this feral ringleader serves to amuse with his clipped retort, softening the incredulity she dons with the reflexive, one-sided quirk of her upper lip. but he does not maintain her focus for long, for it were then that the voice of a brazen stranger would seek to address her upon approach. @Angelo were a monstrous sight to behold; and yet, the muddled compliment he slews earns her scoff. heat unfurls across her cheeks despite her outward derision, for olive were still all things flustered and inexperienced in lust. “oh my! forgive me for not fainting at your feet,” were the saccharine croon offered to the man in jest. but her mirrored, shit-eating grin were tacitly communicative of no hard feelings, anyway.

there were familiarity in the gleam of the gaze that regards @Rainer, and she does not falter as he seeks to encroach upon her close quarters — just like before. his flirtatious attempt – however clever with a reliance upon previous encounter – were equally as cringe-worthy as his predecessor. the plains queen wears her distaste with the dramatized roll of her eyes, but the humored tut she releases betrays its severity. and just as she moves to retort with her own witticism, the red stranger at the helm dismisses her harassers for her with clipped words of his own. thank the gods — but did olive detect jealousy? hmm. even if she’d convince herself by way of delusion, she were all the more blissful for it: flashing demure grins of receptivity to he with all the power, here.

his spiel does shift her focus back upon the looming rike, for attained glory were as good a spoil as any. the task he assigns were simple enough, and as the gears churn and her stare scans their surroundings for an idea, so does olive hone in upon the glistening white. bingo. “i’ve got a fun one,” she declares, smug whilst prancing a semicircle about her partner. “i bet—” she inserts a slight pause for effect, gesturing to the snow with pointed toes. “i can skate further than you.” and let her call upon past experiences with violarum to assist her in this endeavor.

quick to demonstrate by leading example, she bursts forth on nimble footing in hopes of gathering enough momentum. and then, does the pixie abruptly slam on the breaks — giggling maniacally all the while she skids to the finish line. beat that.


olive vs. rainer
for
beatnik games
round one

lucky number:

Rolling 1d20: 7

+10 Win a bet against someone else (?)

A rumble of a chuckle left him at @Olive's retort. He was quite used to being shot down, but at least he'd made an attempt, eh?

Angelo raised an eyebrow as the heavily accented man spoke to him, grinning as he tried his own line. Yeah, that one was pretty good too, he thought. His pointed ears flicked in the direction of the quiet woman who came in, finally turning his attention to all the others who approached, of which there were several but also somehow not as many as he had expected. That was fine, more of a chance for himself to find victory. And he would have to put on a good showing, as he was the only one from the Hollow present.

Probably not, he agreed with the scarlet male, offering a good-natured (albeit lopsided) grin. He did actually listen to the instructions given, and was intrigued that they would be making a bet with each other for the first round. Hmm, what to bet on? He was paired with a younger male from the Bluffs, which he hoped wouldn't be awkward considering the tentative truce they had going on. This was a friendly competition, was it not? Surely they could manage that much.

I bet... he mused, looking around for inspiration and noticing a pair of seashells not far away. I bet I can throw a seashell further than you? he suggested, pointing them out with a claw. If the other man had a better idea then he was more than willing to do that instead.

Rolling 1d20: 9

'YOUR FIRST TASK TODAY IS NOT COMPLICATED - I WANT YOU TO MAKE A BET WITH YOUR PARTNER, AND MAKE SURE THAT YOU’RE THE ONE TO WIN IT. THAT SHOULD BE EASY ENOUGH, NO? GO TO YOUR PAIR, MAKE YOUR BET, AND GOOD LUCK.'

Make a bet hu? Well he certainly could do that! Relief joined the curiosity bubbling in his chest and was joined by anticipation as the young man glanced about looking for his partner in this first competition.

Dayin's expression took on an edge of surprise as approached the small feline who he would bet with. Oh wow you are pretty and so small. Eyes grew bigger for a moment, shit, crap, outside voice, OUTSIDE VOICE! Annnyyyyywayyyyyyyyyy.. lets just pretend I did not say that outload. If lions could blush the poor guy would be scarlet.

Clearing his throat Dayin would look out at the water and continue I was going to bet I would loose.. he gave a little impish grin for a moment then continued But instead how about this, I think I can hold my breath longer. Sound good? moving to the water's edge he would brace himself before dunking his muzzle under the water in a tide pool and starting to count until he could no longer stand it and had to take a breath! If she didn't' want to do this, she could always suggest something else...once he got his breath back?
------
@Bea vs. Dayin

Rolling 1d20: 2

code by corvus

MAKE PEACE WITH

YOUR BROKEN PIECES

She was nervous, this was the most she'd spent with others outside of Master. The stranger mentioned making a bet with someone else and eventually her gaze would turn to find her partner. He was larger than her and she fought the urge to shrink back when he approached her. "Oh wow you are pretty." He stammers and immediately Bea can feel a warm blush rise in her cheeks. "Pretty?" She repeats the word but her accent is thick, unsure. "Annnyyyyywayyyyyyyyyy..I was going to bet I would loose..But instead how about this, I think I can hold my breath longer. Sound good?" He asks but Bea is in no business of holding her breath, she had no breath left to hold when it came to her nerves. "We stare. I win stare." She says to him, a staring contest. But admittedly Bea knew she probably wouldn't win, making eye contact with another for an extended period of time always grew uncomfortable eventually.

Bea v. @Dayin
Beatnik Competition Round 1

Rolling 1d20: 8

code by flea, art by rabbit

The game that the maneless foreigner presents before them today is quite a bit different from the tournament in the Pit. More...relaxed. And yet the stakes were the same, were they not? Roussel is not entirely sure what it means to fully embody the spirit of a 'beatnik,' but he figures he probably has a decent shot at it. Anything that could be bragged about, was worth bragging about, oui? So he might as well play along so that he might come out on top.

It was one of the less destructive options he had to pass the time all the way out here anyway. Not that he personally had anything against destruction, but then he might not have a game to play.

Now, what to bet on...? Well, the colossal beast he'd been partnered with seemed to have a suggestion. Roussel turned his head towards the striped man when he approached, mismatched eyes narrowing contemplatively at the musty cave smell he was shrouded in, though he jauntily quirks his lips upward easily enough. "You're certain zat's a bet you can win?" The mottled boy rumbles with amusement, allowing his gaze to drift towards the pair of seashells @Angelo had pointed out. Well, it seemed like a simple enough tbet. Less troublesome to test then Roussel's first thought of I bet my blood is brighter than yours.

"Alright zen, monsieur. Let's test your theory. Let us aim to throw zem towards zat rock over zere. Ze one still covered in seaweed. Whoever gets closest shall win." He titters as he trots over to the seashells, briefly admiring their shapes before he clamped his jaws around (the slightly smaller) one and hefted it up.

Bet you didn't think seashells could fly.

Roussel vs @Angelo

Rolling 1d20: 15

code by scorpixia ♡︎ art by irish

Luck is fearlessly tried, but alas - no cigar. Or such is what the theatrical gestures of the reclining @Olive would have the believe. The hint of amusement she betrays does not have Rainer entirely convinced that his ever-so-clever words haven't at least won out against Angelo's, comparatively speaking. The curve of the Rike's lips curl into an even smugger smirk, undeterred even when the red-furred stranger begs attention with the unsolicited arrival of his own two cents. "I doubt she needs wooing – being an independent woman and all." "Ah, but zat just makes it all ze more fun." He retorts smoothly, subtly biting down on his inner urge to scoff. Tsk! 'Independent woman' was something of an oxymoron in his books, but clearly today was a day to entertain all sort of whimsical fantasies. It was snowing on the beach in summer, crying out loud. His odds of setting fire to the ocean were looking exceptionally high this year. Excellent. The chances of such a phenomenon should make for a particularly intriguing bet, he imagines, seeing as their scarlet provocateur is still all too eager to draw them into his games of luck and glory, despite his teasing banter. Oh, but it all seemed like so much work to test right now, when he'd already gotten so comfy. "Vell, don't leave me in suspense." Olive, however, clearly has no intentions of conserving her energy, and Rainer observed her prancing declaration of fun with an expectantly raised eyebrow. Skating, hmm? "You zink so, do you?" He questions rhetorically with an exaggerated click of his tongue, pale fangs gleaming through his widening grin, gleeful in all the ways only a man who'd spent a decent amount of his childhood skiing down snowy mountain slopes could manage. "I fear you may be disappointed." He calls after the sparrow's gliding shape, heaving himself to his feet with a rough headshake to dislodge the snowflakes she'd recklessly thrown back into his bangs, already striking a dramatic pose of his own by the time Olive turned back to look. "Behold - a master at vork." He boldly asserts with a twirling paw, deftly circling to gather precious momentum within his larger body before throwing himself atop the icy fluff with abandon, long claws kept carefully tucked away within their sheaths so that he might prolong the skid for as long as he could manage. Rainer vs @Olive Rolling 1d20: 6

Code by Shaz | Art by Moogle

He is matched with a stranger. Eyes fall to the lion he had never seen before and the man is eager to win. The yearling Prince walks over and pauses, studying them carefully and thinking about what it could be he might win at, if he were betting. I think… He begins, with an idle twitch of his tail. I’ll be good at this. I bet that you can’t dig the deepest hole. He challenges, knowing that he was quite a good digger , given his home. The Mire had always been sticky, and it wouldn’t be the first time that Adalrik would have had to dig himself out of a situation.

Rolling 1d20: 11

_{BG — ART — CODE}

winter games, y11

---

beatnik competition
“Impressive.” The man said gruffly, sweeping his gaze across the crowd of beatniks, content with the performance that they had delivered so far. It was a curious trade to assess, and he was well aware of that, but the competition would continue all the same. “Congratulations to the winning competitors from round one.” He proclaimed, identifying each of them with a flex, pointed toe. “For those of you that aren’t continuing, thank you for joining us today. Keep improving on your skills, advancing, and working to be the best.”

“For round two, in your new pairs, you are each going to try and steal one of the crabs in the tidepools from me. If you’re successful, I’ll let you keep your prize as a snack.” The tradesman explained next with a brief smirk, gesturing the new pairs together as he shifted to position himself in front of the tidepools. His back remained facing the water, limbs outstretching slightly as he took a protective stance and prepared for the incoming bout of efforts to overtake him. An abundance of crustaceans sat within the depths of the tidepools, and it seemed so simple when all they had to do was get past him. Or was it? “When you’re ready.”



match-ups & instructions

@Bea vs. @Olive
@Roussel vs. @Adalrik


dq’d: @Rainer, npc, @Dayin, @Angelo

• Round 2 Match-Up: Your character has been randomly matched with someone else and the NPC has explained the first task. An NPC will be used if there are uneven participant numbers.
• You have until December 27 to post again to your match-up. In your reply, respond to the prompt and insert the following dice roll at the bottom of your post. Whoever rolls the highest number out of each pair will win that round and move onto the next.
Code:
[roll=1d20]


• Round 2 Match-Up Results: On December 27, the winners of the Round 2 Match-Up (the ones out of each pair with the highest roll) will be re-matched and the cycle will continue every week, with new match-ups being posted on Wednesdays.
• Failure to post to a given round on time will result in disqualification.
• In the case of a tie being rolled between match-ups, Staff will do a tie-breaker.

You can earn the following points towards the Winter Games in this thread. Make sure to submit your points via Discord or DM to @Squid!

• +1 - Participate in a posted trade competition (claimable once per thread, per character)
• +1 - Win a match-up in a posted trade competition (claimable for each match-up that’s won)
• +3 - Be one of the last ones standing in a posted trade competition (win the final round match-up, results posted on January 10)

Honestly, no, I've never thrown one of them before, he admitted with a wry grin. But he was nothing if not able to make fun of himself if he failed, as he was often prone to doing. So he wasn't disappointed when his own shell fell short. Good thing we weren't betting on anything too serious! he commented. In his defense, it would have been a victory in the bag if they were having a nap in the sunshine competition. He could do that all day long. And speaking of which, that sounded like an excellent idea now that he'd thought about it. Time to go find a lovely sunspot and soak up some warmth.

-exit angelo-

teeming with confidence (whether warranted or not), his negging words do little to hinder olive’s concentration. and as her momentum begins to slow with an accumulation of tilled snow, so does a delighted, girlish giggle come to fill the air around them. a graceless pirouette punctuates her sliding as she turns a smug smirk upon the posing @Rainer: satisfied with her own performance.

his claims of disappointment earn the challenging quirk of a brow; and fervently, does she drink in his mirrored attempt with a blazing, trailing stare. it were only as the rike jarl skid to a premature halt behind her that her features would contort with unbridled mirth. “i fear you were right. i am disappointed,” she croons, retreating back through her smoothed pathway with a triumphant prance. “i expected better from a supposed master.” her taunts were honey laced with venom, and the flick of her stubbed tail seeks to dismiss him: theatrical, as always. no one held a candle to olive’s skating prowess, after all — nor could they.

regrouping just in time for their ringleader’s second spiel, a curious gaze touches upon the vibrant, youthful physique of her next opponent. @Bea were a pretty, little thing – as well as a stranger – and olive seeks to offer her the warmth of a lopsided grin before patting the vacant space at her side. determined though she were to prevail, the pixie were still a good enough sport to extend niceties — and, especially, to a fellow woman.

as her attention shifts to the gleaming pool at her paws, so does she hone in upon a skittering target before recentering her gaze upon their red overseer. the coquettish flutter of lashes attempts to maintain intense eye contact with the man: intentionally prolonged, intentionally unwavering. without shifting her gaze, she watches the crab from her peripherals, until —

the viperine strike of a forepaw vies for her prey, infiltrating the water’s surface despite the gnawing bite of glacial temps. all the while, her pupils remain fixated: sunken in the ember irises of this crabby overlord.


olive vs. bea
for
beatnik competition
round two

lucky number:

Rolling 1d20: 17