Ekaym pats Farrukh on the back. "The Champion's Games are the most sensational event of the season, my friend. They don't let just any scruffy homeless man with a sword in."
Ekaym treats the party to dinner at their choice of restaurant, seeming to possess very little appetite himself. Celeste tags along, but leaves as the partymembers place their orders.
As they eat, Mr. Smallcask explains the rules of the tournament at last. There are a lot.
Basic Information:
"You see, The Champion’s Games is a five-daylong gladiatorial tournament. The games themselves consist of a massive four-round elimination event, interspersed with spectacle fights that pit gladiators against exotic monsters and other...unique foes."
Team Rules:
"A single team can consist of no more than eight members, not counting familiars. It's a good thing none of you have pets—you'd be pushing the envelope." He takes a sip of fine wine, then holds up a finger. "Ah, I almost forgot! Each team of gladiators must identify itself with a name and designate a leader. Minor thing, really."
The Tournament Step-By-Step:
"Alright, so the tournament itself is fought in four successive rounds of elimination. The first round is called Bloodbath (usually hyperbolically, of course). It consists of six battles of free-for-all combat between groups of five teams. This is basic, bloody elimination—you can form temporary alliances with any of the other three teams you're fighting, but only one team can proceed to the next round.
"The second day is for resting and recuperating.
"On the third day, it's Round Two: Faceoff. The six winners of the first round of battles are paired off into three team-versus-team battles. This is where things get much tougher. The team you face will be highly skilled, naturally.
"On the fourth day, you've got Round Three: Mixup. Two of the three remaining teams fight each other, while the third team fights a special exhibition match against an exotic monster. That third team will likely be Auric's Warband. Last year, they fought a behir! Raknian always finds the best monsters for his arena, and since this year's games mark the ten-year anniversary of the first official Champion's Games, it's going to be something big.
"And the fourth and final round, Last Stand, is a face-to-face battle between the two remaining teams on the fifth day. As a general rule, the team that fought the monster the day before tends to have a slight advantage over the other team, since the monster fight usually uses up fewer resources than a full-on battle against another team. If you make it this far, you'll most likely be facing Auric's Warband, or possibly Pitch Blade. You'll hear more about the teams themselves later."
Prizes:
"Now, the fun part!" Ekaym rubs his chin. "The winner of each round is awarded a generous prize to be shared among the team members and their manager. Traditionally, the team's leader—" he eyes the group questioningly, "—is expected to hold any trophies, while the cash portion is split up.
"Winning teams of the first round recieve a bronze trophy and a cash payout of 2,000 gp.
"Winning teams of the second round recieve a silver trophy and a cash payout of 5,000 gp.
"Winning teams of the third round recieve a gold trophy and a cash payout of 10,000 gp.
"And the winner of the Champion’s Games wins the right to wear the Champion’s Belt for a year." Ekaym's eyebrows arch. "Along with a cash payout of 20,000 gp, of course."
Ekaym cracks his knuckles. "Any more questions? The rules on fighting within the arena, and on wagers, will be explained more closely during the Free Dinner." He blinks. "Oh! One more thing. The day after tomorrow, 5:00 pm, you must all head to the arena for the Free Dinner. You'll put down your names officially and meet some extremely important people, as well as, well, get a free meal." He winks.
Why, I heard they exterminated a whole nest of trolls just on their way back to the City!
Eben' eyebrow doesn't so much rise as his whole eyeball twitches in a somewhat painful fashion. "An... angel. Sort of. You're saying. Is heaven really so interested in our doings?" His eyeball lowers, though looking still strained.
Celeste rolls her eyes, though she doesn't seem especially irritated. "Like I said, I'm here because Ekaym's looking for some gladiators and Eligos was looking for a manager. If I can be totally blunt, I think it's pretty unlikely we'll ever cross paths again. I just have bigger fish to fry."
"I mean, okay, apocalypses supposedly on the horizon and all that, but we just wanted to sneak into the fight aren—"
Beside Celeste, Ekaym coughs and holds up a hand. "Excuse me, I'm sure that's none of my business. As long as your antics don’t jeopardize your fights, I don't much care what you get up to, and I don't think I should know."
Eben lobbies for a fairly upscale restaurant, or at the very least one that's not the Yarpick Roast. Over a meal of duck confit, he listens closely to Ekaym's summary. He doesn't have a lot to add, but at the appropriate point, does ask "Will we have access to the arena on the 'rest' day? Or during off hours? For purposes of training and practice, of course."
For the first time, possibly ever, Tanith eats sparingly as Ekaym's explanation of the games begins to fill his head with dreams of glory.
"And tell us more about this dinner. What kind of extremely important people?"
"Loris Raknian. Other contestants. Bookkeepers and gamblers trying to work out who to wager on—they'll want to interview you about your past exploits, your strengths and weaknesses, that sort of thing."
"Will we have access to the arena on the 'rest' day? Or during off hours? For purposes of training and practice, of course."
"Oh, you'll be staying in the arena the whole time. In fact, you actually aren't allowed to leave the rest area. If you're caught out by an honest guard, you can be disqualified." Ekaym's eyebrows arch meaningfully. "Gladiators all stay underground in the Coenoby—a partly artificial cave beneath the arena. The first night will be extremely crowded—and extremely well-guarded—but things get roomy fast after Bloodbath."
"Being stuck underground for five days is kind of strange but I guess we'll get our share of sunlight when we're in the arena. Will we be able to contact you from down there?"
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Farrukh lets Eben pick the place. It's funny to see the faces he makes when confronted with properly seasoned food, but the group needs him in proper fighting shape.
"Does choosing the leader matter at all beyond who gets to hold the trophies?"
"Not that it matters, Tanith would probably sulk for the rest of eternity if we didn't let him get the glory." he smirks.
"Of course!" Akaym raps Tanith on the chest. "As manager, I will be your main tether to the outside world, Sir Kordson. If you have any errands you need doing, alert me and they shall be done."
Farrukh lets Eben pick the place. It's funny to see the faces he makes when confronted with properly seasoned food, but the group needs him in proper fighting shape.
"Does choosing the leader matter at all beyond who gets to hold the trophies?"
"Not that it matters, Tanith would probably sulk for the rest of eternity if we didn't let him get the glory." he smirks.
"Not at all! In fact, there's no particular rule that says the leader gets to take the trophy. Just general custom."
Carina just sits and eats her meal quietly.
Like clockwork Farrukh sours Tanith's mood. "Great."
"This brings us to the question of the prize money." Ekaym clears his throat. "How does a fifty-fifty split sound?"
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Farrukh slowly turns to Eben and tries to spontaneously develop telepathy.
Get us more. Moooooreee... he thinks, as his eyes bore holes into the con man.
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Eben clears his throat as he takes a swallow of lemon-wine. "I hope I'm not going to sound ungrateful, because we certainly do appreciate the opportunity here, but this is your first time acting as a manager, right? Let's break this down: given the personal dangers we'll be facing, and, let's not forget the reputation the games have for lethality... well, a manager's cut is traditionally smaller than half and half for a reason. Isn't ten percent the standard?"
"On one hand you're going to be missing out on all the glory. On the other hand you're not going to be locked up for five days. Half the prize purse does seem a bit high..."
"Also, we're incredibly volatile and likely to just steal the money back if you cheat us out," Astraden adds helpfully.
Ekaym raises an eyebrow. "Let's compromise. I'll take an equal share of the profits—split seven ways. Ten percent is a little bit absurd, considering I'll be bringing in healing magic every day out of my own pocket."
"Wait, but Rodrigo has a pet - doesn't she get a share too?"
Ekaym ignores Astraden's important question.
The weather is dreadful as the party makes its way to the arena two nights later. Thunder cracks and rumbles overhead. Lightning flashes, momentarily blinding a group of dark-skinned dwarves making their way towards the registry.
As Ekaym and the group wait in line, they hear a call from the clerk announcing an arriving team. "Is this right? Shouldn't there be an apostrophe, or—okay, "
The heroes see a group of gnolls marching inside, accompanied by a filthy-looking gangrel human in furs. He looks vaguely orcish, though that could just be the layer of dirt. And the sharpened teeth.
Ahead of the group is a particularly large group of ogres. Their manager appears to be having trouble getting them to sign their names.
Though the majority of apparent contestants are humans or demihumans, there are a surprising number of monstrous races in attendance—notably the aforementioned ogre, duergar and gnoll teams and a gang of rag-clad troglodytes.
Past the clerk at her desk, the party sees that the event itself takes place under the open sky on what must be the arena's vast battleground. Numerous long banquet tables are arrayed in a circle around a central wooden stage that gives entertainers a place to perform. The entire area is festooned with flowers, ribbons, and multicolored pennants. Two great bonfires burn north of the seating area, and scores of cooks, scullions, and waiters are busy there with spits, grills, and platters.
The place isn't too crowded yet. A patrol of wardens stands at each gate, checking invitations and keeping an eye on proceedings.
Tanith shifts his weight on his feet as the line slowly shuffles forward. ”If anyone wants out now’s the time to speak up.”
He glances Farrukh’s way hopefully.
Carina checks her extracts and makes sure her crossbow & pistol are both loaded.
"I'm with you."
"Yeah, but we're the ones who run the risk of, you know...dying."
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"Why would anyone back out? This is basically what we do every day, except less dangerous."
Rodrigo shuffles nervously in line. It all seems to be happening so fast. Just a short time ago, he was an indebted wastrel with no prospects except liver failure. Now he's richer than he ever was, and part of a team that actually needs him. Or at least tolerate me...Whoever thought I would be fighting in the Champion's Games!? Mother would be so proud!
He turns to his friends. "I think it would be appropriate to name our team after one of your fallen companions. We wouldn't be here without their sacrifice after all."
He looks at the other teams waiting. "I'm thinking I'll concentrate on crowd control and summoning once we're inside," he says quietly enough that no other team can overhear him. "I've got a spell that creates deep pits...I'll try to use it on any melee brutes we end up facing. So once a fight starts, you should wait for me to do that before rushing them," he suggests to Tanith and Farrukh.
"...Erip's Avengers?" Carina offers, wincing and looking at her feet.
"Erip's Avengers", Tanith echos while squeezing Carina's hand.
”I don’t think we need to worry about fighting tonight”, the big Kordite answers in reply to Rodrigo’s discussion of tactics. ”Tonight’s just a dinner and chance to schmooze. Though you and Eben might want to use this time to see what Raknian knows about our business in the games. He’s supposed to be here tonight. We should also use tonight to get to know the competition.”
Ekaym pauses as he's turning to leave.
"On second thought...that's a good point, Farrukh. Alright, ten percent it is."
"Put down Tanith as the leader," Astraden tells Ekaym quietly. "He's the only one who gives a s!&! about the trophy. And, though most of us won't admit it straight up, he's kinda the glue that keeps us all focused on our jobs."
She looks up to where the rest of the party is discussing the name. "Just go with whatever's most popular by the time we get up there. Though, if I had my wont, we'd be called Old Boys after this friend of ours. A really funny guy."
Carina shrugs. "That works too."
Rodrigo rolls his eyes at Tanith. "I know we won't be fighting tonight, but it never hurts to get these things down ahead of time."
Rodrigo thinks for a moment. "Why don't we use Sombra as a listening device at the dinner tonight? With a spell of invisibility from someone, she should be able to get into a hidden position near Raknian, and hear everything he says throughout the night."
"Um... who's Erip? And how are we Avenging him?" Eben asks, genuinely perplexed, especially since he'd assumed that 'named after a dead friend' had a much more logical and recent choice. "What about... Cuetzpalli's Crew? Or Cuetz's Killers? Or... Spiny's Slayers? I think Cuetz would be fine with naming us after Spiny..."
A distant roar is heard from the direction of Anlathi's dwelling.
Tanith beams at Astraden's comment, glad that his strength and Kord's guidance had been enough to help get them this far. "I'd be honored to be named team leader!"
At Rodrigo's suggestion he nods. "That's a good plan. She speaks Common, right? Sorry, she's the first magical flying snake I've ever met."
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A distant roar is heard from the direction of Anlathi's dwelling.
"Damn it, Spiny, swallow the damn pill!"
Tanith beams at Astraden's comment, glad that his strength and Kord's guidance had been enough to help get them this far. "I'd be honored to be named team leader!"
At Rodrigo's suggestion he nods. "That's a good plan. She speaks Common, right? Sorry, she's the first magical flying snake I've ever met."
"She does in fact. She's just extremely shy. She'll only talk to me for some reason," Rodrigo lies.
Actually she's just a condescending b$#@$, so I keep her quiet.
"Um... who's Erip? And how are we Avenging him?" Eben asks, genuinely perplexed, especially since he'd assumed that 'named after a dead friend' had a much more logical and recent choice. "What about... Cuetzpalli's Crew? Or Cuetz's Killers? Or... Spiny's Slayers? I think Cuetz would be fine with naming us after Spiny..."
"Those make it sounds more like WE killed Cuetz or Spiny."
"Maybe something to get Raknian's panties in a twist. "Zyrxog's Bane" or "Worm Stompers" or something."
"And tip him off, giving him more of a reason to target us first?" Carina deadpans at Farrukh. "No way."
Great, Raknian's got an advantage on us from the start--we can't even decide on a team name to get into the Games.
"...I like the idea of Spiny's Six."
"Hm. I second Spiny's Six. Though we don't let Anlathi tell him we're calling ourselves that; he'll get an ego."
"Spiny's Six does have a certain ring to it. My gods, this line is interminable."
"Mind you, that means most people are going to assume Tanith is called Spiny." Eben warns.
"Do you think so? What was Auric's team called?"
"Mind you, that means most people are going to assume Tanith is called Spiny." Eben warns.
"Hmm... built like a dinosaur, can rip through baddies like a dinosaur, can punch through solid marble... honestly, I can't really blame them if they do." Carina pats Tanith's bicep and blushes a bit.
"And tip him off, giving him more of a reason to target us first?" Carina deadpans at Farrukh. "No way."
"Tip him off to what? It's not exactly like our existence is a secret to him. He's already tried to have us killed."
Polite applause greets the heroes as they are escorted into the great arena. The six are shown their table and servants soon provide plenty of delicious food and drink. The arena fills quickly with guests and attendants, though at 5:40, there is still no sign of Loris Raknian.
Numerous long banquet tables are arrayed in a circle around a central wooden stage that gives entertainers a place to perform. The entire area is festooned with flowers, ribbons, and multicolored pennants. Two great bonfires burn north of the seating area, and scores of cooks, scullions, and waiters are busy there with spits, grills, and platters.
At a table between the central bonfire and the stage sit two men. Certain members of the group recognize them instantly: It is Auric and Khellek.