Let the Games Begin

[Aura]

Giselle's blue eyes raked over the scenery of the city sprawling out around the castle and its grounds. Verria was quite large and always growing in size and in wealth. She knew that Verria was powerful and as the only heir that put her in a difficult position.


She was going to have to marry soon and because of her position she would not have the luxury of marrying for love. Taking her hand in marriage translated into forming an alliance with Verria and therefore her suitor couldn't be anyone unworthy.


That brought her today... the invitations had been sent and potential suitors had begun to file into the town and the population of people in the large castle had swelled as guest facilities began to fill. Today people would gather and she could meet the people competing to marry her and tomorrow would mark the actual beginning of the games. To anyone else, this would be a stressful day, but Giselle had already worked through her nerves and she was surprisingly calm. This whole event was necessary and she knew that if the decision was left in her own hands she would probably somehow make a mess and possibly ruin Verria's strong name. The competition was preferred.


Giselle turned away from her window and sucked in a deep breath of air as she meandered away and out of her room. Once she exited her bedroom a maid approvingly checked her over deeming her acceptable to meet those who would be arriving. Not only did they have to leave a good impression on her, but Giselle would have to impress them as well.


It took her next to no time to exit her tower and she picked up the skirt of her elaborate dress as she walked across the grounds. It was time to meet the suitors. The games would be beginning soon.

 

[Tylar Annell]

Tristan stood in the courtyard of Castle Verria, arms crossed and a dark look on his face, waiting for the princess to present herself. He was not happy about his part in this. Vanir needed neither wealth nonr protection from Ardin's capital city, and Tristan resented being sent here.


At that moment, Tristan spotted one of the suitors looking in his direction with obvious dislike written on his face. Tristan had been recieving a great number of those kind of looks since arriving in the castle. The other suitor didn't turn away when he met his stare, so Tristan responded with a glare of his own, an angry growl also escaping him. Tristan and his entourage had arrived yeterday after a tedious two week long journey from Vanir. When they had finally arrived, they almost weren't allowed through the gates. No invitation had been sent to Vanir about the games and Tristan and his group were unwelcomed visitors. However, it must have been decided that it would be better to avoid conflict and let them participate then to reject them.


"By the gods, Tristan, stop growling," A stern voice next to him spoke and Tristan looked up at the large, red-haired man standing next to him, "I can guarantee princesses don't respond well to it." Tristan only rolled his eyes at the advice, earning him a cold look from the man.


"I could care less, Uncle. I'm here to win a competition, not woo the girl," Tristan turned towards his uncle as he spoke. His uncle was a head taller than Tristan was, so he was forced to look up.


The differences extended to more than height though. Uncle Volundr was a tall and broad-shouldered man with long red hair, traits that ran in the Roanson family. It was his mother however - a small, dark haired and dark eyed woman - whome Tristan owed the majority of his appearance too. Most likely he would never reach the height that that was inherent on his father's side.


"That may be, but it might prove useful to be nice, especially if you win," Tristan made no further response to his uncle and returned to observing the other suitors. Most looked like they might be able to hold their own, but one even looked like he could pass for a girl.

 

[Dusky]

Cass felt entirely outside her comfort zone. The courtyard was extravagant, and the people were well-clothed, healthy-looking. Nothing like the squalor she was used to. Of course, that was only a small part of her discomfort; she was a girl among men, not that these men were to know. She was painfully aware of her slender build, when she stood next to these large, brawny people. Standing with her feet apart and fists on her hips in an attempt to look more masculine, she comforted herself in the idea that her brain was probably considerably larger than theirs.


The hardest part, she speculated, was remembering to walk like a boy. Her thighs stayed suspiciously close together when she wasn't paying attention, cause for great concern on the parts of her escorts, all sworn to secrecy in regards to her gender. She couldn't imagine what would happen if her sex was discovered; hopefully nothing so severe as a death penalty. She truly didn't understand why her parents had given her a choice in the matter. Even if she won, they could gain nothing, as then her gender would have to be revealed. Perhaps they meant for her to marry Giselle still guised as a male, and then let her face punishment as they expected to reap the rewards of the marriage.


Foolish. Humiliation would more likely put them to war.


Of course, it wouldn't come to that, Cass realized as she looked around. She didn't doubt her own capabilities, but these men had been trained to undertake challenges, especially those physical. She could win against most ordinary men, not by any training but simply by her own exercise habits, but these were not ordinary men. Perhaps she could take one or two of them, but most were built impressively. She doubted she could rise to the top.


She squirmed, not just underneath this knowledge but also wrapped up in bandages. They were most uncomfortable, but they taped down her already-small chest to conceal her femenine identity. Thinking again of the walking dilemma, she made a mental note to buy cucumbers later on.


"When shall the princess decide to show herself? I prefer a puntuous woman," she wondered aloud.


She laughed inwardly. There was one thing that would make this ordeal easier. At least she was attracted to women. Cass could fool herself, then, that she was fighting for Giselle, not her salvation from disownment, which may be inevitable in any case. Sighing, she tapped her foot and observed the other suitors.


Some were garbed grandly; others, like her, were dressed in plain clothing. Some were hulking, others rim. Some seemed genuinely glad to be here, others bored. There was an enormous variety. Briefly she wondered how many cities and towns were represented.

 

[Lux]

The journey from Calder Aylwin’s snowy mountainside town to the wonderful city of Ardin was long and filled with dangerous predators, but the small caravan reached its destination safely. The horse-drawn carriage had survived the treacherous mountain range, a task not easily completed. As Calder, and his guardian pulled into town, they left their battered carriage at the stables. Stepping out of the wagon, Calder noticed a long line of other carriages. Some were just as beaten as his while others were adorned with beautiful wooden wheels and laced curtains hanging in the window.


Carefully Calder placed his iron boot onto the hay covered stone. He had never seen a kingdom so large. Thorodan was pretty big, but most of the city was spread through out the plains at the bottom of the mountain and the river that flowed from it. In Ardin everything seemed so… cramped. His guardian, Ackley Elshind, ushered Calder to the stable gate when he exited the carriage, trying to get to the courtyard in time. Before he knew it, Calder was standing tall in a large crowd of men around his age. There was a immense variety, something Calder hadn’t expected.


Slightly intimidated by the amount of the competition, Calder stood as tall as he could without looking ridicules. His Thorodan armor shone in the sunlight and he wore the suit with pride. The plate armor was sturdy and strong and in the center of the chest plate there was an engraving of the legendary dragon, Ysellian. On the back of the neckline read “Blodet av dragen, beskytter av den gamle krigeren. Bevarer liv og uskyld.” The verse was written in the Native language of Calder’s town (which may or may not be Norwegian) and it translated to: “The blood of the dragon, the protector of the old warrior. Preserver of life and innocence.”


Originally the full plate of armor included a helmet, but the temperature was hotter than that of his hometown and hopefully his face would stand out in the crowd. His skin was tan after the days of hunting in the mountains and his body build was muscular because of his training as a Thorodan warrior. Talented in both sword and archery, Caldor displayed both weapons proudly; his bow on his back and his sword on his belt. Caldor had thought that perhaps being a Thorodan warrior would give him an edge on the competition, but looking at the other muscular young men he began to doubt his training.


(ooc| I hope its ok that I’m taking artistic liberties with his hometown and culture!)

 

[BLADE MdM]

Everyone was chatting aimlessly, their voices, laughter and shrill screams jumbled together to form an omnipresent hum around Adrian that was driving him insane. The streets were alive, pulsing like the living veins of the city, as the peasantry stood about, doing absolutely nothing, aside from trying to view some of the game's contestants, or perhaps watching the festivities Giselle's father had arranged. After all, all of Verria had unconditionally entered a state of holiday, until the games were over. There wasn't any need for these folks to do anything. Slave labor would make sure the city didn't fall in upon itself, weighed down by all its decadence.


Adrian Mason sighed inwardly, but outwardly he didn't betray a sign of his displeasure. He would much rather be in the forest right now, stalking through the shadows beneath the jack pines with a bow in hand, looking for his quarry, whether it'd be a rabbit or a deer or a more dangerous creature. But his father, and more importantly, his village, didn't need a hunter at this particular moment; they needed a noble, and therefore it was his duty to play the part of the happy noble, ready to woo the princess. Or, at least he had to appear to want to attain the princesses heart. In reality, he didn't suppose he'd have a chance to do all that much wooing.


His father's private guards, so generously given to him for this excursion to Verria, muscled their way through the throngs of people in an attempt to reach the castles courtyard, as Adrian followed behind. The two men, and Adrian himself, were dressed in ceremonial armour, which was a moronic necessity. The armour was silver-plated, and sunlight glinted off it, giving it a beautiful metallic shine; anyone wearing it would look regal and much like they belonged in a city like this. However, the armour was cumbersome, and offered a pitiful amount of protection. If anyone had a halfway decent blade, they'd stab right through the armour as if it was mere cloth.


Well, if I die, at the very least I'll die impeccably well dressed.





The courtyard was reached quickly enough, and the guards allowed the three men in without much fuss. Adrian looked around the crowd, scouting out the competition. Men of all shapes and sizes were scattered about, with some standing beneath their banners proudly, while others, clothed in rags, stood meekly in the shadows, as if they felt like they didn't belong. Adrian, for his part, felt like he was lost some where in the middle. He was akin to one of the nervous, poor individuals, pretending to be something greater.


He desperately hoped no one would notice how fake the act was.

 

[Poshib]

After a long trip on horseback, Aiden arrived in Verria. Wiping the sweat from his brow he smiled and then dismounted. His face was covered in dirt and his curly brown hair looked wild. His clothing was plain enough, a simple green stained leather jerkin with brown pants, though they were filthy as well.


"Finally," he said, a weary expression upon his face. The trip from his home was a long one, and although his father had convinced him to make the trip and compete for their family, he certainly hadn't allowed him to go in style. Aiden patted his mount's back, speaking softly to it. "Thanks for the ride, Nala. Can't believe you made the trip." The old nag snorted and turned away, ignoring him. "Let's hope that's not foreshadowing," he chuckled. The trip had been long and tiring, and he had made it alone. Being the least favored of his father's children, he wasn't given the attention or help, even with the stakes that were on the line.


After unloading his gear, Aiden made his way from the stables, but soon found himself standing around, taking in the city. It was much different than his hometown. Much more regal, almost sophisticated; a very different feel compared to the ruthless business that was the entire city of Tyrial.


It's different, but anything for a change. Plus, if I win this, I'm finally free. His smile returned. Maybe this was his new home. If nothing else, there were women here, too.


Following a crowd of people, Aiden made his way towards the towards the grounds. It was time to meet who he was stacked up against, and more importantly, meet the woman he was here to compete for. Scanning the crowed he saw the usual musclebound heavy armor guys, but it was the plain guys he was more concerned about. They were the ones that had something to hide.


It was going to be interesting.


It was going to be fun.

 

[Alexina]

Saben had found himself worked to the bone both physically and mentally when it came to this event of barbaric nature. He was only grateful that he had manage to head most if not all the staff or in his eyes the state of the castle and order of welcoming their guest wouldn’t have been done right. He made sure all the guest rooms were made up and ready. That every competitor was greeted by some form of staff, and their bags and animals were probably tended too.


He hadn’t gone down to see any of those who arrived yet though, perhaps a touch bitter at how the event would be decided. That or maybe he was just angry at himself for being around many brave men that could achieve the one thing he never could and make it look easy. Blood shed . . . why did everything have to be decided by that when it came to the end of it all. Sure it was a great way to keep your loved ones safe, but shouldn’t someone in charge also have more talents then just swinging a pointed stick around?


After inspecting one of the last guest rooms to make sure it was perfect (not like anyone would notice his hard work in the end) Saben used that room’s balcony to glance down below at the guest. His eyes scanning the differences, the grim of some made him wince and wonder, if some of them didn’t merely live in the barns with the animals themselves. He could only hope, that the one that won, also would respect and win the heart of his dearest friend. Knowing he himself would rather go unwed than have a marriage just decided by some foolish game. Then again, he wasn’t in a position of power, and he also knew some didn’t have the choice. All he could do for his friend, for better or for worst, was to support her no matter what the outcome. That he was more than willing to do, if some up started thought he would take control of the household just by getting her hand, he had another thing coming. Saben controlled the staff, and outside of Giselle's parents the only other authority he answered to was Giselle herself.


There was not much time to dally though, he knew he had to finish the inspections, and make sure the cooks had enough food for everyone. He was going to make sure no one left this estate without being surprised by the way things were ran one way or another. Order, cleanliness, proper manners, loyalty, the staff must show these things in all forms, just to prove to everyone how well off they were. If their own minor servants were this skilled, it would allow hopefully to the thoughts that their guards and men of arms were as well. Not that Saben could have anything to do with that lot. All he could do to help those heathens were to give them this illusion due to the reflection at best.

 

[TheJoker]

Gregory's eyes lit up as he and his troupe finally made it to the gates of Verria. They had been travelling for two and a half weeks. It possibly could've taken less time, but one of the servants fell ill. Gregory had refused to move on without the young man, so they had waited three extra days while the servant regained his health.


Now, as Gregory looked up into the grand kingdom, he thought how it was well worth the wait. His teacher, Brutus, had taught him about Verria. This big city was the capitol of Ardin. It was massive, expecially compared to his tiny hometown of Beniza (Ben-ee-za). He knew he was an unlikely candidate for the Princess's hand in marriage. But he was determined to prove not only himself, but Beniza.


Also, he had learned much about the Princess, Giselle. She was very beautiful, he had seen paintings. This was not only a marriage, but also a partnership and protection from Verria. Being so small, Beniza needed this very much. And of course, Gregory needed a wife. He needed heirs to the throne. He wanted as powerful woman to rule beside him. He hope Giselle was that woman.


They handed their invitation to the guards at the gate, and were led into the courtyard. Gregory looked around as his group set up. Finally, he whisked off to be bathed, clothed, and fed. This was one of the many reasons Gregory didn't like being the prince. Everyone was forced to do things for him, when he would much rather do them himself. But for now, he just dealt with it.

 

[Aura]

((I think everyone has posted so I'll officially launch this roleplay. Sorry for the awkward beginning stuff, our characters should interact before we get into anything more serious.))


Giselle marched across the grounds holding the skirt of her dress above her ankles when she suddenly became aware of the feeling of being watched. She was now just close enough to begin to see people and to try to analyze and recognize the faces of those before her.


She felt a sense of being overwhelmed at the thought that one of these faces could belong to her future husband and partner, a knot twisted at the bottom of her stomach. While this was necessary, she couldn't help but to feel like a piece of meat... to be fought over and won. Giselle approached finally picking out a familiar face in the crowd, it belonged to Saben and she approached him quickly.


"Can you believe it? They're all here for this partnership... I'm so overwhelmed." she gushed to him trying to replace her growing anxieties with happiness. She had tried to believe that she was ready, but she had no idea just what this competition would entail.


After finding and speaking briefly to Saben, she came to the awkward realization that she didn't know where to go or what to do now that she was on the grounds and near the competitors, she was about to ask him when her father's strong voice carried over the grounds. "Welcome competitors to our humbled city Ardin. We hope you enjoy your stay. I'm anxious for the feast to begin so I will quickly cover some rules... there are no rules except you may not poison, blackmail or kill any other of the competitors. Tomorrow we will joust so hopefully everyone has ridden a horse!" he laughed heartily, "For now let us forget the competition with food and drink! You'll be able to meet Giselle there AND your competition!" he called out in a merry voice.


Giselle nodded trudging her way forward finally having a direction to go. She worked her way to the tent sent up, the scent of rich lamb wafted from the tent and she claimed a place near the front of the tent where she could greet the newest arrivals.

 

[Poshib]

Aiden was chatting with a few other citizens when he first gazed upon Giselle.


"The competition stands to be fierce," one of them said. "It's a big deal, so I hope there are some worthy guys for her. I'd take her in a heartbeat."


He grinned and began to reply. "I've got your fierce competition right h-.." He let out a small gasp as he laid his eyes on her. "Hold that thought." He said to the man, moving to get a better view. Who is that..?, he wondered to himself. Even if I don't win, she's a beauty... A devilish smirk appeared on his face. ...Even if I do win. Unaware of who she was, he moved after her, pushing past people to get to her when the announcement was made.


"Will you get out of my way?! I've got to get to h-......" He stopped in place, suddenly crestfallen. Jousting?!He brushed his hair of his eyes and took a deep breath. Aiden could ride a horse well enough, but he hadn't jousted before, even once. All the training when to his brother. All the chivarly and the knightly ways to his brother. Aiden could fight, but it was what he had learned himself. He had been mixed up in tough crowds, been beat nearly to death and done the same to others. But jousting? Not a chance.


"...Thanks, Dad."


Aiden moped over towards the tent, his spirits lifted slightly by the rich aromas of the foods prepared for them. Stepping into the tent, his woes were forgotten when he again saw Giselle. "There we go." He smiled, a bounce in his step as he walked towards her. With an exaggerated bow, he introduced himself. "My lady, I am Aiden McKnight of Tyrial and competitor for the alliance. I'll be giving it my all, but should I come up short, I worry that only the comfort of a beautiful woman as yourself will save me from my sorrow. I only ask that you watch me compete," he looked into her eyes. "Surely I will pull on your hearts strings and regardless of the results of the competition we can become better acquainted." Nailed it, he thought.


First impressions were everything, right? If only he'd bothered to learn who he was competing for.

 

[TheJoker]

When Gregory's team was finally finished with him, he stood up. Glancing in a mirror, he walked out of his tent to listen to the princess's speech. "Excellent, jousting." he said to himself. Gregory had been jousting ever since he was old enough to get on a horse. He went to tell his men where he was going, then left the tent.


Making his way towards the feast, Gregory thought about what to say to Princess Giselle. He needed to introduce himself as Prince Gregory Fillone of the city of Beniza. When he got there, Giselle was talking with whom Gregory assumed to be another competitor. He walked up behind the other man and stood, waiting for the princess's attention.


Gregory stood there rehearsing what he must say. "Hello, Princess Giselle. I am Prince Gregory Fillone of the tiny city, Beniza." He would pause to bow. "Thank you for your invitation. Excellent choice of jousting. I can't wait." If he was comfortable enough with her at this point, Gregory would wink after that last part.

 

[Alexina]

((Saben talks to Giselle, and Aiden, and is nearby Greg. *Is just posting this up here for those players who may need to interact with him*))


After he was sure everything was settled, or as settled as it could be for his part, Saben found his way down to roam the crowds. His thoughts were to help out his princess as much as he possibly could. He quietly checked out the suitors, of course comparing them to his personal taste. His eyes roaming, grateful for the one he served that most seemed to be handsome, and at least have some manners going for them. He would be greatly caught off guard when Giselle was suddenly near him speaking.


“Don’t be.” Saben couldn’t help but give her a smile of encouragement, leaning in to whisper into her ear. “They came for the kingdom, but will find themselves fighting for you easily instead. I’m sure of it.” Pulling away he winked at the girl, his eyes roaming the crowd once more. “Never lose what control you have my lady, and perhaps even use this opportunity to gain more of it.”


It was the king’s announcement that had the princess speed off, and left nothing more than a chuckle on the servants face. That would be one of the competitions he surely couldn’t watch. Which only lead him to think over how much of the competition he would be able to bear, or if he would merely miss all of it? Surely a grown man like him fainting like one of the ladies during the show would just make things rougher on him. Sighing, he felt bad for this, not being able to forgive himself by staying at her side as they fought for her. This thought alone was what made him follow her, he couldn’t be there then, but at least now he could try to keep nearby and support her.


Pushed slightly aside himself by Aiden as he did follow he would glare at the rudeness given. Only to see the boy’s expression to drop and he wondered why such an excited young man would suddenly seem depressed. Shrugging it off he would make his way to Giselle’s tent, only to wink if she glanced to him and step back to watch the reactions. Staying at hand in case she ever needed an excuse to escape, or time to breath or who knew what else.


Sooner or later the rude one (Aiden) came to join them announcing who he was. Saben could barely contain himself from breaking out into laughter over it all. He would of course be willing to step in if need be and save the day. A line already forming in her head, words twirling a bit, “I’m not sure my princess will be able to sooth your sorrows and remain true sir knight. I could always step in if you’re still looking for someone to fall back on in such cases.” Sure it was a tease and mock in one but he couldn’t help but add insult of his own. To think the suitors who were there for HER were already looking for other aspects as well, it was disgraceful. The least this man could do was tidy up some after his long trip.


Saben of course would go silent and step back when someone or manners and cleanliness finally approached (Gregory). Knowing his place all too well, he studied this new man closely, he had such young features about him. Slowly Saben allowed his eyes to drift to Giselle once more hoping he didn’t over step himself earlier. He knew he had no rights to defend her in such a way, but he also knew a princess should never have to deal with such an insult as well.

 

[Aura]

Giselle listened to Aiden speak although she did not pick up the rudeness that Saben intrepreted. She was trying to formulate an appropriate response as this would be her first words with any of the suitors when Saben cut through the brief silence with a biting remark. Giselle was unfortunately taking a sip of water when Saben offered to take her place. She began to cough trying not to choke on her water as she laughed loudly. Giselle had not noticed Saben enter the tent, but she was grateful that he had... if at the very least to provide her with comic relief.


"I could tell that that wasn't rehearsed at all." Giselle smiled wryly after she had recovered sufficiently from Saben's remark, "I'm a girl more impressed by actions than by pretty words. I don't quite trust someone with a silver tongue." she then glanced up at Saben who she used to help comfort her. The fact that Aiden had practically sought her out before getting food unnerved her, was she even going to be able to eat with people approaching her all night? After hearing Saben speak and after talking herself she tried to take in as much food as she could while still keeping the appearance of a lady.


Aiden was still milling about when another suitor approached and introduced himself as Gregory. She smiled warmly and nodded politely, "I trust that I'll have quite a show tomorrow won't I?" She addressed that to both of the suitors and cast a fleeting, but longing glance at the food on her plate. Someday...

 

[Poshib]

Aiden's eyes glossed over, if only for a moment. ..Could I have...? No......well.....Whoops.


He laughed and scratched the back of his head, regaining his poseur before addressing Saben. "Tell you what, I'll toss back a few ales, you toss on a dress, if nothing else, we can share some laughs." He flashed him a grin. "I look forward to the competition, my lady, and I assure you, my tongue is quite capable of action." He bowed again, a sly smile on his face, before turning to go peruse the food.


Noticing Gregory waiting in line behind him he let out a chuckle and looked over his shoulder back to Giselle. "My lady, it appears you're in for a wild ride. Best of luck." He winked at her and slapped Gregory on the back as he passed by. "Good luck to you, too." He let out another laugh as he passed.


Well damn.

 

[Alexina]

Saben was a touch hurt when his friend laughed at him, starting to wonder just how foolish he may have been to step in. He was more used to people laughing at him than at his words after all. When she glanced to him after the silver tongue comment Saben managed a weak smile. He was good with his words; did she not find his actions that worthy though due to the lack of skills when it came to battles and the likes? He would just stay silent though given Giselle that gentle supporting smile and a nod showing he approved. Not like the approval of a servant really mattered.


It was when Aiden spoke of placing him in a dress though that Saben would give him such a ‘not amused’ look. “I don’t plan to play dress up if you don’t plan to remember the efforts in the morning.” He smirked, not about to admit that he probably was stuffed in a few dresses before. From time to time the seamstress needing a model of sorts, and he . . . well did lack muscles. Course now that he thought back of it he couldn’t help but to sigh. Realizing now that the girls probably had taken advantage of him just to play dress up with a male, was he really that easy to talk into things?


The time to be notice was long gone though thankfully, and he found himself once more fading into the background. He didn’t plan to interrupt his lady’s meal, nor step in-between the suitors unless it was requested by her too. He had already stepped out of place once this evening, and he could already hear the rumors and jokes circling about the castle for doing so now.

 

[Tylar Annell]

"Did you hear that, Tristan? Jousting!" His uncle said after they had heard the King's anouncment and he placed an encouraging hand on his nephew's shoulder. Tristan smiled.


"Did you hear that Uncle? No cheating," His uncle glared at the accusation and grumbled something about a 'brat' as they started to make their way over to tent where the feast was taking place.


"You're an excellent rider. You're victory is assured," His uncle Volundr said quietly with an arrogant confidence that, if he was honest with himself, Tristan didn't share quite as much. It would take more than just skill on his part to win the joust, there were always things that could go wrong and it depended on who he was set against in the tournament. But he was a good rider and his horse Hrimfaxi was the best steed he had ever owned. Thoughts of this prized animal, indeed his friend, gave Tristan a little more confidence in the upcoming task and put him at ease as he and his uncle entered the tent.


"The suitor's are presenting themselves at the Princess's table. Go." This was all Volundr said to him before he left Tristan at the entrance, making his way to find a table to sit at, mostly likely one that looked like it would be drinking heavily as feast progressed into the night. With a smal grunt of disapproval, Tristan made his way over the table Giselle was sitting at. Already two of the other suitors had introduced themselves to the princess, talking with her briefly before moving on. As he walked over, Tristan studied the girl that might be his future bride, should he win the contest. 'At lest she isn't bad to look at...' He thought to himself. His gazed lingered on her hair.


The people of Vanir considered red hair to be favourable characteristic for a person to have and was perceived to be the most beautiful of hair colours. To them it represented passion and a firey spirit. 'She would suit the name of Roanson,' Tristan thought again but stopped his inner musings as he found himself in front of Giselle's table.


"My Lady Giselle," Tristan bowed in the Vanir custom, one hand behind his back and the other he made into a fist and blaced oevr his heart. However, he didn't overt his eyes as he did so; even though Verria was Ardin's capital city, Tristan's hometown mighty in it's own right and in his mind he was here as an equal so he kept eye contact with the princess as he bowed.


"I am Tristan Roanson," Tristan introduced himself as he rose from the bow, "Vanir send's it greetings." Before this, Tristan's face had been placid and stoic but with his statement he could help but smirk. 'Greetings' from Vanir to Verria had never been as quite as civil as Tristan's current presence here.


"I hope you enjoy the rest of the feast." The smirk still firmly in place, Tristan bowed his head in pardon and left before the princess could say anything to him, a mere introduction being all that was asked of him. There was a table set aside for the suitors in particular and Tristan made a bee line through the people standing and conversing to take his place at it.

 

[BLADE MdM]

Adrian splashed cold water on his face, attempting to regain some sort of composure before he left his tent again. The glorified meet and greet was well underway, and the large crowds of people log-jammed in to the courtyard was like a sea of crashing waves, roaring with anger, as the current and undertow dragged him beneath its depths...


He wiped his face dry with the corner of his city's banner (oh, what his father would have said if he had seen that!), before mentally steeling himself as he walked outside. Despite his claustrophobia, he was determined to accomplish something tonight. Servants ran to and fro, catering to the nobles' every whim, which generally presented itself in the form of alcohol, and to a lesser extent food. Drunks danced to the sound of mandolins, violins, and equally drunk bards; in and of itself the music was all to an exorbitantly fast tempo, and it was played clumsily at best, but music of any kind was still music, and therefore Adrian could appreciate the workmanship behind it. He knew music, perhaps better than almost anything else, and so he clung to it as if it was his own personal life raft that kept him afloat as he tip-toed towards Giselle's tent.


A literal line up of suitors was forming at the entrance. Adrian watched one of the more obviously flagrant nobles leave in a ridiculous manner, his chuckle loud and irritating as he strutted away with an arrogance that seemed to suggest he'd already won the contest for the princesses hand, and his stomach did a back flip. Despite being raised in a wealthy family, Adrian didn't possess the easy confidence of his peers, and it irritated him beyond belief.


And of course, wealth was relative.


Adrian's father, being king of Ashlind, was the most well off man in that city. But here, in Verria, surrounded by the country's strongest, bravest young men, his fortune amounted to nothing. Adrian's silver armor, so tediously crafted by the best metal smiths in his hometown, was practically cheap, when contrasting against some of the contestants' get ups.


He tapped his foot anxiously, to the beat of the song. It was an older one, that had been sung for centuries, and he knew every nuance in its rhythm. 'Classics never die. Just the songstresses that had originally sung them', Adrian thought wistfully. A young, stately looking boy entered the tent, ready to seduce the beautiful princess, and whist her heart away from it's present owner, whether it's owner at the moment is Giselle, or someone else entirely. Adrian sighed: he had ran through the mental image of Giselle, the girl he'd been in love with for most of his life, and his heart dropped even lower than it already had been.


What was he doing in this line? Following everyone else, he supposed. Doing what he was expected to do. Doing what his heart and subconscious had wanted to do, which was wait in line, and make that damn angel fall in love with him. But he was kidding himself, of course. She would fall for Mr.YoungAndHandsome or Sir.ConfidentBlowHard. Giselle would never love him, and of course, his father would never allow it. His father wanted a job done, and it was his duty to do it.


Grabbing a glass of ale from the nearest waitress, Adrian slunk back in to the crowd, on the look out for Vanir`s representant. He had a job to do, and he had might as well get to it. He cast one last look at the princesses tent, all the while singing along with the bards.


``Oh I`ll never marry the Queen,


But I`ll be damned if I can`t dream``


(OOC- I messed up. Basically I followed Tristan after he left Giselle`s tent)

 

[TheJoker]

((I'll be on vacation from Monday, August 6th until Tuesday, August 14th with little to no internet connection. Sorry))

 

[BLADE MdM]

(How `bout your character falls ill )

 

[Aura]

((Thanks for letting me know Joker, and Blade MdM has a good idea. We'll just pretend that he's ill and he can lament about how far behind he is if we've done the jousting by the time that you return. It'd be interesting to see him try to make a comeback.))


She had managed to sneak a few mouthfuls of glorious food into her mouth between suitors nodding politely at each one and saying a few words in return. No longer did this event hold any magic to her, she couldn't close her eyes and pretend that she was going to see one and wonder if he was to be her husband in a year's time. She just wanted this strange process to be over. Greeting suitor after another was becoming tedious and all of their faces were starting to rush together until she reached the point of saying the exact same thing to each suitor regardless of the elaborate speeches that they had prepared.


The earliest suitors stood out to her simply because she had still been idealistic about the process, and the competitor from Tyrial held her attention especially because she couldn't believe his lewdness... although she was still having a decidedly difficult time figuring out if she found him humorous or not. There were a few other stand-outs that she was able to recall after they had left, but altogether she felt weary.


Before the process had begun to exhaust her Giselle had also met the competitor from Vanir. He was the one that unfortunately stood out in her mind because if she had been eating when he introduced himself she probably would have choked to death. They had let a suitor from Vanir into the games? She had been flabbergasted at the prospect. Vanir and Verria had been longtime enemies for so long that his presence had astounded her in a manner that she wasn't able to recover from quickly. She hadn't even noticed Adrian enter and leave her tent as a result.


She planned to say something to Saben about the presence of one Tristan Roanson from Vanir when another competitor presented himself to her. At least tomorrow morning and maybe onwards they would be busy amongst themselves in the competition to overwhelm her in this manner. Her father had essentially placed her here to be ambushed and devoured by a throng of people and now she felt like a carcass picked raw.


"Protect me Saben just long enough for me to finish my food and I'll let you have the first dance with me? Dancing with stupid desirable Giselle will hopefully help to dispel some of the rumours you've helped to feed tonight with that comment earlier." she was overdue to leave her table and sample some of the entertainment, but she was adamant that her food should not be abandoned. She also wanted him to escort her to the space set aside for dancing because she was worried about being swarmed again as soon as she left the table. Everyone seemed ravenous for a slice of her parent's wealth and empire.


"I certainly wasn't prepared for this."

 

[Alexina]

If the princess thought she had it bad, there Saben was standing the whole time a forgotten shadow. He had no food or drink out of his pure will to be there for support in case she ever needed it. Unlike the princess, Saben would pick out a face or two from the suitors, the fancy armor, and the handsome looks. Only for him to stay silent, only willing to step in if something unworthy was said to his lady.


Then she would call out to him, and a blush crossed his face. It wasn’t due to the promise, although some may take it that way. It was the fact . . . his dear friend actually still found him capable of protecting her. Despite his weakness as a man she still asked him to be her shield against the oncoming line of men with weapons and armor. Okay . . . that thought would suddenly have him pale.


Never the less he would bravely step forward blocking the next in line from the princess with a smile. “The princess needs time to replenish her strength. Surly you understand right?” God he hoped it didn’t get violent and kept civil, he could fight just fine, but once blood was in the picture he was as useless as a moth was to a flame. He kept firm never the less, his back to Giselle as she finished eating. He faced firmly forward a wall of flesh against any who may try to approach, turning everyone else away with dignity.


When the princess finished, he would let her willingly drag him about where ever she wished. There was a gentle smile on his face towards her, she being one of the few who accepted him despite his flaws. “You know, you probably shouldn’t always look out for your servants like you do me at times.” He didn’t mind the attention and friendship she gave him; he merely worried that she herself may be given off the wrong idea to others. He leaned in to whisper into her ear whenever they finally started to dance. “If you’re not careful, you may have everyone believing I’m a secret lover.”

 

[Poshib]

Aiden had seated himself across the tent, with easier access to the food. Splitting his thoughts of Giselle with food, there he sat, two plates pilled high with the bounties provided. Succulent lamb, fire roasted veggies. Sweets, fruits, breads. A lot of things his father would never spend his money on, even though they could afford it. And mead? Yes please.


There was certainly plenty of food at the place, and enough people to ramble on to if one so chose, which of course, Aiden did.


"You see, here's what I think. Why have this stupid tourney at all?," Aiden said, between bites of food. "Don't get me wrong, I don't care about the arranged marriage thing or being able to find true love or that shit. See, what does this tourney prove?" Aiden puffed out his chest. "I can knock another man off a horse. I can fire my arrows so accurately that I can split them down the middle!" Showboating now, Aiden stepped up on a table, using a chicken leg as a sword. "My blade is the sharpest in the land! I can fell any foe in a single strike. Isn't it absurd? While mounted I can put my lance through tiny rings!" He paused for a moment, a sly grin appearing. "Actually, that last one doesn't sound far off." He climbed off the table to groans and the shaking of heads from those around him. He remained smiling. "But seriously. No one has a shot at this girl's heart before they are married to her. And that's a damn shame. I doubt most of these competitors know up from down when it comes to a woman." He crossed his arms in response to the eyes rolled at him.


"Hey now, I've stolen more than my fair share of hearts. And really, my point is, tournaments I've seen and dealt with, martial skill is all. Which is fine and dandy, but how does that qualify you as a ruler any more than my legendary adventures between the sheets? It doesn't, my friends. It doesn't. But don't worry. As our 'prize' so eloquently put it, to paraphrase, I'm more impressed by action than words. Well, consider these my last words before you finish falling for me, my dear Giselle. I'm going to give it my all. I don't care what event is put before us. They may drag my lifeless body off after one of these competitions who knows? But like hell I'll back down. My fellow competitors? I've never jousted a day in my life. Not even once. I. Don't. Care." He smiled, speaking softer now. "I don't care. This isn't for my home, your home, this city, or even Giselle. I've gotta do this. Thank you for your time." He tossed a roll into air, caught it in his mouth and looked directly at Giselle, his eyes almost overflowing with energy and laughter.


"What a strange fellow. Not suitable for our lady at all." "So full of himself, and just has to be the center of attention. He doesn't stand a chance!" "I bet he's all talk, no bite!"


Overestimate me. Underestimate me. Either way, advantage McKnight.

 

[Aura]

She wolfed back the rest of her food quickly feeling an edge of gratefulness that Saben was blocking her from the rest of them. So hungry to gobble up her city and it's wealth. Giselle didn't let the stresses of this evening and her life hold her down for very long before she rose up from the table.


She let Saben lead her from her tent although she could very well push her way through the suitors... they couldn't exactly get angry at her. But she knew of Saben's insecurities, she liked trying to make him feel better. She knew that he was unable to handle blood and fighting and that had cast him into a poor situation where he now served under her. She liked to think that she was fairly reasonable however.


They traveled together to the next tent over where a large open expanse of grass laid aside for dancing. A few people who had already had too much mead stumbled comically while swaying to the music provided as entertainment, "I fail to see how this is a problem. Maybe the attention I give to you will spur my suitors to fight harder for my hand." she smiled and extended her hand out for him to take should he want to dance like she had promised.


Her eyes scanned the tent and she was surprised to notice a few familiar faces that had belonged to the competitors. One of them that she had not met was over near some of the bards seemed to be singing (Adrian) and while that amused her greatly she could not hear his words as they were muffled by the blaring music.


The atmosphere felt quite jovial and she finally felt moderately comfortable. She wasn't trying to sneak in a few pitiful bites of food at a lonely table with a line formed before her, but instead she was on her feet and moving. Maybe it was the food in her stomach but she felt more at ease about being approached... that and the night was nearly over. Soon it would be time for the real fun to begin.

 

[BLADE MdM]

Adrian drained back another glass of ale. This one tasted better than the first 6. Not good, as of yet, but... it was better.


He had left Giselle's tent with the idea of approaching the infamous Tristan of Vanir, but was soon persuaded to do otherwise, by Rowan, a bard and new-found friend. As he had put it, parties were exclusively for searching out the holiest of trinities (wine, women, and song) rather than duty. 'Duty', Adrian thought merrily, as he found himself dancing in the midst of a small crowd of other dancers that had formed around the bard, 'such a miserable word'. Why focus on the dreary aspects of life? Tonight was the beginning of the most amazing thing he'd ever partake in. A competition, for a princesses hand, no less! His originally foul mood didn't suit the atmosphere of this place.


"I've never seen a noble who knew every word to poor folks music," Rowan remarked, during a brief interlude. "Where'd you ever hear songs like this?"


Rowan was a scruffy, rugged individual, with shaggy hair and that unwashed look the poorer class of the region generally had. He said he was a bard from a nearby inn, and that he'd won a competition against other local musicians to be the main attraction tonight.


'So many damned contests'.





Adrian grabbed another glass of the amber liquid before replying to the bards statement. "Ah but I'm hardly a noble, my friend. Ashlind produces middle class folk, and not much else."


"That doesn't answer my question though."


"Mhmm, I suppose it doesn't. My mother used to sing songs for me, when I was a child. She was from a lower class family and knew all the songs ruffians such as yourself enjoy."


Rowan laughed, before raising his glass to the sky. "Well, here's to the wonderful broad that mum of yours must be."


*clink*


Adrian chuckled, "And cheers once again, to the free drinks provided by the generous king!"


****


Song after song was sung by the two happy drunks, and eventually they both stopped singing, laughing all the way as they walked out into the crowd.


"Adrian, you really must win this contest." The bard stated, as they found a spot to sit at the large communal table set up in the main tent.


"Oh really? I must? And whys that?"


"Cause it is my belief you need a confidence boost."


"But, Rowan, I've found one!"


"Alcohol doesn't count, you moron," he sighed, and his coal black eyes shot up from his empty glass to Adrian's sky blue ones. All the humor was gone from his face, as he began speaking again. "Now, listen to me. I saw you walk away from the princesses tent. You looked so undeniably dejected, like you'd already lost the chance to win her hand. Well mate, unless you change your damn attitude, you have."


Adrian's smile faded, as he found his mind sobering rapidly in the face of reality's hard truths. He wasn't allowed to try. His happiness was disrupting his fathers plan. The night had been wasted drinking, instead of figuring out how to aid another man's victory.


"You just don't get it Rowan," he muttered quietly. "I'm not the one who is supposed to win. I'm not the dashing protagonist."


"Well... to hell with the supposed winner. You are fighting over a young girls heart. Fate has no bearing over something as fickle as that."


Adrian smiled at the joke, and hesitantly nodded his consent to Rowan's logic. Maybe it was his alcohol muddied brain but, he couldn't help but agree. There was no reason he couldn't win. In theory. He wanted to win. His heart wanted nothing more than to win. And after drinking as much as he had, his heart held way more bearing than his brain, which knew how bad it would be if Vanir lost this Game.


And it was at this moment, when Adrian was busy dreaming about a victory all logic seemed to dictate that he couldn`t achieve, that he laid eyes on Giselle, guarded by a lad he deemed to be her servant, walking through the crowd of people.


``Rowan... thank you. For being my drinking companion this evening, and for that pep talk. Now, if you don`t mind, would you please play one last song?``





The older man smirked, slightly, happy to see his friend enjoying the evening once again. ``Ànd why is that?``





Because ``I want to ask a pretty girl to dance``.


``Good man, Adrian, good man! Shall I force out one last ballad then?``





Adrian, who was already up and pushing his way through the crowd, had to practically shout to reply. ``You know... make it a fast one! A ballad is much too cliche!


****


Finally reaching Giselle, Adrian lopsidedly bowed in acknowledgement of the servant, before turning to the lady.


``M`lady, I am Adrian Mason of Ashlind, and a contestant in this game your father has arranged. I was... enraptured by your beauty from afar, and simply had to present myself to you.`` His words flowed easily, if perhaps a little too quickly. Liquid courage aided the normally shy boy, and his father`s etiquette training insured that he didn`t look or act like a fool. He actually found himself enjoying standing here, talking to the girl of his dreams.


Perhaps this is what true nobles always feel like: confident, and unafraid.


``I`m dreadfully sorry to disturb you, but I must insist you share a dance with me. Not for my sake, but for yours. The bard is simply a masterful musician, and I`ve yet to see you properly enjoying the music. All I ask is for you to allow me to... escort you, as you get acquainted to the song he is playing. Trust me, I won`t enjoy it at all, it`s really such a chore for me. I simply felt a woman as splendid of you should get a chance to actually enjoy yourself, rather than just listen to a bunch of imbeciles like me throw themselves at you.`` He winked as his last statement came out of his mouth, and found himself doing something odd. Instead of hoping what he had just said was good enough to win her over, he just believed that it was.


I love drunk me.

 

[Alexina]

“Or spur them to place a dagger in my back when its least expected.” Saben teased back, willing to gently match every mover of hers on the dance floor. Knowing she was taken this time as a break, he stayed with her despite the ever wanting to leave and straighten up messes he saw here and there. Didn’t anyone know how to keep things at least a bit tidy? There was a slight twitch in one eye as he saw a guest hack and spit to one side. If they couldn’t be tidy couldn’t they at least have manners?


When they were politely interrupted Saben actually took a step back in surprised that he was acknowledged with a bow. He seemed like such a simple man, he had some beautiful features sure, but not one he expected to be a suitor. His silver tongue managed a slight smile from Saben, which slowly turned in to a grin. He knew the poor boy was probably drunk by the smell alone but this would give him the chance to try to fix some of the mess around him.


Then the fool had to go about insisting, and putting Saben on edge again. Was the girl really not enjoying herself with him? Damn his own insecurities, it wasn’t that he wanted to win the princess’ heart, far from it in fact. A blow to the ego would always be just that though, a blow. Rolling his eyes at the jumbling of words, the man didn’t see how foolish he sounded, and perhaps Giselle wouldn’t either. Who was Saben to correct and point out the simple flaws? Perhaps he was one of those fools with a heart of gold, who knew.


“I suppose I can trust you with my lady.” Saben gave his normal working smile, before bowing himself. “Make sure she enjoys herself though, after all, this may be your biggest shot.” He glanced about again annoyed the crowd and discussing ways most were was almost driving him mad in itself. “Just keep her safe.” He warned the other in a slightly threatening manner. Even if Saben knew his own words would be nothing more than bark. The poor guy could at least hope the people from other lands didn’t know of the mockery he really was.