After their last venture Zilo and the others were happy to get back to the bar and lay about. So for the next week Zilo rested and finally got time to benchmark Aria's progress with her bard training. Zilo was hopeful when she had demonstrated understanding of how being a bard worked, but she had yet to connect the philosophy to the magic.
"Sorry, but your tasks will need to continue." Said the bard shaking his head. Aria leaned in and exclaimed in return.
"Why!? I've succeeded at most of the tasks you've given me for the last half a year! Even without you here to guide me while you travel around! Dema be damned, I helped you on our last job!"
"true, but if you need to ask then you aren't ready. You are at the make or break stage, the time to split the boys from the bards."
Aria falls back into her chair and protests, "There must be an easier way to do this."
"No doubt there is, but this is the only way I know how." As Zilo leans back he notices young Clay walking over to the couple. He bows respectfully and says.
"Mista Zilo, Father wants to see you in his room, and he wants you to bring Cruxis, Leo, and Alaroc too." Zilo stands up and ruffles the kid's hair before saying."
"Thanks buddy, but just call me Zilo, Mister sounds way too weird." Zilo turns back to Aria and gives her a light kiss on the head and a smile. She returns the smile sarcastically, with an eye squint and a playful nudge, before the bard makes for the bar.
As Zilo trots off to drag Alaroc off of the bar, Aria kneels down to Clay, who is fixing up his hair. Aria smiles and says, "I still don't think a bar is a good place for a child, but if your going to be here, you should look your best."
As Aria leans in to straighten the boy's hair a sparky leaps from her mouth as she hums a tune, and in an instant the hair is straight. She leaps back in shock while the boy looks at her confused.
"How did!? What?" Babbles the confused woman.
"Thanks for fixin me hair, Aria. I best go clean the counter now." Says the boy before skipping away.
Meanwhile Zilo found and wrangled the requested adventurers and they all arrived in Maldrek's office behind the bar. Maldrek looks up from some papers and addresses them, "We got a job that I need one of you to go on."
"A client wants us to win a tournament held in a city about 2 days away. Problem is I don't know which of you to enter. The competition is in swordsmanship, so which of you do you think would be the safest to send?"
All four of the swordsmen raise their hands, followed by an immediate double take between all four of them. Maldrek, feeling the ensuing argument, throws the job form at them and attempts to shove them out, unsuccessfully.
Alaroc smiles under his helm and says, "You truly think you all are better than me, this is a contest of skill, not magic. I am the clear choice." Maldrek strains to push harder.
"I've been trained in combat since I was a boy. You are a drunk who is lucky at best. I am the best option." Remarks Cruxis adjusting his new blade at his hip. Maldrek walks back over to his desk.
"Both of you has such rigid ways to combat. We need someone who's got some surprises for the competition, things they aren't expecting." Smiles Leo as Maldrek begins thumbing through his spellbook.
"I was worthy of the Sword of the Lich King! If that doesn't... He best bud, what you doing there?" Says Zilo as Maldrek finds the spell Hydraulic Push and forces the four of them out into the main room before slamming the door shut.
The four of them stand in the bar, dripping, as they begin to make their way outside toward the cart. You would think that during the two day journey to the city of Kernin the four of them would have settled on one of them, but the argument persisted. It continued that way until they met their employer, a short craggy looking dwarf with graying dirt colored hair named Kratar Frushnor.
"Ya see boys, norm'ly you'd ne'er see hide nor hair o me or me kin even touchin this piddly little human tourney. However, me great great great grandah's prized blade, Canyon Cracker, looks tah be the prize for this contest."
Leo rubs his temple and says, "Man your voice hurts my head." And in an instant Leo has a war hammer to his knee, and he is hopping around in pain.
"You lis'en tah me ya hag welp! Da only reason I need you is that dey donnut want me using me hammer in a sword scuffle! So I need one of you tah win back the Canyon Cracker for me. Speakin a which, which one of ya is my boy?"
All four of the warriors raise their hands as the dwarf stares them down before bellowing out, "PERFECT! With four of ya there are four times the odds!"
The four friends were a little shocked, all except Alaroc, who was already a bit buzzed. They all began giving high fives and such, until the dwarf turned and told them, "As a warnin, ya'll may be lads in laurals, but the rest won't scoff at killin ya."
Leo straightens up at that before saying, "Killing!? I thought this tourney was just a matter of skill, like to first blood!" The dwarf looks at him like he's an idiot and responds.
"Are ya daft boy? These games are bloody as orcs giv'en birth. Some figh'ers might show ya mercy, but most a da time they plant a their blades in yer chest."
The warriors all hesitated at that, but the bard broke the tension with a shrug, saying, "Well then, I guess we have to win now, and if we face each other, we just don't take up gardening with swords."
Alaroc pats the bard on the shoulder and gives him a thumbs up before the two of them march into the fair grounds to register.
Cruxis and Leo look at the two optimists and Leo says, "I'll bet you 20 gold the bard goes down first out of the bunch of us."
"Zilo's more skilled than you'd think, I'll take that bet." The two shake hands and begin walking Leo smiles and jokes.
"Better not lose to him on purpose."
"I said he's skilled, not that skilled."
After the group registered they were given a random number and put in a line up with 12 other swordsmen. Zilo had number 1, Leo had number 4, Alaroc had number 9, and Cruxis had number 16. The Rest of the warriors looked to mostly be human other than a few other races, but each looked to be of a different style of combat.
First was a brunnette and lean woman, clad in leather with piercing green eyes, and a single short sword. There was a rugged, hooded man obscuring his face with a short beard and two curved scimitars as well as some thick hide armor.
The next looked foreign with sectioned plates for armor, a helm that had both antlers and a face mask, and a long curved katana at his hip. Next was a tall skinny blond man with a thin mustache and a noble attire. Attached to his forearm was a regally engraved buckler and at his hip was a matching thin rapier.
Next was what looked like a peasant, but his steely hazel gaze gave away his mettle. He had slicked back short brown hair and dressed in a simple cloth garb and pants without any shoes. Without a sheath to speak of the man held an odd double curved light blade, known to some as a Waveblade.
The most nefarious looking was a man with a scarred face covered in stubble and loose fitting clothes underneath a long trench coat with deep pockets and under the coat was a cutlass inside of a metallic scabbard that looked to be edged like a blade itself. On the more honorable looking side of the line up was a man clad head to toe in plate mail with few openings to be seen with a metal shield on his back and a well crafted longsword to match.
The next swordsman was the first nonhuman, it was an elf woman with long braided blonde hair and light blue eyes. Her armor was elven mithril shining with blue accents. On her back was a long elven crafted elegant double bladed staff.
Next was a red headed man with an excited face and some thin scale mail over a fairly large build. Besides his youthful glow the most stand out thing about him was a blade that looked to be a great sword, only practically double the average size. measuring 5 feet long and almost a foot wide.
Next was a lithe blonde female half-elf with a thin set of padded leather for protection, as well as a thin, but sharp, double sided blade. She twirled the blade off to the side waiting for the show to get underway. The other half-breed in the line up was a tall, muscular half-orc with the green skin and black hair and eyes of his kind. He sported haphazardly made chain mail and a menacing great sword on his back.
Last was another notable patron, he looked to be outfitted with a heavy, but well made metal half plate and a large metal shield, he had a helm obscuring his face, but his lower jaw looked to be set sternly in place. His blade looked the most impressive, shined, polished, sharp, and engraved. It was a blade made for a man of duty and one who clearly maintained his gear religiously.
The combatants looked around at the others in the line up, sizing up the competition, knowing that tomorrow morning the people next to them were likely to be trying to cut them down.
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