RP:Titans of Winter 2024 Opening Ceremony
Summary: It is the annual Titans of Winter Opening Ceremony!
Walled Courtyard
Last year, the annual Titans of Winter tournament was hosted in combination by Kelay-Sage and Cenril, with the hopes of raising funds to help the city rebuild from the devastation caused by Xicotl. This year, the Frozen City of War is intent on displaying that they have put those funds to good use, the city has been rebuilt and the signs of damage caused has been nearly erased. The Walled Courtyard has always been an impressive architectural feat, but the constructs of stone and ice that are already decorated with hand carved Frostmawian tribal designs have been further accented with vibrant red fabrics as a nod to the favored deity of the region. The Frost Giant guards are wearing their finest armors and each adorned with flowing red capes. Numerous tables can be found scattered throughout the ceremony area, all lined with red tablecloths and full of a variety of foods and drinks, like Frostmaw’s famous ale and various wines. For entertainment, a bard has been hired to sing of all of the famous battles that have taken place in the lands, including songs of the most recent war between Cenril and Larket. There are also games! ..That seemed more appropriate for adults depending on your stance on weapons. A target has been set up against the far side of the celebration area, positioned so that no one should be throwing axes -toward- the guests (unless they are really bad at throwing). Smack in the center of the ceremony space are two pedestals for the ‘Gladiator Jousting’ game, who doesn’t like a good fight for entertainment? Those who live in Frostmaw sure prefer it, especially over fancy dresses and dancing…though even some that can be found at today’s tournament opening.
Meri arrives, wearing only half of the armor that she would typically be seen wearing into battle. The blonde is wearing heavy black-boots with a pair of black armored pants and that’s where things go astray. Instead of bothering to finish off the look with the rest of her armor pieces, the blonde has thrown on her ‘Sound of Sirens’ hoodie. Comfy. Warm. Loose fitting. Perfect. Except showing up to a party decked out in armor is right up miss rough and tumbles alley. So why the hoodie. Was she hiding something? Either way, hopefully her chosen attire for this evening makes it clear that she is once again not bothering to participate in the dress-up contest. The pieces of armor that she did wear are not even ceremonial, they are what she would wear into actual battle and have the scarring to prove it. Meri has completed today’s lazy ensemble by pulling her blonde hair back in a series of messy warrior’s braids, again just like she would if she were actually going to step out onto the battlefield to try and deck someone. Or…you know, leave them dead on the beach somewhere. RIP Hawkeye.
Laezila :: It's been some time since Laezila breasted the impressive threshold of Frostmaw Fort, not for several years during her brief exile from Trist'Oth and her refuge offered as a haven in the form of the icy city under Hildegarde's command. Early, likely, the woman never arrives unaccompanied -her diminutive form is flanked on either side by monstrously large, musclebound male drow. Either of them snarl with prominent canine teeth, moving more like bipedal lupines in their gait than actual humanoids. The woman, however, made apparent by her feminine silhouette, walks with a sort of grace that seasoned soldiers might pick out as being battle-hardened. Her usual garb, a drow-made piwafwi over black leather, isn't what she's currently wearing. Instead, the woman wears a long A-line dress that flares from a banded waist, flaring in trendy tiers, though her skin is covered by black leather armor in greaves and boots. Her scoop neckline is mostly veiled beneath massive white furs of a heavy coat that matches hue of the faceless, white mask that coveres all but her snowy hair and bright blue, calculating eyes. Boots lightly crunch the snow beneath on the path as she moves from threshold into the proper of the courtyard, lifting her head toward the sky.
Magikrios arrives right behind Mrs. Lyastri D'Chath in an appropriately matching outfit. Not quite sweat suit matching, but it's close. He's wearing a matching Sound of Sirens hoodie with his hood pull up like adding a bit of shadow to his face would disguise the ridiculously tall elf and his glowing eyes. A for effort, right? The Guardian of Sage is also sporting black armored pants and heavy work boots incase someone needs to be kicked in the rear today. Right, Mesdoram? Instead of Death Stimulant being secured to his back, Magikrios has a fancy backpack instead. There's probably a bunch of snacks in there. Or. Knives. Or..
Quintessa arrives without much ceremony, quiet and away from everyone. It would seem to most that she just appeared from thin air- she wasn’t there a moment ago and now she was, but for the few that might know the changeling’s habits it would be easy to guess that she stepped into the walled courtyards from the shadows themselves, aided by the magic in her shadow-stepping boots. In accordance with the memo that she should wear ceremonial armor for this event she comes clad in black ringmail over a quilted tunic of blood-red leather, its pauldrons shaped like human skulls whose mouths are opened in agony. Her ebony cloak is trimmed with white fur and streamers of crimson silk which flutter in the wind, and on her back rests a light wooden shield, the sigil of House Blackwell shown profoundly on the surface. Around her waist she wears her alchemy belt, though it is mostly empty, only housing the tools she uses and none of the potions and ingredients. Where her katana would normally be she instead wields a ceremonial longsword, the silver grip adorned with a gleaming, fist-sized ruby polished to look like a cat’s eye. Quintessa doesn’t wear a helmet, instead her long, raven hair is tied up into an elaborate braid, tiny chains of silver and black, holding it together like a caged bird. Across her face she has applied a thick, horizontal, black bar to make herself look more intimidating, and a thin, vertical stripe starting at her bottom lip and dragging down her neck, but the rest is ghostly white, no color in her tone at all. From the peripherals she circles the party like this, mismatched eyes of sapphire and gold searching out the other participants in the tourney so that she might analyze them. Quintessa was always searching for weaknesses, and this moment was no different.
Mathollak is in jail, so in his place is Mathollak's lawyer. A skinny, oddly proportioned extra tall kobold (approximately three kobolds high) emerges through the North Gate solemnly and without the pomp that his patron has come to be known for. He is however, wearing the ceremonial crimson mithril armor. Armor that Mathollak once favored. This mithril wardrobe bears the weight of many battles, it is scar-striped with tears and punctures and gashes and slashes. But the wounds have healed. The mithril chest is marked over the heart by a spear-point, a puncture with fault lines radiating outward. The entry and the surrounding cracks have been filled in with Celestial Bronze, and the integrity restored. On its back, where a werewolf pirate rended the armor apart in three enormous gouges, the armor is rejoined similarly, the weakness becoming a strength. The entire suit is a history of battles won and lost, a memorial to hard fights in the arena and out of it, with signatures from fighters written in spear - points, claws, sickles, and swords. If only it was being worn by Mathollak and not this strange, wobbling, graceless giant kobold.
Zahrani calmly strolls into the fort for the anticipated festivities. The Jaguar woman’s plate armor has been carefully cleaned, the metal polished to keep rust at bay. Rather than a mirror finish, a geometric pattern of diamond checkering and hexagonal accents adorns the metal. The pauldrons each have a crescent moon as their central design. The leggings have layered yellow fabric and plating, the armored boots making a muted clanking sound with each step. The feline’s muzzle extends from a dark grey, white-fur lined hood. On her forehead is an upward-facing crescent moon, a symbol of the Isran Collective that is carefully clipped into place. The fur on her muscular arms, and the rest of her physique, keeps her warm in the Frosty climate. A ceremonial khopesh hands from her belt. The Divine Aura that emanates from her is not visible, but those nearby may feel a warming sensation around the paladin of Cyris. Cyan eyes survey the scene, scoping out familiar faces with a calm smile.
Meri isn’t the sort to be self-concsious persay, but every once and awhile it does dawn on her that -maybe- she should put a little bit more effort into her look. Just a little, it’s not like it is a totally grungy hoodie. It’s clean. No holes. To Magikrios, “I suppose it is a good thing the people of Kelay-Sage aren’t too fussed with….” Meri makes a vague gesture at all the pomp everyone else is displaying. “Maybe if we don’t want to do a full carriage we should at least invest in….fancy green Kelay-esque cloaks or something.” Yeah, look, someone smarter with fashion will help them with this, surely. Anyway, Meri starts to make her rounds, greeting the people she knows. Quintessa is the first, “Looking good, as usual.”
Alex had enjoyed the journey back home despite it being quite a long one from the rotting city of ogres. The human found a deep sense of both nostalgia and sorrow as he navigated familiar paths to arrive here in the courtyard for the opening ceremony. A sharp pain of heartache battered against his chest as he forced himself to swallow the lump that had developed in his throat as memories of his queen and the suffering of his kin flooded his mind. Thankfully, the weight of guilt only lasts for a moment or two before giving way to a fresh bout of excitement as he makes his way through the festivities. Bright blue eyes drink in the beautiful reds and silvers that decorate the entire courtyard, and he makes a mental note to source the decorator to give them his gratitude. Though once he spots the bard singing on and on about whatever sort of nonsense they’ve deemed appropriate for a gathering of outsiders he can’t quite suppress the expression of disgust that stretches across his face along with a recoiling gag. How dare they replace him with this… this… wannabe! Still, the man knows better than to let his ego take over in this important moment and he shakes his head in both disapproval and to clear his mind. He makes his way to one of the tables and snatches up a bottle of glitter ale, bringing it to his nose for a quick whiff before dropping it to his lips for a longer taste. The man stands amidst the crowd in formal wear that is well covered by the cloak Queen Hildegarde gifted him many years ago – still scorched from a past tournament of titans, though he has made an effort to restore it’s former beauty. He’s a bit disappointed to see so few familiar faces and he’s suddenly left feeling like a stranger in his own home but alas, the bard didn’t come here to mope, he came to steel his nerves and rally his excitement for the inevitable homecoming he would face in this year’s tournament. After all, this would be the first time the man rose to the stage with the full expectation of not just making his people proud in the arena, but bringing the champion title back with him… maybe then he could get rid of this loser whining off key in the crowd.
Valrae || The mayor of Cenril arrived by way of four horse carriage, the flag of Cenril whipping wildly in the frigid Frostmawian wind. She had pressed her hand to the cold glass of her carriage and marveled approvingly at the renewed strength of Frostmaw. It was a hopeful thing, a happy thing, and it added to the excitement of returning as a duelist now instead of a co host. While there were several of the Cenrili guards in full plate armor standing at attention as she descended the carriage once it rolled to a stop, the white dove of the seaside republic’s flag emblazoned across their chests, it was only a pair of guards dressed in the ocean blue formal uniforms that escorted her inside of the courtyard. Her long golden hair was pulled back from her face in a thick plait, the opal triple moon diadem resting just above her brow. While kohl lined her dark eyes and dusted her lashes, the usual glamor of rosy cheeks and deeply red lips were nowhere in sight on the witch for tonight’s events. Instead, her lips were a natural, if glossy pink, and her face unusually bare. Her armor is both formal and functional, the same she’d donned when she’d faced Macon within the Sage forest at the beginning of Mourningfrost. A gambeson of impressive intricacy covered her arms and chest. Woven from fine white linen, its surface boasts delicate stitching, each thread a testament to Cenrili craftsmanship. But it is not mere fabric, within its layers celestial bronze offers defense from both piercing and slashing damage but unholy magics. Embracing her left arm is an armlet, crafted from the same celestial bronze, the shape of a lovingly crafted owl with outstretched wings. Her right shoulder finds its safeguard a scaled pauldron, a cascade of celestial feathers fashioned from bronze. Tassets frame the curve of her hips and thighs, the phases of Vaalane etched across the shining celestial metal. Boots of sturdy white leather, fortified with celestial bronze plating, complete the lower ensemble. Her legs are clad in high waisted, front laced white leather breeches - a snug fit to ensure agility. Finally, the fur-lined cloak of crushed cream colored velvet is clasped low over her chest with the crest of Cenril. Across the cloak’s surface, delicate bronze embroidery weaves a map of the constellations, illusion magic woven into the artful stitching so that the map of Lithrydel’s sky seems to move across the length slowly. The emerald crystal skull rests at her left, the more sturdy leather holster traded for a delicate basket of bronze chain for the night’s ceremony. Her ashwand is visible to her right, the dark wood and ivy carved length of it tucked into a small loop at her belt. Per her usual entrances, she makes little time finding something bubbly to drink while waving at familiar faces as she spots them.
Laezila must be murmuring something because one of the large, almost bestial-looking drow bodyguards at her side leans in to listen to her -the mask veils her mouth, of course.
Quintessa say Meri: Thank you. You're looking..." She pauses to look her up and down first before she settles on a diplomatic word. "Comfortable. Glad to see you are doing well.
Joan wasn't much for armor, the vampiric healer tended to favor her ever snazzy purple, black, white, and silver colored two piece ladies tailored pants suit. Tho her snazzy outfit was enchanted and perhaps enhanced that was about as much she'd get for any type of armor. As she enters the vampiric healer would check out everyone gathered, gives nods and or worded greeting to those she knew before making a beeline for the snack tables.
Khitti was a little late to the beginning of the ceremony, and surprisingly, it was a carriage that actually brought her there, headed from the direction of Frostmaw’s western side. The carriage itself bore the symbol of the Necromancer’s Guild, etched and glowing on both doors, while its human cargo watched out the thin glass window at the winter wasteland that passed her by as they scurried along. No move was made by the driver to let her out once they arrived, the two coming to an understanding that she needed no hand-holding, chivalrous nonsense--she could very well let her own self out of the carriage, thank you very much. And so she did, booted feet soon hitting the snow-covered stone that formed the pathway to the courtyard. Darkly-painted eyes squinted at the fort as a whole, almost in a begrudging sort of way, before the redheaded witch carried on. She was not dressed for an armor contest, for she didn’t wear much armor at all, all of which was concealed beneath the silk that made up her two piece black dress. Thick wool leggings, and a hooded wool duster that was mostly concealed beneath her peacoat (all of which were just as equally black as her dress) completed the simple ensemble--she was not here to stand out like the contestants were. A thin box with a white ribbon around it in hand, Khitti made her way into the ceremony, taking a moment to look about at the crowded courtyard. There’s a brief anxious cringe at the amount of people, but ultimately, she’d make her way to Valrae first, offering up the box. “Do not open it now.” Later, when she did open it, Cenril’s mayor would find the other two piece black dress Khitti had had made by Inks, along with the one she was wearing. This one was enchanted to look white for the duration that Val might use it if she so chose to, with suns, moons, and stars embroidered across it. After that was said and done, she’d to find her way to something alcoholic, much like her dear friend had. In this case, because she was freezing, she opted for the mulled wine.
Magikrios blinks at Meri, "Black? You mean fancy black Kelay cloaks?" He smirks for a quick second then quickly changes his mind, "Or we can just start going completely over the top whenever we are in public? We could close the main roads to whatever event we are headed to and have a huge parade to celebrate our attendance.." Magikrios chuckles then shakes that idea off, "I'm kidding. That sounds like some unnecessary Larketian rubbish." Finally, Magik nods, "Kelay-green cloaks sound great."
Alex had downed the bottle of glitter ale on his second take. He'd forgotten what good booze tasted like after living off grog and whatever Gu'thuk had fermenting down in the mines. He looks around for a bin to dispose of his bottle but doesn't spot one amidst the growing crowd, so he opts to do the proper thing and awkwardly holds onto his rubbish as he grabs another bottle, struggles to get the cap off, and then wanders away to find somewhere to toss the empty once he's successful.
Mathollak :: The lawyer moves around the courtyard with a long red tabard draped over his shoulders and going down past where his shins would be. He shuffles awkwardly, seeming to move mainly by way of his ankles. The tabard displays an embroidered golden goblet proudly at the top, the wine that seems to overflow from it coloring the rest of the robe red. He turns his snout up at all the Aramoth trash on display here, and seems to even absorb one of the globes into his armor with a movement that is simply too quick to be noticed. Then it is summarily ejected from the armor in a similar way, and sails into a wall and smashes. He walks around as if never noticing anything whatsoever happened.
Laezila idly pulls the massive fur coat tighter around herself, as the guards on either side of her scan the area.
Zahrani offers a warm smile and a wave to Valrae, before wandering over to meet Joan at the snack table. Helping herself to a glass of mulled wine, the paladin says, "Looking sharp, my friend." The svelte cat-woman takes in the scent of the warm spices in her drink, a sigh accompanied by a plume of mist escaping from her. The weather is bracing, but the feline enjoys it immensely.
Valrae smiles brightly as Khitti approaches her. “Hey!” She chirps, “You look amazing.” It was the normal small talk that was made at events like this but there was a warmth that carried in her sunny tone and disposition that she hoped carried through to genuine. Her eyebrows rose up in surprise as the redhead passes her a gift box. “Oh! I didn’t get you anything!” Her cheeks flush rose with embarrassment. “Thank you,” It was hard to pass the box over to one of her blue clad guardsmen, who would hold it diligently and without complaining for the remainder of the night, and her dark eyes seemed baleful when she turns back. What was in it?! Before she could say much more, Khitti had gone to find drinks. The witch would have to remember to return the favor and would no doubt be opening it as soon as she got back into her carriage. No way was it making it back to Cenril unopened.
Lita makes her entrance with the usual lack of pride, pomp and circumstance. A familiar black sundress and bare feet, raven curls braided loosely over her right shoulder, the crow wing leather bracer on her left forearm. A smear of glittered paint across the ridge of her right cheek is the only representation of Rynvale's colors and a subtle nod to the kitten she'd promised a win for. Or at least to try. She's not in much of a mood for socializing, seeing as both Leo and Mahri have doomed her to attend this affair in a solo capacity. But she'll play nice and wave to those she knows and recognizes and be a decent ambassador for the island. For now.
Mesdoram arrives. Presumably, the congregation of patrons have exchanged their pleasantries and no doubt are on drink number two or so. The normally moody and erratic drow seems to be more stoic and composed than what he normally displays to the public. A very calm and collective Mesdoram may give some of his ‘friends’ to be on guard and give the drow curiously glances. Nevertheless, Mesdoram is here and being a wallflower today – very unusual to his normal obnoxious behavior.
Meri grins to Quintessa without shame, “Yeah, well, it’s more put together than some looks I’ve come to parties in. Besides, if I am going to come up to…” Meri pauses and rethinks her statement, “this absolutely lovely region that is always cold, I may as well be comfortable.” Her husbands words are tied to her conversation with Quintessa, “Besides, it sounds like the Guardians of Kelay-Sage have just agreed on a new look. Maybe we’ll be more fashionable nextime. Maybe we’ll have to employ your boutique to assist.” Maybe. Maybe. All talk for later. For now, Meri links arms with Magik so that they can go pester Khitti and show off their matching fashionable hoodies. Khitti. “Hey stranger, how are you?”
Laezila finally catches a familiar sight- Mesdoram. Not really familiar insofar as simply another drow, which pulls the Matron's gaze from behind her white mask to stare at him.
Penelope had not stepped foot in Frostmaw’s chilled atmosphere since the battle against Xicotl. The ripped earth was layered perfectly again. The town was freshly built without scars she had observed as she rode on the back of her horse, Delilah, up the mountain. The human arrives draped in heavy layers to beat the cold she always loathed. Penelope adorns her typical leather armor crafted from hides of boar and wyverns. The druid has had the same set for a couple years, as she was not a duelist in the slightest, but rather an archer. The earth tones of the leather are layered by a long sage green cloak that resembles the colors of the Healer’s Guild with a brown mink covered hood to keep her rosy cheeks insulated and warm. The cloak is embroidered with the same vines that line the walls of the guild. Her hair is tied up half up, half down. A curly poof sits on top of her head while the rest of her curls hang down while strands frame her face. The strands that frame her face are laced with metal runed beads. Normally dueling events were not her main interest, but since the healer’s normally attended the fighting events, she knew that she would have to represent the healing side of the tournament. The first thing this healer needs is a warming ale as she shivers the snow off.
Joan puased from taking a bite into a warm apple turnover as she offers a grin towards Zahrani, "I do try my best." She jokes before offering a wave towards Lita. The other vampire was more then welcomed to join Joan and 'Rani. As she took a bite into her warm gooey apple turnover Joan would offer a nod towards Khitti and Quintessa.
Quintessa cannot help but feel the holy aura of Cyris surrounding Zahrani, so she moves forward to investigate, casually moving up next to her at the snack table as if she’s just coming to grab something- but she lingers. The warming sensation makes her uncomfortable, and though she doesn’t know it is Cyris’ aura specifically she can detect, she easily deduces it is some ability inherent in paladins and other holy knights. “Curious…” She murmurs under her breath before she grabs something from the table, trying not to interrupt her conversation with Joan.
Alex spots the carriage with the markings of the necromancer’s guild and squints his eyes to try and make something of it. Apparently, he’d been living under a rock for a while now, as they meant nothing to him… but they did look spooky! He shrugged and was ready to turn away until he saw Khitti exit the carriage. Now he couldn’t say there was a lack of familiar faces and he pondered approaching her until he noticed her moving towards Valrae. She looked familiar as well but the bard couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Suddenly, he’s reminded of wyverns and free falling and a wave of nausea causes him to cover his lips with his sleeve and close his eyes to hold back whatever was trying to come up. When he opens them back up, he spots the odd lawyer at the tail end of his ordeal and is left with several questions, but he completely lacks the desire to ask any of them. Instead, he finds himself continuing to wander until he finally comes across a bin! Taking a firm grip on his empty bottle, the bard pulls back and heaves the empty towards the container… which is promptly smashes against the outside of with a loud crash causing his cheeks to tint a few shades brighter. “Wow, you’re really good at hitting things! You should try throwing these instead!” Alex turned towards the voice to see a vendor of sorts set up at the axe throwing stands as they twirled one of the small weapons around and around to let the steel glimmer in the light in an effort to entice party goers. Maybe it was the glitter ale, which Alex was polishing off the second bottle of, but he decides to take up the offer and approaches the stand after chucking his second now empty bottle towards the bin – which actually makes the mark this time! “So do I… just…” He asks sheepishly as he takes hold of the weapon, the vendor grabs a spare and nods in agreement before turning around and chucking the axe towards the target with a beautiful spin, “Just indeed, sir! Just indeed!” Alex grumbles and lets the vendor take the axe out of the target and retreat to safety before wrapping his palm around the one he now holds. He locks his elbow and makes a few mock motions before getting ready to let loose for real… this was certainly a first, so let’s see how it goes.
Khitti hadn’t gone too far from Valrae, though now in her hands was a large tankard of that glorious spiced, warm wine, that of which she sipped carefully and all but clung to the wine for warmth. “Oh, you don’t need to get me anything. I’ll need that back eventually. But, for now, it’s yours. In fact, we should probably get something similar made up for you eventually, if we can pin down Inks.” She hoped that the tiny mithril plates beneath the silk fabric of that dress came in handy for the other witch. As per her usual ways, Khitti was worried about the Red Witch and her entering the tourney so soon after things with Larket. Perhaps she was just bloodthirsty still and Khitti could full well relate, but even so, it did not take much for the redhead to worry about her friends. Especially friends who had a penchant for dying a tad bit earlier than fate would have it, much like Khitti did. More sipping of the mulled wine was had, the twilight witch leaving her face over top of the tankard to let the steam hit her face. “I’m going to go find somewhere warmer. Maybe the pot the mulled wine is in.” The frost giants would probably hate her for it, but really the frost giants still hated her from years ago anyway, so what difference would it make? Something something superstitious people. Something something necromancers. It never worked out.
Zahrani watches Penelope approach the refreshments, the feline snagging a warming drink and intercepting the druid in smooth-operator fashion. She offers the ale to the human before taking a sip of her own mulled wine. "It's always a pleasure to see you."
Quintessa say Meri: Well, I support the choice of Kelay-green. Its a lovely color- I'll have to get a few shipments of the fabric just for the Guardians' new look.
Laezila finally breaks from standing off with her own guards- she moves toward Mesdoram, heeled boots crunching the snow beneath with every light gait augmented by the stepping of her guards in sync to her walk. Once she gets close enough, she just stands there, awkwardly, staring at him.
Joan was rather use to the warm aura that her friend Zahrani let off, it did slightly damper her otherwise chilly aura herself but it didn't damper Joan's mood, since she was enjoying the snacks, catching sight of Penelope the vampiric healer would offer her a cheery wave.
Penelope is so focused on becoming warm that she does not say her greetings yet to those who are familiar, even though she normally -loves- people. Cold gets her in a mood. The druid is about to approach the refreshments when Zahrani slips in her view. She blinks, stunned for a moment, before smiling lazily at the feline. A sigh of relief. "Bless you," she reaches out to take the heated ale before cozying the beverage in her palms. "It's good to see you too. How are you?”
Mathollak :: A little voice tells the lawyer that the ale was gross, and to dry something different. Another little voice tells him to get another warming ale.
Valrae tried to hide the anticipation that was painted clearly across her features now as Khitti gave her a small hint toward what might be in the box. Something from Inks! She had to fight down the urge to yank that box back from her guard and rip into it right then and there. The effort made her feel like puking. It was clothes, had to be, and from Inks. The desire to have her hands on it was consuming. “Well, thank you. Really.” She nods absently as Khitti mentions finding somewhere warmer, her eyes suddenly drawn to the strange moving kobold in oddly familiar armor. With her guards following, Valrae makes her way toward Mathollaks… Lawyer? “Hello,” She greets the abnormally tall creature. “My name is Valrae, I don’t think we’ve met?”
Khitti was even more oblivious than usual, thanks to that wine, and blinked a few times as she turned and found Meri and Magik there beside her. "Hi! I'm totally not considering crawling into the vat of mulled wine for warmth.” It was at that moment that a frost giant walked past, and “accidentally” shoved her. Some of her wine was spilled and a curious looking compass that was definitely not pointing north, but west, fell out of her coat pocket. It was the way of things for her in Frostmaw. They did not forget her stint of being a vampire, nor her continued existence in ways of dark magic whatsoever. Khitti did her best to right herself and forced a smile to her sister and her brother-in-law. “Love the sweatshirts. Decided to go casual today too, eh?”
Alex releases the axe and it twirls through the air with a decent spin and surprisingly it makes the mark! It’s no bullseye, but it’s definitely centered and on the board! He’s surprised to be sure but more excited and he can’t hide this on his face as those pearly whites suddenly shine after a quick gasp. “Excellent job sir! Here, take another!” the vendor insists as he hands another axe to the pale man. Alex takes it with pride, feeling much more confident this time around, he only takes two mock motions before flinging the axe towards the target with another great spin and nice precision! It meets it’s mark! This one is a little further off but it’s still pretty close! “Well done sir! You’ve got one more!” The bard is feeling himself now! For something he’s never done in his life, he’s pretty good at this! His confidence grows further and he smirks to the vendor, “Third times the charm they say!” Alex exclaims excitedly as he takes the final axe and heaves it with tremendous power on the very first go! It’s going beautifully across the air! Oh my! So gorgeous! The way it spins so magnificently through the air as it goes towards the target! … and lower than the last one too! Wait… much lower… oh god. The axe slams into the ground not even halfway toward the target and ricochets with a ringing thud. “Ehhh” the vendor starts but the bard is already so ashamed that he’s turned on his heel and quickly retreated back to the table to claim another delicious glitter ale to forget that just happened.
Kang arrives fashionably late with his new diva, the world renowned, deadly beauty, voted most stunning seventeen straight years in a row, Franquio. The reclusive fashionista is wearing a Calvin Kang original, of course. Just this once, the preklek has loaned out his shifting staff and told it to go wild. Franquio cuts an impressive figure in obsidian dragon-scale full-plate, lined of course with the finest fur from fresh;y-skinned chupacabra cubs. Comfort should never be sacrificed for style and practicality. The warm outfit would bring a smile to the gorgon's face, if he hadn't long removed the expression from his repertoire. The preklek let's the reclusive model take center stage, while he samples the snacks. There's gotta be snacks somewhere.
Quintessa notices Joan nod at her as she peaks around Zahrani and gives her a nod in return. “Hello there, Joan. Are you here to offer your healing services during the tournament again? I expect this one to be a bloody one, as usual.”
Valrae stops eyeing the kobold suspiciously long enough to whoop a loud cheer for Alex. She didn't know him very well, actually she remembered... Something from the last tournament, but it felt like the right thing to do.
Zahrani glances about, doing her best to keep track of who's nearby. Looking back to the Healer, the Jaguar offers a smile in return, "I'm doing okay. Busy as ever, but I'm trying to make time for personal connections. You know how that goes..." The paladin admires the various furs Penelope wears over her armor.
Mathollak :: There is strange struggling within Mathollak's armor as Valrae solicits his attention, and his legs begin pivoting around to face her. Then his torso does, and eventually his chest and face. "Ah!" says the kobold, "You are Valrae!" He takes one tiny knee and bows his head slightly, which causes him to almost lose balance and teeter over like a coiled snake. With several grunts of effort coming from various places within the armor, he manaages to right himself again. "I am Zipzop, of Zipzop and Zerk associates? We--I was hoping to run into you today!" A mysterious hand stretches out of the armor and offers to shake Valrae's hand, before it is slapped and retracts. Then Zipzop offers to shake her hand.
Meri could understand her sister’s sentiments fully, even if Meri seemed to be abstaining from said wine. “When in Frostmaw, may as well be warm and casual. And may as well rep my sister’s band while I am at it too, yeah?” Shortly after Meri and Khitti begin to engage in casual conversation, Alex takes to the axe throwing game. Meri didn’t want to be the first, but she has been itching to to have a go. It’s normally something that Meri’s quite good at. She watched the bard’s attempts at the game from a distance, not yet moving closer to partake herself. She was still chatting a bit with Khitti, “I think they might appreciate it if you just drink the wine though instead of crawling into. Just, you know, sayin’.” The blonde smirks. “Either way should warm you right up, eh?”
Laezila twists away from Mesdoram, looking over the crowd. Then, promptly, flanked by her massive guards she moves toward the gathered- Meri, Valrae, Magik and the lot. Once approached, her steps wane, ebb, and finally come to cease awkwardly before them. Where she just stands.
Penelope’s eyes dance around the courtyard. She notices more familiar faces than she thought she would. Her eyes pause, however, and bounce back to Zahrani. “I couldn’t relate more to that statement. I feel like I’ve been gobbled by work.” Nasty habit she had. Moss eyes then squint in a questioning way, and she is about to ask the obvious. “Are you participating in the tournament?”
Meri stares at Laezila, at first it seems like out of judgmental annoyance. But there is an internal pep talk. Be nice to the drow, Meri. Don't irrationally hate on the drow, Meri. You're in public, Meri. Kelay is neutral, Meri. So a smile is forced and Laezila is greeted with a quick, "Hi."
Valrae gasps and takes a small step back as the kobold turns in such an inhuman and unnatural manner, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “I-” She jolts again as he says her name, confusion flashing before he lowers himself to one knee. “Oh that’s not necessa-” The witch rushes forward to offer a reluctant helping hand when it seems he won't be able to right himself. There is obvious relief when it is apparent that she need not have bothered. “Oh, lovely to meet you Zipzop…” She says, her voice unusually high as she attempts to gain some sort of her usual composure. It’s lost again when a hand erupts from the armor, nowhere near where it should have been (like, attached to his arms) and she makes a yelp of surprise. Completely lost for words now, she takes Zipzop’s hand in her own and fights back a bubbling laugh. Something like humor flashes in her eyes though and she leans down to seemingly whisper to Zipzop’s chest, though to anyone else it might look like she was inspecting a part of his armor as she tapped it lightly with her index finger. “And lovely to meet whoever else you might be.” She rights herself again.
Zahrani takes another zip of the mulled wine, glancing in the direction of axes being thrown and cheering before turning back to find Penelope's eyes on her. In response, she nods, "I am, though I can also help with healing after other matches."
Khitti’s foot brushed up against the compass, alerting Khitti to its existence on the ground. She’s quick to pick it up and pocket it again as Meri spoke, eventually smirking right back at her sister. “Yeah, I probably should not. They may just decide to turn me to stew instead.” Something seemed off to Khitti. Meri abstaining from drinking? Not taking the opportunity to wear that full set of armor she loved so much? But Khitti did not say anything. She was certainly not the type to pressure someone to drink and she absolutely understood Meri’s hatred of the cold. And yet… But no. Khitti said nothing. Every time her sister did spare glances towards Alex’s axe attempts, Khitti did give the blonde a few good hard stares. Not bad ones. Just… suspicious ones. Whenever Meri did decide to go try her hand at the axe-throwing, Khitti would offer Alex a hesitant wave. It had been quite a while since they last saw each other, and when they had, it had not ended well.
Laezila stares for several thick seconds more after Meri's greeting, almost as if there is some tension- but it's cut then abruptly with the woman's voice from behind her mask. "Hello. I'm Matron Laezila D'l'Sel D'issan," she says, as if that meant anything. The pair of lycan guards idly snarl and growl.
Magikrios simply blinks at Laezila, "Sorry, do you need assistance?"
Joan offers a nod towards Quintessa, "Yeah, I missed out on the last two.' She eyes the games and begins to make her way over before calling back to the changeling, "Oh yeah, send me a letter when you want to get together for that discussion."
Kang shows interest in the axe-throwing, and figures he might as well join. Instead of trying for the win, he tries to match Alex's throws perfectly. The first heads end-over-end and lands two inches inside the bard's first throw, slightly closer to center. The preklek frowns, that won't do. The second lands a half inch outside Alex's second throw. Yes, that's better. The third, again, a failure. Landing two feet closer than the bard's throw. Recent strength training may have thrown off his precision. Kang mumbles something rude in Chthonic, causing his lip to start bleeding. No matter. The game is over. May the best heathen win.
Mathollak :: Zipzop's chest chuckles and says, "I'm not gonna fall for that." Zipzop himself continues the conversation as if nothing had transpired. "We were hoping to discuss Mathollak's imprisonment with you at some point, if you have the time? We--that is Zipzop and Zerk Associates, are representing him in this matter. Surely with Larket's imminent surrender, our patron's freedom must also be secured? Have you considered our patron's plight, Mayor Valrae?"
Penelope follows Zahrani’s gaze. The axe throwing. In the midst, she waves an overly enthusiastic hand. “Pfft, don’t worry about it. Focus on winning,” she offers a very wide grin, although internally she thinks dueling is a ridiculous concept. Though, after the battle of Xicotl, it was no wonder people participated in these tournaments. “You should give the axe throwing a try. Maybe it’ll intimidate the competition,” she wiggles her fingers in a goofy, playful manner. As if Zahrani’s throw might spook the contestants.
Joan takes her turn at the axe throwing contest. As she is handed the firdt of three axes the vampiric healer takes a few moments to roughly judge the distant from the target, she takes a half step as she lightly pulls back her right arm with the handle of the axe in her grip.Firmly she tosses the axe, sending it spinning towards the target, she felt okay about the throw and it lands pretty soild into the target about in the center. She lets up a cheer before waiting to be handed the next axe, with a deep inhale and a slow exhale she gives the second axe a throw at the target, this one hits way lower, but still on the board. It was decent, she did alright last time at that Pin the tail on the raindeer game so Joan felt okay about the throw, its not like she practiced at this, so as she is given the last axe the undead woman gives it another decent throw, but this one is not as good as her second throw, but still on the board. Not bad she thought before moving off. She tried at least and that counted, right?!
Meri’s jaw sets just a little bit on edge. Were those guards growing at her? That was not a tone that the lycan woman would take kindly to in most circumstances, she was having to try very hard to be a proper dignitary of Kelay-Sage right now….and not make Magikrios hold her beer. Not that she even has a beer. "Meri Lyastri D'Chath," she responds to Laezila.
Alex appreciated the cheer from Valrae. It kept him from melting into a puddle of embarrassment after botching his third toss entirely. He wasn’t absolutely certain that she was the one who made the cheer but he did have a good ear for anything to do with praise or approval coming his way. Still, he wouldn’t interrupt her conversation to show his gratitude, he’d wait to find her later and follow up. For now, he works on his third glitter ale. The good thing about grog is that it’s so disgusting he had to be a certain kind of desperate to put it away the way he was with this, but this? This tasted right. Sure, maybe the booze is what caused him to botch the last throw, but it was also allowing him to ignore the shame that came with it and he wasn’t in any kind of rush to let that take over. But still something was bothering him and he couldn’t quite place it. Sure, he was conflicted about being back in Frostmaw, and sure, he was nervous about the tournament… and sure, he missed it here… and sure, he missed Hildegarde… and… no, no, no. It had nothing to do with that. He was certain of it. Such fickle things had no power over a man as seasoned in the art of hardships. It must be something else. But what!? He pondered and pondered as he downed his third drink. His foot tapping against the cobbled ground as he did, lips twisting back and forth in a rhythmic motion until he caught himself gritting his teeth as a missed note pierced the air like a banshee’s wail. That’s it! Alex stared daggers at the hired entertainment. Look at him. Going on as if he didn’t just butcher the song in instant. The man ran his tongue across his left canine as his hands and chest began to feel hot. Either the glitter ale was starting to get to him a lot faster – or Alex was growing increasingly agitated at this pretender. He finishes his third drink and looks over towards the table containing this sweet nectar of the divine but another movement catches his attention and he spots Khitti’s wave. He stops entirely and locks eyes with her, his focus bouncing back and forth between each of her own as he raises his hand in return and offers an exposed palm with a solemn smile. A thousand words race through his mind and he fights desperately to keep them contained as he bites against the inside of his lip. It had been ages since the two of them had spoken and even longer since it was on good terms. His knack for sputtering out whatever came to mind was traditionally to blame and this time he would pace himself in an effort to be better. He wouldn’t press his luck – but the acknowledgement had already put the human in a better mood. Hell, he’d forgotten about that loser who’d played the lyre for all of an hour before the ceremony for a few seconds! But now? As if! Alex moves to the table to collect his fourth drink where he commits to staring at the hired bard as he sips away.
Kang :: Franquio poses dramatically and quickly finds the most beautiful group of people to stand with. He refuses to associate with the deformed and, Cire forbid, the -average-. He shudders at the thought, and straightens his sunglasses. No, beauty is life, beauty is key, beauty is all that matters. If only that lazy preklek would hire a suitable bard for ambiance.
Valrae’s lips tilt into a smile as Zipzop’s chest chuckles but she doesn’t mention it further. Mathollak’s name erased the humor from her face though, replacing it with something dark and cold and angry. “Yes, I have time.” She answers, the ice even in her voice now. She listens to him and nods. “I can assure you that it is my personal priority to recover Mathollak safely and unharmed from Larket.” There was a hardness in the Mayor’s tone that was very unlike her, something she normally never would have taken at such events as these, but Math had been an invaluable member of her army and even more, he was something of a friend. While she’d managed to secure a victory over Macon in Sage, it felt that every day Cenril did not march upon the Hard Kingdom was a day lost working toward his return. In a softer tone she adds, “And Delisha is a favorite of mine, however I can admit my heart belongs to Selene.”
Laezila slips her gaze toward Magikrios as if expecting an introduction for him as well, "A pleasure. Forgive my guards, they are... unused to the surface and manners. Suffice to say, neither am I. You govern Sage forest?"
Zahrani offers a grin to Penelope, "I'll give it a try. Mind holding my drink?" The paladin joins the line of contestants. When it's her turn, she inspects the axe heads with keen eyes, before taking position. In a fluid, dancelike motion, all 3 axes are thrown in rapid succession. The first two hit off-center, but the third axe hits the second and bounces off, hitting the ground with a soft clang. Not an ~unimpressive~ display, but not quite what she was going for. Alas, she rejoins Penelope, and should the Healer also take a turn, the paladin would hold her drink as well.
Magikrios clears his throat before looking into Laezila's eyes, "We, govern Kelay-Sage. Magikrios Lyastri D'Chath. Anything we can help you with?"
Kang :: Franquio said to Alex, "Does it pain you as it pains me?" Without waiting for a response, the glittering gorgeous gorgon continues. "To be surrounded by mediocrity, when we are clearly so much more beautiful."
Mathollak accepts her assurances without any inkling toward guile of any kind. "Good! Yay! That is good. We haven't had much contact with him, but we do know that he is being kept in a jail cell. If all else fails, we hope to free him ourselves." His chest curses and shuffles as the mulled wine spills out of the bottom of his get up. Zipzop commits to not noticing this. "Ah! Of course but have you considered: All hearts belong to Delisha and therefore it is she who compels you to love Selene? It's true...the scriptures tell us that err...Delisha actually invented hearts." Zipzop hasn't been a member of the flock for very long, but he tries his best to improvise what he can't pay attention to. "And now, as it is Mathollak we are representing, we have to try our hand in all the contests. You don't have to, it would make it harder for us to win, anyway."
Laezila gestures almost idly, "Just introducing myself. I am glad Sage is recovering," she says- then Franquio's words make her gaze visibly reflect some sort of flinch. Ugly. Her masked face twists to imply her state in the gorgon's direction. "Unfortunately, last time I was there was as an enemy. But that was... almost a decade ago now."
Mathollak :: “Let the record show, that if Mathollak were here in person, he would hit not just the bull’s eye, but also the bull’s entire family, that’s how good at throwing axes he is.” While Zipzop keeps his arms folded, three mysterious arms reach out of gaps in the loose fitting armor, and wrap reptilian, clawed hands around three axes. They’re all thrown at once, in varying degrees of accuracy. Two of them collide in midair, completely changing their destined course. One lands unfortunately on a table, crashing into the Aramoth shaped appetizers and beheading them. Destiny. The other two make it onto the board! One of them sneaking dangerously close to the bullseye, and the other is acceptable also.”No applause necessary, I am just acting in my patron’s interest.”
Alex smirks at Franquio's remark. "Not everyone can be blessed with beauty." He turns to face the creature and his smile grows wider. "You are among the lucky ones."
Khitti || That stare of Alex’s was unnerving for a moment, until he added that smile and a wave of his own. Khitti would not deter him further from getting his next drink and staring daggers at the poor hired bard as she waited for her turn to take a shot at the axe-throwing. Finishing off her tankard of wine, she tried her hand, but realized far too late that the wine was taking its lovely warming effect on her and… well… her one-handed throwing skills were not great, unless it was with magic. And so, each of her turns with the axe are utter failures, to the point that one of the axes almost hit another ceremony-goer in the head and another found itself embedded in a wall. Embarrassed, she grimaced at her attempts, and slipped off elsewhere. Elsewhere being the spot where she got that mulled wine before, so she can get more.
Meri gives a slight wrinkle of her nose when Laezila mentions that she is glad Sage is recovering. “There was minor damage during the Larket and Cenril war, but we already have plans to rebuild.”
Kang :: The gorgon raises his glass at Alex's words, accepting the praise as his due. "Luck and a competent tailor. He does his best, but he has a ways to go." Kang ducks his head to hide a scowl. Ungrateful snakehead. No one else would take the arrogant narcissist on as a client, and these demands... Dear Lady!
Magikrios was familiar with the elf and drow war that happened while he was away, never to be forgotten. However, this was a new time for Sage, "Well, times do change, as do people. All are welcome to roam the forests and village as long as they behave."
Valrae nods, “From what my people have gathered I know about as much of the same. I’ll be happy to let your office know when the next opportunity arrives to do just that.” It seems the witch is just as committed to not noticing the spilled wine or the cursing that follows, even if another laughing smile fights mutinously to overtake her. Her dark eyes glaze over a little as the kobold seems to begin waxing poetic about Delisha. The High Priestess struggles to point out that she was, in fact, the leader of the Devout’s Guild and considered one of the leading experts in not only scholarly knowledge of the gods but various ways of acting faith as well. Was it mansplaining if he wasn’t at all a man? She seems to have been saved by the ax throwing contest though. She escapes without a look back and makes clapping sounds for all involved as she finds herself a fresh drink and polishes it off quickly.
Vgfh walks up to the axe throw, picking up each of the three axes in his hand, checking each for weight and balance, his form covered in his random collection of clothing and armour, making him look like he had robbed a homeless person. He looks down at the distant target and casually tosses the first two axes. Both hitting the inner ring but off center with a high level of precision desipite the casual nature of the throw. He looks at the third axe, turning it in his hand, frowning at it, feeling its weight off balance. Shrugging, he tosses it. The axe embeds in the outer ring, showing neither accuracy nor precision, the throw clearly affected by the shoddy workmanship of the axe. He adjusts his hood and walks back silently into the crowd.
Penelope holds Zahrani’s drink and watches from afar. In the midst, the healer downs the rest of the ale and it sits warmly in her light-weight stomach. “Go, Rani!” She chants before giving a “woo” like a woo-girl. One drink. Here we go. The feline offers to hold her own drink, which is empty. “Oh trust me, you don’t want -me- throwing an axe.” She smirks. “I’ll take someone’s head off. Trust me. Now give me an arrow? Easy. Axe? Well, the only thing I chop is wood.”
Laezila nods slowly as her eyes move toward the pair from the gorgon, visibly rolling her shoulders as if to physically shake off the thought of mediocrity. "Yes. But, the drow need my attention for now. D'Artes left a void in the council. I have no plans to rule, but my House will be strong again. But I figure it's good to show... I don't know, good will? To the surface. So I'll be taking part in the tourney."
Meri accidentally bumps Penelope toward the Gladiator Joust game. Totally on accident. Big ol Balgruuf starts giving her looks too. Oh no. Oh my.
Zahrani shrugs in response to Penelope's decision to not throw any axes. "I think you'd be fantastic at throwing axes, but it's up to you." She watches Vgfh take his turn, having no idea who that is or where he goes afterwards, before resolving to simply enjoy her drink and the Healer's company.
Alex suddenly downs his fourth glittering ale and motions towards those around him. “Excuse me for one moment, please.” The pale man presses his way through the crowd and rapidly approaches the ‘entertainment’ for the evening. The hired bard seems a bit caught off guard and suddenly stops his song. “What are you doing?” he asks, “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a mix up. You see, we actually already had a singer for the evening! Don’t worry, you’ll still be paid in full.” Alex replies with a strong charm that doesn’t seem to phase the opposing musician. “Look man, I’m going to need you to get off of the-…” Alex’s charm falters fast as he lowers his voice into a growl, “Get up and go home now.” The man begins to reply, “NOW!” Alex shrieks, his voice transforming into a wail as specks of blue begin to fall from his eyes. “Woah! OK! OK!” the opposing bard cries as he rises and begins gathering his things. “Oh, no, you can leave the lyre. Thank you!” This time there are no questions as the fearful performer makes a hasty retreat leaving Alex to claim the instrument and stage for himself! He plucks at a few of the strings to ensure it’s proper tune and the smile that spreads across his face indicates pure bliss. He clears his throat and speaks, his voice amplified by the power of his own voice, “Ladies, gentleman! … and creatures of untold beauty!” he nods towards Franquio. “Tonight, we gather in celebration of what some would rightfully claim to be the greatest tournament in our history. Frostmaw welcomes all of you and we eagerly await your display of power in our tournament. Please, enjoy your nights, and long live Lady Silver.” A kind gesture for a missing queen and a short speech for a man who abandoned his post within the city years ago… but still, as he begins to play, the melody that spills out across the courtyard can only be described as heavenly – the voice that follows, angelic. “Marching away, from the homes where we lay, leaving our warmth and love, for years of dismay. Forward we go, to the great unknown, with steel we shall blow, and cut flesh and bone. Oh Aramoth, the name that we praise, give us your strength, so we fight another day.” It’s unclear if the sense of calm and content that would fill those willing to hear him sing was a product of his talent or magic but the constant flow of mist that mimicked tears would indicate a very likely combination of the two. As the song concludes, Alex wastes no time going into another, this time, the lyrics detailing past tournament contestants… including himself… something about dead wolves which makes him frown.
Meri accidentally bumps Magikrios toward the game too. Balgruuf will take them both on if they ain't careful.
Magikrios nods to Laezila, "Well, best of luck to you. This tournament can get pretty brutal if you get deep into the bracket."
Penelope had just gotten a refill and downed it a little quicker. Then, the blonde that walks by bumps her. She widens her gaze as she stumbles forward before looking at big buff boy Balgruuf. "Uhhh..." She turns beet red before he gives her the glaring eye. A little fire sparks in her chest. "You don't have to stare at me like that."
Balgruuf snorts at the tiny little Penelope, finding her spark of bravery to be laughable at best. Or maybe he was just bored of standing on that pedestal, waiting for someone to come fight him. “Yeah? I’ll stare at you however I damned well please unless you’re gonna step up here and do something about it.” Direct. Challenge. Issued.
Khitti just sorta stood there, off to the side, sipping her mulled wine, watching the chaos of the ceremony. It wasn’t entirely unhinged chaos, but it still felt chaotic nevertheless. She chugged the rest of that wine and used the time to make her escape. Okay it wasn’t really an escape but still. On her way out, she pulled out that strange compass again and squinted at it. It still pointed west. The redhead scrunched up her nose at it, then continued on, returning to the carriage she arrived in, and headed west, to the somewhat-newly built Necromancer’s Guild mansion, The House of Frozen Souls.
Penelope does not like the sizing up that this ex-warrior is giving her. “You better watch your filthy mouth before it’s washed out with soap,” she points before ripping a nearby blunt spear next to her side. She sheds the thick cloak off of her shoulders. Of course the size difference is great in comparison, though the healer was not the fearful type. Just the thoughtful type. She hikes herself up on that pedestal to get ready to go against the burly man. “Try me.” Oh boy… Can someone just grab her off the pedestal already before it gets ugly? For him, of course, in her mind.
Magikrios say Laezila: I will not. There are other projects that need my attention in the world. I won't be much use all battered up.
Laezila say Magikrios: Understandable. The Underdark is a bit different. Prove my strength repeatedly, keep a presence at the surface. So on.
Balgruuf’s first challenger is up! He readies his blunted jousting spear, at least Penelope will not have to deal with any broken skin…just maybe a bruised bum and a sore ego. But it is obvious that the Giant takes time sort of mercy on Penelope for when she is whacked with relative ease off the pedestal….well it probably could have gone worse for the human woman who went against a giant. “Who is next?”!
Valrae from her corner of the room watches Khitti sneak off into the night and decides it was her turn to make a quiet goodbye. She motions towards her guards and waits as the carriage that had brought her pulls back around before slipping away herself. She had been right, the gift box Khitti had given her didn’t make it back to Cenril. She was busy marveling at it nearly the whole ride back to slightly warmer shores.
Penelope :: Once the go is given, Penelope’s automatic short stature is aiming for the shins, okay? Which may have been a bit of cheating, but who cared. How could she even reach him, anyway? A little thwap and the giant would go down like timber, right? No, not right. This is one sturdy tree of a man. The blunt force hits roughly against the padded leather near her chest and, embarrassingly easy, the druid flies backward with a thud. “I still think your mother needs to wash your mouth out with soap,” she grumbles and gives him the side eye. Automatically, she searches the crowd before she sees the Lyastri. Magikrios. “You. Go!” She is acting like it’s Magik’s fault for her bruised bumper.
Zahrani helps Penelope up from her defeat in the joust, before asking with a slight grin, "any injuries that need healing?"
Penelope grabs the hand offered to her before hopping up next to Zahrani again. She reaches for her cloak to shrug over small shoulders. "Bahh," she waves a hand in that grumbly behavior before snickering at her own defeat. What a good sport, after all. "Maybe you should take him down," she grins.
Magikrios waves at Penelope and gently bumps into Meri on his way towards Balgruuf. "Hey. You don't hit Nel. She's so little." Magikrios grumbles as he climbs on the pedestal with the blunted spear in hand. "Now you get to deal with me.." Magikrios brings the spear over his head as he stretches and clears his throat. "On 3 or.." The elf turns his back towards the frost giant giant and rests the spear on his shoulder, gripping it with both hands towards the bottom until he hears a "3!" from within the crowd. Magik quickly turns around, lifts his elbow, and swings with all of his might. Balgruuf better duck or he's getting his head taken off. Who yelled that 3? Mirshann, Mag's daughter. She's here somewhere..
Alex continues performing in place of the loser that was initially here. The bard seems content with his belly full of ale and the venue full of his songs. He'll continue until the night is over.
Penelope spits her drink at Magik's short insult. "Rude!"
Balgruuf was totally ready for Magikrios, this was going to be a walk in the park for the giant, right? There is no way that too-tall and scrawny elf would be able to best him, right? Wrong. Balgruuf is a tough warrior, not smart one, so Mirshann shouting three from the crowd distracts the warrior at just the right time. Penelope’s honor has been redeemed and the giant is knocked from the pedestal and too the ground. Which promptly angers him enough that he roars out in frustration. “Stupid elf man!”
Balgruuf barely had the chance to finish shouting at Magikrios before he is felled yet again by Laezila, "I didn't even get back up on the pedestal you dumb drow!"
Zahrani takes up the challenge, hopping into the pedestal with feline grace and dexterity. Balgruuf swings, Rani jumps to avoid, before a deft thrust knocks the giant down with a thud. A look of surprise crosses the woman's face, before she hops back down to join Penelope. The fluidity of her movements makes her armor look virtually weightless.
Laezila climbs to her feet, looks to Zahrani then Magikrios. "One winner, right?"
Magikrios jumps out of the way and makes his way back to Meri. So much sudden violence!
Meri stares at her husband once he returns to her side, announcing to him, "I'm hungry. Should we head out and pick up dinner? Maybe chicken?"
Penelope :: A loud, "Yes!" escapes Penelope's mouth as Magikrios takes Balgruuf down. Forget the insult, her friend is easily forgiven. Entertainment fills her eyes as the drow wacks at the giant before even on the pedestal, and she snorts. It's the alcohol, truly. Zahrani then takes up the challenge with ease and swiftness. "Impressive," she gives the mild golf clap of approval, though she has no room to be a judge due to her pathetic defeat.
Magikrios say Meri: Winner winner, chicken dinner. Let's do it.
Penelope say Meri: Chicken. Chicken for sure.
Meri say Penelope: I am glad you agree. You know? You should come over for dinner one of these days. Just maybe not this day, we're talking about moons after dinner....