Four Monks Walk into a Bar

Game Master Glorfinmad

It is a fine early spring day in the great empire of Cellerus, and particularly so in the city of Stillwillow. A cool breeze floats through the trade district, carrying the calls of merchants and sell-swords through the packed city streets. The sun beats down upon the brows of countless men, native and migrant alike. Countless men have gathered to seek gold and glory against the gauntlet of magical trials that have been set up by the various magical races of Sariel.

The trials were announced as happening close to a month ago, though the people of Stillwillow could tell something was being planned many months earlier. Elvish emissaries, an uncommon sight here, had met with several human officials from the capital city a while back. That was when the rumors started up. Some men thought it was the pre-amble to war, some men thought it had to do with that crazy preacher who was spreading his infernal message in Sorcuth, some even joked that the elves were just looking for better whorehouses. Wives gossiped at their chores, children did so in their schoolhouses, and merchants did it in the city bathhouses. Nobody ever guessed the true cause.

Two months ago to the day a letter was put to every public board, and delivered to the residences of every crown knight and lord of the kingdom.
THE LETTER
Immediately merchants and sellswords, highborn knights and lowborn guardsman, wandering mages and state sorcerers began to plan for their journey. Nobody knew what shape the tournament would take, but everyone knew it would be tremendously profitable.

Early this morning the crowds gathered to the square. Janos Alaryn was standing at the top of the temple steps, to his left were two elvish men, one old and one young but both dressed in the house colors of elven royalty. To Alaryn's right was a short man, squat and stout he wore leather, steel tools at his side and a pair of fine goggles atop his head, there was no mistaking that this was the first dwarf seen by the common man in decades. To the right of the dwarf was a man dressed in white robes woven with the golden symbols of the Ecclesiarchy of Sorcuth.

"Today," Alaryn spoke in a deep, measured voice, clearly having practiced what he was about to say countless times, "marks an historic occasion. All men of Sariel have gathered one of our greatest city to test themselves against trials devised by the most powerful mages and engineers on the planet." He paused for a moment, a smile slowly spreading across his face before he began anew. "The rules are quite simple. No fewer than three men may compete together, and no more than ten. Each challenge must be completed by any means at your disposal. That is it. Registration ends in five days, and the first round begins two days after that. The first trial of this tournament will last for one month, after which time those who were able to muster the strength to succeed shall be told of the second challenge."[/b]

The audience's reaction was mixed. Some men, who thought this tournament to be one purely of combat began to shout in disapproval, while others breathed sighs of relief knowing they would be competing with their allies instead of against. For a moment it seemed as if half the crowd was going to start a riot.

"The possible winnings from the first trial total nearly one hundred thousand gold pieces for each winning team," spoke the King's Voice, and silence descended over the crowd. A purse of that size, and for simply overcoming one round... this was truly to be a tournament like no other.

Now the trade district was full of men of all walks of life, trying to nail down a plan of action or to recruit others to their causes. In the hours since the announcement one thing has become clear,

wealth and glory have come to the gates of this city, and only the greatest honor awaits.

A truly unremarkable man stands in the street bawling challenges to any who approach. Although dressed in a monk's simple robes he lacks many of the characteristics one would expect. Of barely above average height and build there is no fluidity of movement, no economy of motion and barely anything resembling more than light musculature. At the very least this young man is attractive possessing tanned skin and a comely face with short cropped hair. There is nothing of immediate value on his person nor is he visibly armed and if not for his clean person one could easily mistake him for a commoner off the street.

He is accompanied by another man who is presumably a monk albeit one of a different order as he wears a basket on his head while playing a simple recorder and has none of the bravado of the other man.

Though the loud man does not appear to be of the caliber to be issuing such brazen challenges he can quite clearly be heard by all around

"ANY MAN WHO CAN POSE A THREAT TO ME AT MY PEAK CONDITION AND IS NOT OF NEFARIOUS PURPOSE SHALL BE WELCOME TO JOIN OUR TEAM FOR THE GRAND TOURNEY. FOR THOSE OF THE LESS CONFRONTATIONAL PERSUASIONS WE ALSO NEED TRAP FINDERS AND PEOPLE WHO EXCEL AT RANGED COMBAT OF EITHER SLING OR SPELL." After which the man adds in an undertone "Although your bloody cowards if you won't fight such a scrawny foe heh"

"IF YOU SHOULD MANAGE TO JOIN MY COMPANION AND I YOU SHALL REST EASILY KNOWING THAT I THE MIGHT WARRIOR CHUKIE SHALL SURELY LEAD YOU TO VICTORY. SO COME ONE COME ALL. ALL ARE WELCOME TO CHALLENGE ME"

A half-Sommarian man strides through the gathered crowd toward the rowdy monk at the corner. Dressed in simple, but practical clothing and standing a good half a head taller than the rest of the crowd, perhaps his most noticeable features are the intricate scars, tattoos, and piercings that decorate his face. Only slightly less noticeable is the massive bow he carries in his hand, heavily runed and clearly of master workmanship.

He stops in front of the two monks, clearly sizing them up.

"Well," he says, his voice deep, like the rumble of a thousand horses galloping across the plains, "I've learned not to judge you humans by appearances, but you, little man, are a class all in your own."

He rests his hands on his massive bow, staring down at this braggart of a monk. "My name is Thane Makiri, and I find myself in need of allies and gold. I challenge you for a place among your group in this ridiculous tourney." He quirks a heavily pierced eyebrow. "Do you think you can avoid the storm of arrows a Karahun Master can bring upon you?"

The basket headed man playing the recorder stops and looks up. It becomes apparent that the basket is woven specially in front to allow him to see out of it without too much hassle, though it does a fair job of those trying to look into it from the outside. Basket-head sits up straight and begins to wave his hand through the air. It becomes clear he is tracing runes or signs of some sort as, after a second, the motions of his finger begin to linger as purple streaks through the air. When finally all his symbols are traced he pushes his hand through the floating wall and a message appears in front of him, scribbled into the air by arcane energies.

"I don't mind if you want to have them hit you, but I fear you'll treat it more like an actual melee. Your protective enchantments are probably too much for anyone here. What if we let them take a crack at you, but once that fails let them try their hand at hitting me?" Basket-head shrugs his shoulders at his suggestion and looks to Chukie for a response. After a moment he perks up, as if he has just remembered something.

Finally he stands up, and looks towards Thane. He bows deeply from the waist. It is now that you notice he has an incredibly large, and wickedly curved sword strapped to his side. The blade alone looks like it could be nearly five feet in length, and the hilt seems like it could be more than a foot long itself. Basket-head traces more sigils through the air.

"Hello there Thane of Sommaria. I am called Yoshii. I am a fair bit more silent than my companion, I hope you don't find it too off putting."

Thane chuckles, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder. "I believe you humans have a saying... Something to effect of 'While the fool speaks, the wise man is silent?'" A fierce grin twists his the scars of his face into a terrifying visage. "Very well, little man. I should like to try my hand at breeching these protective enchantments you silent friend brags so much about." His grin turns sinister as he begins stringing the massive bow in his hand. "Whether you regret that decision is for fate to decide."

Stepping back about 10 paces, he draws a handful of arrows from the quiver at his side, nocking one and holding the rest in his bow hand.

"Whenever you're ready, little man."

A crowd has begun to gather around at the sight of these men. Some warriors who had been passing by have stopped to watch the scrawny monk. Already some men are calling out for bets to be placed. City guards are simply watching to make sure that bystanders remain unaffected.

As Thane draws so many arrows and holds them so awkwardly, a wave of laughter and sniggering ripples through the crowd. Hecklers call out
"What's the matter half-breed? Never learn how to hold a bow?"
"He may well not have, but against that scrawny pup you don't need but a novices skill."

Thane just smiles. The ignorance of these common folk could be forgiven. They never had to go through hundreds of hours of practice loading and unloading a single arrow. The intricacies of how to grip their bow had never been drilled into their heads by a cruel and unloving father. They had never tasted the triumph of that arose in the heart of the Karahun archer when they finally landed four arrows on the target, clustered so close and fired so fast, it seemed like they had all been shot at once.

His grin grows wider, as his fingers lovingly grip his bow. They would soon learn what a master could do...

The scrawny monk chuckles at the hecklers who so clearly can not see the skill of either opponent before turning to the archer. "Since you are so fond of sayings allow me to remind you of another one. Don't judge a book by its cover. Allow me but a minute to ready myself and you shall be free to attempt to make me a heh human pincushion."

With that the monk deftly draws a myriad of symbols on the ground before stepping into the circle he has created. As he hunkers down a manic grin crosses his face and a low guttural moan emanates from his throat. Small rocks begin to slowly rise off the ground and the earth begins to tremble ever so slightly. While the onlookers would swear the day was cloudless a dark pall descends upon the street. And unbelievably the sound of thunder is heard.

Suddenly the volume of the moan increases becoming more of a scream the circle becomes a small crater the earth is now unmistakably shaking and with one final roar a bright flash of light explodes from the monk.

When the dust clears the monk is nowhere to be seen. Where a scrawny man stood but a minute ago a large white tiger has appeared. There is an other worldly quality about this creature and a rune glows faintly on its forehead. It towers over the shorter onlookers in the crowd and stands even with the half sommarian. Wings adorn its back folded gracefully. In short the creature is everything the man was not. Poised, graceful, majestic and strong.

A low chuckled sounding like the monk is heard through the street and the onlookers look on in bewilderment before the voice cries out

"BEHOLD!" startled the crowd realizes that the monks voice is coming from the tigers mouth and when the tiger moves every so often a shadow of a man can be seen inside its frame.

"I am ready. LOOSE YOUR ARROWS AND MAY THEY FIND THEIR MARK FOR IF YOU INJURE ME YOUR PLACE IN HISTORY WILL BE SECURED."

AC = 40 init=1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

Thane looks nonchalantly at his now much larger opponent, though inside he can't help feeling slightly impressed.

"Well, that's not the most drastic change I've ever seen, but it comes close," he quips. "And since you've been so kind as to show me some of your tricks, I'll show you one of mine..."

Suddenly, the half-breed archer disappears. No arcane gestures, no words of power. In the blink of an eye, a six-and-a-half foot half-Sommarian archer vanishes without a trace.

A few seconds pass, with no sign of the archer. Then, from off to the side a veritable storm of arrows rains down on the great tiger, revealing the half-breed with his hands suddenly empty of arrows, a smirk on his face as all five land in almost the same instant.

Yoshii watches bored as Chukie transforms himself. He pantomimes a yawn, hand passing over the basket as he stretches out some. His playful jest quickly stop though upon seeing Thane go invisible. He passes a hand around his mouth, as if stroking a beard that is clearly not there.

When the arrows begin to fly he hops back, hoping to avoid any stray fire. The first misses, sticking into a tree off in the back. The second arrow simply bounces harmlessly off of Chukie's shoulder. The third arrow finds its mark true, though Chukie doesn't seem to notice. The fourth arrow bounces off, but begins flying towards a woman watching from the crowd. Before it can hit, fast as lightning, the arrow has been split in half at its center. Yoshii stands with his blade drawn, still in the final position from after the cut. The final arrow simply falls short and sticks into the ground.

Chukie begins to laugh at the archer having failed to notice the arrow sticking out of his calf, his laughter quickly turns to a grunt of disapproval as Yoshii walks over and twists the arrow before removing it.

"Well then... It seems he passed your test, even if the arrow didn't do much."

The crowd falls silent as Chukie stands transformed before them. Whispers of what kind of magics are involved begin to circulate, the hushed noises turning into a loud conversation. And when Thane goes invisible the crowd goes crazy, part out of excitement, part out of fear, and part out of the pure curiousness of it all.

When the arrows begin to fly many in the crowd jump back, startled by the Sommarian now standing before them. Those men who were cajoling Thane before have stopped, unable to comprehend the fact that five arrows managed to find the air and fly true purely through physical perfection of bow technique.

Chukie laughs ruefully upon seeing the arrow in yoshii's hand. "Better to be lucky than good I suppose." he chortles before raising his voice to be heard by the crowd once more

"HAIL AND WELL MET THANE MAKIRI YOUR AIM WAS TRUE mostly. YOUR SKILLS SHALL BE OF USE IN THE COMING CHALLENGES I HAVE NO DOUBT."

Thane clicks his teeth in disapproval. The tiger's fur had been harder than anticipated, and his excitement at proving his own might had made his aim go wild. Growling softly to himself, he unstrings his bow and walks back to stand before the huge tiger. He'd be spending a lot of time fine tuning his aim before they entered the arcane maze. His pride in his art demanded it.

"Twas my overexcitement and your armor that deflected my other shots, little man," Thane grumbled. "Still, I commend you for your defenses. Most other men would be halfway down the river of Death by this point."

Meeting the tigers gaze, the master archer inclines his head in respect due to an equal on the battlefield. "I will gladly work with you, little man with the soul of a tiger," he says, his voice booming like thunder. Turing to the tiger's silent companion, he inclines his head to him as well. "And you, silent one with the blade like lightning. Together, we shall crush all other opponents, and claim the prize and fame for ourselves."

The half-breed grins savagely, his scars once more twisting into a terrifying mask. "Onward to glory, brothers. Let's show them what true warriors can do..."

The giant feline is relieved to see that the crowd appears more curious than frightened his transformation had not always had such a neutral reception presumably the tournament had drawn many unique people to the town. The tiger roars before bellowing"IS THERE ANYONE ELSE BOLD ENOUGH TO FACE ME?!?"

"Though you need not hurry on my account. I can stay like this all day and I'm far more comforrrrtable this way" and with that last pronouncement the beast gives a languid stretch before resting comfortably on its haunches with an unmistakeable air of dignity.

Three figures, each sporting the same style of flowing, hooded, jet-black overcloak, obviously shadowing their faces beyond simply the darkness of the cloaks, meander through the newly formed crowd to the nexus of the ruckus. Looking upon the feline creature and his basket headed companion, the three figures, seemingly of similar stature and build, exchange glances. The figure in the middle speaks, his voice slightly muffled, but strong and deliberate.

I will face you. We three are in need of that which you also seek. Together we may further our goals. If you demand combat to prove our worth and allow us to join you, then I shall be the avatar of our collective skill. I would prefer, however, that you simply trust us without the necessity of proof through violence. It is on my honor, and in good faith, that I guarantee a collective set of talents conducive to what you need.

The graceful animal's eyes narrow at being told to trust these random strangers in their dark cloaks "I trusted a good many people for a good many years. It was not the wisest of my choices." He utters in a low growl but as quick as it came that momentary annoyance leaves the beast's face and his calm demeanor resumes.

"No my fine folks I can't simply give my consent without some test. Combat prowess is among the easiest to gauge I find and it's hardly violence more like friendly sparring. Even if you are extraordinarily powerful you'll do me no serious harm unless you exert yourself most strenuously. He ponders for a moment before saying "But as it stands I have already chosen a party member for today by my methods. So I will leave your entry in the hands of yoshii and thane. If they desire you to fight me they know I am willing. But they may have an idea more suitable to your preferences.

In the mind of the man inside the beast these faceless men are either cowards weaklings or pacifists or worse yet some combination of them all. If they will not challenge him they are inferior and unworthy to share in the inevitable prize.

Resting his hands on his bow, Thane let's his gaze trail over the three cloaked men in front of him. So far, he is unimpressed. While Chukie had surprised him with his transformation into a huge, celestial beast, he had at least given some indication of where his strengths lay. These three, however, were complete unknowns. No weapons, no facial features, no body language cues, nothing.

His face twists into a half-sneer as he addresses these new-comers. "Friend, though you speak prettily enough, it is not charming words and promises of might that will guarantee our success. We need masters of their craft, whether they be disciples of the arts of war, avatars of the gods, paragons of arcane might, or scions of the more subtle arts." Letting his gaze trail over each of the cloaked figures in turn, he gives a harsh bark of laughter. "So far, you look like none of the above, friend."

Turning to Yoshii, he jerks his head in the newcomer's direction. "I say let them test their mettle against the tiger-souled one. It will give us a good gauge of their strengths, and perhaps reveal a taste of any further talents... What say you?"

"Sparring is still violence, though I see no reason we should shy from it now given that there will certainly be a need for it later. Still... That arrow from earlier managed to get my blood flowing, I feel all out of balance. Would you grieve particularly if I took on this one?" Yoshii scarcely waits for a reply before turning to Remulus.

"Do you know magic? Or swordplay? Or perhaps you have more abstract talents, like general athleticism? I have all of these, and would gladly have you compete against me in any one. You may choose the contest, you may choose the rules, I will abide by them and we shall see whether you give a suitable challenge. Honor is a pretty word, but when we do not know you and when you hide your faces behind magical cloaks... I think you will agree a test of ability seems reasonable."

Yoshii who, until this point, has been holding a recorder puts it by his pack on the mat. He places one hand over the sheath of his blade and uses his thumb to push up about an inch of the steel.

Confidant in yoshii's skills as only one who managed to survive his fury could ever be the tiger paces in a circle on the corner of the mat before laying down and closing its eyes in what is unmistakeably a catnap

As if to say look at all the f%!%s I give right now

Thane bears his fangs in a savage grin at his new companion's eagerness. "Well, well," he muses, "it seems we've woken our friends battle lust." He takes a few step back to give Yoshii and this new challenger some space as his grin grows darker and slightly more menacing. "This should be fun..."

The hood of the individual of the left pans across the three men before him, stopping on the Half-Sommarian that has just stepped back. He sighs briefly before addressing the archer.

Judging by your face, I'd be willing to wager that your battle lust never sleeps. I have no problem with that for you, though I've been told that once mine gets awoken, I get a little...carried away. I'd like to save the ruckus for the actual tournament if that's fine with everyone involved. You say you need us to be masters of whatever crafts we may be bringing to the table? Well, I would say "trust me, we are masters," but it seems that trust is certainly, and understandably an issue. What we need is what we, in the business, call credentials.

His voice is surprisingly soft and his tone moderately candid. His speaking pattern is deliberate and aged as if his colloquial composure is forced. After some extended rustling beneath his cloak, a gloved hand extends from its depths, bearing a golden, magically preserved parchment with blue trim and a purple seal. It is a Magister's Scroll.

With the issue of trust being on the table, it would probably be prudent for me to prove that this isn't a fake wouldn't it?

Another hand extends from the shadow of the cloak, and upon it is a ring with runes matching the scroll. He passes the ringed hand over the Scroll's seal, causing small tufts of arcane energy to erupt from it.

There you have it, a master of the arcane craft, and the hard-earned crest to prove it. My thesis and test were done here, focusing on the exploration of long-term arcano-elixir infusions and arcano-extract combinations. My combat prowess tests focused on the use of arcane triggered explosives and personal arcane enhancements through advanced elixirs. Not that any of you care. I am Magister Rae. A pleasure. My peace-loving friend to my left is Remmy, and the unexpectedly quiet one on the right is Magister Helm. We would be honored to join you and assist in furthering all of our goals in this upcoming tournament, if you'd let us.

The figure on the far right is looking around, not at the crowd, but at the city itself. He finally stops to react to his immediate surroundings, seemingly distracted by the allure of Stillwillow

Unexpectedly quiet!? I can't argue with the truth. I'm taking in the sights! Most of my visits to Cellerus aren't for leisure. Sue me, though you know as well as I do that you'd lose in court Rae. Oh, and yes, I have one of those too!

He proceeds to go through the same gesture of revealing a Magister's scroll and confirming it's authenticity.

You see, you're speaking to two of what may be, at most, 15 Magisters in the entire country. I'm not going to go through my thesis with you though! For one, I'm sure you don't care, and for two, should you let us join you, the work that earned my Magister's title will become readily apparent within the tournament. The same could be said for my colleague, quite frankly, but we should rather hope that it doesn't come to that. At any rate, it's a pleasure!

Yoshii pulls the basket from his head as he looks at the notes that the two strangers have presented. After examining them for a moment he draws draws some sigils in the air, and dons his basket once again.

"Ah! Pieces of paper. I did not study at a school, the magical regime was much too structured for the powers I wield. I do not control, I merely direct. Still, I learned some under Magister Johnathan Pentos, Magister Kyrin Blackridge, and even Magister Khorin Xal who is now, I believe, called Archmage. I beat them all eventually. Your papers do nothing but prove you have mastered cantrips. I do not seek those of my skill, only those better.
A man offered a trial of skill, nothing less will a man receive."

It seems that discretion and subtlety are within my purview alone. As has been said, I am Remulus. Excuse my companions.

I stress that it would be preferable to form some sort of alliance without much incident. As you can see, you are among men of certified skill. As one who prefers to minimize direct conflict, though I don't know that suggesting I "love" peace is accurate, I would also like to avoid "ruckus" until it is an absolute necessity.

Not to be less than polite, the man who was introduced as Magister Helm responds; his tone is slightly more serious, and it becomes apparent from the smoothness of his voice and his pattern of speech that he is of the nation of Valandaer,but as someone who is a close companion of, and trained under, Archmage Xal, I find your claim of besting him in the arcane arts someone difficult to believe. He is an archmage after all. Though I suppose it's not worth arguing the point. After a brief pause, his tone resumes it's previous cheery countenance, Forget I said anything! What say you Sommarian and Synthesist? Must we subject our zen friend Remmy here to a test of skill against your basket-headed friend? I can't say that I wouldn't love to see a contest of sorts! Though I suppose we should be attempting to resolve this sooner rather than later, in theory. Theory is always quite boring...

"The mage looks but does not see, listens but does not hear. I believe Xal was fond of the phrase "Before a man speaks it is always safe to assume that he is a fool. After he speaks, it is seldom necessary to assume it." I trained under the Archmage long ago, he was first to help me direct my energies into a useful form. When last I saw him he was not yet Archmage."

Yoshii pantomimes another yawn before perking up suddenly, he frantically traces runes in the air, and before the message can even be read has unsheathed his blade and planted it in the ground.

"I challenge you to a simple contest. Let us see which of us can jump higher, you or myself. If you succeed then I will certainly be fine with your companions and you joining us. In fact, if you even come close I will be so. While I would love to spar, I think at the moment that this may be more quick, and then I could get back to my meditations."

In the time it take to read the message Yoshii has planted his sword into the ground blade first, and begun to scrawl more runes in the air. When he presses his palm though the runes this time though words do not appear before him. He hops up to the top of his sword and lands, balancing on the bottom of the hilt in a miraculous display of acrobatic skill. Then, quick as lightning he jumps. He flies upward like he had been launched by a catapult instead of his own legs. When finally he reaches the top of his jump he does not fall, instead just seeming to lay in the air.

He curls his fingers in several times, indicating that Remulus join him.

Thane's eyes widen slightly at Yoshii's display of acrobatic skill. "Well, now..." Smirking savagely, he turns to Remulus. "Good luck matching that, friend. Perhaps you'll surprise me, but for all your fancy talk, i somewhat doubt you can..." He grins savagely, goading the cloaked man on.

It would seem that your certificates were not well met. If a contest of agility will suffice, I am happy to oblige. While I cannot fly unaided as you can, I am quite confident in my acrobatic skills. Magister Helm, please.

Helm's lightly armored hands gesture flamboyantly above him, exaggerating the somatic components of the spell he is obviously casting. Well over one hundred feet above him, a circular runed platform, large enough to feasibly hold one large man fades into existence and simply floats

Soon-to-be-newfound allies! The platform above our heads is precisely 145 feet in the air. Remina here will, with nothing but a stream of water provided by me, find himself upon that platform in a spectacular acrobatic feat! Are! You! Ready!?

Without really waiting for any response, Magister Helm shoots an enthusiastic hand up, pointing the tips of his fingers directly beneath the platform. After a slight pause, he angles his outstretched arm abruptly, roughly 45 degrees. From the tips of his fingers, a large jet of clean water erupts over the crowd. He laughs wildly as the crowd is startled by quite a few stray droplets.

Thane leans over to mutter in Chukie's ear, nudging his companion in amusement. "Heh, given that both parties have obviously cast spells of some kind, can we even call this a contest of acrobatics anymore?" He laughs in quiet amusement.

1d20 + 46 ⇒ (9) + 46 = 55

1d20 + 46 ⇒ (16) + 46 = 62

Magister Rae's hood shakes back and forth as he chuckles My my, what a nightmare this is... and he says discretion isn't within my purview. Even he, apparently, has a taste for theatrics at times. Who knew?

AND THERE YOU HAVE IT FOLKS Magister Helm's voice echoes through the immediate area, though it is obviously altered to sound different than it did mere moments ago. He gestures enthusiastically towards the gathering he has just drenched. A MASTER OF HIS CRAFT!

The sword mage, floating in midair does a roll to keep watching as Remulus jumped from droplet to droplet, clearly unimpressed. When Remmy finally makes his leap though, Yoshii begins to clap loudly. He then flies up and offers his hand out to the fantastic acrobat.

"I was worried all you were going to do was walk on water for a moment there. A fantastic jump though! I managed only to get maybe 20 feet in the air, your last jump had to have been closer to 30 than to 25."

Yoshii begins to move down at a reasonable pace and then, when about 20 feet from the ground dismisses his fly spell outright.

Yoshii looks at Chukie and begins to scribe his runes in the air. "His acrobatic skill is greater than my own, I'd be more than happy to have him along. Though I'll admit I still feel somewhat like I need to have an actual sparring match. Perhaps I'll just practice form some this evening."

Yoshii bows to Rae and Helm, then grabs and sheathes his sword before returning to his spot on the mat and picking up his recorder. He resumes playing where he first left off.

The tiger chuckles at Thane's remark a deep throaty purr almost, before nudging Thane with his folded wing. "There isn't much difference than acrobatics and flight but the subtleties are likely lost on you flightless one" and he laughs again at his own comment showing a smile full of razor sharp teeth.

He is genuinely impressed when Yoshii concedes defeat.

"HAIL AND WELL MET FRIENDS AND BROTHERS AND ARMS. ONWARD TO VICTORY. UNLESS I AM VERY MUCH MISTAKEN THE REST OF YOU RABBLE CAN DISPENSE. WE NEED NO MORE ALLIES TO CLAIM VICTORY."

He lowers his voice and turns to yoshii "I'm sorry you didn't get to exercise more friend but really all I did today was get shot. We shall have our fill of combat all too soon id wager. Think of the GLORY."

"Not my fault that my people aren't well known for manipulating arcane energies," Thane grumbles. "You humans and elves toss around arcane energy like it's nothing, then seem so shocked when other races don't have the same knack for telling the laws of nature to sit down and shut up."

Stepping forward, Thane claps a fist over his heart in salute to the new trio. "Well then, I suppose I should be welcoming you three into our little group. My name is Thane Makiri, once of the Karahun Tribe." He scowls, as if remembering something that caused him great anger. "Do not make the mistake of treating me like some mindless brute like the rest of my people because of my appearance, however," he says with a pointed look at Magister Rae. "I have studied in some of the finest monasteries in Cellerus, perfecting my mind and my craft. Please do not make the mistake of underestimating me."

Turning back to the winged tiger at his side, Thane asks, "So what now, little man? Since you seem to be the founding member of this little group..."

"Now now you do Yoshii a disservice by naming me the sole leader. I'm merely the voice of the operation. As for our agenda assuming we are all happy with this group and can agree to an equal share of the loot for all, it would be high time we got ourselves registered for this little event. We have much to plan and prepare."

It is at this point the animal notices that the crowd has yet to disperse and he turns and stands on his hind legs to his full towering height "YOU ALL! DID I NOT TELL YOU THAT THIS DEMONSTRATION WAS OVER? BEGONE AND LEAVE YOUR BETTERS TO DISCUSS OUR PLANS IN PEACE!" and following that pronouncement he lets loose an ear shattering roar

Intimidate to scare off the crowd 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

The crowd begins to disperse after being yelled at by the tiger-man. A few merchants yell over one another, trying to plug their stalls or shops before finally heading off in many different directions.

"Much better" the white tiger grunts as the crowd disperses. He drops back down to all fours gives a quick ruffle of his wings before turning back to the others. "Now for the discussions. Apart from yoshii here I've met all of you this afternoon. A man should know his comrades in arms as well as himself if he is to rely upon them with his life. I am the warrior Chukie as you have undoubtedly heard, a monk by training a synthesist by happenstance as you correctly guessed Magister Helm was it again? I've come to this tourney for the honor and glory it will bring upon me so that everyone in the realms might know my name despite my obscure upbringing in an isolated monastery which no longer exists heh. So tell me my new friends who and what are you and what drives you to enter this tournament?" The tiger sits at attention intently waiting for the responses.

Thane grunts and steps forward. "As I said, my name is Thane Makiri, once of the Karahun tribe. I am a master archer, and have yet to meet my equal in pure technique." Again he scowls, his voice growing deeper and more menacing. "As for why I'm competing in this tournament, I find myself in need of money and strong allies. For the past ten years, I've been honing my skills in order to return to my family and tribe, and show them the error in their ways... I will show them that they are weak by not embracing other races, and show them the power of the humans the so despise."

His voice suddenly going softer, Thane closes his eyes and bows his head. "And I will finally avenge my wife, who died to pay for my mistakes."

Shaking his head, and clapping his hands together, as of to dust the memories off of them, be turns to the cloaked men before him. "So what is your story, dark ones? You seem to know each other well."

Well met! A pleasure! Salutations new comrades! I am Magister Vanwill Helm, but Helm is fine! I, much like my companion Magister Rae here, am a Magister of the Mythica in Cellerus! We separated after our schooling, which is when Rae met Remmundo. We happened to reunite at a Magister's Symposium at Valansaer Academy. We have been traveling together ever since! After talking the tournament over, we all decided, quite reluctantly for some of us, he steals a glance over to Magister Rae and chuckles to participate. My interest is purely for my own intrigue and entertainment. Nothing like this, nothing that has brought so many races, cultures, ideals, values, and combat prowess together on this scale has ever been done before. I wouldn't miss it for the world!

Magister Helm lifts his hand towards the floating platform upon which Remulus is now sitting. Can't just leave him up there all day, can we? He'll get lonely!

The hackles of the tiger rise as Alaris speaks. Something is clearly amiss with this tale. But he bites his tongue and waits for the others to speak.

You can, and he wouldn't. Magister Rae looks up at the descending platform as he makes his snide remark. He then faces the tiger. Well, as has been said, you can call me Rae. My Magisters from the Mythica is largely centered on alchemical theory, so I'm a bit less traditional in that sense...well. A lot of senses... anyway, I prefer, as one would expect from an alchemical Magister, to research from the sidelines. Grandiose tournaments are not generally my style, but due to a variety of reasons, my financial situation is apparently dictating that I participate in the hopes of gaining some fiscal stability. Rest assured, despite my preferences, I can pull my own weight. Remmy here is, in his words, my "Shadow." I wouldn't be here without him, and I can't seem to get rid of him anyway. We met on a strange journey from Cellerus to Valandaer, and after some interaction developed a profound mutual respect. I suppose he's what passes for a "best friend." As he finishes his statement, Remulus steps nonchalantly from the newly descended platform. Magister Rae puts a hand strongly on his shoulder, a sign of their bond. If there's anyone who I can trust to contribute his share to the tournament and make sure I don't get out of line, it's Remmy.

Even as Magister Rae's hand clasps his shoulder, Remulus remains remarkably still. It is as if he radiates an aura of disciplined serenity. I am Remulus St. Clayr. Sorcuthan by birth, self-trained Monk of the Lotus by trade. I have taken a personal oath to protect the presence of Magister Rae to the best of my ability. I intend to uphold that oath, and such is the nature of my involvement in this tournament. While I will not hesitate to do what must be done to achieve our overall victory, as a Lotus, I also prefer to avoid direct conflict if possible.

"I suppose I am all that is left then. I am Yoshii Kanno, wandering monk, and practitioner of fuke zen. I do not speak, mostly because I cannot. I do not... possess the needed equipment. Instead I have learned to scrawl my thoughts onto the air using magic," scribbles the basket headed monk into the air in front of him.

"I do not much care for violence, but perfection of the self requires physical training and so I love to spar and to work on form. Because of my devotion to form, I am one of the most powerful swordsmen alive; I've never lost a competition I've entered, and I do not intend to start doing so now.

What you call me does not matter, though people tend to call me Yoshii or basket-head."

The Tiger nods with satisfaction at Remulus' resolve. "You are clearly a man of honor Remulus and I will be more than glad to have you and Rae along. Your devotion to each other is apparent and I'd wager neither of you would do anything to besmirch the others honor. BUT you" and with a speed belying his size the giant white tiger spins to face the so called "Magister Helm" and stands square in front of him ELF are hiding something. A great many things I would imagine. All your smiles and extravagance do nothing to hide that." he says with a snarl before composing himself

"If you lie out of necessity because of some duty or oath so be it, have Remulus vouch for you on his honor and I will allow you to keep your secrets and compete with us. But if nothing of higher purpose holds your tongue I will have the truth of you but whatever you do think not of speaking another single falsehood lest I grow wroth."

New Sense Motive1d20 + 18 ⇒ (8) + 18 = 26

Thane quietly observes, though his hand strays to his bow in caution, subtly stringing it. Though he had know this man with the soul of a tiger for barely a half-hour, he trusted his judgement. Besides, something about this Magister Helm had been rubbing him wrong for a while now. He seemed too deliberately flamboyant, like he was trying to draw attention away from something else, some other, less savory facet of his personality. And while Thane had no problems with less savory (hell, he'd done more than his fair share of less savory things in his own past) when said less savory things were a threat to his person, they immediately became classified as threats.

And threats were meant to be eliminated...

Magister Helm's demeanor changes immediately. The way he stands, even through his thick cloak seems more purposeful, and his tone more serious. Rest assured, Chukie, any perceived falsehoods are out of my own perceived necessity. His voice has lost any semblance of candidness, replaced with the strong speaking pattern of one who is accustomed to making difficult decisions. Furthermore, I have no desire to entertain unwarranted threats as we have just reached a general consensus of camaraderie. Similarly, I have no desire to threaten you unnecessarily. Simply know this as fact: I need neither your permission to make decisions as to how I carry myself, nor your approval. Should this cause you to become much less than amicable, you would do well to remember that I am most likely not incapable of defending myself. But! He returns to his prior colloquialism I don't really see any reason for us to get there, do you? In time, I'm sure we could develop mutual trust and respect as well.

We will resolve this peacefully. As you request, I will attest to the character of Magister Helm on my own honor.