Open Chronicles The Festival of Tides

[Alre Castielle]

Alliria

Alre leaned on his sword, head resting on the pommel, his body half bent over as he tried keep the contents of his stomach inside of his body. The world was spinning, and if asked he could have sworn that people were somehow walking on the walls. The world felt drab and gray, as if all the alcohol he drank last night had somehow drained all the color from the world.

"NEXT BOUT!"​

The shouting of the announcer pulsed through his ear and rang like a bell in his head. He shirked slightly, standing up and swaying as he grasped the railing besides himself. Quietly he said a silent prayer to whatever deity still watched over him that the next match wasn't his.

"THRON STRONGARM VERSUS PERSEUS FELEUOR!"​

"Oh thank fuck for that." Alre said quietly as he took in a deep breath.

The Festival of the Tides was Alliria's annual carnival, or at least one of them. It features dozens of games, tournaments, competitions, and of course all the food someone could ever hope for. Knights and even layman came from all over to compete in Jousting, Archery, Swordfights, and even wrestling. The whole thing took place over two weeks, and it drew in crowds of thousands.

People came from all over, and that made it the perfect opportunity to get your name out. Whether you were a Knight, an Adventurer, or a King meant to be. The Festival of the Tides was a place to set yourself apart.

That was what Alre was hoping to do, at least if he could sober up before his bout was up. "I need some fucking water."

The young lad mumbled to himself as he stalked off to find a Horse trough.

 

[Gracie]

Alliria, The Inner City...

Alliria. Gracie had visited the city so many times and yet it still made her head spin the most out of all the cities she and the Midnight Circus visited. It seemed so confusing from the streets. People jostling you too and fro, the shouting of peddlers wares, and the shrieks of this woman calling after this scruffy child or that. It was so far removed from her home that despite the headache is caused her, it was also one of the Slyph's most loved cities.

Especially from up here.

The Midnight Circus had set up its large tent in the middle of the Inner City but it would keep its tent doors shut until night fell. Until then, it was the job of the performers such as herself to try and promote the evenings entertainment. The best method of doing that was to take their acts outside, which many of her fellow circus family looked forward to. The Tumble Tots were doing their usual clown performance two streets over and Gracie could hear the roars of laughter as the twins went through their routine, no doubt getting more than a few of the crowd that gathered covered in all sorts of slime. Ebenezer the Strongman was by the docks. From her perch she could see him lifting a whole fishing boat over his head to the exclamations of all. She couldn't see nor hear the others but she knew they were all out there; Missus Marvel with her bags of tricks, Sheiram with her elegant leopard who responded to the smallest twitch of the catwoman's nose. Even Maestro would be out, the Tent Master was a booming personality that was hard to stay away from.

Gracie herself was in the middle of her own act.

From the Allirian skyline she had hung various implements to help her get from point A to B. There was no net here like there was in the circus and people milled below her with mouths gawping. She had just thrown herself from one balcony, caught the silk ribbon she had hung from a spire, and now she found herself upside down with only the piece of silk to keep her from tumbling to the ground. She wound her way up, wrapping the fabric this way and that effortlessly, seemingly getting further stuck. Then suddenly she let go.

There was a sharp cry from the audience as she spun and tumbled down the meters of fabric to suddenly be set free of their bonds, reveal the ribbon was in fact two bits of material and throw herself backwards in an impressive tumble. She landed neatly on the cobbles below to great wooping cheers and did a little bow.

 

[Jeremiah]

"AYE, GILMORE, GET A LOAD OF THE METAL MAN!"

While tiresome, Jeremiah had gotten pretty used to people questioning his own existence. Just the mere sight of him tended to send people into a frenzy.

The man called Gilmore funneled over to the sign up stall and gawked with his jaw dropped at Jeremiah.

"T'hell did you come from? Freak Show's north of ere'" This Gilmore chided.

"Pardon me, gentlemen," Jeremiah spoke far more eloquently than the other two and with greater patience than one might expect. "If you're quite done I would like to sign up for a fight. Nothing more."

Since the encounter with Isaac he hadn't felt quite as good as he did with the boost that Opal had given him. He wanted to regain that confidence in these so called bouts and see what challenge may lie ahead for him.

"Ah, what the hell, we'll rack up some popularity if we got a walking stovepipe throwing some hands. Uhhhh you'll be right after thisun'. Against Alre Castielle, so listen for your name and sit wherever you like."

Jeremiah dipped into a bow and lowered his top hat with it. The two continued to barb and poke at Jeremiah's appearance as he meandered to the seats waiting for his name to be called. More wandering eyes fell on him as steam ejected from his shoulders, leaving people in a wide eyed stupor as to how he was walking and talking.

He took a seat not far from Alre, but this was unbeknownst to him. He just hoped he didn't hurt his opponent too bad.

 

[Alre Castielle]

When Gracie landed, a man...Alre, vomited onto the ground just a few feet behind her.

The elegance she exuded did not seem to reach the young man, his head still spinning as he used his sword like a crutch against the cobbles. A hand came up to wipe the back of his lips, head spinning slightly as he drew himself up and looked towards the dancer.

Those in the crowd who had just been amazed by the woman were now looking at Alre, at least some of them. Disgust clung to their features, and he blinked at them for a few seconds as if that might make them go away. "Had a little too much."

He said with a frown, as if that might offer them some explanation.

More than a few shook their heads, clearly disgusted by him. None of them realized he would be fighting within the Swordsman Tournament of course, though he doubted that would make them anymore amicable to what had just happened.

Might make them wager against him though.

 

[Lord Boch]

The hat wearing chicken had watched the display Gracie put on with what could be guessed to be interest. It was hard telling aside from the fact that the head had been turned to catch her movements as she went along. If she was waiting for a few ruffled feathers, there were none from the chicken.

When she landed, the seated bird kept it's on eye her. Shortly before taking to the air with the vomiting of Alre Castielle upset the fowl tempered bird. A cacophony of squawks and upset trills came from the rooster as it changed it's gaze to Alre.

It circled wide of him, wary of the shiny stick he wielded.

 

[Gracie]

Oh the people! The cheers! The oddities! They filled Gracie's heart near to bursting and it looked as though her smile might split her face in two as she bowed and murmured thank yous. She wrapped her hand back around the ribbon, about to hoist herself back into the air when there was a sudden wretching sound behind her. She turned her head to glance over her shoulder but she didn't step away in disgust, nor shout or laugh or sneer like many of the others gathered were. Instead she released the ribbon and stepped delicately around him to fetch her small little bag set near a growing mound of coins people had been flicking into a hat.

"Are you okay?" Concern wrote itself across her face like an open book as she held out the water to him with a sympathetic smile. Her sky blue eyes flickered from his face to the flustered fowl and, reaching into her bag, withdrew a handful of seeds she kept for the circus doves and held them out too.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to upset you little guy!"

 

[NPC's]

Ryder Green, a rather funny man if you would ask his mates. He had always traveled around, a nomad or gypsie is how some would describe his life style. Ryder often did one or two odd jobs, he had experience getting rid of a problem or two if someone had enough coin.

After being in his trade for about two years, Ryder decided it was not exactly for him. So he made use of the coin he had and traveled as much and as often as possible. For now, he had heard of The Festival Of Tides and he was rather keen to see for himself what all the fuss was about.

First, he made a stop at a fighting ring, scoffed at their sad excuse for a brawl and moved along. He stumbled into a tent occupied by mirrors - Ryder being Ryder, he stopped to admire himself. Aurbun hair, green eyes, freckles scattered elegantly across his face. He was about 6'4 and was muscular but not in the butcher type way, more of a knight.

Once he was finished admiring himself, he made his way to a make-shift tavern on the festival grounds. Ordered himself a whiskey and made his way back to the fighting.

He took a seat, kicked up his feet and waited in anticipation.

Ryder was quite a jokester, he easily befriended people, thus he entertained himself waiting for the next fight, also getting one of his new found friends to buy the next round.

 

[Jeremiah]

It seemed that the man not far from him grew sick. While inebriation clearly played a role, the man had also looked pale prior. Still, it would be wildly uncharacteristic of Jeremiah to not ensure the safety of those around him.

The automaton stood up and wandered his way to Alre's side, withdrawing a handkerchief from his peacoat pocket and kneeling beside the man.

"My friend," He spoke in a calm tone. His voice surprisingly kind and silken for someone melded from magic and bronze. "Please use this to clean yourself, you're dressed far too well to be covered in one's own bile. Besides! You can't miss the next bout!"

He turned his head to the rooster and then to Gracie. Then back to the rooster. He nodded their way both.

 

[Alre Castielle]

"I am fine, thank you." Alre said as he waved off the woman with a gentle hand, taking the water with a slight frown and wondering if he'd even be able to keep it in his stomach.

He was about to speak when a chicken started to make noises at him, a frown touching his features as he looked at the hat-wearing bird. An eyebrow raised, and he was about to open his mouth to say something else when the strangest thing he'd ever seen walked up to him.

The Once King could only describe it as...well he had no fucking clue. "What in the hell."

He exclaimed, looking at the automaton with no small amount of shock on his face. His hand extended to take the handkerchief, though it was clearly only out of an odd sort of reaction.

"I Uhh." Alre looked at Gracie, water in one hand, kerchief in the other. "Th-thanks."

Was this another thing from the circus?

 

[Lord Boch]

The chicken was quick to forget the cruelty of the shiny stick wielding man when the seed was presented. Though a wary series of drawn out trills happened, while still trying to devour the offering, when the automaton made itself known. A shiny man instead of a shiny stick man. The leery side eye however let it know that it was being watched as it cautiously pecked at the offered seed.

Gracie received a somewhat happier trill from the bird as it began to clean up the ground around it. It scratched and carefully plucked the remaining seed from her hand, keeping an eye on the other two that were around them. It kept close to her, careful not to tangle in her feet.

 

[Gracie]

The acrobat was the mirror opposite to Alre. As the metal man approached there was no more than a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes, far to used to the oddities of the circus to question a metal man even if she had not seen one in person herself. Instead she crouched down to pet the curious chicken that was strutting around her, a happy, almost childish smile on her face.

"Oh!" she looked up when he spoke, cheeks dimpling as her smile grew. "You are most welcome!" hastily she remembered her manners and stood up with one final, affectionate stroke along the chicken's feathers. Between her thumb and finger she lifted the tiny strip of cloth one might at a stretch describe as a skirt that was a part of her costume and curtsied in the professional manner the Maestro had taught all of his performers.

"Gracie, a pleasure to be of service Sir. Are you both in the tournament?" her blue eyes flickered between the men.

 

[Jeremiah]

A mixture of emotions and facial expressions thrown his way was nothing too. And his showmanship wouldn't allow him to not make a wonderful introduction for all his new friends!

He fluffed his coat and cleared his mechanical throat with a fist held to his mouth. A removal of his top hat once more and his second deep bow of the day.

"I am Jeremiah Hoarfrost! Man of bronze, philanthropist, and combatant!" He rose back up while simultaneously setting his hat back stop his head. He turned his gaze to Gracie as she gave the well dressed fowl some pets.

"Indeed I am! Apparently you require a blade, but the men at the sign up poll allowed me in due to my unorthodox appearance. Apparently I will be fighting next!" He let out a friendly, hearty chuckle and clanked his fist into his opposite palm.

 

[Alre Castielle]

Oh what the fuck.

He was supposed to fight this...thing? Alre scowled slightly to himself, fingers wrapping tightly around the hilt of his sword as he let out a slight grumble. "Yeah."

Alre tried not to roll his eyes in consternation. The lady with the Pink hair had been nice, though...well he supposed he didn't really care about that. She was a commoner, and thus at the end of the day didn't matter much more than any of these others.

"I'm fighting him." He gestured towards the metal man.

It hardly seemed fair though. "You don't have a sword?"

How would that work? It was a damned blade tournament!

 

[Lord Boch]

The woman let herself be drug into conversation, leaving the chicken to fend for itself. It ruffled its feathers, making twisting motions as it shook itself to clean off imaginary dust. The bangles jingled and tinkled, one especially noticeable piece of circular gold about the neck caught the sunlight as the fowl cocked its head sideways and stared up at the gathered giants.

Without warning, it rubbed against Gracie and lingered a moment. None would notice what happened in earnest, other than the bird being...affectionate? Her luck for the night would be far greater than usual. People entranced by her act and maybe even being a bit more generous with loosening the strings on their purses. Her act would go flawlessly, better than usual even.

The chicken gave a soft crowing sound as it stared at the two others, not sure what to make of them after imparting luck on the woman that had been kind enough to feed it.

 

[NPC's]

While waiting for the next fight to take place, one of Ryders new found friends decided that Ryder had stolen some of his coin . A brawl started. The was screaming and onlookers turned their way.
The man got Ryder square on the jaw, his lip dripped blood now.

Ryder had always been a calm man, his temper was one he had learned to control from a young age.
He lived with mages once, they taught him their ways but his aggression proved to dangerous and Ryder was forced to forget his past and move forward. He tried his best to always push those memories aside and keep his anger at bay.

Ryder could take a punch, but he wasn't a fan of having his face bloodied up.
"Alrighty then mate," he wiped the blood from his lips, something sparked in his eye for a split second. "Looks like ye' wanna do this the hard way 'ey?"
Ryder pulled back and with one swift movement punched the mad right in the nose, it spewed blood not even seconds later.

Unfortunately for Ryder, the bugger he made bleed was the cousin of the man organizing the fight. So guess who was now in line for an ass-whooping? Ryder- bloody- Green.

 

[Gracie]

Gracie began to get that glassy eyed expression of someone who was pretending to pay attention to the conversation but it clearly didn't interest her. Fighting, and the odd reasons behind it, were something that she had always failed to comprehend. Her kind were peaceful beings and whilst their magics could be used in an offensive manner, they would never do so unless there were no other option. Even then it was questionable.

The rubbing of the chicken up against her leg made her blink and look down with a fond smile. Like a small child, her attention was gone once more from the conversation between the mechanical man and the vomiting man. Bending down once more she scooped up the chicken and continued to pet him in an affectionate manner.

And her attention diverted again to the fight going on just behind the two gentlemen.

"Oh dear. It looks like you may need to do some fighting ahead of your match," she tilted her head to the side and blinked her blue eyes at the growing fisty cuffs.

 

[NPC's]

Ryder started using rather foul language, telling the fight master exactly what he thought of him and his decision.

Out the corner of his eye he saw a small group conversing, obviously watching the situation unfold. He had recognized the two men from when he still sat in the stands, they were fighters. Some rather strange women was among the group aswell and was that a ....chicken? wearing a hat?

Ryder shook his head, he had only bad experiences with poultry, foul little things he found them.

Him and the girls locked eyes, oh please let her be my savior.
"'Ey lady!" Ryder was struggling now, some of the fight masters higherd muscle had started to refrain him and push him into the ring. " OOI! 'ye saw what happen 'ere. Help a bloke out?"