Psionic Anti-Crime Squad: Mind Over Manner [IC]

[neriractor]

Jacob pukes a little in his mouth from the spectacle, he almost runs to help the girl himself before instinctively dodging an axe to the head brought him back to reality and the fact that he knows absolutely nothing of medicine finished grounding him. he just kept fighting, going through the motions, but looking sideways towards Ian as he walked away from the girl.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

pretty much just a repeat, but now I´m not using combat expertise.

attack: (1d20+8)[9]
damage: (1d6+4)[8]
crit confirm: (1d20+8)[13]

[Cespenar]

At Lucky's call, the scoundrel squints at the woman lying on the arena floor, and then remembers that she actually fell a good 5 stories of distance. He turns and whistles angrily at somewhere, and two guys rush into the arena, one to check on the woman's pulse, and the other preparing a rather well stocked medical kit.

Ian, while doing his bit, notices a very slight breathing by the woman. Between that and the quick response of the medics, he is almost certain that the woman won't die in the next few minutes. Probably.

Several of the audience gape at Ian for a few seconds and break into a loud cheer. Some more people arrive at the scene, surprised by the possibility that there can be something interesting in a newblood round.

***

Meanwhile, Crowbar's fight continues with the Plated Puncher as if nothing happened, and the knight regains bit of a courage as his opponent's blow hits the pillar instead. He tries to catch up with another set of two jabs, aimed for the head for a quick finish.

Between his panting breaths, he mumbles. "At least you put up a good show..." He seems to be resisting the temptation to glance at the audience, but at the same time looks the tiniest bit irritated at Crowbar for the exposure.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Attack - (1d20+6)[12]
Damage - (1d3+4)[5]+(1d8)[4]
Attack - (1d20+6)[8]
Damage - (1d3+4)[7]+(1d8)[3]

**

Jacob's fight, similarly with Crowbar, seems to stretch as the barbarian swats Jacob's rapier aside with his axe and does a quick backswing to catch him off-guard. Fortunately people already seem to be interested in Ian's and Leolin's fights and don't seem to be paying much attention to him.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Attack - (1d20+6)[22]
Damage - (2d6+3)[7]

[Lynam III]

Satisfied with the scoundrel's quick response, Snake-eyes relaxes and turns back to check how Thunder is doing. Seeing that he is still on the ground, he moves towards him and offers a hand to get up without saying anything. He pulls out his flask filled with whisky and offers it to Thunder. "Here, take a sip. Dulls the pain." He leans on one of the columns, and watches the remaining fights.

[Tsunamiatunzen1]

Ian's conscience would be quite in agreement with Lucky and Jacob. Disgust and shock at his actions and a need to help the woman he had used as a pincushion.
However, it was a small voice within his malice that he could easily ignore.
Fine. I'll play the part. I've no intention of revealing myself when I've been backed into such a corner by both the Watch and these bloodthirsty devils.
He turned away from the scene and left the arena, scowling at the cheering audience.
"Finish this quickly," he calls out to the others,"I have other matters to attend to."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"...to show a little SKIN!"

(1d20+13)[29]

With a maniacal grin, Crowbar parries one punch and sidesteps the other during her windup.

(1d6+11)[13]

Her attack purposefully smashes right into the chestpiece in an attempt to pry as much of it off as possible.

[Cespenar]

Thunder accepts the flask and takes a swig. Still dizzy, he returns it and stumbles to a nearby pillar to collapse in front of it and blankly watch the other matches, like Lucky.

**

Now that Ian's fight is over, the audience gives Crowbar's match a watch instead. They wow at her heavy blow, and cheer a bit when the knight wrenches himself off her crowbar, kicking and putting some distance between them. Then, despite the audience, the knight seems to draw a large breath, and concentrate... for exactly what, Crowbar can only imagine.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

The knight spends a round concentrating instead. (1d20)[4]+something

**

Jacob's opponent regains some of his breath back, and hopping backwards, charges up for another firewave attack. He sends the waves crashing on Jacob with a swing of his arm. "HAAA!"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Tumble - (1d20+3)[14] vs 15
If fails, Jacob's AoO: (1d20+8)[15]
(1d6+4)[5]

Then, ref save for Jacob:
(1d20+7)[27]
Fire - (2d6+2)[13]
Str - (1d20)[12]
Impact - (2d6)[7]

[Cespenar]

The last two fights stretch out a bit, depending on what tricks the combatants want to pull or not:

Spoiler: OOC

Show

If you wish to just trade blows, we could do it faster. This is supposed to be the warm-up round after all:

Crowbar vs. Platepuncher

Spoiler

Show

Leo - (1d20+13)[29]
Leo - (1d6+11)[15]

--Crowbar wins here immediately.--

Knight - (1d20+6)[11]
Knight - (1d3+4)[5]+(1d8)[7]
Knight - (1d20+6)[26]
Knight - (1d3+4)[5]+(1d8)[6]

Leo - (1d20+13)[27]
Leo - (1d6+11)[17]

Knight - (1d20+6)[12]
Knight - (1d3+4)[7]+(1d8)[2]
Knight - (1d20+6)[13]
Knight - (1d3+4)[5]+(1d8)[8]

Leo - (1d20+13)[24]
Leo - (1d6+11)[14]

Knight - (1d20+6)[17]
Knight - (1d3+4)[5]+(1d8)[6]
Knight - (1d20+6)[15]
Knight - (1d3+4)[5]+(1d8)[7]

Jacob vs. Fireswinger

Spoiler

Show

Jacob - (1d20+8)[24]
Jacob - (1d6+4)[9]

Barb - (1d20+6)[23]
Barb - (2d6+3)[12]

Jacob - (1d20+8)[26]
Jacob - (1d6+4)[7]

Barb - (1d20+6)[20]
Barb - (2d6+3)[10]

Jacob - (1d20+8)[25]
Jacob - (1d6+4)[6]

Barb - (1d20+6)[18]
Barb - (2d6+3)[15]

Jacob - (1d20+8)[13]
Jacob - (1d6+4)[9]

--Jacob wins around here.--

Barb - (1d20+6)[10]
Barb - (2d6+3)[11]

Jacob - (1d20+8)[18]
Jacob - (1d6+4)[7]

Barb - (1d20+6)[25]
Barb - (2d6+3)[9]

Jacob - (1d20+8)[17]
Jacob - (1d6+4)[6]

Barb - (1d20+6)[16]
Barb - (2d6+3)[11]

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"HahahahahaHA!"

Leolin's been practicing the psionic focus thing too! That's how she knows that it's not worth leaving yourself open for as long as this chump is doing. Crowbar leaps after him and breaks his concentration with a finishing blow.

[Cespenar]

The squad more or less survives "round zero" without any major injuries, and fortunately are granted the freedom to wander around.

Some workers -- or low level thugs, it's hard to tell -- enter the arena to pour some sand over the blood and sweat, while the squad is able to examine their surroundings.

The main cave is dominated by the arena in the middle and its surrounding seats, which leaves only a tight ring of space for people to walk or stand. Yet they exactly do that, cluttering the place with their sweaty, intimidating presences. In one corner two men have tapped a bunch of kegs and are serving some kind of poor excuse for an ale, and not far away, one shifty fellow is selling handfuls of hopefully-meat-on-a-stick.

With the newblood matches over, the rest of the crowd slowly leaves whatever they were doing and start to huddle around the arena. From their grouping, it is discernible that some have arrived in small bands, but more investigation is required to see who is who. A bit in the distance, some characters rush around with scrolls in their hands and deliver them to a guy at a table, who seems to peruse them intently. His table is flanked by several strongmen and is one of the rare places where people give a bit of leeway when wandering around.

There is also a comically large, almost throne-like chair right at the edge of the arena, which seems empty as of this minute. A smaller, more normal chair accompanies it, and people seem to be giving both of them a large berth as well.

If anyone would want to look around, ask questions, or do something else, it seems like there's still a bit of time before the first "serious" rounds start.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Leolin briefly considers approaching the Southerners from before as they recuperate, but realizes that as newbloods they probably wouldn't have the information we need about an ex-fighter named Iwar. You didn't think she'd forget, did you?

Anyway, there's no one in the big chair. Crowbar's course is clear.

She approaches the Champion's seat slowly and curiously without a word. One step at a time, glancing at anyone nearby, just waiting for someone to come and stop her. If they don't, she flops into it sideways and leans on one armrest for maximum casualness.

[Tsunamiatunzen1]

Ian hadn't been joking when he'd said he had other matters to attend to. If he was to figure out what hooligan was actually pulling the strings in Steadwick, he was going to need to- *sigh* -make a name for himself.
He made sure to acquire additional weapons but the order for so many identical ones probably raised an eyebrow or two. His stature probably didn't help much. However, he simply lashed the stash of swords to his bag and levitated it on his back. It took a small amount of concentration to keep up such an interesting charade but it was not very difficult at all for the man.

Ian decided to investigate the more authoritative man with several thugs surrounding him.
Good as any place to start figuring out what this whole place is about.
He made his way towards the table, trying his best not to get bowled over by the rush of messengers.
"And what might this place be? Recent events have left me... out of touch."
Should the opportunity arise, he was also going to inquire about any fighters that had garnered a reputation.

Spoiler: Actions/Rolls

Show

Manifesting Control Object on bag so that I don't go over my weight limit.
Gather Information: (1d20+5)[18]+6 Spending an Inspiration point to add my class level to the skill check.

[Lynam III]

Lucky checks out how the red-headed barbarians are doing. If he can find them, Lucky compliments the one who fought against Jacob, and asks about how the warrioress is holding up.

[Cespenar]

Leolin

There are a few odd looks from some of the crowd, but apparently all the showrunners and their men are busy with other things, because Leolin can move up to the throne with no problem.

As she tries to get comfortable, however, she feels a massive hand on her shoulder. Next to her stands one of the biggest men she must have seen -- maybe not as tall as herself in her fully expanded form, but almost at double width. He speaks with a rolling, grumbling voice.

"Hah... you got some balls on you girl. I like that. That's why I'm giving you five seconds."

Ian

Ian goes to meet at the desk, and the thugs stop him promptly. However, the man waves a hand without looking up from his parchments, and the thugs let Ian pass. It's weird but the man seems to have created a bubble of office-like atmosphere within this chaotic mess.

"This... is where the work is done. You wouldn't think something of this complexity would be organizing itself, would you? Anyway..."

"So, you seem to be one of the stronger ones among the newbloods. Who should I write you against? The current champion, or maybe the young prodigy? Never mind, I already know the answer."

He scribbles down something, but it seems to be unrelated to the subject in hand.

If Ian asks about the other fighters, the man shows a momentary smirk. "I suppose you should at least hear about them, sure. Hmm. If we think about the top ones, there's the kid with the "Demon Hand", the Imperial army guy, the Blademaster, and of course Fireangel, the current champion."

By Imperial, Ian guesses he probably means the Empire to the far north, past Arkney and past the Free Cities.

Lucky

Lucky finds the tribesmen easily thanks to their characteristic hair color. There seems to be only two -- one older and one younger warrior. They stay a bit away from where the healers seem to be taking care of their other two comrades yet they occasionally throw a glance their way to see if they are doing fine.

Both newbloods seem unconscious at the moment, but if Lucky relays his congratulations to the old man instead, he looks weirdly at Lucky as if to see if he's pulling his leg or not. At last he waves a hand nonchalantly.

"She's a Redfang. She'll be fine."

The younger one jumps in the conversation with a clenched fist. "I'll enter the matches and crush that man!" He obviously refers to Ian, but the older warrior stops him. "You already lost at the eliminations, Azwar. But we can challenge him in a group fight, so stay your anger until then."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Crowbar looks up innocently at the megadude and points to him and the chair with a questioning look. She doesn't come out and ask Oh, is this yours? but she's certainly thinking it loudly.

At this point, he probably says something along the lines of, 'Yes, that's right. That is my chair. Three seconds.' She patiently waits until the count of one before slowly getting up and motioning for him to take it back.

[neriractor]

after getting some new weapons Jacob searches for saint, intrigued by the doorman´s comment. He goes about it by stopping passerbies who walk around confidently, as if they know the place like the back of their hands, stopping them and after getting their attention making a known hand gesture appropiate to the religion while making the most "holy" face he can come up, then looking at them inquisitively until they point at where saint must be.

[Tsunamiatunzen1]

"Though the work may be done here, I have little hope of striking a deal with the proprietor. As such, the appeal to continue this conversation is dwindling."
He didn't wait overly long for a reply before he began looking into finding 'the Saint'.
The loudmouth hinted that Jacob wouldn't need his services. However, I may need to look into it.
While not serious, he wasn't overly fond of possible infection.

[Lynam III]

Lucky is relieved to hear that the warrioress is doing fine. He smiles wryly as he witnesses the enthusiasm and anger of the younger tribesman. "Easy there, lad. That old guy packs a lot of punch."

He turns at the older warrior. "Redfang, eh? I think I know one from your tribe. A warrior named Iwar. You know him? He looked quite strong. I am surprised he didn't join the tournament."

[Cespenar]

Everyone

Along with the arrival of the big guy, most eyes turn on both him and his apparent companion -- a smaller, or rather normal-sized pale man in well-sewn clothes.

"The Immortal" and "The Saint" could be heard in the whispers around you. Though most of the people seem to look at the former with a mixture of fear and awe, the latter also sees some special attention -- the survivors of the newblood rounds either rush themselves or helped along to meet the supposed "Saint".

A thug stops them just before the pale man, however, and make them form a line. Then, as you watch, the first one, the knight that was beaten by Leolin, pays the thug some money and moves up to the Saint expectantly.

The Saint, with a bored expression on his face, produces a fancy small knife from his belt, and then, without even a flinch, cuts right into his own palm. With blood covering his hands, he reaches out and touches the wound on the knight's now unarmored chest. It's hard to tell from afar, but the knight's posture straightens and the red on his chest goes away, and he thanks the man earnestly before walking away from the line.

The Saint smiles faintly in return, and takes a sip from a wine glass that is just served to him. He seems to be taking some time before allowing the second man to be brought forward.

Most of the crowd seems perfectly okay with this show, though there are some newcomers that look positively dumbfounded as they watch the scene.

Leolin

The man's eyes look calmer than what you would expect, and he responds to Leolin's questioning look with an amused nod instead of a second, elevated threat.

"Good girl," he mumbles as he takes over his seat. "Hope you can back that up with some good fighting as well."

Ian

The overseer-type waves a dismissive hand at Ian, equally glad that he's getting out of his hair in any case. He promptly begins to read another document and taking some notes.

Lucky

"What is he called? Never mind, I'll wrench it from his lips in the battle." says the younger man eagerly.

The face of the older man, however, changes when Lucky mentions Iwar.

"You know Iwar? When did you last saw him?" he asks curiously but skeptically.

With the appearance of the Saint, the older warrior hesitates for a moment, but then sends the younger one instead to take care of his fellow tribesmen.

Jacob

Right as Jacob starts to look for the Saint, he makes his appearance alongside the big man anyway.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Crowbar smirks in response and remains mute as she leans on the other chair to look around.

Huh, I guess Blood Hand has a healer shtick. That's convenient.

Leolin's hidden it pretty well, but the pain in her ribs has gotten more pronounced since her rage died down. If we're going to be doing this for another round, she should probably check it out. She watches the front of the line to see how much Chumpus is charging for Saint's services and takes a spot right behind the people Lucky was just talking to.

She looks down at the Southerner and seems to get lost in thought. The woman's bruises are way worse than Crowbar's own, and of course she's unconscious. She looks up and stares daggers at the guy who did this to her. Whether the glare comes from Crowbar or Leolin is a mystery.

Crowbar gives the woman's brother another questioning look, but leaves it to him to either infer what she's wondering, get annoyed and ask, or ignore her until the line advances.

[Tsunamiatunzen1]

Seeing the performance of Saint caused something within Ian to recoil. Something just... didn't feel right.
He decided against seeing the Saint and instead took his time in observing. Perhaps another time would be when he truly needed to see the pale man.

He barely managed to catch Leolin/Crowbar's look at him. Perhaps he felt some remorse somewhere in his heart... but he pushed it aside as he thought of his daughter.
It's all for her, he thought, whatever it takes. She'll be safe and she won't have to suffer because of me.

[Cespenar]

Leolin

Leolin can observe from her spot that the fee to see the Saint is a whopping 10 crowns each. Which feels a bit too much at first, but who else gives the service of instant healing in this day and age anyway?

On the other hand, there should probably be reward for clearing each round of the tournament, but to whom should one ask about that, now?

If she joins in, the line takes a bit of time to get to her, and she can see the knight nodding at her as he gets his healing and return among the crowd. The nod was a bit irritated but still respectful -- Leolin guesses despite the guy didn't enjoy her theatrics, it still was an "honorable" win, so to say.

[neriractor]

Jacob waits on the line for about three people, before some start forming behind him and he realizes how unpolite it´ll be to stand in the way of the injured persons only to attempt to converse with saint, taking up even more of his time, instead he leaned against a nearby line, waiting for the line to die down or the next combat to start while playing with his new daggers.

[Lynam III]

"When I last saw him? Huh, that's an odd one. Let me think..." Snake-eyes crosses his brows, trying to recall the current date, and counting the days with the help of his fingers. During the interrogation, Iwar had mentioned he didn't remember the last two days before the ball. So he counts the days since the ball, adds two for the days Iwar didn't recall, and adds two more on top. "I think it was the previous Marketsday. Why do you ask?"

Spoiler

Show

Bluff: (1d20+12)[23]

[Cespenar]

Jacob

Though the Saint takes some time between each patient to enjoy some wine, the line still advances at a fast pace, and Jacob can finally approach the Saint, or he could have if that fee-collecting thug wasn't in his way.

Lucky

The tribesman shows no indication as to detect Lucky's bluff, but instead looks surprised at the accuracy of Lucky's response.

"He was supposed to meet us here. Where did you see him? Do you know where he went?" He pauses for a moment, recollecting himself. "I can give you some silvers for a truthful reply."

[Lynam III]

Snake-eyes is startled at the offer of coin for the information. "Someone more crooked would have taken advantage of that offer. Keep the money... Don't get the wrong impression, I don't really know him well. So I don't have any clue what he was up to. I saw him at a bar is all. One of my pals was raving about his fire talent, though. That's why I thought he would be here. He is missing, then?"

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

10 gil seems reasonable enough considering the circumstances. It's a novel supernatural ability, this situation begs for hazard pay, and of course there's the usual black market markup. Plus the station will probably reimburse her. Leolin can file it under whatever category Lucky and Jacob use when they go greasing palms for information.

Crowbar smiles and nods to her passing opponent as she queues up. Once she's shown off her injuries and had them healed up, she follows the tribesm'n back to their spot in an effort to catch up with the flying lady.

[neriractor]

Jacob decides to drop the mute act and try to speak to The Saint at a reasonable distance from the thug but at one where he could be heard. "excuse me, mr saint? I was wondering if we could have a chat, no real injury to heal but your guard doesn´t seem to be buying that."

[Cespenar]

Everyone

As the proper tournament gets ready to start, almost all of the crowd leave their shenanigans and take their place as the audience, packed literally shoulder-to-shoulder. You can see some nobles whose bodyguards try to protect them against the smothering masses, and apart from the crowd, the Immortal and the Saint gaze at the arena from their place of honor.

You also notice another empty seat which wasn't being paid much attention before. Just across the arena from the Immortal, a heightened seat looks over the fighting grounds, and a man with messy, black hair only seems to have arrived now to climb it. From the way he's looking over his notes and clearing his throat, it's possible that he's the announcer.

Lucky

The warrior doesn't look like he should be trusting Lucky, but then takes a risk.

"He sometimes gets jobs and disappears for a couple days, but never this long. And he was supposed to be here today no matter what. Hmph. Godsdamned hotbloods."

Jacob

The thug tries to shoo Jacob off, but his call finally catches Saint's attention. He waves a hand as to let him approach.

"Things normally don't really work here like that, newblood," he says with a drawl.

"But come on, then, there's still a minute's time until the matches start. Be quick about it."

Leolin/Crowbar

Leolin follows the Redfangs as one of them gets the other two healed and then return to their elder. She finds then that Lucky is already there, striking a conversation with the elder.

The youngsters don't notice Leolin at first, but the old man nods at her.

"Hail, young warrioress. You gave that tin man a sound walloping there. Your clan would be proud."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Crowbar beams, but her face turns red as she tries to stammer out a response. (Crap, was my style that obvious? I learned half of what I know from... I mean, I guess it's better than them thinking I fight like a guard, but...)

Leolin's mental acrobatics paint Crowbar as someone who is much shier outside of battle. "Ha... th... thanks..."

She goes ahead and listens in on the conversation with Lucky while Crowbar works up the courage to say something else.

[Cespenar]

Though Leolin is taken aback at first, she realizes that the man, being an old tribesman as he is, might simply be referring to her family by saying "clan".