Name: Sunday Night Sip'n Spar XXXX
Once again, the Hart's arena will sing as we bring another night of exciting sparring, high spirits and excellent company to the ring.
All levels of warriors and fighting styles welcome, including archery, melee, brawling, knife throwing and more. House armor and weapons available for those light on equipment or for the brave few wishing to truly test their skills upon the sand.
Wagers welcome. Or simply come to enjoy the scene and a drink or two.
Donations of silver and/or writs to help with the relief efforts in the Lowers Relief. Deepest thanks to everyone for your ongoing support.
All are welcome! Drinks are on the house!
We look forward to seeing you!
OOC: This event was created to offer players some relaxed fun and more great chances to RP with characters they may not otherwise meet. As always, the Hart is open to everyone and one and all are very welcome. If you are new to the game or looking for RP, please consider joining us.
If you have questions, @mail Valencia. We look forward to seeing you! Winners from past events are listed here: bit.ly/GoldenHartChampions
Aug. 2, 2020, 8 p.m.
Arx - Ward of the Compact - The Golden Hart Social & Gaming House - The Arena
Comments and Log
1 Kennex corsairs arrives, following Cecilia.
1 Kennex corsairs leaves, following Cecilia.
1 Kennex corsairs arrives, following Cecilia.
Ian has taken his usual corner table, on which the staff have placed a bottle of whiskey and a tall stack of glasses, because they know him by now. He is, just at present, pouring a splash of whiskey into one of those glasses for Thea.
Cecilia has joined the corner table.
Zoey slides into a seat at the table with Ian and Thea, gesturing for Cecilia to join them as she does so.
Present as usual in the rafters is Aswin Ulbran. He sits comfortably, eyes cast down toward where the fights will take place below as he drinks a cheap grade of ale from a tankard held in hand.
Yep. Thea sits where the whiskey is. And that happens to be usually be by Ian. She smiles over at him, one of thanks obviously. She greets Zoey too, with a small wave. "Are you both competing this evening,"she asks. Looking up, Thea looks for others she probably knows. Giving them a wave as well.
Jayne, Burly Sailor, Oakshed, an aged and white haired valet arrive, following Wash.
Wash has joined the corner table.
Calla peeks in on the gathering, hesitating a bit by the door as she runs her fingers through saffron locks to get them to behave, giving her time to scan the room and decide whether to stay or go.
Aswin has joined the upper rafters.
Kiera has joined the bar.
Philippe is at the bar. It's been a hot day, and so the old man is drinking a sinister-looking brew of white whiskey and squeezed lemons. It does at least smell nice. Naturally, he is here to support his younger comrades in their efforts to both sip and spar.
"Oh, I think not," Zoey replies to Thea. "The last time I picked up anything akin to a weapon... No, I will leave the fighting to others." She takes a glass from the stack and pours herself a drink.
Drake walks into the arena area, approaching the bar. He's in leathers, as he obviously intends to compete if he can. He sees Count Philippe, nods to him, and then gives a little smile to Thea. He snaps his fingers for the bartender. "I'll have what Count Philippe is having." He looks at Thea. "Same as the other day, eh? White whiskey. You have to respect it."
Macda moves into the Arena shortly after Drake, perhaps the princess was stalking the knight, she looks as if she intends to compete as well.. her eyes move over him as she taps his shoulder then ducks round to his other side, "evening Count Philippe" says the princess.
Thea looks up at her name and sees Drake. Giving him a wink, she grins,"You respect all good alcohol." She looks at him, head tilted,"Are you fighting?" Then she sees Macda too, so what does she do? Waves.
Kiera slides in next to Drake, getting a glass of water with lemon. it looks similar at any rate
Philippe looks up from his drink as Drake nods to him. The old man nods back, then looks across Macda and Thea. "Your highness," to Macda, "my lady," to Thea. At least he's not insisting on standing up every time because his back is howling at him already. "Another eventful evening to come, I imagine."
Ian continues pouring drinks as various Kennexes (and Thea, and whoever else) join him at the corner table. He nods to Aswin when he comes in. There's a slight angle to his head when he nods that might be an invitation.
The Hart's arena pulses with excitment as the people fill the seats, a happy buzz of anticipation sending the a happy energy humming through the place as the Hart's staff rush to and fro seeing that cups are filled and people are well cared for.
Valencia slips thorugh the crowd with a bright smile, issuing warm words of welcome as she makes her way through the room towards the grand table at ringside. Resepectful bows of head offered to Master Waldemai are offerd as bright smiles for Thea, Philippe, Drake, Ian and Zoey. Macda is offers a cheerful smile, too, as does Kiera. Calla's shyness makes her offer a gentler smile, the little vixen seeming happy to see a new face in the crowd tonight.
Catching that nod of greeting from Ian, Aswin considers the invitation for a moment before he offers a nod in return. Lifting a hand toward a passing staff person to signal for a refill, the Ulbran makes his way down to join Ian's table.
"I have to fight," Drake says. "Otherwise I came all this way with swords for nothing." Macda taps one shoulder, and he looks the wrong direction, then turns around and looks at her. "...Got me." Drake sits back, turning with his drink in hand and his back to the bar.
Aswin has left the upper rafters.
Aswin has joined the corner table.
Valencia has joined the ringside table.
Zoey waves back to Valencia before turning her attention to her table mates.
Wash reaches for whatever alcohol is already on the table and pours himself a tall glass of liquid courage. "Hoowoo. Drake Wyrmguard. That fight would be over soon. Ian, all yours."
"Princess Valencia,"Thea greets the Princess with a slight smile. She nods to Philippe as well, a smile. Teasing Drake a little, she suggests,"Are we placing a wager this evening?"
Macda smiles to Drake before she looks over to Thea a nod of her head is given to the lady before her eyes look back over to the Count, "lovely to be seeing you again Phillippe, how is your family?" she asks before she smiles to Thea once again.
Ian shakes his head to Wash, demuring. "I don't have Lord Darrow's flail with me."
Sydney's entrance is rather subdued. She arrives with little evidence of strut or saunter, and her stride is rather plodding. She immediately focuses upon where Drake and Philippe are seated and a smile works its way onto her features in spite of herself. She seats herself next to the Philippe. "Count. My gratitude again for allowing me the use of one of your mares. Bafflingly, she seemed to enjoy my company." She slides her focus over to Drake, grinning, "...And Drake. I distinctly recall telling you I didn't want a plushie. Especially an adorable one. Pry it from my cold, dead fingers."
She was like a lost child in the woods, the youngest Kennex entering the arena and looking for a familiar face. Oh please be a face I recognize. It is then that she recognized a table with a gathering of some people she new. A hstened step much quicker than the typical careful glide she had become known for took her ot the table and she settled into the chair with a smile and a wave to her companions. "Good evening all." She seems content to sit and listen a moment, trying to take in what is going on about her.
Waldemai leans back in his seat. He doesn't lean TOO far back, since that could involve falling out of the rafters, but, still...He dips his horn into a bucket of ale and had a good slurp. "Anyone want to get a bet down on the first fight?" he calls down to the others.
Philippe has a story to tell and has just been waiting for someone to ask him. Macda is the lucky winner. "My wife is writing a children's book," he says. "The impulse came over her in a great wave and now we are in the thick of it. She seeks to write a story to teach children about Gloria and the values of the Oathlands without being as ... I suppose strident is the way I would put it." Sydney approaches. "Our steeds are tolerant of many burdens, Sydney, but yours is a light one to carry. I am glad to have been of aid." He tries not to smile at the news of the plushie. It's getting harder to hold his poker face about it.
Clad in storm-grey southern silks that embrace sensual curves and slender waist, Valencia gracefully moves to the center of the Ring of Valor. Offering a warm smile, she holds up her hands and graciously inclines her head to the eager crowd.
"My lords and ladies, misseres and madams. Dearest friends -- please be welcome to my Hart and thank you for being here this evening. We are so very happy you could join us."
Catalana is definitely not here to fight. Dressed in flowing silks and her hair neatly gathered at the nape of her neck, it's certainly clear she's here to spectate only. Spotting the Kennex brood, she makes her way to the group. Cecilia gets a brief smile. "Welcome back Lady Cecilia. It's so good to see you in the city." Sitting beside Wash, she checks to make sure he doesn't have a stick in hand tonight.
"Tonight is our 40th Sip n'Spar and we hope that we will be able to offer you at least 40 more. As always, we are very pleased to offer a chance to enjoy the finest of martial arts and skills that you will see anywhere in the realm," the little vixen calls out with a bright smile and graciously waves a hand to all those who will soon be entering the ring. "Please join me in welcoming them to the sands this evening."
Calla catches Valencia's smile and returns it a touch shyly before she squares her shoulders with a sigh and wanders into the fray to find herself a seat to watch the entertainment. Thea and Zoey get a shy waggle of her fingers in greeting as she looks from bar to the tables, and fianlly detouring to the former to get a drink first, ordering some red wine in her softly accented tone.
The Hart's arena erupts in a chorus of cheers and the little vixen waits for a lull before continuing.
"As always, the bar is open to receive and we whole heartedly encourage you to make wagers as it pleases," Valencia invites as a bevy of pretty barmaids rush about to keep everyone well cared for. "After all, raising spirits and enjoying fine company and excellent competition is what this night is about."
"And now, competitors, Missere Sergeant of Arms, if you would please take to the sands," she continues with another warm smile. "Good luck to one and all! And to all, we wish you a brilliant evening!"
The Hart's arena again is filled with a chorus of cheers as the Hart's vixen gracefully bows her head and gracefully steps from the sands to allow the formidable figure of the Hart's Sergeant of Arms to take over as master of ceremonies.
Drake looks at Thea with a slight glance, raise of brow. He smirks at her. "The Princess requested I go a round with her. But I've lost enough wagers this week. I think you still owe me a round of knife training some time, but every time I see you, I somehow keep getting distracted." He stands up, giving a little bow at the bar. Then he smirks at Sydney. "I know. But I was in bed for almost five days, so I got up to mischief. It'll be our secret."
One drink in, Drake is up on his feet and getting ready with his sword. But he's using the rubicund one, at least.
The Hart's Sergeant of Arms is a grizzled, no-nonsense kind of a man. A veteran with a glimmer in his eye and more experience most under his belt. Moving with a grace of a much younger man, the old warrior moves onto the sands and holds up his hand before rumbling out the call, "Lords and Ladies! Good folk and gentles all! Princess Macda Grayson and Lord Drake Wyvernheart are called to the sands! May your fight with honour and fire in your heart and the rest be damned," offers as he eyes the combatants with a look of approval as they begin to enter. "Sir, your highness, present yer arms and at yer leisure, lay on," he says with a gruff grin and a bow to each before stepping back for to allow them room to ready themselves.
Quartus, Fourth of Monique's Assistants arrives, following Delia.
Zoey waves back to Calla and smiles warmly.
Philippe takes the time to applaud at the applause lines of the opening ceremonies. It gives the lemons more time to dissolve in the glass. Philippe tips generously and is an easy patron to wait on in all.
Alban arrives just as the festivities are kicking off. He cheers as Valencia makes her announcement, and then wanders to the bar to fill up with drink. He turns his attention back to the impending spar as he waits for his drink.
Macda looks over at the mention of plushies, and she frowns a little "you giving out my plushies are you, now i got more a reason to punch you".. she tells Drake as she laughs a little before she nods her head a little as she stands and bows to those she was sitting with as well.
Dressed very much for sipping rather than sparring, Delia Whisper slips through from the main hall into the arena, a glass of wine already in hand, and pauses to take stock of the crowd.
Drake wields Breath of Fire, a Rubicund Broadsword.
Sydney reaches into her pack and rather conspicuously pats the approximation of a truly wonderful horse, and flashes her teeth to Philippe and then Drake in turn. "Yes, well. For someone who's done little riding since she was a girl, she tolerated me well enough."
Thea is listening to the table talk about all her amazing gifts. "I'm sorry. All I'm hearing is--'Thea, please send us more presents!'" She grins a bit as waves over to Sydney, checking her head. THere's a slight chuckle at her, not seeing what she's looking for. Calling out to Drake, she yells,"Not my fault! Maybe later I'll work on the lessons!" Seeing Catalana, Thea bows her head,"Lady Catalana, how are you?"
Kiko, a Kite of the Cloudspine, Hickory, the Deerhound, Russel, a Blackram Retainer, 1 House Lyonesse Adept Guards arrive, following Cahal.
Sydney seems to catch Thea's gaze - and where it's directed, and offers a truly sheepish look. She... needs to be further into her cups to entertain whatever it is that Theas seems to be implying. "Whiskey!" She barks, abruptly, "The middling... affordable stuff!"
Cahal has joined the bar.
Drake draws his weapon out. "I promise, Princess, the one I gave you is one of a kind. There will never be another of its exact like." He has a confidence to his stride as he goes to the arena properly. "But. I am a man of many talents. So I will go easy on you."
Macda wields shadowed edges of a moonlit timberlands longsword.
Inga, a physician assistant, Pepper, an agile black cat arrive, following Katarzyna.
"Pour the mistress what I am having," Philippe asides at the bartender, gesturing to Sydney to signal his intent. "Blanchard can accommodate it."
A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.
Thea hears Drake and looks to Macda,"Hit him harder for that!" The Malvici is all for the Princess now while she's sitting amongst the Kennexes aka friends, and others. Taking a drink, she goes to watch.
Catalana has joined the corner table.
Kiera grins "That sounds wonderful count Phillipe, one is never to young to learn about values, though I'm glad to hear a gentle approach is being used. She gives Zoey ian a wave and a smile from across the room and then turns to watch her brother fight
Valencia moves from the ring to take up her seat once again, the cheerful greetings and cheers seeming to make her dark eyes glimmer with pleasure. There is a bright smile for Catalana as she arrives and a graceful bow of head as Alban is spied. A glass of wine secured, she settles herself to watch Drake and Macda ready themselves with a bit of playful banter.
"None greater!" Wash shouts with questionable authenticity.
Zoey smiles and waves to Kiera. She is drinking, listening to conversation at the table, and keeping one eye on the fight.
Sydney offers a heartfelt look of gratitude to Philippe, and eagerly awaits her drink. When it comes, she clearly relishes the flavor, and toasts in his direction. "...My sincerest gratitude." She turns slightly in her seat to watch the fighting as it begins.
Cahal looks around for a moment before going to join the group at the bar. "Who's fought so far?"
Calla gets her glass of wine and then finds herself a spot to lean and watch the fight with quiet interest, amber eyes focused on the combatants.
"Mathilde is nothing if not gentle," Philippe says, which is hilarious if you are Philippe's age. Most of the youngsters will not get the subtle humor, having not grown up knowing Mathilde as an aspiring Champion. But that is another story. "You are welcome, Sydney," he says in a lower voice. "And you should know that Oaty will be the star of this book. Perhaps others may guest star as punful horses if my wife's fancy takes her that far."
Macda is new to the use of her sword, she is generally a fist fighter, and she watches Drake as he moves and she also moves to fight with him. Its lucky she has not had much to drink yet "Take this and take that, and..." she trails as she moves trying to hit Drake, but none of her blows are really landing on the other. Even as she is struck she seems to have good manners about it "boy i need training on my form!"
Ian is only really keeping one eye on the fight, contrary to the way he usually watches these things. Most of his attention is at his own table.
Sir Floppington the Soulful Hound arrives, following Rowenova.
"If you're used to brawling, it's Sydney you should challenge. She's the grand melee champion, you know," Drake says, with a little laugh toward Macda. He does tag her with the sword. "But now. If you ever want private lessons from a sword Champion like me, I'm available at a modest rate." He takes a step back, and eyes her stance for a moment, as if checking to see how well she'll do. "Now, you don't have to surrender at first blood. But it is nice to be back in a duel again. Shall we continue?" He starts to lash out at her blade once more.
Showing up with Sir Floppington at her side is Scout Rowenova in what may be a strange getup for the young scout, but she does have her quiver and bow, so probably going to join the archery contest when that comes up later on!
Katarzyna arrives just as a match begins and does her best not to get in the way of anyone's view. A small leather backpack is slung over her shoulder and its strap held with one hand as she moves to find a place where she can watch.
Kiera answers Cahal as he sits "drake and Macda are the first. Just getting into it
Thea looks up and sees Rowenova. She smiles over at her and waves,"Rowenova. Hey." Her eyes skim here and there, watching the fight still.
"I can think of no steed nobler for an appearance in such a title." Sydney offers, with amusement touching her tired features. She looks a touch the worse for wear, as though she's had an illness or a general lack of sleep. A bit frayed about the edges, but clearly up and about and managing."
The pugilist hears her name from down on the sands and offers, "Still waiting to teach /you/ such a lesson, Wyvernheart!"
Cecilia is for the moment quite the opposite of Ian, her eyes fixiated on the fight before her, seemingly somewhat oblivious to the people at her table. However, hee facial expressions with each landed blow or evasion are quite evident. "Oooh get him. Don't let him do that. Counter that...he is stepping in."
Macda laughs a little as she tries to attack him twice again
Resolute, an Oakhaven bloodhound arrives, following Kastelon.
With the gleam of her Saikland ring, Nova lifts up a greeting wave to the hostess with the mostess (Valencia), and she also gestures such toward Thea, too. "Hey hey." says she with a bright smile before strutting closer to a ringside table where she pulls out a chair for herself. Sir Flop wags up to gently nudge Valencia and look up at her with soulful eyes and greeting wags.
Philippe lowers his voice, though he's still watching the fight. "Has the summer been difficult for you, Sydney? I imagine you are often in demand for challenges."
Macda laughs as she tries to attack him twice again even if she is hurting, she dose not give up! Her teeth shift a little and she snarles a bit at Drake before she takes a step back and she smiles to Cevila "alright I yeild" she says quietly looking over to Sydney as its mentioned shes a good brawler..
Albangets a drink and starts to walk through the crowd to find a better vantage point to watch the fights from. He comes to a stop a few feet from the edge of the viewing circle.
Kastelon arrives while Drake is fighting Macda. He approaches the ring, his bloodhound a resolute shadow at his heels, and looks on approvingly.
"Nova." Ian nods to Rowenova, raising his voice just loud enough for her to hear him over the din.
Catalana gives a genteel wave to Valencia before ordering herself a glass of ale. Once delivered she tentatively sips it and occasionally claps politely, "Yay fighting."
Sydney offers a simple shake of her head at Philippe's insinuation. "Oh, quite to the contrary. Few and far between are those who make hand-to-hand the terms of their challenges. The summer was largely subdued. I had to keep to my training so I didn't end up out to pasture."
Drake takes a step back, and holds his sword pointed straight down at the ground. He waits for a second... she is yeidling, so he holds.
Then he puts Breath of Fire, the red blade, back into his belt, walks forward, and gives Macda a little tap on the shoulder. "You did well." He tilts his head toward the bar, and then toward the emcee, with a nod. "I think that wraps it, we'll take the next."
Rowenova has joined the ringside table.
"You know there would be work for you if you decided to retire from the guild," Philippe says to Sydney, almost off-handedly.
Nova waves to the corner table over there after hearing Ian's voice. "Hey!" says she his way, while including all of them over there, too.
Delia offers some brisk applause as the spar comes to a conclusion, then retrieves her wineglass to take a drink as she looks about to see who might be up next.
Thea claps for both Macda and Drake. Telling Macda with a slight smile,"I'll give you pointers later,"while she sips from her glass. Seeing Piccola, she calls over to her,"Lady Piccola, hello!"
As one fighter yields, the crowd roars with delight. The Hart's Sergeant of Arms nods with quiet approval as he steps back into the center of the ring, "Well done," he offers with spark of a smile as he turns to the crowd to bellow, "And, your winner, and Lord Drake Wyvernheart !"
The crowd explodes again as they step from the sand, The Sergeant waits till there is a lull and callous out in a deep rumble. "Stand tall. Our next match is called," he cries, his sharp eyes sliding to those who enter the ring next. "Lady Thea Malvici and Aswin Ulbran! You've been called to the sands. May your fight with honour and fire in your heart and blood. Show them how it's done," he offers with a brisk nod to each as he steps back out to give them room. "Fighters, present yer arms and lay on yer leisure! Good fright!"
Sydney applauds as the fight wraps up, and pauses as Macda eyeballs her and has to politely wave a hand from side to side. "...No, I won't be participating this evening, if I can help it. Slept poorly, and my body's certainly feeling it." She looks aside to Philippe and murmurs, "...I take work wheresoever I can find it. Certainly, if there's anything I can do for you and yours, I'd be happy to."
Drake puts an arm around Macda's hip as they walk out of the arena. "Princess, I hate to cut, and run, pun intended, but another matter is calling my attention this evening, so I'll be leaving soon. If there is any chance, though, maybe we can have another slower spar later. I would be very happy to drill you." He says, with a little smile, as if he meant only what he said and nothing more. And then his attention turns to the arena, as he does want to at least make sure Thea gets a good start off.
Thea is just about to answer Catalana when well--"Oh right..Yes--I'll se--,"but her name is called. Swallowing the rest of her drink, she sets the glass down and jogs over to the ring.
Thea has left the corner table.
Thea has joined the ring of valor.
Thea takes Raptor Helm from a physician's medicine satchel.
Macda laughs as she looks to Thea "i still owe him a good punch.." she says as she laughs and then she looks over to the Sergeant and she claps a little for Thea "come on Lady Malvici!"
Ian takes more interest in the fighting sands when Thea and Aswin are headed in that direction.
Catalana shouts out to Thea as she leaves, her fave splitting with a mischievous grin. "I will send the rest of the treats back to you. Though, the wooden stick has seen better days. I think your dog found it when it visited the other day."
Waldemai applauds the fighters. "Good show! Well done!"
Looking across the table toward Thea when their names are called, Aswin snorts and pushes himself up to his feet. Moving out into the ring, he draws his dagger from his hip before stooping into a sloppy bow, his hands performing over exaggerated flourishes before he bends his knees into a ready position. "I feel like we've been here before recently," he comments.
Aswin has left the corner table.
Aswin has joined the ring of valor.
Aswin wields Simple Nondescript Dagger.
A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.
Albanputs up a cheer for the two finished fighters, and finishes off his first drink of the evening. It's going to be one of those nights it seems.
Thea wields Skystrike, the finely crafted diamondplate kopis.
Waldemai calls out, "A thousand silver on Lady Thea! Who wants to take that bet?"
Wash says, "Sure." Wash responds to his wife with utterly no believability. "We'll have to return the favor when you get married Thea."
Upon entering, and hearing her name, Piccola holds a hand in Thea's direction.
She sidles in without fanfare, and without really wanting to draw attention to herself. Eyes shift about, as if looking for someone in particular. She spies Valencia, and starts to walk towards her table. On the way, though, her eyes are drawn to the ring of valor. And a smile appears on her face, small and a little amused.
It's hard to say who she may be rooting for.
Cahal has left the bar.
Kiko, a Kite of the Cloudspine have been dismissed.
Hickory, the Deerhound have been dismissed.
Russel, a Blackram Retainer have been dismissed.
1 House Lyonesse Adept Guards have been dismissed.
Calla is leaning in some spot out of the way, sipping her wine and clapping softly at the outcome of the first bout, then cheering on Lady thea when she gets in the ring. Piccola is greeted with a smile and a wave if she can catch her eye. With another sip of wine to fortify her, she wanders over to the table with Zoey and all and smiles a bit shyly, "Would you mind terribly if I joined you?"
1 Templar Knight guards, Sir Daniel the Beardless, a somewhat hapless Templar arrive, following Hamish.
When the two depart from her table to go and fight, Cecilia raises a slight brow. Well this just got interesting. Is is then that she makes a decision. The blond calls out from the corner table. "I'll take that bet. But only because somebody must." She flashes a glance to Waldemai.
Valenica smiles brightly as Piccola arrives, welcoming her with the offer of a delicate hand and a light kiss up on the cheek if allowed. "Good evening, my beautiful friend. It is a rather robust night for matches I think. Such excellent talent tonight. I'm so very excited. How are you, my sweet friend? Howe are the plans for your meeting?
Katarzyna walks away from the bar with a drink in her free hand and takes a sip just as former match ends. The applause has her sweeping her gaze over the area and she spots some familiar faces after the next two names are called. She brightens and goes to find a place to stand with a good view. "Lady Thea!" Her fellow physician merits a grin and Aswin gets a nod of approval as well.
"There are many things that I could find an opportunity to ask you to strike about the head and neck," Philippe says to Sydney. "If the arena wears on you so, the offer is permanently open." A thin smile. "I could even throw in riding lessons."
Zoey smiles to Calla. "If you would like," she says. "Everyone," she addresses her table. "Baroness Calla Vaevici."
Circling Thea in the ring, Aswin's eyes watch her closely. Watching how she carries herself as he attempts to get a feel for when and how she will attack. For the most part, the Ulbran seems to be fighting in a style that relies on his quickness, attempting to dodge the Malvici Lady's attacks and strike out at her with his own blade.
Calla has joined the corner table.
Well, this is going to go well. A slight smile at Aswin as she says,"No knives today, I'm sorry,"as she starts to swiftly move. Far better with Skystrike than anything. She tests him here and there and does pay for it. Or really, he IS that good and lands where intended.
Okay, so, Piccola seems a little taken aback when she gets kissed.
"Mind if I sit?" she asks, running a hand through her hair. Valencia's caught her off-guard, apparently. Else, she wasn't expecting affection. 'Tis a weakness, perhaps. "Things are, yeah -- yeah, things are going just fine, just fine." She licks her mouth, and then takes a seat. "And, yes, it looks like."
"I don't plan to use my sword tonight, though; just my bow."
Piccola has joined the ringside table.
Thea totally claims!
Aswin checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 2, rolling 79 higher.
Aswin remains capable of fighting.
Sydney kicks back a substantial portion of her drink and offers a contented sigh, quirking a brow toward Philippe, "...I think you overestimate how much time that is required of a Champion. I think being in the proximity of Drake has skewed your perceptions of we who are seldom requested. I have time and energy enough for many things."
Aswin checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 18, rolling 53 higher.
Aswin remains capable of fighting.
Cecilia winces at the strike landed by Thea on Aswin, visibly wincing and muttering a long drawn out. "Da...amn."
Alban seems a bit bored with this fight and turns away to head into the crowd and apparently looking for a familiar face. When he spots Valencia, he gives her a wave and starts to track a little closer to the woman himself.
Eyes flashing happily, Valencia nods warmly. "Of course! I should very pleased for the company. I'm glad you will compete. Are you alright?" she wonders at the woman's not wishing to spare with a little look of worry. "Should I be worried?"
Aswin checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 47, rolling 24 higher.
Aswin remains capable of fighting.
Aswin checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 87, rolling 14 lower.
Aswin checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 49, rolling 16 higher.
Aswin remains alive, but close to death.
Aswin is incapacitated and falls unconscious.
Macda laughs a little as she moves to sit near Sydney and Philippe "oh drake has skewed many perceptions." she laughs "let me buy you all a drink?"
Philippe is momentarily distracted by the arena. Even the old man is somewhat taken aback. He winces in sympathy. But he does answer Sydney. "Drake does skew my perceptions quite often," he half-jokes. "but we may be campaigning soon enough to protect the western lands, and any strong arms would be valuable."
Ian reacts half a second before Thea lands the big hit on Aswin, his eyebrows climbing. There's an angle of his head, a sense of him making a mental note for later.
Cecilia sighs softly as the man she has bet upon has fallen, shaking her head slowly. "I wasn't going to drink. I really wasn't."
The fight seems to be going on more or less the usual flair for Thea and Aswin in the first few rounds, but when that one heavy strike lands it is clear that it hurts the Ulbran more than he'd care to admit. He staggers to the left and drops to a knee before, seeming to be reacting on instinct, he rolls out of the way of the next few strikes. He seems about to go on the defensive when she lands another hit and he seems to press the attack more overtly, his attacks coming wild and reckless. He scores a hit himself, but he leaves openings that Thea is able to capitalize on. The next time he drops, he lifts a hand and calls out, "Yield," clearly hating himself for saying the word.
Macda calls out to Thea "nice strike!" she grins a little as she watches the fights. "I think I need better armor." she chuckles as she orders herself a drink, a smile to Cecilia "you should"
The crowd grasps as Valencia speaks softly to something Rowenova says, the woman also welcomed with a warm light kiss upon the cheek. Nova's reply evokes a gentle and sympathetic nod and smile along with a look of relief. "I'm glad you are here. Perhaps we might offer distraction. I now how hard it is when you miss the person you adore. Sit with us and enjoy drink," she beings to continue as the crowd begins to roar with delight at the scene unfolding on the sands.
"Drake skews as many as he can," Korka comments as she appears from the crowd, taking a seat at the bar with her back to the counter as usual, "But he means well enough. Usually."
Sydney seems more than pleased by Macda's offer, and genially presses her fingertips to her own collarbone. "Oh, of course. I'll have another of the same, then." She nods to the bartender, then looks gratefully back toward Macda. She flinches along with just about everyone at the final series of heavy strikes, and laughs in spite of herself, "...It's nice to be in the spectator seats every now and again rather than shrugging off strikes like that." She flits her focus toward Philippe, and offers a thoughtful hum in the back of her throat, "...Well, keep me in mind."
Korka has joined the bar.
Sydney adds, for good measure, "...And there's nothing wrong with skewing."
Thea as always been quick. Quick and light on her feet. As her and Aswin dance, neither slow. Her strikes are planned and sure. Her sides are sore though. She won't even lie. And she's getting winded, but she presses on. With one final blow and Aswin fallin, the Malvici halts her sword. And instead--lowers her hand and helps him up. "Well fought, Messere Aswin,"a tired smile on her lips
Waldemai applauds the fighters, but maybe a little louder for Lady Thea, since he knows her and all. "Well fought! All glory to Gloria!"
Alban comes to a stop as he arrives at the ringside table and asks of the occupants, "Mind if I have a seat with you?" giving a slight bow to the women seated there.
Hamish walks in, followed by a rather testy pair of Templars. "It's an arena, Daniel. If I want to fight I'm allowed. No Suj'abbat assassins will pretend to be here for a bit of fisticuffs and then stick me with a knife. And if they do you'll lop their heads clean off and then everyone will get to see quite a show." Hamish heads over to the bar, nodding to people on his way there. "Count Philippe. Prince Valencia." He eyes Wash, "Should have come down from your boat the other day, Lord Wash. Perhaps you could have become a champion!" At the bar he waves down and orders himself the early autumnal pull and greets the others there. "Inquisitor. My lady." And Aswin, who gets a nod.
Thea looks up, realizing her name is being called. There's a faint color to her cheeks as she smiles,"Oh--um. Thank you. Aswin definitely made me work for it,"as she goes back to her seat.
Thea has left the ring of valor.
Thea has joined the corner table.
Ian has left the corner table.
Ian has joined the ringside great table.
"Lord Alban! What a delight," Valencia offers with a bright smile and the offer of a delicate hand in greeting. "Yes, please. Join us. You know the lovely Lady Piccola and lovely Wolfscount Rowenova, yes? Please sit and be merry," she smiles turning to offer Hamish a gentle incline of head has he greets her and Count Philippe. "What a lovely suprise. Please be so very welcome."
Zoey has left the corner table.
Zoey has joined the ringside great table.
Having accepted a cheek kiss, Nova side hugs Valencia with a couple squeezes via encircling arm before she lets go and leans back in her chosen chair. "Simply tea for me, please. No sugar. Thank you." says she to whoever it is that needs to know the drink orders before she looks to Piccola. "Good seeing you again." she nods her way then looks to Lord Alban.
Katarzyna cheers during the spar and even when it concludes. "Great match!" And having seen a spar in full, the physician leaves her empty glass on the bar before making her way out of the arena.
Inga, a physician assistant, Pepper, an agile black cat leave, following Katarzyna.
Alban has joined the ringside table.
Sydney has joined the bar.
Kastelon has joined the bar.
Philippe, well into his white whiskey, lifts his glass in salute to the incoming faithful. "Archlector, Inquisitor, hallo, welcome," the count says to Hamish and Korka. "You just missed Drake. The young man is terribly overbooked. Glad to see you both well."
Cecilia has left the corner table.
Wash shakes his head at Hamish. "I have no interest in being a champion." He gives the archlector a foppish salute without standing and then adds belatedly. "Blessed Hamish."
Aswin has left the ring of valor.
Aswin has joined the corner table.
Kiera has left the bar.
Macda has joined the bar.
Aswin has left the corner table.
Aswin has joined the ringside great table.
Calla has left the corner table.
Calla has joined the ringside great table.
When the next fight ends, Kastelon goes over to the bar to sit as close to Philippe as he can. He nods to the elderly count with deep respect.
Valencia is overheard praising Thea: A brilliant fighter. Bravo!
Valencia is overheard praising Aswin: Strong and powerful. A wonder to behold.
Waldemai pulls his legs up, to not risk accidental wounding from stray arrows. "If I drink all the ale, every should be safe, right?"
Ian catches Aswin's arm and says something to him in a low voice when the other man returns to the table they were totally sitting at this whole time.
Thea has left the corner table.
Thea has joined the ringside great table.
Delia has joined the ringside table.
Valencia is overheard praising Macda: Such a delight so see such talent on the sands. I hope we see more of her skills.
Valencia is overheard praising Drake: One of Arx's finest champions. Poetry upon the sands.
She has always been a woman of her word. And she has always been a woman who has always gotten what she wanted, well at least when she was a child. However, this time...she was not getting what she wanted. She had a bet to honor. Careful steps take her to Waldemai, pausing before him and raising a hand to brush a strand of her blond hair from her face. "Sir. I believe I owe you some silver. It would appear I bet on the wrong fighter. A wonderful fight indeed, but my choice was not the victor."
Catalana has left the corner table.
Catalana has joined the ringside great table.
Waldemai seems a little glassy-eyed at Cecilia's speech, but he's glad to take her money. "Thanks. I should have warned you that I know how dangerous Lady Thea is." He holds up the pouch of coins. "Get you something?"
1 Inverno Ensign, 1 Inverno Captain, Cornelius, a studious looking attendant, Marena arrive, following Tyche.
Thea looks over to Waldemai and smirks at little. "Only some days, Wald. Only some days. There are far better..."
"Oh I knew she was dangerous. You just claimed her before I could. It is called a gamble right?" She flashes a smile with a nod to Thea. "Well fought. Most impressive. MOst imporessive indeed." She looks back to Waldemai and nods once. "Well I suppose after losing that amount of money a drink should be in order. Keep it light or I may start to think I myself belong in the arena."
Again the crowds go wild, both fighters receiving cheers in the end. Again, the Hart's Sergeant of Arms nods as to the combatants as he steps back into the center of the ring, "Another fine match. Give a cheer for the first fight of the night worth seeing. And your winner, Lady Thea of Malvici!"
The crowd erupts again and the man waits till at least a little calm returns. Holding up a hand, he nods to the next fighters, "And now our next match! Archlector Hamish Farmer and Lady Piccola Tessere. You've been called to the sands. May your fight with honour and fire in your heart and blood. And may the gods smile on ye, Blessed. She's more than she might seem," she grins to the Piccola with an approving wink. "Fighters, lay on yer leisure! "
Piccola has left the ringside table.
Piccola has joined the ring of valor.
Hamish has joined the ring of valor.
"From what I've heard, these things can get wild," Tyche can be heard murmur to Marena as they walk arm-in-arm into the Arena. The arm thing seems more Tyche's idea than Marena's, and the petite Marquessa spares a moment to survey the crowds. "Ooh. We're just in time for a fight!" she declares, and tugs her Voice toward the seating.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Macda before departing.
1 Templar Knight guards have been dismissed.
Hamish has left the ring of valor.
Summoned to the circle, the Tessere woman gets up from where she's sitting to head to the ring of valor. Being about five-feet-tall, the Archlector has several advantages. First, he's about five weight classes heavier. Second, he's got over a foot on her in height. The betting is likely largely against the petite woman with the pixie haircut. But that does not seem to bother her, as she takes off her gloves and bracers, tossing them onto a bench before she hops into the ring.
Hamish likely faces an unwinnable scenario: beat up, or get beaten up by, a wee one.
Waldemai has to think of a drink for a noblewoman that is light. Oh, no, the pressure is on! "A wine, then, m'lady? I hear a lot about the Saik family vintages."
"It can't be anything quite as fun as Setarco," Marena responds to Tyche with a small, knowing smile and a bump of her hip against the smaller Marquessa's. "But I'd love to be proven wrong." Always one for a great show, she joins the other Inverno by the seats to get a good view of the action.
Hamish pats Korka on the hand. "I'll be right back then. Likely a little bloodier." Then he heads into the ring, shedding his robes of station and no small amount of ironwool as he goes. He nods to Piccola, "Don't go easy on me just because I'm good friends with the goddess of death and all of that." Of course the lady of Fortezza de Iriscal faces her own unwinnable situation: beat up, or get beaten up by, an old guy who complains about his knees _all the damn time_.
Macda looks over to Hamish as he pats Korka on the head and sher eyes follow him bemused.
"Our last trip to Setarco, or the previous ones?" Tyche asks for clarification purposes, because this is important. She flashes a grin to her cousin, and then settles at some benches to watch. "Want to make a small bet? I know neither of these fighters, so..." she waves a pale hand to Marena, inviting her to take her pick.
Tyche has joined the raised seating.
A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.
Marena has joined the raised seating.
Cecilia bites her lower lip which she considers. "Well...Saik family vintage it is. I think that will suit me just fine. Thank you." As if almost an afterthought. "Lady Cecilia Kennex."
Sydney clears her throat, and sets her drink neatly to the side for a moment in order to shove two fingers in her mouth and offer a shrill whistle, "Beat one another bloody!" One must advocate for one's hobbies.
Catalana was taking a drink of her ale, but something Ian said has her snorting it back through her nose.
Marena laughs suddenly, low and sharp. "All of them," is her vague response for Tyche, punctuated with a knowing look. "My money is on the woman," she gestures toward Piccola. "I've fought enough to know that what one lacks in height, they often make up for with surprising persistence. But you probably know this already?" A fleeting smile follows as she gives the shorter Inverno a pointed once-over.
As Cecilia calls for combatants to beat each other bloody, Kastelon turns on his seat at the bar to look towards the ring. Since something interesting might be about to happen.
Waldemai is already focused on the next fight. Of course he knows all the wait staff so getting a glass of nice wine isn't too hard. "Master smith Waldemai Isenhu, m'lady. I run Champion Chainmail down to Southport Square." Yes, he says that aloud at every opportunity. It's good for business.
Macda has left the bar.
Ian is the soul of innocence. He just sits there looking calm and utterly reasonable. And sipping his whiskey.
There's a lot of snorting and possible drinks coming out of noses at the ringside table at the moment. Thea is trying to keep it together as she drinks, but Gods! "You can make them sign a waver..or something."
Kastelon blinks and looks mildly appalled by the sight of Piccola beating up an old man, an Archlector of the Faith nonetheless. Even if he is very large.
"Persistence /and/ charm," Tyche offers a minor correction to Marena's philosophy, flashing her most charming of smiles the woman's way. As they settle, she nods at her chosen champion, "So the man is mine." A beat, a sidelong glance to her cousin, "I've said those words before, haven't I?" And then she settles into quieter conversation, with the occasional clapping of her hands for those in the ring, and the admitted, "I can't even tell who is winning."
For the first part of the brawl, Piccola seems to have the advantage.
Fast. She's quick on her feet, which befits her size and age. When Hamish attacks, she either moves or sweeps her hands up for a solid block. A couple of times, she manages a quick counterattack with the back of her fist, the heel of her hand. But she's determined, despite status or age difference.
Mean little cuss, she is.
Wow, this doesn't go well for Hamish from the very beginning. There are a couple of swings that don't go anywhere, but once the big archlector decides to put strength into his attacks, going to finish the fight quickly, he may very well succeed given that several strikes in a row see her ducking in and landing solid blows. Hamish is pretty winded pretty quickly, his own size as much a problem for him as his aforementioned knees. Piccola is just everywhere he's not.
Sydney lurches up from her seat at the bar to get a closer look as the fight unfolds, the corners of her lips quirking upward in obvious enjoyment. This is her /language/, after all.
Valencia sits at Rowenova's side, her large dark eyes rivited upon the sands as the battle between Hamish and Piccola continues. Breath held, she glances to Nova and whispers aside, "What do you make of this fight? Who would you call as winner?" she asks with bated breath.
"It is a pleasure to meet you Master Waldemai, I shall make a note to visit your smithy when time permits. I have only recently returned and am still settling in and now doing so 1000 silver less." SHe hides a slight smirk and takes a sip of the wine, looking now to the current fight. "I may even commission a small project."
Macda cheers "Go Piccola, hit him!" she calls out and she smiles clapping her hands
Alban says a quiet thanks and then takes a sit, the fight between Hamish and Piccola keeps his attention for the most part, though he does say a bit belatedly, "Evening, and yes, I have made their accquaintance," in response to Valencia's comment.
"Oh of course," Marena waves a hand at Tyche, her expression more reserved now than amused. She's focusing keenly on the fight before them, leaning forward in her seat and watching with the eye of an instructor. "She has the upper hand," she explains to her cousin, her voice crisp and matter-of-fact. "You probably have said as much, but I hope you haven't laid claim to -everyone.-" At this point she glances around the other observers, as if trying to determine something.
Waldemai lifts his refilled horn to the lady. "Thank you very much, m'lady," he says, with one eye on the fight.
Well, the fight continues.
Speed still seems to win against brawn. The thing is that Piccola also doesn't seem to be tiring at all. The hits that land don't hit solidly; her movements aren't really causing her to breathe heavily. Conditioning? She has it.
She does seem to be lacking the force at the moment to /end/ the fight, though.
Realizing that he's not helping himself by swinging for the proverbial fences (it's a farmer thing) Hamish decides to go on the defensive. Which means nobody is really hitting anyone. She's too fast for the lumbering farmer and when he stops leaving himself open over and over he's got just being a big lump on his side.
Macda moves over to the ringside table and she smiles to the other Princess, "thank you for hosting!" a bright smile to those seated there, "even though I didnt get a one up on drake...there are obvously people I need to keep an eye on like Lady Thea!"
"No, only the ones who can't last through the night," Tyche drawls, a shared look with Marena as if the woman knows exactly what she is talking about. She then assumes the audience-member position leaning in to watch the fight more closely. "Does she? So how much silver are we talking here? Will I be out another dress to see you furnished with some new blade?" she laughs, although there doesn't seem to be any true disappointment at that prospect behind her voice. "Come on.... you!" she cheers for Hamish, not having caught his name.
Thea again hears her name. She waves over at Macda and winks,"I told you! I'd give you pointers!"
Tyche swats Marena with the back of her hand, "Do you see that? My encouragement works!" Because 'You' aka Hamish got in a hit.
Valencia is overheard praising Hamish: Bold and brave in a fight. I would not wish to be caught by the force of his fist.
Calla leaves the ringside table to go and get a refill on her wine, eyes flicking back towards the ring and the bout, briefly calling out her encouragement for Lady Piccola before making for the bar.
Calla has left the ringside great table.
Valencia is overheard praising Piccola: Fast, fierce and formidable as the come. Watching her is a delight.
Marena, normally so reserved, chokes out a sudden, soft laugh that she stifles behind a hand. She looks at Tyche out the corner of her eye, some shared mischief there. "I could use a new dress myself," she suggests lightly, swinging one leg over the other at the knee. "For when you insist I help represent the family at some fancy shindig." There's a pause. "I'll note any silver I currently have is effectively yours anyway."
Valencia is overheard praising Zoey: She is to be showing her skills upon the sand with archery again. I cannot wait!
Valencia is overheard praising Rowenova: Another one of amazing skills, and a fine company besides. I will always admire that spirit of hers.
The light dancing isn't getting the job done.
Confidence is the downfall of any fighter. Piccola, for a moment, switches her footwork up to try and apply more force to her strikes. Sure, she clocks Hamish pretty hard, but his fist to her -- OWCH. Bamph, right in the cheek and nose. It causes her to stumble back, but she's soon back in the fray, and back to what was working before: using her speed to her advantage.
Blood in the water now.
Macda is overheard praising Thea.
Kastelon develops a look of somber relief as the Archlector manages to pop the Lycene general back once. He isn't a helpless old ex-farmer after all.
And it continues. If Hamish had been more like this from the start, well, the fight might have been more even, but it also probably would have gone on a lot longer. He keeps his guard up, looks for his shot and lands a hit at the same time as the little Lady. "I think that hurt my knuckles more than your face, my lady. Tough as a walnut."
Valencia has left the ringside table.
After Valencia's question, Nova hmms quietly, "Both are tough people, so I am really not sure I want to say I have a horse in this race." Pun for Hamish. "Were the Lady more silky, I would bet on the Archlector, but no. No favorite."
"The lady is faster. Speed kills. I would put money on her if I had thought to bring a pouch of it out tonight." Alban says in reply to Nova's comment, before he takes another long sip of his wine.
Cecilia turns to Waldemai and offers the slightest hint of a respectful unneeded curtsy. "You shall see me soon Master Waldemai. I should very much like to see your smithy. Thank you for the wine. It is quite good. I feel I should check in with the family lest the rumors start that I wish nothing to do with them upon my return."
"Nonsense," Tyche cuts a hand through the air to brush aside talk of silver. "If your champion wins, a dress for you, then. Because I am certainly dragging you out time and time again." She winces as Hamish continues to take hits, and asks, "What color do you wish to have? Something in blue, maybe?"
Sydney leans up onto the tips of her toes, even though this does very little to afford her a better view. Any sign of fatigue has vanished as she watches the form on Hamish and Piccola both, murmuring under her breath. Praise? Jeers? Composing prose poetry on-the-fly? Who's to say.
1 Templar Initiates, 3 Templar Knight guards arrive, following Cassandra.
Waldemai raises his refilled horn to Lady Cecilia. "Thanks for being a good sport, m'lady, and it was good meeting you as well."
Valenica nods to Alban as he observes. "I would think that speed would help especially with such stamina as hers," the little princess notes quietly, her hands clasped softly as the fight contines. A wince as another strike finds it's target and a cheer from the crowd roars throught the arena agan.
Catalana also glances at Wash. "I'm not certain. But it is Wash."
Macda has joined the ringside great table.
Slipping into the Arena seating in her tabard and robes, Cassandra moves to find a place to sit to enjoy the festivities and of course, watching people hit each other.
Leaning back in her chosen chair at the ringside table by the event hostess, Rowenova swigs down a good amount from her tea mug, since a tea cup may not truly hold enough tea. She looks up toward the ongoing fight up there in the central ring between Archlector Hamish and Lady Piccola. Sir Floppington is hanging out with his canine chin on Nova's skirted lap. She is dressed up and brought along her arrow quiver and her recurve bow, too.
Tarik walks and takes a few moments to look around the place, before heading towards Rowenova' table.
The fighters keep going.
By now, Piccola is breathing hard. Her movements are a bit slower; her strikes are a bit more sluggish. But the little snakes are the most tenacious: she continues to employ her darting-and-weaving strategy, her punches like little nips at her opponent. Blocks, slides, sudden jerks. Whatever it takes, one might say.
Blood begins to drip freely from her nose.
"Then what if you win?" asks Marena of Tyche, tipping her head toward the redhead. "Another favor?" She says that like she's already made good on one. She pats the other woman's shoulder companionably. "I think blue would suit me well. A very bold, cobalt blue. Like the sea after a storm off the Caina shores." There's a little bounce in her seat as the fight wages on, her eyes alight as fists jab and graze.
Cecilia makes her way to the table that the members of her family have sinced moved to, wine in hand and moves to take an empty seat, settling in with some mustered grace. "Did I see you smile Ian? Like actually smile. I could have sworn I saw your lips upturn the slightest even from way over there. If you did and I missed it, I am not sure I could bear it. It might require a second glass of wine just to cope with the crushing acceptance that my dear second cousin smiled and I was not present to witness it." There is a slight jesting sarcasm to her tone as she hides her own smile behind her glass.
Cecilia has joined the ringside great table.
Wash has left the corner table.
Wash has joined the ringside great table.
Cassandra has joined the ringside great table.
Wash returns to the seat with his family with a new pitcher of drinks. "What'd I miss? I heard my name."
Sir Floppington lifts up his doggie chin from Nova's lap, wagging up to Tarik, doing so as Rowenova herself suddenly rises from where she had been sitting, offering out both arms his way to mayhaps hug him. "Good to see you!"
Calla decides against a refill, and instead heads off to find somewhere a little more quiet.
Tarik is overheard praising Valencia.
The only place Hamish seems to have an advantage here is that he's not slowing down quite as much as Piccola. Is he huffing and puffing? Sure. Does he look like he wants to fall over and die? Possibly. Still, he's holding on marginally more than she is, even as the pair still fail to land any kind of finishing, decisive blow.
Valencia is overheard praising Tarik: An excellent friend. I'm grateful..
"Yes, another favor," Tyche agrees to the terms, a small nod to accompany. "But nothing like the last, which I imagine we both wish to forget." Humor dances in her dark eyes as the fight rages on, and she leans in to her much more martially-minded cousin, "Do you want to get in there?"
Sydney is watching the fight closely, her eyes all but gleaming as she shouts advice, "Wait her out, Ham!" Fickle as she is, she almost immediately flinches and calls to Piccola, "Put your shoulder into it, not just your forearm!"
As Tarik arrives, a knowing, but very happy look is offered to Rowenova and Valencia smiles all the more. "My dearest sir, I''m so glad you were able to be here. Join us yes?" she beams warmly at the northern warrior. "You know Lord Alban, yes?"
Tarik has joined the ringside table.
Hamish checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 8, rolling 53 higher.
Hamish remains capable of fighting.
Hamish checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 31, rolling 24 higher.
Hamish remains capable of fighting.
Hamish checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 43, rolling 18 higher.
Hamish remains capable of fighting.
Hamish checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 45, rolling 31 higher.
Hamish remains capable of fighting.
Macda smiles to those that sit, and she drinks easilly as she looks over to Ian "Glitter bombed were you?" she asks amused
Hamish checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 48, rolling 5 higher.
Hamish remains capable of fighting.
Hamish checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 75, rolling 22 lower.
Hamish checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 40, rolling 92 higher. Hamish rolled a critical!
Hamish remains alive, but close to death.
Hamish is incapacitated and falls unconscious.
Ian takes a long drink of whiskey. "It's only funny until it happens to you," he says to Macda. "Which it will."
"With fists? No," Marena is quick to tell Tyche, her posture suddenly tight and even straighter. "I need a weapon in hand to feel comfortable. For now." There's something surprisingly dark about her tone and the look in her eyes as she focuses on the brawlers still going on. "Perhaps another time." She recoils as Piccola lands a particularly forceful blow, and there's a flash of something uncomfortable upon her usually serene face.
Albanlifts a glass to Tarik as he is waved over by Valencia, "I do not think I have had the pleasure of meeting you, no," he says, before introducing himself, "Lord Alban Farshaw, General of Westrock Reach."
Weapons Rack is now unlocked.
Towards the end of the fight, it's a slug-fest.
Piccola's face is impressively hard, as is the rest of her apparently. But she is able to last in the ring long enough to wear the larger Archlector down, and deliver a final blow with her left hand. Southpaw? Definitely a southpaw. Once she is able to land the last, she reaches out to help the man up, her eyes still hard and determined.
"Good fight, your Eminence," she says as she gasps for air.
Retreating briefly back to the bar to snatch up her glass, Sydney picks it up and spots Cassandra's entrance. Some of the spark goes out of her eyes and she looks conflicted for a moment before retreating back to watch the fight with a little bit more subdued vigor. She drinks a bit more heavily from the glass of white whiskey, and peers down at the ring as exhaustion sets in for both fighters.
And then it's over, and she thumps her hand appreciatively on the railing - it's hard to clap with a drink in one's hand, after all. "Beautiful!"
When Piccolo serves the last blow in the match, Tyche also winces, looking away from the display of violence. "Is he alive?" she asks with a faint laugh, knowing that he must be because this isn't that sort of place, right? She looks up to Marena, a curious arching of her brows at the expression she finds there, and then back to the ring. "Cobalt blue it is."
Zoey gets Dawn's Light, an alaricite bow from a monogrammed black calfskin satchel with silk lining.
There toward the end there's no more of that 'not managing to hit one another' thing and it just gets ugly. Still, it's uglier for Hamish who is the one who ends up in the dirt, which makes sense since he's a farmer. Once the tiny Tessere helps him to his feet, which is probably a thing to see, he tongues at his teeth to make sure they're all there. "I'll have to count my ribs later. I think you may have knocked one down into my arse." He heads back to the bar, walking gingerly. To Korka he says, "Impressed?"
Hamish has joined the bar.
"With Lady Piccola?" Korka replies to Hamish, taking a swig from her mug, "I guess so. You do complain about your knees a lot so," she holds up a hand and wavers it back and forth.
Macda giggles a little as well at Cecilia "your funny" she tilts her head a little as she listens to the banter at the table. Her eyes shift to Catalana and she lifts her eyebrow before she grins "I should head out."
Marena looks to Tyche, allowing herself to relax a fraction more now that the fight is over. "I'm sure he'll recover," she replies, sounding strangely gloomy about it. "Well fought," she calls out to Hamish and Piccola, giving them both a brisk salute.
The battle is bloody and enthusiastic crowd show no signs of ceasing their cheers and calls continue well after Piccola and Hamish depart the sands. The Hart's Sergeant of Arms holds up his and call, "Well fought, both," he grins and nods firmly before turning to the roaring arena. "All rise and cheer your winner. Lady Piccola Tessere takes the win this night!"
The cheers start again and the grizzled warrior waits for them to calm before carrying on. "And this concludes the sparring for this now. But nay, leave yet. Now's the time to refill your drinks, for next we have another fine archery contest," he announces before stepping off as well to take a long pull of ale from a waiting mug himself.
The sands now cleared, targets appear and a fine metal mesh is drawn about the ring to protect those in the audience.
Once the ring is prepared to his satisfaction; the Hart's Sergeant of Arms booms out. "A call for a different contest this night. Those who are skilled in the cart of archery will not test their skills. Archers step on the sands. Lady Zoey Kennex. Scout Rowenova. Lady Piccola Tessere. Bring your bows and find yer way to the sands."
Cassandra has left the ringside great table.
1 Templar Initiates have been dismissed.
3 Templar Knight guards have been dismissed.
Macda has left the ringside great table.
If Piccola feels bad about knocking Hamish down, it doesn't show.
Instead, she just looks exhausted. With a groan, she calmly draws her right hand to her nose, squeezing the bridge to stanch the bleeding. "Got to admit: I thought it was going to be a bit easier than that," she mumbles as she returns to the table where she left her things, with Rowenova, Delia, et al. And then, as the announcer calls out for the archery contestants, she lets out another groan, and mumbles, "Son of a //bitch//."
So, she picks up her bow, and goes to stand back in the ring.
Delia has left the ringside table.
Quartus, Fourth of Monique's Assistants have been dismissed.
"My turn," Zoey tells her tablemates with a smile. She rises and signals one of her guards, who brings her bow and hands it to her on the way to the sands.
Zoey has left the ringside great table.
Zoey has joined the ring of valor.
Zoey wields Dawn's Light, an alaricite bow.
Piccola wields polished cupridium shortbow with a patina appearance.
And because Marena has already won a dress off of her, Tyche stands, "I think that's enough violence (and loss) for me tonight. Drinks?" And then she's urging her cousin up up up.
Tyche has left the raised seating.
Marena has left the raised seating.
1 Inverno Ensign, 1 Inverno Captain, Cornelius, a studious looking attendant, Marena leave, following Tyche.
After a quick kiss to Tarik on his cheek, Nova sashays away with her quiver, and her bow, and then she lithely leaps over the ring ropes and moves forth toward the shooting line for the archery contest. Sir Flop stays behind, but the good boy still watches her, as if forever guarding even outside the ring.
Rowenova wields steel reinforced recurve hunting bow.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 15, rolling 60 higher.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 15, rolling 39 higher.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 15, rolling 31 higher.
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 15, rolling 45 higher.
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 15, rolling 70 higher. Piccola rolled a critical!
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 15, rolling 12 higher.
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 15, rolling 29 higher.
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 15, rolling 36 higher.
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 15, rolling 37 higher.
: Stands up and eyes her friends. Kids. Sticks. And now her favorite-love glitter. "Stick fighting. We should hold an event for the children one day." She admits however,"Unfortunately I have to get going, though it was good to see you all." Stepping back, Thea looks at Wash,"Good luck with your uh--strong hand? Strong stick?" No idea!"
Tarik cheers for Rowenoa!
Sydney kicks back the rest of her drink, and offers a grateful smile Philippe's way, and lightly claps Hamish on the back on her way past. There's no words accompanying either, and she makes her way toward the exit.
Looks like someone was able to afford something nice.
Piccola's bow, this month, is a short bow that looks to have been fashioned from cupridium, among other materials. She looses her three arrows into her targets, one of which hits dead-on. That seems to surprise even her. "Fuck." She looks at her weapon, shakes her head, and winces as she stretches out her shoulder.
With her free hand, she goes back to stanching the blood from her nose.
Zoey steps up to the target first, allowing herself a moment to assess it while taking a breath. In rapid successions she nocks and looses three arrows, each of which impales the target with a *thunk*.
Ian bows his head to Thea. "Have a good evening, Lady Thea."
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 20, rolling 37 higher.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 20, rolling 27 higher.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 20, rolling 29 higher.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 20, rolling 36 higher.
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 20, rolling 17 higher.
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 20, rolling 22 higher.
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 20, rolling 38 higher.
Wash applauds Zoey's showing. "That's better than a blunted arrow to the face!"
Although Nova hits her target every time, she does not seem to group the arrows as closely as the noble women do, but then she puts on a determined look, bringing to bear another trio of flying feathered sticks!
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 20, rolling 29 higher.
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 20, rolling 29 higher.
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 20, rolling 41 higher.
Sydney has left the bar.
Zoey chuckles at Wash's assessment. "Most things are," she agrees with him. Then she shifts back into focus, smile put away while setting her sight on the target. Nock, loose. Nock, loos. Nock loose.
Ian doesn't show a whole lot of interest in the shooting, even when it's his wife doing some of it. Whatever interest is there is probably just him watching his wife. "You were the one who asked her to shoot at you," he reminds Wash.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 25, rolling 54 higher.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 25, rolling 18 higher.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 25, rolling 53 higher.
Thea gives a wave and a brief smile to those she knows as she heads out the door. Finn right there. With a stick.
As the targets are being moved further out, Nova blows a kiss to Tarik before turning back to focus her cobalt-blue/kohl-lined sights upon the targets, and then she lets fly another three arrows: crimson red with black feathering.
Thea has left the ringside great table.
Finn the large Northern hunting dog with icy blue eyes, Rocco, the rascally assistant leave, following Thea.
The next trio of Piccola's arrows? Not so well-grouped. Still, she aims, fires them, and then resumes trying to stop her nose bleeding as the targets are reset.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Zoey before departing.
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 25, rolling 44 higher.
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 25, rolling 32 higher.
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 25, rolling 39 higher.
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 25, rolling 14 higher.
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 25, rolling 33 higher. Piccola rolled a critical!
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 25, rolling 25 higher.
"Why is your nose bleeding?" Zoey asks Piccola as she readies her next trio of arrows. "Do you need a healer?" Nock, loose, thunk. Lather, rinse, repeat.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Zoey before departing.
Piccola looks at Zoey, and tells her blithely, "I took a fist in the face from a rather large man." Shrug. "Didn't exactly have time to treat it before -- " She holds up her bow. And then, she aims down range, and fires her arrows, one, two, three.
Looks like Nova has a long way to go before she can catch up to Zoey, but then when the Kennex asks Piccola about her nose, Nova looks over to Zoey and then... "She was in the ring with the Archlector of DEATH."
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 44 higher.
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 28 higher.
Rowenova checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 66 higher. Rowenova rolled a critical!
Zoey says, "Oh, right, I suppose that makes sense."
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 16 higher.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 42 higher.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 14 higher.
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 33 higher.
Zoey checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 19 higher.
Piccola checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 3 lower.
"Tilt your head forward and pinch your nose," Ian advises from his table like Piccola can totally do that while shooting arrows.
"I was drunk." Wash says, a panacea excuse for every action. "Nice shot NOVA!" He doesn't have a dog in this fight.
"She got beat up by an old guy," Korka shouts out from the bar, helpfully.
"Oh, thank you, Lord Kennex; I hadn't thought of that."
Okay, so Piccola can //also// sound sardonic. She licks her upper lip of blood, and then fires her next three arrows, the last of which sails wide. "Fuck." Now she's grumpy. It's written all over her face. Regardless, she bows stiffly at the waist to Zoey and Rowenova, in turn, and then goes to find a place to sit by herself to nurse her injuries.
She mumbles indelicately to herself, by herself, as she waits for the bleeding to stop.
One more round. Zoey takes a breath and steadies her hand. One, two, three. Once the arrows are loosed she lowers her bow. "Yes, Inquisitor, I got that," she calls back in the direction of the bar. "You still did well, Lady Piccola," she tells her with a smile. "Be proud of that."
Catalana doubts Wash most of the time. "Well, at least the walk home sobered you up." She climbs to her feet and warns Wash without too much thought. "I'm taking the carriage home. Maybe if you're nice, Ian will carry you home."
"She beat up an old guy," drawls Hamish, who traded his beer for booze.
"Barely!" Wash adds, he pats Catalana's arm. "I'll sober up before I come home. Promise."
Maybe, Nova is far sighted? She seems to do better than ever with the targets put out there further than they were before. She zings off three shots, the final one being the best one! She shouts out, "Thank you, Lord Wash!" for his kind compliment her way.
"I'm not carrying you," Ian tells Wash. In case there was any question on that front.
The crowd is all but silent save for the cheering as the arrows pierce the target with graceful ease. All three ladies are talented, it is true, but tonight it is Rowenova who wins the day. "Impressive," the Hart's Sergeant of Arms says gruffly with a respectful nod as he turns to address the crowd. "A fine, find show of skill to be sure. Please stand and cheer for your winner, Scout Rowenova!!" There is a roar of approval for all who competed, however there is a distinct roar of pride from northerns in the arena as Nova winds the day.
Catalana chuckles softly at Wash and encourages Ian, "Carry him all the way home and I'll find a new bottle of booze for you." She gives an easy wave and slips out.
Catalana has left the ringside great table.
"Nicely done!" Zoey tells Rowenova, smiling brightly and applauding after she hands her bow back to her guard.
Zoey has left the ring of valor.
Zoey has joined the ringside great table.
Piccola makes a face at Zoey, but it holds some amount of good humor.
"My face and ribs are sore." Because farmers hit like a freight train, according to Letterkenny. "I feel like I need to lie down, but, fuck it, I'm going to have a drink, Lady Kennex. I'm going to have a fucking drink." Clearly, the title 'lady' is not meant to describe her skill at etiquette. She sets her bow down on the ground next to her, and looks to the bar longingly.
Sweet, nourishing booze.
Piccola has left the ring of valor.
Nova raises her left hand up above her with her bow in it held to the sky! "Thank you!" says she to all those who roar for her. And then, more thanks to her fellow archers. "Well done, Lady Zoey and Lady Piccola, too!" Then, the Northern scout (and ducal servant) bounds out of the archery/fighting ring to meet up with Tarik again!
"That sounds like permission for me to end up unconscious under this table." Wash says aloud.
Valencia smiles to Alban and then Tarik and rises to cheer with the others as Rownova is announced the winner. The room fills with the cheeful sounds of calls of "well done" and "bravo for the archers of Arx!" A little smile parts the vixen's lips as Rownova and Piccola return to the table again, a kerchief offered to Piccola with a wince. "Would you like me to call mercy to see that you are okay?" she asks with a little bob of her head.
Piccola takes the kerchief from Valencia, and applies it under her nose. With it closed, hers is a squeaky, petulant sort of voice. "It's appreciated." She looks to the great table. "Think I'll go over there, get me some whiskey." And, with her hand on her nose, with that cloth, she wanders slowly over to the large table. "You mind if I join for a bit?" she asks of no one in particular there.
She looks like she could use a break.
Wash is drunk enough now to stand and volunteer. "When's my turn?!" He shouts.
Valencia is overheard praising Wash: A great fighter. It's been some time to see him find his way to spar. Excited!
Valencia is overheard praising Alban: A brave man! If his talent is as grand as he generosity, this willl be a good fight.
Piccola is overheard praising Valencia.
Piccola is overheard praising Sabine.
Piccola is overheard praising Nurie.
Piccola is overheard praising Cassandra.
Valencia is overheard praising Waldemai: It would not be a Sip n'Spar without him
Valencia is overheard praising Cecilia: Someone who loves a good match as much as I do. I hope she finds her way to compete one day
Valencia is overheard praising Ian: Always kind enough to help show others how to slay. Grateful.
Aswin has left the ringside great table.
As the targets are cleared and the light mesh screen is drawn away, there is a rush of activity as people hurry to get their drinks and resettle for the next match. When the sands are reset to his satisfaction, the gruff old Sergeant of Arms returns to call the crowd's attention to the ring once again, "Lord Alban! Lord Wash! You've been called to the sands. May your fight with honour and fire in your heart. Let's show them how to make a fight last," he grins with warm regard as the move into the ring. "Fighters, present yer arms and lay on yer leisure! Good match to you both."
Alban wields Skyguard.
"Wash." When Alban produces an Alaricite weapon, Ian does as well, drawing it from within his cane. He offers it to his cousin.
Waldemai is ready for a good match. "Anyone want to get a bet down?"
As if reminded of something, Piccola then stops herself.
"Wait." She picks up her bow, and then mutters, "I nearly forgot something. Shit." Something hits her; a realization dawns. "Would you excuse me?" She turns and heads to the exit. Along the way, though, she gestures at Valencia to get her attention, and then gestures at her nose. "I will wash and have this returned," she promises.
And then, off she goes, presumably to go and do whatever she realized she had to.
Wash is calling for a refill on his drink even as his name is called. "No no. I'll take it with me." He says, carrying the mug with him down into the arena as it is topped off. "Lord Alban. We meet at last. For the first... last... some time. Maybe? Do we know each other before this?" He tries to casually unsheathe his rapier with his left hand, but finds that more difficult than it should be. "Hold on." He waves at Ian. "Sword!" He calls out, having given up on drawing his rapier.
Ian hands Wash the sword drawn from within his cane, the pale alaricite gleaming in the lamplight. Let's all just ignore that Ian just gave a drunk man a sword THAT sharp to swing at someone.
Wash wields Heavy Cane.
A quick nod of understanding finds Valencia's face as Piccola announces her departure. "I will talk to you later about your event. Please be well, and thank you," she offers quickly not to hold the woman up from seeing to her duty. A look up to the rafter at Waldemai's call and she smiles, "I'll happily meet your wager, sir. What is it to be?"
Oakshed, an aged and white haired valet have been dismissed.
Jayne, Burly Sailor have been dismissed.
Kastelon rises from the bar and makes his way out, Resolute at his heels.
Alban stands up as his name is called, perhaps having forgotten that he put his name in. "Oh...right..." the clearly unready Farshaw says. He walks down to the sands and draws out his usual weapon, before he pauses as if to reconsider. But, when Wash gets the Heavy Cane he shrugs a little and then finishes his walk to the sands. "Lord Wash, may Gloria smile on our contest," he says with a bow.
Kastelon has left the bar.
Resolute, an Oakhaven bloodhound leaves, following Kastelon.
Waldemai calls down to Princess Valencia, "A thousand on Lord Alban, your highness. Will it do?"
Rowenova is overheard praising Tarik: What a man what a man what a mighty good man!
"I shall take that bet, sir. Gladly so," Valencia smiles up to the man and raises her glass. "To you, sir!"
Wash shakes the handle of the heavy cane until he starts to just look confused. "Ian. How do you?" He shakes it again and lifts it to peer at it. "Ah!" With a final shake the lower half falls to the ground revealing a weapon to match Alban's. "En grate!" He says, waving the now unhidden blade in a delicate arch that looks more like he is trying to figure out how long it is than show off. "This is really nice Ian. Really nice."
"Try not to kill yourself with it," Ian calls out to the sands. "Lady Catalana knows where I live."
Rowenova says, "Don't kill yourself with that thing, My lord!"
Cecilia settles back in her hair at the table and focuses now on the fight about to occur. "So how drunk do we think he is?"
Wash checked stamina + survival at difficulty 35, rolling 5 higher.
Waldemai raises his horn in return. Opps, it's almost empty! He dips it full from his bucket.
Ian eyes Cecilia. "Drunk enough to think this is a good idea."
A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.
Zoey pours herself a refill of whiskey as the fight starts.
The little vixen turns to watch the match with a sharp eye now that she has silver riding on the Kennex Lord. "As much as I adore Lord Alban, I do adore winning," she winks to the others at the table. "This should be a very good match indeed."
Valencia claims this
Cecilia shrugs to Ian with a half smirk. "Many incredible things have been accomplished from the ass end of a bottle Ian. I can't think of any right now...but we may be about to witness one. "
Ian makes a dubious sort of sound. "We're about to witness something."
As Wash waves around the sword, Alban takes a couple of steps back to make sure he is clear of the waving. Once the Kennex Lord is ready, he steps forward and makes his first moves. Well practiced.
Korka has left the bar.
Wash is more dancer than fighter. He takes long exaggerated strides around the ring and when he sees Alban moving in, he quick steps a little faster as if he were being pursued. "Stop stop! I'm going to spill my rum!" He says, ducking away so that he can take a sip before having to defend himself. Of course, if Alban indulges him, he'll drink more than just a sip.
Cecilia mutters. "Can we bet if he will vomit before the fight is over?"
"I think I would rather just pray he does not," Zoey says to Cecilia.
Ian quirks half a smile and gives a little huff of amusement at the thought.
Alban seems to have a bit of a dilemma: does he attack a clearly drunk man, or does he let the man with a razor sharp sword slash at him and defend himself as need be until he is tired out? Alban for the first part makes a couple of moves towards Wash, but does not press the attack when Wash calls for a drink. He takes a half step back and says, "Lord Wash, I would suggest you put down your liquor."
"You would suggest that. But you want to win. So I have to do the opposite of what you... " Wash retorts. "Ow! Stoppit."
Cecilia continues to watch the fight with the wine glass in hand, her head tilting to the side as she recalls a story of her past it would seem. "I fought a drunk man once. Well, when I say fought he really tried to grab me, I moved and he fell on the floor and went to sleep. I call it a win." She takes a sip and shrugs.
Ian snorts when Alban asks (begs) Wash to please put down the liquor, to be followed by Wash saying 'stopit stopit'.
It would seem once he's struck first, Alban is intent on getting the battle over with quickly, with perhaps the least amount of damage possible to himself. Always a good call: self preservation. When Wash does not put down his drink he makes a couple of quick thrusts to put his oppoent on the point that, maybe he should set down the drink.
Zoey chuckles. "I would too. It counts! I think if it happens in a bar, it also qualifies as a bar fight."
A slight wince comes as Wash is hit and she shakes her head, a slight but present look of concern for the man's welfare seeming to slip into her expression once again. A little look Cecilia's way as the her story catches Valencia's ear and a smile amused smile parts her lips. Dark eyes move back to the ring as Alban moves swiftly into the fight again.
Wash catches the flat of Alban's blade with his mug causing it to splash everywhere. "Somehow, I think this fight favors you in every way my Lord." Wash says. "You don't have to take it out on my drink." He is going to feel the bruises Alban is giving him tomorrow, but in his inebriated state he seems to ignore them at the moment.
Cecilia winces as Wash is struck more severely. "He does not look good, but the rum has stayed down. I consider that a victory." She sidelong states to Zoey. "Oh yeah..totally won a bar fight. They call me the Blond Brawler. I am kind of a big deal." She sips again and shakes her head.
Ian shakes his head. "Sometimes it's hard to believe he beat Aethan, once upon a time," he mutters, finishing off his drink.
Wash checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 3, rolling 50 higher.
Wash remains capable of fighting.
Alban shakes his head slowly, "My apologies my dear Lord, but, if you do not put it down, I will have to do it for you." It looks like he takes a little bit more time, trying perhaps to show off for the ladies in the crowd, as he makes his next move against Wash, and in doing so he gets tagged in return by the Kennex Lord. Alban raises an ebrow, and then grits his teeth and circles slowly, preparing his next feint and strike.
"Well done!" Zoey congratulates Cecilia. She turns to Ian. "He was telling me he beat you in a fight once too."
Wash is fairly staggering around the ring, twice he tries to drink from the mug and finds it empty both times. The first time he must have not been able to believe himself. "HAH!" He declares as his unfettered attention finally claims some success against Alban's defenses. "That will... Oooh. Nononono!" As he skitters away from the man's more competent assault. A lesser or sober man would surrender at this point but Wash seems to get more excited. "Yes! That's the ticket. Right here. Hit me where it hurts!"
Ian rolls his shoulders in a shrug to Zoey. "I'd only just started fighting, and Wash is a hard man to predict when he's drink." He nods towards the fight. "... As you can see."
Cecilia raises a brow at the other hit to Wash, a look of suprise coming to her face. However, it owuld appear the alcohol has numbed him to pain and he seems ot be fighting back. "Rum style. I like it."
After getting settled in right close with Tarik, Nova quietly shows him a leatherbound folio that she opens up beside him. Like reading books together. Meanwhile, Sir Floppington rests at their feet.
Wash does the absolute ridiculousness of spinning wildly in place after his latest hit succeeds. "Whirlpool style! Kill me and we all go free!"
The next hit Wash lands is mostly turned by his armor, but a little bit gets through to nick him. Again, he seems a little surprised. The Farshaw General considers, and then makes an aggressive attack at Wash's urging.
Hamish has left the bar.
1 Templar Knight guards leaves, following Hamish.
Wash checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 27, rolling 21 higher.
Wash remains capable of fighting.
Wash checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 37, rolling 40 higher.
Wash remains capable of fighting.
Wash checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 40, rolling 13 lower.
Wash checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 12, rolling 33 higher.
Wash remains alive, but close to death.
Wash is incapacitated and falls unconscious.
Cecilia murmurs again. "There is no training in the world to prepare you to fight Wash's style. It's a splendid mix of dance and of someone who appears to be on fire."
"There really isn't," Ian agrees.
Wash's desire to fall upon Alban's sword causes the little vixen to laugh and nearly face palm. "I have faith in you, Lord Wash!" Valencia cheerfully calls to the ring with a shake of her head just as Wash finds his rest in the sands. Fingers press to her lips and then to her heart as she rises to see that the man is not hurt as the Hart's mercies move quickly to addend the washed up Wash. A gasp of the crowd comes and then a loud cheer and Valencia joins them in turn. Shaking her head, she speaks quietly to Lizette and a dark leather pouch finds it's way up to Waldemai in the rafters, the little raven haired princess raising a glass to the man. "Well done," she cheerfully calls.
Wash spinning in place is never a smart move in combat, no matter how cool it looks. Not that doing it drunkenly makes it look cool. Wash is dizzy enough to trip over his own feet the next time Alban clubs him and down he goes. "He stabbed me with a sword Ian. With a sword." He's going to take more time to get his bearings than your average fighter.
"Lord Alban, would you mind making sure that cane comes back to me?" Ian asks of Alban, clearly having no faith in Wash to take care of the chore.
Albantakes a moment to clean off his blade after Wash falls, and then re-sheathes it, before he bows to the fallen Wash, "A good fight Lord Wash. Perhaps next time we mamy try it sober." He then reaches down to delicately pick up the sword he borrowed from Ian, and takes the same care with the blade, wiping it down as he carries it up to where Ian sits. He lays the blade across his palms and then presents it to Ian, kneeling, "Lord Ian, your blade."
Wash says, "That takes all the fun out of it Lord Alban." Wash replies before deciding to roll over and over and over to be next to the table. "Can I get another cup of rum?""
Ian takes the blade from Alban with a nod of thanks. The wooden 'sheathe' bit of the cane is still wherever Wash chucked it, but one of the Hart's staff will probably collect that eventually. In the meantime, Ian lays the blade carefully on the table where its sharp edge won't hurt anyone.
Wash wields Intricately forged ancient steel cutlass.
Catalina mock pouts as the combat ends. "Oh he lost." Another shrug and a sip of the wine is taken. Her sea grey eyes drift to ALban as he presents the cane back to Ian. "A good fight Lord...Alban was it?"
Waldemai accepts the pouch, and whispers to the carrier. A donation to the Golden Hart fund appears shortly thereafter.
Ian wields Heavy Cane.
Rowenova checked command + teaching at difficulty 20, rolling 6 higher.
One of the Hart's staff indeed returns the missing sheathe to Ian with a bow of his head before heading back to clear the sands again. The Hart's Sergeant of Arms gives Wash the eye as he marches with long strides and straight back into the ring. The crowd is still cheering at the sight, Lord Alban's name called to the delight of many as wagers are paid. "My lords and ladies. Gentles all, your winner. Lord Alban Farshaw!"
Tarik checked command + animal ken at difficulty 22, rolling 15 higher.
Tarik checked command + animal ken at difficulty 5, rolling 32 higher.
"Well, that was something," Zoey remarks. "How do you feel, Wash?"
Wash's last comment does not get a reply from Alban, as his attention is caught by Cecilia, "Lord Alban Farshaw, yes. I do not believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you, though. May I ask the honor of knowing your name, Lady?" he asks, still kneeling, though his attention is on the woman.
"I'll get you next time Alban. Next time!" Wash lies in the corner of the ring nearest the great table. "Someone knock over the pitcher in my direction!"
Ian looks over the edge of the table, down at Wash. "I don't want to break the Hart's pitcher."
"This is Lady Cecilia Kennex," Zoey introduces her to Alban. "She just returned from Stormward."
Cecilia places her wine glass down upon the tableand folds her hands before her, her attention going to the victorius man. "Lord Alban Farshaw. Why that is the name they are chanting. You are much adored. You have made many people happy this evening with their wagers on your victory." Her hands move to fold on the table now. as she is introduced by Zoey. "Fled. I fled. I am not ashamed."
"Next time I'm going to bring my hairpins!" Wash calls from under the table's shadow. "Ian! Just... I don't want to get up."
"My thanks, Lady Zoey. What could have driven you out of Stormward, Lady Cecilia?" Alban asks, before he smiles a little at Cecilia's words and replies, "They are merely happy that the obvious outcome was realized. I feel little joy in a victory over a drunk man and fear Gloria may not be smiling at my actions. But, that is a concern for later." He adds, "May I join you?" to the people at the table.
"Why do you own hairpins?" Zoey asks Wash, looking under the table at him. She turns to Alban and gestures to an empty chair in invitation. "You obviously have not heard about the trouble in the Mourning Isles."
Ian sighs. He takes a moment, bracing himself on the table and using it to push to his feet and then, retrieving the pitcher, very carefully leans on the fence around the sands and lowers it down to Wash. For all the world like Alban's not kneeling just to his right acting like the soul of manners.
Alban's abandonment of the table causes a little smile and Valencia takes a small sip from her glass as she turns to observe Tarik and Nova happy again at each other's side. "Well, another eventful night. I'm glad you were both able to attend," she nods warmly as she gracefully rises herself.
"For my hair." Wash answers curtly. He waves futilely at the lowered beer but can't quite reach it. "Ian. You're... useless." He sits up to take it out of Ian's hands to drink it. "I'll go again!" Wash says brightly. "This rum is quite invigorating!"
Nova smiles back to Valencia. "Thank you, Princess Valencia. I am so glad, too. Some great memories here." She gazes at Tarik,d smooches his cheek, and then glances to Ian and Wash with a laugh at their shenanigans.
"-Someone- lost half of my cane," Ian says pointedly to Wash when called useless, easing himself back into a seat. Except someone from the Hart has only just found said lost half and brought it back, allowing him to sheathe the sword into it.
Cecilia reaches for her wine once more, moving it closer but not yet taking a sip. "What drove me out of Stormward? Let's just say that it is not the safest place right now for me and others. A bit unstable." SHe takes a sip of the wine and ehales slowly, lowering it back to the table. "Please feel free to join us. I have no objections. And do not consider it beating a drunk man...he fights better that way believe it or not."
That someone who found the half of the cane is Sir Floppington, of course, who takes that right back to Ian. Is he from the Golden Hart? Maybe.
He is next door neighbor at the very least!
"I am not aware, no. I have been preoccupied with...other matters of late." Alban admits, as he moves to sit at the table next to Cecilia. "I am glad you have had the sense to leave then if it is so dangerous. It would be a shame for a beauty such as yourself to be harmed."
"Well, here are to many more beautiful memories to come," Valencia replies warmly with a graceful incline of head as she gently smooths her dress. A glance about and she smiles again. "I think I will take some air. I feel a little faint. Will you pardon for a little. Please pardon me, my dearest friends."
Wash waves a hand over the ringside fence in Valencia's direction. "Goodnight Princess!"
Tarik has left the ringside table.
Rowenova has left the ringside table.
Sir Floppington the Soulful Hound leaves, following Rowenova.
Rowenova leaves, following Tarik.
Ian bows his head to Valencia. "Princess Valencia. Have a good evening."
Zoey pets Sir Floppington's head and scratches him behind his ears when he makes his delivery. "Good boy!" She looks at Alban. "Most non-combatants will take their leave if possible when there is threat of civil war."
Waldemai finishes his ale and slips off, weaving a little as usual at the end of a Sip 'n' Spar. At least it's not a concussion this time.
Waldemai has left the upper rafters.
A graceful nod to Wash and Ian, and a smile for Zoey, Cecilia and Waldemai -- the others seem presently occupied and so the little vixen takes the opporunity to depart, pausing only to offer a gently word to the Hart's master barkeep as she passes. With that Valencia deaparts with a softly rustle of silk.
Cecilia inclines her heasd as well to the departing Valencia. "Have a wonderful evening Princess. Thank you for hosting this splendid event. "She speaks the truth. I better serve the family and Stormward from afar then under the constant threat of bodily harm because of who I am." She takes a sip of the wine and tilts her head ot the side at ALban's words. "Your compliments are well recieved. I fear I would lose a bit of my beauty had I remakined and my head having been rmeoved from my shoulders."
With his cane returned to him, Ian pushes to his feet. "Mags," he addresses the bartender. "Mind collecting Lord Wash and taking him up to a room upstairs?"
Alban hmms at Zoey's words, "I have been on battlefields enough to know that is not always the case...those who can usually will...but...non-combatants find their way into battlefields all too often. But, I am glad that you were able to get out and be of use here in Arx. You brighten the city with your presence," he says to Cecilia.
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