Griswold inclined his head to the Lady Inara upon entering, despite the evil eye he expected in return.  He'd have winked, just to provoke her, if she weren't nobility.

Having already heard from the clerics that the first group was - mostly - healed he did not immediately seek the twins out as he might have otherwise.  Instead he excused himself, grabbed a few ales and strode over to the group of local boys.

"Well, it seems I owe you all an apology.  You've fared better than anyone else, so far!  Very well done." He bellowed gleefully offering the tankards to them. "Drink well.  You've earned it.  But not too deep, there's still plenty more to be done."  He waited for them to take the flagons - if they were going to, otherwise put the vessels aside.  Then the smile faded from his eyes. "But Lady Luck was on your side this time.  Local knowledge might not be enough to pass the other tests."  He looked back towards the entrance, then to the unconscious twin.  "The Lady Inara told me that she would not place people's lives in danger.  However, serious injury is apparently less of a concern.

"Though I still advise against it, if you are intending to continue at least let me help you.  I am no knight, but I have had formal training.  Let's go out back, grab some training equipment - daggers with bucklers, something that wont leave your muscles aching - and practice a few simple techniques.  It may not be enough to spare you entirely should things go sour, but hopefully could take the edge off.  And don't worry about not having this," he shifted uncomfortably in his chainmail, "my style works better with less cumbersome garb anyway."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:34, Tue 04 July 2017.

Not long after the others had entered Brimir pushed through the opening, having waited aside patiently for a private word with the Lady. He squinted, adjusting to the coloured shade beneath the painted canvas overhead. Spying the table of refreshments Brimir strode ahead; Griswold's fraternising with the members of another team diverted the ogre's attention, which meant he failed to see the poor serving-boy before him.

The collision was enough to knock the wind out of the lad, but Brimir managed to grab a handful of the stunned servant's tunic before he had bounced far enough to inflict any collateral damage. Setting the child back onto his feet Brimir leaned far down to murmur something as he sent the servant on his way. [Private to GM: "See me when I finish serving if you want to earn a coin." ]Fortunately empty, the wooden platter the boy had been carrying in both hands was unbroken; retrieving it, Brimir took up attendance by the table. Despite being shirtless he maintained considerable aplomb, selecting four -- and then, with another guarded look after Griswold, three --  shallow bowls and wooden goblets.

"What may I offer you?" he asked the others, gesturing half the length of the trestle with one of his extensive arms. "Fruit, meats, the seasoned potato soup?" His hand stopped above one of the pitchers of red wine, reminiscent of his selection of statuettes at the octagonal table, and he took hold of a jug and raised it.

Instead of taking a sip, however, he swirled the wine and closed his eyes, inhaling through his broad nose. Immediately he frowned, returning the pitcher with a growl and a glare that swept the room for any senior attendants present.

"I recommend the white," he said tightly, with more emotion than he had throughout the preceding trial, "The red has not yet had sufficient time to breathe."

[Private to GM: Brimir will quickly stop in to report to Lady Inara before entering the pavilion, to see whether she has any further instructions for him.]
This message was last edited by the player at 23:57, Tue 04 July 2017.

Several servants are more than willing to help cart away and bring food to any who wish it. One boy stops by Brimir, tugging on the big ogres trouser leg. [Private to Brimir: "You needed me, sir?"] Lady Inara, though at the entrance of the tent, is nowhere to be seen. No one else in the tent seems to notice that she is gone, however.

Meanwhile, among the local group, things are starting get interesting. You are able to gather that of the group, Chris, a tall athletic blonde and the oldest looking, seems to be the leader. Roland is a younger, obviously more cocksure from his pre-trial outburst, mousy haired youth. Gerard is a barrel of a lad, used to hard labor and will likely continue to grow into someone that could be confused for a small ogre. Kyle is red haired and wears lines on his face that he is too young to have. Then there is the last youth. At first you though it was another youthful lad, eager to venture out. As you approached, you realize that it is a short-haired girl, no more than twenty. She is small and seems to stand away from the others, as if afraid. That is when you notice the telltale collar of an indentured servant. She is fidgeting with her fingers and you can see soot stains on them.

Roland turns to Griswold, anger evident, but in a well practiced maneuver, Gerard blocks him as Chris squares up with the squire. "While my friend doesn't appreciate the offers of help, I do. I'm not as prideful to think that we are just as well off as a knight in training and his retinue. We are locals and yes we were lucky that Roland has read the histories of the major orders, but these trials are to test us. I think not just our physical and mental skill, but our resolve as well. Should there be time, I will take you up on the offer. I cannot speak for my fellows and Roland speaks for Farrissa," Chris says with a indication towards the smaller woman.

In the background, Roland looks absolutely bristling at Griswold, but says nothing. His anger seems to be making Farrissa more and more uncomfortable. Brother Sul is finding that the wine and food are excellent and everyone is getting their fill.

The Brother accepted the food graciously, agreeing to go with the White wine at the ogre's suggestion. He had not been a particularly strong drinker in the past, and had indeed only really started once he left the monastary, and thus had just taken what was available. He admitted the wine was excellent, but he had little to compare it to. Instead he focused on the delicious meal that was given. It had been a long time since the man had eaten something this good.

His ears twitched as the squire spoke with the others, but he payed it little mind as the leader of the group seems well enough and not wanting a fight. His words carried wisdom and Sul was appreciative of that fact. It would defintely help them in the coming trials.

Though his last words drew his attention as he eyed the fearful girl, and her collar. He was never one to like the idea of indentured servitude. Though we all cary the sins of our forefathers, free will to choose our own paths was something he believed in. But he understood that it was something many would have to fight for, and his own quest needed to be kept. Still, her fear stuck with him as he continued eating...

[Private to GM: Passive Perception 20, Passive Investigation 19, Insight 15.
Besides Roland's obvious anger, anything else i can note from that group? And what she might be afraid of besides him taking his anger out on her?]

Wrenn set in quickly on the food and drink, and listened to the others talking around him. He was half-surprised at Griswold's offer to train the other group, but only half.

At hearing and seeing that there was a slave in their midst and that Roland was the one in charge of her, Wrenn spoke out. "Roland? How much for the girl?"

Having done his best to stand in and personally serve his team the choicest portions available, applying advantages of mass and reach to thwart the efforts of other servicemen and women where applicable, Brimir accompanied the others into range of Griswold and the locals. The summons at his trouser-seam brought him to a standstill, the ogre planting a fist of calloused knuckles on the ground for balance as he did what he could to reach eye-level in order to talk with the boy.[Private to GM:  "Go to the Broken Dagger inn and ask for the ogre's chest from the stable, then bring it to me here. I will see to it that the Lady Inara pays you for your service. Show them this ring."] Brimir returned to his feet after imparting his message, working the ring free from his left ring-finger and holding it out in his palm; when the boy reached for it, Brimir's hand closed around the child's.

"If you do not return within the hour," Brimir made a show of studying the youth's features, "I will find you. You may need a barrow, or a friend." With that he moved closer to where the two teams were mingling, just in time to catch Wrenn's question. Brimir eyed the servant-girl up and down.

"Arch-magus," Brimir began, sucking in his stomach in the presence of youths rather leaner than himself as he tapped the gnome heavily on the shoulder. The ogre lowered his tone to a dull rumble; loud enough to carry above the revelry and entertainment in the tent, but quiet enough that those who wished to turn a discretionary deaf ear could do so. "I believe this girl is paying a debt of honour made due by herself or a family member. She cannot be 'bought', and it is ignoble to suggest so. Her master may accept payment of her wergild or transfer of the work-debt to another. If she is registered as a team-member she may still be required to compete with that team, even if you pay her remaining debt." Although the first part seemed delivered confidently by rote, Brimir's inflection of certainty seemed to snag upon the final point.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:53, Sat 08 July 2017.

Wrenn looked at Brimir, his face displaying a look that clearly said, "What the $#^& are you talking about!?" mixed with a fair amount of anger and annoyance.

"Apologies for the interruption," Brimir's bow was akin to the gradual toppling of a standing stone, down as close to Wrenn's level as possible without losing balance. "I did not know if you were familiar with local custom." Righting himself Brimir retreated sideways to stand nearer Griswold.

"Is everything in order, Squire?" Brimir almost managed to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

Griswold had been watching the situation unfold with uncertainty.  He'd been wracking his mind for an answer as he was uncomfortable with all types of slavery.  Taking Wrenn and Brimir aside, he whispered:

"I hate this, but I agree with Brimir.  I don't think there's much to be done right now.  Though, Indentured Servitude is different to slavery.  The masters have a duty to their charges' safety and this stuck-up prick has apparently willingly allowed his to enter into a competition that, though perhaps not life-threatening, is certainly harmful."  The squire rubbed his still sore arrow wound meaningfully.   "And if that strange magical spying spell was in action for all the groups, then there will be hundreds of witnesses who can attest both to the girl's participation and the challenge's very real dangers."

It wasn't long before Roland could not be held back by Gerard anymore and can forward in a rage. He points at Wrenn, heedless of Brimir or Griswold. "You insult me and my family with your ignorance, wretched cur. If you apologize now, nothing more will come of this insult," he demands with a sneer. In the background, the girl looks mortified and the others are intensely watching Brimir and Griswold, appearing to be ready for a fight.

The other group has stopped what they were doing and the older human is now watching the exchange as well.

Griswold rolls his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath.  Then proceeds to take a moment to look over Roland and his Indentured Slave, studying the colours of their clothes and any heraldry or similar they might be sporting, whilst considering the boy's name.

History: 19
Heraldy check - Just who is this boy and his family?  How important are they?

Lips moving soundlessly, Brimir stared off into the middle distance; oblivious, for a while, to the heightened tension in their corner of the marquee. From the level of concentration he might have been recalling a catechism or, were it not so patently ludicrous, casting a spell. Seeming to arrive, at last, at the relevant point, Brimir's rumbling voice engaged and the moving lips became methodical speech.

"...During the trials the right to challenge is suspended. Initiating or accepting a duel which could effect serious injury will result in the disqualification of the contestant's team. A bailiff of the trials," the emphasis became indisputable as Brimir put a fingertip to his own chest, "Is empowered to remove any offending persons from the competition area."

"He starts something, you're out," Brimir summarised, with a look toward the locals. "We hit back, we're out," his blunt head turned side to side, addressing his own team. Those weeks of endless rote memorisation on the road here were finally paying off.

The sound of his cracking knuckles was the sound of a sack of walnuts being run over by a cart, as he squeezed first one fist, then the other in their opposing hands.

"You choose," he added. Either way, Brimir reasoned that he still had a job.

20:44, Today: Brimir rolled 21 using 2d20+3, dropping the lowest dice only.  Intimidate.

Nobody start nothin'.

Roland, boisterous before, seems immediately cowed by the towering ogre. Suddenly unsure, he pauses and Kyle comes up behind him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Come on. This isn't the time. The big man is right," Kyle says in the tone of a whisper, but clearly the volume wasn't. Roland allows himself to be led away, his surety on the matter in question, but makes it only a short distance before he turns back. Roland makes no further moves towards Brimir but speaks in a chillingly calm tone. "Let us hope that your participation in the trials does not disqualify you from your neutrality, bailiff. Rules or not, this festival does not last forever."

Wrenn kept his mouth shut, but he nodded at Roland when he mentioned that the festival would not last forever.

Griswold grabs a chair and drops down into it.  "I knew I had seen that crest before.That, my friends, was the livery of Viscount Kilquist." The half-silver leans back, arms behind his head, watching the boy leave.  "Or, to put it another way, Roland's father.  Not the most prominent of Nobility but, a noble all the same.  And an ambitious one too.  I recall hearing that he has his sights set on the local Earldom.  Which poses a problem."  He looks over at Wrenn.  "In case you don't know, master gnome, Krieghold's nobility are a vindictive, spiteful lot and their children tend to follow suit.    Unfortunately they are also known for holding grudges.  There's a good chance that he'll come after Brimir once the competition is over.  One way or another.  Can't let a slight, even an imagined one, go unpunished.  All the more when we beat him in the competition."

Griswold jumped up and patted Brimir on the shoulder as he walked off in the opposite direction.  "Sorry, big guy."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:15, Wed 12 July 2017.

The rolling hills of Brimir's shoulders shrugged as he watched Griswold depart. If Roland's father was nobility, there was a better-than-fair chance that the lord might field a more experienced duelist to press any suit concerning the family name. Brimir had himself filled that position on more than one occasion during his army days, at the command of Captain von Wolfach.

"Be wary of accepting any duel after the competition, Archmagus Wrenn," he looked down at the gnome. "An apology when tempers have cooled might be the wiser course. Would you care for anything else? More food? Wine?"

"We'll see, Goodman Brimir. We'll see. No one should be denied their freedom. But no, nothing else for me. It seems I've lost my appetite."

"I agree, Wrenn, but there is little we could do. Drawing attention to her may only make it worse for her." The acolyte said, a frown upon his face as he continued eating. His eyes glanced around the room, taking in the others reactions. It was good that he had met, and even joined with, good people. Their fervor against such brought a warmth to his chest. Yet he understood that his own mission was important. And he couldn't do that from a jail cell. Still...

The man shook his head before taking a strong pull of his wine. There was little he could do. And he would need energy to make sure he pulled his weight at the next trial. "Do you know how long before the next trial? And are you still with us, Brimir? If so, then be with us rather than serve us. We might need you fully refreshed for the next trial." He still wasn't fully comfortable around the ogre, but the light had shown upon him, and Sul would trust his ally.

The other group watched the exchange in silence and returned to speaking quietly while the local group attempted to mollify Roland. They seemed to think that this was a common occurrence by their efficiency at it. Lady Inara returned not long after that, ever the figure of courtly manners and grace. She looked toward the doors outside and shook her head as if to clear something from it.

"The last group has failed the trial. You will be the groups going forward. Rest and enjoy the pavilion and the celebrations tonight. Tomorrow you will face a test of skill and courage, as well as teamwork. The trial begins two hours after dawn," she says and gives a stern look towards Griswold, "and ensure none of you are late." In the background, you can hear shouting and gasps.

[Private to Brimir: Lady Inara gives you a motion that is a well-known, but secret, signal to those with training as a summons.]

Griswold grins and winks back at Lady Inara, then immediately drops his smile and leaves the pavilion.

Griswold is going to find out what happened to the last team - how badly injured they are.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:14, Fri 14 July 2017.

If anything, Brimir seemed to have been caught slightly off-guard by the holy man's entreaty.

"I would gladly share a cup with you after the trials, your Eminence." There might have been a hint of wistfulness in Brimir's craggy face as he looked back toward the wine flagons, resting where they did in a half-tun of chilled springwater. "But my work is not yet done for this day." He bowed to Wrenn and Sul, and nodded after the departing Griswold. Something near the entrance caught his eye, along with the commotion from outside.

"You have my word that I shall take rest and be prepared to fulfill my obligations in tomorrow's test. Enjoy the feast." Unhurriedly but implacably, he began to make his own way toward the exit from the pavilion.

[Private to GM:
Brimir will head directly to attend Lady Inara. In case I forget, he will be intending to eat later from the remains of the food as it's cleared away -- and also prepare a packed lunch of bread, cheese, fruit, and cold cuts for the group for tomorrow. Provided nothing of the night's developments stops him, of course.]
This message was last edited by the player at 13:44, Sat 15 July 2017.

Lady Inara appears to have a hushed conversation with Brimir. [Private to Brimir: "I fear that I have placed you in a precarious position. By participating in the trial, I have nullified your contract. You are no longer beholden to myself and the Rose is expecting you to complete the trials with this group. I can get your conract renewed, but you will not be allowed to associate with them anymore."]

As Griswold closes with the group, you can see that they are all lying on the ground. The goblin is missing a hand and several have severe burns. The priests of Odin are doing what they can, but only one appears conscious. The half-orc is struggling against the priests, but seems delirious and confused. Should he ask, Griswold is informed that the half-orc pulled the rest of his team through the open door, fighting off the mirror figures the entire time.

Griswold shakes his head sorrowfully, then turns around and heads back into the pavilion bumping into Brimir as he does.  "Ah!  Sorry, my good man, I..."  The sentence is interrupted upon spotting Lady Inara. "And fairest Lady," he says with a nod, then walks over to one of the tables laden with food and drink.

He removes his cloak and wraps up in it as many unopened bottles, haunches of meat and whatever other sizeable, solid consumables he can.  Once the fabric is bulging, he ties it off and heads back outside.

Pausing at the door he looks back, seems to consider something, then nods assertively to himself.  Picking up a spoon, he taps it against a glass, calling for silence, then addresses everyone in the pavilion.  "This is a truly wonderful feast! I would like to express my deepest gratitude to the hosts and my sincerest compliments to the cooks!  However, we are not the only ones who deserve our share. There are others outside who have also endured much, nay are still enduring.  But worry not friends, I will take it to them.  As there still seems to be plenty here for all of you: eat, drink and be merry!"  With that, Griswold leaves and heads back to the medical camp, offering food and drink to those who are conscious - including the healers - as well as whatever meagre assistance he can.

With a shake of his head, the turned to look solemnly at Inara. The grim news of the last group failing made him stand to see if he could help, but then he recalled the other clerics there ready to tend to the wounded. And if they were beyond them, than they would be beyond his meager skills as well. With a heavy sigh, Sul dropped back down to the table.

He finished the meal in silence, before excusing himself from the gnome. They had the rest of the day to relax before the next trial on the morrow, and he had remembered the previous payment he had received from completing the first trial. It was time to enjoy the celebration for what it was while he still could.

As he listens, Brimir looks by turns surprised, confused, and perplexed. His typically stern face falls and he nods ponderously, although everything about his posture and movement suggests he would prefer to be shaking his head. After a subdued response, the ogre and his hang-dog expression lurch quietly away from the gathering.

[Private to GM: "Of course, Mistress Inara. I will give you my answer before sunrise."]