OPEN | the grand tourney!

[poleaxed]

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!!!]

Comments

[indissection]

"Such a long time? I hope they're at least feeding you."

There's no point asking for his helmet or anything at the moment - while he is on duty he cannot do anything more than his job, and Sidony is not foolish enough to imagine he would be lax in that. Instead, she watches him, allowing him some kind of reprieve.

Maybe it's all she can do.

"Oh? I had no idea she had such authority," Sidony is behind on many things these days, lost in her work and herself.

[archademode]

He feels as though he is being teased and catered to in the same breath. Yet when they speak, that is not, perhaps, entirely uncommon. And in turn he takes no offense from it; she is ever welcome at his side.

One of the few souls he opts to bare no teeth towards.

Instead his fingers fold a little more loosely across the pommel of his blade, relaxing.

"As it was she who bade me take up this task, I can claim no other to be possessed of such a right." Not the nobility gathered to witness the tournament itself, not visiting kings nor gilded champions. Until the tournament is done, Jone holds the scale of her authority above them all.

"And such service is familiar to me. In truth, I feel at ease within its grasp."

[indissection]

Sidony has become adept at poking and prodding at people, at demanding that they accept her care without saying the words. One has to become so adept when the person you are married to is Byerly, after all, who is loathe to even adhere to the suggestion of pause these days.

Her influence will grow, it seems, and she has no complaint at that.

It makes sense, she supposes, for him to enjoy being told or asked to do something, that he ought to relish the notion of having some kind of cause to alight himself, even one as simple as this. Still, it doesn't dissuade her at all.

"Are you permitted to eat? To drink water? How are you expected to continue all day otherwise, my darling?"

I didn't get a notif for this I'm so sorry!!

[archademode]

"I have stood guard for longer with less to sustain me." A point he seems proud of, in fact, as though suffering is a badge to be worn on one's cuff. Displayed as proof of victory, where so many others might have failed.

Perhaps that is why, when faced with Sidony's sincere concern, it soon withers into something more quiet, contemplative; she has a way of cowing his worser instincts.

"I am certain Jone of Denerim will return soon enough. She does not care to leave me unbacked and abandoned."

A pause lingers tight before:

"Much the same could be said of you, in fact."

no worries!!

[indissection]

"That's not necessarily something you ought to boast over, darling, you're aware of that, yes?" Sidony doesn't mean to be a worrywart, necessarily, but she does tilt her head, raising her eyebrow.

Just because he can doesn't mean he should, and that's the problem here. She knows the effect exhaustion and tiredness might have on the body, and just because Gabranth thinks he's able to do it doesn't mean she's going to let it happen without pause.

The rest, though, makes her laugh a little.

"Is that what you think I am doing? That's kind of you to suggest, darling, but maybe I Just wanted to rest my feet."