Alessia Mazetti arrives to watch the duel - accompanied by her cat, Nallah. She is dressed in her usual leather garb with a silevered fox fur cloak and an ornamental jewelled collar around her neck. She stands alone, glancing around her to look for any familiar faces, as she waits for the duel to begin.

Arriving without much fanfare or need for it to the scene of the duel is Eamon, the Darkwater Lord approaching near the field, but not stepping quite onto it yet. Instead, he stands calmly, his hands slipping behind his back, wearing relatively cheap but functional clothing for the cold weather.

Belladonna tilts her head, looking at Mirari for a moment before leaning in to murmur something quietly to her chosen champion. Straightening, she looks back to Luca and concurs with a nod, "I second the motion to cancel winter next year. Perhaps we can bring it before the King?"

Princess Sparta Thistlefur, a shy stoatlet, 2 Crimson Blades Private arrive, following Astraea.

Harper quietly enters, pausing to glance around the park for a brief moment. Giving Luca and Orazio both a wave and an awkward little bow, she heads on over towards one of the benches to take a seat where she can get a good view of the duel.

Lisebet grins at Fairen. "Excellent. I am doing well, thank you." She leaves off the topic of naked dueling because really! She laughs softly at Luca's idea. "Do you think we could skip winter?" she asks idly. "Perhaps we could all move someplace where winter isn't or - " A nod to Belladonna. "That." She then looks at Sorrel, and her cheeks go a bit pink. "I haven't. I know that they were commissioned, but they haven't been made yet. Still, if you need yours back, Princess Sorrel, I would immediately return them."

Ian showed up at some point in the past and took a seat in the stands, where he keeps his cane close enough to himself that someone would have to get way into his personal space to trip over it. Unless he's wearing a wool shirt over that double breasted leather coat that's buttoned to the chin, the only nod he's made to the weather is turning up his collar.

When Jordan arrives near him, Fairen returns the nod with a soft smile for the Ashford Knight. "Sir Ober. A pleasure to see you again. How are you doing today?" Then he looks over at Luca at the mention of skipping winter, a wide grin on his lips. "You should submit that petition to the King, your Highness." He suggests, chuckling as he looks between Belladonna and Luca.

Sabella arrives, pulling Niklas along due to her hugging one of his arms, "Come on! I'm always late for these! I don't want to miss it! Again! And we need to study up on how to gracefully do things like this! If they're fighting for you are you allowed to cheer? Or do you need to sit expressionless and dour? I have so many questions! Who can I ask?!" And then she looks to her left, "LORD IAN!" She gives him an enthusiastic wave.

Mirari pulls her knife from her belt and swaps her grip so that the blade is pointed downward. She turns to look at Belladonna for a moment, chuckling towards the Duchess before she moves towards the area where the fighting is going to take place. "Don't worry, that's not how this works." She says, before she turns to bow towards Luca.

Agatha comes in just in time to hear Lisebet disparaging winter. "PFFT! This is barely wintery! Come north, you'll see how beautiful it can be!" Don't mind the big lug of a northern knight wandering about to find a place to plunk herself down for, perhaps, a few seconds here or there before it's time to stand up and make loud noises of support for Luca. Or Mirari. Or one fighter or the other.

Florian arrives, following Derovai.

The park is a stark setting for a duel: drifts of snow pile up under the barren trees, some of which are hung with long icicles. People are gathering around the dueling grounds, including the two Champions, and those whose honor they represent, all clustering for the moment around the wishing well. Orazio chuckles, quietly. "On that, at least, I believe I can find common ground with the Duchess. Winter is a terrible thing, and we should truly get around to abolishing it one of these days. Although snow is nice." He looks to the Champions. "I would offer to do the prayer to Gloria, but I fear it may come off as biased. Perhaps another godsworn would be so kind as to step forward?" A glance towards the gathering crowd.

Slow and steady steps are taken as Appolonia moves toward the field. She tugs the black fur wrap that is snugged about her person tighter, shivering and sighing before she pauses. A few glances are given to faces she passes but it is without much interest she looks, heading toward somewhere that looks somewhat /warm/ to plant herself for the duration of this duel. She pauses again when she notes Eamon, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips as she gives the Lord a nod but does not pause in her search for a place to sit while eyeing the growing crowd.

Agatha gets a stunning cloak of deepest umbra from Red Bear of the North backpack.

"Cancel winter?" Sorrel says with dismay. "No! You wouldn't enjoy summer as much if you didn't have the gusty breezes of winter to remind you how delicious cold is! And we wouldn't get to play in the snow! And it would definitely make the autumn-spring transition much more boring. I like seasons!" The Thrax princess bounces on her toes, as if she weren't tall enough, enjoying the wind and the weather like a madwoman.

Ian has joined the large bench.

Pasquale arrives well-layered in a cloak and heavy silk, keeping it tightly clasped around him and muttering something about the cold as he seeks out a place to sit. Agatha's comment is, perhaps, overheard and prompts a shudder. He plants himself in a spot where he can rubber-neck this thing at a decent angle.

Agatha has joined the large bench.

Pasquale has joined the large bench.

Harper has joined the large bench.

Titania has joined the small circular table.

Tesha arrives dressed for the cold in a fur lined cloak and gloves to go along with it. The Telmar woman gives a look about for familiar faces and sees a few of them. There's an hint of amusement on the comment of cancelling Winter, but she makes no comment as she moves to find a place to plant herself to watch the Duel.

"I am not Godsworn, Legate Orazio." Fairen notes as he inclines his head towards the older man. "But I am rather well versed in Theology. I could make an attempt at saying a Prayer to Gloria. Though I cannot guarantee it's quality." With that offer made, he falls silent to listen to everyone discuss the growing plans to cancel winter. "I would surmise that winter is Jayus' season. Or something like that. Beauty all around us, despite how terribly cold it is."

Ian has made ONE more nod to the weather beyond turning up his collar. He slips a steel and leather flask out of an inner pocket of his coat and takes a drink, then lifts the flask briefly, as if showing someone. Showing the world? Hey world, Ian drinks. Then he puts the flask away and goes back to being boring.

"This is something we can all agree on, it is true. Except, perhaps, for Sorrel..", Luca says, and he flashes the Thrax Princess a grin. "Feh. I will take this petition to the King, for the right to skip winter. If it were summer for all the year, I would be content. Whoever stretched out on the balcony railing for a mid-morning nap in the cold of the winter?", he says, and he gives the crowd of gathering people a wave, before turning to stroll toward a more central portion of the winter-chilled judgment green, that hand still resting with ease on his sheathed, blade. And it is a strange blade, too, some might notice even while it isn't drawn.

Alistair looks a dour frown cross his normally impassive features as people talk of abolishing winter. Winter ain't so bad thinks the prodigal man. Then again he knows how to handle the cold better then most thanks to his barbarian upbringing ... and other reasons. He clasps his hands tightly behind his back as he steps the snow. He is garbed in his Inquisition uniform, though it is a light affair. The man seems to be truly immune to cold, for one reason or another.

Appolonia has joined the large bench.

Eamon has joined the large bench.

Sabella has joined the large bench.

Niklas has joined the large bench.

Fairen has joined the small circular table.

Derovai has arrived. Something glints as he tosses it up and down in a gloved hand -- and if anyone cares to look, it's a curious little ring. It arcs up in the air, glittering, and then descends, for a few moments as he finds his way to a seat, still holding onto the jewelry. His only concession to the winter weather is a simple coat thrown over his leathers. At Fairen's words, he points out, "I'll vouch for him," a little dryly, before he claims a seat on that bench many people seem to be gravitating towards, gesturing for Ian's flask.

Eamon catches Appolonia's faint smile, returning it with one of his own, and he seems to consider her across the way. After a while, he decides to turn and stroll his way around the judgment grounds, walking beside her as he does so and dipping his head in greeting. "Lady Appolonia, I remain looking forward to your next letter. Until such time, perhaps I should join you for some company. I have never actually seen a duel fought by the Champions of Arx before. This should be interesting."

Derovai has joined the large bench.

Constantine has joined the large bench.

Agatha narrows her gaze as she hears Luca talk about asking the King to outlaw winter. Those are fighting words to the northerner. Don't mind her as she leans forward in her seat and starts scooping snow up in her bare hands. Packing it together into snowballs for Future Use against Someone.

"Whomever is saying a prayer, please..." Mirari says, her teeth chattering as a chill passes down her spine. She stands in the cleared area, huddled in her cloak, her eyes scanning the benches and the people gathered there. Taking a breath she mutters something quietly to Luca and smirks.

Atreke, a severe-looking scribe arrives, following Rinel.

Lisebet grins over at Agatha, offering her a cheeky grin and a nod. "Princess Agatha, it's good to see you again." And then Sorrel jumps in, and she says, "It is true that a nice hot cup of coffee after playing in the snow is a wonderful thing. So perhaps winter has its moments, for a short while." She isn't arguing the point, really.

Titania comes walking in wrapped in a cloak looking about her ocean blue eyes taking in who has gathered, her eyes bounce from person to person then moves to dins a seat keeping her cloak wrapped tight about her by her gloved hands.

"Ah, I have not forgotten you, Lord Eamon, that is a promise," Appolonia says only after she's seated herself. There's faint movement under that fur wrap that might just be her gesturing the lord to come closer, but she isn't about to pull her hands or arms free it seems. "I don't bite, feel free to join me."

Ian passes the flask to Derovai, while asking an absent question of him. Most of his attention is on that sword, though.

Preston enters the area, the Templar in his full armour but wrapped in the fur cloak he took north to Stormwall. The small cadre of Templars disperse into the crowd, Balian going off to find the inevitable snack vendor. At mention of a prayer, Preston pushes forward a little "If the Legate permits, I will offer the prayer to Gloria, as this is to be a contest of combat."

Rinel squeals in joy as she espies a certain Lord Niklas Kennex's ungainly pelican. "Steve!" cries out the scholar, in unmitigated delight. "Look what I have!" And now she is waving around a bag of dried fish wildly.

Constantine stepped in, a brief glance around before some familiar faces were located and he maneuvered his way toward the large bench area to join the collection of his family already present.

Anya, the cool as an ice cube Champion apprentice, Renn, the mousy, scholarly brunette, Morgan, a roguish looking gentleman arrive, following Caspian.

Orazio hesitates at the Marquis' offer, and when Preston steps forward, he smiles. "Thank you, Marquis. Perhaps next time?" He turns back to Preston. "Sir Preston, of the Templar Order. Please lead us in a prayer to Gloria."

Princess Sparta Thistlefur, a shy stoatlet, 2 Crimson Blades Private leave, following Astraea.

Fairen waves a hand dismissively at Orazio, a soft smile on his lips. "No worries, Legate." He answers, then folds his hands together in front of himself. Then he turns his attention to Preston, watching and listenings for the prayer the man has to share.

Fairly comfortable in a crowd by this point in his life, Luca stands at the center - or a little off the center - of the frozen judgment green, people-watching. Despite his seriousness, he can't help but manage a grin at the turnout, and there are a few people out there amongst them all who get a wave from the man, and another few who are given a blown kiss. A wink is offered to someone. That cheekiness creeps into his expression, momentarily, but the Lycene manages to wrangle it under control once more before it can fully blossom.

Niklas follows Sabella in, distracted enough by the sight of the Duchess and the Legate hanging out by the wishing well that he lets his betrothed drag him over wherever to sit down. When he plops down on the bench he pulls his cloak a little tighter around himself, then leans forward and waves to Ian and then to Derovai and then a big wave to Agatha, omg, it's Agatha! But then he nods toward the Legate and the Duchess and leans over to say to Sabella, "You think they're sniping at one another really quietly?" Though when he sees Constantine his eyebrows rise and he jumps to his feet, "CONNIE! CONNIE OVER HERE! HEY, IT'S MY LITTLE BROTHER CONNIE! HE'S SUCH A BIG BOY NOW!" Having done his part for big brothers everywhere Nik sits back down and looks satisfied.

Steve looks unhappy. This is not her time of year.

"I am doing well, Marquis Leary. Here to watch this spectacle, such as it is." Jordan smiles at Fairen, considering the combatants with eager interest to see what comes of this particular duel.

Derovai calls over to Fairen, "I guess my word doesn't carry the weight I thought it did. I'm shocked." He's not shocked at all, as he turns his attention to the duel at hand.

Constantine shoulders lifted up to his ears as he skulked the rest of the way toward the benches under the rather loud calls of his elder. "Hey, Niklas." He barely uttered out as he took a seat beside the man. "Thank you for that..." A wry smile painted his lips as he tugged his coat a bit more tightly about himself, leaning to bump his brothers shoulder with his own before leaning to offer Sabella a smile. "Princess, thank you. It's good to see you again."

Preston bows his head to Orazio and then to Belladonna in turn before he moves towards the centre of the area reserved for the combat. He unfastens his helm, handing it to a hastily arriving Balian - who is quickly stuffing a warmed pretzel-like bread into his mouth. The Templar slowly draws the long diamondplate sword at his belt and he plants it tip first into the ground and he drops to one knee before he intones the prayers "Gloria, guardian of honour, please hear our prayer today." His words are slowed a little, trying to be clear given the crowd "The two champions chosen will fight over a matter of honour between your humble child Duchess Belladonna Pravus and your obedient servant Legate Orazio Godsworn. Look after them and guide them, watch as they fight with honour and according to the ways you have set down for us. We humbly hope you take pride in your childrens attempt to honour you today with our resolution of this conflict, and we know that victory or defeat, it is the manner of our battle that honours or dishonours you. In your name we fight, and for your love we pray."

After a moment Preston stands, bowing his head once again to the Legate and the Duchess "The field is for your champions." And he takes his sword and sheathes it.

Luca wields a single-edged sword with a long, graceful curve and a circular guard of twining metal serpents.

Waldemai nods to the prayer.

Mirari closes her eyes, fidgeting with the dagger in her hand. Her breath shows in the air as she exhales slowly. When the prayer is finished she opens her eyes, her eyes scanning the crowd. There isn't anyone for her to wave to here, so she stands straight, chin raised as she waits for the fight to begin.

Lisebet stands still for the prayer, head bowed, and only once it is over does she raise her head, glancing over to where Luca is standing to watch the spectacle, however it ends up.

"What a shame." Fairen answers to Derovai with a soft shake of his head. "I suppose this is just one social circle you don't have under your thumb." Then he looks back at Jordan, giving him a soft smile and an incline of his head. Then the prayer is starting and he closes his eyes, bowing his head slightly.

Alistair remains stock still as Preston leads the gathered duelists and audience in prayer to Gloria to sanctify the soon to come duel. He lowers his head as he closes his eyes, entoning a prayer in silence, with his own words and within his own mind. When he opens them he looks to the two chosen champions, peering at them in judgment for a moment.

Rinel has joined the small circular table.

As the prayer is spoken, Alessia seems to brighten as the combatants prepare to fight. She straightens and clasps her leather gloved hands before her in anticipation.

Agatha has left the large bench.

Sorrel takes a moment to pray, her hands folding and her head bowing as the prayer is offered, and then she perks up in anticipation of the duel.

Agatha has joined the large bench.

Ian leans forward a bit as the fight is about to begin. His intense blue eyes are bright in the cold winter air, and that focused interest is in evidence, pointed right at Luca and Mirari.

Agatha 40

Prince Luca is quiet through the length of the prayer given, seemingly listening to it, and at a point, he nods his head toward something. When it's over, he stands a little straighter, draws his strange blade from the sheath, brings it across in an arc and then takes the elongated hilt with both hands, lifting his dark gaze toward his opponent, Mirari Corsetina. "It is as it has been said. May the best woman win.", and he grins at her, just subtly, before engaging.

2 Grayson House Guards, Crom, an expressive bull-mastiff, Songbird, a dignified war-mastiff arrive, following Lark.

Mirari's only answer to those words is a snorting laugh, she holds her hand out, gesturing Luca forward.

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Derovai is silent through the prayer, flicking that ring open and shut a couple of times. He grins sharply over at Fairen once the prayer ends. "Don't challenge me, Marquis," he replies, no heat in his tone. "At a duel, no less, it would be gauche, I think, which, admittedly, makes it all the more compelling to try." And then he's turning his attention to the duel as the combatants take their places.

Titania bows her head when the prayer is said keeping quiet and then watchesonce it is done, quiet is the countess for the moment watching everyone and those who will be fighting.

Lark makes her way to the Judgment Green, accompanied by her two large mastiffs, Crom and Songbird, and a couple of House Grayson guards. The diminuitive princess makes her way through the crowd to find a place where she can observe. Being rather tiny, that is likely someplace where there will be no people directly in front of her, which means, she's going to be edging her way to the front of the audience for the best view. Her eyes glance about quietly, watching the combatants as they fight, her expression neutral.

Sorrel espies Lark and motions for the shorter woman to come stand in front of her, for the Thrax princess is quite tall. "Princess Lark, you ought to come watch the duel with me," she suggests with a warmth in her tone that is utterly lacking in the air today, her black locks tugged by a chilly breeze.

Whatever the histories write of this duel, it won't be read by future generations that it was a long battle. Some things will perhaps be noted - that Prince Luca carried a strange sword not of local craft, and that he was solemn-faced through the clashing of blades, brief as they were. That Mirari Corsetina, a newfound member of the Champion's Guild, was no slouch in her own right, or that she did not make her loss look good. The Fox-Prince is fast when the pair of them meet, a little too fast, some might say, at home in both his arms and his black leather dueling armor. It isn't that the Corsetina woman doesn't land a blow on him, however, but whenever she does he appears to catch it with his protections, her rubicund skinning knife sliding off leather each time. And for his own part, his movements are precise, unrushed, a tempered sort of look in his dark gaze. Then, as quick as it had started, it's over with, the Lycene ducking beneath a blow and coming up to open a wound on his opponent's left arm.

2 Grimhall House Guards, Gustav, a gruff Islander advisor arrive, following Valdemar.

Mirari has been in this position before, though not with the weapons being used today. Her movements are nearly as quick as Luca's, but being able to duck past his guard to land a hit seems to not be in the cards today. Each clash of blades rings out in the Green, and each time they meet, she comes away wounded. Unable to keep up with his speed, it isn't long before three swift strikes leave her wounded and bleeding. While his face is solemn, she has a smile on her face, enjoying the fight despite the cold and the circumstances. She sheathes her blade in her belt as the fight ends, hand held out to shake her opponent's hand.

Orazio steps forward from his quiet conversation with Belladonna as the blood falls from Mirari's arm to brighten the white snow. "The duel is ended, in Gloria's name. Both champions are to be commended for their valor, their honor, and their skill - both of you did your people very proud." He turns to Belladonna and bows. "Duchess, may we put our quarrel aside, now that honor has been satisfied?"

Waldemai calls out, "Well fought. Honor to Gloria."

Lisebet watches quietly, and once the duel is over, her gaze goes to Orazio and Belladonna, though she does keep looking to make sure that the duelists are not seriously injured.

The fight begins and Fairen casts his gaze out to the two fighters, widening his eyes at just how quickly Mirari is bested. Slowly, he gives way to a low, polite clap for the combatants. Then he looks over at Orazio and nods his head in agreement with his words, then casts his gaze towards Belladonna.

Derovai watches the duel, shaking his head slightly at the speed of it. He draws in a breath, and -- having lifted his own knife to show someone at the benches for some reason -- lets it drop back into its sheath again. He glances between Orazio and Belladonna, brows raised, adding something to the bench.

Spotting Sorrel when she beckons, Lark's expression lights up a little, and she moves to join the Thrax princess, murmuring apologies to any who might be disturbed by her passing. Eventually she stands just to the front and left of Sorrel with a grateful smile. "Thank you for your kind gesture, Princess Sorrel," she says with a soft smile. "It has been sometime since we have spoken. I hope that you are well, and oh... I did mean to congratulate you on the birth of your son," she says quietly in her lilting manner of speaking. Her voice trails off into a softest whisper so as not to cause too much of a disturbance for those watching the fight. She turns her eyes toward the fighting then, watching it with interest as it comes to an end and a winner is declared. Occasionally she may give a nod of recognition or greeting toward this or that person, though she does her best to blend into the sea of watching faces and just be one of the observing crowd, attentive to the outcome.

Alayne has joined the small circular table.

Preston is overheard praising Luca: Excellent swording in defense of the honour of the Faith.

"Princess Lark!" Sabella calls out from the stands, waving to the other Grayson Princess, "Look! That's Luca fighting!" She points as if Lark could possibly have missed the whole fight that happened right in front of her.

Preston is overheard praising Mirari: Fought honourably under Gloria's sight.

Tesha is overheard praising Luca: Well fought!

Orazio is overheard praising Luca: For standing as Champion to the Faith's honor, and doing a magnificent job.

Appolonia is overheard praising Luca.

Tesha is overheard praising Mirari: Well fought, even did it with a smile!

Appolonia is overheard praising Mirari.

Orazio is overheard praising Mirari: For fighting valiantly and with skill to defend the honor of Belladonna.

Ian is overheard praising Luca: Beautiful, as always.

Constantine dipped a small bow from his seated position as he was introduced amidst conversation, "A pleasure as well, Lady Appolonia. I've read a bit about Ischia. It sounds like a stunning place." The duel called to a close, a light clap rose for the champions.

Inclining her head towards Orazio, Belladonna lets her voice ring out, "Of course Legate, and my sincerest apologies for misrepresenting Brother Fawkhul and the Dominus." Perhaps strangely, she actually seems to -mean- it. Leaning in, she speaks quietly, but perhaps intently to the Legate before straightening to look out towards Mirari with a warm smile, "Thank you, Mistress Corsetina, for representing me in this duel. I will be sure to ask for you again should the occasion arise."

Constantine is overheard praising Luca: Well done!

Belladonna is overheard praising Mirari: For standing in my interest and fighting well!

Belladonna is overheard praising Luca: For a duel well fought and won!

Tesha sees that the Duel is over for the most part and the Telmar woman makes a quiet exit to get back on her way to the Tower. She had some quick business that needed tending to.

Orazio is overheard praising Belladonna: For conceding with the graciousness and honor of a true noble.

Agatha was starting to scoot towards Derovai, the better to see the dagger he's pointing out, when just like that the fight is over. She blinks once after the formalities and apology are done, then calls out, "Well fought and all, but bollocks, Luca! I did not even have a chance to lob any of the snowballs at you yet. Oh well. Have to get you on your way out!" Why yes, a medium sized pile of the snowballs - have- been building up at her feet during the preamble of the fight.

Constantine is overheard praising Mirari.

Ian exhales as the duel comes to an end, and nods to himself. He doesn't stir to leave right away.

Business before pleasure. Once it's clear that Prince Luca is the victor, announced and everything, he brings that strange, curved blade out to the side and pulls a small, black rag from where it's tucked near the sheath, running it along the sharpest edge of the sword to clean it, before he sheathes it once again. As for the bloodied rag, he cuts a dark-eye'd look toward Mirari, and tucks it back from whence it came, moving closer to her. "You fought well. This cold though, eh?", and there is a smile for her, before he turns his attention around the gathered crowd, waving toward those praising him. Another few kisses are blown, a scattering of winks, and that n'er-do-well grin seems to be burgeoning. Before he forgets himself, he turns and bows to Legate Orazio, a full sort of gesture, one arm swept out to the side. Then he calls out, "Now! Who is ready to get piss-drunk?!".

Lark is overheard praising Luca: Prince Luca fought well in the name of Gloria for the honor of the Faith.

Alistair is overheard praising Luca: Not half bad.

Jordan watches the fight as it begins, and then the development, smiling faintly at the speed of the motions executed. When it ends, he applauds the duelists, nodding to both. "Congratulations! That was superbly fought. Spotting Lark, the knight bows in her direction, with the quick flash of a smile. It's easy to recognize the former Crown Princess of House Grayson, after all. As he straightens, there's a laugh to Luca's words, the Ashford-aligned knight shaking his head as the amusement in his expression doesn't fade.

Rinel is overheard praising Luca: Defending the Faith against those who would stray

Preston claps the pair, the soft thud of leather on leather. There is a relieved smile and he nods "Well. A duel for the Faith's honour is rare enough, but the result thankfully predictable - the Gods would not allow any other result than the upholding of the Faith." Preston bows his head in another moment of prayer before he moves away to the side with his squire.

Constantine is overheard praising Orazio: Defending the Faith.

Constantine is overheard praising Belladonna: Gracious in the face of defeat.

Despite obvious disappointment at the fight ending so soon, Alessia manages a small smile and claps for the competitors.

Orazio bows to Belladonna. "Pleased I am to hear it." And his smile, although brief, appears warm and sincere. "Let us ensure that our next quarrel is over something inexpressibly silly, shall we?" He turns towards Mirari. "Mistress Mirari - do you require a healer's attention? I might be able to help, if you would like."

Mirari stands still, hands at her side as she continues to slowly drip blood into the snow. She shakes a hand, scattering blood in an arch before she walks towards Orazio. "Thank you, I would like some help very much." She moves in his direction, quietly speaking to him when he moves to assist.

The duelists get a brief clap from the High Inquisitor as the duel comes to an efficient and clean end, the victor being declared, justice being served, no one going to jail... yet. There is always more time in the day for jail. Alistair idly dusts some snow off his shoulder, giving a slight nod to Luca as he enjoys his victory.

Lark hears her name called out from the stands, and she glances up as she sees Sabella waving to her. She lifts a hand in a gentle wave in return, though she does not shout across the distance. She smiles then, and turns her gaze back to the goings-on, her attention mostly focused on seeing that the differences have been resolved. Then she hears Sorrel's whisper, and gives a soft laugh, her dark eyes gleaming as she whispers back. There is a lot going on, but her eyes seem to miss very little. Even Jordan's bow in her direction receives a brief nod, gracious and reserved, before she murmurs once again to Sorrel.

Derovai motions Luca towards Ian, quite pointedly, when he's looking for drinking companions. He's more interested in the aftermath of the spar than he was in the spar itself for whatever reason, and he shrugs at Agatha's quiet comment at the benches, giving her a nod in the affirmative.

Ian doesn't seem like he's in a huge hurry to jump up and rush the field of combat or mill around with the giant crowd or anything. He's patient, watching the people. Someone paying close attention might realize that his gaze goes back to Luca often enough that he's probably trying to keep track of where the Grayson Prince is.

2 Grimhall House Guards, Gustav, a gruff Islander advisor leave, following Valdemar.

Titania stands up moving over, "Legate Orazio I can help heal her if you would like." she looks to Mirari then back to Orazio a soft smile coming to her lips.

Waldemai has left the long bench.

Luca stops close enough to Mirari, where she's at with.. Orazio? to murmur something to her, before he's strolling through the gathered people, over to where Derovai and Ian are. "That was something, wasn't it?" He gives Agatha a slap on the shoulder, "Bear!", he says, by way of greeting.

Curosity brings Caspian over to Luca, or not really, it's to Luca's sword. He steps before Luca and begins to inspect it, eyes curious, "Never seen a sword like this. It'a wonderful blade," he says back to the man, stroking at his chin. "Did you always have this sword?"

Orazio removes some bandages from an interior pocket of his robe, and a small clay jar - he swiftly salves the wound, and wraps it tight, murmuring to Mirari as he works. Soon, it is well bandaged. "It shouldn't scar - the Mercies are very adept at making their concoctions." A nod to Titania. "Thank you, my lady, but I believe I have her. It was a clean cut."

Ian opens his mouth to say something, and then Caspian starts asking about the sword, and he closes it again. So yeah, that was his first thought, too. Belatedly, he adds: "It was a pleasure to watch." Then he offers Luca his flask, because somehow he fell into the role of Luca's flask bearer.

Pasquale has left the large bench.

Alayne has left the small circular table.

Pasquale claps enthusiastically for the Champions, and Luca's victory, but he doesn't linger. Saying some good-byes around the stands and then slipping off.

Derovai replies, "Quick, at least," to Luca. "And you've got your drinking partner already." He motions to Ian, moving to rise from the bench and drift over to where Fairen and Rinel are sitting, moving to claim a seat with them in turn.

Derovai has left the large bench.

Derovai has joined the small circular table.

Agatha is on her feet when she spies Luca approaching. Of course she's going to toss one of the snowballs 'at' him, albeit somewhat halfheartedly. "What was that I heard you saying earlier about speaking to the King and asking him to outlaw winter?" She does her best to lock menacing, whish isn't half bad what with her height and musculature. Then again, it's Luca she's trying to menace, so ...

Titania nods her head, "It was a well fought fight." she says to Mirari in a soft voice then she looks over the area and back to Orazio and Mirari, "Legate Orazio, Mistress Mirari." she nods to them both and turns spotting her cousins so she heads in their direction nodding to them, "Hello."

Harper grins at Luca and waves to him cheerfully as he approaches the benches, "Nice fighting, was over fast. But I agree ... that's an interesting sword." She watches with obvious curiosity as Caspian inspects it.

Luca turns his attention to Caspian for a quick minute, before looking down at his sheathed blade, "What, this old thing?", and he laughs, running a hand up through his dark hair. "It was a gift from a friend. I am told it came from a land far, far away. I have learned to use it, though it's strange. But, efficient, too.", then he's looking to Ian, "Thank you, Ian. I always know a fight is going to be worth watching when you show up." He opens his mouth to speak to Derovai, then Derovai's leaving, and so he closes it again. That's okay, because Agatha smacks him with a snowball, and it explodes against his leather cuirass. He blinks. "Why do you hate me? You know this snow is the worst! Now I am /definitely/ seeing to the end of winter!" It isn't much in his nature, but he stoops over and scoop up a ball of snow, pats it a little, and hurls it at Agatha.

With Mirari so close, Belladonna steps near once more to ask something quietly of the woman before pulling back with slightly raised brows.

Oh no, go to a duel and a snow ball fight breaks out. Lisebet cannot help but laugh. "I am terrible at snowball fights," she calls, but she still gets some snow, packing it into a ball. Just in case she needs to defend herself, of course.

Sorrel is busy giggling and chatting with Lark, who she is a good head taller than. They look like they're having a good time, and she laughs brightly.

When the snowball goes 'splat!' against Luca he steps away, laughing, looking to to the two with a wide grin. But then he sees Lisebet, a perfect stranger, packing a snowball. He grabs some snow, packs it' himself, and then hurls it towards Lisebet!

Mirari turns to gaze at Belladonna, lips pressed thin as she asks her question. She lets out a sigh before she leans in to respond to the question, raising a brow as she finishes speaking.

Ian starts to say something else to Luca, but then the snowballs start flying, so he seems to think the better of it.

Lark laughs softly at something Sorrel says, her eyes gleaming with humor as the two of them converse. She glances briefly at Luca, then back to Sorrel with a pleasant smile. Then she is gathering her skirts, and moves toward Jordan, pausing to speak with him briefly as well.

Agatha doesn't much bother with trying to avoid the snowball that Luca hits her with. She's busy advancing on him to try to bat him away from the stack of snowballs. "Hey! I made those. You have to make your own weaponry," she points out. Chest puffs out and she lifts her chin proudly. "I was -prepared-." There's a wee little smirk before she notices Lisebet and Caspian starting to pack their own snowballs. Her confident expression cracks a bit as she looks around at the assembled peerage, at the high and mighty that have shown up today. "Uhoh. Luca. Have I clearly started something that may have been a very bad idea?"

Jordan scoops some snow into his hand, shaping it into a snowball while squinting at those present. Thusly armed with his makeshift countermeasures against being pelted with snow, he approaches Sorrel and Lark, flashing both an amiable smile. "Your Highnesses." As Lark approaches, he bows his head, and introduces himself: "Sir Jordan Ober, Minister of Warfare for House Ashford, at your service, and an honor to meet you."

Snowballs? Orazio perks up, watching the shenanigans. He also sidles over to the well, and casually, nonchalantly, creates one of his own. And then, he lobs it just as casually at Luca's head. It's too handsome, and clearly needs some snow.

Preston as events descent into snow based warfare, the Templar and his little posse slip away back towards the rectory. No doubt to be dour and what not. And not at all to test whether they can load Aion the trebuchet up with snow.

Balian, a Templar squire, Guy, a hunting kestrel leave, following Preston.

Agatha has left the large bench.

Harper ducks to avoid the flying snowballs, making sure she stays well out of the way of them as she scoots off of the bench. She moves to stand behind some of the taller poeple so that she doesn't get caught in the crossfire. She tosses Luca a grin though and nods in answer as he whispers to her, leaning in to answer him quietly.

"Yes. You are going to be the death of me, Bear. All this cold belongs on the ground. Not on pe-..", Luca begins, until another snowball explodes against the side of his head. He shudders, nearly, when cold ice drifts down into his armor, and turns and gives Orazio the most /betrayed/ look. "I hope you are confident in the Gods, Legate Orazio! And that you have said your prayers, this day." He snags another of Agatha's Fine Pre-Packed High Quality Redrain Snowballs, even having to dance around her to do it, and lobs one back at Orazio.

It seems Sir Jordan is on his way to them, so Lark pauses as she's leaving Sorrel's side, and offers Jordan a pleasant smile when he stops to introduce himself. There's a little light that comes on in her eyes, and she nods her head. "Ahh yes, Sir Jordan Ober," she says after a moment of thought, nodding with a smile. "I had recently heard of your appointment. I suppose congratulations are in order?" One of her dogs, the brindle-coated Songbird, steps forward a little to sniff at Sir Jordan's knee experimentally. "And do you know Princess Sorrel of House Thrax?" she adds, by way of introduction, just in case they have not met formally.

Titania sees that everyone has their attention on the snow balls flying about so up her hood goes and moves about to slip out before she becomes a target.

"Hey!" Lisebet protests. But of course her snowball hits the air. She's not actually a total stranger, Caspian, but that's okay. The thing is, her aim? Not so good. So while she gets snowed, and it puffs into her hair and face, her own goes - well, somewhere out there. And she shakes her head, trying to get the snow off, unaware if her snowball has hit anything other than the wishing well. Or Caspian. or ... broken apart in midair and done nothing at all.

Alistair simply stands there as a snowball fight breaks out. Not even a flinch of joy in his face. As if daring someone to chuck some snow at him. It will likely melt in the air before it even hits him as he stares it down.

"Yes, Sir Jordan and I are acquainted," Sorrel says brightly to the man as she watches the snowball fight break out. "We are going to need a snow fort if this continues."

Ian seems to have decided that 'right next to ground zero in the snowball fight' is not somewhere he wants to be. He braces himself on his cane and, stepping carefully, he follows the length of the bench in Sorrel, Lark, and Jordan's general direction. And whoever else is over there whose poses I missed.

"Your highness, I say my prayers /every/ day," Orazio says, sternly, and goes into a ridiculously elaborate Lycene bow...which makes him a rather excellent target for a riposte. The snow smacks wetly against the back of his neck, and down his robe, and the Legate makes a most undignified sound. "Prince Luca! You are supposed to be my Champion!" He shuffles behind the the well for cover, and starts making ammunition.

Eamon has left the large bench.

Appolonia has left the large bench.

Appolonia leaves, following Eamon.

Constantine rose, giving Niklas a pat on the shoulder. "You both have a good time at the reception. I have some paperwork and a meeting to see to." And he began making his way to the exit, ducking out of the way of snowballs as needed.

"Thank you, Your Highness. I suppose congratulations work, though it does mean more work and less restful nights," Jordan laughs, bowing again to Lark and bending down briefly to ruffle Songbird's head without fear, patting the dog's snout. "Good doggy." Straightening, he nods to confirm Sorrel's words. "Indeed, Her Highness and I are acquaintances. Speaking of," he mentions to Sorrel, "I've a couple of interesting rebuilding plans to present to you sometime. If I can't do it, my hopes are that it will help organize things. Nevertheless..." Back to Lark, "Welcome back to Arx, Your Highness. Should you need anything, please, do not hesitate to send me a missive."

Caspian watches the snowball fly off sideways and land on the ground with a flop. "Nice throw!" He teases the noble woman with a wide. He packs another snowball, and deminstrates a throw to Lisebet, "You need to keep your arm straight! Elbow facing the ground! Like this!" And he throws for real, but this time it goes for Orazio! Because we all can't pick on Luca!

Mirari nods towards Belladonna, and after a quiet reply to The Duchess' words she pulls her cloak closer to herself and walks towards the Lyceum ward.

a lithe, dark-cloaked Lycene woman arrives, delivering a message to Belladonna before departing.

Lisebet hrmphs, but she grins at Caspian, and then she reaches to scoop more snow, trying a second throw. Though there's a bit of a frown on her face, and she puts a bit more oomph into this throw. It might actually hit something.

Poof! Snow explodes on Caspian's shoulder. Orazio squawks in outrage, and shakes a fist at Caspian. "Master Caspian, I am a priest!" And then, he follows that up with a series of flung snowballs - he's a /terrible/ shot, so only the gods know where they'll end up.

Harper chuckles at the snowball hitting the Legate, despite her best efforts not to as she quickly covers up her grin. She looks over at Caspian and asks curiously, "Haven't seen you fight yet, but I heard you got a few of them coming up." As Caspian tosses another snowball towards the Legate though she quickly sidesteps to avoid the inevitable backlash as she sees Orazio gathering up snow too, using her size to stay out of the line of fire as much as possible.

Yep. There's Sabella. It's likely for the best that she doesn't escape the winter's chill, so Luca packs another snowball and lobs it in her direction, though he's kind enough to go for her back, and not her head. He is a gentleman, after all. Then he turns to Orazio, "I was your Champion! And now, I am vengeance!", hurling a second snowball, though this time it splats against the side of the wishing well. "Feh. Perhaps the Gods /are/ with you.", he says, when he misses. Or perhaps the wishing well is worse than we know.

Constantine has left the large bench.

Jordan receives a snowball right on his face, courtesy of the Legate. Rubbing at his cheek, he continues to smile at both Sorrel and Lark.

"Gods, Father Orazio!" Sorrel complains as she gets hit by a snowball and dodges another. "We're not part of the snowball fight. Throw over there!" And with that, she indicates Luca's direction and Caspian's direction, grinning.

Lark does her best to avoid snowballs if she can, though her attention is largely focused on Jordan and Sorrel. She smiles to Jordan, and inclines her head when he speaks to her again. "Of course, Sir Jordan. I should very much like to become better acquainted with you. Though for now... I think I shall do my best to leave before I am struck with a snowball," she says, with a soft laugh, eyeing the flying missiles of puffy snow somewhat warily. Songbird gives Jordan's hand a sniff, then a big wet slobbery kiss with a large pink tongue. "I will send you a missive later this week," she says with a nod to Jordan, then she links as he's suddenly got a snowball in his face. Then, glancing around a bit furtively, she hurries out of the battlefield, dogs running at her heels, and her two guards attempting to shield the Princess from any stray snow.

Watching Mirari leave with a fond smile, Belladonna sighs softly and her features settle into something a bit less... fond. Turning, she makes her way across the Green, moving with utter regality despite the snowballs flying all around. Approaching Caspian, she looks at the Grand Master and inclines her head to him, "Master Wild. Something has come to my attention that is... disturbing. I am hoping that we can speak and find resolution in the matter."

Agatha holds her hands up innocently when the next snowball explodes. CLEARLY not her doing. "And with that, I think maaaaybe I should just, you know. Be somewhere else. Have fun!" Exit, a Bear. Her work, it seems, is done!

Derovai watches the snowball fight from where he's talking with Fairen and Rinel, but he doesn't move to engage himself in the fight, something pensive on his face.

A snowball comes sailing down, soaring well off course, headed toward Sabella's back. She's got on a cloak. She'll be fine. But still, Niklas calls out, "Sabella!" and moves in to take the snowball right in the ear. "Ah! Fuckety shit, that stings!"

Two from each side! And the both hit! Orazio on Caspian's side, and Lisebet on his leg! He laughs, calling out to Orazio, "I'm only honorable in the dueling ring! Any other time I'm a scoundrel!" He calls out to him with a playful grin, scooping up some snow and starts to jog while packing it, hoping to make himself a harder target for his two foes!

Octavian, a silken spaniel arrives, following Zoey.

Ian was headed towards Sorrel, Lark, and Jordan because he was trying to get out of the snowball fight, only to watch, JUST as he gets over there, snowballs hit all three of them. Silly Ian. There IS no away from the snowball fight. And now he knows this.

Rinel opens her mouth to retort something to Derovai that will undoubtedly be /incredibly/ clever, cutting, and witty--when an errant snowball strikes her right in the face. Biff. With a yelp of surprise and outrage, the scholar tumbles from her bench into the snow. Whereupon she begins giggling madly.

"There are always unfortunate consequences in war," Orazio calls out, very solemn, to Sorrel. "I can only pray that the gods show you mercy in the future." And then he tosses more snowballs. Maybe they're actually aimed towards Caspian and Luca...but again, it's hard to tell.

Titania chuckles as she turns to watch orazio partake in the snow ball fight, it brings a sof t smile to her lips she stops a bit away and turns to watch, from under the hood of her cloak in the blue of the sea showing the colors of Mangata. Then Nicklas gets nailed by one a gloved hand comes up to cover her mouth as she giggles more.

Jordan checked luck + athletics at difficulty 35, rolling 23 higher.

Zoey arrives to see snowballs flying, and she pushes back the hood of her glossy black bear cloak. She grins, just a hint of one, and hops up on a nearby bench to peer over the battlefield as if searching for someone.

"You know, I have always wanted to assualt a particular someone's person." Fairen notes out loud as the snow really gets going, his eyes darting from person to person as the battle rages on. "I think this is the most exceptional time to do so." He says, rising to his feet and moving in a direction that places him a distance from everyone. Then he bends down to scoop up and form the snowball in question. When it's ready, he stands back up, and suddenly turns towards Derovai, throwing the ball of snow at him.

Jordan tosses his snowball over his shoulder. It's apparently a pretty neat throw, but who knows who will get hit? "Of course, Your Highness," he says, to Lark, flashing her a grin. "I am at your service." With a bow to the departing royal, he looks to the Thrax Minister. "I'd like to sit down with you sometime and show you the outlines I've written after speaking with Lady Carita."

Sorrel starts up a hymn to Gloria as she bends down to scoop up snow and pack it into a snowball. "By the Light, may our aim be true! Ah, great Gloria! As we follow you..." she raises her voice in song, and her first snowball goes sailing in the direction of the Legate. Her second heads directly for Luca's pretty face.

"What are yo--" Sabella starts to say, but then Niklas is lunging at her--wait, no, past her to heroically take a snowball to the side of the head! "Nik!" She puts her hands up to help brush the snow away, giving him an adoring look, "You just took a hit for me! If there was ever any doubt that you truly loved me I should think that will put that to rest!" She adds with a grin, "Not that there was ever any doubt from me, but that was very heroic of you and now everyone's seen it! You're just the best!"

"Arm yourself, Sir Jordan!" Sorrel tells him. "We'll go over outlines later."

2 Grayson House Guards, Crom, an expressive bull-mastiff, Songbird, a dignified war-mastiff leave, following Lark.

Ian's footing isn't terribly sure in all this snow and ice, but he picks his way slowly out of the snowball fight. If there IS an out of the snowball fight. Maybe this is his life now.

Derovai spreads his hands out /as soon as/ Fairen speaks of assaulting someone in particular. He doesn't bother to dodge. He's seated at the same table, so dodging would be fairly impossible. The snowball lands squarely on his leathers. "Good hit," he replies, untroubled. "Try it at twenty more paces and we'll see how much of an athlete you really are." He moves to dust snow off his black clothes, but he doesn't move to send one back at Fairen. Of all things, instead, he lowers a gloved hand to help Rinel up.

With a snowball packed, Caspian lets out a battle cry, thrusting his fist into the air! And then he hurls that snowball towards Lisebet, calling out, "For The Champions! Kings and queens of duels and snowball fights!"

Orazio sticks his head over the lip of the well. "You cannot call on the gods to aid you in a snowball fight against the Chu--" And then he has a face full of snow, and only barely manages not to fall over on his back. His Templar guards, as one, give a heavy sigh. He sputters, swipes his face clean, and then gathers up another snowball. "This, of course, means war." This time, the snowball is aimed square at Sorrel.

Rinel has rolled a critical success!
Rinel checked strength at difficulty 10, rolling 27 higher.

Rinel takes Derovai's hand with a grateful smile... and /yanks as hard as she can/, trying to pull the man into the snowbank she's currently resting in.

Derovai checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 37, rolling 12 higher.

Zoey finally spots poor resigned Ian, trudging towards the sidelines, and she hops down from her perch. Up goes her hood, the better to protect her ears from a snowy fate, and she picks her way to Ian's side... Trying to avoid the trajectory of the snowballs as she goes.

When his ball of snowy death lands a good hit on Derovai, Fairen grins and reaches down to prepare another snowball for the man. But then it seems he is being pulled away for another attack. Really though, this snowball can't go to waste, so he turns and scans the battlefield, spying Lisebet. His aim may be poor, but he throws the snowball at her all the same, then he immediately ducks for some form of cover... Ahhh... A table. Perfect.

Jordan resolutely scoops another snowball, patting it to ensure it conforms to his rigorous standards of snow fighting apparel before considering those present. "Think fast," he tosses it at Niklas. "If you catch it, I owe you a whiskey bottle."

Harper checked dexterity at difficulty 10, rolling 19 higher.

Poor Lisebet does try to dodge, but she gets hit anyway, amusement darting across her face, as she ends up falling into a nearby snowbank, landing with a squawk. Course that does give her a lot of ammunition, which she uses to pack up snow, and then gets to her feet, throwing it back at Caspian with an entire body lunge to her feet. Wheeee!

Rinel may grab Derovai -- but not for long, as he slips away from his supposed captor, leaving her alone in the snowbank. "What happened to all that honor and orthodoxy?" he remarks dryly to her as he moves away from the table, moving between the benches to some other table a distance away. He's slippery!

Derovai has left the small circular table.

a lithe, dark-cloaked Lycene woman arrives, delivering a message to Orazio before departing.

Harper laughs outright as Niklas gets a snowball right in the ear, "That looks like it smarts, Funny Man. Next time try getting it in the back or chest instead of the ear!" She just grins and watches the fight from her spot out of the way, thinking she's safe until one of Orazio's stray snowballs catches her in the arm. She mutters and shakes her head, then eyes Luca. Forming up a snowball with careful precision, she idly wanders over towards the Legate then pauses to throw it at Luca instead once she has a good angle. With a loud chuckle she tosses him a wave and starts to wander off, saying to Orazio, "That was for you, Father Orazio!"

And then she gets hit by the snowball from Fairen, which totally takes Lisebet by surprise!

Fairen has left the small circular table.

"I'm sorry, what did you s-" Niklas takes the snowball directly in his face. He stands there for a moment, letting the snow drip down onto his cloak, then says, "Technically I did catch it."

Ian raises his eyebrows to Zoey when she joins him. He angles his head in the way that he's going. "The Salon isn't far. Want to get something warm to drink?"

Wow. It is getting just a little cold and dangerous out here, for a warm-blooded Lycene like Luca. So he packs another snowball, aims for Sorrel with a confident lob, and then he's attempting to fade out of the scene, though he does stand out against the snow, in all his dark leather. That is, perhaps, why Harper manages to both spot and clobber him with a snowball, which has him sputtering. "This is the worst! Winter is ending! I hope!", and another violent shiver grabs him.

Caspian is a nice guy, because he doesn't really put much effort into dodging Lisebet's snowball, he just lets it hit him, laughing as he does so. And then he picks up more snow, packing it some more, and eyes Zoey, calling out to her, "Lady Zoey! I haven't seen you in forever. How are you? You should stay a while."

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Caspian before departing.

Titania has left the small circular table.

"I-... you're right." Jordan sighs, "I should be more careful with my semantics. I'll pay for that bottle and let the man at the Ambassador know it's yours." He salutes the Kennex playwright and reaches down to pack another snowball, squinting from left to right in an attempt to sense any incoming threats.

Orazio carefully rises back to his feet, and shakes the snow out of his robes. After receiving a letter from a disturbed-looking messenger, the Legate sighs quietly, and then starts to discreetly make his way away from the frivolity, although not without a wistful look in that direction.

Zoey laughs softly at Ian. "I actually brought some wine with me. Aethan gave it to me the other day..." She glances at the Salon and hesitates. "We could go there," she agrees at last. Her attention, however, turns to Caspian. She eyes him. Eyes his snowball. Smiles faintly. "Perhaps, Grandmaster Caspian," she calls over. "But I'm not much good at throwing things. Now, if I could find a way to affix a snowball to the end of an arrow, that would be fair, wouldn't it?" She's teasing.

Right?


Sabella starts to say something else, but then Niklas gets hit again and she bursts out laughing, helping clear yet more snow from his face, "Come on, quick! Let's run so you can get warmed up and change before the reception! GOOD FIGHT LUCA!" She shouts out, grabbing one of Niklas' hands and then turning to really run!

Maybe his snowball hit her, maybe it didn't. Either way, Fairen leans down to prepare another one. Then he pops up from his position behind the table and throws it towards the downed Lisebet. You would think that with her being knocked prone, it would make her an easier target... But never let it be said that the Marquis was an athletic man. Nor one with an accurate throw.

Sorrel dodges Orazio's snowball only to get hit with Luca's, and her hymn devolves into laughter. She takes aim at Orazio again, lobbing a snowball his way, even as she runs in Luca's direction, clearly intent on bowling him over into the snow.

Sabella has left the large bench.

Niklas has left the large bench.

Isabelle, who isn't happy to be doing this, Steve, an ungainly pelican leave, following Niklas.

Elizabetta, a disapproving lady-in-waiting, Valor, a small brown and white corgi puppy, Lily, an aloof lady-in-waiting, 2 Grayson House Guards, Clark, an exasperated guard, Niklas leave, following Sabella.

Orazio has left the a brick and wood wishing well.

"Use a crossbow, my lady," Jordan suggests helpfully to Zoey.

Lisebet was usy trying to figure out where that other snowball came from. She wipes snow off her face, and then there's another one incoming. She can't tell who is behind the table, but she does try throwing a snowball over the table, randomly hoping she'll hit whoever is on the other side. It accidentally hits the table, and sends snow flying everywhere.

Harper has left the large bench.

3 Iron Guardsmen leaves, following Harper.

Zelda, the royal messenger, 13 King's Own Guardsmen arrive, following Alaric.

Zelda, the royal messenger, 13 King's Own Guardsmen leave, following Alaric.

Zoey is safe, because Caspian receives a messenger, who is dodging and ducking away form the snowballs. He trades the letter for the snowball, looking it over and lets out a sigh, shaking his head. "Drama, and not the fun kind," he says with an exasterbated voice, shoving the letter in his pocket. "Have fun." And with that, he begins to walk off.

Another successfully launched snowball, and Fairen is ducking behind his cover again. Successfully, of course, in thise case just means that it left the Marquis' hands. Just in time too, as when he ducks down, the snowball explodes at the edge of the table, raining a few drops of the wet shrapnel down onto his fancy, seasilk cloak. "Good hit!" He calls out with a soft chuckle, preparing another snowball and popping back up. This time though, he pauses, looking around the battlefield for a new target. Of course, that easily makes him a target himself.

"Shows what you know about the Oathlands!" Rinel calls to Derovai. "Snowball fights operate according to Lycene principals! Everyone knows tha-oof!" Another snowball to the face.

"Take care, Caspian Wild, and don't let the drama eat you," Jordan strategically hurls the snowball at Caspian, with the full intent to miss. He laughs, turning to Sorrel, "Shall we? I am excited to present the idea to you and see what you think about it."

Ian picks his way carefully Salon-ward with Zoey. It's a good bet that he's ready for winter to be over, too, so that all the ice on the ground finally melts.

Zoey relaxes slightly when Caspian relents, and she turns back to Ian. "Let's head off," she suggests, amusement in her voice.

Ian has left the large bench.

Octavian, a silken spaniel leaves, following Zoey.

Zoey leaves, following Ian.

There he was, so close to escaping, when Luca is bowled over and into the snow by Sorrel, which causes him to cry out with a sound that's almost like a yelp. Wait a minute. Felines don't yelp. The matter stands, a woman in armor has bodily checked him, and he lays there, cold or not. "Oh wow. I am having a worse and worse day.", he says, with a deep, huffing sigh that sends a plume of visible air upward.

Derovai calls over from the table he's claimed, "You've got me there," to Rinel. He doesn't seem in any hurry to leave, but he /still/ hasn't thrown any snowballs at anyone, just watching.

2 Faith of the Pantheon trained guards, 2 Faith of the Pantheon novice guards arrive, following Orazio.