"You, sir, are a gentleman of the finest order!"  Griswold called back to the ogre, already halfway to the other group.  He came to a skidding halt in front of the sisters.  "My lady," he said, kneeling, to the conscious one, "I do not have much time.  How is your sister?  Would that I could offer my assistance, but my skill is with blade not salve."  He looked at the woman with genuine concern.


22:35, Today: Griswold Ortmann rolled 4 using 1d20+2.  Medicine - Examination.

The twin, recognizing Griswold from the night before, shakes her head. You can see that she is crying. Her sister doesn't appear to be breathing. She holds her sister tighter to her, cradling her sisters head.

Griswold lays a sympathetic hand on the twins shoulder then, after a moment, quickly stands up and marches over to the healers.  Speaking with unusual severity, he asks of them:
 "Before my emotions get the better of me, please could one of you explain the condition of the injured challengers?  I'm no medic and don't want to be jumping to the wrong conclusions."

The senior of the two clerics, currently treating the bugbear, looks up at Griswold for less than two seconds. "They are not going to make it much longer if you keep asking questions. None of them are dead yet, so please let us do our work. You will be glad to have us when you are done with your trial," he says as he begins to intone over the bugbear.

The ogre is giving you a motion to come back to the group.

Griswold sighed with relief and nodded at the ogre, before wandering slowly back in thought.  When he reached the others he said: "They're alive.  Just."  Then under his breath, "The Spring Order would never have agreed to this.  There's a potential political shit-storm on the horizon..."

A moment later he was clapping his hands together and grinning wildly.  "Well we'll just have to make sure that whatever lies between those two doors cannot harm anyone else."  Turning to first to the Lady Inara, then to the crowd he bellows, "My lady!  Gentlemen and Gentlewomen! These trials are as much for your entertainment as for our competition!  We have already seen the dangers that they present.  Tell me - what would you prefer to see?  A group of youths barely free from their mother's teat crippled and killed?  Or..." He jumps onto a nearby flagpole and spins, holding one hand out towards the others of his group, "the mightiest of warriors rising to the challenge.  Slaying monsters! Thwarting dangers! and..." His swing on the pole continued until he was pointing to the elfen twins, "seeking justice!

"For I ask you, is this not Maypole?  The home of adventurers.  The place where legends are born?   Town where dreams are made?  Not a graveyard for boys...

"I say enough to this charade and on to adventure!  I give you:"  As his swing came full circle, Griswold leapt off of the pole and went one by one between his companions, holding their hands triumphantly aloft and introducing them in turn:

"Veteran of a thousand battles and champion of good.  The Hammer of Evil: Brother Sul!

"One through whose very veins courses the blood of the Dragons themselves.  He who hold Titans at bay: Watcher Kharash!

"Dimunitive in size, but devastating in Intellect.  Keeper of a thousand secrets.  The gnomish Master Wrenn!

"And finally, humbly," Griswold bowed,"Yours truly, trialling squire, Griswold Ortmann!

"Let us go now!  Not these green children whose blood would be on your hands!"

Spinning on his heels and pumping his hands up and down, he begins chanting: "Adventurers now!  Children no!  Adventurer's now!  Children no!"

17:57, Today: Griswold Ortmann rolled 10 using 1d20+4.  Performance - swaying the crowd.
17:57, Today: Griswold Ortmann rolled 13 using 1d20+4.  Again? If I am either lucky enough to get advantage for my post, or if anyone can offer me the aid action
Also, it would be nice to have gotten guidance (+2) from Brother Sul, assuming he has the cantrip ofc.

Ive also ignored Eli because its been over a month since he last logged in
This message was last edited by the player at 17:11, Tue 18 Apr 2017.

Wrenn brought out his clockwork contraption along with his wand. He turned the little device on and tapped it here and there with his wand to show off his work as the thing moved about in his hand. The crowd roared along with Griswold's chant of "Adventurers now!  Children no!  Adventurer's now!  Children no!"

---

Casting Minor Illusion to create the sound of the chanting among the crowd for 1 minute. Every few seconds, I'll recast it in a different location of the crowd to spread it around.

That's Wrenn's version of Help/Aid.

I'll dismiss the castings if they agree to let us go.

This message was last edited by the player at 18:33, Tue 18 Apr 2017.

Kharash looked away from the villagers and frowned as Griswold began his speech to go against Lady Inara and the organization of this event. He was about to stop the squire from disturbing and annoying the Lady, until it dawned on him what he tried to do. He glanced at the crowd to judge how they took it. This might just work, he thought, and at his own introduction he unsheathed the greatsword from his back. Letting out a roar that revealed his teeth, he pointed the sword in the air with one hand. The silver blade shimmered brightly in the morning sun.

The crowd erupts into the chat, likely more for the energy of how it was given than the substance of it. The young, would-be adventurers look disheartened at the crowd and the leader turns to Griswold, anger in his eyes. He storms over to Griswold, sticking a finger into his chest. "What gives you the right to decide for us, you sanctimonious prick? You have a shiny medallion and an ego, not authority!" ,he yells as he is pulled away by a smaller man, a boy really. The boy sounds pleading as he speaks to the leader. "Come on. They are right. We aren'y trained like they are." The leader glared at the boy but hung his head, sounding resigned when he spoke again. "I know, but he shouldn't get a say in my destiny."

In the meantime, Lady Inara calmly walked over to the second group, speaking softly to the older man that served as the leader for them. He nodded and started to lead his group towards the door. Lady Inara made her way to Griswold, leaning in and whispering in his ear. [Private to Griswold Ortmann: "Did you think we would put them in danger when they are so obviously not ready? Did you have to embarrass them in front of the entire Festival?"]

OOC: The second group has entered the trial.

Kharash wanted to defend Griswold's actions. He thought it gave the peasants the perfect chance to get out of this trial without any broken bones. Though he thought they weren't going to go through with this, the Lady seemed to have quite some persuasive talents of her own. Once Griswold was alone again, he'd lean in. "What was that all about?"

To the boys, Griswold offered a parting apology to the boys, "I am sorry for showing you up.  I am not trying to interpose myself between you and destiny.  More that I am giving you an opportunity to realise a better one than have it cut short.  You are young and there will be many more festivities in your lives.  Train, work hard and return as warriors.  Then claim it for yourselves.  If that is what you decide to do."

10:53, Today: Griswold Ortmann rolled 6 using 1d20+4.  Apologies and Inspiration.
I feel, for my efforts, the dice rolls have been very unkind recently.

To the Lady, he returns a whisper, a smile on his face, but coldness in his eyes. [Private to GM: "Sorry if I do not believe you, my Lady. You had plenty of time to do something before, yet nothing was done. Empty words, especially those spoken after the fact, are meaningless. It is your actions, or lack thereof, by which others must judge you and act accordingly. Even if you did have some sort of safety in place, there has been no indication of such. Put yourself in my place and perhaps you will understand why I believed a little embarrassment is preferable to the possible alternatives. Besides, long term, a little embarrassment is not necessarily bad."]

Finally, he smiles and waves his hand dismissively at Kharash's question.  "It appears that I have upset the Lady's tender sensibilities."

"Seems you've finally managed to make an impression then," Kharash winked at Griswold. Though his smile quickly faded as he watched the group of young locals enter the portal-door. He crossed his arms. "And now we wait."

Lady Inara's face suddenly grows hard and she nearly sneers as she speaks, this time loud enough to let the rest of the group hear. "And you would do well to remember your place, squire. Just because you lack the vision to see beyond your own ego does not give you free reign to act as you will. Prepare your group and we shall see if you have enough ego to spare after the trial," she says, her words laced with venom. Obviously she is not happy with the group's interference and showmanship, but her words did not speak of disqualification nor direct threat.

Minutes pass after Lady Inara leaves the group. The youths are hesitant at first, but the crowd, once cheering for them to quit, turns to enthusiasm for the bravery of the local heroes. The leader of them raises a fist and one by one they disappear.

It is the better part of an hour before they emerge from the otherside, but unlike the first group, they are all standing. Most have relieved smiles on their faces. They appear bruised and battered, but the leader still has the awareness to raise his hands in triumph and the crowd explodes into another round of cheers. The cleric send another priest to inspect them, but he looks them over and shakes the leaders hand before rushing back to help the other group.

The crowd starts a chant of "Maypole Heroes!" as the group retreats to a small pavilion set up to receive them. Lady Inara goes to them and is all smiles. She leaves the ogre behind to stand guard over the two remaining groups. He looks on sternly but leaves you to talk while several other people reposition the doors and the crowd is given a small break.

Griswold smiles in relief as the boys emerge and nods at them respectfully, then turns to his group.  "It seem that the competition might be a fix."  He looks to the first group, "kill off the competition and let the local boys win."

"By the Norns, they've made it!" Kharash looked relieved and the lady Inara had regained a little trust from him. Perhaps these challenges weren't so bad. It would be in bad taste to have someone die while the public is watching, after all. The thought crossed his mind that this obstacle course could be tailored to the capabilities of those who entered, in which case it'd be wise to know their own capabilities. "Seems we're up next," he turned to the group. "Just because these villagers managed to get through - and I'm glad they did - doesn't mean that we'll have an easy time in there." He glanced over at the people preparing the door for them. "I think it'd be wise to know each of our strengths. So we know what we can rely on, and so we don't waste time and resources on something that someone else could've done more efficiently."

Kharash taps the hilt of his greatsword. "I am strong," he starts, "if you need some heavy lifting, let me handle it."

"It may be," Kharash responded to Griswold. "Though that's a better scenario than putting the local boys in actual danger."

A quiet scowl crossed Griswold's face as he replied to Kahrash.  Truly serious for a moment.
"Perhaps.  But look what became of the first group.  Just because this challenge goes easy on the locals, that does not vindicate the organisers from the danger they are placing the others in.  This is no Grand Melee or Joust.  Entry was open for everyone and none that came had any idea of what awaited them.

"Besides what do you think the first group thinks now?  How hard they had to fight.  The injuries they sustained.  The grief they have.  All that only to see a bunch of boys stroll through unharmed.  What of their glory?  It takes their struggle and spits in its face.

"I may be a naive fool that enjoys too much of life's luxuries, but I'm a prospective knight still and this reeks of injustice."

A moment passes and he shakes his head clear of negative thoughts.  "Whatever.  I'm a simple brawler.  A quick, charming and highly intelligent one perhaps, but a brawler all the same."

"You seem to always jump to the worst, or perhaps most negative conclusion, Griswold. You did it with me, with both of the other groups, and now with the competition itself. Perhaps you've lived a sad and disappointing life up to now that has ingrained such thoughts into your mind, in which case you have my condolences and sincere wishes for success and happiness moving forward. Banish that negativity from your thoughts, and keep the darkness at bay. Let light, joy, and determination take root there instead, and cultivate those." Wrenn gave the half-elf an encouraging smile in hopes that he would take it as the sincere advice it was and not a harsh criticism.

"As for skills, mine lie nearly entirely in intellect, history, and research. As you know, or at the very least suspect, I do practice arcane magics. However, my focus is on Divination, the gathering of information. My usefulness in combat is somewhat more limited than others because of my chosen path. All of my magic, in one way or another, interacts with the mind or the mind's eye."

"I am certain your skills will serve us well," Kharash said to Wrenn. "I doubt there will be endless combat behind those doors. In fact, I suspect the opposite." He paused for a moment. "You don't happen to be able to foresee what's coming, do you?"

He turned to Griswold. "Who knows what choices both groups have made. The first one emerged much faster, but at what cost? We'll just have to see for ourselves. If there's a slight favor towards the locals, that's hardly anything new. Though if there's truly something shady going on in there..." With a serious look Kharash glanced at the doors.

"Biting words Master Wrenn.  However, my life has been a happy and joyous one so far.  Hard sometimes, but fun regardless." He paused, considering.  "Though I suppose it is possible that I have been too eager to prove myself for my trial.  Have I been trying to find problems and help people in need where none existed?" He shook his head and grinned.  "Very well - I will endeavour to put such thoughts behind me!"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:55, Wed 26 Apr 2017.

Nostrils flaring, as subtly as possible for nostrils on a nose as broad and frequently-broken as it was, the ogre surveyed the crowd. Evidently someone had used the field for some kind of horse training before this event started; the smell and several deposits lingered in the area.

Brimir did not care for horses. The last person to persist in suggesting that he had ought to get along with them better, seeing as they were of a kind... well, that person still had yet to find all of his teeth.

Frowning against the sun he shook his head once, slowly and definitively, at a handful of young women in the crowd who had laid hands on the rope cordon separating the contestants from the stalls. Milkmaids or millers' daughters; sisters or sweethearts of the newly-dubbed 'Maypole Heroes', no doubt, eager to check on and congratulate their loved ones. He watched until they backed down. Rules were rules.

Sparing a sidelong look at the group yet to enter the doors, he tromped back to the Lady. There was one in every crowd, at every tavern, every dinner party, every marketplace, every ball. Brimir took note again of the fine-featured squire's quick and too-easy grin. Always someone whose purpose in life was to make Brimir's job harder than it needed to be. Grimacing, he leaned down to pass a few words to Inara, nodding at her reply before turning to approach the group.

As he crossed the well-trodden grass Brimir reached into his embroidered surcoat. The chanting and applause had died off, replaced by a murmur of anticipation and people migrating to and fro in their own quests relieve themselves or find refreshments. From an inner pocket he produced a broad rectangular scroll-case.

"I am required to make sure your registration is in order," he said, easing open the case with a large, square, and surprisingly clean thumbnail. Very deliberately he leafed through the small sheets of parchment within, until he came to the list of names from the tavern. "Incorrect registration means disqualification." Casting around for a convenient surface and finding none, Brimir suppressed a sigh and knelt down. From within the case he took a small vial of ink and wedged it into the sward, removing the stopper. The short quill he produced appeared almost comically small in his great blunt fingers.

"I have Brother Sul of the Order of the Silver Flame," Brimir's eyes sought each group member after pronouncing their names, his large head at a height above that of most dwarves despite the fact that he was kneeling. "Watcher Kharash, and Squire Griswold Ortmann. I do not have," he turned the parchment over to check the reverse, then righted it, "A 'Master Wrenn'. And where are 'Eli Reiner' and 'Apprentice Runeforger Sigi Stonebrow'?"

Quill poised, he awaited the group's response.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:16, Tue 02 May 2017.

"Well met!"  Griswold, though still contemplative, could not resist a warm welcome.  It was just a little disappointing that introductions on his part were, apparently, unnecessary.  "Alas, the Lady Sigi is temporarily absent.  And Master Fariel with her, who you have yet to speak of.  As for that pirate of a friend of mine..."  Griswold looked around the audience, expecting his childhood companion to walk into view at any moment.  "he's probably still a-bed, with some buxom tavern wench.  Or three..."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:12, Sun 30 Apr 2017.

"A mix up in the paperwork!? Color me not-surprised." Wrenn feigned his surprise, then produced his ticket stub for the large fellow. "Surely you can see that I am meant to be here."

Brimir's expression suggested that he landed on the skeptical side of uncaring when it came to whether Wrenn was meant to be there or not, but he took the gnome's ticket for inspection regardless. Scrutinising the blue lot ticket with the level of studious deliberation attributable only to those paid by the hour, Brimir concluded by fishing around under the sheets of parchment; something small and wooden clacked about in the case, eluding his grasp until he finally produced a near-identical lot. The check was completed with a squeal of feedback as he activated Wrenn's ticket.

"I see no Fariel," the ogre observed flatly, checking the list again despite its bearing only a half-dozen names to begin with. He folded the case to and handed it to Wrenn as a backing to write against, along with the list, quill, and Wrenn's ticket. "Make your mark. If the others on the list aren't here before the doors are set up, they're disqualified from the rest of the competition. Anyone not on the list doesn't go through."

"Unless you'd prefer to forfeit as a team."

Wrenn marked as indicated. "There will be no forfeiting on our part, I assure you."