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Seeing an ally fall, Archon calls on the divine healing energies to send a wave of healing power out across the theatre floor, washing over both ally and enemy, then takes a step closer.
Van Helsing moves over as well, catching one of the Aspis thugs in costume between them, and strikes with his wooden sword, but grossly overestimates his swing with the unfamiliar weapon.
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Comrade! Fimbir yells as Aiden falls. Raising his hands to the heavens, the gnome cries out in sorrow.
Alas, poor Aiden! A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; Where be be his gibes now? His gambols? His googles and gaggles and garchomps? No Chou should be forced to say ciao so soon before his time. Truly, war is Avernus...
His muddled soliloquy is broken as the monkey's soothing balm washes over the entire crowd of performers.
Oh, huzzah and hizzup! Even if your funny bone seems to be broken dark General, see that ours are ever-mended!
***Overseer post***
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After a little more stage performance, Kiang Zhen yawns and decides it best for the act to end as he has better things to do. He decides that winner shall be determined by a coin toss. "The pathfinders shall be victor if heads, and tails to the Aspis." A moment of silent all around as everyone eyes the coin that flies through the air.
A roar of hoorays is heard from the Aspis party as they let a sigh of relief. Kiang Zhen shrugs and says to your party: "You're not disqualified. However, luck is not with you. Take this Mark of Shame and show you're better afterwards."
As you head towards the locker rooms, you come across the aasimars that helped you get dressed earlier.
"Time for your costume change," they say as they hand over a stack of black funerary robes. "Once you get suited up, throw these over your clothes ; you’ll need them to enter the next event. Then head to the Petal District. You’ll know the way once you get there."
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In hopes of showing honor to the crowd, Archon removes his Monkey Key mask, and bows in respect, first towards the host, but also makes a great show of offering respect to their enemies, both bowing and offering in Tien, "A worthy performance. I applaud your talent." He then accepts the Mark of Shame, before returning to his gear and making ready for whatever task lies next.
"This is unlike anything I've ever had to do..."
"Indeed, not at all what I had expected. And who knew the brutes in the Aspis had such,. . . talent. Still, let's be ready for what comes next, and learn from the example that we really have no idea what we might be required to do."
Fimbir is disheartened. Drat: I thought i was doing pretty well out there. Play-wise at least, not smacking. Do any of you think I could maybe get a day job on the Stage?
The gnome dons the robes dejectedly, but keeps the red and black face paint on.
"That's an interesting look, Mr. Bir. I too was curious if we might take a momento for the journey ahead. . "
As you head towards the locker rooms, you come across the aasimars that helped you get dressed earlier."Time for your costume change," they say as they hand over a stack of black funerary robes. "Once you get suited up, throw these over your clothes ; you’ll need them to enter the next event. Then head to the Petal District. You’ll know the way once you get there."
"Sisters, I know that this is highly unusual, but, I was wondering if we might keep these costumes. A lesson for us that not all missions are what we might expect and that it's not about winning, but how we manage to stand after we fail. We are willing to pay, of course." rattling his coin purse, both for the Monkey King outfit and also the strange gnomish mask his friend seems to like.
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Varuna drops his wooden dagger and shakes his head in disbelief. "Stupid play. Game decided by luck. Waste of time, hmmph." He happily puts his gear back on, dreading whatever waste of time is next.
I thought this was supposed to be tournament to determine strength and intelligence. Not foolishness and dumb luck.
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"That's an interesting look, Mr. Bir. I too was curious if we might take a momento for the journey ahead. . "
Fimbir perks up a bit. I figure it might make me look more intimidating. He makes a stern and snarling face. Then again, it may just make me look silly. Either way, our foes will get confused, whether its Over or Under estimating me.
Having delivered a - by his standards - logical explanation for keeping the make up, Fimbir finishes dressing back into his gear while he hums softly to himself.
Daaaaa....da duuuuuuu. Do da dodolu do da dodolu da, do do doo da doo da doo do do...
A crowd of black-robed mourners gathers in a small, grassy square near the edge of the cemetery. The assembly forms a procession, which winds through the cemetery to one of the oldest and most opulent plots. There, the entrances to an entire row of aging marble mausoleums stand open. Before each rests a coffin.
The procession stops, and a woman in the robes of a Pharasmin cleric steps forward. She approaches the various groups of mourners and, speaking in a solemn tone, requests each of them to hoist a casket and carry it into one of the mausoleums. Then she adds the following instructions: “This next competition is the final one of the qualifier. The Emissary lies somewhere in the catacombs below. All you must do now is seek him out and touch his robes. Good luck.” Then the woman nods and leaves, without further explanation.
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The aasimars nod at Archon. "You and your gnomish friend can keep your costumes, if you so wish. You lost out of bad luck, not out of clumsiness." answers one of them.
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The stairs empty into a long hall of cool gray stone. On both sides of the smooth, polished walls open deep, narrow arches that recede into straight, dark hallways. A gold-skinned humanoid sits in a trancelike state in the middle of the room like a great silent statue. Across his lap is a massive spiked club. Behind the creature, on the far side of the hall, a small brass gong hangs still upon a lacquered wooden frame. Beside the gong rests a large mallet, its beater wrapped in cloth.
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Fimbir finally notices the strange man sitting before them as they enter the crypt.
Casket delivery service sir! he calls out. So, was this a test to prove the solemn finality of death and carry its weight so we know the stakes? Because that seems a bit intense just as prep for a martial arts tournament.
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Varuna hoists the casket up onto his shoulder, but his small frame makes it difficult. As they descend down the stairs, the coffin tilts at a steep angle due to the height difference between him and the others.
Once they arrive with the casket, Varuna turns to the others and whipsers, nodding towards the golden man. "Maybe the Emmisary? Could sneak up and touch robes. Blend into shadows and disappear, hmmph"
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As you approach, the golden Oni's eyes flutter open. “Greetings, esteemed competitors. Allow me to introduce myself. I am called Heng—the Sifu’s Judge. Within this room you see eight arches; however, only one leads to the final competition. While I can show you the correct path, you must first prove yourselves worthy before I reveal the answer.”
The oni nods and without warning, all eight entrances erupt into impassible whirlwinds of lashing sword shards and colored smoke. Calmly, he continues.
“Beyond me hangs a small gong. In order to pass freely, you must properly sound the gong using the nearby mallet. While this task sounds easy, I assure you it is not, for it must be struck perfectly in order to get it to sound. Hit it too softly and it will fail to echo, too hard and it will crack. Furthermore, I shall do my best to prevent anyone from sounding it.”
The judge bows, his heavy gaze relentless. Then slowly his body coils into a combat stance as he signals the start of the fight with a simple nod.
Only Nemis is swifter to react!
Nemis [23/23]: ?
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THE JUDGE ! [@]
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Varuna [33/33]: ?
Fimbir [43/43]: ?
Aiden [25/25]: ?
Van Helsing [40/40]: ?
Archon [31/31]: ?
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Nemis concentrates hard, forming the latest bolts he can, and manifests them to slam into the creature.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Varuna, Archon, duck! Fimbir yells. Seeing the oni stike his wayang companion, Fimbir's body begins to burn to match his mood as he shoots out a gout of flame.
for
Dropping! the gnome then yells mere instant before he lets his corner of the casket fall as he scrambles around to the other side to prepare to duck and tumble past the guardian and towards the gong.
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The party drops the casket.
Varuna chooses to withdraw while Fimbir misses his fire blast, Archon begins a summoning spell and Van Helsing draws his crossbow, ready to fire next round. Nemis manifests a magic missile that hits the oni squarely.
The judge steps towards Aiden and tries to attack him but manages to hit the chelaxian only once.
for
for
Varuna [19/33]: ?
Fimbir [43/43]: ?
Aiden [9/25]: ?
Van Helsing [40/40]: ?
Archon [31/31]: ?
Nemis [23/23]: ?
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THE JUDGE ! [@15]
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Archon completes his spell, bringing a celestial wolf to this realm from a heavenly one and points at The Judge while simply saying "Get him."
Understanding the angel's words with ease, it attempts to deliver a massive bite, calling on its sacred nature.
He then calls on healing energies to fill the party with renewed vitality.
Van Helsing lets his bolt fly then easily reloads it.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Fimbir misses again and the celestial wolf misses as well, meanwhile Archon channels energy to heal the living. Van Helsing and Varuna prove more efficient, however.
Despite the glued bag, the oni seems to still be able to move a bit.
Varuna [30/33]: Throws a tanglefoot bag and hits!
Fimbir [43/43]: Blasts and misses!
Van Helsing [40/40]: Attacks and hits!
Archon [31/31]: Channels to heal 11 HP!
Aiden [20/25]: ?
Nemis [23/23]: ?
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THE JUDGE ! [@24, entangled]
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Aiden grins as he sees the wolf appear and distract the judge. "Get to that gong!" he shouts before driving his knives at the judge. As his knives extend, he tries to flick some of the tanglefoot glue into the man's eyes.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Hearing a loud "Judgement has fallen", the judge raises his hands. "I call the encounter. You are not disqualified but I mark you with a glyph of regret."
After that, he takes the gong’s mallet and hits the gong. The whirlwinds in the alcoves stop and he waves toward one of them.
"Continue, adventurers. You fought well, but not well enough."
Approximately 100 feet down the tunnel accessed through the alcove, the passage begins to slope down ever so slightly.