Knights of Anathaeum Well, Hello Boys...

[Monroe]

"Name's Gunner! Looks like we're paired up for this one. Don't worry, I won't drop you-- I've got a great grip!"

There was a coldness to her stare as they traveled over the overly friendly participant, and straight past him to look at Saskia at her left side. The dawnling was quite, for her scowl spoke more than words ever could, and was too ticked off to enjoy the satisfaction of making another person nervous with just a stare alone.

The golden haired dusker took in a breath and steeled herself, turning to meet Monroe's gaze. "Right, I know I said that I was going to put my name in but... It would have been too difficult to create obstacles and have fun being carried in the event. I put your name in the mix because you could look like you need some muscular arms around you." Saskia gave her a pointed look, a brave endeavor but one that paid off.

Monroe took the slip of parchment with the participants name, snatching it from Syr Kerraelas' fingers and scrunched it into her own fist. She didn't look at it, not really caring to learn it. She may have been the mastermind behind such an event, but the true curse was giving Saskia autonomy with planning. Monroe was happy just sitting on the judge's panel, but to be part of the event and trust some gaudy, muscled men to carry her? Well... there certainly would have been worse options out there.

"If you drop me, don't bother showing your face round these parts again." She all but grumbled to the unlucky pretty boy that was paired with her.

Gunner Valenntyne

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

Ophelia had mad it her mission to attend the Himbo even so graciously planned out by Petra and other organizers she was yet to meet. It had been a good few weeks since Ophelia had seen new handsome faces aside from those who rised in the monestary with her. She had been hauled up in a pile of scrolls in the library for almost a month now researching specific herbs. Fortunately Kallias had let her know because he to would be competing, beautiful idiot he was. Hopefully he would introduce her to some of his fellow himbos as they so put it.

But today...oh on this lovely, sunny, sweaty day she felt no better then a male in a less respectable establishiment. Gobbeling up the beautiful views before her.

Trusty wine in hand she say back and admired the competitions and competitors in all their sweaty glory.

 

[Skuld Zajac]

Skuld drew close enough that even she could see the event while keeping Friga atop her shoulders. The partial gambeson she wore easing the bite of her daughter's bony little behind as the girl pulled on the kerchief around her head.

"Momma! They're gonna carry people next!" As if her mother had missed the announcement prior to her excited words. "Oh? That'll be fun to see."

The excitement and hubbub around them pushing them both closer to the stage as people began to adjust themselves to watch the sight better. Putting them well within the view of the little man that had been running about handing out slips of paper as he cast an eye their way.

The sharp grab about her neck distracted her from the dwarfs approach as Friga tried to keep from falling backwards.

"Ah, miss! We actually need another volunteer if'n you don't mind? Little'un can sit with the judges while you're busy." There was a strangled objection to the request with her daughters hand choking her while trying to keep upright. And the man took the sound as agreement rather than objection as she was pulled from her spot in the crowd.

Friga, with less grace than a drunken cat, was plopped on the judges stage with a stern look to mind her manners.

"But I wanna be carried!" Narrowed eyes settled on the girl as Skuld was prompted to hurry. "O'er my dead body will I let anyone as cloud-brained as these fellows carry my daughter. Off with you now."

A quick ruffle of hair followed after a point to the judges above found Skuld plodding along to find the one that she'd be dropped by.

 

[Kallias]

Kallias had been late, as in two events late. Jumping straight out of bed and getting dressed in a scramble he half jogged over to the festivities in-between pulling on his boots, curly brown locks in complete disarray. He had spent the previous night playing cards and talking about topics, with some of the other squires he bunked with - unfortunately the festivities had continued well into the early hours of the morning.

Only three or four months in the Knights of Anathaum and he was already having the time of his life - yes that was not the reason he had joined but it was most certainly a happy coincidence.
He was not to sure on what to expect until everything began, the young man had simply scanned over the flyer and after hearing that a few lovely dames were to be expected, Kallias was all in so he made his way over to the judges table, he needed some way to schmooze them over to make up his already lost points.

Making sure he was in there eye-line, Kallias found himself a nice bucket of water and a half dim light bulb turned on in his pretty head. Poured it over his head in a manner he had definitely practiced before the squires white tunic now see through and sticking firmly against his chiseled torso and strong chest, he placed the bucket down and slowly tuned to the judges panel.

"Good morning darlings," He smiled charmingly, dimples on full display.
"Miss Petra as beautiful as well ways," with a wink he turned to her companions, flexing his muscles slightly.
His eyes strolled over to the brunette women close by, "Hello, I believe ive seen you around the monestary, I'm Kallias." Now dripping wet he offered her his hand, smile still bright and eyes light with interest.

Petra Darthinian Skuld Zajac

 

[Bebin Theros]

Bebin made open his piece of parchment. His eyes scrawled across the lettering. Sloppy. By his estimate. But legible enough.

A bit of luck then. That he would be paired with one so easy to carry.

His hands folded the parchment, quick and sharp. Handed it to some squire he was on their way somewhere.

The youth blinked. Stared at the piec of paper, and made a sound of confusion. A drawn out. Uuuuuuummmm.

Bebin parted ways, and wove through the crowd like a snake through grass. Until he found his pairing.

"Lothilindor," his voice broke through the din. Low and sure. "While I am surprised you would volunteer yourself to such a position, I cannot say that I am displeased by this turn of fate," he smiled, a wicked thing. "Well, my princess," he played to the part, and bent low to her, with an offer of his broad hand. "Shall we?"

Farren Lóthlindor

 

[Hector]

A grumble came from Hector's throat upon hearing Syr Faramund's report. "Gee," he said, flat as stagnant water. "Thanks," how utterly unhelpful, thought the young knight.

He huffed, and shook off the thought. It was, after all, for a good cause. No matter the task, he would see it through.

How and when Hector had found the Captain of Dusk was a mystery unto its own.

Through the shouts and cheers of the crowd, and the pounding of his own heart, he couldn't quite put together the steps he had taken. Only, that he was now before the most mysterious, Captain Selene, Lady of Dusk. Author of An Emergent History of Curses and Their Bearers! Protege to the former Captain of Dusk, Silvan Hawthorne.

He snapped a salute. Upturned fist pound against his chest as his heels clicked to together, and the flaps of his makeshift kilt smacked against his legs.

"Captain!" he called out. Blinked. "Princess," he shook his head. "Ma'am... Miss- uh.. Syr!" he straightened up once more, nod. "At your leisure- I'll uh," he eased up. Looked her in the eye. Blushed. "Carry you, I guess," he smiled, sheepish, and scratched the tip of his nose. "There a way you... would like to be carried?"

Selene

 

[Faramund]

It's for a good cause! So what if they're all laughing at you? Ain't it nice to see folk happy and smiling for a change? Well, ain't it?

Shaking his head, a wry smile on his face, Faramund let the slip fall from his hands to be trodden underfoot. Yeah, okay, maybe it was nice to see people laughing and smiling, but that didn't change the fact he had been partnered with Syr Aarno, now, did it?

'Curse my bastard luck!' The dawnling grimaced, flapping his fingers equably in recognition of his princess's gesture.

I s'pose, from the back, he at least looks like one. Longish hair, a passably plump arse. Just a shame about the jawline. Well, guess there's nothing for it! Shambling on over to Aarno, his expression severe, Faramund met the man's gaze, and nearly burst out laughing.

'Not how I saw the day's events unravelling,' he confessed, scratching his beard sheepishly, his composure fraying at the seams. 'But if things do eventually go tits up, at least you'll be able to carry me!' He smiled, his shoulders racked by silent bouts of laughter. 'Are ready? If I'm not mistaken, I think the show's about to start.'

Aarno

 

[Aarno]

“ Some fate. “ He snickered, folding away the slip and pocketing it.

“ Not mind participating so much? “ His brows arched, exaggerated disbelief upon him as she begun leading them off again. “ Is there anything you actually do mind? Even being injured in battle seemed to faze you very little. “ He remarked, just in time to catch the sight of Syr Theros meandering in from the scattering of people to fetch his princess for the next event.

Deeply amused by the exchanged posturing and decorum that ensued in quick succession, Aarno distanced a step, look falling upon Faramund in turn. The man had finally decided to come over, after what he assumed had to be much deliberation and some cursing. And a lovely little wave.

“ Sure, I’ll carry you. But let us hope it need not come to that. “ He tossed his head pridefully, untying the length of red leather he’d kept wound about his wrist.

“ Yes, almost. Let me just tie up my hair. I’m a damn princess, after all. “ He continued in a filthy wink, fingers busy as they laced his hair into a sloppy braid. In the midst of it, he snook a self-assured smirk at both Syrs Lóthlindor and Theros.

“ No pressure, but — Game on. “

Faramund Farren Lóthlindor Bebin Theros

 

[Farren Lóthlindor]

Farren laughed through her blush at Bebin and placed her own hand demurely into his, a mock curtsy following. "Well Syr Theros, I can't say there are many broad shoulders I'd prefer to be thrown over."

She raised from her curtsy, a competitive fire giving a sharp edge to her smile as she overheard Aarno and Syr Faramund.

"Let's show these two how the Dusk do business, shall we?"

Bebin Theros Aarno Faramund Aarno

 

[Saskia Kerraelas]

"Alright! Have we found our pairs? Yes? Perfect!" Saskia's soft, melodic voice carried over the crowds, a large grin adorning her face.

"This next round is a fun one! It is a simple course, except for the challenges I will throw your way. You will find attendants showing you the course, directing you on where to go. Your passenger can only leave your arms and touch the ground once, any more after that..." Syr Kerraelas smiled sweetly, as if that would be answer enough. "Let us move towards the starting line! Well the bell tolls, then you may pick up your passenger!"
With a grin, Saskia held her hand out to the young girl, Friga, inviting her to come watch the run with her. The first section of the course was to start at one end of the training grounds, and finishing up at the Knoll. There were plenty of attendants and volunteers lining up the way, keeping an eye out for those that would deviate from the marked path.
By the time the Shadow Knight and the young knightling made it to the starting line, standing on a platform of shadow so that they could be seen by all the handsome participants. A blush took to her cheeks seeing Torche's fashionable choice, and how well her wore it! "Here, Friga. Take good care of this bell, and ring it when I tell you to." Here's hoping she did not see the bare arse on display!
"Ready?" Saskia galnced at them all, grin lighting up her face. "Set!" Now, the anticipation as she waited with baited breath, before finally, "Go!" And nudged the young Friga to toll the bell as mightily as she could! "Pick up your partners and go, go, go!"

---

Do not forget to roll for this round!
(I will 'be nice' to you if I don't see you rolling in the discord dice channel!!! )
Every now and then, I will post as Saskia and giving people obstacles to interact with. Any clarifications are to be made to me


Will you ally yourself with other himbos, or is it time to sabotage some competitors?
hehehehe​

 

[Arbok]

"FINALLY!"
Arbok had at last completed the days tasks. As the last hay bail was stored in the stables she finally had a chance to see the games.
Floors had been washed, windows too and the horses brushed and fed and the stables mucked.
Turning on her heels she waved the delivery cart off and locked up before doning her sun hat and hurrying off to the games.
While unable to compete due to other duties Arbok had always enjoyed games. Forgoing a change from her work clothes ( dungarees, work boots, straw hat ) Arbok hurried to take a place among the others. Her footfalls hammered through the hallways as she exerted herself.
By the time she arrived, her great body was heaving with the effort.
"Did I, miss, it?"

*A wild Arbok appeared!*

 

[Skuld Zajac]

Kallias

Skuld watched a man up-end a bucket of water over himself, seeming late to the entire event as amusement fled her features. Fairly certain that this was to be the one the dwarf mentioned as she eyed the slick hand he offered.

"Aye, you likely have. Skuld. And if you wouldn't mind... " Taking the offered hand, only to wipe the water off on her gambeson. "Do try to warn me before you fall."

She didn't mind getting dirty. Didn't even mind taking a spill every now and again. Was a reminder that life sometimes threw things your way that sent you to your knees. What she did mind however, was possibly cracking her head or being squashed. A measuring look over him as she let the frown form at the corner of her mouth.

"Plenty tall enough, but, we'll see how well you carry yourself." The shake of her head the final sign of her measure before she prepared herself mentally and raised an arm to be carried, turning sidelong to him. "Mind your hands."

 

[Selene]

Roll: 20

It seemed that she had been set up.

The muddy arena was bright, the crowd loud. Everyone was calling her princess.

It did not take much goading to get her to fully adopt the role. Selene took it with all the grace of a noble daughter, curtsying neatly to Hector as he read her name aloud off the paper. Within, however, the fire of competition had been stoked. Games were afoot, and though she wasn't clear on which, Selene would do everything to ensure Hector came out on top.

"There a way you... would like to be carried?"

"A princess should be treated with dignity and care." Selene placed her hands on Hector's shoulders, as if for a dance. "A sweep up of the skirts will do."

Her robes were already sort of billowing around her ankles, as if she was standing in waist deep water. And if Hector didn't trip over himself, he would find the Captain of Dusk light as a feather. A subtle bit of magic, nigh imperceptible.

Hector

 

[Kallias]

Roll: 8

Kallias only chuckled at her presumption regarding his abilities. "Come on doll, I'd never let you fall," He meant his words, the Routien was no stranger to traveling long distances or scaling mountains with weight strapped to his shoulders - so he planned to carry Skuld just as he did with the weapons and packs from his training days. With one hand, he held a firm grip around the wrist of her outstretched arm, knelt down and pulled him over her shoulders so that she lay atop them as a scarf would. A few adjustments and he was standing at the starting point.


"Now hold on tight and trust me," then at the toll of the bell, he was off.

Skuld Zajac

 

[Faramund]

Rolled... 16

Faramund smirked at Farren's challenge, happy to see her happy. 'And may the best men win!' He laughed. Turning his eyes to the course, the dawnling set to limbering up. I've been lucky so far, he thought, trying to spot the obstacles through the press of bodies surrounding them. No mishaps or pulled muscles. Just plain old brute force and the slightest bit of finesse.

Maybe that's why the judges keep marking me down?

No showmanship. That was what they were here for, was it not? To have a laugh, to enjoy themselves and raise the spirits of everyone present? Maybe, Faramund mused. He still didn't know what the competition was officially known as, but he had heard the word "himbo" thrown around an awful lot. Usually it was followed by pointed fingers and a giggle or two from Astenvale's womenfolk. Sometimes the men, too.

Then, the word came down: Go!

'All right, Your Magnificence! Time to mount up!' Ducking, Faramund scooped Aarno into his arms before the man could even think to protest. Cheers erupted from the crowd as the contestants took to the wind, princesses in tow. Faramund ran with them, smiling at the obscenity of it all.

'It's for-... a good cause!' He puffed.

Aarno

 

[Gruki]

Nacht seemed distracted when Gruki found him. 'Yo!' She said by way of greeting, right hand held up in warm regard. The other clutched a circlet of flowers, woven to sit snugly upon the smaller squire's brow. 'I made you this,' she continued, 'as a gesture of... um, support!' She grinned abashedly. 'Hopefully it won't get in your eyes! Carrying me is sure to be bad enough, and I'm not sure I'll be able to navigate the course for you.'

And ain't that the truth, she thought, feeling bad for Nacht, even though neither of them had a choice in the matter... other than forfeiting the round.

'It'll be okay!' Her smile brightened as she offered up the garland. 'I've seen you training. Just make to keep your breathing in check. Oh, and your footwork! Don't forget your footwork!' It was swordsmanship one-oh-one. Now, Gruki didn't expect any of the other contestants to be wielding blades, but if there was one thing she had learnt from this life it was that you never knew!

'How do you want to do this?' She asked, figuring things out one step at a time. Her jacket came off, then, her boots. The rest stayed on.

Nacht

 

[Nacht]

“Yo!” He said back, giving a wave himself. Eyes instinctively finding the beautiful flower chain his “passenger princess” held, he would focus back onto the actual conversation at hand as Gruki approached. At the sight of Gruki’s grin Nacht couldn’t help but feel better. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he could certainly think of worse feelings to be passed on than that. He laughed a bit at having been so worked up, returning the gesture with his own boyish smile.

“Without a doubt.” He said, eyes glittering at the challenge. It had been some time since he had joined the knights and being able to carry an orc seemed like quite the progress check. He accepted the garland and placed it on his head. “Besides, even if I do fall, I’ll smell good doing it!” He said, chuckling before looking slightly regretful, as though he thought What he had said was weird.

Breathing and footwork? This lecture sounded like something he would hear from his teachers. He didn’t seem to need much more than balancing while stepping forward in terms of footwork, but there was merit in considering how to breathe with someone on your shoulders. “Yes ma’am!” He replied jokingly, stretching in place a little bit for whatever that was worth.

Thankfully, his passenger shed some of her extra layers and thusly made it slightly less intimidating of a solve, this task. “Well, I’d ask you to distribute your weight if you sat on my shoulders. Legs forward and upper body slightly back, that kind of thing. That’s about all I can think of as of now.” he mused.

Gruki

 

[Bebin Theros]

Rolled: 12

A grin, sharp across the Pursuant's lips as he took the dusker's hand into his own. "Doubtlessly," he said as he dipped just the more into the bow, rose, and pulled her toward him. Easy footwork saw her at his right side, their arms in neat fold, as if dancers, ready to take the floor.

That his shirt had been destroyed early on, and that she wore a brilliant blue dress, made them every bit the beauty and the beast as they stood.

"Ready yourself," he said, cool and dark, with a confidence in his eyes as Saskia made the announcements. "And mind the turban," he said with a grin, just as the go was shout.

With a quick squat, and a grab of her waist, there was but a quick pop of motion that saw blue skirts billow and bloom before they fluttered back down and her rump thumped.

His shoulders her seat, he carried her in the optimal position for a competetive race. Their combined form, like a serpent, raised and ready to strike. Whether with kick, fist, or a bit of magick, only Ferren knew. For Bebin's was to run, and, of course, hold her safe as they ran onward.

Farren Lóthlindor

 

[Hector]

Rolled: 16

Hector blinked as the Captain of Dusk almost seemed transformed in the moment. Grace veiled about her in the moment that she curtsied. Enough so to cause the young man to clear his throat as he put the paper away. Only to feel his face flush all the more as the Lady of Dusk lead on, closing the distance.

A nervous nod. "Y-yes Ma'am. I mean," he cleared his throat and laughed some, a small and nervous thing before his eyes settled unto hers. "Yes, Princess," he said, more earnest than he had intended but, a bit of theatre did wonders to alleviate the worries.

Smoothed as his nerves were, Hector bent low and swept the captain off her feet. Blink-blinked when he found her, light as a feather.

"Well then," he said, cleared his throat. The bell rang. "On we go, your highness" he announced, with a little bow of his head, and was off, racing across the training yard as the crowd cheered them on, long, strong legs, taking ground quick as he held sure his passenger princess.

Selene

 

[Gunner Valenntyne]

Roll: 15

"If you drop me, don't bother showing your face round these parts again."

Monroe was just as grouchy up close as she'd looked from afar, but Gunner didn't let her moody little grumbles get him down. After all, there was no way he was dropping her, so he didn't need to worry about whether or not to show his face. Even if he did, he could just wear a mask!

Saskia, the one who'd invited him here in the first place, then read off the rules and expectations for the event. Gunner wouldn't have figured her to be one of the people in charge of this whole thing, but it was good to know that at least all the girls here weren't sticks in the mud like his pretty little partner seemed to be. Valenntyne looked out at the obstacle course laid across the field, whistling at the setbacks they'd placed to hinder the contestants.

"Might not be quite as easy as I thought. They really want you to land on your face, don't they?" Gunner broke into a hearty laugh, wiping some of the sweat from his forearms and dusting his palms off on his trousers before stretching his hands high above his head, standing up on his tip toes, waking up all the muscles from their momentary break. "That's enough muckin' about! You don't seem super keen on chattin' with me, so I'll spare the jawjacking and get on with it, yeah?"

Sliding around Monroe, Gunner reaches down and places his massive hands on her hips, gripping her with strong fingers and lifting her up over his head. He figured a lot of the other fellas were probably going for backpack or bridal style, but Valenntyne opted for what he knew best, at least to start with, and placed his passenger up on his shoulders.

"Steady up there?" He tilted his head up to ask her, beaming ear to ear as he moved towards the starting line. "Hold onto my hair. Plenty of it, and it ain't coming out easy. Just enjoy the view!"

The bell sounded and Gunner took off. His start was a bit slower than it would have been if he'd been keeping Monroe closer to his center of gravity, but once he got up to speed he kept up just fine with the others along the first stretch.

Monroe

 

[Julian Benavide]

Roll: 11

"Hello, Byanka," Julian said cheerfully, his smirk never faltering. He tucked the slip of paper into the pocket of his trousers. "This should be interesting,"

The other pairs were talking and getting ready for the event. Julian returned his gaze to Byanka once more, and noticed a bit of fear in her eyes. His smile faded and he became a bit more serious.

"I can forfeit this round if you don't want to do this," he said softly, so that none of the others could hear. He would feel awful if he made her do something she didn't want to do- it would do nothing for his confidence, anyway.

 

[Byanka Valkas]

Byanka gave Julian a weak smile when he spoke. She was silent a moment as she considered what to say, before Julian's eyes were back on her once more, and he offered to forfeit the round if she wanted him to.

Guilt overwhelmed her and she shook her head quickly. "No, you don't need to give up for me," she replied.

Saskia was standing on a raised platform of shadow with a little girl who held a bell and Byanka knew the event was about to start.

Julian nodded, and a bit of his smile returned, but it was less shit-eating and more kind. He scooped her into his arms and on instinct Byanka wrapped her arm around his shoulders. He held her princess style, fitting for her role as a passenger princess. He walked her over to where the other contestants and their passenger princesses were lined up.

"Hold on," he whispered, readying his stance, before the bell rang and he took off.

 

[Monroe]

She scowled from her seat upon his shoulders, gritting her teeth hard and her jaw setting with a fierceness. None had seen Syr Cathmore so perturbed by someone. She had expected him to simply carry her in his arms, for she would have simply grumped easily and simply ignore him in that position, but on his shoulders, for all to see?

Monroe could see the shit eating grin Saskia wore after she started the race. Was it even a race? She had been inebriated at the conception of this whole festival, but soon became aware of the type of event it truly was. Saskia, the meddlesome shadow wielding dusker, was known for shadowed pranks that tripped someone or merely scare the living daylights out from them.

But she didn't want this guy to fall. She had forgotten his name already, feigning listening to him as he had found her and now had to place her hands upon him to keep balance. Anywhere that was not running through his hair. Such a thought made her scowl deepen.

"Syr Kerraelas used to trip people with her shadow magic like their they tripping with their boot laces tied together. You just made us into a fucking target, you know that?"

If they were going to trip, she was sure to be the one not landing on their face.

Gunner Valenntyne

 

[Aarno]

Mount up.

In a sweep of moment and a regrettable yelp from himself for how sheer it was, they were away. As he reflexively clung to the man’s neck with one arm, swearing not to think about how ridiculous all of this was, it happened to be the only thing he could think about. The ease at which he had been hoisted — the feeling of one’s feet leaving the ground. It was uncanny, rarely lent to the likes of him that it often befell to carry, rather than be carried. Too tall and heavy as it was reasonably decreed.

He would’ve lied claiming there wasn’t a certain charm to it, as much as it rankled considering the— circumstances. But what exactly where those, now? Those of begrudging friends, or something similar?

Why not lean into it, hmh. A snort left him as Faramund huffed out whatever he appeared to need to tell himself to justify having ended up here, hauling arse (or an arse, if you will) down a trail. At what was a rather competitive speed, if he was any judge.

” You’re doing great, sweetie. And you’re right — It is for a good cause. ” He hummed, tapping the man encouragingly on the shoulder and gathering up his braid around his neck lest it tangle in some rogue shrub. Just to be safe, he wouldn’t dare look at him, instead keeping his stare nailed straight ahead.

” Watch out for those trees coming up. Their roots are exposed on parts of the trail. ”

Faramund

 

[Arbok]

So much had happened.
Thankfully being tall came with many advantages, like being able to see over most heads at what was going on.
She was surprised to see so many veterans competing, she had assumed they would rest on their experience a bit but even these days she found herself surprised.
Even more so to see THEM competing.
You couldn't miss that face.
No cheer escaped her, no riotous jumping or fist pumping. She held her hands behind herself and watched, gently rocking back and forth on her heels.