MOD PLOT: NOT ALONE DO WE STAND, PART 1

[faderifting]

WHO: Anyone who wants to attend
WHAT: THE GRAND TOURNEY
WHEN: Bloomingtide 20-27
WHERE: Wycome
NOTES: We'll be rolling one or two events per day, in the order listed, and posting the results here! That's also where you can find your diplomacy or espionage assignments and their results. There will be a second log post in about five days regarding the end of the tournament, to give people a place to RP about the competitions' results once they know them and to react to some other surprise developments, so leave some room for dessert.

The Grand Tourney is one of Thedas's greatest spectacles--all the nations of the world and plenty of others besides turned out to compete in this edition of the famous test of arms. The Duke of Wycome has granted the use of a broad plain outside the city, a vast open span of grass bounded on both sides by minor forks of the Minanter making their way to the sea, and split down the center by another. Scores of the duke's men have been hard at work since the announcement, constructing stands and arenas, the rough wooden rails and benches of the commons and luxurious boxes for the more exalted spectators, lifted above the masses and shaded by awnings, draped with bunting in Wycome's brilliant purple and gold.

Between and among the competition grounds are stalls and roving vendors selling anything and everything, most popular the vast open-sided tents filled with trestle tables and benches and neverending barrels of ale and wine as tall as a qunari. Stages of various sizes dot the grounds, hosting musicians, dancers, tumblers, performers of all kinds. Others wander through the crowds, putting on impromptu shows wherever it looks like there are enough people with free coin about.

A half-dozen new wooden bridges span the central river--more like a large stream, really--and connect the competition grounds to the camping grounds. Tents in all colors and styles are arrayed in rough groups, marked out with the banners of knights, houses, mercenary companies, kingdoms. The Inquisition has sprung for new tents for its delegation to make sure they look the part, dramatic black as a backdrop to the Inquisition banners that fly atop each of them, housing two to four people each. Nearest are some Orlesians with an array of brightly-colored silk structures, and on the opposite side, a mercenary company called the the Grizzly Legion, a particularly rowdy outfit, with banners market by a giant red bear, and bonfires and revelry late into the night every night.

INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS

The general atmosphere of the tourney is raucous and celebratory, but the rivalries inherent in the occasion seem less good-natured than they might have in past years. Nevarra seems divided into two camps rather than one, with a (not-yet-literal) line down the middle of their encampment and their crowds that's bridged only by the brave and slightly awkward few who still haven't chosen between the Pentaghasts and Van Markhams. And the Orlesians, despite rumors that the Empire is still struggling in the wake of its own civil war, seem particularly delighted to see their rivals teetering on the brink—some are even taking odds on how soon they'll be able to get Perendale back. But, of course, no one can rival Tevinter for smugness. If there was a fancy sword awarded for that, they would win it every year, and there's no sitting near their delegation without "overhearing" an unnecessarily loud conversation about the sorry state of the rest of Thedas.

Of course, not everyone is caught up in the affairs of surfacer empires: there are delegations from both Orzammar and Kal-Sharok, each apparently pretending the other does not exist, and the odd Avvar and Chasind who seems to think everyone else is being a bit ridiculous about everything. The most isolated attendees are those from the Anderfels, who stick close together and rarely speak to anyone else—not that anyone else seems much inclined even if they did want to. At the other end of the spectrum are the Free Marchers; this is the one occasion every-few-years when they look to one another as brothers, rather than distinct and often competitive nations.

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

The Grand Tourney's official competitions are scheduled to take place over five days, culminating with the prestigious Grand Melee and awarding of the Celebrant. Before then, the tournament progresses day by day through unarmed combat, archery, armed combat, and jousting competitions, each heavily attended by delighted spectators cheering for their countrymen and any foreigner who strikes them as particularly charming, plus the odd equal-opportunity heckler. A few extra fights break out here and there when tempers flare, between both competitors and observers, and when the alcohol flows more liberally at night the chance of trouble rises. But for the most part, the competitions are fair and the mood around them is celebratory.

Away from the main grounds, a few additional staging areas have been provided for events focused on magic—these are more sparsely attended, due to their unofficial nature and the fears of much of the populace that they might catch a fireball to the face if they wander too close, but enough people's curiosity trumps fear to form a thinner, quieter crowd. The two events open to mages, combat against fade-touched creatures and a version of the melee with teams that allow mages, take place in the early mornings, when they won't be competing with the official events for attention, and are most heavily attended by Tevinter mages who are very, very certain that they can't be beat.

Comments

[letoldthingsdie]

"Caedus sit." The pup sits almost immediately when his master commands it, looking expectantly from Kylo to the treat the girl has placed in front of him. With a nod from Kylo, he immediately yanks it from her hands, careful of her fingers. He might still be a clumsy pup but he was beginning to listen well to humans around him.

"He's my first pet so I wouldn't know. Are they always such a handful?" Caedus was easier to handle, but he was also still young and excitable. At times it was frustrating but others it endeared Kylo to him.

"What's your name?" Since she was here, introductions were probably in order.

[zombra]

"I think it depends on their temperament and breed. We had a dachshund when I was growing up, and the first few years she was really playful and hyper, but then she calmed down. Her last few years, she got really lazy and needy. Would whimper at you constantly to pick her up and carry her with you." She nods towards his dog. "I can't really say how this one will turn out, but that's because I'm not from here." Yep, member of the Rifter Club, though she's currently wearing gloves to hide it from non-Inquisition attendees.

"I'm Tessa. You?"

[letoldthingsdie]

"Mm. I'm not familiar with mabari where I'm from either. Pets where I'm from typically have more scales and larger teeth." And if it wasn't more obvious he's a Rifter too, just from that statement, he holds up his own gloved hand, indicating that he has a shard too.

"Kylo. Did you come over from the last rift?" He might have missed it when Obi-Wan and Poe had both arrived.

[zombra]

Lifting her brow at the description of scaly pets, she decides not to comment because she really knows nothing about lizards, snakes, and the like.

"Ah." Well that answers that question. "In Amaranthine or whatever it's called? Yeah." She and Poe had faced the demons together at one point. "Still learning the ropes here because my world was way more advanced."

[letoldthingsdie]

"Mm. It's the same from my world too. Not having electricity or anything like that has been interesting." It honestly reminded him of his travels with Luke when he was younger, like a couple monks on a pilgrimage. The two had gone from planet to planet trying to immerse themselves in Jedi history. Yes they had used ships to get there and occasionally something to travel between villages, but otherwise they had lived like this - no electricity no creature comforts.

"What do you miss the most?"

[zombra]

"Oh, wow. Big question." Because society totally collapsed and they had been living in the zombie apocalypse.

"So there's like, the obvious things that everyone would miss? So instead I'm gonna go with the shallow answer." Because then she doesn't need to say her family's dead and she obviously misses them. Shallow is easier.

"Pizza. Social media. Music and movies and all kinds of information at my fingertips. Chris Evans. That's an actor." With an awesome bod. Except he probably got eaten by zombies, so that sucks.

"What about you?"

[letoldthingsdie]

"Flying." That was an easy answer for him. He didn't like being tied down, metaphorically speaking of course. This place lacked a lot of technology that he was used to. Flight, electricity, service droids... he felt a bit spoiled just thinking about it.

"This place is limited to boats and carriages and things, so it's a bit primitive." It was nice to actually talk about it, though he knows no one besides people from his home would really understand a lot of the terminology should he use it.

[zombra]

"Oh, yeah? Flying how? Like airplanes, or magic wings, or spaceships?" Because since landing here, she's come to believe anything's possible, from fantasy novel shit, to science fiction.

[letoldthingsdie]

"Spaceships" he answers again without hesitation. "I'm one of the best pilots in the galaxy, where I'm from." At least on the First Order's side he is the best. The Resistance had Poe Dameron and his father had once made the famed Kessel Run in twelve parsects. That was nothing to sneeze at.

[zombra]

"Daaaamn. You're more advanced than us. I mean, we went to space and everything, but just to the moon, and we'd sent unmanned things out farther. Traveling the galaxy? That was totally beyond us. But that's cool! Are there aliens out there? There's gotta be, right?" It doesn't make sense to her that there'd be so much out there and nobody but humans to see it all.

[letoldthingsdie]

"There are, but you don't really call them that. You call them by their species," he answers smoothly, actually amused a bit by her enthusiasm on the subject, "or by their name if they've given it. I think it depends on the person."

[zombra]

"Oh, right, right," she answers, nodding along. That makes sense. "Since we hadn't met any yet, I was thinking of them as a unit. But what do some of the species look like?"

[letoldthingsdie]

"It depends. Some have horns, some have tentacles, some just have a different color and texture to their skin. They're just... different." He knows he's doing an inadequate job of describing the different species and races in his home world, but short of drawing them it's hard to describe.

"Some speak as plainly as you and I, others have their own language. The language you and I speak is called Common, where I am from."

[zombra]

"Wait, so they know how to speak what we're speaking now? I was wondering about that when I got here. Like, everyone can understand each other. That's weird, right? I'm not saying it's bad, because it's lucky as hell, but yeah. Weird." At least she didn't arrive to find a bunch of people shouting at her in words she couldn't understand.