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Author Topic: The Tournament  (Read 1327 times)
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Simonne Miller
Meddling Herbalist
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Posts: 2454


Human, Caltharian


« on: April 05, 2012, 12:57:14 AM »

Simonne Miller leaned on her staff and looked around. She found herself at the entrance of an impromptu encampment, filled with brightly coloured tents. The atmosphere around here was festive, with groups of people scattered here and there, talking excitedly. She was somewhere to the north of Voldar, though she was not sure of the exact location - as usual in her travels, she had just a rough idea of where she was and where she was going.

In this particular case, her destination was here. She had heard that a tournament was being organised, which was supposed to last for several days. Chances were high that healers would be needed, so she had decided to come take a look. She walked between the tents, where people were selling all sorts of things. She ignored them for now, though she might buy herself a nice spicy cake later on, when it was closer to noon.

First things first though, finding one of the tournament organizers to let them know that she could help. For that, she moved closer to the center of the encampment, where the actual tournament was going to take place. She saw the area where swordfights would be organised, and further on the archery butts. Right in the middle was the place for the main event, the main reason for the whole thing - the lists, where candidates were to combat each other, and the winner would be declared owner of a bit of land that, as far as she knew, nobody else cared about.

Everything here was still in a pristine state, ready for the first fight. Simonne did not really approve of bashing each other's head in, but then she did understand that it was better to do it in a regulated environment, rather than actually going to war over said land.

After some asking around, she eventually found a fat and balding man, who was sweating profusely despite the rather cool weather at the moment. He nodded importantly when she introduced herself, saying that healers were always welcome. With some haggling back and forth they reached an agreement on the payment she was to receive for her services. The first round in the lists was to take place in the afternoon, and she would be scheduled in to take care of one of the candidates. Satisfied, she shook the fat man's hand, and made her way outside of the tent where he was presiding, ready take a look at where she was supposed to ply her trade.
« Last Edit: April 05, 2012, 07:32:56 PM by Simonne Miller » Logged

Youth is a gift of nature, but old age is a work of art
Simonne Miller
Calron Moonsilver
Black Knight
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Half-Elf, Centoraurian/ Aellenrhim


« Reply #1 on: April 10, 2012, 08:29:07 AM »

Calron Moonsilver didn't like where all of this was going. Only two weeks earlier he had been perfectly content with traveling and expanding the family's business connections. Then the world had flipped itself inside out when his sister had asked him to return home. Now land that should have belonged to the family was about to exchange hands, and his grandmother was not going to stand for it. It didn't matter that they were of mixed blood, what mattered is that those lands belonged to the Moonsilver family, and it was meant to stay that way. With that said, he had made all haste in returning to the mansion in order to discuss the affair with his family. Both his sister and grandmother had been adamant about the idea, and his younger brother was inclined to agree with them. It would help secure their position among the clans further, he'd said.

It was with a great deal of apprehension, never the less, that Calron watched as some servants pitched the tent that would be his home for the duration of the tournament. The canvas was made of an incredible silk fabric that shimmered silver in the sunlight. In black paint, a crescent moon surrounded by various floral embroideries was cast upon the tent in the insignia of the Moonsilver family. It didn't help his nerves that he was in the midst of the "enemy". He was struck now, as he often had been as a child, by how the families could not simply get along. Many people belonging to the Erpheronian blood lines were known for their heady sense of combat, but never the less it felt a little bit over done in his opinion. It was probably just another thing that set him apart from the others along with the rest of his family. After all, his younger brother was a mage, who ever heard of an Erpheronian choosing magic as an occupation?

Already he could feel the harsh stares of some of the more aggressive candidates. Though the Moonsilvers had fallen from from grace in the eyes of their brethren, the family was still well known for its dangerous fighting arts. Both swordsmanship, and horsemanship were considered the bread and butter of Erpheronian society, and it just so happened that the Moonsilver's current generation had both in ample quantity. Such were the blessings bestowed upon those of elven, Centoraurian, and Erpheronian lineage. During this tournament there were bound to be those who didn't particularly like the Moonsilver's even attempting to claim this ground. It was to late to consider consequences now, but with luck they would be able to avoid harsh feelings. At least, that's what he hoped.

A messenger boy dressed in dark blue livery sprinted up to him, and after a brief moment spoke to him about how the tournament would be run. Though they had been nearly late in their arrival, the family had managed to sign up in time for the tournament thanks to some assistance from several spies, and families who had owed them some small favors. In secret members of the Brier, and Kastrell families had attempted to keep the tournament a secret from the Moonsilvers, but word had got around regardless. Now surrounded by the colors of many warring families, Calron felt he'd finally arrived at the heart of the storm, and all he could feel was the numbness of his arms and legs as he realized that in this tournament he would have few if any allies. Soon the tournament would begin, and his life would be on the line. There was no point in being concerned about anything else, for now business would have to wait.
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Simonne Miller
Meddling Herbalist
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Posts: 2454


Human, Caltharian


« Reply #2 on: April 17, 2012, 01:03:07 AM »

With the spiced cake she had promised herself earlier in one hand, and her walking stick in the other, Simonne wandered about the grounds. She had taken a look at the tent where she would be required for healing, and found it well stocked with different herbs and salves, as well as a whole lot of bandages. They were expecting a bloodbath, apparently. She might not be too impressed with the fat man, but he did know how to organise an event, she had to give him that.

Somewhere at the edge of the lists, she noticed a little girl looking around with big brown eyes. And not just looking around, but looking especially at the cake Simonne was eating. When the girl noticed the old woman looking, she quickly turned away, but she could not help glancing back every now and then. Approaching the girl, the healer woman looked at her closely. She was poorly dressed, though luckily the weather was rather nice at the moment. Still, the evenings would be chilly. She seemed to have a cold, and she was so small and thin as to proclaim to all the world her malnourishment.

"Hello." she said, when she was standing next to the girl. The dark eyes, so striking for being framed by a mass of blonde hair, looked up at her shyly. "What's your name?" A soft voice answered her, though barely audible. Simonne laughed. "You'll have to talk louder, an old woman like me is half deaf, didn't you know?"

The girl repeated her name, a little bit louder than before: "Jituska." Simonne nodded. It was a start. She wasn't sure why she wanted to start a sort of friendship with the girl, but at the very least she wanted to feed her something, and for the duration of the tournament convince her to drop by - if only to get some decent food into her. Her healer's instinct was taking over.

"I am called Simonne. Tell me, Jituska, would you like one of these spiced cakes?" The girl nodded, then blushed as if she thought herself impertinent for admitting such a thing. "If you come with me, I will buy one for you." Again the girl nodded, a bit bolder this time. She had a fiery heart underneath her poor exterior, Simonne could see. Too bad circumstances seemed to have conspired to make her a beggar girl. As they walked towards the food stall together, the old woman and the young girl, she asked her if she was here alone. This time the girl shook her head.

"My brother is here." She looked like she wanted to volunteer more, but her wariness had not yet quite evaporated. When she received the cake from Simonne, she carefully broke it in two and hid one part on the only pocket that her dress possessed. Simonne assumed she wanted to keep it for later, or perhaps for her brother. The rest of the cake she ate very slowly, savouring every bite. Simonne admired her self-control for not tearing into it. A good thing too - as hungry as she must be, eating too quickly would lead to a very heavy stomach-ache, and she did not wish that on the child. She wanted to help, not make things worse for her.

When the cake was finished, the girl cleaned her greasy hands on her dress, which suffered more often from such a fate. Perhaps later Simonne might find a new dress for her. Or at least a better one. But one thing at a time - she did not want to scare the girl away. Simonne could see she was not used to kindness.

"Well, I will be off now, Jituska. If you need anything, I'll be in one of the healers' tents." She did not think the girl would actually come just yet, but she was confident that she would at least see her close by in the near future, feeling the waters.

As it was now nearly time for the first round in the lists, she made her way to her tent. From here, she had quite a good view of the proceedings, despite the people starting to crowd around, jostling for the best spot. She was mildly curious who she would end up having to patch up.
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Youth is a gift of nature, but old age is a work of art
Simonne Miller
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