She smiles warmly at the man, then grins. If I can still ride with my hip, he can joust with his eye. It's the time and effort that matters, and you say he's happy so more power to him.
She continues, offhandedly.
Ah, my apologies. I am Lady Alusair Filfaeril Alliel, although I am pledged in service to Selune. I don't take much note of my house, with my father still having control of it and hopefully for many years yet. I'm to learn something of the world, he said. Ah, your son won his first pass. See?
She continues chatting amicably with the old man, then as the joust winds down takes a long moment to look over Sir Luke before taking the rose with a smile. She pauses to smell it once, then offers it to the young girl in the seat behind her.
I think this is for you. Every young girl deserves a rose.
She smiles again at Luke, then takes her seat once more to see the next event.
Lance watches the jousting with unabashed enthusiasm, cheering the knights on along with the rest of the 'small folk' he is with. He will keep an eye out for Lord Sewart, so that he can 'perform' his epic story when called upon.
He will ingratiate himself with the Ebonhawk guards and eventually finds himself close to Vess the Lizardman:
"Well met Warriors of Ebonhawk! I am Lance, Minstrel in the service of Lord Sewart of House Stoutbold. I am collecting stories for tonight's great feast, and I would be eternally grateful to hear how Lord Ebonhawk recruited you to his service. I imagine it must be a tale full of great heroism and danger..." He speaks warmly and slowly to Vess, hoping the large lizardman understands his words.
Crystal watches the knights jousting, her lips pursing into a thin line.
...I wish I was out there.
She winces as one of the knights gets knocked clean off his horse by Sir Goldfeather. She claps mildly as the rest of the crowd cheers, starting to feel uncomfortable. Her armoured coat feels heavier than it should, with her mother watching the jousting as well--she keeps her eyes forward, uncertain as to what Lady Drusilla thinks of the whole affair.
At this point she notices a half-elf approaching the lizardfolk. He's too far away for her to get a good look at his face. Perhaps it's just as well--she folds her hands in her lap and watches them as the two begin to converse.
The talking man now talks to me. He is not a warrior though. Weaker. But they do not move against him. I should not either.
Vess'Sothek digested the man's words as best he could. Not all of them made sense. What is minstrel? Heroism? But he did understand the terms feast, stories, and, most importantly, service.
Do they want me to be a warrior for them? The chief's son is so thin! But the chief might not like me if I offer, it might offend him. Is this the chief's shaman?
The reptile cocked his head, was silent a bit longer, then responded.
"I am Vess'Sothek, from Shadowscale tribe." His syntax had improved somewhat while listening to the talk that day. "My story is this: We come from Great Swamp, by young sun." He pointed to the East with a claw. "Demons push us out of home. We swim across sea. Go to old sun along coast. We live to town of Il...lipur." He had to recount the name, odd for him. "Many evils there. Most die. We leave Il..lipur. My mother strange, tribe blame her for curse. Make us leave them. Her sister with us, sick. I go to human town for healing. Get arrows. She die, mother leave. Meet Sam. Funny Sam." The lizardfolk smiled a bit on the inside for the bit of kindness he'd received so far
Taking a break to see if they understood, he decided to take the risk of offending the elder. He brought me here. I need to make use of it! "I need new tribe. Funny Sam make me guest, bring me to ... joust? For me, is much talking. Humantalk hard for me. But joust harder for warriors. Sam says warriors only special blood. I not have special blood. But can still fight."
It was an odd feeling for him. While he was the strongest there, the largest, and probably the fastest, he felt vulnerable as he finished.
Ethaniel barely pays any attention to the proceedings, often leaning far back in has seat and nearly dozing off at one point. Once the joust ends he smiles and turns over to rankle his father. "What's this? Sir Luke wins? A real underdog story, who would've guessed! It's a good thing I didn't bet the entire family fortune against him like I'd planned!"
Lance listens to the lizardman with great interest and tries to make sense of what he is saying:
What is this new sun and old sun he is talking about, and Il...lipur?
Demons pushed them out of his home... Hmmm...
Turning to Samuel, "Your friend is big and strong, will he be competing in the general melee or is that also only open to Knights?"
The girl, a tiny thing with curly golden tresses, squeals with happiness when Alusair extends the flower to her. She beams and brandishes it proudly to her noble parents.
Sir Luke smirks at Alusair's reaction and resumes his victory trot.
***
Estelner laughs heartily and claps his son on the back. "Don't joke about those kinds of things boy. Coin goes in the blink of an eye if you're not careful. Sir Luke's a fine knight. He deserved this win. Do you think he'll take the melee as well?"
***
Sam smirks when Lance uses the word 'friend'.
"The tournament's only for knights I'm afraid. He helped me and a few of the other house guards out the other night when we were on the road. I didn't have much to offer as thanks so I invited him along to see competition. This is your first time this far west, isn't it Vess?"
The warrior tersely nodded. "West inland, yes."
"Vess you will get the chance to prove yourself and earn a place in a new 'tribe'. Look at Captain Grox," he says pointing discretely to the hulking bull Minotaur, "He is not of these lands, but has earned the respect of Lord Ebonhawk and now leads his House Guard. You too can do the same, maybe with Lord Ebonhawk or maybe with another."
He bows slightly to the lizardman and moves on to try and meet the copper elf.
If he is able to catch up to the copper elf he will engage him in elven and following the Elven Court protocol:
As the talkative human went to speak to someone else, Vess'Sothek considered his offer. Prove? A hunt then? A battle? He wasn't aware of any wars at the moment. However, from one more intimate with the process...
The lizardfolk wandered over to the minotaur. "Grox?" He tested the name. "I am Vess'Sothek, Shadowscale tribe. Lance," he pointed, "say I prove for Ebonhawk tribe. How did you prove for them?"
Zael'anis matches Lance's traditional elven greeting with his own, kissing the palm of his right hand and touching it to his heart. "Well met traveler", he offers in a sing-song voice.
***
A few members of the audience gripe as Vess crosses in front of the amid the grand melee's introductions but none dares confront the towering reptile. When Vess'Sothek reaches the minotaur's position, a couple other human guards move forward to intercept but the bull calls them off with a grunt and a lazy gesture. Vess may not be an expert on mammals but it's clear to him that this is an older bull due to the silver tips in his cocoa mane and the yellowed tint to his long sharp horns. Regardless he cuts a fearsome figure in the way he easily looks even the towering Vess in they eyes and his hulking frame visibly ripples with muscular power.
"It's Brox", the minotaur rumbles in correction. "And I've served Lord Ebonhawk since he was just a pup. What do you mean, 'How did I prove for them'?" he asks in confusion.
The cheers of the crowd quickly draws the minotaur's attention away from Vess.
"Look, the melee's gettin' started. Please take a seat Vess'Sothek. I'm happy to answer whatever questions you've got about Lord Ebonhawk after the tourney."
"Brox." He pronounced the "b" harder to show he had the mastery of it. "Yes, I watch." He took a seat not too far from the minotaur.
Before the actual fight started, he wanted to get the right idea in Brox's head. "Lance say I prove to Ebonhawk so I ... become warrior in the tribe." His fishing for the appropriate word took a moment. Why must things be so complicated? With the Shadowscales, only some druidic rites and issues with the shaman were complex. Everything else was survival. Simple.
Lance notices the slightly awkward response from the elf, but immediately responds in a cordial and friendly manner in elven:
He stands awkwardly besides the elf waiting for his response.
Crystal takes the opportunity to rise from her seat and stretch her legs while preparations are being made for the grand melee. She looks over at her mother. "I'll be right back, Mother--just planning on making an acquaintance or two."
She walks over to the knightly lady's seat and looks her over. "Lucky you, getting a favour from Sir Goldfeather. He rides well."
She smiles up at the newcomer, noting the martial stance and behaves theatrically for her young admirer.
Indeed, but I am not ready to settle down, and such dreams better suit the young at heart. She nods at the girl. Then rises, inclining her head at Crystal.
I am Alusair, well met lady knight. May the blessing of the first child of Ao be upon you. Perhaps we shall walk around the grounds and catch sight of his magnificence? I am afraid it's not our day in the mud, but at least the grass is open. Shall we sally forth?
She grins, then eases her stiff leg out gently and walks grandly away with Crystal. At last she turns to study her new met companion with a sly smile once the small child is out of hearing range...
It's important that we appreciate the fine game they've made of war, is it not? So much more pleasant without the frantic urgency, and we can let the child dream of noble gifts upon a battlefield a while longer. I was never harmed by tales of heroines, just surprised to find I'd become one by accident.
She shrugs deprecatingly.
I will say, I don't think Luke would have bested many of the knights in the stands if you're any indicator. Did you see how open he left his legs on that last pass? He'd have been out of the saddle in an instant.
Zael's handshake is firm and assertive, a far cry from the casual introductions being made.
Lance nods at the elf and agrees with a smile, relieved that his attempt of friendship was not rebuffed. He let's Zael'anis go as he is in a hurry, but stands on the side of the Grounds pondering the day's events:
What an interesting set of characters are here today, despite the foul weather and difficult traveling conditions. A copper elf who has urgent business with Lord Ebonhawk, a lizardman from far away lands beset by demons, Lady Crownsilver looking to have her debts repaid and her daughter who seems more inclined to fight than marry her supposed suitor, and then there is me... why am I here and what do I want to accomplish?
He continues to stand watching the colorful people stroll by, stretching their legs and waiting with a little less anticipation for the Grand Melee now that the tourney is won.
"I am Alusair, well met lady knight. May the blessing of the first child of Ao be upon you. Perhaps we shall walk around the grounds and catch sight of his magnificence? I am afraid it's not our day in the mud, but at least the grass is open. Shall we sally forth?"
"I don't see why not. I need to stretch my legs anyway." Crystal shrugs and lets Alusair take the lead as they go for a walk along the grounds.
"I'm no knight, by the way, Alusair. I am Crystal--eldest daughter of Lady Drusilla Crownsilver." She curtly bows.
"It's important that we appreciate the fine game they've made of war, is it not? So much more pleasant without the frantic urgency, and we can let the child dream of noble gifts upon a battlefield a while longer. I was never harmed by tales of heroines, just surprised to find I'd become one by accident."
Crystal listens quietly as Alusair speaks, but from the way she stiffens slightly at the mention of children dreaming of glory on a battlefield, it's not a topic she's too comfortable with.
"I do not know, truth be told." She says, her voice turning quiet. "It just as easily gives children the wrong idea of how wars actually go." She scuffs her boot on a rock in her path. "When I took up the sword, it was because I wanted to be a good leader for my family, not for glory."
And so I would not be some pawn for politics.
"I will say, I don't think Luke would have bested many of the knights in the stands if you're any indicator. Did you see how open he left his legs on that last pass? He'd have been out of the saddle in an instant."
"You're too kind, Alusair." Crystal looks away briefly before making eye contact once more. "And you're right--he's lucky that lance caught him on the edge of his shield instead of in his breastplate. A charmer, certainly, but I'm afraid he's not much of a rider."
The melee is a grand spectacle filling nearly an entire hour as the twelve combatants clash in a show of strength and skill that sets the entire audience aflame with excitement. Soon twelve becomes six and then six becomes three. The final few minutes of the competition features the twin Helmstone brothers, realizing that they're outmatched, teaming up against Sir Luke. Despite the alliance the Goldfeather knight emerges victorious, defeating his final two opponents and winning the crowd's admiration for the second time tonight.
The blood and splintered shields provide plenty of drama but none of the combatants involved suffer any life threatening injuries. Sir Thomas of Elba does take a nasty blow to the thigh through his mail and there's initially fear the old knight might lose the leg but the tournament's skilled healers are able to staunch the bleeding and save the limb.
The cheers continue for several minutes but soon the crowd is abuzz with excitement for coming victory feast.
The healers reminded Vess'Sothek of his mother. Skilled, but not the focus of the event.
He turned to Brow. "All warriors left alive. Won't they ... revenge everyone now?" Bad blood ran deep when a warrior failed to succeed at a position by combat. Exile was usually the punishment.
Such a punishment had been inflicted upon the lizardfolk for no such contest recently though. I will try their new way.
"No revenge", Brox explains amid issuing orders to the Ebonhawk guards. "This is a contest, nothing more. The vanquished will nurse their wounded pride and come back stronger for it."
The bull was clearly in command of people here, and his age indicated experience. Vess'Sothek had his doubts, but it was clear Brox knew what he was talking about in this situation at least. "They all come back? How do new warriors join?"
The bull's heavy brow furrows as he considers the question.
"It's been a few years since Lord Ebonhawk's planned this sort of thing but not everyone comes back. Some move on to other things. Others just settle down and stop trying to prove themselves. "
Lance watches the Grand Melee with great anticipation, hoping to see the copper elf or the hulking minotaur fight. He is disappointed that the same old knights from the tourney are the only ones participating and that Sir Luke Goldfeather wins this event as well.
Crystal returns from her walk with Alusair and gives the lady knight a parting nod. She returns to her seat next to her mother in time to watch the grand melee.
She watches the proceedings with great interest that gradually wanes as Sir Goldfeather manages to overcome them all. Although she does admit, Sir Goldfeather handled himself very well, 2 on 1.
"Talented, isn't he?"
Ethaniel almost purposely pays no attention to the grand melee, although he's unable to resist watching the final showdown with Sir Luke.
Alusair smiles a moment as Luke wins, then shakes her head ruefully as she watches the twins limp off.
Endurance and patience, with two of them they could have just worn him down. That rush was a waste.
She walks back towards the feast, her thoughts turning from the melee to the young Crownsilver and her host.
She seems ready for great things. I wonder if her family will let her do them? I suppose we'll find out soon enough, it looks like old Ebonhawk will have a chance to talk at the feast itself.
A short time later the blasts of trumpets are heard and Ebonhawk Keep's massive gates drift open allowing the tournament's many guests inside its walls. The assorted nobility is given entrance first where they're swiftly escorted through the courtyard and into directly into the great hall. Inside, servants wait dutifully to unburden guests of wet or muddy coats and see the noble lords and ladies directly to their seats. The kitchen staff wastes no time as the first courses quickly arrive - sweet suckling pig, roasted root vegetables, and deviled quail eggs.
As the last of the nobility enters the great hall, the common folk as well as the bulk of the guests' servants and traveling guards are allowed into the keep where a less lavishly furnished but well-supplied feast awaits them as well. A few gripe about the partially flooded conditions but none can bring themselves to complain about the free food and ample ale. Soon most are deep enough into their cups that the mud doesn't even matter.
***
Though Vess is initially left in the courtyard alone, Sam appears a few minutes later to tap him on his heavily scaled shoulder.
"Lord Ebonhawk would like you to eat inside with all the nobles. Sir Thomas is going to be okay but he's sleeping off whatever the healers gave him while they treated his wounds so his seat's open. The Lord had heard there was a Shadowscale lizardfolk at the tournament and when I told him your story he said he wanted to meet you personally. Follow me."
***
Lance is surprised to find himself seated at the same table as the massive lizardman, the heir of Ebonhawk, and two beautiful noblewomen, one of which is the heiress of Crownsilver.
The handsome young half-elf wearing a light green long coat with golden embroidery flashes a warm and toothy grin at everyone at his table:
"I do not believe we have all been properly introduced... I am Lance Wyvernspur of Immersea. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance and an honor to be seated at your table. What a marvelous tourney and melee House Ebonhawk has organized. Congratulations Master Ebonhawk to you and Lord Ebonhawk, and thank you for the invitation to this great feast."
He bows low to Ethaniel Ebonhawk as he finishes, and you catch a glimpse of a large curved blade strapped to the half-elf's back.
He waits for the others to introduce themselves, grinning widely.
Ah, Indeed. I'm afraid our kind Lord Ebonhawk's invitation didn't mention the diversity of his guests, so there's been many casual introductions this day. I am Lady Alusair Alliel, in service to the first child of Ao. She gestures at her necklace.
My friend she nods gracefully at Crystal. Is the most elegant Miss Crownsilver. I would introduce you to Thomas, but he's unwell. He was the injury in the joust.
She smiles easily, apparently entirely comfortable with the oddity of the situation, her eyes sparkling in amusement as Vess moves to seat himself in Thomas's vacant seat at the end of the table. She turns to the lord himself.
It was quite the tournament all told. It's rare that the melee be won by the champion of the joust, and no grievous injuries. You are to be much congratulated.
Crystal nods as Lady Alusair introduces herself. "Indeed. I am Crystal, heiress to House Crownsilver."
She pauses for a moment before offering the young master of House Ebonhawk a curt nod as well.
The lizardfolk had kept his silence for a time. Though he was not in a battle, he felt threatened, vulnerable, and outnumbered.
They are all saying things about themselves. I have nothing to say though. Is this the first test to me being their warrior? But not all of these are warriors. The chief's son is here though ...
Unsure of the protocol and when the time for him came to speak, the nomad gave the best response he could.
"I am Vess'Sothek." He declined to mention his tribe, for he was not sure if the prior loyalty would be an issue. "My line's name is not important now," he said in realization, catching himself, "Vess is good."
"Ebonhawk Sam bring me here to be warrior for your tribe. I watch today and learn how you fight ... and how you talk." He felt it necessary to add the last bit seeing as many at the table were not seasoned fighters. "I sorry for bad human talk; lizardfolk speak much the old tongue."
He paused unsure of what else to say. "Thank you for food. You have good hunter and cook."
Though perhaps out of etiquette for the table, it may have looked quite comical to see the seven-foot beast offering quaint thanks for his poultry.
Crystal listens to the lizardfolk as he introduces himself. Hmm. 'Old Tongue' in his case, would refer to the language of dragons, wouldn't it? Draconic?
She smiles slightly. "Til los nid praag wah friikir. Hi los valokein ahst daar bord."
Ethaniel grins broadly at Lance's bow and Crystal's nod to him.
"Ahrk Zu'u lorot you'd kos eldraag naal vir pogaan do mii vis yahnol voth renek vun," he says confidently.
He stands to make his introduction, "I am Ethaniel - almost a lancer, barely a mage, and the greatest threat to House Ebonhawk." Ethaniel beams at his father after delivering the joke. "But in all seriousness, it is my absolute pleasure to welcome all of you here, for if there's one thing Lord Ebonhawk does better than his tournaments - it's his feasts!" Ethaniel begins as if to bow, but then suddenly clutches at his front pocket and promptly sits down.
Vess grinned.
"Hon dii tinvok einzuk wahl zey fraan sulvekaal. Nox hi, Crystal Crownsilver."
A throaty hiss greeted Ethaniel as a friendly laugh at his attempt.
"Nii fon Zu'u aal lost rund pruzah yun brodaan wah aav mindin pah, Ethaniel Ebonhawk, kul do konaar."
The sibilant exchange between the trio is mostly overlooked as introductions continue.
"Sewart of house Stoutbold", a smiling older man with a drooping graying mustache seated next to Lance says. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you."
"Indeed, quite the pleasure", the elegant woman seated adjacent to Crystal says with venomous sarcasm. "Lady Drusilla Crownsilver and I fully agree it is a gift from the gods above that sons and daughters of such prestigous houses and colorful natives of the Vast could spare the time to sup with us. Thank you for the invitation Lord Ebonhawk, you have outdone yourself."
Sewart's mustache quivers as his mirth shrinks away.
"Please Lady Crownsilver, there is no need for thanks", Lord Ebonhawk says with a smile while standing from his seat. "Your praise is all the gratitude any man could ever ask for."
Lady Crownsilver's eyes narrow slightly and there's a brief battle of wills as the two matches each other's gaze. Lord Ebonhawk loudly clears his throat.
"The champion of today's competitions will be joining us shortly but please help yourselves in the meantime - eat", he explains to the table with a gesture at the platters heaped high with food.
"Apologies for interrupting sir. It will be your turn to perform at approximately the tenth bell. You're up right after House Blackwinter's jugglers. Will you be needing anything for your performance?"
Reaching for a haunch of meat, Vess was almost certainly out-of-etiquette unless the platter was right in front of him. Though understanding enough to pass platters if passed to him, he does not wait for much else after the benediction from their host.
Though the sarcasm was lost on him due the tongue, the locking of gazes was not. They do not like each other. Why?
Alusair eats daintily, and drinks only the water. She chats comfortably with Sewart about a mutual relation, a wastrel who ran off to join the efforts in neverwinter only to return a few years later as a bard of all things.
I haven't heard from him since, I'm afraid. He said he'd found hints of a pre-mystra god of magic, and was tracking down the details, but for all of that he seemed healthy at least. If you hear from Rafe, I'm sure father would be glad to know he's still alive and well.
She trails off as the next course is delivered, and smiles a moment as vess reaches for it.
Crystal briefly squeezes her eyes shut and suppresses a sigh of embarrassment when her mother speaks out at Lord Ebonhawk. Her toes curl.
Please, Mother, not now--save it for after dinner.
She quietly eats her course for a bit before looking up at the castellan speaking with Lance. She clears her throat. "So, Lance is it?--How did you enjoy the tournament today?"
Lance listens to the Castellan and with practiced ease smiles and whispers back,
"Thank you Master Davos, I will be reciting a tale of love, tragedy and renewal for the guests, so will not need any instruments for my performance. I will be ready at the tenth bell, thank you."
He turns back to the conversation between Lord Sewart and Lady Alusair adding witty commentary on the stories coming from Neverwinter and dead Gods. He encourages the guests closest to him to have some more wine, and he himself has a few more glasses of liquid courage in preparation for his performance.
As the feast continues into the night, the entertainment begins and all forms of minstrels, jugglers and performers entertain the guests. As the Blackwinter Juggler's complete there show, Lance excuses himself and heads up to the small stage that has been erected for the performers to use. He pulls out a small drum and begins thumping in a slow and rhythmic pace, using the drum to get the attention of the gathered guests:
"On this night of revelry and fun, Lord Ebonhawk has delighted us with a feast that has succeeded in banishing away the dreary rain that has dampened our souls for days on end. On rainy nights stories of love, loss and tragedy seem appropriate, don't you think?
He launches into a true tale of nobility, hardship, romance and tragedy:
"Ah, we have an entertainer in our midst, how excellent. If you'll excuse me father, I must instruct the servants to prepare more wine!" As Lance steps up to the stage, Ethaniel leaps from his seat and rushes towards the back of the feast hall.
What is bad about the rain? In the swamp where the lizardfolk lived, the rain was a good sign, for it excited the fish and made feeding easier. So adapted to the water as they were, tribes often welcomed storms instead of shying away from them.
Though the secrets of fermentation were not completely lost to the primitives, it was seldom used, and the wine was a unique and unfamiliar treat. A little fire going down, but it was invigorating. It might be rare though - they pour so little.
Alusair's smile was not lost on the ranger. "Ethanial, son of chief Ebonhawk, has good cooks." Though basic, he tried to convey his compliments in hopes the people would not think him greedy for feasting with them while having relatively no connection.
In a similar vein, though he did not know how to react to the garrulous tale spun by Lance, he echoed the sentiments of those around him, be they applause or laughter.
Lance's well-chosen story has many in the audience on the edge of the seats and even the most curmudgeonly lords and ladies in attendance find themselves entertained. Professional entertainer or not, applause erupts across the great hall when his tale comes to an end. A few of the children seated closest look to the elf with bright eyes in hopes of an encore performance.
Midway through Lance’s tale, the last few knights from the tournament arrive freshly bathed and their wounded tended. Lord Ebonhawk has just stepped away when Sir Luke Goldfeather appears at the Lord’s table with a smile adjacent Crystal offering her, her mother, and Alusair a bow. ”I apologize for my late arrival, my time with the healers took longer than I’d hoped.”
The handsome young knight is clearly waiting for something and remains standing.
As Lance weaves his tale he notices the entrance of Sir Luke Goldfeather and the House Guards attention at the kitchen and the Hall front doors.
He continues his tale, keeping a watchful eye on both activities.
Crystal nods at Sir Luke. "No apologies necessary, Sir Goldfeather. We are happy your injuries were unable to keep you from joining us."
She looks around, wondering why Lord Ebonhawk has left the table. She snorts. "Now, why would he just leave his champion standing in the middle of the room like a fool? He's supposed to formally introduce him, is he not?" She whispers to her mother.
At this point, she notices the commotion at the front doors of the hall--a well-armed copper elf is busily arguing with the house guards who are denying him entrance. Come now--they'll allow a lizardfolk into the feast, but keep a normal-seeming elf out?
Alusair continues her discussion with her neighbor, oblivious to the commotion, but then looks up as Crystal comments on it.
Ah, indeed it is customary. Perhaps the younger son will do so in his stead?
She prompts Ethaniel.