Atem joins the crowd's applause as Eumaxxanaria's performance draws close. As the bustling slowly subsides, he moves past the tavern patrons and approaches Maxx, producing a couple silvers to drop into her bowl himself. "Atem Rakyevra," He introduces himself formally, "It was my pleasure to be in the presence of your voice. Now that I have heard your tales, how do you feel about hearing some of mine in return?"

He smiles, one hand behind his back, one hand held out invitingly. His silvery blue eyes the color of the depths of the ocean, and there is a faint lustrous shine flowing on the skin of his bare chest, his hair falling like silver silk down his shoulders, outlining his tall, elegant figure. "The race is not for another couple of hours." He says, "and my room is only a few steps away."

(( I assume Atem already has his own room since he's been living here for a couple days. ))

(totally forgot Brain is small, he's only 4' tall) Brain turns out his pockets, "Not used to trading in hard cash, most folks where I normally visit town know I'm for it. If need be I can try to strike up a deal on some rarer spices for free lodging" 

As the tiefling dances about the area, hoping on and off of tables and chairs, Brunhelga hollers a loud "Wa'chit!" when Maxx gets too close to her food. The dwarf lifts her bowl and grabs her cheese, drawing them to her bosom protectively. She glares at the bard, mumbling something under her breath, until Maxx has distanced herself.

Vexha comes back down after checking out the room to ensure it is suitable, and gathers up the group.   "Brain wants us to head upstairs now, to start sobering up.  We will see these fine folks later., "  She gives a warm smile to Maxx and her party.  

At Vexha's words, Brunhelga lifts her bowl with both hands and drains the soup in huge gulps, not bothering to chew the meat and veggies swimming within. After putting the bowl down, she stands, shoves and remaining bread and cheese into pockets, picks up her mug, and walks over to the human to follow her.

Fondak also stands up, taking his, still over half full, drink with him, gives a nod to the other group, and follows the group of regulars, still hoping, though unsure, that he's picking the right group.

Eurkan slowly gets up from his chair, then follows the others. Once they're there, he'll say: "I still think that, before we can plan a strategy, we need everyone's abilities. What is each of us capable of. Maybe I should start. Other than being an unsuccessful doctor, I've been trained in martial arts in the past. I might be a little rusty with it, but I'll quickly remember that which I knew before."

In response to Eurkan "Good idea, I am a crafty old fart when I need to be. I don't like violence but am good with a blade in a pinch and am not afraid to do everything necessary to get the upper hand. I've got a family to feed and get home to though, so if you do something entirely stupid, like, I don't know approach a potential rival in broad daylight and magic'um, then you're on your own to find a way out." He doesn't seem angry, just honest (I personally loved the interaction, but Brain is more practical than I)

Once the group is assembled, Vexha says

“I am a wizard, as you might have guessed from my owl who’s watching the door for us.  My magic is limited, but I can shoot bolts of fire, I can do an impressive illusion we can hide behind and can make one of you invisible -At least until you attack.   I can also put enemies to sleep, if they are weak enough and aren’t Part elvish...  but most of these spells I can only use once.   If we have a series of battles, I will need to save my more potent magic for the harder fights- but I can shoot with fire all day....” 

Sitting on the floor, Fondak, who had had his head down, listening to the group introduce themselves. When it seems it is his turn to speak, he looks up and says, “My strength comes from. my faith.. From the twilight. The darkness. Things most do not. understand.. I channel this magicks when needed.”

"Alright, now that we have that one the table we... Wait, where's... *Sigh* Apparently our last party member's talent is getting us into deeper trouble. Okay, what details do we know about this tournament? I personally just thought it would be a fun scrap, but if anyone is more invested than that we should put that out there now. I want to win, but if anyone NEEDS to win I need to know to increase efforts" Brain chomps on his pipe in some obvious frustration with the events thus far

Vexha replies.

“I would like to win, but I don’t need to win.  But i am willing to give it my best shot.   I am new around here , don’t know anyone, except this group, and have limited resources and no work at the moment.  Does anyone know the way this will be set up? For strategy that would help immensely.  

But we can start by figuring out which of you are our melee fighters and who will be fighting from range?  

"Do I need to win the tournament? Not exactly. I will probably live a bit longer even if I lose it. I won't be of much help to anyone while starving, though." He sighs. At the very least, being a doctor, he could keep himself alive to the very last moment. "While I don't enjoy hurting others, knowing the fight is not to the death puts me at ease, somewhat. I'm not much use at range, however, so I'll try to take on foes up-close."

Quote from WhiteByakko >>

Atem joins the crowd's applause as Eumaxxanaria's performance draws close. As the bustling slowly subsides, he moves past the tavern patrons and approaches Maxx, producing a couple silvers to drop into her bowl himself. "Atem Rakyevra," He introduces himself formally, "It was my pleasure to be in the presence of your voice. Now that I have heard your tales, how do you feel about hearing some of mine in return?"

He smiles, one hand behind his back, one hand held out invitingly. His silvery blue eyes the color of the depths of the ocean, and there is a faint lustrous shine flowing on the skin of his bare chest, his hair falling like silver silk down his shoulders, outlining his tall, elegant figure. "The race is not for another couple of hours." He says, "and my room is only a few steps away."

(( I assume Atem already has his own room since he's been living here for a couple days. ))

Maxx laughs demurely, bows to Atem deeply, and then saunters back over to her table with Sarai. "Alas, we are all spoken for, sirrah. I am very flattered by your silver, though. And I would like to hear some of your tales another time. Perhaps after today's contest?

Brunhelga swallows her mouthful of bread and clears her throat. "I've never been a fighter. Never stepped in a ring or even had to defend myself from thugs, but I've been swinging an axe and using knives pretty much my whole life in and around the kitchen. And if a sharp blade won't cut it, I've got my rolling pin to smooth out any wrinkles," she says, chuckling at her own sour joke. "Just point me at whoever you want knocked down. I'll picture my husband's ugly face, and nothing will stop me." Taking a look at her exposed and well muscled arms, you're pretty sure she's telling the truth.

"Of course." Atem nods. Smiling, he snaps his fingers and with a tiny spark he's written his room number on the silver piece (Prestidigitation), "You know where to find me." He says with a wink to Maxx, then turns to regard all the Friendlies, as he watches Maxx joins her friends. It was for sure not as extravagant as Hew's display of generosity, oh well, he couldn't really compete with someone who sees having money as their personality.

He turns around and starts off. "Now..." He murmurs, "where did they all go?"

With a combination of following his hunch, guessing, eavesdropping and trial-and-error, he finally finds the correct room. "Ha, there you are!" Atem announces as he enters the room. He pulls over a chair, sits down, and starts talking immediately. "Alright, guys." He starts, "we NEED to win." He's gotta look good.

Hew watches the radiant, drunken man flub his way through the most forward and off-putting wooing he's ever seen. Why must some people peacock about and make it everyone else's problem? Hew stands loudly as the bard finishes her song, clapping sharply. He turns, making a series of painstaking, flamboyant finger gestures over the table, gathering the layer of water back into the extravagantly decorated skins strapped to his side.

As Brunhelga leaves, so too does Hew follow, catching up just in time to hear her proclaim "point me at whatever you want knocked down".This dwarf knows how to handle herself. I shall stick close to her. She will be a wonderful wall to have between me and danger, Hew thinks, striding after her into the private room.

"I myself am from a great and storied lineage of shamans and leaders, sages of the mountains, scions of natural beauty and wisdom. I admit, I have not personally spent much time in...'nature', but I'm sure all those bedtime stories and nursery rhymes about poison berries will come in handy in the Wilds. If the Good Lady Brunhelga will protect us with her considerable, shall we say, sturdiness, I will ensure our wounds stay closed and our enemies stay distant."

Thinking about the upcoming tournament, Fondak adds, "It would be good. to learn more. about the tournament itself.. We know there are. healers.. But how many. must we defeat? Will there be time. for rest?"

Brunhelga raises her eyebrows at the fancy goliath in surprise and interest. She didn't anticipate receiving any compliments from the likes of him. He is supposedly a seer. Maybe he knows something. She takes a bite of cheese and almost unconsciously flexes her back and shoulders before turning to look at the tortle. At the end of Fondak's question, the dwarf looks at Brain. "What're the rules? You spoke with someone at the arena, right?"

"They told me I needed a team, so let's hear there is and we'll find out details, if there is time maybe they have scrimmigees" Brain says, with an odd dip into an accent on the last word