Arcaea/Dining Hall Late 08-09/Edara and Jenred's Royal Wedding/The Tavern
Best thing about tournaments:
Taverns.
They always had people ready to talk, or fight depending on the situation. Except in this case. This was a wedding tourney. So the taverns were filled with people talking about the lucky couple. But for a person like Risika, who didn't know either of them, it made things rather...
Uncomfortable.
But after training, there wasn't much else to do but sit in a corner with a drink. And if someone came over feeling as out-of-place as she, well, she was open for conversation.
Lady Risika Hart (Dame of Remton)
Baz: Same for me, please, bartender.
Bartender: Certainly, sir. Lovely, isn't it?
Baz: I don't know yet, I've not tried it.
Bartender: No, sir, I meant the couple.
Baz: What cou- oh, yes, of course. Very lovely. I should probably say hello - perhaps you could give me a couple of complimentary drinks to take to them?
Bartender: I should think I could manage that, sir, certainly. With my regards to them both.
The bartender provides a second pint of ale, and some other concoction-in-a-glass, which Baz happily takes. He carries them off to a corner of the tavern, and sits down to make use of the table, where he places the three drinks.
Baz: [pointing to the glass he's acquired, as he becomes aware of a lady watching him from close by] You know what this is?
Risika: [looks over at the glass] Er...
Baz: [picking up the glass and setting it down in front of Dame Risika] Well, it looks pretty revolting to me, and I have my two pints here, so if you want it, you can have it.
Sir Baz Grindle (Knight of Rrerat)
"Thank you. I think." Risika sniffed the whatever-it-was. It smelled like something harmful to her health. So it couldn't be all bad. She took a cautious sip. It tasted all right too. Now for the person that gave it to her.
"So, random drink giver. I’m Risika. And you are?”
Lady Risika Hart (Dame of Remton)
Baz: [with a certain amount of disinterest] Baz Grindle. Eldest son of Cur Grindle of Mnalor. Pleased to meet you.
Baz takes a swig of one of his pints, and breathes out loudly with a smile
Baz: A beer fit for a king. [turning back to Risika] You here for this wedding as well? Or for the tournament?
Sir Baz Grindle (Knight of Rrerat)
"For the tournament. I don't actually know either of the happy couple. But I do wish them well. And thank them for the tourney." She took another sip of her whatever-it-was. and sighed. "I know I'll get my rear handed to me in the actual tournament part, so I also thank them for the distraction." Risika finished of her drink and started her second. "What of you?" She asked. "Are you here for the wedding?"
Lady Risika Hart (Dame of Remton)
Baz: Well, I'm here for the wedding in a manner of speaking. I'm here for the celebrations, let's say.
Baz grins as he raises his glass and takes another slurp
Baz: And fine those celebrations taste. I'm also here for the tournament. I'd sooner be fighting some real battles, but I've been unable to get decent troops to lead, and this seemed like a good distraction.
Baz: Went to the last one, and reached the last nine, so I'd be happy to achieve that again. But really, it doesn't bother me that much, my heart is not in it, it's all a little false. I like a fight to end with a kill.
Baz: You're not expecting much success in the tournament then? Perhaps you will surprise yourself. You never know with these things.
Sir Baz Grindle (Knight of Rrerat)
Risika groaned. “You sound like my sister Maura. She’s better at tournaments then I am. I’m not all that fond of tournaments. First round, -splat- I’m on the ground looking like an idiot. But she’s so…peppy. She always knows how to get me back up on the horse to nearly kill myself again.” Risika stared into her drink. “I miss her.”
Lady Risika Hart (Dame of Remton)
Baz: No, it's my sister that I expect to do better at the tournament. She's quite handy with the sword, though tends to lose to people who fight in a more refined manner than her - as shown by her dreadful performance last time when she tried to heave the guy's head off, and got caught on the counter-attack. She was right though that if it had been a real fight, she'd have taken the cut from that counter attack and swung round to clobber him straight afterwards. But that's not really tournament fighting, is it.
Baz: But enough of my sister - she's probably around here somewhere - your sister is not coming to the tournament then?
Sir Baz Grindle (Knight of Rrerat)
Arlian invites everyone for a round of drinks at the local taverns, a great show of his lavishness and hospitality.
To the happy couple!
Sir Arlian Bedwyr (Knight of Orbeh)
Risika grinned. "It would be amazing if she could. She's in Dwilight. I hear she's doing very well for herself. A countess of a rich region. A cousin of mine, Jocasta, went to live with her. Personally, I'm thankful. I can't stand The Brat myself. One reason I came here was because I knew that she wasn't. Very annoying little bugger. Do you have any relatives like that?"
Lady Risika Hart (Dame of Remton)
After a hard bought of training, the one thing Jocasta really wanted was a nice drink. Tournaments always had good taverns. She picked one at random and went in. After buying some tar-like drink, she went to get herself a seat. She preferred on in the corner, where she could look at all the people in the bar...
Lady Jocasta Hart (Dame of Saex)
Baz: Oh, indeed. Some very annoying relatives. The whole of old Pad Grindle's family are tiresome. Not least Crip, who has done nothing I can tell to deserve the positions he gets on Atamara. I could beat him in a swordfight in the space of ten seconds, and a fist fight in less than that. Yet he's managed to work his way to be Marquis. Staggering. And my cousin Dor is worse still, completely wet and pathetic. Fortunately we have my father and our family to improve things.
Baz: In fact, Dor's father Hather is on Dwilight somewhere, I believe. I was told by my aunt that he'd found some book about bloody stars or something, and gone to look for them. Daft idiot. Unless his fighting instinct is a hell of a lot better than his son's he's probably dead by now. Haven't heard from him in ages.
Baz: [looking at Risika's drink] You want another?
Sir Baz Grindle (Knight of Rrerat)
Pushing open the door, Tharion entered the first tavern that he had come across. The place seemed to be fairly busy, although the crowd seemed to be relaxed, something which would undoubtedly change as time, and the number of drinks increased.
He received a pint of dark ale and then scanned the room for a spare place to sit. Having spent the day training, he was eager to rest his legs while he could. He spied a young woman who sat alone at a corner table and made his way across the floor.
"Do you mind if I sit here?"
Tharion Frostnova Duke of Lasop
He was nice. Not many people would just come over and talk to some girl they'd never meet before. "Tell you what." Risika said. "Since you got me that whatever--it-was drink, how about I get you a refill. What did you have?"
Lady Risika Hart (Dame of Remton)
Jocasta blinked, and looked up. There was a man standing over her with a drink. He was asking to sit with her? She had never been noticed like this before. Not in a tavern. Usually she just sat in the corner until her drink was gone and that was the end of it. Some company was...unexpected. "O-of course! D-don't m-mind me!" Oh wonderful. Stammering. That made everything more comfortable.
Lady Jocasta Hart (Dame of Saex)
Flashing a smile, Tharion took a seat across from the young woman. Noting the unease in her voice, he did ponder briefly on why he seemed to make women nervous. He tasted the ale in his mug and was surprised by a sweetness in the flavour, unusual for such a dark drink. He made a mental note to enquire about the innkeepers supplier.
Putting the mug down, Tharion reached out his hand.
"I am Tharion". He purposefully failed to mention his title, fearing that to do so would make things uncomfortable. "Are you here for the tournament, wedding or both?"
Tharion Frostnova Duke of Lasop
Baz: [shurgging] I'll have any ale that's on offer. [almost as an afterthought] Thanks.
He watched Risika go to the bar, and glanced lazily out of the window. He hadn't expected the second free drink to be quite as easy. He looked around the place, searching for any likely candidates for a game of cards, but most people seemed too busy celebrating this wedding to be thinking about gambling. And he really shouldn't leave Risika the moment she arrived back with his drink. Or could he? Hmm, perhaps not quite. At least get half-way through it.
So, keeping an eye out for potential gamblers and feeling satisfied with the drink situation, he put his hands behind his head and slouched back a little further.
Sir Baz Grindle (Knight of Rrerat)
Oh gods, conversation. “The w-wedding I think, m-more then the tournament. I-I’m horrible at fighting. Now. I-I’m sure I’ll get better.” Why couldn’t she stop stuttering? This happened in every conversation! Her mouth didn’t seem to want to take orders from her brain. Embarrassed, she took a drink. Then in a less-shaky tone asked, “D-do, you know the couple personally?”
Lady Jocasta Hart (Dame of Saex)
Risika was surprised at herself. She was getting him a drink. She was making polite conversation and getting drinks. She was being…nice. “It must be all this love in the air.” She muttered to herself.
Lady Risika Hart (Dame of Remton)
"I was fortunate enough to meet with both King Jenred and Duchess Edara a short time before this tournament was announced."
He reclined slightly into his chair and flexed his shoulders. The strain of the swordplay, coupled with the vast amount of time he'd spent on horseback during the last few weeks were beginning to take an unpleasant toll on his muscles.
"I'm no great skill in the dueling circle. I always preferred the crowded battlefield where I could naught but help hitting something with a wild swing. My swordmaster often states his disbelief at how I've managed to survive as a soldier this long but luckily I know some very good armourer's". Tharion winked and took another mouthfull of ale.
"I didn't catch your name by the way".
Tharion Frostnova Duke of Lasop
Baz nodded approval as his drink was brought to him. His view of the room suggested to him that most people were too caught up in wedding talk to be interested in some proper entertainment. He sighed. Perhaps Risika would be interested, though she didn't seem quite the sort.
Baz: You ever played cards?
Sir Baz Grindle (Knight of Rrerat)
"Hear ye, hear ye! The Royal Wedding is to begin at noon today! His Royal Majesty King Jenred Bedwyr of Arcaea and Duchess Edara Kindon of Nocaneb will be wed at noon, outside the Temple of Magna Aenilia Ecclesia!" The voice echoed through the tavern.
Tharion's eyes widened as he stared at the woman across the table.
"Today? The Aenil be damned, I thought we had more time than that!"
While the woman looked on in mute shock, Tharion drained the remaining 3/4 of his ale in one hit, rising to his feet as he did so. The mug clanked as he slammed it down on the table, the sound still echoing throughout the room while he turned and raced through the door.
A few seconds passed before Tharion's head appeared in view once again.
"I do apologise for the sudden exit Lady, I never did catch your name." Tharion flashed his most winningest smile. "If you ever find yourself travelling through Lasop, do be sure to stop by my estate. You cannot miss it, there are big banners everywhere".
With that his head exited once again as he raced back to his tent.
Tharion Frostnova Duke of Lasop
Baz doesn't wait long for an answer, for the noise outside increases. It sounds as if celebrations are very much underway for the wedding.
Baz: I think it may be time to join the wedding celebrations...
Baz gulps down the last of the ale, and goes off outside - slowly enough for Risika to follow if she wishes, though he's not overly worried whether she does or not.
He mingles with the crowd outside, subtley helping himself almost subconsciously to a pocket watch of some minor noble who is the worse for drink, and manages to secure the majority of a bottle of wine soon after. Not his favourite, but it saves having to buy something from the bar, he thinks. People really are careless with their possessions, as he'd learnt growing up. He would be happy to take care of these.
Lady Tidey Grindle (Noble)
Euran had dropped of his son back at his tent; the men were entertaining him now. They weren't the most cultured of soldiers, but if he could trust them with his life then he could surely trust them with his son. There had been no one at the council chamber, which was probably a blessing. The baron needed to clear his head. After strolling aimlessly through the city for another hour, he decided to simply visit a tavern. A quick visit to his tent later, and he was wearing commoners' clothes.
It would be wrong to say that Euran was not recognised upon entering The Dog and Swann. There weren't all that many seven foot tall vikings missing half an ear in Arcaea. Even with the tournament on, the chances that a visiting foreigner would happen to fit that description were slim, to say the least. It was not every day that a noble wearing plain clothes strolled into a bar, however, and his attitude plainly stated that he did not want to be bothered. The stool creaked beneath Euran when he sat down at the bar.
An audible gulp was heard as the barman approached the big viking. He was a man in two minds, and both of them suggested that he leave. The question that divided him was how much money he could take off the nobleman before he did so. Euran saved the man the trouble of deciding how to address him by slapping a gold coin down in front of him. A beer was poured without lips being opened, although the barman's eyes were considerably wider than they had been before.
Where had it all gone so wrong? Euran thought, as he downed the first pint. He hadn't meant to cause any harm, he really hadn't... but things had been getting rather difficult back in Norland, Arnora's father had been asking meaningful questions about when Euran was going to build the two of them a house of their own, and Euran had wanted to get out into the world and see foreign parts. The magician... the Ar Kor... had given him an escape. I had to follow his instructions! It was a prophecy! It would have been sacrilege otherwise. Euuran told himself. He tried to quieten down the uneasy feeling that he was searching for excuses.
His tankard slammed forcefully into the bar, causing the 'tender to jump.
Euran Yetisbane Kandurell Baron of Lantzas
Goffrey found himself wondering about in a rather seedier section of the city, slightly intoxicated from the alcohol he had downed at the party, but not nearly drunk enough.
So after a quick stop off at his tent to change out of his sunday best, Goffrey found himself outside The Dog and Swan, a rather run down looking establishment, if one was being kind.
As it was Goffrey just really needed a drink and truly did not care the kind the quality of the establishment providing it.
Goffrey's first impression of the interior of the building was similar to his impression of the outside of the building. Apparently this particular Tavern was also the chosen din of mercenaries, as Goffrey spotted dozens of the warriors for hire strewn about the room.
Goffrey quickly pushed any reservations he might of had against these men, always considering himself a warrior first and noble later anyway, and looked for a place at counter, knowing that was the best place to get the quickest service.
Walking across the room, and polping down in the first seat he could find, Goffrey rapped his fist against the wood of the counter top in an effort to gain the bar keeper's attention. The man in question appeared shortly thereafter, a twittering ball of nerves casting weary glances at the large man sitting next to Goffrey, as he inquired the baron as to his choice of drink.
"I'll take what he's having," said Goffrey, indicating the man next to with his thumb.
Finally catching a good look at the man, Goffrey's alcohol influenced mind cleared ever so slightly in realization.
"...Lord Euran..." he asked more then said, as he slowly came to grasp with the fact that the burly viking Baron of Lantaz was in fact sitting next to him, "Wasn't expecting to see you here, heh, small world."
Goffrey Massey Baron of Sasat
Goffrey's presence barely registered with Euran until he realised that he was actually being addressed. He swung his head to the side to get a better look.
"Baron Goffrey, pleasant surprise. Didn't meet you at the wedding. A small world indeed."
It was clear that by now, Euran could be honestly described as drunk. His defences must have been lower than usual, given the shock he had just received, and the barman was too scared by the presence of not one but two high ranking nobles in his establishment to stop serving. Euran continued to drink with something resembling dogged determination, the expression on his face suggesting that he had a nasty job to do but was going to get it done nonetheless, and to the best of his ability.
"What brings you to this fine establalish'shment? The beer is barely drinkable, but our friend here seems willing to keep serving it." Looking down and finding his tankard empty again, Euran smashed it onto the bar again and roared for more. "Haven't you got celebrating to do? Lotsh to celebrate..."
Euran downed another pint, closed his eyes, and turned his head to the heavens as if beseeching a god. A rams head hung from the ceiling, its empty skull staring back. When the baron's eyes opened again, they were moist. He put a hand unsteadily on Goffrey's shoulder.
"I have a son, Baron Goffrey... baron... a son! Do I look like a father to you? How can I raise a child... no idea about how to keep the bloody thing quiet! I keep few women at the castle, all lifeless servants, there's no one there to mother him. What can I give him? What can... he's my son, Goffrey!" Euran let out a heavy breath that was almost a sob. "My son!"
Euran Yetisbane Kandurell Baron of Lantzas
