2 Grayson House Guards, Max, an emperor tamarin, Rosalee, The Champion arrive, following Ailys.

The heats have been going all day and it will be a great deal of clean up as once again, the city seizes for a day in the lowers as everyone competes. Little wonder that the runner of the event asked for donations to offset the costs to the businesses in the lowers. Throughout the lowers, uppers and into the market, there's been muddy people running. Clambering over obstacles and the odd person trying to sabotage others - thus earning themselves disqualification when it's caught.

Food and drink has been plenty as people help themselves. It 's a time when everyone can have full bellies when they might not otherwise have them. The Arcuri family is running around, volunteers as well and the heats are recorded with meticulous care and times are written down as best as possible. It's a great deal of money at stake and accusations are inevitable, so best to keep things as accurate and transparent as possible. The next heat is soon to start and the criers are in full swing. "NEXT HEAT GET READY!" Which happens to be the last heat of the day as well.

Cart rides? Well, that requires plenty of finesse. Fishing? Never her strong suit. All things that require a finer touch than she often uses - but a sprint? Well, that's to Sydney's liking. The redhead looks to be in an even better mood than usual, limbering up and stretching. Her raucous crowd of supporters aren't far from her side, though she's clearly growing more used to their presence, pausing every so often to mug. She's stripped down to the essentials so as to be as unecumbered as possible. Simple cuts of common brown leather are a perfect match for competing in the mud and dust.

"Let's turn our luck around today!" Sydney shouts, raising a fist and clapping herself on the arm. "Bunch of these lot have never even seen a race before! We've got this'n in the bag!"

Caspian has been here watching the races and stretching, off to the side, getting himself nice and limbered up. He lets out a grunt as he bends backwards a little, stretching out his back. Some fans wave to him and call out, 'Good luck!' and he waves back in turn, "Thanks, I'll try my best!"

Ras has been sitting on top of a tall-stacked pile of crates with a couple other urchins, watching the other races and eating a chunk of bread claimed at a food stall. With his mouth full, he's engaged in vivid but low conversation to another guy, maybe recognizable as the smirking fellow who rode with him during the wagon races. There are a lot of hand gestures. He seems to be describing his tactics for the following competition, but his friend does not appear enamored by them, and keeps offering counterpoints.

By the time that the last heat is announced, Ras is in a rather argumentative mood. He jumps down from the crates, bending knees to stick the landing, and hustles over to the starting line right next to Sydney. "Hey," he says over to her, but not much else.

Evaristo has been watching the heats taking off and returning from the deck of his ship most of the day, shouting encouragements or cheering on, while being completely lazy himself. Until now, that is. He's left his ship and joined the line for the run of the last heat. He's wearing silks - but he's ditched his fancy coat, at least, to save it from a muddy fate. "Good luck, everyone!" he offers cheerfully. "This will be amazing fun."

Sydney flashes her teeth in a gregarious grin, "Ras, let's call a cease-fire. I won't kick any mud up in your handsome mug, and you don't go finding any wildlife to throw at me. Fair terms? Fair terms." She turns to regard the rest of the competitors with whom she's less acquainted with a bob of her head, looking overall pleased as punch to finally have something that she reckons will come down to her strong suits.

Rosalind has come walking silently in, dressed in all her black leather with feathers. She lowers the hood from her cloak, her bright red hair a stark contrast. Her hazel eyes take note of--are they wearing red scarves? The more she watches the more she sees them bumping into the more nicer dressed spectators of the crowd. The nobles it seems. Rosalind gives a silent humph disapproval but then curiosity about the people.

Ailys has arrived to observe the tournament. Why not? It's a wonderful merrymaking event! The Grayson Princess comes with her guards trailing dutifully behind, and she pauses at the side of the streets, finding a safe and not-in-the-way place to watch. Her eyes skim over the crowd, considering the participants. Her gaze focuses on one of the runners who seems a bit unhappy. She squints a little bit, watching the judges to make sure they have the situation in hand.

Caspian looks out amongst the crowd as he finishes up his stretching, reaching for the sky as he lets out a groan. He then stands near the start line, waiting for the last heat to start, sighing as he says, "I should have gotten cheaper clothes to wear. Oh well," he says to himself.

"Aw, can't make any promises," says Ras to Sydney, but that comment puts a grin on his face nonetheless.

Josephine is the one who stands up now and lifts her cane up in the air once she's been given the all clear that the runners from the last heat are done. "Runners ready!" Her own silk dress marred by some mud. Then the cane drops. "Go!"

Once the call is made, Ras shoots forward like an arrow from a bowstring, running as if the entire Iron Guard was fast on his heels. The dockyard is obviously a familiar haunt to the Lowers street rat, and even with all the newly-arranged obstacles, he knows the place like the back of his hand, and barely needs to think to plot a swift course through. Vaulting over crates, dodging around barrels, and unafraid to get dirty - he plows straight across the mud. A minute later he's shimmied up another pile of crates and he's on top of a warehouse, disappearing from the sight here and there as he rapidly leaps and runs his way deeper into the Lowers.

Caspian sets him up at the start of the line when the next heat is announced, the man getting low and ready to spring off his feat as he awaits the signal to run. And once it's given he sprints through the dockyard. Such a crowded dockyard it is too! People might have made it like this on purpose.

He weaves and leaps through the obsitcals, trying to throw himself into first place. But Ras has the lead, and he is stuck staring at the man's back through the crates and barrels...at least until he starts running along the warehouse roof.

Already he's covered in mud.

"Hey Ras! Don't fall!" He warns the man helpfully.

Clicking her tongue at Ras's remark, Sydney simply states, "Bastard." When Josephine marks the beginning of the festivities, she's quick out the great - though not half so quick as Ras, nor Caspian. She doesn't take the time to bother with such niceties as springing nimbly from barrel to barrel, climbing and clambering. She doesn't seem to need to.

Rather, Syd just sticks close to the heels of the man who's doing the hard work for her, focusing on keeping her stride. She's close enough to Caspian that he can near-on feel her breath on the nape of his neck, and she calls out, "Better mind your back before you mind your front! Comin' for ya!" They hit the next leg of the race near on top of one another.

Evaristo takes the time to wave and flirt a bit with the audience, while waiting for the start call. But soon as it comes, he's off - he sprints, leaps, flips over a crate in the air in forges through mud without worry or care, laughing as he does. He rushes past the warehouse Ras chose to climb over and choses another route, skidding into an alley where he's leaping from crate to crate and proving he's quite athletic. Still? He's behind the rest of the heat. "YOU GO RAS!" he shouts out - least he seems to have a bit of a favorite.

Rosalind can see them, though in as much as the red scarves and hatted people bump into nobles, they also bump into commoners. But theirs drinks in their hand and they meet up, cheer and then part ways again. Pick pockets? Maybe?

Ras takes a route that some have taken before and that Magpie gray hope did the year before. It was a successful tactic for the Grayhope. Will it be for Ras? Time will tell but as he gets up there, there's a birds eye view of the hilly climb that they are facing, all the way up the sides and crags of that steep cliff that Arx itself sits atop. He also has to doge the piping hot chimney stacks belching out smoke from the fires burning since the water is now cold. Careful what you put your hand on. Caspian's champions are in full swing, some of them running in the same heat, and others stationed throughout in places to cheer on their guild mate. Someone from the crowd however, decides to throw a thing of mud at Caspian, and splat across the side of her face it hits. Sydney has a new coat to break in, and maybe it gives her inspiration? Maybe it's the hollers of that handful of people who have taken to cheering on this under dog. Who are have taken up the same jacket that she has only of lesser quality. It would seem, from the mud in hand though, that they're the ones that threw the mud at Caspian.

Evaristo, Arterius. He gains air over those crates and obstacles and as two siblings squabble over the best place to stand and watch, one of t hem trips and falls in front of the man and potentially could derail him? Will it slow him down? Does he dodge around her? Over her? Stop to help her up?

Evaristo has a flair for the dramatic and entertaining - he IS a bard after all. He does what bard scoundrels do - he makes a sommersault on the ground, catches the girl by her waist, whirls her around in the air as he keeps his momentum and sets her down on a crate. "Careful there, miss!" he says, winks at her and then calls out to the people lining the street. "How about it, my fellow Lowers people? Let's show the world a merry dance, and what we all can do!" he calls out ahead of himself. "Help me out!" There's laughter and some nods of agreement; suddenly crates are thrown out in his path, people pointing out the quickest route as he rushes forward, some are even hoisting him up so he can swing on a clothesline... and voila. He sweeps RIGHT by Ras with a laugh, landing in front of him.

Rosalind watches with round eyes at the contestants. It's so close! And gloriously muddy, not caring at all that she herself is dirty. So glad she came down today.

Splat! The mud strikes Caspian right in the side of the head, and he reaches up to wipe it away from his eyes. It slows him down a bit though, enough so that Evaristo can pass him. "Crap!" He calls, the man falling behind Evaristo as he moves form second to third. He calls to his back, "You're not passin' me, Sydney! You're gonna have to run faster then that!"

From the top of a building, Ras faces a wide gap across one broken-cobbled, half packed-dirt street. He sees Evaristo's trick in front of him, and grins at the thought. Catching onto a nearby laundry line, he jerks it off the roof post on his side, then holds on tight and leaps! Somebody yells from a window, shaking a fist - but Ras is already dramatically swinging across the space. However, he's not half as cool as the roguish bard - the shoddy rope breaks on him!

And instead of tucking-and-rolling on the opposing roof, Ras crash-lands onto a little adjacent shanty. It looks like here, the thatch needs some work, and he ends up pitching right through into the dwelling below. Loud curses ring out from inside, but shortly he has thrown himself through an open-shuttered window and gotten back to the street - sprinting as fast as he can through the park! Bits of straw clump across the mud all over him, and are splattered with yet more grime as he pounds straight through another mud pit and up the hill towards the Uppers.

The problem with coming into the leg so near to Caspian is that Sydney gets to witness that explosion of mud, and it jerks her head to the side. She raises a fist to chastise, "Oi! I'm made of mud, I don't need you lot throwin' in extra!" If anything, the attempt at assistance seems to hurt more than it helps, as she briefly loses her footing and takes a wild almost-fall, skidding artfully through the mud, somehow managing to stay upright despite it all. "Sharding-- uwah!"

It looks a great deal of fun, but it's not a tactic for staying competitive. Syd has to get herself back up to speed after reorienting herself, and then it's right back to biting at Caspian's heels. She hisses in retort, "I'm running plenty fast, y'just got the longer stride!" She wastes no shortage of energy in briefly pulling ahead of Caspian, then being overtaken, then overtaking, and ending up a hair's breadth behind him as they speed from the lowers to the Uppers. She stretches out and smears the man's arm with a muddied palm. "Slow /down/, you ruddy tall bastard!"

The splat to the face costs him his place and others slip ahead of him. But Sydney and Caspian at least aren't last. No, there's stragglers behind them. Evaristo gains cheers from the crowd as the girl is snatched up and then plopped down on a crate with grace that rivals the finest of house swords. The little girl scrabbles up and cheers his name as he carries on and the momentum buoys the man forward. Past Ras he goes, though more like, past ras' destruction as he goes. The hills are steep, the cobblestone is slick by he manages to take that lead. Behind Ras, flies out a chicken and a screen from the owner of the roughshod home that he's now put holes into. One hopes that they don't figure out who he is. Not to mention that snappy laundry line. Someone's knickers are wrapped around the street rat's neck like a scarf. Does he work it? Does he own it? Well, he might now.

Sydney's keeping up though, with the champion guild master and there's plenty of mud to smear on him. Oh yes there is. Can she overtake him for good though? Time will tell and soon they're coming into the uppers. It's more level here, but more obstacles to make up for the lack of steep inclination. Who will take the straight and narrow or who will use the side alley's.

The Uppers - it's an area Evaristo knows well enough, but once more he relies on his charm and persuasive capabilities to keep him in the race. Seeing a man with a horse and cart, he calls out; "Come on! Help a fellow merchant out, my good man, and show the city what we are capable of! Go ahead before me and make a path so I can keep ahead!" he says and grins charmingly. "Long Live the Uppers!" So, the first part he's getting a lot of easy running as the crowd ahead part and move aside to let horse and cart through, him running after - with Ras in hot pursuit, perhaps even making things easier for the younger man. Though, he suddenly veers off and runs straight for a building, calling out to some young ladies standing in the doorway of it to watch the race, charm and smarm combining into them suddenly dragging him INTO the house... and straight through it to the other side. That's one way to cut a corner, as he emerges on the backside of the building, blows kisses to the ladies and vaults over a fence to land on the street on the other side. Still ahead. Buuut. For how long? He IS starting to look a little weary and those silk clothes... well, they're likely ruined forever.

As Ras runs through the gate, the knickers flap fetchingly around his neck. The guards stare. It's a new Lowers fashion, okay? A carriage crosses his path, briefly obscuring his view of Evaristo - and instead of slowing or dodging around, he drops into a reckless roll right underneath the wheels, comes out on the other side and keeps running. But after that he can't see the bard anymore. Did he charm his way through a house full of young ladies? Ras has no clue, but he spares no time to look or think about it, lowering his head and speeding up towards the markets. There's no sign of him tiring.

"Hey!" Calls out Caspian with a laugh as Sydney rubs mud upon his already muddy form. For that, as he passes her again, he leans down to scoop some mud and smears it on her butt. "Opps, looks like you had an accident!" He jokes with a grin. Right now he doesn't have a whole lot of hope of beating Ras, he's focused much more on keeping Sydney behind him at the moment, the two having their own personal race.

The Uppers. It had to go through the Uppers. Caspian's unexpected retalliation gets her tensing up and then viciously grinning his direction, scooping up a handful of muck and chasing after him. A busy road is where she meets her least expected challenge - traffic. She navigates through it well enough, but her pace is suffering as a result. Somewhere in the mess of it all she completely loses sight of Caspian, and one of the other runners lurches past her, speeding through. Two carriages ahead are about to intersect, both of them moving at a glacial pace. She cranks up the speed and... gets to watch the runner ahead of her zip between the carriages, and she's left having to wait. "Son of a...!" Turning left, turning right, she's hedged in by a throng of people. "Come /on/." She finally just throws herself underneath of the nearest carriage, coming up positively caked in mud and barely missing being run over, to boot. At least that's one way to hide her 'accident.' She's a veritable mud monster.

Some people just don't care, and some of the nobles - and lower nobles - who are in the area, just don't care. So Evaristo has to dodge a few wagons. The young ladies see him and they sigh dreamily, hands clasped as they see the bard go running by. It's likely why he gets shown right through, butting off more time on his run and slipping him further ahead of everyone. Ras doesn't get quite the sighing treatment that Evaristo has lucked into, and the guards are giving him an eye since their run in's with him are rarely good. But he looks fetching in flapping knickers and those markets, well, there's bound to be ways to cut corners, alley to go into or just barreling around stalls. Caspian and Sydney are once again in a neck and neck race. As in she could probably hop on the back of the champion and save herself some time. Make him do all the work and save some energy. More mud is flung, competitors trying to distract each other in a legal way. Sydney's carriage dodging and ducking leaves her still nipping at his heels, him ahead by a nose. Speaking of noses.... Some of that on Sydney, wasn't mud. Whoo whee, whats that smell....

Evaristo isn't sure he's still ahead but then he emerges onto the street JUST ahead of Ras - he laughs and waves to his friend and shoots off towards the market, proving he's quite the athlete. Still, he's also very lazy and why do the work himself if others can make part of it for him? On a pure whimsical idea he suddenly calls out on the market; "STOP! STOP THAT THIEF! LET ME THROUGH!" he shouts and rushes forward like a man on a mission. He keeps shouting this as he chases the imaginary, made up villain like a dashing hero. "YOU SHALL NOT GET AWAY, YOU LOUSY SCOUNDREL!" This actually works quite well, though some don't really react to enother criminal being chased through the city so he's bumping into some merchants and almost sent sprawling before he catches himself. Losing some of his steam...

Those red scarves are working their way through the crowd and as they near Rosalind, she can easily see them. They're not touching people, just bumping, juuuust bumping.

Ras winds his way through the markets, criss-crossing wildly in order to dodge the crowds. He scurries over a bench here, ducks behind a stall there, and clambers speedily over another merchant's table. Violent threats are screamed after him in the wake of mud-and-straw covered fine silks. The mask of grime, dirt-caked hair full of broken thatch, and brashly worn knickers make him difficult to identify at this pell-mell pace, but then he yells defiantly back at the angry merchant, "Eat my freshly-unwiped ass!" So maybe that particular merchant won't be real happy with hearing the same voice anytime in the near future. More outraged threats follow, ringing through the market after the sprinting scoundrel.

The guards are alerted by Evaristo's yelling, and seem to hone in on the destructive commotion around the silk merchant even though it's -behind- the bard, but Ras has spied on enough marks at the marketplace to know all the best by-places to dash surreptitiously away, veering along to follow the course.

"Careful! Coming through! Watch out!" Calls out Caspian as he just pushes through the crowd, trying his best not to knock anyone over as he muscles his way through. It's slowing him down a bit, but not as much as whatever has Sydney falling further behind him.

Seeing someone with a water skin up ahead, he pulls out a few coins, shoves it at them, and grabs the water skin, "Thanks for the drink!" He says as he downs his illgotte-fairly traded gains.

Ailys is watching the competition. She's cheering, though not for any specific person. All the competitors have this princess' support! But she does keep watching the crowd, and her eyes catch SOMETHING that she very much disapproves of. One hand reaches back, getting the attention of the guards with her before turning to walk towards Rosalind. In her general direction, at least.

Won't be the first or last time Sydney's ended up on the receiving end of utter horseshit in the Uppers - it's just seldom so very literal. Aside from crinkling her nose and wiping her face to some particularly sad attempt at cleanliness, she doesn't let it bother her. "Doesn't smell half as bad as the Murder on Free Ale night!" She loudly laments, shaking her arms and legs briefly loose of the bulk of the... detritus, and then proceeding to sprint past some very aghast bystanders, who crinkle their noses as she runs past. She can be seen muttering to herself under her breath, and she is /admirably/ trying to make up the time lost, but even the back of the closest competitor is distant.

SReally, what is there for a golem of mud and manure to do in a marketplace? Syd casts decorum to the wind and just bulls her way through everyone that gets in her way, eliciting cheers from her supporters, and cries of horror from those she comes into contact with. "Oh, spritz yer bloody pillow with lilac, it'll wash out, y'dramaturge!" Well behind the pack now, she just focuses on making up lost time. If ever there's a theme to her competition thus far, this encapsulates it nicely. She grits her teeth as she round the bend to the home stretch, digging deep.

Watching the race, Rosalind suddenly feels--is that hands on her?! She turns instantly and sees one of the men wearing a red scarf.

The guard are really confused. There's lots of runner. But as Evaristo starts momentarily yelling to clear the way for his sprint. After all, it's all about to be downhill in a run for the finish. The guards are soon partaking too, because where there's an accusation of theivery, they have to pay attention. So people clear the way in the market and Evaristo can dart forward. Ras might get eyed by the guards, but his dipping into darker corners means they lose track of following him, and he's home free for his mad dash to the finish, down all those steep streets that they climbed not so long ago.

Caspian has muscle, and he knows how to use it. Someones left blinking as they lifted their skein and was about to drink from the water - wait no, that's not water Caspian! That's the finest, hardest, worth rot gut that you can get your skein filled with in the murder of crows, and there's a protest that swiftly dies on the lips as they now have money to go buy more. Skein? Who cares! Sydney is not going to be last. Not at all. A few nobles screech in outrage, having completely forgotten what was going on a nd needing to get from point a to point b and now as Sydney goes past, expensive silks and brocades are coated in mud and there's threats of death leveled at the lowers resident, one even trying to reach out and snag them, but alas, she's too fast.

That's no man in a red scarf! It's a seven or eight year old. Caught red handed, as they're swiftly trying to take t heir hand back. They turn to try and run off but there is Ailys with her guard in the way and the kid - can't tell whether a boy or a girl - is trying to dodge everything so they can try and disappear into the crowd.

Ailys has rolled 4 10-sided dice: 3, 3, 5, 10

Caspian makes a face when he tastes the rotgut, looking at it with disgust and shoves it into the hand of a passing woman. "Here you go! Don't drink it all at once!" He calls out to her as he runs down the hill towards the common square, huffing and puffing now. He's run quite the distance, and this is where you separate the strong from the weak. He's seating as he runs back for the lowers. And he finally crosses the finish line in third! Drat!

The kid is trying to run, but Ailys is paying attention, and she has her entourage with her. There are three of them and only one kid, and that's just with her. While she can't get the kid herself, it isn't nearly as difficult for a trained guard to find one of those urchins. The kid runs, but is inevitably snatched up by the scruff by one of the larger Grayson-liveried guards.

And see, now it all turns out in Evaristo's favor. His flash of an idea to shout that there's a thief now gives him an even BETTER opportunity. The guards! They are litterally running in his direction as well, and he has absolutely no compunctions using them for his purposes, grinning a mad grin in excitement. "Hooray! THE IRON GUARD IS HERE TO SAVE THE DAY! Follow me, my lovely protectors of the city! He's got a lead, but we will CATCH HIM!" he calls, lying through his teeth but sounding convincing enough still. Not perhaps as charming as when he started the race, as he's quite dirty by now. Not as bad as Sydney perhaps, but mud sticks to bards as well. It does. "HE RAN TO THE DOCKS!" he shouts, encouraging the guards to run with him, so that the crowd will disperse in front of himself. He gets back to leaping over crates and shouting out ahead of him to give him (and the guards, though the Lowers people might not want to help the guards) a hand and some extra boost, leaping over carts, people, swinging once more on a clothesline, keeping up his charade. Playing the game of manipulation really paid off. Though he might want to talk fast later to get the guards off his back.... Either or? When he reaches the docks, his home turf, he's being cheered onwards and he manages to leap the last crates across the finish line... first across, even. He stops, bends over and is panting quite heavily.

Ras has fallen far enough behind Evaristo, wrangling through crowds and zig-zagging in the marketplace, that he can't see the bard anymore. Nevertheless, pounding through the gate, Ras barrels resolutely on - but then he spots something by the side, a broken crate, and grabs a board from the wreckage while still running. As the hill inclines steeply down into the Lowers, he dives to the street, wood platform thrown in front of him, and shortly he's veritably sledding down over mud-slimed cobbles, bouncing and scraping all the way to the bottom, where he scrambles up and dashes into a narrow alley, scales a crummy fence, and plunges through the last trench of mud to the finish line.

Sydney is hardly breaking a sweat, but she never does quite recover from that setback in the Uppers. She throws on a burst of speed and seems poised to overtake at least one of the other competitors, but ultimately she runs out of course before she has the chance. She crosses the finish line dead last. She never rolls to a stop, though - instead, the muck-covered challenger flings herself in a glorious arc directly atop of Caspian. It may not be enough to bowl the man over, but it's more than enough to spread the love from the horses that she's been running around with since the Uppers. "/Caught you!/ She triumphantly states, arms shamelessly around the man as she transfers as much mud as possible. Better late than never.

Caspian checked strength at difficulty 10, rolling 21 higher.

Rosalind watches as the child is caught and held. The tall, very obvious red-haired woman makes her way over to where Ailys and her guards are and gives a warm smile. Rosalind asks first,"May I speak to him first or did you have--something else in mind?" her kind hazel eyes on the boy still.

Caspian was just minding his own business, catching his breath when 'POW!' Caspian is grabbed by Sydney, catching the woman so that he doesn't fall over, and gets mud all over him. "Oh god, you smell like a horses ass," he laughs, trying to wiggle himself from her grasp. "What did I ever do to deserve this?!"

Ailys gestures slightly towards Rosalind, though she doesn't make a move to get the guard to release the kid. Not yet. "You're the person whose been wronged. By all means," she tells the other woman, stepping back just slightly to let Rosalind take the lead on this.

Ras isn't out of breath, but still breathing hard, and he gives a single dry cough that stops once he sees Sydney tackle Caspian. Starting to grin, he says, "Hey Sydn--" but stops short and crinkles up his face as he catches a whiff. Dubiously, he untangles the knickers from his neck and wads them up to throw at the champion and the brawler. "Here!" he calls with a half-smirk. "Smells like ya need a fresh pair."

Sydney is quick to let go, already looking more than satisfied, her muck covered face breaking through with the white gleam of her everpresent grin. "Now we've /both/ had an accident." She practically purrs. She gets a face full of knickers on account of Ras. "Augh!"

Rosalind watches as the child is caught and held. The tall, very obvious red-haired woman makes her way over to where Ailys and her guards are and gives a warm smile. Rosalind asks first,"May I speak to him first or did you have--something else in mind?" her kind hazel eyes on the boy still.

Evaristo uses the guard tactic to the best of his advantage and it works, path cleared for the flagging bard. They all arrive in a spill of people and they frantically look for the thief in question. Till it becomes evident that there is none and they all turn on Evaristo. "Did you use us?" They question the Aterius. Ras comes to a messy muddy skidding halt at the finish line and looking nothing like he normally does. So he's overlooked by the guard who generally would probably assume that the thief in question is him. His makeshift sled goes careening off into the crowd and soon enough children are gathering it up so they can go make the best of that with it later when the mud is around and people aren't.

Gaspian's abrupt tossing of the rotgut is a boon for the person who gets it, who takes a swig and doesn't care and soon after Ras come in, Caspian does as well. Running in the competition is a lot different from fighting gin the ring, but at the finish line are the other champions cheering him on. Third is better than tenth!

Speaking of tenth. No, Sydney isn't in tenth! She comes across the finish line in fourth place, others in the heat coming in behind her here and there as they make their way through. He groupies are read dn waiting with a towel and cheering her on so she can clean herself up as much as possible.

Ras points and laughs at Sydney's face full of knickers, but then spots the two noblewoman clustered around the little pickpocket caught by the house guards, and the humor on his face instantly evaporates. He knits his brow and stares, a glower beginning to fester in his eyes. However, something in Rosalind's manner keeps him from moving in that direction.

Rosalind kneels down in front of the boy and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a couple coins. She offers them to the boy and with a kind voice, says,"I think you need this more than I do, otherwise I dont think you would have tried to take them from me,"her northern accent heard.

Sydney peels the undergarments off of her face and flicks them distastefully to the side. "Ras, I said no throwing of the wildlife!" She is more than happy to accept assistance from her impromptu retinue when it comes to getting toweled down. "I'm gonna need to dunk myself thrice when this is through before I ever feel clean."

Evaristo is still catching his breath, sitting on a crate and wiping some mud off his face as he watches the antics of the other three. He's laughing at it, enjoying the show. He tries to keep an eye on the guards however, should he need to explain himself.

Things might be dire for the kid, if it was anyone else but the girls, and under all that dirt it's a little girl, she looks ready to panic and Ras might have reason to lose it. But then Rosalind leans down and there's coins pressed to her hand. The little girl doesn't say a lick, holding the coin in her open hand and a look to the guards belonging to the Grayson Princess, as if this might be a trick.

Josephine is making her way forward to Evaristo, shooing away the guards. 'Rules are rules and nothing prevented him from using you" Nad Demetria is there with the crown. "Deliberations are done! Goodman Evaristo Arterius is the winner of the muddy city run!"

Josephine takes The People's Tournament - Muddy City Run 1011 from a simple velvet bag.

Mollified by Rosalind's actions with the girl, Ras returns his focus to Sydney and a shadow of his former grin returns. "You're just lucky I ain't caught an alley cat." He glances to Evaristo and does some muddy clapping to congratulate the bard. "Yeah, Ev!"

Ailys doesn't intervene, letting Rosalind take point as stated. Her arms fold loosely in front of her, her head tilting just slightly while she watches and waits. The coins are pressed into the little girl's hand and Ailys gives a small nod to the guard holding the child. He simply shrugs and releases her, letting the would-be thief go, feet settling gently on the ground.

"I'll donate to your pastry fund!" Evaristo promises the guards, trying to smoothe things over. "You're the best, really!" He stands up and manages to look entirely humble and abashed. "Can't believe I won," he says, and he sounds earnest enough. "This was AMAZING fun! Can we do another? This should be a DAILY thing, really. I mean, hard with all the mud and all the roads being blocked and what not, but..." He gives Josephine a wide happy grin, and bows a little to her as he accepts his prize; a quite amazing crown which he promptly puts right on top of his head. "TO THE LOWERS!" he shouts out and raises a hand in the air.

Rosalind leans over to speak to small little girl, her northern voice gentle,"Next time, working for your money will get you farther. Remember that when you're older,"and the returns her attention to all the mud and dirt and cheers.

A rather different cheer comes up from Sydney, "To the docks! I feel a rather pressing need not to be up to my eyeballs in dung!" With that, she and her loyal crowd depart.

"Whoo!" cheers Ras, pumping a fist in the air. "The Mud King of the Lowers who caught a sea monster!" He doesn't seem too upset about losing, considering that he came in second, and shortly glances after Sydney with amusement. Scrubbing a hand through dirty hair, he flings a handful of muddy straw to the mud pit and smirks.

Evaristo is overheard praising Josephine.

Layne, the withered veteran arrives, following Juniper.

Layne, the withered veteran leaves, following Juniper.

Money in hand, freedom gained, the little girl doesn't say a thing, just nodding her head hurriedly and the moment her feet hit the ground, the girl is off like ea shot. Though just before she disappears, there's a bracelet from some poor unsuspecting noble, falling out of her pocket. Then she's gone.