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The King's Court [RP Thread]

Started by Wargamer, August 07, 2013, 03:46:19 PM

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Wargamer

A nice, simple affair to get things going and give more people a chance to wander in. ;)

It was the morning of the spring solstice, and it was a time of celebration.

The winter had been kind this year, but today was the day when the winter stores were emptied and a great feast was put on. It was a day of celebration, of giving thanks for surviving the long cold, and to ask the Gods for a kind and prosperous year to come.

It was also the day of the Spring Tourney.

King Xavier Markias Lupo II, supreme ruler of Atlia, was holding court on a wide wooden stand set up beside the jousting lane. A throne, cushioned with silk had been provided for him and he sat drinking a goblet of fine wine. His face was tired, worn down by long years, but he still had a hint of the handsomeness that had stolen so many women's hearts years before. A second, smaller throne was set beside him. It was empty, as it had been for five years.

He idly cast his eyes south toward the main gates of the tourney grounds. He could see banners on the road displaying the heraldry of feudal lords who owed him their loyalties. Knights, Barons, Dukes; the elite of the land were flocking to the Spring Tourney. It was the first big social event of the calender. To miss it would be unthinkable. Over the next few days everyone who was anyone would be present. Some to compete, others to catch his eye and seek to carry his favour. A few, whom he watched very closely, would come simply to be seen, and find an excuse to leave again as soon as possible.

King Xavier's wrinkling hand gently stroked the arm rest of the unoccupied throne, and wondered idly who he would be crowning champion this year.
I wrote a novel - Dreamscape: The Wanderer.. Available in paperback and pdf.

Quote from: Liberate the Warhammers
People who have no sense of Sportsmanship have NO PLACE designing any Gaming system

The Man They Call Jayne

The traffic into the city was busy, as it often was into such a major location. The seat of the King himself.

Captain Rowan of the Darkstar free company was here for much the same reasons as anyone else. The Tournament. And excellent chance to earn renown and also to spread his reputation, and by extent, that of his men. Reputation was important. Unless you could back it up with more than words however, that is all they were.

He turned to his Seargent, Roland Everson. He was accompanying his Captain along with 10 of their finest men. If needed, to demonstrate their prowess to potential employers and if push came to shove to protect the Captain.

"Seargent, we require dwellings for the duration, did you make the arrangements as instructed?"

"Aye my Captain. I did. If you will allow me to take the lead sir, I shall get us there."

Rowan gave a curt nod and let the Seargent take point. He trusted the man greatly. He had saved his life on many occasions and was as close to a brother as Rowan had ever had.

Arriving a short time later at a travellers inn they found them to be well appointed and with adequate facilities for their horses. They were also within easy walking distance of the castle. No more than 10 minutes away if the need arose.

As they paid for their rooms and upkeep of the horses there were more than a few whispers among the other patrons.

"Mercenaries. . .can't be trusted. . .turn on anybody. . ."

Rowan sighed inwardly. He knew that he and his men looked out of place, much of their gear was clearly foreign as they had just completed a long and hard fought campaign in distant lands. Spoils had been good to them but losses on his men had been heavy. He was down to a single regiment of men, although he took some pride in knowing that the survivors were his best.

The trust of the city would have to be earned it seemed. . .
Jaynes Awesome Card Counter: +5

Secondspheres Crash Card Counter +4



Mabbz

Baron Edward Kovarian and his wife, Lady Bethany, arrived in a fairly understated (compared to those belonging some of the other nobles, at least) carriage bearing only the Kovarian coat of arms for decoration. They made their way over to the wooden stand where the king was holding court, Edward looking around awkwardly. He didn't have much of a head for politics, and had only agreed to come because his wife had insisted. There was no chance of his competing; he would simply embarrass himself to try. He would much rather have been at home, dealing with the work of running his land, but Beth had taken great pains to explain how that would look amongst the gentry and he had no counter-argument.

Lady Bethany was aware of her beloved husband's lack of interest and aptitude for such gatherings. She knew, however, that not making an appearance would cause all manner of problems down the line. Edward had never truly grasped how much of their land's prosperity was due to her pulling strings behind the scenes. Of course it wasn't all her doing; she freely admitted that Edward's grasp of numbers and the sciences had contributed possibly even more than her grasp of politics. But without the connections she would attempt to build over the course of this tournament Kovaria would likely fall on hard times indeed.

As they reached the crowd around the throne, she kept a careful eye out for new faces to ingratiate herself with and old ones to reaffirm old ties. Perhaps later she would attempt to gain an audience with the king, but to attempt to do so immediately on arrival would be seen as presumptuous. Patience is a virtue, after all.

Scout Sergeant Mkoll

Arthur surveyed the city as he approached. The walls weren't as high as those of his Order's keep, but they were imposing enough, and he knew there were enough forts between any major threat and this city for the walls to be mainly for show.

He entered the city on horseback, his small entourage of squires and other Knights with him. As he made his way to the inn where his Order always stayed at these events he heard a cry from behind them "Greyhelm! Greyhelm you old codger, slow down!".

Arthur turned to see an old man, almost as old as Gwain Greyhelm, the man who had chosen him for the Order and trained him, approaching their small convoy. As the convoy slowed and the man drew closer the huge grin on his face faded as he realised the man he sought wasn't there. "Well met" Arthur said "You must be Sir Wulfric" he added as he spotted the old knight's insignia. "I've heard a lot about you, it's an honour to meet you."

"Well met indeed young 'un. Tell me, where's Greyhelm? It's usually him that comes to these. I was looking forward to drinking him under the table again"

"Unfortunately Sir Greyhelm is unfit to travel at the moment. His age means he tires more easily and we had a harsh winter in the mountains. As he was my mentor it was deemed fitting that I attend in his stead."

"Ah, so you drew the short straw then. No doubt they wanted a younger man anyway, more likely to attract recruits and lordly sponsors. Not to worry lad, you'll soon get the hang o' how these things work. Well, the traditional drinking challenge between the Knightly Orders predates me and Greyhelm but we always made it so we faced each other, so I may as well take you on instead. Who knows, your Order might get past the first round for the first time in a while" he added with a roaring laugh. "The challenge starts at the Knight's Banquet at sundown. Second round is t'morro night so on an' so forth, final takes place on the final day of the tourney."
Mkoll's Awesome Card Counter: +8

May the brave be remembered forever. Farewell our friends.

Quote from: Mabbz on June 03, 2011, 10:43:53 AM
Mkoll wins.

Quote from: LordDemon
Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to catch you.

[img]http

Eagle eye

Arnnoldo walked through the enterance of the tornument, as he walked to his chosen seat he kept his head down with his cloak draped over his body and face, his symbolic talisman of the goddess made of gold sparkled as it caught light and reflected it the music and the general loudness of the crowd muffled his stepps.

when he reached his seat he looked around the initial area and sat down, arnoldo's hands went and took hold of his talisman and brought it closs to his mouth and 'Bless the goddess for this wondorful day, bless the goddess of this gathering of people in celebration of happiness, bless the combatants compeating in this event and may you guide them enternally to their goal and once more bless the goddess for King Xavier Markias Lupo II wellbeing and fortune'

Pilum

#5
Perrin couldn't help gawping a little as he approached the tourney field. He'd been before – his father had brought him and his brothers occasionally as children – but the sheer wealth and finery on display was still, as intended, awesome. The hubbub and general busyness almost rivalled some of the Grecian ports, although the smell and risk of having his throat cut by some greasy goat-lover was much less.

No, the dangers here were far more subtle. A turned back could be more fatal than a hundred knights. The whispers of his elder brother's death had taken some time to fade; several eyes gazed upon his holding of Merlon with envy and hunger. The minor fame he had from ... before... granted him some protection, but he needed more allies. Strong patrons. And hopefully a wife, to secure it for at least another generation. Tumbling with low-born doxies just wouldn't cut it now.

So – to business. Nodding to the few faces he recognised from the south, he approached the marshal's tent, to hang his shield and announce his arrival.
A prize from the My Little Warhorse story contest: http://gwarrior456.deviantart.com/art/Its-just-a-little-storm-430546453

Wargamer

As the worthies of Atlia gathered, the events began.

Drawing the most attention at the Sword Ring were the three sons of the King, though none of them were competing.

The eldest was Carl Lupo, a man in his late thirties who had aged poorly. As Archduke of Nothria he was no stranger to battle, but his wounds were manyfold and they robbed him of his fighting strength. He was a fair and competent leader, if a little lacking in ambition.

Nearby, surrounded as ever by young women, was Aleksander. Full of boyish charm despite racing towards thirty, he was probably a better leader than his elder brother would ever be. He had an instinctive talent for command, both on and off the field, and his skill as a warrior was solid, if rarely tested. Gallica was his domain, and he was ever watchful of the eastern borders.

Finally, there was William. Having only reached adulthood last autumn, William was hell-bent on proving his mettle as a warrior. It was impossible to exchange more than half a dozen words with him without mention of West Frankia, or Suttria, or some foreign land that he believed should be brought under Altia's banner. He had no lands to call his own of yet.

Of all the sons, it was William that the counsel of Barons were watching; if an army was to march in the campaign season, it would almost certainly be under William's banner.
I wrote a novel - Dreamscape: The Wanderer.. Available in paperback and pdf.

Quote from: Liberate the Warhammers
People who have no sense of Sportsmanship have NO PLACE designing any Gaming system

Scout Sergeant Mkoll

After storing his possessions safely at the inn Arthur headed to the sword ring to check the lists and place his entry. As he arrived he saw Knights from several Orders making jokes and placing bets with each other. Some for serious amounts of cash, some simply for a flagon of ale, others involving forfeits.

After entering his name for the draw Arthur took stock of who was here. There were several Knights present whose reputations preceded them. There were many more who were looking to earn their names, some of whom had never even fought in a tourney before. In truth, Arthur had never attended a tourney as big as this one himself. It was going to be...interesting.
Mkoll's Awesome Card Counter: +8

May the brave be remembered forever. Farewell our friends.

Quote from: Mabbz on June 03, 2011, 10:43:53 AM
Mkoll wins.

Quote from: LordDemon
Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to catch you.

[img]http

The Man They Call Jayne

Captain Rowan and his Seargent arrived a little later at the arena. Rowan signed himself in and checked his sword. It was a fine example of a langen messer. A single edged blade weighted towards the tip. It's balance was still exceptional however and it had kept him alive through many scrapes. Few weapons had a name, but his sword was a part of him, just like his men, they were an extension of his will. In many cases his sword was the last thing many people saw, often just before a major political change took place. Because of this, he had named his sword The Continuation of Politics, an apt name given it's history.

Once all the paperwork had been taken care of, he and Roland began to mingle with the crowd, learning names and discovering potential employers.
Jaynes Awesome Card Counter: +5

Secondspheres Crash Card Counter +4



Mabbz

Baron Kovarian, following a subtle hint from his wife, led the way over to Prince William. The pair quickly managed to bring themselves into the conversation, with Lady Bethany awaiting the right moment to take an active role. The time came swiftly as William brought up his desire to claim Suttria for the glory of Atlia.

"My husband and I wholeheartedly agree with you. Kovaria lies on the border of Suttria, and we often have to deal with bandits from the south. Our people would welcome any proposal to pacify those land."

Eagle eye

Arnoldo had already left his small amount of possetions in the atila sept of Helian Order and was walking the streets experiancing the sounds and smells of this great nation, He never been outside of his home country of Roma for his entire life but dreamed of traveling through the realm meeting new people and sharing the gift of the holy Goddess as was his duty to the church.

Pilum

Ducking out of the marshal's tent, Perrin wandered aimlessly for a while, taking in the spectacle. Here a pair of jugglers kept a dozen balls going between them, there a minstrel sang a tune (and slipping in bawdier lines when the priests weren't near). "A fine day for all to make merry", he thought, tossing a few pence at the minstrel as a particularly salacious couplet turned one young wench's face scarlet – THAT turn of phrase deserved a reward!

A quick glance around showed his squire, Raimon, idly talking to a group of other young men, also awaiting their masters.
"Raimon! Raimon! Come, my lad, it's time we got started!" Perrin called. Taking his leave from his new-found companions, the youngster scampered over.
"Sir?"
"Swords first, it seems. Fortunate too – 'tis a while since I tilted at aught more than a quintain. Now tell me, did any news of interest come from thy new friends?"
A prize from the My Little Warhorse story contest: http://gwarrior456.deviantart.com/art/Its-just-a-little-storm-430546453

Wargamer

A herald in the royal uniform stepped forward, getting the attention of the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Open Competition is about to begin! This event is open to any who have the courage to try! Three blows against the armour or a blow that draws blood eliminates a challenger!"
I wrote a novel - Dreamscape: The Wanderer.. Available in paperback and pdf.

Quote from: Liberate the Warhammers
People who have no sense of Sportsmanship have NO PLACE designing any Gaming system

Pilum

Raimon told tales of forbidden liaisons and petty intrigues, some of which may even have been true. Perrin half-listened, scanning the crowd for any he knew - especially ones he knew he could best, and look good doing it.
"...so drunk that he slid beneath the table, loudly declaring that only a blind fool would hang a bear's head there, so Juillard grabbed the first thing he could, an enormous leg of mutton, and ..."
It certainly wasn't as easy as at the local tourneys, not that he expected any differently. The ground felt quite firm too, no surprises to be had there...
"...insists that the fish are mainly on his side of the river."
One damsel in the stalls caught his eye. She blushed slightly, but did not look away. Dressed quite fashionably too, he noticed. Not A Chance, interrupted his more practical side. She was sat among the high nobility, and a minor knight was lucky to even see her this closely. Still, he could dream, no?
"...gallops across the drawbridge, Berlioz is bellowing that if he sees him again, he'll have him gelded!"
Deep breath. A quick, muttered prayer.
"Raimon, my sword. Time to get on with it."
A prize from the My Little Warhorse story contest: http://gwarrior456.deviantart.com/art/Its-just-a-little-storm-430546453

Scout Sergeant Mkoll

Arthur and his fellow Knights of the Order gathered around the herald to discover who would be fighting and when. Their squires were close behind, or at least those who hadn't been left at the inn guarding their possessions. There was a slight sigh of relief as the comrades realised that none of them had been drawn against another in their group.
Mkoll's Awesome Card Counter: +8

May the brave be remembered forever. Farewell our friends.

Quote from: Mabbz on June 03, 2011, 10:43:53 AM
Mkoll wins.

Quote from: LordDemon
Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to catch you.

[img]http