Velaryon Family/Aeravon/Champion of Firbalt

Roleplay from Alice Schwarzherzig

The day of the tournament had arrived, and the sword fighting arena was prepared, and packed. Wealthy merchants, minor nobles, artisans, and a smallish but notable group of Morgul Order acolytes packed the elevated stands. In the best spot however, was the Hierophant's box. Alice arrived, and stood out on the edge of the box, and gestured for the crowd to be silent. "Dalefolk! Honored guests! Welcome! Welcome! Today, we pit the cream.of society, the deadliest warriors of Beluaterra against one another in a competion for glory, and a purse of five hundred gold! Who will stand above the rest? We will soon find out, however before we begin, for your entertainment, the Firbalt Music Hall has put together a performance for your entertainment. Please remain quiet for the duration of the song!" Alice shouted to the crowd, and as she finished, a group of musicians entered the ring. A hammered duclimer, a hurdy gurdy, and several pipes, as well as a pair of tamborines were visible among the musicians. A petite woman stood in front of them. A slow, lilting melody began to play, and the woman began to sing, her voice mournful, and each syllable slow and emphasized. "Stone by stone... Cracked, crushed, fallen... Beauty burned, erased... But not forgotten... I’ll take your melodies... May your last breath... Fill the air with embers... I... inhale In the Eight, I will stand! Let the waning light of Man, Cast forth the Fires of Jobo Till our dead burn away, Till our embers fade to grey, Cast forth the Fires of Jobo! My grief is swollen... In rusty chains... Tethered to the flaming wheel... Sun up, sun down, sun up, sun down, again. One burning candle... One wind-whipped flame... I carry in my teeth like an animal... Perseverance my strength! In the Eight, I will stand! Let the waning light of Man, Cast forth the Fires of Jobo Till our dead burn away, Till our embers fade to grey, Cast forth the Fires of Jobo!" The crowd cheered as the performance ended, and Alice stood again. "Let the tournament begin!" She cried, and the first combatants were brought out. Match after match, the crowd cheered, silver changed hands, and vendors sold food. Kebabs on skewers, lizards on skewers, scorpions on skewers, dates on skewers. Skewers seemed to be a phenomon among the vendors. At midday an intermission was called, and fresh water served out to all present. For the nobles attending, a lavish, but light luncheon was arranged. Pomegranites, dates, soft cheese, and cured pork that was slice incredibly thin and almost melted on the tongue. After the afternoon respite the tournament resumed. Finally, the final match began. The crowd roared as the two nobles were announced. The Duke of Avalon versus Sir Vankocuf of Tepmona. The match began, and the crowd was in an uproar at the magnificent display of skill before them, and then in the blink of an eye, it was over. Duke Aeravon was the victor. Alice stood, and held up her arms to quiet the roaring crowd. "Your Grace, Duke Aeravon! A magnificent victory! The day is yours! Sir Vankocuf, a fantastic showing as well. The people of Firbalt thank you both for your most skillful showing. However! The day is not yet complete, for we have a final exhibition. Dame Brick of Vordul Sanguinis shall cross blades with yours truly!" Alice proclaimed, and made her way down to the ring, where she was handed a blunted training blade, and refused any oadded oritective clothing. Dame Brick was also presented with a training blade, and the training match began. Brick assumed an aggressive stance, while Alice assumed an unusual stance, and the crowd noted the advantage seemed to be in Brick's favor. The women clashed, the Vordul noble fighti g with fervor, and not falling for Alice's feints. Many in the crowd began to realize that Alice's style required a deal of skill to attempt, and they began to cheer. The blades clashed, and the two circled, Alice preferring to counter instead of striking herself, while Brick continued her aggressive pursuit. Alice continued to circle, and then appeared to stumble. Brick seized the opportunity, and lunged... Only to realize her opponent hadn't lost her balance. Alice turned and let Bridge's sword sail past her, and she thrust her own blade out, halting the tip an inch from Bridge's throat. The match was over, and Alice had won. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Duke Aeravon wss brought back out. Alice grabbed his hand and held it aloft. "I give you the day's champion once again!" Alice cried, and the crowd conti ued, dried flowers being tossed into the fighting pit. Alice gestured for the crowd to quiet again. "Every person as they leave will be given a wooden token, which can be reedemed anywhere in the city for a free drink. Participants are invited to the palace this evening for a formal ball and feast. Thank you all for coming and sharing this wonderful day."

Alice Schwarzherzig

Roleplay from Annabel Lee Poe

Nefasto vs Annabel Lee Annabel was ill prepared for a clash of swords especially as she planned to joust and that feeling was only made worse when she was drawn against Nefasto de' Macachi. She had to use all her cunning and Guile to get out of this mess and considering Ryosuke wasn't here that only left her with cunning. "Sir Nefasto...if you go easy I promise to share with you my secret realm killer plan". The very much outclassed Dame of Firbalt dodged and parried as she unveiled her grand plan to the swordsman. "I call it the Bataclysm. All we need to do is round up all the bats on Beluaterra and unleash them on whoever we please. Just think of the carnage. It would be an absolute Batastrophy...for them" She never got to hear the fierce swordsman's answer, as she was sent flying face down into the earth for an early nap.

Annabel Lee Poe

Roleplay from Aeravon Velaryon

Aeravon stepped into the fighting grounds and saluted the cheering crowd. He was a heavy man and for sake of dexterity he chose scaled armor to fight in. His sword-arm was holding on to his sword Winterthorn - a blade forged in the north, made of sturdy steel, and rather heavy, with focus on robust and powerful attacks, rather than lightness or flexibility. The blade's pommel was decorated with a wolf's head, symbolizing his revere of the Wolf Lord. In his other hand he held a heater shield, emblazoned with the sigil and colors of his house - golden sun in splendor on silver-blue background - and his head was protected by a visorless barbuta helmet that had a yellow plume attached to it. His first opponent was Countess Allia Polytus, a familiar face from Ar Agyr. Her sigil was that of a sun on red-green background. This sun was not unknown to him, for they both shared the same birthplace, the city of Madina, and the sun symbolized the ever-shining light of their homeland. Allia moved vigilantly around him, testing his defenses with quick attacks and sudden thrusts. Patiently, he waited for his chance as he assumed she will eventually outmaneuver herself. After a flurry of back and forth Aeravon deflected the last move of Allia’s attack and thrusted his shield against her torso, throwing her to the ground and then quickly bringing his sword close to her chest. The heralds sounded a win and Aeravon offered his hand to his opponent, helping her stand up. The next one was Lord Morton Luffrost of the Shattered Vales. He never met him before, nor his family. The Luffrosts of the Vales had a sable chess rook on silver-blue background as their sigil, same colors to those of his own house. Lord Morton decided to fight more defensively and appeared to be waiting patiently and hoping for fast counter attack, like a desert scorpion. After several strong attacks Aeravon fainted a slash before delivering a thrust, and this fooled the southerner and disarmed him. Lord Morton was on his knees, and after throwing away his great bascinet, he surrendered. Then arrived Lord Michael Arindal, another noble from the Shattered Vales. This man only had a black banner as his sigil, with no charge and no particular color. Aeravon was unsure whether this noble was simply too poor to afford having his own sigil, or was he for some reason in penance for his deeds that his Empress ordered him to have no color nor standard of his own. Lord Michael was a good fighter but he had a strange tick where his face always grimaced when he was fainting an attack. Aeravon used this quickly and brought his opponent to the ground, kicking away his shield and forcing him to surrender. In the final match there was Ser Vankocuf Felsenbach of Ar Agyr. Another familiar face. Ser Vankocuf was a vigilant fighter, with solid defense and offense, who no doubt honed many of his skills in endless training matches with Senex Nerta in Fronepu’s academy. The duel went on for some time, neither of nobles managing to make a decisive strike, but Vankocuf then slipped and lost his balance which allowed Aeravon to easily parry and form a riposte to disarm his opponent. The roaring crowd erupted with noise as the cheers of approval and applauds dominated the grounds, forcing good Ser to yield and throw away his blade. As the trumpets sounded off the end of the final match, Aeravon stuck his sword in the dirt ground and removed his barbuta helmet, and then, respectfully, kneeled before the Hierophant’s box and her entourage. At the motion of her hand he once again rose and took a spot on the sidelines, waiting for Alice to begin her training match against one known as Ser Brick Rat. The Hierophant wielded her weapon effortlessly and after an exchange of blows managed to place the tip of her blade against the neck of illustrious Ser Rat. Shen then called for Aeravon to join her, took his hand, raised it in the air and officially proclaimed him a Champion of the tournament. The crowd once again ecstatically roared, seemingly overjoyed it all ended the way it did. Aeravon looked around the roaring crowd, politely smiling. Then he glanced Alice, thinking to himself that only several years ago they were fierce enemies that lead their armies as Generals one against another, and now they held hands in unison whilst everyone around them celebrated this auspicious moment. It was a strange world, he pondered, as he continued to smile and nod, glad that he won the laurels here in the faraway city of Firbalt.

Aeravon Velaryon