Children Crusade IC

[rweird]

The palace begins to wake. Tegtwiby will arrive today as well as many nobles from his house and other houses some has already arrived. Servants hurry around to make sure everything is ready. Servants enter to wake you saying something along the lines of "rise and shine" (The princesses other character enters for her) After helping you get ready for the day for be they exit, unless you have any other tasks for them.


OoC Thread: http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=228242
Recruitment Thread:http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=227971&page=5

[Virtue]

...as he felt himself lost, the sounds of the army outside, his family calling for his help. Elijah remained motionless on the floor, trapped. His sword, seemed too heavy to lift, and he struggled to rush outside to the sound of battles. His father cried out his name before falling to the enemy. Crying, young Elijah remained stunned, powerless to hel-

The light in the room came on and Elijah awoke with a start, as several of the servants of the house came in to check on the young boy and begin the day's routine activites. Elijah remained quiet, shaking his head, and trying to shrug off the nightmare again. The servants kept to their duties around him, as Elijah pulled the covers tighter against his chest.

He was not used to the sudden burst in morning activity, and he shivered softly in the cooler climate. Both he, his father, and his eldest sister were visiting from their fief, far in the warmer climate to the west, the last fief before the far reaches of the western forests made their appearance.

His father in the room beside his own, was surely awake already. The young Elijah would not mention his nightmare to the man, he had made that mistake once. To the Roarke household, such things would have been considered a sign of weakness. Slowly rising from the covers, Elijah turned away the servants, and dressed himself in a simple green and grey outfit. Well made, but as such that would fit in among nobles or commoners alike. He carefully took the time to braid his hair behind his back, taking care to hide his half-elven ears behind the indigo locks. Elijah carried his few belongings, making several notes within his personal journal, before leaving and carefulling closing the door to his guest room. He lowered his head, and made little eye contact to the servants as they passed by.

Elijah continued down the hallway, until he paused at his father's room, but as he opened the door, he found the room empty. It seems once again, his father had gone ahead without his son. The young half-elf simply closed the door silently, and walked towards the palace dining room, for some sustenance.

[rweird]

You find your father on talking with sir Flote, the leader of the palace guard, at the bottom of the stairs. He turns as you enter "=Good morning Elijah, I hope you slept well. Today will be a big day for you. The first time you meet lord Tegtwiby, he is quite powerful. You should make a good first impression." He says dissmissing sir Flote. "Our house are currently in good standing though we are isolated from his fief making it harder to communicate often. Remember to be respectful, making a good first impression could lead to a decade of peace, making a bad first impression could lead to a decade of war.

[Ajadea]

Sandrine carefully pins the last braid into place. "There. You look magnificent, Princess Aleida." It was no servant's lie. The princess did look lovely, in her richly embroidered dark blue gown, with the ruffled half-sleeves and split skirt so that the pale green underdress would show. Her hair was done up in a mass of braids, as much for beauty as the fact that Sandrine knew it was one of the few elaborate styles that would survive the day. Necklace and bracelets, made of silver filigree, studded with sapphires, and no doubt worth enough to feed a village for a week. Silver filigree adorned her black leather girdle as well. A touch of makeup finished the look off.

Aleida smiles slightly. "Of course I do. You've got far more patience for these matters than I. Now, let's go see what the cooks have made for breakfast."

"Of course," Sandrine replies. The two girls walk down to the great hall to eat. Aleida doesn't go out of the way to talk to the servants like she did years ago. Ignoring them, Sandrine had told her, was easier for everyone. She keeps her eyes out for any sudden movements or other strange things. It was reflexive more than anything else. Danger could be found in many places, but the inner palace had never been one of them as long as she could remember.

Lord Tegtwiby's feast had Aleida quite excited indeed. There had been several hours of debate two days before over clothes and such, and of course, there were guests. Lots of guests, actually. It was part of the reason Sandrine had started wearing her chain shirt day in and day out. All those guests. How hard would it be for even one to have dark intentions?

[Virtue]

Elijah seemed a bit taken aback to see his father, as his mind had already moved on to other aspects of the day ahead. Though he was not truly certain of what his father meant, he would do his best to make him happy. Politics held little interest to him, but he could see it was important to his father. Any form of power, be it political or physical was important to his father, though. Other things were not as important, however. Elijah inwardly sighed at the thought.

Elijah's blue eyes glanced up at the gruff, tall figure before him, and he silently nodded before responding, in a quiet voice.

"Yes, sir. I understand." Elijah bowed to his father in obeisance, and lowered his gaze again, letting his father again wander off to the world of politics. Elijah stood for a moment longer, simply looking at his shoes, before sighing softly, and continuing towards the tables that offered an intimidating breakfast court.

Quietly, and without much word, Elijah filled his plate with poached quail eggs, crisp summer bacon, and a regional version of pancakes that the young half-elf had grown to enjoy. Taking his small breakfast, the boy found an unoccupied table, and sat down to start his meal.

[rweird]

Sandrine and Aleida: Everyone rises for princess Aleida when she enters. All the members of the royal house save the prince are present. "We should wait for him." declares the king, before sitting down to talk with an adviser about the festivities.

Elijah: Your father enters shortly after you. Taking a seat at the head table he joins in the conversation with King Avek.

[Rising Phoenix]

Sandrine and Aleida: Everyone rises for princess Aleida when she enters. All the members of the royal house save the prince are present. "We should wait for him." declares the king, before sitting down to talk with an adviser about the festivities.


Once the attention is focused at the head of the table Adric quickly turns to his younger sibling

"You are radiant my dear sister" he says with affection smiling broadly "I cannot say the same for my self..." he gestures at his attire "I feel like one of dear Queen mothers pheasants and a fair bit more overburdened than them." he tugs at his gold threaded flame cloak.

Clearly it and the rest of his clothes were making him warm and itchy despite the chill of the morning. They were heavy too as underneath them he had to wear a chain shirt. Though he didn't quite understand why; Who would want to harm them?

But these inconveniences would not bring his morale down. He was extremely excited about today, so much that he had woken up before his mother's birds had crowd to get ready. His hero was visiting, a feast in his honor, and he would be part of it... Mayhaps they would even spar?! The thought was so intoxicating it made him giddy with joy and he had spent hours in days past polishing his sword, shield and armor.

[rweird]

"Now that we all are here, before we eat I would like to make say a few words" says king Avek"Lord Tegtwiby will be arriving around noon. We will meet him in the outer courtyard and celebrate his victory over the rebel Rews. In honor of this there will be two tournaments, one for the knights and one for the squires and apprentices. If you wish to participate, the sign up is on the hall door. The prizes for the knight tournament is for first place 1000 GP, and the first place trophy. The second place prize is the second place trophy and 500 GP and the second place trophy. The third place prize is 100 GP and the third place trophy. The trophy for the top three apprentices or squires is 100 GP and a trophy. The best of the squires will also be given there very own set of full plate. Now, let the feast begin!"

[Virtue]

"..."

Elijah remained quiet, as he slowly finished his breakfast. He had noticed his father take a seat at the high table, beside the other lords of the dynasty. His father hadn't even given him a second glance, but he was used to it. His attention drifted over the sounds of the court, paying them no mind, until a larger assembly rose to honor the prince and princess, as they arrived to the high table.

Elijah let his gaze fall over them. They were certainly royal, with tailored clothes, well mannered appearances; only the best for those at the top. With a tiny sigh, Elijah finished the last of his quail eggs, and simply glanced out the window nearby.

It was only moments later, when the emperor and king addressed the court, championing a tournament to be held in the visiting hero's honor.

Elijah mused over the words slowly in his mind, not giving them much thought, but his eyes drifted to his father's, and they were piercing straight back at the young boy.

Elijah blushed softly, and lowered his head. He closed his eyes, and gripped at his fork, before sighing almost hopelessly, understanding that his decision to enter the tournament had already been made for him.

...what else was new.

[Wyntonian]

Leon yawned dramatically as his old nursemaid poked him gently. "But nana... grrmhm". His next noise was a cry of surprise as he was dumped onto the ground, dragged by his sheets. He staggered to his feet, blinking furiously. "Okay, 'kay, I'm up, I know, Lord Tegtwi-what's-his-face, is coming today, I'm up, you can put down the bucket..."

Withing half an hour Leon sits next to Elijah, clapping him on the shoulder. "Hey there big fella, you going to look into that tournament? Huh? You should, you'd do good. I might even myself..." He arranges his black vest with a motion almost as dashing as he thinks it is, and proceeds to avoid the Queen's glare for as long as he can before making a proper greeting. He waves cheerily at a minor military adviser across the room, and eats with a will. "Y'know... I will. I've been feeling itchy, I could use a chance to whack on someone." With that, he moseys over to the sign-up sheet and adds his elaborate signature to the list.

[THEChanger]

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Alvar stood, in one of the training grounds, taking his rapier to task. Since dawn, he had been up, training. Without the strength of other warriors, Alvar needed to train his technique daily, to make sure he could hit exactly the right spots. The training log had been sliced to ribbons. Panting slightly, Alvar spied one of the guards standing in the corner. "Master Alvar. You missed the morning meet to plan for Lord Tegtwiby's arrival. The feast has already commenced." Alvar sheathed his sword. "Thank you, Harold. I'd almost forgotten." Grabbing a towel, Alvar wiped the sweat from his brow. "How long has the feast been going?" "Not long. You'll be there in time if you hurry." Alvar nodded. "Thank you for coming to find me." As Alvar went to head to his room to change, Harold put a hand on his shoulder. "Alvar. You've been training hard. You ought to enter the squire's tourney. Perhaps this is your chance to prove yourself." Alvar smiled. "Thank you, Harold."

About ten minutes later, Alvar entered the dining hall, and tried to quietly take his seat. Hopefully he wouldn't be noticed.

[Ajadea]

"You look a fair sight more colorful than any pheasant, brother," Aleida says with a grin. She picks at her food and is mostly silent. It looks like good manners, but Sandrine knows that she is eavesdropping on the plans for the festivities. If she wasn't, she'd be yammering away, as she had been for the past few days.

At the mention of a tournament, Sandrine feels eyes on her. Aleida's. She, very, subtly, shakes her head. If the princess had her way, she'd have entered in the squire's tournament herself. Of course, it would be improper for either of them to do so. She ignores the weight of chain on her shoulders and continues to eat. She eats, perhaps, a bit more than is entirely seemly for a proper young lady. Of course, a proper young lady would not be carrying around weaponry. She needed her energy, like anyone who'd had an ounce of combat training.

She also watches, from her seat with the children of the various visiting nobles (a bodyguard had no place at the high table, and besides, the few standing up there would do admirably). A not-quite-steady stream of hopefuls signed up for one tournament or the other. She'd not be surprised if a signature was all some of them could write. The half-elven boy from Narah'l, Elijah, looked disappointed at the very mention of the thing, unlike most of the other boys at the table. And girls for that matter, though none were likely to enter. She gave him a second look-over and revised her opinion. He looked to be less of a warrior than the princess, let alone herself or any of the other would-be champions.

She returned her gaze to the high table. How many people would only pretend to lose to the prince? He was a good person, but she would not be surprised if he expected to win, and many people would likely fear beating the prince... A sound. Someone new had entered. He looked vaguely familiar, though she could not place where she had seen the boy before. Most people probably hadn't noticed, but then again most people were probably more concerned with gossip than taking stock of everyone who entered or left.

[Virtue]

"....."

It was Leon. Elijah cringed slightly, as the older boy clapped him on his back and loudly sat beside him. The half-elf had almost finished his meal, and though still slightly hungry, was not compelled to get up and get any more.

The young man remained quiet, as the taller boy talked beside him. He had met Leon several times and the royal was always the same. He had no ill will to the older boy, but their respective fiefs were distant, and they shared little in the way of common interests it seemed. The tournament however...

Elijah watched as his distant relative stood to sign up for the tournament. With a careful glance at his father, who had again stopped paying attention to his only son, he looked back at the table that carried the signature roster. He sighed softly, but wondered if perhaps Leon was right. Was there a chance he might succeed well? The half-elf pondered softly, his mind wandering over his skill with his racial weapon. He let his eyes wander over the assembled court, and frowned. Here there were actual fighters, skilled in combat more than he. He let his eyes rest on the young prince, who was known for both his skill in the field of combat and elsewhere.

Elijah doubted he would win any prize, but he knew that if he didn't try, it would go worse for him. His sapphire eyes glanced back at his father momentarily, before wandering slowly to the table, and silently signed his name.

[Overlord Rion]

"So, do you want to enter?" Edward gave his father a sidelong look. "Seriously? That's not exactly my strong suit you know." His father simply shrugged and winked once. All at once Edward understood. Of all the entrants, only Edward would fight using his brain far more than brawn.

Well, that, and he wouldn't bow down to the prince and pretend to be defeated. He'd make the prince earn it. Or at least try to. "All right, all right. I get it. I'll sign up." Edward slowly rose and headed towards the sign up roster. As he signed it, he flashed a winning smile right at the prince.

Once he had signed, he headed quickly back to his father's side. "You realize I don't carry any weapons, right?"

[rweird]

Edward: "You must know the castle has blades to spare.After breakfast go to the armory and ask for one." he replies. "I'm proud of you for this Edward. I hope you know that."

The great hall begins to clear as people finish eating. They sign up sheet for both the tournaments is nearly filled. I seems many squires have ambitious dreams as well.

The princess hears the conversation. I mainly is the king asking if everything is ready and the adviser assuring him it is.

[Rising Phoenix]

"You look a fair sight more colorful than any pheasant, brother," Aleida says with a grin.


Adric grins back at his sister and followed before he eagerly, perhaps a tad too eagerly, began to eat. There were so many sweets on offer, including many of his favorites: lemon and strawberry cream tarts, apricot stuffed pies, sweet and sour apple stew. Gingerly he placed a couple of choice pieces on his platter and added freshly whipped cream. Though he tried to eat as civilized as possible he still ended with a cream mustache. Gently people nodded that to him, but he realizing that grinned back and pretended to shave. He abruptly stopped and cleaned his face, however, when the King's eyes fell on him as he rose to announce the tourney.

Adric's face immediately lit up at the announcement and turned to his sister "Wish me luck dear sister" he said as he got up to sign. "Leon, Elijha will I have the pleasure of seeing you participate as well?" He turns to Edward's father "Your Grace; your son is more than welcome to one of my blades if he would like to partake in the tourney"

[rweird]

Prince Adric: "Thank you, prince. You are gracious and will make a good king." He replies.

[Virtue]

Elijah quietly passed the other nobles, as they made their way to the table to sign up. Located towards the same end, as the high table, Elijah was able to take in a deeper appraisal of the Lords in power. They sat beside the King, talking amongst themselves. He saw his father in conversation with a lord he didn't recognize, but who looked as if he hailed from a climate far northern than the one he was accustomed to.

As he glanced ahead, he saw the boy Leon sign his name casually, and remain standing beside the table in the same attitude with which he did anything. Elijah quietly wished he held the same confidence and esteem that his distant cousin did. Leon seemed sure of himself in every capacity, where as the young half-elf second questioned every move he made.

Elijah sighed again, as he did too often, and cast his gaze towards the young prince as he too stood up to make his way to the table. Now there, was a paragon of royalty. In line for the throne, and a shining example of human skill and appeal. Elijah winced as he thought of how his father would have preferred this formidable prince, instead of the half-elf he was saddled with.

As Elijah signed his name carefully at the table, applying for the apprentice tournament. He glanced up as the prince addressed him and Leon. He only nodded softly to the prince, and placed the quill back onto the table.

Stepping aside, to let the young royal sign his name as well, Elijah glanced up and saw the princess and her bodyguard watching the signing table. He had met them both on ocassion, but never in a truly personal setting. They were both quite striking in appearance, and the princess wore such extravagant clothes, in a finer detail than his own. He let his eyes wander over them both, simply thinking in his own world about the affairs of humans and their politics, as he often did, before he looked up and noticed that one of them was watching him as well. Elijah blushed, embarassed, and turned away, back towards his table to sit back down in silence.

[Worlok]

Having kind of flaked over the course of the morning, not at all one to rise and shine in a timely fashion as he is, Reynsfarn is still well at work with his breakfast when word of a tourney comes up. "A tourney, huh? Now, what to do about that..." he mumbles to himself, nigh-inaudibly, while chowing down on a slice of breakfast cake ("Breakfast cake, son. A good Wythernian one, or Brulthanian, if you can have it. Let the commoners have their bread, let what even lesser beasts there are have their oatmeal, and eat like befits a duke. But really... do make sure it's not poisoned. Poison can be everywhere. Everywhere. Never now where they hide, those assassins. They are out for me, son. Out for you, even. Mind what the hell you're doing, at all times. Sleep tight." his father's voice resounds in his mind for a moment.) and casually swaying his hip to make sure the hidden blade under his clothing - which, while nowhere near as festive as anyone else's, he has made sure would be the finest three layers of sheep's fur in all the kingdom - is still there and ready to be drawn. It's just so frickin' cold up here. Seriously. Noone seems to be looking at him. Should he join? "Might just as well, I reckon." he continues, now falling silent as the rest is contemplation:

There was something about the shame of his forebears and how Dad always wept for the day he'd take over, now wasn't there? Maybe he'd get some respect out of this one.

Though he was more the kind to be shooting targets, rather than stand melee.

But really, what can go wrong? He was well smart enough to pick foes which he could best easily - not like he couldn't best anyone, really, him being just that awesome.

Still, likely best to not take a risk.

But then why even participate? What to do indeed.

An idea. A good one, even.

Naturally. Every one of mine so far has been a good one.

It will stay that way.

No discussion.

Swallowing the last poorly-chewed bit of cake with little heed to his table manners, he questioningly raises a hand.

[rweird]

The king notices your raised hand and nods. "What is it lad?" He asks. "Speak your mind."

[Ajadea]

Minutes ticked by. As soon as Aleida rose, Sandrine excused herself and went to her side. "Did you see how many people?" Aleida doesn't really need to finish the sentence. "Enough to mean we will be watching pairs of hopefuls hit each other with swords for several hours in hopes of winning gold and fame, milady," Sandrine replies dryly.

Aleida giggles, but not at her statement. "Does he think the great hall is a classroom?" she asks in an undertone, so as not to draw attention to the poor boy. Sandrine follows her gaze. The princess did not need to point. It was clear enough. Pale, dark-haired with an odd red tuft in front, perhaps a little scruffy - maybe he had been ill? She is about to reply when the king speaks. She falls silent, the words having never left her lips, and touches Aleida on the shoulder, reminding her to be respectful and not interrupt her father.

[Worlok]

It will stay that way. So here goes: "Thank you, your majesty. See... I had kind of wondered if... you know... in that tourney. Will there be an archery contest involved, maybe?"

Shy? Afraid of speaking in front of crowds? Of course not.

Just... Careful, yes.

Maintain an elaborate mask to deceive your enemies.

I'm a duke, man, hear me roar!

Nonetheless, he doesn't even get up, just barely managing to not call His Majesty "Uncle Avek" and to avoid all-too-up-front eye contact.

Am I even supposed to call him uncle?

Not like I'm fine with him calling me 'sfernie.

Gods damn it, I hate that nickname.

So very much.

SO. VERY. MUCH.

Keep cool.

This is not going anywhere. Listen up, he's probably gonna answer.

He should, at that.

Don't you dare say that, he's still the king. What did Dad say about lack of respect?

"It's cool when you fling it at commoners, but compared to this man, you're a commoner."

You sure look the part.

Shut it.

Not listening.

Yeah, nor am I.

Yeah, well, who gives a damn.

I. About what he's going to say.

To what?

Archery contests.

Oh. Yeah. Those are fine.

So fine indeed.

Very much.

Within fractures of a second, a long list of feelings rushes over the duke-to-be's face, but certainly, embarassment's not one of them. No, in fact, he did listen and he just heard everything perfectly. So, really, he's not shy. Just not. Of course. He's so confident, he even has those girls there looking at him. One's his cousin. Somehow. Somewhat. Or is she? Why would servant girl look at him, though? Is she even a servant girl?

Don't distract me, woman. Women. Whatever.

Yeah, smooth operating, there. Just keep going.

Shut up now, this is not about them.

Whom?

It isn't?

Wait.

What the hells is wrong here, now?

Nothing. They looked at me.

And they should, at that.

Confident as I am, today.

Oh hush, the king will answer.

Can I maybe call him "uncle", though?

Just shut up.

[THEChanger]

Alvar watched as the vast majority of those he knew in the castle wandered up to the apprentice tourney's sign up sheet. He was nervous. Adric. Elijah. Leon. Even Edward, who normally did not deal in such things. They all were stronger than he, and had worked with the blade longer. Alvar had applied himself to the study of the rapier with dilligence and precision. But would he be good enough? Alvar could feel his hands begin to sweat. He thought he might be able to beat Edward and Elijah. Leon was big, so that could be a stretch, but possible. Adric, though. Adric was-
Then Alvar's mind went blank. He saw her, looking at him. Sandrine. Even now, she looked beautiful. Though their eyes only met for a moment, and in the back of his mind Alvar knew why she looked to him, it filled his heart with joy and courage. Sandrine had seen him enter. If he did not enter the tourney, he would appear a coward. Getting up from his chair, Alvar went over to the list, and placed his name upon it. This tourney, he would find himself against his liege. That much he knew. What would happen then...well, Alvar would cross that troll bridge when he came to it.

[Virtue]

Elijah sat back at his table, and finished his breakfast before placing his plate beside the others, ready for cleaning. He paused and looked out at the window for a moment, before glancing back towards the vast dining chamber.

He noticed several of the young boys he was familiar with, all sign up for the tournament as well. He was not as confident as he would have liked to be, but he reasoned that if he were lucky enough, he might prove victorious.

Elijah carefully pushed his chair back against the table, and wandered back towards his guest room. He mentally wondered where his sister was during all this, but only gave such a thought the slightest of mental energy. He only got along with one of his sisters, the other three were either spoiled, or scheming.

Entering his suite, he carefully, gathered up his armor, and attached his gloves and boots to his slender frame. The half-elf reverently withdrew his elven courtblade and studied it for a moment. He had been able to purchase this weapon from an elven diplomat who had taken kind to him in his youth. The ornate weapon was one of the two articles from the elven lands he cherished. The other item was simply knowledge itself, both unique and somewhat forsworn, Elijah spent many days studying techniques and lore with the visiting Elven ambassadors. Such notes he had written into his personal journal, and kept secret from even his father.

He carefully strapped the scabbard to his back, and sheathed his beautiful blade. He withdrew his sai, a random purchase from a traveling merchant, and stuck it within his belt. He had only bought the weapon, because had never seen one such as it before. He was still unsure of even how to wield it properly, but he would learn someday. With his weapons at command, he donned the last of his possessions, a thin and luxurious red cloak. Despite its appearance, it was heavier than it looked, and he clasped it around his neck and stood up.

Elijah glanced at the mirror nearby, his own self looking back. He saw a young, timid half-elf boy, pretending to be something he was not. Lowering his head, he shook those thoughts from his mind. He knew they would only lead back to his nightmares. Elijah Roarke, a child born of two worlds took a deep breath, and attempted to inject himself with some of the confidence he saw so easily in others like Leon or Adric. Somewhat more confidently, he ignored the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind, and the half-elf turned and walked back out of the room, and back towards the dining chamber, to await the tournament.

[Rising Phoenix]

The prince was surprised to hear Reynsfarn's voice rise above everyone else and address his Father... few people outside his immediate family had the nerve to do that. Perhaps having his Queen Mother as his Aunt gave him the 'courage'? No, Father always said that no one's as bold, crude and, sometimes, as brave as a Wyther.

His eyes wondered to Reynsfarn himself. Though he was of mixed blood too he hadn't inherited any of the southern features he and his sister had. Than he remembered the gossip he had heard: There were rumors that he was a bastard... what did that mean again? Something about his mother not being his mother or something along those lines. But it was a negative thought and it was too great a day to mind such things, he was his cousin and that's all that mattered.

He also noted that he was wearing way too many layers of clothes again and surely not because they were in fashion. Master Federiko his tailor always hated how the Reynsfarn dressed and this 'wardrobe disaster' was almost certainly an over the top attempt to fend of some illness. They made him ridiculous, but better look ridiculous than get ill, again.

Adric's eyes traveled around the room too fall upon Alvar and Elijha. They too had signed up or were in the process of doing so, but they seemed nervous for some reason. He leaned down and lightly clapped a hand on each of their shoulders "You'll do fine" he whispered so as to not raise his voice and interrupt his Father.

[Overlord Rion]

Edward: "You must know the castle has blades to spare.After breakfast go to the armory and ask for one." he replies. "I'm proud of you for this Edward. I hope you know that."

Edward smiles widely. "Yeah, I know. Just hope nobody expects me to do much more than dart around and frustrate them."



He turns to Edward's father "Your Grace; your son is more than welcome to one of my blades if he would like to partake in the tourney"

"One of your blades? Wonderful, it'll make our fight all the more memorable my prince. Just don't expect any quarter from me."


After waiting for the prince's response, Edward looked around the hall, and not seeing Elijah, let his father know he was heading out to find him. "Oh, and I'm going to need somebody to find me some armor too I think, father. Something light. Anyway, off to Elijah." Hopefully he'd catch him right before the dining hall. When he found him he'd greet him enthusiastically. "Hello Elijah, long time no see?" Not quite knowing how Elijah felt about it, he'd automatically said the sentence in Elvish.

[Virtue]

As Elijah stepped back into the dining chamber, a familiar voice called out his name, and dipped into a rough elvish accent. Though, it was not the flowing tongued words he had heard so often in the forested homes, he recognized the speaker quickly, and turned to see one of the young royals making his way towards him.

The faintest of smiles shifted to Elijah's face, as the older boy smiled nearby. The half-elf recognized Edward, and felt a small shift of relief, as if a weight was lifted. Yes, there were few of the royals that he could associate with, but he had always connected with the young literate, more than the others. His quiet habits, fit well with Elijah's own quiet demeanor, and though Edward's elvish was not perfect, it had progressed much farther than their last meeting.

"Edward, Fahdon. Pogaas tiid mu lost ni yah ol zeymah. Hin fahliil rot kos pogaas heim!"

The tentative young half-elf let his elvish flow and he offered his friend a warm handshake. It had been many years since they spoke, but Elijah felt better for his presence. He felt the sword a bit heavy on his shoulder, as he shifted his weight.

"Forgive the armor and weapon, my friend. It seems there will be a tournament to be had later, in the returning hero's honor. I...am to make a good appearance, for my province.."

Elijah's voice tapered off, as he looked past his friend, to the high table, where his father was no doubt entertaining other lords.

In a quieter voice, he looked back at his friend, and said a bit more quietly. "You understand.."

Regaining a small amount of confidence back, Elijah smiles again. Are you going to consider joining the tournament as well?"

[Overlord Rion]

Drats, compared to Elijah's Elvish, Edward's was certainly rough. He'd have to work on that some more. He hadn't worked on the language quite as much as he should have. He tended to prefer Celestial."I wasn't going to at first, then my father threw me a look. I did, in fact, sign up." He clapped Elijah on the shoulder. ""If nothing else, I hope for us to do battle. I can't wait to see you use that blade. Which reminds me...I need to take Adric up on his offer of a blade."

[Virtue]

Elijah seemed taken aback a bit by his friend's comment.

"You are going to compete?" He had never seen Edward actually carry a weapon, which had always felt odd, when in his experience nearly all male royals were trained in the art of combat.

Though his friend was older, and better built, Elijah winced softly, wondering how his friend would do. Though he did not have any greater hopes for his own talents, as he glanced back at his friend, he wondered how one sided a battle between the two might be.

"I wish I had a weapon to lend you, my friend. It will look to be a difficult battle for any of us, considering how many here will compete. There are many more talented fighters among the young royals here-"

Elijah paused for a moment to think upon his words, and look out over the crowd at the dining hall. "But...perhaps, there will be luck on our side today. Only the gods know, Fahdon"

The half-elf placed his hand over the sai at his waist, and simply let his eyes cast out over the crowd, as he awaited for the tournament to begin.

[Ajadea]

Aleida walks over to Adric, Sandrine trailing at an appropriate distance. The princess smiles rather impishly. "Looking forward to the tournament, Adric?" she asks, though by her expression she seems to already know the answer. She lowers her voice so that the remaining people in the hall, with a bit of luck, would not hear her. "If no one gives you a favor, I've got plenty of ribbons if you feel you need something to tie around your sword." Her tone would be insubordinate from anyone else. But they were family. She could tease him and get away with it. And sometimes, you just had to make a joke.

Sandrine surrepitiously adjusted her chain shirt. She had never had much taste for the gossip that her peers seemed to thrive in, and she certainly couldn't go out and train in one of the normally deserted yards, not when all those contestants would be brushing up on their technique. A few words of some foreign language drift to her ear. Not one she knew - she'd primarily studied the monstrous languages. Not terribly useful in a court situation, but they were interesting.

[rweird]

Worlock: "The archery contest will be held tomorrow. Worry not lad. You'll get your chance soon to use a bow." King Avec replies.

The great hall slowly clears. Taking to there various activities, the occupants trail out of the hall.. Servants come to clear away the plates.

[Rising Phoenix]

"One of your blades? Wonderful, it'll make our fight all the more memorable my prince. Just don't expect any quarter from me."


"Excellent!" he replies with an eager smile. "Now if you excuse me, I need to go to the barracks... I could show you the blades and armor now. Everyone else who would like to have a look is welcome to join us as well."


Aleida walks over to Adric, Sandrine trailing at an appropriate distance. The princess smiles rather impishly. "Looking forward to the tournament, Adric?" she asks, though by her expression she seems to already know the answer. She lowers her voice so that the remaining people in the hall, with a bit of luck, would not hear her. "If no one gives you a favor, I've got plenty of ribbons if you feel you need something to tie around your sword." Her tone would be insubordinate from anyone else. But they were family. She could tease him and get away with it. And sometimes, you just had to make a joke.


Adric heard the tone of her voice and knew it to be a tease. "That there's a silly question there Aleida." he replies eagerly "Of course I look forward to sparring with my fellow honorable youths. It will be like the tales of old, filled with the glory, boldness and lucky chances!" Than he leans close to hear her offer and softly smiles "Gladly!... but don't you have someone else you'd rather give your favor too?" he winks.

Just be careful who give it too he later thought We don't want to anger- worse still: embarass- father on a day like this. But you are savvier than me and I trust you'll pick right

[Wyntonian]

After departing dinner, Leon lopes up the stairs to his room, half-singing to himself.

And to my darling Molly,
I loved you all to bits,
I'll climb up through your window,
and see your beautiful dumblee humm

He calls for his single servant, Markus, a boy of about his own age, to help him into his armor. As he shrugs into the breastplate, the vambraces, greaves and gauntlets, belting his sabre and shortsword onto his waist and clipping the buckler into its place near the hilt, his eyes rest only on his bow. "Y'know Mark.. I think I'll try to stick to a distance on this one. A bunch of those guys, the prince especially, would whup me if I get too close. But..." His eyes take on a mischievous glint. "You can probably see where this is going, eh Mark?"

Mark remained as mute as ever.

"I can tell you know where this is going. I can see it in your eyes, bud. Hey, pass me the helmet? Thanks" Settling the helmet over his dashingly unruly hair, he thanks Markus and races back downstairs and out to where to tournament was being held.

He's almost out of breath as he switches gears from a clanking sprint to a dignified, rustling walk, close enough to hear Aledia offering Adric a ribbon. "What? No ribbon for me? Aledia, darling, you're killing me. How can I possibly, ever, hope to win without your favor?" He almost finishes the sentence before his deadpan face cracks into a grin. "Nah, save it for Adric, I'll find some other beautiful lady to offer me bits of string... But alas, no lady's string is as fine as yours..." He swoons melodramatically, and clanks off to see Edward and the other boys, snerkling to himself.

[Virtue]

The dining chambers began to empty out into the massive courtyard beyond. The servants of the palace had already finished setting up for the various tournaments that would be held within the next few days. The sun dipped out from behind the clouds, and shone over the beautiful Brulthan plains, the landscape both humble and majestic at the same time. The populous of the surrounding villages had come to celebrate the arrival of the Kingdom's champion, and set up carts and attractions to liven the festivities.

Everywhere there was laughter, and talking, and merriment to lighten the breaking day. Though still early, the palace and the court grounds were in full bloom, and it was easy to see the rich and vibrant energy throughout. As the others left the dining court, and into the grounds Elijah followed and stepped out into the fresh air. The half-elf shuddered again against the cooler temperature up here, but he pulled his cloak tighter around his small body. He slowly made his way towards the arena that had been set up for the apprenticeship duels.

Elijah recognized many of the combatants, and realized that he had never sparred with any one of them before. As the young boy awaited for the tournament to start, he carefully pondered over his success rate in the ring.

Elijah sighed softly.

[rweird]

The sun rises as everyone gathers expectantly In the outer courtyard waiting for Tegtwiby's procession. The king and his family stand at the front, the lords and there nearby. Many banners of household, knights, and nobles line the walls. The trumpets are sounded and the gates open. In strides Tegtwiby, a man in his forties. He is clad in a flowing purple cloak with his banner, the Ever Watching Eye, a raised fist in a sunburst with a eye, watching for foes. He is adorned with a simple longsword and wears a chain shirt. Behind him comes his banner bearers, and other members of his house and army. Behind him come the other lords. After congratulating lord Tegtwiby for his victory. They move to the tents and prepare for the tournament. Lunch is brought out and the people gather around the rings. "All that are in a tournament or wish to enter but has not, sign up now. The tournaments start in 25 minutes. Everyone that entered should report to the tournament grounds in fully equipped in 20 minutes." Shouts the master of ceremonies.

[Ajadea]

Aleida doesn't quite have time to answer Adric satisfactorially before Leon comes clanking in. She opens her mouth to gently refuse, but he beats her to it. She ends up just shrugging. "If I give just any youth a favor, soon they'll all want one," she tells Adric. "I don't think I have quite that many ribbons."

When King Avek calls for the competitors to prepare themselves, Aleida, true to her word is there with a ribbon. Sandrine stands beside her, extremely on edge, though trying to hide it. Lots of armed strangers tended to make her nervous. "Good luck!" the princess says cheerily, tying the ribbon around Adric's forearm. "You might well need it."

Sandrine, personally, doubted that the prince would need that much luck. Few of the squires and apprentices would have access to quality weapons. Certainly none had the royal training the prince did. And then there was rank to consider. Some would fake a loss, though no doubt a few would not. That would be interesting.

[Worlok]

Figuring it should behoove him to leave well enough alone, Reynsfarn considers the matter resolved with that. So, an archery contest tomorrow. In the presence of the guest of honor, for that much more glory. And a competition I am sure to win, seeing how us men of Wyther are the GREATEST ARCHERERS IN ALL THE REALMS OF MAN. Sweet deal. Having unwittingly done the fist-pump-and-posing-routine of the Wythernian Huntsmen Corps while thinking, he now gives pause, then hastily, if adequately bows his thanks to Uncle Majesty - nice compromise - and sets out after the group of people currently leaving the dining hall. That could have been an awkward moment, there.

As for close combat, though, that's hardly the place of a noble, or at least, that much is what he'd tell anybody who'd mention his lack of participation. It certainly doesn't have anything to do with his own frailty and lack of strength, oh no, sir, and 'sides, others get favors from ladies, he gets to sit besides them. Constantly travelling back and forth between Wyther and the royal residence in the company of paid mercenaries sure left its mark on the future duke's thought process.

[Rising Phoenix]

Adric wanted to make witty banter with Leon, but the sound of trumpets caught him by surprise.

"He's here!" he near yelps grabbing the ribbon from his sister's hands "You do me a great honour by this" he hurriedly says as he plants a quick kiss on her cheeks. "Cheer for me!"

And than he bolts to the armory. Hurriedly he strips-near rips off- down his overladen attire, his face turning read with effort- and throws it at a servant boy of his age. "My sword?! Where's my sword?! He asks before noticing it in front of him "Oh there it is! Thank the gods!" he than notices the boy staring at him awkwardly "Sorry. Could you please take those to my chambers? And help yourself to the cookies while you are at it too."

He performed a couple of flourishes as Ser Patter had taught him. Than pulled his chain shirt over a clean white tunic and strapped his shield to his left forearm. He thumped it once, two, three, four times for luck and quickly uttered a prayer to both the Morning Lord and the God of Valor.

Everything shone gold in the morning light. Everything was perfect.

It will be just like the tales he thought to himself. Smiling he walked to the tourney grounds to meet the others.

[Worlok]

Probably best I gear up for this contest, anyway. Lots of people with swords are a bad place to just bring one weapon. So, I should probably go to my room, get the knives and that potions which Mom insisted I bring along, and then- Memories flare up, his mother insisting he stuff his pack with the healing potions she'd asked that priest to make, his father ranting on about how the clergy would likely be the likeliest to try and off the duke. He finds himself agreeing. The things you could find in healing potions... He vaguely remembers their so-called Court Wizard once showing him a frog in a vial, going on about how just stabbing the thing with a needle while it remained submerged could fuel some sort of floor-heating spell which ran on pain for a month on end. He also remembers quite avidly trapping frogs that spring... the looks on the faces of the village children when their hunting grounds were rapidly depleted by his and the wizard's little net-and-hook-system... so wonderful, their bitter peasant tears so delicious-looking... "Probably just one potion, then. Probably spent too much time with that nutter, too. Ah, well-" he starts pondering at noone in particular, when the trumpets interrupt. "Now, who would this be, then? Our guest of honor? Already? Now?" Probably no time to catch his, then, gotta make do with one dagger. Subtly strolling up to where the princess is standing and making sure not to draw much attention, he waits for further instructions from anyone, figuring that whereever Aleida's going is where they'd want him, too.

[Virtue]

Elijah turned, the young boy saw the Hero Lord, as the procession entered the courtyard. There was much fanfare, and though he did not completely grasp the politics of the situation, Elijah still made a small bow, as the entire crowd passed him by. He remembered his father's words, and they echoed for a moment in his heart. He did not want to dissapoint the man again, not like the incident last month. The young boy sighed, and turned back to the arena, awaiting his name to be called, and for the competition to begin.

[npc revolution]

Marcus, completely lost in his reading, had quite forgotten about dinner, however he did happen to notice the crowd forming out in the courtyard. Overcome with curiosity, he makes his way out to find a tournament about to take place.

Being but a small lad, he is forced to duck and weave around adult waists to the front so he could see. There are some boys he's fairly sure he's met before in armour to the side, and a young lady whose name *definitely* begins with A. He goes over to her.

Excuse me, miss, what's going on?

[Ajadea]

Aleida and Sandrine turn around to look at the newcomer. Their movements are almost perfectly synchronized - one could believe it had been choreographed. Sandrine frowns down at the boy. "Lord Tegtwiby has arrived, and a tournament is soon to begin," she says, in a slightly patronizing tone. She is about to point out Aleida's rank, but she remembers at the last moment that the princess hated that. Besides, if the boy had eyes, Aleida's parentage would become almost immediately apparent.

Aleida smiles and begins to walk over to the arena. "You'd best find yourself a seat if you want to watch- all the good spaces will be taken soon."

[Overlord Rion]

Edward quickly grabbed some armor once the prince left to the armory. He quickly put on the lightest armor he could find and grabbed a sword. He wasn't really sure how people could stand being in it, or even enjoy wearing it. He returned just in time to see the hero pass by, with all the pomp and fanfare required with it. Wonderful, let's bring this tournament on. He'd make a point to find Elijah in the lineup

"Good luck, my friend."

[Virtue]

Elijah seemed startled from his thoughts, as his friend approached him and wished him good luck.

"My thanks, friend. And to you as well." Elijah glanced over his friends armor and weapon. "Will that equipment suit you? Would you not prefer a chance to practice in the grounds?" Elijah glanced over through the court at the crowded grounds. "..or perhaps not, Edward."

Elijah glanced back at his friend, and then back over the audience and contestants. His gaze wandered to the prince. "It seems the prince will compete, but this comes to little surprise. His sister has granted him her favor. I simply have to hope that there is another challenger who may succeed in defeating him in duel, for I am less than confident in my own skills." The young half-elf sighed as he thought again. "It seems some of the local noble girls are giving out favors." Elijah let his fingers comb back his braided hair, gently touching his own ears. "It seems I am to not to be blessed in that arena either today...perhaps you however would have a greater chance of obtaining a bit of luck for the coming battle, Fahdon."

[npc revolution]

"Oh, okay."

Marcus smiles and goes to find a vacant seat nearby. It's quite far back, and within seconds he has gotten bored of the arena and has started looking around the crowd. He idly wonders where his parents are. He'll have to catch up with them later.

[Wyntonian]

Leon stumbles into the area where the contestants are waiting, a red smear as if of lipstick on one cheek and an equally red handprint on the other. "Oh, hey there, gentlemen. A word of my famous sagely advice: there are certain noblewomen who don't exactly appreciate a dashing gent such as myself asking them for favors. Can't say I truly understand why...." He scrubs at his face with a handkerchief for a moment before pausing and staring at it intently

"Bloody hell... How did this get there?" His eyes light up in understanding She slipped than into my pocket? Damn, she's good... Gathering his presence and voice to speak to those boys around him, "Gentlemen, I present to you what may or may not constitute the possible favor of a certain Lady Sarah. Proof of its origin can be determined by measuring the shape of the lip and hand marks upon my face. And a good tournament to you all."

[rweird]

It is time for the tournament. The six of gather along with about a dozen others. They all seem battle ready. The crowd takes there seats. Lord Tegtwiby in a seat of honor. The referee steps into the tournament grounds. "Each battle will be at most thirty seconds. If one lad doesn't yield or fall within that time, the crowd votes for the victor. The winner will go on to the next round. Those defeated in the semi finals will battle each other for third place. Does anyone have any questions?" Asks the referee.

[Rising Phoenix]

Adric's breathing slowly increased as light sweat increased on his brow almost as if he was going faint. His eyes were bright, however, and full of excitement.

Soon, so very soon he thought grinning.

Than he overheard Elijah's delicate voice commenting on how weak he is.

"Elijha you may be small, but that's to your advantage. You are also way more intelligent and wise than most people I know- including myself... Use that and you'll do fine!-"

He wanted to add more, but Leon stumbled into the tend.

"Leon you're being reckless again!" he said with a grin "Then again, the gentler approach never worked for you" :smalltongue:

[rweird]

The people are given there opponents and go are lead into the dueling ground. "Begin."

OoC:I'm running the battles all at once for the sake of time.

Everyone in the tournament, roll initiative.
VS. Elijah Anne Roarke
[roll0]
VS. Adric Alexander Undal
[roll1]
VS. Leon Aurelius
[roll2]
VS. Edward
[roll3]
VS. Reynsfarn of Wyther III
[roll4]
VS. Alvar Norling
[roll5]

I guess I got really lucky...

I'll post the battle maps as soon as I know who goes first.

[Wyntonian]

Leon settles his helmet onto his head and fastens the strap, tucking the handkerchief into his belt. He then draws his blade with a flourish, and unclips the buckler from its place on the sheath. He thinks about making a witty remark, but decides to save it for later. It needed polishing anyway.

Initiative: [roll0]

[Virtue]

Elijah is led into his ground arena by the attendants in charge. With one last glance behind him, he nodded back at his friend Edward wishing him luck.

As the half-elf warily entered the dueling field, he felt nervous, but ready for his first opponent. Though he could not see his family in the audience, he felt sure his father was watching somewhere.

Elijah gripped his sai in one hand, and wrapped his loose cloak around the other. He knew in this way, it could also act as a shield, should the enemy get too close. As he saw the first noble enter the ring, Elijah worried that it might not be enough. The older royal looked quicker, more nimble than himself. Elijah gulped, as he glanced back at to the crowd, and sighed softly. Gripping tighter into his weapon and cloak, he let his vision look back over his combatant.

The half-elf sighed.

Initiative Check : [roll0]

[Overlord Rion]

Edward forgoes being led into the arena, instead leading the way himself. He gives Elijah a thumbs-up as well, though the boy may very well have not seen it. Edward wasn't planning on winning whatsoever, he was simply planning on outlasting his opponent. "Let's make this a decent spectacle, shall we?"

Edward smiles and takes his stance, though he is unfamiliar with it.


Initiative
[roll0]

[THEChanger]

Drawing his rapier, Alvar stepped into the ring. Taking up his stance, he gazed across at his opponent. Now was his chance. It was time to prove to everyone-not the least of all himself-that he was not weak. He was strong enough to hold his own. He was a NORLING!
[roll0]
EDIT: I go first. :smallbiggrin:

[rweird]

Spoilers to divide into people, feel free to read any of it.

Alvar:
Battle Map:
http://i1086.photobucket.com/albums/j460/reweird/Children%20Crusade/Alvarmatch1round1.png
Squire Notes:
Flat-footed

Elijah:
The squire charges, slashing at you.
Attack:
[rollv]1d20+5[rollv]
Damage: [roll0]
Battle Map:
http://i1086.photobucket.com/albums/j460/reweird/Children%20Crusade/Elijahmatch1round1.png
Squire Notes:
Charged,


Leon:
The squire charges, striking with his longsword!
Attack:
Attack: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Battle Map:
http://i1086.photobucket.com/albums/j460/reweird/Children%20Crusade/Leonmatch1round1.png
Squire Notes:
Charged

@ Edward: Sorry, I forgot to number and letter your map, I'll do it now.

[rweird]

Elijah:
The attack: [roll0]

Leon:
Rolling to confirm critical: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

All damage in this tournament the NPCs deal is non-lethal.

[rweird]

Edward:
The Squire dashes forwards striking with his blade!
Attack:
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Battle Map:
http://i1086.photobucket.com/albums/j460/reweird/Children%20Crusade/Edwardmatch1round1.png
Squire Notes:
Charged,

[rweird]

Adric:
The squire runs forwards slashing at you.
Attack:
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Battle Map:
http://i1086.photobucket.com/albums/j460/reweird/Children%20Crusade/ChildrensCrusadeAdricmatch1round1.png
Squire Notes:
Charged,

[Rising Phoenix]

Adric managed to raise his shield just in time to deflect the slash aimed at his face. It still scratched him though.

His fast. On your feet Adric! Don't let him land another blow... They haven't taught him manners either...

"Who am I fighting?" he asks calmly as he swiftly thruths his blade at his opponent.



[roll0]
[roll1]

Adric: HP: 8/9

[Worlok]

Having seated himself in the nobles' lodge, within good view of the seat of honor - meaning as close as he could, barring the seats reserved for the actual royals - and munching a piece of leftover breakfast cake previously swiped from the feast, Reynsfarn takes stock of the fighting below: That scratch's gonna smart tomor', that much's a given, I guess. Shame about dear cousin's face, indeed. Had they but taken me for an example and stayed out of this as befits the wise, they would not need worry about such things at all.

Inches from patting himself on the back for how smart he is, the Wythernian resorts to a smarmy grin. Not that he takes enjoyment from other's injury, of course, that would be terrible. But seeing how that almost-hit seems unlikely to scar, and noone seems to be paying attention to him, anyway, some unhearable gloating sure seems in order. Frankly, I'll probably never get what those knightly types see in having their skulls cracked in. Not like just shooting a guy isn't more effective.

However, he can't help but get excited at watching the dance of blades, clenching, unclenching his fists with each blow exchanged. Still, it's such fun to look at, and not like they seem to mind, anyhow. In fact, though uncivilised as all swordsplay is, the contestants seem to be having a good time of it. Such focus, such ambition everywhere...

A light sting of doubt.

Am I cowardly? Should I have applied? Am I less of a duke for not standing there?

The re-assertation of self-image.

Course not, man. I'm nobility. Nothing to lose but my face, nothing to win but some money. Who am I to let down my guard like that and risk dying? Too easy to sneak in assassins in such a fight, anyway. Some kid who plays dumb and not much to look at, and suddenly whips out a knife and starts gutting you, all under a pretense of fair sportsmanship. Accidents happen, they say. Accidents happen...

A moment of fear.

Accidents happen? Losing face? Wait a second, should such tourneys use sharp blades at all? What if that guy that dear cousin's facing there-

His unyouthfully haggard face now awash with fear, he involuntarily stands up and leans far forward, doubtfully eyeing the fights beneath. They all seem to have been issued real swords. Real weapons. Killing potential, there. His own knife pressing against his pelvis, he is hesitant for a moment still. Is this all a scheme? What if someones goes down and just dies for real? Why would they risk a thing like that? He could take aim and take down a squire, preferably the one facing the prince. Wouldn't take long, and settle that. But is he actually allowed to do that? Is this how they'd like him to shame himself? By his strike with a well-thrown dagger? Or is this a test? True nobility and all that? Maintaining countenance and accepting risks? Probably risking deaths? O so worrisome.

Wait. Why am I so worried? It's not like I should care much, anyway.

Still. He did tell me to help myself to the sweets he had in his room that one time. And I even accepted, to think of that. Dude's too honest to kill a guy with some poison.

And it's not like the rest of the family ever tried.

Fools, then, the lot of them. If I weren't around to take watch like this, they'd all just be goners.

Because I'm smart. So there's that, o yes.

Relaxing at thoughts of his own great Awesome, Reynsfarn of Wyther at last leans back, disguising his standing up and staring as a spur-of-the-moment-reaction to the fight. The prince having gone on the counter-offensive, there's some hope he won't have to get involved, after all. Probably best to just shout advice for the lenght of the squarrels - Thirty seconds, they said, right? Great. This would be seven down. - or simply shut up and keep... cheering... oh.

I'm just risking daggers here, aren't I? Suspicious as always, he whips around, glaring at both of his neighbours before sitting down again, in a rush. Can't have some well-disguised ne'r-do-well backstabbing REYNSFARN OF WYTHER here, after all. Some small part of him holds out hope that noone witnessed his little moment. Another is more realistic, and accordingly, he now utters a small remark, hoping to keep up his act, in case: "Seems a good start to this, doesn't it?" This with casual side-glances at his neighbours, some little boy to the right of him, and the royalty to his left. Anyone? Didn't notice my little stint. It's alright. Now how is that half-elf guy doing, anyway?

And pushing the whole affair out of his mind, seemingly, he keeps watching the fights, obviously just kind of amused and not worried about a thing at all.

Really.

[THEChanger]

Alvar rushed at his opponent, rapier extended. As he came within range of the other squire, he flicked his wrist, and the rapier lashed out towards the midsection of the other combatant. A Norling does not hold back from a fight. A Norling gives no quarter. A Norling gives his opponent no chance to retaliate. The only honor in combat is giving your all. Any opponent who does not do so lacks honor, and is not worth the time it takes. Lightning darted through Alvar's blue eyes. Yes. He could feel it. The blood of his people, beginning to boil. To become energized by the thrill of combat. This was a feeling he never had before. And Alvar liked it.
Charge attack, since the Squire is too far to reach with a normal move action. +2 To Hit, -2 AC.
Attacking with Rapier.
To Hit-[roll0]
Damage-[roll1]:Max 1
Alvar has discovered he likes the idea of combat.

[Virtue]

Elijah has barely enough moment to prepare, as his noble combatant charges towards him straight.

The noble seemed to be a tempered, young man, dressed in the finest, well tailored clothes. Like other royals Elijah had encountered, this young man seemed full of himself, and his first rushing attack, seemed evident of this.

Just in time, the half-elf brought his right arm up, where the heavy cloak was wrapped around, and he felt his opponent's blade deflect off, allowing Elijah to come off unscathed.

The opponent seemed a bit shocked to see his blow deflected so readily, and within a second, Elijah reacts in a fluid motion by throwing his dueling cloak forward, letting it skillfully unwrap, and launch forward towards the opponent's face and body. Stepping back warily from the opponent as he does so, Elijah deftly sheathes his sai within his belt and tenses.


Elijah
AC 18
HP 8
Standard Action : Ranged Touch Attack (Throw Dueling Cloak) [roll0]
Free Action : Move Back 5 Feet
Move Action : Sheathe Sai



Touch Attacks
Touching an opponent with a touch spell is considered to be an armed attack and therefore does not provoke attacks of opportunity. Your opponent’s AC against a touch attack does not include any armor bonus, shield bonus, or natural armor bonus. His size modifier, Dexterity modifier, and deflection bonus (if any) all apply normally.

Dueling Cloak
This elaborate cloak is weighted along the bottom edge with numerous small lead beads sewn into the seam. It is often used to parry with, wound around a character's off-hand to act as a buckler (+1 Armor Bonus, -1 Armor Check Penalty, 5% Arcane Spell Failure), but may also be thrown like a net to entangle opponents. When you throw a dueling cloak, you make a ranged touch attack against your target. The cloak's maximum range is 10 feet, and you suffer no range penalties to throw it even to its maximum range. If you hit, the target is entangled. An entangled creature suffers -2 on attack rolls and a -4 penalty on effective Dexterity. The entangled creature can only move at half speed and cannot charge or run. If the entangled creature attempts to cast a spell, it must succeed at a Concentration check (DC 15) to be able to cast the spell. The entangled creature can escape with an Escape Artist check (DC 10) that is a full-round action. The cloak has 3 hit points and can be burst with a Strength check (DC 20, also a full-round action). A dueling cloak is only useful against creatures between Tiny and Medium size, inclusive, and need not be folded to be thrown effectively.

[npc revolution]

While all the fighting goes on, Marcus's mind starts to wander, his eyes glaze over and he starts to think about all the things he knows about Lord Tetwigby and his battles.

Knowledge (History) [roll0]

[rweird]

Elijah:
The squire tries to disentangle himself from the cloak.
Escape Artist Check (DC 10): [roll0]
Battle Map:
http://i1086.photobucket.com/albums/j460/reweird/Children%20Crusade/Elijahmatch1round2.png
OoC: Not that It matters because you could have 5-foot stepped first but wouldn't the dueling cloak throw provoke an AoO because it isn't a spell? The dueling cloak is a ranged touch attack, ranged attacks provoke AoO

Adric:
"Hlod, squire to sir Arnold" he replies, staggering under Ardic's blow. He brings his blade down in a downwards slash.
Attack:
Attack: [roll1]
Damage: [rollv]1d8[rollv] I won't redo this because an 8 would just miss.
Use the same battle map.

Alvar:
Are you doing non-lethal damage, if so, I find it very hard to believe you have a +9 bonus to hit as a 1st level aristocrat.


Knowledge on Tegtwiby:
Don't read unless you beat the DC of the knowledge (History).
DC 10:
In his forties, Lord Tegtwiby has been quite an influential figure. Having the best trained and largest army, the king turns to him for military support. His banner is the Ever Watching Eye.

DC 15:
Having a brilliant tactical mind and being a formidable warrior has made his name well known. He has greatly reduced criminal activity in and around his fief. His formidable power is probably the greatest reason that the kingdom has enjoyed peace for over 20 years, save the rebellion of "lord" Rews.

DC 20:
Tegtwiby's house has had a powerful military for generations. He has been essential to relations Bruthan and Temhod. He was friends with Rews's father and because of that, didn't press the offensive. The Ever Watching Eye symbolizes his house remains watchful for any foe of the kingdom, and always will.

DC 25:
The house of Tegtwiby was a house before Bruthan was founded. The house was of the kingdom of Zelvek, Bruthan's predecessor. There house betrayed Zelvek and allowed Bruthan to gain victory. As a reward, the house was given more landand a place in Bruthan.

[Virtue]

The combatant throws off the cloak, disentangling himself and letting it fall to the floor, but Elijah had already prepared for this.

As the young royal escapes from the heavy cloak, Elijah steps back towards him with a flourish, drawing his blade from his scabbard. His elven courtblade held easily with both hands, the heft feeling so natural in his grip, the half-elf lunges at his opponent with a swift blow.


Free Action : Move 5 Feet towards Noble
Move Action : Draw Elven Courtblade
Standard Attack : Hit - [roll0] / Damage - [roll1]

[rweird]

Elijah: Roll to confirm critical. (Elven court blade criticals on 18-20 I think) Also, did you apply the -4 to hit to be non-lethal or are you doing lethal damage?

[Virtue]

Standard Attack : Hit - (1d20+1)[18](19) (-4 Non-Lethal) 15
Critical Hit - [roll0]
Damage if it's a Crit - [roll1]

[rweird]

Elijah:
Round 3
Just nicked he counter attacks.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] 2 damage, sorry, I don't know why I did 1d6+1 instead of 1d6

[Ajadea]

Though Aleida's eyes are locked on Adric's combat, Sandrine is watching the stands as well as the battle. Most people could not manage to observe everything. They focus on one, and ignore the rest. Focusing on nothing was not easy, and indeed gave her a terrible headache, but she was doing her best. Sandrine hears the shuffling of someone behind her trying to get comfortable, the deafening cheers from sections of the stadium as blows land, Adric's question from below and Reynsfarn, speaking from her right. She focuses on him, ignoring the headache springing up.

"Yes," she replies. Prince Adric seemed to be roughly matched with the squire that fought him. Perhaps someone had the guts to fight with the intent of defeating the crown prince after all. Ah- the squire had missed. Perhaps not. She returns her attention to the stands. Every sudden movement from behind her, every strange noble, is a poisoned blade, a potential threat. She could not relax, even with the properly trained royal guards standing so close, the ones with shields and plate and swords.

She should believe they'd keep the royal family safe. But she remains wary, unable to let her guard down. There are too many people. It's not as if this is a new problem with her though. Every day seems to chip at her trust a little more, particularly days with lots of visiting nobles.

[rweird]

The battles don't happen at once IG, I'm doing them all at once to save time.

[Virtue]

Elijah feels his blow just barely graze his opponent, as the royal thrusts back with an attack of his own. Elijah falters softly, feeling his first hit, as he attempts to shake off the attack, and follow through with his own weapon.

Elijah thrusts his weapon at the squire again, attempting to hit again.


Elijah
AC 18
HP 8 (6)
Standard Action : Hit - [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[Wyntonian]

Leon got his small shield up in time, barely, but the force of the blow knocked the buckler out of his hand and sent him to his knees, ears ringing and dazed. He didn't even see the blow that put his face in the dirt.

[rweird]

Leon: OoC:
I find it very hard to believe your flat-footed AC is greater than 20 or that you have more than 12 HP seeing as you have a max con of 16 (18-2 for being youth)

Elijah:
Round 4
dodging you swipe he strikes once more with the flat of his blade.
Attack:
To hit: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Virtue]

Elijah feels the air pass him by, as his blade slashes the air, only inches from his opponent. Luckily, his positioning had helped him narrowly miss the returning blade, as the half-elf gripped tighter to his sword, and buried his mind into the fight. He could feel the audience watching his every move. He didn't risk taking his mind off the fight, but he secretly wondered whether his family was watching him now. Was anyone actually watching this young half-human child and rooting for him?

Elijah sighed, and sweared softly in elvish, too low to hear, as he thrust his weapon again at the rival for the duel.



Elijah
AC 18
HP 8 (6)
Standard Action : Hit - [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[rweird]

Elijah:
Round 5
He ducks again and counters with a thrust.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Virtue]

Elijah winced as his opponent's attack missed as well. This battle was clearly not going as he imagined. He shifted in place for a moment, sizing up the squire, as he prepared for another attack.

He heard a general murmur from the audience. He realized the duel had a time limit, ad he knew he was running out. Dealing only minor hits, he and his opponent had no doubt left the audience wanting more. The half-elf could only hope that he be declared the champion, after the bout was over. He knew that his heritage was not widely known among the general populous, so perhaps he still had a chance to succeed.

Brandishing his elven courtblade deftly with two hands, he grips tighter and in one last desperate lunge, he thrusts towards the combatant.

If this would be his last attack, by his elven god, he would make it count!


Elijah
AC 18
HP 8 (6)
Standard Action : Hit - [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[rweird]

Elijah:
I think you hit him twice, he hit you once so his Charisma check [roll0], you have +6 (+5 Char, +2 Hits, -1 Hit)

[Virtue]

Elijah completely fumbled his thrust, and inevitably his forward momentum, landed him on the ground, dusty with his attempt. Had the duel continued, he may have had another chance, but as the horns blew out, the half-elf realized his duel had ended.

He had missed. Again. The young boy slowly stood back up, and dusted himself off. A part of him had wanted to cry, he was still ten years old after all, but he held it back. The duel had gone much worse than he had imagined, but he simply took a deep breath and sighed.

He knew his father would not be pleased at all.

Elijah dusted his sleeves again and shook the hand of his opponent. The duel had ended in a draw, so it was to be up to the audience to declare the winner. His only chance now was for him to be seen as the victor regardless.


Elijah only hit once, unless you count dueling cloak.
Charisma Check - [roll0]

[Overlord Rion]

Edward gracefully dodged out of the way of the squire's charge. This was bad. Edward was fairly certain he couldn't do that again. At the same time, he was fairly sure he couldn't win this one.

Right then, fairly easy. I'll just outlast him. That's my only option.

Edward currently has 14 AC, but he's taking a 5-foot step up and doing Total Defense. (Sorry it took so long, I had to find where it said Total Defense was a standard action and whether or not I get AoOs.

Just to speed combat up, assume a 5-foot step away from him and Total Defense.)

[rweird]

Elijah: The crowd almost entirely agrees that you are the greater warrior.

Elijah gains 150 EXP. Because non-lethal damage recovers so fast, you'll be back at full health for the next fight. I'll wait to see who else wins before doing match 2.

Leon:
You wake up some several minutes later, the match is over, you lost.

Edward:
Round 2: The squire lunges forwards and strikes again

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Overlord Rion]

The squire lunge forward, but Edward manages to direct the blow into the ground, forcing the squire to miss again. Phew, that one was a bit close for comfort. Let's hope my luck holds. Why do I never grab armor?

5-foot step to the side and total defense yet again.

This is probably the first time I've had to use that action more than once in a battle.

[rweird]

Edward:
Round 3
He lunges again!
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Overlord Rion]

Instead of being at all graceful about this one, Edward just smacked the squire's sword out of the way. So this is how close combat feels. Kind of exhilarating.

Same as last turn. step, total defense.

[rweird]

Edward: Round 4
"Start fighting" the squire growls slashing once more.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Overlord Rion]

Edward would take a solid thwack on his shoulder. "You want me to swing? Fine, I'll swing. Just no laughing now, you hear?"

Going to fight defensively.

Attack roll: [roll0]

Damage: [roll1]

[rweird]

Edward: Round 5
Parring the blade he counter swipes.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Your turn and the duel ends.

[Overlord Rion]

Edward manages to counter his counter-strike. He'd been hit once, not bad for someone who rarely fought with weapons. That match would end after this strike, he hoped it would hit.

Attack roll: [roll0]

Damage: [roll1]

[Rising Phoenix]

Edward: Round 4
"Start fighting" the squire growls slashing once more.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

"Well Hlod. Squire to Sir Arnold nice to meet you." he grins "How old are you?"

[roll0]
[roll1]
non lethal

[Virtue]

The crowd cheered, and the match ended.

It had not been his most impressive day, and Elijah felt a heavy hand on his mind. His father would have words with him, no doubt, and the young boy did not look forward to hearing his sister's taunts.

As he collected his cloak from the floor and clasped it back around his neck, one of the regulators walked to him, and notified that he had been declared the winner of the duel.

The young half-elf was surprised and taken aback, but a small smile crept over him, and he blushed.

"Thank you, Lord." Elijah bowed and smiled, walking out of the ring. He was not sure he deserved it, but a part of him was happy with the praise, all the same. He had hoped that his god would have blessed him on his last hit, but it seems that such occurrences were never to be. His smile slowly faded, and the young boy sighed a bit, and walked back to the side lines.

With a glance into the audience, he noticed the High Lords sitting beside the King. He saw his father sitting close by, his sister beside him. Only his sister was watching Elijah, and she gave him an almost sadistic look.

Elijah turned almost instantly, and huddled his cloak tighter around his body, awaiting the next battle to be.

[rweird]

Adric: Don't you have +5 with subduing strike? If so hit, if not miss."

Edward: Opposed Charisma Checks:
He hit once, you hit 0 times. [roll0]

[Overlord Rion]

Well, that was a decent fight. I only got hit once, and that hit nearly knocked me out flat. Too bad, because it looks like the prince and I don't get to fight after all.

Charisma Check: [roll0]

[Rising Phoenix]

Adric: Don't you have +5 with subduing strike? If so hit, if not miss."
[/SPOILER]

does subuing strike grant you +5 with non lethal attacks? I am away from books atm

[rweird]

Edward: It is very close, the crowd finds it a very even fight but in the end decides against you.

Adric: No, it just makes it so you don't have the -4 penalty.

[rweird]

Adric: Sorry I forgot to do his turn.
Round 3
"A little worse off from that close call but other than that, I'm fine." Hlod replies flicking his blade at your leg.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Rising Phoenix]

"I see" replies Adricwith a smile.
He easily jumps over Hlod's attack and attempts to bring his blade to Hlod's Chest.


Come on, roll higher! Edit: Natural ONE! Fantastic
[roll0]
[roll1]

[rweird]

Alvar: The squire ducks the stab, just barely and brings the flat of his blade at your ribs.
Longsword:Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Battle Map:
http://i1086.photobucket.com/albums/j460/reweird/Children%20Crusade/Alvarmatch1round2.png
Round 2, your turn.

[rweird]

Adric: Round 4
Dodging you blade he slashes again.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Rising Phoenix]

Adric: Round 4
Dodging you blade he slashes again.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

The crowd gasped as the blade Hit Adric on his flank so hard that it caused him to near lose his balance. It also made him to bite his lip forcefully so that it bled. A shadow was now evident around his eyes, but he seemed more resolved then ever. One... more... swing


Oh divine Betty! Goddess of dice, please shine your blessings upon poor Adric! :smallbiggrin:
[roll0]
[roll1]

Edit: HIT! I hope. Also I just noticed that I've been omitting one point (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=359296)from his attack rolls. Not that it would change anything... XD

He has 2 hp left to pass out...

[rweird]

Adric: Hit.
Round 5
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Your turn then the duel is over.

[Rising Phoenix]

Adric side stepped despite his shortness of breath, he quickly kissed his sister favor, and lashed out a vertical slash.

Oh valorous Betty you are the most beauteous deity of them all! Please favor Adric and to your altar chocolate moose I shall offer. :smalltongue:

[roll0]
[roll1]
-Uses favor
-Non lethal

[Ajadea]

Aleida gasps as Adric stumbles back. He couldn't lose! She'd given him her favor too. The prince wasn't supposed to lose. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. "Adric, start fighting damn you," she mutters. Her hands are fisted in her dress. Her face lights up like a candle when Adric turns briefly and kisses her favor - and then drops, just as suddenly, when he misses regardless.

Beside her, Sandrine winces. That blow looked nasty. She twitched. It clearly wasn't lethal, but the prince would likely be out cold for hours if he bore another blow. And this was only the first round. Yet some part of her was pleased. So, someone had the courage to stand up and fight the prince in truth - and the skill to almost win, at that!

[Virtue]

Elijah had been waiting patiently beside the arena now, for some time, as combatant after combatant entered the ring.

He knew he would not get another chance to compete, until the winners of the first match were decided.

The young boy winced, as he saw the Prince take another hit. He had been surprised to see that the Prince would be the last combatant in the first round, and equally surprised to see him do as poorly as Elijah himself had done.

No, I'm sure the Prince is going easier on the young squire, in an attempt to put on a good show. Elijah thought.

As the prince dodged another blow, Elijah clapped with the audience, and the half-elf wondered whether he might have to face the Prince in a future round.

[THEChanger]

Alvar danced away from the squire's incoming blade. "An honor, sir Squire. May the cold winds of Aeirgaurd look kindly upon you." Once more, Alvar lashed out with his rapier, attempting to strike a non-vital area. The rapier was ill-suited to this sort of combat, he now realized.
Non-lethal damage. -4 penalty.
To Hit-[roll0]
Damage-[roll1]
EDIT: I have to deal one point of damage. But I probably didn't hit.

[Worlok]

Did she just reply to that? Reynsfarn finds himself quite perturbed by the notion of what appears to be a mere servant initiating conversation. On the other hand, their kind -are- obliged to answer to nobles, aren't they? Best to not question it too much. Whyever would she stand besides Aleida's seat, though? Why all those suspicious glances? She seems to be around her a whole lot, in general. Didn't she look at me back in the hall, as well?

With another surge of paranoia imminent, ye olde Reynsfarn rationale kicks in at once: Probably a bodyguard. Though probably too young to be a real bodyguard. She looks like, what, eleven? 'bout my age, then, actually... Something about that thought seems more interesting than it should be. Odd. Meaning she's either one of those "child prodigies" one keeps hearing about, or... He doesn't even have to think the "A"-word by this point, but does anyway. Well... Unlikely. She's been 'round here as long as I've been, at the very least. She could have struck at any point in time. Especially without a cunning mind like mine around to keep control. If that was her I've seen 'round here before... Some odd bit of lore/silliness pops up in his head, regarding assassins donning disguises and sometimes wearing the skin of people close to their victims to remain undetected, and for a moment the potential future duke considers drawing steel (short-term) as well as doing something about his poor memory when it came to recognising faces (long-term).

Neither plan comes to fruition, though, as the face in question, or more aptly, its whole owner, suddenly winces, accompanying an equally sudden shout of "Adric, start fighting damn you," leading him to re-focus on the arena once again. With a start. Seems to be looking bad down there. While already hoping servant-girl did not notice him staring for a few seconds there - Why does that worry me? - he, himself, resolves to bring in some moral support: "Give 'm what for, cousin! The hells does he think he is?" Though probably not loud enough to be heard all the way down there. Keeping his countenance, and all that.

[rweird]

Adric: Opposed Charisma Checks, he was hit once hit you twice. [roll0]

Alvar:flicking your ill suited rapier to the side we strikes for the third time.
Attack: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Round 3 your turn.

[rweird]

Roll to confirm critical on Alvar:
[roll0]
Extra damage: [roll1]

[rweird]

I'm not sure why that happened. Trying again:
To Confirm:[roll0]
Extra Damage: [roll1]

[Rising Phoenix]

Adric: Opposed Charisma Checks, he was hit once hit you twice. [roll0]


Got a 15 in the OOC thread. Do you want me to roll again? If so [roll0]

[rweird]

Adric:The group debates this duel for quite some time. In the end the Adric is decleared the winner though they both fought very well.

OoC: Please roll in the IC thread for all rolls.

Adric gains 150 EXP. Because of the game time in between the match and the speed non-lethal damage recovers, your back at full.

[Virtue]

Elijah wasn't sure if he was nervous or relieved as the audience declared the young prince the champion of the duel. Of the combatants so far, only he and the prince had won theirs, of those he was familiar with.

That could potentially mean he and the prince may have to duel. Considering his luck of the previous fight, he had little confidence he would do well. Especially against the royal son to the throne.

The half-elf glanced out at the audience, and sighed. He had only been gone for several days, but already missed the warm weather from his home woodlands.

[Overlord Rion]

Edward sighed. He might as well bear it and hope something else more suited to his abilities would pop up. In the meantime, he would be quickly found at Elijah's side. "Not exactly my best moment, but I'm surprised he only managed to hit me once. How did your battle fare? With skills like yours, you probably won, right?"

[Rising Phoenix]

Adric:The group debates this duel for quite some time. In the end the Adric is decleared the winner though they both fought very well.

OoC: Please roll in the IC thread for all rolls.

Adric gains 150 EXP. Because of the game time in between the match and the speed non-lethal damage recovers, your back at full.

Adric's head was spinning. He didn't quite realize that they had ruled in his favor... For a moment he felt elated, but then saw Hlod's freckled and scarred face. This wasn't right. Wincing he straightened his back before he raised his voice.

"My good Lords and Ladies, Lord Tegtiby, my dear Queen Mother and my good King Father." he looks at each party in turn "I am honoured that you think me worthy to be victor of this fight. However, the truth of the matter is that Squire Hlod here was the better blade today. I do not find it chivalrous to take the place from someone to which it rightfully belongs." he offers to raise Hlod's hand as he finishes his speech.

Sorry if I misspelled the Lord's name, I cannot be bothered to look it up :P. Diplomacy check in case you need it [roll0]

[rweird]

King Avek rises "Most noble of you prince Adric, you have fought well, yet you yield. A good leader must do what he thinks is best and in this, you do. Hlod is the winner. I am proud of you my son." The crowd cheers as the king makes room beside him for you to sit.

Elijah: Match 2
Initiative: [roll0]
Battle map once I know who goes first.

[Virtue]

Elijah remained quiet as the audience had voted for the champion of the previous duel. Nearly as soon as the prince had been voted for, Edward had wandered up to him, proclaiming the results of the duel before the Prince's.

"I saw your duel, Fahdor, I am sorry you were not successful. I believe that you should have been declared victor regardless. It is not enough a combatant chooses to win through defense, rather than offense."

Elijah paused as the regulators wandered up to the young Prince, to inform him of the audience's decision.

"..I was victorious...but my father will not see it that way. The young half-elf sighed softly. "Some days I simply do not underst-....what!"

Prince Aldric, heir to the throne, sacrificed his chance for victory and had stepped down to declare his challenger the winner.

"...."

Elijah was still stunned, when moments late one of the regulators approached him, and informed the young boy, his duel could commence shortly.

Still unsure of the recent events, Elijah nodded, and follow the human to his next duel. He turned to Edward with a nervous look and wandered to the next battle.


Elijah Roarke
Initiative : [roll0]

[Rising Phoenix]

Adric's movements are somewhat awkward as he walks past the young half elf. Quickly and discreetly he lowered his head and whispered

"I told you'd do fine! I'll be watching with the rest. Good luck!"

On the way up the stands he quickly scans for his sister's face. Once he had her attention, and her servant's unnervingly sharp attention, he gestured apologetically, though he knew that he would get chastised for his failure soon... He then continued to walk up to his father... and his hero....

His heart started to beat rapidly once more, but he managed to keep his composure. He shook the hands of those who wished for a handshake and greeted all those he could quickly trying to remember who they were and if they had done any worthy deeds. Perhaps his favorite author the Minstrel Arianna Songstar was amongst them?

After smiling at his father in greeting and kissing his mother's hand he sat where he was gestured too... hoping that someone would soon speak to him.

various rolls. Spot check to see faces [roll0]. Knowledge Nob. and Roy. to recognize them and their history [roll1] and a Listen check for juicy gossip :smalltongue: [roll2]

Edit: Ok WHY couldn't I have gotten those rolls a few posts earlier?!:smallyuk:

[Ajadea]

"Adric! Why'd you do that!" Aleida says. If her voice was louder, she'd be yelling. As is, she does a fairly good impression of yelling for someone who's barely speaking above a whisper and hardly audible outside the royal box. Sandrine, for the moment, plays deaf. Aleida would appreciate the gesture, and it might stop people from giving her strange looks.

"Tournaments are about the audience's decision as much as smacking people around with blades. People wanted to see you fight. I wanted to see you fight," she adds, just a touch petulantly. "It's not all about chivalry. A tourney's supposed to be interesting. How you fight is as important as how many times you hit. And even failing, you were more interesting than Clod down there."

Sandrine was fairly sure the princess was deliberately messing up Squire Hlod's name, as her memory was normally very sharp. Perhaps to aggravate her brother? Perhaps to show the difference in how people would think of the squire.

[Worlok]

"...WHAT? This horrible knightly streak of his, seriously..." Facepalming and muttering into his sleeve as he now sits, Reynsfarn finds himself not understanding this turn of events at all. Judging from the princess' reaction, he's not alone with that. But I guess that's cousin Ad for you. Too righteous to keep an advantage. It's going to kill him one day, mark my words. On the other hand, butting into a conflict involving his likely future ruler would be quite unwise, now wouldn't it? Even if my... likely future ruler just forewent a given victory to reward the efforts of a glorified grunt. Still, better hang back, let this blow over, rely on Aleida to chew him out. After all, she seems to be sharing his sentiments on the matter. And should it later be found that this... Clod's victory - Good one, cousin! - is an insult to the royal house... I know about accidents happening. Righto. It is a good day, such opportunities to be had if he just keeps his gob shut now. What a genius, I! Some lesser mind would have jumped at the chance to score points there.

Content, once again, with his self-obsession, the Wyther leans back in his seat, watching the masses below, savoring this feeling of detached control, before shifting his gaze onto the king and queen and their guest of honor. Oh, by the way... "Oy, you there," he adresses the boy beside him, rudely grabbing him by the upper arm and pointing towards Tegtwiby, "you look like the kind that reads a lot. Anything you can tell me about the Lord there?" This kid's named Marcus, I think? Marquard? Marbadine? Well, not like I have to know that.

[rweird]

Elijah:
Battle Map:
http://i1086.photobucket.com/albums/j460/reweird/Children%20Crusade/Elijahmatch2round1.pngYour Turn.

Adric:
You know of them, the nine lords (With the exception of Rews) and the royal family sit in the top box. There families sit in the box or close by. They all seem to focus on the match though they talk in whispers every so often, though you can't make out what is said.

[Virtue]

Elijah nervously enters the ring against his next opponent. Again, without a favor, nor with the blessings of either family or divine spirit, the young half-elf feels utterly alone.

The new squire looks fresh and ready to duel, and as the half-elf hefts his two handed blade easily in his hands, he wonders whether the new combatant will be his end, this time.

Shaking his head, and sighing, Elijah glances up in silence. Shifting his weight to his far foot, Elijah moves forward with speed, rushing towards the squire. He drags the Courtblade halfway through the dust, before bringing it ready to attack full on.


Elijah Roarke
HP : 8
AC : 18 (16 until next Turn)
Full-Round Action : Charge Hit (Non-Lethal) - [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Standard Action : -NA-
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[Wyntonian]

Leon wakes up laying on a cot, with a rather attractive young nurse bent over him tying a bandage around his head. He appreciates his interesting perspective for a short while before commencing agonized, terrible moans of utter pain. As the young nurse gasps and turns away to get him a cup of something involving a painkiller, he sneaks out the back of the tent to watch the tournament continue, chuckling to himself.

[rweird]

Elijah:
Your strike goes wild and he counters with a upwards swipe.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Round 2 Your Turn.

[Virtue]

Elijah falters as his attack misses, and in a stunning reply, the squire slashes into Elijah, nearly knocking the half-elf down.

Elijah panics for a moment, unsure of what should be his next move. Already his confidence was less than shot, and the fact that the prince had simply relinquished his own battle offerred Elijah little faith in his own abilities.

Wielding his two handed blade, he strikes out at the opponent with all he can muster.


Elijah Roarke
HP : 8 (5)
AC : 18
Standard Action : Non-Lethal [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[rweird]

Elijah:
Your confusion makes you lose focus and the strike goes wide. Smiling the squire brings his blade whirling around his head.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Round 3, Your Turn.

[Virtue]

His attack went wild, and his opponent missed him by inches.

Elijah could feel the weight of his cloak as he ducked the opponent's blade, and he tried to use its weight to recover back in the groove.

This was simply a young man like any other. He could be defeated. All Elijah had to do was try harder. As his father always said, power comes in all forms, but in the end, all that matters is power.

Elijah muttered something in elvish, gripped tighter into his Courtblade and thrust his attack towards the squire, hoping to hit home.


Elijah Roarke
HP : 8 (5)
AC : 18
Standard Action : Non-Lethal [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [rolvl]1d8[/rollv]
IF Critical Hit - [roll1]
IF Critical Success - [rolvl]1d8[/rollv]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[Rising Phoenix]

"Adric! Why'd you do that!" Aleida says.

"Tournaments are about the audience's decision as much as smacking people around with blades. People wanted to see you fight. I wanted to see you fight," she adds, just a touch petulantly. "It's not all about chivalry. A tourney's supposed to be interesting. How you fight is as important as how many times you hit. And even failing, you were more interesting than Clod down there."


Adric's face turned mischievous at his sister scolding. He knew it was coming and always found her little fits of annoyance amusing. However, when he heard her misspelling of the squire's name his face turned more serious.

"It's Hlod, Aleida" He says in a slightly reprimanding voice, but he soon sighed; he couldn't be cross at his little sister "Tell me Aleida, if you had one of your favorite large, juicy peaches in your hands and I came over and took it from you and I started eating it in front you, its sweet juice dripping down my chin, what would you call me?"

This was one of Adric's younger memories- Oh the scolding he rightfully received.

As he finished his question Elidjah entered the ring. He looked even tinier from the stands, but he was lucky first time round, maybe the gods would smile on him again?

[rweird]

Elijah:
The squire flicks the flat of his blade at your ribs.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Round 4, Your Turn.

[Virtue]

Elijah narrowly deflects the blow with his massive blade, as he recovers from the previous miss. The battle was reminding him too much of the one before. he had yet to hit his opponent, though he already sported a wound.

The young half-elf pushed on regardless, hefting the blade in an arc towards the squire, ignoring the sounds of the audience nearby, as he throws himself mercilessly into his swing.


Elijah Roarke
HP : 8 (5)
AC : 18
Standard Action : Non-Lethal [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[THEChanger]

The Squire's sword smashed into Alvar's facing, knocking him to his knees. Breathing heavily, and bleeding from his nose, Alvar's vision faded in and out. The darkness of unconsciousness was slowly encroaching on his vision. It was no good. Alvar had trained for lethal combat, not this dishonorable folly the citizens of the castle called a Tourney. Slowly, he staggered to his feet, ready to surrender. Then he saw her. Sandrine. Watching. Perhaps it was the damage he had recieved to his head, but he could have sworn he saw her smiling down at him. "No. No. NO!" Alvar shot his rapier forward, filled with rage and pain. Now he wasn't playing. Alvar had blood drawn. Now he wanted to draw blood.
NOW Alvar's trying to deal lethal damage. Yes I am aware this is against the rules of the Tourney. Alvar has taken nonlethal damage equal to his HP -1. He's angry.
[roll0]
[roll1] Minimun 1 Damage.

[Ajadea]

Adric's face turned mischievous at his sister scolding. He knew it was coming and always found her little fits of annoyance amusing. However, when he heard her misspelling of the squire's name his face turned more serious.

"It's Hlod, Aleida" He says in a slightly reprimanding voice, but he soon sighed; he couldn't be cross at his little sister "Tell me Aleida, if you had one of your favorite large, juicy peaches in your hands and I came over and took it from you and I started eating it in front you, its sweet juice dripping down my chin, what would you call me?"

This was one of Adric's younger memories- Oh the scolding he rightfully received.

As he finished his question Elijah entered the ring. He looked even tinier from the stands, but he was lucky first time round, maybe the gods would smile on him again?

"A numskull," Aleida answers promptly, her expression a little too neutral after that little rant. "And a disgrace. You are the heir to the throne and you should know how to use a napkin properly. And in any case, if the peaches are that big and juicy, they've probably all ripe on the trees and you could have gone and picked one without a bite in it. Or got someone else to pick one for you."

Sandrine's lips twitch and she focuses on the combat. Better than listening to Aleida deliberately and carefully miss the point the prince was trying to make in its entirety. Below, the bout was a flurry of misses all around, and the Roarke boy was wielding a blade that, from this angle, looked to be as big he was. She wondered how the slight noble could even lift that sword, let alone swing it as he had.

[Rising Phoenix]

"A numskull," Aleida answers promptly, her expression a little too neutral after that little rant. "And a disgrace. You are the heir to the throne and you should know how to use a napkin properly. And in any case, if the peaches are that big and juicy, they've probably all ripe on the trees and you could have gone and picked one without a bite in it. Or got someone else to pick one for you."


Adric laughed, he thought about correcting her; but he knew that his sibling was doing it on purpose.

"Why yes, I am sure I'd look like a dribling baboon with big red-um..." he quickly changed the word he wanted to say "-big red peaches!" he sighed to calm down, he didn't wanted to embarass father "More importantly Aleida, I'd be a numskull, but I'd be a numskull with friends."

Aleida's rants are adorable. I just want to pinch her cheeks! :P

[Ajadea]

Aleida diverts her eyes for a moment. "Yes. Of course. You would have friends," she says, her teasing tone briefly disappearing. Sandrine knows the prince had touched a nerve, though she had not even been watching them interact. Aleida did not make friends easily, and kept to herself most of the time. You would have friends. She hears the unspoken emphasis. Of course Adric would have friends. He was the charming one, and Aleida was the troublemaker who had never been able to accept what was and be the proper little porcelin doll that she should be - though she wasn't sure that was the life she wanted either. Sandrine didn't need to read thoughts to hear that. She'd heard enough ranting already to know.

"Which is, for some utterly unfathomable reason, more important than not looking like an absolute imbecile, I presume. And peaches are orange. If I saw a red peach, I'd not eat it." And the quiet, but ever insistent, mocking had returned, tinged with a bit of sarcasm now as well. Aleida had barely missed half a beat.

[Rising Phoenix]

Aleida diverts her eyes for a moment. "Yes. Of course. You would have friends," she says, her teasing tone briefly disappearing. Sandrine knows the prince had touched a nerve, though she had not even been watching them interact. Aleida did not make friends easily, and kept to herself most of the time. You would have friends. She hears the unspoken emphasis. Of course Adric would have friends. He was the charming one, and Aleida was the troublemaker who had never been able to accept what was and be the proper little porcelin doll that she should be - though she wasn't sure that was the life she wanted either. Sandrine didn't need to read thoughts to hear that. She'd heard enough ranting already to know.

"Which is, for some utterly unfathomable reason, more important than not looking like an absolute imbecile, I presume. And peaches are orange. If I saw a red peach, I'd not eat it." And the quiet, but ever insistent, mocking had returned, tinged with a bit of sarcasm now as well. Aleida had barely missed half a beat.

"Orange, red they are the same shade of colour to me." he says shrugging "Speaking of friends, lets focus on cheering for little Elijah and Alvar down there!" He turned to cheer just to notice Alvar's sudden blood lust. Alarm lights up Adric's face.

"Oi Alvar!? What do you think you're doing?!"

[npc revolution]

Marcus starts to get antsy and bored. He gets up and moves over to Aldric and Aleida.

Excuse me, umm, were you here this time last year? I think I remember you.

[rweird]

Alvar:
The squire bats your blade aside and bringing it down the length towards your wrist.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Round 4, your turn.

Elijah:
Side stepping your swing he takes advantage of your blade being lowered to attack.
Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Round 5, your turn.

[rweird]

Alvar:
Flicking thee blade out of your hand he brings the hilt up slamming it into your chest.
OoC: I won't roll to confirm because he already knocked you out.

[Virtue]

Another crimson blow, and Elijah falters again, as a line of blood runs down his arm. The young half-elf looks shocked, and he can feel his strength giving out; the sword feeling heavier than normal, despite it being a well crafted elven weapon. Elijah shakes his head and tries to free his mind, despite the difficulties.

Time is running out in the duel, and Elijah has little chance of winning this time. He can't imagine the audience will favor him again, after this dissapointing show of martial ability.

In his last strike, he has no choice but to give it all he's got. Elijah, only son of the House of Roarke, native of the worlds of elves and men, grips his blade and launches himself at the squire in his last. desperate. attempt.


Elijah Roarke
HP : 8 (2)
AC : 18
Standard Action : Non-Lethal [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[rweird]

Elijah:
Overwhelmed by your assault, he falls back, you striking him with the flat of your blade. He falls.

You gain 300 EXP and recover from the non-lethal damage.
Next battle up soon.

[Rising Phoenix]

Marcus starts to get antsy and bored. He gets up and moves over to Aldric and Aleida.

Excuse me, umm, were you here this time last year? I think I remember you.

Adric's occupied with watching Alvar's match when the youth approached. He remembered his face, but did not remember his name.

"Greetings to you to... I am afraid that I do not recall your name... I do remember that you really liked books though... " his eyes trail to the matches below just in time to see Elijah's lucky stumble.

"GOOD WORK!" he cheers clapping his hands and seems to forget the conversation he was just having.

[Ajadea]

"Do you- Oh!" Aleida looks down and begins cheering along with the rest, her voice lost in the cacaphony. Victory to the underdogs. Victory to the small, and weak, and frail. Victory to the ones who look as if they can never triumph.

Sandrine turns to regard the speaker. She recognizes him as the painfully oblivious boy who had not even known there was to be a tournament. "Those two are Prince Adric and Princess Aleida," she says coldly. She doesn't need to speak particularly quietly, given the cheering coming from right next to her. "They live here." Given that this was the royal palace, that seemed incredibly, mind-numbingly, obvious, but then again, he had not recognized Aleida earlier so perhaps a flat statement of the mind-numbingly obvious was necessary.

She could think of a lot of cruel things to say. Had he been living under a rock? Was he blind and deaf to the happenings around him? A fool with the mental ability of a table? She bit her tongue and focused on the pain instead of finding more insults to throw.

[THEChanger]

Alvar stood in shock as the blade struck his wrist, and then slammed into his chest. Coughing up blood, he stared at the squire in front of him. Picking up his rapier, he gave his opponent a lazy salute. "Congradulations. You are the stronger." Then he falls to the ground, unconscious and bleeding from his mouth.

[Worlok]

Reynsfarn is dumbstruck. Dumbstruck to the point of even ignoring the turn of events below, even though otherwise, he would have cheered at the sight of inconsequential bloodshed. Him(!) even lowering himself to turn to some short, bookish kid with a question was one thing, after all. But the kid in question just ignoring him, standing up and walking over to his cousins without further ado? Unacceptable. The legendary wrath of House Wyther reasserts itself as he levels a death glare at the back of the boy's head, instinctively reaching for his dagger. Stop. Can't just up and ax him. Not like this. A flood of reason, miraculously quelling the uproar. Countenance. His poise relaxing, if hesitantly. A deep, deep breath.

He stands up, slowly, deliberately stalking over to the group around Prince Adric, his posture all confident swagger and self-control. Or so he thinks. As he overhears Sandrine telling the kid off, however, he finds it easier to keep his cool. I kind of like the lip on her. An amused, none-too-kind-but-kind-of-appreciative-nonetheless sideglance at her. Unspoken thought: Good going, servant girl. Turning towards the back of the offender once again. And by the way - This guy didn't recognise his future rulers. Perhaps he's just not exactly smart? Not exactly cultured? Yes, obviously, only the ignorant would fail to pay a trueborn duke of Wyther due respect. So why would I get mad at some yokel? Not worth it. So truly not. Instead, perhaps an introduction is in order?

"And I -" Dramatic pause while bringing one hand down on the small boy's shoulder a wee bit harder then necessary, in hopes of him turning around to face his own dukely form in all its fur-clad glory. "- am Reynsfarn the Third, son of Reynsfarn the Second and heir to the House of Wyther. You might not have recognised me just there, but know that you really should have." Not bad. That'll show him, now.

[Virtue]

"...what..?"

The audience roars, and the squire's knees buckle as the hit lands hard. Elijah stands bewildered in the ring. The stunning upset was completely unexpected, and Elijah could barely fathom how it happened.

The half-elf let his sword drop to the ground, and he faltered backwards a bit, as the regulators came and helped the squire up, and out of the ring. He still couldn't believe it, but as the regulators informed him to clear the ring, for the next match, he had little time to collect his thoughts. In silence, he picked up his sword, and sheathed it in its massive scabbard, before leaving the ring, and standing off to the side alone, and still in a state of shock.

[rweird]

Elijah: You are escorted into the arena some ten minute later, Hlod enters from the other side. "Fight well." says the king.

Initiative:
[roll0]

Battle Map:
http://i1086.photobucket.com/albums/j460/reweird/Children%20Crusade/Elijahmatch3round1.png

[Virtue]

Elijah can only muster up a silent nod, as the King declares the final competition.

The half-elf glances into the audience, to see if he can recognize his father, but the seat where he had been before is startlingly empty. Elijah sighed and turned his attention towards the ring. He recognized the combatant as the one who had challenged the prince earlier. He wasn't surprised to see him again, but he took mental note, that the squire seemed the better fighter.

For but a moment though, Elijah's mind raced back to his surprising victory in the last round, but he feared to get his hopes up.

As the audience cheered for them both, Elijah drew his hefty weapon and gripped it with both hands, and entered the ring.



Elijah Roarke
HP : 8
AC : 18
Initiative : [roll0]

[rweird]

Elijah: Your Turn.

[Virtue]

Rweird: Work. :smalltongue:

Elijah takes the initiative, his mind still brimming with the memories of the battle before. He knew this Hlod, would be a strong contender, and if there was any hope of beating him, he had to at least hit strong and true, once.

Elijah takes a breath, his wounds recovered to full, and with one solid motion, the half-elf charges towards Hlod, brandishing his elven blade in a fluid strike.


Elijah Roarke
HP : 8
AC : 18 (16)
Full Round Action : Non-Lethal Charge [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[rweird]

Elijah: Hlod sidesteps and swings.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Round 2, your turn.

[Virtue]

Elijah's mind quickly goes back to the round before, and any confidence he had began to drift away. Already, it seemed to be miss upon miss, but it seemed to herald at the future to come.

Elijah had dodged Hlod's bow gracefully, and let loose a single swear in elvish, as he heed his blade back towards his opponent, piercing forward.


Elijah Roarke
HP : 8
AC : 18
Full Round Action : Non-Lethal [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[rweird]

Elijah: After watching your strike go wild he strikes as your blade is extended.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Round 3, your turn.

[Virtue]

Another miss, another miss.

If Elijah survived this battle, he promised himself he would have to get better. He was getting lucky, but he was in no way truly skilled, and he could feel his own lack of capabilities, as he looked into the eyes of his opponent.

Elijah had parried the last blow, and swings his blade around his body in an arc, attempting to bring it straight back into the opponent.



Elijah Roarke
HP : 8
AC : 18
Full Round Action : Non-Lethal [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[rweird]

Elijah:
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Round 4, your turn.

[Virtue]

The slash hit deep into Elijah, and the ten year old buckled against the pain. Even though the blow was meant to be non-lethal, it was still an attack and the young boy's eyes almost welled up from so much force in one blow.

Elijah wiped his eyes, as Hlod grinned at his lucky strike. Already it seemed obvious who would win the battle, and unless Elijah was quicker on his feet, he would find himself knocked out completely.

He had not seen his father in th stands, and though he mentally wondered where the man was, he knew beyond a doubt, it would not be a welcome meeting, were he to fail in this challenge.

Make a good impression his father had said. Always caring of power and appearances, more than his son. At this thought, Elijah blinked and almost let go of his sword. For the first time he let out a deep sigh, and broke from his thoughts only to bring his blade back into focus and hurl it into the opponent, hoping to hit it true. Perhaps there was still a chance to win this.


Round Four
Elijah Roarke
HP : 8 (2)
AC : 18
Standard Action : Non-Lethal [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[rweird]

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Round 5, your turn.

[Virtue]

....Hlod missed. Elijah could only breathe a sigh of relief. They had traded blows, again and again now, but it seemed only Hlod was to be the victor this time.

Elijah knew this would be his last attack. Again, he felt the weight of pressure on his shoulders, certain that he would miss this attack.

With absolutely nothing to lose, and less than a minute left in the duel, Elijah summoned whatever strength he had left in him, gripped his blade and rammed it forward in a slashing arc towards Hlod. It was now...or Never.


Round Five
Elijah Roarke
HP : 8 (2)
AC : 18
Standard Action : Non-Lethal [roll0]
IF Hit Success - [roll1]
IF Critical Hit - [roll2]
IF Critical Success - [roll3]
Free Action : -NA-
Move Action : -NA-

[rweird]

It was never. The crash of steel rang across the arena as his blade performed a perfect parry. Then he brought it down.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Virtue]

Elijah panics and feels the full weight of his opponents blade come down into his chest. The slash buries into his skin, trailing blood, and the pain spirits up Elijah's body as the young half-elf falls down unconscious.

*....*

Elijah blacks out.

[rweird]

Everyone that was knocked out wakes up. Elijah still need to fight for third place, if he is willing.

[Virtue]

Elijah wakes up in a strange bed, the attendees nearby. The half-elf realizes he failed, and must have been brought to the side tents, to recuperate.

The young boy sighed, noting his possessions nearby the station. A regulator came in and asked if he was to participate in the round to determine the third place winner, but the half-elf only shook his head.

He couldn't take any more today, his strength, confidence and energy had all left him. Elijah just remained quiet, and laid back on the bed, curling up as a ten year old boy is wont to do, and he closed his eyes.

Elijah tried to ignore the defeat from earlier, and strengthen his resolve to face his father later. If only he had had more power, he could have won.

Elijah Roarke sighed, and drifted off to sleep.

[Rising Phoenix]

The prince takes leave from the stand to visit his Elijah in his tent. However, seeing the little half elf asleep he lets him be and returns to the rest of festivities eager to see what was planner for the rest of the day. Perhaps his hero would finally speak to him too...

[rweird]

The tournament is over, all the lords, ladies, there households, advisers, knights, and other officials head into the great hall for a feast. The rest feast outside under pavilions. The prince and princess sit with the lords at the high table. Everyone else is seated together at a smaller table for the kids, below and to the right of the high table.

[Ajadea]

Sandrine smirks ever so slightly as the half-elf falls. It seemed the prince was right in that Hlod was the better blade. Giving the squire the victory in their early match had been more than a little excessive, she had to admit. But, in retrospection, she could hardly imagine the overly idealistic prince doing anything else. She follows Aleida, at least until they get to the great hall. In the entryway, she stops just for a moment, which almost immediately sweeps her up into the throng of incoming lords and ladies. Somehow, Sandrine manages to get to the children's table without stepping on any hemlines or toes - no mean feat, considering the abundance of both in the great hall.

Being one of the first at the children's table gave her a welcome respite, however momentary, from the chatter and bustle. She sighs. It feels as though she is letting out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Her seat provides an adequate view of the high table. She can see Aleida, fidgeting slightly. Of course. There weren't many people at the high table - given all the visiting lords, most were consigned to the trestles. And all the other, non-royal, children were all off to the side where they wouldn't be a nuisance. She twists her hidden knife around so that it wouldn't accidentally trigger and spear her fingers while she ate, and then waits, patiently, for food to be brought out.

[Rising Phoenix]

Before heading to the table Adric goes to his room. He quickly grooms himself and disregards his tourney attire. The pheasant like attire he wore is neatly folded on his table and the cookie jar half empty, but he really doesn't want to go through the motions of wearing that again. Instead he grabs a brown silk tunic and green velvet doublet, cool cream cotton pants and black leather boots. He also takes one of his black wolf hide coat.

Refreshed and much more comfortable he now heads to the great hall and smoothly slips into the chair besides his sister. "Elijah is sound asleep." he says casually "Did I miss something?"

[Ajadea]

"Nothing in particular," Aleida replies. She notes the significantly less ostentatious, if somewhat more fuzzy, clothes he wears. "Didn't feel like looking completely ridiculous for the rest of the day?" she asks casually.

[rweird]

The food is brought out, platter upon platter of all sorts of things. It seems chefs from all parts of the kingdom helped prepare this feast.

[THEChanger]

And as the food was brought in, one of the doors open, and Alvar came hobbling in. His left leg was limping slightly, and his nose and arms had a rather copious amount of bandages on them. Alvar refused to make eye contact with any of those present. Ashamed, he sat as far away from anyone he knew as he could manage, eating as best he could with his right arm still healing. He had lost control. What was more, he had failed. He had been weak. In letting the blood-lust get the better of him, Alvar had sacrificed his nobility for crass rage. It was not met of one such as he. His cheeks burned with the embarresment, and Alvar thought he could feel all eyes upon him. He was sure someone had noticed him trying to kill his opponent. Alvar just hoped it wasn't one of the royal family. He remained by their grace alone. It would be horrible if this one mistake caused him to lose the position he had held for so long, megar as it was.

[rweird]

Alvar: The kid sitting next to you nudges you and asks "Why do you feel so glum. I know that attack last hurt though it's not a big deal. You fought well, it just is he was used to this type of thing, you still have to get used to it." He grins. "Cheer up, it's just a tournament."

Elijah: A servant wakes you up and brings you a tray of food. "Dinner is happening now. Do you want to come down and enjoy the festivities or eat up here?

[Virtue]

Elijah had already been awake for several minutes, but had not shifted in his position. He had barely gotten a half hour of sleep, and his mind continued to replay over the events of the afternoon.

In the forested realm where he called home, he had been in duels before. He had won some, had lost some, but all had been against the elven children in the nearby forests. His father rarely let him duel with the children of the courts, fearing any loss in his name, would lower the family's reputation.

Elijah curled up more in the hospital bed, and sighed. He missed the forests. He spent more time among the elves, than he did with his own family. He grimaced slightly, wondering if he could even consider them a real family. He had come to think of a family as a nurturing, caring environment, none of which he was provided. The boy hugged his pillow tighter, and simply thought in silence.

Many times he had considered running away, or joining the elven claves, but though he was always welcome in their villages, he was still treated as a half-human, and thus not subject to elven law or culture. He was a child of two worlds, and he had yet to find any place he truly belonged.

* *

A sound caused him to raise his head. A servant had gently attempted to wake him, and asked if he was to have dinner here, or at the festivities. Elijah simply looked into the young man's eyes, and remained silent. Quietly, "I apologize, but I believe I will eat alone in my room for tonight. I thank you for your kindness." Elijah stood up slowly and bent down beside the bed to receive his meager belongings. His chest was still sore, but it would pass by the morning. Elijah simply wanted to focus on his continued studies in private, as he finished his simple meal.

His mind went back to the notes in his diary. He had been studying for weeks with some of the elders in one of the enclave, and though it was obscure knowledge, he had hoped that someday he would master it. He knew that he would never have great power like his father, but if there was any way he might hope to achieve greatness, the rare wisdom of the elves might show him a way.

Elijah broke from his thoughts and shook his head, as he strapped the scabbard to his back. He bowed low, and thanked the servant for his time, and he took the plate of dinner quietly back to his room.

[Rising Phoenix]

"Nothing in particular," Aleida replies. She notes the significantly less ostentatious, if somewhat more fuzzy, clothes he wears. "Didn't feel like looking completely ridiculous for the rest of the day?" she asks casually.

"Why yes! How did you guess?" he winks "Just don't tell master tailor Federico... He'll skin me! And probably make a handbag or boots out of me..."

Adric's eyes widen as the feast is laid out in front of them... There was everything he could have wished for! Every visiting noble must have brought their cooks. The kitchen was a rude place on quiet days, but today it must be a battlefield.

"Can we start?" he asks eagerly "Can we? We can?! Most excellent!" he scratches his chin, but he still cannot pick what he wants after a while "Give me that please" he says pointing near randomly at something that looked like a pie with yellow cream "It looks 'interesting'..."

[Overlord Rion]

Edward sat down at the children's table. "So, how about that tournament? I'm impressed I managed to last as long as I did with only one hit. He'd plopped down near Sandrine at the time. "Well then, shall we eat?"

[Ajadea]

Aleida laughs. "I have no sympathy for that particular plight," she replies, tapping the mass of braids precariously balanced on her head. "And I don't think Federico will turn you into boots. A handbag perhaps, but not boots." She accepts a slice of juicy roast pork drenched in some sort of sauce, and pokes at the stranger roast vegetables. "The kitchen's outdone itself. I can't recognize half of this stuff."

Sandrine shrugs. "You hardly need my permission to eat." She sticks to the food she recognizes. Mashed turnips, good. Fish soup that apparently came from boiled rocks was decidedly less appetizing, if far more reminiscent of certain fables.

"Do any of you plan to enter in the archery contest?" she asks after a while. She'd have liked to enter, but such a thing seemed unfeasible at best. Such contests were for knights and squires and the sons of lords - a courtier's daughter, not so much.

[Rising Phoenix]

Edward sat down at the children's table. "So, how about that tournament? I'm impressed I managed to last as long as I did with only one hit. He'd plopped down near Sandrine at the time. "Well then, shall we eat?"

The Prince laughs at Edward's sarcasm "Not as well as I wanted too either, but such are the whims of luck. She can be an adoring or cruel mistress. As for the food... it's 'interesting'... This pie is um... I don't know what it is... But it's delicious enough".


Aleida laughs. "I have no sympathy for that particular plight," she replies, tapping the mass of braids precariously balanced on her head. "And I don't think Federico will turn you into boots. A handbag perhaps, but not boots." She accepts a slice of juicy roast pork drenched in some sort of sauce, and pokes at the stranger roast vegetables. "The kitchen's outdone itself. I can't recognize half of this stuff."

"But I would make an excellent pair of boots..." says the prince in a mockingly sad tone "The food is indeed a feast for the eyes... I wonder what that pile of jiggly purple things are..."

"They are living sea cucumbers sire" replies a passing servant "Would you like some?"

Adric's experession turns to one of mixed astonishment and disgust "No... I will be quite alright without them, thanks"



"Do any of you plan to enter in the archery contest?" she asks after a while. She'd have liked to enter, but such a thing seemed unfeasible at best. Such contests were for knights and squires and the sons of lords - a courtier's daughter, not so much.

"I think I've had enough humble pie for the time being" responds the Prince with a crumb crusted chin "What about you, milady?"

[Virtue]

Elijah had made it to his room successfully, without attracting too much attention. He felt momentarily guilty for not attending the festivities, and somewhat fearful if his father noticed his absence, but he wondered if his father ever truly noticed his pretense at all.

Shaking his head, Elijah quietly walked down the hallway, and opened the door to his guest room. It was just as he had left it, quiet. The young half-elf let his stuff fall to the floor beside the entrance, and moved to site on the bed. Taking out his diary, and notes, he began to pour over them.

It was not long before Elijah finished his meal, and less than a half hour from there, a servant came in on his daily inspection, and took the plate with him.
Elijah thanked the older man, and continued reading quietly. Though he was not planning to attend the archery contest, he was interested in watching it take place. It would be nice to relax and actually enjoy something this trip.

[rweird]

Muffled shouts drift into the dinning hall. A guard burst into the hall, sword in hand. "Attack! Rews is attacking! Retreat! Take Arms! Attack!" He shouts. A panic fills the great hall as people rise.

Tegtwiby rises "My lord, I must go to my army. Take refuge, Hold the castle. Soon I will return." and with that he strides from the hall.

Elijah: A servant burst in to you quarters. "Rews is attacking, come there is no time, take only what you can carry and come with me to the drawing room."

Everyone Else: Guards come and heard you away. "Take what you can carry, you may have to flee the castle. Come to the drawing room in 10 minutes with everything you can carry."

[Ajadea]

As soon as the word Attack leaves the lips of the herald, Sandrine stands up and looks around, as if expecting warriors to burst in that very moment. She knows the thoughts going through her head must be in the minds of all present. How? How did Rews get all the way to the heart of the kingdom without a single warning? Why? Easier to answer. People thought he had lost. They were all caught off-guard. Where? Outside, presumably, but where outside. Were the messengers trustworthy? And now what? Well, obviously, the royal family needed to get out alive.

She nicks a basket of rolls (they did say bring everything, and food is valuable) and goes over to the high table. "Milady, we have to go," she says to Aleida, who has frozen in place. She tugs on the princess's shoulder none too gently until she starts moving. The two girls dash out of the hall, hand in hand. "Aleida, we may have to fight." If the use of her given name doesn't get the princess's attention, nothing will.

It, predictably, works. "Good thing you let me practice on you," Aleida says, words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush so fast that even Sandrine has to take a precious moment to process what she's said. The two girls skid to a halt in front of Sandrine's room. Little place, good enough though. Sandrine grabs her rapier and bow, and straps both onto Aleida. "What about you?" she asks, looking somewhat bewildered. Sandrine shoves a spare pair of sturdy boots in Aleida's direction. "You're more important." She fastens her buckler to her arm. "Besides, I've got a weapon."

Aleida looks puzzled, but at least doesn't argue. The girls take a shortcut to the drawing room, arriving before the others. "We're going to be alright, aren't we?" Aleida asks. "I will defend you as best as I can." It's a clear avoidance of the question, which cannot sit well with Aleida. They wait, anxiously, for everyone else to arrive. Every noise is a traitor, a threat, a potential death.

[Wyntonian]

Leon drops his air of mournful martyrdom almost as quickly as he drops his goblet. He begins to rush off, but instead goes back to check on the others. "C'mon, boys and girls, let's go!" His sabre, bow and armor are in his room, as well as his traveling gear, but the others are a priority. His hand is clenched around his shortsword as he gestures for the others to join him and strides purposefully and with the most imposing aura of calm he can. It's a decent cover for his current internal monologue.

Ohbollocksohbollocksohbollocks

[Virtue]

What...attacking here...now?!

Elijah was almost too stunned to think. This was not just some city, this was the largest and most powerful settlement in the nation. How could that traitor lord even have gotten an army this close without dete-...

Elijah paused for a moment, halfway in his thoughts, as his hand picked up his scabbard.

A traitor...if Rews himself would turn against the Empire, then maybe...

Elijah was not completely up to date on politics, but he could only remember bits and pieces from what he had often heard his father mention.

If there were multiple lords that turned on the empire... Elijah's thoughts hurried across his mind, as he placed the last of his belongings in his backpack and slung it across the scabbard. He gave one last look across the room, and shook his head. A small part of him wondered where his father and sister were in all this, but a larger part of him, just seemed to not care. Without a second glance behind, Elijah sighed softly, and followed the servant to the drawing room.

* *

Elijah could hear people running frantically and yelling throughout the palace. Everywhere there were cries for arms, and warnings to get people to safety. Elijah was unfamiliar with the palace, and simply followed the servant as they hurried towards the drawing room. The half-elf winced as he heard a scream far off in the distance, but he may have just imagined it.

He was led down an odd hallway he hadn't noticed before. They were moving faster now, and came to a door at the end. It looked dark and well maintained.

The servant bowed and mentioned to go inside the drawing room.

Elijah tensed, nervous, but nodded and entered inside.

[Rising Phoenix]

Adric's spoon drops from his fingers. "what?!" he softly says.

As panic takes over the room he just sits there, eyes and mouth wide open and paling cheeks. "What?!" he says again.

Eventually he realizes that whatever's happening is real. "Aleida!" he shouts looking for his sister "Aleida we have to go!" but the princess is no where to be seen. Briefly he recalls that Sadrine, her servant girl, grabbed her and took her to safety. She's fine.

"I need my arms and armor." he says to those present at the table "Everyone grab what you need and meet me at my chambers*"

With the Adric flees the chaos and rushes up to his room. he quickly puts on his chain shirt and shield and quickly fills in a backpack with clothes, Ser Piggy, a wheel of cheese, three apples, a pear, a water flask, a small knife, three candles and a torch. Last he places his favourite volume of his hero exploits in the bag and slings it over his shoulders.


* I am assuming that the kids know of any secret passages/safe rooms in the castle. If so Adric tells the kids to meet just outside such a location.

Also if there are any heilrooms etc that the kids have heard about. Now's the time to go for them.

[Overlord Rion]

What? Attacked? Damn, I should have seen this one coming. Stuff like this always happens in the books." Edward decided, instead of panicking like he wanted to, simply finished chewing his food, and grabbed a few more things to eat along the way. Hearing the Prince's order, he quickly headed towards the rendezvous point. Lucky for him, he didn't bring much of anything he wanted, so he didn't have anything to carry besides food.

[rweird]

You where told to meet in the drawing room. You don't know why it is the drawing room though you can assume it has an escape route.

[THEChanger]

Alvar ran as fast as he could to his rooms, collecting his few belongings. "Let's see...the tools...my torch...my sword." Alvar thought for a moment, and then drew his rapier. If Rews' forces managed to get through, he wanted to be ready. Dashing through the halls towards the drawing room, Alvar constantly checked his mind for anything he could have forgotten. Heading past the infirmary, Alvar noted that Elijah had already left. "Good. Everyone should know where we're going then." Arriving at the drawing room, Alvar was about to enter when he remembered his sword. "Sandrine probably wouldn't have apprieciated that." Sheathing it, he entered and closed the door behind him. "Who isn't here yet?"

[Ajadea]

Sandrine flinches when Elijah enters, but at least avoids threatening him with her knife. She is pacing the room anxiously when Alvar enters. She releases the blade from her sleeve before she quite understands who has entered. When she recognizes Alvar, she blushes and retracts the blade. "Hundreds of people," she replies, gesturing around at the mostly empty room. "The prince isn't here, more importantly. Nor is his cousin present. Both are prime targets for Rew's soldiers." She drums her fingers on the edge of her buckler.

"I never really had a chance to snoop around in the drawing room," Aleida comments. "I wonder which passages connect to it?" She begins looking around the drawing room, testing loose blocks and shelves, running her fingers along bare walls and under tapestries. "It's amazing, all the passages in the castle, really. And I know some lead outside..."


[roll0] Looking for hidden doors.

[rweird]

You don't find anything with your search check. I'll assume Adric would go to the drawing room.

Sir Waldron, second in command of the castle guard, enters with a squad of guards. "We'll wait until everyone arrives. If all goes well we can sit tight here until Tegtwiby comes. If we are attacked you must obey the instructions I give you now and get the others to do the same." He crosses to a wall and moves a cabinet, opens a hidden panel on the back, removes a key, and pushes it into a blank space on the wall. "Twist the key to open the passage, take it with you, that will make it harder for your enemies to follow. It will lead you to a warehouse in town. It is supplied with rations, weapons and other gear. You should lie low there, at least until morning. If all goes well, you will be contacted there. If you aren't contacted by morning, you must go contact our spy network. There is more information at the warehouse. They will help start a rebellion. You may become next in line to be the leaders of the Bruthan houses. Do you understand?"

[Ajadea]

Sandrine stifles an entirely inappropriate smirk. A rebellion to raise a bunch of children, children of peacetime, to leadership, rulership... straight out of a fairy tale, really. The tension in the air is palpable. Life was not known to follow the path of legends so close. It felt like waiting for something to go terribly, utterly, wrong. "I understand, sir," she says, wetting her suddenly dry lips. It made her wonder. How long had people been expecting this attack? Food did not keep forever. Weapons not maintained would rust. An unused warehouse draws suspicion over time. A rebellion implied a rise against authority. What authority would Rews have?

The lords could fight back, they have their own armies. One traitor against so many lords could not prevail. But.... So many were here, weren't they. Brulthan's best and brightest. Our heroes. They would be killed, wouldn't they, if they did not escape or swear fealty. And then she understood. That is why we need to escape. Someone willing to die for the true king might not be willing to let their loved ones die - to sacrifice them, almost - for the same cause. How many would bend the knee in that situation? Too many.

"I - I understand..." Aleida stammers. She looks away, and is silent, but only for a moment. "Sir Waldron, where are my parents?!" Fright, before smothered by idle chatter, had now become incredibly apparent. Sandrine wraps her arm around Aleida's shoulders. I'm here. I'll stay with you. I won't let anything happen to you. It was easier to think comforting thoughts than to dwell on the deaths that would occur this day. I haven't talked to Father in days, have I. What did I last say? I can take care of myself. Hah. Guess I better prove those words true, then...

[THEChanger]

Alvar's forehead creased with worry. "The next...you can't be serious. Rews' forces can't be that strong. Once my father and the other nobles hear of this, they will come to provide aid. And Lord Tegtwiby's soldiers are here as well, are they not? This castle is a fortress. Surely they can hold Rews until aid arrives?" Still, Alvar gripped his swordhandle nervously. The day had started so innocently. Then his bloodlust...now this. It was so surreal. They were but children. And now this man wanted them to be ready to lead a rebellion? It made no sense.

[rweird]

"The protocol has been in place ever since you where born." Waldron replies. "Your parents hopefully will be safe. They will be taking other routes to safety as we speak. Tegtwiby has many men, the lords will fight if they survive, though this is the perfect time for an attack. All of the important nobles are here. This is in case of the worst, let us hope for the best."

[Virtue]

Elijah in stunned silence felt out of place here in the drawing room. Alone of all the others, he could not truly hold claim to the throne, being of a half breed. Even his claim for the any lordship under normal circumstances would find itself strained. Though his father certainly was a royal, and distant relative of the King, it was a tree that had many branches. Even though he knew that on some level he might be related to some of the young children in this room, it was at such a distance, that for most of them, especially the young prince and princess, it would be as if they weren't related at all.

Elijah wondered if this meant, any invaders wouldn't bother with him at all. Sighing softly, and remaining quiet, as the man talked, he only nodded at the end. He was still young, and unsure of what should be expected of him. He would simply follow the rest, and defend himself if necessary.

Elijah waited for the others to begin to head out, and he would withdraw his blade from its scabbard, and follow. Though the room and hallways were not brightly lit, there was at least one small blessing in his elven heritage, that allowed him the ability to see well in dim light.

Elijah sighed again and waited for the group to continue on.

[Wyntonian]

Leon staggers into the room, his traveling kit assembled and his armor mostly on, a moment before Waldron enters. He lays a reassuring hand on Elijah's shoulder as the man speaks. He, unlike many bastard children, actually felt some loyalty to his father. Most would have allowed the queen to expel him from court, but his father was stronger, better and more honourable than that. And if he died, Leon Aurelius would do his best to protect his children.

[Rising Phoenix]

Adric runs into the room out of breath...

"Mother..." he stutters sweating "...Mother... she...is... not... in her...her...room...I... think... I... think... I saw...someone... in the corridors... cloak... He had a cloak... and a...knife... I... couldn't... find... mother...!"

No, I have not received a PM from rweird. Adric's just making stuff up as his panicking

[rweird]

Waldron puts a comforting hand on Adric's shoulder. "Don't worry, if she isn't in here chambers that means she will be going to another escape route." Though he speaks confidently you can tell he's worried.

[Rising Phoenix]

Waldron puts a comforting hand on Adric's shoulder. "Don't worry, if she isn't in here chambers that means she will be going to another escape route." Though he speaks confidently you can tell he's worried.

The words of Sir Waldron seem to calm the Adric down...

"So...so we wait?" he asks uncertainty evident in his voice

[Worlok]

During the chain of events leading up to the attack, Reynsfarn had just about forgotten Marcus' perceived slights, just as he had about everything else. His original plan of slinking around and maybe scaring some of his worthless opponents into not giving him lip and standing down from the archery contest. The fact that he did certainly suspect attacks to happen at some point, though nowhere near this scale (He didn't, really. This is the first time he even gets somewhere near full-on violence). The old adage claiming that a nobleman should walk, but never run. Oh yes. Especially that old adage.

Having previously stayed behind in order to make a dramatic entrance and throw some weight around upon joining the others for dinner, and worse, having been upstaged by that rotten guard, he had instead preferred to make for his room and thereby his backpack. Wythernian practicality, as one of his few virtues, afforded that it had still been packed, the various little somethings along with the knives and the potions all there and ready to take with him. Fat lot of good it did him, though.

Where is everybody, and where am I? he thinks, hurrying down a long, winding hallway, the roar of the chaos all around dulled by the prominent sound of his footsteps upon the stone. He's alone, far as he can see. Where'd they want me to be in a case like this? Probably in that hall of theirs. Or around there, maybe. How often has he walked this floor? Many times. Why is it then, that he seems to have lost the way? And why's it so frickin' cold in here? He stops, ostensibly to make a plan, and really also to catch his breath.

And what kind of outfit they running here, anyway? I mean, I'm important, right? They could have -sent- for me! Further rants. Reaching a staircase, and heading down below. They might be looking for me right now. Stopping. Pondering. Not just them. Who is "them", anyhow? Cousin Adric, in any case... And he'd most likely be somewhere -'round- here, wouldn't he? Realisation. Why, yes, of course. And I know how to get to his room now, don't I? "Why, no I don't. I have no idea where I am right now. Don't even recall this part of the castle. Nuts." Castlenuts. Funny word, indeed. "'t is probably best to just ask somebody. Just head towards the clamor, now." And so, that he does.

[rweird]

Reynsfarn: A guard spots you and runs shouts "Get to the drawing room, second story! NOW!"

People in the drawing room: "Yes, we wait." Waldron says pushing the cabinet back in place. "We wait and hope the others come."

[rweird]

The others arrive. Horns sound, and Tegtwiby's soldiers rush in, Tegtwiby at the front. Everyone crowds around the window, wanting to see what would happen. The courtyard is covered in soldiers fighting. Sir Flote is holding the front door. Tegtwiby sizes up the situation and with a wave of his hand, the soldiers join the fray. Reaching for his flail, Tegtwiby stride forwards to join the defense of the door. Then like lightning, it happens. Tegtwibys flail strikes at Flote, knocking him to the ground, quickly, his soldiers storm the remaining palace defenders as the original foes join with him. The baners of Temhod and Tegtwiby are brought into the castle. The enemy is inside.

"Tegtwiby?" Waldron sounds uncertain. Quickly regaining his focus he approaches the door. "Go! There is no time. Tegtwiby probably knows all our plans, the castle layout and has it perfectly played. He even has the support of Temhod! GO, we'll try to hold him off as long as we can." His men move to secure the door.

[Virtue]

Elijah remains sitting in a rather worn chair at the back wall. His mind quiet, letting the others discuss among themselves the ongoing situation. His elven greatsword strapped across his back, light but strong, and his backpack resting against the scabbard. The cloak over both, and his sai resting in his belt.

He was lucky in that he was carrying most of his belongings since leaving the arena, and the hospital. And as this was not his home, like the Prince and Princess, he had only a meager amount of possessions with him at this time.

Left to his own thoughts, Elijah would often think of the rolling hills near his home, or the great stream that ran through the nearby forest. They were places of danger, but of excitement too, where Elijah could pretend to forget about his family for a moment, and pretend to be a mighty elven wizard, or a champion warrior, or any such things that a ten year old is prone to imagining.

It was not until the Lord Waldron spoke up loudly, when Elijah's mind was pulled back into the real world. Wait...what did he just say?

Elijah joined the others in the room, pressed against the sealed window, to gaze out into the progress below them in the courtyard. Had the Lord Hero actually turn against them?! And with Temhod, the enemy nation! Elijah's thoughts panicked and darted back to his family. Were they dead? Were they against the Lord Tegtwiby...or was father cognizant of this turn of events? Was he already allied with the Rews and the others...

Elijah huddled himself and backed away from the window. It would certainly seem like something his father might do. Power at any cost. Elijah merely shook his head and tried to think about the present situation. They had to get out, they had to escape. The Prince and Princess were the heirs to the Kingdom.

The young half-elf made a motion to draw out his elven blade from its scabbard. He drew the sword and hefted it, beside his body, preparing to use it again. Only this time, it would not be in a dueling contest. This would be for war.

Elijah sighed and simply waited for the others.

[Worlok]

Still sore about having received "help" before having asked for it, and worse, getting bossed around by a mere soldier, Reynsfarn has arrived at the drawing room in confusion and anger. Once sufficiently acclimated, in this case meaning after some deep and pointedly labored breaths and a nigh-constant motion as if adjusting some non-existent glasses, however, he goes about getting a feel for this situation. Still pinching his nosebridge with both eyes closed, the trademark Wythernian tuft of red now slicked back with his fear's cold sweat, his future Dukeship pipes up with a blurt: "Alright... whateverthefudgeisgoingoninhere?" Then, much more calmly, his surprisingly clear public-speaking-voice rising in cadence and pitch like a bout of hail on a bout of acid: "I mean-" One more breath. "Can someone fill me in on what's happening? There was this guy that came in and said they're attacking, whoever the hells this "they" are, now, and suddenly I get shouted at by some worthless peon, ordered around like a, damn, like HER" - That with an accusing gesture at Sandrine, born from the desperate urge to lash out some more - "and now you're telling me we'll be going, and Cauldron here holds them off. EXPLAIN!" Fury. Confused, pale-faced Wythernian fury. A lookaround. Having vented, now, he remains expectant, rather unsure whom to turn on now. Anybody.

[Rising Phoenix]

The others arrive. Horns sound, and Tegtwiby's soldiers rush in, Tegtwiby at the front. Everyone crowds around the window, wanting to see what would happen. The courtyard is covered in soldiers fighting. Sir Flote is holding the front door. Tegtwiby sizes up the situation and with a wave of his hand, the soldiers join the fray. Reaching for his flail, Tegtwiby stride forwards to join the defense of the door. Then like lightning, it happens. Tegtwibys flail strikes at Flote, knocking him to the ground, quickly, his soldiers storm the remaining palace defenders as the original foes join with him. The baners of Temhod and Tegtwiby are brought into the castle. The enemy is inside.

"Tegtwiby?" Waldron sounds uncertain. Quickly regaining his focus he approaches the door. "Go! There is no time. Tegtwiby probably knows all our plans, the castle layout and has it perfectly played. He even has the support of Temhod! GO, we'll try to hold him off as long as we can." His men move to secure the door.


"What?!" Says Adric in utter disbelief "You cannot possibly be serious Ser?!"

[rweird]

"There is no time. Waldron says, "Fill him in later. Tegtwiby has betrayed us. GO!"

[Ajadea]

Sandrine goes pale. Paler. One traitor. One traitor within the walls... all that was necessary, all that was needed. And it was the one who would have been their hero. Damn it. Damn him. Damn him to hell. How much did Tegtwiby know? It wasn't entirely unlikely he would know even of the warehouse. The king and queen had trusted that bastard, after all. Ah. No. No time to think. Time to act.

"This is not the time!" she snaps, shoving Reynsfarn towards the secret passage. Think I'm a peon? This ought to get your attention, idiot. She looks around for the princess, then realizes she must have already started down the passageway. At least someone is thinking here. She takes off down the secret passage.

[Virtue]

Elijah was worried, but at the same time calm in a way. The prince and princess were here, and he was sure they would be able to handle anything that came at them. The other young girl, the one with the princess seemed well equipped for battle as well, more so than others of their age.

Elijah watched her leave down the tunnel, and he followed shortly afterwards. He motioned for Edward to follow him. He knew his friend was not the most skilled, and he hoped he might be ale to help protect him, should it turn to the worst.

In the drawing room, there was still the obnoxious Reynfarn boy, a quiet studious child clutching his books, and the fencer Alvar, he had seen in the duels previously. Elijah gripped his sword harder, and followed with the others.

[rweird]

There are two Everburning Torches in the passage. Waldron, after making sure your all inside, removes the key and throws it in just before the door closes. The passage goes down, into the darkness.

[THEChanger]

"But...No...I..." Alvar stuttered for a moment, then shook his head clear. Of course. It made sense now. That was how Rews had gotten so close to the capital without anyone noticing. Tegtwiby wasn't defeating Rews, he was helping him! Alvar grabbed the remaining children inside the room. "Come. Tegtwiby WILL kill us. We need to escape NOW!" Thrusting them inside, Alvar removes his own Everburning Torch. "Tegtwiby knows of this passage. It is entirely possible that his men will come after us. We need to travel in a tight formation. The best fighters in the back, those who are most vulnerable in the front." Alvar' voice is monotone and quiet. Adric would be the only one of the children to have seen Alvar like this. Alvar has never gotten truly angry before. Instead, when someone upsets him, he becomes like this. Cold. Calculating. Cruel. Emotion drains out of him. It's a defense mechanism. One that, at the moment, seemed like it would prove most useful.

[Ajadea]

Sandrine snatches the key out of midair and lets everyone else go by. "Guess that means I'm bringing up the rear." Her smile is forced and cold, though her tone is cheery. She tucks the key into the empty pocket of her skirt, then follows, running almost sideways so as to not lose sight of what follows the group. "There should be a good warrior in front as well," she points out. "We have no clue what's on the other end except for Sir Waldron's word." At this point, they could truly trust no one but each other.... perhaps not even that. Their fears seemed real enough though. Only now do her actions fully register in her mind. Did I actually shove the prince's cousin it could not have been imagination oh god this is ridiculous I hope he isn't too mad how long do we have did we leave fast enough?

Ahead of the pack, Aleida holds a torch in her left hand and her rapier in her right. She has stopped running for a moment, waiting for the others to catch up with her. As soon as they do, she begins running again.

[Worlok]

Flabbergasted at being so roughly manhandled by a mere servant, and utterly enraged at the thought of this Cauldron person just shutting his due complaints down like that, only the well-honed reflexes of a fledgling archer and battlement-balanceer such as he is keep Reynsfarn from crashing face-first into the ground. Catching himself with one arm extended and whipping around in one particularly impressive move - the imagination on this kid, I say - he transfixes Sandrine with a piercing gaze: "He'vharakh sil-vadur, varhonna!" he spits, an equally well-honed insult in Wythernian Orcish, translating roughly as "Your touch's beneath me, Owned One!", ere he recalls his manners. What few there are. "No. No, I guess it's not. This will have repercussions, though, servant." Though that was bold. And perhaps she's right, at that? Imagine me dying because it took too long to explain that. There will be time, indeed.

It is only then that he realises what now transpires. The others rushing past him, this one guy suddenly all cold determination, the others just mainly panic and shock, he himself starting to run simply out of a dazed impulse - and that girl, once again, now taking over rear guard! No way. She stared at me at the feast this morning, now, didn't she? She was behind my chair at the tourney, and even then it was obvious. Then she forgets her station. Never to mention mine. And now this? No way at all. He allows himself to fall back some, until he's next to Sandrine. "You're right with that, though, you are. We'll need someone in front, now. The princess is up in front, I reckon, you go protect her there. I'll form the rear guard, here!"

Smooth going there, 'sferns, my man. She won't suspect you suspect a thing.

And. I am still a Wyther. FINEST ARCHERERS IN ALL THE REALMS OF MEN! And still nobility after all, gods damn it. I'll show 'em what station means! And what Dukeship means! And that I'm better at this than all of them.

Also she won't get to try anything this way.

And most likely won't get hurt.

Where did that one come from, now? As if I care what happens to one like her. No, I'm pretty sure it's Aleida I'm worrying about. That must be it, after all, she is just-

An obvious querulant and assassin. I'm sure of it. Yes, I am.

Then why send her up ahead towards the princess?

Well, the others would have their eyes on her, there - I mean the princess, here, now, and well-

Oh, nevermind. Let's do this thing!

A hasty grasp for his trusty shortbow, one fluent motion to knock back an arrow, and soon he's staring down the path behind the group in his mad dash, doing a decent job of not tripping once again. Without even waiting for her response.

[Ajadea]

"Sal'kikonr jichhe zarhaln gvon," Sandrine replies, trying to sound graceful. Not easy, when speaking lowland Orcish. She knew that wasn't the dialect Reynsfarn had been speaking, but close enough for her general meaning to get across. I am glad to hear that, more or less. She wasn't, entirely, but a half-done apology was better than none.

Her respect for him began to wane as soon as he tried to brush her off. She knows many points she could try and make, to try and get Reynsfarn to run. He was an archer, for instance, and archers tended to not be particularly useful in melee. He had no armor (not that he could see hers) and bore no shield. He was incompetent enough in melee to bow out of the tournament. Sandrine settles for an argument he might listen to. "You're third in line to the throne, I'm a servant. Tegtwiby's forces could come at any time, and the person back here may well have to die so the rest can escape. You can stay here, but behind me. I will not let you get killed because of some misguided attempt at chivalry!"

A little indignation, a clear disparity in worth with him coming out on top, a mild putdown, self directed of course. Perhaps that would get him to listen.

[Overlord Rion]

Edward made sure he was smack dab in the middle of the group. He had no combat experience, basically was a meatsack with eyes and fingers attached. "So...the castle has been attacked, the supposed hero has betrayed us. This day is...just going downhill. Don't worry everybody, "m sure everything will be fine. We'll reclaim everything in due time. Think of it as a test."

[Worlok]

"Chi- CHIVALRY? YOU THINK THAT THIS IS CHIVALRY?" Surprise, to the point of almost stopping short. Almost. Indignation. Slight lack of speech for a second there. "That's Adric's issue, not mine. And who even said a thing about being behind you? You're damn right I will stay behind you! I just don't want you behind me, because I don't-" -trust you to not stab me in the back! "-think it's a good idea. It is a tactically sound decision, I am far more important than you, and for what it's worth, you seem to have recalled that, so -" Realisation. Out of the blue. Wait - That's your plan now, isn't it? Because I'll be looking back, you running in front of me will enable you to just stab me in the back on the run and disappear in the dark or something, because they're unlikely to turn around anytime soon, right? Gathering speed. But you being behind me would mean I could keep an eye out for any attempt on me, and there's a chance they will pick you off and I would be rid of... Wait. What if there's someone behind the two of us, and I still get to not be a target here either way?

"- I'd say you go up ahead, someone else takes the rear, and I stay in the middle, the better to react to whatever might come up now." Noticing a tidbit. Unfortunate. "But how do you even know Orcish, now?"

[Ajadea]

"Long story," Sandrine says, once Reynsfarn has finished ranting. His words were confusing. To say the least. First he's indignant about my suggestion, then agrees, but in such a way as if I had suggested the opposite, and of course I wouldn't be behind him! I don't have even a stone to throw, let alone any sort of ranged weapon which would justify me being behind him. At least he wants to go to the center of the group. And looks like chivalry isn't the right word to use. Keep that in mind.

"Probably too long to tell right now." Seeing that no one else has arrived yet to take her place, she remains in her original position relative to everyone else, doing her best to not trip over her feet or her skirts, as well as keeping her shield behind her. It affords a marginal feeling of safety, though she knows that it's probably a bit ridiculous to expect a piece of steel about the size of a small plate to be able to protect her against halberds and swords.

[Rising Phoenix]

"You will be accounted for, Ser" says Adric as the door closes behind him "Everyone responsible will be accounted for... if not by me... by the gods above and below" his voice has turned dark and aggressive.

Father, mother please stay safe. Please stay...stay alive. He prays silently, but the silence is broken by the bickering.

"Reynsfarn; Sadrine that's enough and this is not a suggestion" He didn't like using his status to order others around, but if it would grant him some peace he'd do it now "Aleida, behind me. Everyone behind me except Ser Waldron. Unless this is a rude farce I've lost enough for one afternoon. Whoever has the best ears brings the rear and no arguing about that either." he turns to Waldron "I take it you've been through these passages before, where will they take us?" "Has anyone heard anything of these passages? Where do they lead?"

((OOC: I thought Waldron came with... Oh well...))

[Virtue]

Remaining silent, Elijah simply stayed in the middle and held his sword. He trusted the others to have a greater grasp on the situation, and hoped they would lead them to safety. They were all no older than fourteen. How could a handful of children survive against a raging war outside?

[rweird]

The passage levels off, going straight for quite some time it suddenly slopes upwards, leading to a trap door.

[Worlok]

Out of a certain sense of loyalty he would never care to admit, Reynsfarn shuts it, but not before throwing in: "I'd like to hear it sometime. Mine has ogres. I'm also not exactly third in line." Better to keep a low profile, after all. Instead, he keeps glaring, alternating between the way behind and Sandrine as targets, until the party reaches the trapdoor, at which point he speaks up again: "Should this be it, then? I suggest someone check whether something can be heard from the other side, and then that same one tries to open it while the rest of us keep out of reach for now." He recalled having heard of traps, and trapdoors, and how both tended to occur on the same spots at times.

[Overlord Rion]

Fed up with the paranoia and halting steps of the others, Edward's impatience overcame his inherent cautiousness. He'd push his way to the front and simply attempt to open the trapdoor. If they didn't tell them about the passage, it was to protect it from outside influence.

[rweird]

The trapdoor gives way with a bit of pushing. The torch light illuminates a the room. It is small, about 30 ft. across. There is a door to the north, south, and east wall. The place seems unused though well maintained.Crates line the walls, stopping only to make room for the doors. An Everburning Torch is mounted to the shelf left of each door.

[Virtue]

The royal youth crowded around the entrance to the tunnel, looking inside, as Edward and another pushed hard against the entrance, letting it fall open.

Unlike the others, Elijah would have been able to see down the tunnel, despite the torch's limited glow. He was still nervous, but at least he was not alone.

As the children, one by one, entered the tunnel, the appearance of three doors caught everyone in silence. There were no markings or indications as to which way they should go.

Elijah looks at each of the doors, and simply remains quiet, waiting for the Prince or Princess to lead the way, as this is still their palace.

[Ajadea]

Sandrine remains silent throughout the remainder of the walk. As the group enters the little room, she looks around, trying to see any hints as to where the doors lead.

Aleida is a little more active. She creeps over to each door in turn, putting her ear up to the thin cracks between the door and the wall and listening for any noises that there may be.


Sandrine: [roll0]
Aleida: [roll1]
[roll2]

[Rising Phoenix]

"Is...how is everyone?" asked the prince. He slowly climbed out of the trapdoor. He thought of grabbing a torch, but instead waited to be sure it was silent before doing so... Those crates looked interesting too.

listen: [roll0]
search check on the crates once he's convinced it's quiet [roll1]

[rweird]

There doesn't seem to be any noise. The east door has a small label that says 'Warehouse' the west has a small one saying 'living space'.

[Rising Phoenix]

There doesn't seem to be any noise. The east door has a small label that says 'Warehouse' the west has a small one saying 'living space'.

what's in the crates?

[Virtue]

Elijah watches the others quietly, from one of the corners. He looks at the crates, but doesn't inspect them as he notices the Prince doing the same.

The door to the east, seemed to be labeled Warehouse, while the door to the west read as a Living Quarters. The labels were small, and Elijah had missed them through his first quick glance however.

The door remaining bore no label, but it was the one that most appealed to Elijah, for some odd reason. If he recalled, they were meant to go to the warehouse, but we're he in charge, he would choose door number 3, as it were.

Elijah huddled his cloak around his body and waited for the group to move

[rweird]

The crates have labels on the top, each saying what they contain. They contain: gear for all sorts of climates, preservable foodstuffs, barrels of fresh water, commodities, and trade goods. I assume you looked though a few of them, or read the labels, but didn't mess with them though you didn't look in/at them all.

[Ajadea]

"No one's hurt, your highness," Sandrine says. She could not, should not, assume anything about who had and had not survived. She busies herself sorting through the gear, laying it out in piles to see what they had. Clothes and shoes, light sources, containers, tools, climate-specific things. It was dry work, simple things that could be done without thinking too much. A relief, more than a source of boredom.

Aleida pokes at the north door, shrugs, and opens it ever so slightly. She tilts her head sideways and peers through the crack, to see what's on the other side.

[rweird]

The door opens at the princesses touch. Inside is a hallway lined with weapons everburning torches light here too. About 70 ft away is another door.

Equipment
Light Sources: 5 Hooded lanterns, 2 Everburning Torches
from the tunnel, 3 more in this room if you take them though you need them to illuminate the room clearly.
Food: 1000 days of train rations, 20 barrels of water,
Clothes: 30 peasant outfits, 20 traveler outfits, and 10 Explores outfits.
Containers: 50 Crates (Each is about 5 lbs.) 10 Backpacks, 10 vials, and 20 water skins,
Gear:5 50 ft. lengths of silk rope, 5 grappling hooks, healers kit, 3 disguise kits, masterwork artisans tools, ladder, flint and steel, 10 bottles of ink, 5 ink pens, 25 pints of oil, 100 sheets of paper, and 10 bedrolls.
Climate Specific: 10 cold weather outfits, and 10 Heat suits (Sandstorm P. 101), and 10 winter blankets.

[Ajadea]

Aleida pulls the door open wide, so that everyone else can see the long row of weaponry. "If... if we're going to be involved in this rebellion thing like Ser Waldron said... I - I think we might need some of this stuff," she says.

[Rising Phoenix]

Aleida pulls the door open wide, so that everyone else can see the long row of weaponry. "If... if we're going to be involved in this rebellion thing like Ser Waldron said... I - I think we might need some of this stuff," she says.

"Thank you Sadrine" he says with a sign of relief, but he quickly
raises a cautious eyebrow at his sister words... "You don't mean fighting sister?"

He looked at his attire, despite changing his clothes he still looked princely..."Though I loath to say it, we cannot do much now. We have to hope that our parent's can sort this out... one way or another... if we are to live... we should... shed our identities..." he gestures at the peasants outfits.

[Virtue]

Elijah heard the prince's words, and thought about them for a moment. He knew he should be sad, like the others, but he simply didn't feel anything. If his father survived, then so be it. The same going for his death.

Shaking his head softly, Elijah sighed, and broke from his thoughts to hear the last of Adric's speech.

Speaking quietly, to Edward.

"The Prince is right, perhaps of we are to be seen as royal, than we would be a target, Fahdon."

The young half-elf looked down at his own clothes, but frowned. It would be a wonder, if anyone actually recognized him as a noble. His own clothings were more elven inspired, and certainly didn't sleek of royalty. He thought for a moment, and smoothed back his hair, instead letting it behind his ears instead.

Perhaps, in this way, he would simply be mistaken for an elven child, should the worst come to it. Elijah looked out over the other crates. Regardless, it would be more than a weeks ride, back to the edge of his kingdom, were he to escape. On the cue from the others, Elijah would walk towards one of the crates, and begin filling his small backpack with various assortments of food, that he might enjoy.

He already had a torch, and his vision was above the rest, so other than food, and perhaps a heavy coat, he would take little else. For a ten year old though, there isn't much one can carry at any rate.

[THEChanger]

Alvar nodded. It wasn't preferable, to lose one's identity in this manner, but they would know who they were. "I...I think we should head north. My father will still be loyal to the royal family. He would not betray his king. If we can get to Aeirgaurd, he might be able to gather up a resistance to Rews and Tegtwiby." He went over to the supplies, and counted up the cold weather outfits that were sized for children. He frowned. "Only five of them are our size. We might be able to alter some of them, but they most likely wouldn't work as well."

[Virtue]

"...."

Elijah frowned a bit as Alvar spoke up. The rest of the group were pouring through the items and placing essentials in their packs.

Quietly, but directly, Elijah decided to speak up, before anyone was too committed to this course. "I do not see what could be gained by only traveling farther north. If we found refuge in the elven forests to the east, there we would find safety." Elijah paused for a moment, wondering if, in fact, the elves would actually help them. Well, he figured at least he would be taken care of. Elijah shrugged to himself and continued.

"At least it would be warmer. We should put it to a vote however, to where we must flee." Elijah looked up, over the group. He was the youngest here, and perhaps the naiive, which was why he would often let others take the lead. Except here, they might lead him to colder climates, and Elijah would prefer for that not to happen. But still, he needed to stick with the group, above all else.

"We must stick together though, and keep each other safe. If anyone has any other suggestions, perhaps we should vote on our path from here."

[Ajadea]

Aleida shrugs and picks up a dagger, weighing it in her palm. "I don't know. Maybe. It's not like any of us have been involved in a rebellion before," she says with a grin that looks more like a grimace. She turns to Alvar and Elijah. "We're supposed to wait until next morning before we leave, in case anyone else shows up, I think. What if our parents show up to tell us that Rews broke his skull falling down the stairs and everything will be alright?" Her expression makes it clear she knows that scenario is absolutely ridiculous. "The elven forests might be easier to get to... I don't know if all of us can deal with hiking in the snow like that... or even going that far."

Sandrine begins to pack two of the backpacks, distributing the weight so that neither of them are too heavy. Food, rope, spare clothes, useful things. After some consideration, the healing kit - she was no doubt the only one who knew how to use such things. "Waiting might not be the best idea. Does anyone know anything about Tegtwiby or Rews? If any of them know of this place, it would be best to leave as soon as we can."


Taking 1 coil of rope, 24 days of food, two traveler's outfits, a disguise kit, the healing kit, two backpacks, two full waterskins, one bedroll. This is for both Sandrine and Aleida, FYI.

[Rising Phoenix]

Aleida shrugs and picks up a dagger, weighing it in her palm. "I don't know. Maybe. It's not like any of us have been involved in a rebellion before," she says with a grin that looks more like a grimace. She turns to Alvar and Elijah. "We're supposed to wait until next morning before we leave, in case anyone else shows up, I think. What if our parents show up to tell us that Rews broke his skull falling down the stairs and everything will be alright?" Her expression makes it clear she knows that scenario is absolutely ridiculous. "The elven forests might be easier to get to... I don't know if all of us can deal with hiking in the snow like that... or even going that far."

"If the Prince of Thieves had a sense of humor like yours sister, than perhaps we wouldn't be here" says the prince smiling faintly. Or perhaps we would be much, much worse.

He considers their possible destinations and the prospect of staying or leaving early. "We where told to wait, but do we have a way to know what's happening back ho- at the castle? If we knew that our parents were prevailing we should wait... if not, however, it could be as Sadrine says..."

"As to where we go: though the elves are generally considered to be kind, I do not think they'd want to get involved in... in this." says Adric with some uncertainty before turning to his cousin. "Reysfarn, what about our aunt and uncle, your parents? You came alone here didn't you?"

Adric will be taking:
1) filled water flask
14) days worth of trail ratios
1) Traveler's outfit
1) 1 lenth of silk rope
1) grappling hool
1) bedroll
1) the flint n steel

and 1) Cold weather outfit should we decide to take the cold option.
he already has a backpack.

[Virtue]

Elijah had said his piece, and so like the others went to gather some supplies that might prove useful to them, in escaping. The young boy noticed what others had gathered, and so tried to take similar items. Sheathing his great sword back within its scabbard, Elijah began to fill his backpack, as heavy as he could carry.

He wouldn't know when they would next get a chance to stock on supplies.

Elijah retrieves the following items :

Filled Water Flasks (2)
Trail Rations (9)
Bottle of Ink (1)
Ink Pen (2)
Cold Weather Outfit (1) - (Should the group decide to head North).

[Overlord Rion]

Without a word, Edward would grab things to shove into his pack. Mostly rations, but he needed to change his clothing. He grabbed enough for two days or so, he'd wash the rest.

Grabbing 5 trail rations, a peasants outfit, and a traveler's outfit.

[Virtue]

Elijah gathered the rest of his belongings and slung his backpack onto his shoulder again. He looked around the room, and waited for the others to continue finishing. The three doors nearby loomed ominously nearby, and the hallway that they had come through lied behind them.

"Our orders however were to take this door to the Warehouse." Elijah pointed at the door, aptly labeled Warehouse.

"..but could not that be a trap, perhaps for the prince or princess? There is much to consider, but little time to choose."

Elijah sighed softly. He was not used to being the center of attention, and hoped someone else would speak up, and lead them. ""The door labelled Living Quarters would no doubt offer little solace. So, it is either to the unknown door, or to the warehouse. If all of us are careful, perhaps we could indeed go to the warehouse door, and make this escape successful."

Elijah took a step back, and slowly opened the warehouse door.

"What shall we do, then?"

[Worlok]

Alright, this is all going way too fast for me. Think, Reynsfarn, think. "Yes. Yes, cousin, I came alone. Mother and Father are still in Wyther, and if I know them at all, they're in the castle. They should be fine, mind, we might be a little too close to Rews' fief for comfort, but it's not like our borders have ever been cracked, before." This much, at least, is true: The comparably decentralised nature of the Wythernian authorities, with the duke presiding over the Council of Chiefs and the Council of Druids, as well as its mountainous, densely forested, and in the lowlands, swampy and trackless, terrain had allowed the border domain to shrug off superior numbers and forces before, and the reputation of the typical Wythernian Longbowman as a remorseless master of the ambush and the nighttime raid is not all that unfounded, either. Still, worry is apparent on the face of young Reynsfarn as he speaks: "Then again, home's a long, long way out East, and if word of this should ever make it there, I figure the clansmen and gentry'll be going nuts. Lots of assassination attempts to foil there, then, not so good an idea to be there, now." The flipside of the duchy's quite impregnable defenses, after all, is that no one attempt to invade others staged by theirs had ever been successful, either, but some orcs and people never learn. The best they had usually gotten up to was digging down in some out-of-way forest and hackling the peasants with banditry, but clamors for retributive campaigns and vengeance wars are always quick to resound in the mountains, there. "I'll also pass on that clothing, there. Never know where one'd slip some poisoned needle, and for what it's worth, I quite like these clothes." Gesturing at the unassuming set of sheep's furs for cold weather which he wears. "It's just too frickin' cold 'round here." Some more thinking. "And really, we're trapped anyhow. If that way does, in fact, lead to a warehouse, we could at least make a run for the exit there. I say, go there, and maybe we won't lose someone important, here." Coursing glances making it quite clear that "someone" is himself, the prince and princess, and none else. Or maybe some of the others, too. Especially a certain someone, mind. Not that you'd know by the way he glares. What's wrong with me? I swear.

[rweird]

OoC, Worlock:
If your parents are the lord and lady of Wyther, they would be in the castle, not in Wyther.

The warehouse door opens, a staircase leads up into the darkness. Unlit torches are spaced throughout the stairs.

[Rising Phoenix]

Alright, this is all going way too fast for me. Think, Reynsfarn, think. "Yes. Yes, cousin, I came alone. Mother and Father are still in Wyther, and if I know them at all, they're in the castle. They should be fine, mind, we might be a little too close to Rews' fief for comfort, but it's not like our borders have ever been cracked, before." This much, at least, is true: The comparably decentralised nature of the Wythernian authorities, with the duke presiding over the Council of Chiefs and the Council of Druids, as well as its mountainous, densely forested, and in the lowlands, swampy and trackless, terrain had allowed the border domain to shrug off superior numbers and forces before, and the reputation of the typical Wythernian Longbowman as a remorseless master of the ambush and the nighttime raid is not all that unfounded, either. Still, worry is apparent on the face of young Reynsfarn as he speaks: "Then again, home's a long, long way out East, and if word of this should ever make it there, I figure the clansmen and gentry'll be going nuts. Lots of assassination attempts to foil there, then, not so good an idea to be there, now." The flipside of the duchy's quite impregnable defenses, after all, is that no one attempt to invade others staged by theirs had ever been successful, either, but some orcs and people never learn. The best they had usually gotten up to was digging down in some out-of-way forest and hackling the peasants with banditry, but clamors for retributive campaigns and vengeance wars are always quick to resound in the mountains, there. "I'll also pass on that clothing, there. Never know where one'd slip some poisoned needle, and for what it's worth, I quite like these clothes." Gesturing at the unassuming set of sheep's furs for cold weather which he wears. "It's just too frickin' cold 'round here." Some more thinking. "And really, we're trapped anyhow. If that way does, in fact, lead to a warehouse, we could at least make a run for the exit there. I say, go there, and maybe we won't lose someone important, here." Coursing glances making it quite clear that "someone" is himself, the prince and princess, and none else. Or maybe some of the others, too. Especially a certain someone, mind. Not that you'd know by the way he glares. What's wrong with me? I swear.

"I see cousin..." replies Adric skeptical "Mayhaps we should make our ways to the elven groves, travel through them, than head to our Uncle and Aunt... Hopefully Rews won't be a fool to attack the elves... and, gods forbid, should things go south... we can always take ship and head south ourselves to warmer climes"

He starts walking towards the warehouse door "Everyone got what they need? If so I think it's time to see what's beyond this door"

Adric will be taking that cold weather outfit

[rweird]

The stairway runs about 40 ft, slopping upwards slowly, until it reaches a trap door. I assume you brought lights or light the torches.

[Ajadea]

Aleida returns from her exploration down the weapon-laden hall and accepts the pack Sandrine hands her. Sandrine, however, does not continue down the hall, and her strong grip prevents Aleida from proceeding. "Sandrine, what-"

"I know I was the one advocating that we leave now, but you're all being far too hasty," Sandrine says. "Look at you, you're all still dressed for the feast! You think you'll get a mile with clothes like that, knowing that Rews and Tegtwiby's soldiers are swarming throughout this city, probably looking for any escapees?"

Aleida nods. "I guess that makes sense..." She kneels down and grabs a random child-sized peasant's outfit, then ducks into the door labeled Living Quarters. "And so help me, if any of you boys come in, I have no problem with throwing you out bodily!" she snaps, though the threatening aspect of this sentence is reduced by the fact her voice is muffled by the door and still has a hint of a joke in it.

[Virtue]

Elijah glances back at the princess and her bodyguard before looking down at his own clothing. Nothing about them spoke of nobility, as he had purposefully chosen his travel wear when coming to the palace. He was never big on displaying what little royalty he had, in part due to how his father rarely treated him as a royal at all, let alone as a son.

Elijah sighed and smoothed out a random wrinkle in the adventurer's wear. His dueling cloak clasped around his neck, his hair pulled back in a ponytail, for once revealing his elven heritage. The young boy simply remained by the door, watching the door to the living quarters close, as he waited for the others.

[Rising Phoenix]

Aleida returns from her exploration down the weapon-laden hall and accepts the pack Sandrine hands her. Sandrine, however, does not continue down the hall, and her strong grip prevents Aleida from proceeding. "Sandrine, what-"

"I know I was the one advocating that we leave now, but you're all being far too hasty," Sandrine says. "Look at you, you're all still dressed for the feast! You think you'll get a mile with clothes like that, knowing that Rews and Tegtwiby's soldiers are swarming throughout this city, probably looking for any escapees?"

Aleida nods. "I guess that makes sense..." She kneels down and grabs a random child-sized peasant's outfit, then ducks into the door labeled Living Quarters. "And so help me, if any of you boys come in, I have no problem with throwing you out bodily!" she snaps, though the threatening aspect of this sentence is reduced by the fact her voice is muffled by the door and still has a hint of a joke in it.

"Okay!" says Adric annoyed. "I was going to change in the warehouse"

He picks the shadowiest corner available in this room and quickly changes, unflinching to any onlooking dies. The travellers outfit was made of wool and cotton, it itched and didn't fit him that well...

"How can people wear such things?" he says already missing the comfort of his original clothes now laying in a neat pile beside him.

For a moment he thinks of leaving his attire behind, but after a while he packs it haphazardly with the rest of his gear.

[rweird]

The warehouse is completely unlit. A few streaks of moonlight fall between a the boards blocking the windows.

[Virtue]

Elijah, waiting for the others to finish getting ready, moves his hands to his backpack and withdraws his own personal everburning torch. Lighting it easily, with one of the own lit torches in the chamber, he then turns to the open door leading into the warehouse.

Letting the others catch up, Elijah moves quietly down the passage. His low-light vision aiding in the dim view of the area.

He pauses, and simply stands where he is, looking out quietly, as the young half-elf waits for the group to catch up.


Spot Check : [roll0]
Listen Check : [roll1]
Search Check : [roll2]

[rweird]

OoC: Everburning torches don't burn. you can't light anything with them and they can't be put out or lit once made.

The trap door is open, after the prince ascended though you can't make anything out in the gloom.

[Rising Phoenix]

Elijah, waiting for the others to finish getting ready, moves his hands to his backpack and withdraws his own personal everburning torch. Lighting it easily, with one of the own lit torches in the chamber, he then turns to the open door leading into the warehouse.

Letting the others catch up, Elijah moves quietly down the passage. His low-light vision aiding in the dim view of the area.

He pauses, and simply stands where he is, looking out quietly, as the young half-elf waits for the group to catch up.


Spot Check : [roll0]
Listen Check : [roll1]
Search Check : [roll2]


"What do you see? Do you need light?"

[rweird]

OoC: Adric, I though you went into the warehouse to change.

[Rising Phoenix]

OoC: Adric, I though you went into the warehouse to change.

he picked the darkest corner and changed in the current room... unless something ate my post...again

[rweird]

OoC: Oh, I though you meant you went into the warehouse. Thanks for clearing that up.

[Virtue]

Elijah holds his Everburning torch higher, allowing the dim light to shine around him. His elven vision takes in this new area, as he continues to wait on the others to arrive and join him.

OOC : Is the prince here now too? What's going on?

[rweird]

Everyone: If I post something in spoilers that says OoC: above it read it. I just don't want it to be mistaken for in character stuff.

The prince is in the first room you were in. You see row upon row of shelves. Contains line many of them though some are empty. You hear muffled sounds from outside. The layer of dust and the shelves make it hard to hear anything.

[Overlord Rion]

Oddly enough, Edward had been born with a distinct lack of something known as modesty. The most he did before changing was moving away from the rest of the group before changing into his traveler's outfit. After his quick change, he would follow Elijah as quickly as possible.

[THEChanger]

Alvar had never changed out of his training clothes. Thus, he didn't see much point in changing into the peasent clothing they had found. He looked scruffy enough as it was. He did grab a set of clothing appropriate for the cold weather found in his homeland. He was detirmined to eventually return home. His father would know what to do. His father always knew what to do.
Walking into the hall where Elijah was, he nodded. "Our first priority is getting out of the city. Once we are a safe distance away, we can decide exactly where we are going." Alvar stretched his ears, trying to identify what the noises were.
Listen check?
[roll0]

[Ajadea]

Aleida comes out of the living quarters. She tugs on her peasant's outfit. "Well, at least there are no stays involved," she comments. She follows the others down the hall.

Sandrine goes back into the living quarters and pockets the jewelry, both her own and Aleida's, lying forgotten under her clothes. The jewelry goes in the hidden pockets of her skirt. She removes the flint from there and adds it into the pack. Feeling somehow considerably more weighed down, despite not carrying much more weight than before, she rushes to catch up with the others.