WINNERS OF DAY 1:
- Jousting: ???
- Sword fighting: ???
- Hand to Hand combat: Sylass of Vos Valkear
- Gladiatorial combat: Moralin of Terel'Liren
- Archery: Drossfen Bloodsight of Vos Valkear
- Obstacle course: Igg, Ogg & Ugg of Ark'Halez
- Weapon crafting: Drake MacKeely of Archaia
___________________
For the next day the tournament had a different feel to it. The walls were covered in felt banners and all sorts of lovely items to give more flair the area. Today was the day of magic, so today the grounds felt like they were some sort of academy for magicians. A lot of more actual wizards, mages and scholars of all kind showed up. A lot of seemingly religious folks as well, but that didn't mean there was music, dance and drink everywhere neither. It was all still jolly, just a little less peasant-ish.
The first day was not without its problems. The one thing on everyone's mind was the very likely war between Vos Valkear and Coronet. Both kingdoms were not exactly loved and Vos Valkear lost a lot of face when last night they smashed up the empty Coronetian camp and set fire to the belongings those people had left behind when they disappeared without a trace. Still, Leem tried to keep up appearances. As long as she was around the angered monsters would not start fights with civilians.
- Jousting: ???
- Sword fighting: ???
- Hand to Hand combat: Sylass of Vos Valkear
- Gladiatorial combat: Moralin of Terel'Liren
- Archery: Drossfen Bloodsight of Vos Valkear
- Obstacle course: Igg, Ogg & Ugg of Ark'Halez
- Weapon crafting: Drake MacKeely of Archaia
___________________
For the next day the tournament had a different feel to it. The walls were covered in felt banners and all sorts of lovely items to give more flair the area. Today was the day of magic, so today the grounds felt like they were some sort of academy for magicians. A lot of more actual wizards, mages and scholars of all kind showed up. A lot of seemingly religious folks as well, but that didn't mean there was music, dance and drink everywhere neither. It was all still jolly, just a little less peasant-ish.
The first day was not without its problems. The one thing on everyone's mind was the very likely war between Vos Valkear and Coronet. Both kingdoms were not exactly loved and Vos Valkear lost a lot of face when last night they smashed up the empty Coronetian camp and set fire to the belongings those people had left behind when they disappeared without a trace. Still, Leem tried to keep up appearances. As long as she was around the angered monsters would not start fights with civilians.
Archer roamed around the grounds, just watching. He stuck to the shadows as he made his way to the Mage-off. He felt confident that he would do well, even win it.
The diplomat and champion from Ahn'kahet had finally arrived at the festival grounds. The cloaked lupine male dismounted from his undead steed and stabled the Skeletal creature with other, living mounts. He only did this for his own amusement of course, wanting to see the results of a stablehand coming across the dead among the living.
After stabling his mount in his little amusing way the lupine followed after the champion of the ruins, chuckling to himself at a joke only he could hear.
After stabling his mount in his little amusing way the lupine followed after the champion of the ruins, chuckling to himself at a joke only he could hear.
The events of yesterday had certainly set the Terelain camp abuzz. Riyneth Kelesthiel the Master Smith from the weapon crafting event had been congratulated heartily on his entry and slim defeat in that competition and there had been many admiring looks at his entries to that competition. For his part, the smith had waved off their praise proclaiming, "Still wasn't good enough to win, was it? I need to finish these blades..." he'd sequestered himself in a forge that had been set up for him to practice in prior to the weapon crafting event and had shooed out everyone else to labour alone on his swords. It seemed that the smith was determined to finish the blades and turn them into truly legendary weapons.
The Aunidiel Magi were all rather excited about the Day of Magic and in their section of the camp spells were set blazing and magic shimmered in the air as they practised and displayed their skills. It seemed as if every single magus in the camp was determined to either participate in the day or put on a show for spectators in the interim. Terelain pride in their arts would let them do no less than awe the 'Younger Races' with the power of the Firstborn.
Moralin Shahir held court near the middle of the camp, giving a blow-by-blow account of his battle with Doza in time-honoured fashion - half drunk and embellished to outlandish proportions. To hear him tell it, it had been a battle of the gods, two titans of martial prowess facing off that he had won soundly and with ease with barely any effort. The onlookers were thoroughly enjoying his tale, even though most of them knew it was utter rubbish, since they'd been there to watch. It was fun anyway, and if those tales brought Moralin admiring looks and sighs from some of the Moralinri women then no one was going to comment.
Nathaniel had already recovered from his defeat at the hands of Drake of Archaia, his ego assuaged by gentle words and honeyed words from Nariel. Both of them had already departed the camp to go to the first event, Nariel to compete and Nathaniel to cheer her on as she had for him in his duel with Drake. Nariel's preparation and meditations had long been completed and the advice of the older and more experienced magi in the camp still ring in here ears. She was nervous but confident, though the regal mask she wore in public would reveal none of that.
Not everything was gaiety and laughter however. Coronet's actions in both the sword-fighting and gladiatorial events had been worrying, the abandonment and subsequent destruction of their camp by the Vos Valkearian delegation discussed in hushed tones. Coronet had always been viewed with suspicion by Terel'Liren but now it seemed the clouds of war gathered on the horizon. There were whispers that Coronet had embraced The Corruption, that they had fallen into madness, depravity and were experimenting with dark and forbidden magics.
Terel'Liren could ignore Coronet no longer, their very public actions in the tournament demanded a response. Already reports had been dispatched back to Oberoth for the king and there was speculation that Terel'Liren might be forced to intervene in the conflict between the Crater and the Monsters. Thousands of years of peace and neutrality overturned... Terel'Liren marching to war. The more level-headed amongst them were of the opinion that things would be handled with more subtlety than brute force, perhaps lending covert aid to Vos Valkear in their war. Of course to justify such actions in the first place, Coronet would have to be investigated. An emissary would have to be dispatched to seek out evidence of Corruption, a priest of the highest order and a magus of power and knowledge of the forbidden.
After all, one could not simply accuse an entire nation of Corruption and provoke a holy war without evidence. There were many in the camp and in Terel'Liren itself who hoped that no such evidence would be found. Such a war would be long and terrible, costly in both resources and lives. Terel'Liren had not fought an offensive war for nearly ten thousand years, it would be a shame to break that streak.
The Aunidiel Magi were all rather excited about the Day of Magic and in their section of the camp spells were set blazing and magic shimmered in the air as they practised and displayed their skills. It seemed as if every single magus in the camp was determined to either participate in the day or put on a show for spectators in the interim. Terelain pride in their arts would let them do no less than awe the 'Younger Races' with the power of the Firstborn.
Moralin Shahir held court near the middle of the camp, giving a blow-by-blow account of his battle with Doza in time-honoured fashion - half drunk and embellished to outlandish proportions. To hear him tell it, it had been a battle of the gods, two titans of martial prowess facing off that he had won soundly and with ease with barely any effort. The onlookers were thoroughly enjoying his tale, even though most of them knew it was utter rubbish, since they'd been there to watch. It was fun anyway, and if those tales brought Moralin admiring looks and sighs from some of the Moralinri women then no one was going to comment.
Nathaniel had already recovered from his defeat at the hands of Drake of Archaia, his ego assuaged by gentle words and honeyed words from Nariel. Both of them had already departed the camp to go to the first event, Nariel to compete and Nathaniel to cheer her on as she had for him in his duel with Drake. Nariel's preparation and meditations had long been completed and the advice of the older and more experienced magi in the camp still ring in here ears. She was nervous but confident, though the regal mask she wore in public would reveal none of that.
Not everything was gaiety and laughter however. Coronet's actions in both the sword-fighting and gladiatorial events had been worrying, the abandonment and subsequent destruction of their camp by the Vos Valkearian delegation discussed in hushed tones. Coronet had always been viewed with suspicion by Terel'Liren but now it seemed the clouds of war gathered on the horizon. There were whispers that Coronet had embraced The Corruption, that they had fallen into madness, depravity and were experimenting with dark and forbidden magics.
Terel'Liren could ignore Coronet no longer, their very public actions in the tournament demanded a response. Already reports had been dispatched back to Oberoth for the king and there was speculation that Terel'Liren might be forced to intervene in the conflict between the Crater and the Monsters. Thousands of years of peace and neutrality overturned... Terel'Liren marching to war. The more level-headed amongst them were of the opinion that things would be handled with more subtlety than brute force, perhaps lending covert aid to Vos Valkear in their war. Of course to justify such actions in the first place, Coronet would have to be investigated. An emissary would have to be dispatched to seek out evidence of Corruption, a priest of the highest order and a magus of power and knowledge of the forbidden.
After all, one could not simply accuse an entire nation of Corruption and provoke a holy war without evidence. There were many in the camp and in Terel'Liren itself who hoped that no such evidence would be found. Such a war would be long and terrible, costly in both resources and lives. Terel'Liren had not fought an offensive war for nearly ten thousand years, it would be a shame to break that streak.
Drake sighed; The day of brute combat was over, and therefore so was his job. Sael, his *child*, would take care of the remainder of the events in which Archaia was competing, unless something very bad happened. A scribe had come from the King, instructing Drake to take the rest of his time attempting to befriend the Terelains. They would, unless Gahlerek was mistaken, prove an invaluable ally. And so, Drake sat quietly with his flask and watched around to see if he could spot Nathaniel. Maybe he would watch Sael in the summoning match?
Meh ohaar nach matt ero a fehr-arram dah erom gaskhar. Sahm... nach-Archaian, Drake thought to himself in Archaian.
I hope he doesn't summon one of those stupid tree-beasts he's so fond of. They're rather... un-Archaian.
Meh ohaar nach matt ero a fehr-arram dah erom gaskhar. Sahm... nach-Archaian, Drake thought to himself in Archaian.
I hope he doesn't summon one of those stupid tree-beasts he's so fond of. They're rather... un-Archaian.
The one armed feline merely wandered around the fairgrounds,taking notes on the peoples customs and habits . His instructions from Ahn'kahet were mmerely to observe and take notes, and allow his canine friend to test the other nations in sorcery and combat. The feline perused the many market stalls and people making merry, chuckling faintly to himself. He passed by the male known as Drake, observing him a few moments before moving on .
Drake was approached by a short Terelain male with dark, dusty-brown fur and white markings, he was dressed in blue doublet and hose with the livery of the Royal Family stitched in fine silver thread upon it. The Crowned Tree flanked by the Twin Swords, point down, encircled by the Six Stars. The male bowed stiffly to the Archaian, "My lord Drake," he said politely, "I noticed you wandering our camp... I imagine you are seeking my lord Nathaniel. I am his seneschal, Cael Banton. I am afraid my lord has already left the camp to watch the Mage-Off event... Her Grace the Duchess-in-Waiting Nariel Amaar is competing in that event and the two are... close friends," he shook his head and rolled his eyes, "I am sure you understand. If you have any messages or some other need, do let me know. I am in charge of His Highness' schedule and household, as well as the camp here for the duration of the tournament. I will let him know you've been looking for him, if you wish?"
Drake greeted the Terelain politely.
"Sikhmaar. I'm simply wandering about, halfway hoping I would find him to make good on an offer I made to him. When you see him next, please tell him I'll be at my camps the whole day after the summoning duel, and he should meet me there," Drake said, in smooth Common, which was barely twisted by his accent.
"Sikhmaar. I'm simply wandering about, halfway hoping I would find him to make good on an offer I made to him. When you see him next, please tell him I'll be at my camps the whole day after the summoning duel, and he should meet me there," Drake said, in smooth Common, which was barely twisted by his accent.
Cael nodded, "I will ensure His Highness receives your message, Lord Drake. In the mean time, I am certain that he would offer you free reign of our camp whilst you are here. There are many of my people quite curious about Archaia, indeed many of our Moralinri witnessed your duel with His Highness and were quite impressed by your skill and valour. I would not be surprised if you were offered drinks by them to recount stories of past battles and glories," he chuckled dryly, "You might be doing us a service. Two thousand years old he may be, but Lord Commander Moralin Shahir has not yet lost his appreciation for fine ale or wine, he holds court near the centre of the camp recounting his own tales of valour and courage.. and greatly embellished accounts of his battle in the arena yesterday. I suppose it is a soldier's prerogative, but I find the whole display rather distasteful. Unfortunately I do not have the authority to order him sobered up, and I suppose he has earned the right to his bragging... so far his is the only victory for Terel'Liren in these games."
Inside the Osian camp a flurry of activity was clear as the contingent hastily repacked and began to prepare to leave. They seemed to be in a rush, though the case of it was not clear aside from the fact that the largest of the groups was not visible at all during the packing. Finally the Field-Marshal appeared and packed up her belonging last. Even from a distance anyone could tell her mood was extremely foul. Without delay the group left in a hurry, back in the direction of Osia.