Tournament Paramount: Magic Competition Round 1

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While not a traditional Angoran event, the Magic competition exists nonetheless. Wooden stands have been magically erected outside of the city walls in a field just next to a copse of wooden trees, within a sling's shot from the Gauntlet tent. The stands are set into a box formation, with a 60ft diameter circle of sandbags inside in case things get a bit out of control. The crowds are full of both gawkers and contestants, waiting to see what magical wonders might happen before them, or have a seat waiting for The Gauntlet to open up. In any case, MAGIC.

An immaculately dressed and groomed elderly wizard floats along upside down towards the middle of the ring, his voice magically amplified. "I am Baldwin Addleburg. I'm sure you've heard of me as a patron of the arcane arts and sire of a brood of unruly children, which is why I am floating upside down. Grandson can't learn to put his toys away, the little monster. Anyway, this is the magic competition, and I've been saddled with overseeing it, what with the whole situation with Rune and the Progressive Arcanist upstarts. The rules are so simple, even a sorcerer can understand them!" A few jeers come from the crowd at that one, met with just as many laughs from wizards.

"1) No physical roughhousing to win. Just magic, be it spells or some other magical ability you can muster by god, song, study or...whatever..

2) Each contestant will drink a pint of Old One Eye's Endumbening Quaff. First to finish their pint chooses the challenge from amongst these scrolls, provided by our many sponsors. The loser takes the first turn. Whoever wins, advances!

3)No harming anyone, contestant or whomever with a spell. Unless it's some summoned creature, you can butcher them to your heart's content. Nobody cares!

4)No magic items, save those of a caster's trade. Wands and scrolls! Everything else is out, so take them off!”


“Now let us get to our first two contestants."

The first opponent walks out, a large halr-orc with a huge maul and a breastplate with Angoran's symbol embossed on it. With a few gesticulations, Baldwin amplifies the cleric's voice and asks his name. "I AM DEVON GRIMTOOTH OF THE PELVISCRUSHER CLAN. AND I WILL SHOW YOU WIMPY WIZARDS HOW TO DO MANLY MAGIC! RAR!" He roars to several boos. And then out comes his opponent, ready to make her own introduction.

Kayla is still on a bit of a high after her win in the Seize the Idol contest, and just a touch hung over from the partying afterwards. Sure, it /seemed/ a good idea to go out drinking with a bunch of hobgoblin warriors at the time.. The Aesir Skald shakes her head, and steps up for her own introduction. "I am Kayla of Svenholding, Skald of the Aesir." She grins over at her half-orc opponent. "I look forward to making you cry manly tears!"

Addleburg snorts at the both of the competitors with dry amusmenet, then gestures for the cart to be brought out. Some peon apprentice wizard pushes along a large serving cart, on which sits two pint tankards of a frothing, fizzing concoction,

next to a bottle with a label of a Cyclops smiling on it, captioned, "OLD ONE EYE". Addelburg waits for the two contestants 

to take their places at the cart, "On my mark, drink." Grimtooth sneers at Kayla, yellowed tusks poking out of his chapped lips, meaty hand wrapping around one of the steins.

Grinning broadly at her foe, Kayla lifts her tankard in salute and begins to messily drink the tankard. Having grown up among the Aesir and spent the last year or so travelling dressed as a man among the most crude and barbaric of mercenaries, she is an old hand at drinking games and winning them in the best way she's able.. Decieption! The half-elven bardling is careful not to actually drink more than a swallow or two, relying on subterfuge to make it seem like she's drinking more with proper Angoron disregard for ettiquette and neat table manners.

GAME: Kayla rolls sleight of hand: (5)+8: 13

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+3: (8)+3: 11

Meanwhile, Devon gulps and slurps down the foul concoction rather quickly. Slamming the tankard down on top of the cart with a loud belch of green fumes that sparkle a bit before fading. "I AM BEST. AFTER I WIN, I CRUSH YOUR PELVIS, EH?" The half-orc suggests with a few crotch thrusts. Apparently the potion worked! Addelburg just sighs and shoos the both of you to step away from the cart, giving Kayla a wry grin. The top of the cart is hinged and he opens it up, revealing a wine-rack like set-up with scroll tubes set down in the bottom instead of wine bottles. He beckons the half-orc closer to take a pick from the scroll tubes. From a few feet away, you can see they have things written/drawn on the caps, but what exactly is a mystery.

"Not without dinner first, big boy." Kayla murmurs wryly, giving Addelburg a wink of good humor. Devon is no worse than many of the men's she's encountered. Especially out of armor. She doesn't seem the least bit ashamed at being caught trying to fake it and losing. The bardling stretches and starts her breathing exercises, preparing herself for the contest ahead.

Devon lurches a bit, fingers dragging over the scroll tubes, mouthing to himself. "ARROWS. ARROWS IS WAR. WAR IS GOOD. I CHOOSE THIS ONE." He bellows, pulling the tube out and shoving it at Addelburg. The cart is closed back up and wheeled away. Baldwin turns himself right side up with an oomphy and then opens the scroll tube with his wrinkled spidery fingers, taking out a slip of parchment, two crossbow bolts dyed bright blue and red respectively, and two squares of clothes. "Ahem...." The old wizard clears his throat, adjusting his glasses to read.

"Challenge Number 9 - Fetch the Fletch! Brought to you by Stepleton Bowyers and Fletchers. If you can't kill it with a Stepleton Arrow, it can't be killed!.....Each challenger is given the bolt of their competitor along with a crossbow. After casting one spell, they may fire the bolt wherever they wish...within rules. The first challenger to find his arrow and bring it back wins."

Baldwin seems a bit surprised. "This might be interesting after all." He gives each cloth square a shake, causing it to turn into a light crossbow and hands off the red bolt to Kayla along with her crossbow and the blue bolt to the Angoronite along with his crossbow. "Your turn, miss." Baldwin states, hovering back and off the playing field.

Oh, happy day. A contest she might actually win! Kayla grins broadly, and begins a tonal song even as she loads the crossbow. She finishes her sorcerous preparation by sliding a bit of butter across the bolt. Spell finished, she grins and salutes Baldwin, turning and firing the bolt off as far as she can.

GAME: Kayla casts Grease.

GAME: Kayla rolls 1d20-8+5: (2)+-8+5: -1

GAME: Kayla rolls 1d12: (12): 12

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20-1: (17)+-1: 16

Devon watches his bolt sail over the Gauntlet tent, trying his best to get his brain to work on how to win. He wasn't the smartest pickle in the barrel to begin with, and the potion didn't help. You can almost see smoke come from his ears as the gears in his head whine and sieze up after a long spin. "I got it!" He casts an Enlarge Person spell, shoots himself in the shoulder with the crossbow with a grunt, and goes bolting toward the tent.

As Kayla's shot go so far off field, she winces with a grimace. And when he shoots himself with the bolt, grows large and starts running off, she takes a moment to facepalm with closed eyes and groan. But that said! She has many, many weapons at her disposal. The most potent of which.. Involves starting up a bawdy song about a butcher and a milk maid negotiating to save a cow. At the same time, she tears her shirt open to bare her rather generous breasts.

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+5: (13)+5: 18

The half-orc glances over his shoulder at the singing as he trucks along toward the tent. The crowd's reaction is pretty mixed between gasps of shock, laughter, claps, and groans. He does stop for a second cause bewbs, but he grins toothily and starts back up, "SORRY. DEVON MORE OF AN ASS MAN. NICE TITS THOUGH."

At least she got SOME reaction for her troubles! And undoubtably, she'll never want for someone to buy her drinks. Kayla stops the song the moment it becomes clear that Devon is not going to be fascinated. Her expression gets a little cloudy in fact, and she runs for all she's worth to catch up with him while she takes a moment to plan.

GAME: Kayla casts Daze.

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+5: (18)+5: 23

Fighting off the effects of being magically subdued by the bard, Devon keeps on running, affording another glance back. "SO WHAT YOU DOING AFTER THIS?" He calls back.

GAME: Kayla casts Silent Image.

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+3: (18)+3: 21

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+5: (4)+5: 9

The half-orc, glancing over his shoulder mid-stride one more time, cause free titties is a rarity. He comes to a sliding halt, then turns to truck on over towards the bolt to pick it up. He snatches the fake bolt out of the ground and sneers, ready to run back to the arena triumphantly.

For all his oogling, Kayla still hasn't managed to get any benefit from her daring display of mammies. Other than a bit of wind burn, that is. When he runs for her fake bolt and believes the illusion, she concentrates to maintain it even as she attempts to cut him off. "Damn! You won!" She shouts over at him, giving a dejected slump of her shoulders, "Let's go so I can get drunk!"

Devon continues to truck along, his pace slowed down a bit since obviously no wet nurse can stop him, chosen warrior of Angoran. He falls to a jog, and then a walk, holding the arrow aloft as he heads towards the center of the ring and drops it onto the top of the cart. With no clink or clank. Which doesn't distract Devon at all from showboating, throwing his hands in the air. "DEVON IS BEST. PRAISE ANGORAN! NOW COME LET US GO DRINK AND I WILL CONSOLE YOUR LOSS. WITH MY PENIS." He calls out to Kayla.

"Since you won, can I have my arrow back?" Kayla asks, coming over to Devon and holding out a hand even as she attempts to close the front of her leather tunic back up.

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+1: (15)+1: 16

GAME: Kayla rolls perform/sing+2: (19)+12+2: 33

Devon pulls the bolt out with a growl, and stuffs it down the top of Kayla's barely held together shirt, fletching first with a goofy grin. He shrinks back down after dismissing the spell and throws down a cure light to mend his shot up shoulder. "Where shall we drink first?"

Calmly, Kayla plucks the arrow out of her cleavage and puts it down on the cart even as she lets her illusion fade. She takes a prudent step away from Devon first, however. In case his religious zeal gets in the way of good judgement. He seems emotional like that. She flashes an innocent smile. "The arena drinking hall?"

The priest of Angoran looks at the cart, and then to Kayla. Back to the cart. Back to Kayla. Your win is now failure! The half-orc kicks the cart, sending it rolling away as he puffs his chest up in anger and takes a step towards the bard. "Well played, milkmaid. I will see you soon." Devon replies with a smirk, passing by to walk off the playing field, throwing a swat at the bard's ass on the way out. Baldwin Addelburg floats back onto the field, using a few unseen servants to pull the cart back to the center of the arena. "We have our first winner! You advance to the next round. Now go get yourself straightened up and find a hole in to hide in. Not wise to stir up a bunch of dirty old wizards." The looks of the beady eyes in the crowd echo his sentiment.

In the sidelines, Zerridwyn is sitting there with her mouth agape. She saw the whole thing.


As the second match gears up, Baldwin floats out to the center of the ring again, followed by a young apprentice pushing along a wooden serving cart with two fizzing, foaming tankards on the top. Looking over a scroll in his hands, he clucks his tongue and calls out once more, his voice magically amplified, "Our next two contestants are....Arissa and....Craft. Kids these days need proper names." He mutters the last under his breath, unaware that it too is amplified, "Come on down and take your positions!"

Craft is a bit unusual amongst the contestants, approaching the sign up desk dressed in full plate and a blacksmith's apron. His presence at the competition is somewaht explained when he signs the paperwork with an artificed pen, it's tip a small crystal of magicite before slipping it back into the pocket of his blacksmith's apron, walking into the holding area, leaving his warhammer where instructed, but only after ensuring that it'll be well taken care of. He eyes the potion before him, magicite eyes dimming somewhat as he moves closer.

Arissa attended only with a lot of pressure and coaxing, and she steps into the sandbag-surrounded 'magic arena' very quietly... no fancy displays, and no real reaction to Addleburg's immediate taunting. Instead, she looks Craft over for several seconds and then proceeds to her own starting position as she gazes at the drinks brought forth...

Baldwin eyes the both of you for a moment with that unapproving old man stare, before he flips right side up with an umph...He places a hand on the cart and raises one bony hand. "On my mark, go." He hesitates for a few moments, then throws his hand down.

GAME: Craft rolls 1d20+1+3: (12)+1+3: 16

GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+2+2: (19)+2+2: 23

GAME: Craft rolls 1d20+1+3: (12)+1+3: 16

GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+2+2: (14)+2+2: 18

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (4): 4

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (4): 4

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (3): 3

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (2): 2

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (2): 2

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (4): 4

Arissa goes tense, staring at Craft... this is going to affect her far more than it does his metal body, she's certain. It's not something she particularly cares to drink, just one more undesired aspect of a competition she's not really interested in to begin with... but this cold disinterest serves to let her simply plow through the drink as if /she/ were the one with the machined body, shuddering only once it is done.

She sets the tankard back down on the cart, stating simply and trying not to show that her head is pounding: "Finished." Craft, as much as things like alcohol probably wouldn't bother him, and lacking any sense of taste to cause recoil, has never drunk a single thing in his entire life, so it's pretty unskillful when he does try. Eventually, he gets it all poured into his open mouth, but not until Arissa beats him to the punch. The alcohol doesn't do much, but the magic of the potion does. He shakes his head, and his body goes more statuelike than normal, motionless save for the turning of his head to see Arissa's choice of challenge.

Baldin looks between the two drinkers, arms folded. "The young lady with the glowing eyes wins!" With a flick of his wrist, an unseen servant takes the two tankards and holds them while the old man pulls the top of the cart back. It was apparently made with a hinge. After shooing Craft to step back, he opens the lid all the way and lets Arissa peer inside. It looks like a wine-rack, only turned on it's side with scroll cases in each slot instead of wine bottles. Even from a distance, one can see something drawn on the cap of each end facing up, but only Arissa and Baldwin are close enough to see what exactly. "Take your pick and hand it to me once your done, young lady."

Even in her currently somewhat addled state, Arissa at least has some measure of sense and is sure she can pick out an event suited to her abili--

They're all vague symbols. There goes that plan. Her mind's voice berates her for having that drink now, but after a few seconds she reaches for a scroll, takes it in hand, and holds it up. "I select this."

For all the pomp and circumstance surrounding wizardry, the 'arcane script' on this scroll is surprisingly odd: It is a simple doodle of a smiling face.

Baldwin takes the scroll case and opens it with withered fingers. An apprentice wizard comes to fetch the cart and take it away from the Arena. He pulls out a single rolled up sheet of parchment and a small square of clothand puts on his reading glasses, spidery finger tracing the words. "Hah, ought to be entertaining."

"Challenge Number 12 - The Laughing Man, brought to you by Arboreal Arts Distillery, home of the world famous Raspberry Brandy and the best evermead this side of the Sky Curtains. I need two volunteers!" He cranes his head around and picks out a dwarf and an old wizard, pointing them over to Arissa and Craft respectively. "The first contestant to make their volunteer laugh, wins. However, the last man to laugh gets this fine 100 year old bottle of evermead, courtesy of Arboreal Arts!" He flicks his wrist and the square of cloth turns into a clay jug with painted ivy and flowers all over it, easily a gallon. "Sir Construct, I believe you are up."

Craft stands motionless for a moment, looking towards his volunteer. A hand goes into his blacksmith's apron, pulling out a torch, his other hand attaching a cone to aim the light, which he does, brightly, directly into Arissa's volunteer's eyes. It might make them unlikely to laugh, at least.

GAME: Craft rolls perform/comedy: (6)+-2: 4

The dwarf clutches his eyes, wincing. "I hope Reos rusts your gearbox, golem!" He cries out in pain, wiping a tear away. The wizard just stares at Craft, shaking his head and clucking his tongue, "That causes eye damage, you know that? I hope your happy."

GAME: Arissa rolls Perform/Comedy+2: (20)+5+2: 27

Arissa's mind scrambles for jokes... she doesn't know many to begin with, and in her currently 'drunken' state she knows virtually none worth using in competition. She's just not suited to be a comedian.

After a few seconds' thought, Arissa begins to chant in Celestial and conjures a white circle on the ground between herself and her dwarf volunteer... even as he's flustered by flaring lights in his vision from Craft; she can't help but wonder if that's a violation of the rules on its own...

...But where Craft tried to just go the 'slapstick' route, Arissa goes for something more playful. She conjures up a shepherd dog... a holy one, given a golden tinge to its fur. The dog stands there confused at first; there is no evil to fight, nobody to protect!

Then Arissa appeals to the dog's more base instincts as she tosses a little bread toward the dwarf, and hurriedly chants up some phantom sounds just as the dog rushes to eat and roughhouse and lick away both at food and the dwarven 'carrier.' What follows is that it sounds like the dog is joyfully excited, both eager to get to the food and loudly proclaiming its love of such, while thanking the dwarf!

He's able to take the dog's playing just fine, and after a few seconds the licking and energy and impossibility of the dog 'talking' get through to the dwarf's stout heart... and he begins laughing! Arissa smiles at the result, her own mood much lightened... it's not really an abuse of contract-granted holy magic if she brought some joy into his life through it, after all!

"Arissa is the winner. Enjoy your evermead, Brandimus." Baldwin hands the jug over to an unseen servant that lugs it over to Brandimus, who grabs it up like a newborn child. The dwarf doesn't seem too dissapointed, elf booze isn't really his thing. Baldwin claps the large golem on the shoulder, "Better luck next time. If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was funny."

"Comedy is so strange," Craft remarks, his voice more metallic and hollow than normal. He turns, walking mechanically towards the exit, collecting his hammer, and moving on his way, at least until that potion wears off.

Arissa gives a Celestial "(Thank you!)" to the dog (not that it understands the words, but it may pick up on the appreciative tone at least), which vanishes just a few seconds later. Then she makes a wide twirl on one heel as the result is announced, facing the audience around them and ending it with a curtsy gesture to all gathered. Then to Craft, she offers a slight laugh as he departs. "It is, but we do sometimes need it..." And then she, too, begins to leave... there is more tournament work to be done working with the Althean healing contingent, after all.


Baldwin waits for the holy sorceress and automaton to exit the field before taking out his scroll once more, reading it over... "Next contestants are Zerridwyn and Sakari Fenlong...Come on down and take your places" The elderly floating wizard calls out, beckoning for the cart containing another two pints of the alcoholic potion to be brought out by an apprentice.

Zerridwyn is still red in the face as she stands by the mug of Old One Eye's. She still remembers what she witnessed a few matches ago and is trying to put it out of her mind. The elf waves cheerfully to Sakari. "Hey! I didn't know you were taking part in the challenge. Eluna's luck be with you!" Zerri looks warily at the potions.

Sakari of course, in true Sakari fashion, has not really been paying all that much attention to anything that's been going on. Dragons are above all that! She has, instead, been flipping a gold coin between her fingers while she waits. "Oh! Wow. I didn't think I'd be fighting a friend... well... I'm not gonna go easy on you! So I don't want you slacking off!" Sakari steps into the starting position.

Mikilos slips quietly into the waiting area for challengers. It's not that the elf doesn't take the compitition seriously, but other activities take priority.

Baldwin looks between the two competitors and raises his hands, "You know the drill, on my mark, drink!" He hesitates for a moment to build tension and then throws his hands down!

Zerridwyn stares at the pint. She remembers what she saw that do to Kayla (at least, she thinks she did). "Um. I, uh. You can go first, Sakari." That quaff is sitting there, being quite frightening to the elf. She's spends more time working out her body than her mind, and obviously fears that she won't be able to handle the endumbening.

Sakari doesn't seem to mind going first - and so she takes the pint and gulps it down, glancing up at the wizard and then over at Zerridwyn. Everything feels a bit... hazy. Yeah. "Okay, now what?" she says, blinking a little. "I'm gonna... something," she murmurs, glancing over at the scrolls again.

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (1): 1

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (3): 3

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (4): 4

Baldwin looks on Zerri with a bit of contempt, taking the tankard himself while an unseen servant claims the other one. "Shoo, you dirty little teetoller." He takes a sip from the brew and then slides the lid off the top of the cart, revealing a wine-rack setup put vertically down into the interior of the cart, only with scroll tubes instead of wine bottles. "Take your pick, young lady."

"Sorry," says Zerridwyn. "I'm confident in my skills as an eldritch knight (almost) but I don't think I'm good enough at pure wizardry to cast spells while my head is in a muddle." She waits while Sakari has her choice of the scrolls.

Sakari blinks at the scrolls, peering at them... "Hm... I pick... That one!" she points at a scroll with the chaos symbol on it. Yeah, THAT one looks like a good idea, doesn't it? "So now what?" she asks - seeming slightly impatient. A tiny, ignored voice in her head is telling her that this is probably a BAD idea!

The cart is hauled off by an apprentice wizard while Baldwin takes the scroll tube with a clunk...something besides a scroll is in there. He hands off his tankard to an unseen servant, opening it and a rod, and two sheets of parchment slide out. He trades the unseen servant for the scroll tube and sips his dumbifying beer while he peruses the contents, before spewing them out in utter dismay, sputtering. "Althea help us."

Baldwin's demeanor stops being jovial and sobers up immediately, as he reads off the announcement.

"Challenge Number 11 - Rod Roulette. Brought to you by Fanatical Eddies, purveyor of all things arcane, and fanatic about quality ....Both contestants will be enclosed in a wall of force and take turns activating a rod of wonder until one participant relents or can no longer proceed. Fanatical Eddie has assured us that he has made this Rod entirely nonlethal." He hands the rod off to Zerridwyn and floats backwards, waiting for Sakari to get into place before activating the scroll.

Mikilos perks up on the sidelines, frowning faintly as the challenge is read. Or maybe it's the name of the sponsor that brings a frown.

Sakari just sort of... blinks. "That doesn't sound ... wait, what? That's..." She turns to Zerridwyn, looking slightly apologetic. "What, erm, does a rod of wonder do, exactly?" she asks, clearing her throat somewhat nervously.

Zerridwyn takes the rod and holds it gingerly. "Oh, uh. This isn't the kind that will accidentally summon an elephant, squishing us both, is it? I heard that happened once!" She goes on with a bit of a tale, while moving to the indicated place to stand. "There were these adventurers in a tight dungeon with narrow corridors, up against terrifying evil! They had no options left but a rod of wonder. In desperation, they used it and it summoned a full-grown elephant into a corridor too small! It took them a week to tunnel out, but they weren't risking starvation."

Once the two of you are in position, Baldin reads off the scroll of an extended wall of force, encircling the both of you in a 30 feet diameter dome. The crowd is utterly silent and on the edge of their seats as they wait to see what happens.

GAME: Zerridwyn rolls 1d100: (1): 1

GAME: Zerridwyn rolls will: (1)+3: 4

Zerridwyn fiddles with the rod and ends up looking down one end when she activates it. "How do you...?" Foomp! It blasts her with a temporal deceleration, slowing her down. Her voice warps, "Hey... everyone's... so... fast... now..." Per the rules, she throws the rod to Sakari.

Mikilos watches the show, amused despite himself. Really, this is silly, shouldn't be nearly so entertaining.

GAME: Sakari rolls 1d100: (30): 30

GAME: Sakari rolls fortitude: (4)+4: 8

"Ugh! Ugh! Oh god! This is awful!" Sakari says, holding her nose, and shaking her head about. This was such a terrible idea! Terrible, terrible! At least it doesn't hurt, though.

GAME: Zerridwyn rolls 1d100: (84): 84

Eventually, the slowed Zerri gets over to the rod and picks it up. She returns to her position, slowly, and activates the thing with a visible sense of trepidation. The elf closes her eyes tightly and holds it at arms length, then vanishes. The rod reappears when it is tossed back to the middle of the field.

GAME: Sakari rolls fortitude: (8)+4: 12

Sakari coughs and hacks, and hacks and coughs! Unable to see Zerridwyn, she finally waves her arm, before throwing up in Zerri's general direction while crawling on her hands and knees. "This is *cough* awful! Ugh! It smells like old wizard shoes in here!"

Splot! "Augh!" The invisible form of Zerridwyn is revealed by splattering of vomit.

Mikilos is not laughing. That's gross, not funny. He's shoulders are shaking from.... er..... cold. It's cold here. Or something.

Baldwin throws down a few Dispel Magics, removing the Wall of Force along with the stink...The vomit and snot remain. The crowd is laughing like hyenas and applauding. "Winner by means of stink, is Zerridwn! Ugh....Gods, it still reeks." The elderly mage declares as he floats over to make the announcement.

Sakari steps out of the ring. She waves a hand, "Yuck. I think I'm going to go take a bath, or a dip in the lake or something..." she shakes her head, snorting a little bit - she shoots Mikilos a little bit of a 'look,' and then disappears off for a while.


Mikilos grins, waving to Zerridwyn and Sakari as they leave the field, stepping up to enter the compitition himself. the wizard takes a few moments to set a few select items into his haversack before setting the bag itself into the lockbox. No unfair advantages with magical items.

Once the stench clears, Baldin has the cart brought back out with two more pints of refreshing, stupifying Old One Eye. He produces the parchment from his belt and adjusts his reading glasses, "Next two contestants....Mikilos and Raelis! You're up!"

Raelis pulls himself up from his seat, a helf-elf with short cropped hair dressed in leathers. He steps to the cart and places a hand on his pint, waiting for Mikilos to do the same, looking rather aloof and stoic.

Mikilos quirks a brow with mild amusement, nodding politely to the fellow elf before gripping his own designated pint.

Mikilos rolls initiative: Roll: 15 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 17

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+1: (11)+1: 12

GAME: Mikilos rolls 1d20+2+0: (12)+2+0: 14

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+3: (2)+3: 5

GAME: Mikilos rolls 1d20+2+0: (7)+2+0: 9

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+3: (7)+3: 10

GAME: Mikilos rolls 1d20+2+0: (6)+2+0: 8

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (3): 3

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (4): 4

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (4): 4

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (2): 2

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (3): 3

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (4): 4

Mikilos waits for the signal..... and on the mark, begins to chug back the Pint of Bad Choices, his efforts slowing distinctly when the contents start to hit his belly. Been a while since the elf has been drinking. But swiftly enough the contents are polished off, and Mikilos takes a slow breath, peering towards the selection of choices with a mild frown and a slight wobble.

Raelis isn't much a drinker. Not much booze coming from woods and whatnot. Which is why people built cities. He finishes several seconds after Mikilos, letting out a green sparkling cloud belch with a stupid drunken laugh afterwards. Baldwin motions for the half-elf to step back and gestures for Mik to stay close while the top of the cart to be opened, revealing an wine-rack like array of scrolls tubes for Mikilos to select.

Mikilos peers at the selection a moment before pointing to one in particular. "There. The two heads pressed against each other, please."

Baldwin pulls out the selected tube, with Raelis watching silently. The scroll tube is opened with wrinkled fingers and out comes a parchment and a large blue marble. He hands the scroll tube off to an unseen servant and looks the parchment over while an apprentice hauls the cart off. Clearing his throat, he reads the parchment aloud.

"Challenge Number 13 - The Sphere of En-Dye-Annation. Brought to you by Gifnab Ranzwick, Mechanist and Mage of Clockwork Point. Each contestant will stand fourty feet from the other and the sphere will be awoken. The first to make the sphere touch the opposing player by force of will wins!"

Mikilos frowns a moment, pondering a bit before nodding. "A curious variation. I look forward to the results." Heading towards his starting position, the elf murmurs softly under his breath, sprinkeling a few hairs from one of his many pockets.

GAME: Mikilos casts fox's cunning.

Raelis staggers to his position and puts his hands together for a prayer before readying himself. The marble is tossed between the two of you, 20 feet away from either competitor, and it hangs in the air, spinning as it grows into a perfect Cyan colored sphere 2 feet in diameter, ready to be moved by force of will alone.

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+1: (19)+1: 20

GAME: Mikilos rolls 1d20+5: (17)+5: 22

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+1: (3)+1: 4

GAME: Mikilos rolls 1d20+5: (11)+5: 16

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+1: (9)+1: 10

GAME: Mikilos rolls 1d20+5: (17)+5: 22

Mikilos is not the wisest of inviduals, even when he hasn't been drinking. But his force of personality is quite strong, and

his mental prowess is second to none. Focusing his will upon the magic sphere, the wizard gives a series of strong mental 

shoves, overwhelming his opponents efforts. In moments, the object touches his opponent and bursts, showering Realis with dye.

Raelis looks angry at first, but breaks into a laugh once he sees his new blue hue. He offers a hand to Mikilos, "Well played, brother elf."

Mikilos takes a slow breath, and relaxes himself with a grin, taking the offered hand, ignoreing the dye upon it. "Thank you. Not quite the challenge I'd anticipated, but a good challenge none the less. Join me later for a drink? One not spiked with potions of foolishness?"


Once the three quarters elf/one quarter human combination leaves the arena, Baldwin floats forward to the center of the Arena, parchment at the ready. He adjusts his spectacles and rubs his chin. "Next competitors....Ugh, Zap Addleburg and Eira Magrith!" A wiry, cocky looking 30-something wizard in blue robes with lightning bolts streaking across it steps forward, swaggering his way over to the cart that is being wheeled out next to Baldwin. "Hey, Pops." He calls out, earning him a baleful stare from his father. "Can it, and act like you got some class for once." He glances sidelong between the two of you, before commenting, "You both know the drill. Hands on the tankards."

So Garrin has settled into the crowd. He is a happy fellow right now, cheering. He's waiting for his turn, of course, as well.

If there is one thing they do where Eira is from way in the north of Stormgarde is drink, of course, Eira is the modicum of restraint, "Are you sure you want to mix drinking with this.." Eira is after all known for big explosion. She shrugs her shoulder and lifts the mug, "When in .. Alexandria.. " She asides to the poor many bringing the mugs, "Watch out for galloping stable?" She has heard the rumours about the stables at the battlehall coming to life one evening when magic and liquor mixed.

Baldwin shrugs, "Probably not. But it'll be entertaining. On my mark, drink." He throws a hand up and Zap takes hold of his tankard, ready to pour the frothing, fizzing green beer down his gullet as fast as he can. After a few moments to build tension, he throws his wiry hand down, and you're off!

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+2: (11)+2: 13

GAME: Eira rolls 1d20+5: (15)+5: 20

Eira gives the ale a sniff before she commences to drinking it down. Its certainly not the hearty brew like the she had brought in for the funerals at Gettys, but its not pisswater either. She seems to have little trouble with having the beer going down. Its seems Lady Eira has hidden talents.

GAME: Eira rolls 1d20+5: (14)+5: 19

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+3: (12)+3: 15

GAME: Eira rolls 1d20+5: (20)+5: 25

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (2): 2

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (2): 2

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (3): 3

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (4): 4

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (4): 4

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (3): 3

Eira doesn't seem to come up for air just yet, chugging down the ale. Without any sloppy spills either. She doesn't seem to be slowing down, instead working her way to the bottom rather quickly.

Zap keeps pace in the first few moments, but his thin little lips and stick frame is no match for Eira, who finishes the brew in near record time. Zap finishes a few seconds later, and slams down his tankard, staggering a bit off to the side while holding his head. Bad idea indeed. Meanwhile, his old man sighs and opens up the lid to the cart, letting the sorceress peruse the marked scroll tubes contained therein.

Eira is a bit daintier about putting the tankard down. She reaches into her pocket and finds a lacey handkerchief to blot the corners of her mouth before wandering over to select a scroll from the many to choose from. She takes her time, almost grasping the one with the crossed wands, but then she thinks better of it and finally selects the one with the parallel circles. "This one with do, Master Addleberg.." The scent of the ale is starting to come out of her pores. One can only drink so much ale before it does effect a girl.

Baldwin waves the cart off, to be hauled off by some nameless apprentice wizard that'll probably just end up churning out scrolls for PC adventurers, alone, unloved, and forgotten until he dies like the poor nameless fuck that he is. He takes the scroll tube and takes the cap off, pouring out two wands and a slip of parchment. He looks it over and clucks his tongue, before reading it aloud...

"Challenge Number 10 - Wands at 10 Paces! Brought to you by Robard and Sons Illuminations. Lighting a candle rather than cursing your darkness for over 23 years and counting! Each competitor is provided a wand. In the style of a traditional duel, they shall go back to back, walk 10 paces, turn and fire their wands of Ray of Light, a variation of the common light cantrip. The first competitor to be illuminated loses. Each competitor will be allowed to cast one spell in prepration before the duel." The old wizard offers the wands to Zap and Eira, and nods to his son, "You cast first. Try not to shame me too badly."

Zap sneers at his father, obviously drunk, but takes a moment to think and then takes out a bit of eyelash and gum arabic from his spell component pouch, says a few words and fades from sight. A few foot imprints in the grass appear and dissappear as he steps to dead center in the arena, and a voice calls out, "Come on! Let's do this!"

Eira speaks a few words in Draconic, the blows across her finger tips. Suddenly the staging area has a few more of the tall blondes on the field. She begins her paces, creating a bit of a shellgame for the poor younger Addleburg.

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9

GAME: Eira rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16

GAME: Owen rolls 1d100: (4): 4

GAME: Eira rolls 1d20+7: (9)+7: 16

All of the figment of Eira turn and take aim. She intones the trigger phrase, slurring it a bit from the drink. "Star shine brighten.." All of the figments of Eira's eyes roll, "who makes this shit up.." The ray of light is just a little too accurate, revealing the invisible figure of Zap whose probably caught making a lewd gesture.

Zap was just about to aim his own wand before he was lit up, figuratively and literally. Upon being illuminated, he scowls.. .unseen via the invisibility and there's a snapping noise and two broken halves of a wand appear next to his feet before a fly spell is intoned and the sore invisible loser sails off, smarting from the sting of defeat. All the while, his father laughs like a hyena. "You might want to watch your step for a few days, he's a hot head, that one. Takes after his mother. That's where I got his scar!" The elderly wizard hikes up his robe, revealing dragon slippers and a nasty stab wound in his right shin. "Anyway, Eira advances to the next round! Congratulations. Now clear the field so I can get this next match out the way and go home and have a nice cuppa."

Eira cups her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. Especially at the slippers. "I'll let my grandmother know you are a fan.." Eyes directly towards his feet, it is well known that she's got draconic heritage. She waves a hand to dismiss the figments. They collapse upon themselves as if made from sand, a rough breeze would have blown them away. She nods to the Elder Baldwin, "It was a pleasure to represent the House Jorgenson in this.." Stormgardians, all about their houses honour.


Once Eira makes her way off the field, the cart returns pushed by...Steve...not fantasy enough...STEVOS. Stevos the apprentice. He is a sad and doughy wizard, promised magical power and left with pushing some dusty old cart and pouring beer. Life is hard. Anyway, Stevos pushes the cart in place and retreats, while Baldwin takes out the parchment of contestants on it. "Alright, next up...Garrin and Rigel Brushgather. Get down here!"

It takes a moment or two, but Rigel shows up. A cocky looking halfling with a silver-toothed grin and a short sword at his belt. Given his bright blue cloak and tunic and the coyote medallion hanging from his neck, it would look like he's a Tarienite. He steps up to the cart, his eyes barely peeking over it and puts his hands on the comparitively massive pint.

So now it is Garrin's time!

He hops down, adjusts his fez (he is totally wearing a fez, 'coz fez's are cool and what not) and makes his way towards the challenger. "Yep. I'm ready. Garrin Goodmountain, at your service," He leans forward, sweeping into a bow. "A good challenge!"

Baldwin eyes the fez skeptically, but Rigel seems to like it, causing the halfling to crack an even wider grin. Baldwin lifts his hand up once the both of you get hand on your tankards. He drops it down sharply and off you go!

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+3: (16)+3: 19

GAME: Garrin rolls 1d20+3: (12)+3: 15 GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+10: (3)+10: 13 GAME: Garrin rolls 1d20+3: (6)+3: 9 GAME: Garrin rolls sense motive: (16)+5: 21

Rigel is off to a pretty good start, taking a gulp of the pint, some of it spilling out of the sides, before he drops the large stein, letting it spill all over the grass, smoke fizzling upwards. He looks up with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Oops. Guess you better finish that and you can pick! Guess Coyote wanted me to teach me a lesson!" Apparently how not to look like a guilty little fucker, apparently. Cause he totally does.

"He sure did," says Garrin with a laugh. He chugs some of it himself, burping loudly upon completion. "Tarien is the best god," he adds, a glassy eyed grin on his face.

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (1): 1

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (4): 4

GAME: Owen rolls 1d4: (4): 4

Baldwin shakes his head, having an unseen servant pick the dropped stein up while he waves Rigel off and opens up the cart lid, letting Garrin peruse the contents while the halfling tucks his thumbs in his belt, whistling up some jaunty tune while he waits.

"Hat!" Garrin burps again, cheerfully, taking the hat emblazoned scroll tube. "Hat," He repeats, warmly, giving the halfling a big old thumbs up.

Baldwin takes the scroll tube out, gesturing for STEVOS to pull the cart away. Wrinkled hands and spidery fingers pop the scroll tube open and out tumbles a sheet of pink parchment with a nice lightly perfumed scent and two squares of cloth. The elderly mage gives the parchment a read and chortles before composing himself.

"Challenge Number 1 - Mad Hattery, brought to you by Madame Gelfure, Mistress of Transmutation. Each competitor is given a hat to wear. Taking turns, each competitor must attempt to retrieve the hat of his opponent without touching or harming him. The first caster to give me, the officiant, both hats...INTACT..wins!" He gives one square of cloth a shake and it turns into a massive stovepipe. He looks between the halfling and the be'fezzed wizard and hands the stovepipe off to the halfling. It's almost as tall as he is and would fall in on his head if it didn't magically resize for maximum comfort. The next cloth square is given a shake and it turns into...A GIANT FRUIT HAT. He holds the hat in both hands and offers it to Garrin, snickering.

"..oh this is *Awesome*," says Garrin. The hat is plopped upon his head and he beams at the announcer, then he clears his throat. "Okay. I am ready!" The hat is on his head, now, and he loosk thoroughly pleased with this challenge. "I have a brilliant plan to take the h-hat," He stumbles around a bit. Totally drunk, this guy. He must be a horrible lightweight.

Rigel beams at Garrin, giving him a thumbs up. "You look great, friend. And since I'm such a nice guy, I'm not going to try and take that gorgeous hat from you with my first go at it." He calls out, digging into his spell component pouch. And again, out comes some gum arabic and an eyelash. A few gestures later, and the Tarienite priest dissappears from sight.

So Garrin quickly sobers up, casting a spell. In the general area behind where his fellow tarienite vanished, suddenly someone can be heard to say, "I EAT HALFLINGS FOR BREAKFAST BECAUSE I AM A HALFLING EATING MACHINE. BURAAAP."

Garrin gasps, putting his hands over his mouth. Okay, so maybe he's overselling it a little.

"Nice try," a halfling voice calls out. It sounds like it's on the move, but coming closer, "But you look a bit under the weather... maybe you should lie DOWN." Inviso-Rigel suggests, with all the force that his one word command can muster.

GAME: Garrin rolls Will: (8)+4: 12

It must be the hat! Garrin lays right down. "..heeeey. This isn't fair," he announces, firmly. He then, laying on the ground, attempts to begin rolling closer to the stands, hat staying attached to his head.

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+2: (1)+2: 3

As garrin rolls along the grass towards the stand, the little pitter patter of halfling feet aren't far behind. A grape gets pulled off the hat, but that's about it. "Help a brother out, and lay still for a second!"

So suddenly, a halfling girl dropped out of the stands! She is wearing a very frilly dress. Garrin points at her, "Wow! We have some interference here," he says, eyes wide.

She is in a still pose, a big grin on her face with her dress slightly lifted away from her ankles!

Garrin looks shocked. SHOCKED.

GAME: Garrin rolls Bluff: (5)+6: 11

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+8: (20)+8: 28

Rigel, now visible for his hat thievery (I think), looks at the halfling lady, then back at Garrin, then at the halfling lady, then back to Garrin. "Seriously? I'm insulted. Imma have to get rough with you now." He begins to dig into his belt pouch again, producing a smaller pouch and a candle, going through the motions of casting a summon spell.

GAME: Garrin rolls 1d20+1: (16)+1: 17

"Really," says Garrin.

"*Really*? Well, okay."

There is a pause. Garrin lets him nearly complete the summon. Then? He dashes forward and takes the hat right off his head. Swiftly. Just like that.

"Seriously, man," he says, "You must be snookered if you thought -that- was a good idea."

GAME: Owen rolls 1d3: (2): 2

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+2: (15)+2: 17

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9

"I thought it was." Rigel sneers as soon as he finishes off his first spell, causing two coyotes made of clouds to come out of nowhere. In one pass, one swoops down and snatches the fruit hat off Garrin's head, while another attempts to snatch the stovepipe out of his hands, unsuccessfully. And here comes Rigel, putting together another summon monster spell to bring more friends to the party.

GAME: Garrin rolls 1d20+4: (20)+4: 24

GAME: Garrin rolls 4d6: (18): 18

So as the halfling begins to summon more, Garrin goes to grab the hat! That is, to say, he grabs it after burning a hole through the air elemnetal that has *his*, causing it to dissipate all together!

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+6: (9)+6: 15

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+2: (11)+2: 13

As the air elemental holding the fruit hat falls, it is replaced with a humanoid made of dirt that pushes itself up from the ground next to Garrin and shoves him out of the way, making way for the halfling cleric to run over, ready to snatch the hat up. Meanwhile, the remaining cloud-coyote swoops in and attempts to snatch away the stovepipe, and fails.

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20-1: (14)+-1: 13

GAME: Garrin rolls Ref: (8)+6: 14

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+6: (2)+6: 8

So Garrin is at his wits end here. He proceeds to quickly begin invoking a spell. Webbing sprouds up and spills into the stands, entrapping pretty much everyone!

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+3: (14)+3: 17

GAME: Owen rolls 1d20+3: (16)+3: 19

There are groans and cries of surprise all over the crowds that got webbed up. They do not sound happy. The earth elemental attempts to muscle its way free with little success, but Rigel and the air elemental slide free. Rigel picks up the fruit hat and glares at you through the webs. "Ain't this a pickle?" He taunts.

GAME: Garrin rolls escape artist: (10)+7: 17

Garrin, for his part, wiggles free of his webs and then says, "..something like that." He then casually begins to back up towards the fellow for whom the hat tolls. Or goes to, anyways.

Rigel watches as his earth elemental breaks free, only to get stuck again when it moves, the same for his air elemental. "I really don't want to mess up my hair trying to get out. I'm wearing sandals, man! What say we put it up to Tarien, you tricky bastard? Flip for it?" He pulls out a specially made gold piece that has Tarien's face on both ends, one frowning, one smiling.

GAME: Garrin rolls 1d20+4: (14)+4: 18

"...yeah, that'll work!" So Garrin then raises his hand and channels a bolt of energy directly at the other fellow's face. It hits him, leaving him a lil' razzle-dazzled.

GAME: Garrin rolls Fort: (1)+3: 4

"YOU FUCKER!" The halfling shrieks, grabbing his zapped eye. "You want blind?! I'll show you blind!" The halfling cries, along with a few divine syllables and everything goes black. "Enjoy that one, dick!" The voice of Rigel calls out, just before you feel the webs dissappear and a whistle blow. "WHOA WHOA WHOA!" Booms Baldwin's amplified voice. "That's a low blow, Tarienite. You're out. Garrin advances by means of being blind as a bat. You might want to get that looked at."

"...AUGH. My eyes! Hey, it's not going away. You shit! I wasn't blinding you PERMANENTLY." he did in fact recognize the spell. "..feh. How am I gonna explain this to Faiza?" he asks, rhetorically, giving the halfling a rude gesture.