Alessia has joined the upper rafters.

So this isn't normally Bree's scene - this Golden Hart club! But she's here, and she's a bit wide-eyed as she moves into the Arena and immediately tries to find those familiar faces in the crowd. Spying Porter, in all of his bearded glory, she lifts a hand to wave wide and then weaves her way to the corner table. "Hi guys," is piped up to the small group gathered, and she plunks herself down into a chair.

Waldemai orders a buck of ale from the bar and carries it up to his usual spot in the cheap seats.

Having been busy with other matters as of late, Dimitri finally decides it's time to venture out from the Manor and as such, he's making his way to the Hart, arriving just in the nick of time. Slipping in and adjusting his tunic as he does so, there's a quick flick of his eyes about the area as he looks to the others that have already arrived, even as he makes his way over towards the bar, no doubt to first claim a drink.

Lucrezia has joined the bar.

From the looks of him, the general flush of red, either Reve Halfshav happened to pre-game this event or he was making certain that he was going to be on time and jogged across a ward or two. There very well may be a combination of the two. He arrives in a hasty manner, scans across the crowd - pauses momentarily to take in the scenery - and then spying a table yonder makes a little zig-zag through the crowd to find a spot. "Diego!" he greets....Porter? It's from afar, but he has other words when he greets those at the table and swiftly claims a seat.

Orelia gets Crescendo, a beautiful steel longsword from a low-slung leather swordbelt with gleaming brassy-gold buckles and whimsical knotwork.

Waggling her fingers toward the corner table, where her bearded friend is sat, Alessia turns to the upper rafters to settle beside her cousin. Her demeanor especially brightening on spotting Selene.

Orelia gets A Siren Song from a low-slung leather swordbelt with gleaming brassy-gold buckles and whimsical knotwork.

Things are crowded, but Porter is tall enough that he mostly looks over a bunch of people until he spies Azova at the corner table. And then he hears Bree from behind him and he's slumping down into one of the chairs a second before she does. "Hey, look. Reve decided to get out bed!" While he's lightly teasing the other man, he notices Alessia and lifts his hand to wave to her over the crowd.

It's only been a couple weeks since Thea has been here last. That's not terrible right? She strides in after a LONG night of drinking. Damn reception. But she's here, upright. And ready to do whatever it is she'll be doing, ordering a tray of whiskey. She's not feeling THAT hard off!

The Hart thrums with excitement as people begin to arrive and take their seats at tables, in the stands and even up in the rafters to get some of the best views in the arena. The vast space not bright with light focusing on the center of the ring to illuminating the area for all to see. The air is at least a little cooler than outside, large window open to let in a breeze and keep things cool despite the growing audience.

The Hart's staff rush too and fro, the pretty little barmaids seeing that everyone has a drink in hand if not a bottle or a pitcher, even going so far as to dare to sever those up above with grins and winks. and there in the midst of it all is Valencia overseeing all as she greets her guests and welcomes them with bright smiles and graceful bows of her head.

Lucrezia saunters in and, after a brief look about, stalks directly to the bar where she takes a seat. She orders the hardest drink the house has and watches the crowd with sharp eyes.

Fray not used to large crowds tries to find somewhere to blend in.

Ramona - A Guard in Ashford House Colours, Bigsby - A Thoughtful Looking Young Man in Nondescript Clothing, 2 Ashford Archer, 1 Ashford Scout arrive, following Lisebet.

Nurie slips in, seemingly at ease, and very much dressed as a spectator. She is familiar enough with the surroundings to get a glass of ale from one of the barmaids with a quietly murmured thanks and a bright smile, but then pauses once she's out of the way of the main flow of traffic, to take in the crowd that's gathered.

Procuring a drink from the bar, Dimitri takes another look around and then he's making his way over towards the ringside table, only to offer up a smile in the direction of Thea, who is already settled there. It's followed by a nod of his head and then he's pulling out a chair to lower himself down into the seat.

Dimitri has joined the ringside table.

Aswin Ulbran makes his way into the Golden Hart, his eyes shifting about the space before he makes his way to the bar to order a drink.

Aswin has joined the bar.

Lisebet is never here to fight, but she comes occasionally to spectate. Today is one of those days. She slips in quietly, heads over to get a drink, and then looks to see where the hostess with the mostess is.

Amongst the first to arrive, Ilira glides through the doors with a soft click of heels, resplendent in her rich silks and sleek jewels. Her thick, dark curls spill over one bare shoulder as she lists her head to flicker a glance around, the curve of a smile quirked on the corners of her lips. At sight of Valencia, she swiftly approaches to steal a hello before the crowd overtakes. "Good eve, Princess," she murmurs, smiling warm. She feathers a kiss on the cheek with a light brush, and turns to sweep her way to the bar. "Whiskey, please," she orders, then settles her attention to those closest.

Ilira has joined the bar.

From the looks of it, the Golden Hart might be the hottest place in the city. Possibly a fair comparison given the heat of deep summer stifles Arx, and calls for light drinks and aperitifs to lessen the impact. Selene has a parasol, albeit handing off the elegant seasilk creation to her strawberry-blonde apprentice. A light, swirling scarf wrapped around the petite Whisper's arms adds a shimmering trail in her wake, though how she can manouvre through such restricted confines of the arena without some manner of accident is something of a mystery.

Call it a grace for someone who all but dances, swiveling, turning as she heads on her way. But a halt every so often is required: bobbing greeting to Valencia herself, wherever that charming golden Velenosa may be. Somewhere, she acquires a flute of an effervescent wine and carries that back to the highest of rafter-side seats where she can practically tumble into the passel of Mazettis, even if one is borrowed. Proper curtsies with alarming grace are offered, before that hug is going straight for Alessia. "Utterly too long. Know you all how refreshing you are?"

Reve's chatting in an animated fashion from that corner table with his companions, but upon spying Nurie yonder his brows lift in unison and he says her name. Says, does not shout. That is fine and well, for he rises up to his full height soon enough, cups his mouth, and calls forth, "Nurie!" You know, just to ensure that his cousin knows where he is. He sweeps a hand in general toward their table and lowers back to his seat.

Aleady having a drink in hand, Thea grins at Dimitri as he comes to sit. "I hear you're now a father. Congratulations." She asks with a hint of curiosity,"Are you handling it better than Martino? He's been vomited on and a whole slew of other liquids. It's been great." Yes. Thea may be finding enjoyment in her brothers new fatherhood.

Red Armor Tournament Chest is now unlocked.

Blue Armor Tournament Chest is now unlocked.

Violet Armor Tournament Chest is now unlocked.

Green Armor Tournament Chest is now unlocked.

Silver Armor Tournament Chest is now unlocked.

Bronze Armor Tournament Chest is now unlocked.

Weapons Rack is now unlocked.

There's a low chuckle in the back of Dimitri's throat as he gives a little shake of his head in the direction of Thea, "So far, none of that. I've bene lucky." A curl of his lips to a smile and then it's followed up with, "And thank you for the congratulations. If it wasn't for the staff, I'm fairly certain we'd not have a single nights sleep."

Ian comes in with his bag slung across his body hanging from a long strap. The bag he usually bring with him places when he intends to spar. There's a weapon strapped to the outside, hidden away in a protective oilcloth wrapping, but it's not a sword. It's too short to be a sword. And too lumpy. Lumpy. He watches his own feet with care, picking his way with the air of someone who needs to keep an eye on his own footsteps to walk successfully, like for him, it's not instinct.



Clad in storm grey southern silks that embrace sensual curves and slender waist, Valencia gracefully moves to the center of the Ring of Valor. Offering a bright smile, she holds up her hands and graciously inclines her head to the enthusiastic crowd.

"My lords and ladies, misseres and madams. Dearest friends -- welcome to my Hart and thank you for being here this evening. We are so very happy you could join us."

"Tonight, we are very pleased to offer a chance to enjoy the finest of martial arts and skills that you will see anywhere in the realm," the little vixen calls out with a smile as bright as the sun as she graciously waves a hand to the men and women who will soon be entering the ring. "Please join me in welcoming them to the sands this evening."

Waldemai raises his horn and cheers on cue!

The Hart's arena erupts in a chorus of cheers and the little vixen waits for a lull before continuing.

"As always, the bar is open to receive and we whole heartedly encourage you to make wagers as it pleases," Valencia invites as the Hart's bevy of pretty barmaids rush about doing their best to keep everyone well cared for. "After all, raising spirits and enjoying fine company and excellent competition is what this night is about."

"And now, competitors! If you would please take to the sands," she continues with another bright smile. "Good luck to one and all! And to all, we wish you a wonderful evening!"

The Hart's arena again is filled with a chorus of cheers as the Hart's vixen gracefully inclines her head and gracefully departs the sands to allow the formidable figure of the Hart's Sergeant of Arms to take over as master of ceremonies.

Her ears burning, Nurie seems to be able to at least pick out the calling of her name from the hubbub, though it takes her a few moments to catch Reve's wave as well. She waves back, and begins to make her way back into the flow of moving people, in fits and starts and careful to not spill even a little bit of froth, as she makes her way towards the table, disappearing a bit despite her height until she's spit out of the crowd a little closer, perhaps aided as people turn to pay attention when Valencia starts the annoucements. She tosses back a few swallows of the ale rather quickly so she can applaud along with others without spilling!

Kritr comes in and settles down in a chair. He reviews the room and when the opportunity arrives, orders a beer. He's sweating, either because of the furs or because he just finished a long training session in the center. That would explain why he isn't jumping to be first in line.

The Hart's Sergeant of Arms is a grizzled and no-nonsense specimen of a man. A veteran to be sure, who moves with a grace of a much younger man.

The old warrior moves onto the sands and holds up his hand before rumbling out the call, "Lords and Ladies! Good folk and gentles all! Dame Fray Tirkah and Aswin Ulbran are called to the sands! May your fight with honour and fire in your heart and the rest be damned," offers as he eyes the combatants with a look of approval as they begin to enter. "Sir, madame, present yer arms and at yer leisure, lay on," he says with a gruff grin and a bow to each before stepping back for to allow them room to ready themselves.

Ilira flutters a warm round of applause and flashes a smile to the duelists at the sand.

Ian has joined the bar.

Aswin has left the bar.

Aswin has joined the ring of valor.


Just as Fray and Aswin begin, in comes Piccola.

It's easy to overlook her. There's already a crowd. She puts her name in at the front table, indicating that, as usual, she wants to see how much of a beating she can take. Why? Because that's what she does: takes a licking; keeps on ticking.

Having checked in, she wanders further, trying to find a place where she can sit down and get ready.


Fray has joined the ring of valor.

Aswin wields Simple Nondescript Dagger.

Nurie is about to reach the table when Fray and Aswin's names are called. The delicate young woman puts her fingers to her lips to make a very very loud cheerful whistle of approval, and gives another cheer.

Nurie has joined the corner table.

Kritr has joined the ringside table.

Fray says, "Let judgement come swiftly."

"So far so good,"Thea answers Dimitri. "I've suffered a bit of it--well, I was out of the city for a bit and got back in time for my aunt Eirene's wedding reception. Malvici has had a busy few weeks." When the competitors are announced, the young Malvici's eyes flick toward the ring.

Ian has left the bar.

Leaving the bar, Aswin makes his way down to the ring when his name is called. Once Fray has joined him, he offers a dip of his head bedore settling into a ready position.

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

Kritr comes to a halt at the nearest table to the action and nods to the other occupants. He puts his beer down before he settles into his seat and removes his hat.

Fray checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 40, rolling 3 higher.

Fray remains capable of fighting.

Ian has joined the bar.

Drink in hand, Lisebet pauses to nod to Valencia, a smile on her face. She moves to where she can watch the competitors as they spar, curiously.

Orelia whistles loudly and waves to Kritr. "Hey, Snow Bear! Long time!"

Fray checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 49, rolling 6 lower.

Fray checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 19, rolling 10 higher.

Fray remains alive, but close to death.

Fray is incapacitated and falls unconscious.


**********************************************************************
It's getting on towards evening when a shadow passes over the city of Arx. It's not the first time this has happened in recent weeks, and some might be inclined to ignore it. But this time, the sky is clear. This time those who look up can see the sunlight glint off of whatever sails through the air currents overhead.

And this time, the source of that shadow descends towards Arx.

It's small, easily missed if one isn't looking at the sky, and it seems almost to blend into the colors of the sunset. But for those who spot it and manage to make it out, those on the towering plateau that forms the Crown ward of Arx, perhaps a few of the more keen-eyed on the walls, it makes a strange sight. A tiny, sleek dart of what seems to be crystal and metal, capped at the rear by an immense tilted ring of similar material which seems to glimmer with its own light.

It glides across the sky silently, sinking lower and lower, gliding past the city walls and becoming harder to ignore, until it finally comes to rest above an empty spot in the Thrax ward near the city walls. The shining runes that dance across the crystalline ring dim, their motion slowing as the vessel comes to a stop, hanging above the ground.

And if those nearby heard an enthusiastic shout, like a victory cry, from somewhere in the front of the ship... well, doubtless it was pure coincidence that it sounded like Prince Victus Thrax.
**********************************************************************


As Kritr comes to sit at the table, Thea nods her head. "Lord Krit. It's been--awhile. How are you?" She teases him a bit, a chuckle appearing,"I figured the summer sun melted you."

Nurie offers a curtsy at least, before she takes a seat, settling her glass on the table. "Good evening, my lords, my lady, dame," she offers warmly. "And yes, I'd bet on Messere Aswin as well. He did splendidly here the last time that I saw him!"

Valencia smile brightly to Lisebet and returns the nod. A wave to Master Waldemai as well is offered following a polite nod to Lady Thea and Prince Dimitri as they settle in their seats as well. The crowd cheers loudly as the fight rolls on.

Aswin and Fray come together in the ring, both giving and taking blows as they dance before the fight winds to a close and Aswin is left standing. Offering a fierce smile to Fray, he stoops into a lazy bow before saying, "Well fought." Turning he makes his way back toward the bar.


After hearing who's called, Piccola looks towards the ring.

Over to the bar she goes. There, she buys a rather large tankard of ale. Having purchased that, she is on her way away when she spots and stops herself by Aswin. "Signore Ulbran." And, to him, she hands over the drink. "A match well-fought, yes?" She even smiles very briefly, conservatively.

There's a note of mischief in her eyes.


Fray curses for losing and gets back on her feet, slowly making her way off the stage. "Judgement's been cast"

Thea waves over to Valencia over the crowd. A smile for the Princess, before settling back in her seat. She relaxes again, sipping her drink. Thea nods her in head agreement to something Krit said.

Fray has left the ring of valor.

Again the crowds go wild, a particularly raucous chorus can be heard from the stands, both fighters receiving cheers with joyous fervor. Again the Hart's Sergeant of Arms nods as to the combatants as he steps back into the center of the ring, "A fine match. Give a cheer for the first fight of the night, and your winner, Aswin Ulbran!"

The crowd erupts again and the man waits till the calm a little. Holding up his hands, he nods to the next fighters, "And now our next match. Show them why you came here, gentles. A bit of appreciation goes a long way for a better fight." Turning he nods to the women, "Dame Bree Harthall and Lord Porter Kennex, you've been called to the sands. May your fight with honour and fire in your soul. Show them why they should know your names, sir and madame. Good fright," he offers with a curt nod to each as he steps back out of the way again. "Fighters, present yer arms and lay on yer leisure!"

Bree has left the corner table.

Bree wields Celestia, a double-edged incandescent longsword.

Bree has joined the ring of valor.

Bree is asking a question at their table and Porter is just whistling and not answering it. Instead he's hopping to his feet and gesturing for Bree to go on ahead of him. "You first," he says cheerfully and then heads down to the ring to get ready to FIGHT.

Porter has left the corner table.

Porter has joined the ring of valor.

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

Nurie cheers loudly and whoops for Aswin, but also applauds Fray as well, as the match is decided and they both make their way off the sands.

Kritr drums the butt of his axe on the wooden floor where he is seated. "If Porter is as good as Ian, this will be a hell of a fight."

Valencia is overheard praising Aswin: A truly remarkable fighter!

Aswin has left the ring of valor.

Aswin has joined the bar.

Timing is everything when walking into a crowded room, and Kalani arrives just as the crowd is erupting at the end of the match. The noise alone makes her grin and she begins to ease her way through the room toward the bar, sidestepping around chairs and other spectators alike.

Valencia is overheard praising Fray: A fine fighter and competitor. I'm glad she has graced my Hart's sands tonight.

Kalani has joined the bar.

Fray has joined the bar.

After greeting the hostess, Lisebet relaxes to quietly enjoy watching the competitions, and listen to the banter flittering back and forth. She's getting a good feel for things, quiet as she is.

Reve continues to chat with those at his table when Bree and Porter take to the sands. He applauds them, even before the match, and then catches sight of Piccola yonder. A whistle, some unique tune, is cast forth in an attempt to catch her attention. Just so that he can wave his cousin's way should he be successful.

Bree trots down to the ring, drawing a rather impressive looking blade from the sheath at her belt that doesn't quite fit the entire golden Gild thing she's got going on with her armor. Lifting Celestia to level it at Porter in accusation, she cheerfully reminds him, "If you fall, remember you invited me to this thing!" And then the Butterfly Knight proves maybe how she got the name, floating around and doing her best to avoid his axe, while landing blow after blow with the alaricite (which may be an unfair advantage). Throughout she's grinning wildly, her blue eyes flashing with life, and she's teasing the man. "I thought you said you were going to hit me with your big axe!" Which he does after that particular remark, and she stumbles back a few feet. "Oof. Touche." Her grip tightens on the blade, and she drives forward with a new burst of energy.

After entering the ring with Bree, Porter draws his axe and has to laugh at her opening remark. "If I lose, I just want you to know that I did it for your brother." And he's laughing again like earlier, like, can't even help himself. He takes several very painful hits that are going to leave marks later, but after that comment about his big axe, he does hit her. Then starts to laugh again before pushing forward to try and make on that promise a few more times before she lands him flat in the ring.

Porter checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 7, rolling 26 higher.

Porter remains capable of fighting.

Porter checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 28, rolling 10 higher.

Porter remains capable of fighting.

Porter checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 43, rolling 5 lower.

Porter checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 14, rolling 32 higher.

Porter remains alive, but close to death.

Porter is incapacitated and falls unconscious.


After passing a beer to Aswin, Piccola heads away to find a place to sit.

Conveniently, there are spots opening up where Reve and Nurie sit. So, that's where she goes, all rag-tag and riff-raff in her choice of gear. Tunics and leather? She's going to get shit-kicked by people whipping around impressive weaponry. And once she's down, she makes short pleasantries while keeping most of her attention on the ring of honor.

She puts her bow on the floor next to her.


Piccola has joined the corner table.

Bree begins to tire, but the light never leaves her eyes. Her movements are a bit slower, and her ability to step out of the way of that big axe becoming less and less. One particular strike makes her armor ring loudly in the arena, and her back leg buckles as if she might go down from the force of it. Her resilience, however, pushes her forward, and she uses her shoulder to throw Porter off, and then spins some impressive strikes of Celestia to batter him down. She's laughing throughout, shared banter between the two in the ring clearly bringing her some amusement. Both will have gnarly bruises to deal with, but with a surprise lunge forward, Bree brings her sword down and sweeps her leg out to kick his feet out from under him, until he's on his back in the sands. She lowers her blade, and steps forward to offer a hand. A few quiet words are shared, a wide grin.

Valencia has joined the ringside table.

Valencia has left the ringside table.

Valencia has joined the ringside table.

Azova stands up from the table long enough to lean over Reve and try to see into the ring where Porter has been knocked flat on his ass. "Nicely done, Bree!"

And he does make good on getting a couple of more hits in. He looks particularly triumphant when he almost causes that leg to buckle down. But eventually that laughing is going to do him in. And Porter is laughing a lot less toward the end and eventually Bree's superior fighting skills win him out and he's knocked flat. He stares up at the ceiling for a second, getting his wits about him before he reaches out to take her hand and get to his feet. There's a quickly murmured response in her here before he squeezes her arm and lifts his chin.

As on of the fighter is soundly put onto his back, the crowd roars again. The Hart's Sergeant of Arms nods with quiet approval as he steps back into the center of the ring, "Well done," he offers with spark of a smile as he turns to the crowd to bellow, "And, your winner, Dame Bree Harthall!"

The crowd explodes again, cheering both readily as they step from the sand. The Sergeant waits till there is a lull and callous out in a deep rumble. "Stand tall. Our next match is called," he cries, his sharp eyes sliding to those who enter the ring next. "Lady Thea Malvici and Lady Piccola Tessere! You've been called to the sands. May your fight with honour and fire in your heart and blood. Show them how it's done," he offers with a brisk nod to each as he steps back out to give them room. "Fighters, present yer arms and lay on yer leisure! Good fright!"

Bree has left the ring of valor.

Porter has left the ring of valor.

Valencia is overheard praising Bree: A beautiful fighter with talent to spare. I'm glad she joined us tonight.

Thea is about ready to take another sip, but--"Oh! That's me!" She looks amongst the crowd looking for Piccola as she trots her way to the ring, a small limp obvious. She however ignores it.

Valencia is overheard praising Porter: An excellent fighter. I hope we see more of him upon the sands.

Thea has left the ringside table.

Thea has joined the ring of valor.

Nurie puts her fingers to her lips again, to whistle very loudly and enthusiastically both for the exiting Bree and Porter, but also apparently for one of the combatants that will be taking one of the spots next. "Kick some ass!" she says cheerfully to the pint sized Tessere, all smiles.


"Well, fuck."

Piccola grumbles and picks herself up out of the chair she just sat in. And she rubs her cheek gently, where Nurie just gave her a kiss. With that usual dry, wry, sardonic smile of hers, she drags herself towards the ring of honor. "Coming, coming," she mumbles as she goes, pulling out her simple, steel sword. It's as plain as she looks -- is that a hole in her tunic? -- and probably could use a bit of cleaning about the hilt. "Of course I'd draw Lady Malvici," she notes to herself in a mild tone.

"I'm going to need a //drink// after this."


Piccola has left the corner table.

Piccola has joined the ring of valor.

Kritr still applauds Porter's loss. "Well done! To the Kennex brothers!" He stands up to salute the first to compete with his beer. "Harthall claims another victory. Glory to the Knights of Solace." He's enthusiastic, if not particularly careful about where his beer sloshes. The waitress didn't serve him one of those tankards with a lid on it.

Piccola wields Ramo.

As Thea and Piccola take the sands, Ian takes a moment to knock back a drink, and then takes off his coat and straps on a hard leather fencer's spaulder. He unwraps the weapon strapped to the outside of his bag. Anyone who knew Darrow Darkwater will recognize the three headed flail as his.

Bree hears her last name called by a somewhat familiar voice as she leaves the ring by Porter's side, her hand still in his from having helped him up. Maybe she forgot? She spies Kritr, a bright smile immediately to her lips, and the other hand lifting to wave.

Hans the Helpful, Halla arrive, following Magnus.

Bree has joined the corner table.

Thea wields Skystrike, the finely crafted diamondplate kopis.

Porter has joined the corner table.

Halla has joined the ringside great table.

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

Magnus has joined the ringside great table.

Well, she wanted to see what this was all about. See if there were any Champions to witness personally. Magnus did say he'd bring Halla to see just that, so here they, the Marquis stepping inside, perhaps a touch carefully, aware that this potentially new territory for his equally new wife. He gestures at the scene for her. "And here we are." he offers, indicating an empty table for them to sit at.

Kritr invites Bree to join him at the table, offering her the chair that Thea just vacated. "I'm here to test myself in public. It'll be my first time fighting for glory, and not just training."

The room spins and reels with excitement as another pair find their way to the sands. Valencia's eyes are dancing with delight as she quietly watches from her seat, her breath softly held as they prepare to meet. A slight smile finds the little vixen's lips as Kritr speaks of this being his first fight for glory. "If that is so, sir, I wish you deepest luck, my lord. You honour us with this," Valencia nods to the larger northerner. "And please, be so very welcome to my Hart."

When Halla steps into the Hart, one thing is readily obvious - it's with the curious eyes of someone who has not been here before, perhaps someone who hasn't even been in the city long. Gray eyes stray around the room, taking in the noise, the crowd, silently. Her lips press together. But then she hears the clanging of weaponry and whatever though she might've had is swiftly set aside in favor of stalking around the edge of the ring to the nearest empty table, her attention turned entirely on the fighters.

Bree walks past Kritr's table, and smiles at the offer, "I'm going to rejoin my group just there, and stay for maybe one more match. Best of luck to you in this, though! Lady Brigid showed me the damage your spar with her did." And then she's moving on to claim her seat.

Beakers, an austere raven wearing a purple ribbon arrives, following Orick.

Selene has left the upper rafters.

Renault, the fluffiest Velenosan cat have been dismissed.

Athenais, a dreamy apprentice Whisper have been dismissed.


And so, the dance begins.

Thea's the better fighter with the better sword. Piccola is quick on her feet, but the other lady strikes repeatedly through the melee. But the smaller woman has the Tessere House Ability on her side: sheer, utter, merciless tenacity. So, despite taking a strong blow that could break a rib or two, the Littlest Snake fights on.

She seems to be grinning //just// a little.


Orick has joined the bar.

Thea offers at wink at Piccola. "I'll buy you a drink after. But you're getting better, so stop it." That said, the Malvici shoots off. Definintely not as fast as she usually is. She goes at the Tessere blow after blow, dodging best she can, her leathers absorbing what she doesn't. Thea smiles at Piccola, nodding to her. She gets it.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 8, rolling 50 higher.

Piccola remains capable of fighting.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 21, rolling 34 higher.

Piccola remains capable of fighting.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 41, rolling 15 higher.

Piccola remains capable of fighting.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 65, rolling 2 lower.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 32, rolling 27 higher.

Piccola remains alive, but close to death.

Piccola is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Ilira has left the bar.

Ilira has joined the bar.

Valencia is overheard praising Thea: Fire and flow, a formidable foe to be sure.

Valencia is overheard praising Piccola: She never gives up. Gods, to have such spirit and strength.

Fray is keenly watching the fights, trying to figure out who's the strongest among them, She must test them personally.

Something which Magnus has said to Halla has given her pause, even as closely as she watching Thea and Piccola's match. At one point, she was leaning over the railing, gesturing towards the women and saying.... something of great import, surely, with the fascination that she's displayed. Whatever it is that the Stahlben lord has told her, she nods once. "Yes!," comes her reply, loud enough to be heard over the full room.


It doesn't take much more.

A few more goes at it. Thea's next half-dozen strikes land. *thwack* *thwack* *thwack* *thwack* *thwack* *thwack* It's not that Piccola isn't trying to dodge; rather, she //is// trying, but it's hard to do so when you're taking blows to the legs, the side, the arms. Until she finally falls backwards, loses her footing, and lands on her back.

Her sword skitters away from her hand.


Alessia has left the upper rafters.

Sirra, a very quiet maid, an indeterminate number of cats leave, following Alessia.

Nurie can't help but gasp, just a little, as Piccola lands flat on her back and loses her sword, but hopefully that's lost in the noise of the crowd.

Thea is already starting to get winded. Her leg starting to give out. She grits her teeth though, wanting to push on. It's probably what forces her to just--focus on her attacks more. And she finds every opening on the poor small woman. She'll make it up to her, she promises. The moment Piccola falls, Thea halts. And reaches down down to help her up, breathless,"I owe you a drink,"she tells her. A brief smile there. Sweat dripping from her forehead.

"Game leg or not." Kritr says. "That's was a superlirvate performance." He's not drunk, he just gets lost in four syllable words. "I think you owe her two!"

The crowd surges with a gasp as the weapon skitters away. Even Valencia sits up a little straighter as everyone pause a moment to see if the woman is okay. A cheer erupts again as Thea helps Piccola rise again, their names soon being chanted throughout the arena.

Ilira regards the duel with gleaming eyes. At Thea's victory, she lifts her hands in applause, though a shimmer of admiration lingers on Piccola. "Well fought, Ladies," she calls as they exit their rink.

The giant of a Stahlben nods once, rising up to his large height. Magnus looks down at Halla, an unreadable look on his face, picking out the gigantic axe that had been holstered on his back. "I wish to fight." he states plainly and openly.

The crowd continues roaring as the match concludes the old warrior nods his approval and steps back into the center of the ring, "Well fought! Ladies and lords, gentle folk all, your winner, Lady Thea Malvici," the Hart's Sergeant of Arms grins turns to the crowd to call out in a rumble. "And, now our next match! Lady Orelia Stonewood and Lord Ian Kennex! You've been called to the sands. May your fight with honour and fire in your heart," he grins with warm regard to both and then steps back with more formal accord. "Fighters, present yer arms and lay on yer leisure! Good match to you both."

Tolv ambles into the arena in such a fashion as to suggest he's more or less entering by complete accident. But, if so, he doesn't seem surprised by what he finds. No, he just heads right for an empty seat, with a certain gleam in his eyes.


"Fuuuuuck."

Piccola has to blink a couple of times to regain composure. Concussions are a thing, y'know. She takes Thea's hand and pulls herself up to her feet with a jerk. And a wince. "I swear, I let up for just a second, and -- " She laughs, and then winces again. " -- okay, so I'm gonna need that drink now. Wait -- " She disengages from Thea to go and get her sword, which she puts back in her sheathe.

" -- sorry about that."


Lisebet's eyes get a little sharper until it's clear all are well. She sips her drink, and watches the crowd, drinking in the ambiance

Tolv has joined the corner table.

Ian wields a deadly flail with three spiked steel teardrops.

Ian has left the bar.

Bree has left the corner table.

Thea has left the ring of valor.

Thea has joined the corner table.

Piccola has left the ring of valor.

Thea nods to Piccola, leading her to the bar,"Come on. I"ll check you over too." She even looks apologetic. "What are you drinking?" Oh gods..TEA! "What uh..kind of tea are you drinking?"

Ian leaves his cane behind at the edge of the ring, next to the ringside table, along with his bag, and, after looking back to make sure P proceeds with uncertain, carefully chosen steps into the ring of valor itself.

Orelia has left the upper rafters.

Orelia has joined the ring of valor.

Orick orders something from the bar and then half turns in his seat to watch the spars, the narrow shouldered man doesn't look inclined to spar or... in fact... able to lift a sword properly.

Ian leaves his cane behind at the edge of the ring, next to the ringside table, along with his bag, and, after looking back to make sure Orelia's coming as well, he proceeds with uncertain, carefully chosen steps into the ring of valor itself.

Ian has joined the ring of valor.

Orelia leaves her jacket with Strozza and joins Ian in the ring. She grins at him and says, "Finally! I've been waiting for this rematch."

Orelia wields Crescendo, a beautiful steel longsword.

Porter has left the corner table.

Porter leaves, following Bree.

Thea has left the corner table.

Thea has joined the ringside table.


Piccola trods up to the bar, shrugging at Thea.

"I'll take whiskey. Tea's for everyday use." That's when the bartender hands her a drink preemptively. "Thanks." Chugged down. "Mm." She head-bobs in Aswin's direction, and then gestures for him over to where she and Thea hand.

"Lady Malvici, have you met Signore Ulbran?"


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

Ian lifts the flail, and with a twist of his hand sets the three spiked heads spinning. "I hope I don't disappoint you. I'm still learning now to use this."

A graceful nod of head is offered to Ian as he passes to make his way to the sand and a gentle smile of welcome is given gladly to Marquis Mangus and his Marquessa Halla. Orick's arrival is noted and a little look is taken his way but soon the next fight is beginning and she turns back to observe.

Piccola has joined the ringside table.

"And watch out for his shoulder! He's weak on the left!" Kritr yells helpfully.

Thea shakes her head at Piccola as her own drink is given,"I have not." She slams her drink down, setting the glass down on the bar. She hears Kritr again and laughs. Then she sees the flail and sighs. "The spiked balls. Those damn things hurt."

"Darling! Do to him horrible things that shall make me cringe and the crowd cheer!" called after when Orelia moves down towards the ring, by Strozza.

Aswin makes his way toward Piccola when he is waved over, his eyes shifting toward Thea as he offers a sloppy bow. "No, I don't think we've met before. Name is Aswin," he says toward Thea as he lifts his own glass of cheap whiskey to his lips to take a swig. Looking between Piccola and Thea he says, "Not a bad fight out there."

It really didn't look promising, watching Ian walk out onto the sands with such absolute care, like someone wholly uncertain of his balance. Nor did it look promising, the way he held the flail, with it three spiked teardrop head bobbing gently back and forth, tapping against each other with a soft 'clink' every now and again. And for someone who doesn't know much about combat, it probably STILL doesn't look promising. Sure Orelia's not cutting Ian down the way she probably should be able to do, what with him being unable to do the kind of footwork expected from a fighter, but then again, it's easy to explain her holding back, what with the whirling storm of destruction that flail makes once he's put it in motion.

But anyone who's got familiarity with combat would be able to see that Ian is handling that fail, the kind of weapon that's notoriously fussy and hard to control, like he was born with it in his hands. Sometimes wielding it one handed, sometimes two, passing it back and forth with such ease that it's impossible to tell which hand is his dominant one, Ian weaves an enormous shield of metal around himself. When the two of them finally stop sizing each other up and engage, he gets the better of the exchange, wrapping the chains of the flail around her blade and almost yanking it from her hands, then reversing and smacking her with the steel pommel on the reverse side while she's off balance. After that, the fight seems more even, however, with Orelia's skill showing itself in the way that she finds ways past his guard.


"Thanks," Piccola tells Aswin dryly.

She rubs her side gently, and takes her second drink of the evening from the bartender. Slam. "Fuck." Cough. "Oh, I think that's tender." Head-shake. "I'm either getting old or slower, or both." Grunt. "I should make a habit to fight from the back of a horse, rather than on my feet. Sure, that would make sparring more difficult, but -- " Snort. " -- eh."

"Signore Ulbran agreed to be my protege, Lady Malvici," she states plainly.


A look of confusion passes over Halla's face for a moment, one which involves a good deal of blinking and, with the way she leans and murmurs something to Magnus at Valencia's silent greeting, it's quite possible she's asking as to whether or not this is someone he knows, or if she should recognize the face, or quite possibly if she's very famous. One of the hazzards of stepping freshly off the boat into Arx - in her case, almost quite literally. But then her face turns a bit ruddy and she offers the other woman an upturned hand in reply.

"Thank you,"Thea nods in the direction of Aswin. "Lady Thea Malvici. Pleasure to meet you." She admits with an apologetic smile however,"I have a meeting to get you, but I have to catch up with everyone soon." Her eyes turn toward Piccola, assuring her,"You're getting better,"before telling Ulbran. "You'll learn from her."

Reve's rising from the table at the corner, offering an arm to Azova to escort her more properly. He says a few words to Nurie and, when she rises, he walks along easily with his cousin from the establishment.

Dimitri has left the ringside table.

2 House Velenosa Guards have been dismissed.

Sasha, a Velenosian Assistant have been dismissed.

Pomegranate, the gentle fainting goat have been dismissed.

Orelia comes out with her defenses up, and almost immediately finds herself struggling to stay on her feet when Ian takes her attack as an opportunity to strike. A most unladylike utterance comes from the young Champion as she shakes it off and adjusts. "Damn, Kennex, you are just full of surprises, aren't you?" She keeps her eyes on his as she moves in again. They may have both taken their licks, but this is not over.

Nurie has left the corner table.

Reve has left the corner table.

Azova has left the corner table.

Orion, a healer's surly Assistant, 2 Redoubt Buccaneers leave, following Azova.

Azova leaves, following Reve.

The smile the little vixen returns to Halla is warm and welcoming , her confusion gently received. A gracious bow of her head offered as Valencia turns back to watch Lord Ian and Lady Orelia meet.

Magnus gives a little laugh from his spot, but seems to trying to prepare himself. Like the man hasn't fought in any kind of ring in an equally long time. But he does return that gesture to Valencia, nodding in her direction.

Thea has left the ringside table.

Finn the large Northern hunting dog with icy blue eyes, Rocco, the rascally assistant leave, following Thea.

Lisebet continues to watch, for a bit, but when her drink is empty this time, she takes her leave quietly.

Tolv doesn't seem remotely bothered by everyone else at the table he's chosen leaving more or less at the same time. He's still slightly smiling, and he leans back so far it's a miracle that he doesn't just tip his chair over. He's not rude enough to put his boots on the table, but he *does* stick them up on the seat of a chair across from him.

Ramona - A Guard in Ashford House Colours, Bigsby - A Thoughtful Looking Young Man in Nondescript Clothing, 2 Ashford Archer, 1 Ashford Scout leave, following Lisebet.

Beelzebubbles, the hairless feline overlord you've been waiting for arrives, delivering a message to Michael before departing.

Orelia checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 9, rolling 60 higher.

Orelia remains capable of fighting.

Aswin offers a nod of his head toward Thea as she makes ready to leave before he looks back toward Piccola. "I'm about to slip out myself. I need to make a stop by one of the shops on my way home," he says to her in a quieter voice. "We should speak again soon, when it is convenient for you."


To Aswin, Piccola nods. "Of course. Let me know where to find you or come to the Villa." Beat. "Nice fight, by the way. Real nice." Impressed, she is.


Just as the fight is getting good, a messenger appears at Valencia's side. A soft whimper comes almost slips as she turns from the fight, but she accepts her duty with grace despite her deepest desire to not miss a thing. The little lycene offers a smile and thanks them for the missive, her gratitude shown by word and coin. Quickly, she takes a look at the note before carefully folding it once more and tucking in safely in her sleeve.

Pointing out toward where Ian fights, Aswin says in a low tone, "Been working with that one lately. Take enough bruises, you end up learning a thing or two." He offers a wink after that along with a grin before he turns and begins to make his way back toward the exit.

Bigsby - A Thoughtful Looking Young Man in Nondescript Clothing arrives, delivering a message to Valencia before departing.

Waldemai has left the upper rafters.

"I'm afraid that was my only trick." It's eerie how calm, Ian is -- not the stony calm of someone hiding their emotions or their pain behind a wall, but a genuine, perfect serenity. Not that he looks relaxed, exactly. His eyes are sharp, fairly glowing with an electric intensity, always moving. But he gives off a sense of being at absolute peace with the situation he currently finds himself a part of, like the human eye in a hurricane made of whirling steel and pointy bits. He's not wrong, though. As the fight unfolds, Ian makes no repeat performances like that first hit. He still shows a striking mastery with the weapon, more precision than anyone using a weapon that's mostly spinning things on the ends of chains has any right to display, but it's a straightforward mastery. He mostly holds Orelia at a distance, taking hits when she decides to move in close, but taking his pound of flesh in return. In the summer heat he's starting to sweat, a sheen on his forehead.

Fray finally speaks up as she turns her head to Ilira and Kalani, "Who in this building do you think is the strongest?"

"Me!" Tolv calls from his table, before chuckling hard enough at his own joke that he nearly tips his chair over a second time.

Orick is near enough to hear Fray and although it isn't the answer to her question he answers with a wide grin, "When we find them, I'll happily help put the other fella in the fight back together." He shifts his hazel eyes back to the ring, commenting off handedly to a conversation he was never invited into, "Good to have someone trained in the healing arts, at such an event."

"I have no idea," Kalani calls in return, her eyes alight with amusement, "but at this point, I'm not placing any bets. Never, ever, bet on or against a sure thing."

Steel meets steel, blows are traded, and soon Orelia's chest begins to heave. She connects again and again, but with a precision strike from Ian she briefly stumbles back. "Somehow I don't think this will go as long as our last match."

With a brief turn of her head, Ilira flickers Tolv the quirk of a smile, then leans to murmur something at the bar.

Fray shakes her head, "it's not a bet I'm planning, I want to fight them. I must experience it myself" she exclaims with a sure tone.

"Reli! Claim victory and I'll guarantee fresh peaches!" Of course Strozza would likely still provide peaches. Because who could deny another peaches. Monsters. That's who.

Valencia's chin lifts and her back goes razor straight as the battle wages on in the ring. Tolv's jest draws some smiles, including her own as she briefly turns to smile Orick's way, his offer to patch folk up seeming to be appreciated. Even the Hart's own mercies look warmly upon the offer. Many hands making light work, after all. A slighter smile comes at Kalani's thoughts on betting, and she is about to speak with Strozza's voice rings from above as he cheers his lady on.

Kritr says, "Fresh PEACHES?!" Kritr bursts out, standing up at his table fast enough to knock over his chair. "Who has peaches?!""

Orelia checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 10, rolling 51 higher.

Orelia remains capable of fighting.

Orelia checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 25, rolling 63 higher.

Orelia remains capable of fighting.

Tolv grins at Ilira in turn. He touches three fingers to his forehead in a slightly strange, but amiable sort of gesture. And then he abruptly returns all four legs of his chair to the floor with a clatter, and reaches for one of the whiskey bottles his departed table sitters left behind. His sip isn't very large, but it is enthusiastic, and it also results in him coughing at the burn. And yet, still delighted.

Orelia checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 27, rolling 37 higher.

Orelia remains capable of fighting.

Orelia checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 28, rolling 16 higher.

Orelia remains capable of fighting.

Ian checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 14, rolling 87 higher.

Ian remains capable of fighting.

Fray responds to Ilira's remark. "Certainty is nice when in lethal combat, but I love the thrill of the unexpected."

Try as she might to break Ian's defense and put him down (maybe or maybe not for the promise of fresh peaches), it seems every attack Orelia makes ends up working out more in her opponent's favor. Switching from her quick, graceful movements, she lunges forward, hoping that if he does not wind Ian that he at least is thrown off balance trying to get out of the way.

Keeping the momentum going on his weapon is definitely starting to take a toll on Ian. He's really sweating now, enough to make his loose fitting linen shirt stick to his body. He's got to have been feeling the hits he's taking from Orelia, but when he's unable to get out of her way fast enough, this is the first time he shows it. There's a bit of a stumble when she hits him, a soft grunt of pain, and it looks for a moment like he might overbalance and fall. He doesn't, but in saving himself he loses the precise control he had over the heads of the flail. He knocks another hit aside with the shaft of the weapon, just buying himself a moment of time to get his feet firmly under him and get the teardrop heads back up to speed.

Orelia checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 80, rolling 21 lower.

Orelia checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 44, rolling 17 higher.

Orelia remains alive, but close to death.

Orelia is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Aswin has left the bar.

Svana wanders in, moving over to the bar immediately. She orders a peach champagne and then moves to sit down on the bar stool, taking in a deep breath. She eyes the ring but first see eyeballs the stands to see familiar faces. Nodding at those she knows, she grapples her babies onto her lap and then starts drinking with the other hand.

"Nor do I. I can't see anyone caring to see such things. But together we will try to make things easier, yes?" Valencia nods warmly to Lady Piccola, her large dark eyes resolute in her desire to offer aid where needed. Another cheer from the crowd has her turning her gaze back to the sands and she shakes her head with amazement. "I wish I had such skills," she sighs and smiles. "To be so accomplished would be a beautiful thing."

Svana has joined the bar.

One. Last. Surprise.

When Ian said he was out of tricks, he was lying, although he might not have known it at the time. Desperation, the mother of invention. He stumbles back, swinging the flail, getting the heads moving again, just buying time to try and get his breath back, to try and get his balance under him, but Orelia's pushing him, pushing into his guard, and she knows pretty well how to anticipate how the weapon moves, now. But as they feint back and forth, with Ian turning one of her hits aside with the hardened leather of his fencer's spaulder while the flail is in his left hand, he manages to, with a precise turn of his wrist, knock the heads of the flail into each other in such a way that their direction reverses on a dime. She literally zigs while he zags, and the resulting hit right into her center of mass is brutal. Stripped down. Violent. All of the things that a weapon like this is very good at being.

Orick offers a polite nod and an infectious grin to Svana as she joins them at the bar, "Evening." His attention though soon shifts back to the fight as the Ian's flail flies through the air toward its mark.

A sad frown, alas, as Orelia goes down. Strozza accepting a fresh glass from his aid now as he comes to his feet and make his way down to the sparring area, to offer his shoulder, should she wish.

:winces, quite visibly, at that last blow that lands in Orelia's midsection. It isn't a wince of horror, as there's no shock or dismay on her face. No, that's a wince of sympathy, the sort of hit she knows well enough to be aware of exactly how much that must hurt.

Whether the onlookers could hear it or not, Orelia feels the shockwave of the strike go through her body. The sheer force sends her stumbling, then falling back. She lands on the sand, looking up at Ian. She coughs as she tries to find her breath again. "Fuck, okay, you win this one."

Kritr shakes his head. "Another impressive bout from Ian Kennex." He seems to barely believe it for whatever reason. "I look forward to seeing what the man can do healthy." He puts his hands on his hips. "Now. SOMEONE said SOMETHING about some fresh PEACHES?"

Crowd rise cheer raucously as the combatants meet in the middle of the sands, both fighters well matched. The promise of peaches gets a broad cheer and chanting from the rafters. The Hart's Sergeant of Arms watches on nodding every so often. In the end it is hard to tell who might win the day. But as Orelia falters and Ian rises triumphant, the crowd rises to their feet and cheers.

A grin parts the Sergeant of Arms lips and the battle-hardened man steps back into the center of the ring, "Well fought," he offers with an upnod of approval before turning to the stands to call out in a rumble. "And, your winner, Lord Ian Kennex!"

More cheers and toasts breakout as the pair steps from the ring to toasts and calls for more ring out and the Sergeant waits for the crowd to settle before inviting the next to fight to the sands. "And so, our next match is called," he cries, his gruff grin cracking his weathered face as he nods to the next who enter dare to draw into the ring next.

"Lord Kritr Clearlake and Marquis Magnus Stahlben! You've been called to the sands. May your fight with honour and fire in your heart," he grins to the combatants with a wink. "Fighters, present yer arms and lay on yer leisure! Good match to you both."

Ian catches himself on tone of the support posts that keep the ceiling up, and this is probably the only reason he, too, doesn't sink down onto the ground. "Well fought," he says to Orelia between short breaths. After all that, somehow his voice is exactly as devoid of inflection as it was going in. "Prince Luca would be proud to see you."

Kritr has left the ringside table.

Magnus has left the ringside great table.

Magnus has joined the ring of valor.

Magnus wields Winter, a massive bone-white shav'arvani axe.

Ian has left the ring of valor.

Kritr carries his axe with him into the ring chanting. "Pea-CHES! Pea-CHES! Pea-CHES!" Which is not an intimidating battle chant.

Svana is overheard praising Orelia: Another good fight fought. Power, grace, and beauty rolled into neat package.

Kritr has joined the ring of valor.

Ian has joined the ringside table.

Orelia has left the ring of valor.

Kritr puts Thick Fur Mittens in Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Kritr puts Sloppy Fur Boots in Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Kritr gets enameled alaricite stomping boots from Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Kritr gets enameled alaricite gauntlets from Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Orelia rolls to her feet and exits the ring when Ian does. "You think so?" she asks him, even as she goes to lean on Strozza.

Tolv discovers he can't clap with a bottle in hand, so he sets it down just long enough to smack his hands together about as loudly as possible. "*You* did it, hooray!" He instantly snatches the bottle back up, takes a pull from it, and gags.

Kritr gets enameled alaricite helm from Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Ian nods to Orelia. He miraculously makes it out of the sands without falling over, sits down hard at the ringside table and watches the northerners square up to fight while he gets his breath back.

Valencia is overheard praising Ian: A dear friend and a formidable fighter. I'm glad to know him.

Quietly, and with little circumstance, Magnus enters the ring, shedding just enough that he's still viable to fight in. He heft the bone axe into his hands. "Very well. It has been a long time since I saw a good fight." He lifts a brow. "Even if the other's chant is peaches. Who am I to judge."

Valencia is overheard praising Orelia: A fighter with grace and poise. It is easy to see how she is such a fine champion.

Hans the Helpful have been dismissed.

Svana says from the bar, "This should be good. Lord Kritr is chanting peaches. That means he's certainly in the mood to beat someone's arse."

Kritr removes his helmet and dips his head to Magnus respectfully. "My Lord. I am honored to have my first exhibition against an old friend."

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

Ilira allows the conversation at the bar to flow around her as she focuses upon the duelists, eyes keen with interest.

Orelia has joined the upper rafters.

The call of Pea-CHES catches fire and soon half the audience is chanting along with the rumbling voice of Kritr well beyond the start of the fight. The Hart's Sergeant of Arms gives a wry grin and shakes his head as the fight continues to the happy call of peaches ringing through the arena and quite possibly heard upon the street.

Arm around Reli's side, smirking at Kritr still demanding to know of peaches, Strozza makes a note to have a crate delivered to the man's house as he leads the golden haired woman towards the doors, "Shall we have you drawn a spot in the House of Fountains to keep from getting too stiff, darling?" laughing as peaches is now being shouted aloud. He doesn't wait for an answer, apparently intent on getting her where she can be tended.

When he said he was rusty, he wasn't really kidding. Magnus has been out of practice. Even with the reach of a massive axe and the fact that he's still no slouch when it comes to general athelticism, he cannot keep up to the series of blows that rain down on him. Like an elk shaking off snow, he tries to regain some composure. Too much rust.

Orelia smiles up at Strozza and offers no argument.

When Magnus moves to step into the arena, Halla shifts in her seat. Yes, she'd chosen a ringside table, but now the woman has her arms propped up on the railing, practically leaning over the side to ensure her view. Gray eyes narrow to a squint, focuses intently on the beginnings of the fight - yes, even when faced with the siren song of a call for peaches.

Ian asks something of Valencia as he starts stripping off his armor, but Kritr's rousing battle cry swallows the words beyond the immediate table where he asks it.

Kritr isn't toying with Magnus, he respects the man too much. However, the man has learned some new tricks since last they met. His footwork is less aggressive, more poised. The Southerners in the audience might recognize a step or two from the glaivedancer's handbook. The edge in the battle is quite literally the axe Kritr is wielding. It's diamondplate build can be felt, even through the full suit of steel that Magnus wears.

Magnus checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 2, rolling 39 higher.

Magnus remains capable of fighting.

Magnus checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 7, rolling 33 higher.

Magnus remains capable of fighting.

Strozza has left the upper rafters.

Orelia has left the upper rafters.

Sunny, an Ostrian Cat leaves, following Orelia.

Kuhlai D'Mahn an aide, 3 House Mazetti Guardians, Night an Ostrian Cat, Orelia leave, following Strozza.

"Peaches!" Tolv calls, with questionable enthusiasm, and he's not even looking at the arena at this point. Instead, the man is continuing (and failing) to take small sips from the whiskey bottle, and occasionally rapping his fingers on the edge of the table. He coughs again, manages a much quieter, far less enthusiastic, "Yay," and resolutely sips again.

Swing, miss. Swing, miss. Magnus isn't embarrassed now, but he likely will be. This is what happens when you go from being a warrior to being more of a politician. Things get lax. You stop practicing as much. But he can respect the fact that nobody is going easy on him. That's just disrespectful. Still, he has to chuckle, mostly at himself. "I deserve this." he muses, mostly to himself.

The strategy is effective enough that Kritr takes advantage of the pause in the fighting and offers Magnus the draw, the two share some words while regaining their breath. Neither is exhausted yet, but clearly something is off in this duel and Kritr seeks to rectify it.

"Peaches!" Svana cries as well, bouncing her babies in her lap as she watches the fight. "Come on now! Don't just look at each other's beards!"

Magnus pauses, clearly winded and not expecting Kritr's response. "I wish that was the case, Lord Kritr." he smiles, shaking his head. "I knew stepping into a ring for the first time in almost two years could be a potentially questionable decision. But," there's a glance at Halla from the corner of his eye, before looking back the Clearlake man. "We all do silly things at time, yeah?" He lowers his axe. "I yield. Today, you are clearly the better man. And I know when I am out of practice."

Seated at the bar near Svana, Kalani shakes her head again, just a little, as she watches the next bout begin. "I can't believe this is only the second, wait, no, third time I've been here. How did I not know about this, all this time?" she wonders of Svana then realizes that Svana is holding infants, newborns by the look of them, "Goodness. Congratulations," she manages not to shout this, but the crowd is noisy and it does take some volume to be heard, and then she laughs. "Beard Distraction, a new defensive tactic!"

Svana's voice following Tolv in their call for peaches brings another smile to Valencia's lips, her large dark eyes dancing as the entire crowd rises to the occasion with shouts and good natured cheers.

"I set aside my Barony. Of the two, you are the more selfless of us." Kritr assures him before leading the way to the edge of the ring. "If you want to join me, I train twice a day at the Center in town. I will even buy the beer after." He doesn't seem tired at all. "Is that all?" He asks the host, Valencia.

The crowd again shows its appreciation for those who have taken to the ring, the room cheering their approval along with more than a few calls for pea-CHES still continuing. The battle now done and the winner to be called Hart's Sergeant of Arms steps forward again and booms out, "Peaches indeed," he grins. "Well done. A good show!" she commends the men before turning to hold up his hands to quieten the crowd. "Ladies, Lords and gentle folk all, your winner, Lord Kritr Clearlake!" Thrilled at the fight, the crowd rises to their feet again to cheer loudly for both combatants, though there might be more than a few calls out for "Lord Kritr, Champion of Peaches" heard from throughout the room.

"It was good to see you again, it had been some time." Magnus gives Kritr's shoulder a hearty smack. "Oh, I don't know about that. I've done some rather selfish things in the past. Maybe one day, I'll make up for them. But thank you. I may take you up on that, because clearly, I need to look less ridiculous next time." Moving away, he goes back to this table. The smile he gives Halla is one of self-aware embarrassment. "Well, that could've gone better."

Tolv mutters, "... why are they shouting about ..."

Kritr says, "Oh no." Kritr pauses. "That's as bad as Butterflies or Ribbons."

Valencia is overheard praising Kritr: An excellent fighter! Certainly a champion in the making.

Ilira shimmers up from her seat and slips aside to the weapon's rack.

Ilira gets Golden Hart Arena Cutlass from Weapons Rack.

Ilira wields Golden Hart Arena Cutlass.

Magnus has left the ring of valor.

Magnus has joined the ringside great table.

Kritr has left the ring of valor.

Kritr has joined the ringside table.

Kritr sits down next to Ian when he leaves the ring.

"I think." Mangus rubs at the back of his head. "I think that's all I have the stomach for." He's going to be smarting for time after this, already rubbing at his side, nursing what's going to be a new bruise. "You're welcome to stay a-" he was about to say, before nodding. "Yes. Well. Maybe next I won't look so..." he gestures at the ring, "like that."

The crowd show no signs of stopping and the cheers and calls continue well after Magnus and Kritr depart the sands. The Hart's Sergeant of Arms holds up his and and shakes his head with amusement. "And now, another match for your viewing pleasure. Lady Piccola Tesserea and Mistress Ilira Starlys! You've been called to the sands. May your fight with honour and fire in your heart. And may the gods smile on ye, lass, that's one's a tough 'un," he grins to the Piccola with a wink. "Fighters, present yer arms and lay on yer leisure! Good match to you both."

Ian wraps the flail back up again and straps it to the outside of his bag, where it was when he came in. He pushes a hand through his close cropped hair, wiping the sweat off of his forehead, then nods to Kritr and Magnus.

1 Grayson House Guards, Rosalie, a lady in waiting, Peaches, a lovely white war filly with a peach saddle, Deliverance, an albino falcon, Stormy, a silvery gray hunting hound, Rascal, a hyper terrier arrive, following Reese.


"Fuck."

Piccola puts down her drink and pulls herself up to her feet. She walks slowly to the ring of honor, the expression on her face tight and as focused as one can be after a few whiskeys. She lifts an eyebrow at Ilira, and then snickers at her. "You're fast on your feet," she remarks. "I remember."

"Hope your patronage is going well?" she asks, pulling out her sword and taking position.


Piccola has left the ringside table.

Piccola has joined the ring of valor.

Reese arrives at the arena while adorned in a rosy tunic and ivory leggings. She has pink ribbons threaded in her golden curls. The princess is mostly covered, even her hands are in gloves, hiding any scares the warrior might have. She moves with easy grace. A sword rests at either hip.

Valencia is overheard praising Magnus: A new face and a bold new talent upon the sands. I cannot wait to see him fight again.

Magnus has left the ringside great table.

Halla has left the ringside great table.

Halla leaves, following Magnus.

Tolv winces at something. This time he tips the entire bottle back, something which anyone could predict is a *terrible* idea, as he ends up spraying a mouthful of whiskey across the table when he starts gagging again. The bottle of whiskey is set down with an extremely careful clatter.

Cheering for Ilira as she joins the ring with Piccola, Kalani picks up the new drink that's arrived and shares a nod with Svana, speaking quieter under the sound of the crowd.

Reese looks over to Tolv. "A waste of whiskey." She murmurs softly. She looks over to Kalani having a smile of greeting for the woman. Reese goes to find a place to sit.

Reese has joined the bar.

Ilira has left the bar.

Ilira has joined the ring of valor.

Ilira approaches the rink with a sway to her step, the click of her heels echoing beneath the din. A slender sword hangs at either hip, curved and asymmetrical in length. "I know," she smirks to the sergeant, and hops with ease over the rail. Her lips purse a moment as she glances down to her shoes. She kicks them off and away, smoothly. "Faster when bare, perhaps?" she flickers a wink to Piccola, as both blades glide from their sheath.

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

Reese looks over to Ilira as she goes join the arena, the blonde giving her a wave. A dimpled smile follows the wave. She seems interested in the soon to happen fight.

Orick has left the bar.

"No!" Tolv protests in response to Reese, before coughing again. He wipes his mouth with the back of one hand. "...Is it good whiskey?" He frowns at the bottle, and determines, "Yes." It is good whiskey that he's not going to try to drink from for at least a minute or two. And then Reese gets a grin.

Kritr has left the ringside table.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 11, rolling 53 higher.

Piccola remains capable of fighting.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 25 higher.

Piccola remains capable of fighting.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 25, rolling 28 higher.

Piccola remains capable of fighting.

Reese nods to Tolv. "Oh, it must be, Princess Valencia only serves good drinks." She says.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 27, rolling 34 higher.

Piccola remains capable of fighting.

Orick rises to his feet after he finishes his ale (just the one) and recollects his very full satchel of books from the ground by his seat. Then he's quietly making an exit without saying farwell to anyone else.


And so the dance begins again.

Piccola adopts her normal stance, but then Ilira comes right at her. She has to adapt fast, using defensive swings to knock her opponent's strikes away, but that only works so well when your opponent's got superior skill. As it was with Thea, the Lady of Tessere absorbs blows -- multiple blows -- and still remains, somehow, on her feet. Even when a glancing blow seems to catch her across the face.

"Someone's been practicing," she manages to say between gritted teeth.


"There's more." Tolv points at the two bottles he hasn't touched. There's one more cough out of him, before he leans his chair back once more, teetering on the two back legs. From this position, he frowns upside-down at the current fight.

Beakers, an austere raven wearing a purple ribbon leaves, following Orick.

The little vixen catches her name upon the wind and turns to smile Reese's way. "You are kind. It is my honour to see our guest happy with what pleases them best. My Hart's desire is to see everyone well-welcome and cared for after all," Valencia smiles to Reese. "And you, my sweet friend, are a face I have missed. Welcome back to my Hart, Princess Reese, it has been too long. "

Ilira dances like a snake. With a swiftness barely perceptible, she makes her first strike in a two-point jab at Piccola's torso, into both her sides. The next blows are a flurry--one, two, three, to the face and torso. One swipe catches her blade and knocks it away before she feints,, ducking to the left as the opposite sword stabs up beneath her opponent's arm. She is a swirl of dark hair, silks and metal, her agility unhindered by the attire. With a twirl on her toes, she darts behind Piccola to jab two firm strikes directly at her spine.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 37, rolling 26 higher.

Piccola remains capable of fighting.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 40, rolling 17 higher.

Piccola remains capable of fighting.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 46, rolling 6 higher.

Piccola remains capable of fighting.

Kritr puts enameled alaricite stomping boots in Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Reese looks over to Tolv. "Always more and more, at least for princesses like me." She says her words fading off and the woman looking thoughtful for a moment. She then gives him another smile, a dimpled smile that touches blue eyes beore fading. "I think we met before. You fell into many holes on adventures?" She says, before turning to Valencia. "I am glad to be here, Princess Valencia, the Little vixen, thank you for welcoming me so warmly as you always do. Me and so many others."

Kritr puts enameled alaricite gauntlets in Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Kritr puts enameled alaricite helm in Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 61, rolling 3 lower.

Piccola checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 29, rolling 29 higher.

Piccola remains alive, but close to death.

Piccola is incapacitated and falls unconscious.


It takes another flurry of blows to put Piccola down again.

Towards the end of the fight, it isn't even close. Pow. Smack. Pow. Blows rain down on the Littlest of Snakes until she takes one, final blow that causes her to crumple onto the ground. Her sword falls from her hand. It's pretty clear she yields at that point, where she rests on her hands on knees in the ring of valor, trembling just a little.

"Fuck," she lets out quietly, as pain riddles her body.


"How can I not? With my Hart so full of beautiful faces and joyous fun? I am dizzy with delight, my friend," Valencia nods warmly as the the fight rages on below the sands. A collective gasp rises as Piccola's weapon falls from her hand and she graciously yields to Ilira and then the cheers begin again.

Tolv rocks forward, which means the front two chair legs clatter into the floor again. A grin instantly appears on his face once more. "Yes, of course. Princess Reese Grayson." He starts to reach for the bottle, then stops. "I've been falling into less holes, and running into more angry wildlife since we saw each other."

Kritr bangs a fist on the table in appreciation of the beating that Piccola took. "That's how you make them earn it! Tessere and Tor! Tor and Tessere!" He waves for someone to bring him a beer he can spill while gesticulating.

Svana stands from her seat as one of her twins begins to have a fit. She blushes and scurries out of the arena before she can disrupt the fighting.

Svana has left the bar.

Reese looks over to Piccola and Ilira, a thoughtful expression over her Grayson features. She then cheers. "Well fought!" She says, lifting her voice to carry. The blonde then turns to Tolv. "Less falling is good. More angry wildlife, I guess depends. You look to be in one piece though."

"I am very good at running." Tolv's grin has disappeared, though. "The problem with running is when you're surrounded by things that are probably faster than you, and the problem with that is when the people with swords and axes can't really do anything about it. That's a problem."

Ilira has left the ring of valor.

Kritr gets Sloppy Fur Boots from Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Ilira continues in adder-like motion, as the point of the left blade catches Piccola at the nape of her neck, followed up by a harsh strike that drives under her ribcage. She spins to the front, swords arcing down to smack both shoulders. She steps back, the glitter of her eyes darkened with focus. In a sweep that starts high, her blades cross in midair then meet Piccola's neck, on pressure points at either side. The blow sends her opponent to the ground, and with a quick flick of her wrist, she relinquishes her swords and kneels beside her. "Sorry," she murmurs. "I didn't mean to go so hard. You all right?" Her hand extends.

Kritr gets Thick Fur Mittens from Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Ilira has joined the bar.

Ilira has left the bar.

Reese hmms softly as she looks over to Tolv. "Running is a wonderful skill to have. I am very good at running. Running in races. Running into battle. Running away from marriage, running." She then pauses. "Being surrounded by things that can outrun you, that sounds like a situation. Sounds like a story. Sounds like a reason for more whiskey."


"It's all right."

Piccola blindly reaches up for Ilira's hand, and, with her help, pulls herself up and gets her trusty sword again. Once upright, she sheathes Ramo and rubs her free hand around her neck. From her expression, it looks like everything hurts. "Your Highness," she says, when she gets back to Valencia's table. "I think I must retire." She bends there to pick up her bow as well. She brought that along with her.

She could probably use some medical attention.


Tolv's grin returns, with a bit of a wild light in his eyes. "I'm very fast." And then it's gone, and he points to the whiskey bottles again. "I can tell you all about it, but probably not from way over there."

Reese looks over to Piccola. "Well fought and take care Lady General Piccola." She says before turning to Ilira. "Well fought as well, I didn't realize you were badass like that. Now I know."

Reese has left the bar.

Again, the crowd cheers loudly and rises to their feet as all ladies make an excellent show of it, but in the end it is Fray who wins the day. "Well done. A fine show of artistry," the Hart's Sergeant of Arms nods respectfully as he turns to the crowd to call out with a rumble, "And your winner, Mistress Ilira Starlys!!" There is a roar of approval, though perhaps the Crownsworn folk in the arena are just a little bit more raucous and louder as they cheer for one of their own, but I the end both of the ladies are hailed, there names chanted to the rafters and beyond.

The audience finally simmers and the Hart's Sergeant of Arms returns, holding up his large hands to lessen the din. A gruff gravelly voice calls out, the sound filling the room, "Well done! A proper salute to Gloria herself," bays with a puff off approval before turning to nod to the next pair of combatants.

"Another pair to bravely offer their skills. Lord Kritr Clearlake and Dame Fray Tirkah! You've been called to the sands. May your fight with honour and fire in your heart," he grins to the pair before offering a curt nod and a wink before stepping back again. "Fighters, present yer arms and lay on yer leisure! Good match to you both."

Kritr slaps the table when his name is called again. "Let's do this!" He says, pointing at Fray." He vaults over the railing and into the ring. "Dame Fray. I think that my axe would give me an unfair advantage in this fight as it did the last. Would you allow me to grapple, or would you prefer I wield a tournament weapon?"

Reese rises to her slippered feet, starting to Tolv's table. She moves with a easy agile grace. The girl then looks over to Kritr and Fray, once again curious.

Piccola has left the ring of valor.

Reese has joined the corner table.

A bevy of mercies are soon at Piccola's side, seeing to her careful care. Valencia wisely stays out of their way but looks on with quiet concern. "My sweet friend, shall we call carriage for you? Or at least have one of my staff see you safely home if we cannot offer you a room to rest a little before you take your leave?"

Tolv's table, being completely empty, has every chair but his open for the taking. Most every chair. He suddenly remembers to pull his boots off the seat of the one directly across from him.

Again, the crowd begins to pipe up with a chant of pea-CHES.

Fray rises from the bar and looks at Kritr, shaking her head at his offer. "I have challenged you to test the might Arx has to offer, fight with whatever brings out your true spirit! Tonight you shall be judged."

Reese goes to take a perching upon the chair to the right of Tolv, not the chair across from him. Maybe that is intentional. She murmurs something softly.

Fray wields Greatsword of Judgement.

Fray has left the bar.

Fray has joined the ring of valor.

Kritr has joined the ring of valor.

"Judged." Kritr repeats the word, looking around the room. He turns to see what other people think of that. "I thought that I faced a knight, not a member of the Inquisition. Can one be both?" He banters.

Valencia is overheard praising Ilira: Such skills and grace! Such inspiration on or off sands.

Ian finishes his glass of ice water and excuses himself from the ringside table. Taking up his bag, he uses the table to push to his feet and takes up his cane, then heads out.

Ian has left the ringside table.

Fray says, "an inquisitor judges your faith, I am here to judge your resolve. Do not disappoint me, lord of peaches."

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

Ilira rises with Piccola, her curls tousled and her pale skin smattered in deep bruises. With a steady hand, she guides her away from the rink to the healers, then turns and steps delicately into her heels. "I've my moments," she drawls to Reese in her Lycene roll, approaching the table. "Pardon me--might I join you?" she asks, as she fluffs her hair from her eyes with a hand.

Kritr says, "I have resolve and to spare." Kritr assures her. He ties his fur coverings to his fist and laces them up around his fists. He's 'resolved' to fight unarmed."

A breath and a finally a sip of her drink, Valencia bid Ian a fond farewell and turns back to watch the next match with keen interest. The crowd continues to cheer and drink, showing no signs of wearing down in their enthusiasm for this next match.

Reese tilts her delciate chin, looking to Ilira. "Oh, of course you can. Do you know Master Tolv? He is an adventurer." She says.

"I'm an adventurer," Tolv echoes, helpfully. He smiles, though it's a little worn. "You can sit down, if you want to."

Kritr really should have a weapon. Fray's reach is unsurpassable. Even his cautious Lycene trained footwork helps him almost not at all since he has no reach with which to take advantage of the openings that Fray leaves. That should not underestimate Fray's skill. He walks right into her second blow, sending him reeling across the sands to clear his vision.

Fray shouts from nearby, ""I thought I told you to fight with resolve, or are you saying Arx is this weak? Show me what it means to fight for something you care about!""

"Thank you," Ilira breezes a smile as she settles down in the seat opposite. She crosses her legs and clasps her hands in her lap to recline back, as an exhale escapes. "I'm pleased to see you again, Princess Reese," she adds with a curve of her lips.

Ilira has joined the corner table.

Kritr checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 10, rolling 50 higher.

Kritr remains capable of fighting.

Kritr returns with new strategies, and a more energetic bounce to his step. His teeth are bared in a rictus that might be a smile as if he enjoyed the beating he is taking from Fray's blade. The armor she wears is impervious to his fur clad fists, and too lose for him to engage in a grapple. Nevertheless, he persists, harrying her with more mobility and vision than a full suit of armor would allow.

Ilira puts Golden Hart Arena Cutlass in Weapons Rack.

Fray enjoys the longer this fight lasts, to see how long both of us can last. She admires how brazen Kritr is fighting with no weapons and light armor, yet still refuses to go down and has done some damage to her. "You've proven you have resolve, but how long will both of us be standing? Judgement is calling, and it demands a hero!" Fray exclaims, caring more about the battle than the outcome.

Kritr checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 60, rolling 2 lower.

Kritr checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 28, rolling 60 higher.

Kritr remains alive, but close to death.

Kritr is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Lucrezia is drinking steadily as she watches the match. While she had been boisterous earlier, her mood seems to have shifted to dark brooding.

Kritr never comes close to putting Fray on the defensive. The next pass she seems to have him figured out, and he's laid out on the ground by the flat of hier blade instead.

Tolv abruptly snatches the bottle he was drinking from previously, and takes a swig. Predictably, he chokes, and barely gets it down.

Reese looks over to Kritr and Fray. "Well fought." She says in their direction.

Fray swung her blade recklessly the entire round, intending to press her opponent to their limits. Kritr managed to dodge her blade, weaving in and out of hits until they moved too slow for the last time as the blade swung into their side, sending them onto the floor. "You fought well, though both we knew you could have used far better arms and armor that surpass my own, but today you have been judged." Fray bangs her weapon rhythmically a few times on the ground before walking over and giving Kritr a hand. "Stand up, hero."

Kalani has left the bar.

Fray has left the ring of valor.

Fray has joined the bar.

Kritr rolls over and sees that Fray is offering him her hand. He doesn't refuse it, testing her strength to pull his eighteen stone off the ground. "Sorry. What did you say?" Kritr asks. "I hear a ringing sound." He follows her out of the ring, slowly and a little unsteadily.

As judgment is rendered and Kritr heads to the ground, the crowd jumps to their feet, a chorus of calls for peaches and to "buy that woman a drink." Arms folded across his burly chest, the Hart's Sergeant of Arms carefully observes, his sharp eyes keen as he watches them circle and strike. But in the end only one seems to prevail and as the deed is done, the gravel-voiced veteran returns to the said to call the win. "Well met and well fought, but there can only be one win. Ladies, lords, and gentles all, your winner, Dame Fray Tirkah!"

Again, the crowd cheers their approval, the room filling with the roar of high approval for the skills witnessed once more. Again, the Hart's Sergeant of Arms. "The sand has been stirred for a final time and so this concludes the sparring for this now. Well done to our combatants and well done to you all. We wish you a safe night, and hope ye heed the Hart's call for next event."

"Lords, Ladies, gentle folk, by your leave, and we offer you our deepest thanks for a very fine evening and bid you a good night," the man curtly bows his head and strides out of the ring. "Well done," he grins in passing to Kritr and Fray giving them a sharp nod as he heads to the bar to get himself a drink.

Valencia lets out a soft breath and smiles as the crowd reluctantly begins to disperse --- some to the bar, some to the main hall, some to the Hart's hidden gardens and the perhaps to the stone pool for a swim. Good cheer and happy faces show as glasses are raised and more drinks are bought for the competitors. Rising gracefully, the little vixen gives her shoulders a soft roll and takes in a deep breath, seeming pleased with another fine night and event.

As the last spar is announced and people start filtering out, Lucrezia finishes her last drink before she saunters out.

Lucrezia has left the bar.