Murder is the Pits

Kahuna Burger said:

The man who Micheal healed is grabbing for a steel mirror on the table and laughs with joy. "Green Eyed Lady, there isn't even a scar! Thank you sir, you are amazing!" he grabs the cleric's hand in an enthusiastic grip and pumps it several times while talking. "Yeah, Ron's right that Petra's a good one, but I'd be glad to show you the ropes. Have you just arrived? Any assigned matches? Have you met the rest of Petra's stable? Did you come ranked already, cause you can get a jump on the betting if you know how they do it?"

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"We just got here. I'm not sure we have any matches yet, how do we check? We haven't met the rest of her stable yet. How do they work the betting? I'm all for getting a jump on things."

Kahuna Burger said:

The man who Micheal healed is grabbing for a steel mirror on the table and laughs with joy. "Green Eyed Lady, there isn't even a scar! Thank you sir, you are amazing!" he grabs the cleric's hand in an enthusiastic grip and pumps it several times while talking. "Yeah, Ron's right that Petra's a good one, but I'd be glad to show you the ropes. Have you just arrived? Any assigned matches? Have you met the rest of Petra's stable? Did you come ranked already, cause you can get a jump on the betting if you know how they do it?"

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"Don't thank me, brother...thank the one I serve. Fight with honor here, and when you leave, defend the weak."
Michael grips the man's hand firmly himself and locks eyes with him to drive his words home.
"Go in strength." He smiles to try and take the pompous ass out of the sermon...but some things are obligations to the Boss Downstairs.
Michael then lets Vanitri take up the conversation, because this is rapidly getting too technical for him.
He listens to the talk and uses his Diplomacy to assist Vanitri with what he's doing. If he has any attention left over from that he scans any developing crowd with an untrained Sense Motive check to see anyone who looks suspicious -- or unhappy at the prospect of a new cleric in Petra's stable.
Failing that, he looks for other people who might need a little healing and offers it to them.
Lady, grant me forgiveness if this be pride, but it's powerful hard to defend others this way...

Micheal: Most of the gladiators in the room have the visable scars of wounds well healed but by mundane skill and time rather than magic, but you don't immediately spot any others who have fresh wounds. You do notice that of those who paid attention to your work, there seems to be an even split between those who look impressed and admiring (one even offers you a drink from his personal bottle of wine) and those who seem almost contemptuous, though you think that is aimed more at the man you healed than yourself.

Vanitri: The young man launches into a complicated explaination of the official betting system, which involves the rankings of the different gladiators compared to their opponents. Gladiators can place bets on themselves or any member of their stable, or bet either side of a match with unrelated gladiators. Betting fraud (arranging to throw a match) is dealt with more severely than just about any other crime a gladiator could commit. 'Just don't think about it' seems to be the essential message. You also discover that the gladiators are set in matches according to their rankings, to create as even matches as possible.

Rosalynn: Some of the men show some interest in you, though the only one who starts a "hey baby" sort of comment recieves a look from Ron that withers whatever the planned line was to "um, welcome to the pits...." There are three other women in the room. Two were sparring with each other when you first walked in and have paused to look at you and whisper in a way that makes you think of nothing more than vain girls at a ball discussing the newest debutant. They are an odd sort of pair, one an elf with golden red hair and fair skin, who is wearing "armor" that could be mistaken for conviniently placed gold jewlery, and the other, at first glance, a dark elf with similar armor of silver. At second glance you realize the "dark elf" is actually a human with skin blackened by some sort of paint and hair bleached and colored to approximate the whiteness of the drow. Touched up before a bout, it probably suffices from the seats of the arena.

The third woman is a human, well muscled and unarmored (though covered significantly better than the other two by her plain knee length trousers and vest) who is sparring with a male gladiator. She is armed with a simple quarterstaff and accompanies its stikes with summersualting kicks and occasional flips out of range of the other fighter's sword. It's hard to say if she has even noticed you yet, she seems quite intent on her practice.

Are there blunted weapons to practice with? Ironwolf would welcome an opportunity to spar, but will not use his psionic focus in a sparring match. No need to give a true accounting of abilities to the competition.

Kahuna Burger said:

Vanitri: The young man launches into a complicated explaination of the official betting system, which involves the rankings of the different gladiators compared to their opponents. Gladiators can place bets on themselves or any member of their stable, or bet either side of a match with unrelated gladiators. Betting fraud (arranging to throw a match) is dealt with more severely than just about any other crime a gladiator could commit. 'Just don't think about it' seems to be the essential message. You also discover that the gladiators are set in matches according to their rankings, to create as even matches as possible.

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"Are all the matches at even odds then?" Vanitri will study any charts or rankings he can, as well as try to get some word about who's good to bet for, who's good to bet against, and any other betting tips he can get. (Gather Information +4 and Sense motive +3) He'll also being trying to feel out the info to see if there is any relation of the betting and to the murders (I realize I may have to process that information myself, he's still looking though).

Kahuna Burger said:

Micheal: Most of the gladiators in the room have the visable scars of wounds well healed but by mundane skill and time rather than magic, but you don't immediately spot any others who have fresh wounds. You do notice that of those who paid attention to your work, there seems to be an even split between those who look impressed and admiring (one even offers you a drink from his personal bottle of wine) and those who seem almost contemptuous, though you think that is aimed more at the man you healed than yourself.

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Michael swallows hard.
You knew this was a hard road to walk.
He accepts the proffered drink and swirls the wine on his tongue, tasting it thoughtfully and making his best high-toned remarks about "mouth feel" and "overtone".
He's actually tasting for the bitter bite of willow bark or the candy flavors of anise, licorice, or clove.
He sets the bottle down, closes his eyes, and takes a quick mental inventory of his senses, memory, and extremities.
So this is what it feels like to take a Fortitude Save.
(Actually, he doesn't think precisely that, but that's the closest analogue I can think of myself.)
Assuming he has five senses, four extremities (plus the head), and remembers the spell, he nips quietly off to the bathroom and as soon as he's out of sight, casts detect poison on himself.
Then he notes the fellow's name and description mentally for further investigation.

Kahuna Burger said:

Rosalynn: Some of the men show some interest in you, though the only one who starts a "hey baby" sort of comment recieves a look from Ron that withers whatever the planned line was to "um, welcome to the pits...." There are three other women in the room. Two were sparring with each other when you first walked in and have paused to look at you and whisper in a way that makes you think of nothing more than vain girls at a ball discussing the newest debutant. They are an odd sort of pair, one an elf with golden red hair and fair skin, who is wearing "armor" that could be mistaken for conviniently placed gold jewlery, and the other, at first glance, a dark elf with similar armor of silver. At second glance you realize the "dark elf" is actually a human with skin blackened by some sort of paint and hair bleached and colored to approximate the whiteness of the drow. Touched up before a bout, it probably suffices from the seats of the arena.

The third woman is a human, well muscled and unarmored (though covered significantly better than the other two by her plain knee length trousers and vest) who is sparring with a male gladiator. She is armed with a simple quarterstaff and accompanies its stikes with summersualting kicks and occasional flips out of range of the other fighter's sword. It's hard to say if she has even noticed you yet, she seems quite intent on her practice.

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Rosalynn glares at the man who tried to speak to her and looks around the room to see the women who start whispering about her. She's tempted to ask them to speak up because she can't hear what they're saying, but decides that being a smartass isn't the best idea right now.

She notices the human woman and watches her spar with some interest.

She attemtps to figure out more about why the others are here. (ooc: using her sense motive.)

OOC:[sblock]Sense Motive Skill...she's got a +2 and I rolled at 16 +2 that's an 18 but I don't know what the DC is for this room. [/sblock]

Micheal : you feel fine after the wine and detect no poison in it. Well, aside from alcohol, but you know how to compensate for that particular poison.

Ironwolf : There are plenty of practice weapons, though you are a little tired after the long day of bumpy riding and introductions. A young elf offers to go a few rounds with you, and chats between swings about the quality of food availble in different parts of the city.

Vanitri : matches are usually fairly close odds, and the difference in ranking indicates how much of a profit (or loss) you can make on a bet. (if you bet on a lower ranked combatant against a higher one you could make a profit greater than your 'investment' amount, for instance). The rankings are kept at the betting office, and Lenc (as it turns out your new friend is named) offers to show you how to read the charts in the morning.

Rosalynn : After a while, the two 'elves' go back to sparring, and you quickly realize that they are not competing per se, but practicing a mock combat of sorts. You get the impression that the older and more expereinced gladiators don't respect them much, but most of the men enjoy watching them. The woman practicing with the quarterstaff eventual takes a break and notices you. After sizing you up for a moment, she walks over and offers her hand. "Herron, of Utopia."

Kahuna Burger said:

Ironwolf : There are plenty of practice weapons, though you are a little tired after the long day of bumpy riding and introductions. A young elf offers to go a few rounds with you, and chats between swings about the quality of food availble in different parts of the city.

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Ironwolf takes him up on his offer, on the theory that battle on the road often comes when tired. If you only practice when you are in tip-top readiness, what does that prepare you for? In the practice session, Ironwolf will keep an eye open for the better parts of his opponents technique, and will make any apropriate compliments. While Ironwolf isn't particularly personable, he is wise enough to know that few people will take offense at an honest compliment. If possible, he will stick to this "safer ground."