(ooc Notes, for log record)

Welcome! Thank you for coming. If you are interested in flying please join the ringside great table, and use +join/getinline There are three (3) rolls that need to be made. You can use your choice of difficulty from Normal, Hard, Daunting. Each roll can be at a different difficulty or the same, up to you.
There is more reward of points if using a higher difficulty, there is also more risk in using a higher difficulty.

There is no risk, this is all in fun.

Rolls:

https://tinyurl.com/redrainfly

check strength/stamina + athletics at difficulty

check stamina/dexterity + athletics at difficulty

check luck at difficulty

We will enter your names to the sheet, and update it as you make them.
Please make all three rolls before posing.
If time permits, yes you can get back into line to go again.

Additional amusement for RP. Have someone that you'd like to see launched? As long as players consent we just need someone to roll for the distance that they fly.

Seeking music to put you into the mindset that is Giant's Reach during a false thaw: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LsgO5OTUsRU&list=RDLsgO5OTUsRU&start_radio=1&t=4

Enjoy yourselves.
Feel like you missed something, here's the log:
https://play.arxgame.org/dom/cal/detail/5449/



Marquis Sanna Cirroch stands by the ballistae, dressed plainly in long garnet red tunic, over top of black leather trousers, with the Sanna sigil hanging from a shaved leather pelt upon a large belt; Axe in hand with a large grin on his face. "That's our Anali!" He then pats the side of the siege weapon, takes a step back and with a solid kick from the sole of his boot to the end of the ballista where the trigger release for the ballistae is, sends the bucket chair flying along the rail and its passenger soaring through the air.

KATHUNK!
As the crowds begin to filter out to the Golden Hart's fields, they can hear and see a final test shot of the modified ballistae.

WHOOSH
A single large winter melon flies through the air,

SPALOSH-SPLAT!
The melon has overshot its intended target the nets and straw on the opposite side of the field. Sailing through the smallest of holes at the top of the backing nets and exploding upon impact of the frozen grounds outside.

Sanna guards that have been voluntold to be here today all have a shocked expression while they reset the ropes and gears that have been added to the siege weapon.

Anyone looking /possibly now with horror/ a large ballista with a triple wide ladder has been modified to have a small chair, akin to a bucket with backing that sits along the rail. One of the bolts that the ballistae normally fires sits on the ground next to the weapon, in display for any that care to inspect it, or Sanna is simply showing off.

The chair is sitting at a half cocked angle as it is pulled back by Sanna guards along ropes bringing the seat back to its starting position. Then a clamp is attached to the back of the bucket as the last few clanks along the ladder are clicked along. Large gear wheels run the side, clicking locks into place as the arms are set for the braided rope that is used to propel the chair along the rails.

Atoli, the Sanna's eldest toddler is running the length of the field playing underneath the nets as two guards chase along eventually picking her up and carrying back to the stands, she holds onto a kraken plushie while yelling excitedly about how she gets to pull the trigger for the launches.

Jasper, an unflappable scoundrel, 2 Redrain Guards arrive, following Deva.

Mabelle walks into the arena and stops dead on her heels, "For the love of Jayus, that does not look safe", she palms her cheek and pities the melon, "Aww, I like sweet fruit". She beelines toward the bar as she remembers all the chidings she gets from people about risking her life. Her hand waves toward Cirroch, "Marquis Sanna, Good evening! I think I'm going to see how others survive then before I volunteer... other people. I'm here if someone needs to be stitched".

Mabelle has joined the bar.

A flock of ladies-in-waiting arrives, following Alarissa.

There's the not-so-soft sound of Patrizio arriving with his centurions, just in time to watch that barista fire, the first time, and... he pauses there by the doorway to consider things before he's murmuring to his men. That there're decided shakes of the head - in unison - from them gets a smile from their commander, before he's drawing over and closer, the better to greet the host of the evening in person. "I hope there are brave souls willing to put themselves through this, my good Marquis Sanna," says he with a laugh, the jade eyes considering the crowd. "I'd need much more than one of your horns of whiskey to convince me to try that from the get-go. Bella'd have my commission if I got wounded now." Mabelle, by the bar, gets a familiar nod and smile.


There is a large Thrax contingent present, and no wonder given who all is present. Not only is Klaus Thrax there, but his is escorting the heir to Thrax, Astrid who is doing her best to appear good and innocent be cannot help but bounce up and down on her feet in barely constrained excitement. Then there are a small army of elite Thrax guards the reason why is apparent as they make way for a slightly smaller army of nannies, and in the center of this melee of people is the Princess Consort of Thrax herself, her smallest child nestled into her arms and clinging to her like a small star fish, content to be there in her mother's arm. The other Thrax children are running about the nannies with all of the restraint of children let loose to run free.

Medeia has been here for a while, watching the set up process and coordinating a small team of apprentice physicians who are on hand if - when - anyone gets injured during today's events. She's certainly in no state to be lifting and dragging people around, and this seems like a simple way to start giving some apprentices a glimpse in combat situations. A small glimpse. In any case, she is here and so are some medics and everything will go just fine, probably.

Medeia checks command and medicine at normal. Medeia is successful.

Mabelle murmurs aside to her girl a a joke, "Was I supposed to bring the children? Not sure catapulting Eadric would have ended well. For me", she shrugs and waves her fingers to Patrizio and Klaus as they enter, already sipping her mulled cider. As Medeia takes charge of doctoring, Mabelle seems calmer to drink.

"Prince Klaus. Under no circumstances is she allowed to get in that thing." Since that's all the heir to Thrax can talk about. Getting hurled through the air, flying, she wants to fly. But Alarissa's cut that idea short at the knee's. She shifts, hefts Eleyna back up in her arms with the girl getting far too big - though still small for a four year old - to be carried around much and then puts her down on the ground, offering her hand again. "Shall we go visit Medeia?" She whispers to the little girl as they head that way and let the Thrax youngsters tear off to tend to the things that young children with nannies tend to. "Upon pain of death Prince Klaus."

Cirroch smiles to Mabelle and Patrizio, waving from his position behind the ballistae. Atoli has been set back upon the ground and is being encouraged to take a seat though the toddler is too wound up after watching the melon sail through the air, her soft voice is easily heard echoing through the arena as she yells. "AGAIN! Do it again!" She looks over to the other children and proudly declares, "I get to pull the triggers today! Daddy said so!"

Cirroch makes a nod to Medeia, then reassures Alaraissa and Klaus, "All must be this tall to ride," he holds a hand that comes up to about mid chest upon him (around five-feet), "If you're shorter than that, then you may watch." He then waves over A young woman with deep red curling hair running to their shoulders, wearing mostly garnet red and deep black leather armor steps out to the front of the fields. A long sleeveless white cloth runs overtop of their leathers with the Sanna sigil marked upon the top of the front and rear. She clears her throat, a quick deep drink from a goat's horn, then with a booming voice that can come as a surprise to many for her size, "Welcome to the False Thaw games! A tradition of Giant's Reach, when the snows pretend to recede from the valleys, we will take to the lands readying for either the next fall, or if the spirits are smiling for the fields to be planted again. The game today is one of merit, endurance, and most importantly strength. Though not physical strength, mental. Can you fly with the grace of a bird? Or lunacity as those that live on the edge of the world?"

A breath is taken along with a look over to where the mercies have a tent setup. "Medics are available if you find yourself unable to move after landing upon the nets. House Sanna, the March of Giant's Reach, and all heirs or members of the House Sanna, Redrain or anyone under those houses are not liable for your choice to climb upon the siege weapon behind me. If you choose to declare fault or demand a duel, we shall remind you to this statement and that the Marquis is right there!" A pause to point to Cirroch, "Disputes will be settled here in sparring, hand to hand, no armor, in the ring."

Turning back to the crowd, "Sanna whiskey is provided free to all, the ballistae Anali has been set. Who shall be our first to prove their worth of bravery and strength?" As she finishes there's a cold stare to the crowd waiting for someone to pipe up.

Almost immediately the herald is greeted with a small piping voice. "Telo! Me! Me! I wanna!" The Sanna's oldest is jumping up and down near the ballistae. Cirroch looks to Atoli, "You can help me launch our guests, though you are much too small for this ride." Atoli looks heartbroken for a moment, then perks up as she punches the release pin. It moves a little, though not enough to release the bucket along the rail. She looks up to Cirroch, then kicks the side of ballista which jostles the pin just enough to send the bucket chair flying along the rail, which she giggles with glee. "Again!"

Patrizio looks, for all the world, like he's quite happy to /not/ be responsible for any of the younger set today, a low chuckle easily straying from him when he's hearing Alarissa's admonition about one of said young ones wanting to take to the skies. A shake of his head - and a grin for Cirroch when there's the declaration about whiskey being available. "Swear to the gods that sometimes, people decide that I'm going to get drunk enough to go against my own words," he murmurs, though to anyone in particular's a good guess. A mindful turn of those jade eyes towards Medeia and her physicians, with the faintest turn of a smile, and he's contemplating to where he ought retreat for the moment.

"Whiskey please," Deva sneaks up to the bar and claims a seat near Mabelle, giving the woman a cheerful smile in greeting. Otherwise her entrance is very low-key, accompanied by an idle look around the crowd every so often as if looking for someone. Her free hand slides into her jacket pocket, the other curling around her glass as soon as it arrives. She leans to murmur something to the Laurent, a thoughtful gleam in her eyes.


At seeing how tall one must be to be launched, Astrid is trying her best to get on her tip toes to get the height needed. She is foiled by Klaus putting a hand on her shoulder and planting her feet on the ground. She glares up at him. "You are not my favorite unclke any more." Klaus tsks slightly. "You mother has commanded, and I promised your aunt Coraline I would not upset her and do anything to get me killed. However, if you take back your words, you can help me launch Doreen." This causes a near ungodly screech from the sack at his side, and a head pops out and a large red tailed squirrel is not doing her best to escape, much to the delight of the other Thrax xhildren, who are cheering the large royal rodent on.

Mabelle eyes Toffee for a moment, considering the ball of fluff, "You will have great aerodynamics"

Patrizio makes his way over towards the bar, and there's a brief, if intent, conversation with Messere Maggnus about the matter of sufficient alcohol for something. A brief murmur to Mabelle as well, and a turn of his head in the direction of Cirroch, then to his centurions, at least two of whom shake their heads at him.

Patrizio mutters, "I'm going to regret agreeing ... do this, am ... not?"

Medeia gives a nod to Mabelle and Patrizio before turning her attention to Alarissa as she comes close. "Your Highnesses!" She gives a big smile to Eleyna, asking, "Would you like to help me make sure these apprentice physicians are doing what needs to be done?" Then, looking up to Alarissa, she adds, "If it is alright with your mother, of course. How are you, Princess Alarissa?"

Mabelle wiggles her fingers to Alarissa, "Princess, a pleasure to see you again. Alas I seem to have come with no ammunition", she still considers Toffee. Or Klaus with a gag.

Bayberry, an Oakhaven juvenile bloodhound, Steadfast, a dunskin stallion courser, Bumbling Bees from a Clement bee hive arrive, following Norwood.

"I had thought perhaps that you could use a fine assistant to hand you rolled cotton as needed." Eleyna grins at that suggestion and alarissa leans in to offer a kiss to either of Medeia's cheeks. "Tired but hale." Mabelle's finger wriggle gets attention too as Eleyna walks off with her red haired doll in it's strange dress, to assist. "Mabella. Klaus will be the ammunition. I'm sure he'll fly with grace. How are you?"

A breath, but then there's a mindful nod by Patrizio to his centurions, and a pow-wow for a few moments before his men do help him from his armour. And a shake of his head before he's taking a shot of whiskey, and then waving over to Cirroch. "It seems you're bereft of people to make the attempt, my good marquis," he calls out. "I volunteer to be the first, in hopes it perhaps encourages others, and may Gloria favour me in landing safely."

Mabelle grins widely at Alarissa, "I am so happy now, that you mentioned -that-", she laughs helplessly, "Dont gag him, I want to hear him scream", he claps her hands, happy. "I hope you are well a well, Princess", she smiles to Alarissa, before eyeing Patrizio, "No! Avoiderer!"

Cirroch smiles to Atoli, as Ansgar climbs into the reloaded ballistae bucket-chair. "If no one else will take the challenge then I shall start this off." Then the young lad then tucks his heels in under him as he is partially squatting upon the chair. Atoli is giggling as her sometimes nanny makes a face back at her and motions that he is ready to be launched. "Daddy! Itts stuckies!" Atoli yells as she is trying to pull on the lever, which Cirroch gives a push to and sends Ansgar to flight.

THUNK! ? Wooosh!

Ansgar flies through the air unfolding from his curled position as if taking a long leap from the end of the ballistae. Very little fanfare of what he does in the air other than yelling, "Hahahahahaa? Shiiiiiiiit!" He bounces along the nets until they slow his flight. Laying there face down for a moment before rolling over to slide off of them back to the safety of the ground. "Woooo! Now. Now I need a drink!"

Cirroch turns to Patrizio as Ansgar yells from the otherside of the field. "Just in time! We'll reset the chair for you." A large smile is spread across his face as Telo hands a horn full of whiskey to him.

Patrizio checks strength and athletics at hard. Patrizio is successful.

Patrizio checks stamina and athletics at hard. Patrizio is successful.

Patrizio checks luck at hard. Patrizio fails.

Norwood isn't one who comes here often, but it's fine, he heard something about flying and so - well. Just in time to stare at Ansgar. Ah. What is he doing. Familiar faces draw the Baron closer with an eyebrow arched firmly upwards. "Klaus, Mabelle," it's a signal of how bewildered he is that he forgets to say 'Lord and Lady', "What in all that is holy is //this//?"


Doreen escapes with a cry of triumph and then bits at Klaus's ankle. It did nothing but it make the squirrel happy before she scurried off and be upon Delia's shoulders, continue to chatter hard at Klaus. Then Klaus hears the princess' announcement and has a quick look of befuddlement. "Wait..what?" Astrid ceases upon it and now has wrapped herself about Klaus' arms to drag him forward. "Only fair unckle, you made me write words."

Deva is in the middle of some quiet conversation with Mabelle that involves showing the other woman her hands and protesting about something. Mostly she drinks, keeping an eye out idly on the antics taking center stage.

Mabelle wiggles her fingers to Norwood as he enters, "Oh hello, Baron Clement", she makes use of his title annoyingly. She will pet his bees, but they are bees. "Klaus is about to show us how to crash like a watermelon". Mabelle's and Deva's conversation is very heated. Very heated. And silent. Who is making who behave poorly?, "I will nurse you to health, Patrizio, I swear!", she calls after the Pravusi prince.

There's no fear on Patrizio's face, after the wish for Gloria's favour - just the certainty that he's going to do this thing, and that there's really nothing /to/ do but to do it. That he's pulling himself up into the bucket has him considering how best to be doing this, and... well, the option truly is only to do with style. A hand sweeps his hair back, before he's braising himself in the ballista /like/ one of it's projectiles, and there's a shift to make sure he's lined up quite well with the thing....

*THONK*

And the Pravusi general's off and into the air. Launched so through the heights of the Hart's arena, he's waiting but a few moments before he's sweeping his arms out, not to flap like one of those accursed birds that seem to have a natural knack for such travel through the sky, but almost as if he's preparing for some kind of swan-dive - which he might well be, given that there's that net awaiting him, he hopes, to catch him and keep him from needing the care of the physicians.

And enough consciousness, in such a pose, for him to be swinging his weight, enough to bring himself down and around, so he's not potentially hitting said net with his quite-beautiful face or that fabulous mane of his, and while it's not the most /graceful/ of poses, find the net he does....

Deva is overheard praising Patrizio: Cool!

"Wonderful!" Medeia leans into the greeting from Alarissa and then gives Eleyna a few quiet instructions. As Ansgar takes flight, the lady's eyes follow the motion through the air, cringing as he hits the nets. A couple of apprentices head out to make sure he's fine. Then, a few more follow for Patrizio. Medeia shakes her head with a smile. "Lady Eirene may not fix 'stupid' as she said, but she sure is missing... some entertaining shenanigans."

Mabelle's explanation is not at ALL an explanation, so with Klaus being dragged off Norwood turns to Deva. "//Why//?" It's a good question, right?

Mabelle has left the bar.

"Sometimes we do strange things in times of stress," Deva tries to explain to Norwood, gesticulating broadly with her palms turned outward. "I think we're all stressed," she concludes simply. Then she leans to order the Baron a drink and pass it over, for coping purposes.

Klaus checks strength and athletics at hard. Klaus is successful.

Norwood checks composure at normal. Norwood is successful.

Klaus checks dexterity and athletics at hard. Klaus fails.

Klaus checks luck at hard. Klaus fails.

'because some people just want broken limbs Baron Clement." Alarissa fills in. "Or the attentions of a pretty physician."

Medeia laughs after the mention of a pretty physician.

Yeah, this makes sense, totally makes sense. (It doesn't - which is why Norwood accepts the drink that Deva passes over, despite his public teetotaler attitudes.) "That is fundamentally ridiculous," Norwood retorts at Alarissa "Do you have any idea how hard I have had to work to keep Cristoph from broken bones and this is //inviting// it?!" He's poo-pooing it, and yet standing there and staring wide-eyed.

Deva is overheard praising Medeia: See, a very pretty physician!

There's not really /bounce/, per se, to Patrizio - there is to his hair, but not to him himself, and while he's come down from the net, he's looking like a regularly flushed version of himself as he contemplates the actual response that his archduchess /might/ have to the fact that he just did that. "I /have/ to be stupid," he can be heard, saying to himself, though there's also a grin when he catches hearing of the quips about seeking attentive, attractive phycisians' care, as he makes his way back over towards the other guests, rather than to his very disapproving centurions.

Deva snaps along to Alarissa's observation and chin-lifts over at Medeia. It's true. She smiles over the rim of her drink at Norwood, shoulders inching higher in a casual shrug. "At least someone buried him in enough meetings so he couldn't show."


Klaus is dragged up by Astrid to the ballista. He then decides there is no getting out of this. He does give Astrid "Truth's Sting" with a very firm "Do not draw it." Then managed to climb up into seat with a soft. "I am going to die...or my wife will kill me." Astrid slings the sword over her back, and goes to help with the letters crying out "This is for a thousand lines!" and pulls. Klaus does not make a good ballista bolt at all. Which might be a good thing or it might have given his wife ideas for sea engagements. He is in the air for a bit then comes crashing to the ground in a jangle of foul oaths to make even a Thaxan sailor blush as he rolls and bounces and slams into the nets. There he lies on the ground, stunned, his eyes crossed as he barely manages the word "O...oooo...uuu...ccc...hhh."

Cirroch applauds Patrizio's flight and wonderful landing upon the nets. "Well done Prince Patrizio! Someone hand that man a drink!" Looking over to Norwood, first Cirroch switches hands of which is holding the goats horn then putting his right hand to his heart, "Lord, We fly today to show the gods that we don't care if they are to dump more snow on us or not. All the warmth we need comes from family and friends, and whiskey!" He raises the goats horn to Norwood, the looks around to see who else is to climb upon the ballistae. "Who else is brave enough?"

INDIGNANT POINTING. SEE SEE THAT?! THAT IS THE KIND OF THING THAT LAURENTS DO THAT DRIVE NORWOOD TO DRINK. SEE?!

A drink? Yes, yes indeed, Patrizio is seeking a drink. And to whit, there's a very good-sized horn waiting for him at the bar, because there's nothing that's going to follow his going through the air /than/ actually following through with the most Cirroch- like thing that the Prince of Pravus can do, and that's have some of that Giant's Reach whiskey in mass quantities.

"Thank the gods that Victus is too busy, or you know he would be in that thing hurtling as well." Alarissa laments to Deva and Norwood. But there's Klaus, landing hard and there's a roll of her eyes. "Are all Laurents this... enamoured of broken bones?"

"Good show!" Deva tells Patrizio brightly, saluting the prince with her half-empty whiskey. "Way to set the bar for everyone else. Did you have fun?" she wonders with a sly grin. "Thank goodness for that! Mmm, I don't know, are all of them?" She looks from Alarissa to Norwood, deferring to the latter for that answer.

Norwood should be objecting to the fact that his drink is alcholoic. He isn't. Because LOOK AT WHAT KLAUS JUST DID. Alarissa's question is met with a long suffering sigh. "Yes. Yes they are, have been, and always will me. My first interaction with a Laurent involved pulling Lady Jael out of a tree upon which a bear was attacking her after she went to pretend to be a bear. I have pulled Cristoph out of many rights and watched him fall off of... so so so many horses," SO MANY GUYS, there's just a little sob in those words, "Klaus was my squire and... oh dear. And little Eadric," Cristoph's oldest son, "Is just the same. The number of times I have peeled that boy off the roof...."

Patrizio takes a moment to sweep his fingers through his hair, as if to ensure that it looks as magnificent as always. "Isn't that the job of a leader, to lead and demonstrate?" He asks, though it's not with any false modesty in his tone - a firm, assertive statement about what he thinks he ought be doing as a general and a prince. "I don't know that I'd repeat it quite so quickly without quite a bit of liquor," he continues, indicating the horn in his hand from which he does take a decidedly good gulp, "but it was an interesting experience and I'd be cursing the matter if I'd not done it, I think." /THAT/ gets another distinct grumble from his coterie of centurions, who clearly think their commander ought not quite lead /so/ much from the front.

The apprentices are keeping busy, and every so often Eleyna is given a gentle encouragement to assist. Medeia turns to Alarissa and murmurs, "At least we know Princess Coraline will be well taken care of should Prince Klaus leave her a widow, hm?" She glances over to Patrizio with a smile. "You are truly an excellent leader, Your Highness! I would raise a cup to you if I were able."


Klaus is still laying there, probably wondering where he is at and how he got there. His guard heaves a small sigh, as if this might not be the first time he is about to perform the act, and hauls Klaus out of the way for the next person to embrace insanity. Doreen is right there on Klaus's chest, jumping up and down. If a squirrel could be jubilant and smug, it would be Doreen at this time.

As Klaus tucks into his flight, Cirroch applauds Klaus with a loud whistle. "Prince Klaus! Well done!" Nodding to the guards rushing over, "Get your Prince a drink!" He looks over to Deva at the bar, "Can we persuade you to take flight Princess Deva?" Taking another deep drink from the goats horn then passing it off to Telo. Looking to Atoli, "It appears to be my turn. Shall you be strong enough to send me flying?" Atoli looks up with a big smile and hugs the kraken plushie tightly, nodding.

Painbow, a militant pygmy goat arrives, delivering a message to Norwood before departing.

Cirroch checks strength and athletics at hard. Cirroch fails.

Cirroch checks dexterity and athletics at normal. Cirroch is successful.

Cirroch checks luck at hard. Critical Success! Cirroch is spectacularly successful.

"Klaus, what were you thinking?" Of all those here, Klaus would be most likely to realize how weird it is that Norwood is drinking something that isn't tea or milk based.

Painbow, a militant pygmy goat arrives, delivering a message to Norwood before departing.

"Fair," Deva cracks a small smile at Patrizio, before tossing back the rest of her drink. "Been hurt enough the last few weeks, Marquis. Not today," she declines with a wave of her hand. With a distant and distracted expression on her face, she unceremoniously takes her leave.

"Duke Lauren placed himself between myself and arrows before. I understand well his need to see others safe, his people safe." Alarissa settles with a drink, keeping an eye on her youngest passing out things that she's capable of passing out, wheezily breathing as she does but managing. "As if Coraline would suffer. She's Thrax. She's an Islander. Tears in her wake, never at her wake." Alarissa notes. "The dead are dead and there's living left to do. Though it seems she's spared being a widow for now.""

Painbow, a militant pygmy goat arrives, delivering a message to Norwood before departing.

"No one says, my lady, that you need lift a cup of something of a given nature," Patrizio counters warmly to Medeia, and there's a contemplation of Messere Maggnus behind the bar. "I imagine that there're options that'd suffice as well to please in nearly as much a manner." Though he is, indeed, interrupted by the shouts for Klaus as he's turning to applaud his fellow prince at his efforts to sail through the air like one of those gods-forsaken birds. And at the quip, he offers a smile to Deva as well, and the dip of his head. "I try to be fair," says he more mutedly.

Cirroch climbs onto the bucket and nearly falls off of the otherside. Laughing, he pulls himself back onto the chair and tries his best to tuck in. With a nod back to Atoli, who has help from Ansgar, the two pull the trigger and send the laughing marquis through the air.

THONK!

His laughter continues as he stays mostly in a ball partially untucking as he then lands backwards upon the nets. Laying there for a moment as the nets slow their bouncing. Then rolling off. "A lovely flight!"

Painbow, a militant pygmy goat arrives, delivering a message to Norwood before departing.

Jasper, an unflappable scoundrel, 2 Redrain Guards leave, following Deva.

"Perhaps you might for a moment, step into the Duke's shoes, and take one for the team for him?" Alarissa looks to Norwood. "Just so you can tell him, from personal experience, that it's not so exciting?" There's a smile on the former Valardin resident's face.

Alarissa checks charm and manipulation at normal. Alarissa is successful.

Norwood checks composure and etiquette at normal. Critical Success! Norwood is spectacularly successful.

"You're right," Medeia says to Patrizio, "Though I always feel a bit rude asking a barkeep for water." The vintner laughs softly to herself with a gentle shake of her head. Her attention turns to Cirroch then, clearly impressed with his ability to land with little effect. Still, an apprentice approaches him to make sure all is well, and Eleyna is summoned back toward Alarissa and Medeia. "Did your mother tell you the garden will be ready in just a few more weeks? I can't wait to show you." Then she notices Norwood, who she knows is Lady Adalyn's father. "Baron Clement? I am surprised your daughter is not here. It does seem like something she would do, no?" THere's a glance to Alarissa, a smile growing. "You could instead do it on her behalf and tell her how much fun she missed out on."

Medeia checks charm and manipulation at normal. Medeia is marginally successful.

Norwood checks composure and etiquette at normal. Norwood is successful.



The herald Telo steps forwards to the edge of the field, she wobbles for a moment before taking a stance to keep her steady, then with loud voice. "The current standing for bragging rights of the False Thaw flights! Ansgar of House Sanna with 333 yards! Marquis Cirroch Sanna with 313 yards! Prince Patrizio Pravus with 173 yards! And, Prince Klaus Thrax with 123 yards! If anyone else cares to put their reputation and merit of mental strength upon the fields, or any of our flyers wish to fly again, now is the time!"

"Yes, ell." Norwood replies grumpily as Alarissa talks about how Cristoph's devotion to helping people. AND he doesn't rise up to her charming smile. "Do you know how I have lived this long Princess?" POINTED LOOK, "I don't do things like that." Medeia's words bring a very unmanly whimper to his words. "Adalyn //would//." THAT IS NOT AS CONVINCING AS MEDEIA THINKS IT MIGHT BE.

"Ten thousand silver to a charity of your choice then, if you get in that... contraption." Alarissa sweetens the pot.

Patrizio tips his drinking horn to Medeia. "I feel much the same, but I also accept that the gods made us how they did, and sometimes we need defy the expectations of others for our own sake." Not that he's not drinking, and there's that turn of his head when there's the call with the standings. /Should/ he do such a thing? His centurions are already making their opinions quite clear, but the prince is tossing back what's left of the whiskey, and then.... He thrusts the horn at Medeia. "Hold this. I've a flight to do. A Pravus does /not/ settle for third without a fight."

"Oh! Are we bribing him, now?" Medeia asks, suddenly holding Patrizio's drinking horn. She bows her head. "May the gods be with you, Prince Patrizio." Then she looks back at Alarissa, and Norwood. "If the princess is offering up ten thousand, I will match it."

Well. Norwood looks sour, but the idea of a donation to a charity... Uhg, he can't say no to //that//. "The Laurent's College of Agriculture then." Twenty Thousand to charity isn't chump change. Since Patrizio has stepped up again Norwood has time to drain the drink that Deva trust at him. For fortification.

Patrizio checks strength and athletics at daunting. Patrizio fails.

Patrizio checks strength and athletics at daunting. Patrizio fails.

Patrizio checks luck at hard. Patrizio is successful.

Cirroch has been handed a new horn of whiskey and after a decent sip, yells over as he walks back to the ballistae, "Oh!? Are we bidding for the Baron? I'll add ten thousand to that!" As he gets back to the ballistae he raises the horn to Patrizio. "May your flights...be safe!"

Winter, A Highhill Puppy arrives, following Kiera.

There are things that one simply does not do. One is simply walk into the heart of enemy territory, but another lesser known thing that is not done is that one does not decide to be thrown from a ballista when one's had a few drinks. Indeed, that Patrizio makes it into the basket again is probably a small miracle, since he's not quite as steady as he was the first time - this time due to liquor rather than nerves. The sway to his motions when he's settled just seems an omen for what's about to come...

THUNK!

And off he goes - the launch is far less steady than the first, even if the Pravusi prince is doing exactly as he'd done the first time, arms snapping out to the sides as he tries to look graceful. Tries, perhaps, being the operative term as he's definitely /not/ soaring through the air with the greatest of ease, and it's only the luck of the gods that has him finding the net in the end with anything that approaches grace....

Norwood checks strength and athletics at hard. Norwood fails.

Norwood checks strength and athletics at hard. Norwood fails.

Norwood checks luck at hard. Norwood is successful.

Norwood's soul isn't fully into this adventure, and it ~shows~. He halfheartedly flies a short distance before landing into the nets and rolling about on the ground to sprawl face-up. This is fine. It's good. Charity is great.

Kiera checks composure at normal. Kiera is successful.



Telo watches as Patrizio and then Norwood climb upon Anali, shaking her head a little to the Pravus Prince, then yelling at the soliders to help the man back to his position upon the bucket. Once he's taken flight, the call to have the bucket pulled back for the Baron with a thirty-thousand silver price marked to his flight is made.

Cirroch helps Norwood upon the bucket then takes a step back to watch the antics. A nod is given to Atoli and the toddler screams with excitement.

Medeia is... speechless. It isn't that she's not good for the money, she is. She just really wasn't sure the baron would accept the really-not-a-bribe. Apprentice physicians go to help him up while others are tending to Patrizio's hurt... pride, most likely.

Kiera enters the arena just in time to see Norwood take flight and is actually fairly surprised and impressed to see the somewhat staid baid baron takes part in the proceedings, though she manages to hide any astonishment and offer a "Well done, Baron Clement" across the arena

And it is only Patrizio's pride hurt for the moment, and only by the grace of the gods truly, as he's briefly brushing his hair back, and looking as fabulous as he can. Having a good buffer of inebriation helps as much as the apprentice physicians do, in terms of getting past the fact that the second attempt was not as good as the first, and those jade eyes consider the ballista once more, before there's a laugh that slides from him. "I think the earlier statement about leaving it for those meant to fly stands," comes the general's quip, even as he's returning to Medeia to take up once more the drinking horn. "Alas."

"Gracious." Alarissa doesn't remark upon the style, or the aerodynamics of the Baron, but when he lands safely, there's relief on her face. "Outstanding Baron! Now you can tell the Duke that he really shouldn't"

"No, I'm fine." Norwood waves off the assistants of the apprentices. He brushes dust from his pants as he rises. Moving back to the group he bows to each of them stiffly. "The college will appreciate your support."

Painbow, a militant pygmy goat arrives, delivering a message to Norwood before departing.

Cirroch nods to Patrizio with a laugh, "One flight is typically best, unless you're young like Ansgar there. Drink up, it'll help. Plus, you flew! No one can take that away from you." A loud whistle is given for Norwood's fight from the ballistae, "Well done! Now drink up!"

Kiera makes her way across to Cirroch as she notes the entrance of a certain small goatand bites her lip "Good day my friend I am pleased to see your event is a success

"Yes, thank you." Drink up, Norwood and his pride can do that OVER THERE. Way over there. Kiera gets a bow towards her as Norwood slips out and away mumbling about his own stupidity.

Bayberry, an Oakhaven juvenile bloodhound, Steadfast, a dunskin stallion courser, Bumbling Bees from a Clement bee hive leave, following Norwood.

Glory, the Prestigious Warhorse have been dismissed.

Doreen, the Red Squirrel have been dismissed.

1 Thrax Elite Guards have been dismissed.

Medeia bows her head to Norwood, a small smile curving her lips. "Baron, that was well done." Having relinquished the drinking horn to Patrizio, she turns her attention toward him. "The marquis speaks true, no one can take from you the joy of having flown. Twice! You may not be a bird, but it is more than many can say." Then, she's turning and giving Eleyna instructions to repeat to the apprentices.

Which Eleyna does, quietly but confidently relaying those orders as Alarissa watches on. "A gold glass of milk for the Baron, if it is to found, or a cold glass of tea. It soothes all."

Medeia checks stamina and athletics at normal. Medeia is successful.

Medeia checks stamina and athletics at normal. Medeia is successful.

6 First Legion Centurions have been dismissed.

Medeia checks luck at normal. Medeia is successful.

Telo steps up once more, ready to call the scores of those that took it upon themselves to have wings today. She hands the large goats horn off to a nearby guard who takes a look at the drink as if it is his to drink, then doesn't as the small herald glares at him. Turning back to the crowd, she's about to make an announcement as there's a clamouring from a pair of Eswynd guards climbing into the bucket. "No! No! One. One at a time!" The guards look upset, then one gets out and they are lauched.

THONK

The Eswynd flies through the air with little fanfare other than to start flapping their arms, screaming "I got me wings!" Then landing in the nets.

Telo smiles and starts laughing as she tries to maintain composure.

Kiera smiles as she notes Alarissa's presence "It is good to see you princess how are you?

"Lady Kiera. I am well. Lord Vitalis spoke to me of a stone recovered?" Alarissa turns her attention to the noblewoman. "One that won't do what I had hoped to find, but no less beneficial?"



Cirroch watches as the Eswynd guard flies and screams about having wings, a small laugh then erupts into one that echoes through the arena. He looks over to Atoli who has taken to playing in the sands of the field. A nod is given to Telo, who has been trying to hold her laughing in all this time, and is now failing. Between laughs and deep breaths, the small Sanna herald stands up, "Final Standings!" She looks around just in case there are any more that wish to climb upon the siege weapon. "Ansgar of Sanna, 333 yards! Marquis Cirroch Sanna 313 yards! Prince Patrizio Pravus 173 yards! Guard of Eswynd 163 yards! Prince Klaus Thrax 123 yards! and Baron Norwood Clement 123 yards! All of our fliers will be sent a Sanna House Goat's Horn for their bravery and strength shown today!" Telo takes a step back then looks to the Sann guard that is still holding her horn, who returns the horn very carefully as if he's afraid of what the herald can or would do to him.