Curse of the Red Cheeks (invite only)

[Eurus]

After yet another whirlwind of trouble finally dies down, it's surprising but welcome that the party's business in the market goes much more smoothly. Mouse's collar gets a lot of amused or scornful stares, and the rest of the party gets some funny looks as well, but for the most part, the rhythms of the city just absorb you and move you along swiftly. The merchants in the marketplace are cheerful and polite as soon as they realize how much stuff Tamborin is ordering, and eager to assure him of the quality and fair pricing of their products. The errand takes about an hour, and finally, at least one you has their immediate problems solved...


---


The Arena of Burning Sands is one of Posterium's largest and most famous buildings, capable of holding upwards of thirty thousand people in the stands. It hosts all sorts of sporting events, but it's most known for its gladiatorial competitions, all of which invariably end in a public spanking to the amusement of a cheering and jeering crowd. Local competitors and travelers compete every week in smaller events, but the biggest draw is the Tournament of Thunder, a multiple-day extravaganza of fighting and spanking. The ToT consists of multiple events for both individuals and groups, and people come to both spectate and fight from all over the continent.

Right now those stands are empty, but the administration building is fairly busy. There are several couches and tables scattered around, like a sort of comfortable waiting room, as well as a wide desk with neat stacks of paperwork. Standing behind the desk is a muscular man with a neat black beard, two perky cat ears, and a long, twitching tail. His leather skirt and the paddle hanging at his side mark him as a gladiator, but unusually for the gladiators around here, he's actually wearing a shirt as well in some attempt at professionalism. No sleeves, but it's a start.

Orazi recognizes this burly catman as Gretzky, the arena's second in command. He's very patiently explaining to a furious looking dwarf that enchanted weapons and armor aren't allowed in the tournament.

"Yes, Mr. Stronginthearm, I understand that the arena at Steelmountain has different rules, but I really can't make an exception. Do you want to enter, or not?"

Other than those two, there are half a dozen other gladiators wearing perhaps two full outfits between them. Two orcs, a tattoo-covered elf, a sharp-toothed sahuagin with a paddle almost as tall as he is, and a flustered farmboy-looking human talking to a tall, pale, black-clad figure with conspicuously pointy canine teeth.

None of them seem to be waiting in line, they're all just gossiping or lounging... Most of them turn to look at your party as you enter.

[Zollith]

Tambourin looks around nervously: not at the other gladiators looking the group over despite their intimidating appearances, but at what he sees of the building's interior itself. A new concern hits him and he thinks to mention it to everyone.

"This place is far larger than I initially believed," Tambourin whispers, "I fear we will have a great deal of problems maintaining proximity if we are to be separated into competitors and spectators! We may have to explain our curse to the organisers as soon as possible to arrange accomodations for it."

[hax25849]

Walking up to the building the only noise out of Orfo's was the ooh's and awes of amassment. There was something so foreign to this building that Orfo never really considered. The concrete and stone, the chiseled designs and engravings of events, most of which ended with a red rear, had his mind dancing about what happens in this palace of punishment. With that his tail once again started to flick back and forth but with a calm breath it settled not hitting anyone THIS time.

"I mean I really don't know what happens in this place but- if it's a competiiton we could all just enter?! Then we wont have to split up right!" Orfo said his ears perking up and ocasionally flicking.

[Zollith]

"I appreciate the logic behind such a suggestion, dear firbolg. Oh, and I commend your efforts in keeping your tail under control as I was making my purchases, we are fortunate that problem was identified before any expensive goods were damaged..." Tambourin answers before trailing into a brief ramble.

Eventually he remembers to return to the point he intended to make. "However, I had no intention of entering myself. I doubt this establishment allows the use of spellbooks or any kind of magery, and I would be utterly useless in combating trained fighters without them!"

[Manicorn]

"Then perhaps you should begin thinking of a way to make yourself useful," Zaeles tells Tambourin. "We do require funds, and you weren't completely useless against those wind sprites, if I recall. Perhaps you could at least serve as a distraction while the rest of us take care of business." He narrows his eyes at the group of gladiators they encounter inside. While this isn't exactly his scene, the idea behind the place--battling over scraps, survival of the fittest--these at least are concepts he understands.

[Zollith]

Tambourin purses his lips a bit over the very slight acknowledgement of aiding Zaeles in their first conflict together: an unideal degree of recognition perhaps, but recognition nonetheless, so he only lets himself pout for so long. "I have no doubt I can keep myself occupied and useful, I am more concerned about our curses triggering if we are all sequestered to far ends of this buildling, given how disabling the effects may be in a battle! Besides, I am certain there would be no merit in my comparatively flimsy flesh being utterly humiliated in the preliminary rounds by...large, strong, experienced warriors, who would surely parade their victory to an enormous, enthusiastic crowd..." Tambourin starts to pace in a circle while entirely enveloped in a mumbled debate with himself over what to do, due to suddenly finding reason to consider entering after all, if possible.

[Hiran]

"Oh don't worry, I know everyone here!" Orazi declared boastfully. He looked around, spying some new faces. "Well, all the regulars at least. It won't be that hard to get you guys in even if you don't enter."

He walked up to Gretzky with a wide grin on his face. "Hey! I'm here to check in, and I've got some fresh meat for you too!"

[Eurus]

The catman behind the counter grins back at Orazi, obviously recognizing him. "Cutting it close, Orazi! I was wondering if you'd make it in time."

He scans quickly over the rest of the group, his expression turning puzzled. "...These fellows don't look much like gladiators, but I suppose I'll take your word for it."

Clearing his throat, he addresses the entire party with a professional tone. "Welcome to the Arena of Burning Sands. Since you're here, I'm sure you've heard about the tournament. The preliminary rounds start tomorrow, so if you want to sign up, now's your chance. There are two main events - the solo tournament, and the team tournament. Teams can be up to eight people, and the smaller team in each match gets a handicap to even the odds, usually better positioning or some sort of enhancement spell."

"The solo tournament is, of course, one on one, but you are allowed to have some offside support. Coaches are most common, but some people bring in waterboys, cheerleaders... Just note that if you lose, all of your supporters are potential targets of punishment as well."

[Zollith]

Tambourin's mind snaps back to reality upon Orazi saying "new meat". Hearing the arrangements of the tournament, however, brings relief that they will not need separating for any forseeable reason. Ever the realist though, he takes no offense to the remark about not looking like a gladiator.

"I can only state my belief that I would be an undesirable ally in a team requiring pure brawn," he confides to the group, "I struggle to think how I could contribute beyond diverting attention and using my spellbook purely as a bludgeon, though I would put my utmost effort into those tasks if that is the group's decision."

[Hiran]

Orazi laughed at Tambourin's declaration and patted him on the head. "Nah, I didn't mean you. But Zaeles was interested, and maybe the other two want to get a piece of this!"

He looked to Orfo and Zaeles expectantly. He'd placed his hands behind his head, flexing his arm muscles. Though who could say if it was on purpose or not.