Ash stepped into the waiting hall, a cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells assaulting his senses. Men, women, and beings of various species—from Darvens to humans and everything in between—milled about. Some exuded an air of overconfidence, as if they were already assured of victory, while others fidgeted nervously, their timidity palpable. The air was thick and pungent, a mixture of sweat, cheap ale, and something indefinable that reminded Ash uncomfortably of the sewer he'd lived in long ago. He wrinkled his nose, the stench making his stomach churn.
"Everyone look weak here, what was the fuss about?" a beastman ask the brute besides him, who replies in his screeching language which is very uncomfortable, "ahhh stop stop I get it." Beastman put hands on his ear not wanting to hear his voice again.
Ash ignores them and other conversations completely, He scanned the crowd, searching for Ronny. [Where is that fat bull?] he thought, a flicker of worry mixing with his annoyance. [If Ronny wasn't participating, it would be a problem.]
He spotted a few empty tables and made his way towards one. Before he could even touch a chair, he was shoved from behind, stumbling forward. He looked back to identify the culprit—a lich. The bag of bones hadn't even registered that it had bumped into him, its attention already fixed on the empty chair. As Ash reached out to grab its tattered cape, a soft, feminine voice stopped him.
"Don't do that."
He paused, glancing around to find the speaker. The lich, oblivious, settled into the chair.
"Who are you?" Ash grumbled, turning to face the voice. He saw a girl in a witch's outfit, a huge hat perched atop her head and a wooden staff clutched in her hand. She pointed to another empty table. Without a word, Ash followed her, taking a seat opposite her. He stared at her, his gaze questioning. She hid her face behind the wide brim of her hat.
"Why are you staring at me?" she mumbled.
Ash rested his chin on his hand, propping his elbow on the table. "Tell me, what was that about?" he asked, his voice calm.
She hesitated, tapping her fingers nervously on the table. "Because… I saw his cape was imbued with shaktih, and… I don't know what would have happened if you'd touched it."
He raised an eyebrow, annoyed. "Are you giving me that crap? I'm your opponent, a stranger. Not someone you recognize or know to sympathize with."
"Ahhh, mmm… You're not wrong," she stammered, pulling her hat further down over her face. "You seem strong. But it would be bad if I let you disqualify without even seeing what you are capable of."
Ash's expression hardened. "Oh, is that so? Do you know how strong I am?"
She seemed to consider the validity of his question. Slowly, she lifted her hat, revealing eyes that glowed with a faint purple light. "I can tell," she said softly, reaching out to touch his face briefly. "You're strong. I wouldn't say the strongest here, but… very impressive."
He felt a flicker of disappointment at the "not the strongest" comment. "And you can tell about others too?"
She nodded gently. "Then tell me, how strong is that bag of bones?" Ash gestured towards the lich.
She followed his gaze, her glowing eyes briefly assessing the creature before she looked away. "He's not that strong physically… just weak… Almost fragile bones. But it's his shaktih… he has a lot of it." She paused. "He probably ate a lot of souls before coming here."
Ash's eyebrows shot up in curiosity. "Souls, you say?"
"Yes. Liches survive by feeding on other being's souls, don't you know?"
Ash nervously scratched his head, as if he'd been caught in his own questions.
Before they could continue their conversation, other participants began to fill the seats around their table. A man in slim golden armor, carrying a golden spear, took a seat, radiating a charming aura. Next to him sat a short, gloomy figure dressed similarly to the lich. Finally, a giant of a man with huge muscles, a bare torso, and a shaved head sat down, towering over everyone at the table.
Ash turned to the girl. "By the way, I didn't get your name," he said.
She looked back at him, startled. "Yeah?"
Ash repeated himself. "I said, your name. I didn't get your name."
She composed herself. "Oh… my name… ahh… You can call me Maeve or just Mae if you like." She paused, then looked up at Ash nervously. "What about you…? What is your name?"
Before Ash could answer, the man in golden armor interjected. "Save your chatter for later… Look up there."
Maeve blushed slightly but didn't say anything, looking in the direction he was pointing. On the balcony, a skinny man with round glasses appeared.
"ATTENTION, PARTICIPANTS!" he announced.