Topics

Dance Magic, Dance #Brandy #Bert #Bridgette #Theo

Steph
 

Who: Theo

With: Bridgette, Bert, Brandy

Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City

When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


Technically, there were two ways to come into the the King's City--via the Soldier's Quarter or the Merchant's Quarter, but Theo had taken the third. With all the things he'd heard about the King's City and the upcoming festival, it was easy to make the King's City the focal point in his mind, even though he'd never been there. The Fairy Circle he'd found in Manhattan did its magic and whisked him away from the December chill into a slightly less chilly February late afternoon.


Time was different enough between Eventyr and Earth that Theo had worried he might miss the whole festival, but from the moment he'd appeared in an herbalist's yard and promptly gotten shooed off by the herbalist's apprentices, he could tell he hadn't missed a thing. The streets were filled with music, celebration, food, and drink.


He'd asked a few questions and feigned being blackout drunk and forgetting the day to get some answers. The best party was at the Castle itself today, but you couldn't get in without an expensive gift for the baby.


The second-best party was the one that had formed up around the line of people waiting to get into the Castle, on Riverside Avenue. So, with no intentions to actually try to get into the castle, he'd made his way to Riverside Avenue.


He stopped for a moment to lean up against the stone wall that separated the avenue from the river itself and peer over it. It was a solid construction, but looking at how fast the river water in the channel flowed, and how wide it seemed, he would have expected the river to be louder--a deafening roar. Instead, it only provided a sort of distant rumbling bass beat to the battling street performer music in all directions.


"...never get through with a gift like that one," a woman was telling a man who held a bundle of something in his arms.


"I'll damn well try if it means a chance of getting any of that unlimited free beer," the man retorted.


Theo quirked a smile, hand on his ample-enough coin pouch. Although whatever he spent in Eventyr stayed in Eventyr, he'd pocketed more cash than he usually carried around with him on Earth, so he figured he had enough money that he wouldn't need that unlimited free beer. He cut through the crowd that might also have been a line and looked around until he spotted a wagon with a tent set up outside of it, surrounded by plenty of people who looked like they had fresh drinks. It bore a logo of an overflowing tankard, surrounded by curling letters that spelled "The Silver Tankard."


Perfect.


As he approached, it was hard to tell if there was any sort of queue or line, so he just did what he expected would be most correct in this situation and started to shoulder his way past the people who held full mugs and tankards and toward the apparent barmaid.


"What's your best drink?" he called out over the voices, hoping to catch her attention with his voice and with a dashing smile.


<Tag!>


Theo, dressed in red and ready to party: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/2b/b8/cc/2bb8cce16909e7167e155767d24012d7--crowns-king-arthur.jpg

Ben
 

Who: Bert

With: Theo, Bridgette, Brandy

Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City

When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


Bert looked at the crowd from his spot by The Silver Tankard’s wagon, which was surprisingly clear, considering all the people trying to get an ale. He had grabbed his own not long after they finished setting up and positioned himself to stay out of the way. He glanced down at his outfit, hoping he had dressed appropriately for the day. As Sheriff, he had the means to enter the castle proper and enjoy the festivities from there, but he didn’t want to leave his fellow adventurers behind either. So, to ensure he could do both, Bert had opted for some simple leathers and a matching cape, with his badge of office pinned to his vest. While still simple enough to ensure he blended in, it was nice enough to make sure his position was known.


As he watched the festival unfold, Bert felt many urges to whisper some advice to many of the celebrating citizens, whether it was to maybe avoid that last ale, or to maybe not get too cozy with a barmaid. But today, he felt, was a day for people to enjoy themselves now, and maybe think about the consequences later. He’d step in if something seemed particularly dangerous.


Ignoring most of the crowds for the moment, Bert looked around to see if he recognized anyone yet. He had planned on meeting some of his old party here throughout the day, but nobody had seemed to make it quite as early as he had. Oh well. There was still a lot of party to go, he was sure they’d turn up eventually.


In the meantime, Bert looked longingly at his staff. He intended to go inside a little later and pay his respects to the king and his consort. His gift was to be advice on the new child’s future, something that many of the guards in the city recognized as nearly priceless, depending on what he told them. He only hoped it would be to the king’s liking.

Bert stood up and brushed himself off, removing some of the dust that had built up from staying in one place surrounded by crowds. Maybe it was time to go searching for his friends instead of waiting for them. At least, that was the plan until he was suddenly shouldered aside by a man making his way to the wagon, calling for the barmaid as he went. Just for a moment, Bert allowed his status to slip through in his speech, giving the man a rather stern look as he went past.


“Pardon me, sir, but I do believe it’s good manners to excuse yourself after running into someone.”


Internally, Bert flinched at his own tone, not quite meaning to come across so haughty, but went with it for the moment, hoping he’d get the chance to rescind it shortly.


Tags!



On Wed, Aug 1, 2018 at 6:24 PM, Steph <singer.of.the.lost@...> wrote:

Who: Theo

With: Bridgette, Bert, Brandy

Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City

When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


Technically, there were two ways to come into the the King's City--via the Soldier's Quarter or the Merchant's Quarter, but Theo had taken the third. With all the things he'd heard about the King's City and the upcoming festival, it was easy to make the King's City the focal point in his mind, even though he'd never been there. The Fairy Circle he'd found in Manhattan did its magic and whisked him away from the December chill into a slightly less chilly February late afternoon.


Time was different enough between Eventyr and Earth that Theo had worried he might miss the whole festival, but from the moment he'd appeared in an herbalist's yard and promptly gotten shooed off by the herbalist's apprentices, he could tell he hadn't missed a thing. The streets were filled with music, celebration, food, and drink.


He'd asked a few questions and feigned being blackout drunk and forgetting the day to get some answers. The best party was at the Castle itself today, but you couldn't get in without an expensive gift for the baby.


The second-best party was the one that had formed up around the line of people waiting to get into the Castle, on Riverside Avenue. So, with no intentions to actually try to get into the castle, he'd made his way to Riverside Avenue.


He stopped for a moment to lean up against the stone wall that separated the avenue from the river itself and peer over it. It was a solid construction, but looking at how fast the river water in the channel flowed, and how wide it seemed, he would have expected the river to be louder--a deafening roar. Instead, it only provided a sort of distant rumbling bass beat to the battling street performer music in all directions.


"...never get through with a gift like that one," a woman was telling a man who held a bundle of something in his arms.


"I'll damn well try if it means a chance of getting any of that unlimited free beer," the man retorted.


Theo quirked a smile, hand on his ample-enough coin pouch. Although whatever he spent in Eventyr stayed in Eventyr, he'd pocketed more cash than he usually carried around with him on Earth, so he figured he had enough money that he wouldn't need that unlimited free beer. He cut through the crowd that might also have been a line and looked around until he spotted a wagon with a tent set up outside of it, surrounded by plenty of people who looked like they had fresh drinks. It bore a logo of an overflowing tankard, surrounded by curling letters that spelled "The Silver Tankard."


Perfect.


As he approached, it was hard to tell if there was any sort of queue or line, so he just did what he expected would be most correct in this situation and started to shoulder his way past the people who held full mugs and tankards and toward the apparent barmaid.


"What's your best drink?" he called out over the voices, hoping to catch her attention with his voice and with a dashing smile.


<Tag!>


Theo, dressed in red and ready to party: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/2b/b8/cc/2bb8cce16909e7167e155767d24012d7--crowns-king-arthur.jpg




--
Benjamin Warner

Rachel Balla
 

The whole idea of the wagon had been Brandy's. When she'd heard the owner of the Silver Tankard lamenting how far they were from the castle, it had seemed obvious - or at least, obvious to anyone who'd walked through a mall and had kiosks beckon them in. The trouble was that perfume or hair straighteners or phone cases were never as compelling as alcohol. It was the perfect business model. Brandy had been dropping so many coins into her cleavage that she was running out of room - and in this body, that was saying something!


Theo: "What's your best drink?"


Brandy turned to face her new customer - oh, what a cutie! She returned his smile with her own saucy smirk and drew in close to give his chest a playful poke and promise, "Oh, I know exactly what you need."


Really, there were two options - a regular ale and a hard cider. While the bar itself had a wider variety, there was no practical way to get more than a choice or two out into a wagon in any sort of volume. And out of two, Brandy had never guessed wrong!


Bert: “Pardon me, sir, but I do believe it’s good manners to excuse yourself after running into someone.”


While she poured the beer, her ears perked. There was a confrontation… a glance backward confirmed it was between a commoner and a noble. Shit.


But hell, she could fix that! All she had to do was pour another drink while she was at it - and, for good measure, a third, which she tucked snugly against her breast as she returned.


"Oh now, now - there's no fuss a good drink can't solve," Brandy said, patronizing but with a flirtatious edge, casting a glance between each of the rather handsome specimens. She stepped between the two men and insisted each take a beer before claiming her own and proposing a toast. "Let's drink! To new friends."


Tags!

Wearing: https://i.imgur.com/sFfhwDR.jpg

Vincent Gonzales
 

Who: Bridgette (aka Red) and her Pixie Friend, Asteria

With: Theo, Bert, Brandy

Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City

When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


Pixies were a lot of things, but primary among them were playful tricksters, so it shouldn’t have surprised the Spirit of the Forest that she had been roped into another one of their ‘games’ with stakes much higher than she had wagered for. She had, in true human fashion, found herself on the losing end of a game she’d hardly even known she was playing and when it came time for Asteria to claim her prize, she had pronounced that Red was to escort her to the man-festival in the King’s City. Asteria wanted to drink ale, eat the large grilled meats and see humans.


So, it was a deal, and when the Pixie had drawn Red to the fairy circle, there was little she could do to protest. She gathered her things, coached Asteria on staying out of sight in Red’s hood, and off they went - arriving in an herb garden where an herbalist seemed to already be griping about trampled flowers and torn roots.


With a smile of apology, Red made her way through the square, taking in a city she hadn’t seen in half a decade. There was an ache in her chest, faint as it were, to go into the castle. To see the people that were once her family. Half lost in thought, she’d wandered to the Artisan’s Quarter where she spotted a wagon that appeared to be well able to check the first item off of her list. “We have to wait in line with the rest of the humans,” she informed her pixie friend, pulling her hood a little lower on her head.


Theo: *elbowing his way past people* "What's your best drink?"


Bert: *all haughty and self-righteous* “Pardon me, sir, but I do believe it’s good manners to excuse yourself after running into someone.”


Brandy: *all buxom and savvy* "Oh now, now - there's no fuss a good drink can't solve," <...> "Let's drink! To new friends."

 

The former crown princess watched the events unfold before her with middling interest. This lady, it seemed, was good when it came to talking to people. Something Bridgette wasn’t so sure was one of her strengths. It was admirable, and Red would have been happy to watch her for much longer until she realized she recognized one of the men. “Theo,” she said aloud, head tilting to one side as she took in his face. Yeah, that was him alright.

 

As she felt a sharp tug on the hair behind her ear with the impatient rustling of feathers, she glared into her own hood. “Okay!” she said under her breath before approaching the maiden’s bartop. “Um...one ale please.” she said, placing a handful of copper on the counter and hoped that would be enough.

 

tags!


Steph
 

Who: Theo
With: Bridgette, Bert, Brandy
Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City
When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)

>>>>
“Pardon me, sir, but I do believe it’s good manners to excuse yourself after running into someone.”
>>>>
"Oh now, now - there's no fuss a good drink can't solve," Brandy said, patronizing but with a flirtatious edge, casting a glance between each of the rather handsome specimens. She stepped between the two men and insisted each take a beer before claiming her own and proposing a toast. "Let's drink! To new friends." 
>>>>
As she felt a sharp tug on the hair behind her ear with the impatient rustling of feathers, she glared into her own hood. “Okay!” she said under her breath before approaching the maiden’s bartop. “Um...one ale please.” she said, placing a handful of copper on the counter and hoped that would be enough. 
>>>>

Theo was used to crowded bars where everyone just straight up expected to be jostled a bit and few people got offended as long as you were mindful not to knock their drink arm or cut between two romantic partners. You could certainly be rude about the amount of space you took up, but he'd felt he was being fairly considerate and only bypassing people who already had drinks. He still started to turn and smile courteously to the gentleman who'd decided to take offense, not recognizing the symbol of authority for what it was. Why would he? He'd never met a sheriff before.

Then the barmaid cut in and pressed a beer into his hands and the hands of the offended man, lifting her glass in an immediate toast. Theo lifted his, as well, and tipped it to take a small but affirming sip, eyeing Bert as he did. Likely it would be a good idea to offer further goodwill, just to be careful, regardless of who he was.

"I'll pay for that, of course, to make some recompense," he said. The big word sounded more potentially fantasy-game-ish, more appropriate to the setting, even if it felt a smidge weird to say it.

Then, surprise of surprises, he heard his name, turned, and saw a familiar face hidden in the shadowed folds of a hood--that of his odd forest guide!

"Red," he said with a big grin. "I never expected to see you here. I'll get your ale, too. I still owe you, after all." And then, for good measure, he added a courteous nod of his head to the barmaid and used one hand to produce a few coins of what he hoped were appropriate value. "If it's no trouble, of course. Thank you." Being kind to the one who brought you drinks was always a wise idea.

<Tag!>

Ben
 

Who: Bert

With: Theo, Bridgette, Brandy

Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City

When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


Bert glanced quickly between the barmaid and the young man he had confronted. It seems he’d get his way out after all. Taking the offered mug and joining the toast, he turned back to the man. “That won’t be necessary, sir. It just seems my drink got the better of me. Enjoy your night.” He smiled to himself as he saw the young man turn to follow a young girl about the same age. It would seem his last comment was unnecessary.


Bert took a moment to turn back to the barmaid who had so quickly stepped in. “Thank you for your help. I’m still not sure what came over me there.” He reached into his coin purse and produced a few coppers. “ I hope that will compensate you for your troubles.” He took a good swig of his new beer, enjoying the flavor for a moment before wandering towards the line of people leading to the castle.


It would seem many people had either put their life savings into a present for the soon to be born child, or their life’s work, with many different masterpieces visible just from where he was standing. If not for his own status and gift in advice, it’s unlikely that Bert would normally be able to enter the castle. But it wasn’t quite time for that yet. He still wanted to look around a little more first. It’s not every day you get to join a festival in the King’s City!


Tags!



On Tue, Aug 7, 2018 at 1:54 AM, Steph <singer.of.the.lost@...> wrote:
Who: Theo
With: Bridgette, Bert, Brandy
Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City
When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)

>>>>
“Pardon me, sir, but I do believe it’s good manners to excuse yourself after running into someone.”
>>>>
"Oh now, now - there's no fuss a good drink can't solve," Brandy said, patronizing but with a flirtatious edge, casting a glance between each of the rather handsome specimens. She stepped between the two men and insisted each take a beer before claiming her own and proposing a toast. "Let's drink! To new friends." 
>>>>
As she felt a sharp tug on the hair behind her ear with the impatient rustling of feathers, she glared into her own hood. “Okay!” she said under her breath before approaching the maiden’s bartop. “Um...one ale please.” she said, placing a handful of copper on the counter and hoped that would be enough. 
>>>>

Theo was used to crowded bars where everyone just straight up expected to be jostled a bit and few people got offended as long as you were mindful not to knock their drink arm or cut between two romantic partners. You could certainly be rude about the amount of space you took up, but he'd felt he was being fairly considerate and only bypassing people who already had drinks. He still started to turn and smile courteously to the gentleman who'd decided to take offense, not recognizing the symbol of authority for what it was. Why would he? He'd never met a sheriff before.

Then the barmaid cut in and pressed a beer into his hands and the hands of the offended man, lifting her glass in an immediate toast. Theo lifted his, as well, and tipped it to take a small but affirming sip, eyeing Bert as he did. Likely it would be a good idea to offer further goodwill, just to be careful, regardless of who he was.

"I'll pay for that, of course, to make some recompense," he said. The big word sounded more potentially fantasy-game-ish, more appropriate to the setting, even if it felt a smidge weird to say it.

Then, surprise of surprises, he heard his name, turned, and saw a familiar face hidden in the shadowed folds of a hood--that of his odd forest guide!

"Red," he said with a big grin. "I never expected to see you here. I'll get your ale, too. I still owe you, after all." And then, for good measure, he added a courteous nod of his head to the barmaid and used one hand to produce a few coins of what he hoped were appropriate value. "If it's no trouble, of course. Thank you." Being kind to the one who brought you drinks was always a wise idea.

<Tag!>




--
Benjamin Warner

Rachel Balla
 

Bridgette: “Theo,"...


Theo: "I'll pay for that, of course, to make some recompense,"


Bert: “That won’t be necessary, sir. It just seems my drink got the better of me. Enjoy your night.”


Ooh recompense. The casual drop of a complex word was a nice, subtle way of asserting status of his own, and in one more tense breath, the confrontation seemed to have passed. Thank god - a fight would be terrible for business, and these guys all seemed to have money.


Halfway through a sip, a hooded girl caught Brandy's attention with an order, and Brandy flashed her a cheerful smile in return. The hood was sort of suspicious - it gave her a Robin Hoodsy look. Like she had a secret, or didn't want to be seen.


Bridgette: “Okay!” “Um...one ale please.”


Theo: "Red," "I never expected to see you here. I'll get your ale, too. I still owe you, after all." "If it's no trouble, of course. Thank you."


Well, if the girl hadn't wanted to be seen, she would be disappointed, because the shove-r in the now-averted crisis recognized her and greeted her as a friend.


Bert: “Thank you for your help. I’m still not sure what came over me there.” “I hope that will compensate you for your troubles.”


By this point, Brandy was very sure she had been overpaid. Not a terrible problem to have! She passed the hooded girl her ale, adding, "Enjoy, Red!" and invited the small group to "Stick around, and I'll keep 'em coming!" because they were only going to get looser with their cash as they kept drinking.


Then, she focused in on the sheriff as he gave her another couple of coins. Closing her hand around them, she leaned in with a smirk and a conspiratorial, "What ever troubles do you mean?"


Something about him piqued her interest beside the money. She could easily have turned her attention to roping in more customers, but the truth was that she would be going home to a paycheck and didn't particularly need the money - it was more a way to meet interesting people, and her gut told her she might finally have found one.


So conversationally, she went on, "Why aren't you up in the castle with the other nobles? Don't get me wrong - I'm glad you're here," especially if he planned to keep compensating her, "but I'd be up at the royal party if I had one of these." Stepping in, Brandy tapped his chest right beside his crested badge.


Tags

 

Ben
 

Who: Bert

With: Brandy

Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City

When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


Bert smirked at the barmaid’s silver tongue. It would seem she knew the business of people a lot more than most. Her dismissal of his ‘troubles’ made it seem as though it was no more than an everyday occurance. And he was quite certain the extra money had helped as well.


Bert also picked up on the woman’s somewhat keen interest in him. She seemed to be looking him over with a more careful eye before moving on. Her questions were good ones too. He had done his best to not stand out, and his badge, while still on display, wasn’t particularly noticeable.


“Don’t worry yourself. I’ll be heading up there in due course. For now though, I had some friends I was waiting for, though they seem to have been waylaid.” Bert took a moment to consider the barmaid as well. She was very beautiful, but unlike many commoners, she seemed to have a deceptive intelligence to her. She seemed like someone who could hold her own in a battle of wits. The question, though, was how did she use her intelligence?


“I bet you could get yourself into that party if you really wanted to. Actually, I think I’m a little surprised you’re not there already. I doubt the guards would be a problem, and it wouldn’t take much to find a spot to fit in with the nobles. So why aren’t you there?”


Tags!



On Fri, Aug 10, 2018 at 2:12 PM, Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Bridgette: “Theo,"...


Theo: "I'll pay for that, of course, to make some recompense,"


Bert: “That won’t be necessary, sir. It just seems my drink got the better of me. Enjoy your night.”


Ooh recompense. The casual drop of a complex word was a nice, subtle way of asserting status of his own, and in one more tense breath, the confrontation seemed to have passed. Thank god - a fight would be terrible for business, and these guys all seemed to have money.


Halfway through a sip, a hooded girl caught Brandy's attention with an order, and Brandy flashed her a cheerful smile in return. The hood was sort of suspicious - it gave her a Robin Hoodsy look. Like she had a secret, or didn't want to be seen.


Bridgette: “Okay!” “Um...one ale please.”


Theo: "Red," "I never expected to see you here. I'll get your ale, too. I still owe you, after all." "If it's no trouble, of course. Thank you."


Well, if the girl hadn't wanted to be seen, she would be disappointed, because the shove-r in the now-averted crisis recognized her and greeted her as a friend.


Bert: “Thank you for your help. I’m still not sure what came over me there.” “I hope that will compensate you for your troubles.”


By this point, Brandy was very sure she had been overpaid. Not a terrible problem to have! She passed the hooded girl her ale, adding, "Enjoy, Red!" and invited the small group to "Stick around, and I'll keep 'em coming!" because they were only going to get looser with their cash as they kept drinking.


Then, she focused in on the sheriff as he gave her another couple of coins. Closing her hand around them, she leaned in with a smirk and a conspiratorial, "What ever troubles do you mean?"


Something about him piqued her interest beside the money. She could easily have turned her attention to roping in more customers, but the truth was that she would be going home to a paycheck and didn't particularly need the money - it was more a way to meet interesting people, and her gut told her she might finally have found one.


So conversationally, she went on, "Why aren't you up in the castle with the other nobles? Don't get me wrong - I'm glad you're here," especially if he planned to keep compensating her, "but I'd be up at the royal party if I had one of these." Stepping in, Brandy tapped his chest right beside his crested badge.


Tags

 




--
Benjamin Warner

Vincent Gonzales
 

Who: Tristan

With: Brandy, Bert

Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City
When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


Tristan had heard mutterings about the festival the last two times he'd been in Eventyr and just how grand the event would be. He'd seen flyers and heard town criers announcing it for all the world to hear and, after a brief moment’s consideration, he knew he wanted to go. Screw the old renaissance festivals of Earth, this was a real medieval party. He'd never been huge into historical fantasy, but the idea still seemed too interesting to pass up.


So, he'd traveled hit a fairy circle in his nicest suit and came through the other side in what he could only describe as a nobleman's garb. While he missed the familiar weight of armor, his sword was still on his back, something he was all too glad for.


After stabling Bruce (whom he'd initially named Betty until the black stallion had proven himself to certainly be male), Tristan pushed his way through the bustling crowd until he caught a break in the mass of people in the Artisan’s Quarter. Recognizing the sign of a bar as well as any, he made a bee line, noting how some people simply let him ahead of them with a nod or smile. Huh. That was different.


As he got to the front of the line, he put a handful of copper down on the bar, “Cider, when you get a moment, miss,” he said with an air of patience and a kind smile, waiting  for the barmaid to acknowledge his order before eyeing the rest of the crowd.


Tags!

Rachel Balla
 

Bert: “Don’t worry yourself. I’ll be heading up there in due course. For now though, I had some friends I was waiting for, though they seem to have been waylaid.” “I bet you could get yourself into that party if you really wanted to. Actually, I think I’m a little surprised you’re not there already. I doubt the guards would be a problem, and it wouldn’t take much to find a spot to fit in with the nobles. So why aren’t you there?”

"Oh of course I could," Brandy said, and accentuated the point with an exaggerated lean against the wagon that emphasized the curve of her hips and waist. It wasn't that the royal party didn't have its appeals. But it just wasn't really Brandy's speed. She would have gotten inside, eaten whatever the Eventyrian equivalent of caviar was, and continued to talk shit… although perhaps with less receptive (aka drunk) conversational partners. "But I'm having fun here! The company can't be beat," she added with a tone every bit as evasive as it was flirtatious.


"What kind of friends are you waiting for?" Brandy asked, with a deceptive sort of lightness to the question, as if it was just a pleasantry. She prompted, "Maybe I've seen them around!"


Tristan: “Cider, when you get a moment, miss."


Brandy's attention split with the new request of a drink, and she turned to regard her customer. He was tall, built, well-dressed. A knight, if she had to guess. Maybe not exactly high nobility but there was a certain elevation to him. The coins he dropped, alongside the politeness in his tone, reinforced her assumption.


"Cider, coming right up," Brandy chirped, going to pour. As she passed the mug over, she smiled. Something about him struck her as interesting, too, and she went ahead to test her assumption. "Will you fight in tomorrow's tourney, Sir?"


Tags

 

Ben
 

Who: Bert

With: Brandy, Tristan

Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City

When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)


‘This woman is definitely smarter than most,’ Bert thought to himself. Not only was she evading his questions, she was doing it in a way that would have left most people in the dust. Thankfully, he wasn’t most people.


“Well, I think the company could be better. After all, I don’t even know your name. As for who I’m waiting for, they’re just some people I used to travel with. Nobody of consequence.”


Bert took note of the new man that approached the mobile bar. Tall, well built, and well dressed pointed immediately to a knight, a type he was very familiar with. People like this man tended to be very polite and straightforward, or very pompous and overbearing. Both of which he could handle, but it was better to let the stranger take the lead.


Turning back to the barmaid, a thought crossed his mind. It was becoming very obvious she had something to hide, and at the same time wanted to find out more about him. If she didn’t already recognize him beyond his sheriff’s badge, then it was probably a good idea to keep it that way. But now he was curious, and maybe his drink had actually gotten to him a little bit. So maybe it was time for a small trick.


Bert suddenly winced and lifted his foot up. “I’m sorry milady, but it would seem I have a rock in my boot. Would you hold my staff for a moment, please?”


Tags!



On Sat, Aug 18, 2018 at 1:48 PM, Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Bert: “Don’t worry yourself. I’ll be heading up there in due course. For now though, I had some friends I was waiting for, though they seem to have been waylaid.” “I bet you could get yourself into that party if you really wanted to. Actually, I think I’m a little surprised you’re not there already. I doubt the guards would be a problem, and it wouldn’t take much to find a spot to fit in with the nobles. So why aren’t you there?”

"Oh of course I could," Brandy said, and accentuated the point with an exaggerated lean against the wagon that emphasized the curve of her hips and waist. It wasn't that the royal party didn't have its appeals. But it just wasn't really Brandy's speed. She would have gotten inside, eaten whatever the Eventyrian equivalent of caviar was, and continued to talk shit… although perhaps with less receptive (aka drunk) conversational partners. "But I'm having fun here! The company can't be beat," she added with a tone every bit as evasive as it was flirtatious.


"What kind of friends are you waiting for?" Brandy asked, with a deceptive sort of lightness to the question, as if it was just a pleasantry. She prompted, "Maybe I've seen them around!"


Tristan: “Cider, when you get a moment, miss."


Brandy's attention split with the new request of a drink, and she turned to regard her customer. He was tall, built, well-dressed. A knight, if she had to guess. Maybe not exactly high nobility but there was a certain elevation to him. The coins he dropped, alongside the politeness in his tone, reinforced her assumption.


"Cider, coming right up," Brandy chirped, going to pour. As she passed the mug over, she smiled. Something about him struck her as interesting, too, and she went ahead to test her assumption. "Will you fight in tomorrow's tourney, Sir?"


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--
Benjamin Warner

Vincent Gonzales
 

Who: Tristan
With: Bert, Brandy
Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City
When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)

Tristan glanced up at the barmaid and let out a short, polite laugh. "I didn't know the Silver Tankard was in the habit of hiring psychics to poor drinks," Tristan said, taking the drink and leaving a few copper for a tip. "Truth be told, I haven't registered just yet, but I was considering it. You want to come cheer me on?"

When the apparent Sheriff (if his badge was any indication) offered out his staff to the barmaid, Tristan stepped in. "Pretty sure she's gotta keep pouring drinks, let me get that for you," he said, slipping a gloved hand around the staff to keep it upright while the noble fixed his shoe. Did people often get shoes stuck in their boots, he wondered? He supposed if the shoes were loose enough...

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Rachel Balla
 

Bert: “Well, I think the company could be better. After all, I don’t even know your name. As for who I’m waiting for, they’re just some people I used to travel with. Nobody of consequence.” “I’m sorry milady, but it would seem I have a rock in my boot. Would you hold my staff for a moment, please?”


Brandy's brain was actively monitoring no less than eight customers who might be eyeing her for more drinks, so the sheriff's question caught her a bit off guard. Not in a bad way - it was hardly the lewd, more time-consuming propositions from customers that she usually rolled her eyes at - just a little strange since his shoes didn't look cheap nor flimsy. So with a casual shrug and a nod, she extended a hand...


Tristan: "I didn't know the Silver Tankard was in the habit of hiring psychics to poor drinks," "Truth be told, I haven't registered just yet, but I was considering it. You want to come cheer me on?" "Pretty sure she's gotta keep pouring drinks, let me get that for you,"


...Only to have the knight step in and save her the effort! She smiled - sure, there was gratitude there, but there was also a healthy irony to it she enjoyed. "My hero," she quipped quickly, before considering Tristan's earlier question. She found the answer surprisingly easy - hell yeah, she would turn out. But it wasn't in her nature to be so forward. As she poured another cider for a familiar customer headed her way, she spoke up.


"Depends," Brandy said with a smirk, "Are you going to win? Have I even ever heard of you?"


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Ben
 

Bert hid a small frown. It seemed his plan was to be foiled by one of the few chivalrous knights in the kingdom. Most would be too high and mighty to ever consider holding something for someone else, even a sheriff. But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to have some fun still. By taking the staff from Bert as it was offered, its conditions had been met, and the truth must be told.


“I’m sorry sir, but I didn’t catch your name.” Simple questions to start always seemed to work best. It wouldn’t do for him to suddenly start asking for personal secrets. “How do you think your chances are in the coming tournament?”


Having removed the “rock” from his shoe, Bert straightened back up and took a good swig from his ale. He could take the staff back in a moment. He wanted a to ask a few more questions first.


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On Thu, Aug 30, 2018 at 9:30 PM Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Bert: “Well, I think the company could be better. After all, I don’t even know your name. As for who I’m waiting for, they’re just some people I used to travel with. Nobody of consequence.” “I’m sorry milady, but it would seem I have a rock in my boot. Would you hold my staff for a moment, please?”


Brandy's brain was actively monitoring no less than eight customers who might be eyeing her for more drinks, so the sheriff's question caught her a bit off guard. Not in a bad way - it was hardly the lewd, more time-consuming propositions from customers that she usually rolled her eyes at - just a little strange since his shoes didn't look cheap nor flimsy. So with a casual shrug and a nod, she extended a hand...


Tristan: "I didn't know the Silver Tankard was in the habit of hiring psychics to poor drinks," "Truth be told, I haven't registered just yet, but I was considering it. You want to come cheer me on?" "Pretty sure she's gotta keep pouring drinks, let me get that for you,"


...Only to have the knight step in and save her the effort! She smiled - sure, there was gratitude there, but there was also a healthy irony to it she enjoyed. "My hero," she quipped quickly, before considering Tristan's earlier question. She found the answer surprisingly easy - hell yeah, she would turn out. But it wasn't in her nature to be so forward. As she poured another cider for a familiar customer headed her way, she spoke up.


"Depends," Brandy said with a smirk, "Are you going to win? Have I even ever heard of you?"


Tag

 



--
Benjamin Warner

Vincent Gonzales
 

Tristan glanced back and forth between the barmaid and the sheriff, both hitting him with questions and found himself feeling...for lack of a better term, compelled to answer the question. "I'm not sure if I'll win. I've never competed in a tournament here, but I'll fight harder than any other man there. I can promise you that." 

Sparing a brief glance at the staff, the knight found the sheriff's hesitance to take it back as odd. Peculiar, as he was sure he would have kept flirting and playing at his bravado a bit more for Brandy rather than straight up tell her he might lose. What was that...? Turning his attention to Bert, he tossed the staff back towards the noble lightly. "Nice walking stick you've got there," he noted with a long glance, wondering just how much like a fantasy novel this world was...God, how he wished his grandmother was here with him, with her knowledge of old fairy tales. Not only for her knowledge, but for the fact that he was certain she'd enjoy the hell out of this. 

"Do you know where I can sign up for the tournament, m'lady?" Tristan asked Brandy, redirecting the conversation again before it got too off track. "That is...if it isn't too late."

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Rachel Balla
 

Bert: “I’m sorry sir, but I didn’t catch your name.” “How do you think your chances are in the coming tournament?”


Tristan: "I'm not sure if I'll win. I've never competed in a tournament here, but I'll fight harder than any other man there. I can promise you that."


Brandy expected a confident response, maybe the touting of victories and referencing tales told about his honors… typical Knight stuff. Usually, she found, they were more interested in getting laid than they were fighting wars - which made sense, Brandy always reasoned, given that Eventyr didn't have any external enemies to demonize like they did on Earth. She might have rolled her eyes at their bullshit morality, but they had muscles for days and Brandy didn't regret the nights she'd spent with Eventyr's knights. In fact, she'd sort of enjoyed poking holes in their morals - something that didn't work with pirates…


Speaking of - one familiar figure and his dual colored face caught her eye in the not-too-far distance. What could Captain Visser be doing this far inland, she wondered? She met his eyes, briefly, across the space, smirked flirtatiously, and then had to turn her attention back to her customers.


When the dark-skinned knight admitted his lack of experience, he piqued her interest. If he had never been a knight, why in the world had she assumed he was one? She was rarely wrong...


Tristan: "Nice walking stick you've got there," "Do you know where I can sign up for the tournament, m'lady?" "That is...if it isn't too late."


The knight shoved the walking stick back at the sheriff… almost pointedly. She had seen too much here in Eventyr to suppose nothing was going on, but she eyed the noble with fresh suspicion. Who exactly was he waiting for, she wondered?


"No - no idea. I'm no squire," Brandy joked in return, placing a hand on her hip as if to suggest she was too feminine for that job - if there were lady squires, she hadn't seen one, but she didn't live in Eventyr full time. She had been to a couple of tournaments, but hadn't the slightest how the competitors came to be there. It couldn't have been hard to find out, though.


"I could find out," she said, when a lull allowed her the luxury of another drink of her own. With a smile and a tinge of confidence to her voice that bordered on prophecy, she said, "I think you might do better than anyone expects. I'll put my coins on you." She stepped into raise her glass to the knight's, and roped the sheriff into the toast, elbowing his side in a gentle, playful manner. "To our champion? Aye!"


And she tipped back the mug.


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Ben
 

Bert grinned as he caught his staff. It may not have lasted long, but he definitely threw off the knight with the staff’s compelling nature. But at the same time, the knight hadn’t been too far off with his gloating. He had embellished a little bit, but not for the sake of stroking his own ego it seemed. More likely than not, it had been to impress the attractive barmaid.


Turning back to said barmaid, he caught a grin directed at someone behind him. He made a casual turn to look and see who could have caught the barmaid’s attention. Scanning the crowd didn’t make anyone immediately obvious, so he filed it away to ask about later.


Looking back to the knight and the barmaid, Bert spoke up again. “While she may not know, I for one do. If you look right over there, there’s a striped tent with a guard standing just out front. They should be taking participants whenever you’re ready. I believe they stop when the King stops taking guests, so you have some time.” He felt a little bad for pulling a fast one on the knight, so this was the least he could do.


“Sadly, gambling isn’t quite my style. But if you like, I can give you a bit of advice on the tournament.” Bert was already sure the knight was a good man. The answer he’d given to his question proved that. Now if he would just accept the advice, maybe he could give him a little edge in the fights.


Bert happily joined the toast. After all, they could be talking to the next champion for all he knew. “To our new friend! May you have fair fights and no injuries.” And with that Bert followed suit and took a long swallow of his ale.


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On Fri, Sep 14, 2018 at 7:24 PM Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Bert: “I’m sorry sir, but I didn’t catch your name.” “How do you think your chances are in the coming tournament?”


Tristan: "I'm not sure if I'll win. I've never competed in a tournament here, but I'll fight harder than any other man there. I can promise you that."


Brandy expected a confident response, maybe the touting of victories and referencing tales told about his honors… typical Knight stuff. Usually, she found, they were more interested in getting laid than they were fighting wars - which made sense, Brandy always reasoned, given that Eventyr didn't have any external enemies to demonize like they did on Earth. She might have rolled her eyes at their bullshit morality, but they had muscles for days and Brandy didn't regret the nights she'd spent with Eventyr's knights. In fact, she'd sort of enjoyed poking holes in their morals - something that didn't work with pirates…


Speaking of - one familiar figure and his dual colored face caught her eye in the not-too-far distance. What could Captain Visser be doing this far inland, she wondered? She met his eyes, briefly, across the space, smirked flirtatiously, and then had to turn her attention back to her customers.


When the dark-skinned knight admitted his lack of experience, he piqued her interest. If he had never been a knight, why in the world had she assumed he was one? She was rarely wrong...


Tristan: "Nice walking stick you've got there," "Do you know where I can sign up for the tournament, m'lady?" "That is...if it isn't too late."


The knight shoved the walking stick back at the sheriff… almost pointedly. She had seen too much here in Eventyr to suppose nothing was going on, but she eyed the noble with fresh suspicion. Who exactly was he waiting for, she wondered?


"No - no idea. I'm no squire," Brandy joked in return, placing a hand on her hip as if to suggest she was too feminine for that job - if there were lady squires, she hadn't seen one, but she didn't live in Eventyr full time. She had been to a couple of tournaments, but hadn't the slightest how the competitors came to be there. It couldn't have been hard to find out, though.


"I could find out," she said, when a lull allowed her the luxury of another drink of her own. With a smile and a tinge of confidence to her voice that bordered on prophecy, she said, "I think you might do better than anyone expects. I'll put my coins on you." She stepped into raise her glass to the knight's, and roped the sheriff into the toast, elbowing his side in a gentle, playful manner. "To our champion? Aye!"


And she tipped back the mug.


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--
Benjamin Warner

Vincent Gonzales
 

Tristan found himself smiling despite himself as the barmaid teased him. She was more than a little charming, and easy on the eyes to boot. But, he reminded himself, he wasn't here for those kinds of adventures...even if it had been a while...No, this was a money making venture. He was here to make his life back home bearable. That was all. 

Even so, he knew it wouldn't hurt to be kind to those around him. Especially when they weren't busy giving him a look like he was a fucking charity case. Throwing constant 'thank you for your service' lines and talking about his grand sacrifice like it would magically bring his legs back. It had been so long, he realized, since he'd just had a normal conversation with people. Maybe that's what kept his feet planted, he wondered. In any case, he had time to get over to the sign-up booth, judging by the line of well-to-do's who still hadn't been let into the castle. So, he grinned at the barmaid and the sheriff, his mug clinking against theirs before taking a healthy swig of his ale.

"What kind of advice did you have in mind?" he asked the sheriff, noting that he wasn't himself a knight. "Have you participated in the tournaments before?"

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Rachel Balla
 

Bert: “While she may not know, I for one do. If you look right over there, there’s a striped tent with a guard standing just out front. They should be taking participants whenever you’re ready. I believe they stop when the King stops taking guests, so you have some time.” “Sadly, gambling isn’t quite my style. But if you like, I can give you a bit of advice on the tournament.”

Tristan: "What kind of advice did you have in mind?" he asked the sheriff, noting that he wasn't himself a knight. "Have you participated in the tournaments before?"


"Avoid the pointy end of the lance," Brandy kidded. The movies really didn't do justice to seeing a tournament in real life - the smell of the horses, the shouts of the crowd, the clanging of armor into the dirt when a knight was unseated. She could see why so many people showed up to enjoy them, although she herself was just as likely to be a spectator as a vendor, pushing drinks to the sweating, thirsty masses. Continuing with a smirk, she added, "Stay on the horse…"


If the weight of the bag at Brandy's waist hadn't been such a constant, life-or-death necessity, she likely wouldn't have noticed when it was snatched. The pickpocket hadn't expected her to, either, so light was his touch, and thus his decision to casually continue walking past her was instantly abandoned when she tensed, dropped her mug, and met his eyes. He was a teenager, a commoner, clearly, with worn clothes and frizzy blonde hair that stuck up in spikes.


"Thief!" Brandy shouted, pointing, and the teenager ran for it.


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Ben
 

Bert was about to respond to the knight when the barmaid had called out the thief. He took note of the bag that, until a moment before, had hung from the maid’s waist. Seeing the boy make a break for it, Bert started after him, doing his best to weave through the crowd. Realizing that if he didn’t act quickly, there was a good chance he would lose him, Bert grabbed one end of his staff and swung at the boy, catching him on the back of the head and sending him sprawling. He quickly caught up to him and pinned him to the ground. Turning back to the knight, he called out, “Sir, call the guards and come help me! I want to make sure he doesn’t get any farther.”


Looking at the boy he had under a knee, he took a closer look at him. He was young, probably around 15 or 16, and his clothes showed he wasn’t from a well off family. Bert shook his head. It always saddened him to see people in situations like this boy. Often times, they felt stuck in their places, and would resort to theft or other unsavory actions to get by. Taking the bag back from the boy, he held it out to the barmaid. “Here you are, my lady. Safe and sound.” Looking back to the knight, he spoke again. “As for you, don’t be afraid to move. You’ll have space, and you never know when you might need it.”


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On Fri, Oct 5, 2018 at 4:40 PM Rachel Balla <rachelballa@...> wrote:

Bert: “While she may not know, I for one do. If you look right over there, there’s a striped tent with a guard standing just out front. They should be taking participants whenever you’re ready. I believe they stop when the King stops taking guests, so you have some time.” “Sadly, gambling isn’t quite my style. But if you like, I can give you a bit of advice on the tournament.”

Tristan: "What kind of advice did you have in mind?" he asked the sheriff, noting that he wasn't himself a knight. "Have you participated in the tournaments before?"


"Avoid the pointy end of the lance," Brandy kidded. The movies really didn't do justice to seeing a tournament in real life - the smell of the horses, the shouts of the crowd, the clanging of armor into the dirt when a knight was unseated. She could see why so many people showed up to enjoy them, although she herself was just as likely to be a spectator as a vendor, pushing drinks to the sweating, thirsty masses. Continuing with a smirk, she added, "Stay on the horse…"


If the weight of the bag at Brandy's waist hadn't been such a constant, life-or-death necessity, she likely wouldn't have noticed when it was snatched. The pickpocket hadn't expected her to, either, so light was his touch, and thus his decision to casually continue walking past her was instantly abandoned when she tensed, dropped her mug, and met his eyes. He was a teenager, a commoner, clearly, with worn clothes and frizzy blonde hair that stuck up in spikes.


"Thief!" Brandy shouted, pointing, and the teenager ran for it.


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--
Benjamin Warner