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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 1, 2010 12:11:43 GMT -5
(OOG: This thread is open to all players. It will be open for the month of October, Year 656 (2010) and anyone may jump in and post on it at any time.
Please read all the previous posts before you post the first time so that you maintain the continuity of the story.
The Current Game Time is now October. [Time needs to be advanced in all pertinent threads or assume that those threads taking place right after the Yule ball are now nine months in the past.]
You may post side threads pertaining to the faire or certain activities on the Western Fiefs board. Please start the title of such threads with “[Whitby Faire]”
We will be organizing jousting and other tournaments which will have their own threads to cut down on the confusion.
Questions? Post them in the Chatter box.)
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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 1, 2010 13:36:43 GMT -5
(OOG: Brother Ash at the Faire)
Ashton Lewis Thornbury, an ordained priest of the Order of St Benedict, was currently on a leave of absence from his monetary to attend to family matters. Thus he was dressed in his favored midnight blue travelling tunic that sported white trim. His trousers were black as were his riding boots and he had the reversible cloak turned so the Midnight Blue side was out and the white side provided the lining. A Snowy owl sat on his shoulder and it was hard to tell where the owls feathers stopped and Ash’s white hair started. The outfit announced him as a wealthy nobleman possibly of some high rank. The fancy pommel on the glittering rapier at his side was yet another symbol of wealth as well as a warning that he was not to be trifled with. The intense look on his face would have given that away, however, to any halfway decent observer.
The twenty-year-old surveyed the fairgrounds in Whitby Fief from the top of a nearby hill. There were several others gathered nearby who were also waiting for the faire to open, but didn’t want to be among the throng on the roads below.
At the present time only faire staff and merchants were being allowed in the grounds, but the gates were to be opened any time now. Ash surveyed the stalls he could see and made a note of the livery of those waiting both inside and outside the faire. At last his eyes rested on the familiar green and white silk banner flying above the merchant stall that belonged to his father. The stall was in a most prominent location, just as he figured it would be, at the heart of the faire where the two main thoroughfares through the grounds intersected. Ashes eyes narrowed in anger as they always did when he thought of his hated father. Without looking further, he knew the booth would be sporting a variety of high quality weapons and armor. At least that is what it would appear on first glance – all legitimate – all taxed and accounted for.
Ash knew better. The real business would be occurring in the tent behind the main merchant tent; Lord Thornbury’s private merchant tent where only a select few would have the privilege of being invited to enter. Ash was not one of those select few, but that wasn’t going to stop him.
He would be taking a huge risk, waltzing up to his father and talking to him openly. They hadn’t been face to face in probably 8 years. Ash was just a boy then. Ever since his father had been trying to get Ash back into his clutches, but the priest had the protection of some very powerful Cardinals in his Order as well as an uncanny knack to slip through the most well-laid traps. This was undoubtedly another one and Ash was going to knowingly walk right into it.
The merchandise his father would be selling privately was a threat to the security of Araluen and Ash was about to spring the trap set for him back onto his father – if all went according to plan. The one variable is if his father would have his other sister, Anya, with him. If he did, that would present a problem and a slight hitch in Ash’s plans. There is no way he would risk her life and his father knew that and had no such qualms about killing his own daughter. Anya could be used against him and so Ash watched the tent as the gates were thrown open and the crowds surged through, eager to start their Harvest holiday. Ash held his ill-mannered horse in check as the people around him moved forward down the steep hill to enter behind the main crowd.
The Harvest Faire was now open.
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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 12, 2010 20:51:22 GMT -5
(OOG: Brandwyn and Tandar at the Faire...)
Brandwyn had arrived at the castle in Whitby two days before the start of the faire with Ian and Shanna. They were now driving her absolutely nuts with all the wedding preparations and what had started out as a fun project several months ago, was now a thorn in her side.
She was perched in a tree not far from the entrance to the faire where she could see everyone that passed through the gates, and she was feeling very anxious. She held the two letters from Tandar in her hand. The envelopes were worn from constant use as she read them over and over. She knew them both by heart and though she tried not to jump to any conclusions, the lack of response from Tandar to her other letters made her read more into the ones he did write. The first one was ‘warmer’ and she cherished every word, but the second one was a bit more – distant, a little more formal. The lack of any correspondence from him in the last few months worried Brandwyn.
She kept telling herself that he was just busy and that he was grieving the loss of his father and so that is why he didn’t write. He’d had to take up the duties of the ranger for Caraway during that time as well until his replacement came. Brandwyn had found out that the replacement was already there and Tandar was to be heading back home soon. She’d weaseled the information out of Crowley on a trip she’d made to Araluen in her Royal Scout duties. He was supposed to be here by time for the faire and he had said he was going to try to make it.
So here she sat in a tree, watching the hundreds of people streaming in through the gate and hoping to catch a glimpse of him. She only hoped that, being a ranger he wouldn’t try an alternate way into the fairgrounds. Not having been here before she could not give a landmark for them to meet at, so she had simply said she would be waiting by the main entrance in her last letter to him. She didn’t know if he’d read it or not, but it didn’t make any difference. She was going to wait here until Ian sent someone to fetch her.
She tucked the letters back into the belt pouch at her waist and then smoothed her hair back and replaced the feathered Royal blue hat. She was in her Royal Scout clothing and the same skirt and leggings she had been wearing the day she had met Tandar and his apprentice, Drenith.
She remembered that day with a smile. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of him and it seemed that he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her. She had been so taken with him and she thought he had felt the same. Her thoughts strayed to the day he had saved her life from the Grizzly mercenary over in Gallica. She had been stabbed in the back and the guy was just about to slit her throat when Tandar shot him. Then he doctored her and kept her from bleeding to death right there on the trail. She had no idea how badly she was hurt and he had been so calm and self-assured through the whole thing. During her recovery he had talked to her and that was the first time he had said he loved her.
She thought back to that now. Had Tandar just been telling her that to pull her through? They’d had to go their separate ways shortly after and only met up a couple of times since then. Was he doing the typical thing and regretting his words because he didn’t really love her? Was she reading more into his silence than was really there?
She groaned and covered her face, willing back the tears that seemed to be so close to the surface the last couple of weeks. She just wished he would show up so they could talk and so he could hold her in his strong arms and tell her everything was fine, so she could tell him that she loved him with all of her heart. She wiped a tear away and swallowed before more could follow. When she thought she had herself under control again, she lowered her hands and looked up, back at the gate to keep watch for Tandar.
“He has to come.” She whispered to herself, “He just has to.”
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Post by Tandar on Oct 12, 2010 21:40:37 GMT -5
(OOG: Brandwyn and Tandar at the Faire...)
Ranger Polaris shifted his weight in the saddle as he and his apprentice approached the gate to the harvest faire in Whitby. He was dressed in black riding boots and gloves--a new favorite of his--with a clean, white silk tunic just visible under his Ranger cloak. After the long, hard ride to Araluen with the breeding stock in tow, Tandar and Tory were weary, and he decided it would be a good idea to take a break at the faire to give Tory some personal time. There was also their obligatory patrol duty to think about, but there would be time for that later.
As Rangers on official business, Tandar and Tory could legally ride their mounts throughout the faire grounds. They neared the main gate, and Tandar's eyes flicked back and forth, scanning the surrounding area for Brandwyn Elfstone. He hadn't forgotten her last letter to him. She had stated that she would wait for him by the entrance. His eyes locked onto a figure in a tree not too far away. Polaris signaled Tory to go on ahead; he would find her later.
Ruldor trotted up to the tree, and Tandar felt a little apprehension settle in. He hadn't replied to many of Brandwyn's letters and it had been months since they had seen each other. He dismounted at the base of the trunk.
"Brandwyn," he began.
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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 12, 2010 22:30:59 GMT -5
(OOG: Brandwyn and Tandar at the Faire...)
Brandwyn saw two riders on horses approaching the gates through the throng. Her heart did a leap as she recognized them. She would never mistake the way he rode or walked. Her heart did a leap of joy at the sight of Tandar riding up to her. His eyes locked on her for a few minutes.
She recognized the ranger apprentice, Tory, who was with him. Crowley had said he was assigning the girl to Tandar. The ranger dismissed his apprentice who smiled at her, waved and then rode off.
Brandwyn saw a look of apprehension cross Tandar’s face and she noted the change in the outfit but what she thought was the biggest change in him was that his gorgeous eyes no longer smiled at her. She felt the tears welling to the surface again, threatening to overflow.
Brandwyn slipped down out of the tree just after Tandar dismounted and said her name. She tried to aim to land right in front of him so he could wrap his arms around her as she rested hers on his shoulders.
“Tandar!” she breathed, her eyes all aglow. “You really are here!” She leaned into him and wrapped her arms all the way around and gave him a big hug. “I have missed you so much.”
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Post by Tandar on Oct 13, 2010 22:42:10 GMT -5
(OOG: Brandwyn and Tandar at the Faire...)
Tandar stiffened, and his muscles tensed as Brandwyn embraced him. The reaction was only detectable for a second, after which he masked it. The Ranger hugged her back, but his heart wasn't in it. "I missed you too."
He smiled and brushed Brandwyn’s hair out of her eyes with a gloved hand after she pulled back. “I’m sorry I didn’t write back much. How have you been?” Behind Tandar, Ruldor took the opportunity to graze on the grass around the tree.
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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 15, 2010 21:23:18 GMT -5
(OOG: Brandwyn and Tandar at the Faire...)
Brandwyn felt Tandar stiffen for a moment right before he put his arms around her and hugged her back. She sensed this hug was different, as if he felt it was his duty. She leaned back and he gently wiped her hair from her face.
“I’m sorry I didn’t write back much. How have you been?” he asked her. She could tell something was troubling him and she was afraid to ask what it was.
“I have been okay, aside from missing you and Ian driving me absolutely nuts with his wedding plans.” She smiled at him and then she grew serious and studied his face. “It looks like you have had a rather rough time of it. Are you ok? I mean really ok?” She asked him. “You seem – different, kind of – well not your usual happy self.” She was probably going to regret asking, but not knowing would be worse than him breaking the news that he no longer loved her and that it was all just infatuation like Ian had been saying all along. So even though she didn’t want to hear it, she had to ask anyway, “What is bothering you, Tandar?” Those were the words, but in her heart she was asking him, ‘Don’t you love me anymore?’ She fought to keep the tears concealed so he would not see her cry. She kept telling herself that it was something else, he did love her and he wasn’t going to cast her aside after all these months. She wished she believed it.
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Post by Tandar on Oct 16, 2010 22:38:54 GMT -5
(OOG: Brandwyn and Tandar at the Faire...)
“I have been okay, aside from missing you and Ian driving me absolutely nuts with his wedding plans.”
“I bet,” Tandar chuckled.
“It looks like you have had a rather rough time of it. Are you ok? I mean really ok?” She asked him. “You seem – different, kind of – well not your usual happy self.”
He smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine, Brandwyn, really. I’ve just had a bad month, that’s all. Tory was injured during her journey on the river, and I’ve been hard pressed to keep up with work and caring for her, not to mention the exhausting rides from Caraway, to Araluen, to Whitby.” Tandar wasn’t in the habit of troubling others with his problems, and he wasn’t going to start now. Besides, the details from the vivid nightmares he’d been having were confined to his journal, and his journal only. If Brandwyn knew what was on his mind, she would be even more concerned than she needed to be. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he grinned. “Come on. Let’s go share some pumpkin scones.”
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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 18, 2010 11:10:02 GMT -5
(OOG: Brandwyn and Tandar at the Faire...)
Brandwyn looked at him quizzically for a moment, not quite sure if he was telling her everything or not. Then he slipped his arm around her and said, “Come on. Let’s go share some pumpkin scones.”
She smiled back at him, “Yummm! I love those things.” She let him lead her through the crowd, his ranger horse trailing after them. “Guess what?” she asked lightly, making small talk to fill in the silence. “I got to be part of the Royal Scout detail that escorted Princess Cassandra here two days ago! It was very interesting seeing that whole process from ‘behind-the-scenes’ so to speak.” She grinned as they made their way to the food merchant court where most of the food booths were set up. This seemed to be where a great many people were congregating and there were several minstrels scattered around competing for attention. The crowd was thick, but they seemed to be giving the pair some extra room. Brandwyn wondered if it was their uniforms or the presence of Ruldor following behind them.
The found the booth selling the pumpkin scones and other delicacies and stood between booths scarfing them down along with some hot spiced apple cider. Brandwyn looked thoughtfully at Tandar as they ate and didn’t speak. There were a million things she wanted to ask him, but she sensed he was not in a talkative mood. His ever present ready smile seemed a bit forced to her and she wished he would open up to her and tell her what was wrong.
“How is your mother and things at the estate? Are you going to have to go back and run it or are you going to come back to Meric?” She asked him.
Suddenly angry words erupted from a very large man two booths down and the booth owner started yelling. Brandwyn turned her head in time to see the burly patron hurl a scruffy looking scrawny guy out of the pavilion. She looked up at the sign and noticed it was a shop that sold mainly spirits and rare beers and ales. That particular booth was sparsely occupied this early in the morning, but she knew that by noon time it would be crawling with customers.
“I said I was sorry!” The scrawny man replied as he picked himself up off the ground. “Yer gonna pay for that, mister!” He exclaimed as he drew a long, wicked looking knife.
“Uh oh!” Brandwyn muttered under her breath. She looked around the square for any other Royal Scouts or Town Guardsmen, but miraculously it appeared that she and Tandar were the only two authority figures in the immediate area. “Guess we better break this up, shouldn’t we?” She asked him and nodded her chin at the two brawlers, “before it gets out of hand.”
She said the words boldly, but she was more than a little apprehensive of the idea of stepping in between the two men. They would likely just laugh her off and continue their fight, but she had to give it a try. As a Royal Scout, even an apprentice, she had authority here and it was her duty to keep the peace.
She drew her sword and stepped forward, in between the two men with her sword pointed at the man holding the knife. The tip of her blade was a mere inch from his chin. “Hold it right there, Sir!” She said in what she hoped sounded like a calm, confident and authoritative voice. “In the name of the King, I order you to stand down.” She thought she sounded firm, but her stomach was full of butterflies. She had fought men in the war, but this was the first time she had had to deal with a ‘domestic’ type issue and drunken men were notoriously bad tempered.
However, she was confident that Tandar would back her up and was very grateful he was here with her.
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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 18, 2010 12:34:49 GMT -5
{OOG: Harvest Faire as Tory sees it...)
Tory entered the Whitby Fairgrounds behind her mentor, Tandar, her eyes scanning the crowds just as his were. She saw him fix his gaze on a tree and start to make a bee line for it and recognized Tandar’s girlfriend, Brandwyn, perched up in the tree.
“I’ll find you later.” Tandar said to her and Tory nodded. She waved to Brandwyn and then turned Chip into the throng of people streaming through the gates. The fairgrounds were surrounded by a substantial log wall that was about two stories high. There were two gates, the main one for the average fairgoer to enter through and the service gate on the Whitby Castle side of the grounds for the booth owners and faire staff to use. It created a terrible bottleneck in traffic, but it allowed the authorities to be sure that every person paid their entry fee of 2 coppers and received a token. This year’s token was a bronze disc featuring a setting sun with the skyline of the city of Whitby etched across the medallion in front of the setting sun. The year was imprinted on the opposite side along with the words, “Welcome to Whitby, the friendliest Fief in all Araluen.”
Tory had snickered at the phrase, wondering if it was true. So far the people had seemed pretty friendly, but she had only been in the fief for two days, and that had been on the road to get here. She was tired and saddle-sore, having been on the road since leaving Caraway. The scar on her side from the terrible sword gash was not yet fully healed, though it was well on its way. Even with the extra attention by the Skandian Smithy woman, Fin, and the help of the kelp wraps, the wound still had not healed up well. Much like the wound in her thigh from the crossbow bolt she’d been hit with in Gallica, this new wound was problematic. Tory worried that there may be something wrong with her because she didn’t seem to be healing normally.
She rode past a stall selling some spicy smelling meat on sticks and wrinkled up her nose in distaste at the strong odor. The meat smelled to be of questionable age and she hoped no one would get sick eating it. Her stomach lurched at the thought of food and she took a drink of water from her canteen to settle it. She had not been able to eat much since she had set out on the road to Araluen with the horses that Aribjorn had brought for the rangers. Tandar had insisted that she was now his apprentice and their orders were to go to Meric and each mile that brought them closer to her old home, the more nervous and withdrawn she became. Aribjorn had helped ease her anxiety somewhat on the road and Mylia had been a wonder at raising her spirits, but since they had left Tandar and Tory in Araluen, Tory had gotten more and more uptight to the point where she could hardly eat anything. Between that and the wound that kept draining and refused to scab over completely, she had lost several pounds, pounds that she could not afford to lose. She looked almost gaunt now and kept her cloak wrapped around her and her hood up. There were even some dark circles starting to form under her eyes from lack of sleep.
She knew she probably looked terrible and so was hoping to find a ladies boutique where she could get ‘dolled’ up a bit before she ran into any of her friends, especially Aribjorn. She wandered through the maze of booths and games and finally found what she was looking for down a side ally off the main drag. She dismounted and left Chip standing outside the booth, the reins tied to her saddle pommel so he could graze and go where he wanted to.
Inside the huge tent were several partitioned areas where patrons could get their hair or make-up done and in the back were fancy dresses and changing rooms. The little booth reminded her a great deal of the one she’d entered in La Rivage nearly a year before.
She drew the cloak back from her head as the Matron of the booth stepped up to her from the back of the tent. “Oh my!” the plump lady said. “What can I do for you, Miss Ranger?”
Tory smiled at her and pointed to her face. “I need help.” She said, “and I am interested in looking at what dresses you have as well.”
The lady steered her to one of the portioned areas and there was a young girl only a few years older than Tory waiting for her. “Hair and make-up, Lizzy, and make sure you work with the angles of her face. We need to make it softer and rounder, put a little meat on her bones.” Lizzy nodded to her mistress and set about her work.
In a half an hour Tory was transformed from a gaunt travel worn ranger to a fairly pretty teenage girl with a funny looking cloak. She nodded with satisfaction as she looked in the mirror and gave the girl, Lizzy, a copper piece tip. She then went to look at the dresses in the back, looking for a noble woman’s riding dress. She wasn’t sure if she had enough money to buy one, but she wanted to at least look and try some on. She was thinking that it would be nice to ride into Meric looking like the noble woman she technically was, since her father was a knight – well had been a knight – she amended. Maybe no one there would recognize her as the scared little serving girl that had pulled a knife on the Chatelaine in the middle of a Baronial Feast the night she had left two years ago.
She tried on several dresses and riding habits and finally settled on two that she liked and fit her well. One was far fancier than the other and she really liked it, but she wasn’t sure how much it was going to cost her. Though she wasn’t broke, she was far from rich too. Another dress had caught her eye as well. It was a simple dress with several layers and little in the way of adornment but the fabric was of high quality and shimmered when it moved. It was in varying shades of blue and complimented her eyes and complexion nicely. She tried it on and swirled the skirt, looking in the mirror.
The shop owner, seeing that she liked the dress, and sensing a nice sale said, “I can sell you both dresses for 2 and a half gold pieces.” Tory looked at her sadly, and shook her head. “I can’t possibly afford that.” She said regretfully. She actually could just barely pay that much, but it would leave her pretty much destitute until the next ranger stipend. “I am afraid that a gold and a half is really as high as I can go.” She swirled again, looking at her sad pout in the mirror. One of the many things she had learned early on was the way to haggle. “It is a shame too, this dress is so pretty, but I am afraid I will have to just get the riding dress today.”
She started to turn into the dressing area to take off the ball gown and the matron stopped her. “Now hang on a moment, Deary, perhaps I was a bit too hasty.” She said, sensing now that this girl was not going to buy both dresses. “I meant to say two gold and 4 silver.”
Tory shook her head again and stepped into the dressing room, while changing from the ball gown to the new riding dress, she said, “Well, upon reflection I could afford one gold and 8 silver pieces, but no higher.” She listened to the shop owner tut and go on about the quality of the garments and her expenses and finally she countered with, “But seeing that you are a very nice girl, and a ranger at that, I will sell you both dresses for 2 gold and I will even throw in this felt hat with the fluffy feathers that match the riding dress. Surely you can’t turn down such a deal. You will never find as good elsewhere.”
Tory stepped out from the screen in the deep purple dress with silver threaded trim and accents. She placed the hat on her head and studied herself in the mirror for many long moments, debating if she wanted the two dresses badly enough to spend the majority of her savings on them. Finally she nodded and paid the woman two gold pieces. She felt that she had made a very shrewd deal, but wasn’t sure since she was only familiar with prices in Gallica, having been out of the market in Araluen for quite some time. “Can you package up the court dress and my other clothes? I will keep the cloak.” She draped the ranger cloak around her shoulders and looked in the mirror. It clashed terribly with the dress and she took it back off again. “I think perhaps my other cloak would be more appropriate.” She smiled and draped the ranger cloak over her arm. She wasn’t on duty right now and so she did not have to wear her ranger gear, though she had strapped her weapons back in place and her bow and quiver were on Chip’s saddle.
She stepped out of the shop with her packages and looked around for Chip who was nowhere in sight. She whistled and he stuck his head around the corner of the tent and whinnied back, as if to say, ‘I am right here, don’t get excited.’
Tory mounted and looked around, wondering if Mylia or Aribjorn were here yet. Having very little idea where she might find Mylia, Tory concentrated on Ari. “Let’s see, he is Skandian so the two most likely places to find him would be around the fighting or the food.” She muttered and decided to head for the list field first. She wanted to sign up for the archery tournament anyway.
The area around the Minister of the Lists pavilion was a morass of bodies all surging back and forth trying to get at the lists to sign-up for the various tournaments. Tory noted there were staff members wearing bright red tunics milling through the crowd and answering questions and making announcements. She determined which line was for the archery tournament and got in it, still mounted on Chip, her ranger cloak draped over the pommel in front of her. She scanned the crowd, looking for Ari’s handsome face and broad shoulders. He should stand out in this crowd, she thought, even though there are hundreds of people here right now.
She sat there in her purple dress with her newly made-up face and marveled at the press of people around her, becoming nervous just from being in the middle of the throng of people. A few muttered under their breath about women with airs, or rangers thinking they were special in reference to her being mounted, but she had no intention of jumping off Chip in this throng of people. She brushed her hair back out of her face. She had been letting it grow for several months and now it was just long enough to softly fall around her shoulders and get in her face. She’d had it very short her whole life, so this was a new experience for her and she was continuously brushing it back to keep it out of her eyes. She looked around carefully, but did not see any sign of Aribjorn or Mylia or anyone else she knew. ‘How am I going to find any of them in all these people?’ she asked herself, as the line to the list booth inched slowly forward.
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Post by Ringulf on Oct 18, 2010 20:09:50 GMT -5
(OOG: Harvest fair- Aribjorn's Outlook)
The three flies had been buzzing and circling, landing feeding upon the choice sections of Halcyon's rump and it had been thus since the sun rose.
Of course staring deeply into a horses business end did not normally pass for entertainment with Aribjorn Haakonson, the newest student of the Marshwood Battleschool, however since the knight he was squire to rode his warhorse and Ari was relegated to jostle along behind him on his little Skandian stallion: Fafnir, who was many hands shorter, He was at eye level with the equine thunderhole.
"Dis view had better change soon I did not come all dis vay to look at a horses rosette for de rest off my days!" Ari said to himself. He had been quite buoyant for the first week of the trip. He was honored that Sir Ecosse had chosen him to be his squire for the Tournament at the harvest fair. The Knight had even encouraged Aribjorn to enter as many events as he liked as long as they did not conflict with his duties to attend the knights events.
They had slogged through rain and for a little while up north they had even experienced some sleet, it was getting a bit colder but none of this dampened Ari's spirits in the least! He was excited at the prospect of the fair and the possibility of using some of the new skills he was learning.
Aribjorn also was anxious to see his Friends again. It was likely that he would see Tory and was hoping Mylia would get free also.
He had been having a wonderful time training at which he excelled, well except for the horsemanship. His warhorse Urusse was very spirited and even a bit mean at times. Ari rode him as often as he could but was still trying very hard to develop a relationship with him. Urusse walked along steadily behind him now and it seemed he was not altogether uncooperative. "He must smell de other horses and to him dat means play time" Ari thought to himself. Of course he was also following the lead of his sire Halcyon, Sir Ecosse's mount and was on his best behavior around his papa.
Otherwise it seemed as the big chestnut stallion could tell Ari's lack of experience and chose to exert his will over his rider's most of the time. The big horse loved to mix it up, love to fight and drill with Ari, but was very indifferent to just plodding around the countryside or doing anything mundane or subservient.
Ari's humor had sunken a bit due to the long trip and sore butt, as well as the fact that he knew he was very close and yet Ecosse kept the same plodding pace up.
"Sir Ecosse? Shall I rite on aheadt ant prepare a place for us and the horses? Perhaps I can even puchase our dinner ant haff it ready ven you arife? Ari pitched hopefully.
Ecosse Chuckled "No Aree, heh heh, you whill be zere in a few minoots! Be patient ma yung friend. As soon as whui arrive and put up ze horses Ah weel turn you loose to go fiand your freinds we will not need to check een unteel ze morning."
Aribjorn was somewhat embarrased that his impatience was so transparent and the Knight had seen his question for what it was instead of an act of service.
"I am sorry Sir, I do truly vish to serve, but I confess I am very anxious to get dere ant to see my freints, as you remint me."
"Eet is alright Aree, I know how you feel, I remembur ma first tournee A was so nervous that I think my horse thought he was getting a back massage!" he laughed a bit.
Ari admired the knight, he was not from Araluen either, perhaps that is why the knight had taken him under his wing somewhat. Ari had taken to the part Scotti, part Gaulic instructor very shortly after getting to Battleschool in Marshwood Fife.
When he dropped off the horses there with Mylia, Ecosse had spoken up for him to be able to accompany her to the Port of Marshwood to meet the Ranger she would be assigned to. Who would have thought things would work out the way they did.
It was late afternoon and he could see over the next hill that there was quite a few people on the road. he started to smell the fair before he saw it and as they rounded the corner he heard it as well.
Finally he saw it in the distance and Ecosse seeing The excitement in his eyes said,
"All right Mon Ami whee should let ze mounts canter abit if zey are going to be put up soon don't you sink?"
"Ya I tink so, very much!" Ari said with excitement.
Then the two men and the three horses kicked up a bit of dust and moved to the grassy edging of the road and cantered, that is all but Fafnir as he just picked up his smooth gaited odd little Scandian run, and ate up the yards to the gate.
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Post by Firehead on Oct 19, 2010 12:44:24 GMT -5
(OOC: Tam's view of the fair)
Tam slipped past the guards--they didn't notice him--and looked back for any sign of Rick. None. Hmm, well. He started to continue further into the press of humanity, but the nigling sense that he should at least get one of the guards' attention and pay his entrance fee got the better of him. Reluctantly, he turned back and, standing to one side, gave a sharp yank on one guards sleeve. "Hey, I need ta pay."
The guard looked around him, then glanced down and finally noticed Tam standing beside him. "Oh you do, do you? Well pay then." he growled.
Tam passed the man his two coppers and started to turn away, but the guard grabbed his shoulder and held him back. "Hold on a minute, there! You get this." He handed Tam a token, before releasing his hold. "Alright, now you can go."
"Thanks." Tam meyandered away, through the crowds, looking around him as he passed booth after booth of vendors selling just about anything and everything immaginable. Stopping at one booth, he bought small loaves of bread stuffed with meat, cheese, peppers, and onions. Tucking one into his pouch for later, Tam chowed down on the other, as he continued to wander here and there among the boothes.
After a while, he arrived at the lists, and there he paused for a moment, watching the hustle and bustle and general goings-on, before joining the line for close combat. Might as well see how much--if at all--he'd improved under Rick's tutalage. After signing his name --in rough printed letters-- in the Knives and Hand-to-hand catagories, he broke away from the group and looked around to see which direction he should head in next.
And then, he saw it. Her. Tory. She was almost unrecognizable in the rich dress and all...dolled up the way she was. In fact, he wouldn't have known her for her, if it hadn't been for the horse she was riding. That spotted pony was hard to miss--or mistake. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if he should bother making his presence known to her here, but what urged him forward was the fact that they'd probably run into each other later anyway.
Still hesitant, he sidled his way through the crowd to her side. Feeling like he was asking to get his head chopped off--since they hadn't exactly parted ways the best of friends, if friends at all--and unsure what sort of reception he was going to receive from her, he said, just loud enough for her to hear, "Hi Tory." he paused, wondering what he should say now, feeling that what he had said needed something else along with it, to keep it from sounding akward. "Erm...You look ..pretty..like that."
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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 19, 2010 21:10:49 GMT -5
(OOG: Tory and Tam at the Faire)
"Hi Tory." he paused, wondering what he should say now, feeling that what he had said needed something else along with it, to keep it from sounding akward. "Erm...You look ..pretty..like that."
Tory looked around at the sound of the familiar voice, though it took her a moment to place it.
"Oh! Hi Tam!" She answered, a wary smile on her face. She wasn't sure what Tam thought of her, but he had initiated the conversation, so she resonded to him as she would to any aquaintance. "Um...thanks." She said, refering to his compliment, even though she wasn't sure if he meant it that way.
"Did you sign up for some competitions? I entered archery and knife fighting, but it took forever to get through that line." She said, her eyes scanning the crowd for Aribjorn. She told herself she was looking for Mylia as well, but she really was only looking for Aribjorn. She fervently hoped she would not find them together.
Her eyes slid back to Tam after her scan of the crowd and she actually smiled at him. "Did you hear that I am apprenticed to Tandar now?" She asked, and for a moment tears welled up, but she fought them back. "Patrick is still on the run." She wanted to say 'in spite of your Rick trying to hunthim down' but she didn't say that. Then she remembered that Rick hadn't followed them. Last she had heard, he was hollaring for Tam and there was no answer.
"Say, what happened to you back in Gallica? You seemed to just disappear. I take it the Grizzlies didn't find you." She figured if they had found him, he would either be enslaved right now, or dead.
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Post by Tandar on Oct 20, 2010 13:22:36 GMT -5
(OOG: Tandar and Brandwyn at the faire)
Tandar caught the look on Brandwyn’s face. She probably knew something was wrong, but she also didn’t want to ask questions.
“I got to be part of the Royal Scout detail that escorted Princess Cassandra here two days ago! It was very interesting seeing that whole process from ‘behind-the-scenes’ so to speak.”
“Very cool!” Tandar said. He was glad Brandwyn had been able to experience something new that made her genuinely excited.
Ruldor followed the couple to the food court and waited patiently while they consumed the light, flaky pumpkin scones topped with freshly made cream. It was a favorite of Tandar’s that was usually only available at this time of year. “My mother is doing well. She sends her regards. Before I left Caraway, she assured me she could take care of the manor, so I’ll be returning to Meric with Tory after the Ranger’s Gathering. I imagine the cabin is a complete mess by now.” Tandar hadn’t thought about home for a long time, but now that he did, he realized Meric held a special place in his heart. The last time he had been to his cabin was prior to the war in Gallica. He hadn’t exactly cleaned up before his deployment, and now there was probably a thick layer of dust on everything.
Polaris’ attention was drawn to the conflict a few booths away.
“Guess we better break this up, shouldn’t we? Before it gets out of hand.”
“I suppose,” Tandar replied. He waited a few more seconds and stuffed the last scone into his mouth before he made any move to support Brandwyn. Brushing crumbs from his hands, he went to stand with her. “Why don’t you put that away,” he asked the knife-wielder, “and tell us what the problem is?”
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Post by Firehead on Oct 20, 2010 14:14:43 GMT -5
(OOG: Tam and Tory)
"Oh! Hi Tam!" She answered, a wary smile on her face. She wasn't sure what Tam thought of her, but he had initiated the conversation, so she resonded to him as she would to any aquaintance. "Um...thanks."
There was a puase in the conversation, as Tam tried to think of something else to say. he wasn't the best conversationalist in the world, especially with people who he wasn't sure how they viewed him.
"Did you sign up for some competitions? I entered archery and knife fighting, but it took forever to get through that line."
"Uh, yeah. Knives an' hand-to-hand." he responded, tahnkful that Tory had come up with something else to talk about besides the weather. I ain't th' best at arch'ry yet." After a moment he added, in a lower voice, " I nearly shot Kira the other day." he didn't add what Rick had thought about that horrible shot.
"Did you hear that I am apprenticed to Tandar now?" She asked, and for a moment tears welled up, but she fought them back. "Patrick is still on the run."
Tam shook his head slightly. "Nah. I hadn't really heard that. What's it like? D'ya like him? D'ya get along with 'im?" hopefully she wouldn't think he was trying to pry-- he really was sorta curious about it. "Figures." he muttered, when he heard that Patrick was still on the loose. " He scuffed the dirt a moment, then raised his head to look at her again. "If'n its any comfort to ya, he'll prob'ly never get caught."
"Say, what happened to you back in Gallica? You seemed to just disappear. I take it the Grizzlies didn't find you."
"Naw, they didn't catch me...I got kidknapped!" he fell silent for a moment, thinking. he wasn't totally sure how to tell her all the events that had happened after that, about Darrel, and his kidknapper, and the rescue, and the fight that they'd wound up in with a group of Aslavians, and Darrel's subsequent death.
Tam had dropped his gaze and was once more staring at the dirt, and scuffing it with his shoe, but now he raised his head again, and asked, "D'ya know of any one name a Darrel? Just that one name?"
He'd never found out Darrel's other name-- if he even had one, and although it was a long shot that he'd find anyone who knew Darrel, he wanted to at least give it a try and see if he couldn't find out more about his guardian.
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