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

[somethingyettocome]

Dolores takes one of the pieces of broken cone and digs it into the ice cream. It's a bit soft, the enchantments aren't as good on these bins as in their shop, but its still cold and solid enough to scoop. It's very creamy and a bit on the sweet side, too sweet for Dolores, but maybe not for this lady.

"Here you are," she says and offers her the piece of cone.

[trashlife]

"Thanks," she says, taking the cone piece and quickly popping it into her mouth. Her eyebrows shoot up as she feels the cold hit her tongue, followed by the unique, sweet flavor of the chocolate. Now she's definitely sure she hasn't had this flavor before. She'd remember it. It's like a sweet fruit, but without the tartness. And there's something else there that she can't describe. It's really good.

"I like it. I'll take a whole cone." She reaches into her new coin purse that she won playing games and takes out the copper coins. "Three?" she asks to verify.

[somethingyettocome]

"Coming right up for you," Dolores replies and nods her head. "Three copper, let me just get a cone."

She pulls a cone from beneath the cart, real and whole and easily fitted to a palm. It doesn't have the waffle texture Dolores remembers, but it's near enough in recipe. She scoops a sphere of the chocolate out, drops it into the cone and preens a bit when it's just a little too big to sink into it. Perfect on the first try.

"Here you are, enjoy!" Dolores tells her and passes her the ice cream in exchange for the coppers. "If you decide you want another during the Tourney, I'll be wandering here an' there with the cart."

[fineriftercrafts]

Barnabas takes this moment to come up next to Dolores. "Yes indeed! Tell all your friends, we'll be here the whole tourney, and tomorrow we'll have new flavors! Come back soon!" Barnabas nods at the retreating back and looks up at Dolores.

"Nice work with that free sample there, give em a taste and they buy a whole cone. Is that what they did in your home? Also, don't suppose you know any more flavors? I was thinking of maybe caramel mixed in, perhaps something with elfroot, get that nice refrishing flavor..."

[trashlife]

"Wow," Minka breathes out, as if she's never seen something so fancy in her life. Seeing how until recently she's been used to whatever dregs the higher ups in the Carta saw fit to toss her way, it just might be.

"How are you keeping it all so cold?" It's asked quickly as she hands over the money and wastes no time digging in.