(The Pit) Fall Guy

[Inoadar]

10th of Spring, 513, AV

Inoadar left The Spot with the envelope given him by the barkeep there. It contained the information he needed to complete a task he felt uniquely suited to. He was to bring poison to The Pit, poison to secure an outcome. He didn't know who the targeted combatant was to be, and he didn't care. He only wanted to be sure he got the right stuff into the right veins.

"Nothing obvious" the card said, just enough to ensure his opponent's victory. The opponent apparently stood a reasonable chance of winning anyway. But for whatever reason, the client wanted there to be no doubt. 'Simple enough.' Inoadar thought confidently. He already had 'Bloodroot' with him. The perfect compliment for that was the tried and true 'Lazy Gel'. Between the two, he'd inflict an overall weakness, combined with a loss of balance. But the best effect, the most useful one, was the confusion. That would negate the man's experience.

He assumed with Pit fighters, he'd probably need a second dose, given their likelihood of having above average constitutions and resistance to physical impairments. He'd slipped back to the shop to get the 'Lazy Gel' and hurried to the docks for a ravosala to the Noble District.

The Pit was just that. A pit. In the center of a Noble District park. Dug to a depth of ten or twelve feet, it was walled and fenced with iron grating. The walls for the under level doubled as cells for the evening's combatants to be kept secure until "their time".

Inoadar limped in with his cane and stood where he was instructed. In short order, a man approached him. A man Inoadar envied for his inability to be described in detail. He seemed to be common and unremarkable in every sense, except for the aura of threat that all men of the shadows recognized in one another.

"Cutting it a bit close, sport." the man whispered. The words seemed to come to Inoadar from the wall behind him. He'd heard of some skill where men could make their voice seem to come from different directions. And his lips hadn't even moved!

Inoadar hid his appreciation for the man's talents. "Plenty of time. Who's the winner?"

"Eypharian. Third bout. You can't miss him. The one with all the arms." He pointed him out among the evening's entertainment.

Inoadar followed the man's finger and his eyebrows arched. He wondered if such a man really needed any help.

[Inoadar]

"Seems like he's got enough of an advantage already." Inoadar commented. He straightened his collar and cuffs, cracked his knuckles and took a step in front of the man, holding his arms folded behind his back, one palm open. "So, it would help if I can get in to see your boy just before the fight."

Now it was the other man who arched his eyebrows. "Our patron is not going to want you to do anything...'obvious'. What do you need to see him for?"

"I thought I'd offer him a business proposition. Then maybe we'll seal the deal with a drink." Inoadar awaited the expected protest.

"Didn't you get the information package? Sledge isn't going to go for a sale of his contract. He's fighting for his-..." The man began, but stopped when Inoadar snapped his fingers.

"I'm well aware of the situation. This is my show now. Firing a blowgun in here is not an issue with all this noise, but if the dart is found, there will be a scandal. Is THAT what 'our patron' wants? What do you care anyway? It's MY ass, not yours." Inoadar rocked slightly on his heels. He felt a card placed in his open palm. It disappeared up his sleeve. "Thank you."

He found the drink merchant and purchased a large mug of ale. He allowed himself to be jostled into a corner, where he dumped the powders into the ale. The poisons were normally considered "injury" types, requiring entry into the blood through a wound. While this was true, ingestion would still achieve the desired results. It would just take longer. poisons were generally categorized according to the manner of introduction that was most efficient. And speed of effect was usually accepted as a primary feature of efficiency.

However, while it was true that "wound" types would work when ingested, it was ALSO true that "ingestion" types were usually NOT effective when delivered through a wound. This was because they universally required stomach acid to trigger the toxin. Because of this, it was understandable that people thought poisons only worked when they were delivered according to their category. But in this case, Inoadar preferred the slow release of ingested "injury" poison.

He moved to a side passage, waving the card to the guard and acting slightly indignant that he was made to wait for the guard to check his newly acquired pass. "Come on, soldier. I've got limited time to complete this deal." Inoadar said, weaving slightly on his feet and taking a short drink from the ale. He was not concerned about ingesting a small bit of the poison. It was not a lethal variety, and it was no big matter if he was rendered slightly clumsy and confused in about ten chimes. In his case, he would simply appear drunk.

The guard scowled, but ultimately shrugged and waved him through. Inoadar rocked through the door into a chamber where a very large man was getting a last medical check before being returned to his cell to await his bout. He set his mug down on the sidebar with a flair of triumph.

"Tulos Sledge? I am Treskin Glarmosa. I represent the interests of my family in Zeltiva and I am here to take you away from all this!"

[Inoadar]

The Ebonstryfe guard overlooking the routine exam turned angrily, "What the petch do you think you're doing in here? No one is allowed in here during examinations." He came around the far end of the table as he spoke.

Inoadar exuded confidence and privilege. "I know, I know. Under most conditions, I would not breach the sanctity of this chamber. But this a special day! For myself, my family's holdings, AND for Mr. Sledge here. I have been given authorization, by your current, and soon to be 'former' owner, to purchase your contract."

Tulos Sledge and the Ebonstryfe guard exchanged an incredulous look. "Why in Ovek's outhouse would I do a stupid thing like that?" Sledge sputtered, uncertain whether to be amused or outraged. The guard mirrored the look on his face.

Inoadar gaped momentarily as though insulted, "Stupid? How can you say that?" He set down his mug and adapted a demeanor of someone trying to make himself clear to a simpleton. "Look around you! You fight in a PIT! You're kept in a cage! A single doctor tends to ALL of you. Why there's no telling what disease he may passing on to you from one of the other brutes in this place!"

"Oh, so we're BRUTES, are we?" Sledge slid himself off the edge of the table and stepped forward, towering over Inoadar, who looked up with the pampered cluelessness of someone who really feels that unbacked rank and money will stop a gladiator from punching his lights out.

The guard, meanwhile, decided that, since this skinny loudmouth was not a citizen, there was no reason to intrude on Sledge's honest display of his disposition towards the offer. He leaned back, eagerly anticipating a short pummeling. The man had no business here anyway.

Sledge thumped Inoadar's chest with his finger, making him stumble back slightly. "Look, Nancy boy, I don't know what kind'a fool you take me for. But if you'd done any kind'a checkin', youd'a known I'm fightin' fer the last time tonight. When I beat 'Spider Salabo' out there, I win enough to buy my freedom. The LAST thing I want is to start from scratch on a new contract! Maybe you LIKE 'em dumb. I can see yer BOSS does."

Inoadar allowed his jaw to drop with a display of ever-increasing indignation. "Are you...you dare...insult me? Don't you take that tone with me, you insolent muscle-brain! What is a brute like you going to do with freedom anyway? Most likely die in a gutter or drown in the lake, too drunk to swim, if you even know how! My family will see you catered to, trained, you will be given all that you need. And in [i]Zeltiva that amounts to a lot more than here!"[/i]

Sledge grabbed him by his collar and lifted him off his feet, thumping him, not too forcibly against the wall. Inoadar took the opportunity to slap at a small clump of powder on his jacket, which swirled in the air around them. "All I NEED is for you to get yer puny ass outta here! I've listened to enough o' yer crap. The answer is 'NO."

"UNHAND me, you filthy imbecile!" He turned a look at the guard, "Are you just going to STAND there? I paid fifty gold mizas for this meeting. I demand my money back!"

The guard shrugged and grinned, while Sledge busted into coarse laughter, the powder bringing just a few coughs among the guffaws. "You got took then, Bub!" The guard chuckled. Sledge dropped Inoadar on the floor. "Aaaw, look at 'im, I think he's gonna cry." The two men laughed as Inoadar held his breath to bring on a good red face. In truth, he was trying not to laugh as well. This was going perfectly. Sledge was coughing more now.

Inoadar rose to his feet, quivering with rage, the very picture of offended aristocracy. "You call yourself a fighter! You obstinate fool, you've just blown the most important deal of your life. You'll never be offered this again. Good Luck with your freedom!" He spat the word as if it tasted like vomit. Then he took a step towards the guard, but turned back and motioned at his mug. "And don't you dare touch that. Get your mucus all over it. You don't have the wit to appreciate fine ale anyway!"

He turned back to the grinning guard, ready to deliver a sound scolding, but stopped at the sound of loud swallowing, cringing at the mighty belch following it. He turned slowly back to face Sledge, who was setting the now-empty mug back on the table. "I might have known. KEEP it then. I hope you choke on it." he stormed from the room, muttering curses as unrestrained laughter followed him back to the stairway up to the general seating.

He smiled, "Perfect."

[Inoadar]

Inoadar returned to the stands around The Pit and found a seat. He had no real stake in the outcome other than the necessity of Tulos Sledge losing. He wondered what the man had done to merit such a betrayal by his owner. The day of his earning freedom, he is to be doped to lose, death a certainty.

Inoadar wondered if it was simply a play to collect on the odds. Sledge was a large favorite, but the Eypharian was impressive enough that the odds were not overwhelming enough to manipulate for a small fortune or anything. Was his owner simply indulging a petty 'If I can't own him, no one can' attitude? He shrugged. It was not his problem.

He sat through the fight preceding his. it only lasted a chime, give or take ten seconds. That was okay, he wanted there to be a few chimes before "his" fight started. But not too many. It wouldn't do for Sledge to come stumbling out, already clearly impaired. But that was just one more reason for Inoadar's own willing ingestion of a small dose of the same poison. He was not feeling any effect yet, so it stood to reason that Sledge was not either.

The fight itself was kind of anticlimactic for Inoadar. The crowd, no doubt, thought it was exhilarating. It started off quite evenly matched, the Eypharian coming out in full aggressive mode, appearing to take an almost instantaneous advantage. But Inoadar assumed that anyone with combat training could see that Sledge was holding back, establishing false patterns of response to lure the Eypharian in.

When the broken arm came, the popping sound provoked a crowd-wide "Ooooh." that nearly drowned out Sledge's laughter. The Eypharian reeled back in apparent shock and staggering pain, his arm unnaturally bent. Inoadar had not realized how synchronized the Eyktolian slave's arms were. He had thought they were all completely independent of each other, but he could see that the other two arms on that side were also disabled to a degree.

The man had to use one of the unharmed pair on that side to guard the broken one, knowing it would be a painful liability and target for Sledge to get hold of. And it was easy to see that Sledge was aware of it. His tactics became centered around that very thing. It suddenly dawned on Inoadar that the Eypharian may be reversing Sledge's previous tactics, trying to lure him in with an apparent weakness to exploit.

On top of that, Inoadar began to feel the stirrings of dizziness and a drained feeling of growing exhaustion. Sledge's tactics became rushed, as though he had perceived that he needed to finish this fight quickly. He turned to a man on the perimeter of the combat area, apparently to relay the realization that he may have been drugged, but the Eypharian was on him immediately.

It seemed that his arm was suddenly no hindrance at all and Inoadar gave a nod of admiration for the man's skill in feigning the injury. The fight ended moments later, Sledge trying to gag out protests of cheating while the words bubbled in bloody froth from his cut throat. The Eypharian did a mad victory dance to the frenzied crowd. Inoadar wondered how many mizas changed hands over the outcome, but it was no concern to him, he had placed no bets. The possibility of being sold out by his contractor necessitated passing on any wagers. It would be too incriminating. As long as he'd made no mizas, his denial would bear up under any pressure.

The job done, the desired result confirmed, Inoadar got up, weaved on his feet a moment as he recalled that he had a bit of the stuff in his system as well, and returned to The Spot to turn in his contract.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar was still woozy as he stepped through the threshold into The Spot. A pair of musicians were playing their own rendition of 'Ol' Rhysol's Ravok'. He was not that familiar with it, but the rest of the patrons clearly were and they were nearly drowning the entertainment out with their drunken sing-a-long.

A pair of men were trying to dance with the barmaid, Alice, and she seemed more interested in playing them off each other into a jealous fight, than actually concentrating on one. But the barkeep, Bohir, would have none of that anyway. There were jobs a-plenty for prostitutes, and he paid Alice to wait tables, not bedrooms.

Inoadar found his way to the bar and began going on about the great fight he saw at The Pit. "..I'm glad I didn't spend none o' MY mizas, though. I'd a thought ol' Tulos Sledge woulda took that (hic)-Pharian. Playin' possum' he was, though. Faked a broke arm, lured the old boy in, he did. Man oh man! The joint really blew a cork when the big sucker hit the dirt! Dirt poor slob like me can't near (hic)-magine what kinda money went round the house after that one. Whooo-EE, lots-a folks gettin' lots-a payback right about now, I reckon..."

The men adjacent to him joined in to regale him with accounts of fights they had seen there and ribbed him on how he looked to have already enjoyed his share of drinks there. Inoadar answered with a belch and all three men erupted in coarse laughter.

Bohir caught his eye and Inoadar excused himself, taking a few heavy breaths and looking like his indulgences were about to catch up to him. He stood weaving on his feet and took a few clumsy steps. "No pukin' in the house." his impromptu companions joked behind him.

He made his way back to the entrance, stopping to brace himself against the wall by the door. He covertly scanned the rack of job cards, disappointed to find no more indicating a use of poisons. There were a few promising ones, but he was in no hurry.

A man came to offer him a hand put the door, patting his coat pocket and telling him to 'take care and come back anytime' as he exited the establishment. There was a distinct bulge there now. 'Job complete.' he thought to himself. Yes indeed, this was his kind of town.

[Verilian]

. . Thread Award . . Inoadar +1 Poison +2 Acting +1 Negotiation +1 Subterfuge You Question My Logic? : If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Loot: Small Pouch with 100gm Lores: Lore of The Spot, Eypharians have many arms, Lore of The Pit, Notes: Good job, and keep writing! Notice As per the request of the Founders, threads cannot be graded unless your CS is up to date. This means you need to add threads to your thread list when you make new threads, keep your skills up to date, ledger, living expenses, ect. If you aren't up to date, you'll get a PM from me before i grade your thread. If you are up to date, disregard this notice.