Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-31049256-20171111145041/@comment-28358106-20171203184932

(Flame/S9) "That's the truth," Cirelle says to Despoina as she attempts to straighten her torn and charred robes. "If the contest isn't rigged, it's at the very least least idiotically skewed. Did they seriously think that simply throwing everybody into a contest would make everybody even if they team up against the stronger opponents??"

Laying over his horse's back, Eothred begins to stir. As he comes to, he groans and, getting his bearings, slowly slips off of her back, wobbling as he tries to stay on his feet.

He leans up against his horse as he reaches up, unbuckles his severely dented helmet and pulls it off. The group is treated to a painful sight. His nose is broken, a giant bruise covers one of his eyes, and his lip is split on the same side, all where he took the punch. Blood covers a great deal of the lower half of his face.

"What happened? Did we lose?" He mumbles groggily, breathing heavily.