[Warrick] No tomb so proud as his...

[Griffin]

G R I F F I N

21 Ymiden 716

He was not a tall man, with tousled blonde hair and beard. However, his heritage was as plain as if someone had tattooed ‘Warrick’ on his forehead. Broad shoulders and piercing blue eyes, he left a blood red gambeson unfastened over his shirt. Victor strolled beneath snapping banners, sword strapped to his hip and without an accompanying escort. Pity the fool stupid enough to intend harm on the Warrick Baron, in his home region.
He walked away from the lime-washed walls of House Warrick to the tourney fields. The smell of wood smoke and grass rose and mingled with the tang of damp canvas. Most combatants and spectators had already flooded onto the Warrick plains in preparation for the competition and the chance to win a prize. Vendors and peddlers had followed them and the variety of quickly pitched tents was astonishing. Large domes, interspersed with tipi’s and then the humbler structures and plain soldiers tents. The ground was littered with wooden pegs, but fortunately there was a clear route through the camp towards the House. Most of the bleached and weatherproofed material was left uncoloured, but there were stripes and splashes of red, blue, green, yellows and black in various patterns. The occasional floral painting snaked along a roof and down a rope laced door. Behind the temporary canvas city, the Burning Mountains cast shadows on a grey morning.
The sound of wooden stakes, beat into hard ground rang out and echoed. Sleepy murmurs drifted from crackling fires. Victor had seen enough tournaments to recognise the hunched shapes of combatants, who had celebrated too hard, before even tasting victory. Sat beside the fires, wrapped in cloaks, head in their hands as they groaned and wished they’d had a few flagons less the night before.
Armour clinked as it was pulled on and readied. The camp was waking. Competitors would have three good breaks to add their names to the rosters and compete in initial rounds of the competition. Final rounds would be held in the square beside the house, after the main event of the day, the joust in honour of his niece’s betrothal. He hoped the Burhan knew what was he getting himself into.
The collection of tents belonging to the Iron Hand caught his attention. Knights, Skyriders and the odd Sailor had journeyed together to compete. He studied the collection of tents bearing the sigil, gauging numbers before he continued his silent tour.
The thick clouds were rolling on and burning up. It was going to be a hot day and the Baron felt a flicker of empathy towards the fighters, who would be sweating in their armour. First the preliminary rounds of combat and archery, at noon the joust would begin, and then the final rounds would be played out before the crowds. Warrick would then host those who had travelled to their region, in a feast. Roasting fires were already roaring behind the house, an impressive amount of venison, pork and fish having been shipped up from Burhan, salted and now slow cooked and prepared for the evening.
His tour returned him up the rolling slope towards to the house and the platform above the tilting rails. Eager souls were already awake, adding their names to the rosters, less they miss out on prizes. Pouches of gold for the winners, silver for runners up.
The route was busy, the atmosphere starting to buzz with quiet excitement as vendors plied their trade. Wherever there were crowds, there was money and so there was fruit, bread and sweets being sold from carts, along with ales, wine and watered down fruit juices.
Victor climbed the narrow steps to stand on the platform and turned, arms folded over his chest to survey his domain. In the distance, crowds and stragglers approached on foot, late to arrive. It was going to be a busy day.

[Lazuli]

S

tars glimmered in the charcoal sky overhead as Lazuli paced up and down the fence line. Her horse, Asher, had chased her back and forth expecting more treats until he grew tired of the game and returned to his grazing. Today was the day, the day she would meet her future husband, Veljorn, Baron of Burhan. Her grandmother, Isabel, had informed Lazuli that Veljorn was the youngest son of Baako Burhan, and the least likely to take the title of Duke within his line, but at almost twice the woman’s age, Lazuli would be lying if she said that she did not have some reservations regarding the engagement. Not only was there a large age gap, but Veljorn had been married before, losing both his wife and their young son, who would have been a far better match were he still alive, to a strange illness only two arcs prior.

Breaks later, Isabel stepped into the farmhouse to find Lazuli still dressing, struggling to do up the red leather chest piece of armour she had picked out to wear over a white blouse that had billowy, long sleeves, and in the right light, appeared opaque. A decorated war axe hung from the thick, black leather belt wrapped twice around her hips, holding a long and equally dark skirt in place that hid her boots well.
“Let me help you with that, darling,” Isabel smiled, fastening the straps on the leather armour. “There we go.”

Her grandmother did not mention her disapproval in the woman’s attire, nor did she bring up the red dress she had hoped Lazuli would wear, donning the house colours for the event. They sat in silence for a while, Lazuli’s hands closed in the tender embrace of the weathered, yet soft hands of her grandmother. The tea she had prepared sat going cold on the table, and she watched Isabel grandchild with uncertainty.
“You look so much like your father,” Isabel smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair in behind Lazuli’s left ear.

The young baroness had chosen to wear her hair up, a look she seldom elected, and stared down into the cup of tea, far away. If only Jared had been here, she thought, things would be so much different.
“How is grandfather?” Lazuli finally asked.
“Alston will be joining us on the side-lines,” Isabel smiled. “He’s getting a bit long in the tooth to joust anymore, but has put his money on your uncle Victor instead.”
Lazuli picked up her tea to taste. “Does Veljorn joust?”
“He is quite the warrior,” Isabel assured her. “Come along, why don’t we get there early and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
Lazuli felt dread twist like a knife in her belly and took a deep breath. This tournament had been arranged to celebrate the upcoming binding, and anything that put the spotlight on her, even for a moment, made her very nervous. She did not want to show up to an event in her honour, early. “All right,” she rose slowly, like a lioness stalking the herd, she could do this, as long as her friends were there, Zvezdana and cousin Vivian counted among them.

[Zvezdana Venora]

Zvezdana found herself spending more and more time at Fort Warrick. This time, she had traveled to the distant region to celebrate the union of Baroness Lazuli, a pupil and somewhat treasured young woman, to Veljorn Burhan. Zvezdana knew very little about the gentleman, but was curious to see him. She would have loved to have such an engagement. Instead, her father deemed her rather unfit and unnecessary to the family. Her older brother, Alistair, was there for that reason.

Although her jealousy was as green as the dress she planned to wear, she had to support her pupil. As a baroness, it was almost necessary for Lazuli to wed before Zvezdana. She had the house to uphold whereas Zvezdana could die alone without any duties being shirked. Zvezdana stared in the mirror, her normally clear blue eyes reflecting the green of her dress. It would be hard for her to be joyous on this occasion. That was the art she would have to work on this day. At least the jousting and bouts of combat would keep most spectators busy. They would be wistfully unaware of any plans she would have or ill will to other ladies in the stand Zvezdana had.

Today she sported new finery she had made for the occasion. The silk dress was dyed a deep green and decorated with a blue and purple sash. The sash had various flowers from her region embroidered into it in purple thread. It was a fine piece, hand crafted by an exceptional artisan. Draped neatly over her collarbones was a double chain, gold necklace with green crystal in place of real gems. Since she lived a lone, she could only afford quality that would not affect her purse too badly. She needed enough to live off of and travel back and forth to her place of residence. The necklace was match by a pair of gold drop earrings, holding teardrop forms of the same green crystal. The dress fit to her every curve and dove deep enough to hint at an ample bust. There was enough to look at, but enough hidden to allow the mind to wander.

Zvezdana had left a bit or two later from the room she was staying at. To keep her dress relatively clean as she made her way to the tournament grounds, she had draped her heavy, deep green, velvet cloak over her shoulders. The hood was down, allowing her dark hair to fall in loose waves. Before she made it to the turnoff where she was expected to sit, she was surprised to see Baroness Lazuli walking alongside her grandmother. This was certainly a great opportunity to acknowledge both powers at once, and ensure she was acknowledged as present.

She approached carefully, intending to make it look like she did not maneuver into their path. When the met, Zvezdana put on a pleasant smile and practically purred her greeting. “Duchess Isabel. Baroness Lazuli! I imagined you would have been seated by now,” Zvezdana cooed, dipping down into a deep curtsy and popping up energetically. Duchess Isabel responded with a polite nod, as was expected from a superior noble.

“Lazuli. I shall leave you to chat with Lady Venora. Come find your seat before the tournament starts. Your betrothed would appreciate your support in combat.”

The older woman nodded again towards Zvezdana, who provided a less deep curtsy in farewell. Once the duchess was out of earshot, Zvezdana turned to Lazuli with a smile. ““She is a little stiffer than I am isn’t she?” She chuckled at her poor joke before spreading her arms out. The cloak opened to reveal her own green dress, but she mostly expanded her arms in a fashion to wave them up and down slowly.

““I must admit, this is dressed up for you Baroness Lazuli. I love the armor. That is magnificent work. Where did you have it done?” Zvezdana did sincerely mean it. Although she would have been on the side of Isabel, at least Lazuli had put some effort into her clothing today.

[Vivian Shiryu]

Vivian was excited, and not only for the tournament. The tournament was a grand chance to show the strength, pride, and wealth of House Warrick, and she would certainly be competing, but that wasn't the only reason she had awoken early. Now, the thing that excited her the most was represented by the black leather armor and crimson cloak she now wore as she exited her room in Fort Warrick, for the young noble had at last risen to the rank of Sergeant.

For now though, the upcoming tournament was as out of her mind as it could be and Vivian had but one goal. Hurrying through the halls, Vivian eventually came across her grandmother, who gave Vivian a look that was mingled resignation and amusement as the young woman stopped still and saluted her grandmother. "Hello, Vivian. You know, most people bow before nobility, not salute it. But then, you are truly a soldier now, so I suppose it is fitting. I gather you'll be representing our house this day?" she said, her tone warm. Vivian may be stubborn and occasionally difficult to deal with, but the duchess did consider her a fine example of House Warrick, both its good and bad.

"Yes, I am. And how are you doing today, grandmother." Vivian asked, her tone curious.

"I am well, Vivian, but beginning to feel my age. Lazuli is back there talking to Lady Venora. You should greet her. Farwell, Sergeant Warrick." she said, smiling at her granddaugther as she left. Vivian, for her part, merely looked after her in confusion before she realized that not everyone was fully aware that she and Lazuli had gotten closer recently. Turning in the direction her grandmother had indicated, Vivian hurried down the hall until she saw Lazuli talking with Zvezdana.

Slowing down, Vivian waved as she walked towards them. "Hello, Lazuli, Lady Venora." she said, stopping once she was close. "You both look good, though I didn't expect to see you in armor, Lazuli. Will you be competing as well?" she asked her cousin, before looking over at Zvezdana. "You seem to be doing well since our last meeting, Lady Venora. I trust you are enjoying your stay?" she asked, her tone polite, but not unfriendly.

[Lazuli]

There was a strange sensation that welled in the pit of Lazuli's stomach every time she lay eyes on lady Zvezdana, a woman that proved House Venora's reputation was still as strong as ever, her beauty unsurpassed in all of the seven regions. The woman was so formal, elegant, and present when she spoke. Zvezdana had this look in her eye that made her seem sharp, keen, and experienced, while Lazuli feared her eyes told a different story, one of a silly, hopeless girl who looked to be afraid of everything.
Zvezdana opened her arms and beneath her cloak, a green dress stirred envy in the young baroness, not only was she surprised to see such a fine dress in a place like this, but Zvezdana had the height and curves to fill it out, the latter of which Lazuli was sorely lacking. "Lady Zvezdana, your dress is beautiful," she took hold of the woman's cloak and tucked it back over lady's shoulders, "don't hind it."
There had been little time to explain who had worked on her fine, red armour, as Vivian made her appearance, dressed in an outfit that was highly recognisable, especially in the region of Warrick where Skyriders were plentiful. "Cousin!" Lazuli beamed and covered her mouth, excited eyes wide and shining, "congratulations!" The baroness couldn't stop smiling, but extended her arms to take Vivian in a hug. Now things were just as they should be, she was in the company of her two favourite people in the world and felt she could face the day ahead of her without woe.

[Victoria Krome]

Victoria had travelled all the way to Warwick to attend the tournament that the fellow noble house was hosting in celebration of the baroness’s engagement and much more. The Kromes were not one to miss a party, and needless to say, her parents would be there. She’d been informed that Baroness Lazuli would be the future wife of one Veljorn Burhan. She didn’t really know the man, but had heard things about him, including the fact that he was a great warrior. The young woman had great respect for capable warriors, for the Kromes were renowned for enjoying good parties and good fighting.

She had traveled via horse to the lands of Warwick and was pleasantly surprised to see the golden yellow tents that represented the livery of her family complete with its wolf sigil pitched in the areas designated to each of Rynmere’s noble houses. A grin formed onto her visage as her gaze landed upon the two giant casks of beer and cider that stood on the ground next to the house tent itself.

It looks like there would be plenty of drinking to be had this night. It was just like her parents to bring along their own alcohol even when they knew that such would be provided anyway at the no-doubt-glorious-feast to come. They just had to have their own. None is as good as the ones made in Krome, was a phrase that she had heard one too many times to ever forget in this lifetime and probably the next as well.

Securing her horse at one of the posts near by where the rest of the horses were, the lass proceeded towards the interior of the tent where she met her parents. It has been quite a while since either of them had seen each other, and hearty hugs soon followed.

Her father enveloped her in a bear hug, and she returned the hug, trying her best to remain unsquashed. “It’s great to see you dear, I trust you have been well?” Her mother inquired. “Oh course she’s well! Just look at her!” Her father boomed. Victoria was dressed in the same leather armour she was always in, with a white blouse, leather skirt and accompanying boots. Her mother gave an approving look at her attire and commented. “You’ll do great in your fight later. Here, put this on.” Her mother reached over and tossed a cloak in the colours of her house in its golden yellow hue.

There was no question of whether the lass would be fighting or not. It was a given. To not do so would be unthinkable after all the training that they have been through. “Where’s the other two?” She asked, referring to the her siblings, who she didn’t see anywhere around. “Your sister’s gone off on business and your brother’s still nursing a sprained arm back home. He didn’t want to come as he wanted to keep his reputation intact, and not sully people’s impression when they lay sight upon him.” Victoria sniggered. Oh course he would, that sounded so much like him.

Always trying to prove himself to everyone.
He'd a reputation to uphold, he'd say.

[Rafael Warrick]

The Warrick Tourney - 21st Ymiden 716

It'd been a relatively short travel from his home to the festivities and he'd arrived a day early to help out with some of the preliminary work. He hadn't liked it. Not any of it. But it has been father's condition to let him participate in the duel. Like everything else with Ned Warrick, favors had to be earned. Fortunately the mindless toil of setting up tents had eventually come to an end. Now, at last, the day he'd looked forward to had arrived. He had a hard time containing his excitement.

Not so much because of the engagement. He could care less about who Lazuli married, even if she was his cousin. Not because of the prize money either, though it was a nice incentive. Today, he'd finally have a chance to put those many years of training under Olyfer's watchful gaze into practice.

Whereas some of the contestants had elected to drown themselves in ale the night before, Rafael had hit the hay early to ensure he'd be fresh and fit on this important day. The only problem was how on earth he was going to evade his family. Already he could predict the ceaseless small talk. There'd be an exchange of congratulations followed by a comment about how he'd grown, how he was doing, and what he'd been up to lately. None of those things mattered and he seriously doubted how heartfelt the questions would be anyway

Sucking in a deep breath, Rafael emerged from the small, blood-red tent he'd stayed in. For someone about to enter a jousting contest, he was lightly armored with only leather armor to protect his chest and shoulders. Underneath it, he wore a cream-colored tunic with long sleeves which he'd rolled up to his elbows. Black leather gauntlets protected his lower arms and wrist while his trusty longsword was slung casually over one shoulder. He wore no cloak. It would just be a hindrance. The only splash of red betraying him to be a Warrick was a strip of red cloth carrying the house sigol, tied around his upper arm. It served no purpose beyond decoration and he'd almost discarded it if not for his father insisting he'd wear it. The House colors had to be shown after all. There they could agree.

He paused. He didn't long for any mindless chit-chat but neither could he just walk onto the tourney grounds without at least having congratulated Lazuli. Father would be furious if he didn't, mother even more so. Groaning, he turned around and plodded towards the large farmhouse. After a bit of a search he finally found Lazuli. She didn't seem positively extatic about the whole ordeal to be honest and he wondered if she really wanted to marry this Veljorn Burnt-ham. Even if she did, she wouldn't gain much from it. The line of Warrick did not depend on her. In that regard they were equals.

He stopped a few feet removed from her and gave her a once over. One eyebrow arched up in surprise. "Do you intend to fight your soon-to-be husband or..?" He briefly looked up at Lady Venora and Vivian, extending them little more courtesy than a small inclination of the head. "Maybe I can help with that," he added with a shrug.

[Griffin]

G R I F F I N

A tall man with a few faded strands of red hair, clinging to the dome of his head, sped down the corridors of house Warrick. In the official clothing of a steward, brown breaches and a red jerkin he all but skidded to a halt alongside the collection of young nobility. He bowed to the group and used the opportunity to regain his breath. When he straightened he stood a good head taller than all of them and pale cheeks were flushed with running.

“Your Grace, my Ladies, my Lord,” his gaze moved from Lazuli, to Zvezdana, Vivian and Rafael and he was grateful to recognise so many of the Nobility. But then, it was his job, “those of you who are competing are called to the arenas. My Lord Warrick you will meet Genevive Allanach,” pale blue eyes lingered on the young man before he offered a small smile, “best of luck to you all,” he offered another deep bow and gestured along the corridor, indicating the way the party should travel. Clearly impatient.

Four other competitors lined up, ready to shoot four bolts into the crossbow target. There was a general shuffling and checking of weapons as they awaited their noble competitor. Heats for the longbow competition had already been completed with three competitors forwarded to the final round. Combat for the blunted weapons had also been completed with the remaining bought to take place after the joust.

There were four arenas for the melee and unarmed combats to take place. Spindly posts formed a circle with red string between. Crowds gathered eagerly, placing bets and enjoying food from the vendors and the sunshine from above.

***

“My Lady Victoria?” A second tall man adorned in Warrick colours approached the Lady Krome and bowed, “your competitor awaits you in the arena. You will be facing Vera Ash.”

[Rafael Warrick]

The Warrick Tourney - 21st Ymiden 716

At the sound of hastened footsteps Rafael turned and eyed the steward with a questioning gaze. His reason for interrupting soon became evident. “Genevive…” he echoed quietly. He hadn’t heard the name before. For all he knew his opponent could be anywhere between a meddling upstart and a great swordsman. The former he could certainly handle. The latter not so much. Offering an apologetic shrug Rafael excused himself from the company of his family and followed the flustered looking fellow out.

Though he was careful not to let any anxiety rise to his face, his heart skipped a beat at the sight of the arenas and the crowds gathered around them. Yet he kept his gaze trained dead ahead. He’d prepared for this moment, now he would seize it.

When he stepped into the arena he was greeted by the sight of a tall warrior covered in complete plate armor, helmet and all. An unusual choice considering the blazing heat. He made a mental note to turn that to his advantage. But before he could make any more observations about his opponent, she undid her helmet.

She.

The slightest hint of surprise flashed across his face, but he was quick to assume his regular, stoic mask.

“Lord Warrick,” the female knight greeted, her voice laced with an alarming harshness.

“Knight Allanach,” he returned flatly as he unsheathed his blade.

“May the best sword win,” she completed the customs before taking up her helmet once more.

Rafael inclined his head in reply and shot a glance at the announcer.

“Begin!”

Rafael took up a wide stance and raised his longsword high above his head. The falcon’s defense, Olyfer had called it. With it, he could parry any incoming stab or slash by simply striking down.

With three mighty strides, Genevive covered the area between them and lashed out. He caught the incoming slash by striking down. The clash reverberated through his bones and he struggled to lift his blade in time to parry the second blow.

Naked steel shimmered in the blazing sun as the female knight unleashed a series of brutal strikes against him, driving him into a corner of the small arena. When he felt one of the wooden posts in his back he could no longer resort to simple parrying. Like a lumberjack’s axe her blow threatened to land on his shoulder with shattering force. At the last moment, Rafael threw himself to the side and rolled through the sand, re-emerging on foot behind the fierce woman.

Now he was on the offense. He leapt forward and aimed a slash at her gut. But she was quick. Far quicker than he’d anticipated. The force of her parrying strike shook his bones. He barely managed to hold onto his blade as he was forced on the retreat once more.
Frowning, Rafael began circling her, searching for a weak spot. But all he could see was armor. Thick, sweaty armor hiding a very determined woman. There was no way he could match her force and he struggled to keep up with her speed. His only option then was to simply wait for her to boil in her steel shell and pass out.

But just when he’d settled on the tactic, Genevive moved. Her figure had largely obscured the sun, but now that she stepped aside, it shone down on Rafael in all its blinding glory.

Just as quickly as the joust had started, it was settled. With one blow, Genevive knocked his blade from his grasp. The second one hit him square in the belly and had him gasping for air. Before he’d even fallen to his knees, he already felt the cold tingle of a blade in his neck. He’d been beaten without ever landing a scratch on Genevive.

[Zvezdana Venora]

The normal, prideful Zvezdana was rolling around in the envy and apparent jealousy that Lazuli had over her dress. The benevolent, sister-like Zvezdana almost felt bad for dressing better than the woman who was supposed to be the center of attention today. She quickly lowered her arms, but was not fast enough, as Lazuli had already moved the cloak over her shoulders. The dress was available for all to see. Zvezdana smiled softly to her pupil and friend. She had so much to learn. As an innocent, Lazuli excelled. As a tactical member of the court, Zvezdana was going to have to give her a big fat “F” for the day.

Before she could say anything, Vivian joined them. Lazuli gushed about something, congratulating her cousin. Zvezdana was mildly irked she did not know what was going on. Clearly it was something that she should know, but nothing appear to ring a bell. It must have something to do with the military. If there was one thing Zvezdana made an effort to stay out of, it was the politics of the military. Instead, Zvezdana tried to give a heart felt response, with a little bit of jest underlying against her own stupidity. “If congratulations are in order, I’m sorry I do not know what they are for. Congratulations Airmen Warrick. Yes, I am happy to report that I am enjoying my stay. Fort Warrick has always been accommodating to me.”

Another Warrick was soon upon them, one of youth and ignorance. Zvezdana did not know his name, but could identify his house based on the deep red armband he sported. Had he been her son, Zvezdana would have given him a good verbal reaming about honoring his house correctly. At least his emblem would have sufficed. She would not be one to talk today. The only item she carried on her with her house colors and emblem was a handkerchief tucked neatly away in her dress, out of sight for the time being. His biting response made her want to hit him and put him in his place for talking to Lazuli in such a way. Lord Veljourn was soon to be Baron Warrick and would be leading House Warrick after Duke Warrick died.

Before she could make an remark or physical attack, a flustered man came running in to report that the events had started. Baby Lord Warrick was off quick to the races. Meanwhile, the ladies were left behind to toil about their business.

“Well, Baroness Warrick, Sergeant Warrick. I wish the best for you in your bouts. I shall be in the stands cheering you on,” Zvezdana purred. “Cheering” would be smiling and clenching her handkerchief in anticipation. She could not be like the drunk lords and ruffians in the stands. She was a lady.

Zvezdana removed herself from the group and went to her seat. She was close to the center podium where the Warrick family presided as hosts. Her seat was nearby in the noble stands which provided personal servants, seats, and tables. Those that were poor stood on the outskirts of the arenas in the “best seats” as they were closest to the action. Zvezdana preferred sitting with a bird’s eyes view of the events. She was some brawlers go at it while the swordsmen prepared themselves. Arrows thumped into stuffed targets. Then men and women were all great at what they did, and it was enjoyable to get out and see how Rynmere prospered.

Her eyes rotated to Baby Lord Warrick and his batch. The first blow was predictable, and Zvezdana wondered why he had struck it down instead of to the side and countered. Instead, he was backed into the corner quickly, blow after blow. She thought he was done, but his quick roll was unanticipated and he was out from under her attack. Zvezdana found herself gripping her handkerchief when he did that. His behavior earlier made her want the other knight to win, but either way, it was still exciting.

The way she ended it was magnificent. Using the sun against him was a great tactic and Zvezdana could appreciate it. Especially since the rays had bounced from her armor into her eyes occasionally. The environment was a great weapon, and the competitor clearly was capable of analyzing her surroundings. Zvezdana sort of felt bad for her opponent. Then she shrugged. He’ll learn from it.

Zvez OOC

I assumed Vivian would tell her the good news, so I used Sergeant in the next statement she made. From here on out, I’ll occasionally post. I’ll leave it to the competitors. I’m here to socialize.