3 Thrax Guards, 1 Thrax Elite Guards, Zephyr, Merike the Merry, the Graypeak Mountain Dog, Alexi arrive, following Raimon.



Redrain's mud pits have been trampled over by many feet in setting up for the event coming from Giant's Reach. Few of the Sanna guards still wear their boots, and their Marquis stands barefooted in the mud, most of his legs from thighs down covered in the mud while he laughs at the attempts by guards and a few of Sanna staff that are taking their chances with catching a full sheep bladder of ale.

Many of the attempts are proving amusing as one will toss the bladder into the air, and the other will attempt to spear it. Which is causing bladders to burst, then both the spear holder and tosser are diving through the mud to drink the ale before the bladder catches too much mud and gives a bad taste to the golden nectar squirting and spilling out to the muds.

The brothers that follow Cirroch around are currently in such a heated battle. Esben has tossed the bladder into the air, and Dado takes to jamming the spear pointed end into the mud then as the ale filled bladder nears pulls the spear out of the mud and swings in like a bastard sword. Knocking the bladder back to Esben and screaming at his brother, "DRINK IT!" while the bladder spins in the air with ale bursting from the edges where it was swatted at.

Telo sits upon a table where the bladders are being sewn up and calls out to the brothers, "You're doing it wrong!" Then sits back and laughs while drinking her own mug of ale.

Cirroch smiles at his guards' antics then turns towards the entrance. His hands clasped behind his back, ready to greet any and all of the city that show up for either the amusement of watching, or to participate in another game from the March that could either be described as sheer boredom creates new games, or simply madness.

Isabeau has come as ab observer. Her attire indicates that, from the corset top of rose leather with its gold sleeves, to the golden velvet of her skirts and boots. The being said, she moves to claim a bench furthest away from the mud.

Sasha is soon arriving into the mudpits, carefully moving over to where Cirroch is sitting. She kisses him on the cheek and whispers something into his ear as she sits down. Her eyes carefully watching the antics of his guards.

One of these things is not like the others. There's a random Pravosi lord wandering in here. But ah, it's just Savio, he's not regular Pravus, he's exotic tropical prodigal Pravus. Dressed to COMPETE, clearly, he is barefoot now that he is arrived, dressed simply, with his belongings safe in a satchel to be set aside. All and sundry, whether he knows them or not, are greeted with, "I heard that there is beer.... to be speared!"

What has Mabelle walked into? She is certainly uncertain what she is doing here. There is mud. Nope. There is beer. Nope. Spears. Nope. There is nowhere to sit. Oh look, there is a corner! She is here to support, "Hello hello! Good afternoon Marquis Sanna, Marquessa Sanna, it has been long! Duchess Telmar, looking savvy!", she will stand in the corner and cheer.

Aella, in typical form, doesn't look much like a countess. Simple umbra leggings, a tunic and boots, raven feathers in her typically northern red hair. "Duchess," She says, seeing Isabeau. There's a smile on her lips before she turns to look at the situation in the mud pits. "This is... Interesting."

Calypso already has a bottle of ale in hand when she comes strolling into the arena with a long, easy stride, and is moving with the grace of a mildly lubricated person who spends a lot of time in that state. Both of which might explain why she's here late for all the world like she's arrived exactly when she means to. She takes a pull for the bottle without breaking her stride.

Rosalind runs in, dressed in her leathers. Her long red hair is pulled back and she's looking pretty excited. "I heard there's beer to be saved!" How else wouod you say that?! Seeing everyone, she gives a large wave.

Isabeau gestures Mabelle to the benches near her, as she sweeps some skirts up a little to protect them, "Come join me, Lady Laurent? I will have Jerome with his shield out in case of errant mudballs. I don't know what's happening here, but Marquis Sanna is bound to be doing something interesting." Brilliant blue eyes alight on Aella, to whom she winks and raises fingers in a little wiggling wave, "You are wiser than I, Countess." To Cirroch, she calls out, "Forgive me if I don't go greet you as the host, there is mud."

Mabelle settles by Isabeau and has her own trio of guards stand as protectors of mud, "Why are they spearing beer instead of drinking it?", her hand waves casually from behind to Aella, Savio, Calypso and Rosalind, "Good luck!!"

Savio tilts a grin towards Mabelle, "I expect it will be a bit of both, no? Thank you for that cake by the way. And you were so right." He's peeled off his tunic (revealing a prodigal looking snake tattoo over his left shoulder) and rolled up his trouser legs, and he is heading for the MUD. "Who is looking for a dance partner, hm?"

Cirroch's smile is radiant and broad as he greets everyone coming in, a nod to all, then a quiet laugh to Sasha for the shared conversation. He gives her a bear hug lifting her from feet before putting her back down to allow her escape to mingle. Cirroch turns to look towards their guests, "Welcome! Lady Mabelle, Duchess Isabeau, Duchess Calypso, Rosa, Countess Aella." He continues to smile as Isabeau and Mabelle make their arguments for the amount of mud versus drinking. "The point is to drink it before it hits the muds. And the mud pits are a better spot for the amount of possible spillage than the arena. Gwenna might have a different opinion of our house if we soiled the arena with spilled ales." He turns to look to Savio, "I don't believe we've meet." He puts his right hand to his heart and overs a small nod. "Marquis Cirroch Sanna of Giant's Reach."

There's a skeptical look on Aella's face. She likes /sailing/, and punching Cirroch on /sand/. This mud situation is something else entirely. She shakes her head in response to Mabelle, "Not sure." Then, "Aye, that's me," with a grin in Cirroch's direction when he greets her. Savio steals her attention, however, with that interesting tattoo and the mention of dancing. "Last person I danced with I stomped on his foot in front of Queen Symonesse. Might not be the best choice."

Mabelle calls toward Savio, "I'm sorry to hear I was right! But I'm glad you enjoyed the cake!" She casts a smile at Cirroch and asks the guards to lower their shields because she cannot see much. "Well I do hope to dance next week in the gala, it has been a while. But since I'm hosting, it is unlikely to happen", a dramatic sigh escapes her.

Savio bows in return to Cirroch's greeting, "I am Savio, of House Proscipi." The 'lord' bit will have to be implied rather than clearly stated, as though on some level he's still coming to terms with that title. As though it still holds something too dark for a festive day. His accent marks him as clearly as a Saffron prodigal as the tattoo does, and Aella is the next to receive a grin. "I think foot stomping is more okay here. So, I challenge you, Countess Aella, if you are not afraid. Toss or spear. Your choice." Confirmation of enjoyment of a cake is sent to Mabelle in the form of blowing a kiss her way. Mwah. It was a delicious cake.

Isabeau's blue eyes flick around at Mabelle's question, humming in thought, "Probably because beer is gross?" she decides, amusement in her tone and her chin raised as she prepares for an onslaught of anyone arguing with that opinion, "Well, most beer. I've met a few that I like." she concedes, in her warm, contralto voice.

Sasha softly laughs at the conversation herself before sitting back and looking over all who are present at the moment. Polite waves hello given to all she crosses eyes with. "Is it lovely to see you all, I hope the activites are enjoyed!" Her hands gently folding in her lap.

The small red head sitting upon the table and yelling at Dado and Esben takes to standing on top of the same table, calling out to all those that have gathered. Waving the large drinking horn in her hand, sloshing ale about, drinking from it and explaining the rules of the game. "Ladies, Lords, and all ye gentle Northern fucks! The name of the game is to NOT spill the beer, while you will be spearing it either impale the bladder hard upon the shaft of spear and take to drinking the spillage. Or as Dado and Esben have demonstrated, batting it back to your opponent for them to drink it. However, ale hits the muds and you've lost points." She takes another long sip of the drink. "Any questions?"

Dado covered in mud, with the bladder between his teeth as he drinks from it raises his hand for Telo. Telo looks over to him, "Not you. Daft basterd! Them!" Dado shrugs and continues to drink from the bladder, then is tackled by his brother Esben into the mud. "Share the ale! Dado!"

Realizing not EVERYONE knows her, the Ravenseye introduces her, though her large hazel green eyes drift to the mud. "Hi! Im Lady Rosalind Ravenseye. I like Ros or Rosa though." As rules are given, she laughs at those already covered in mud.

"Hey Cirroch." Calypso wraps an arm briefly around Cirroch's waist as she passes him in a casual, friendly, but BRIEF -- what was that exactly? Whatever it was, it's over now, and with Calypso only having picked up a little bit of mud on her heavy soled boots and her pants just at the hip. "Thanks for inviting me. All of this looks... promising."

Mabelle winks to Savio amusedly and then murmurs aside to Isabeau, "I dont like beer either, but I cannot be loud about it as to not insult the host", she then claps and cheers toward the mud pit to no one in particular.

When Mabelle mentions not being able to dance at her own event, Aella frowns. "Why wouldn't you be able to dance as hostess?" She looks like she might fight whoever keeps the lady from enjoying her own gala. But the Savio is /challenging/ her. Her brows rise. "I take no blame if you become injured as a result. Duchess Isabeau and Lady Mabelle can attest to my ability to nearly drown while bobbing for apples." This doesn't bode well, but challenge accepted.

The Savio looks amused at Aella's warnings. "No fear. No shame. No regrets." It's his house words. No, it isn't. But it should be. He grins at her, "Select the spear or the beer, and I will take up the other, Countess. If I drown, tell my brother I died doing what I loved, which was making poor choices while drinking."

Isabeau looks over at Sasha, the words catching her attention. She offers the woman a warm, seraphic smile and raises a hand in a wave, "Cousin, how nice to see you. Would you like to come sit with us?" She smiles aside at Mabelle and gives her nose a tap with a fingertip, "If I know anything about Marquis Sanna's nature, I don't believe he is particularly easy to offend."

Mabelle assumingly calls toward Aella, "Because I'll be fussing", its new for Mabelle, yelling in a social event because the mud and the chaos and she cannot get close. Mabelle concurs with Isabeau, "True, I doubt I could offend him, but as Savio makes a point about poor choices while drinking, Mabelle declares, "I'll drink to that! But not beer. Do you have a flask?", she murmurs the last bit to Isabeau

Cirroch laughs as Calypso approaches him, "Perhaps you'd like to take a hand at catching a bladder?" a shout over to Mabelle, "Complain about the ale all you wish Lady Mabelle, there's casks of whiskey beside Telo as well. We simply use the ale as there'd be more of a fight over spilling whiskey!"

Telo nods to Savio and Aella, "Choose your positions, when ready. Give launch to the bladder."

It's like something dawns on something on the young Ravenseye and she grows restless. Rosa rushes out, unsurprised to anyone.

Calypso finds something convenient to lean against while she finishes off the ale in the bottle she's got with her. A place with a good view of the mud pit. Her dark painted lips curl into a smile that reflects in her pale blue eyes like sunlight glittering on northern ice. "I like the view just fine where I am," she demurs to Cirroch.

Connal, a Northern Wolfhound, Honeymare, 1 Ravenseye Warrior leave, following Rosalind.

"Fuss while dancing," Aella says to Mabelle. She shrugs, then looks between bladder and spear. "Spear. If I must kill the marquis' brother, I wish to do so with flair. Otherwise it isn't worth telling him at all." She winks at Savio as she unlaces her boots. Then off comes the belt, axe, and tunic, leaving her in the umbra leggings and a matching camisole. "Mud'll come out of the umbra..." Her hair is left loose and wild, though.

Mabelle makes a mark to her girl to collect two cups of whiskey for her and Isabeau, "Multitasking do not work under pressure!", she points out for Aella while watching the pit.


*** Savio has called for an opposing check with Aella. ***
Savio checks strength and athletics at easy. Savio is successful.
Aella checks perception and medium wpn at easy. Aella is successful.
*** Savio is the winner. ***

Taking up the cup, Isabeau makes an amused noise at Mabelle, "I was about to send Elaine to get us something. Oh, is that what they are doing?" She looks into the pit to watch Savio and Aella, eyebrows raised.

"You're going to kill me with flair?" Savio laughs at Aella, appreciating this comment. "Oh, promises, promises." He squelches his way into the mud pit with the confidence of a man who has never done anything wrong ever, in his life (untrue), and selects one of the ale-filled sheeps bladders. It's hefted up to judge the weight and shape of it, a little mini toss catch, then he grins at her and once she's in position, she gets bard'd at.

"Get it Countess, ready that spear
Here's a target full of beer
Look sharp now, don't be afraid
Impractical beverages headed your waaaay --"

fling! flying beer!

Mabelle mutters out loud to Isabeau, "I dont know! I have no idea what's going on"

"Delegate!" Aella calls back to Mabelle. Like how she should have delegated this spear throwing business to her man Havard, probably. She wasn't prepared for barding. She snorts with laughter as she releases the spear in what would have been a perfect throw if not for the distraction. The spear glances along the side of the bladder, tearing it open. "Oh, shi-" With a resigned sigh, the countess lunges to catch the rapidly emptying bladder before it hits the mud so she can drink what's left. She, of course, catches it and drinks what she can, but she's got mud up to her knees and beer all down her front.

Raimon finishes taking off his boots and rolling up his pant legs 'in preparation for mud season.' That accomplished, Raimon enters the ring and tilts his head up and to the left as he lifts his chin toward Cirroch in a "You? Me? Next? Beer?" sort of way. A quirk of a grin underscores his mustache thereafter. But Rai does not interrupt Cirroch's officiating. The 'King of Beers' is not to be troubled with trifles at own his home court. No way, Bud. That's be rude.

Calypso gives a full-throated and shame free cheer as barding is done, spears fly, and beer and mud go everywhere. Who's she cheering for? It's hard to tell. It might just be general 'go beer and mud!' cheering.

There is no getting out of this cleanly even if you were the supposed 'victor' and Savio is likewise liberally decorated with mud by the time the brief contest with Aella has reached its ale-spilling conclusion. He laughs, not AT her but more in appreciation for the whole absurd situation, then offers her a (muddy) hand up as though to make the mud pit clear for the next lucky contestants. "Ah well done, we MUDdled right through that!" it's okay to kill him

Cirroch turns to watch Savio and Aella and is distracted by Mabelle's shout over the launch of the bladder and gives a quick spin upon his bare feet in the mud and lands on his ass splattering mud everywhere. Then calling back to Mabelle, "Its rather simple. Drink a lot, throw a bladder, catch a bladder, drink more. Get real dirty in the process." He starts laughing as he flops backwards into the muds. He pushes himself up from the mud as Aella cries out in diving after the bladder. Then clapping, "Just like that! Telo! mark their scores." Another push up to standing and mud falls off of his back, and is matted into the pelts of his belt. "Prince Raimon! Perfect! Would you like to spear or toss?"

Mabelle calls amusedly back to Aella, "I dont know how" and then confesses aside to Cirroch, "That sounds completely out of my element but I will raise a toast to the winners", she raises her whiskey and drinks it.

Sasha has her fully attention on the spar of mud between Savio and Aella, watching with a pleased smile. She claps when Savio is made the victor. She then looks curiously to Prince Raimon, wondering what his answer will be.


*** Aella has called for an opposing check with Savio. ***
Aella checks strength at easy. Critical Success! Aella is spectacularly successful.
Savio checks strength at easy. Savio is successful.
*** Aella is the winner. ***

Rai shrugs and picks up the spare spear, in preparation for the next match, grinning all the way. Really, does it matter? The goal is drinking, and mud! While not-drinking-mud! Rai offers the Marquis an elaborate salute with the pointy weapon, and an even fancier salute to the next beer bladder, just for kicks.

Aella laughs as well, tossing aside the empty bladder. "Aye, well done," She says in return as Savio reaches a hand out to her. Her good humor quickly turns to mischief as she catches his hand and pulls him, flipping him into the mud. "You don't fight fair, bard. I like it."



Telo calls out to the crowd, "What type of weapon does a vegetable use?" She snickers from her perch on the table, then nodding to Aella and Savio. "Lord Savio a point!" In theory a guard somewhere is writing these points down, though its hard to tell if anyone is actually doing that or if they are all drinking instead. Telo looks around the room, eyeballing Dado and Esben, then looking to Ansgar, "Get the Marquis another drink! He's only half muddy!" Ansgar is quick to take a filled horn to Cirroch, and spends most of the trip sliding there under some mystical control without falling over, though it may look like he will a few times.

Cirroch manages to catch the horn as Ansgar nearly slides into him, taking a long pull from it. Looking over to Mabelle and Calypso raising the horn, "To being extra dirty, surrounded by good friends and company!" As he takes another drink from the goat's horn, he looks over to Raimon. "Spear then."

Poor dumb Savio! UNSUSPECTING! He is seized, and physics, planning, and general intelligence are all on Countess Aella's side. He is neatly flipped into the mud with a sound like "Aaaa----"*plorp*, followed by some generalized flailing from an indistinguishable but vaguely person-shaped blob of mud. The artist formally known as Savio. He eventually extricates himself from this situation, laughing, wiping off his face to limited success and clapping a mud-arm briefly around Aella's shoulders as they leave the pit. "No no, I deserved that."


*** Raimon has called for an opposing check with Cirroch. ***
Raimon checks perception and huge wpn at easy. Raimon is successful.
Cirroch checks strength and athletics at easy. Cirroch is successful.
*** Raimon is the winner. ***

Calypso cheers again! Once again, it's not clear whether she's cheering because Savio just got dumped into the mud, because Cirroch is promising to get more muddy and more drunk, or overall cheering for Cirroch in general. One way or another, she's made herself into a very appreciative audience. An appreciative audience that's keeping itself way over there. Away from mud hugs and mud splatter. For now, anyway.

Aella is obviously not actually upset with Savio, she allows his muddiness to get on her as they leave the mud pit. "A proper drink, while we watch those two?" She nods at Cirroch and Raimon.

Isabeau is actually sniggering a little, albeit from behind the protective presence of Jerome, the splatting into the mud causing the oh-so-proper Duchess a great deal of amusement from the look and sound of it.

"More than one. All the drinks. I didn't come here to stay sober," Savio confirms to Aella, and snags a beer off the first person willing to let him have one. And then a second one! Oh he's getting one for Aella......! No, actually those are both for him, she's on her own. Amusedly watching to see how this shakes out between Marquis Cirroch and Prince Raimon, he looks around for people who look like they probably don't want mud near them. As mud personified it is now his duty to go that way, toward Isabeau and Calypso with a perfectly innocent, "Hi."

Raimon at first underestimates the Marquis' toss -- that man is -Strong!- and so Rai has to backpedal a few steps to get within proper distance. One step. Twooooo steps . . . uh oh, this walking through the mud thing is -Slow!- Raimon solves this dilemma by basically falling flat out backwards, with and enormous *Splooott* and stabbing at high as he can with the spear as he falls. Luckily, Rai's weapon is huge. And his reach is lengthy. And the bladder is speared. Victory! "Huzzah!" calls an embedded field reporter named Raimon, embedded in the muddy field. "Grab a drink, Lord Cirroch, we've done it!" Which will, perhaps not coincidentally, give Rai time to un-embed his muddiness.

Raimon checks strength at normal. Raimon is successful.

Which he does.



Telo watches Raimon and Cirroch head to the pits, tossing a bladder towards Cirroch with a wink before turning to the crowd. "Give up?" a small pause, "A spear! I guess!" She appears rather pleased with that one and settles back to sitting on top of the table, "We've plenty of bladders! Come get a bladder!" The Sanna's herald, like the marquis, and most of the guards have been // practicing // with the spears today longer than the event has been open.

Cirroch nearly fumbles the bladder then hops into the muds and gives a little twist side to side, the mud that is on his backside and furs spray outwards as if a bear is shaking off the wet after falling into a river. The bladder is sent into the air as he nearly falls backwards again, then takes to charging after the bladder watching Raimon fall to the ground. "Prince Raimon! Amazing catch, though the beer!" Cirroch tugs at the bladder nearly ripping it off of the spear to then attempt to drink as much as possible, while a healthy amount ends upon on him as well. A huge satisfied grin as he turns to Telo, "Give the prince a point!" Then offering a hand to Raimon to help him up.

Calypso finishes off her ale with one last big drink and then hands it off to someone. Is it that person's job to dispose of this item? Who knows. Calypso certainly doesn't. It's their job now. It's not Savio's approach that gets a laugh out of her. It's the greeting. The totally, absolutely innocent greeting. "Savio Proscipi, right?"

A sweet, seraphic smile is cast up at Savio from the pretty blond Duchess, as Isabeau returns the greeting in her warm contralto, "Lord Savio, lovely to see you." And that's when Jerome gets in the way. Her skirt is so very new and so very expensive. And rose leather. The pure fashion of the Duchess's clothes should definitely not be soiled by mud, right? Of course, right.

Double-fisting tankards is the new game Aella and Savio are playing. "Hear hear." She raises one beer to him in a toast and follows him - bare feet squelching muddily - toward Isabeau and Calypso. She gives Cirroch and Raimon her attention for the duration of their exchange. "Nice throw, Highness!" Another lifted tankard, and then a generous gulp.

"The one and only," Savio confirms for Calypso, with a grin. He's managed to wipe some of the mud off his face, and hands; really only those bits because that's what he needs to get drunk, hands to hold the ale and face to pour it into. "...Which is probably a relief to everyone. Duchess Calypso, is that right, I think I heard that by way of introduction earlier?" For Isabeau, he exclaims, "Ah, who even gave you permission to be so beautiful? Look at this rose leather!" He gestures grandly at her outfit, which sends a little mud plorp near her feet. Perilously close. Not soiling the attire..... but it was close. Plop. "If there aren't more contestants, I've half a mind that the first team should have a go at the second; we're all already so, so dirty anyway."

Calypso gives Savio a rough pat on the shoulder after confirming his identity. "You, sir, are --" Her voice falters a moment when she withdraws a now very muddy hand. She looks at it with the air of someone who's recognizing that she should have thought her plan through to the end, then shrugs, wipes it off on her pants, and picks up like she absolutely intended to do all of that. " -- are a national fucking treasure." Then she grins over his shoulder at Aella. "... But I think you won that round in the end."

A very very slight gesture, but Isabeau does collect up her skirts a little as Jerome dutifully nudges the mud plop away from his Duchess's feet, though that collection of gold velvet flashes her velvet ankle boots, "I need no permission for simply being, my Lord Savio. The beauty is just a side-effect of my existence." She raises her chin a little, attempting to affect a pompous air, but the act drops fairly quickly into a rich, melodic laugh - the sweet nature of the Duchess forcing through it.



Telo looks over to The Savio, Aella, Cirroch and Raimon, then to Calypso and Isabeau. "Any other takers? If there are no more than we call The Lord Savio and Prince Raimon to the pits. The highest scores for today, We require one left standing, one that is that little bit taller than the rest, a little more covered in mud! You both are allowed one toss and one catch, the winner gets bragging rights for a year until the next harvest comes around!"

A gentleman would apologize for filthying up Calypso's hand, or find some means for helping her clean it free of mud. Savio does not do any of this for her; both of his hands are still busy holding tankards of ale and at the falter of the voice, the withdrawal of the hand, he only looks amused. "Of course I have to agree completely, but just as surely, I have no regrets. It'd be so off-brand for me if I did. Anyway... mud... very good for the skin, don't you know? Some people pay silver for this sort of cosmetic treatment. You can't see it under the filth right now but my skin is glowing, I am refreshed, I am flawless, I am living my best life."

Isabeau gets a grin as she leans into the compliment, and he agrees, "Ah, so it is, so completely. Best you do avoid the mud then? Any more radiant and the rest of us might be blinded..." Then there is a call for one more match, and he gentle gasps, handing his last half tankard to Aella. "Cherish this as I would have." To the pits, again!

Raimon looks kind of surprised. What, there's -more-? He'd kind of expected the . . . thing . . . to be over. OK! More ale! Nothing better for morale than more ale . . .

Aella looks over Isabeau's outfit with a mixture of awe and confusion - she simultaneously appreciates the beauty and appears to not understand why she likes it so much. "That's just her face, my lord," She says of the Telmar's beauty. "What would some Arvani say? Favored by Jayus?" She shrugs, pretending she didn't just imply she thinks the woman is divinely gorgeous. Quickly, her attention turns to Calypso with a grin. "Aye, he's alright," Comes her agreement about Savio, but her head shakes on her having won. "Nah. Was all good fun, though."

Calypso laughs again. "Do I look like someone who spends a lot of money on beauty treatments?" Not that she's a hag, but her face is unmistakably weathered by the soldier's life in a way that shows every year of her age. Either way, she doesn't leave a chance for Savio to agree or disagree, because she's already wandering away from him, now that Cirroch is emerging from the mud. She cups her hands around her mouth before shouting far louder than the distance between them warrants. "CIRROCH!"

Cirroch is covered in both ale and mud, not giving a care, smiling enthusiastically as Calypso shouts towards him. He stretches his arms out wide calling back as he closes the gap between them. "CALYPSO! I found you more mud!"

Savio picks up a spear this time since last time he was a beer-tosser, and squelches his way back into the pit. Splorp splorp splorp each step. He wouldn't be him if there wasn't another bit of bard nonsense before each round, right?

"I like this game, come on over
Throw some beer, I'm not sober
Pick up that thing, don't take long
What could possibly go wrong?
Hope you're all feeling thirsty
This is 'bout to be drunk and dirtyyyy."

He brow wags and waits for his beer-throwing opponent/partner!

Raimon laughs and joins in the fun, selecting the spear as Savio's suggested. Raimon rejoinders:

A duel of ale and rhymes, betimes,
For partners: none more fitting!
I only pray, will what gods may
To wind up nae mud-spitting



Savio stands there, prepared, ready, a WARRIOR, right, before suddenly realizing, "Oh, we both have spears." How true. How true. "That's an entirely different sort of fun." He holds up a finger like, oops, 1 moment, and then exchanges his for the beer filled sheeps bladder.


*** Savio has called for an opposing check with Raimon. ***
Savio checks strength and athletics at easy. Savio is successful.
Raimon checks perception and huge wpn at easy. Critical Success! Raimon is inhumanly successful in a way that defies expectations.
*** Raimon is the winner. ***


*** Savio has called for an opposing check with Raimon. ***
Savio checks perception and medium wpn at easy. Savio is successful.
Raimon checks strength and athletics at easy. Raimon is successful.
*** Savio is the winner. ***

Calypso makes a playful warding gesture with her hand as Cirroch brings his muddy self towards her, arms outstretched. "Oh no you fucking don't. I have to get to a meeting after this." Never mind that she already has little smears of mud on her pants and, inexplicably, one on her forehead. "I'll take another drink, though, before I have to leave."

Aella settles down a respectful, no-mud-on-Isabeau, distance from Isabeau to watch Raimon and Savio, juggling several tankard and just chugging them to free her hands.

Savio muddily wanders over to collect a sheeps bladder, which he then smooches. He encourages the object, "Godspeed, rebel," and then launches it toward Raimon! An arc through the air, just begging to be speared, but so difficult to spear such an object without piercing it...!

Raimon watches the leathery spheroid rolling in the air, admits the confusion of which implement was whose. Rai shrugs and rolls with it. One spear each, one bladder each. That ought to make it -four times- more difficult, because Raimon can do maths up to quadratics. A simultaneous toss, twin lunges, and oh what on ye gods green mud just happened? That was . . . well, bespattering. A work of inhumanly defiance of mortal expectations later, there are two spears through one bladder, which -somehow is not leaking- and a nick on the other. Still no ale spilled! Well, -that- won't do. How are we to drink? Rai winks at Savio, pulls the twain apart, and, before the bladder hits the ground, scorpion-kicks it over to Savio. Somehow so precisely that it's trivial to catch and share? What sorcery is this?

Isabeau flashes a sweet, seraphic smile over at Aella in response to her prior compliment, "Why Countess, how sweet. Do you like the new outfit? Should I have a similar skirt made for you? I think you could pull it off."

Cirroch smirks at Calypso, "Fair. Suppose I shouldn't offer to share the mud then." He pats her back with a squish, calling to Ansgar for more drinks to be brought over. The young man looks up from his seat beside the table, he's been drinking as well and nods to where they are as Telo swings her feet at the man. "Get up and take them..." She's distracted by what Savio and Raimon are up to with the spears and bladders. Calling out loudly, "Prince Raimon Thrax! Well done!" Looking to her troops around her, "That! That's how it's fucking done! I'd say he had a pointless weapon, but that! ... Perfection your highness!"

Cirroch watches the perfect attack to the bladder, cheering for Raimon and Savio. "The most perfect throw then spear. Both of you have outdone yourselves today!" He turns back to look at his staff with a shake of his head, "Another drink then Duchess." With a playful smile, "There's mud on your back."

Savio is not gonna say no to beer kicked his way, are you kidding. It's captured and he picks up a spear with which to at last cut it open, but not before there's a summary. In song form, as ya do.

"Ladies and gents, spectacular acts!
None of us even know how to react!
Artful, graceful, I feel faint
Such precision, such restraint
He's not even scratched this beer --
He knows his way around a spear."

He winks at Raimon and then drinks from the beer that was sent his way, before readying a spear for the last aspect of the challenge. "Nobody better expect that kind of circus tricks from me, hey, that is not in my skillset!"

Aella is gaping at Raimon's display. She's not drunk /yet/, the alcohol hasn't had time to hit her, but she's speechless at the display the prince puts on. "I... Hm?" Isabeau's question pulls her attention, cheeks flaring red. Whatever she's about to say she swallows back, opting instead for, "It's very nice." Does she need or want a skirt? No. Probably. Is there more beer? She may need more beer.

Calypso whistles low at the spectacle that's taking place in the middle of the mud pit, briefly distracted from both Cirroch and alcohol. He snaps her attention right back to him with the comment about mud on her back, and executes a slightly less than graceful turn while trying to look over her own shoulder. "Fuck me, I'd better not." Still disregarding the mud on her hip and pant leg. And face.

Cirroch looks back to Ansgar with a shrug as he attempts to make his way towards the table slipping and sliding in his path, laughing continuously. Eventually finding a drink by ripping into the bladder with his teeth, drinking down the ale or as much of it as he can before the rest spills. Wiping at his mouth, then looking over to those that remain. "A proper harvest celebration! Thank you all for coming. The first freeze festival will be held in both Feller Vesi and Mountain Flower, for any that are interesting in coming with us in the visit to the march. We'll send out invitations when we are closer. There's a lovely game of chasing horses through the deep snows."

Isabeau gives Aella an amused, but knowing look at that, laughing softly as she begins to gather herself up, "And I do think I have a meeting that I must ready for." She pauses and calls to Cirroch, "Thank you for inviting me, Marquis."

Savio's efforts to spear the next beer tossed his way are as he predicted, not as spectacular as Raimon's, but he doesn't seem to mind. Here for a good time... and here for a beer, which having been just a bit nicked, is now in his possession and needing to be drank. "Good show. Good party," he praises the match with Raimon, and then runs (necessarily very slow motion due to mud) toward the edge of the pit. "Let us hear it for Marquis Sanna!" Cheering! He cheers along with anyone who will raise a glass to that, then goes to find another drink, and probably bother Aella again! She had two tankards earlier, she knows what's up.

Raimon laughs and drinks the last return volley of these Games, shouting out a poetic reply:

A volley and serve with both backspin and verve,
returned with aplomb,
to the heel of one's palm,
What greater swerve could one want or deserve?


Our Moral?: 'More ale' is the best for Morale!
As many have guessed,
and we’ve put to the test!
Why not another ... Don’t mind if I shall!

Raimon rushes forward to congratulate Savio, and, if accepted, clasps the man on the back in a ‘Well done!’ sort of way. “Most admirably done. Quintessential. Indeed!” Raimon then joins in with Savio's praise, sparking up an impromptu toast to the Marquis: "Here Here! Lord of Beer! Huzzah!" Raimon salutes Cirroch, tankard upraised.

Raimon is overheard praising Cirroch: The Lord of Free Beer!

Aella knows there are servants around, but doesn't care. She gets up and collects tankards - two to a hand by the handles - and moves to give one to Cirroch, Savio, and Raimon. "That was spectacular, Your Highness." She bows her head to him, offering a smile.

Telo hops off of the table, barely spilling her drink and nods to Raimon, "Congratulations your highness! We shall be sending someone over with a gift for a memory of your winning today. And for everyone else, bragging rights that you've competed in Mountain Flower's harvest festival game!" She raises her tankard to all in attendance.