CY 595
10th day of Patchwall (equivalent to September)
City of Greyhawk
The Champion’s Games are here! This annual event, organized and produced by well-known and well-liked public figure Loris Raknian, has long been a much-beloved tradition in the Free City. Gladiators come from distant lands to participate in the
games, and the winner gains the honor of wearing the Champion’s Belt for the next year, when he must defend his title from all challengers.
You makes your way through the crowds of adventurers gathering to sign up for the Champion's Games. All races and classes of adventurers can be seen of different skill levels. You make the line and finally reach the clerk. He/she asks you 3 questions and only 3:
"Name?"
"Individual or Group?"
"Do you have 100 gp entry fee?"
They give you a paper with a number and ask you to move along after taking your gp. You know the paper means there are more competitors than are allowed. The Games is a competition of 16 teams (max 5 people per team). 10 teams have already been registered. Thus, there will be a lottery to determine the last 30 competitors out of a pool of 500 competitors.
Anxious moments pass for the next 1 hour. Then, one of the clerks starts calling numbers. 5 people called...10 people called..15 people called...and you hear your number called. The six remaining teams are directed to separate areas, where you meet your fellow competitors.
Gomlock steps forward.
Gomlock Firehide, individual, here's your cash! he snaps out crisply before heading off to the waiting area.
As he waits to be called he scans the crowd of hopefuls looking for likely team mates and sizing up potential opponents. He is particularly looking for other spellcasters.
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spells prior and healing after! Bring the diamond and pay half and I will raise you from the dead on contract! Bless, Prayer, blessing of Fervor can all be had! Hurry hurry and get here before everything is gone. Open spells as well which can be chosen within ten minutes for 10% more! Mei calls out from the tent she had set up as a mobile healing tent.
The 5'7" raven-haired elf made her way through the crowd of primarily humans, her arcane elven branched spear in her hand in case anyone thought of getting too handsy with her. She had traveled a long way to reach the City of Greyhawk and these Champion's Games. Sure, there was the esteem of winning such a famous tournament, but Sylvana cared little for that. Her funds were running low. She needed to make gold and lots of it. However, her coffers had little over 1000 gp left. The entry fee was 100 and the rest of it on her to win, she thought. If I can get good odds, I could make quite a bundle.
She waited impatiently in line until it was her turn and she responded back in one word answers as well: "Sylvana, Individual, Yes." After paying and moving to the registration area, she said a quick prayer to Solonor, the elven god of the hunt, for luck in the being selected in the lottery. When her number was called, she heard the groans and complaints of some adventurers around her, but she did not care. She moved to the area where her "team" was. I hope they know a little about combat. Never shy, she broke the ice and approached the other members. "Sylvana Alustriel, fighter and trap-finder extraordinaire. I'm ready to win these Games and make some gold. How about the rest of you?"
Standing in the line Ivar looked out across the other field of applicants, at six an a half feet tall he was head and shoulders above most of the folks around him. Looking specifically at the other martial combatants, he noticed a couple of orcs of a similar size but few humans were as tall or broad as himself. He noticed a great variety in armor styles with many wearing a breastplate similar to his own and almost as many carried larger two-handed weapons, but none the 'Butchering' axe preferred by the northerners.
As he moved through the line he ran his hand through his scraggly beard, scraching at the bottom of the scar that ran down the left side of his face. As he approached the clerk at the table, he realized she looked like the woman he'd played cards with the night before. She had called the way he scratched at his scar a 'tell,' he stopped fidgiting with his beard when the clerk looked up at him. Answering her in his best common "Ivar Theodinson, I vill fight, vit a group or alone, vich ever vould bring der most money. But for der qvuestion, alone." Shaking his head at the question about money, he reached into his pack pulling out his chain shirt. "If I had der money I vould not be here. Dis 'shirt' is vorth three time der fee." He smiles, the scar on his cheek pinching the left side of his lips together. "I vill purchase it back from der vinnings."
Accepting the paper from the clerk, Ivar looks down at the number, not taking the time to calculate it into the runes he was familiar with. As the time passes, he moves through the waiting area, looking at the other competitors. When he hears his number called, he double checks the marks, this time making sure he did calculate them correctly, then heads towards the area designated.
Seeing a couple others in the designated area, he looks from the pale man to the raven-haired elf. Raising an eyebrow as the woman introduces herself as someone ready to 'win.' Shrugging, he casually shifts the axe on his shoulder. "I am Ivar Theodinson, sometimes call "Goldilocks" He looks around to see if anyone has a comment, then continues, squinting his cold blue eyes. "A named man of der Fruztii." The way he smiles and lifts his chin clearly indicating that being a named man of the north is enough explanation why he believes he should be a winning competitor in any martial competition.
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champions and competitors Spells before and after! a woman calls out who is wearing dark robes and a grey cloak with a black lotus brooch holy symbol as a clasp and a sensible pair of boots well polished but with a lot of miles on them. Behind her is a tent with some cots for healing and recovering.
Gomlock steps up to the small group coming together for the games. He is short, a little under 5'6, with pale gray skin, bright green eyes and close cropped dark hair. He wears a long black robe decorated with arcane runes along the sleeve cuffs and hem. Belted at his waist is a spell component pouch and spellbook and he carries a simple pack slung over one shoulder.
Welcome, the name is Gomlock, glad to meet you. It seems they are trying to put together mixed groups, should make this "competition" interesting. I am curious about just how "nonlethal" these games are supposed to be. I haven't yet managed to capture someone with a fireball! Any of you lot know what the rules of this thing are?
Sylvana smiles at Goldilocks' name, but says nothing offensive. "Big strong warrior. Ok, I've dealt with plenty of those." She walks around the party gathered and looks at Mei, "Priestess of darkness? Not a comforting thought, but as long as you can heal and don't offer me as a sacrifice to your god, we'll be good." She saunters over to Gomlock, "Sorry, I am a little ignorant of the rules. This is my first competition, but good to know you can toss fireballs. I tend to roll away from those." Sylvana sees the quiet druid and waits for him to speak to form an impression.
Raising an eyebrow as the smallish pale man comments about 'capturing someone with a fireball' Ivar chuckles, shaking his head in response to the question about rules. Pausing his comment as the Dark-haired woman in the grey cloak who had been hawking her wares joined them. His curiosity peaked he wonders about this Xan Yea. When the elf speaks up he turns towards her, she had obviously heard about the 'goddess of darkness.'
Ivar makes a mental note to ask Mei if her goddess accepted humans as offerings; All the gods of the Fruztii strictly forbade it. He'd heard of tribes that worshiped 'demons' that practiced human sacrifice and was curious to know if Xan Yea was such a creature.
He watches as the elf 'saunters' towards the ... Ivar paused, looking at Gomlock again. He'd initially thought the man was human but realized he may be a very small half orc. Frowning, he considers asking, but decided to wait until he knew the man better to ask. He didn't want to be the target of one of those fireballs.
Returning his attention to what the elf was saying; he, like her, had no idea what the rules were, or the opponent, or the amount or method of reward. He just knew he had spent all of his gold gambling and the only people he'd known in town had left that morning on the ship he'd sailed in on.
Joining the conversation, "I believe der priestess of de Darkness is correct." He gestures towards the other teams. "It's quite clear det ve are being put into, how you say, teams." He smiles, causing the scar crossing his left cheek to pinch. "Maybe ve should give ourselves a name und acquire a mascot?" He considered showing them his tattoo as an example but decided to wait until the celebration of their victory.
Instead, he lifted the large axe off of his shoulder, holding it out one handed; pointing it, the way a carpenter might point with a roofing hammer, at Sylvana's spear. "So tell us elf, do you fight vit just der spear? Or do you use töfrara?" Realizing he used the word from the cold tongue, he paused for a moment thinking of the word in common. "Use der magics as vell?"
Sylvana smiles at Ivar, "While my kind is known for its wizards and spellcasters, it never much appealed to me. Always seemed pretty dull. I always preferred grace and a little strength to get the job done and my trusted spear has not failed me yet. Maybe we can spar soon." The elven lass flexes her toned muscles ().
Raising an eyebrow as the elf flexes her arms, Ivar resist the urge to flex his arm and just nods, "Maybe ve spar, I vould use der shield und saex." He pats the handle of the vicious looking ax "My bardagastíll, my Fighting style vit der ax does not lend itself to practicing on friendly targets."
chuckling at Mei's comment about hitting what you can't see, Ivar shakes his head in disagreement. "Visible or not, if de are close enough to hit me I vill be able to hit dem."
Seeing movement in some of the other groups, Ivar looks around and begins counting heads, trying to determin how many 'combatants' there are in each of the other groups. "Vell it looks like ve are four." He gestures towards the great double doors. "Ven do you t'ink der games vill begin?"
"The games "vill begin" only once you have a manager", a voice from the crowd calls out, imitating Ivar's accent pretty well, as a short blonde human handsome male in his late thirties appears smiling. He wears a fine blue robe, polished knee-high boots, and carries a lute slung on the shoulder.
He gives the party a look. "Okay, to be honest, I've never heard of any of ya. Now, do not get offended, but that's the reality. I'm sure you're all fully competent. So, since you're new, the principal rule is that all teams entering the Champion's Games require a manager with a valid Gladiator's license...like the one I have. I'm willing to be your manager, as long as I get, say, 50% of your team's winnings. What say ye?"
"Oh, and also, you need a team name. The crowds like flashy names."
Hearing the 'pretty' man's proposal, Ivar gives a low growl. Not liking the idea of giving up fifty percent; but realizing that half the money is worth more than none of the money. He turns towards 'the Bard' asking, "So little man, since it is your license, vill you fight vit us in der pits?"
He looks from Ekaym to the others, giving a wry smile that pinches the scar on his left cheek. "As fer der name, how does 'Der Dead Bards' sound?" He looks back towards the blond, his smile turning wolfish, pulling on the scared cheek making the left eye squint, he asks. "If somet'ing ver to happen to you, does der team get your share?"
His smile lightens as his left eye waters slightly, then he shrugs. "At fifty percent, I vould expect you to carry your own Vater, so to speak. Vat say you take less und I protect you more."
Ekaym smiles nervously, as he's not sure if Ivar is kidding or not. "As you manager, I enroll you into the Games, get your schedules, handle all administrative matters, and handle the betting. There's 16 teams, correct? So:
Win 1st round: Team wins 2000 gp (8 teams left)
Win 2nd round: Team wins 5000 gp (4 teams left)
Win 3rd Round: Team wins 10,000 gp (2 teams left)
Win Finals: Team wins 20,000 gp.
However, my most important role is the side bets. I can increase your fame or more importantly, decrease your fame, convince the other bettors that you are trash or lucky, and get you the best odds for your bets. That's where you will make the most gold. But no, I do not fight with you in the arena. I can handle myself, so you should not need to protect me. However, I do not want to piss you off, especially the big northman. How about 40%, then?"
"Okay, Ekaym. I'm Sylvana. So you do not risk getting cut or hit or zapped by a magic spell and you have no influence on us actually winning any fight in the arena, yet you're asking for 40% of the winnings? While I understand your role in increasing the betting odds and I am definitely interested in the side bets action, I still don't think that justifies that high a percentage. And I'm sure the team would agree. Right, Gomlock?"
Gomlock crosses his arms across his chest and scowls at the new arrival. 50%, 50%! You expect us to put our lives on the line and fill your pockets while we have to split half the winnings amongst the rest of us. We take all the risk and come out with a paltry few hundred gold. I don't think so.
He scans the crowd, Looks like there are plenty more potential managers out here looking for business. As you can see our team boasts multiple powerful spellcasters, always an advantage in games such as these. It seems to me that you should be explaining to us why we should go with you rather than one of your competitors. Just what do you bring to the table beyond your, "license".
Ekaym's smile disappears for a second, as he appears pensive. "Gomlock, is it? You make excellent points in a rational and subdued manner, without threatening to rip me limb from limb. Well, besides my license, I have many contacts in the city and I will guarantee you the best odds, if you like the side-betting action like Sylvana here. As for my rate, how about an equal split of the shares among all of us? That way I am incentivized to make the group as much gold as possible. Deal? Oh and I am also an excellent troubadour."
Ekaym waits for your answer. Assuming it is positive, he writes down all of your names. "And the team name? I assume the Dead Bards was a joke."
Raising an eyebrow at the 'troubadour's' willingness to go with an even split, Ivar smiles. "Equal split is góður." He looks to the elf then back again. "Und der side betting is a good idea. Vager vatever I make until ve end der t'ing. Ve vill vin." He was about to say 'or die trying,' But honestly he wasn't that committed.
When Ekaym asks about the name, Ivar's lifts a hand, shrugging. "I'm ok vit der name." He looks around the group, "Does anyvone have a better idea?" His smile widens enough to pull the scar on his left cheek and make his eye squint. "Vat about der Dead Troubadours? I has a better ring to it, yah?"
Sylvana gives the sorcerer a thumbs up. "Yeah, that sounds much better, Ekaym, equal shares for all. And get us the best odds possible. Say we are lucky to be in this tournament at all as we are unknown. How that for a group name: The Enigmas?" Sylvana chuckles at her wittiness.
Gomlock nods, Yes, that sounds like a much better arrangement, I am fine with it. As for a name, I rather like The Enigmas.
Now, what can you tell us about the competition rules?
Furrowing his brow, Ivar leans over to the capitalistic cleric, asking Mei softly, "Vat is en enigma?"
Smiling at the joke he nods, "A t'ing vit no answer, so a ráðgáta" He looks at Sylvana, "Funny, I like it."
Looking at Ekaym', He shifts the axe on his shoulder, "A five vay split, I can live vit det." He gestures towards doors, with his empty hand, "Can you explain der rules as ve valk det vay?"
Reminding their manager. "As I said, my preference vould be you vager all my vinnings until ve vin der final bout."
Ekaym smiles, "Enigmas? I like it. We'll go with that." He take out a notepad and jots down the name. "Okay, so you asked about the rules of the competition. As I told you, it takes 4 battles to win the championship. The first battle is a battle royale style 4-team slugfest; the second is the one on one (team vs. team); the third is against a monster held in captivity; and then the finals. The rules of combat are the following:
1. All battles are potentially lethal, but a gladiator always has the option of surrender. To surrender, a gladiator must drop his weapons, kneel, and hold both hands in the air. A gladiator who attacks a surrendering foe is immediately disqualified (and likely arrested for assault or murder). A gladiator who surrenders and then attacks another gladiator is also immediately disqualified.
2. Gladiators that can fly or levitate may do so up to a height of 40 feet. A gladiator that flies any higher is disqualified. Burrowing into the arena’s floor is forbidden and grounds for disqualification.
3. A match persists until one team is victorious, either through the death or the surrender of all opposing teams.
4. Winning gladiators have no right to the spoils of the fallen. A defeated gladiator keeps his gear, or in the case of death, ownership of gear reverts to his team or manager.
5. Any tactic that endangers spectators is grounds for immediate disqualification and possible legal action. So no throwing fireballs into the crowd.
6. A disqualified gladiator must cease fighting at once and must move to the edge of the field of battle immediately. Failure to comply results in the disqualification of the entire team. Once a gladiator is disqualified, he may no longer take part in any remaining battles.
7. Awards are given after each battle, as I detailed previously.
8. You're allowed to buff before battles with spells, wands, potions, etc. Usually, most teams do so while their name is being announced."
Ekaym checks his list, "Yes, that's all for combat. Okay, one more thing. There's a dinner in a few hours held for the selected competitors in the arena. It's very fancy. This is where I will start taking wagers for you and downplaying your skills, which shouldn't be too hard, as I don't know if any of you can fight worth a lick. Anyway, that's a good thing, give you better odds. The best I can do for you is get you 5 to 1 odds on the first bet. So, if you've got gold, come see me and place your wages. There is no banking system in place. I, as your manager, will place your bets and collect your winnings. You can bet on your odds to win it all or the 1st match. Last thing, after the Dinner, you're bound to stay on the Arena's grounds in an underground villa reserved for the gladiators. So if you've got people to see or errands to do in town, get them out of the way before tonight. I'll meet you here at 7pm to escort you to the dinner. Any other questions?"
His cold blue eyes intently focused on their new manager, Ivar Listens intently as the Troubadour speaks. Giving a low growl when Ekaym comments about down playing skills, he leans over to Sylvana, "I told him I vas a 'named man' does he not listen?"
Hearing he wagering could start before the battle began Ivar wished he'd kept some of his pay from the last ship he served on. Raising an eyebrow when Ekaym commented about an 'underground villa' he asks, "Vill all der fights be fought in vone day, or vill de spread der battles out over several days?"
Gomlock grins as their new manager sets out the rules, Well, that all sounds pretty straight forward. These fights aren't intentionally deadly but I guess the risk is always going to be there. I think I will spend the day making sure my will is sorted and maybe picking up some extra resouces. Scrolls and potions are probably all a good idea. Given we are relative unknowns then we should probably bet big on the first round, our odds are likely to shorten after the first battle.
He digs around in his pack and produces a hefty looking pouch which he hands to Ekaym. Here you go, 500gp on us to win, I have confidence in us! For the rest of you I would recommend having some ways to fly, see invisible things and deal with being grappled. I have a few of these hand talismans which help with the latter. Scrolls of spells like heroism, expeditious retreat and resist energy might be helpful. I will haste us all at the start of things.
He turns back to Ekaym, What do we know about the other teams? We will presumably meet them at this dinner tonight. I suggest we all downplay how capable we are, scuff up your gear, dial down those charming personalities and generally try to appear to be a bit clueless. Ivar, you may be a named man but not round these parts I think. I have a reputation of my own but it wasn't made here in Greyhawk.