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

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin doesn't take it personally but as she also doesn't entirely agree, it's time to let that go. He's obviously in a mood, usual opinions aside, and continuing that line of discussion isn't going to help any. So she'll lead the way toward booze and perhaps better times.

"You never know, some of the brewers could be using us to taste-test their new creations. What better place for it where people are going to be drinking a lot, anyway?"

[lyriumcarved]

It's definitely for the best to move on from that topic. This whole event has set him on edge, especially because of the presence of competitors from his least favorite place. That and the whole idea of magic for a 'fun' event... it all just rubs him the wrong way. Magic has its uses in battle, even he'll grudgingly admit it, but this sort of situation is rather different. They might never completely see eye to eye on this, but he at least won't press the matter further either.

He's also glad for the distraction from his less than pleasant mood. He nods thoughtfully. "This would be the best place to bring out new and unusual drinks, with so many of us around from everywhere..." He finally even lightens up, just a bit. "You know this means we're either in for some worthwhile discoveries... or the worst possible beer we've ever tasted."

[gatheringstorm]

"Either way, it won't be boring. Right?" It's the Grand Tourney and everything will be larger than life, the good and the bad. Korrin can roll with the punches as long as some good stories come of it.

"Let's try whatever sound craziest together, and go from there. If it sucks, don't warn the others. They should find out just like we did." She grins mischievously at that.

[lyriumcarved]

"I'm fine with this arrangement, the crazier the better. The Inquisition ought to all suffer together, if they're to suffer, after all." Such cheerful words, Fenris. At least the atmosphere around the drinking area is also very light and festive. Even if he himself isn't feeling that way, it's... pretty hard to ignore the revelry. "Have you been enjoying your time here?"

He knows she's much more into this sort of thing than he'll ever be.

[gatheringstorm]

"Oh, yeah. There's so much to see and do here. Not to mention this is the closest thing I have to a hometown, so I'm in familiar territory. It's been nice seeing my parents, too. They didn't get to the sign-ups in time, so they're just having fun with the games and showing Araceli around."

[lyriumcarved]

"I can imagine it would have been worth seeing them compete... perhaps some other time." He manages something of a melancholy half-smile. He doesn't remember anything about having family, what that must have been like, nor about having a home worth visiting. But he's happy for her, regardless, he understands what that must mean to her. "They must be glad to see you, as well. You should make the most of this time you have together."

[gatheringstorm]

"Oh, I will. We've plans for later, after I next compete. Come say hi, if you see us around. Trust me, they are not at all shy and probably want to meet everyone I've so much as said hello to among the Inquisition." Korrin smirks and shakes her head, knowing they will always be that way and she can't expect anything else. At least it usually works out. "My dad will introduce you to his homebrew if gets the chance, but don't say I didn't warn you about that shit. It's...strong."

[lyriumcarved]

"When you put it like that... how could I refuse? I'll have to try it out for myself, though I'll still take your warning into account, of course." He's definitely had his share of Qunari-based drinks over the years, but that's exactly why he knows... more or less... what to expect. "I'd like to meet your family as well, of course."