Quoted By:
Rolled 18, 20, 1 + 1 = 40 (3d20 + 1)
You reply simply to the mole-like sovereign:
“Yes, King Eurykratides – I will compete in your games,” you say, as you incline your head, a small smile on your face. Eurykratides is elated – he shakes a victorious fist and claps loudly, drawing the attention of the other competitors. A round of amicable and sportsmanlike well-wishes are passed around; Eurykratides demands loudly for “more wine, more of everything!” and household staff begin scurrying madly through the dinner hall, leaping to his command. The Trachian king wastes no time in notifying his people – with a snap of his fingers, he summons his steward, a thin, balding and otherwise nondescript man, and makes arrangements for couriers to leave the palace at once, spreading the news far and wide. Eurykratides’ frenetic quality has been restored – there is a near-feral gleam in his eye as he demands “ten, no, fifty!” couriers to crawl the hills of his territory. With two days before the initiation of the twelve-day Oetian Games, he clearly hopes to draw in as many people as possible before the champion is identified. The steward takes these commands with relative good grace; perhaps only a bit of exasperation showing through when Eurykratides begins dictating an overly-long script that his couriers should use, full of wild promises about the heroic feats of athleticism that are soon to occur.
Still, you are not quite done with the man.
You bide your time – in a few minutes, the king’s torrent of activity has slowed. With a fresh goblet of (mediocre) wine in your left hand, you lean forward to catch his attention:
“I ask you one favor, King Eurykratides – <span class="mu-i">tell me, where is your missing shield?</span>” you query, pointing with your right index finger as you do so, your arm straight. Your finger hangs in the air like a spear-point; Eurykratides, surprised, follows the path of your gesture over his right shoulder, and then turns back to you, deflated.
His mouth flops open, no doubt to emit a stream of pleasing words, but you interject loudly, in a jovial tone:
“Surely, as an honored guest and participant of your games, you might satisfy with my curiosity with a simple truth? Soldiers such as I prefer direct answers, without gilding or embellishment; no need for a flowery diatribe!”
While you are no Odysseus, you've successfully cornered the man - now, he cannot respond as he had planned without seeming womanly. Eurykratides’ mouth snaps shut, his eyes narrow – you see resolve, such as it is, on his rounded face. You've prodded at his kingly pride here; tension springs up between you – a clear contest of contest of wills! Each of you applies pressure - waiting for the other man to break...
>I need THREE dice+1d20+2 for Hippo – I’ll be rolling for Eury. Hippo is a famous prince with a slight mental edge, but is a guest in a foreign palace – Eurykratides is a minor king in his own dining hall - almost an even contest.
