John, though encumbered by his leg-bind, releases his bolt aimed at Valk. It soars through the air and hits him in the thigh, piercing his leg armor, with a loud thunk.

John moves to load another bolt, hoping Valk's leg injury will slow down their approach while he reloads.

John sees the men aiming to grasp their swords.
"Wait! What if we, you know, wait until the tournament actual starts? That way if...uh...you kill us --"
John turns to Kirnan and gives him a quick Please play along just for now look.
"--then you'll be one step closer to winning those prizes. You know, instead of just having our nasty blood on your shirts."
John looks at the men expectantly and gulps, awaiting their response.
 

"My...partner? Oh...uh...right." John nods as he slowly turns to face the amphitheater, scanning the crowd for any able, solo warriors. It's very clear he's missed that part of the memo.

As he's walking to the amphitheater, to save time, John pulls out his trusty spyglass to see if he can spot a fellow tourney participant who might could be his partner....

No such luck. He sees partnership after partnership, tightening one another's armor, sharpening blades and all sorts of harrowing weaponry.  It's times like these when John wishes he wasn't such a loner.
John turns back around to the gate he just passed through, avoiding the smirking gatewarden. He notices an imposing figure, covered head to toe in leather armor, longbow on his back and scimitar in hand, glistening in the Bannor sun. The figure is clearly much better prepared than John.

John also notices that the man doesn’t appear to have any sort of compatriot with him…Maybe worth a shot.

With the tournament prize in mind, John walks up to the figure. "Pardon me. I noticed you didn't enter with any partner for the tournament. Would you want to fight alongside me in the tourney? 50:50 split of the prize. I know it's last minute, but that's all the more reason."
 

A lithe, sandy-haired young man slips his way through the growing crowds, at least as best he can with a full naval overcoat and several layers of garb on underneath. It’s apparent he’s a trunk-less traveler, opting instead to wear all of his worldly possessions (they are few). Recently returned from the sea, and mightily unfamiliar with the bustle of city life, the young man stays close to the outskirts of the flood of people making their way to the tournament. Having heard about the tournament in a bar at his most recent port, Tentario-Onis, he knows he has an ever so slim shot at winning the prizes, but it’s worth a try. Anything would put him a step closer to his goal of purchasing his own ship. If he can just find where to sign up…