faderift | [OPEN] Peace Bore a Heavy Price

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: Aleron and Nathaniel are hosting an ~~BSG boxing match~~ open sparring session to work out personal griefs within the Inquisition.
WHEN: Drakonis 30, All Day
WHERE: Just outside Camp Shady (aka, the Warden's Camp outside Skyhold)
NOTES: More information, including the rules, can be found here. You do not have to have signed up to participate. Non-combatants can come and just cheer for their favorites or appreciate fine bodies getting physical. Please note in your subject line if you're spectating, healing, or open for fighting.

Just outside the site where the Wardens have established themselves, a space has been cleared. Its boundaries are marked with some wooden posts driven into the ground with loose ropes stretched out between them. A copy of the rules has been nailed to one of the posts. It flaps in the wind, but seems to stay in place with but little fraying as the day wears on:

1. No magic.
2. A volunteer healer will determine whether someone is fit for a bout.
3. Conduct the fight honorably. If someone surrenders the fight, it ends immediately and without question.
4. Don't deliberately incapacitate someone to the point where they won't be able to perform their duties after the fight is over.
5. All weapons must be blunt, even blades.
6. Challenged chooses the method of competition.

At the end of the fight, participants are to consider their issue resolved and move forward.

Off to one side, a basic triage is set up for combatants who have taken their licks. Volunteer healers are present to offer treatment for injuries and to determine who remains fit to fight. Their decision is absolute.

For the spectators, there is ample room to stand around and watch. One of the merchants from the pilgrim's encampment has caught wind of the impromptu event and decided it's a grand time to turn a profit. He's got a cookpot set up and is hawking fine treats like fennec-on-a-stick, druffalo kebabs, and smoked nug legs. He's also selling wooden cups of ale for five coppers, but it's questionable if there's more water or ale. Let the buyer beware.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nerva is here less for resolving differences, and more for taking her frustration out on someone. She looks even angrier than usual, her eyes hooded and dark. She did not sleep well. She sits with her shield, and a blunted sword, and waits for anyone who would dare take her on.

When spectating, she is mostly silent - save when it is someone she knows, and then she barks 'advice' at them from the sidelines. Which, though always legitimate commentary, probably could be delivered without the whip crack.

Could, but needn't be. Gwenaëlle is enjoying Nerva's commentary almost as much as the actual bouts she came to spectate, settled upon a large cushion nearby, a parasol not unlike the one Vivienne sports occasionally veering to the front in the face of threats of kicked dirt or bodily fluids. She tilts up from beneath a lopsided, wide brimmed hat in the same deep earth-tones and green of her dress and, amused -

"Are they fighting you, ser, as well?"

- as some poor nameless fellow amongst the Templar contigent breaks off his fight to glare back at Nerva and takes a blow to the back for his trouble.

"What an ingrate," so mildly.

"No. They would not dare to make such faces if they were," Nerva said, her voice flat, staring forward without looking at the woman who was speaking to her.

"Guard up, Sebetien, or you'll get worse next time!" She barked, arms stiff and crossed against her chest.

"He would do better if he bothered to listen. But then, if he ever did, I would not have to yell."

"I for one would be terribly disappointed to be deprived of your contribution," comes the sunny answer, ribbons and pins affixing her precariously perched hat in place that it doesn't tilt dangerously when she does to look up at Nerva, exaggeratedly admiring.

"Are you to fight, too?"

(An optimistic inquiry. Is she? Gwenaëlle would very much like to see that.)

She doesn't notice the exaggeration in Gwen's address - it goes right over her head.

"I am here for it, but I have not yet been challenged. Which I find mildly surprising. I know I have stepped on more than a few toes."

"I understand there are those who enjoy such things," Gwenaëlle says without missing a beat. "Perhaps you've been lucky in your aim."

Nerva snorted lowly, finally turning her full attention to the woman, as the man she had been shouting at finally lost his battle, pitifully.

"I should be more careful, then. I would not want to give the wrong impression. Forgive me - but I do not believe we've been introduced. Nerva Lecuyer, at your service."

As matters in the ring draw to a close and the brief grace period between bouts begins (there is much organisation involved in something like this; it sort of dulls the visceral enjoyment, if you were to ask Gwenaëlle, which is probably a good reason not to), she grants Nerva hers in turn. 'Pretty; trouble' is the usual first impression here, when people examine her properly, and she rises to the occasion with a slyly lopsided smile (to match, presumably, her silly hat).

"Lady Gwenaëlle Vauquelin," she supplies, in the tragic absence of a footman to do it for her. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, and shall be very careful what impression of you I take."

Nerva was a woman who looked dangerous. She looked well able to use those weapons, and she looked like she wanted to. Kaisa hones in on the woman like a tracking beacon, sliding on over to sit next to her, grinning like this was the greatest fun she could have imagined.

"I like your shield. I've never been good at using 'em, but I can respect being able to use them. I mean, they're basically a second weapon if you know how to use 'em right, and they keep you from getting hit. And I mean, I know you can duel wield swords but everyone I've ever seen always looked damn goofy, flailing around with two swords like a tit. I guess it's because if you can duel wield you're probably graceful enough to stick with daggers and go all rogue-like, you know?"

Proof that the Maker exists is in the miracle that Kaisa manages to chatter all of that in more or less one breath.

"Oh--I didn't just come here to talk about swords, though." She sticks a hand out, still all cheery smiles. "Kaisa Daesun."

She barely had time to register that she was being spoken to - the avalanche of words tumbling past her as she blinked, trying to catch up to the conversation she had not realised she was a part of. At least Kaisa finally came to a stop, and Nerva (completely out of trained reflex) reached out and took that hand, giving it a firm shake.

"Nerva Lecuyer. Dare I ask what you did come here to talk about?"

Because Maker knew she had no idea what they were talking about already.

The firm handshake is returned, naturally, Kaisa just peacefully grinning, like this was the most natural thing that could happen. But then, it probably was, to her. And the question, the warrior leans back, tapping her fingers on her knees.

"Well, I came here to ask if you wanted t' spar. I don't have anything against you, but I figure, might as well take the opportunity to try going a few rounds with some people. A lotta people turned out for this, it seems a shame just to fight the people that you got problems with, particularly if you don't have problems with a lot of people, you know? But if you want to save your energy, that's fine with me. I figured I'd ask, at least."

She gives an easy-going shrug. She certainly didn't have enough people pissed at her to warrant needing to be careful about who she fought, but this woman looked angry enough that it seemed possible more than one person might have had an issue with her at some point.

[OPEN] Peace Bore a Heavy Price

Open for Combat / Spectating

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