Epsir

When the Flames Die

"Eh, I don't see too many archers around here, and if your neighbors get you to hunt you've got to be a shot. Might be worth trying your luck, hitting a target and getting a winner's purse is a damn fine way to come out ahead of a free meal." He said, haphazardly straying between an attempt to reassure and agreement. Karl felt that he might have stumbled onto a bad subject, wasn't that a fresh turn. It showed on the other man's face, and Leid might have been inflating his own ability to say in his words as well. Turning away from it was probably the best option, easy too because the man had little love for the lengthy affairs that tournaments tended to be. Whether it was putting arrows into hay or putting wooden lances into armored men, which, in passing, seemed a very sinister graduation of events. "Well, do what gives you joy, that's the way to live," he said, raising his glass in a playful mock toast. "A weapon's always a good trade to know though. 'Realm never stops looking for young folk willing to throw away their lives for king, country, and the king's silver."

When the Flames Die

"What should you feast on?" Karl laughed openly at the question. "Today's the day they put everything on the table and you've only nicked a plum so far? I shouldn't be bothering you, you need to eat." He himself had been quick about covering that particular need. Today was only the beginning after all, and he had a tournament to endure sitting through today. The night was a much better time to gorge. Gareth then produced a bow, and while Leid didn't feel particularly accosted by its presence he did indulge his curiosity and give the weapon a quick look. The man had no eye for weapons but a bow in working order was a bow in working order, though his eyes did catch on the ruby embedded in its grip and decided that the presence of a gemstone must be an indicator of its quality. "A bow worth bringing, by the look of it. Have you considered putting in for the archery tourney? About the only one that doesn't look like a blood sport in disguise to me." He punctuated his speech by taking a drink of whatever alcohol he had managed to procure that morning, and looking around the room for any familiar faces. His complaint had reminded him of the possibility that he might manage to abscond entirely from the tournament.

When the Flames Die

Karl Leid was jolted from his token respectful silence, a welcome respite from the morning's eating and irresponsibly early drinking, by the approach of a familiar voice behind him. He cracked a short, little smile as Gareth sat down at the table near him. "G'morning to you as well. I'm doing fine, I suppose. They're trusting me again, and it's enjoyable." He said, and indicated the relatively normal company they had at the table with a wave of his hand, drawing some strange looks from the other guests. The table was, however, missing both of his accomplices from yesterday. "So I've decided to spend today watching and learning." Leid took a sip from his cup and laid it gently on the table, reclining a bit and sitting up straight. "What about you? Making the most of our lord's hospitality?" A bounty the boy had called it, and a bounty it was. The cooks had outdone themselves, perhaps out of love for their country. However, they too had to understand, like so many others, that today was an opportunity to advance one's standing in the realm. Being a good cook was one way, it was the others that warranted attention.

When the Flames Die

Abruptly, the trumpets hailed again in a cry that could be heard even in the streets of the city, albeit muffled by distance and the volume of festivities occurring. It signaled the formal beginning of the morning feast, and alerted those in the city seeking entrance in the tournament to head to the palace. King Bard II, encompassed by a procession of guards and those who had been speaking with him only moments before. The man had a lot on his mind, and despite the stern, even look that had been trained onto his face an air of unease seemed to encircle the man. There were rumblings from Lachne, passed on to him from Hal Berning oddly enough by Wallace. However fertile southern land was, they needed those crops and allowing bandits to roam along the border was bad business, simply put. An expedition would have to be organized at some point. It wasn't officially on the agenda but he knew most of these people were expecting him to name an heir, oh, and his champion for the tournament. For the moment, he had a small speech to give, the real talking would start later and this was the day for mindless celebration. They had done much to make the man appear a king in the past few hours. His long black hair flowed around his head, and the hair on his face had been trimmed to an experienced but groomed stubble. As he and his closest council took their seats at the head of the room, Bard stood away from his chair a moment, and surveyed the hall a moment. Plenty of them hadn't even found a seat yet, but like him they do no doubt had bigger things to worry about.

He called the room to an acceptable degree of quiet with a broad wave of his hand and a nearly shouted, "Friends and servants of Keilaudrin!" He had to speak up to be heard across the massive hall anyway. "Welcome in the hospitality of the King. I see old friends and troubled faces in the crowd, but I implore you to forget the troubles of the realm, if only for a few hours today. Eat freely, and partake in the festivities of my coronation." The king allowed his words to hang in the air a moment, as he continued to scan the crowd as rehearsed. "The most important news I bring you this morning is one of sport. Among those old friends I see warriors in my hall, and I know you have come here to prove yourself in today's tourneys. It is my honor as king to name the knight representing the crown on the field today: as your Morningstar, Sir Redwyne Cole." The man himself bowed slightly at his post, to a round of applause. With that, the king felt the people had heard enough words from on high, and left them to interact among themselves with a simple, "Now please, enjoy today."

When the Flames Die

"Why, yes, actually. a tournament will begin some time during the celebration of the coronation, tomorrow. I consider it to be a waste of resources but I am told it is vital for morale that our knights be allowed to bash each other to pieces in the circle." He shrugged his shoulders and held his palms up. "It's out of my hands, and it does make for quite the revenue. I am told in previous years that admittance and associated sales have covered the winner's purse in its entirety. And I assure you, if you're interested, the winner's purse is quite a sum this year." His smile seemed glued to his face at this point, because it didn't leave throughout his discourse on tournaments. Tursgud definitely seemed, at least to Wallace, to be the sort of person to show up a tournament. That was fine, they needed a few fighters in the capital, didn't they?

Although since then, we've advanced forward to the next day now that all the introduction is over, that's my most recent post in the IC. Everything is kind of a blank slate right now, start anywhere do anything kind of setup.

Sorry if the thread got a little confusing to follow, kind of poor form on my part for not using a line and title to break between characters, even if they are just NPCs at the moment.

When the Flames Die

Well, I definitely hope you choose to stay. It's been a lot of conversing that you might really not be obligated to read through. If you'd like me to quote the last post that was directed to you, with Wallace, from within all that text I'd be glad to.

When the Flames Die

The next day

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Even as night came and went, activity went on in the city. Devoted cooks saw to their cuisine, night-shift stewards and builders carried out the very last preparations, and orders changed hands. Night over Mullen was peaceful and unusually quiet for the capital city, itself seeming to wait breathlessly for the morning and its revelry. Early in the morning, the ordinary trumpet fare was sounded in the palace, waking its inhabitants to the schedule of the day but heralding nothing ordinary for them. Stores and inns opened to what was assured to be the most lucrative three days of the year for them, and in fact the celebration of the common in the street began a step before the nobles and their morning feast. Naturally, the palace walls were still open to the world at this phase, and would remain so for a while. The fair grounds by the palace had been converted, now housing tents and stands of all manner surrounding, of course, a dirt runway where the tournament was to be held. Crowds filled both the fairground and the palace, making it difficult to ascertain who was where, and naturally the watch were scurrying about on edge trying to keep the schedule. Bard II had yet to emerge from the castle, meeting with his council and choice few knights early in the morning before he would lead them to the feast hall where the majority of guests were gathered. After all, he had to name a champion today, among other more political affairs. Both blended into the crowd, Karl Leid had already situated himself at a table and was enjoying the bounty he'd come to the capital for in the first place, and the steward Wallace was no doubt touring the grounds with the blue-tied entourage.

When the Flames Die

Works for me, that adds a branch of culture we currently don't have a character representing.

When the Flames Die

Well, the world's left kind of vague so that we can work with just about anything, back-story wise.

When the Flames Die

"Actually yes, I plan on sleeping very soon," Karl said, gently rubbing his eyes as the knight continued to speak. Naturally, he had a post to be at. It was fortunate that they'd managed to distract him for some conversation as long as they did. A distraction for himself, as well, the day had gone and died while he wasn't watching it. This was a new turn for him, ending sober, and he wasn't yet decided if he preferred it or not. Gareth seemed to be leaving as well, and that was fine with him, everything could wrap up nicely. He smiled to both of his conversational partners and figured it was his time to bid them goodbye. "I've enjoyed speaking with the both of you, hopefully I'll see you all tomorrow, and if I'm lucky a couple of days after that too." He chuckled as he turned away, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. His glee became a stifled grumble when he saw a man with red hair and a blue tie waiting for him at the door, leaned up against the door frame and watching the hallway outside. Leid made his way away from Gareth and Thomas, passing the man out the door, who followed him and cheerily introduced himself as their voices faded away down the halls.