Lightstar Family/Adaria/Tourney Host 01/Prologue
Prologue
"Wow!! We have our very first entry already, Miss Arya! Look, it's Miss Filador, one of your very own dames!"
Arya nodded. "Looks like everything's in working order, Adaria. I should sign up too." She smirked and kissed Adaria affectionately. "Do I get a discount?" she asked teasingly. With a giggle, she stepped back. "You'd better cheer for me."
"Discount? You pretty much paid for it all, dear! I'll give you back the gold we make afterwards, and hopefully there'll be a little extra on top."
Adaria laughed and cheered for Arya, waving her hands wildly in the air as she hopped up and down. One of her tournament officials paused in his scribbling and blinked up at the exuberant display. He shook his head and looked back down, for that was the least of his worries. With the long list of events planned to supplement the main competition, he would be busy the whole week--and then probably also the following week on cleaning duty.
Arya shook her head with a blush. "I'm just kidding love. Don't worry too much. We'll see if we can put the gold to good use or not before you give any back to me."
She drew a long dagger and twirled it gracefully around and around. She added the second to the mix and then gave Adaria a wide grin. "I'm off. Don't forget to visit me, and I'll come cheer you on in the baking competition!"
Arya was getting better, that much was certain. She had to if she wanted to beat her uncle one day. Her blades danced in the light as she finished her training. Now she needed to test her skill among the few gathered. If she was any good, she wanted it to be a surprise to the late-comers.
The first big events would start tomorrow. Adaria's pillow fighting competition had a children's and an adult's bracket. She didn't know why it was necessary, but she'd given in to the duchess' fun. The cooking competition was the day after, on top of everything else the festival in Idapur had to offer.
With a deep breath, the duchess of Nahad entered the arena to showcase some of her talents...
Adaria was happy. Barely a day had passed since her public announcement with Arya about their festive tournament, and already over a dozen nobles had signed up. She sent out flowery-smelling, personalized welcome notes to all of the first arrivals, and decided that she would continue to do so to each and every newcomer. From what she could recall, none of the hosts at all the previous tournaments she had attended had bothered to greet people when they arrived, instead choosing to just periodically welcome everyone as a group or on the day before the scheduled event. Granted, it would take a good deal of time to find out who everyone was, but at least that was the job of the officials. All she had to do was dictate, sign, and stamp each note, while her scribes and attendants did most of the work.
One note in particular, however, she took care of by herself. It was much too intimate to be penned by some random scribe, and so the duchess began scribbling her very first welcome note, sent to her partner-in-conspiracy, Arya:
My Dearest Honey Wolf...
Arya stared at the letter from Adaria and had to force the blush to go away. The content wasn't embarrassing so much as the way it was addressed. Her dearest honey wolf? She tried to push away the thought, but it was such a new endearment that she wasn't sure how to react to it. Adaria was still in Idapur... She supposed she could go visit. She folded the letter and tucked it away in a hidden pocket where she was certain she wouldn't lose it for any reason.
(Roleplay from Rebbec Kazukin)
Rebbec joined a few others for the noon meal, sitting down unprepared for what Adaria might of cooked up for the day. There were only a few servers, as only nine people had shown up for the tournament just yet, so Rebbec got an easy glimpse of what the meal consisted of.
"Ugh, pasta." Rebbec mumbled under her breath as she noticed the man coming towards her with what looked to be her plate.
Rebbec wasn't a huge fan of pasta, yet out of respect she wasn't going to turn down free food. She ate it sparingly, leaving most of it still on the plate, covering up the fact she didn't like it, by listening to the other members of their tournament talk about their battle skills. She kept quiet, as she didn't care to give any secrets away to her techniques this day.
As the meal came to an end, the tournament members all parted ways, and Rebbec did the same. She knew that she was unprepared for such a silly thing as a pillow fight after eating, but she felt if she didn't attend she might hurt someone's feelings. If Rebbec was to join in though she would need a pillow, luckily her estate happened to be near by.
Slyly leaving the tournament grounds, she quickly made her way to her estate, where she was greeted by a scornful look on Captain Mathias, and her other men's faces.
"Tell me you didn't chicken out already, mi'lady." Captain Mathias chimed up.
"Nothing like that, one nights rest without a pillow was to much for me." Rebbec replied.
Captain Mathias knew he saw Rebbec grab a pillow amongst her other stuff when she left for the tournament, but wouldn't dare ask what happened to it, or why she needed another, in fear she would take his. Rebbec wandered past the men, and rummaged through her room for exactly what she would need. A pillow knitted by her mother.
Now, Rebbec loved her mother dear, but her knitting abilities, weren't that of the greatest. Threads sticking out, would cause any face to touch it be cut with the simplest of ease.
"This will do great." Rebbec said.
She scurried out of her estate, pillow in hand, as her men looked on very confused, but again no words were mentioned.
(Roleplay from Tristan Trian)
After a full days worth of training, a refresh ale does bring ones spirits up.
Heading into the tavern Tristan spots Sir Valgar buying a round of ale for sixteen or, so Knights seeking thee honor their blades can bring them.
"I see your the one to win this Tourney, Sir Valgar!" Tristan shouts to his realm mate. A few Knights turn their heads. Nervousness, you can see in their eyes. Others, not so much. They just raise their mugs of ale and smile.
Taking a bench next to Valgar, "I say, this ale is quite good, after the days training this is exactly what I needed." "Thank you for the drink! Sir Valgar" Valgar smiles back, not saying much... Mostly paying attention to the other Knights and their expressions.. After a few hours past, (And about twenty coins of drinks later) you notice the Knights from Arcaea, Aldart and Jan getting a bit tippy..
Smiling at Sir Valgar, "I get it, your plan is to get them drunk so they don't do well in the Tournament." "Very smart of you Sir Valgar, Very smart indeed." "I should tell you though, Sir Jan will be a formidable challenge for you." "We shall have to wait, I hear of a few others on their way that may be even a bigger challenge." "When they arrive, I'll get the drinks."
(Roleplay from Carlos Francisco Torres de los Reyes)
Carlos arrived to the Tournament and was promptly greeted by a cordial letter from the event's most gracious hostess, Lady Adaria. Quickly dictating a response to his scribe, the most recent arrival to the Principality's ranks made for the training grounds. His skills had eroded considerably during the voyage from Dwilight.
Passing the pillow fights, noting the startled looks of the children. Indeed, he had come straight from the ship and had little time to clean up on the road to the tournament... not that he was ever particularly well groomed anyway. He smiled at the children playing, revealing a rather goofy smile with large gap between his front teeth. He pushed them aside as they awkwardly laughed and carried on with their games.
Arriving to the tent of a rather pretentious instructor, he picked up a sword and gave it a few quick motions. Ugh, indeed he was rusty. Trying to relive moments of past glory on the isle of Beluaterra he parried a few imaginary attacks and then leaped towards a training dummy. Thinking the framework to be made of wood or some other forgiving material, Carlos was most surprised when the sword clanged against a strong metal spine and subsequently shook from his hand. The blade landed with a rather embarrassing clatter on the floor, drawing skeptical looks from a few curious onlookers. As he picked up the sword, the instructor coughed from behind him.
"Ehm... Let's began with the basics, shall we? Pointy end out!"
... it was going to be a long day.
