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

[heirring]

It's the right thing to say. It certainly makes her smile, some flicker of satisfaction flashing there in her sun freckled face. It is rather like the pleasure of getting someone the correct gift for Satinalia or a birthday—a little selfish, but also a little not.

"Well," she says, chin tipping up and her hands warm and still under his. "You're very welcome. I have complete confidence in you. And hopefully you will win your choice of partners at the festivities afterwards as well."

[heorte]

Whatever moniker Jone had saddled him with, (The Bachelor, a true testament to friendship that Ellis had posed no real objections) Ellis' approach to festivities promises to remain unchanged. His track record regarding dance partners through several years of Riftwatch gatherings has been unwaveringly consistent, and that preference bears out in this instance too, as Ellis looks to her with a twitch of a smile on his face.

"I've already considered my choices," Ellis tells her, affecting some measured sort of seriousness. "And it seems that there's only one person I'd care to have for a dance partner. If she finds herself unoccupied. And willing."

[heirring]

She laughs. It's bright, all clear sunshine and punctuated by the extraction of one of her hands so that she might make a fist and softly thump him across the breastplate with it.

"Very well. If you find no better partner, I will save one or two dances for you. But you must agree to do something for me in exchange. Yes?"

There can be no mistaking that mercenary glint in her eye.

[heorte]

No, there isn't any mistaking it, but that doesn't keep Ellis from answering, "Aye?" without hesitation.

As has been established, he has a long-standing track record in many matters relating to his time in Riftwatch. Obliging Wysteria's demands is one of the longest running.

[heirring]

"Aye," she echoes with another small thump against his plate.

"I'm with Maud, you know. And she hasn't said so, but I believe her to be quite shocked over the loss of her relations in Tantervale. Which is only natural, of course. Anyone would be under such circumstance. Well, I think she would find it a very pleasant diversion if you were to invite her out for once dance this evening. I doubt very much that she will actually except, of course," Wysteria hastens to add, lest anyone be mortified over this frankly meager attempt at meddling. "But just the offer would be very kind."

[heorte]

As far as favors that have been asked of him, this one is relatively painless.

"Aye, I'll ask her," Ellis promises. His thumb runs along her knuckles as he watches Wysteria's face.

The expression of care is commendable. It's a good thing that Maud has someone thinking of her, though Ellis can't imagine that his offer of a dance will be able to ease any part of what Maud is feeling.

"Though I expect I'll have to fight my way through a pack of Marchers to have the opportunity to dance with either of you."

[heirring]

"I trust you will manage the thing with the same aplomb that you do most battles. Now," with a flurry of shooing hands and tsking and huffing and so on, which incidentally involves slipping out from under the gentle scuff of his thumb. "There are only a few more articles to attach. Make yourself useful and help me decide where I should put them. We have already done the largest ones, save for this very pretty sash which I believe was donated by the Gallows' laundry. Not the room, of course. The girls in it. It was a group effort, I mean. Perhaps we might do the sensible thing and simply wrap it about your waist like so—"

It takes only a few minutes further to arrange the last of the vast collection onto, under, or over Ellis' armor. When the last favor has been secured, Wysteria sees directly to the fastening of the various buckles in his armor which now no doubt are nearly impossible for the wearer to parse, much less do properly. When the last of them has been snipped into place, all leather ends tucked into their respective keepers, and the last fussing complete, Wysteria takes a large step back so as to survey her handiwork.

Her laugh is a partially aborted thing, treading dangerously close to a snort before it's smothered into the fine stitching at the back of her delicate caramel colored nugskin glove.

"I think your odds are quite good, really. Of scaring your opponents horses at the very least."

[heorte]

Without a mirror, Ellis can remain unaware of the full effect.

And regardless of how ridiculous the final effect might be, it's worthwhile for Wysteria's reaction. No, this might not bring him any luck, and in fact hinder him in the business of the joust, but—

"Managing your horse is the key to winning," Ellis tells her, lifting his bedecked lance. "All I'll have to do is see that I aim properly."

There's a moment where Ellis' gaze catches Joselyn's panties, expression doing some complex shift between resignation and embarrassment, before he hoists the lance all the way up onto his shoulder. In a few moments, a horn will blow. He'll have be in the saddle to present himself somewhere. Ellis is aware of this.

He still offers his opposite elbow to Wysteria, questioning, "Will you see me to my horse?"

[heirring]

"And risk someone mistaking those knickers for mine? Certainly not, Mister Ellis. I am a lady."

With a broad grin, Wysteria snaps shut the lid of her case and hoists the whole thing securely under her arm. "Give Mister Stark my best when you see him, and tell him that if he rides close to the rail that I will give him a ribbon. I have a one saved in my pocket for tying to his stirrup. It's red."

The low stool upon which the case had rest just a moment ago is promptly relocated. Planting a single foot on it, Wysteria neatly (and speedily and very briefly) levers herself to the appropriate height from which to plant a swift kiss on Ellis' forehead before dropping back to the dusty ground.

"Best of luck. Miss Van Klerk and I will see you in the offing. Please do your best not to be speared or splintered or any other too dreadful a thing."

Then with a twirling flurry of skirts skirts, Wysteria is charging back through the various competitors and their squires and lances and ribbons and shields shined so thoroughly that they gleam even here in the shade of canvas, across the tent toward the open flap. In an instant, she ducks through that opening and is gone.