The People's Tournament - Wagon Delivery Run 1014
The Compact has the Tournament of Roses but the lowers and uppers of Arx has the People’s Tournament. Entry to the People’s Tournament is open only to the common born and the events held are the kind of activities that those not born with silk wrapped around them would be familiar with.
From delivering a wagon loaded down with goods around the lowers, with the fastest time and with accuracy, catching fish from the Gray River, running through the lowers as swiftly as possible and overcoming obstacles to a good bought of pugilism, the People’s Tournament lends more to the tastes and familiarity of the commons of Arx.
With cash prizes for the overall winners (Combined points from all events), crowns for the individual event winners and an abundance of alcohol and a gala at the end to celebrate, it’s an excellent time to be a commoner. It’s a chance to change your stars.
1st - 700,000 silver
2nd - 450,000 silver
3rd - 275,000 silver
People’s Choice - 325,000 Silver
OOC: These events are for commoners to participate in. Nobles are welcome to observe, cheer on even, but actual participation in the event is restricted to commoners only.
Participant List - https://tinyurl.com/WagonRun1014
Feb. 9, 2021, 6 p.m.
Arx - Lower Boroughs - Commons Square
Comments and Log
Sydney arrives alongside - rather than atop - a mild-mannered and seemingly unflappable buckskin mare. The auburn-haired pugilist leads her about, murmuring words of encouragement, "You're just the goodest horse, Hog. Remember, no eating things when you're on the job. I'll give you a... it all tastes the fuckin' same to you, I feel like. Never excited, always motivated. Tch. Horses."
Merek walks along and into the lowers to participate, his beltcape about the waist with his potion belt, in addition to the hood which he wears along his features. The man nods a bit while he looks for a place to settle in and wait for things to begin.
The old man (Zakhar) shows up with a couple of cats sitting on his shoulder. The hood to his cloak is up, only the snow-white hair of his beard pokes out from the otherwise shadowed face. He lines up to where the participants are pointed to.
Arion arrives to compete in this event as well. The youngest Harrow is dressed in a rather fine outfit for a commoner, emerald green cotton of sturdy but fine make and fashionable design has been turned into a pretty dress for the crimson haired male. He wears matching shoes as well and steps towards the starting area with easy grace nodding to those present with a gentle smile on his lips.
Zyxthylum creeps into the gathering with a slow gait. The lanky creature has a vacant, medicated look on his face. His knobby fingers clutch a tiny vial of homemade brew but it seems to help him focus enough to get into his starting position. A slow wave is given to Zakhar and his kitties. The giant that escorts him keeps back, leaning his weight on the wooden mallet he wields. It's clear he isn't here to make conversation, any eye contact earning a legendary glower.
It's been a busy day in the lowers, with heats in the Delivery Run going off every so often, and clusters of people wandering around. The air is crisp, the sun slowly going lower, and chimney-smoke is in the air as Anisha wanders around a temporary stage, heavy coat worn over her shoulders, the glint of aeterna identifying her as much as the mirrorsilver mask on her brow. She may be dressed as a silk, but she's recognizable - and known to the people here as much as anyone. So, she's recruited among many different lines, and now wagons are being prepared between runs, couriers run to and fro delivering results, bookies take bets, and people are naming their favourites while enjoying a variety of snacks - there's even a few members of the Bard's Guild playing merry music here and there, with at least two spontanous bouts of dancing having broken out.
The Sponsorship of the Faith and quite a few noble houses and notable organization is advertised with banners flying colours and sigils along the back of the stage, and Anisha beams brightly.
"Well met, and welcome - we're nearing the final heat," She declares sprightly, her breath misting only a little. "I want to thank you all for coming - you are the People in this Tournament - you make it what it is," She declares. "So please. Eat, drink, be merry, and gather round as the contestants for our final heat prepare themselves."
Sydney claps Mahogany on the side as she ties the mare off, her eyes brightening considerably at the sound of Anisha Whisper's voice. She flashes a wide grin, and exuberantly waves a hand, then immediately zips over to the refreshment table to grab some quick supplies. Sweets, mostly. A paragon of simplicity and modesty, Sydney calls to the crowd, "I hope you're all ready to see my sweet, sweet victorious return!"
There are murmurings among the crowd, but few seem to recognize her. Sydney huffs, "Short memories."
As Anisha calls the finale close, there are, in fact murmurings among the crowd, and at least a few of the other contestants recognise Sydney. Svana Grayhope and Samira Culler among them, both lining up near the start-line before the stage, with Savio Pontelaus and Lore Artiglio representing the Commoners of the Saffron, though at least the Artiglio line has a venerable connection to the city and the Compact.
As the contestants do line up, they see, in the distance, the wagons being prepped, with a few entrepeneurial spirits ready to glad-hand coin if some should be on offer - wagonmasters and their assistants doing last-minute checks on wheels and horseshoes, on reins and bits and generally ensuring that there's a race to be had.
Arion brushes his dainty hands down the front of his emerald green dress, straightening it a little. Quietly he prepres himself to compete in the race. He moves towards where everyone is gathering near the starting line. A smile is given to Zakhar along with a polite dip of that crimson haired as he prepares to try his best here. Green eyes watch those around him with gentle curiousity but he remains focused, waiting for the signal to begin.
Sydney checked charm + empathy at difficulty 20, rolling 17 higher.
Arion checked charm + diplomacy at difficulty 20, rolling 27 higher.
Merek checked charm + diplomacy at difficulty 15, rolling 32 higher.
Zyxthylum checked charm + diplomacy at difficulty 20, rolling 0 higher.
Merek walks up to someone with a wagon, and nods a bit to them, "I would like to acquisition a wagon if you please, to win this race," he smiles. The man looks from the hood, checking the wagon, and agreeing with him while he eventually manages to find success, then he begins to settle into the wagon.
Arion approches a wagon with a cheerful bounce to his steps skirts swishing lightly. Smiling warmly to the people managing the wagon he greets them with a charming polite tone. "Hello. Might I aquire this wagon please?" He manages to aquire the wagon and settle into it without issues.
The listless stare falls onto one of the workers but it is a long moment before Zyxthylum even speaks. His eyelids close painfully slow and remain half shut as he opens his mouth to speak. "'Scuse me. Excuse me sir." A dry swallow and then he takes a couple limping paces towards the men. The umbra and silks get their attention though his words fall short. "Please, load that-," A gangly hand motions vaguely, "_There.." He gets some shifty looks but they do start the loading. Not very fast, but it will get done.
The cats are just settling in on his shoulders as the hood is pushed back, revealing more snow-white hair, and a scar running the middle of his face. Zakhar nods to Zyxthylum with a hand in the hair that could be a wave. Lore, Savio, and Arion recieve a little wink that he tries to hide as he runs a hand through his long locks. A small and very brief grin flashes on his face before he's picking the kittens off of his shoulder and placing them either into a sling pouch hanging under the cloak or the upturned helment slung from a hook on his belts. Zakhar claps his hands together, a small cheer for all those about to participate. "A'ights! Lesta show 'ar besties den."
As the race begins he heads over to the wagonmasters and starts to bark at them as if they are his fellow blades. However, they are not, and all they see is an old man with several kittens. The kittens get more of a look than he does. Eventually, he's given a wagon, though there's several of the crews that are snickering over who is getting stuck with the obviously crazy old man and all them kittens.
When the signal is given to get underway, Sydney races off with a sweet biscuit still clenched in her teeth from the refreshments table. She zips over to Mahogany and unties her and scoots on over toward the wagons, where she begins to hurriedly upsell her horse.
"She's the absolute pride of Blanchard! You'll never see a finer horse to pull your goods! She's steady and-- hey, where are you going? /She is the best horse/."
Sydney struggles to get her first pick, but she does eventually get someone onboard to let her tie her own horse along the wagon. "Yes! Exactly! You, sir, are a man of keen fuckin' integrity and insight, and equine superiority!" Wagon scored.
There's cheers for the Harrow in his lovely dress, and a cheeky wink from two separate Wagonmasters who assure him that this wagon, in particular is the one he wants. For a moment it looks like it might come to blows in their eagerness to help, but thankfully Merek is there to take the spare wagon off their hands, and it's not like they can properly prepare. Samira brings out the old Culler charm, and quickly finds herself settling with a wagon as well, while Lore chooses to sprinkle a handful of silver coin into a waiting hand and has a wagon brought to her. Svana, too, goes the way of the purse, and being the Grayhope representative, even if married in, has some stock in this race. There is some dubiousness at Sydney's claims, but she does find a wagonmaster willing to let her replace the draft horse at their wagon - and even the newcomer from the Saffron, the old sailor and a strange-smelling cadavrous man (that'd be Savio, Zakhar and Zyxthylum, respectively) do manage to find decent wagons - Zakhar being warned away from one with a bum wheel, in fact.
Now that they have the wagons, it's a short ride over to the various loading decks, and there's plenty of dockworkers and passersby milling about. Culler and Grayhope have the family connections that might give them an edge here, but it's still anybody's race!
Arion checked charm + diplomacy at difficulty 20, rolling 35 higher.
Sydney checked strength + intimidation at difficulty 20, rolling 17 higher.
Zyxthylum checked wits + stewardship at difficulty 20, rolling 1 higher.
Merek checked charm + diplomacy at difficulty 20, rolling 13 higher.
Arion pulls his wagon up to the docks and hops up, standing atop the wagon with grace, the wind catching his skirt and long crimson hair in a dazzling fashion as he calls out to the workers. "Excuse me good men? But I need some help loading this wagon. Its a race you see, can you help me win? Please?" He flashes his best smile and flutters those long eyelashes trying to charm and inspire his way into getting some help from any nearby dock workers who might be willing to assist the pretty Harrow.
Merek begins speaking to the crew while he nods to them, "We all can do it, I'll even see if I can get you all a little bit of the winnings," the man offers, taking his time to look from beneath the hood, packing up the wagon with them.
Zakhar looks at the load that needs to get put onto the wagon. There might be gears moving. It is more likely that he's trying to do this sober and is simply staring at the cargo with a level of curiosity of which one might try to topple over first. The wagon eventually is loaded, in what some might call the most efficient means, with the items that will be delivered first easy to reach, later deliveries able to be pushed or pulled forwards as the load becomes lighter. Of course the kittens are trying to help, by climbing out of his pouch and helmet and sitting atop the boxes...that are still being loaded to the wagon. Zakhar pinches his nose for a moment while shaking his head at the kittens, while the crew that came with the wagon look on in a collective groan.
Zyxthylum tries to recall some story from when he scrubbed every chamber pot in the Murder of Crows but his lack of emotion causes it to fall somewhat flat. As he drags on with details about his theory on reading a person's personality based on weight and consistency, they noticed a dark, segmented shape move underneath his collar. The leech retreats from where it was revealed and now thoroughly creeped out, the workers do their job. Zyxthylum sways slightly and watches on with a monotone stare.
Keenly aware that she has not pulled the best wagon for the job, Sydney tries to make up some lost time with some dockyard diplomacy. She scrambles up atop her wagon, props the foot of one boot atop of the edge, and points at people. "You! Scruffybeard! And you, freckles! Get your shardin' asses in gear and help me load this cart, or you'll see why they call me the House Fist of House Waterfall!"
No one calls her that. Regardless, she flashes a wide and dangerous grin, "Come the fuck on, yeah? Yeah! Let's go, then!" She scrambles to help them with the cargo as well, swapping stick for carrot, "I knew you had it in you, freckles! Good job, beardo!"
The Grayhope home advantage comes through, as Svana practices a compelling speech, and with years of experience as a merchant, gives out orders to eager cousins and cousins of cousins. Hers is the first wagon to clear the loading dock, though Arion is not far behind. Lore puts some of that old Artiglio charm into matters, which is to say, she scares the dickens out of her crew with some very imaginative threats. Merek's offer of potential winnings has his folk working as fast as they can. Meanwhile, Samira's Culler crew take deft instruction on how a wagon is to be loaded for the best weight distribution, ensuring she has a hopefully smooth ride ahead. Sydney's flock respond as well as can be expected. Maybe nobody CALLS her the House Fist, but everyone has seen what those fists can do. Zakhar and Zyxthylum both have their... Well, doddering might not be the kindest word, but either way they get their wagons loaded, while Savio - ah, Savio. Savio ends up in a heated debate with one of the dockhands who're supposed to help him, and actually has to be interrupted when his wagon is finally loaded - a minute or two after the others have left the docks behind.
Which means it is time for the deliveries to go out to the Lowers shops, storage houses, and residences!
Sydney checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 31 higher.
Arion checked perception + streetwise at difficulty 20, rolling 6 higher.
Zyxthylum checked luck + haggling at difficulty 20, rolling 7 higher.
Merek checked luck + performance at difficulty 20, rolling 34 higher.
Arion struggles a bit now with the delivering. He doesn't know all the streets but he knows some of them and he tries to take shortcuts which makes it a bit more difficult on himself. But he makes it in the end, he fell behind a bit but he made it through at least!
Merek begins leading in with that wagon while he speaks, "Alright, we're going to wing it!" The man begins to take any road he can, he doesn't care. He finds a path, he takes that, he begins swiveling along through the alleys, "WOOOOO!" he then adjusts his reins while he begins to come in for delivering along to the shops, then he begins to pick up packs, then he slides them to the delivery.
"Everyone, get your things," then he's back to doing crazy things.
"A'ights! Yessses. Naw, whiches way?" /Oh... that looks like a great shortcut.../ It might have been a shortcut to someone that knew which way they were going in, though Zakhar does not. Zakhar is...well, partially lost. Right, then a left, then follow a kitten that has hopped off of the box it had made its home. Where Did The Wagon Go? A couple of turns, he finds the wagon, with a crew that is all laugher. Things are getting delivered, with a lot of backtracking. "Dids we naes pack 'ights?" He can be heard muttering as another delivery is made and instead of going forwards to the next one he's leading the wagon backwards... to the next stop.
The wagon shakes and jostles the man as it moves chaotically through the Lowers. Zyxthylum is calm and serene, though the men keep looking at him with morbid curiosity. Knobby fingers stroke his chin scruff as they follow the vague directions he gives, (usually too late), and he stops to buy a trinket along the way. At this point he is getting wary looks but he climbs back aboard and finishes the task at hand. Although his good eye stares off into the distance, he wears a grin as he rides in, happy to simply have a wagon ride in the end.
No stranger to the Lowers and operating inside of them, Sydney is swift to find the easiest routes to the marked destinations, jettisoning her crew so they don't take up any extra weight. She's more than capable of unloading as she goes, thank you, and Mahogany is proving a steadfast and stable lead, only very /occasionally/ getting distracted to nibble and snuffle at particularly inviting smells in the Lowers, of which there are distressingly few. She's not winning points for delicacy, as her deliveries are rather rudely deposited with all the haste one might expect from a race, but it's the /Lowers/. She keeps the pace, crowing, "Good girl, Hog!" As the race heads in toward the Upper Boroughs, Sydney spots Arion, who's only narrowly ahead of her at this point.
"Hey! Whatever-your-name-is! Your hair's amazing! But too short! Do it longer!"
...At a glance, she's perhaps not the best authority to take advice on this from.
Sydney points at Arion's cart, hissing instructions at her mare, who clearly doesn't understand them, anyhow.
Lore, clearly, knows ALL the shortcuts, and hers is the first wagon to thunder up the path to the Upper Boroughs - though Svana is not far behind, guided well by her knowledge of the Lowers. Merek needs no such thing as planning or forethought, aiming for Gild's own luck, and, in fairness, there's only so much Lowers to go - his parcels handily delivered as he plans his route based on the package that he picks up next. Savio has been spending a fair amount of time in the Lowers since arriving to Arx, which now pays off as he takes shortcuts - not quite the same as Lore Artiglio, but he can see the dust left behind by Merek, at this point. Sydney and Arion practically run the road to the Uppers alongside each other, the two redheads competing for fabulousness as well as time, and Samira finds that the Culler ways would work well - if not for some suspicious blockages here and there. Which leaves Zyxthylum, moving at a sedate pace, and Zahkhar - who, once he starts moving his cart backwards, quickly attracts the attention of the iron guard, who insist on checking his papers. They do check out, but it costs him valuable time, and his is the last cart to trundle up the road to the uppers - though, thankfully, he's at least going the right way now.
Arion checked charm + seduction at difficulty 25, rolling 7 higher.
Sydney checked dexterity + streetwise at difficulty 25, rolling 24 higher.
Arion blinks as he peers at Sydney breifly. He smiles sweetly and flips that perfect crimson hair, letting it flutter on the breeze. "Thank you. I'm Arion Harrow. And its perfect just the way it is I think." He winks playfully at her and flicks the reins against his horse with a flourish heading off on his way into the uppers. He makes the rounds with surprising ease acting as though he belongs, nodding politely to any curious guards and charming his way through the district.
Merek checked charm + seduction at difficulty 25, rolling 7 higher.
Zyxthylum checked composure + etiquette at difficulty 25, rolling 8 lower.
"Welcome, all you noble folk and middle class people, I am bringing you the best," Merek offers, while he takes a moment to begin offering whatever he can, making his way along, using his smootb talk with the people. He watches from the hood while he begins to come up to each point.
Onto the uppers, Zakhar looks worried, everything else has not been going in a direction that really makes this seem possible. Though, keep on trudging. Time to embrace the suck and keep going. Into the Uppers, and into the guard. His only saving grace is being recognized as the old blade and being told to continue on. Deliveries are being made, no more going backwards. A couple of nods as the packages make it to their destinations. Again, the kittens being given more attention than him and the wagon that is ambling its way around.
The silk and umbra only get Zyxthylum so far with these people. When he has to rely on his words, things become dicey. Suddenly they doubt the strange man dressed like he just robbed a noble. The Ironguard come after him, stealing away his smile and his chances at this competition. His composure faltering, he ends up being held up against a wall and searched. He watches the competition disappear with a glower.
It takes a certain special something to keep that energy from the Lowers going into the Upper Boroughs - and Sydney appears to have that in spades as she briefly releases her reins as she overtakes Arion, precariously perching on the wagon to point and call, "Sydney Waterfall! Don't you go forgettin' it, aye?" She yanks the hairpin from her hair and lets it spill as the wind buffets it about, stowing the precious accessory at her belt and hopping back into the driver's seat.
...It really is a good thing that she has such a tolerant and steady horse to put up with her, especially when she ends up all but throwing her packages at doorsteps. There are occasional crashing sounds.
"Probably fine! Probably fine! Thank you for your patronage, enjoy, enjoy! Next!" Sydney crows, zipping and maneuvering around Merek with a particularly fierce flash of her teeth. "Race you, /Black/!"
Lore's lead continues, the artist using a clever tongue to talk her way past the guard, but Svana - well, these are her people as much as the Lowers, and she's certainly welcomed, going by the books on a model run. Samira is a Culler, through and through - so she chances naught but a quick ride and an easy delivery, avoiding the guards rather than risk them. Sydney follows her lead - almost literally, while Merek is - well, Merek wears many hats, and as an Iron Guard and member of the Crafter's Guild, as well as a Lycene Knight, he, too, is quite welcome. Arion is waved past too - perhaps with a wink from one of the guards, while Savio, poor Savio, tries to outrun the guards and must tell a quick story of runaway horses when the iron guard catch him - he's certainly falling behind, somewhat. Zyxthylum shares a similar fate, but is back on his wagon about the time when Zakhar comes riding, and the two Z's get to ride through the Uppers at least somewhat together.
Eventually, all the carts are empty, and it is time for the ride back to the Commons Square, and the Crown that awaits the winner!
Zyxthylum checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 1 lower.
Sydney checked dexterity at difficulty 15, rolling 12 higher.
Merek checked dexterity at difficulty 15, rolling 6 lower.
Zakhar claps his hands together. All of the packages have been delivered...in one way or another. Now. Now all he has to do is deal with the crew laughing, making sure all the kittens are on the wagon. No, get back here... And downhill. All downhill. Is it a second wind? It must be, as Zakhar is doing something right. The wagon gets back in mostly one piece, waiting until being handed over back to the wagonmaster to finally just sag in and fall off of its axles. Zakhar starts low key whistling as he walks over to the refreshment table. Nope. The wagon falling apart is not his worry anymore.
Arion checked dexterity at difficulty 15, rolling 3 higher.
At least he doesn't actually break his neck, but the 'Duke of Limbs' lives up to the jeer. Lanky legs shoot off in an uncoordinated fashion and soon go out from under him. Flailing, he manages to roll instead of falling like a sack of potatoes, crawling onto his side and muttering a string of expletives. Eventually the hulking behemoth that guards him comes to hoist him back to his feet. It's clear the emaciated man is still out of sorts so he is lifted and carried under the giant's arm and walked to the finish. A deep set frown mars his grisly visage, the wagon ride now completely forgotten with the Ironguard and the fresh bruises.
Merek begins trying to make his way through clever places, then he begins to strike into a wall, a wheel spinning off the wagon while it spins. "WOOOOOOOOOOOO!" the man maneuvers the horses who all begin to try taking him back to the common's square. It takes a while, but eventually there he comes, he seems to be about to, then the horses all break away, and his wagon begins to spiral along. It spins right into the square, missing everyone but managing to sweep along before it tips to the side, with the man doing what looks like a dodge roll away from it.
The man looks back to the wagon, and nods, "That didn't go well." Well, that cost him quite a bit of time in that race.
All of Sydney's boisterous energy shifts when she spies some of her competitors are losing ground to poor luck or circumstances of decisions made. Her place is not to judge. Her place is to cut down narrow passes that someone well-versed in traveling between both common districts might know like the back of their hand. Some of it is skill. Some of it is luck. A not-inconsiderable amount of it is owed to Mahogany being a reliable partner in crime.
"Come on, Hog! Come on, girl! Keep it moving! Let's catch us a Pravosi!"
And for a while, she looks like she just might pull it off... but no. Lore's masterful maneuvering of the Lowers makes for a lead that cannot be closed. Glancing over her shoulder, Sydney eases off on the mare, and paces her to just keep ahead of those behind her, not run her into the ground trying to close an impossible distance.
Jasper, an unflappable scoundrel arrives, following Deva.
Jasper, an unflappable scoundrel leaves, following Deva.
The crowd is pointing and cheering as the wagons come barreling down the thoroughfare from the Uppers, with Zyxthylum and his guardian at the rear, alongside the wagon rather than on it. It's a near disqualifier, but tankfully the wagon does cross the finish line, not too far after Zakhar's disintegrating wagon, which - well, someone is going to pay for that. Probably Anisha. Thank goodness there's a lot of coin from generous donors in that war chest.
Merek's maneuver does cost him a lot of time, he's the third last to enter, though he's almost catching up to the beautiful redhead who comes in from a side-street having shaved a few minutes off the trip, and Savio is just ahead of Arion the two having had similar ideas; rounding tight corners to come onto the Commons Square. They're both behind Samira, though, whose Culler shortcuts have now been cleared of those previous obstacles.
Svana foregoes such finesse, and merely goes hell for Leather - but Sydney, clever Sydney, comes down off a side-path just before her, and is none too far behind the other person who chooses the main road.
"And there you have it, ladies, gentlemen, and those who are neither - the Queen of the Wagon Run, the first of our People's Tournament Champions in 1014 is none other than the talented, the quick-witted, the courageous Lore Artiglio!" Anisha cries out, and after her wagon has come to an all but screeching halt, Lore is cheered on and carried on a victory chair to the stage, crowned by one of those TERRIBLY gaudy crowns that Josephine designed. "Made by the lovely Cocine Arcuri, in loving memory of Mistress Josephine, Mistress Lore, please do enjoy this token of our esteem!" She cheers.
She turns, and applauds to the others. "Well done! Welcome back! Thank you for making this an event to remember!" Anisha offers brightly as the others gather. "Now, relax, have a drink on us, and enjoy the food. It's time to share the tales of your daring runs, and let us know why you all should be considered for the People's Choice, mm?"
Anisha is overheard praising Faith of the pantheon: A generous donor!
Anisha is overheard praising Grayson: Gracious and generous!
Anisha is overheard praising Amadeo: Promising and precious!
Anisha is overheard praising Grayhope: Protectors of the Lowers!
Anisha is overheard praising Redrain: Northern Generosity!
Anisha is overheard praising Thrax: Thanks given for their generosity!
Anisha is overheard praising Bard's college: Entertaining and Generous!
Anisha is overheard praising Whisper: Fostering culture everywhere!
Zakhar is overheard praising Amadeo.
Anisha is overheard praising Lore: A worthy winner!
Zyxthylum is overheard praising Anisha: 3,Great hostess!
Anisha is overheard praising Sydney: Sweet second place!
Anisha is overheard praising Svana: Excellent effort!
Anisha is overheard praising Samira: Fearsome fourth!
Anisha is overheard praising Savio: A noble attempt!
Anisha is overheard praising Arion: Sometimes, it's about looking good!
Zyxthylum is overheard praising Anisha: Take two!
Anisha is overheard praising Merek: You'll get them next time!
Anisha is overheard praising Zakhar: Entertaining and a good sport!
Merek is overheard praising Zyxthylum.
Merek is overheard praising Anisha.
Merek is overheard praising Arion.
Merek is overheard praising Zakhar.
Merek is overheard praising Sydney.
Merek is overheard praising Lore.
Sydney takes a long breath and lets it out slow, looking mirthful rather than wrathful about her finishing position. "That's just the way of it, Hog. There's always someone stronger, faster, smarter, or luckier. You gave it your all out there, so hold your head up high." She treats the mare to a sweet biscuit, which she lazily nibbles upon.
She meanders on over to where the food and drink are and gathers herself some whiskey, glancing about and offering a toast to the crowd, "For the Lowers!" She seems to need no other case for herself.
Merek is overheard praising Faith of the pantheon.
Merek is overheard praising Redrain.
Merek is overheard praising Grayhope.
Merek is overheard praising Whisper.
Merek is overheard praising Thrax.
Anisha is overheard praising Zyxthylum: A fine attempt, at least!
Sydney is overheard praising Anisha.
Anisha drops The People's Tournament - Wagon Delivery Run 1014.
Briar, a quiet young woman, 6 First Legion Centurions arrive, following Sebastian.
Briar, a quiet young woman, 6 First Legion Centurions leave, following Sebastian.
Zyxthylum saunters off to sit and sulk over his foul smelling cocktail. The glaze returns to his eyes as well as the stupid grin. He makes a round with the help of his bodyguard, thanking everyone with a nod and some mumbled words. Zakhar's kittens get a little extra attention. Finally he find Anisha and bows so low he nearly lays down. "My thanks, Mistress Lady. We did so enjoy our wagon ride." Even the good eye looks past the woman as the creature sways.
Mahogany leaves, following Sydney.
Khadija, a most lovely voice of reason arrives, following Svana.
Anisha takes The People's Tournament - Wagon Delivery Run 1014.
Festivities ensue! The sun goes down upon drinking and merriment, and much braggadocio, as the contestants, finalists or not, relive their jaunts through the Lowers and uppers, and eventually the tales grow wilder and wilder. A few people have definitely marked themselves as potential favourites, and time will tell which of the contestants will truly change their stars!
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