The following two weeks were fraught with activity. Between helping my friends spend their shares of the ill-gotten gains, I managed to find time to visit a number of coustumiers, meet with the nobility to discuss lizardmen in the swamp, and also to research and enchant a number of items for both myself and Malachite.
Visiting the Lords of the Free City was my priority; it being the very reason we had come in the first place. To my great surprise, I was granted an audience almost immediately. Having presented the intricately woven cloak which the lizardmen had given me, I explained their plight, and that war with the human lands was not something which the peace-loving lizardmen wanted.
I spent some time explaining that the lizardmen had gathered under a war-loving leader, but that he had been slain by myself and my comrades. The nobles I spoke with did not seem to pay much heed to the possibility of there being a black dragon in the swamp; nor did they seem alarmed by the suggestion that both the lizardmen and others had been infected by some form of undead-worm. The message which they seemed to pick up, despite my best efforts, was that the lizardmen had succumbed to a serious outbreak of a disease.
They finally agreed to send an envoy out into the swamps, to see if an accord could be reached as to the future stewardship of the swamp. To my immense frustration, when I had persuaded them into this course of action, and tried to turn their attentions to the goings-on within the city, an aide interrupted me with news that my time was up. Unfortunately, it would not be possible to obtain a further appointment for at least another fortnight.
.oOo.
I had better luck with the outfitters. With the knowledge that we had negotiated our entry into the Free City Games, I spent a number of entertaining afternoons knocking on doors and speaking to well-dressed costumiers, explaining that I, “Euan the Vain” would be leading a team to great glory in the Games, and that I would be prepared to model their very finest work to the illumination of the populace.
Several of the more adventurous clothes makers were intrigued by this, but said that they wouldn’t be able to make a suitably hard-wearing demonstration piece in the two weeks they had available. They were delighted that I would not actually need them to do any work; they could simply announce that they were sponsoring me and explain their most creative and glorious ideas. To illustrate the point, I willed my hat of disguise to make my smart leather coat change colour and line in an instant.
Danniel Rainford was particularly taken by this idea, and he agreed that I could model his latest line in gentleman’s outfits. He and I spent an afternoon discussing designs before we settled on a handful of superb designs in silks and satins.
.oOo.
The remainder of my week was absorbed in a series of early mornings spent poring over a selection of expensive components; I had paid several enchanters around the time to make armour components for me, whilst I focussed on enchanting my lute and cloak, together with one special item which I unveiled towards the end of the fortnight.
“Happy Birthday, Igmut!” This was announced as I passed the half-orc a gift-wrapped small package. He tore into the crepe paper to reveal a small stone scarab beetle, which glinted slightly in the light of the nearby lanterns. Grinning toothily, he pinned the item to his cloak, and we set out, fully equipped, to the Champions’ Arena.
.oOo.
Together with Ekaym, our new manager, we walked through the gates of the arena. We were amongst the first groups to arrive, although a group of axe-armed and heavily bearded dwarves stood near a number of massive casks of ale talking amongst themselves. As we were shown to our seats, I used my hat of disguise to slightly alter my face and hair colour so that I was unlikely to be recognised as myself.
We were seated at one of a number of long banquet tables in the centre of the arena. Because our team, “The Rough Diamonds”, were unheard of, we were quite some distance from the warming bonfires and entertainments, and our food was quite often cooling by the time it reached us.
By 6, all of the other teams had entered the arena and found seats. We were surrounded by dozens of other races. Elves sat at the same table as humans and gnolls, whilst to one side of the arena, a dragon lay in the dwindling sunlight, as its belly scales were scrubbed and massaged by a team of kobold workers.
The last of the teams to enter was that of Auric, the present champion. Wearing his gleaming belt, the warrior entered the arena to applause from the other teams. The man who we had once seen digging around in the ruins around Diamond Lake nodded to Flynne and Igmut as he walked in, flanked by his two comrades, clearly a wizard and an archer. The arena went silent as the three were followed by a trio of lumbering stone golems, which stomped their way into the arena to stand behind their owners.
“Better cover up that scarab, Igmut,” I muttered whilst trying to stifle a grin.
.oOo.
Racnian himself entered a few minutes later, to a loud burst of applause from all the competitors in the arena. He gave a short speech of welcome, before turning to Auric.
Almost reluctantly, the champion unbuckled the heavy golden belt and passed it to Racnian, who passed the belt on in turn to a tall robed figure who he introduced to us as the arbiter, Talabir Relik who would be the final referee in the upcoming games.
Shooing a toad from off his shoulder (and placing the beast carefully into a deep pocket), Relik explained the rules; chiefly concerning how to surrender and what might or might not lead to disqualification. Almost anything was permitted, however, as long as it did not damage any significant part of the arena, or threaten any of the audience. Even invisibility and flight would be allowed, according to the arbiter, as long as the flier did not go more than 40 feet above the floor of the arena.
Once this was finished, Racnian stood once again, and announced “I name you all Champions. Champions of the Free City!”
After this, musicians began to play, whilst a colossal meal was served to all of the Champions and their managers. After gorging ourselves on excellently roasted meat ad fish, the champions began to mingle, discussing fighting styles and comparing scars and war stories.
Whilst this was happening, a number of men with notebooks came around the tables, asking if any of the Champions wanted to bet on the various teams.
Looking over the closest man’s shoulder, I could see that we were ranked towards the bottom of the table, which meant that the odds against us were good, but not tremendous. Shifting my appearance briefly with the hat’s magic, I tapped the closest of these bookies on the shoulder, and pointed.
“You see that team over there,” I asked. “I hear they’re led by a fop, and that the best wizard they could afford is an orc!”
Wandering away, I changed my appearance once again.
“That tiger?” The next one turned to face me. “I heard that it died a fortnight ago, and the entire team had to team up to pool the resources to bring it back. They must be bankrupt!”
I told a third that we had no real front-line fighter, and a fourth that we had been adventuring for only a matter of weeks. By the time that I had changed back to the ‘Euan’ appearance and was standing ostensibly drunk at the barrels and the bookies’ notes had been covered with crossings out and corrections. We were now listed at the very bottom of the list, with the sheet offering 20 to 1 odds on our first bout.
We all bet, with Flynne lending several hundred gold pieces to Malachite and Igmut so that they could place 250gp wagers that we would win as many rounds as possible.
When I returned to my seat, I peered around me through my magic-seeing spectacles. Almost without exception, all of the champions carried multiple enchanted items. Racnian surprised me, however, with the sheer number and power of the enchantments layered upon himself and his equipment.
I also noted that Ekaym was staring determinedly at Raknian as well.
.oOo.
The meal ended with a series of dramatic fireworks and dancing girls, both of which finished in a frenzied crescendo. Into the silence, Raknian shouted,
“The Champions Games have begun!”
“HUZZAH!” The crowd of champions cheered into the night.
.oOo.
We were led onto a large stone platform, which was winched down beneath the stadium floor into the underground area known as the Coenoby. We were led, together with the 100 or so other gladiators, into a cave network which was part natural, part manmade. A massive central cavern led off down several dozen passages, each consisting of a number of individual rooms dubbed a ‘lodge’.
As we were led down, our guide calmly announced that one of the passages leading off to the south was blocked off – it used to be inhabited by ghouls which were driven off by Raknian, who then plugged the tunnel himself. Raknian himself had been the longstanding Champion of the Free City, retiring only when he was defeated by Auric.
We rested, due to fight the very next day.
.oOo.
The next morning, a horn sounded to indicate that the order of combat had been posted, and we sent Igmut to push his way through the crowd and find out when we were due to fight.
He returned clutching a copy of the fighting schedule, which stated that we were listed to fight at 10 in the morning, an early slot for a team which was accepted (by the bookies, at least) to be clear underdogs. The other teams were Arcane Auriga (a group of 4 haughty female elven archers); Badlands Revenge (3 halberd-wielding gnolls led by a wild-looking muscle bound druid); and the Sapphire Squad (a pair of scimitar-wielding mounted mercenaries led by a lesser djinn lord).
Having sharpened our weapons and prepared the necessary spells for the forthcoming combat, we were left with little to do, so I spent the next hour or two chatting amiably with the others with whom we were drawn to fight. The elves all but turned their backs on me, talking amongst themselves in a rapid elven dialect which I could comfortably understand, but didn’t want to let them know.
The druid was also reluctant to talk much, snapping and snarling at me whenever I addressed either him or his gnolls, but the leader of the Sapphire Squad was more than comfortable to talk to any of us, even offering us training after the bout, should we wish it.
As a result, we were more than willing to suggest that he and we unite forces against the grumpy druid and grouchy elves, an offer which he seized with both hands.
At 10, another horn blew, and we were gathered into our teams and each group was stood on a 30 foot wide platform, winched slowly into place up to the arena, where Raknian stood. Acting as announcer, he called to the immense crowd which surrounded us, crying out about the deadly precision of Arcane Auriga, the savagery of the Badlands Revenge team, and the mounted lethality of the Sapphire Squad. When it came to us, there was a perceptible hesitation before he shouted… “And the naïve courage of The Rough Diamonds!” as the heavy platform rose into place in the noise-filled arena.
.oOo.
The sun beat down on the 100 foot wide sandy space, ringed by row upon row of seating atop a high wall. Looking down upon us were thousands of cheering faces, and jeering, shouting, and baying for blood. In each corner of the massive space stood one of the teams, listening as Raknian bellowed out the rules for this particular bout.
“Each team will stay in their starting positions for 18 drum beats,” he announced. “In that time, they will not advance or attack in any way whatsoever. Any spells of preparation to be cast will be cast in that time. On the 18th drum beat, a horn will be sounded, and combat will commence!”
Using the powers of a spell, Raknian rose into the air and off to his seat amongst a number of wealthy people up in the audience. Once he was seated, a heavy drum began to beat out a slow tempo.
It had begun!
