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

[foxsays]

"Sister Nightingale recommended me to go there to study for a time, very briefly. It was interrupted but I did get to learn what I wouldn't have otherwise, or what I would have had to from books coming from Chantry scholars. We even got to aid some of the mages there, one a Seer and her apprentice, I never thought I'd have the chance to meet one in person so early in my time in Thedas." Even now there's a quiet reverence when Araceli speaks of the Rivaini mages, something humbling about the entire experience but especially the people themselves and their practices, what they were able to do. Reminders of tales of wise women on the shores of home. "Tama was most kind to allow me to stay with her for so long. And the extra guests for dinner."

Mostly The Outsider. How does one explain an eerily pale black-eyed young man like him to anyone, someone loved by Araceli for being the sea made flesh, pulled through a rift, hands held through the streets together one of those days as if it were nothing.

"If you come to Kirkwall you know you have to come to dinner, I don't know how to cook for two people, there's plenty of food. You'll get to meet Lux - he's guarding my office because I don't trust him around this many people - and Fernando." There's a quick glance at Korrin who'll have brought up Lux before but the mini-kraken? Probably too recent but Araceli would absolutely bring him down and plonk him on the middle of the table as a beautiful living centrepiece. Trying to steal dinner. "I was going to come to Wycome but I ended up at sea since I know how to sail and leading Naval Presence it didn't sit right with me not to go. We fought a kraken! And sea serpents!"

Cool times where absolutely no one almost died she had the best time from the way her face has lit up before she considers her drinking options. "Anything that isn't beer or wine. I mean I'll drink them but beer is my last choice and wine is for dinner if you're forced to drink it."

[gatheringstorm]

The reverence with which Araceli speaks of the Seer mages brings forth a smile from Herah. She has always trusted Tama's insight about people, and that seems to have been wise yet again. Anyone sharing a life with their baby girl had to accept magic into their life, after all. "Tama has spoken well of you, and you did her a kindness in turn. She loves nothing better than to cook for appreciative guests." Kaaras laughs at that, remembering. "She'd feed the whole damn neighborhood, no exaggeration! No wonder you fit in well with her, she doesn't know how to cook for just two people either. But it keeps her busy and she likes busy."

"Of course she's used to cooking that much, we're bottomless pits." Korrin chuckles, thinking back to her adolescent bottomless pit stage in particular. She responds to Araceli's glance with a grin. "You know they're going to spoil Lux even worse than me, right? Probably Fernando, too. And--ooh, they have orzata! I know what I'm having." A fond smile emerges, as she doubtless is thinking back to Zevran. Even if he's not here with his son, a touch of Antiva will always make her think of their friend.

Kaaras perks up at mention of battle, as he always does. Even being retired doesn't blunt his love of such tales, sharing them or listening. "Now that's a story I'm dying to hear! I'll get everyone's orders and then you'll have to tell me all about those sea battles."

"And Fernando, did you get another fox?"

[foxsays]

"I lived in a building where it was pay the rent or put food in the table. I had the means to do both and do enough to put a full meal in the rest every day so once you learn that? It's hard to unlearn." Or foolish, Araceli hasn't decided where she comes down on that but it's why she ended up on the docks and in kitchens on the arrival to Kirkwall, takes up cooking duties on any camping trips, pitches in anywhere she's needed on any ships she's ever ended up on. "And honestly, do you want Lux to end up like Jayne? Because that's what's going to happen. Crushed to death under him. That's how we die."

That's how Mal Reynolds died. That or he drowned under the drool from that dog whilst being pinned because Araceli has never seen any animal slobber as much as Jayne, an alarming sight to behold. "Brandy. Brandy if they have it, I've got rum in my flask." Nothing if not predictable but she likes what she likes, right as her blood freezes and her body stills.

Of course, Karaas would bring up sea battles when she has to explain Fernando.

"Ah...Fernando, well, he's…" Araceli slowly turns to look at Korrin because how do you tell people outside an Inquisition filled with the more unnatural creatures about something like the thing living on her desk? She blows out the sigh, turning back with an odd smile, a nervous laugh bubbling out. "He's a miniature kraken? About so big," her hands cup the air for scale, "the size of a small octopus, black, but I don't think he knows that he's small. He's master of his domain so he can be a nuisance to people in the office when he wants attention but the escape attempts are over. I think. I hope. I truly hope those are done with I haven't left him this long with someone just checking on him before. He won't ever grow to the size of what we fought, he's miniature. He'll always be miniature, I can promise that. And the kraken we did fight? I was shocked to see it so violent, any other krakens are normally docile, maybe some warnings if you get too close. Sea serpents are feisty and unpredictable but for me, that was something else entirely."

Fernando is the least practical sort of animal to come with her anywhere though, being that he has to live in the water, and portable bowls aren't really a thing in Thedas, not to mention the chance that he'd still escape since she's fully aware of his intelligence and capabilities.

[gatheringstorm]

The sudden reminder of Mal and his enormous mabari brings forth a fond smile from Korrin, trying to put aside how much she misses having him around. He's alive and well...somewhere out there. They'll meet up again, and until then that silly image Araceli provides makes her snicker. "That would be one sad legacy, a qunari crushed by a fox of all things. On the other hand, imagine what that would do for said fox's reputation."

Her mother scoffs, amused. "We will not spoil him that much, Araceli. We're not Tama, so we don't do our spoiling with endless food. However, he'll have as much attention as he could possibly desire." And when Lux has grown sick of that, she'll know better and remind her kadan to leave him be.

When Araceli looks over to Korrin about Fernando, the Vashoth mage flashes a sympathetic smile and shrugs; it may be strange, but her parents have traveled far and wide. Strange isn't unknown to them, and they don't fear it. (Sometimes, even when they should.) Her parents listen in fascination at the description, an eager gleam alight in Kaaras' eyes in particular. He lets out a booming laugh soon afterward. "What a feisty creature! I like him already." Herah smiles. "A small creature with a large spirit; rather fitting, considering the owner."

Brandy and orzata it is, and Kaaras orders some mead for himself before Herah decides on some brandy as well. Korrin assists with scooping up the drinks as Herah claims a table that thankfully has enough room for several grown qunari. "Yeah, that kraken was one of the most aggressive things I've ever fought. They're nasty anyway, but that red lyrium? That just made it a thousand times worse."

Taking a swig, her father then leans back. "We've both had our fair share of sea creature battles, Herah and I. It comes with the territory, you know? You're right about feisty, and that's not even counting the red shit now spreading around."

Herah frowns at that, nodding as she cradles her glass, paying more attention to the conversation. "Indeed. I know it's much to ask, but please...be as careful as you can, both of you."

[foxsays]

"I don't think he needs the reputation, are you ever surprised that his big fat head fits through the door the way he carries himself?" Which is to Korrin who will be aware of Lux's usual swaggering sort of trot, before Araceli looks up at Herah with a smile and a helpless sort of shrug. "He grew up with me in the brothel with my mother, many other ladies, other children, then down at the docks. And he is shameless, completely shameless, about begging as if I've never fed him a day in his life, all--" and Araceli stops, extends a hand with her eyes soft and wet, mouth tipped down at the corners but hopeful somehow. "Like so."

Little shit, under her breath when she takes her hand back. Fondly. (Someone in Kirkwall is maybe very tired of him shadowing them by now but it can't be helped, it's what he does, and better than him being in here and getting into trouble.)

Araceli smiles again but this time she ducks her head, curls falling in her face with nothing to hold them back. It's strange, she wouldn't deny it (well, she would at first) to be meeting them, to be accepted so quickly, but it's good. She's warm. Swallows the brandy carefully and taps out a staccato beat once she's sitting down, chin on one hand.

"There are-- There are containment measures." Which is as much as she should say, really. "I love the sea and all things in it, it hurts to see them in pain as much as it hurts to see any of us struck by it. That looks to be an isolated case of it being in the water. I don't want anything to happen to her, I'm sure she'd say the same about me when she's not hunting me down because I'm still in an office when it's dark outside." Maybe slipping in a joke is cheating, but her hand does find Korrin's since sometimes there isn't really an option to be careful, not when sometimes you end up fighting a Venatori spy in the Gallows, throwing knives at him while he hurls spells at you, and all the times they're just not on the same missions together.