Cheering and jeering filled the immediate area of the plains as a large field of people had gathered for today's special event. Some locals have decided that King's Valley could use a big annual event to help get people to the area. A big race through the Sunset Plains seemed like the perfect idea. People would come for the excitement of the race, stay to relax in the village, and bring in lots of solars. The tourism board of King's Valley loved the idea. Ignore the fact that said board is just a couple of the local drunks and/or idiots.

Still, based on the crowd gathered, their idea wasn't as terrible as it sounded on paper. Plenty of people had come out to watch, but it seems the big issue was getting people to race. This is were Persias "Percy" Rhyssina steps into the story. Stumbles might be a more apt word. As usual, it seems that he has been conned into participating in something while drunk.

He grumbled as he woke up in the stables where he passed out. Any other animal in the building was backing away as far as they could from the man. The growling and snarling in his sleep apparently terrified them.

"Shite.....thought the race was some shite they made up..."

---

SPOILER: Click to show

Quest Name: Wacky Races 2
Participants: Two or more
Location: King's Valley
Post Requirements: 5 post per person, 200 words per post
Reward: +1 Renown
Description: One of the valley's favorite past times is racing, specifically on horse back, but any animal will do as long as it is exciting. If you want to make a name for yourself in the plains, winning a race is the best way to do that, but it is one of the hardest things to do, locals do not play fair. The quest is simple, get into a race with either a mount or a land vehicle. You don't have to win, but try your hardest, and keep an eye out, anything goes in these races. (If you do not own a mount, a donkey will be provided for you.)

There's a bit of a stir outside the stables when Percy is coming to. A couple of gruff voices sound particularly pissed and grow louder as they approach the double doors at the front of the barn. 

"Look, fellas, you're blowing this way out of the water," one lighter voice speaks out. "I did not mean to insinuate anything about your wife, I'm sure she's a lovely person."

A loud thud of something, or someone, being slammed against the side of the barn startles some of the animals penned inside. 

"Don't you start talking about how 'lovely' she is," threatens one of the gruff voices. 

"You really have the wrong idea here, friend."

"We ain't friends. Now shut up and get to mucking!"

The barn doors swing open suddenly and a half-elf is tossed across the floor by some burly humans and a particularly angry-looking dwarf. 

"Get to work. If things ain't proper in an hour, we'll feed you to the hogs."

The doors swing shut with a loud slam. 

Everett lies there for a moment, staring at the ceiling before he sits up and picks a few pieces of straw out of his hair. He then looks around before spotting Percy. He blinks in surprise a few times before offering an awkward smile. 

"Rough night for you too? No offense, but you look terrible."

"Least I got both my feckin arms." Said the man with only one eye. He had only heard the muffled version of the argument, but he could at least gather this new person was in a similar situation to himself.

Mainly they both seemed to be thrown into something against their will and weren't exactly keen on the situation. He looks Everett over a moment then over to the door to catch a glimpse of the group......Percy was confident he could take them, though he thought that of every fight.

"Hogs can't eat ya, if ya eat them first.....I ain't had breakfest yet either...though from the looks of it we're more towards mid-day, aye?" Percy huffs as he scratches his chin. Gods damn this stupid valley.

"Ya here for the feckin races or just some other arsehole who's pissed off a couple of different arseholes and now yer in over yer head?" Outside the muffled sound of the other racers getting together starts to whip the crowd up. People were raring to go and see these races take off again. Seems like if they were going to join, they didn't have a whole lot of time to do so.

Everett chuckles as he rises to his feet and dusts himself off a bit. "True, you do. Fair enough."

He's pretty used to folks being a certain way around him, so Percy's rudeness rolls off him fairly easy. While he could jab back about the man's eye, he figures that he'd rather not lose another body part. The reek of alcohol permeating Percy's clothes was not lost on the half-elf man. Who knows how much sobering up the shark-man had actually done yet, and who know how volatile he could be when impaired. 

Briefly contemplating the consequences of making some not-so-morning bacon, which was tempting he'd admit, Everett gives a shrug in response to the question about time of day. "Uh, yes, 'round noon-ish? Sun's high at least."

He glances back towards the barn doors as the cheering gets louder. Wouldn't be long before things got started. Looking back at Percy, he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. 

"Definitely the latter. I'm not much for racing horses. Ships maybe, but not creatures with a mind of their own."

If he had to guess, Percy was similar to him and was more comfortable on the ocean than on land. Though maybe that was an unfair and presumptuous guess. Just wasn't often he saw a shark-man so far from the shore. 

"How'd you get caught up in this? Ah, if you don't mind me asking that is."

Maybe it was because of his wereshark nature or just his tolerance for alcohol, but his mood actually rarely changed based on how many drinks he had. Likely not a comforting insight for anyone who figures it out though because that just means he is a jerk no matter what. So on the one hand he is not more volatile when drunk, but on the other he is just always volatile.



"Feckin arseholes...buncha feckin arseholes. I'll take a feckin bite outta their horses if they want to be shites about this feckin race." What few livestock were in the barn shrink away from Percy, they know a predator when they see one.



He growls and grumbles and sulks in the barn for a moment as his mind works to process the rage at being trick and/or signed up against his will. Time to cause as much problem for these people as humanly or sharkly possible.



"I ain't a feckin clue, but how about we teach these pricks a lesson aye? If they want a race, I ain't gonna feckin do it on their terms, that's fer feckin sure. Yer gonna have to do the ridin' though, land animals don't tend to like me...especially the cows."



Did he actually mean cows or was he calling all land animals cows? There were no cows in the barn so it was hard to tell.

Oh boy, this man is a bit intense. Percy is definitely giving off some ruffian pirate vibes right now, which Everett isn't unfamiliar with but he's definitely keeping an eye on the man just in case he decides to throw his frustration the half-elf's way. 

He looks around at the nervous livestock, seems their instincts are on par with his own. "Don't be too hasty. The animals aren't at fault here."

Really, he'd rather avoid creating a blood bath if it can be helped. He doesn't have much of a reputation around Charon yet, which is both a good and bad thing. It's good because he's not notorious in any way, but he's also not known in a favorable way either. Maybe if he was a bit more known he'd be able to talk his way out of situations like this more easily. No point fretting over that right now though, they needed a plan to get out of this mess without getting perforated with arrows and spears. 

He thinks about the prospect of participating in the race to make a break for it. It could work, in theory. "I'll be honest with you, I have no idea how to ride a horse...or a cow. But if I'm up for trying anything if we can figure out a way out of this mess."

He'd probably regret saying that given Percy's threats of violence. "Ah, preferably without killing someone, if we can help it that is."

There's a sound of the doors opening again as some of the goons from earlier reappear.

"Rise and shine, fish-man, time to prove you're more than just full of shit talk." The dwarf then glances at Everett and around the barn. "Oi, you ain't missing your ears, get to fucking work mucking out the stalls."

"Any chance you'd entertain the idea of letting me in the race as well?"

The dwarf snorts. "No chance. If you don't want to work we can just skip right to beating the shit outta you."

"Or we could skip over that entirely." Everett suggests as he backs up a bit towards one of the stalls with a fairly large donkey chewing away on its hay in there. He glances at Percy, half-expecting the man to be ready for anything given how he's talked so far. 

"You're getting on my nerves, knife-ears."

"Let's just cut the feckin shite, put it down to a feckin bet, either ye kick the shit outta us...if ye even feckin can or we walk." Percy has no intention of doing any work for these assholes and honestly would just prefer a fight, but the elf man doesn't seem keen on it. So, let's try being 'clever.'



"What the hells are you on about?" The dwarf does not seem keen on being clever.



"Just pick odds er evens ye half-pint feckin arsehole."



"What?"



Percy grimaces and grabs a hold of the dwarf's beard, "Odds...er evens?" RIIIIIIIIP. The triton tears off a section of beard sending the dwarf to the ground wailing in pain. His hands clasp to his face were the section of hair is missing.



Percy looks at the handful of hair, picking off the one gold band that held some of the beard together and just drops the rest of the hair on the dwarf as he starts heading out, "Eh woulda been too feckin much to count anyways."



He strides through the barn doors, looking back over his shoulder at Everett, "Ye comin er not? Gotta feckin hustle if ye want to get in on this race and work the others over."

Percy nearly gets a pair of shortswords to the ribs for that stunt, but the dwarf, reeling from his now patchier beard situation holds up a hand as he glowers after the shark-man. Seems that, even given the current circumstances, they were smart enough to know that Percy would not hesitate to turn things into a bloody frenzy if given enough motivation to do so. 

Everett is careful to move in a safe circle around the group to follow after Percy, knowing full well that he'd likely receive the brunt of their frustration should he linger behind for too long. 

"Personally, I think he looks better now," he offers the joke to Percy at the expense of the dwarf. 

He looks around as they exit the barn and pass by a number of presumably willing racers and their mounts. It's mostly horses, though there are a few odd bird-like creatures and at least one oxen. Huh.

"So, are you still going to participate in this thing? Is there any prize for it?"

He can't imagine Percy is the type to just do something for the fun of it, unless that something is beating the living crap out of someone. If they really wanted to, they probably could just make a break for it and run off while people are too busy with the race itself. He must have some other reason for wanting to go through with this race despite the shitty treatment they have received thus far. 

"I owe you, so I'm still up to help," he offers, catching up to walk beside Percy rather than trail behind the man. "If you even need help that is, you seem more than capable of holding your own."

It's at that moment when they approach a large mule and it's rider, though the rider looks much worse for wear, doubled over and gripping their stomach as they wretch into a nearby wastebin. A teenager stands nearby, watching and shaking their head in disapproval.

"Dad, just give it up. You can't race like this. We'll find some other way to pay that damned debt of yours."

"Nah, I got it. Just you watch your old man- URP!" The rider goes back to losing their lunch as the teenager just sighs before noticing Percy and Everett approach.

"Hard ta make'em look any worse." Percy wriggles his fingers to free them of the last little bits of dwarf hair.

"I'll figure something out...bettin' on the shite is how most people make money...I imagine if ye win ye get a portion o' the coin...s'how it works in fightin' rings, probably the same here."

He shrugs as he scratches his chin while they walk. Admittedly, he wasn't any better at riding horses than Everett was so how they were going to actually make all of this worth while was an interesting conundrum. It is too late to poison or just knock out all of the other horses. Though the man losing his breakfast near the stalls provides an....opportunity of sorts.

"All right kid, here's the deal, ye need a rider, we need a horse, seein as yer pa is three sheets to the feckin wind, this man's gonna take over for ye, prize pot gets split 50/50, aye?"

Without warning he would attempt to grab Everett by the scruff of his collar and lift him on to the mule. A crude way to hide the fact that he probably didn't have a lot of practice getting into the saddle.

"Ain't nothin to worry about, we 'ave a few tricks these folk ain't expectin, so ye should make a good bit o' coin here." He looks up to Everett. "An' you, no matter what happens out there just hold on to the feckin reins right?"

The dad and son try to protest, but when the older man starts to empty his stomach again it sort of seals the deal.

"Just...don't hurt the mule we need him back at the farm after all of this is done."

Everett blinks as Percy throws him up onto the back of the mule. Ah, well, guess this is how things are just going to go. Percy seems like he has a plan at least, so he just nods and goes with the flow for a while. 

The teenager sighs and rubs the back of their neck as their father retches into the pail more. It couldn't be helped. Even if he wanted to argue with Percy, the scrawny kid didn't stand a chance against the obviously stronger shark-man. The other racers and folks around wouldn't step in either given how close it was to the start time. 

"We'll bring it back, don't worry," Everett says with an apologetic smile. 

He tries to offer the kid a little reassurance. Grand theft donkey really was not something he wanted to add to his resume, but what other choice did he have in this matter? He really sympathizes with the kid. Being Percy's mercy is...interesting to say the least. 

Everett gathers up the reins in his one hand and nods down at the shark-man. "Hold on, got it. Any other tips? Like uh...does this mule know any commands?"

"All the basic ones," the kid replies. "Don't kick him too hard or he'll buck you right off."

"Oh, good to know." That actually isn't too helpful. What even are the basic commands for a horse? He then looks back at the kid sheepishly. "How hard is too hard?"

The kid just stares for a moment.

"...Have you never ridden a horse before?"

"I don't know," he admits. If he has, he sure as hell doesn't remember anything about it. 

The kid just looks bewildered and then decides he's better off not saying anything more about it just in case Percy doesn't like him being critical of their chances. 

"Good luck," the kid says, then mutters under his breath, "Seems like we all need some."

"Ain't ideal, but yer in a bind, so's we. Get yer pa to a medic...or a barrel whichever comes first." He motions with his head for the kid to move.

The dad and his son are reluctant to move, but eventually do as another gurgle hits his stomach. It is only moments before he finds himself wretching into a hay pile.

"All right, few things to keep note of Arms...this race ain't eh...legal. Shites gonna happen out there on the track...don't get the donkey killed. I may be an arsehole, but I ain't a prick, we ain't gettin their donkey dead."

He gives Everett a firm look for a moment, he is absolutely genuine about this. Pirate and wereshark sure, but he also understands a family doing something dangerous to scrape by. He only learned to fight to punch up not down.

"Second thing...while yer out there....if ye see a large bipedal shark-like creature, not that it's likely, but if ye do...just keep going....All right get to the race."

Percy gives the half-elf a pat before heading towards the betting stand for the race. The beard ring from the dwarf is a pretty decent bet and the donkey's chances are not great. A good purse in it if they can pull this off.

Everett blinks. Arms? Really? Hopefully this guy's plans are more creative than his nicknames. Still, he nods. He knows nothing of these races other than the rumors he's picked up here and there and Percy sounds pretty confident in what he does know. Something he honestly is envious of. He'd do his best not to take any risks that would put the donkey in danger, course that meant he might have to play meat shield for the ass if the other riders decide to pull any funny business.

He doesn't have much at his disposal as far as equipment or spells. He's got one handy spell at the ready that will for sure spook all the other mounts, but that would probably also send the donkey into a wild sprint. Best to only use it in the final stretch lest he go careening off course.

He's only half listening when Percy mentions something a bit concerning.

"Wait, what shark creature?"

Too late. Percy is already off to the betting stand.

Crap.

Everett looks around just as there's a blare of a horn and a shout over the staging grounds for all the racers to take their places at the starting line. There was no more time for planning or chatting as he manages to just get the mule situated between two fast-looking race horses.

The riders flanking him to his left and right glance down at him and snicker to themselves. Not wanting to paint a target on his back, Everett just smiles to hide how anxious he is. He catches the glint of what looks like a modified crossbow strapped to the one rider's hip.

He's too busy looking to see what other weapons he needs to be mindful of to really listen to the announcer explain the event to the spectators and also describe the course. A comment about watching out for the back bend catches the half-elf's attention though and it dawns on him that he doesn't know the course at all.

Ooooh boy, this got even more complicated. If he was going to complete the race he would have to follow at least one other rider to know where he's even supposed to go. But all these other mounts look less than friendly and a whole lot faster than the pack mule.

"Ready!"

No time to dwell on things.

"Set!"

His grip tightens on the braided lead rope leading to the donkey's halter.

"GO!"

The horn blares again and all the mounts lunge forward. The mule startles, and nearly balks before chasing after all the other mounts which have surged ahead. Everett nearly flies off the back of the mule before throwing his weight forward and clinging to the front of the saddle.

Chaos erupts nearly immediately as the racers all squabble for the early lead. One mount goes down only yards from the starting line, its legs entangled in a bolo thrown by one of the other racers.

A blunt tipped bolt whizzes by Everett's ear, barely missing conking him in the side of the head. With all the flurry of hooves and legs, he's not sure if he was intentionally being targeted or not. Either way, he's managed to hold on so far.

"Best I can do is....10 solars"

"10? Are ye out of yer feckin mind? That's real gold."

"Yea, but also I know this is beard jewelry and only one man around here wears it."

"Aye an' if I picked it off'im then what'll I do to ye if ye feckin short change me?"

There is an audible and nervous gulp from the bookee, "Fi-fi-fi-fifteen solars?"

"45 solars an' I don't strap one end of ye to a horse and nail the other end to the ground and see which holds."

There is now visible sweat streaming down his forehead, "3-3-3-35."

Percy is about to lay into him more when the sounding bell goes off. "Shite, fine 35, but I expect every goddamned solar in yer little shack if the donkey wins."

He snatches the receipt from the bookee before taking off. There isn't much for cover in the Valley, but there is some tall grass Percy can slip in to. As he sprints, the triton begins to shift, even on land his wereshark from is faster just on account of being bigger and stronger.

If Everett keeps an eye out, he will eventually see a shark fin poking above the tall grass. It seems to be coming closer and closer to the track. In a flash, like watching a great white propel itself for a snack, Percy bursts out of the grass teeth first to bite into a horse and tackle it to the ground. Sensing a predator, some of the horses behind the group stop and panic.

A few navigate around the shark, others turn and run. It doesn't eliminate the field for Everett, but it is significantly slimmer as people seem to focus on the giant monster.

Oh Gods. Oh Gods. Oh Gods. Oh Gods. 

This is awful. He hates every uncomfortable bouncy second of this. 

Everett has little control over the mule and it takes all his sense of balance and strength to keep centered in the saddle. He can't even think about keeping an eye on the other riders and their shenanigans right now, but luckily for him, being at the back of the pack makes him not a target worth their time. 

Yet. 

As the mule races after the pack, Everett can't help but yearn for the sea and sailing across gentle waves. His ass is taking an absolute beating from bouncing against the mule's back, and it's clear the mount isn't thrilled about it either. The mule pins its ears and starts to crow-hop, kicking up its hind legs every few pages which throws Everett forwards against its neck.

At one point, Everett gives up on trying to use the reins at all and just wraps his arms around the mule's neck instead. This at least gets him off the mule's face which does placate the beast for long enough to actually start gaining ground on the other racers.

Everett opens his eyes, which he had squeezed shut for a few moments, and watches the long grass race by like a blur. In a way, the undulating hills and sea of grass really resemble the ocean. And then...he sees a fin slip through the grass. 

He almost forgets what Percy warned him about, and his heart skips a beat at the idea of land sharks being a real thing. Well, technically they are, because he watches as suddenly Percy appears, looking more like a shark than ever, and totally takes out one of the lead horses. 

The pack scatters in a panic, but at this exact moment, riding a stubborn mule works in their favor. The mule, which is more a guard animal for other livestock, pins its ears and races aggressively towards Percy with its flat teeth bared in warning. It nearly stomps Percy with a hind hoof before charging past and surging to the front of the race. 

Percy takes the few hoof stomps he gets, yanking down opposing horses as they go by. Any witnesses nearby are quickly knocked out with heavy handed punches. A lot easier to discredit people complaining about being attacked by a land shark if they also have a concussion and/or don't wake up for a day or too.

The shark stands up amid the carnage seeing Everett take off ahead with the few horses that made it around him going to gain ground. He takes his mace out, giving it a flip, before tossing it hard off the back of one man's head to knock him off his horse.[1]

Seems like it was just Everett and two others left. Well...that at least guaranteed his little wager would turn into something, he just had to hope the elf could finish things off. There wasn't much else he could do from this point on, they were way too far ahead for him to catch up.

He cracks his neck as he shifts back to his normal form and starts to slink back towards the stands and the finish line. "Don't feck this up kid."

---

1. Resounding Rebound