The day of the Tourney was quite an active affair, with multiple mercenary guards hired by the Raging Storm Battle Company to guard their grounds and for crowd control. Peppered throughout the area were also normal City Guards, while beneath their feet in the old stonework halls and rooms of the arena, Sibÿllad Lykke and Hijna’cieli Lev’illja worked undercover in the Tourney itself. Opening remarks were said, applause was had...and then the guards got to work. One by one, teams entered the private booths. First, “The Archon,” the Sihndar seated in his own box. Leonardo Oliveira and Shirina Davenport walked in, Shirine sharply telling him to get the hood off his head which the man slowly did. This promptly earned him a bunch of looks and shudders in the out of box crowd, some standing up and shouting “Kathar!” at his dark skin and horned head. Leonardo had to step forward and tell them it wasn’t a Kathar, just a Sihndar but ultimately the male left with them. They questioned him, only to learn he was just a normal Sihndar and in fact, was someone who knew the Sihndar group whose member the guards had interacted with in the house a few weeks back. Heck, the Sihndar in the Tourney was a friend of his, and he was just here to watch him. The guards ultimately left the man to his business but when he returned, the guards continually telling them he was not a Kathar did no good. Most still shouted “Dark Elf!” at him, and within a few more minutes, he had left in anger, his time ruined. Aldwyn Howlester, Kaya Sorenvik, and Ernesta von Rahm then went to take on the second box...and the suspected killer based on the deductions of Aldwyn Howlester. This one had a wooden screen in front of its flaps, but he and his team barged in anyway, pushing the wooden screen aside to find...a group of Ithanians. One woman was clearly the leader as she was also the oldest, while two other and younger women along with a young man sat next to her. All turned from their tea to the group. Then it began, in harshly Ithanian-accented Common. “How DARE you come barging in here without the courtesy to knock you Regalian swines! I am Baroness Attenaîs Davinelle Pryson Ellaivre Regalois Loupeman, personal friend to her most majestic Sovereign-in-unlawful-imprisonment…” And she just went ON and ON. Aldwyn, nor either of his other companions, could get a word in edgewise as they were slowly forced back by the woman’s aggressive stalking, and her ever flicking fan, her green-plumed costume certainly earning her a menacing profile despite her size. In the end, they had gotten an earful about “interrupting a woman, her servants and son at teatime during a pleasurable viewing session of Regalian city culture” and absolutely no other information, pushed out onto the small open wooden scaffolding that led to the other big boxes and then down to the city street. Meanwhile, Shane Marth was on roof duty and oh boy what a duty. House to house to house he ran around, spreading grease on all the most accessible corners much to the annoyance of some homeowners. But upon hearing it was “Guard business,” most backed off. Then, he ascended onto the rooftops himself with a crossbow despite having no idea how to wield one and hunkered down. He was going to be here awhile… Several hours later, the guards were helping maintain order at the afterparty celebrations when Ernesta von Rahm noticed one of the female servants from the Ithanian lady’s booth come up to the clean-cut but bulky Avanthar fighter H’renar Golthos and hold out a sack of something with a gesture away. The male promptly followed with a raised brow. Ernesta slipped away from her current post or conversation, snagging Cieli Le'vilja who she saw standing nearby and making after the two. Down the street, they saw the two figures enter the arena preparation area, under the stands and in the earth. They proceeded in and luckily, with Cieli’s guidance, avoided all of the useless or more opens spots. Soon they came to a door, and from behind it, they heard noises. They then burst in!-and promptly walked out, ultimately rushing off. Well, “Le Loup” was definately no killer. Back outside at the party, with a lull reached, Tourney Champion Thalion Amlugonnen decided to head home. No guards accompanied him as he started back home, as for some reason Aldwyn hadn’t believed that it would be needed for the people who were the ones clearly largely being targeted by the Tourney Stalker. So as a result, the worn but happy man continued on his way...when he suddenly felt something hit him in the back of the head, wet, practically sticky while also striking his back. “What in the…” he wheeled around to see a figure in a dark cloak with a massive hood, with faint red fabric work also visible. “I am the best, and you are nothing little Elfling…” the figure rasped, and then peeled back it’s hood to reveal...an Haat-Maraya, in all his glory. He might have looked female with a taller, curved form, but his voice was definitely a male one. The eyes on his forehead glinted in the half-dark of the small street while his hair vague twitched. He then slowly drew out quite the exotic blade, unlike anything Thalion had likely ever seen before. It looked like a Khoptar vaguely, but the design was strange, the single blade able to be gripped by two hands in different spots which ended in a wicked curve backward toward the user. He promptly charged the man and snarled with passion in his tone “I AM THE BEST!” as he unleashed a fury of strikes. Meanwhile, a roof or two away, Shane Marth had fallen asleep at this point, unable to avoid a nap. However, he blearily woke up at that point and started to look around, the fierce battle raging down below not yet known to him. “Oh when I awoke, the memories were...they were there…” he wheezed out a manic laugh, and his eyes flashed as the Stavesman desperately tried to counter him. “They returned, so recently, so so recently...I was the best...I was the GREATEST! But all you...you bugs! You’ve all come back, and you lie, this one is the best, that one, well you know what the grey-ones say? Eat the strength...so I have been heh...a slip of their...of their body. Oh the sweetness...and you Elflings, oh you all taste...so, so good…” At that point, Thalion had had quite enough and activated his Valeia Muter, massive and beautiful astral wings emerging and wrapping themselves around him. The Maraya gasped and stumbled back, not even attempting to harm him. “B-but, my...my Weave...YOU CHEATER!” The Maraya let out an unearthly sound as he then charged and slashed, hard, repeatedly at the wings. Thalion felt terrible pain, falling to his knees but remaining conscious and able to maintain the protection. Thunk. The Maraya looked up to Shane. “Oh, focking ‘ell…” the Eruinin muttered, his first bolt missing as he promptly started up another one. As he was winding, he suddenly remembered...the bucket! With that, he picked up the bucket of now dried grease and started to frantically bang it with a crossbow bolt, screaming his loudest Eruinin drinking song. Even three streets away, the party heard it and fell silent. But the guards promptly dropped what they were doing and rushed toward the noise and soon after, several of the other fighters rushed on after them. The Maraya looked at Shane with hate and then at the greatly weakened Thalion. “Bugs...all bugs, I-I was the greatest!....HRAAA!” With that, he suddenly jumped, and his hair began the unearthly process of skittering his body along and up the wall toward Shane. The guard let out a string of swears he vaguely thought would give his mother pause, even in her grave, as he promptly backed away from the edge. Thalion meanwhile, collapsed unconscious, his wings dissipating. Shane was now a good several feet back from the edge when the Maraya finally hauled himself up, crazed, and furious. But from up top, they could see the approaching mob of men and women. The Maraya muttered something about “Swarming pests…” and shot Shane a final dirty look before he was off running over the rooftops. The only one anywhere near was Shane, and so he desperately finished winding the crossbow, carefully aimed (as much as his trembling sweating body could) and shot. He saw the Maraya stumble and suddenly there was a distant clatter before there was another unearthly sound though this was shortly afterward returned by another one on the ground. Shane peered and saw it was the Ka-Maraya from the private booth, who let out another bellow in the tongue with his bearded face furious...that tongue being Shalota. But then, with the pitchforks coming out, the Maraya was off bounding away again after a final noise, eventually leaving sight of Shane. In total, the night ended with an absolute bang. The killer had been uncovered and in fact, disarmed, as the Ka-Maraya retrieved the weapon for the guards, a look of deep trouble on his face. He explained, somewhat cagily, that it was a very old weapon of his people, and something few knew how to effectively use...except, he supposed, this Haat-Maraya. Thalion meanwhile was rushed to the clinic, where he was in for, at least, a solid week of bed rest. There were no physical wounds from his experience, but the pain was very much real. As for the investigation, it might be considered closed at this point except...the Guard got a letter the very next day, delivered by a scared little boy.
