[IC] [Risus] -ish: Tales of the Old Continent

[Chas Kramer]

Your first sensations, as you struggle to recover balance and full consciousness, are the ringing in your ears, and the intense scent of orange, invading your nostrils.
A quick exam with the tip of your tongue seems to confirm it: it is, in fact, orange pulp, all over your mouth and nose.
"Cazzo! Quello era un pompelmo!!" someone cheerfully shouts, in a language you know. His voice arrives muffled to you; plus, his statement is incorrect. It is no grapefruit, as he mistakenly believes, that splat on your face strongly enough to stun you.
You are about to correct him, but the pain in your nose and jaw somehow pulls you back you to a more urgent matter: recalling where you are, what you are doing there, and how could you possibly have been knocked-out by a slightly oversized orange in your face.

You recall and, luckily for you, you do it just before it's too late. So you duck, barely in time to dodge a new volley of oranges, flying towards you at insane speed. Two...three...four wet thumps, as the fruits splat on the concrete of Ferruccio Nazionale square, and paint it a new color.
You clean your face from the pulp, but the intense smell of the fruits doesn't go away. How could it... "The Battle" is reaching its climax, and the citric aroma is all over the air. The chariot from which you were "shot", the one with the grey standards and the coat-of-arms of the "Cavalieri di San Bernardo", has now moved forward. The team on it keeps throwing oranges towards the mass of people below, shooting with well-trained continuity and deadly accuracy. The people on foot, all wearing the traditional blue-red shirt of the "Asso di Picche" clan, cluster around the passing chariot and respond in kind, furiously throwing back the same ammunition. Four magnificent, richly-decorated stallions pull the chariot, their fax lucid and black as the night, and their calm seraphic. Not a single fruit hits them, despite the raging battle. Everybody simply aims for each other's face, with a greater enjoyment than it would be sane...

The man who shouted before has already collected some intact fruits in a box. With a smile, he kindly makes them available also for you, in case you want to take your revenge on the next chariot, which is approaching.
Someone could say that this whole thing is a huge waste of food and, indeed, this complaint has been raised more than once. Mostly, the locals would answer with a shrug to it, because...you know, after all...it's tradition. Such a statement, in Italy, is conclusive for many debates, and sufficient to justify whatever local habit, no matter how old and weird.
You even recall hearing, from the locals, some contradictory theories on how all of this started...but now it is probably not the best moment to ask yourself questions.

You are in Ivrea, northern Italy. It is Carnival, and the Battle of the Oranges is infuriating all around you. The second chariot shows the green and white banners of the "Tiranni di Sant' Ulderico" . It will be in range in a few moments...

Spoiler: OOC: Your move...

Show

Ok, guys, chose among you who is the lucky one who got shot, and play along. First come first served. For what matters, it is also safe to assume that you all had the same... near-fun experience.

[Darkstorm]

Francesca face feels sticky, as the juice drips and starts to dry. She tried to dodge left but there was people and her movement was stopped midway.

She first passes the hand over the mess, then laughs wholehearted, as she expels a few choice foul words. This was fun. The adrenalin, the extasy of the crowd, jeering, laughing and fighting. A hum that makes everything loud.

This wasn’t her first year. She used the Carnival university break to come to Ivrea and partake this festival. Was something she loved and was a contrast to the boring work she was stuck now. Her body seemed to itch while she was teaching “Greek city states and birth of democracy”. It was a boring subject and especially tried to hide the real things. The blood, the wars, the knife and cloak agenda…

She goes to the man sporting the fruits and says loud, so her voice carries over the crowd and says “Thank you. I'll make the next ones will pay.” She smiled and knew it must be an awful sight, filled with orange pieces.

As the next chariot comes, she points her two bombs to strike at it.

Spoiler: OOC

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She uses her "tomb raider" cliche to accuratly (I hope) strike the next chariot throwers.
(4d6)[6][5][2][4](17)

[Chas Kramer]

The chariot seems to host more or less six people, who seem even more coordinated than the previous ones.
Half of the people on board pick up oranges from the boxes and make them available for the shooters, who receive them and turn back to throw, in a single fluid movement. It's an endless "pick-give-pick-give" and "turn-shoot-turn-shoot". At the very least, six oranges per seconds are thrown from above to the raging crowd below.

The central one of the three shooters is now in direct line of sight. You see him through the orange cloud and he sees you, cute, and without a face mask for protection... He shoots at YOU, without mercy...some people just want to watch the world burn...

Spoiler: Orange fight

Show

Professional Orange Thrower(3)
(3d6)[4][2][1](7)

You annihilated him :D. You emptied his dice pool, you get to decide what happens next
Oh, for the future...the way I see it you can always roll at least one die, for whatever task...then you ADD your cliche to it. I like the idea that there is nothing impossible, just very unlikely.
This time I rolled for the guy like you did

[Darkstorm]

Francesca rolls and swerves as a few oranges come her way, rolling slightly and with an effect. She ducks then and in the same swift movement lets her oranges go. Before the fiery fruits of revenge even hit, she knew she had it.

She smiles, winks at the man holding the orange box and says something like “I told you so.” But the sound is snuffed by the crowd. The crowd goes wild, jeering and laughing as the man at the chariot loses his balance and falls into his companions disrupting the well-coordinated strike force.

She laughs hard and smiles. She watches amazed as the others around her use the opportunity and the lost balance of all the charioteers to smite them. Dozens of oranges fly in unison, making the six men hide as best as possible behind their arms and hands.

The crowd has won this one as the chariot, bit by bit moves away, giving way to another chariot.

Several people in the crowd clap Francesca on the shoulder and exchange a few words. For a moment she thinks on the heroes and soldiers of old, and how they must have felt after a battle. A sort of bond forming, of camaraderie.

She laughs again, as she thinks "We've shared orange juice! We are brothers now!"

[werehounding]

Cassidy observed the scene from a relatively-safe-from-oranges distance, a bit further back in the crowd. He had a small notepad with him as he watched the festivities and the people, and he occasionally scribbled a few notes in it - he never could get over the habit of taking a notebook for fieldnotes with him wherever he went. He saw a younger woman get hit in the face and winced. I hope she's alright, he began to think, but she quickly recovered and nailed the orange-throwers in the chariot. He pocketed his notebook and decided to approach the young woman and introduce himself - she seemed knowledgeable about things here, certainly more than he was. He walked up to her, and tapped her gently on the shoulder.
"That was quite a fight, aye? You nailed those chariot boys like it was nothin'." He said, looking at the defeated chariot as they inched away. His Italian, despite his fluency, still belied hints of an Irish accent.

[Darkstorm]

Francesca breaths hard as if to regain her breath, then smiles at the foreigner "It was more luck than anything."

She then winks and smiles, trying to sow confusion between lucky and skill. She then searches her pockets and uses the time to pick a tissue and clean her face a bit better.

"Here for the festival? You don't really seem to want to smash oranges on people faces." she asks, her voice taking a different note. More direct and inquisitive, as if trying to pick a secret out of you.

[Kaworu]

Aleksander looked at the people in chariot getting in troubles and laughed. He had very contagious laughter and loud too, so people around him laughed too, which in turn did make him laugh only louder. Kind of perpetual motion machine, when one thinks about that.

It was good to laugh with others. Years of mental illness and unemployment were very hard to overcome, so he cherished every happy moment he got. He did not had too many of them, to be honest.

He moved slowly forward to the lady who had set the stroke – for he was holding his laugh-waving belly – and showed her thumbs up, expressing his gratitude.

- You. Good. I. Envy. - he had studied some Italian phrasebooks before the flight, but it was obvious he would be unable to hold a conversation.

[Darkstorm]

The rays hits her in the eyes as she twirls to the newcomer. The sun was still high and it wasn't too cold today. It was a beautiful day.

Francesca smiles at the newcomer and just adds "Fortuna". Stops and adds in a somewhat accented english "Luck. And doing this sometimes before."

She then asks the same question as she did to the other foreigner "Here for the festival?"

[Kaworu]

- Ah, English, nice – said Alex – As to me being here, I’m on vacation. The festival was one of the reasons, but me and my family wanted to see all the old buildings and museums (you seem to have a lot of them in Italy). Oh, and the local cuisine, it’s good too.

[werehounding]

"Nah, I think of myself more as an observer, really, in these sorts of occasions." Before he could say more, he noticed Aleksander. He gave the man a wave. Upon hearing his stilted Italian, Casidy called out in English, "Aye, I'll guess you're not from 'round these parts. Where you visitin' from, if you don't mind me askin'?"

[Darkstorm]

"Sure it is" Francesca replies "the best cuisine in the world."

She then laughs and looks back at the emotional crowd and the fights with the chariot trying to follow the action.

[Chas Kramer]

You see the guy who gave you the oranges before running towards you. He walks funny, a little hen-like. Then you understand why....he still hilds oranges in some big pocket of his shirt, and he doesn't want to drop them.

"That was great" he shouts, cheerfully. You now realize that his shirt, showing the same half blue half red pattern as all the others, and the ace of spades symbol in the center, also has some richer decorations and symbols.
"That single throw allowed us to score higher than the "panhers" . We are gonna win, this year "
He is talking to Francesca, and then notices her companions.
He switches to English , introduces himself as Sandro, and explains the whole thing.

Apparently, the charioteers are divided in knightly orders, and the foot soldiers in clans. The clans compete on who shoots best (there is some semi official comittee deciding that...you wonder how they make it).

As he finishes the explanation, people around him start to cheer, call his name, and scream "capitano! capitano! ".
So he says:"ok, I'll go shoot one more round. Join me if you like. If you don't, stay around, I'd like to offer you something at the end"

He runs to the heat of the battle, rallying his soldiers with his battlecry,

[Darkstorm]

Francesca smiles and says to the two foreigners in english "Come, let's finish this conversation later! Be like an Italian and live the joys of the festival first hand! Capitano asked us.".

Stoping and looking back she adds "Just don't get hit in the face like I did. It hurts!". With that she marches into the crowd, next to Sandro, feeling the warmth and the excitment of the crowd.

[Kaworu]

- I'm Polish... - was all Alex was able to say before the capitano approached them. Then, he was listening to him and thinking. He was not sportactive and it was hard for him to a be a good contestant in this festival... on other hand, wasn't it all meant to be primirily about fun and only then about winning?

- I guess I could participate... - he admitted slowly, still unsure if it was a good idea.

[werehounding]

"Ah - well, I don't usually participate in the festivities, but I may as well." He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and follows after Francesca, gesturing to Alex. "Come along with us - when in Rome, aye?"

[Chas Kramer]

The battle is now less intense then before, yet more chaotic, if possible.

Whereas you would see before a beehive of colored shirts (all with the same patterns) clustering around the chariots passing by, now you see instead bunches of less organized people. Many of them are tourists. Some of them are local but they are dressed differently: some men in what looks like a Napoleonic army uniform, and some girl in an old fashioned outfit, like in the 1700s.
There are others, younger, still with a light in their eyes, of those that never have had to argue with an idiotic manager at work. That light, their goatees, their enthusiasm just scream "university student". There are plenty, cloaked in some medieval-looking colorful mantle. For sure, they are the from the Goliardia groups.
Everybody is dirty in orange

The floor now is really slippery, and the smell of long-smashed oranges starts to be quite overwhelming. However, nothing has changed from the perspective team in the charioteers. The men in the team, masked, coordinated and merciless keep throwing, as if they had unlocked some real-life "infinite ammo cheat".

Spoiler: OOC Orange Battle part 2

Show

Ok, you have 3 rolls, from the orange throwers from a chariot. You can choose to group up, and add up your rolls together in a single group, and then apply the risiko system collectively.
If you don't, you can also tackle the three confrontations independently.

Orange Thrower A - Dice pool: Basic 1 + Orange Thrower (2)
(3d6)[5][6][3](14)

Orange Thrower B - Dice pool: Basic 1 + Professional Orange Thrower (3)
(4d6)[6][6][4][1](17)

Orange Thrower C - Dice pool: Basic 1 + Orange Thrower (2)
(3d6)[6][4][6](16)

After this last battle we'll proceed with the story, don't worry

[Darkstorm]

The giddyness of the fight becomes overwhelming as Francesca footing slides and she picks a few oranges to throw.

The smell brings back memories of childhood but as the chariot approaches she snaps out of the reverie.

She looks to her companions and nods - time to play.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Rolls
(5d6)[2][5][5][3][5](20)

[werehounding]

Cassidy holds the orange in his hand and turns to Alex and Francesca before he throws. "Just to warn you two - I'm a professor, not exactly a sports man. Don't be too surprised if I miss terribly."
He tries to aim a throw, and throws the orange. The closest thing he'd done to this was throwing a few bricks through windows when he was a rowdy graduate student.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

I'll use his Former Petty-Criminal Lowlife Cliche, with one die. I think it might be better to pool our dice - let me know if this is the correct way. I'll roll 2d6 for throwing and we can pool it.
EDIT: I accidentally rolled 3d6 earlier, thinking one dice for each person we're throwing at. I rerolled in the OOC thread with 2d6 and got a 7; sorry about the confusion.

---

* post roll count doesn't match database

[Kaworu]

- No problem - Alex answered - I'm also not a sportman... - he admitted.

He picked one orange - the smallest he could find, he did not wanted to throw big oranges at people... plus it was easier to throw - and used that as a projectile to try and attack the first orange thrower.

He will probably fail miserably, but hey, it's about fun, not winning... right?

Spoiler

Show

(1d6)[4]

[Chas Kramer]

Spoiler: OOC

Show

So, the charioteers group collectively rolls:
[5][6][3][6][6][4][1][6][4][6]

You, guys collectively rolled
[2][5][5][3][5][4][6][1]

No one protects the others by "sacrificing themselves", so we simply compare the dice results.
Basically, you loose all dice confrontation, except one, because a 6 ties with an enemy six. You for sure take damage, but your dice pool is not entirely depleted, meaning that the gruop is not defeated, and the enemy does not have free choice on what to do to all of you.

You haste towards the chariot passing by, you don't even take time to look at its standards...you just aim and throw. Maybe you arrive at the wrong time, maybe the battle is more chaotic than before, but it doesn't work right to you. Only one orange from dr. Kassidy strikes true, but it splats without harm somewhere on the head protection of one of the "Knights".
Undisturbed by any of your actions, the throwers on top shoot on the crowd as usual, without any particular slowdown. Aleksandr is hit, somewhere on the left part of the torso, whereas Francesca, much to her surprise, is hit from behind. "Friendly fire" from some clumsy peasant ("Scusa! Scusa!").
All and all, not so great. You are lucky in the sense that the charioteers don't concentrate directly on you.... They have much more to worry about the men, rallied by the Captain, who are shooting as if their life depended on it.

[Darkstorm]

Francesca looks sideways at the man that had hited her. at least now her head was throabing from both ends, front and back. Well as the proverb went "We cant go to war and expect only to give and not take any in return".


She expects that the two foreigners enjoy the taste of the festival and experience the adrenalin of fighting and throwing.

After the chariot passes she touche sthe foreigners shoulders, nodds to the Capitano and returns to a place slightly out of the crowd and waits for him there, and for the request he had.

[Kaworu]

Aleksander allowed himself getting lost in the orange battle. He was loosing, of course, but still, it was a pleasant experience, even though he got juice in his hair and had dirty t-shirt. It was good to have some fun once in a while.

Then, he looked after the lady who had thrown the orange so skillfully at their opponents. He started to feel a kind of kinship with her, even if that was a subtle feeling. He should at least say goodbye to her. She deserved this much.

[Chas Kramer]

As the last of the chariots basses by, people start to disperse, talk loud and be very unorganized. The most wary ones engage in mini skirmishes among them, most find some room and air to check their wounds (not really a metaphor... you definitely see some bruises and some noses bleeding). The Capitano manages to find you in the chaos.

"Well done, well done", he says to all of you. He checks his phone: "Yup, turns out that we scored more than the other clans. This year victory is ours. I hope you will allow me to thank you for your services. I know a patisserie... rest assured, you will not regret it".

He then gives Francesca a small card, with the details of a cafeteria. If he has any interest towards Francesca specifically, he tries his best to not make it obvious.
In fact, he invites all of you. He hopes you will join him in two hours. He gives you indications to reach it (apparently, it lays in some alleyway close to the Cathedral), and then leaves, to attend his "Clan" duties.

It is now the early afternoon, of a pleasantly sunny winter day. Dry and cold, but nothing a good coat can't handle.
You will have the time to cleanup and go for the rendez-vous, if you so choose.

[Kaworu]

- Excuse me, lady...? - Aleksander asked gently, yet insecurely Francesca - Do you think I should come to? I feel like I have been a... liability?

[Darkstorm]

Francesca thanks the capitano and answers Aleksander "Of course! You know who are always remembered and honored in a war? Not the heroes. Not the survivors! It's the ones that fall, and give their lifes for the cause, country or ideal." she smiles again now with a wicked edge "So let's be hapy and let capitano honor us, for being hit in this war."

[Kaworu]

Aleksander nodded thankfully, a little bit reassured - Thank you. I think I am gonna go to my hotel room and take a shower. I have the orange juice all over me. It's sticky. Ewwwww! - was all he said.

[werehounding]

"I'll come along. Don't want to be rude." He looks down at his clothes, stained with orange juice, and tries to wipe the juice from his glasses with little success. "But - I got orange juice in my hair, clothes, and glasses. I think I'd better take a shower, too - try and rinse this out of my hair before it dries and I've got to go through a two-hour song and dance to get it out." He glances at the address again, and writes it down in his fieldnotes journal - mercficully spared by the orange juice. "Well, I'll see you two - and that capitano fella - in an hour, then. Don't get hit by any stray oranges."

[Darkstorm]

"Yes. Let's do that. Meet you there." Francesca says as she smiles a bit. These were becoming an interesting vacations.

[Chas Kramer]

The business card that you received is a simple coarse paper beige ticket, with very minimal decorations.
The information is written inside a simple green frame, and says:

Pasticceria Chivasso
di Giuseppe Ponta & fam.
Caffetteria, Dolci Tipici, Catering.

Vicolo alla Cattedrale 7, 10015, Ivrea (TO)



Later on, while you walk to the place, you'll notice that the adorable chaos has not diminished, but...distributed itself.
As the day gets darker, people are still somehow full of energy, and work tirelessly on building stuff... It looks like they are building something like "stakes" to set on fire at a later point. They look like they are NOT supposed to "host" a person, luckily.

Anyway, you arrive at your own time, and all meet outside the cafe'. It is getting more chilly, but still not a cloud in the sky. Venus starts to be distinguishable in the sky, as a faint white dot.

[Kaworu]

Aleksander appeared in from of the meeting place, washed up and wearing a warm winter jacket. He looked somehow more comfortable now, while being outside of a crowd. Not totally comfortable, just... a bit more.

He nodded to his companions, but stayed a little bit off, unsure if he should approach them more openly. He seemed anxious, although wanted to hide this fact from the world.