faderift | the kids'll blow dandelion fuzz

WHO: The Righteous Snow Teams & anyone who wants to watch (and laugh, and judge.)
WHAT: A GIANT SNOW FIGHT.
WHEN: 13th July or whatever the IC equivalent is.
WHERE: In the valley near Skyhold.
NOTES: ooc post 1 and also ooc post 2. The snow fight itself is closed to those that signed up, but the observation/chilling afterwards stuff is open. No warnings to add here, please put any that come up in the subject lines!

Also we have room for one more last minute sign up!

Wrap up warm! It probably goes without saying that certain medical personnel will be less than sympathetic to those who come to them with colds after this.

The valley near Skyhold has never really completely defrosted, given how high up they are in the Frostbacks, and Adelaide's students have found themselves working with an environment very receptive to the reintroduction of cold, even in the summer months.

The battle field is impressive. Each of the six teams has their own fortress, forming a rough circle on a thick blanket of snow. Each fort has one flag flapping over all others, the only one each has that cannot be stolen (or, at least, would be very challenging.) Their other seven flags are considerably smaller, and where they are depends entirely on how the team opts to defend them. The vast majority of the snow is white, but there are generous patches within and around each fort that matches that Team Fort's colour. Each fort is a little different, but comes with a catapult build inside it, and scattered around the field are large snow drifts, some battering rams, and a trebuchet. (No trebearchet, sadly. We can always dream.)

Every team member is given a sash of their team colour, and a round wooden shield that is so padded that hurting someone with it would actually be quite an accomplishment.

Far enough away to be spared the fighting, but not to entirely escape the chill that has been renewed in the valley, are some benches. There is warm cider and some food being served, and people are welcome to come and watch (and laugh, and judge) and/or hang out with the noble warriors once the fight has wound down.

Recap of OOC & IC Info;

ADELAIDE	BLACKWALL	CASSANDRA	MERRILL	NORRINGTON	OBI-WAN
violet	apricot	seafoam	raspberry	goldenrod	periwinkle

Andra	Zevran	Eirlys	Sabine	Sadira	Vasran
Alistair	Samouel	Church	Ruby	Clarke	Anders
Cosima	Rydia	Korrin	Martel	Mal	Aleron
Daenerys	Cullen	Sherlock	Ciri	Hermione	Ingrid
Bellamy	Kas	Aveline	Bruce	Taashath	Katniss
Pel	Ellana	Velanna	Lexa	Cyril	Merrick
Anakin	Jeannot	Emma	-	Val	Kirk

Plus Teren as a wildcard and liferiner. No other wildcards on the field!

IC-ish RULES AND STUFF.
1. NO WEAPONS, NO MAGIC.
Assume there is unlimited snow - some dyed to match team colours - so there are snowballs galore! Every person also gets an extremely well padded round shield as a chance to defend themselves. Don't use the shield as a weapon, pls and ty.

2. FLAAAAGS.
Each team gets seven flags that match their team colour. The IC goal is to capture as many flags as you can, but OOCly this is flexible and timey wimey and you don't need to worry about keeping track of flags bc who has time for that?

3. NO VIOLENCE.
Or, more accurately, no going out there to hurt people - it is a snow fight and there is siege equipment, let's not kid ourselves. That said; no tackling anyone smoller than you. If you hurt someone, apologise and don't be an ass. Don't make an NPC referee come after you.

4. BASICALLY JUST HAVE FUN.
Characters can't be eliminated unless they're being a big jerk, but no one wants that to happen because friendship is magic, or something. If it's fun and its awesome then odds are it's totally fine, unless it'd put a character in danger.

There will be an IC prize for winning, which will be ICly due to happen after Orlais since that opens up so soon after the snow fight.

A quick recap on how the winners will be determined OOCly - in three weeks time I will do a tally of points based on comment count and tagging around done per team. Three weeks will hopefully allow everyone a chance to dive in even if unexpected RL things happen, as they are wont to do, and not put on too much pressure with the Orlais plots opening up.

How to get points:
1. Open starters! Every team will get 2 points per team member that posts an open starter.

2. Tag around! Every team will get 2 points every time a team member tags a new person. (If character A tags characters B, C & D they will get 6 points total for tagging around - three different threads with character A and character B would still only result in 2 points.)

3. Keep threads going, hop around and have fun! Every comment by a team member will be worth 1 point. (Multi-comment responses ie. one tag split over two or more comments will still only count for 1 point.)

4. Be hilarious, do something awesome, idk persuade me that something is worth an extra point. NO SERIOUSLY, TELL ME I love excuses to reward people for puns and/or being absurd.

5. IC rule breaking may result in points being taken away because how rude.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"No further!" Val warns, and responds to the kick of snow with his own handful. His haste means that it is not as well-packed as it might otherwise have been, and so less effective a blow than it might otherwise have been. No matter: his point is, at least, made. "No further, foul disease. I told you. I do not intend to catch whatever you are hoping to give me. No further, or I will show you what this golden team of mine is known for! Imbecility? You only wish it were so, plagued man!"

Does that imply a trap, or is it only empty boasting? That will depend on one's considerations of Orlesians. Or perhaps on one's considerations of Val. The two converge, often, but sometimes do not.

Kirk easily weathers the badly formed snowball, slapping it away with a raised hand. He smiled widely at Val, continuing to pace through the snow towards the other, unbothered. He made a show of glancing around them and then back to Val, continuing his pacing with his own nicely packed snowball in his hands still.

He doesn't think Val is good enough at making friends to have them backing up whatever little pageantry he is attempting to put on. He's voting for empty boasting, considering the amount of hot air he's fairly sure makes up about 90% of Val's body mass.

"How do you know you haven't already caught it?" he asked him mildly, tossing the ball from hand to hand now.

"No symptoms." Very confident in this answer, Val does not so much as bat an eye. His right hand fumbles for more snow. His left is behind his back, ostensibly braced on the ground. The creak of his leather gloves belies a tight grip, but perhaps that's his grip on the snow itself. "Believe me, sickness, I would know. For instance, my face would swell up. My hair would grow lank and unkempt. My left eye would bulge in an unflattering manner, and my lips would grow drawn and thin. In short, I would begin to resemble you."

Cornered, to all intents and purposes, Val nonetheless smiles in the face of danger. "I pray that day never comes to pass, O Filth, and all the women of Thedas pray with me."

The comments should have bothered him and yet instead he finds himself chuckling. This idiot. He was beginning to doubt his claims of being an architect, and if he was a good example of the minorly upper crust and beyond of Orlesians, it was no wonder they were at war and driving their country into the dirty.

"Funny. I think you skipped that stage and went right to mangy weasel," he countered, suddenly swinging his arm and releasing his own snowball. Naturally aimed for the face and he didn't stop coming forward either, scooping snow as he went to form another ball.

"And trust me - no woman, in all of Thedas or the stars beyond, has ever prayed with you. Maybe for you to leave, but never with you. They're to busy trying to recover from the scar you've left on their eyes and souls."

"I'm sorry--" Val has to cut off this apology to dodge, which he manages, just barely. He picks up right where he left off, without missing a beat: "I have been taunting a blind man all this time? Monsieur. You should have said. Now I feel really bad."

He does not seem to feel bad. His right hand squeezes, at last, around a passable-enough snowball, pinched together by his grip alone, but he drops it to give his cheek a light rap with his fingertips.

"Bad Val," he chides aloud, "the poor ugly diseased blind man cannot help himself. He is as the Maker has made him. I should do some sort of penance, I suppose. Eventually. After I have kicked your arse in this snow fight, monsieur. I promise you."

Big talk from a guy who's still cornered. There is still a little distance between them, some nine feet or so. Val glances at this expanse, quickly, perhaps nervously. He grabs at his snowball again, still with his right hand.

Really, Val? Dropping your only weapon? That's Battle No-No 101. And while the other is busy spouting hot air, he takes the opportunity to form quick, messy balls and hurl them at Val one after the other. Nine or ten feet is not enough for his aim to go to shit, not that it ever had. Certainly it meant the balls got there faster, and he wasn't stopping his forward press.

"A blind man is kicking your ass, so I think you might want to work through your insults a bit better," he challenged with a bright, raw grin, waiting for the moment he would be close enough to lunge at the man and take him down into the white powder.

"A blind man--"

The effectiveness of this coming proclamation is lost slightly, defanged or at least dulled by the barrage of snowballs. Kirk has one thing going for him: he is fast, if not thorough. There might be a snide remark there, but Val will save it for later, in the name of preserving something of a consistent line to his comments.

To wit (with minimal sputtering, and still holding fast to his position), he at last finishes:

"A blind man is too cocky, monsieur."

Not the best line. All the same, the hand behind him grabs at last on a thin cord buried in the snow, and yanks. There is a loud creak, and a swush, the latter of which can be associated with a trip wire that unearths itself quite suddenly from where it had slept, concealed, beneath a thin layer of snow that someone brushed over atop it.

Viva la Orlais, connard.

Oh, well, that trip line was not something he had expected. But his line of work came with plenty of unexpected scenarios, so he had the wits not to panic over the situation. That, and he really wanted to rub this man's nose in it. There was just something so delightfully pleasant about making someone breath in the smell of their own crap and maybe swallow some too.

Most people would have thrown themselves back, but Kirk knew he was to committed already for that. Plus Valentine could get away. He would get caught by some of the snow, but he would live. So instead he threw himself forward in a tumble, a restrained yelp leaving him as snow brushed across his neck and slid down his clothing.

He pushed through though (even if the fallen snow slowed his progress, putting him further back than he had hoped) and up, grinning broadly at Valentine as he hurled a clump of snow his way. Not even a ball, just a flurried clump.

"You're the not the first arrogant asshole I've faced off against, and certainly not the best. Better try harder!"

the kids'll blow dandelion fuzz

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