Herrid and his team spill out of the lane, all breath and dust. The dummy’s pace has tested them, and they keep their formation by instinct even after it ends.
At the exit, Kaelen waits with his hound-beast at heel. His expression is sober, almost measuring, as he lifts one hand and points toward the bracket board.
A fresh placard hangs there now, pinned high among the names. One new opponent stands out from the rest, marked in bold ink, the sort of entry that turns heads.
Kaelen
There. That is the next test. If you want respect, you do not just clear the lane. You show you can face that.
Nog’s snout flares at the board. Anoa’s ears lift. Jar settles squarely between Herrid and the crowd, ready to hold whatever comes next.
The bracket makes it plain. The warm-up was only the door. The real tournament, and the judges who will remember it, are waiting on the other side.
✓ Quest Accepted
Face the bold new opponent
“I ready for our team to vs our opponent”
SUCCESS (Superb Creature handling, rolled -1)
Herrid steps in close to his team and lifts his staff a fraction, gathering them by habit and by eye. Nog stills first, then Anoa, then Jar, each one shifting into a tighter, calmer readiness.
Herrid
Ready for the match.
At the cue, Nog squares his shoulders, Anoa lowers her ears and settles her breathing, and Jar plants himself like a locked gate. The line between them feels cleaner now, as if the warm-up lane finally taught their bodies the same rhythm.
Kaelen
Good. Keep that shape when the pressure bites.
Kaelen's hound-beast gives a low, wary huff. The torn registry parchment on the clerk's table flutters in the draft, a reminder of how messy the day's record already is.
Herrid's team holds the formation without being asked again, and the bold name on the bracket no longer feels distant. It feels like a door that is about to open.
The awning noise swells around them, but their focus stays pinned on the board and the coming call.