"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."
 

Elanna shakes her head, resisting the urge to say something about the Church of Junil, but nods as the man mentions going back across the Sparklands and says, "You should ask if there's a convoy or something headed to Grigori anytime soon. It'll be safer to go with them then to go it alone."

"Partner? Boar and Bat, nobody said anything about a partner!"

Bekkah ran off in the direction the merchant pointed. With her luck she'd end up with some lunk only interested in staring at her ass...

As Bekkah closed towards the Amphitheater she could see a large crowd of warriors that had assembled around the area, sparring, caring for their arms and armor, along with just talking among themselves. From what she could see, there were two groups that the majority of the warriors could be divided into, the first were almost identical in appearance to most of the Bannor soldiers she saw around the camp in their choice of weapons and chain mail armor, with the primary exception that they favored a darker shade of blue than the Bannor's typical Robin's Egg as well as the use of canine heraldry. By contrast the other group reminded Bekkah more of the less civilized tribes that she had encountered in the wilder reaches of Erebus during her journeys, mostly adorning themselves with furs and paint rather than metal armor. However she could see that unlike most of the tribals, they did have quality equipment, mostly their weapons, as well as lighter pieces of protection such as their light shields and helms, which they kept in good condition. The two groups mostly appeared to keep to themselves, with the occasional glare shot at the other, but the majority of their ire seemed to be reserved for those that didn't fall into the two camps. Most of these sellswords and adventurers were still in the line, where they made for fine targets for the taunts of the other competitors.

Already as Bekkah was approaching, he was attracting some of their attention with some unwelcoming glares.

__

The Medicus was initially surprised at Mile's appearance, but composed himself with a degree of professional detachment as he returned the greeting. "Medicus Markov. Yes, the Bannor have been quite... welcoming." the sarcasm practically dripped off his tongue, while Rossier, entering behind, pretended not to hear. "Regardless, duty comes first, and its more than evident they need all the help we can provide." he eyed the Guilder upon his neck. "Speaking of which. Will the sister be joining us as well?"

Ravian wrote:

he eyed the Guilder upon his neck. "Speaking of which. Will the sister be joining us as well?"

"The sister..." Miles' eyes look briefly wrathful, then curious, then sad, then merely distant. 

What does this man know? he wonders. Or is he talking about a different sister out of pure chance?

"I suppose we'll have to wait and see. In the meantime, help me triage this row," he gestures at a row of cots. "It's mostly minor training injuries, but many of them are embarrassed and trying to hide the full extent of their wounds. I had one earlier who came in complaining of a sore rib, and it turned out he still had a four inch lance splinter in his side." 

"You," he points at Rossier, "are filthy and endangering my patients. There's a wash basin and spare robes two doors that way," he gestures to the left, "or the door you came in."