Open Chronicles The Festival of Feathers

[Lottie Beaufort]

The kingdom of Dalriada was not just rich, it was disgustingly so. It had built its fortune on its unique grapes that produced the best wines in Arethil, its peoples unparalleled skills in the art of glasswork and cermaics, and most importantly it had made ruthless use of its capitals strategic position on the pinsor between the Alirian Straight and the Gulf of Liad. Even though it reached some 20 miles across, on the command of a long since dead King, they had erected a series of towers and sea doors, patrolled by Griffin Riders, which forced all ships that wished to use the pass to pay a toll to cross. Perhaps due to its position the Kingdom declared itself a neutral state to outside wars and offered its Kingdom as a place to negotiate peace treaties and to store precious items in their highly guards vaults that ran deep beneath the Capitals streets. Of course, the profit that came from being a friend to all was simply a side bonus.

Despite it's neutral and open attitude to all races and kingdoms, Dalriada kept a tight leash on its own people. The rich used its monopoly on wealth to keep the people in their place, and the men kept a tight control on its womenfolk out of fear of their stronger inclination towards magic. It was often seen by many as archaic in this regards by its neighbours but it is not so blatant in its oppression that anther power has felt the need to topple the reigning monarchs; the Beauforts.

It was in honour of the Beauforts that today the kingdom had thrown open its doors and called for all its friends to enjoy their hospitality and celebrate the unique relationship between the people and their Griffins. The Legend, dear friends, is as follows:

During the Age of Wonders, King Alaric the Confessor was travelling the expanse of his kingdom. He was weary from the wars he fought on all sides from dwarfs and orcs, monsters and other humans. He prayed daily for his people to be safe and strove for peace. On his way home to his beloved Oban, he heard a strange cry from the forests nearby. It sounded like it came from the throat of a creature, but it was sad and in pain. Cautiously he approached with his mighty sword, Elerondiel, raised high. In a grove surrounded by odd fruits he had never seen before was a Griffin. The giant beasts has plagued these lands for years, killing off all who annoyed them. But humans had begun to fight back against their tyranny from the sky and had fashioned weapons and traps to bring the great beasts down. Alaric considered finishing the creature off for the safety of his people but something made him hesitate: where was the sport in killing an already injured beast? Lowering his blade he stepped forward.

"Peace!" cried the king. The Griffin was entangled in a net spun of silk that cut like razors but despite the peril to itself it cast its wings out and issued a screech that would scare a lesser man away. Still the Great King marched forward and with a swift slice of his blessed blade he cut the creature free with no thought to his own safety. Now free from the its clasp the Griffin launched itself upon the Confessor with a thought to kill him. Instead, as they locked eyes, an understanding blossomed. This was a life for a life debt and it attempted to spring into the air.

Unfortunately for the great beast it had become severely injured in its struggles and it crashed back to the earth with a cry. Oh the great King he did hesitate to help again but he prayed to the Saints and steeled his soul and approached again. King Alaric spent five days tending to its wounds, hunting for food for it, and protecting it from others who sought to kill it. By the last day the pair had formed an unfathomable bond of kinship. Finally, the Griffin spoke, giving the King his name, Astraeus, and bestowed upon him the blessing of his line. Whilst the blood of The Confessor ruled over these lands, Astraeus' children would protect it.

And so it was that every spring the Kingdom of Dalriada would pay thanks for the bond between their people and the Griffins by welcoming the recent hatchlings into the world with this, the Festival of Feathers.

* * *
The City of Oban

Spoiler: Location on World Map

Spoiler: A Griffin's eye view of the city

As you approach a guard hails your welcome.

"Welcome, friends, to the Festival of Feathers! Oban is pleased to receive you. Beyond these gates we have a whole host of sights to please your senses.

If you are weary after your travels and require refreshment, I advice you to seek out the restaurants of the Northern Quarter. The hosts have outdone themselves this year and have pulled their restaurants out into the streets so that you might enjoy the unusually warm weather. Dishes both old and new can be found on their menus, including a selection of our famous Sea Food dishes, all caught fresh today. I've been reliably informed the streets are positively flowing with our famous wines, but I would recommend the Montcroix blends; the family were one of our first wine growers and his are unmatched by all else.

If you are after entertainment then head to the Western and Southern quarters. Here our people have put together a blend of arts, culture and truly spectacular spectator sports. Watch the Griffin Knights joust, enter our various weaponry competitions, or try your hands at one of the gaming stalls. Or if you prefer your entertainment more refined, why not catch one of the plays being performed in the streets or the dancing in the Southern Solari Square, or watch the parade as it marches through. You can also find our artisanal market here; traders from all over Dalriada have journeyed here to offer you all the best of our famous glassware, ceramics and more. You are sure to find a true treasure to take home with you here.

Whatever you do, we encourage you to go and pay your respects to our union in the Eastern Quarter to the bond we celebrate today. Here you will be able to see the latest Hatchlings, give your gifts of thanks to the Crown Prince himself and his Griffin Pyreois. It is also here that fellow Dalriada's can sign up to train in the school of the Griffin Riders with the hopes they may one day be accepted by a Griffin and earn their Wings.

Wherever and however you choose to celebrate this day, make sure you keep an eye out for a Griffin feather! To catch one from the air is said to bring you good fortune for the rest of the year. It is also customary to incorporate feathers into your outfits, from masks down to entire costumes made of them! You'll be able to find your own such trinkets in the market.

Blessed be your day fair traveller."

* * *
​

Southern Quarter
___________________________

Charlotte Beaufort nee Montcroix loved the Festival of Feathers: the music, the performances, the pockets just waiting to be picked.

She had chosen to spend the majority of her day in the cultural quarter of the city surrounded by the kingdoms most talented dancers, musicians, actors and more. At one time many moons ago it had been a career Lottie had hoped to have been allowed to pursue if her husband was willing. Being a part of the crowd at times like this was probably as close as she was ever going to get to that childish dream now. Not that she would swap her life for this, even if she did miss it. The weight of the crown would have broken her, and the ugliness of the Prince would have seen her suffer years of abuse as nothing more than a walking incubator for heirs, wheeled out on special occasions to smile and sigh with other women behind fans. No, she was glad to enjoy this life now like any other visitor: from the outside looking in.

Lottie had taken one thing from that life though: his name. It amused her to no end to give the name of the Royal Line mockingly as she held up the good citizens and travellers to the city so it might cause him some trouble. Of course, nobody knew that the sweetest and youngest daughter of the Montcroix line was one of the famous Dandies who harassed them; the current public story was that she had been abducted by her more feral sisters.

Today she was alone; Blanch preferred gambling and swindling money and their eldest sister... well.

Another thing she liked about the festival was the outlandish outfits people wore. At no other time of the year would men and women feel so brazen and bold as to be able to wear what they did now. Women in nothing but corsets and stockings, covered in feathers, men bare chested with intricate feathered tattoos giving their arms the appearance of griffin wings. Some wore stilts, others wore gowns so large crowds parted for them or found themselves sucked into their orbits. Lottie herself wore a green and blue gown. The top half appeared corseted, extenuating her naturally small and curvy frame but out the back where the ties might be there was nothing, exposing her skin to the warm spring air. At the hips the skirt begun, the underlayer was a gauzy material that was easy to move in but over the top, layered like wings were blue and green feathers with gold trim. Some were large some were small. As she walked it flowered around her legs like a waterfall and revealed every now and then that the skirt was actually split into four allowing easy manoeuvrability if needed. Her short mousey brown curls had been brushed to within an inch of their life and shone, the richer browns and coppers even more evident in the sun. To top it all off was her favourite accessory of the day: a beautiful green and blue jewelled and feathered mask. The subtle make up she wore underneath consisting of fetching blue pain on her lips and eyes added to the creation. The only jewellery she wore was an elaborate choker that decorated her bare shoulders with gemstones.

Despite being a thief, the sisters liked the finer things in life still and they were good at ensuring they still got such items.

Turning round a corner she smiled to others who passed but her path was set towards the Solari Sqaure and its famed dancing.

* * *

Spoiler: OOC

Please feel free to join, create your own NPCs from the kingdom, add in little details. Pick a quarter and have fun with expanding on our foundations!

Don't worry about a posting order too much, use Discord to sort it out in your sector/group.

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

A young man dressed in rich black and gold gilded clothing stepped off the rowboat and onto the docks. His black flowing hair was well oiled and slicked to the side and his striking blue eyes peered out at the magnificent city as griffins flew overhead. Tzuriel Alanthis of the Alanthis merchant empire had finally set foot in Dalriada for the first time... And that mean gold will flow. He looked about at his surroundings and couldn't help but smile, this city is absolutely amazing! Tzuriel knew about it since he was in the trade business, but had yet to risk the toll to get in until recently. The festival was part of it, and nobody would dare to say it wasn't and amazing sight! But he actually had a business partner that lived in the bustling city that promised him a good deal on the wine industry for some of the Alanthis empires own patented goods.
Of course Tzuriel had always wanted a piece of the action here in Dalriada, and he just knew there was good money to be made here.

But first and foremost, he had to get out of the docks!
He had rode his personal trade ship to the city all the way from Elbion and payed the toll, which would have been extortionate to lesser business men, but he was surprised to find the high price wasn't high enough to even cause him to blink.
After dropping anchor in the harbor and docking at the pier he found the roads choked to death with people. But in spite of this the welcome was warm, he took note of the events taking place. Later in the day he had a meeting with his friend to strike the deal in person, but since he had arrived early he had all day to explore the wonderful city!

Being a man of red blood he naturally felt himself drawn to explore the Solari Square first and see what fair maidens would join him for a dance, and then be so kind as to show him the sights of the city.
He could see himself becoming deeply involved with this city, even as an outsider. He already had one friend, and making more was one of his favorite pastimes. Everyone was dressed in elaborate costumes almost to the point where he felt slightly under dressed, he would have to remedy that soon.

He arrived at the square to see it already at a good swing, musicians were playing and people were dancing. He waited on the sidelines for a good minute looking around at the people. Such beautiful women in their lovely dresses, this city was like the land of the gods!
But he had a certain taste, the doe eyes angels couldn't keep his gaze, though some tried... A taste he had not had in a good long while. That one, the one with the sense of danger about her even through her devastating beauty. The one with brown curls and green eyes... She is dangerous, an open fire... And he plays with fire.

He cut through the crowd, once his eyes were on her they didn't wander or stray from his goal. He didn't bide his time any longer than he had to, he didn't hesitate or show any indecisiveness. He strode straight up to her and bowed low.
"Milady. Forgive me if this is too forward, but I can't imagine dancing a single step unless it's with you."

 

[Wren Kingsley]

Festival day. Oh how she'd hated it whilst growing up a Montcroix, she'd had status to uphold and high standards to meet..She remembered how her parents would plan for weeks in advance of the affair, having fabrics picked and the grandest of garments and jewellery specially made to show the everyone how sickeningly rich they were. "Try to look happy.. and don't embarrass us.." Wren muttered under her breath in her mother's tone with a smirk at the memory. How the tables had turned on them, she couldn't have embarrassed them any more than she had, her face had been plastered over the city along with the words 'wanted for treason'..

Wren had dressed up for the occasion too, a luxurious cloak of black raven feathers covered her usual black leathers and weaponry, and her hood was pulled up over her dark hair, casting a shadow over her features. She wore a mask decorated with emeralds which drew the green from her eyes, and more feathers dipped in gold, as was befitting of the occasion, and a convenience for one who could not be seen in the city.

She had tried to keep her sisters in her sights, but it was impossible amongst the bustle of the city residents and guests, as usual there were people from all over Arethil here to see the spectacle. She kept her chin up and moved quickly through the crowd, bumping in to this one and that, apologising and curtsying before tucking their purses and pretty adornments into a leather sack tied around her waist.. She was making her way toward the Royal tents, her parents wouldn't be far from there, she was in the mood for a little fun and a little more parental disappointment. She paused though, at one of her posters nailed to a post, and realised the sketch artist had her nose totally wrong and she swore under her breath. "Treason is right..Hang whatever bastard drew this." Wren scowled. She'd been wanted alive, and there was a hefty reward, but it bothered her that her attempt on the Prince's life had been foiled, if she was being branded a traitor to the crown she wanted to feel more worthy of it. She tore the poster down and let it fall to the ground to be trampled on as she continued on her way.

The tents were busy with the highest of nobility, all trying their best to out-do each other on their gifts and compliments to the Royal family, her stomach turning at the sight. The area was heavily guarded, but Wren produced a recently acquired pendant, and curtsied to her mother's guard "If I may..?" Her mother nodded to the guard, not one to deny a pretty pendant. "A gift from Annuakat, My Lady. May Narmaka shine upon you." she declared in a Kaliti accent, her chin dipped respectfully to the woman. Narmaka of course, could cure ugliness, but her mother was puffed with pride that she would receive a gift from Annuakat before the Royal family, she didn't take the meaning. She held out her hand for Wren to take, before lifting her chin pompously. Wren took the woman's hand and pressed her lips to her knuckles. "Such a beauty." she commented aloud, though she'd had her eyes on the bejewelled bracelet her mother had flaunted. "Blessings to your family My Lady." Wren curtsied again and stepped back, before leaving her to her more important friends.

Wren's dark green gaze settled venomously on the Crowned prince for a moment, her jaw clenching as she recalled his maltreatment of her youngest sister.. 'Not the time..' Wren thought to herself and huffed sharply, turning to make her way to the square where she knew Lottie would be, and she patted at the pendant and the newly acquired bejewelled bracelet in the pocket of her cloak. "Try to look happy.." they'd said. She smirked.

 

[Garrick Knight]

Being a student at the College of Elbion came with many stereotypes, several of which Garrick Knight simply didn't live up to. Mage students were supposed to be buried in magical books, unveiling the secrets of the universe, aloof and unaware of the plight of the non-magical. A poor thief trying to get by, Garrick didn't really like fit into any of those particular boxes. The one stereotype he did live up to however, was the desire to party. Normally that meant throwing back some whisky distilled through lax experimentation by other students on campus, but today's party was different.

"Alright, you're all welcome to gallivant across the city, but you must be at the Gryphon Tower when the clock strikes seven. Anyone who does not perform will have to find their own way home, and pay their portion of the entrance fee." Maester Trellis spoke out to the rest of Elbion College's students. While the faculty didn't enjoy dignifying the tradition, Elbion College did assist Oban's festival of feathers as a sort of fundraiser. As the festival grew dark the mages of Elbion would cast all sorts of spells into the night sky, providing a light show that imitated some of the city's myths and legends.

"See you there teach." Garrick said, garnering a frown from Maester Trellis and he headed first out, then up. Aided with a little magic and the experience of a cat burglar, Garrick ascended various ladders, platforms, and buildings, careful to avoid the watchful eyes of the Oban guard. While some students came to the festival to participate in the games, seek a quick exotic romance, or fill their skin with aviary tattoos, Garrick had a much more practical goal to accomplish. The theft of a Gryphon egg. A tamable, flying mount that hadn't hatched and imprinted was invaluable on the black market. With even a single egg and a good fence he could pay for a half-semester's tuition.

Within a few minutes Garrick was high above the streets, taking in the sights and looking for places eggs might be hidden. It was then he saw it. Solari Square. During the festival of feathers the squared had been cleared of all merchants, caravans, and traffic to form an elaborate outdoor dance floor. He could see it in it's entirety from his vantage, and just barely hear the tunes of the lutes, tambourines, and pan flutes below. Women dressed in tight corsets and feathered masks, while men wore sleeveless jackets and showed elaborate winged tattoos. Garrick could barely make out a couple of his classmates joining in the dance, meeting and celebrating with the Obanites.

It was, in a word, beautiful.

Garrick had a job to do, but he didn't become an art thief for the coin, at least not solely for the coin. Beauty and craftsmanship were things to be appreciated and shared. So Garrick sat down, pulled out a small canvas and quill, and began to sketch the Square. He'd have to fill it in with paints later, but for now? He needed to ensure this sight was not forgotten.

Charlotte Beaufort Wren Kingsley Tzuriel Alanthis

 

[Blanche Ponsonby]

Western Quarter - The Griffin Fayre

Blanche had taken an entirely different approach than that of her siblings. Unlike them, she had opted for a simple and pragmatic route into the city and subsequent festival. In the days leading up to the celebration, Blanche had tastefully shaved her head and acquired some very high-quality male fashion from one of their more recent targets. For today only, she had forgone her identity as Blanche and had instructed her sisters, comrades... and rob, to call her Blane. However, there were other reasons for her desire to come across as a man. Reasons that she had purposefully omitted to her sisters. She wanted to gamble. And drink. Not necessarily in that order.

With a simple feather mask masking her soft feminine face, some padding in the right places, and a very tightly wound bandage across her chest, Blanche strode through the markets at the fayre. It was an unusual spectacle, set on one of the great parks of Oban, the poorer folk and middle classes mingled freely without a care in the world. Stalls lined the entire park selling lucky charms, trinkets, street food and anything else in between. Blanche, however, did not care about the food or the trinkets.

She made her way to a nearby bar, dropped a few coins on the stained and grubby surface and spoke in a strangely deep - yet feminine sounding - voice. "Oi pal, gimme three pints... keep the change." The lug behind the bar grunted, poured three pints of wine and trundled off to serve another customer. Blanche salivated, her tongue caressing her lips slowly as she eyed the rich red liquids that stood before her. Without hesitation, the lithe woman necked the first two, released a satisfied burp, and chose the final one to accompany her to her destination. The griffin joust.

Carefully, and with great agility, she nimbly manoeuvred through the crowd and towards the stands that overlooked the arena. At the front of the crowd, standing before several blackboards, were a crowd of bookies eagerly awaiting for the denizens of Oban to place their bets on the upcoming jousts. Behind them, hastily scrawled and smudged on the boards were the names and current odds of each rider and their mount. She knew none of them, nor cared much for their names. Instead, she settled on a middling griffin - of no renown - and made her way confidently towards a bookie.

"90 crowns on Comply-or-Fly." She grinned at the man, who stood flabbergasted at the offer. Eagerly, he snatched up her offered tender and scrawled her name down in the ledger. A rush swept through Blanche. Women were forbidden from placing bets at the festival, so not only was she about to fix the game and win her keep, she was breaking the law too.

Finding a seat on the stand, and somehow acquiring the fourth pint of wine, Blanche watched expectantly for her chosen griffin to fly onto the arena. An hour or so passed before her event started, and Comply-or-Fly swept into the arena against a griffin that was touted as the favourite. As the two beasts charged towards each other, Blanche's fingers clicked subtly. The buckles of the opposing rider's saddles came loose and the rider fell sideways into the lance of Comply-or-Fly. The opponent's protective helmet buckled inwards and the force of the blow swept the poor rider off the mount - rendering him unconscious.

"And Comply-or-Fly wins!" Blanche smiled at the announcement and rose from her seat. She walked purposefully, now, towards the bookies and, despite his best efforts and protestations, collected a few hundred crowns winnings.

 

[Lottie Beaufort]

Lottie floated into the crowd of women and was lost to most. Another mask, another dress, another woman to choose for a dance if they wanted. She admired her sister Blanche for the stance she was taking today for it was bold to dress as a man, but she enjoyed the lack of attention being a woman bought her here. Just another flower in a meadow. As she slipped past a pair of older women she paused in front of them and dropped to a low curtsy, causing the layers of feathers to splay out around her. They probably wouldn't recognise her but she knew them. Carefully she looked up and then stepped forward to clasp one of the ladies hands.

"Lady Zelda, oh how is your granddaughter Esme? Why I haven't seen her in so long, since my wedding in fact!" The older woman was clearly searching the girls eyes, trying to maintain an aura of decorum. Lottie could be someone important and to forget them would be a scandal. Hesitantly the older woman smiled and squeezed her hand back.

"Ah yes... Sebastian's daughter, Tallulah isn't it?"

Tallulah would work fine.

"Oh yes! I just couldn't go past without saying hello to you and begging you to pass me love onto my darling Esme, I just miss her so," as she spoke her deft fingers carefully undid the little clasp on the woman's wrist and as she took back her hand she took the jewels with her, hiding them about her person. She gave another low curtsy, enough to stroke the woman's ego before moving swiftly on through the crowds. Of course she didn't want the woman to discover her bracelet was gone and she wouldn't, for in her mind that bracelet was still there. A beautiful solid illusion that would last for the duration of the day. She would simply think she had lost it on her way home or blame another thief. Not the beautiful girl in the green and blue feathers who had been so polite to her.

Lottie leaned up against the railing a little further on to watch the dancing, having poached a glass of her fathers wine from a table nobody was paying attention to. She sipped the cool liquid now. She might have hated her father but she couldn't fault the man made the best wine she had ever tasted. A movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention of a tall and dark haired man striding towards her with some purpose. She kept her posture calm and relaxed; was he a guard or some kind? Had he figured out who she was? The bow caught her off guard.

For a moment she studied him as her heartbeat calmed down and relief flooded through her. Her blue painted lips pulled into a slow and sinful smile.

"Well who am I to rob you of your chance to experience the joys of the Oban waltz? I would be honoured, Sir," She dipped into a low curtsy as was proper of a Obarian woman, her eyes casting down, before she rose and offered him her hand.

 

[Rob Cooke]

Western Quarter - The Griffin Fayre

Rob walked through the crowd, looking around. He soaked in the view, the vibrant colors, the variety of different clothes and masks, from pragmatic to outright ridiculous. He fit right in, at least in terms of looks.

Today was his day off. Up until something went wrong, that is. He could kick back a little bit and enjoy the views, no food to repair, burnt meat to scrape of the pan, and no tents to set up. He stretched out, quickly locating a chair in the main thoroughfare.

He said down, reaching for a accordion atop his back, where he had gotten his hands on it? He had forgotten by now. He slowly made sure it was ready to play, and once done, began to play.

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

He gave a charming smile as she excepted his request before offering his arm to escort her to the square. He wasn't all that familiar with the culture yet, but he was getting faint hints from his casual observations of the people.
He was a bit of student of people and cultures, as one would expect from a merchant. He knew how to read them, to tell from their body language and actions what their words would never admit.

It wasn't just this lovely rose that was showing signs, it was everywhere he looked. People were happy, but there was an underlying tone of submissiveness from the women in particular. He would have to remember this when he establishes his trade routes to the city, any of the women traders in his employ would be at a disadvantage here unless things change.
Perhaps he could learn more about the culture through this girl, she was obviously a native to the city, but he would wager that she was also a bit of a rebel. He recognized a fighter when he saw one.

As they walked to find an open space in the dancing square he casually struck up some conversation, "Allow me to introduce myself; I am Tzuriel Alanthis, and again I apologize if I am out of line in any way, This is my first time stepping into your city so I'm a bit unfamiliar with the customs."
He found a clearing where they could dance and turned to face her.
"But it wasn't on a whim that I asked you to dance with me. Your beauty catches the attention of the sun itself and whatever gods govern its light, they choose you to favor with their rays of glory. So seeing you out of the rest of the crowd was a nearly blinding comparison."
He offered her his hand to begin the dance.
"Also, you seem like someone who could help a foreigner find his way about this beautiful place that I imagine you call home."

 

[Wren Kingsley]

Wren's pockets and leather sack had become significantly heavier by the time she had made it to the square and she hummed along with a jovial tune, though her limp was becoming a littler more prominent and it would betray her if noticed by the wrong person. She unloaded a few fat coin purses into the baskets and pockets of bare-footed children and women who's garments were not crammed with jewels or gold and fine embroidery. One purse could feed ten families for a year and here these disgusting people were slamming them down for a bet. The segregation was clear, but it gave the richer families people to look down on and let them feel better about themselves. It had sickened her since she'd been a child, and she'd taken up the habit of stealing what she could for them.

She climbed the steps and pulled herself up onto a pillar to peer across the square, searching the crowd for her youngest sibling, and Wren's jovial tune came to an abrupt halt as she noticed the man already basically drooling all over her sister. She jumped down from the pillar and started off down the steps toward them when she stopped herself, fists and jaw clenched. "No...No. Calm down and leave her alone. She's an adult and she's entitled to her fun.." she said aloud, a few confused onlookers watching the woman have a conversation with herself.....she did that a lot, she'd been the only one she could speak to whilst locked in a cell for six months, it was either habit or she was a little touched in the head. She had promised that she'd leave them be to have their fun, unless there was trouble. It was a 'day off' of sorts, but there was nothing at this festival Wren could enjoy in the way her sisters could, and she was too paranoid to drink or strike up too long a conversation with anyone. Wren huffed to herself, and noticed those who'd turned their attention to her very one sided conversation. She reached out to pat them on the shoulder and arms "Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry.. I'm not crazy, it's just the leprosy you see.." her head shook with dismay, and they all gasped and moved away from her, likely to go wash as soon as possible.. She smirked, and pocketed another coin purse before heading off through the crowd toward the western quarter, noting her mother's guards searching the floor for something apparently lost.

Following the sound of the accordion, Wren stopped at Rob..he seemed to be enjoying himself too. Her brow rose, and she dropped a coin purse in his lap. "Lovely to see you're enjoying your day." she grinned.. "Go to the square and do that will you? Keep an eye on Lottie, she has some slobberer on her already." she rolled her green eyes under her mask. She wouldn't intervene but it didn't mean she couldn't have her watched, right? Frankly she'd feel irresponsible for not having her watched, the man could be a thief or anything.

"Now where's Blanche?.." she folded her arms, hearing drunken men jeering at the jousting arena..She was definitely around here somewhere.

Charlotte Beaufort Rob Cooke Blanche Ponsonby Tzuriel Alanthis

 

[Rob Cooke]

He hummed silently along with the tune. A keen ear for music would pick up he was playing a soldier’s tune, an old soldier’s tune, still, it was jovial enough for fit right in with the surroundings.

A sighting of Wren Kingsley interrupted his thoughts, not that he would let it interrupt his playing. He nodded silently to the request, it was fair enough, and she had reason to be careful. He carefully stood, quickly stowing the dropped coin purse away before quickly continuing the tune.

He slowly slipped between crowds of people, continuing to play his instrument as he went. He quickly found himself in the square, he quickly spotted a open chair overlooking it, swooping in, claiming it, eliciting a few grumbles that were quickly lost in the crowd.

He didn’t particularly care much to hide himself as he continued playing, sizing up the man dancing with Charlotte Beaufort, a foreigner, no doubt. Looked to have some wealth about him too, so either a trader of some sort or in a unlikely case, a particularly rich thief.

Tzuriel Alanthis Blanche Ponsonby

 

[Lottie Beaufort]

Flatterer.

It was a refreshing change to the men of Oban who believed women should feel honoured for being asked to dance with them. At least this one had been taught to keep such thoughts to himself and had a gilded silver tongue. She gave him the right smiles at the right time for his words of flattery. Just a touch of illusion magic and an apparently rosy blush could be seen just below the line of her mask. The music was just beginning and as was customary she curtsied low with all the other women on the dancefloor, almost to the ground entirely, before rising again. It was a hard move and it demanded muscles but Lottie had been dancing before she could walk and did so with ease. One he had bowed, the music started up properly and she put one hand on his shoulder, took the other in his hand and begun. The waltz was an easy one to dance to, people could make it as extravagant or as simple as they pleased with opportunities for the ladies to be picked up, twirled, and more. She decided to start off slow.

"Charmed to meet you Tzuriel Alanthis. Your words do me too much credit, there are many women here who outshine the sun and stars together, I would dare not take their mantles away from them," she ensured to keep her deep green eyes focused on his even though she had noticed Rob Cooke moving in to the corner of her vision. If someone could look menacing playing an accordion, Rob could. God damnit her sister was putting tabs on her. "I am afraid I'm not sure I would be of much help to you in the exploration of this fine city, you see whilst from this Kingdom my home is to the South. I am only here for the day." A half lie. It was indeed where their camp currently was, but she had lived in Oban for 16 years.

 

[Garrick Knight]

As couples danced, musicians played, and thieves plotted Garrick Knight enjoyed sketching the scene. If he had been on the ground, he'd have likely noticed the Oban sisters and the accordion player had an angle. Garrick was in the business after all. He might have even tried to get in, seeing as they likely had a plot to accomplish what they wanted and he didn't. Reductions of uncertainty, and thus risk, were always appreciative in their line of work. Instead the accordion player, wealthy merchant, and Oban sisters became small elements of the much wider picture of the Solari Square.

As the quill etched upon the canvas, Garrick pondered who to model the style after. Garrick did have his own preferences on how things were to be painted, but as it happened no one was interested in buying a "Garrick Knight" original. Instead Garrick most often imitated the styles of more well known artists, forged a signature, and used a little magic to create evidence of wear, tear, and age in general. The oldest artist he'd successfully "discovered a new original" was an elf that died some fifty years ago, but going too far back had it's risks. Especially when painting views such as Solari Square. A simple lamp post that wasn't there five years ago and the jig was up, no matter how well the painting was made. Portraits were far safer, at least by Garrick's regard.

"You there! What are you doing?" Garrick turned his head and spotted an archer bearing the crest of the city of Oban on his chest plate. He sat atop a fine beast, a gryphon at least five feet tall at the shoulder. It's wing span was enormous, at least thirty feet at Garrick's first guess.

Of course a city known for it's Gryphons would patrol it's rooftops. Garrick thought to himself.

"Sketching the square." Garrick held up the canvas. "I've heard it said that at the end of a man's days it's his memories that keep him company, not his gold. But memories are difficult to share, even unreliable at age. So I paint." Garrick feigned. He suspected with some magic hijinks he could take the single guard, but there was no telling how many more were close by and could pounce at the sign of trouble. He hadn't thought three-dimensionally. A mistake.

"You're not permitted to be up here. By section fourteen of-" The guard began.

"Am I not? I can leave." Garrick offered, then looked over the edge of the building and hopped away from it. "Or, perhaps could you take me down?"

The guard sighed. "Fine, but if I find you up here again you'll spend three days in the keep."

"Thank you." Garrick gave a smile and began to head toward the Gryphon, aiming to ride behind the guard. But the guard pulled on the beast's bridle, and it began to fly. Garrick was confused, until the gryphon flew towards Garrick and wrapped it's massive talons around his arms and lifted him into the air.

"Hey, hey now, heyyyy" Garrick protested as he rose into the air by the strength of the Gryphon's wings. it flew to the edge of Solari Square, men clearing as it got closer to the ground. It was about ten feet up when Garrick was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Garrick's feet hit the ground, his body following into a crouch and absorbing some of the shock. When he arose to a stand the Gryphon was far above the rooftops, back on patrol.

This was going to be far more difficult than he had originally thought.

Charlotte Beaufort Wren Kingsley Blanche Ponsonby Tzuriel Alanthis Rob Cooke

 

[Nico Valerus]

Ah, the Kingdom of Dalriada. It really was as beautiful as the rumors said, wealth apparent in its magnificent streets and architecture. As his gaze idly grazed over the crowd, mottled with illustrious tattoos and extravagantly feathered dresses, the people were just as gorgeous as the city. Griffins soared in the sky, their feathers bristling in their wind as their riders guided them above the rooftops, the formidable creatures seemingly loyal and tame.

Nico Valerus was not one to pass up a festival, especially one of this magnitude and wealth. After all, nothing meant coin would flow as much as a party, especially one with ample drinks. His mind raced as he wondered where he should go next. Perhaps he should do some light betting and gambling in the taverns and with the jousts? Oh, or perhaps he should lighten some pockets in the Southern Solari Square? Maybe there was an open stall he could work his 'magic' in, make a few coins off of the gullible nobility.

As his thoughts whirled with the possibilities, they came to a pause as a griffin feather slowly drifted in front of him. Didn't that guard say they were good luck? Something like that, at least. He plucked the feather out of the air, twirling it around. It really was quite pre-

The source of the feather rapidly became apparent as he took note of the griffin that was coming closer and closer with what appeared to be a man in its talons, who was unceremoniously dropped onto the street in front of him. Nico blinked a few times in mild disbelief as he looked down at him. That was certainly unexpected. He was fairly confident there wasn't an annual 'Get dropped by a griffin rider' event in Dalriada, either.

"Well, it's good to know the griffin riders are hospitable," he remarked with a smirk, holding out a hand to help him up. "Is there a particular reason you got dropped in the square by a griffin? - who, I'd like to add, looked quite pissed off." He flashed a charming smile, adding, "The name's Nico, by the way."

Garrick Knight

Charlotte Beaufort Wren Kingsley Blanche Ponsonby Tzuriel Alanthis Rob Cooke

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

The music began and she got into position, he followed suit with a hand on her upper waist (practically her back) and his hand holding hers gently in his palm. He wasn't familiar with the Orban waltz, but he was anything but a slouch when it came to dancing of any kind, once the music started he had the rhythm, a quick glance over her shoulder at another couple and he got the steps, for the rest he simply followed his partner.
This girl... No... This woman, was complex just by her body language alone. All at once her bearing was noble and regal with the air of confidence around her, and then in an instant she was putting on a show of submissive shyness. But he knew he hadn't read her wrong. The discrimination in this city must run deep. But what cut him the most was that he could tell she was projecting that discrimination on him as well.

Her eyes were locked with his, and his intense stare reciprocated. Those eyes were beautiful in their exotic nature. But she was pretending to be humble at his crafted flattery, which made him smirk in response. It was time to gently set a few things straight while complimenting her even more.
"My lady, I don't know your name yet. But I've been to every major village and city from Elbion to Belgrath. I've met many women, all beautiful in their own way with their own charms. But when I say the sun shines for you I mean you shine brighter than all the women I've met in the past."

He stepped into the music, taking charge as the steps were already second nature to him, testing the waters to see how creative she wanted to get with the waltz. But he never broke his intense stare from her eyes, like there was nothing else in the world that deserved to be admired more.
"I speak in matter of fact, take my words how you will, only do not mistake my intentions. I came to this city to see what wealth can be found here, what pies of trade and commerce I can take slices of. But I've found the treasure of Dalriada already, and she's chosen to honor me with a dance."

He did nothing to mask a growing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She was playing hard to get and he knew it, and he didn't see any harm in her knowing his suspicions as well. But his suspicions did grow in another way, as they danced he glanced once over her shoulder, just to make sure they didn't run into another couple, and he saw a rather brooding man seated across the square who was watching them intently. He let the man know he had been spotted by letting his eyes linger a moment longer on him before returning his full attention to his dance partner.

 

[Lottie Beaufort]

Lottie had to say she was impressed with how quickly her partners was getting into the flow of the dance and was actually proving to be quite good. It was a happy twist of fate for that's why she had come to the square in the first place: it was one of the few things she missed about the noble life. His hand was firm but gentle against the bare skin on the small of her back and the indent of her waist and it moved her into the correct steps at the correct times. She had been expecting having to half lead but now she could relax more into the role the woman was meant to play and simply enjoy the flow of their feet across the floor.

She couldn't help the smile that fluttered across her face at his words. They were sugar sweet ones but he seemed to be earnest enough if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. If she were a respectable citizen of the kingdom she would drop her gaze and again act humble for such attention but she felt that doing so would be more disrespectful than anything to this guest of Oban. When the pause in step allowed it she spun with a few of the other women who were enjoying the dance, before flowing back into her partners arms and resuming the steps of the waltz.

"My friends call me Lottie," her voice was low as she spoke now, she didn't want anyone else to overhear her real name. Usually she would give a fake one but a nickname with no surname should be fine. Especially when her face was hidden by the mask. "If it's trade you seek the best routes are wine and glassware, or seafood," those were the kingdoms specialities after all, the big ticket items everyone wanted a piece of for even the smallest foot on the ladder reaped rich rewards. "If you're looking for something a bit more up and coming might I suggest timber; there has been a growth in the demand recently for ship repairs between Alliria and Elbion, this is a good place to encourage that."

 

[Blanche Ponsonby]

A lot had happened in the space of an hour, Blanche recalled as she sat on the saddle of a horse.

After collecting her winnings, and stuffing a healthy portion in the hidden pockets she had sewn throughout her clothing, she had begun to splurge out on the rest of it. It was, after all, a once a year celebration. She wanted to make as much fuss as possible - and that meant getting drunk. Blanche strode confidently towards the nearest bar tent and had bought a round for everyone inside, and stuck 50 crowns behind the bar for her tab. Enough to give her liver poisoning several times over. She smiled. The men inside cheered. Pints of wine were shared, drunk, spilt and everything in between.

Several drinks were downed, time passed in the blink of an eye, and Blanche had quickly found herself crowd-surfing a huge friendly mob of people towards the arena. Everyone, led by Blanche of course, erupted into a deafening, and frankly horrible, rendition of 'Knees up Mother Brown'. Between verses, she downed her container of wine, threw it aimlessly into the crowd and was quickly handed a replacement by a stranger. A figure in the distance, or perhaps quite close and her vision was simply terribly impaired from the alcohol, drew her attention as she began to recognise his figure. Rob

"Under the tab- ROB, ROB, Jerid... This is the clean-freak I was telling you about." The song halted immediately as Blanche spoke. She seemed to have these men captivated, their attention squarely in the palm of her hand. The band of merry, drunk, men she had collected laughed at the small masked figure and began to empty their containers of wine in the rough direction of Rob. The figure took off his mask, shouting at Blanche. Not Rob, it seemed. "My bad, thought you were someone else. False alarm guys." She cursed, she'd have paid to see the look on his face after they all coated his robes with wine.

Shaking off the momentary setback, Blanche pointed to the arena and led her army back towards the field. In the background chants of 'Blane', 'Blane', 'Blane' over and over. The civilian horse joust was about to begin and it seemed, somewhere along the line, Blanche had volunteered herself to fight.

And so, as the last few moments suddenly came flooding back to her, she led the horse confidently onto the track.

 

[Wren Kingsley]

"And this, good ladies and gentlemen, is precisely why I will find myself in an early grave..I can feel the fucking grey hairs sprouting from my skull as we speak.". Of course there was no 'we', she was muttering to herself as she stared - no, glared at her sister, drunk and dressed as a man being crowd surfed by a mob. Wren sighed deeply and quickly hurried after the crowd.. "Excuse me.... Excuse me please... Get out of my way, my brother is an imbecile."

She followed her bellowing voice as it called out for Rob and she groaned - how was this NOT drawing too much attention to yourself?..Then again, the dressing as a man was a touch of genius, she just hoped the bandages held tight nobody groped her. She could hear the rage of some spectator and could only assume she'd insulted in some way, and concern grew as she saw her mounting a horse through the crowd. "Fuck. Really?!" Wren groaned and picked up her pace after her. "Relax, they said..Have some fun! They said.." she muttered, now shoving the crowd out of her way, to which one man took insult and she turned to glare at him, lifting a fist and tightening it, ready to throw a jab at his jaw. She refrained however, reluctantly so, she had more pressing issues to try and deal with. "I'll warn you only once, ser." and the man's jaw dropped in shock that a woman would dare speak to him in such a way. Still, he was silenced, and Wren moved on.

"Blan-..." she hesitated. "Blane! Dear BROTHER surely you have too much to drink to partake?!" she called to her sister, though she was already on the track. Blanche Ponsonby was going to get herself killed, and if she intervened any more than she was she'd be drawing more attention to them than she cared to. "Blane! Get off of that horse!" she slammed her hands down on the barrier, unintentionally causing a gust of wind to blast in her sister's direction, throwing up dust and probably spooking the horses. She curled her fingers and froze - no, her sister was going to get -her- killed. She hoped the incident would go unnoticed, they were outdoors after all, in this lovely, sunny, calm day.. Where the fuck was Rob when you needed him?!... Oh.

 

[Lucien Saartre]

Lucien drummed his fingers quietly again the counter top, frowning for a brief moment as he watched the milling crowd that moved around just outside of his shop.

Unlike most people he couldn't quite go out and enjoy the Festival of Feathers as he might have liked. He remembered the celebration well from when he was a child, but unfortunately his new role didn't allow him to run around and steal sweetcakes.

For the past two years Lucien had served as one of several Doctors appointed to help any injured throughout the various activities of the festival.

In truth he couldn't really complain about the role, it was just about the only thing that allowed him to survive through the winter when business was slower than usual. The coin offered up by the nobility allowed him to eat and even indulge in some of his more...misunderstood experiments.

So while others ran about, he simply sat and waited.

One of Oban's Militiamen stood outside of his House, not as a guard, but more to act as a messenger should he require anything.

The man was dull, and not just conversationally either. Lucien had tried to engage him about the history of the festival, and all he'd gotten was a blank stare.

He wondered if today could get any more boring.

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

Tzuriel smiled and matched her lowered tone, "Lottie, a fine name. It speaks of sweetness and refinement."
As she twirled out and then back to his arms he used the momentum to gently pick her up, spinning her in the air before setting her down and pulling her in again.
She was loosening up, relaxing a bit more and dropping the shy façade which encouraged him to go on.

So she was a bit more familiar with the city than she initially let on. She had a tap on the pulse of trade in Oban and offered him some good pieces of information. And he always pays well for information. Some good exportation goods that he could look into. He could already think of several port towns that would offer a good price for a steady supply of lumber.

But he was also interested in the cities imports.
"You are far more intelligent than you get or give yourself credit for, I'm impressed and smitten, My Lady. If you would be so kind as to tell me more about this city I would be more than happy to repay you with a drink, another dance, or any other form of payment you deem appropriate."

With that an appropriate time arose in the music and he dipped her low, his face close to hers. It was a shame she wore a mask to cover her face, but he was already marked a foreigner for not being aware of the tradition and purchasing one for himself. Her eyes were lovely, and what little he could see of her face was beautifully shaped. But he didn't press his luck, he simply straightened and read her reactions.

 

[Garrick Knight]

"Ehh, I think they just look like that." Garrick deflected at the apparent one-eyed elf. "Seems the local constabulary prefers a monopoly on vantage points." The student took a look to the sky. He could barely spot them as far in the sky as they were, but he could make four spots that moved through the sky. Not bright enough for stars, or some sort of magic. Oban Paladins then.

"Nice to meet you Nico." Garrick gave the elf a once-over. At a glance he couldn't tell the man's angle, but he still felt he couldn't trust the man. "What brings you to the festival of feathers?" Garrick asked, feeling a bit pressed for time as he now had to navigate the floors and find a way around the guards. Then there was Nico Valerus taking his time, but leaving a friendly stranger so soon after being dropped by a Gryphon Knight? It could attract unnecessary attention.

 

[Lottie Beaufort]

It was a genuine smile that lit up Lottie's face when he picked her up in an elegant lift, her hands resting on his shoulders, before sliding back into position when she was put back on the ground. She gave him a rare unthinking bright smile, not composed as was proper in such society. She seemed to realise her mistake quickly though and returned to the polite small smile as was more fitting for a lady of Dalradia. She was struggling to maintain her composure when he stated her name spoke of a sweet temperament and refinement. Oh if only he knew.

The low dip almost to the floor caught her by surprise and meant she was unable to respond straight away. It seemed like a long moment they were in the position, their faces inches apart, before he finally pulled her back to her feet. For a while she was silent as they stepped back into the movements of the dance, throwing Rob another look to see if he was still watching.

"You flatter me again, Sir," her eyes came back to him and she gave him a half smile. "But I only know these things because my father is a wine maker. I'm not sure how much further help I would be to you in your endeavours here." Another spin. "Are you a merchant looking to break into the market here?"

 

[Rob Cooke]

He was certainly still watching. He had been watching for a while

He had craned forwards slightly earlier, drawing out the note in the song in the end of the song, trying to make out the words being said. No such luck, oh well, he had never been very good at reading mouths.

He had settled back into his seat, playing a more recent and popular tune. He was about to leave his observation of Lottie and her dance partner at rest, it seemed innocent enough. He was just reclining in his chair a little when the partner pulled a rather sly move. A very low dip. He nearly halted playing a moment while he craned his neck to see what would happen.

Nothing, that was, odd. He was certain he was about to try and pull something. He was certain Lottie could handle it herself is something happened, he was just there in case it got out of hand. He assumed his previous position while continuing to play, is interest renewed.

 

[Nico Valerus]

He glanced at the griffins in the air, giving a shrug. "That's fair, the lack of a beak really does make reading them a bit difficult. The guard was definitely a bit annoyed though, I could tell that quite easily." Returning his gaze to the man before him, he remarked, "Most constabularies are like that, it's easier to keep out the opportunistic thief when everyone's on the ground as opposed to a rooftop, scouting out targets and the like."

At the greeting, he gave a half-bow with a slight grin. The human was eager to leave, and if he were to wager a guess, it would be related to the griffin knight fiasco that just occurred. "And likewise to you," the sky elf replied swiftly, leaving a notable pause for his name. "I'm not one to turn down a festival for any occasion, particularly one with the finest wine in all of Arethil," he gestured with his hand, "or so the rumors go, at the very least."

He paused, holding his gaze on the human before he added, "Plus, it's not every day you get to see somebody in a rush getting dropped in front of you by one of the guards, wouldn't you say? Only in Oban could such a thing occur." Nico grinned, a surprisingly charming - almost disarmingly so - sight. "The same question goes for you, it'd be rude for me to keep the conversation solely about myself." He placed a hand on his chest to press the point, idly twirling the griffin's feather in the other.

He knew a thief when he saw one, and this individual was practically a walking red flag of suspicion. He wanted to find out what exactly his plan one, especially if he had already gotten seen by guards.

 

[Garrick Knight]

Guards are always annoyed. Garrick thought to himself, but was surprised at the elf's mention of opportunistic thieves. It was something in his tone, no, the way he framed the statement. It had an analytic background to it, as if he'd been on one side or the other of the cat and mouse game Garrick so frequently played. This elf was more than he seemed. He couldn't tell if he was a competitor or a combatant. There was the odd chance he was a freelancer looking to get in on a potential score, but figuring that out safely was quite a difficult task.

"I'm actually here with the College of Elbion." Garrick replied. "They don't like to advertise such things, as many of the Maesters feel it 'beneath the establishment' " Garrick embellished the deep voice of one of his teachers " but the college uses events like these as a sort of fundraiser." He explained, as he pulled out a small blue gem from his jacket pocket. "Every year the Maester who pulls the short straw pulls together a group of twenty or so students and puts together a show. Lights, spectral images, colorful flames and such to cap off the night."

The gem in Garrick's hand began to glow, and he motioned his fingers with his other hand. A blue gryphon of magical flames began to fly between the two of them, and even made a small roar.

"Despite the faculty's misgivings, these events have proven to be quite successful. Lords and ladies hate to be undone you see, and each year is more lucrative than the last. University get's coin, and I get the opportunity to see the sights and take in a part of the history." Garrick explained, as the gryphon faded away. His last statement was a subtle invitation that any experienced rogue or ne'er-do-well would understand. If Nico Valerus understood he'd say something deflecting from the history of Oban, and move the conversation towards exploring or suggesting sights to see. The first of a few hurdles in identifying someone who was looking for a job, or someone who might have one.

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

He mentally shook his head. He saw her, it was only for a moment before it was gone but he saw her for the first time when he lifted her and she was happy, she was smiling without a care and that was truly her, and he decided he liked that version of her far better. He realized he had mistranslated the meaning of her name. He automatically assumed Lottie was short for Charlotte and defined her as such, but now that he looked at her, Lottie was much more befitting, in its feminine form it meant, 'free-woman'.

She was more than ready to be free, but perhaps it was the wrong setting, too much social expectation around her preventing her from expressing herself. His mistake for trying to encourage her true self here.
"Your father makes wine? He must be exceedingly wealthy then, so fitting for his daughter to be a descendent from the heavens. What father could ask for more?
But again, I think you belittle your own intellect, My dear. I would hate for someone as smart as you to remain trapped in a gilded cage, but perhaps I am simply a foreigner. I've no right to say such things."

He could still sense the man watching them and it was making his hairs stand on end, though his face remained totally focused on Lottie. He led their dancing into the thick of the crowd of couples, giving them a reprieve from those watchful eyes.
To answer her question he was thoughtful for a moment, unsure of how much he should reveal. But if there was one thing he couldn't resist, it was a beautiful woman, and he really saw no harm in it.
"I am a merchant, though I would say 'Breaking into the market' is a harsh way to put it. I'm here on invitation by a good friend of mine in the wine industry. He wants to start a trade agreement with me to increase commerce here in Oban."
He had a humorous thought that nearly made him laugh at loud.
"How strange would it be if my friend happens to be your father? You did say he makes wine."

He chuckled a bit more and then sighed as the music began to slow, soon it would close for a brief intermission.
"My offer for a drink still stands, if you're game?"