faderift | OPEN | the grand tourney!

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OPEN | the grand tourney!

WHO: All Y'all.
WHAT: It's the Grand Tourney! Like a normal Tourney, but grand.
WHEN: August Now.
WHERE: Kirkwall.
NOTES: Sports... injuries?

Every thousand days, the Grand Tourney is organized in the Free Marches, and all the City States-- and even challengers from farther abroad-- come together to celebrate the freedom of the Marches. This year, the event was intended to take place in Tantervale.

When that, uh, fell apart, the tourney was hastily moved to the relative safety of Kirkwall.

Festivities begin early, with musicians and entertainers coming from all around to entertain lords and ladies as they set up tents. Food vendors complete the picnic atmosphere-- you may not be able to get a seat in the stands, but the hills around where the field where it all takes place makes the event easily viewed by all. Jesters, bards, troubadours, food vendors, all are happy to serve and make the event lively and lovely-- for a price.

The first event is the Joust. The announcer goes through everyone's names, their origins, the part they play, so the crowd knows who to root for and who to boo. Before the individual bouts begin, the jousters are expected to ride around the field collecting favors.

The second event is the Quintain. A similar setup to the Joust takes place, with announcements and cheering, gaining favors, etc. The major difference-- besides the content of the event itself-- is the hastily erected judge's stand, where they can view the skills of each comptetitor. Some scores are met with cheers, some with boos. Some competitors schmooze with the judges before their bout. It's all very classy.

In the intermission guests are invited to play a game of tug-of-war over two large piles of flowers and flower petals. As the loosers will discover, there's a pit of mud underneath the flowers. Hopefully you brought a second pair of clothes, or maybe you just don't care ~~Edgard~~.

If tug-of-war isn't your game, there's drunken archery. Darktown's very best (worst) booze has been generously donated (appropriated) for the event. One shot to begin, and more shots for every subsequent shot of your bow. Landing closer to bullseye garners more points, and prizes can be collected for high point scores. Nothing particularly valuable, it's more like carnival fare-- stuffed toys, shiny gems (they are colored glass), wood carved in various shapes (some lewd). The most expensive prize is a hangover cure potion (it does not work).

The final event is the ever-popular Melee, where several one-on-one matches take place simultaneously, until someone is either undefeated or the least defeated. As with previous events, each combatant is announced to the crowd and expected to walk around the stands, receiving favors. However, they're expected to do this between every match in the melee, as their popularity rises... or falls.

During all of this, the ever-noble Pas d'Armes event is taking place. If you wander away from the event at any time, Gabranth will be there, at a nearby bridge, judging and / or fighting anyone who wishes to pass. Of course, if you wish to pass without issue, he will accept a favor from you. At the end, he'll be crowned with a white wreath of flowers, in a 'peace offering', and that is the sign that the tourney is done.

Not counting the partying into the night. No medieval camping trip is complete without waking up half clothed in a field, right?

JUST TELL ME WHO WON ALREADY.fine, fine, jesus.

THE JOUST

1st Place: Tony Stark, The Iron Man (Erroneously called 'The Man of Iron' at least once by an announcer. Several people in the stands asked if he was made of iron, why he was called that, what is he doing, why.)
2nd Place: Weary Winona of Wycome (Never took off her helm, which was shaped like a woman's face and painted like she was crying.)
3rd Place: 'Sir Sullivan of Bonneville'(Who might just be Edgard in disguise, however legend has it he's actually an undead noble trying to reclaim his family's honor in the joust. This legend was started by Jone.)
Crowd Favorite: Ellis, The Bachelor (He was, at one point, mostly just a mass of favors, which may have been why he didn't rank. The crowd screamed his name repeatedly and at one point threw flowers at him while he was riding past.)

THE QUINTAIN

1st Place: Derrica, the Rivaini Raider (The chant 'carry me home' began during her bout, and continued whenever she walked near the field.)
2nd Place: Derek, Son of Derek, of the Ostwick Dereks (The 'carry me home' chant continued during his bout, as some confusion arose over whether Derrica was a distant relation of the Ostwick Dereks.)
3rd Place: Madame Noir of Hasmal (A ghostly pale woman wearing only a black gown during her match, there were rumors she'd bribed the judges with money or a low neckline.)
Crowd Favorite: Beth Greene, The Lady of the Green (Rumor has it that she was a wild woman who came from the forests just to compete. This rumor was also started by Jone.)

THE MELEE

1st Place: Pierre the Virtuous of Hambleton (On a particularly sunny day, some suspect he only won because the reflection from his bald head.)
2nd Place: 'The Dark Jaguar' (Who may be Erik Stevens in disguise. A nighttime assassin, he appears from nowhere during a fight ~~usually with the aid of a conveniently placed piece of hanging black fabric but shhhh~~.)
3rd Place: Laura, Lady Nightshade (Rumor has it she threw her fight to get third place, but everybody who knows Laura knows she'd never do that... right?)
Crowd Favorite: 'The Acolyte' (A young man of roughly the same height and build as Benedict Artemaeus, the crowd really responded to how nervous, yet trying to be brave, he looked.)

THE OVERALL WINNER OF EVERYTHING:
Ser John 'the Anointed John' Pembroke of Tantervale
...who trained for this every day and is a professional Tourneyman, and whose win for Tantervale really lifted the spirit of the game to a high note, so how can we be bitter, really.
(Note to 1st placers in other events: this means he beat you in your event.)

[ooc Also final reminder that you don't have to have signed up for an event to have your character participate!!!]

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"Oh," he says as he catches his breath, "I am now, thank you."

His own clothes have not been making it through his trial scotch-free either, and he is relieved that he chose not to wear his nice ones today. They're probably more bloody than blue at this point. His eyes dart over Abby, sort of a preliminary visual check for injuries since he's here.

"Are you here to see someone or did you need some assistance?" the elf asks her as he looks over the patient's armor to see where the injury is. Once he finds it, he takes a thick pad of bandages and places it against the spot. "Hold that there while I get your armor off, okay?" They nod, doing as he asks.

Thankfully, she's free of injuries. Just a blotchy bruise or two won in the tug-of-war, and a healthy spattering of mud up and down her entire self.

"Keep the pressure even," she tells his patient, mimicking pressing down on her own hip with the flat of her hand rather than just the fingers pinching the imaginary bandage into place, "And firm. It'll stop the bleeding faster."

Perhaps that answers his question. Abby gestures with dirty palms. "I'm good with a needle and thread. Do you need any help?"

It certainly does - and he's so relieved for that. Studying? Easy. Magic practice? A fun challenge! Fencing lessons? Engaging the mind and body. This? Helping people? Wrapping up tending to one person only to have another come along? Hard. So hard. It's only been about an hour since he came here, and he wishes he could take a break.

"Really? Yes, I'd appreciate that very much - giving stitches makes me so nervous," he says, with so much gratitude as he works his way through unbuckling the leather straps holding the armor together. He knows how to do them, and technically he should do them himself by order of Gabranth, defender of the bridge, but it's probably better if someone more confident were to do them instead of him doing a poor job.

"Why does it make you nervous?" Maybe because it's something she's known how to do for so long, but the thought of that is almost amusing to her. While he's helping his patient with their various straps and buckles, Abby finds a place to get the mud off of her hands and wrists. There's a bucket of dirtier water next to a clean one intended for rinsing; the first she scrubs off in, careful with her fingernails. There's soap, for the clean bucket, and she comes back with her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, which unfortunately reveals the still-healing bite mark on the inside of her arm, but there's nothing she can do about that.

Besides, she's now got her own stitches on display across a few various, scabbing up cuts on her skin. Like a testimonial of sorts.

"You want me to run through it with you?" Maybe it will help.

Look at him Abby. Aside from a weird scar in the palm of his left hand that seems to be filled with silver, his skin is completely unmarred.

He is nervous to answer the question in front of someone who is in the process of receiving medical care from him right at this current moment. He wishes his friend Ezra was here right now, with his sleep spells - then Allumin wouldn't have to worry about saying something that would make someone go 'You know what, I will get help from someone else' and leave.

"Just, ahh, generally uncomfortable with the thought of putting someone through more pain than they're already in," is the most tame answer he can think of so that the person he's trying to carefully lift the hefty chestplate off of doesn't panic.

When she comes back over and he can see the scars - and bite, are you sure you don't need some assistance too?? - he's sort of in a feedback loop of feeling assured by her most evident experience and also concerned.

"If you would - it would be a great help and I'd appreciate it very much."

Yeah, she's noticing that the longer she lingers near him. It's an odd sight. He's very... smooth.

"It's not going to feel like much on top of the injury that already exists," she points out, looking around for his equipment. Reassurance for both parties, perhaps. She threads the needle with her leg resting against the side of the cot, and gets it on the first pass.

Allumin is hovering. Waiting for her to start; Abby's almost there. "Can you find me a clean cloth? Bit of fresh water would be even better."

"Oh, yes, certainly." He gets the armor set aside and goes to fetch the requested items, puttering around a bit awkwardly as he tries to find an empty vessel for the water. Once he's found something that works he returns, setting them down on a little table beside the cot.

He's not entirely sure he believes her when she says that. There are no scars to show he's had to deal with anything particularly serious, but between the prick of a needle or being hurt by something larger he's always been more sensitive to the former. Surely it would still hurt?

He needs to stop thinking about this or he's just going to panic in the middle of giving someone stitches.

"Um, anything else before we start?"

He's skittish, but helpful. Abby watches him hurry off to collect the things that she's asked for, and spends a moment of awkward silence with the patient in return. She's suddenly very aware that she's just offered them up to be a learning moment without asking, but– it'll be fine. Either way the gash is getting stitched, so.

"Nah, that's good." This is all you need out in the field. She's just grateful the water isn't coming from somebody's fucking drink bottle.

The area has to be wiped clean. Abby takes her time, rinsing off in the bowl Allumin's fetched as she goes. "You wanna make sure there isn't anything stuck in there before you start," she advises, dabbing away. There's mud all over the person's arm for example, but she's working on that. "Same goes for blood. It's easier to work if you can get rid of as much as you can."

Immediately, he wants to ask about the hypothetical 'but what do you do if there is something stuck in there?' and he has to bite his lip to refrain from the words coming full force out of his mouth. It's not a concern right now, it's not relevant, and asking such would only make the patient in question more nervous.

He already is trying to pretend he didn't notice the little aside they had that was something along the lines of "Prefer it if you did it instead." Instead of focusing on his further plummeting confidence, he watches and does his best to stay out of her light. He nods, making a little affirming hum to make it clear he's following along.

"Generally, you want to wait until after the bleeding has slowed before stitching things up, right?" It's been a while since he's had to think about the best practices for this, so asking not only helps to show he's still engaged, he thinks, but also to confirm procedure.

"Generally," Abby echoes, working away, "But I have a feeling our friend here wants to get back out again as soon as possible. Am I right?" Her gaze flickers up toward their patient, who shrugs their other shoulder, conceding the point. "Thought so."

Quick and neat it is. Doesn't bother her much, just means they might have to come back at some point and get it looked at for a second time, and by then a healer could be freed up. She drops her cloth to the side of the bowl, pinching the wound gently closed as best she can with her hand.

"You want to hold it together, and find the center. First suture goes there." She inserts the needle with zero apology, only a firm, sure push through the skin about a fingernail length from the cut. "Don't try be gentle. It's not, and you'll make it take too long otherwise." Her stitch is neat and straight, and she pulls the loop of the thread down snug over the cut. "And this should be firm, but not tight. You gotta seal the wound but if you pull too much you'll kill the tissue. Your patient will be able to let you know if it feels wrong."

He swallows, watching her work with sureness and precision. It's a bit backwards that he has no problem using a dagger against someone if the situation calls for it, but the act of passing a needle through skin to stitch up a wound makes him nervous. There's some, uh, self-reflection to do about that but now is not the time.

"Alright," he says, voice soft like speaking is an afterthought as he is enchanted by watching the neatness with which Abby stitches up the wound.

It's kind of inspiring to watch, makes him want to be able to do it just as well as she does...

Breaking it down into steps is strange for Abby, because she's used to doing this without thinking at all, the movements reflexive as she works on a second suture, halfway between the first and the end of the cut. Everybody back at the stadium had to complete basic first aid if they were going out on open assignment. It would be a death sentence otherwise.

"Once you're used to it, it'll take minutes. You should practice on yourself, if you can." No better way to learn how to go quick. Though, she relents as she adds off-handedly, "Or a banana."

Anyways. She's tying off a second knot, and leaning forward to clip the thread with her teeth because she doesn't have scissors to hand, something that isn't... uh, advised, but works fine in a pinch. "Couple more and we're good. You got any questions?"

Despite the fact that he has an incredible fear of dying, injury doesn't bother him quite as much as a concept if removed from that danger so even with the banana suggestion he is giving some serious credence to the thought of practicing on himself. But that also involves the process of getting injured, and the thought of going up to someone and being like 'hey I want to practice doing stitches, can you hurt me but not in a life-threatening way?'

Might be a bit weird.

"Ah! Stop!" One hand shoots out when she leans in to bite the thread, and the other goes into his bag to fetch a small knife. He'd used a bit of the modest sum given to him upon arrival to get it - better to have a little something if he can't use magic than nothing at all. He unsheathes it and waits for her to lean back so he can cut the thread for her.

"Do you find it easier to stitch yourself up or others?" It's not really a question about how to do it so much as he's curious about if it's different at all psychologically for someone with more experience.

Yeah, it would definitely be weird. The implication is that perhaps Abby is a person who naturally ends up with a lot of lumps and bumps and bruises.

She holds as he stops her from biting the thread, shooting a sheepish look at her patient, who is staring at her in disbelief. You do what you have to do to get it done, okay? Sometimes you've got nothing to hand and more times than that, you're impatient.

"Myself," she says, as Allumin neatly severs the thread for her so she can start up the other side of the wound, "Because I don't care if it comes out ugly. But I think when it's somebody else, you're encouraged to make it neat– which is what I'm doing," she adds hastily, wiping a bit of blood away with her thumb before she continues.

"Oh yes, it's looking very good so far! Excellent, quite tidy," he says emphatically, taking that as a cue to do his best to be encouraging to her patient. It goes about as well as he can expect: a look of skepticism before being met with a grunt and their head flopping back onto the modest cot's just as modest pillow.

He takes a moment to think of anything else there might be to ask, finger tapping his chin as he does so. It's hard to come up with anything he might be missing, because on a technical level he understood all of this already but hadn't had much opportunity to watch a live demonstration or practice before now. Hmmm...

"Is there anything else you think is important to keep in mind?" He can't really think of any other questions so this is like the equivalent of asking 'Do you have any questions?' but reversed.

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OPEN | the grand tourney!

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