Quoted By:
Rolled 9, 11, 2, 15, 7, 14, 5, 13, 19, 11, 16, 12, 13, 15 = 162 (14d20)
As the competitors fall into their crouch starts, the crowd goes silent. Behind you, the gentle waves of Ποντος are lapping up against the shore. You cast one final glance up at Mount Cynthus, before you make your decision – better to avoid Inopos at all cost, even it means a longer course and a significant delay in your speed. After a minute more – Anios simply barks out:
<span class="mu-s">“RUN!</span>
There is immediate pandemonium as everyone leaps off the sand into the air – Teukros, with unbelievable speed, sails up the hillside as if he is being drawn by an invisible chariot – his feet seem to barely make an impression on the earth! You're so busy watching him run that you stumble out of your crouch, nearly falling awkwardly in the sand, to the amusement of the crowd.
Pollux, and to your disbelief, Menelaus, is fast on the Salaminian’s bastard's heels. The King of Sparta’s stocky legs are flashing forwards much faster than you ever thought possible, while Pollux’s running form is gorgeous - smooth and efficient. Behind them, a gaggle of noblemen jostle for position, and surprisingly, you watch as Palamedes, thin and reedy as he is, sweeps at Odysseus’ legs with a vicious lunge – you hadn’t thought the man capable of physical violence, let alone a pre-emptive strike. Odyseus is too slow to react, but simply knocks aside the offending limb with his own kick – each of the men stumble to the side, separated from one another but in roughly equal position. You catch a glimpse at Odysseus as he re-orients - black murder is smeared across his face, his lips drawn back in a feral rictus. Palamedes has wisely already re-oriented himself, fleeing the scene of his attack before he can be strangled.
Ahead of you, Ajax lumbers along, his heavy strides pounding the earth – his head down, he seems to focusing entirely on his breathing, putting the other competitors out of his mind.
You, gods damn you, are dead-last. You simply can’t pick up your feet fast enough, no matter how much energy you burn – over the light ascent to Mount Cynthus, you watch as the main bulk of racers fades into the distance. You lose sight of Teukros before you’re even halfway to the peak – the man alights from step to step, sailing through the air as if he is Hermes Προμαχος. Once you reach the base of Cynthus, you force yourself to continue east, along Inopos’ southernmost river bank – the extra five minutes you spend is terribly costly, putting you far behind the others, but as you leap across the marshy territory where Inopos spreads his fingers, you know you’ve made the right choice – no deity or divine appears to detain you, as you smash through underbrush and small tress in a frantic rush.
>I'm rolling for phase 2 of the race per below:
Menelaus: +3 bonus
Ajax: +1 bonus
Odysseus: +2 bonus
Castor: +4 bonus
Pollux: +7 bonus
Palamedes: +1 bonus
Teukros: +6 bonus
