(1874-05-18) Arcadian Festival - Marksman Contest
Arcadian Festival - Marksman Contest
Summary: A contest to see who's the best shot.. clearly not these four.
Date: May 18th 2018
Related: Any Arcadian festival logs.
NPCs: Cyndae d'Juliano, Sir Kory Rockwell
Players:
Mercy  Hraelfmir  Ivo  Dertan  Ava  Sylvain  

New Kashmir Arena, Arcadia County
A filled to capacity arcadian arena
Mai 18th, 1874

It feels like the whole County showed up, as the stands are full, even the noble boxes are at proximity with Mercy sitting in a place of honor in the center of it, Royalty, Nobility, even some gentry there to watch this display of Shooting prowess.

Before the contest begins though, a few performers are moving about the arena juggeling fire, walking on stilts, and swallowing swords, just to warm up the ground before mercy raps her staff on the floor of the box, people looking to their countess as she smiles. "lORDS, LADIES, AND GOOD PEOPLE OF ARCADIA, I COUNTESS MERCEDES ARIA JULI d'JULIANO WELCOME YOU TO ARCADIAS FIRST EVENT IN THE SPRING FESTIVAL, THE ARCHERY CONTEST, MAY THE CONTESTANTS PLEASE TAKE THE FLOOR AND GET READY FOR THE FIRST ROUND."

The arena is done into three sections, targets at close rang,e middle rang, and far range, of course, the first round is the targets at close rang, but it does get harder after that.

Ava de Rivera is sitting in the stands, dressed in a dress that bears her house's colors. Nothing overly-fanciful, her chosen outfit for the day is lightweight and comfortable. Perfect for today's event, in other words. Settled on her lap is a small box bearing some kind of candy, the chewy, ruby-red sweets enjoyed as she listens to the announcement.

Another person present in the noble parts of the stands is a member of the royal family. Sylvain is seated where he can watch the targets rather carefully. He glances around at the crowd, expression a bit distant for a few moments, before he smiles. It would seem that he's gotten better at dealing with crowds, ten years ago he would probably have headed straight out into the woods.

Dertan takes his white and black Kaedon bow out of a bowcase, checks it over, and then steps forward to 'take the floor'. He's dressed in dark leathers for this event with his ornate silver falcon decorated vambraces as the only ornament.

Ivo had been in two minds about competing or not for several days now, but since he is back on his feet, even if shakily, he's decided it's worth a punt. What does he have to lose after all, and he has the perfect excuse if things end poorly? The wine earlier has had a pleasant pain killing effect but he's still using a stick to make his way out to the contest area. "Viscount," he offers with a faint smile to Dertan as he takes his mark, then unslings the musket over his shoulder and braces himself with the majority of his weight on his good leg. The firearm is preloaded for convenience this round but he checks the pan anyway, just to be sure.

Mercy had, of course, vanished, her seat now occupied by her ten year old daughter, a mini me version of mercy as the Herald announces another contestant… Mercy, three pistols at her belt as she makes her way to the floor, with the peasentry cheering. "Dertan… d'Armaz.."

Hraelfmir is here, arrayed not in his fine clothes but instead wearing his normal everyday sort of attire. White bloused shirt, leather jerkin, grey-green pants with high leather boots. The usual silk sashes and weapons complete with a ruby ring carved into the likeness if a human skull. No bow does he carry. Instead Hraelfmir has two hand cannons as well as his usual blades. For the moment he stands off to one side but walks over to join Ivo when the other arrives. "Captain." One of Hraelfmir’s crew carries muskets and reloading satchel for his Commodore.

The Chosen herald for this even speaks. Sir Kory, Knight of Arcadia. The Hulking man's size is only matched by his soft spoken, yet very carriable voice. "Alright, first round is for the first target, you can get no points, up to three points, an astrolabe is the prize for winning, or, if the Countess wins, she will donate the cost of that prize to charity." He says as he smiles. "Up to the line… fire!"

Mercy blinks as she knicks the target and gives a pout. "I don;t know if that sucked or was just funny…"

Dertan takes his place at the easy stand. He lines up, selects his arrow and then draws and fires. The arrow goes wide, probably for the first time in years, and Dertan just stands there squinting after it for several long moments. When he snaps out of that particular surprise he starts to restring his bow and checking and in one case tightening the bindings that hold it together. Definitely the fault of the tool and not the man… right?

"Typhoon," Ivo replies to Hraelfmir before a more reverant bow of his head towards Mercy as she takes the field, "Your Exellency." He might say more but the call from the herald calls them to order and it's time for buisness, not chat. Taking his time he gives the musket butt a quick tap onthe floor to ensure the ball hasn't shifted then lefts the weapon to his shoulder, braces, cocks, and fires. The kickback causes a grimace but he keeps it still enough so as not to compromise his shot. Inner ring, he'll take that, doublely so as he glances down the line and see's the efforts of the others. Allowing himself to relax again he lowers the weapon and starts to reload in what is clearly a well drilled manner.

Hraelfmir watches as the first line up. He accepts one of the muskets from his Firstmate who’sgot them ready. While is is a longer firestick than he usually handles, it is going to do better over the distance than his pistols. Everything checked to his liking, Hraelf lifts and aims, then fires with a LOUD crack as the black powder is ignited! Smoke jets out and begins to drift to haze the air as the contestants shoot. A squint down range at the target and Halfborn frowns, "Ye had a better shot than I did, Ivo. Good shot.” He then swaps muskets and his man reloads.

There could be an amused glance to Mercy and a hint of a grin from Hraelfmir.

The Herald speaks as he notes the shots. "Captain d'Armaz scored two points, Commodore Halfborn scored one point, Viscount kaedon and The Countess score no points." He says in a neutral voice, though he had hoped his countess and also his new best mate would have made better shots.

"Next Target is the middle target, fire when ready!" He says, the middle target being further back than the first.

Sylvain leans a bit forward as he watches the targets, letting out a bit of a breath as he looks to them. His gaze goes to Ivo, since he remembers that man from the past, nodding a bit as he sees that first shot, before he glances around at the people in the stands as well, then back to the targets.

Mercy blinks as she goes wide this time, frowning and reaching into her coat she takes out one of her special rose gold pistols, if she bullseyes the next target, she might just win. "This is why I don;t use mundane tools." She mumbles under her breath.

As before, Hraelfmir accepts the second musket and checks it. Lifted to his shoulder, he cocks it and eyes down the length of the barrel to aim… holding it fairly steady before he pulls the trigger and feels the mule’s kick! More clouds of smoke and thunder cracks over the field as they shoot at the middle range. Hraelfmir the scowls, "Bloody Siren’s tits! Frak it."

Dertan raises his eyebrow as the second arrow goes wide. Well.. thats that really.

Once his mucket is reloaded Ivo takes a moment to relax, breath, and ready himself for the next round. His ribs are hurting from the jolt of the recoil but his leg is atleast holding out. As the next targets are called he takes another deep breath and shoulders the weapon again before breathing out slowly as he sights down the barrel. Only once he's sure his lungs are empty does he fire, and even then the best he can do is nick the side of the target. He looks clearly disapointed as he relaxes again, but takes some comfort in looking down the line and seeing that no one else seems to be on form either.

Sir Kory blinks a few times at the performance, and thanks the one he isn’t anywhere near the arena. "Those targets are hard to perish, might put them on my ship." He mumbles before he clears his throat. "No points for round two, last round is the furthest target, good luck."

Dertan aims and takes a shot at the most distant target. This time he hits, if barely. He still looks irritated rather than pleased though. Given that he's quite quite sure he's lost this event terribly he doesn't really wait for the scores to be called. Instead he turns his attention back to fiddling with his bow. Darn that sea air.

Mercy frowns and holsters her pistol and places her hands on her hips. "Blech, I;m just horrible today." She says as she looks to Dertan. "Viscount Chandus will be dinning at the palace tonight, why not join us Dertan." She says, have somthing good to look forward too.

The first musket, now reloaded, is handed back to Hraelfmir. He draws in a slow deep breath, exhales and rolls his head around until his neck pops. "I be used tae shoot’n shorter hand cannons up close an' in a hurry.” So this time, eyeing that further target, he cocks it and then lifts and fires much more quickly, without trying so hard to aim! Relying more on gut instinct and trying to over think it less! BOOM goes his firestick and this time it is either a better shot, or a lucky one! "Aye!" A pretty good shot this time!

Ivo goes through the motions once more. He'd quite like to take a knee to steady his aim, but that's just not going to happen in his present condition, so he makes do for the final shot. Knowing that it's close, and that this is the shot that will decide it he takes his time, breathing in and exhailing slowly a couple of times before pulling the trigger. It's just not to be though as the ball streaks wide, and while he can blame it on his breath catching due to his ribs, the truth of it is that it wasn't a good shot and the disapointment of that is etched onto his face for a moment before he lowers the gun and looks to the other targets. Hraelfmir is given a congratulatory nod and then he's shifting his weight a little so he can lean on the longarm he holds.

Sylvain lets out a bit of a breath as he watches the shooting, expression a bit curious at all the missing. "Interesting," he mutters to himself, shaking his head a little.

Sir Kory raises his hands and speaks. "Final score, Kaedon and d'Juliano, zero, d'Armaz two, and Our Commodore scored a three, and have the win for the contrest!" He says as he walks over to Hraelfmir with a bundle in his arms. "The prize as promised, an astrolabe!" He says as he hands it to the commodore. "That last shot was good bruv, I figured d'Armaz was gonna win, good to see one of our own take the prize." He says with a bit of pride before bowing to Mercy and walking away, probably back to drinking and arm wrestleing.

Dertan glances across to Mercy and gives her a brief nod. "I'd be honored to visit Your Excellence. Thank you for the invitation." As Kory declares the winners Dertan offers a "Congratulations Captain. That was some fine shooting."

Hraelfmir is right pleased. He hands off the long musket and claps a hand on his First Mate's shoulder, "Thank ye." A moment later and he is being presented with the astrolabe, "A very fine inclinometer, thank ye." Who knew Hraelfmir could say big words like that? He admires the handsome piece that will be useful on ship, and possibly better quality than what they have been using, with the floating mariner’s ring.

A look over to where Mercy is standing. "I nae won a contest afore. Me thanks for host’n for us, Admital." The astrolabe is handed to his mate, "See it be taken to th' Typhoon 'n shown tae th' crew."

Mercy blinks a few times and walks over to Hraelfmir, time to start trouble, and by trouble, she means grabbing the pirate hunter on both sides of his head and planting a wet sloppy kiss right on the lips. "You've been drinking more than usual." She says with a smirk as she turns to walk out of the arena, probably to find more wine.

With Mercy and Dertan talking dinning arrangements Ivo turns to Hraelfmir to offer his congratulations. "A nice shot there," he offers, tilting his head down towards the targets, "goo.." he trails off as Mercy happens to him then continues where he left off, looking faintly amused, "d technique." His eyes watch the departing d'Juliano as she exits the field, then turns back to Dertan and offers his comisserations, "the sea air causing probalems with the limbs again?" Give the man an excuse if he wants it.

Sylvain applauds the winner as he's announced, and the prize is presented. Watching in silence, looking like a proper representative of the Royal family.

Hraelfmir is taken by surprise by the Countess!! A quick blink at getting the kiss and not enough time to lay into enjoying it, blast him! So he laughs, "I have nae been drink’n yet but I have a mind tae, Mercy! He grins and hooks his thumbs loosely into his belt sashes.

A nod to Ivo, "Thank ye, Captain. Ye had some good shots yeself." Aye, Hraelf licks his lips and spends a moment watching Mercy’s backside as she walks away, "A fine prize indeed."

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