Zingnoff steps up to the darts. He deftly throws a dart, and it doesn't hit bullseye or anything, but it thuds into the board fairly near the center. "COMPETE!" yell the citizens, throwing 1 gold piece at Zingnoff and pointing at Otihand. Calethen rolls his eyes and goes upstairs again, presumably to practice his sword skills or something.
TRF does excellently, throwing a dagger directly on the center, dead bullseye. The audience cheers and throws him 1 gold piece. Otihand throws three darts in rapid succession. The first strikes near the center, though not perfect. The second veers way off course, misses the dart board entirely, and gets impaled into the wall. The third strikes near the bullseye, but it's not perfect either.
Calethen, now fully awake, dressed in his regular armor with sword strapped to his hip and shield on his back, walks downstairs again. "What are you guys doing?" he asks, with some concern. "Shouldn't you ask the owner or something?"
