This is a PF1 adventure starting at 11th level.
25 point build, normal WBL.
Some say Goka, the City of Wonders, is the largest metropolis on Golarion. Natives of Absalom or Katapesh dispute this but what cannot be disputed is that Goka is likely the most competitive city in the world. From children in cram schools to fisherman competing for catch in the bay, from priests of different deities competing for converts to merchant kings fighting for market dominance, the intensity and competitiveness of the average Gokan citizen is unmatched anywhere in the world.
So it makes sense that it is here, in the center of Tian Xia's (or even the world's) most competitive city, that the world's most legendary competition is set. The great sorceress Hao Jin's will allows that once every 10 years, the champion of a tournament may enter her vault and select one thing from the collection of wondrous items she amassed over the course of her legendary, centuries-long lifetime. The tournament has been going on for over 300 years and her vault is still said to be full of incredible items of incalculable power.
Your group was just one of several crowded onto the fishing boat turned ferry that was just leaving the dock to cross Xu Hong Bay to Xielan Island, a sleepy island normally home only to a small fishing village except for the once-a-decade festivities of the Ruby Phoenix Tournament. The shoulder-to-shoulder, skyscraping buildings of Goka fell away as the no doubt extremely well compensated fisher-ferryman piloted the boat across the busy harbor to the newly refurbished docks of New Harbor, Xielan Island's only permanent settlement.
In this land where men rarely grew taller than five and a half feet, and averaged three inches less than that, Yang Jing quite literally stood out.
Not only because he was a head taller than most, nor simply because his hair seemed literally to be ultra-fine strands of onyx, nor even solely because of the shape and color of his irises (polished rubies, ringed in glittering gold).
In a city as large as Goka, and a tournament as highly competitive as that of the Ruby Phoenix, Yang Jing's physical oddities were but one collection of many.
No, in this crowd, on this particular boat, Yang Jing stood out because, far from looking like an ambitious competitor to be, or even an excited observer, he was frowning at his companions and complaining about being there at all.
"I still find it troubling that you would call us away from the Worldwound, on pretense of something being, 'of the utmost urgency and import,'" - One could hear the inverted commas in his tone - "only to reveal to us that you've signed us up to compete in a competition."
Jing raised a hand to forestall the argument he knew was coming - this was not their first time discussing the topic, after all - and sighed.
"I know, you have said that not only entering, but winning the competition is important, and I will not insult you or our relationship by doubting your words. I just find it troubling."
What Jing did not say out loud was what he found even more troubling. Namely, that the Empyreal Lord Ragathiel, in whose direct service Yang Jing's life was sworn, had not contradicted the call. That at no point during the journey here, nor after discovering the reason for their summons, had the General of Vengeance given his Deliverer any sign at all that He disapproved. In fact, every possible event or "sign" that Jing had witnessed to this point seemed to indicate just the opposite.
Ragathiel wanted his servant Yang Jing to be here, in this place, at this time, and with these people, to compete in this contest.
And Yang Jing had no idea why.
Troubling, indeed.
In contrast to Jing, Hiro Kaneda was decidedly average. Average height, average build, and wearing the topknot typical of the Tian-Min. About the only thing unusual about him was his violet eyes.
And the fact he was sitting cross-legged on a random barrel, seeming half in meditation.
"One does not find nirvana by arguing with friends, Jing. Qīngwā asked us to come, and so we came."
He cracked a smirk and added, "Remember the traveler's zen: No matter where you go, there you are. Your luggage notwithstanding."
"Well said, friend. You'd make a good Desnan devout." Casimir has moved to the bow of the boat, both to see better and have little fresh air on his face. The people here really don't have the concept of personal space.
"To travel, just for the sake of travel. That is life." he smiles his trademark smile - wide and roguish. It has been described charming (and disarming), and saved him from many a situation. While Casimir isn't particularly tall man (although here he can feel like one), but he tends to stand out. Whether it is his radiant personality or his outrageous hat, people do notice him.
"So, this competition... Why people take part? Is it just to show who's the best, or is the price what's everybody's after? The vault of this fellow, whatshisname.."
"So, this competition... Why people take part? Is it just to show who's the best, or is the price what's everybody's after? The vault of this fellow, whatshisname.."
"Yes." Hiro answered cryptically.
Earlier....
Kunsheng completed the process of braiding his hair, striving with all his will to focus on the texture of it in his hands, the precision of his movements, the way the air felt moving into and out of his lungs, the prayers that decades of repetition had worn into routine...and almost managed to finish his obedience to the Master of Masters without being distracted by the messenger waiting behind him. He straightened up, braid draped around his neck, and turned to face the man with a low bow. "Thank you for your patience. If I may ask, what message is so important that Mistress Lao-Shan felt it necessary for her messenger to ride through the night and arrive at our monastery while we were performing our morning rites?"
The messenger returned the bow. "Abbot Xue, please accept my apologies for this violation. You know, of course, that this is the year of the Ruby Phoenix Tournament?"
The older priest nodded. "Of course. But what is that to us? Some of Irori's faithful have chosen to compete as individuals, but that is their choice, and I have no intention of making the same choice. And the church here has never entered the competition as a group."
In response, the messenger handed over a scroll. Kunsheng unsealed it and read it quickly, eyes widening.
Abbot Xue, my divinations have indicated that a grave threat to peace and good order will manifest unless some group--I could not determine which one--fails to win this year's Tournament. However, the presence of a team of Iroran monks would raise considerable and unwanted attention. You, however, are the most competent of our priests and scholars who has spent time outside Tian Xia. I request that you find some of your old companions and enter the Tournament. Tell no one save your team that you are doing this under my orders! Should you win, the choice of items I leave to your and their discretion. Finally, do not count on being able to identify the team who must not be allowed to win. All I am certain of is that it is not yours. Good luck, old friend. The message was signed with Lao-Shan's chop.
Kunsheng sighed. "Well. I suppose I'll need to prepare some sending spells, and hope that enough of my friends still live. Come, sir. You've delivered your message--join us in the refectory for the morning meal, and then I'll have a room prepared for you." On the way to breakfast, the cleric stopped in the kitchen to burn the scroll, carefully stirring the ashes with a poker. Hmmm...who can I count on?
To be continued....
"So, this competition... Why people take part? Is it just to show who's the best, or is the price what's everybody's after? The vault of this fellow, whatshisname..""Yes." Hiro answered cryptically.
From behind them came a woman's voice. "Good answer!" The auburn-haired woman laughed. While she was dressed in the clothes of a Gokan fisherman down to the wide conical hat, her features were unmistakably Avistani, her reddish hair, blue eyes, and fair skin marking her as someone from far to the west.
"I'm Risha!" she said, sticking out a hand to shake with the nearest member of the group- that alone would have marked her as a foreigner here. Her Tien was quick and liquid, perfectly fluent but betraying that she had learned it from someone from Xa Hoi, far to the southeast. "From Absalom." She nodded at Casimir. "Me and my team are here the prize. I imagine everybody is. Only an Iroran would go through all this just to prove they're the best."
"Are you all not?" From Risha's tone it was clear she could hardly fathom the idea.
Yang Jing looked at the woman, trying to determine whether she was really from where she appeared to be from, and whether her friendly approach was as it appeared, or some sort of subterfuge. If she was here to compete, it would make sense that she would have some sort of ulterior motive in her approach.
Jing did not frown at the woman, nor try to appear standoffish, but Jing being Jing, he probably came across that way anyway. His glittering ruby eyes locked with hers for a moment, and he nodded a greeting.
"We are here to win," he said, simply. He saw no reason to give more context than that. Besides, if form held true, Casimir would do that anyway. The mere thought was enough to bring a slight smile to Yang Jing's face.
”What he said!” Casimir laughed and agreed with Yang.
He grabbed the offered hand and gave it a firm shake. ”From Absalom, eh? Lovely place. I’m Casimir, and I’m most pleased to meet you.“
Despite his foreign look, Casimir’s Tien betrayed no accent. It would sound completely native, if not for the rather simple vocabulary and outlandish turns of phrase. But sounding natural was what Casimir did best after all.
”To completely honest, I have no idea what we’re trying to get out from the fights. Besides winning, that is. But enlighten me, dear - what is the prize you’re after? Who knows, maybe I’m after it too…“ he flashes his most charming smile at Risha, his hand still lingering on hers, after the handshake.
"Only an Iroran would go through all this just to prove they're the best."
"Are you all not?" From Risha's tone it was clear she could hardly fathom the idea.
"Ah, but is that not prize enough? To prove one's skill against others and oneself? Zen is not found in material gain, though the right materials can make the finding a more pleasant journey!" He flashed a grin, but remained on the barrel.
"We are here to win," he said, simply. He saw no reason to give more context than that. Besides, if form held true, Casimir would do that anyway. The mere thought was enough to bring a slight smile to Yang Jing's face.
The woman laughed, not unkindly. "So say we all! Luckily these things aren't to the death so all me and my friends are gonna do is send you away with a few bruises." Honestly? She seemed friendly enough, to Yang Jing.
”What he said!” Casimir laughed and agreed with Yang.
He grabbed the offered hand and gave it a firm shake. ”From Absalom, eh? Lovely place. I’m Casimir, and I’m most pleased to meet you.“
Despite his foreign look, Casimir’s Tien betrayed no accent. It would sound completely native, if not for the rather simple vocabulary and outlandish turns of phrase. But sounding natural was what Casimir did best after all.
”To completely honest, I have no idea what we’re trying to get out from the fights. Besides winning, that is. But enlighten me, dear - what is the prize you’re after? Who knows, maybe I’m after it too…“ he flashes his most charming smile at Risha, his hand still lingering on hers, after the handshake.
Risha smiled back at Casimir, not pulling her hand out of his for a few long seconds. "They say it's a mini Abadar's Vault in there. That lady collected one of the best of everything in the world. We're here to get a dose of Sun Orchid Elixir. There must be one in there. If we can take one of those back home we'll be set for life!"
She gestured at his starknife. "I've seen those before but never in a fight. How do you even use that?"
"Ah, but is that not prize enough? To prove one's skill against others and oneself? Zen is not found in material gain, though the right materials can make the finding a more pleasant journey!" He flashed a grin, but remained on the barrel."Only an Iroran would go through all this just to prove they're the best."
"Are you all not?" From Risha's tone it was clear she could hardly fathom the idea.
The woman laughed again- she had a free, easy laugh. "I find zen in a nice house, a bunch of servants, and enough Carpenden Bubble Wine to float me into retirement." She nodded at Hiro's bow, noticing his lack of any melee weapons. "So you're an archer?" Risha looked over at Yang Jing. "With him up front, eh?"
She patted the cased bow on her back and smiled at Hiro. "We've got the same setup." Risha, too, carried no melee weapons. The young blonde woman's everpresent smile turned into a grin. "We'll see who wins the archery competition, though! I'm the quickest bow hand you've ever seen," she boasted.
It was obvious that even though she was friendly she was fishing for information on the competition, though it appeared she was willing to exchange information, not sneakily trick it out of them.
She gestured at his starknife. "I've seen those before but never in a fight. How do you even use that?"
”This?“ Casimir points the weapon at his belt. ”I suppose you try to keep more of the pointy bits toward the enemy, and wiggle it around. I’d love to give you a demonstration, dear, but alas…“ he motions at people around them. ”…it’s a bit crowded here. You’ll have to wait until the event. I don’t suppose there’s a starknife-fighting competition?“
Sun Orchid Elixir. Sure, Casimir has heard of those. He doesn’t know exactly what it does, but he knows some people are willing to pay for it. People like kings, and queens, and purses to match.
Participating in this tournament starts to sound like a very good idea.
The woman laughed again- she had a free, easy laugh. "I find zen in a nice house, a bunch of servants, and enough Carpenden Bubble Wine to float me into retirement." She nodded at Hiro's bow, noticing his lack of any melee weapons. "So you're an archer?" Risha looked over at Yang Jing. "With him up front, eh?"
She patted the cased bow on her back and smiled at Hiro. "We've got the same setup." Risha, too, carried no melee weapons. The young blonde woman's everpresent smile turned into a grin. "We'll see who wins the archery competition, though! I'm the quickest bow hand you've ever seen," she boasted.
"Indeed?" Hiro simply smiled, letting her have her boast. "A wise combatant learns of their foe," he added with a nod. "But be certain what you learn is truth, for deception is afoot."
Yang Jing grunted at Hiro's words, and the corners of his mouth curved up.
"As always, he said, with a nod.
"Who is 'we?'"
”This?“ Casimir points the weapon at his belt. ”I suppose you try to keep more of the pointy bits toward the enemy, and wiggle it around. I’d love to give you a demonstration, dear, but alas…“ he motions at people around them. ”…it’s a bit crowded here. You’ll have to wait until the event. I don’t suppose there’s a starknife-fighting competition?“
Sun Orchid Elixir. Sure, Casimir has heard of those. He doesn’t know exactly what it does, but he knows some people are willing to pay for it. People like kings, and queens, and purses to match.
Participating in this tournament starts to sound like a very good idea.
Risha laughed. "Not that I know of, but the last one was 10 years ago so you never know."
"Indeed?" Hiro simply smiled, letting her have her boast. "A wise combatant learns of their foe," he added with a nod. "But be certain what you learn is truth, for deception is afoot."
The blonde woman grinned back at Hiro. "I like you! Be certain what you learn is truth," she repeated to herself.
Yang Jing grunted at Hiro's words, and the corners of his mouth curved up.
"As always, he said, with a nod.
"Who is 'we?'"
Risha jerked a thumb toward the back of the boat on the other side of the fishing vessel's bridge. "My team! We're all from Avistan. Cost us a pretty penny to travel all this way, let me tell you. Don't let Pirin rope you into playing cards with her, she's been trying to win back the money she lost at the casino for a week."
"So you're all here to compete without knowing the prize or anything about the contest?" She looked from one member of the group to the next, burning curiosity clear on her face.
Hiro shrugged, "I, for one, am local. Well, as local as Minkai. I've heard stories of the Tournament from as long as I have memories. What was truth and what was exaggeration, who's to say." he grinned.
"But yes, we know of the prize. Some of us just happen to care about that more than others." Idly, he pondered what legendary item he would select. Perhaps a better bow? Something to further enhance his already formidable abilities? Or just something worth enough gold to purchase his very own castle on the coast of Minkai...
He grinned again, his eyes drifting to her bow for just a moment. "I shall be looking for you at the tournament, Risha." What, exactly, he meant by that was undecipherable.
Hearing a dismissal when she heard one, Risha chuckled. "Alright then, deadeye. I'll see you out there." She gave the rest of the group a deep nod, almost a half bow, before turning to go approach another group of would-be champions.
"Until next time, Risha." With a grand flourish, Casimir swept off his hat and made a low bow.
"A charming lass," he noted to the others. "I hope we don't end up fighting her."
"Wisdom is understanding that the first person you meet on the way to a tournament will become your nemesis within it." Hiro nodded sagely.
A short time later the ferry finally landed at New Harbor. The boat was crowded but the dock and town beyond was packed. It was like a parade and a festival and a wedding had all come together and dumped their decorations and attendants into what was normally a small fishing village. Hundreds of onlookers dressed in the clothes of a dozen nations pushed and shoved to get a look at every newcomer. As contestants arrived, townsfolk and visitors showered them with cherry blossoms and handed out ceramic cups filled with warm, pungent liquor.
The crowd was a solid wall of flesh and energy that led to the center of town, where a crowded noodle house, Yon Loi’s, served as the hub of all the activity in New Harbor. Yon Loi's was a large, open-air structure centered around a courtyard filled with long, shaded tables for the common folk. Smaller round tables filled the roofed balcony surrounding the courtyard, from which wealthier patrons and the tournament elite could look down on the hoi polloi.
The entire place was full of townsfolk, visitors, and potential contestants. The party atmosphere was infectious but even as the group was ushered inside they could see competitors doing what they did best- compete. Two men and a woman were balanced precariously on the second floor railing, the woman on one foot folded into a half-lotus and one man ostentatiously reading a book and looking bored about the potential twenty foot drop to the courtyard. People were yelling advice at them and bets at each other while the wait staff hustled from table to table and to the kitchen and back.
The kitchen sat on the ground floor, behind a short partition, and the competitor groups were all ushered to different tables scattered around the second floor, crammed in anywhere there was space. Each competitor received a complimentary bowl of salty noodle soup full of fish and vegetables and each table a free pot of hot rice wine.
Yang Jing had been mostly silent during the travel from the boat to the noodle house, but he could not contain the sigh of delight that escaped his lips after his first taste of the soup that had been put before him.
Their travels had not been instantaneous, and he'd availed himself more than a few of the foods native to this side of the world since arriving, but there was something about a simple, flavorful bowl of noodles, broth, and fish that touched his empyrean heart. It wasn't quite the food of his homeland, but it was similar enough to the simple food he'd eaten in the various temples he'd studied at to qualify as what the people of Avistan would call, "comfort food."
"Seems busy," Jing said, before diving back into his food with an appreciative slurping of noodles, "the contest is popular, I suppose."
Casimir gives a suspicious sniff at the soup, and equally suspicious look at the utensils. The absence of spoon and the presence of two small sticks. He shakes his head, and reaches for the wine. Truth to be told, the man was rarely seen to be eating much. It was mostly wine that kept the lean frame nourished. But even the drink was odd here.
"Warm?" he wonders. It wasn't complaint as such, but rather a resigned observation. "I understand hot mulled wine in the deepest winter to fend off the chill. But it's hot out here already. But I suppose in foreign lands you embrace the foreign customs. Cheers for that, and for the tournament." he raises his mug up high, before taking a mouthful.
"Right you are, Jing. Lots of people here. And all here are competing?" Casimir was impressed. A short while ago he had not even heard of the tournament, and up until this morning he didn't think much of it. But now seeing all these people here, he thinks he underestimated the significance of it.
There really was nothing like a good bowl of noodles. And Yon Loi's noodles were very good indeed. Hiro was on his second bowl; the first slurped down with barely reserved gusto. The second he was savoring.
"Indeed, the tournament is a big deal. Since it happens once a decade, most shorter-lived folk have one, maybe two chances to properly compete. Most of the faces we see today will not appear next time."
He paused to enjoy another chopstick load of noodles.
"Sometimes 'once-in-a-lifetime' just means 'at one's peak.'"
As the group ate their noodles the balance competition was winnowed down to two- the woman in half-lotus and the nonchalant scholar- as the other man tumbled to the courtyard, falling heavily but jumping to his feet with a curse that was echoed by dozens of people jeering at him or bemoaning their lost bets.
Yang Jing had noticed the man losing his balance, and frowned a bit when he fell to the ground below without seeming to take any precautions against the landing.
"It seems that competition is everywhere here," he said, "with little concern for consequences."
Yang Jing knew full well that had the man broken anything other than his skull or his spine that magical healing would have made him "good as new" in time for the start of the actual tournament, but the possibility of the fatal accident did still exist. It seemed somewhat foolish to him to take the unnecessary risk.
While one could argue that other competitors rendering themselves unable to continue might just be an advantage for Jing's team, he would have countered that they did not yet know the format of the competition, and it was equally possible that another competitor removing themselves from the competition was simply making life easier on someone else that Yang Jing and his team would have to face later - possibly while tired, injured, or otherwise disadvantaged.
Yang Jing continued frowning for a moment longer, then shrugged, finished the bowl of noodles in front of him, and started looking for someone from whom he could order another bowl.
"May as well enjoy the night," he said. "Pass me the rice wine," Jing said to Casimir, "and I will pour us both a cup, and show you how we enjoy it here."
Hiro's eyes brighten at the prospect of rice wine. In his noodle gusto, he had nearly forgotten to get some.
"Indeed Jing, one must partake of the local potables. Rice wine isn't spring wine or brandy, but that's entirely the point." He grinned and poured himself a mug, taking a healthy swig.
"Tastes like home."
"Pass me the rice wine," Jing said to Casimir, "and I will pour us both a cup, and show you how we enjoy it here."
"Now you're talking my language, Jing!" Casimir says with a wide grin, and pushes the bottle towards the warrior.
Yang Jing had noticed the pot the moment it arrived at the table, and noticed, a moment later, that he was the only one treating it with any ceremony.
Once Casimir pushed it towards him, Yang Jing set down his bowl and reached for it, testing its warmth against the side of his hand before he poured. Not into his own cup first. Into Kunsheng's, then Casimir's, then into whatever cup Hiro hadn't already emptied, holding the pot with both hands as he did.
"It's meant to be warm," he said, mostly for Casimir's benefit.
"Not hot. Warm enough that you can still hold the cup without thinking about it."
He glanced toward Hiro's corner of the table without quite making it an accusation. "Some of us have already worked that part out on our own, apparently."
"Small cups," he went on. "Small sips. It is not made to be finished in one go, and it is rude to drink it like water, however good it is."
He turned his own cup between two fingers before setting it down again. "When someone pours for you, you hold the cup with both hands. It is acknowledgment. That someone thought of you before they thought of themselves, for exactly as long as it took to fill a cup."
He lifted his own cup, not high, holding it near the level of the table rather than above it. "And when you toast, you don't raise your cup higher than the other person's. Lower, if anything. Especially if you mean to insult them."
"'Ganbei' means 'dry the cup,' 'bottoms up,' in Avistan terms. Nobody is required to, it is just a toast. 'Yum sing' means 'drink to victory,' which some of us may find useful shortly."
He didn't call for either. He simply waited, cup held low, for the others to do whatever they meant to do with theirs.
"To the tournament," he said finally. "And to getting home again after it. In whatever order comes easiest."
He drank slowly, the way the wine asked to be drunk, and said nothing else about home.
A man walked up with another clay bottle of wine and a single cup. "Well said! Do you mind if I toast with you? I'm buying," he said, raising the bottle in his hand. "Marthysan of Iomedae," the Avistani half-elf introduced himself.
Yang Jing gave the half-elf a careful look, eyes narrowing slightly.
After a moment, Yang Jing nodded.
"There are many here attempting to size up their competitors," he said, "but that is no excuse to be rude to everyone. I am Yang Jing, 'of Ragathiel,' I suppose you would say." He honored the man's declaration of which god he served by sharing his own affiliation in the same manner. Jing then briefly introduced each of his companions by name, without offering additional information just yet.
"You are welcome to join us, Marthysan of Iomedae. Hiro, at least, would be quite displeased were I to turn away your offer of shared drink."
Hiro laughed briefly, "Ah, I am simply glad to be partaking a beverage I have missed. I am not, as they say in the West, a lush." His smile indicated the correction was a good-natured one. He did, however, accept the gift of drink.
"Iomedae isn't followed much out this way. From whence does one hail?"
"Of course, friend! More the merrier!" Casimir motions the half-elf to sit down, grinning widely. "I never turn down a man buying a round, even when.." he takes his cup and chugs down the contents Yang had just poured him, and shivers as the wine goes down his throat. "...the local variety is a bit of an acquired taste."
"And my humblest apologies, Yang. All that fussing with the cup went completely over my head. Perhaps you would pour me another, so I could better practice." Although Casimir hardly looked very apologetic as he slammed the cup back on the table.
"So, Marthysan of Iomedae... Are you here to watch or compete?" he asks once the newcomer has sat down. While his smile is wide and disarming, Casimir's eyes study and measure this half-elf.
Yang Jing gave the half-elf a careful look, eyes narrowing slightly.
After a moment, Yang Jing nodded.
"There are many here attempting to size up their competitors," he said, "but that is no excuse to be rude to everyone. I am Yang Jing, 'of Ragathiel,' I suppose you would say." He honored the man's declaration of which god he served by sharing his own affiliation in the same manner. Jing then briefly introduced each of his companions by name, without offering additional information just yet.
"You are welcome to join us, Marthysan of Iomedae. Hiro, at least, would be quite displeased were I to turn away your offer of shared drink."
Yang Jing recalled that the previous winner of the Ruby Phoenix Tournament was a half-elf called Marthysan the Righteous. Given a half-elf's lifespan it was not impossible this was the same man. There had been some scandal about Marthysan's final opponent being caught cheating, giving the westerner the win by default.
Same man or not, he smiled at Yang Jing. "Thank you, Yang Jing!" He sat down in a chair and gestured for everyone to proffer their cups for him to pour, while he would pour for himself last.
Hiro laughed briefly, "Ah, I am simply glad to be partaking a beverage I have missed. I am not, as they say in the West, a lush." His smile indicated the correction was a good-natured one. He did, however, accept the gift of drink.
"Iomedae isn't followed much out this way. From whence does one hail?"
"From Lastwall, though to tell the truth I haven't been back there in years. I've been knocking around Tian Xia for the past few years, and Casmaron before that. A bit of wandering spirit, me."
"Of course, friend! More the merrier!" Casimir motions the half-elf to sit down, grinning widely. "I never turn down a man buying a round, even when.." he takes his cup and chugs down the contents Yang had just poured him, and shivers as the wine goes down his throat. "...the local variety is a bit of an acquired taste."
"And my humblest apologies, Yang. All that fussing with the cup went completely over my head. Perhaps you would pour me another, so I could better practice." Although Casimir hardly looked very apologetic as he slammed the cup back on the table.
"So, Marthysan of Iomedae... Are you here to watch or compete?" he asks once the newcomer has sat down. While his smile is wide and disarming, Casimir's eyes study and measure this half-elf.
"Oh I'm just spectating this time. I had enough competing in the last one." He nodded in Yang Jing's direction, who had mentioned sizing up competitors. "How are you finding the circus so far?" he asked with a smile on his face. As far as Casimir could tell, Marthysan was exactly what he seemed- open, honest, friendly.
Once all the drinks were poured out, the Lastwall man raised his cup high. "May Iomedae bless the righteous and Kurgess protect the honest competitors!"
Casimir follows the lead, and raises his cup high. "Hear, hear! And may Cayden Cailean keep our cups full!" And with that out of the way, he empties the cup. A couple more, and he might even get used to the taste.
The man's words sound intriguing, however, and he takes a closer look. What did the others say about when the last tournament happened..? Ages ago, and this man from Lastwall doesn't look quite the old geezer he ought to be. But then again, you can never tell from half-elves.
"Last one? So you fought in the last one? Or competed, whatever one does in those..." he asks, still looking at the man and wondering. But he seems to be honest, and Casimir usually can read people pretty well. "How did it go, then?"
"From Lastwall, though to tell the truth I haven't been back there in years. I've been knocking around Tian Xia for the past few years, and Casmaron before that. A bit of wandering spirit, me."Hiro laughed briefly, "Ah, I am simply glad to be partaking a beverage I have missed. I am not, as they say in the West, a lush." His smile indicated the correction was a good-natured one. He did, however, accept the gift of drink.
"Iomedae isn't followed much out this way. From whence does one hail?"
Hiro smiled and raised his mug in toast to Marthysan. "A fellow of similar vein. I have been wandering much of Avistan these past few years myself."
"The wise man does not put down roots until he is good and ready, and has found the perfect place. Sometimes it happens to be the grave."
Casimir follows the lead, and raises his cup high. "Hear, hear! And may Cayden Cailean keep our cups full!" And with that out of the way, he empties the cup. A couple more, and he might even get used to the taste.
The man's words sound intriguing, however, and he takes a closer look. What did the others say about when the last tournament happened..? Ages ago, and this man from Lastwall doesn't look quite the old geezer he ought to be. But then again, you can never tell from half-elves.
"Last one? So you fought in the last one? Or competed, whatever one does in those..." he asks, still looking at the man and wondering. But he seems to be honest, and Casimir usually can read people pretty well. "How did it go, then?"
Marthysan nodded. "I did, I did." He laughed. "Went t*~# up, is how it went. It turned out this crazy woman was using her twin to cheat the whole time all the way up until the final! They would switch when one needed healing or one had some skills the other one needed. It was clever but against the rules. They really frown on that kind of thing."
The half-elf chuckled and shook his head ruefully as he gestured with the bottle to ask if people were ready for another round. "Cheating, not switching places with your twin. If it wasn't against the rules I'll bet the crowd would have eaten that up."
Hiro smiled and raised his mug in toast to Marthysan. "A fellow of similar vein. I have been wandering much of Avistan these past few years myself."
"The wise man does not put down roots until he is good and ready, and has found the perfect place. Sometimes it happens to be the grave."
Marthysan's easy smile broadened as he found a likeminded new friend. "That's what I always say! Well, not as smoothly as all that but yeah, I always say how do you know if you want to live somewhere if you haven't seen the next town over?" The half-elf sighed. "Plus it always seems like there's some crisis happening somewhere. I like to go where I'm needed." He pointed up at the ceiling. "Iomedae does, at least, and I like to listen when She speaks."
"The Lord Ragathiel and I have a similar arrangement," Yang Jing said. Though it was clear that he did not speak quite so informally of his relationship with his deity as did Marthysan, it was equally clear that there was no rebuke of the other in his tone.
"Do I understand correctly that if both twins had been officially on 'the team,' they could have fought you together, and that would have been deemed fair under the rules?"
Marthysan nodded. "Oh yes, it was the cheating that was the problem, not there being two of them. They had pretended to be a single individual the entire tournament."
Yang Jing frowned, thoughtfully. "Does this mean most of the competitors are in teams? Why would a person compete alone?"
Hiro shrugged, pouring himself another rice wine, this time to savor. "Overconfidence. Stupidity. Just to prove something."
"The wise choice is to work as a team. Pride do go before the fall."
Yang Jing frowned, thoughtfully. "Does this mean most of the competitors are in teams? Why would a person compete alone?"
"In this tournament, yes. The rules were different when I competed." Martyhsan nodded at Hiro with a smile. "You are a wise man."
The half-elf looked around the table. "Have you had time to acquaint yourself with the island? Find rooms?"
The half-elf looked around the table. "Have you had time to acquaint yourself with the island? Find rooms?"
Hiro shook his head, "Just arrived. I have not had an opportunity to locate a place to stay. I've not been to this island before. Mostly used to Minkai, when I'm not exploring the wider world."
Marthysan nods. "I can help you find a place, if you want. To be honest, they gave me a huge suite of rooms as the former champion. You could stay in a couple of the rooms and we'd hardly even run into each other."
"There are some interesting places on the island. The Grand Pavilion is the main thing, of course- it's why we're all here- but there's a dragon who lives on the island, an ancient temple of Shelyn, a dangerous forest, and a blessed shrine up on top of the mountain there," he said, gesturing in the direction of the lone peak in the middle of the island.
The more perceptive in the group might have noticed a big man in monk's robes and with a long Iroran braid eyeing them as he finished off a pot of sake.
"Rules were different, you say?" Casimir asks. "So, would you happen to know what they have in store this year?"
"I wasn't told any of that, so I have no clue." Then he pauses, and appears as if in deep thought. "Or... If someone did tell me, I wasn't simply paying attention." He laughs and smiles as if it was something to be proud of.
He gulps down another cup of the wine, this time with less of a shiver than with the first cup. Acquired taste, perhaps. But he's getting there.
"Say, Yang Jing - do you see that guy over there. Robes and funny hair." Casimir nods towards the braided monk. "He looks like he wants something with us. I'm sure it's just having a good laugh and raising a toast"
Hiro didn't even glance that way, apparently already aware of the big man.
"Iroran monk," he said, "A formidable opponent. I'm wise enough to steer clear of that kind of one-on-one contest." He smiled to his companions, "But of any of you wanted to test your mettle, he'd be a challenge for certain."