Arkenfeld

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It was a sunny day in the sky above Carius, with only a few clouds roaming around in the sky. It was warm, but not overly so, which gave the assembled knights armoured in thick metal plate mail some comfort.
As it was still early in the morning most of the knights were still only warming up, getting ready for the third day of the Duke's Tournament, in which the last of the jousts would be completed and the melee would begin.
The melee was scheduled for early in the day, in only a single hour's time, while the jousts would end near sunset. A special arena had been set up for both the melee and the joust, and both had being built over on the north side of the field, about fifty metres from the forest.
There were other attractions on the fields outside of Carius though. A busy market had been set up over by the city walls and several bards and acrobats walked around the field showing off their craft.

ooc: Place your characters (if I have your character sheet) somewhere in the tourney grounds.

 

A good-looking young man comes from the direction in which the city is located. The obvious impression supported by a few curious glances would be that he's a scholar or an acolyte at the temple, but there's something different in his posture. After asking a stranger or two, he learns the way to the tent where he can sign up for the melee and with a great enthusiasm inspired by only a single golden coin and a few pieces of silver in his pocket he wastes no more time. If everything goes well, this night will face a tremendous high-proof party.

[ August 06, 2003, 12:19: Message edited by: chevalier ]

 

Chevalier is met by a stern looking man, dressed well and sitting at a small wooden desk.
"Hail friend," he says gravely. "Are you to be entering the melee?" He gestures to the sheet of rough paper before him, which already had a number of names on it. Next to it lay a quill and an ink bottle.
Just write your name there, or if you can't write like most of the louts that come here, tell me what your name is and I'll write if for you."

 

The young man's trained hand quickly and deftly signs the paper. He smiles.

'Thank you, sir. Is there anything else I should know?'

 

"Hmm," the man stratches his head and appears to think. "Well, you may want some information on the scoring system. Every man you hit is worth a silver, every man you knock out is worth two. Last one standing wins and gets the prize of fifty gold, the second last the fall gets 25, and the theird last get's ten. That's about all there is to that."

 

'Thank you, sir, I truly appreciate your help. You see, I'm not from here. Could you also tell me something about the names on the list: are there any famous names among them or any alliances?' says the young man in a polite and respectful tone and manner, but one far from that of a commoner. He still sounds more like a scholar than a warrior, but there's something in his voice that makes you reconsider any such assumption, should you make it.

 

"Hmm, well Garonstal the Great, a ridiculous title I must say, bowed out of the melee so that he wouldn't get all dirty for the joust. Still, there is Karridus. He's probably the toughest warrior you'll meet on the field, and prefers to fight alone.
A bit earlier a gang of thugs calling themselves the Bloody Backrips came in and signed up, about five of them in all. They probably won't stand long, even if they do have five people to work with.
Levius and Ferindor have teemed up. You should look out for them. Rumour has it that Ferindor is one of them elves, or at least partly. 'Ware foul magic if you seek to challenge them.
Also, look out for the Masked One. I have no idea who he is, but that only serves to heighten my suspicions of him. He walked with a simply lethal grace. Best to stay well away from that one.
Other than that I have no more alliances to tell you of. If anyone else has formed one then they haven't been telling me."

 

'Thank you, sir. You were very kind. I do hope to repay the favour. I now wish you a good day and take my leave.'

The strange lad parts with the official and is now on his way to have a look at his future opponents before the fight.

 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, about a mile out of town on a ridge, there is a loud popping noise, and a young Half-elf appears out of nowhere. He gets up and looks around. Upon seeing the town, he starts off towards it.

 

Chevalier walks over to the where the warriors are training. He easily picks out Ferindor as the one with the elvish features who was conversing with another man in a low voice.
A group of five that he could only assume to be The Bloody Backrips was filling up on beer over to one side and talking in loud voices. Their clothes were ripped and dirty, and they all looked like your average street hoodlums.
A few warriors sat over to one side watching thir future opponents train. One hawk eyed man noted Chevalier's approach with a hostile glare before turning back to watch the sparing.

 

Chevalier takes a look at the opponents training and makes mental notes. He grows slightly suspicious about the two men speaking in a low voice. They might well be talking about some private matters, but you never know - not only does he have a strange feeling about them, but he was also warned about them by the tournay official. He clears his mind, concentrates and scans the place for evil intentions.

 

Chevalier detects no evil coming from the two 'men' talking, though he does sense evil in a clear majoritory of the the thugs that call themselves the Bloody Backrips. The rest of the people on the field have no evil intentions.

 

Maybe nothing inherently evil, but something strange is most certainly going on. This had better be investiaged.

Greetings, Señores. You will please excuse my interruption, but something seems to trouble you gravely. I am quite new here, but something strange is indeed happening. Have you, perchance, experienced the same feeling recently?

 

"Experienced anything? No. Now go away. I have things I need to discuss with my friend here. Things that don't concern rookies such as yourself," Ferindor gave Chevalier a look that would make a dragon humbly beg forgivness.

 

"You may dispense with any effort to offend me as you are beyond the capacity to do so. Now you will excuse me unless you have an intention of backing your claims." responds Chevalier in a tone that would make a dragon feel lowered to the ground level and leaves in a slow, steady pace.

 

Ferindor considers for a moment before nodding. "I appologise for my abrupt manner, though I would appreciate it if you would leave me be for the time being. I have things I wish to discuss with my friend here," he nodded towards the man next to him.

 

"Accepted. Have a good day." Chevalier moves on to his previous business.

[ August 28, 2003, 12:56: Message edited by: chevalier ]