Alis nods solemnly at Isolde. "I understand and take no offense. If there is anything I can to assist, please do ask." she offers, inclining her head respectfully.
(OOC) Alis is baby Alis compared to everyone!
(OOC) Talen pinches cheeks.
(OOC) Alis screws up her face and scowls!
Alis has joined the Field.
(OOC) Luca cuddles baby Alis.
Luca wanders onto the tournament grounds, moving with practiced ease down to the stands closest the field. He's been here a lot, though his interest in competitions has been..nonexistant, lately.
Luca has joined the General Seating.
"Thank you, Princess. I will live vicariously through Talen and hope he gives you a good fight." Isolde looks to Talen, nodding to him. "I will feed you my fury, Talen, Dear. Cousin Luca, how are you?"
Talen strides down the main throughway towards the field, the steps taken a slow clip of powerful motion. The Sword of Lenosia has one hand resting idly upon the basket-hilt of his blade, fingers already curling into the elaborately wrought guard. "Princess Alis Valardin," he greets openly, looking to those other familiar faces and bowing, "I imagine House Pravus has sent their impartial referee?" Looking toward such, he nods, content. "Do you wish any other steps taken to ensure neutrality of the field? I will wait, if it pleases you. There are no caltrops, no hidden trapdoors, no large anvils held in preparation-- that I promise you. It seems southern tricks are not welcome, so I've opted to play fairer." Whether he's joking or genuine, it's hard to tell, his impassive expression displayed. Inhaling the air-- and perhaps Isolde's fury-- he looks to his family's princess and gives the barest of nods, "I can sense it, your highness, it will do me well I am sure."
Talen wields a wicked, sanguine schiavona-style rubicund broadsword with an elaborately wrought basket-hilt.
Talen has joined the Field.
Alis gives her brother a faint smile as their conversation ends and she addresses Isolde; she's just heading down from the stands and onto the field to greet Talen when Luca is walking up. So obviously, she waves politely on the way, helmet tucked under her arm until they decide to begin the bout. "Well then. It seems I will be in for a lively bout. Hopefully we both walk away without any unsightly scars." she quips, before addressing the rest of Talen's message. "I believe there are sufficient witnesses, yes. And I also see no looming anvils in the sky." She smiles openly at that, inclining her head towards her opponent. "Best of luck to both of us, then!" On goes the helmet, out comes the sword. No, that's really not code for anything! Honest!
Alis wields Bright Blue Flames Steel Longsword.
Luca doesn't even know what a schiavona is. He lifts a hand and scratches lazily at his ear. Isolde catches his attention, and he looks around until he spots her. "Fine. How are you, Isolde? Here to watch some. . " he glances at the field, sees blades being drawn. "Violence?"
(OOC) Alis says her prayers. 'Please don't KO me in two rounds. Love, Alis.'
(OOC) Talen says: I know the feeling. :(
(OOC) Talen says: It's okay, if you fight Viviana expect deathhhh
(OOC) Alis feels bad that you have leather and I have steel XD - Oy! Ok.
(OOC) Alis says: But not bad enough to take it off, obvsl :D
(OOC) Talen says: Don't. I have a rubicund weapon and you have steel.
(OOC) Talen says: It is average though so it's not even that good.
Monique arrives.
(OOC) Alis scribbles note: Make Edain buy me an awesomer sword.
Monique has joined the General Seating.
Talen does not wear a helmet, much like he does not wear more than the barest dull glints of tarnished steel. Black leather binds his rangy build, the molten muscle underneath moving with easy flex as he stalks the pit, running his boot through the sand to feel the consistency of the turf he is to fight across. "May the best win," he insists, lowering his lashes as he looks to the floor and draws within it an 'X', then steps atop it. Drawing the sheathe off his sword then, the southern swordsman swipes at the air, once, twice, thrice-- the sound of red steel slicing through the atmosphere. "On your mark," he calls, "and at your leisure, your highness."
Alis would probably wind up with her eardrums singed if she took a risk like fighting without her helmet. PLus, it might give Edain a stroke and then she'd have to take charge of things and YIKES. No thanks. She'll wear the helmet. She does, however, appreciate that it obscures the longing look she gives Rubicund steel. Sigh. (Pay attention, bro). "May the best win." she agrees, then, and enters a ready combat stance, telegrahing deliberately that she will lead off with an attack. She's irrationally chivalrous that way. Of course.
Luca applauds, a few laconic slaps of his hands, for the formal acknowledgements that preface the fight.
Talen rolls 18 to attack, Alis rolls 19 to defend.
Talen rolled 10 damage against Alis's 14 mitigation.
Alis rolls 26 to attack, Talen rolls 37 to defend.
Alis rolled 9 damage against Talen's 16 mitigation.
Ida arrives.
Talen rolls 25 to attack, Alis rolls 18 to defend.
Talen rolled 36 damage against Alis's 38 mitigation.
Alis rolls 23 to attack, Talen rolls 36 to defend.
Alis rolled 7 damage against Talen's 20 mitigation.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Isolde before departing.
Luca watches the two dance around each other, near miss after near miss. He sighs, wistful.
Niccolo arrives.
Acacia arrives.
Better late than never! Certainly not fashionably late, as no one would likely confuse Ida as being terribly fashionable to begin with. Whatever the case, the Valardin smith makes her way to a seat, presumably to cheer on the princess of her house.
Sand sprays in an arc, inky jet black leather blurs and then Talen is sprinting toward Alis in the lightning fast lope of a predator. When the clash of sanquine steel strikes Alis' own far bluer, sparks fly and the grating sound is as satissfying to the wielders as it is the audience. With the fast-paced style from the south, Talen turns in a half-pirouette and strikes again, once more colliding with the protection of Alis' own defense. "Well played, your highness," he allows, a rare quip given in combat. Stormy eyes lower and he regards the woman for an opening, slow, hypnotic side-steps taking him in a crescent shape to her left.
"Violence fits my mood this evening, Cousin Luca." Isolde finally responds from the high seats. She's generally not happy and quieter than normal, but her eyes stay locked on the fight.
"You ever have that feeling that someone was watching you, your Grace?" The query from Acacia is relatively light-hearted, considering the tension which rolls from her shoulders when she kneads at the back of her neck. She'd slowly made her way up from the very rear of his guard to a peripheral stance along the outside, always keeping a respectful distance that allows her voice not to carry more than might be usual. Just in time to watch the first clash of metal upon metal, her lips quirk with amusement at the glimpse she's able to gain. Dark eyes trail across the crowds, before they arise finally towards the high seats, where Isolde is seated. "Perhaps we should also reconvene at another point, your Grace."
Alis is, quite likely, glad to not have been punctured somehow with the first few swipes of their swords. She has a steadier, slower series of attacks and defenses to pay with and it shows in the clash of weapons and the clang of Talen's steel against the gauntlets of her armor. Being short has it's advantages though, in that her turns take just a bit less time even if her reflexes are not //quite// as fast as his. "An auspicious start." she agrees of both their performances, the crunch of dirt beneath her boots heralding the way she follows his movements, trying to predict the next strike and see if she can put him off balance.
Talen rolls 30 to attack, Alis rolls 14 to defend.
Talen rolled 37 damage against Alis's 24 mitigation.
Alis rolls 23 to attack, Talen rolls 59 to defend.
Alis rolls 19 to attack, Talen rolls 75 to defend.
Talen rolls 30 to attack, Alis rolls 9 to defend.
Talen rolled 18 damage against Alis's 21 mitigation.
Luca looks over at Isolde, dark brows tilting up just a hair. Concern? Confusion? Yes. "Just tonight?" He ventures, "Our, uh, Sword has some pretty good footwork."
"Most of the time, someone is watching," Niccolo replies to Acacia, leading the way into the grounds with hands clasped behind his back. The fighting taking place in the field catches his attention. His steps slows down as he approaches the seating area and he turns to look at Acacia. Slowly he nods. "Of course," he says, with a dip of his head and another glance at the action in the field.
In punishment for Alis' next hit, Talen parries downward and lifts his hilt, angling his blade so that the grating rasp of steel brings his bloodthirsty own ncloser. The tension to keep his pressure off will no doubt soon be lifted very suddenly as Talen leaps back, flicking the tip of his sword so it strikes Alis', rending a small portion of her platemail and drawing firstblood. Running his tongue down over his lower lip, he backs up slowly and picks up some sand in idleness-- not to throw, mind. Grinding it in his off-hand, the left gloved appendage, waiting impatiently for the next measured assault by the young Valardin princess. No words come, the heat of battle now entering his nature like a lurking flow of lava that dares bubble up in these rare moments.
Acacia's gaze rove Niccolos' features and then slant upwards towards the High Booth. "I'm sure Master Lydas will take good care of me, your Grace," she easily returns, her grin slowly expanding as she turns to glance up towards the guard who chose at that instant to wander away from her. "He likes me," she claims, thumbing at the escaping man. Proferring a deeper bow then, flourish included this time, she remarks more intently, "Enjoy yourself. It's undoubtedly to be a good fight." A secondary look is cast up towards Isolde, but no attention-gathering motion is employed to try to steal focus. Instead, she idly climbs the stands, seeking to steal a goblet of wine from one of the servers as she goes to position herself perhaps half-strategically a couple rows back from Edain.
Acacia has joined the General Seating.
Niccolo has joined the High Booth.
Alis feels that first hit, teeth gritting together beneath the cover of her helmet as she's struck. But at least she can say that despite the trickle of blood that is going to mar her pretty armor, not a sound escapes her lips. WIth first blood, battle begins in earnest and she wastes little precious time in small talk. Instead, calculating what her next move should be, before pressing in for a straightforward attack using both hands on the hilt of the weapon rather then just one this time.
Alis rolls 24 to attack, Talen rolls 44 to defend.
Talen rolls 35 to attack, Alis rolls 30 to defend.
Talen rolled 21 damage against Alis's 31 mitigation.
Talen rolls 24 to attack, Alis rolls 5 to defend.
Talen rolled 35 damage against Alis's 26 mitigation.
Alis rolls 15 to attack, Talen rolls 15 to defend.
Alis rolled 10 damage against Talen's 20 mitigation.
Luca winces as Alis gets her bell rung. He can't help it - hands are cupped to his mouth, and he yells out: "Keep your sword up! Watch for an overextension!"
Deva arrives.
Esera arrives.
Another fleeting liaison, the barest of flirts given by Talen and the droplets that escape Alis' tin can of a bodysuit pour forward. "Mm," is the only sound given by the Sword, noncommittal in nature. When he brings sword up and promptly smacks Alis' away, the grace deflects and manages to scrape across his leather, scoring the dark black so the material receives a brief ashen grey mark on the surface from the contact. The last of the sand clasped by the man's hand filters from his grip, his fingertips rubbing together as dismisses the granules for good. No doubt a few in the audience sigh, while others look relieved. At least there'll be no blinding the princess today.
"How do you know if it's an over-extension?" Acacia's entire form had tilted in a slight lean as she narrowed her gaze towards the field, a quick check doubling over Luca's appearance with a faint furrowing of her brow. After a single look is cast up towards Isolde, she chances in addition, "Your Highness." This query seems to include Edain, Ida, and perhaps even Monique by her sweeping visual, the wine glass held within her fingers, yet not consumed. If she noticed anything about Talen's hand in that moment, she vocalizes and expresses nothing but a still-affable smile.
Alis is a rung bell now. *sadface*; she follows the advice of course, never averse to being on the receiving end of it. But it would be folly to turn her attention towards the stands to acknowledge it, and she keeps her eyes on the Sword that is her opponent. This fight, unlike the last, is not doing her any favors in the esteem department. But luckily she'd not let it it go overly much to her head to start with. She had merely assumed the sand was for his sword grip, so she will be the most thankful (thank you) not to have the stuff fling into her visor. Again she presses forward, nothing if not determined.
Luca glances briefly at Acacia, then back to the field. "Balance. Imagine an invisible line, straight down to the earth, that more or less divides you in half. You need to balance both sides. You go too far in any direction, someone can exploit that."
Letting Acacia join the general seating, Niccolo continues on to join Isolde, sitting at her side. He leans forward, in order to watch the action, hands clasping together in front of him even as he speaks quietly with his daughter. His eyes remain forward, studying each move Talen and Alis commit to with the eye of a trained warrior and tactician.
Deva arrives with Esera, arm-in-arm with the Grand Duchess. She guides them toward the benches, gesturing with a flutter of her hair before claiming a seat next to Luca without so much as a word. Just a pleasant smile.
(OOC) Alis is going to be SUCH a sad panda if I don't get in a single hit XD *fist shake at Talen*
(OOC) Deva says: Er. Hand, hair. Something.
(OOC) Esera says: I was so intrigued.
(OOC) Acacia says: It was a hairflip.
(OOC) Deva says: Yes!
(OOC) Talen says: If it helps, you are hitting... you're just not getting through armour.
Deva has joined the General Seating.
(OOC) Alis says: True.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Niccolo before departing.
(OOC) Talen pinches your bicep with forefinger and thumb. "Squish."
Alis rolls 16 to attack, Talen rolls 36 to defend.
Talen rolls 24 to attack, Alis rolls -2 to defend.
Talen rolled 35 damage against Alis's 37 mitigation.
Alis rolls 43 to attack, Talen rolls 18 to defend.
Alis rolled 95 damage against Talen's 19 mitigation.
Talen rolls 13 to attack, Alis rolls -2 to defend.
Talen rolled 41 damage against Alis's 22 mitigation.
(OOC) Talen says: ...SEE
(OOC) Alis says: Ssshhhh. Don't mock my biceps! ... Ow. Yeah, DON'T MOCK MY BICEPS
Esera's cheeks are flushed, but she walks with all the grace expected of a Grand Duchess. She takes a seat beside Deva, crosses her legs at the knee and leans back against her palms.
Monique finds herself a seat at the general seating, watching the duel underway with a look of interest, and slight curiosity as the two fight away.
(OOC) Luca says: Wow, dang
(OOC) Luca says: So this is combat.
Esera has joined the General Seating.
Ida has joined the General Seating.
Luca sucks in a breath through his teeth as Alis and Talen clash again. "Oof. He'll be feeling THAT tomor.." he just then notices Esera and Deva. Deva gets a smile, and jump of his brows in greeting. Esera gets the same smile; no brows.
Esera gives Luca a disappointed look. Always so disappointed.
It all seems to be going so smoothly for Talen, so expected that he'll deftly secure a victory. That is until Alis' snaking bite of a weapon finds his unarmoured face. Everywhere else is so wrapped in leather, it only makes sense that this is where he is struck, the southern freedoms suddenly disadvantage against the steel wrapped woman that is his opponent. A loud hiss of pain is heard, but beyond that there comes no swear words, no complaint or no further comment. For the brief time, Talen's head is lowered and his weaponry lifts high in wardship of his moment of weakness, then when his chin lifts the bloodied wound is display.
Ida is watching and listening, wincing here or there, head tilting as she perhaps attempts to anticipate the next moves or what have you. She is not too far from Acacia, it would appear, as she answers the other woman's question with, "No idea. I don't fight with swords," though her eyes remain on the fight. Realizing that she's standing, she finally settles onto the edge of the bench she had been previously just lingering next to. "Oathballs," is a murmur as the next round of hits completes.
Luca falters. It is clear he has no idea what he's done, now. Always no idea.
Esera pales, as she watches Talen take that hit. Her fingers grip the bench beneath her, a little tighter than necessary. She gives Luca a more disappointed look, just because he's there.
Acacia's gaze narrowed a bit towards the field at Luca's explanation, her lips pressed into a thoughtful horizontal. "Interesting, your Highness. Thank you." The next exchange of blows has her abruptly whistling, her head ticking to the side once as she mentions, "That helped." It only takes two glances for her to cast notice to Deva and Esera both, her placement a suitable distance away from both Luca, Edain and Monique adjusted when she rises, mid-tournament, regardless, to offer them a bow more befitting of station, before she settles again.

Refocusing a look towards Ida, her drums her fingertips across the crest of her knee and then adds, "Master Smith Ida, yes? Your letter was exceptional. I passed word on, but I'm not sure he isn't looking for something better. What do you fight with then, if I can pry?"
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Niccolo before departing.
Luca tells Acacia. "It's Luca. I don't often forget I'm a Prince."
Alis cannot and does not allow the gathering crowd to be a distraction, focusing her will towards finding and exploiding an opening that can be used to gain more then a simple swipe against leather. And when she finds it? She definitely finds it. Not in time to save herself from the backlack of his own sword when it pulls up in defense; her own sword swiping low then to protect herself after another slice and trickle of blood begins. But soon enough that both have a moment to recoup before one or the other will attack again.
(OOC) Alis has to make my daughter a hot dog XD I shall be a moment.
(OOC) Alis says: THE BEAST needs to be fed.
"I can't call you that, your Highness. It leads to lots of glares and the occasional onslaught of pain. Good for them, bad for me," Acacia gingerly returns towards Luca, her lips quirking briefly. "Forgive me? Acacia Culler."
Turning from the fight to focus on the voice and the woman from whom it came from, Ida gives a nod of her head to Acacia. "Indeed," she replies and offers a cheerful smile and dip of her head. "Mistress Acacia, then? Must be. Thank you for passing that along. I suppose we shall see if what I can fashion will do. I'm a pugilist myself." As if to explain it better, although wholly unnecessary no doubt, she makes two fists and raises them briefly. "Irony, perhaps, that I can't wield what I forge. Have you considered my offer to you? I've a few daggers in the shop if you want to see my work."
Talen rolls 14 to attack, Alis rolls -8 to defend.
Talen rolled 58 damage against Alis's 9 mitigation.
Alis rolls 14 to attack, Talen rolls 33 to defend.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Deva before departing.
Acacia shares a grin with Ida, glancing at her fists and then dipping her head with a thoughtful expression. Her gaze is periodically torn back to the field, more noticeably with the collision of weapons and armor, offering towards Ida sincerely, "Any discount and a chance to see how you craft your weapons, even if standard steel would be worthy. Not to mention it's exceptionally generous. I have more than a few folk that occasionally run with me that like to carry more than a weapon or three. I might just go ahead and see what you can do, with the natural return to send people to you, of course. You said your shop was east of the square, aye? -- And also, does that mean you're participating in the Decathalon for the brawling portion? Prying all over today, it seems."
Talen rolls 26 to attack, Alis rolls -10 to defend.
Talen rolled 16 damage against Alis's 33 mitigation.
Alis rolls 12 to attack, Talen rolls 24 to defend.
Alis rolled 5 damage against Talen's 23 mitigation.
Talen inhales the air, a slow and steady breath that swells his torso. When he deftly replies to the brutal gash along cheek, he does so vengeance and a motion of molten steel. A sudden dart forward and his deft limbs then plunge the tip of he blade into the shoulder of Alis' armour, wedging it through with a shove that sends it piercing the joint. When the southerner pulls out, it's hard to tell where the shine of the blood concludes and the red steel begins. There's the movement of lips, a single word given to Alis up close before he backs off, swinging his weapon in the air and letting the blood spray the sand as it is forced free.
(OOC) Alis says: Back!
Marcas arrives.
Luca shrugs at Acacia. He has to try. "'Lo, Acacia Culler." He twists slightly, eyes seeking Isolde as he often does when he needs someone to protect him from the cruel vagaries of the world.
Alis refuses to acknowledge that little quip Talen has given her just yet. Instead, focusing on the quick inhale and sharp exhale of mitigating her own pain; the shoulder that's been pierced leaving her far less capable of striking back the way she wishes to. Instead, the slice of her sword barely touches her opponent. It's a dissapointment, but such is the way of fighting to display martial skill. One can't always be at their best. But? She is not ready to concede. Not yet. Her eyes track the spray of her own blood across the sand, and she tugs the sword from one hand to the other before spinning on her heel and thrusting forward with steel anyhow.
Talen rolls 32 to attack, Alis rolls 24 to defend.
Talen rolled 42 damage against Alis's 20 mitigation.
Alis rolls 6 to attack, Talen rolls 26 to defend.
"You are most welcome at the shop anytime," Ida tells Acacia and sounds genuine. Glancing back to the field, she ends up making another bit of a wincing face before her attention returns to the conversation. "Indeed, east quite a bit from the market, not too far from the gates. Also, I'm not so much generous as grateful, really, for the offer of future business. Smithing pays the bills, but fighting is my true love." That, likely, is the segway into the latter query, her head tilting before she shakes it. "I meant to sign up or whatever one does for the brawling, but got caught up with work. I wonder if I might still do that..." Musing that for a quiet minute, she then shrugs. "Not prying at all, Mistress Acacia. Least I don't think so. In any case, please do come by and see if my style might be to your liking for something."
Pressing his advantage, Talen strikes a second time, his advance a sudden progression of steps that are so determined. Even as Alis raises her blade to attack, a sharp clang resounds in the tournament grounds and out from the field toward the audience. The blade is knocked aside, the princess' weaponry made redundant for that brief instance so he can drive his sword inward again. The penetrating hit lands on a lower point now, closer to the hip. It isn't the be all and end all of the assault, however, his boot lifted and giving a resounding kick to the front of the plate to send the Valardin royalty reeling. To her credit and-- it seems Talen's mild surprise-- she doesn't immediately fall. It doesn't stop him from continuing, however, keeping up with the rhythm of attacks as he seeks a conclusion to the bout with an intense passion for the flow of combat.
Marcas enters in with little fanfaire about it, left thumb casually tucked into his sword belt as he makes his way. Stopping at one point, overlooking the Tournament Field proper before looking to the Gneeral Seating and back to the Field.
Niccolo continues to watch the fight, while engaged in a quiet conversation with Isolde. He's taken to hold Isolde's hand, and while his eyes remain on the field he seems quite engaged in whatever he and Isolde are speaking of.
Esera seems quite engaged in a glass of liquor, which appears to have been partially precipitated by watching Talen take a sword to his face and partially by her conversation with Deva, at the benches.
Luca looks a little nervous, like he'd rather be bleeding on the sand.
Deva yanks another glass off the servant's tray, and shoves it toward Luca's hands.
"The preliminary rounds are still ongoing, so depending on the brackets, you might be able to convince Lady Viviana to see if you can get in. I might suggest making mention of how excited you are about the prospect of tokens or so, as it's something she seems to be interested in herself. The number of ladies I've seen lately having some made riles up the crowds quite a bit. It's good to see-- healthy for the people and such, really." As Princess Alis retains her poise, Acacia's gaze sharpens a bit, an assessive look sliding over towards Talen's stance. "And as such, you certainly have my promise that I'll attend to your shop as soon as I get some extra time, Master Ida. Thank you for being so open to conversation."

Her gaze briefly catches upon Marcas in one of its endless surveys, her hands splaying to the side in silent acknowledgement towards him with a single loft of her brow. It's all hellaciously subtle though. Questioning then to Ida, she wonders, "Are you familiar with Master Marcas?"
Alis is jarred, but doesn't falter. Eventually, she may just collapse to a heap into the dirt. But until then, she is going to just keep putting up a fight. She would be insulting them both by doing anything less would she not? Each step he makes is countered with one of her own as she seeks to sidestep him or put herself in better position to go on the offense again.
Talen rolls 20 to attack, Alis rolls -15 to defend.
Talen rolled 34 damage against Alis's 8 mitigation.
Alis rolls 15 to attack, Talen rolls 6 to defend.
Alis rolled 28 damage against Talen's 9 mitigation.
Alis rolls 26 to attack, Talen rolls -3 to defend.
Alis rolled 11 damage against Talen's 21 mitigation.
Talen rolls 13 to attack, Alis rolls -35 to defend.
Talen rolled 38 damage against Alis's 7 mitigation.
Alis falls unconscious.
(OOC) Alis says: I am tiny and unconscious, but powerful. Hear me squeak ;> (No really, congrats Talen!)
"--Shit." Acacia lets slip beneath her breath, profoundly succinct and thoroughly uncultured at the last display between Talen and Alis.
(OOC) Talen says: That was one of the closer matches I've had, so-- squeaks are terrifying.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Niccolo before departing.
Ida nods here and there as Acacia speaks, her lips wrinkling as she possibly puts the information to memory. "I shall indeed send word, then, and see if I might still manage to make my way in. Tokens, though? Hmm. I will mention as much. Thank you again. It seems you have quite a bit of good fortune to offer me," she remarks and laughs a moment. "Perhaps you will see me out there yet. As for conversation, I'm always open to such, especially when those speaking have been referred by Prince Edain. I owe him much." Turning for a moment to regard the field and seeing Princess Alis go down, she frowns. Ida then glances briefly along the bench before her gaze resettles on Acacia. "I am afraid the name Master Marcas does not ring a bell, though I have not been in the city terribly long if I should be familiar?" One brow arches just briefly with the half-query.
Almost to the last, Alis trades blows with Talen. The Lenosian's nature is aggressively bullish now, as though he smells blood and needs to capitalise upon it. When his sword next collides, Talen's promptly punished for it with a reciprocated strike. As if to embed the nail so far in the coffin that the corpse could never rise once more though, the Sword's final wounding is one of critical effectiveness, leaving the princess upon a knee as he spears her leg with the tip of his already bloodied blade. When he drags it free, he makes it slow. The uninformed would assume this is to avoid additional pain. Most would be aware it only prolongs it. Only the tip is tugged with speed, then he steps backward to stare down at his opponent, gaze hauntingly curious with what he's done. "Healers!" he barks then, sharply. There is no question that Alis' stand is finished, that he could perform the coup de grace had it been anything but a game.
Esera rises, high up in the benches. She does not applaud, but there is little doubting that it is a show of favor, as she watches the match come to an end.
Luca sets aside his drink to applaud, then cups his hands around his mouth again to yell, "Nice fight!"
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Niccolo before departing.
The will is there, but the body has been defeated. With impressive determination, Alis just keeps going; after the next draw of blood she even manages to make her mighty last stand against her opponent before the pain of that slow draw of his blade makes her body go.. 'Nope!' Even as her last conscious thought is, 'Asshole. Just you wait till next time!'
Edain has left the General Seating.
Edain has left the game.
Esera grabs a servant by the arm and sends him down to the field with a message.
Luca is overheard praising Alis for: You make Gloria proud.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Talen before departing.
For a brief moment, Acacia's gaze trails to her nails, digging at her index after watching those who would attend to Alis. "Your name was dropped to me early on, as one of the finest to meet," she shares openly with Ida, "I merely didn't get the opportunity to do so-- until now." Her smile broadens then, but she inclines her head, glancing towards the High Lord and then back to her. "Either way, it's been a pleasure. As far as Master Marcas-- ahh, that was just me attempting to be inclusive, really. I need to briefly meet the man. Thank you for your company, Master Smith Ida. I look forward to checking your shop for myself. Perhaps you can share a drink with me sometime? Do you also drink to moderation?"
Luca is overheard praising Talen for: Hey, it's our Sword. Still standing, mostly!
Deva lets out a low whistle as she claps for the two competitors, loud in her appreciation. "That was great!" Head turning slightly, she crinkles her nose at Luca with a smile on her lips. Then she turns to nod to Esera. "Very impressive."
"Yes," Esera says, retaking her seat. "He is."
Luca nods easily. "Highly motivated, and competent. Our Archduchess is in good hands with that one."
Marcas watches on with clear interest but frowns when he notices the slow draw of the blade from the wound. A shake of his head and he looks over to the general seating once more, then back to the field. Stepping closer to it as the cold winter air shifts the fur on his shoulder. Right hand reaching up to scratch beneath his reddish beard, muttering to himself.
Talen bows toward Alis' fallen frame in silent admission of respect and then he is off toward the side of the field, embraced by the small gaggle of Velenosa retainers who do a prompt job at wiping down the blood from his face and applying what must be extremely expensive salves to reduce the likelihood he'll scar. The long tang of his blade is stroked through a rag, collecting Alis' blood of it before he rehseathes the weapon. The runner who can be found winding himself down toward Talen from the benches is listened to, a nod given in thanks and a returned message given in a simple word and the crimson-soaked cloth, to deliver back to the source.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Niccolo before departing.
"That's awfully flattering," Ida remarks to Acacia and dips her head. "I love my craft, even if I can't work the better metals just yet. I'm quite glad we've met and won't keep you. Thank you for your company as well. It has been quite pleasant! I like to drink, so we will have to get together for that soon." She gives a dip of her head and smiles.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Isolde before departing.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Esera before departing.
"Good good. Then we'll plan on that," Acacia promises towards Ida, rising to her feet then. There's a small twist of her lips as she watches Talen from where she stands, her tongue dragging along her lower lip. After only a short pause, the bows her head towards the trio, focusing on none, and then gingerly makes her way from the stands to slip towards Marcas' side. "Mmh. Let's talk, then?"
(OOC) Alis whistles while she waits to be able to wake up.
(OOC) Deva waves a cookie over Alis' face.
(OOC) Talen says: Did you try 'wake'?
(OOC) Talen says: You get one check every so often. If you fail though--
(OOC) Talen says: You might need to wait like an hour.
(OOC) Alis says: I did. And now I have over 3000 seconds to wait again.
"Aye." Marcas nods his head upon Acacia's approach. Grey eyes watching as Alis is seen to, only a brief glance to Talen as salves are applied to keep from scarring. A faint chuff, a little sneer before he turns to face Acacia, "Lets get a drink. Ye know of any good spots to drink 'round these parts?" he asks of her.
(OOC) Talen says: I'm not sure if you can be picked up yet. If you can't, it might be that Tehom will wake you. Or you can make join a tt and play with someone in the mean time.
Esera clutches the blood-soaked cloth that her servant returns to her. She holds that cloth close -- indeed, dangerously close to her gown -- before retaking her seat at the benches.
(OOC) Alis is all good! Esera is totally creeping me out by clothing that cloth filled with my blood. Eserraaaaaaaaaaa.
(OOC) Talen says: Mwaha.
(OOC) Luca says: Oh don't worry about it. She only makes voodoo dolls as a hobby.
(OOC) Ida says: Ahaha.
(OOC) Alis says: Oh, ok then! No biggie.
Ida gives one final bob of her head to Acacia and as the smith's conversation as well as the match appear to be over, stands and stretches. "I suppose it's back to work for me," she remarks, mostly to herself it may seem.
Ida has left the General Seating.
Luca has left the General Seating.
Luca has left the game.
Luca has entered the game.
(OOC) Esera says: And then burns them. AS A HOBBY.
Luca has joined the General Seating.
(OOC) Alis sadface. But... I'm so cute.
(OOC) Luca says: Yes, your doll is chibi. Very kawaii. Sugoi.
(OOC) Esera says: Shouldn't have been born Valardin!
"-- Wha--?" Blinking twice at Marcas, Acacia abruptly flashes a more natural grin towards him, winking once, "Of course. All of them. But I'm afraid it won't be as near to a fire and the snow to your liking. Shall we then?" After a small survey of the benches themselves and then a look directed up towards the High Booth, she inclines her head from the very far distance and then gestures towards the main exit itself, "Just about everywhere has dark corners perfect for talking. After you. Something simple then? Traders Tavern? Apt name for this."
Deva gives Esera's shoulder a comforting squeeze as she sits down again. Then she hands her another drink, one she lifted from the servant, because that's what friends are for. "You might want to just leave the bottle," she advises the poor man, glancing down at her own glass.
Ida is leaving Arx - Ward of the Compact - Tournament Grounds, heading for Arx - Ward of the Compact - Honor Place.
Talen twitches his lips in a small contortion as the rather strict hands of a matronly Velenosan medic stems the flow of blood in his facial wound then, pulling away from her he extracts himself and stands, brushing his front down with gloved hands. "Enough, I'm done, come to me later," he insists to his fellow servants.
(OOC) Alis remains cute, even as a Valardin thank you!
Ida arrives.
Marcas smirks beneath his beard, "I knew you'd be the right one to ask. Trader's Tavern is good as--." he trails off as he spots Ida. His face goes a little slack at first and he smiles. Broad, wide, toothsome, watching Ida as she makes paces to apparently head out and off or be on about her business. A blink as if he recalls where he was at. ".. any." he murmurs out. Looking back to Acacia, then clears his throat. That gruff scowl returning and a nod of his head. One more glance to Ida before he prepares to turn and head out.
Esera accepts the drink she's handed, and drinks from it immediately. "It's been a while," she admits to Deva. "There is always something. Business, or duty."
Luca folds his arms across his chest and watches Talen stagger off, looking a little wistful. Or sleepy?
Acacia rakes her nails briefly along her throat, glancing between Marcas and Ida. Sharing a small smile aside, she inclines her head once and then steps after him, keeping companionably and comfortably to his side. "You know I'm going to pry at you for that later, love," she idly states. "But off we go."
"Been a while since you had enough to drink?" Deva gives Esera such a concerned look. "That's unacceptable. Isn't it?" Luca is nudged with an elbow.
"If you drink for awhile," Ida says to Acacia and Marcas after pausing at the end of the bench, "You may see me there in a bit."
"Completely," Luca agrees, then looks at Deva; puzzled. "What?"
"Very good, right." Marcas says to... Acacia? Ida? It was quit. Rushed. Sounded more like Northern gobbledygook. Verygoodrightyesyesoffwearethenokaygottagoseeya. So smooth.
(OOC) Marcas says: *quick. My fingers hate me.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Isolde before departing.
Marcas is leaving Arx - Ward of the Compact - Tournament Grounds, heading for Arx - Ward of the Compact - Honor Place.
Acacia is leaving Arx - Ward of the Compact - Tournament Grounds, heading for Arx - Ward of the Compact - Honor Place.
Acacia has left the General Seating.
"Drink too much, and you don't look like an Archduchess anymore," Esera says, setting her emptied glass back down upon the bench. "You just look drunk."
Talen departs the field and mounts the stairs up toward the exist, pausing to address two distinct groups of company at different moments. First is Esera and her companions, a bow given low-- and mildly stiff-- to his liege lady. "Your grace, your highnesses, thank you for giving me the honour of attending." With that, his eyes lift to the booth where Isolde and Niccolo sit, eyes attentive as he dips again this time in their direction.
exit*
Ida is leaving Arx - Ward of the Compact - Tournament Grounds, heading for Arx - Ward of the Compact - Honor Place.
"Can't be the Archduchess all the time," Luca points out, because it seems obvious to him. "Sometimes you have to remain Esera." He pauses, amends, "Tournament grounds, though? Probably Archduchess."
"Rest well, my Sword," Esera says to Talen. "I hope you do not hurt too much."
"Nothing," Deva laughs, bright, pressing an affectionate peck on Luca's cheek. "He has a point, you know. A very good point," an upturned palm is gestured toward Esera. As Talen approaches the benches, her smile widens, excitedly so. "What a round! Congratulations."
Esera gives Luca a weighing look, after. "Probably," she agrees.
Monique is leaving Arx - Ward of the Compact - Tournament Grounds, heading for Arx - Ward of the Compact - Honor Place.
Monique has left the General Seating.
Luca toasts Talen with the dregs of his glass. "A soak in a hot tub will do you good. Not too hot. Don't want to pass out and drown." Then he is kissed, and he smirks at the man. Aww yeah.
Niccolo reaches over to cup Isolde's cheek, before he rises, and replies a little louder than before. "I already had the world," he tells his daughter wryly. "And I lost it," he adds after a moment, drawing in a deep breath. "I'll take you and your sister achieving that which you desire instead." He looks over to the field and at Talen and after their eyes meet, he dips his head to the young man. "Well done," he calls out to him.
Deva whistles innocently as she looks down into her glass.
"Just the right amount, your grace" Talen responds simply, though the reasoning behind his choice of words are left to speculation. An inclination of his head is given to Deva and Luca, in silent acknowledgement of the replies before he turns and continues on his way out. Niccolo's call is given a glance to, a raise of his gloved hand offered in a half wave, attuned to catch the congratulations.
(OOC) Luca says: Poor Alis. I feel like she's probably not just left lying on the ground IC