Four Corners Melee |
Summary: | A rather unusual melee tourney is run in Four Corners as part of the whaling celebration festivals, with equally unusual participants |
Date: | 1 Aout, 1866 IE |
Related: | Anything related to the gigantic whale catch. |
NPCs: | {$npc} |
Players: |
Nylan Fortress, Four Corners |
The Nylan House is a huge affair that retains much of its past ornamentation in the form of stucco and colorful wooden flooring. The al'Demense were famous for collecting hardwoods from all over Aequor, so the colours, while faded from lack of real care, remain beneath all the scuffing and scarring from the boots of soldiers and guards, and the interior of the old castle keeps its feeling of warmth that sits slightly at odds with what can still be seen of its once ostentatious design. A truly enormous stable find real use now, full of the horses of the Free City's guard and soldiers, kept clean and well stocked, kept out of the wind by the gate wall and the lee of the castle itself. The expansive closets now hold arms and uniforms. Nylan Fortress keeps much of the town's military dry stock. |
1 Aout, 1866 IE |
The choice of Fortress Nylan for the melee, or Nylan House as it was previously called, was an inspired one by the authorities in Four Corners. While it is likely that they simply chose an existing fortress in order to save money on constructing a proper tourney ground, the colourful roccoco flourishes and stylisation combined with the enormous open peristyle make it an ideal place for the melee.
The aformentioned peristyle has been squared off with a sturdy wooden fence; this is where the melee will take place. Around the impromptu arena itself, seating has been set up for those very important personages from the city state and beyond. Indeed, it is on one of these raised platforms that many of Four Corners' council members are seated. On the highest area of the platform is Chancellor Frederick Tyres, a rather short, fat, opulently dressed old man with thick black hair and bushy eyebrows. He is, unsurprisedly, surrounded by a pair of beautiful young women. It would be very surprising indeed if they are not courtesans, but then again many people seek the favour of such a highly placed, rich man as the Chancellor.
Further seating has been arranged on the walkways around the peristyle, making enough room for nearly one thousand people in total. Vendors make their way around already, hawking beverages and strange foods from lands all across the Civilised West and beyond. All things considered, however, the crowd that is showing up here is rather cultivated. Primarily, it appears that they are rich, educated merchants and former nobility from when the area was a part of Aequor, before the Thirty Year War.
The herald, a waify young man with in a brilliantly coloured jerkin and hose with shoes so absurdly pointed that they almost reach his knees, clears his throat, awaiting the contestants.
Sir Stellan the Stalwart is present where the combatants ought to be gathering, hoping to live up to the byname the northern mountain people have bestowed him (but so far has yet to really catch on with anyone else) and win himself a suit of colored armor and some local fame.
He is clad in his fitted leather jerkin he uses for sparring and wielding his shiny new broadsword. He wears a slight frown once he realizes he may be the only northerner participating.
The Viscountess of House Kaedon is among those present to watch the melee. Dressed in her normal black and white Kaedon colored finery her hair is pulled up into a neat and elegant bun with a few curls framing her face. The dark haired woman is positioned in a place where she can easily see the competition and she sits there regal and calm, watching. A member of her retinue is taking part and she is here to show her support. Dark eyes seek out Yelena watching her thoughtfully before the event begins.
Dressed in her partial maile with her axes at the ready is the small figure of Eydis of Clan Raskbrook known to her people as the Little Wolf. Long silky black hair is left free and the olive skinned and dark eyed woman certainly doesn't look like a White Haller. She also seems quite excited to start if the bouncing on her heel she is doing is any indication. She peers around at her competition curiously, sizing them all up as they arrive.
The smell of sweat mixed with dirt enters Shirlyn Charing's nose as she takes a deep breath and paws the blunted daggers on the weapons table. Well oiled and hardened leather creaks as she picks a matching pair up and checks the weight and balance in her hands. She pulls at the sleeves of the blue tunic that resides under her leathers, letting out a deep sigh as she walks away from the table with her newly acquired tourney blades. Her hair has been plaited and coiled at the back of her head, keeping all hair from escaping and impeding her view.
Blue-green eyes scan the other opponents readying themselves for the games to come a vast array of weaponry on display. Shirlyn chews her lip nervously, "This is a far leap from sneaking about in the middle of the night to take down a few gate guards." She spots her brother and nods, a small thing really, but kindly enough.
Those two beauties beside Frederic Tyres may be courtesans, yet there is also another one in attendance, this one indeed a courtesan of local fame, Mistress Julieta Scuderio, also known as the Pearl of Four Corners. Her dark brown hair has been pinned up into a fashionable hairdo, and she wears a fine dress of ice blue, shimmering with various shades that range from a deeper blue to almost white; cut in a way that stresses her comely physique in a tasteful way. The Pearl is still not quite decided as to from where she will observe the melee, hazel-brown eyes roam the benches and stands for familiar faces - preferably the areas where the spectators of higher (i.e. noble) standing will be seated.
White Hall has invaded Four Corners once again, or so it seems, as one of the combatants getting ready for the melee is a dark haired woman in an armor of partial maille, a fine sword of perhaps Galenthian origin held in her hand as she gives it a few warming up swings. Her face is a sight to behold, painted white, the area about her eyes blackened, as if she were a ghost, a nemesis that has come to Four Corners to pay an old debt. Her F'jet shield she has discarded for this contest, going for a more aggressive approach perhaps. And indeed, her dark eyes flicker with a dangerous fire, as she scans those Easterlings in the stands that have gathered to watch the spectacle that is about to commence.
Councillor Mattias Thynne, Minister of Banks, Guildmaster and Scion of the Banking House of Thynne is just one Four Corners worthy who is sat upon the raised platform alongside those others who rule and govern the Free City of Four Corners. Clad in his usual black and laden with the heavy gold chain of office, the be-gloved Banker sits quietly, watching, waiting and looking content as to the mass of humanity pressed within Nylan House.
Yelena has been mulling about near the other contestants, occupying herself with warmup stretches before the melee begins. She is dressed in dark leathers, as always, and a shield and blunted handaxe rest by her feet as she warms up. At a glance, she seems bored, a blank expression on her face, but a careful observer might catch her gaze flicking between the other contestants, sizing them up.
At the sound of the herald clearing his throat, a wicked grin spreads across her face, and she picks up her weapon and shield.
"Remind me Eydis." Aethelwulf, the large White Haller says as he looks askance at the blunted Axes in each hand. "After we defeat an Easterman do we eat them?" he raises an eyebrow looking at the contestants gathered in the arena. He scoffs bit buckles the last bit of his armor and then places his fearsome looking helmet on his head. Tightening the strap he frowns beneath the helm. "Well. At least we are guaranteed a workout. One of their Silver Hammers says they try to rush us."
Lady Synthia Reine has decided to particpate in the event. Clad in a set of fitting black leathers and holding a polearm she strides onto the field looking perfectly composed. Pale green eyes watch those around her but she shows nothing in her expression indicating how she might feel. She readies herself glancing around and waiting paitently.
The day of the Tournament or well any one of them is always one both filled with excitement and nerves at the same time. Rhett heir of Charing will stand in his readied amor as well as his tournament sword in one hand and shield in the other. He looks over the other fighters and nods to any he may know the last but not least landing on his sister he will nod "Just a bit different yes." he comments to her easily.
It is Gerrick Shawl, the Minister of Blades who stands beside the corpulent Chancellor, a look of utter indifference etched upon his harsh features. A glance is given Frederick Tyres and the women he is with, though as to emotion he is utterly lacking and quite what passes behind his eyes is totally hidden. The faint snarl that almost registers is soon battened down and to the crowd and the contestants the Councillor of Blades looks, a brief moment passes and the Chancellor and his women are regarded as one might well regard a distasteful mess one just found upon the floor. But then it does appear to be the standard expression Gerrick seems blessed with.
In the stands a bit ways up sits a well dressed nobleman. Francois d'Cadri he's changed out his armor into his finery clothes befiting such an event as this. He is seated watching both the field and the other seats. He perhaps make eye contact with someone and nods faintly to them. He will look back out and hope that the messege gets across as he looks back out to the fighters a nother moment while waiting.
The Rose of Bellmoore arrives with two guards in tow, both of which wear the colors of House Akranin. Upon her arrival she eyes the seating, making note of where the upper nobility and those of importance are seated; however she decides to make her way to the walkway above. It has become quite apparent that the Heir to Murias has no issues with rubbing elbows with the common folk despite her upbringing. Tho, she does stand out in her Arkanin green dress with golden accented embroidery high above amongst those of less finer garb. She has found herseld a good view and despite being where she is, still manages her proper posture and propriety, her hands folded before her upon a railing.
Making his way out into where the conpetitiors are gathering, Jarret gets into position to begin. He's put on partial maile, and wields a polearm. He currently watches the other competitors rather thoughtfully, while he leans on his weapon now. There's a brief grin as he watches the others, but otherwise, he keeps still.
A hushed whisper arises from the crowd barely a moment after the newest entrant to the melee makes their arrival. A scarred face comes out of the darkness of the entry gate, the massive form of Eisen d'Geroux appearing, clad in a suit of blackened partial maile that seems to strain to fit him. A blade rests in his scabbard, but there is little attempt made to draw the blade as he strides. His hands are left bare beyond some leather straps set over his fingers and knuckles, tightly wound, likely to prevent any permanent damage. He casts his gaze around at the other competitors, offering them glances that capture their possible skill and weaponry, but little else. It was going to be a good day.
Satisfied that the contestants are ready, the foppish herald gives a nod to two men at the far edges of the peristyle. They blow their trumpets loud and clear, in an attempt to silence everyone and let them know that their ridiculous looking commander is ready to speak.
Once his mouth opens, it appears the the herald's high and clear tone, while affecting a rich man's accent, is actually quite good at projecting information; they must have hired him for a reason. "Honoured competitors and guests, we welcome you to the Four Corners melee, hosted by Chancellor Frederick Tyres, Minister of Blades Gerrik Shawl and Minister of Banking Mattias Thynne. The match today will be officiated the the Minister of Blades. Contestants are reminded of the rules - absolutely NO targetting of the head or neck. The object of this match is to fell your opponents and be the last man standing. You win two points for each opponent felled, and six for being the last man standing. The Chancellor and Minister of Blades will now conduct their inspection. Contestants - stand fast!" Another blast of trumpets is given.
Chancellor Tyres doesn't appear to like this ritual, as it requires him to get up from his highly padded seat. Rising with a wheeze and a grunt, he brushes himself off, fixes his posture and walks down to Gerrik. "Well, shall we get this over with?" Without waiting for an answer, the short man waddles to the first contestant - Sir Stellan. "Boy. Introduce yourself and tell me what you've accomplished, on the tourney and battlefield. Be quick about it."
From there, he will visit all the contestants - Shirlyn, Rhett, Yelena, Jarret, Synthia, Eydis, Yrsa, Aethelwulf and finally, Eisen.
Julieta finds her seat somewhere in the vicinity of Lady Evae Arkanin and Viscount Francois d'Cadri. Acknowledging the presence of the two with a courteous curtsey, she will indicate the spot, inquiring: "Is this place vacant?", before she takes her seat, with an elegant incline of her head. Hazel-brown eyes drift down to the tourney field, recognizing Ser Jarret Sokar down there, a bit of a wave given to him if he should look her way. She shoots both of her neighbours glances when the rules of the melee are announced, "Exciting, is it not?"
Gerrick simply flares his nostrils in reply to the Chancellor's request and follows after the large man. Once before Stellan, the Councillor of Blades clasps his hands behind his back and eyes the young Stellan, "Well?" An eyebrow arched. Haughty features all too indifferent as to the up and coming claims.
There's a hard blink sent to the Councillor from the first contestant - oh, there's introductions this time? Stellan clears his throat and raises his voice. "I'm Sir Stellan d'Tremaine. I killed a berserker once." He pauses, wondering just how much he should reveal. "And I avoided getting eaten by a giant serpent. I was knighted just last month." He shrugs ruefully. "And that's about it. Good luck, everyone."
Looking at the White Hall folk, Eisen will note that they likely have no idea what is being said, and when the man approaches them, he will clear his throat and translate appropriately. Because he's a nice guy…right? …right?
Yrsa looks up, when the turn comes to her, a slightly irritated glare shot the man's way whose common tongue is indeed completely unintelligible to her. As soon as Eisen steps in to translate the request, a dark smirk will appear on the vigamandr's face. «I am Yrsa Bjornsdottir of Clan F'jet. I've raided this town. I've slayed many men.» She will leave it at that, glancing towards Eisen briefly, before she snorts and falls silent again.
Shirlyn stands straight and tall as her gear and weapons are inspected. With a crooked smile she answers the Chancellor clearly and loud enough for the other notables to her. "My name is Lady Shirlyn Charing, I was one of very few to infiltrate Goldhollow in the dark of night, silently defeating the enemy as we made way across the walls. From there the party I was with opened the gates and let the rest of our host in. All without a single cry of alarm. This is my first tourney as that was my first mission on the battlefield." Her cheeks flushed with slight embarrassment as she rattles off her accomplishments.
The d'Geroux will, when approached, simply look down at the Councillor. "I am The Ghoul." And he lets that speak for itself. He will also translate Yrsa's speech into, "She has slain many men."
Synthia stands alert watching as the Chancellor and Minister make thier rounds. When she is visited Synthia replies calmly and promptly her composure never faltering. She will bow her head low in a gesture of respect for the two powerful men as she speaks. "I am Lady Synthia Reine, Squire to the Viscount Varian Reine. I have fought in two battles, Tamlin Ford and the Battle of Circester." She lifts her head after that her expression still holding its composed mask.
Aethelwulf tilts his head, his piercing blue eyes looking frightening and very deeply into the large Chancelor's own eyes. After a miment he turns his head to the translationa nd then looks sideways to the Chancelor. "I am the Iron Wolf of the Rivers. Jarl to The White Hall Raskbrooke clan, and Vigamandr of her peoples. I have slain many Eastermen, One a Templar, and many other of your own Vigamandr, what you call Knights. I earned by Jarl Rank in combat by slaying the man who held it before me by drowning him wiht one hand, and killing his warriors with the other. I am Aethelwulf of the Raskbrook, and what are YOUR accomplishments Easterman?"
Eisen translates what Aethelwulf says a bit more accurately, leaving out the part of the templar, however.
Yelena raises a brow at the Chancellor, her grin never fading. "Lady Yelena of House Kaedon." She announces, chin held high. "A soldier of the Rose during the War of Succession. More recently a Shadow Snake, among my house's scouts." And she falls silent, turning her attention to the other competitors. Well, that was short.
As it is her turn, Jarret raises his voice. "I am Sir Jarret Sokar, some people call me the Bloodaxe. For tourneys, I won the melee in Alasce last year, but when it comes to real combat, I am a veteran of both the Succession War, where I won my knighthood, and many of the battles that has plagued our lands since then."
He looks at the announcements about introductions never having really liked icebreakers in class settings no more does he do so now. "Im Lord Sir Rhett Charing, i've just returned from leading Charing and Arkanin troops in a succesful campaign against an enemy." he doesnt really say which enemy or where but shrugs slightly.
The Viscount Francois looks over to the Pearl and shakes his head "Not at all Mistress Julieta, I seemed to have found the place without the need of a guide it must truely be a lucky day." he says with a chuckle to the aquaintance. He will perhaps meet her gaze a very quick moment and smile. "It looks to be a good match."
"«I'll take that bet! They won't come after us right away they will wait to see if we wear down»" Eydis replies to her Jarl cheerfully and rolls her eyes at the comment about eating them. "«Eat a woman…the men are mine.»" When the two fancy men come over she actually tries to puzzle out what they are saying when they approch. Eisen's translation helps and she will reply in common with a heavy accent. "Eydis of Clan Raskbrook." She offers nothing else looking around curiously her attention wandering as she waits for her favorite part…the battle!
Aethelwulf grins to Eydis and nods. The bet is on.
Sonya remains in her seat watching the proceedings calmly her gaze following her cousin carefully.
Evae had since decided to make her way down to some seating a little further down, carefully and with a slight sense of grace the young Arkanin woman had found a seat beside Julieta and settled in; her hands resting on her lap and once again her posture as straight as she could manage, "It is very exciting indeed. I only hope my dear cousins are not hurt too badly." She offers "The Pearl" a kind smile and then looks for Rhett, "He looks so small compared to some of them." She nibbles her lower lip.
By and large, there is a polite applause from the audience after each little blurb. Chancellor Tynes gives a nod, mutters some kind of good luck phrase and then moves on to the next. This does not hold true, however, when the White Hallers speak. There is no polite applause for them, but more than a bit of insulting and booing. Chancellor Tynes sneers at the former raiders, and then looks at Eisen. "Tell them that it is by our good graces that they are here this time. They should be grateful for the chance. Hmf." He appears irritated with their presence and so self-imporant that he's not even worried about the possibility, say, of one of them grabbing him by his fat neck and shaking. No. The Chancellor is done here. He returns to his seat.
Gerrick Shawl harrumbles at each introduction, a veritable rumble of something. Admiration? Indifference? Phelgm? A simple nod is offered to each and all, quick and to the point. Though there is a certain narrowing of the eyes as he regards each of the White Hallers who sullied his ears with their babble before retaking his place upon the raised platform beside the blubbery Chancellor. The Minister of Blades, normally a contender, stands once again raised above the masses, each individual scale of his polished armour catching the sun's light in a different way, ensuring that the bronze almost flickers as if aflame. Raising his hands for further silence, Gerrick eyes the crowd till indeed they fall silent.
"As sponsor of this event I wish those who contend good fortune.", the very words issued forth coldly and crisply, his upper lip curling into a faint snarl of disgust as he continues, "And may those who fight take note of the filthy heathens from White Hall who seek to compete against their betters. Do show them just how welcome they are." The curling of his upper lip is full on feral snarl, utter disgust as to the presence of such beings and so damning is his gaze as he speaks naught but clear Common, not even deigning to have his words translated into the lesser tongue, "Damned savages. Begin!" That last word snarled loud enough to drown out the first two and back to his seat the martial Councillor settles. Stiff-backed and posture perfect.
Stellan arches one brow when Eisen kindly translates the alien moon speech, and they brag about killing people. He shakes his head and begins to make some last minute re-adjustments to his jerkin. He is waiting to begin.
"What good fortune," Julieta replies to Francois. "And not surprising to me. After all you've received a tour of our city state, and I believe this particular fortress was shown to you as well?" She chuckles, softly, unobtrusively, before her attention shifts to Evae. "You seem to know me?", she says, with a hint of surprise. "Yet I do not know you, my lady. Forgive me… May I ask your name?" There may be a slight dampening to her countenance, when the Pearl notes the presence of some of White Hall down there, a faint paling of her cheeks. "By the one… Who has invited THEM?"
"«I am sure that some of them will take a more…hostile approach to your existence, Njorvolk. I would recommend making a good showing for yourselves, lest some of the more opportunistic folk decide that a weakened raider will be a good target for revenge for the raids.»" When the Chancellor speaks, Eisen nods and turns. "«The fat fellow says that you're here by our good graces. Feel free to take personal offence later. Magnus watch over you.»" And then, the battle!
Yelena just seems incredibly amused by the whole scene. At the mention of 'heathens' she glances to the stands, hoping to catch her cousin's eye. Should she succeed, she'll raise her brows at the viscountess, mouthing the word, and then return her attention to the melee. Time to hit people!
Sonya is looking right at Yelena from her spot in the stands. The mention of heathens has her arching a brow. Most would call Kaedons heathens too for thier religious choices. Her lips curve into a wicked smile and she mouths the words 'fight well' back at her cousin as she continues to watch.
Mattias leans back within his chair, a smirk gently forming upon his lips as he listens to the contenders speak in whatever tongue they deign to use. As to the sudden arrival of a cup of steaming kaffe to his right, the Councillor accepts it within his gloved hand and nods at the servant before letting his gaze settle back upon those who stand ready to fight, "Twenty five doves on the Stalwart, with a byname like that one can't lose surely?" His lips quirk into a slow and brief smirk.
Shirlyn's gaze slide over to the barbaric entrants, she doesn't frown though, her observations more clinical, sizing them up for the melee to come. When the blustery fellow finally stops talking, she looks to the field in front of her. "One be with you," she says to her brother.
Seemingly unconcerned with what's said, Jarret starts to prepare himself for the fight to come, unable to hold bck a grin. This is one of the things he enjoys in life, after all.
Synthia stands at the ready with her polarm. There is no way of telling what golden haired woman is thinking, her expression is still very much blank. She is standing near Jarret and his grins gets a raised brow and a look of faint amusment from the squire. The barbarians are studied with that same blank expression her gaze lingering on the big hairy male most and those green eyes narrow ever so slightly.
Evae turns to Julieta and inclines her head once more, her words spoken in her usual soft tone, "It was a well educated guess if I must admit. Based on what I have heard from my dear brother Bryad and your appearance and reputation in this city." Her eyes look to the field a moment and then back to her once more, "Evae Arkanin. Bryad's younger sister and by his choices the Heir Arkanin. It is a pleasure to meet you. His decription and talk of you did little to express how beautiful you truly are."
Yrsa shoots Aethelwulf and Eydis a glance, that dark smirk still on her fright-enciting painted features. «Time to show them… eh?», she says, before her dark eyes roam the numbers of the Easterlings, picking out her target whom she will focus on.
The Ghoul prepares himself by slipping back into a more defensive stance as he readies himself. He would need to be a bit more…tactical this combat, as he is certainly…underarmed, but that is by choice, of course.
Eydis glaces to her fellow Njorvolk and grins. "«Lets axe some easterners!» She sounds cheerfull and excited readying her twin axes and slipping into a proper dual wielding stance."
Nodding to Eisen Aethelwulf says casually, "At least you are built like you can take a hit. Good luck little man." Which is the White Hall equivalant of saying: "Honored to meet you, I wish you luck and good fortune." He grins at Eydis's comment and twirls his psuedo Axes casually. He eyes the newly minted knight coming at him and smiles wolfishly. "Oh good. A snack before the real meal." He looks over his shoulder, "That Hammer will be mine shortly Little Wolf!" he laughs and lunges forward, Axes at the ready.
The new knight advances upon Aethelwulf and his mace first. "You look like someone I once knew," he explains. "Lets see how many character traits you two share!"
Francois will chuckle a little bit "I did indeed have an expert guide the last time, and yes I was shown this place as well. I must say again it is lucky I bumped into you when I did thank you." He looks over to the other side of the pearl and bows his head "Viscount Francois d'Cadri. It is a pleasure to meet you Lady Arkanin." sure the other wasnt speaking to him but it would be rude to just ignore her especially a well known house and all.
Yelena grins down at the smallest of the raiders, smirking down at the woman. She doesn't bother taunting— it's not as if she'll be able to understand— merely offers a nod of greeting as she raises her shield and her weapon.
"Oh! I am… delighted indeed, Lady Evae!" A warm smile is offered from the Pearl, genuine obviously and truly heartfelt. "Brother Bryad is a good friend indeed, I feel honoured that he has spoken to you about me. And thank you, my lady. You flatter me indeed." She inclines her head, before her attention is claimed by her other neighbour. "Yes, Your Excellency, it has been quite the coincidence, that your previous visit to Four Corners would see to you being well prepared for your return." Her lips curl, and her gaze may linger for a moment longer on the d'Cadri, her eyes sparkling.
The battle begins, the sound of blunted weapons slamming into flesh, leather and maile begins to fill the hall, as well as the grunts of humans fighting and smashing eachother. The herald, watching closely, announces each time somebody goes down. "Two points for the Stallwart! Two for Lady Kaedon and two for Lady Reine!"
Chancellor Tynes, nestled comfortably back in his seat and being fawned over by his women, takes a deep draw out of a wine goblet. He smiles and rubs his hands together as the combat starts. For a man who looks like he's never seen a fight in his life, he sure likes watching them.
Gerrick remains seated and quiet, watching the fight with a look that is as constipated as it is utterly unmoving. A mask of indifference for most and fleeting hatred for the barbarians who remain within the fight. A slight crick of his neck, a crack of bone and tendon Gerrick's face twitches faintly. Watchful. Waiting. His gaze following almost every blow landed, eyes darting from warrior to warrior with a keen warrior's eye of his own.
Mattias smiles against the rim of his cup of kaffe as Stellan claims two points. It would seem his bet well for the moment well placed. It is with a neutral glance towards the Chancellor, that the Councillor spends a few moments of his time watching the man, studying the man and pitying the two woman who are pressed against him. But soon enough his attention is drawn back towards the fight.
The Axes swing and connect in rapid succession agianst the young Knight, but the Knight and his associate land blows on the White Haller as well. He is driven to his knees, and Aethelwulf smiles, before spitting out a goblet of blood. "Oh Good. You got fight in you." He lunges forward swinging agian but misses even as he is staggered from a slam to the side of his head.
The Vigamandr's head slowly turns to looka t Shirlyn and he tilts his head. "I am going to end your line Eastern Wench." Then he lunges at the Galenthian, the Axes swinging in deadly arcs.
Stellan engages the much larger White Haller in fierce combat, though the Galenthian lady seems to want to join in! For his part, he didn't really mind: she was quite impressive for a waif! He lands better hits on Aethelwulf than his opponent lands on him, though he is far from untouched and already panting. "Not bad, for a heathen…"
His frown deepens when Aethel seems to switch his attention to the woman. "Not… what I would suggest."
And the battle begins, Shirlyn's eyes shift as she seeks out an opponent, settling on the big burly White Haller. She makes way towards the big beast of a man only to be met with a swinging Polearm. She jumps to the side, evading the elongated weapon before swinging her arms in force towards Aethelwulf's side, he dodges as Shirlyn ducks another swing from Synthia. She swings and misses the barbarian man again, "Abyss," she hisses as she watches him go down to a knee by another man's blade. Seeing opportunity she swings again, though this time she catches the man in the head.
Shirlyn blushes but doesn't apologize, instead she grins at the man as he taunts her. "We'll see, barbarian…" the words are stolen from her mouth as she's cracked from behind by Synthia's polearm. Shirlyn takes a knee.
Yrsa's choice of the /unarmed/ translator with the dead eyes was perhaps no coincidence. However, she may have expected to get an easier purchase on Eisen who seems more slippery than a rotten fish. His own attacks are evaded as well, the White Hall warrior woman on her guard, obviously, a dark grin accompanying her words. «Impressive… Until I slice you up.»
"«You can certainly try, but I don't think that I'll make it terribly easy for you.»" He was fighting almost entirely defensively, of course, but that didn't seem to much bother him, as his fighting was clearly intended to be the last man standing. "«Lets see how long you can keep up the pace before you start to get tired, hm?»"
Rhett knows how melee's go they are chaotic at best and a complete mess at worst. The battle commences and though he tries to get to his sisters side his path his blocked (et tu Jarretus?) He will raise his sword and bring his shield around. He will size up the other before the each step in it seems well matched as each moves quickly "An honor m'lord." he calls across, it isnt until the last of the intial strikes he's thwaped lightly. He will focus more.
There's a brief chuckle, as things kicks of, and Jarret heads straight for Rhett. "A good day for this," he offers with a grin to the man he's fighting. "Let's see what you've got." Moving in with a few quick attacks, and dodges, before swinging his weapon the last time for the Charing knight's abdomen.
Evae returns the warm smile to Julietta and then looks across her to Francois, inclining her head once more, "It is a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to speaking with you more in a setting a little less..well combative." Her attention is quickly pulled to the clanging of metal and she winces once as she sees Shirlyn take that viscious blow from Synthia's polearm, "Hey!" There is an outburst from the stands from the usually soft spoken Rose of Bellmoore. Is she getting into this?
Eydis is a fierce little thing. She grins happily up at the woman looming over her and starts trying to hit her with axes. She gets in a couple hits before a rather nasty hit to the abdomen knock her backwards a bit. She stumbles regains her balance and charges back towards Yelena with a cry of. "Hit harder and maybe you win next time!" She can speak common but its obvious it needs some work.
Yelena lets out a grunt as the smaller woman strikes her, the first blow glancing and the second… less so. Her lips twist into a smile that's all teeth, and she lunges forward to unleash her own barrage of attacks. She looks pleased when the woman falls, and even more so when the returns to her feet.
"Good advice!" She calls back, her voice just short of breath, and prepares herself for the next attack.
The melee then devolves into a flurry of blows, difficult to track and more difficult still to fight in. Nevertheless, somehow the pompous herald is able to do so. "More points for the Stalwart! A pair of knockdowns for the Blood Axe, Sir Jarret! Points to Lady Yelena, Lady Synthia and Lord Eisen!"
Councillor Tynes seems highly amused that the White Hallers are knocked out of the fight so quickly; in fact, his beady eyes are watching the fight against them almost exclusively. He cheers, wordlessly, when the majority of them are taken out of the melee, and shifts his gaze to Yrsa, the only remaining one.
There it is, the faint quirk of a smile slowly spreading across Gerrick's lips as Aethelwulf and Eydis falter against their betters and fall. Those cold eyes full of fire and a definate glint of righteous amusement at the 'Jarl' and the barbarian wenches hit the ground, even if one does rise again to continue. Though the Minister of Blades wouldn't deign to gloat, he does turn to regard the fat Chancellor and offer the faint quirk of a cold and predatory grin that does much to signal just how wonderful a turn this battle has taken. But one can't gaze upon that meatbag of a Chancellor for too long without some measure of distaste, even two beautiful women can't distract from such a sight and back to the battle he gazes, fingers steepled and those cold eyes fixed once more upon the crush of the melee.
With a roar, and swing, Aethelwulf misses his prey, but is soon found by the young Knight's blade. The Vigamandr staggers back form teh blow and smiles at Stellan. "One day. In a real fight Whelp." He nods tot eh knight and falls to his knees, to catch his breath. The Jarl was out of the fight.
The young knight scoffs at the Whitehaller's parting remarks, once the large man goes down for good. "In a real fight, you'd be very dead," he replies curtly. He scans the field of remaining combatants then closes in on the only southerner he recognizes: Jarret. "I remember you and your cousin teaming mine. Lets see how you like it." Sadly, Rhett does not last much longer after Stellan joins in. "Aw C'MON. I guess this will actually have to be fair, then."
"«OWCH! BY the Tricksters balls you hit good!»" Eydis goes down again and eyes Yelena with a grin. "Yield, you win. Go beat others and win shiny axe." She slowly climbs to her feet and moves over to where her jarl is nursing his wounds. "«That was fun and now I owe you a coin.»"
A whirlwind from there, Shirlyn doesn't even have time to get off the ground before she's pounded into the dirt by Synthia and Aethelwulf. A sharp gasp escapes her as one of her assailants steals the breath away from her with a blow to the chest. She feels the bruise to her sternum form as she raises a hand signaling the end to her part in the melee. "Enough," she gasps out, "I am done," she says swirling the dirt in front of her face as she heaves for a steady breath.
As the sword of the Njorvolk slices his hand a bit, Eisen doesn't really regret using it to help turn aside the blow. He has bled before and will likely bleed much, much more before his life is done…and after all, he wouldn't be much of a ghoul if he was afraid of a little blood. His meaty fist smashes into the arm of Yrsa in return, likely nearly breaking the bone beneath with the force of the impact, even through her armor as the massive man expresses his displeasure. Noting the attack of another on the woman however, Eisen decides to slip to the side and with an exhalation of breath, he lashes out at the Galenthian.
Seems the slippery Eisen cannot even get a good hit in with his hands, until he receives some help. A polearm pierces right through Yrsa's abdomen, making her yell in furious agony, this giving Eisen the chance to get hold of her right arm, causing more pain there. Yrsa at least manages to pay him back, cutting his left hand with her blade, but not enough, to cut it off! When Yelena joins the pair battling her, Yrsa takes another hit, a low growl raising in her chest that rises in volume until it can be heard from all that are watching. She taken down, for a time, by Eisen's next attack, but after a moment the resilient vigamandr is on her feet again, with undeterred ferocity. Her attentions once again focused on Eisen.
Yelena manages to take down the raider woman, but at a high cost— her movements are slower, and breathing causes a grimace. Yup, something's probably broken in there. The tall Reine lady moves into view, and the Kaedon woman sighs. She's probably beaten here. Oh well. She nods and raises her shield once more, swinging her axe so that the flat of it smacks the front of her shield. "Come on then!" She calls.
Synthia remains calm as she takes out Shirlyn and then briefly focuses on the white hall woman. But when Yelena comes to join the frey the Reine turns slightly and bring her polearm up to bear for another attack. She see Eisen coming at her from the corner of her eyes but her expression remains impassive and her skills focused on her opponet.
Rhett gets hit hard this time, though he winces "Solid strike." he coments the next round he at least dodges and hits back though he will land a strike of his own at least. He stands back affter the hit though he's winded by the blow clearly. He tries to defenend but his sword is knocked from his hand "I yield well fought m'lord and good luck." he comments gathering his weapon he'll move to the side line.
Shirlyn staggers off the field once she's sure her opponent acknowledges her yield. She bumps into her brother, Rhett and smirks. "You too? Well, at least I lasted as long as you did." She shrugs and winces, fingering the spot on her chest where the poleaxe hit her.
Ever have one of those moments you wish you could have back? That moment in time where you question your actions and pray that is was just a dream? Such a moment befalls the Lady Arkanin as her cousins Rhett and Shirlyn are defeated. As Rhett and his sister yield, the usually proper, golden haired charmer from Wayston stands and shouts out, "Fuck!" Just as quickly as the words leave her lips her hands cover her mouth and her face turns the color of strawberry wine. She is frozen where she stands a moment before slowly lowering herself into her seat completely mortified. She takes a breath and then turns to her guards and murmurs softly, "Daddyknowsnothing." Still red faced she turns back to the melee before her, managing a soft smile and proper posture as the Lady Arkanin always does and acting as if nothing happened at all.
Evae's outburst may be noted by Julieta, still, she will not comment on it, save for: "It seems your cousins weren't as lucky as you hoped. It is just a melee though. Not a real fight…" Her words trail off, her gaze returning to the field, that smile dimming. "Not too long ago these White Hallers were raiding this city… and they dare to come back here?" The Pearl smiles, this time when she observes that the Jarl has been eliminated from the contest, that other woman too, and now just one seems to remain… but given her injuries, it seems White Hall is in for a defeat.
"More points for the Stalwart you say?" Mattias asks of the Chancellor, a smile flickering across his lips as he watches the melee, the kaffe held within his gloved hand for a few moments more, steam rising from the delicate cup, "That is good news." Twenty five pieces of good news. And then some.
The Viscount nods to the Pearls words "Indeed quite so, and who'd have thought i'd be back so quickly the tournament wasnt to be missed though." Francois says he looks to the young woman and smiles "I trust all has been well?" he asks of the other the outbust doesnt seem to bother him any he just smiles softly "It is too bad m'lady but every warrior has off days trust me on that one."
Rhett looks to his sister and nods "That didnt go well at all." He comments to the obviousness of it though he will reach out to her shoulder "You okay Lyn?" he asks softly under his breath so well people dont overhear him. He looks up to the stands where he knows his cousin was watching he bows and gives her an apologetic shrug given the poor performance.
"Well enough when fighting a barbarian and a lady with a polearm," Shirlyn shrugs again, "I am satisfied with my performance." Ceasing her poking at what is no doubt a nice bruise. "It isn't broken, so I'll be fine," she says dismissively, casting Rhett a sidelong glance. "Yourself?"
Evae is still slightly mortified, but she is polite and replies to Julieta and Francois, "I suppose everyone has an off day. At least some of those heathens went first and as you say are destined for a clear defeat." She manages another smile, looking to them both, "I am well. Thank you for asking. If it were possible to die from embarassment, I do think I would have, but here I still sit." She catches Rhett's acknowledgement and smiles to him as well, letting him know she is not disappointed." Those blue-grey eyes turn to Julieta now, "Perhaps after this day they will think twice about doing so again."
"Two more points for Lady Synthia and Lord Eisen!" The herald cries, getting rather excited as things heat up.
The Chancellor, is still very much embroiled in this fight. He's out of his padded, pillow strewn chair, his fists balled and eyes bulging. He is yelling encouragements to Eisen, "Ghoul, forget the lady! Attack the barbarian scum! Tear her entrails from her!"
Gerrick grimaces, his teeth gritted as the corpulent Chancellor saunters forth from his chair to bulge his piggy eyes at the fight and shout at those who clash within the arena. A faint sneer causes a few facial muscles to harden, his upper lip curling once more as Yrsa howls in her most barbaric way. Damned savages.
Mattias takes another slow sip of his kaffe, relishing the exotic taste and evidently showing as much interest in the crowd from his vantage point as he does the remaining participants. That gloved hand cradling the cup within its somewhat everso slightly unwieldy grasp, "That's the spirit Chancellor, such fervant support is always welcomed by those in the arena." It is with a quirked brow that Mattias idly hopes that such exertion combined with two pretty women either side causes a surfeit of pressure within the fat man's heart, but alas, the One is never that kind.
Yelena is not going down without a fight, it seems! She takes blows to the chest, and one catches her in the head— they look like they hurt too, but the scout keeps fighting! But her axe hits only air. The Reine's polearm crunches into her chest once more, and the woman drops. "Y-yield!" She pants, dropping her axe. And she makes her way off of the field with no shortage of staggering, but with a smile on her face.
Synthia dodges Yelena blows easy enough but Eisen's attack are harder to move away from. When Yelena goes down the Reine spins around quite efficently to face the Ghoul. Her expression is calm those green eyes holding not anger but paitence and cunning. She readies herself for his attacks showing neither smile nor frown as she faces him down steadily.
"Business over honor, eh? Typical Southerner," Stellan taunts as he weaves out of the way of Jarret's polearm and slashes at his chest. It does not cut as deep as Stellan wishes, but it ought to tire Jarret out eventually. Or at least that's what he thinks. "But you're good, I'll give you that." Stellan nimbly moves out of the trajectory of Jarret's counter.
Frowning as he takes a few hits, Jarret sinks to his knee briefly before he fights his way back to his feet. "Nicely done," he remarks, before he shrugs a little bit. "My brother was the honorable one, he's dead," he remarks. Dodging the last of the attacks now.
A thin red line runs down from Yrsa's mouth, a colorful contrast to the white paint of her face, and tha black about her eyes. She is more cautious now, focusing on finishing Eisen with her fine broadsword. The next two strikes go astray, when the slippery Eisen evades effortlessly, but it is the third that connects, at his chest. A triumphant howl, the prompt reaction. «Told you, I'd cut you up…», she hisses through clenched teeth.
Eventually, Yrsa lands a more serious wound on Eisen as is struck in the ribs by her blade, spilling some of his blood against the blackened armor he wears. He tries not to let it distract him too much, however, as the behemoth lands a trio of blows on Synthia. He doesn't much listen to the Chancellor, however, taking his time to wear down the more dangerous opponent.
The Heir of Charing nods to his sister being okay, which was his first concern though her question gets a smirk. "I was truly horrible. I expect better from myself." Rhett says honestly though he takes a deep breath "Drinks on me if you will come have one with your big brother." he says regaining some of his humor though he's still feeling poorly about his performance. He catches the look from Evae and a single nod given.
A nod comes from the Pearl, in response to the d'Cadri's remark. "Indeed. It seems our citystate seems to be deemed worthy for more than a visit." She smiles towards Evae, it is a warm smile, completely unassuming. "Why should you be embarassed? Many a word can escape you in the heat of such a contest, and I am sure, neither I nor the Viscount d'Cadri hear have heard an improper word leaving your lips, my lady."
Shirlyn looks at her brother and grins. "Not so sure about that, Rhett. There was tough competition out there," she turns and watches as Synthia takes out a few more competitors. "Well. I should be glad I lasted as long as I did with that one hot on my tail." She nudges her chin in Synthia's direction. "A drink? Mayhap. I've got to go tend to Beast before I do so, though. Little dog will tear up the Inn if I don't."
"Another point for Lady Synthia!" Yells the Herald, raising his hands up dramatically.
The Chancellor ignores the evil gaze of Gerrik and the amused commentary from Mattias. He's far too concentrated on his fight, his precious fight! "Take that, you filthy, stinking, uncivilised, carp and herring eating brutes! Take your bruises back to your countrymen! HA HA!" Evidently very satisfied with the turn of events that knocks Yrsa out of the fight, he returns to his seat with a big smile on his face. "Wine." His demands are met with a refilled goblet.
As Yrsa falls, Gerrick Shawl allows himself a momentary glint of a smile. Teeth bared for a fraction of a second. There is no need for words, just a brief and all too cold glance at the shouting and smiling Chancellor and those others upon the raised platform before turning his attention to the remaining competitors who continue to slog at one another, "The prizes will go to worthy contenders." A statement of irrefutable fact in the Councillor's eyes.
Eisen is taken down by Synthia, and so Yrsa will focus her next attack on the woman with the polearm, which, in the course of the melee, already has gotten acquainted with Yrsa's abdomen. Ironically enough, it seems Eisen is coming to her help - not voluntarily, just perhaps because it was Synthia who took him down in the first place. But the F'jet woman seems finally to succumb to the hits she has already taken in the melee, her movements are slower than usual, and so that next polarm contact draws blood from Yrsa's left arm. The sword drops from her hands and she yields, with a grim expression. Uttering some quite explicit Barbarian curse, towards Synthia, that Eisen might understand.
Synthia's polearm finds purchase in Eisen's neck sending him down for a moment. At the same time a punch also lands on Synthia's collarbone and a crunching sound is heard. Its probably broken but for some reason the Reine Lady's expression does not change. She remains impassive as she turns to take down Yrsa the pain not acknowledged or shown. When Eisen comes back for more she turns to face him once more ready and waiting to strike.
Eisen manages to evade a few further blows before the polearm of Synthia gashes him deeply across the neck, sending a spurt of blood down to the sands of the arena floor. A small, involuntary wheeze for a moment as the giant wobbles on his feet and looks as if he is about to topple before he steadies and looks up at Synthia with his dead eyes. He takes the momentary break in the action to take advantage of a slip in Synthia's guard to land a meteoric strike to her neck, the edge of his hand smashing into her collarbone with titanic force. He does register Yrsa's curse, but doesn't acknowledge it, simply keeping all of his focus on Synthia. Once she was down, the rest of this should be easy. She certainly was a canny opponent…she was the one with Varian before, he believes. At the very least, he knows how to try his squires.
"Hm. Knaves die just as quickly, but no one attends their funeral," is Stellan's retort to Jarret. "But your brother ought to be proud… you have quite a hard head!" Though Stellan wasn't specifically aiming for Jarret's head - it was just hard to tell it apart from his chest, apparently. And he kept -moving-! "Usually big people are slower…" He squints as he takes a brief step back to study Jarret harder.
Wincing as he takes a few more hits, his own swings seems to be missing Jarret shakes his head a bit at the commentary. "Then why are you alive?" he asks, grimacing as he takes a few deep breaths, and then moves forward again. Looks like his main objective right now is to stay on his feet in this fight.
Yelena obtains a waterskin on her way to the stands, collapsing into the nearest available seat. She looks a mess— dirty, sweaty, with a sizable lump already forming on the side of her head where Lady Synthia's poleaxe caught her. Her breaths come with a hint of a wheeze now, but she seems to be ignoring her pain for now. She has water to guzzle, and a fight to watch.
The herald's latest announcement is, "And two for the Stalwart as he knocks the Blood Axe out of the fight. Two more for the Ghoul by taking down Lady Synthia Reine!"
At this point, Councillor Frederick Tynes is simply enjoying the match. Both of these contestants, both Aequorian, will be winning SOMETHING - it just depeneds on what. He turns over to look at the Minister of Blades, asking, "Gerrik, who do you favour? The whelp of a knight, or the massive creature?"
"I would favour the Ghoul." Gerrik intones with some measure of distaste at having his viewing pleasure disrupted by the Chancellor. However upon turning to regard the Chancellor, Gerrik's own expression is one of utter indifference. Just ice cold indifference, "He seems of hardy stock."
"As would I. Damnit. Thynne, fifteen on the Ghoul versus your Stalwart!" The Chancellor yells at Mattias.
Mattias for his part inclines his head towards the Chancellor's own wager, "I will gladly take your money Chancellor, be it wagers or banking fees, I shall get it in the end." His lips quirking into a slow smile as he lets his gaze fall back to those two remaining participants.
"Not if you lose, you tight fisted bastard!" The Chancellor answers and laughs. As if he couldn't be more obnoxious, his laugh contains snorts.
"Because I'm tougher than the people who try to kill me, of course!" He replies wryly to Jarret as he brings his sword hard down on the other man's arm. "Good fight!" Sensing that may be enough for Jarret to finally yield, he turns to face Eisen gets greeted with a punch to the neck. He stumbles, taken slightly aback by the sheer strength behind it, but ultimately it does him no serious harm. For now. "Ow." He looks flabbergasted, still. "How… are you still -in- this!?" He flexes his swordarm and moves forward to officially engage the unarmed man. "No matter!"
Finally taking a hit that sends his weapon to the ground, Jarret steps back. "Okay, okay. Well done…" he mutters to Stellan. "Well fought, sir." going down on one knee to retrieve his weapon, and head off the field.
A few more dodged polearms swings and Eisen lands a pair of stinging strikes to Synthia, the last a smash to the chest that pushes her back with the impact. He nods to the fallen woman after she surrenders. "Remind me to speak with you later." After that however, he takes off after the last pair, and noting Stellan just about to take down Jarret, Eisen slips into the combat and lands a strike with the edge of his palm into Stellan's neck, driving his hand into the collarbone sharply. If it wasn't apparent by now, the massive man had obviously been trained on how to kill with his bare hands and didn't have much problem with it.
Hit after hit to her chest has Synthia slowing down and finally she takes a knee looking up at Eisen calmly and with a good amount of respect. "You win." She watches him go off after Stellan and will slowly rises going over to watch the remainder of the fights with that same calm expression.
"It would appear as much yes, I have enjoyed this visit as well." Francois says to Julieta he smiles to her as well "I could see me making visits here, there are merchants to trade with we've done well so far, and good people as well." He looks over to Evae and nods in agreement "I've heard nothing m'lady and you are quite alright. I assure you." He comments lokoing back to the melee which is dwindling and back.
Rhett nods to his sister "Its alright, I will be heading back to my room to clean up first i'll meet you there." he comments simply which seems to work since they can each take care of what they need to do and to drink away the loss for him at least.
Nodding Shirlyn wipes the sweat from her brow — as well as a layer of dirt, — leaving a smear across her forehead and down her cheek. "That will work well enough for me," she eyes the fight as it seems it will be coming to an end. "That man is… big." she remarks cooly.
The new knight isn't quite sure how to engage someone who does not have a weapon. Should he slice off the arms? That seems cruel. Unfortunately for him, he finds his 'big people go slower' theory works even less on Eisen, and his broadsword finds itself hitting nothing but air. A hard punch to the gut followed by a clock to the head has him to the ground and just a -little- befuddled over what just happened. He was doing so well, otherwise! "I'm going to spend many long nights trying to figure this out…" Stellan mutters, remaining crumpled on the ground and staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Eisen, however, has no such compunctions about attacking someone befuddled by being unarmed and he lands a pair of blows on the recently raised knight. Once Stellan falls however, The Ghoul stands over him, looking down at the knight. "Well done." He bends down a bit and his hand clasps around the mailed arm and shoulder of his fallen foe, picking him up back onto his feet. "I wouldn't lose any pride over losing to the personally trained nephew of Andre d'Geroux."
As the fight ends, the herald looks to his left and then to his right, lifting his hands. Trumpets blow for the final time, indicating that the melee has ended. The crowd rises from their seats and applauds wildly - what an unexpected turn of events! Who had ever seen an unarmed man best all competitors in a melee? Only in Four Corners. "The first prize of a coloured, engraved suit of plate armour will go to Lord Eisen d'Geroux of Fox Hollow. The second prize is tied, and therefore by order of the Council of Four Corners, will be duplicated. Both Sir Stellan d'Tremaine and Lady Synthia Reine will receive lightsilver hand axes as their prizes. Congratulations to the winners!"
Chancellor Tyres thumps his fist down on the side of his wooden seat as Eisen takes Stellan down, whooping loudly. "I told you he'd win, Tynne! Hah, credit that to my account!"
Stellan accepts the help with a hazy grin and nods to Eisen. "I'm not upset. You more than deserved the win, and that's all any competition can ask for." He overhears someone losing money over him and feels a twinge of guilt, but it quickly vanishes when it's announced he gets a prize after all. He rolls his neck, testing to make sure it still worked properly after being assaulted.
Gerrick Shawl allows himself a brief flicker of satisfaction before rising from his chair and staring at the last man standing, "Hardy stock indeed." Though he refrains from glancing back to the Chancellor, he waits for the inevitably unpleasant sound of the man talking, breathing and moving. Eyes everso faintly rolled skywards as he reins in the trickling sensation of disgust and annoyance the man instills along his spine. Especially so when it comes to the banter between the Chancellor and the other Councillor. Humour. Wasted words and stupid sentiments. Raising his voice, Gerrik echoes the sentiments of the Chancellor, "My congratulations to the worthy Lord Eisen d'Geroux of Fox Hollow, his victory is one that shall be spoken of for a time, a most excellent display of martial worth if ever there was one and to Lord Stellan d'Tremaine, you fought well and stood your ground. Likewise Lady Synthia Reine, you held your own on the field and if you would rather a new head to that poleaxe of yours, you may request as such and forgo the axe."
As the prize is announced, Eisen turns and offers nods of respect to those hosting the tournament before turning and giving a slight nod to Stellan. "At least you didn't cower like some of the other opponents I've fought. An attitude that befits a newly raised Knight, hm?" Eisen turns to the crowd now, stepping away from the competitors before raising his voice to them. "The Ghoul lays down open challenge at the Bareknuckle Competition! If you feel that you are worthy, come, and I will test your mettle! A bottle of the finest d'Geroux wine and a night of unrestricted access to the best of our houses of pleasure here in Four Corners awaits the champion who would lay me low!"
Aethelwulf has no idea what Eisen jsut said, but if he did, he'd be flexing his White Hall muscles and try to take on the ghoul at this very instant. Instead Aethelwulf is busy speaking to a Four Corner's maiden, who is shyly, and possibly scared ou of her wits, trying to be polite by smiling at the Barbarian while having no idea what the Jarl of Raskbrook is saying.
Mattias merely casts a glance to the Chancellor, "I shall do as you wish Chancellor." There's a brief flicker of a smirk upon the Councillor's features, it pays to lose now and again. Twenty five gold doves lost to random bets about the arena and fifteen to the bloated Frederik Tyres. Almost the income of a minor noble house for the month give or take a few gold coins. But the Councillor bears the loss well, if anything, extraordinarily well. Such is life, "I am sure you shall spend it wisely.", hopefully on something that raises blood pressure. Alot.
"Oh, I'm sure." Mumbles Frederick. Now that the match is over, he's once more concerned with the important thing in his life - his two (bought) women and wine.
The herald has one last announcements. "It is the distinct pleasure of Chancellor Frederick Tyres that for competitors in this melee, drinks at the Perky Porpoise Pub are on his docket. Enjoy, and drink, warriors!"
Seeing the end of the fight, Jarret simply starts moving off the field now. Muttering something under his breath, as he pushes someone out of the way, then stops at the mention of the free drinks. "Hmmm…" he mutters, looking a little thoughtful.
Shirlyn raises her brow and smirks. "Looks like drinks are on the Chancellor, Rhett, you can keep your coin this time." She grins at Rhett and turns from the tourney area. "See you at the Porpoise, brother."
Turning towards the White Hall group, Eisen makes his way over and stops next to them, switching to their native tongue. "«You're all welcome at the bar for free drinks, according to the Chancellor. If you can manage to not start too many barfights, I recommend going. Also, at some point, we should discuss some business, if you are feeling lively enough in the morning.»"
She is not one to drink much, this young heir of Arkanin cannot hold her alcohol at all. However, she would like to catch up with her cousins. Slowly she rises and with a curtsey to Julietta and Francois, "It was a pleasure to meet both fo you. I do wish we could speak agaun sometime." And with that she makes her way out of the stands, her guards falling in behind her.
And yet Gerrick Shawl can't help grumble as he turns to watch the Chancellor fumble with those two women. Like a slimy manatee trying to grope two mermaids. Or two sirens seeking refuge upon a slimey precipice during a storm. A curt nod to both the Chancellor and the Councillor is offered and as he stalks away to some place with fewer people intent on having fun, he snarls at the herald as he passes, "See to it I get Lady Reine's answer by the morning. Dismissed."
While Mattias rises, straightens his black robes and adjusts his gold chain and offers a gentle enough bow to the Chancellor and those two unfortunates clambering about him. Before departing also.
Aethelwulf peers at Eisen and raises his ehad just a little. "This Chancellor iffers us Mead?" He nods his head in a bow. "Then it would be rude to not accept his gift." He folds his arms and looks Eisen over. "Bussiness? With a Vigamandr? What could you need of my people Easterman?"
"«You might find it less…enjoyable than your normal brews, but I am sure that you can find something.»" When he asks in regards to the business, Eisen clears his throat and leans in a bit, speaking in hushed tones so that others would not hear. "«High Queen Romily S'vardsen has dealings with my House in several things and I was thinking that perhaps a stronger business relationship might be in order, especially with the more…frequent appearances of your people here in the West.»"
Aethelwulf watches Eisen and then tilts his head. "I would be glad discuss bussiness." He then turns and frowns when the young Maiden he had been courting had run off. He sighs and nods agian to Eisen. "In the morning then." a pause beofre he asks wiht a raised eyebrow, "Are all your women here so… Rabbit like?"
Yelena's mood is only improved by the offer of free alcohol. She'll almost certainly be attending— once she's gotten her injuries seen to, of course. Really, OW. She makes her way into the stands, finding a path to her lady cousin to exchange words. Most likely about visiting the inn for free drinks, and the location of the nearest healer.
"«You'll find that a good many of them are…unused to your sort. Also, they generally get paid more to play a bit hard to get. If you would like, I can see to it that you can find a more…vivacious woman. My House operates several houses of pleasure that I am sure you can sate your fill with…just do not damage the goods and it will be just fine.»" Eisen looks at the woman beside them and he exhales through his nose once, sharply, and she skitters away, not needing any further prodding.
Synthia remains as the fighting ends. The offer of a new head to her polearm draws a faint smile from the lady and she will answer politely in the affirmative to the offer. She looks towards Eisen and slowly begins to make her way over to him and then man he is speaking with. She inclines her head politely to them both. "You fight well. It was a pleasant challenge for me to face you."