Brunhelga isn't sure what to think of this fortune teller. He seems shallow, and he talks far too much. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye as he vocalizes his urgency. Whoever he is, he seems as desperate to get out of Ventissa as she. The dwarf nods to herself and keeps marching.
(Eurkan will follow the smallest group, so I think he's following Brain and Vexha too. I'm not exactly sure what Atem is doing, though. If he's going to the temple alone, Eurkan will accompany him instead.)
THE HALL OF CURIOSITIES: What was once a warehouse has been converted into a museum of antiquities and curiosities, including a selection of fossils and artifacts collected in the Wilderness of Yilan. It is run by scholars and explorers. Anyone who pays the 2 sp admission cost can view the many wonders on display. Alternatively, you could try Charisma (Persuasion) checks to convince the ticket-taker at the door that you are there on important business for some other institution in the city (note, however, that there is only one institution in the city who will be granted free entry privileges, and you do not know which one it is).
The Arena & The Fighting Pits Nothing distracts from the heat like watching gladiatorial combat, at least according to the citizens of Ventissa. The Ventissan Arena is a large, round building of white stone between the river market and Temple Row. Seating for thousands of spectators overlooks the fighting pit itself, which sits below ground level. Every week, professional fighters of every stripe compete for coin and glory. The arena’s professional healers ensure that these combats are rarely deadly; the aim of the fights is spectacle, not blood.
The characters are to compete in the arena as part of a contest to qualify for Gehir’s expedition.
Outside the arena, several smaller fighting pits cater to bloodier amateur fights where aspiring combatants can prove their mettle before moving to the main stage. Any PC who wishes to can compete in one of these smaller pits to try and win a purse. These amateur fights typically take place in a 30-foot diameter arena surrounded by raucous spectators. Fighting ends when one party yields or is knocked unconscious; death is rare but not unheard-of.
"Me neither,"says Eurkan, who has been following the two for a while. "Unless you have something else you wish to do, I'd say we should head back. I don't think the items here are going to run away, they'll be here after we take our chances at the hefty sum."
Vexha smiles and says “yes- Agreed! Ok- let’s head back to the arena and find the others. I’m hoping we win something- otherwise I guess all of us will be living in the street!”
"Nah, got a farm in yonder hills" Brain says, pointing over the horizon. There is no invitation in his voice just more fact. He then turns and starts walking back to the tournament with a "well come on then, let's go kick their arses between their ears and find out what this job is"
Arriving at the stadium, Fondak walks up to whomever is organizing the tournament for later and says, “Our team is. almost all here.. How many rounds. are there expected to be?”
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As the giant turtle takes the lead in finding verbal answers, Brunhelga once again crosses her arms beneath her breasts and begins gazing about, learning what she can through observation.
Arriving at the stadium, Fondak walks up to whomever is organizing the tournament for later and says, “Our team is. almost all here.. How many rounds. are there expected to be?”
The first person who catches your eye, deeper in the halls beyond the gate, fits the description of Gehir Greencloak himself. The green-clad wizard is old but not frail, with gray hair and a long beard, his face wrinkled with decades of thought. He is farther inside the arena, supervising a large staff of attendants and healers.
But the person who intercepts you at the gate, blocking your path into the building, is, for all you can tell, just an arena attendant.
"As many rounds as it takes." He consults the logbook hanging from his shoulder from a leather strap. "Almost here? How many more on your team? What is your team's name? You need a team name to be considered for the contest."
He stands ready to record this information in his logbook.
As the giant turtle takes the lead in finding verbal answers, Brunhelga once again crosses her arms beneath her breasts and begins gazing about, learning what she can through observation.
Perception: 20
You do not notice anything suspicious. The attendants and gate system are set up to funnel any prospective competitors down a tunnel into a stone chamber, likely to be the waiting area for fighting teams before they are called to the arena floor. It's all very straightforward, and you've seen the operation before at previous arena events.
You do notice that Gehir the wizard, about 60 feet beyond the gate, consulting with arena staff, has a strange, bat-sized creature companion that alights on his shoulder every few minutes. It is like nothing you have seen before: it has long, membranous wings; a narrow, toothed beak; a fin-like ridge on its forehead; and a short spur coming off the back of its skull. Its leathery hide is covered with down that is not quite hair but not quite feathers. Its back and the leading edges of its wings are black, but its wing membranes and its narrow, keel-like chest are purple.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
With a dramatic whoosh of his cloak, Hew steps forward confidently, addressing the attendant. The corks of his silver waterskins pop open as Hew shapes a small stream of water in front of him. Tiny silhouettes of each present member of their ragtag gang appear and glow heroically as he speaks. "Well, if a name you need, you may simply call us the Victors. We are going to win this quaint test and accompany Gehir Greencloak into the wilds...I have seen it in the stars. Might as well share with the audience what fate has decided, even if Mr. Greencloak needs us to perform mysterious acts of barbarism to be sure himself." Hew steps closer to the man, doing his best to make his imposing frame seem friendly.
"Thank you for your professionalism, new friend. I am Hew Cragbind, of the House of Cragbind. I was wondering, what do you know of the contents of this competition? My loving mother loaned me this scimitar, which was crafted centuries ago by an acclaimed Goliath forger. But I confess, I am not much for swinging swords, and would love to return this sacred relic if I will not need its sting." Hew indicates his scimitar, showing the shamanic carved stone pommel to the attendant. The hand not resting on his scimitar is filled with 5 gold pieces, which Hew absentmindedly holds in a loose fist at his side for the attendant to see. "Tell me good sir, is Gehir looking to test our minds, our mettle, or both? Any information would be very useful in easing the worry of my dear mother, who frets for her boy and his sword. Or if it is kept secret, perhaps you could point us in the direction of someone who would know."
Atem stands behind goliath with his hands in his pockets and pouts. What’s wrong with ‘Atem and Friends’? That would've been a good team name.
Though he is interested in Hew’s water trick. He watches the small water sculpture of himself bobbing in the air with the lightest breeze. “To whom does your fate belong, Atem?" Hew had asked. A year ago, he would’ve answered the sea. The waves and the winds. His blood is water and water belongs to the sea. But now, he couldn’t be so sure. The monstrous thing.. did something to him. He’s sure of it. With all the strange magic that started manifesting themselves between his fingertips, he can’t help but feel his fate is not his own anymore.
"Tell me good sir, is Gehir looking to test our minds, our mettle, or both? Any information would be very useful in easing the worry of my dear mother, who frets for her boy and his sword. Or if it is kept secret, perhaps you could point us in the direction of someone who would know."
[Persuasion roll if needed] 18
"The good mage is very tight-lipped about the nature of the contest. He has paid handsomely for the utmost secrecy, and has not told us anything except that it will test the fighting prowess, quick-thinking, and teamwork skills of all contestants. I do know that there will be multiple teams on the arena floor at once, and the prize will be awarded to the team with the final member still standing on the field."
if/when the attendant is distracted by Hew's quiet bribe offer, I'd also like to try to sneak a glance at the open logbook. 19 [Perception]
You can see that three teams have registered: - The Friendlies (whom you met at the Laughing Lotus) - Gunnar's Team (whom you met in the market) - and, a third team called The Rockbreakers.
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Brunhelga isn't sure what to think of this fortune teller. He seems shallow, and he talks far too much. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye as he vocalizes his urgency. Whoever he is, he seems as desperate to get out of Ventissa as she. The dwarf nods to herself and keeps marching.
So, that's Brain and Vexha headed to the Hall Of Curiosities, and the rest headed to the Arena? Have I got that right?
(Yes- think so. Vexha is just very curious about this place. Something has her intrgued about it. )
(Eurkan will follow the smallest group, so I think he's following Brain and Vexha too. I'm not exactly sure what Atem is doing, though. If he's going to the temple alone, Eurkan will accompany him instead.)
Varielky
THE HALL OF CURIOSITIES: What was once a warehouse has been converted into a museum of antiquities and curiosities, including a selection of fossils and artifacts collected in the Wilderness of Yilan. It is run by scholars and explorers. Anyone who pays the 2 sp admission cost can view the many wonders on display. Alternatively, you could try Charisma (Persuasion) checks to convince the ticket-taker at the door that you are there on important business for some other institution in the city (note, however, that there is only one institution in the city who will be granted free entry privileges, and you do not know which one it is).
The Arena & The Fighting Pits
Nothing distracts from the heat like watching gladiatorial combat, at least according to the citizens of Ventissa. The Ventissan Arena is a large, round building of white stone between the river market and Temple Row. Seating for thousands of spectators overlooks the fighting pit itself, which sits below ground level. Every week, professional fighters of every stripe compete for coin and glory. The arena’s professional healers ensure that these combats are rarely deadly; the aim of the fights is spectacle, not blood.
The characters are to compete in the arena as part of a contest to qualify for Gehir’s expedition.
Outside the arena, several smaller fighting pits cater to bloodier amateur fights where aspiring combatants can prove their mettle before moving to the main stage. Any PC who wishes to can compete in one of these smaller pits to try and win a purse. These amateur fights typically take place in a 30-foot diameter arena surrounded by raucous spectators. Fighting ends when one party yields or is knocked unconscious; death is rare but not unheard-of.
Vexha looks at Brain and says “I don’t suppose you could advance me a loan? “. She smiles.
"Nope" Brain says matter of fact. In a way that coveys `don't have any money and if I did I wouldn't lend you half a copper anyhow`
"Me neither," says Eurkan, who has been following the two for a while. "Unless you have something else you wish to do, I'd say we should head back. I don't think the items here are going to run away, they'll be here after we take our chances at the hefty sum."
Varielky
Vexha smiles and says “yes- Agreed! Ok- let’s head back to the arena and find the others. I’m hoping we win something- otherwise I guess all of us will be living in the street!”
"Nah, got a farm in yonder hills" Brain says, pointing over the horizon. There is no invitation in his voice just more fact. He then turns and starts walking back to the tournament with a "well come on then, let's go kick their arses between their ears and find out what this job is"
Arriving at the stadium, Fondak walks up to whomever is organizing the tournament for later and says, “Our team is. almost all here.. How many rounds. are there expected to be?”
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
As the giant turtle takes the lead in finding verbal answers, Brunhelga once again crosses her arms beneath her breasts and begins gazing about, learning what she can through observation.
Perception: 20
The first person who catches your eye, deeper in the halls beyond the gate, fits the description of Gehir Greencloak himself. The green-clad wizard is old but not frail, with gray hair and a long beard, his face wrinkled with decades of thought. He is farther inside the arena, supervising a large staff of attendants and healers.
But the person who intercepts you at the gate, blocking your path into the building, is, for all you can tell, just an arena attendant.
"As many rounds as it takes." He consults the logbook hanging from his shoulder from a leather strap. "Almost here? How many more on your team? What is your team's name? You need a team name to be considered for the contest."
He stands ready to record this information in his logbook.
You do not notice anything suspicious. The attendants and gate system are set up to funnel any prospective competitors down a tunnel into a stone chamber, likely to be the waiting area for fighting teams before they are called to the arena floor. It's all very straightforward, and you've seen the operation before at previous arena events.
You do notice that Gehir the wizard, about 60 feet beyond the gate, consulting with arena staff, has a strange, bat-sized creature companion that alights on his shoulder every few minutes. It is like nothing you have seen before: it has long, membranous wings; a narrow, toothed beak; a fin-like ridge on its forehead; and a short spur coming off the back of its skull. Its leathery hide is covered with down that is not quite hair but not quite feathers. Its back and the leading edges of its wings are black, but its wing membranes and its narrow, keel-like chest are purple.
With a dramatic whoosh of his cloak, Hew steps forward confidently, addressing the attendant. The corks of his silver waterskins pop open as Hew shapes a small stream of water in front of him. Tiny silhouettes of each present member of their ragtag gang appear and glow heroically as he speaks. "Well, if a name you need, you may simply call us the Victors. We are going to win this quaint test and accompany Gehir Greencloak into the wilds...I have seen it in the stars. Might as well share with the audience what fate has decided, even if Mr. Greencloak needs us to perform mysterious acts of barbarism to be sure himself." Hew steps closer to the man, doing his best to make his imposing frame seem friendly.
"Thank you for your professionalism, new friend. I am Hew Cragbind, of the House of Cragbind. I was wondering, what do you know of the contents of this competition? My loving mother loaned me this scimitar, which was crafted centuries ago by an acclaimed Goliath forger. But I confess, I am not much for swinging swords, and would love to return this sacred relic if I will not need its sting." Hew indicates his scimitar, showing the shamanic carved stone pommel to the attendant. The hand not resting on his scimitar is filled with 5 gold pieces, which Hew absentmindedly holds in a loose fist at his side for the attendant to see. "Tell me good sir, is Gehir looking to test our minds, our mettle, or both? Any information would be very useful in easing the worry of my dear mother, who frets for her boy and his sword. Or if it is kept secret, perhaps you could point us in the direction of someone who would know."
[Persuasion roll if needed] 18
if/when the attendant is distracted by Hew's quiet bribe offer, I'd also like to try to sneak a glance at the open logbook. 22 [Perception]
Atem stands behind goliath with his hands in his pockets and pouts. What’s wrong with ‘Atem and Friends’? That would've been a good team name.
Though he is interested in Hew’s water trick. He watches the small water sculpture of himself bobbing in the air with the lightest breeze. “To whom does your fate belong, Atem?" Hew had asked. A year ago, he would’ve answered the sea. The waves and the winds. His blood is water and water belongs to the sea. But now, he couldn’t be so sure. The monstrous thing.. did something to him. He’s sure of it. With all the strange magic that started manifesting themselves between his fingertips, he can’t help but feel his fate is not his own anymore.
"The good mage is very tight-lipped about the nature of the contest. He has paid handsomely for the utmost secrecy, and has not told us anything except that it will test the fighting prowess, quick-thinking, and teamwork skills of all contestants. I do know that there will be multiple teams on the arena floor at once, and the prize will be awarded to the team with the final member still standing on the field."
"So, ye goin' by the name The Victors, then?"
You can see that three teams have registered:
- The Friendlies (whom you met at the Laughing Lotus)
- Gunnar's Team (whom you met in the market)
- and, a third team called The Rockbreakers.