Bile scorches through your veins, readying you for the fight to come. [+Bile]
"This be Our fool, who lives upon Our grounds. Bandochel."
Thankee kindly for that energetic introduction, your Majesty, you think, plastering on a smile as you bow in all directions.
"Splendid," says Lady Gramercy, with an unmistakably competitive fire in her eyes as she looks you over before returning to her seat. "Would't be so good, dear Baggage, to explain to this fine youth the rules of the event?"
Baggage presses his palms together like a monk and adopts a beatific smile as he approaches you. "For a fellow practitioner of the theatrical arts? Anything," he says warmly. "Simply feast your eyes upon this scroll briefly, and we'll commence…."
He frowns as he pats the pockets on his legs, then his waist. "That's odd…I could have sworn it was over here…ah no, my mistake, here 'tis!"
With a sudden devilish smile, he squeezes a bulging pouch near his heart and a stream of water comes streaking towards your face from a hidden hole. Classic, you think as it streaks towards you.