't forget our names. We're the Pathfinders, and Explore, Report, Cooperate is our Motto! We're a family, and this race is gonna be a thousand times tougher now that we're here! We captured the 3 headed snake demon of the cyclopian runes, rode the Iron Golems of the Azlanti, snatched eggs from the teeth of the megafauna of the mwangi, grabbing a cup is going to be easy as pie.
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Dale raises an eye as their local Vanarian leaps away, still clutching his cavernous belly. "You'd think he'd have learned by now to not run off alone." He whispers.
As the speech goes on he calculates the overall veracity of each statement, nodding along slightly as each hits its mark. He does sum us up in a boisterous sort of context. I can't imagine how some of that is strategically appropriate though. He smiles and claps his hands together at the conclusion before rummaging into his pack for a bit of stale jerky.
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Faliana watches the antics of the monkey man as he jumps around the room with a small smile on her face, the offense of the mace forgotten for now. Ah, there's the man I know and love! As he finishes his speech, Faliana's smile turns down as she realizes that Monty's speech just didn't have the impact needed to wow the crowd.
She places a more determined look on her face and slides in next to Monty. With a wink and smile, she scoops up the man and steps up onto a table proudly proclaiming, "And not only do we represent the prestigious Pathfinders, a society I know you have all heard of, but we're among, if not THE most experienced group they have when it comes to the deeps of the Mwangi Expanse!" She lets this ring out for a second while setting the monkey down, before smiling and starting to list the exploits of the group.
"We've faced down the spirits of Charau-ku in their own lair! Destroying the idol even as it corrupted the minds of nearly everyone in the building! We've done operations right under the nose of our mortal enemies, The Aspis Consortium, in their own stronghold of Bloodcove with them nary the wiser!"
She gives a slight smirk after this, commenting, " Now I know what your thinking. 'But that's not in the Expanse!' 'They're just spirits, they're nowhere near as bad as the real thing!' But we've done that too! We've been up the the surely infamous by now Azlanti Ridge, activated the ancient golaiths there and fought off the Charau-ku in. The. Flesh! And not once, but TWICE!"
Pausing for effect, Faliana gives Monty a squeeze before continuing. " But that's not all, by far! We've saved the Khirikhik Tribe of Grippli from the evil assassin Five-Knives, encountered a full grown T-Rex and lived, and even been to the deepest parts of the Expanse. We've fought foes that names don't exist for in Taldane; meet, saved and befriended the Ekujae elves as this tattoo is living proof!" With this she gestures to the tattoo that extends down her cheek, before building to a crescendo.
"But all of that pales in comparison to our biggest exploits, banishing and sealing not one, but two ancient evils that awoke and tried to plague the land! The ancient evil of Dehu Inu that killed hundreds of elves in ancient times and was poised to strike again! And the biggest scariest of all, a full-grown Xacarba that could entrance with a glance and bat a fulm grown man like a speck of dust! We succeeded in sealing the beast where the cyclopses of millenia ago failed!"
With one more pause, she smiles predatorily at the assembled people. ” So all you gathered here, mark my words. If you're here to watch the race, rejoice, if you intend to compete, contend yourselves with competing over second place, FOR WE WILL BE WINNING THIS!”
As Monty leaps on the stage, he manages to cut off the stern woman that Venture-captain Bellaugh pointed out earlier a part of the Trail Hounds, who was about to step up. She scowls, clearly annoyed.
The Vanaran then goes on a long introduction, which seems to be entertaining the crowd for a bit, until he leaps off the stage to continue it. As soon as he does so, it suddenly becomes harder to pick him out of the crowd, as he bounds over to the Pathfinder's table trying to personally introduce everyone else. Noticing he's losing them, Faliana steps in trying to bolster his attempts, but it is too late, the crowd is already turning away, bored or unable to hear, and are quickly distracted by another volunteer, that has taken the stage after Monty vacated it. The woman from the Trail Hounds.
She instantly seems to draw attention her way, just from stepping up on the platform. A long scar runs down from her forehead, across her left eye to her cheek, a marker of some long ago injury, and she wears an elaborate tricorne hat, making her look more like a pirate than anything else. There is a bit of a sneer on her face, as she watches the Pathfinders across the sea of onlookers, then she starts up her own introduction, despite Monty and Fal still trying to talk.
"I am Cornella Yorke," She yells, her voice drawing the crowd's attention, a small half-smile on her face. "And I speak for the Trail Hounds."
There is an immediate response from the crowd, all of them recognizing the name of last year's champion team.
Cornella points to her companions. "Rupert, Archibald, Neville, and Drummond!" She calls, introducing them by name. All four raise their arms in acknowledgement. "We are the roughest, toughest, meanest band of rascals you’ll find between here and Bloodcove, and we fear neither beast nor jungle!" She pauses for a moment, another slight smile crossing her lips as she glances back towards your table. "Or overly verbose Pathfinders!"
This pulls a few hearty chuckles from some of the crowd.
"Our band has trained with Philt himself, winner of last year's Chalice, and we’re eager to test our mettle. We’ll prove we’ve earned the right to bear the name of champions yet again!"
She raises both arms over her head, and her team cheers loudly, and raucously, drawing some of the assembled patrons in with them.
Cornella then steps off the stage, and goes up to the table where the Grand Custodian and the other race organizers, who push across some paperwork to fill out. Behind her, a man puts up a placard on a large board with the name Trail Hounds on it, right below one that says Pathfinders, that you had not noticed go up during her speech.
Again some cheers from the crowd.
Once things have calmed a bit, young man steps up onto the stage. His clothing more appropriate to an upper class type of affair than the chaotic atmosphere of the Filling Cup. The faint look of disdain on his face seems to hint that it is more than just the clothes that hint at this standing.
When he speaks, he does not yell, yet his voice projects like someone used to addressing a crowd.
"I speak for the Ashen Leaves." He calls, nodding towards a group of three other young people across the room, all of them projecting the same general aura of nobility. "Lucca, Pharom, and Orela."
"We are the sons and daughters of those who built this proud nation, and we carry on their tradition of excellence to this day." He continues, his three companions doing their best to look important. "As the noble blood of Sargava flows through our veins, I swear that our esteemed names will soon decorate that cup. The Ashen Leaves stand for victory! Who among you stands with us!”"
There is a mixed response from the crowd, some cheering as expected, but with a few rolled-eyes and crude comments thrown in. He frowns petulantly at the response, but then chooses to ignore them, as he steps off the stage, over to the registration table.
And the name of the Ashen Leaves is added to the board on the back wall.
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"Our band has trained with Philt himself, winner of last year's Chalice, and we’re eager to test our mettle. We’ll prove we’ve earned the right to bear the name of champions yet again!"
"Did he teach ya how he murdered all the competition? Nothin' says a fun, team race than killin' yer friends and foes alike! I wouldn't wanna be on that team near the finish line!" Dale chortles, clearly trying to stir up the woman and her team.
He then heads over to fill out the proper paperwork, not letting anyone else near it. "I'll handle the paperwork ok? You guys just dig around for something else for me to eat, I'm starved here!"
There is a bit of a lull before the next contestants approach, but they are noticeable when they do, if only because they were not there at the start. A bit of a ruckus occurs back near the main entrance, though you can not see the cause... but it seems to move along through the crowd, towards the platform.
It is only as it reaches it that you realize why you could not see the cause, as the next group is comprised entirely of halflings, none of them over three feet in height. They are not garbed in the typical clothing of the city, but instead wear tribal clothes and markings. All of them stay close together, clearly wary of the large crowd of much larger strangers all around.
One of them, a dark skinned woman, leaps up onto the platform with surprising agility, and looks out at the crowd with obvious defiance, the intensity of it momentarily silencing some of the jokes and laughter.
When she finally speaks, the words are in Polyglot, though even then they are heavily accented.
"Ebansi!" she calls, her high pitched voice carrying over the throng surprisingly well.
"We are Tensa'i, Ramagh, Deffa, Fora, and Berro." She continues, making some sort of ritual hand jesture at first herself, then each of the other halflings as she says each name.
"We are not honorless pirates nor coddled nobles." She calls, with a dismissive wave at both the Ashen Leaves and the Trail Hounds. Though given they halflings were not in the room when those two groups introduced themselves, you're not sure how they know of them.
"We are small but cunning. We are stealthy and swift. We are the bravest and strongest of our tribe." The other four all stomp one foot in unison. "We will win, because we must win. We are Ebansi, and we will no longer be forgotten."
There are a few scattered cheers, though mostly the tavern-goers break into excited chatter and speculation at the appearance of the halfling entrants... but the halfling entrants in question pay them no heed. Berro leaps off the platform with no further acknowledgement to the crowd at all, stepping up to the registration table, the other four arranged behind her.
The name Ebansi is added to the board.