Summer Festival - THE AFTER PARTY! - Ending Soon!

[Arnyn]

Arnyn, human (she/her)

Hunigmeadu? That sounded like something she would not mind trying. Arnyn nodded her agreement to Mal while Silendris voiced their accord verbally.

"Think nothing of it," Arnyn smiled at Silendris' apology. While the Gondorian was a bit confused by Silendris' person (what were they, exactly: dead or alive?), she took it in stride. When they commented on her dress, Arnyn nodded her head in thanks and her smile grew a bit when Silendris called the black outfit subtle. Yes, in comparison to several of the other frocks present... it definitely would be.

Her smile as evident in her dark eyes as it was on her lips. "Your own outfit is rather less subtle," Arnyn began, honestly - as was her way, "but wonderfully original and eye-catching in a way my dress could only long for." The pint was large, but that was naturally the way of pints. "Thank you," she told Silendris when they handed her the drink.

When the winners were announced, Arnyn was glad that there was no presence required on some sort of stage. A few of the party-goers glanced her way when her name was mentioned, but that couldn't be helped. There had been plenty of spectators at the Campian. She sipped the honeymeade gratefully, to hide at least part of her face.

Then the... entertainment for the evening began. Despite just having sipped her drink, Arnyn's throat went dry with stupified surprise as she gazed on the proceedings. What... in... middle-earth... was... this... Pink sequin beards, climbing on tables...? Something 'special' indeed.

Arnyn cringed when someone (Gwai) got kicked in the head passing by the dancing trio, frowned when the hobbit's head (Mal) was momentarily used for a drum, bit her bottom lip with both anticipiation and hope the table would not buckle when it started moving dangerously, and clapped along for the end of the show they were putting on after she'd temporarily put down her pint on the nearest table. Arnyn halted her clapping again, picking up the honeymeade and taking a cautious step back when the trio began their finale. Mal, Sil and Arnyn were far enough removed from the performance not to get soaked, but Arnyn was rather safe than sorry, and her additional step backward saved her from a stray spray.

At the end of the performance, it was all Arnyn could do to keep her jaw from dropping. The Campwisa, who had inexplicably taking part in this performance (at its very center, too!), basically mooned the audience by way of bum-flap. Was Rohan always this... she couldn't think of the word. There were several floating around in her mind: flabbergasting, stupifying, amusing, entertaining, outrageous... Nonsensical?

Thankfully, a Rohir in a green dress, whom Arnyn did not know, soon came to distract her. She was about to tell the woman (Amadhrill) she need not apologize for the interruption (and that in fact it was rather welcome), when her congratulations on her win in the Campian silenced her yet unspoken words to a muted nod of thanks and, when Amadhrill added it was well deserved, a smile. "Thank you for your gracious words," Arnyn responded softly.

The change in the woman's face gave her pause, however. There was something else on the Rohir's mind - another reason why she had approached her, that much was evident. Arnyn tilted her head while Amadhrill continued, curious as to what the woman could possible have to ask her, of all people present at the party.

The night was full of surprises, it seemed, when the woman asked for a word in private. When Amadhrill mentioned Eldrith (without actually referring to her by name), Arnyn's smile faded a little. She nodded pensively. "Excuse me for but a moment," she implored the Hobbit (Mal) and Silendris.

She walked a ways with Amadhrill, then turned to face her again when they both drew to a natural halt. "What can I do for you,..." Arnyn inquired, both after the woman's questions and her name.

[Taethowen]

Taethowen
human, she/her

Taeth pulled a handkerchief out from where she did actually keep one, tucked inside the leather bracer on her right arm, handing it to Gwai. "I'll go get some ice," she stated, then eyed the drop of blood that landed on Gwai's pretty blue gown. "If you can manage up a bit of spit, it'll take the blood stain right out of your dress. The sooner, the better, though."

She stood and crossed over to the buffet then, and as she waited for a chance to ask the server for some ice, Taeth spotted Ula nearby... sporting a jumpsuit that seemed very similar to the one Sil had sported during the M. Meduseld competition. But it was rather significantly more sequined than the one Sil had actually worn.

While she was relieved that the corsair had made it to the after party and had discovered the food, Taeth found that she suddenly had an inexplicable urge to string the woman (Ula) up in the center of the tent and set her spinning, preferably with a single beam of light focused on her--though Taeth had no idea how they'd manage that in Rohan--to scatter the tiny reflections from the sequins all around the tent.

Then the server greeted her, and Taeth snapped out of the moment, wondering what in Arda had overcome her.

"Could I just get a cup of ice, for now?" Taeth asked, despite the way her stomach grumbled at the sight and smell of all the different food options. "For my friend that got kicked in the face."

The server nodded and retrieved it for her, and detoured on her way back to Gwai to greet Ula. "Glad to see you, though I presume you've become a victim of Silendris with that jumpsuit," Taeth smiled, just a bit quirkily. "I have to go help my friend, she was kicked in the face during the... dance number. But you're welcome to come join us!"

Then Taeth returned to Gwai and held out the cup of ice. "Here, you can wrap these in the handkerchief. Don't leave it on your face too long, though. Just a few minutes at a time so you don't hurt your skin."

[Gwai]

Gwai, Human

Gwai gratefully took the handkerchief Taeth offered, and held it to her nose. "Thang you," she said a bit nasally, as Taeth went after ice. She soon came back with some, and Gwai carefully wrapped a few pieces in the handkerchief before holding it to her eye.

She was feeling much better after sitting still, and clambered to her feet, relieved she wasn't falling over. "I think that was one of the new cavalry recruits," she commented. "Remind me to give him a hard time about this," she said with a smile and a laugh. The nosebleed seemed fairly minimal and had stopped already, but Gwai looked at the handkerchief doubtfully. "I'll wash this at home and give it back," she told Taeth. "I think a drink is in order now!" she said cheerfully, looking toward the bar, and momentarily taken aback by the sheer number of sequins a jumpsuit wearing woman was wearing (Ula). "I wonder if she knows Silendris from the competition," Gwai wondered out loud, never having seen quite so many sequins in one place, much less two sequined outfits in two days.

[The Good Hunter]

Frost, Human (he/him)

Don’t drink? Don’t drink? What was Frost supposed to do at a party? He couldn’t exactly flirt with anyone and everyone now could he? Drinking and flirting were usually his go to actions at a party but apparently both of them were off the table. No matter! Frost can do other things besides flirt you know! He’s more than just a pretty face, well usually he is, today his nose is a little out of sorts.

Where was Silendris? He needed to congratulate them! He wandered over to the bar, getting yet another refill of perversely wonderful fizzy drink, and eased his way through the throng of indolent attention seekers (all randos, none of you lovely people). There were a few around her that he recognized from the Campian (Arnyn) and the Hobbit he’d not met yet (Mal).

“Silendris! Darling!” he called out after taking a sip. “You were utterly magnificent! I knew you weren’t going to need my help at all. You slew them all on your own!”

He was able to whirl around and segue into “and speaking of slaying them all on your own” but the Campian champion (wow this drink was really good, it made things funnier than they should be) had already moved on to another group! Well, luckily he didn’t waste such a beautifully punny line and embarrass himself by saying it out loud! He chuckled wryly to himself, took another sip and turned to the Hobbit.

“I don’t believe we’ve met yet,” (don’t laugh just because it rhymed doesn’t mean it’s funny), “I’m Frost. I’m… well I don’t really know what it is I’m doing here. I was trounced in the campian and I’ve spent most of my time in Rohan wandering around… not stealing apples.” He rubbed his chin, a slightly nervous habit he’d developed over the years, and looked at the guards instinctively. “What brings a Hobbit all the way down south to Rohan? Business or pleasure?”

The beginnings of a song started playing in the back of his mind, disjointed words about burning down forests and stealing horses but the melody wasn’t clear yet. He’d have to keep drinking to find out what it was. Was that… Ula? (yes he’d seen her before but up close the sequined unitard was something to behold) He squinted as the sequins cast harsh rays of light everywhere each time she moved. It was doing no favors for his head ache, that much was clear. He winced every time one of the things flashed it’s bright yellow hellfire at him. “Ula? Is that you? How exactly did you come by one of Sil’s suits? I assume it has something to do with food. It usually does with you.”

[Amadhrill]

Amadhrill – human, she/her

"Amadhrill" she answered Arnyn's question and holds out her hand, as she remembered that most Gondorians had last names, she added, "Hælend of Meduseld eored of the cavalry of Rohan, if you should want to enquire after me."

"I do not know if you have reflected over this, but you might be aware of how the style of weapon wielding is different among the cavalry of Rohan and the rangers of Gondor. You wielded your weapons as a ranger of Gondor, I do believe you have been trained as one." she paused for a moment to let the Gondorian confirm or deny it, though it is not really a question. "I do not know if you had time to watch your opponents during the campian, I was a spectator, so I watched you. And…" she hesitated, now that she was here she did not know exactly how to put forth her question, or rather assumption.

"I could not help but notice that Eldrith, the skirt wearer" she could not help but smile a little at having to describe her friend in such a way. "she fought in the Gondorian style, like a ranger on a battle field. I believe you thought she fought… how shall I put it… dirty, using tricks that you perhaps would not use in a friendly tournament but save for the battle field… and I do not wish to insult you, because I thought you fought honorable and well, as is befitting a campian, and Eldrith… she fought as if she was on a battle field fighting for her life and not her honor. But that is not my point." She was trying to say just the rights words, not too much and not too little, and especially nothing that could be thought of as an insult to the Gondorian.

"I have gone to battle with the Gondorian Rangers, as part of the cavalry of Rohan, and I hold your Rangers in high esteem for their, your, skills in battle and honor outside the battle field. I wonder, Eldrith, she is clearly fighting like a Ranger of Gondor, yet here in Rohan she has never touched a blade before today, as far as I know, and she has lived here for some 15 years. It might be before your days as a Ranger, or even in a different, I do not know what you call it, eored we say in Rohan… but do you know her? Is her name ever mentioned among the Rangers? Can it be that she was once a Ranger, for, by Bema, she fights like one…"

[Balfur]

Pink beards! Balfur thinks as he looks at the performance of three false-bearded individuals after the winners have been announced. Quickly he gulps down his first drink and heads to the bar for a second one. "Give me something strong, mate, I cannot stand to see these horrific images without being drunk beyond my dwarvendom." The bartender looks uncomprehending at the last word, but the dwarf has no time for misunderstandings. "THE WHISKY, now! Please!" fury fires from the Fur's eyes as an inherent madness smolders within. As the bartender scurries away to fix the dwarf a stronger drink, Balfur focuses on his breathing. "Gotta stay calm, beardy boy," he tells himself holding on to the bar. "Gotta keep in control. This is not the time to have flashbacks to ..." his murmuring trails off.

He is once more in the house of his darling wife, the matriarch of the Dagda family. Besotted he is with her, though she does not seem to have any facial features, except two rows of razor sharp teeth, a set of two piercing, black eyes, and a pair of pointy ears. Horrified, Balfur takes a step back.
"Hello, my darling husband!" a crooning voice calls out at him and the featureless figure darts at him and embraces him. He tences up as a kiss is pushed on his lips. From the corner of his eyes he can still spot the board with the "No snogging"-rule hanging near the entrance. A couple of his 'relatives' swarm around them, like they were wont to do back then. His elfin wife pulls her head back and makes a weird hissing sound. Her coal black eyes shine with something akin to glee.
"We have decided it is time for you to have a different colour," she whispers as she nestles her head in the nook between his neck and shoulder. She starts nibbling on his collarbone. Balfur vaguely wonders how and when she took off his shirt, before he is aware of a thousand hands starting to comb through his hair and beard.
"Different colour?" he asks.
"For your beard, silly," the wife answers with the same weird breathless whisper. It sounds rather raspy and unhealthy. A 'relative' in the shape of a shadow voices their thoughts:
"I don't know, Mother. Maybe we should shave him instead!"

At that moment someone addresses him. Another dwarf (Amethyst). "Are you a dwarf?" the blonde dwarf asks. "A real dwarf?" he clutches his beard and brings it to his eyes. It is the ash blonde colour he has come to expect. He sighs and grabs his hammer. But it is not there. "How weird, faðir would kill me if I didn't have it with me..."
No, wait. That is not right. He has not seen his father in a long time. He is not in Khazad-dûm or in the Kingdom under the Mountain. He is... elsewhere. Frowning, Balfur turns to the bar he is grabbing for some reason. A manling is bringing him a whisky, whilst looking at him with a mix of anger and fear. Balfur shrugs it off, manlings are feeble creatures, and accepts the whisky. Then he turns back to the dwarf.
"Sorry. I was distracted for a bit, I think... Was there something you needed?" he asks and sips his drink. Not too shabby for a man-made drink. "Also, where are we?"

[Arnyn]

Arnyn, human (she/her)

She clasped the woman's hand. "Well met, Amadhrill." Arnyn stored away the additional information the Rohir gave, but did not repeat it, nor did she feel inclined to share similar information of her own - Amadhrill obviously already knew her name, and the woman was already moving on. It seemed like Amadhrill was eager but unsure of how to ask her questions.

Arnyn gave her a slow nod as the other woman commented that the Rohir Cavalry and the Gondorian Rangers had a distinctly different style in which they wielded weapons. Arnyn tilted her head. She supposed they would wield weapons differently, in a way. Different accents in stance and technique, perhaps. She could see what Amadhrill was getting at. A slight smile tugged at Arnyn's lips and the corners of her eyes at the words "You wielded your weapons as a ranger of Gondor". She nodded again, this time in confirmation instead of thought, when the Rohir left a moment for her to react. Yes, she had been trained as one.

At the woman's hesitation, Arnyn became curious. What would the Hælend ask of her that was, apparently, such a sensitive matter? Patiently, she waited. Once the words came spilling from Amadhrill's lips like a spring waterfall from a ledge, Arnyn carefully watched the Rohir's expression, all the while keeping her own face pensive and neutral.

Taking a couple of heartbeats to further process the words, Arnyn reminded herself that Amadhrill was inquiring about a friend. The woman had questions, likely about someone she'd thought she knew well but perhaps now realized she didn't know very well at all. Such a feeling was likely to color her words in a way she didn't wish to. The odds that the woman meant for her waterfall of words to come crashing down on a rough, rocky surface, were very small. And the Rohir's tone of voice and expression conveyed she was not trying to give offence. Arnyn needed to take that into consideration, difficult as it might be.

"Watching your opponents is essential in a melee - especially a tournament, so yes - I watched many of the Campian fighters," Arnyn finally began, her expression still neutral and perhaps even bordering on friendly. "I can't say Eldrith did not use a Gondorian style... For surely I do not profess to know them all..." The Gondorian tilted her head slightly.

"However, I have been a Ranger for long enough that what I can tell you is that she did not fight like one of us would on the battlefield." Her words weren't rushed or heated - rather they were measured and calm. "A Ranger would seek their own target when there were yet plenty to choose from. They would stand by a friend if one was in trouble against the enemy, yes - but I have yet to see a Ranger prowling the battlefield for whoever they thought the weakest at any given time, or only targeting whoever was already drowning in a flurry of attacks."

A pause, to draw breath. And a soft smile, to perhaps lessen the blow when talking about someone who was clearly a friend to the Rohir in front of her. "The one thing I will credit her with is that she used remarkable efficiency. Which is something Rangers of course do strive for when it comes to fighting the Enemy: 'Do not waste any more energy than you absolutely need to... for the battle can be long, and weariness is the death of a warrior.' But I imagine the Cavalry would do the same."

Her smile faded somewhat. "Moves like her attempted kidney shot would be perfectly acceptable in a fight with the Enemy, but never in a tournament. Not even in a sparring match or a training session. We show trainees of course - to teach them - to utilize it - and we would have them practice the moves on their supervisors, but a supervisor would never intentionally use it to cripple a trainee, not with the force your friend intended to use on her opponent out there. If any of our recruits showed such behaviour in a sparring match with a fellow recruit, they would be gravely berated. And if such behaviour continued regardless, such a recruit would not remain a recruit for long. There is a time and a place for ruthless efficiency - but never against your allies." Arnyn hesitated on her next words. "I'm sorry, Amadhrill, but therefore your friend did not fight like a Ranger. Not in code, not in spirit, nor in style."

Arnyn sighed, knowing her next words would be the ones Amadhrill was really looking for. "Eldrith used to run with the Rangers - as the Ranger Cook. However, as far as I know of, she was never trained in our ways. Her domain within our ranks were pots and pans, not swords and daggers. Whatever style she calls hers, must have been learned before she joined our ranks, or after she deserted them."
"I'm truly sorry I cannot be of more help to you to fill in the blanks, and that someone whom you call friend has not told you more herself."

[Taethowen]

Taethowen
human, she/her

"Don't worry about the handkerchief," Taeth reassured Gwai. "I have plenty more where those came from, and they're a breeze to stitch up either way."

Gwai said something about drinks then, and while Taeth desperately wanted to go get some food and some alcohol at the bar, she probably needed to talk to some people first, as she'd so far only worked on making sure that she and Frost were not stuck in that misunderstanding all night.

"I'll be along soon," Taeth told Gwai. "I'm going to go greet some of the M. Meduseld participants first."

Then she split off from Gwai, and smiled as she spotted the dwarf Amethyst Copperpick, Shadowfox, and another dwarf (Balfur) not too far away, and made her way over to the group. "Amethyst, Shadowfox," she smiled. "Thank you for your wonderful contributions to the M. Meduseld pageant. It was a joy to have you both participate.

"Amethyst, I was wondering if you'd be interested in potentially collaborating or partnering with my shop here, Awesnis Gærwe Nædleprica. The outfit you designed was absolutely darling, and I'd love to help distribute it. As fascinating as Silendris' jumpsuit is, it's definitely not appropriate for every occasion."

[Amadhrill]

Amadhrill – human, she/her

She noted the Gondorian's nod, a confirmation of her assumption that Arnyn was trained as a Ranger. Ama's words had come tumbling out, in ways she would not have spoken had she had a proper night's sleep and meals, not to mention time to think it through. Yet, the Gondorian listened patiently, hearing her words before making her answer.

Arnyn's answer was measured, calm, followed by a soft smile. But the words were not what Ama had wanted to hear, hoped to hear. Ama's hands clenched, and it took all she had to keep her face from betraying too much of her feelings, her confusion and anger, at Arnyn's words, stating in a calm way that Eldrith had not fought like a Gondorian Ranger. Ama wanted to scream and yell at at Arnyn. But she didn't, the clenched hands gave her uncomfort away, but her face remained neutral, if a little forced, and she did not open her mouth.

She nodded as Arnyn spoke of the important of efficiency, confirming that it was a point they were thought too. The Gondorian's smile seemed to fade somewhat and Ama felt the next words as a blow in the stomach, though only the clenched hands and tense expression showed it. She wished for a moment that she had come in her uniform, in her uniform, as a hælend, she could keep her face straight no matter what, her head cool. Now, in her best dress, she felt naked and unarmed in the face of information she both wanted and not. She forced her breath to remain slow and deep as she listened, taking in every word, knowing well they would repeat themselves in her head.

Arnyn hesitated for a moment, before making the words clear, Eldrith was not a ranger in her way of fighting. Again she wanted to protest, point out the similiarities in their ways, but she didn't. She listened as the Gondorian sighed and continued, confirming that Eldrith had been with the Rangers, as a cook, and then she had deserted them. Deserted. Not honorable discharge, not left, deserted.

For a moment Ama did not speak, taking in the words, saving them in her mind for later. Then she forced her hands to unclench, forced her jaws to make a smile, as friendly as she could manage. Her voice was steady, a little cold perhaps, but not unfriendly. «Thank you, Ranger Arnyn. For taking the time and answering my questions.» She breathed in slowly.

«I am very grateful for your honesty and I am in your debt for it. If I can ever be at your service, I shall repay your kindness in any way I can.» She bowed her head in a respectful manner, she would have saluted, but the marshals had made it clear that it was not the night for military traditions or customs. «For now, please let me buy you something to drink as an appology for interrupting your celebration of your victory.»

She had regained control of her feelings, her face now relaxed and friendly and waved at one of the servers/cavalry trainees making their way around the crowded party. She gave a coin to the server and looked at the Gondorian again, speaking to both the waiter and the Gondorian. «Please give the Campian winner whatever drink she desires. I recommend the ligbryneflod. I hope you will celebrate your victory as is befitting. Forgive me again for interrupting your celebratory evening, I will not hold you any longer. I wish you a pleasant night, Campian winner.»

Once again she did a small bow. Then she turned and made for the entrance, her steps in a perfectly measured speed, not too quick to draw attention to her or make it look as if she was running, and not so slow it invited anyone to approach her.

[Arnyn]

Arnyn, human (she/her)

She was unsure of how Amadhrill would react to her words, but Arnyn could have said them in no different way. The woman's smile seemed difficult for her to produce; the tone of her voice level.

Arnyn wanted to shake her head at the Rohir's gratitude - for what had she done, really? - but the chances of such a gesture being seen as disrespectful or rude were too great, so Arnyn kept her silence. She returned Amadhrill's bow of the head, instead. It seemed like the right choice, for the woman seemed a bit more at ease. Part of Arnyn wanted to object to the offer of a drink. After all, she was still holding nearly a whole pint of the honeymeade in her left hand, and she really was not much of a drinker... but, once again - the Gondorian figured it might be taken the wrong way if she did refuse the offer. "The ligbryneflod it is," Arnyn told the waiter while Amadhrill was still present, after which she returned the woman's bow. She didn't quite have the words to reply to the Rohir, however, who seemed like she was in a hurry, anyway.

And so it was that Arnyn soon found herself watching Amadhrill heading out of the tent, and that she held not just one drink but two - one in each hand.

With a small sigh and a somewhat resigned expression, she returned to the buffet table, the Hobbit (Mal) and Silendris. And - now - a third individual (Frost), whom Arnyn recognized from the Campian but who was calling out to another one of the tournament's participants (Ula). She decided not to interject just yet, and curiously sipped the drink Amadhrill had procured for her instead - thus effectively having started on two different beverages at once.

[Elarith]

Amethyst, dwarf, confused and flattered

Amethyst had been distracted from Balfur but it seemed like he also had been hypnotised by the sequin-bearded Rohirrim's song. She giggled as he asked if she was real. "Of course I'm a real dwarf! I know the dress is not typical dwarven style but surely the beard was a give away?" She twirled her twin beard braids as he clutched at the bar. He wasn't looking too healthy. "I was just commenting on your unusual t-shirt-and-barrel combo. And... We're in the festival after-party tent outside of Edoras. Are you all right?" She was quite concerned about him. Was he drunk? She subtly gestured to the barman to bring something non-alcoholic over. Perhaps too subtly. Time would tell.

Taethowen, the other judge from M. Meduseld, came over and thanked her and Shadowfox for their participation. Amethyst preened again and fluttered her hand. "Oh, the pleasure was all mine, darling. I haven't been in a pageant in decades - I was Miss Erebor (Lower Halls IV - X) two years running, you know - so it was nice to compete again," she replied. She took a good swig of her wine, with a side glance to check on Balfur, as Taeth mentioned collaborating. "Sounds wonderful! Shall I send you the pattern? Let me get you my card," she said, and rummaged in her handbag. "Watch out there, Krystalle," she whispered, feeling around the snoozing cat. The dwarf eventually pulled out another stack of parchment squares with her name, address and a shiny purple gem logo on it, and passed them over to the seamstress. "Here you are. I do rather like Silendris's jumpsuit though, shiny and provocative. I thought I saw someone else wearing it tonight, actually. But not overly practical for everyday life in Rohan, I agree."

[Lail]

Lailyn, human, she/her

After finishing her delectable badger burger, Lailyn fetched herself another glass of mead and nearly choked on it when she overheard a man (Frost) introducing himself to a hobbit (Mal). “I’m Frost. I’m… well I don’t really know what it is I’m doing here," she heard him say. So, this was Taethowen's beau she had only just heard about now? She had to find out more and this was the perfect opportunity. Even better, Silendris was nearby as well.

So Lailyn slipped in among the group and smiled at Silendris. "Congratulations on your victory! And I must say, your outfit tonight is rather...unforgettable! How does it feel to be the M Meduseld crowned champion?"

"I'm Lailyn," she introduced herself to the others gathered there. "How splendid of you to come tonight! Did you come to the Mark for the festival?" she asked Mal.

She turned her gaze to Frost and smiled at him as well. "I couldn't help but overhear you...so, you are the mysterious Frost, who has so charmingly romanced Taethowen?" Her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. Though she teased, she was genuinely pleased to make his acquaintance. "Taethowen and I were both Paethfindians in the Cavalry, but it was a lifetime ago," she said with a wave of her hand. "I simply must hear more about you two! I've only just found out. You make quite a fine couple, if you don't mind me saying."

Nymlac, human, he/him
After asking for a double-dose of the strongest drink from the bartender, Nymlac swallowed half before asking for more. The bartender balked at him, but Nymlac insisted so intensely that the poor bartender eventually gave in. Now, he was ready to mingle. And to find the woman of his dreams. However, it seemed Eldrith had not arrived at the party.

So when he saw Arnyn, the beautiful and accomplished Campian champion, with two drinks in hand, he promptly forgot all about Eldrith and walked over to introduce himself. "My lady...allow me to offer my congratulations on your recent tournament victory." He bowed his head slightly and then waved a strand of golden hair from his face. "My name is Nymlac. I was impressed with your achievement today and I am doubly impressed with your ambition tonight." His glance strayed appreciatively to her two drinks. It was a feat he would like to accomplish himself if he didn't have to carry around this blasted walking stick everywhere.

[Arnyn]

Arnyn, human (she/her)

The number of people closeby only seemed to grow. She nodded and smiled at Lailyn, who introduced herself smoothly and engaged in conversation with Silendris and the Hobbit (Mal). Lailyn's words finally allowed Arnyn to unambiguously link the name Silendris to the individual standing next to her. "Congratulations!" the Gondorian offered Silendris sincerely. "M. Meduseld? That sounds like it was quite a show."

She wasn't sure whether she needed to introduce herself anymore, but it was perhaps better to be polite and make sure no one was left wondering. Arnyn could use Lailyn's appearance as her chance. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lailyn. I am Arnyn."

The latest arrival was also the one who gave her Frost's name, which could prove useful later. After all, she hadn't caught his name at the Campian. Arnyn raised one of her drinks to him whilst she sipped the other. There was, as it turned out, a charm to holding two beverages at once. The ale was lighter than the mead, but the latter was tastier, so she was making more headway on that one.

And then the latest arrival became the penultimate, as yet another walked up to them (Nymlac), this time introducing themselves specifically to her instead of the whole group. That was... peculiar. Arnyn blinked at the 'my lady' (she wasn't used to that) but nodded her thanks to his congratulations all the same. "Well met, Nymlac." She had to laugh when he expressed his appreciation in regards to what must look like some solid drinking ambitions. Little did Nymlac know she had nothing to do with that! Both of drinks had been handed to her by others, after all, and she had in reality wanted to refuse the second one. "Perhaps I shall have to see if I can juggle a third, as well," she responded, the amusement present in her dark brown eyes. "What else is on the menu?" She didn't mean it, of course, but it was an entertaining thought nonetheless.

[Silky Gooseness]

Silendris, Mx Meduseld, They/Them

Silendris was doubled up with laughter. Due to skills acquired over several lifetimes of practise, albeit not in this body, the arm holding the pint (now quarter-pint, as Quaffing Had Occurred) of Honeymead was rock steady; the rest of Silendris was spasming uncontrollably with a combination of hysterical giggles and hiccoughing.

Not only had the entertainment been... er, spectacular, but someone had been kicked in the face and Allacan’s buttcheeks were on view (decorated with Spangles no less). What was more, the birthmark had betrayed to Silendris that their initial thoughts had been completely accurate: Silendris knew *exactly* who Allacan was; although her reasons for being here (apart from being an absolute class party act) were yet to be ascertained. Silendris made two mental notes:

1) Find out what Allacan was up to, and if she was available for birthday parties;
2) get more mead.

They finished their quaffing in excellent spirits (and they could do with some excellent spirits, come to think of it) when they spotted Taeth speaking to Ula. Silendris’ brow narrowed. It didn’t seem fair that Ula, spectacularly spangly as she was, should be attracting all this attention from Silendris’ own jumpsuit without hanging out with Silendris. After all, who was Mx Meduseld here?

They took a valuable couple of minutes to determine if a pint could be safely lodged in their pockets without catastrophe (no. It’s why Mugs with Lids, or popularly, Flagons; are so useful ); until Silendris managed to unearth a drinking horn. This would do the trick. Properly filled with mead, this would be safe in their belt unless they decided to do something acrobatic.

Note 3) Don’t do anything acrobatic.

They were just about to elbow their way over to Ula when Frost distracted them. “Ah, thank you,” Silendris smiled wanly, attempting to flick their hair. How exactly did Frost do that? They stared a little too intently at Frost’s left ear, hoping to catch the trick. More practise required. “And thank you too, Lailyn and Arnyn. It feels pretty good... did we show you this pony we won?”

They creaked the wooden pony’s legs back and forth. A piece of butterscotch fell out. Perhaps this would entice an Ula.

[The Good Hunter]

Frost, Human (he/him)

Silendris was the center of attention (and they ought to be they won the most difficult competition of all of them) so Frost bowed out of the conversation, noting at least one of Sil’s eyes was watching his… earlobe? He shrugged, Naokis had been a strange duck, they were still in there somewhere and every now and then it showed. He smiled (and maybe winced a little) at them and blew a kiss.

As he turned to go he was waylaid (not really but he too focused on the alcohol to have noticed they approach) by some he’d yet to meet, but had seen at least once or twice from afar over the past few days (Lailyn). “I don’t know about mysterious,” (yes he did that was an essential part of his aesthetic), “but, yes I am Frost. It’s good to meet you, Lailyn did you say?” He took another sip and smiled devilishly. “Taethowen and I met a long time ago in,” he paused, it might not be the best idea to announce to pæthfindian and Ranger (he assumed Arnyn was after she’d won the Campian melee) that he was from Umbar, “in very different circumstance. I believe that fate in the form of Thalionwen, interceded on our behalf.” He looked around the room for Thali, she’d only just been there, but either there were too many people around to make her out or she’d slipped out. Still listening, he grinned when she said she had served with Taeth years ago. “I think you’ll have some fun embarrassing stories to tell then, now?” He raised his glass (half full, he was going to need some more soon) and tipped his head, “As soon as things settle down around here, I think it would be wonderful to sit down and tell the story, as much as we can at least.” He smirked, probably too widely but, hey it’s a party and he was feeling much better.

He raised his glass again (this time it was only a quarter full he really needed to get that refilled) as he caught Arnyn’s attention. She was holding two drinks. Now that’s what he should be doing! “Three drinks? Now that would be a feat almost as worthy of a song as your victory in the Campian! I was a bit, knocked out at the time but I did get as many of the details as I could about it later. Very impressive! I have to thank you for knocking out the two people that, well quite literally knocked me out. I had planned on offering to get you a drink before, but it seems you a bit full up on that regard. Maybe once you’ve sampled them all we can steal a barrel of it."

Walpurga, Human (she/her)

Hurriedly, she had removed the pink sequined beard and the ridiculous get up Allacan (that’s what she had said her name was right?) had made her wear. The dance had been a blast, right up to the point where Éomund kicked that blonde woman in the head! Walpurga has been mortified, but somehow held it together long enough to stay in rhythm. The initial shock of the kick had worn off and now she felt it was hilarious. Poor Éomund, though, did not agree. She was not sure where he’d gone, she hadn’t really tried that hard to find him though. She wanted to get back to the party! She had been nervous before, unsure of herself, but something about the great absurdity that had been that dance number erased whatever butterflies had been flittering about in her stomach. She returned through the tent flaps in the simple dress she’d worn earlier and it was not two steps before she saw her(Gwai): the woman Éomund had booted. She was, well she seemed like she was alright. Walpurga felt the butterflies roar back into her stomach. Even with the bruised eyes, she was still the most beautiful woman she'd had ever seen. She took two steps forward, her body making it very clear to her mind that she wanted to be closer to the woman, but her mind stopped her in her tracks. She nearly fell over with the abruptness of her stop. She blushed bright red, hoping no one had seen what just happened. She swallowed hard, but her mouth was dry.

“Get it together, woman!” she muttered to herself. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, a nervous habit she had developed over the years, then shook her hair out when she realized what it was she was doing. Walpurga took a deep breath and slowly, slowly took a step forward. She could feel the heat of her blush all the way up to her ears. She felt like she was going to light something on fire if she touched anything. “Great Mearas help me!” she whispered. “She’s just a woman, a very, very beautiful confident looking woman who…” Suddenly she realized she’d stopped moving. She started again, taking a another deep breath. “Just talk to her, tell her… tell her what, that you’re sorry your friend kicked her in the head. Oh I hope she’s okay!” She was babbling now.

“Stop it!” she hissed. No, she was not doing this. Not on the first day she was in Edoras. Again, she ran a hand through her thick black hair and looked around at the rest of the guests. She could mingle with them. She would try to talk to the woman later, when she wasn’t damned flustered with herself. She closed her eyes and shifted her feet. Whoever was in that direction, she was going to meet and mingle with. As it happened, her feet pointed her towards a real dwarf (not one dressed up in a sequined beard) (Amethyst) and another finger, slender but very well refined and exquisitely dressed(Shadowfox). “Hello,” she said with a hint of trepidation. “I don’t mean to intrude on your conversation, I just… I ‘m new in town and I was hoping to meet some new and interesting people. My name is Walpurga.”

[Lail]

Lailyn, human, she/her

Lailyn smiled at Arnyn. “I’m sorry I missed the Tournament of Champions. I hoped to go, but some things came up. I did hear all about it.” Her source of information presented himself (Nymlac) as that very moment and proceeded to ignore her and everyone else there in favour of gaining Arnyn’s attention for himself.

With a shrug at them, Lailyn laughed as Silendris’ pony popped out a butterscotch. “Isn’t that just delightful?”

“Oh?” Lailyn asked Frost with a raised brow. She wondered how long ago they met, but was too polite to ask. “How romantic! A flame rekindled from the past...” She laughed at Thali’s involvement. “That sounds like Thali...she’s quite good at bringing people together.”

He asked if she had any fun stories about Taeth, but truth be told, she didn’t. “Well, no, not really...Taeth was the very model of a good soldier. In fact, she did such a fine job she rose up through the ranks and became a Marshal while I…” She paused, unsure what to say. Gave up? Abandoned her comrades? “I resigned my post.”

Lail drew a long sip of mead after that. She had no interest in discussing her own past and jumped at the chance to steer the conversation in another direction. “I’d love to hear the whole story sometime. Perhaps I will have to wriggle it out of Taethowen.”

Nymlac, human, he/him

No one ever described Nymlac as loyal. Not in cheering for Campian contestants (which he absolutely would not mention to Arnyn and prayed no one else would) nor indeed in his affections for women (of course, he was still quite interested in Eldrith, but, well, she wasn’t here!). But he did try to be the perfect gentleman when romancing a lady.

So when he glanced at Arnyn’s two drinks, he noticed the blue gem hanging at her neck and though he wanted to follow the teardrop below the slope of her neckline, he kept his gaze fixed firmly upon her face.

"Perhaps I shall have to see if I can juggle a third, as well," she told him and he found himself laughing. When was the last time he laughed so heartily? How very refreshing.

“I have no doubt that a talented woman like you could juggle that many after your performance today. It is justly deserved after your hard work, after all.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement when she asked what else was on the menu and he found himself quite lost in them for a moment. He swished his glass and smiled at her in earnest.

“You might try the Allauisce beatha...a fiery whiskey that pales in comparison to the fire I feel in my heart gazing at you.”

No sooner had he got the words out when another man spoke up. Nymlac hid his scowl behind a sip of whiskey. Didn’t Frost see Nymlac had Arnyn’s undivided attention, which was just where he wanted to be?

“I did consider putting my money on you at the Campian, but it is fortunate I did not.” Nymlac told Frost in a terse voice. “Perhaps you ought to have another drink. That was a nasty knock on the head you took.”

That was when Nymlac noticed a familiar face. He had been all eyes for Arnyn until Frost rudely interrupted them. “Lail! Be a dear and fetch us some more drinks, will you?” Maybe she would even stick around and hold his second glass for him!

Lailyn, human, she/her, not a waitress

“Cousin dearest.” Lail spoke to Nymlac in a tight voice, insulted by his request. “I’m not here to wait on you and I will not be fetching drinks for anyone but myself.”

“Frost, it was a pleasure to meet you. I wish you and Taeth endless happiness together. Excuse me.” She managed a genuine smile at him before she turned on her heel and searched for anyone else to talk to. She didn’t want to witness another night of Nymlac’s debauchery when she knew she would probably be the one stuck picking up the pieces later.

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Zarâm, orc (she/her)

By this point in the festivities, Zarâm was thoroughly bored. She was not one to sit on the sidelines and was indeed used to being part of the drinking, games, or whatever the usually party activities were. This sitting behind a tent-flap nursing the last of the food and drink she had snuck from the table was getting to her. When she suddenly heard the sound of music coming. She poked her head through the flap and saw a group of three individuals (one had a strange familiarity in regards to her hair and the other looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place her at the moment. The music was catching at any rate, and Zarâm found herself clapping to the beat. Midway through, much to her amusement, it looked like one of the youngsters on the table kicked a woman in the head.

When the song and dance number was over, and the actors and the table had all collapsed into a heap, Zarâm was ready to enter the tent again. It was probably wise to confer with Frost and to let him know that she was still alive. He looked a bit out of it and Zarâm wondered of he was cognizient enough to carry through with his role in the plan. As she was about to step in, the boy (Éomund) who had kicked Gwai in the head came hurrying out of the tent and passed her, giving her a queer look as he went on his way. Zarâm thought nothing of it and slipped back into the tent, looking for Frost. She found him with another individual she recognised from the Campain (Ula). She looked like she had met up with Silendris at some point due to her clothing choice.

"Hello, Frost," Zarâm greated. "I guess your head is as hard as an orc's if you're standing here after the beating you took."

[Arnyn]

Arnyn, human (she/her)

The butterscotch falling out of Silendris' wooden pony was almost comical, at the exact same time Nymlac started laughing at Arnyn's earlier suggestion of trying three drinks at once, instead of two.

Nymlac's compliment about her talents made Arnyn lower her head in thanks. "Kind words, sir," she replied in the pause the man left as he seemingly pondered her question.
When he suggested the Allauisce beatha, she wondered briefly if she would be called out on her joke and was now expected to hold and drink three beverages at once. However, the thought was fleeting as Nymlac continued his sentence. What?

She was gracefully given time to process the line, thanks to Frost's reaction to her earlier jesting words. It was just the moment she needed to collect herself, even as she shot Frost a grin at him mentioning her knocking out the two people who had, well... knocked him out. "Well," she said in response, "to be fair, I only knocked one of them on her ass, and the other just couldn't imagine me sacrificing my sword to get in the last hit I needed on him."
Even as she was speaking to Frost, Arnyn was mentally rolling her eyes at Nymlac. Fire in his heart gazing at her... please. What a farce. Had she somehow attracted the biggest womanizer in the place? What had she done to deserve that? Her eyes scouted her immediate surroundings and spotted a waiter on their way over with a tray of drinks.

With a serene smile, she turned to Frost, holding out one of her drinks (the ale) to him. "You can thank me by holding this for a moment?" she suggested. When he accepted the ale, she checked to see how much progress the waiter had made before turning to Nymlac, who seemed rather displeased with Frost for interrupting his attempt at charming her.

The waited passed them by, and Arnyn used her now free hand to relieve him from one of the heavier elements on his tray. She shot the waiter a wink while Nymlac was half-ordering Lailyn to bring over more drinks - which only strengthened the Ranger's resolve. The object, a glass water pitcher, made a fluent movement through the air, guided by her hand. Just as Lailyn made it very clear she would not be Nymlac's (or anyone's) server, Arnyn turned the water pitcher around, right above Nymlac's head.

She gave Nymlac a half-concerned, half-serious smile. "Fire is very dangerous," Arnyn told him in a sympathetic tone of voice, noting his now drenched golden locks. "I thought it best to quench it early. Better now?"

Arnyn subtly placed the now empty pitcher back on a different waiter's tray and, calm as ever, held her hand out to Frost, wordlessly asking for the drink back.

[Mal]

While discussing drinks and food options a man came over to join them and addressed him with “I’m Frost. I’m… well I don’t really know what it is I’m doing here. I was trounced in the campian and I’ve spent most of my time in Rohan wandering around… not stealing apples.” he glanced around and asked what brought Mallory all the way to Rohan. "Pleased to meet you Mr Frost. Pleasure actually I thought it was time I saw things outside the shire and I heard we Brandybucks were thought quite well of in Rohan"

Mallory turned to the server and accepted the pint! of mead for himself. Silendris and Arnyn had taken theirs and the latter had excused herself. As his intention was to remain sober enough to enjoy the whole menu so asked the bartender if he could have just a half pint of the mead. While the server was decanting the golden liquid from it's Pint mug into two half pint cups, Mallory missed some of the conversation.

Silendris wouldn't get to see him drink the mead though as the thunk on his head from the enthusiastic server drumming along to the song caused him to drop his mug, spilling the remainder of his mead on the floor.

Mallory, a little dazed from being struck on the head, turned to find another woman had arrived with the rapidly growing group and introduced herself as Lailyn. She asked Mallory if he came to the Mark for the festival. "I did, I wanted to get here in time for some of the events but it seems the journey took longer than anticipated, I'm glad I didn't miss this party though" as he gestures at the buffet spread beside them.

Pink beards, collapsing tables, bared buttocks plus getting knocked on the head all before the third course was all a bit much for the hitherto Shire-bound Mallory. He decided he needed to find a quiet place to sit and enjoy his next course of the buffet, a fresh plate of food and a new ale to replace the mead he'd spilled when he got knocked on the head. Bræden Tatties and Lígbryneflod this time around he decided, he made to excuse himself from the gathered crowd. "Do please excuse me, you are all nice company but I think I need to sit a spell" and turned to the person serving drinks, "A pint of Lígbryneflod this time please" he call to the server, pulled a chair up directly to the buffet and sat down at the table to enjoy the food imparting his opinion on the best of the delectables on offer to anyone who approached.

OOC: (edited to correct missing interactions with @Frostbite, @merSILess, @Arnyn & @Lailorn)

[Glitterati_Goblin]

Ula, Human (Corsair), She/Her

Ula was familiar with noise.

She grew up with more brothers than fingers to count and her few sisters didn’t quiet the din. So, as far the concept of drunks, dancing, and loud music went, it was all familiar territory. Which, of course, meant it only managed to make her feel more out of place. It was an odd sensation, like the sickeningly sticky still air before a sudden squall. Everything there needed for sailing: a boat, the sea, the sky - and yet, knowing, standing in the middle, that everything was wrong.

With a deep sigh, she sipped at her mead with a mild grimace. Even the alcohol was wrong. Tasty, but the grog tossed about in Mordor was closer to the drinks of home. Granted, it was closer to the stripping bitter liquor than the herbal rice beer, but there was something to be sad about alcohol that could kill the taste of sulfur on the tongue. (Well, Mordor’s drinks kill the taste of ANYTHING, but that was beside the point). Rohan’s drink tasted more like a children’s dessert than the deeply satisfying spiced aromatics of hantia. It certainly didn’t clear the sinuses the same.

Unsurprisingly, somewhere across the room, a foot went wrong and a body tumbled to the floor. Ula tore a mouthful out of her bread. It was good, of course, same as everything else. And, honestly, she was desperate enough that even pig slop would’ve satisfied her, which this was most certainly not. Still could use a kick. A bit of curry, at least. She’d be damned if there was a single pepper on the entire table.

While she morosely picked over the table, mindful of the lack of spice, the bodies near her separated for a familiar face. That archer from the Campian, Taeth, she reminded herself, seemed to be in good health and friendly spirits. Ula had half a moment to wonder how the other woman found her in all the chaos, but her comment was a very clear reminder that thanks to Silendris’s, ah, kind contribution, Ula wasn’t exactly easy to overlook tonight. Still, Taeth was gracious with her offer of company, more so than Ula expected, yet not unpleasantly so. It was unlikely Ula would be moved to join the more social aspects of the night, invitation or no, but the offer was... nice.

She barely remembered to give Taeth a nod of acknowledgement before the woman disappeared back into the crowd. Luckily, it seemed her response was less important than the offer itself. Better that way. Ula wasn’t the chattiest at the best of times.

As another song wound down, she couldn’t help but wonder exactly how many people she’d be willing to kill just to have a sitar player for a song or two. The locals may have found their toys tapping, but the music lacked the long drone of her home that just nudged her hips to swaying. There would be no dancing tonight.

“Ula?” A man (Frost) called, suddenly before her, rattling away at her composure with befuddling familiarity, “Is that you? How exactly did you come by one of Sil’s suits? I assume it has something to do with food. It usually does with you.”

What the devils? Sil? Food? Who in the blazes was this man and how did he know so much about her?

Ula reared back in confusion, ready to return on the offensive, only the man (Frost) was gone again before she managed. She stared after him for a long moment as he - surely enough - seemed to bump straight into a face she actually recognized. Well, less a face and more an outfit. Sil’s clothing were still gaudy and excessive and that fact was strangely comforting after her recent encounter.

The pair chatted in seeming familiarity and Ula almost wanted to brush off her deep discomfort with the whole exchange, but something about it still didn’t seem right.

Frost, she vaguely recalled, now. One of the other competitors from Campian. He’d been one of the very first to fall and it had been to Taeth’s extreme distress. Perhaps she’d have a better idea of what happened to make the man so familiar, because it was leaning heavily towards the sort of suspicious Ula addressed with a knife in a dark corner.

Glancing back to see if Frost was still occupied with Silendris, Ula set aside her drink and scowled at the crowd. No sense in pussy-footing her way through the mess. Most of them were too drunk for manners at this point, anyway. Taeth was, thank the gods, relatively easy to find off to the side of the player’s stage.

“Excuse me,” Ula interrupted brusquely, wrapping a hand firmly around Taeth’s arm, dismissing her companions with a nod. “I need a moment.”

It wasn’t exactly good manners to pull a woman away from her peers, but this wasn’t a discussion she wished to have yelling over the noise. When Ula found a - somewhat - satisfactory corner, she stopped and let the other woman go. Instead, leaning close with quiet, but firm urgency, she asked, “Have you spoken of me with anyone tonight? I’ve had a strange man talk as if he knows me, but other than seeing him on the field, we’ve never met.”

[Elarith]

Amethyst, dwarf, touting for trade

Just as Amethyst had finished handing her business cards to Taeth, another human lady with dark hair hesitantly came up and introduced herself as Walpurga. “A pleasure to meet you,” the dwarf said , automatically holding out a card for her too. “Amethyst Copperpick: jeweller, fashion designer, and ‘interesting person’, at your service. Were you at the M. Meduseld contest earlier? Are you seeking a commission?”

Amethyst had taken in the simple garments worn by Walpurga and was already thinking of outfits and jewellery she could propose. That raven-hair was unusual for Rohan and she needed clothes to compliment it. She tried to push these ideas to one side for the moment - the poor lass had just got here and barely said three words and she was planning a new wardrobe for her. Was... was that a stray pink sequin on her dress? Amethyst looked harder. There was something slightly familiar about her.

[The Good Hunter]

Frost, Human (he/him)

“You would have to get the whole story from her,” Frost said with a grin at Lailyn, tapping the side of his brow knowingly. “If I got anything wrong in the story she would absolutely have my hide. I’m not sure how long I’ll be around, to be honest. I hadn’t exactly planned on meeting Taethowen here again and but if we can manage it before I leave, perhaps we can all spend some time together at the inn or something?” He lowered his voice and looked at her solemnly for a moment. “Resigning a post is not an easy thing to do, I commend you for doing it and managing to find yourself afterward.” Frost decided that he liked this companion of Taeth’s, she didn’t give him the suspicious once over that most Rohirrim did.

The same, however, could not be said for her companion (Nymlac). If truth be told, the Númenórean had not even noticed the man was there. Though, now that he looked him over, Frost recognized a bit of himself in the lad, he was clearly unhappy that Frost was here and potentially taking attention from Arnyn away from him. A smug laugh escaped Frost’s lips and he didn’t try to cover it. The amount of effort he was putting into impressing the Gondorian was remarkable, if the whole thing didn’t smell like overenthusiasm and eagerness. The lines he was using might be fit for company that was less sober.

“You were wise then,” Frost commented when the man tried to pass along a snide remark about Frost’s performance in the melee. “Never place your bets on the Man in Black. You lose no matter what you wanted.” He gave the man a mocking smile and took a sip.

Arnyn, to her credit, took the overly foppish compliments with grace. She handed him the ale and Frost thought he saw something like a devilish wink in her eye (a very strange thing to see in a Gondorian), she picked up a pitch of water from a passing server and, before Frost could do anything to stop the events (not that he would have at all, he was too amused) she upended the pitcher over the man’s head.

“Fire is very dangerous, I thought it best to quench it early. Better now?"

Frost had to stop himself for guffawing at the lad’s misfortune, but he still laughed, handing the drink back to Arnyn with a flourish. “Fire is dangerous indeed,” he said, piggybacking off Arnyn’s comment, “next time lad, go with the frost.” He winked at the drenched man. He’d learn, Frost himself had once been almost as bad, but that was a long time ago and he had learned how to maneuver his way around foolish compliments and poetic nonsense, one of the perks of a very long life. “I think he’ll take that lesson to heart,” he said with a laugh and another sip, “at least until he dries off.”

Before he could get further, a familiar voice sounded from behind him. “Zarâm!” He smiled broadly, pivoting and turning to see the orc. “I am so glad to see you! I was worried about you after the melee. I didn’t see what happened to you and… well we aren’t the most popular people in town.” (he would have laughed at the irony of that statement if he realized he was talking to several people all at once). He put a hand on Zarâm’s shoulder and looked into her strangely blue eyes. “I don’t know if my head is as thick as yours,” he winked and then unknowingly slipped back into Adûnaic, “but the mystery of my convalesce is as big as mystery to me as it is to you.”

Once the Hobbit had finished eating (at least that’s what Frost assumed he was doing so he didn’t take offense to the delay in reply [kidding @Mal!]) Frost began to consider his reply. He’d heard that there had been a Hobbit in the Rohirrim army at one point, he thought it was a myth. “Really? Hobbits in Rohan are a thing? Well that’s very interesting to learn. I hope enjoy your time here…” he trailed off, trying to cover for the awkwardness in that the Hobbit had not given his name. Frost shrugged as the Hobbit tried to go off on his own and enjoy his meal in peace, a wise precaution here.

Ula, for her part, seemed very annoyed and taken aback by his comments. He rubbed his temple in confusion. That was not the usual reaction people had to him, but it was not unheard of. Had he said something wrong? Had he gotten her confused with someone else? That had been a problem he’d had before, but not in at least two decades. He pursed his lips. He had seen her before the Campian melee, hadn’t he? She looked so damnably familiar. A pub perhaps? He shrugged when she stormed off, half glad she didn’t outright attack him.

He took another sip of his drink and shrugged, his head was starting to pound. Maybe he should switch to water. After this next drink though.

[Lail]

Lailyn, human, she/her

Before she walked away in disgust at Nymlac’s behavior, she assured Frost she would love to chat with them at the inn sometime. His words about resigning a post touched, and surprised, her. She had always thought resigning was a weakness. At the time, she couldn’t have chosen anything else. She’d begun to have too many questions about the people on the other end of her arrows. People who she had begun to imagine with families and lives of their own.

The merriness in which she’d begun the night had begun to melt away some between memories of old campaigns and Nymlac’s antics. So she found herself holding another glass of mead and sitting beside Mal. She suspected he might be looking for a quiet moment as well.

“Is Rohan everything you imagined?” she asked @Mal with a smile. “I would recommend trying the badger burger if you haven’t already. I would love to hear about the Shire if you wouldn’t mind humouring a Rider. How do your parties compare to this?” Lail popped a few Saedhlafs into her mouth while she waited.

Nymlac, human, he/him

Whoosh. That was all Nymlac heard as a flood engulfed his head and soaked him from head to shoulders. He blinked his eyes, trying to clear the drops from his vision and he mopped a strand of sopping hair that was clinging to his face rather ungainly. “Well, then...” he spluttered. “That is...much butter.” He cleared his throat, then flashed Arnyn a smile, ignoring Frost's laughter. “Thank you. It was getting rather warm in this tent...”

Well, it seemed he’d gone too far. So much for that. On the bright side, she hadn’t dumped red wine on him. He never got those stains out of his best tunic and regretted having to get rid of it.

Nymlac drained the last of his whiskey in one gulp but still stood tall. “It seems you are a champion both in and out of the arena and I am not worthy. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Still standing with his head held high (after all, he wasn’t heartbroken and it was no great loss), Nymlac fetched himself another two glasses of whiskey, managing to carry them both in one hand while his other held his cane. He plunked down at a table to nurse them. No more women tonight. Just more drinks.

(OOC: Go Arnyn! )

[Taethowen]

Taethowen
human, she/her

"The pattern would be wonderful," Taeth smiled, and happily took Amethyst's card. "If you send any post or parcels to Awesnis Gærwe Nædleprica at the Riddermarket, it will be certain to get to me."

Taeth was just turning to strike up some sort of conversation with Shadowfox when a hand wrapped around her arm, and a slightly familiar voice interrupted. "Excuse me. I need a moment."

She found herself suddenly dragged away into a corner, and then face to face with the corsair, Ula, from the Campian. There was an air of panic around the woman as she leaned in and whispered, "Have you spoken of me with anyone tonight? I've had a strange man talk as if he knows me, but other than seeing him on the field, we've never met."

Taeth's brow furrowed as she thought back. She'd... not really talked to anyone after Ula at the Campian--oh wait!

"I mentioned you to Frost," Taeth said. "Told him how you'd helped me in the tournament after he was knocked out. Can you point out the strange man and I can let you know if that's him?"

[Glitterati_Goblin]

Ula, Human (Corsair), She/Her

Taeth had talked about her. Ula honestly wasn’t sure what do to with that information. The woman didn’t act like it’d been some sort of scurrilous exchange or that she’d be found out. Just that there’d been a conversation and Ula had, in one way or another, been a normal part of it.

A bit stunned, Ula did the only think she could think of and pointed to Frost so Taeth could confirm him. Though, at this point, it was obvious he wasn’t trying to threaten her. Just be... friendly?

Yes, Ula decided. She had absolutely no idea what to do with any of this at all.

[Taethowen]

Taethowen
human, she/her

Ula pointed across the tent, and Taeth looked over to see that Frost was there, and her eyes also widened as she saw an elegant woman (Arnyn)--who seemed slightly familiar, but she definitely did not know a name to go with the face--dump a pitcher of water over someone's (Nymlac) head. She snorted a bit of a laugh, then turned back to Ula.

"The one with the long black hair?" she confirmed. "Yes, that's Frost. He's a bit of a flirt, but I swear he wasn't trying to start any trouble for you."

Ula only looked mildly comforted by her words, though, and Taeth felt an unexpected sympathy for the woman. She'd appeared to be strong and confident at the Campian, but the setting of the party was clearly a bit more than the corsair was able to handle at the moment. Taeth had only directed her here because the corsair had clearly wanted (needed) food. How she'd managed to get tangled up with Silendris in between and end up in the sequined jumpsuit was a mystery, but clearly what the poor girl needed was food, a quiet spot, and a good night's rest. And that, Taeth could handle.

Ula's hand was still on her arm, and Taeth grabbed her wrist with her free hand, pulled her arm loose, and led Ula to the food buffet. There, Taeth grabbed a plate, and piled it high with anything that the corsair seemed remotely interested in, then handed the plate to her. She fished her coin pouch out of her bracer, and pressed a few silver coins into Ula's palm.

"For your help in the Campian," she said. "Since I didn't have to buy you dinner, after all. That should cover at least a night or two at the inn, and possibly a change of clothes that are a little... less gaudy. And after that, if you've decided to linger in Rohan, and need some help getting settled, come find me in the Riddermarket. I have a seamstress shop there--Awesnis Gærwe Nædleprica--but if that's too hard to remember, just ask for the seamstress shop. I'm literally the only one."

Taeth gave Ula an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry that I dragged you into a mess. Have a good night."

Then she turned, knowing that the corsair was more than capable of finding her own way out, and looked around to see what was happening. She still needed to greet Silendris, and she should congratulate the Campian winner as well, if they were here.

She smiled again when she saw that, quite conveniently, Silendris was in the group that had gathered around Frost, and she made her way over to them. When she joined them, quietly looping her arm through Frost's, she saw that there was a hobbit (Mal), and that Lail was also there, and Zaram. Taeth nodded to each of them, as well as the woman she didn't know (Arnyn).

"Congratulations, again, on your M. Meduseld win," Taeth said to Sil. "I see you've already started marketing your winning outfit with Ula. I did give you the name of my shop, correct? Since we'll need to figure out distribution after the Festival wraps up."

She turned to Lail next, realizing that they'd only had brief interactions so far since her own return to Edoras. "Freond," Taeth smiled warmly, "we will need to get together soon, won't we? There's much to catch up on!"

The hobbit seemed to be thoroughly occupied with his meal--and Taeth's own stomach was beginning to grumble, so she couldn't blame him--so she greeted the unknown woman (Arnyn) next. "Westu hal. I am Taethowen. What brings you to Edoras?"

---

OOC: Mild godmodding with consent by Ula (@Glitterati_Goblin). She's feeling uninspired this week and needs a quick out. ;)

[Lail]

Lailyn, human, she/her
Lail glanced up at Taethowen when she approached. "Yes," she told her with a wide and knowing smile and a slight glint in her eyes. "It seems there is quite a lot to catch up on." She case a meaningful glance over at Frost. "I heard Thali had something to do with you two, but Frost insisted you should be the one to tell me the story sometime." Though Lail desperately wanted the details of this new development (at least to her knowledge), she wasn't sure if now was the right time or place for such private stories. "He mentioned meeting for a drink sometime, all of us, and I would be happy to catch up with you and get to know him better."

Lailyn lowered her voice, intending her words for Taethowen only. "I'm very happy for you, Taeth. I think you have chosen well." Not only had he seemed understanding of the resignation that she still felt somewhat embarrassed about, but he had seen right through her cousin (Nymlac). "And so has he, in choosing you. Not only are you a good-looking pair," Lail grinned and winked at her. Of course, she had noticed Frost was a good-looking man, but also that Taeth was equally as appealing a woman. "But I think we both know other things are just as important and he seems to have a keen eye not unlike yourself. It seems to me you are quite well-matched." Though she hadn't had any luck herself in such matters, Lail was not the least bit envious of her friend. In fact, it lifted her spirits to know that such happiness could be found and she felt that Taethowen most assuredly deserved it.

Nymlac, human, he/him
Nymlac swayed as he stumbled over to the bar to fetch himself another drink where he promptly ordered an "Alaskan bath". He was grateful the bartender was able to decipher this (having lots of practice at understanding drunken mumblings) and serve him a whiskey before he returned to another table, took a few sips and fell face-forward upon the table.

[Arnyn]

Arnyn, human (she/her)

She dipped her head slightly when Frost handed her drink back to her. His added comment to Nymlac was fitting - and entertaining, but she chose not to laugh or smirk at it to save some of Nymlac's dignity - if there was any left to be salvaged. To the man's credit, Nymlac reacted very well to his... shower. Arnyn raised one of her drinks at him when he finished his glass. "The pleasure was all mine." It really had been.

Not long after Nymlac took his leave, another joined their group (Taethowen) and linked her arm through Frost's. It was one of the other Campian competitors - easily recognized since she was still wearing the same clothes. Arnyn returned the woman's friendly nod, and sipped some more of the drink she'd made the most progress on. Although it seemed to be a hit with some, she didn't really like the vibe she was giving off with two drinks in hand. The newcomer congratulated Silendris on their M. Meduseld win, and as she mentioned marketing Silendris' winning outfit, Arnyn wasn't sure whether to grin or cringe. Therefore, she simply took another sip as her eyes scanned the tent. None of the other Gondorians seemed to have made an appearance yet. Perhaps none of them would join the festivities. A missed opportunity!

By the time Taeth introduced herself, Arnyn had just deposited one of her glasses - now empty - on a tray passing by. "Well met, Taethowen! My name is Arnyn. The festival and, if I'm being honest, some restlessness are what brought me here from Minas Tirith. Edoras has been very hospitable, and I've been enjoying my stay at one of your inns very much. I recognize you from the Campian - the bow is quite a choice for what is generally thought of as a melee!" She gave Taethowen a genuine smile.

[Silky Gooseness]

Silendris, Confused As Usual. They/Them

Silendris had popped the butterscotch in their mouth and was trying to wrangle both consuming it and their drink, which was why their attempt at polite laughter at Nymlac’s flirting sounded more like a strangled gargle. These Rohirric sweets were pretty sticky. Well, so were Mordorian sweets, but usually because they were unexpectedly entrail-y. Although technically, this butterscotch was also faux-entrails, given that it had popped out of their wooden pony... deep in this musing, Silendris completely lost track of what was going on,

until Taeth, Ula in tow, was coming over to greet them. Had she just given Ula some money? What was going on there?

“Hngllo, Ttth,” mumbled Silendris through their mouthful of butterscotch. “Nnng, we haveng hrgg of your shop beforng? We dng thng “marketggng” zz the rignt worhng, we jusntg lendthg Ula our spare oufntgt as a favourngng so she coulg at leasht have saidnng “hngllo” to us?!”

Much to everyone’s relief probably, Silendris managed to swallow the butterscotch.

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Zarâm

As Zarâm was about to respond to Frost, Taethowen appeared from out of nowhere and looped her arm through Frost's. Zarâm gave the woman a toothy grin, she certainly had a fighting spirit about her, even if she wasn't the best fighter she had seen. Turning towards Frost and looking into his blue eyes, which still seemed to be slightly glazed over, Zarâm answered, "I got out alright, thought I did attempt to defend your honour. But fights here are so ridiculously fair! Where was the blood and the teeth?" The man put a hand on her shoulder as he admitted he had no idea how he was walking around at the moment.

She looked around the group that she had unexpectedly joined. There were a few others standing around. She recognised Silendris of course, but the other three (Mal, Lail, and Arnyn) were strangers. She was rather surprised to see a hobbit all this way from their lands, but then, they were very strange folk.

Zarâm chuckled as Silendris attempted to eat a butterscotch, which were rather difficult sweets at the best of times, but when one was in a half-dead body of sorts, they must be exceedingly difficult to consume. She could make out something about marketing clothes, but that was the extent.

Frankly, Zarâm was getting bored with this party. Yes, it had involved food and drunken partying, but there was still nowhere near the amount of required excitement that truly made a party a party. She glanced around and noticed a woman (Walpurga) who still had the remnants of a pink sequin beard on her person. Bidding adieu to Frost and company, she headed over towards the intense looking woman. "Hello," she said in greeting.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Shadowfox, human, they/them

By the time the creative interruption to their conversation (in the form of three sequinned riders acting foolishly) finally came to an end, Shadowfox - born performer that they were - was already day-dreaming about what type of performance they might themselves be able to contribute to the evening. They were pulled from their reverie by the sound of Amethyst's voice, and it took a few moment of blinking before they realised that the elegant dwarven woman was complimenting *them*, *their* performances, and *their* outfit. Shadowfox was visibly a little overwhelmed to be receiving praise from someone they clearly held in very high regard, and for a moment seemed to have been struck speechless. "I... I don't know what to... *thank*-you Amethyst!" they said, with tears of joy threatening. "You have no idea how much your approval means to me" Then, much in the manner of a young child with no inhibitions, they knelt down on one knee and semi-threw themselves onto the dwarf in a broad hug, squeezing her a moment to convey their gratitude, and the lady might even feel the sigh-sob of barely-restrained emotion as Shadowfox used the momentary distraction of the embrace to pull themselves together a little. Retracting abruptly, as though realising only then that Amethyst might not have welcomed such uninvited intimacy, they blushed and cradled one elbow in the other hand, turning their face into their shoulder a little in a suddenly shy demeanour as they stuttered on awkwardly, clearly embarrassed that they might have made a social blunder. "I'm sorry, I was just so... erm... I apologise. Please forgive me, I just had no idea how else to express my gratitude, but I shouldn't have done that."

Thankfully Shadowfox was rescued from their moment of humiliation as Amethyst's attention was drawn to another of the party's guests, another seemingly-disorientated dwarf (Balfur). Shadowfox turned, attempting to use their moment of being un-scrutinised to delicately excuse themselves to go die in a corner somewhere, but Taeth in that very moment approached the group and addressed them, so they remained to respond and engage with her politely. "Thank you Taethowen. For my part, I want to say thank you for so skilfully and patiently running what must have been a very challenging and stressful competition. Thanks to you, and Gwai, I finally felt safe enough to show my real face on stage for the first time in... well, a very long time. You two made that possible, and I wanted to thank you. Oh, and apologise for leaving so abruptly and with such little explanation; I didn't mean any offence, honestly, I was just a little... overwhelmed by everything and needed some time. Thankfully Lailyn came and found me, and talking to her was... very comforting and even a little cathartic." As they stopped talking, they retrospectively realised how many words they had just spoken. They blinked for a moment down at their hands still as yet bereft of refreshments - well it certainly wasn't drink that was giving them the courage to say more words together than they had in a social setting like this for a very long time, especially unexpected given they were presented as themselves and not a performance character! Perhaps it was the earlier discussion with Lailyn coupled with the compliments from Amethyst that had given them this sudden burst of confidence. Not wishing to lose the opportunities this sudden burst of self-assurance offered them before, they decided to act on it swiftly before it faded away.

Recognising a hint of concern in Amethyst over the dwarven newcomer to their group Balfur, Shadowfox eyes (trained as they were to recognise subtle stage cues) caught the signal Amethyst sent towards the bar-tender even if the other Rohir was too busy and distracted badly mixing drinks to note it. With a sly wink towards Amethyst, they declared loudly "I'm going to fetch myself a drink, does anyone else want one? Good sir" they addressed Balfur directly "Might I be permitted to fetch you a beverage?"

Whether or not the dwarven man accepted the offer, Shadowfox took the opportunity to visit the bar and shortly thereafter returned with two glasses of apparently non-alcoholic Dearctur Pæper (although given the ineptitude of the bar-tender, there was a high probability both drinks might still have been infused with alcohol). They returned just in time for Walpurga to join the small group and introduce herself. "Westu Walpurga hal, and welcome!" they responded, still riding the high stallion of their earlier confidence boost to welcome the newcomer even as Taeth was being hastily pulled away by Ula before she could say whatever she had been about to say to them. As Amethyst handed Walpurga a business card, Shadowfox asked politely "May I have one too, please Amethyst? I suspect I may be in need of a whole new wardrobe after today, and I would *love* to fashion some of your own designs." [OOC I kinda wish I was more creative with computers so I could make you a picture to link to for extra authenticity.] At that moment, Zarâm approached and greeted Walpurga, and in that same instance Shadowfox's confidence finally waned as they stood unacknowledged beside this powerful looking woman. They hesitated, sipping nervously on their drink, wondering if perhaps they should excuse themselves to take a breather elsewhere while to muster a fresh boost of courage. Their mind wandered back to the earlier entertainment - performance always having been a safe space for them historically - and they inadvertently mused aloud to themselves "I wish I had thought to bring their violin so that I could offer some musical entertainment." (@Frostbite ).

---

Allacan, human, she/her

The grand finale of their performance was somewhat spoiled by the collapsing furniture, and as the smattering of applause faded out and the sequins settled, Allacan found herself half-buried beneath table debris out of site of the rest of the party denizens, and a little stunned from a blow to the head from who-knows-where. She decided then that she needed to find herself a quiet spot away from the heat of bodies and bright lights, with cool air to help clear her mind. Moreso, she found herself wanting an opportunity to let her heart-rate settle and her focus return before she had to face anyone from either perspective of attendees present that day. From her position beneath the two tumbled halves of the table, she witnessed the embarrassed retreat of both Walpurga and Éomund and smiled to herself; neither seemed the worse for wear after they unplanned tumble and she knew that when they realised there would be no repercussions for humility and hilarity such as this, they would relax around their cavalry comrades and perhaps feel a little more confident in stepping forward for more routine cavalry responsibilities, which had been one of her intentions for inviting them to assist. She was, of course, completely oblivious to the incident incident Gwai - at the time being focussed only on the complex dance routine and even more difficult lyrics - and had no idea that she had inadvertently generated the unfortunate circumstance in which a new cavalry recruit had kick the soon-to-be Third Marshal in the face! Nor would she learn of this for a number of days, it would later transpire.

She crawled forwards on her belly out from under from the debris and the loud and lively party-goers beyond and made to worm her way out of the back of the tent under the canvas, hoping to sneak out under the rear tent-wall while no-one was looking and out into the dimness of the warm summer night beyond. Once outside, she continued crawling a little way until she had positioned herself further from the rear-tent entrance and near a few of the empty boxes used to transport goods to the party. She was breathing deeply to try and clear the dizziness in her head and the spots from her vision while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She wiped sweat from her face, revealing the orcish-celtic black tattoo across her right cheek and forehead as she did so, and dexterously removed the fake sequinned beard from her face and tucked it into her pocket. Unlike Walpurga and Éomund who had been caught a little unawares by her plottings and would likely be peeling sequins from their skin for some time, she had prepared hers ahead beforehand to be a removable sequinned face-mask that hooked over her ears so she could avoid the risk of rebelliously persistent glue and sequins, with a split for her mouth so she could still project her voice. She had intended for that part of the performance get-up to work as temporary disguise and delay at least a few of the party-goers from recognising the central performing figure as both the Campwisa of Campian, and also the mysterious woman who had spoken so vehemently against Éowyn during the Mx Meduseld competition that took place in this very tent earlier that day. Sadly, her good friend Lailyn was far too observant for her to have managed her retreat, but did not yet appear to have made the connection herself. Allacan hated to be rude, but she was also not keen on hanging around where everyone could see her or increase the likelihood of less benevolent people than Lail making the connection between her two identities.

Still on her belly, she reached her hands around behind her to re-seal the bum-flap of her trews. Thus, alone in the dark behind the festival tent, with her face now clear and unmasked, chest to the ground with her still-open butt-flap exposing her the heart around her birthmark sparkling a little in the starlight, she reacted perhaps a little too late to the sound of someone shifting unexpectedly close by. With a fresh surge of adrenaline, she rolled instinctively onto her back and reached for one of the knife's in her boot, but her reactions were too compromised by fatigue and she was too dazed from her recent fall to draw the weapon quickly enough to defend herself from the knife that was suddenly pressed up against her throat...

This thread will be coming to a close in just over a week's time. The party itself will be unceremoniously interrupted and brought to an abrupt and early finish so please do not feel that your characters must resolve their socialising or find a reason to excuse themselves, this is purely an out of character notice so that everyone is aware.

[The Good Hunter]

Frost, human (he/him)

Frost had been so intent on his conversations (and also on the other side of buzzed from all the whisky infused Dearctur Pæper) with Arnyn, Zarâm, and Lail that he did not even notice Taeth come up behind him. When she wrapped her arm around his, he jumped, half startled but when he saw who it was, a soft smile beamed across his face. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, aware that he had more than enough to drink at that point, he did not want to overwhelm her. “Karîbâri, I’m glad you’re back. You didn’t tell me you had such delightful drink here in the Riddermark, only that you ate the strangest things outside of…” he trailed off intentionally, casting a quick glance at Arnyn, who likely would not appreciate references to the Black Land here today. “I really should find a way to… buy a few barrels and take them back with me. Would that be something you’d allow?” the soft smile on his face was slowly replaced with devilish one, followed by a slightly exaggerated wink.

“Zarâm!” he announced loudly, “You more than defended my honor. And you are quite right about the ‘fairness’ of the fight. More a complicated affair with move and countermove than an all out brawl. I don’t think you or I were as well suited as Arnyn here for such a battle. I have heard rumors though,” he lowered his voice almost conspiratorially, “of an old fighting pit in the… back home, called the Necromancer’s Guild. It’s been lost to time and ash, but if we can find it, I think we should reopen it, then we can have all the brawls we want!”

As Lail and Taeth had a brief aside, Frost watched with impish glee as the woman’s cousin (what was his name again?) left the group with as much dignity as he could manage and then, after only a few more sips of whisky, passed out on the table. He might be the first to take a nap like that tonight, but he would not be the last.

Vaguely, too, he could hear Silendris talking with what either a mouth full of cotton or a mouth full of butterscotch, he hoped it was the latter, for the sake of his fiendish friend.

He was about to return to his aside with Zarâm but she had already left to begin mingle elsewhere. He shrugged. She had had business here before he arrived, she was likely wrapping things up before the party itself began to close out. He returned his attentions to Taeth, Lail, and Arnyn.

Walpurga, human (she/her)

The dwarf woman did not waste any time! Walpurga was a little overwhelmed by the sudden barrage of sales pitches, introductions, and questions but she knew her manners and smiled through it all. Truth be told she did find what the woman was offering to be interesting. Perhaps she would like a commission. Of what remained to be seen, Walpurga had not brought a large purse with her, just enough for some nights at an inn, some meals, and a few odds and ends. The thought of a new scarf did sound wonderful though! She accepted the card graciously.

“Thank you very much, Amethyst Copperpick,” (dwarves had such interesting names!), “I wasn’t in the competition, no. I but I did here it was quite a stir! I only passed through the gates of Edoras a few hours ago. This city is so much larger than anything I’ve ever seen! I spent most of the day exploring, after stopping by the Dragon Room of course.”

Walpurga noticed the dwarf woman was looking at something then suddenly blanched with embarrassment, another one of those pink sequins had found it’s way onto her dress. By the horns! She flicked it off, hoping that there weren’t more stuck somewhere she couldn’t see.

There was something wonderful in Shadowfox, the other individual in the little circle, they bore a confidence that Walpurga envied. They seemed light and airy as they arrived carrying drinks and handed them to both Amethyst and the other dwarf she’d yet to engage with. She greeted them in turn, “Westu Shadowfox, hal. It is a pleasure to get to meet you! I heard so many wonderful things about you on the streets today. I heard rumor of someone wearing a fox mask at the competition that blew everyone else away. I assume that was you? Oh I am so disappointed I missed it. I would have loved to see you.” She smiled and dimples appeared on both cheeks. “Those are lovely jewels by the way! They look utterly stunning on you.” As they mentioned a violin and the desire to play something, an idea began forming in the back of her mind, she smiled mischievously.

Before she could get her idea out though, an orc suddenly materialized out of thin air and greeted her. Walpurga was so startled that she jumped at least three inches off the ground. An orc! Oh galloping heavens! She recovered quickly though, her manners would never allow for such rudeness, and smiled. “Greetings, I’m Walpurga. This is Amethyst and… I don’t know the other dwarf’s name, but this is Shadowfox!”

Before she could stop herself (as if it was fated by something far, far beyond her control) words began pouring out her, she really shouldn’t have had that alcohol, her mother told her it would lead to trouble. “I think I saw a violin and a bow in one of the boxes by the stage. I have no idea why it was in amongst all the party supplies, the quartermaster must have put it there by mistake. Let me check.”

Before either the orc or Shadowfox could protest, Walpurga dashed off to where she’d seen the conspicuously placed instrument. Aha! It was still in the box next to a barrel of mead. She picked up the violin and bow and returned.

“Look! I was right. Here,” she placed the violin and bow in Shadowfox, winking at them. “I was thinking, we should perform something!” (there was definitely alcohol at play here) “I assume you both know “The Call of the Mountains? I know it’s a little dour and somber and usually reserved for something with a cathedral and a choir but between the three of us, I think we can liven it up a bit! What do you say? Oh please say yes!”

When both of her coconspirators nodded their consent she giggled and clapped. “What was your name again?” she added quickly.

The orc smirked. “Zarâm.”

“It’s good to meet you Zarâm. I think I saw a… what are they called, one of the Cav members working the party, I think I saw him carrying some bagpipes. I bet he plays them.”

Again, she dashed off, darting between party goers until she found the man she was looking for, a tall, gaunt man that looked as though he’d rather be doing anything besides acting a security for the party.

“Hey! You!” Walpurga called to him and beckoned him over. He gave her a confused look but acquiesced. “Do you play those bagpipes well?” She pointed to the ground where he had been forced deposit them while on duty (why he brought them at all was a mystery for another time, all that mattered to Walpurga was that there were bagpipes there).

He nodded sheepishly. “Aye.”

“Wanna play them tonight?”

He looked at her incredulously. “I… I can’t, I’m on duty.”

“Oh come on!” Walpurga said with a great dramatic sigh. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the bagpipes, picked them up, and shoved them in his hands. “We need you!” she pointed to Shadowfox, who had begun to play a few exploratory notes on the violin, and Zarâm, who seemed rather confused but game for whatever might be about to happen. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint such lovely individuals would you?” she gave him her best pout (she really wasn’t good at flirting with men) and pulled him along before he had a chance to protest again.

“Look! I found us a bagpipe player. We’re all set!”

The strange, half willing quartet made their way to the stage where Walpurga nearly embarrassed herself to death a few minutes before. This time it was going to be her show!

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” suddenly all the eyes in the party were on here and the “oh now what am I doing” feeling that most stage performers get in their careers hit her. She blushed and stood silent for a moment. “Ahem, sorry. I just wanted to announce that we’re going to perform a song many of you may know, but we’re going to give it a little more life.:

She turned back to the bagpiper, “You do know ‘The Call of the Mountains’ right?”

He nodded, a small smile quirking the corner of his lips.

“Good, then start us off.”

And with that, the bagpiper began the first notes of the song, playing them much faster than they had been intended to be played. Shadowfox joined him a moment later, their eyes closed as they began to move with the rhythm of the music.

Against the hills, with our swords in our hands
Against the deeps, with our backs to the walls
Against distress, in the presence of our enemies
Against the storms, roaring at our faces

(Walpurga and Zarâm managed to harmonize perfectly, despite never having sung together before; Shadowfox quickly became lost in the music, swaying back and forth as their music became louder and faster; the bagpiper player finally loosened up and began to smile as he played)

A cry rang out throughout the skies
A beckon, the flight of the mare

(Both Walpurga and Zarâm began throwing their head back with the music, their hair flying wildly; Shadowfox, independent of their fellow performers, began to bang their head as well)

The call of Min-Rimmon!
The call of Erelas
The call home
The tune in our hearts
The song of the mountains

What's that stir, so blatant in our riding hearts?
What's that urge, that lifted up our longing eyes?
What's that ring, echoing from the leaden skies?
What's that augur, resounding from the lyre's strings?

A cry rang on in the sibilant winds
A behest, the outcry of the mare

The call of Min-Rimmon!
The call of Erelas!
The call home
The tune in our hearts
The song of the mountains

The voice in the wind, the saint in the sky

The call of Amon Anwar
The call of the Starkhorn
The call home
The tune in our hearts, the call of the mountains
The call of the snows
The call home
The tune in our hearts, the song of the mountains

Once they had finished, Walpurga’s raven black hair was a mess, she thrown it to the wild rhythm Shadowfox and the bagpiper had set, swaying until the braid she had put it in before the party was completely undone. She was out breath by the end of the song, but the smile on her face had never been wider. Shadowfox had been wild and aggressive with the music, letting the primal forces of the music sway them, carry them off, and lift them to the heights that only music could take them. They had not even noticed when a string broke. The violin, as it turns out, had been in poor condition and it was through their exceptional playing that it sounded like aural gold. As they finished the final flourish, they slammed the violin down on the stage and a resounding CRASH echoed in the party tent. Walpurga, so overcome with emotions of playing the song grabbed Zarâm, Shadowfox, and the bagpiper and hugged them.

“That was incredible!”

OOC: (Many, many thanks to @Allafyrefleorhtlig and @Dimcairien Luiniel for allowing me brief control of their wonderful charming characters for the song, "The Call of the Mountains" by Eluveitie, and also yes Walpurga is headbanging like Anna Murphy in the video)

NPF edit: Awesome!!

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Zarâm hadn't quite expected to get involved with a song-and-dance number when she greeted Walpurga, but the end result was quite fun. That Shadowfox character was quite an expert on the violin, and Zarâm even jumped just a bit when they smashed the (somewhat broken) violin on the stage. It shattered delightfully. At that moment, Walpurga grabbed her, Shadowfox, and the random bagpiper and pulled them into an embrace. Needless to say, Zarâm still wasn't very comfortable with the idea of hugging, though Thali had certainly introduced her to the concept, along with a great many other things.

The hug over, as well as their spectacular performance, Zaram looked carefully at the woman who had initiated this chaos and noticed her eyes. She had only seen that particular shade of blue twice: in her own reflection and in the eyes of a certain mysterious man she was rather well-aquainted with. Such a sight was one for contemplation and made her all the more curious as to who this woman was. And made her just a bit confused about her own background. She wasn't aware of any other orcs with blue eyes, they tended to be black, so she had always stood out. And while blue eyes on humans were not uncommon, this particular shade and stare were rare.

"Agreed," she said, once she finally had her voice back. "Not a bad singing voice yourself, I might say." And turning to Shadowfox, "You have quite the musical skills if you can play like that on a violin that has clearly seen better days." She reached down and picked up one of the broken pieces of wood, turning it over in her hands. "You are a person of many artistic talents."

[Taethowen]

Taethowen
human, she/her

Taethowen's eyes briefly fluttered closed as Frost's lips pressed to her forehead. He pulled back, calling her karîbâri, but she didn't have a chance to ask him it meant before he was asking something about drinks and buying a few barrels. "You don't need my permission to purchase things," she laughed softly. "But which drink is it that has you so enamored? I really do prefer mead myself."

Taeth returned Zarâm's grin with one of her own, and was rather surprised to see now that orc-ish looking woman had strikingly blue eyes. She'd not had chance to notice as they'd briefly fought side-by-side at the Campian. Her attention was diverted then by Lailyn, though.

"Thali was... briefly involved, yes," Taeth answered Lail. It would certainly be an interesting story to tell. "We should definitely plan a drink together." Lail lowered her voice and leaned a little closer to Taeth, and she bit her lip and blushed a little at Lail's words. "Thank you," Taeth smiled, dropping the volume of her own voice to match her friend's. "I hope we are as well-matched as we appear. To be honest, we... barely know each other yet. But I find myself drawn to him in a way I can't resist, even if I wanted to."

Taeth turned back to Silendris then, a bit worried for a moment as they... slurred something around their mouthful of candy. She thought she caught the jist of it, though. "The name of my shop is on the certificate we gave you at the pageant," Taeth said with a wink. "So as long as you haven't lost that, just ask anyone to point you to the Riddermarket and you'll be able to find me."

Arnyn was introducing herself then. "Westu hal!" Taeth replied. "I hope you've been able to quell some of that restlessness here then. And to be honest... I'm out of practice with sword or staff, so I fell back on my preferred weapon as a pæthfindian, but it was clearly a mistake! Would you be so kind as to tell me who won the Campian tournament, though? I had to leave before the conclusion and then--" here, Taeth's gaze wandered back to Frost momentarily and she blushed again "--I was occupied during the announcement earlier."

[Elarith]

Amethyst, hooking customers (and food)

Shadowfox had returned from the bar and asked Amethyst for a card as she was on the point of pressing one on Walpurga. She had been slightly speechless after the impromptu hug earlier - she couldn't remember the last time she'd been hugged, simply because she wasn't a cuddly sort of dwarf who invited physical contact - but it had been rather nice. "Of course you may have a card, I would be offended if you didn't take one. And you know dwarves are very good at holding grudges," she said, flicking a card in Shadowfox's direction. "Designing for you would be a good challenge, a bit of engineering involved. Yes, you could keep me busy for a while," she added, stroking a beard braid and making mental notes.

Walpurga had taken a card too. When she'd said she was new in town, she had been quite literal, it seemed. "Only here a few hours? And already hitting the town? Mahal's hammer, lass, I like your style!" Amethyst slapped her knee, laughing. A low gurgling came from her stomach, reminding her that she hadn't actually gotten round to eating yet. With a flick of her fingers she caught the attention of a startled-looking sperewigend. "One of your finest badger burgers, if you please," she commanded. "But I'm not..." the sperewigend started to protest. "Quickly now, it's not going to fetch itself," the dwarf interrupted. The sperewigend scurried off, deciding that obedience was the path of least resistance in this case.

Before her burger could appear, an orc did. Amethyst tried not to flinch too obvious but there was a definite whiff coming from Zarâm. She nodded as Walpurga introduced her and Shadowfox (whilst Balfur now appeared comatose. She could see his chest moving slightly through that horrific t-shirt though, so he was still breathing). Thankfully the orc soon moved off with the other two to perform a song, which Amethyst enjoyed whilst wolfing down her badger burger. The burger was so tasty she collared the unfortunate sperewigend again for a second. She could see why the Rohirrim went nuts over them.

((OOC @Allafyrefleorhtlig Cards would be amazing! I lack not only the skill but the time and will to create any though! Imaginary versions will have to do ))

[Zôrzimril]

Zôrzimril

More songs had broken out within the tent. Zôr shook her head in disgust and ran a finger across the braided belt buckle once more to remind herself that the night had not been a total loss. Inwardly, she thanked her past self for having had the foresight to spend as little time as possible inside the tent. Really, she was only still lingering here because of the promise of fire. But she was growing impatient. How many more rowdy songs would she be subjected to before the mysterious rider gave the signal?

Zôr had already cut away and discarded the worn leather belt and now slipped the buckle into her bag, where it mingled with other things both precious and mundane. She flipped the flap of her bag shut then froze as a scuffling sound arose nearby. The tent wall began to move as though someone was pushing against it. Had the revelers drawn this close to her? No, the latest song was (mercifully) over. This had to be someone moving sneakily about, either into or out of the tent. In all likelihood, it was just a drunk Rohir. But if they intruded upon her hiding place and sounded an alarm . . . well, that wouldn't do.

She crawled silently to her sword belt, which lay where she'd left it earlier that night - next to a tent pole thick as a young sapling. She chose not the larger blade but the smaller, subtler one - this was to be quick, quiet, and close work. She had the advantage already, being hidden. Slowly, she unsheathed the knife so as not to make a sound then moved silent as a shadow to investigate.

The sight she beheld as she slid out of the tent was as she had guessed: a person (Allacan) laying face-down, utterly dazed and presumably passed out. Or perhaps not. They began to stir, rolling over onto their back and dangerously close to her hiding place. Before the figure could move away, Zôr flew to their side and alighted fluidly in a low side lunge, sliding her dagger unflinchingly against their neck; it was a practiced and graceful motion that honed in on the jugular with tender precision. "Don't move," she said, her voice a low purr, as the person attempted to reach for a weapon of their own. "Don't make a sound. Do as I say, and perhaps you'll live to see the sun rise."

She considered her options. Zôr did not like the thought of leaving a corpse so close to her hiding spot. If any guards patrolled this way around the tent, they would surely barge straight into the tent and find her. She looked down at the person to size them up. Could she drag their lifeless body away into a nearby field, perhaps? But then the smallest of gasps escaped her lips. Despite the addition of a multitude of sequins and a bum-flap (my, my, production of Silendris' apparel line had moved quickly in Rohan . . .), Zôr recognized this figure as the rider who had promised to give her and Zarâm the signal for fire.

"I see you've come to find me," she whispered, ever so slightly easing the pressure of her dagger against the woman's throat. "I think my colleague and I have been more than patient tonight, don't you? Now, you can go back in there and give the signal so she can hear it, too, or you can die with your rear hanging out of your pants." Zôr smiled. "I'm fine either way."

[Lail]

Lailyn, human, she/her

Lail smiled at Taeth. She hoped she hadn't made her uncomfortable with her comments. "You seem well-acquainted to me, but you have plenty of time to get to know each other better."

She thought she saw an orc (Zaram) flit briefly among the group, but her eyes must have been playing tricks on her. But then, Shadowfox, a Rider she had not met (Walpurga ) and yes - an orc - started to sing a song. She was very glad to see Shadowfox in the spotlight playing the violin with exuberance. But the presence of the orc unnerved her a little though she had to give them credit for the musical talent.

When the song finished, Lail felt overwhelmed with all the celebration and she suddenly found herself speaking in a loud voice over the crowd. "I'd like to propose a toast!"

What had gotten in to her? She hated having people's attention on her and she'd just gone and asked them for it. The mead must surely be going to her head.

"Please make sure you have a drink in hand. Or two." She grinned at Arnyn. She gave people a moment to get a drink, though she didn't think anyone was without one by this time of night. "To the festival champions. Congratulations and well done!" She raised her glass of mead and glanced at Arnyn and Silendris. She wasn't sure where the other winners had got to.

"To those who worked tirelessly to prepare for the festival and host events! Thank you for dedicating your time to bring us all some happiness." She nodded at Shivased, Gwai and Taethowen, but the other hosts seemed to have left or never arrived. Though she scanned the crowd, she could not find Allacan, either.

"And to all of you for coming tonight to share in the festive spirit of Rohan. To old friends and new meeting this night...I wish you all a bountiful summer full of joy!" With a bright smile, she raised her glass a final time and then drained the rest of her mead.

Nymlac, human, he/him
Passed out at a table, move along, nothing to see here.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Shadowfox, human, they/them, leaving the stage and returning to near the bar

The invitation to perform, and being equipped with a violin (no matter how poorly held together it was with failing glue) was the invitation Shadowfox had been waiting for. They leapt onto the stage and began the familiar tune, playing sonorously and smoothly initially, albeit at a tempo that was faster than the song was normally performed at. The strings started slipping as the tune went on; the pegs clearly needed roughing up so they would hold their position, and the horse-hair on the bow had clearly not been properly resined in some time so they were having to press extra hard to get the volume they wished from the instrument and manually correcting their finger position to avoid the incorrect notes that the fiddle was determined to give out. When the D-string snapped, Shadowfox instinctively leapt up an octave to make the most out of the remaining A and E string with the occasion harmony across the loosening G. It was a frustrating experience, but enlivened by the performance and determined not to be beat by this shoddy and poorly kept instrument Shadowfox drilled out the tune with increasing ferocity as the song crescendo-ed, the hairs of the bow fraying with the intensity of their playing as they matched the passionate performance being put on by Zarâm, Walpurga and the bagpipe player they had not caught the name of. All four musicians were clearly talented, and with almost competitive drive they pushed the song to ever greater heights until at last they finished the old Rohirric tune with a dramatic finish. Overwhelmed both by the exhilarating experience of performing with such passionately creative people as their own personal identity rather than hidden behind a mask, coupled with the frustration that their own performance had been exceedingly challenged by the poorly constructed instrument, they took the opportunity to express both emotions simultaneously by smashing the offending violin over the stage in a dramatic splintering of wood.

As Shadowfox leapt down to applause, still flushed and animated from the adrenaline-rush, they enthusiastically thanking their co-performers for their efforts. Then Lailyn gathered the attention of all those assembled to propose a toast, and they had to quickly shift through the crowd back to Amethyst and Balfur and where they had deposited their Dearctur Pæper to grab their mug and raise it just in time for the toast and cheered enthusiastically along with everyone else. "To old friends" they said as the cry passed through the tent, then "To new meetings!" as they took another hearty draught of the drink and pulled a funny face at the biting after-taste - it certainly didn't *taste* like a normal Dearctur Pæper, but that didn't mean it tasted *bad*, and they took another hearty drink to relax and loosen their nerves even more.

---

Allacan, human, she/her, outside in the dark

'Always expect a knife at your back. The moment you do not, you will be dead.' It had been one of the first pieces of advice that Dulug-ob Burzam had been given during their assassin training, and they should never have forgotten it for even a second or they would not now be lying on their back, butt-cheeks awkwardly naked against the dry, grassy ground, with a knife pressed to their throat. Both the Mordorian assassin and the cavalry commander hurriedly rushed through multiple options and counter-moves to escape the blade that pressed into their neck, but could find not one that would result in them walking away with their blood still neatly contained within their body, and they had yet to discover how Silendris had mastered the art of returning from the dead. There was no way to salvage any dignity from this; no flipping of their assailant or tussling for the knife or quick-draw of their own weapon that would out-manoeuvre the person who had caught them so completely and expertly unawares with their pants-not-quite-but-might-as-well-have-been-down.

'Think, Dulug, think!' The voice in their mind pestered them as their eyes finally adjusted to the figure above them, and recognised one of the women who had been setting up the arsonist preparations earlier, one of the very women (Zôrzimril) that they had been trying to win over earlier that day with all their posturing and traitorous lambasting of Éowyn. That calmed them in an instant; it was enough of an edge that they might be able to wheedle out of this, if both personas worked together. 'The wound that cuts deepest is made not from wood or steel, but from ideas and thought' that same sinister tone volunteered into the privacy of their mind.

Their verbal voice became a soft croon that was oddly reminiscent of Silendra before she had begun her body-hopping excursions. "You're willing to take the chance that I will not give my life to cry out for help, safe in the knowledge that half the cavalry will be upon you before you could take ten paces, satisfied to die knowing I took you down with me?" they said, tentatively avoiding making it a challenge. "I like you" they declared with an appreciative smile before Zôr could react to the comment and treat it as an invitation, even as they lifted both hands out to the side in a slow and non-threatening manner that was clearly intended to display that they had no intention to fight back.

"You wanted a signal, and a signal you will get, right as soon as you climb off me and give me a chance to get back in there. In fact..." they cocked their head as the loud music came to a stop and the tent hushed, a single voice speaking out momentarily in the nearby gathering was clearly doing a round of toasts as though anticipating the festivities would shortly be drawing to a close "...I think that is *my* cue to begin the grand finale." they spoke just a *touch* more volume, enough that one or two in the tent might hear her voice and recognise it, expectant that she would re-appear momentarily. The quiet worked to their advantage; it made it infinitely more difficult for Zôr to dispatch of them neatly and still be guaranteed a getaway, but over-relying on it would could prove fatally dangerous.

"I was delaying only long enough for the party to be inebriated, so as to maximise the impact and slow down any Rohir reaction. I mixed up some of the drinks labels before people had even arrived, and that clod-head I placed on the bar has been inadvertently spiking some people's drinks all night and doesn't even know he's been doing it. But I think you are right, enough is enough, and everyone should be suitably *ripe* for a little bit of *heat* by now, yes?" she finished the sentence as a question, raising an eyebrow querulously and glancing momentarily at the arm that held the knife still close to her throat, though some of the initial pressure had now been lifted. "I won't try any sudden moves, I assure you. I will go straight in, position myself centre-stage, or centre-tent as it were, and there will be one last song to keep the straw-heads distracted while you and that orc woman do your mischievous business. I'll take only as long as I think you will need to get your kindling and tinder to hand." She smiled again, a hint of mischief and gleeful anticipation glinting in her eyes. "Would that be enough to sate your thirst for arsony, at least for now?" she queried.

[Zôrzimril]

Zôrzimril

A low voice spoke. "You're willing to take the chance that I will not give my life to cry out for help, safe in the knowledge that half the cavalry will be upon you before you could take ten paces, satisfied to die knowing I took you down with me?"

When the woman paused, a soft laugh escaped Zôr's lips. "Oh my darling, do you think I'd have wandered into this repellant country unprepared to die? You think this is the first time I've stared death in the face?" Zôr pressed a knee down onto the woman's ribs as the rider spread her hands in a gesture of innocence. "Regardless, I trust in the fact that I've escaped worse than the likes of your cavalry more times than you would care to know. I also trust that you aren't yet ready, alive or dead, to release control of the story around your tangled loyalties. You've used enough powder to cover your true face to make that clear."

The Rohir explained away the delay. When her supposed accomplice had outlined her plans in full, the Númenórean increased the pressure of her dagger against the woman's life-giving vein once more. She leaned in close. "See that you do," Zôr hissed. "We have been ready all night." She withdrew her knife and retreated, for now, back into her hiding place.

[Taethowen]

Taethowen
human, she/her

Before Arnyn could answer Taeth's question about the Campian winner, a... rather odd trio took the stage (Walpurga, Shadowfox, Zaram) and it wasn't long before Taeth found herself humming along to the familiar tune, toes tapping merrily to the beat.

But even as she let the familiar words wash over her, Taeth found her gaze drawn back to Frost. The song itself was about the call of home and while she'd finally surrendered to that call within herself to return to Rohan... she'd had no idea she'd be reunited with a man who'd made her heart yearn for a different kind of home. A type of belonging she'd thought she'd understood when she'd married her husband all those years before, but was now paling in comparison to what she felt whenever Frost's gaze met hers.

The final refrains of the song began, and Frost turned to look at her, but Taeth was not quick enough to look away. Not that she wanted to, really. A slow smirk spread across Frost's lips as he noticed her perusal of him, and Taeth couldn't help but bite at her lower lip as he pulled her arm free of hers then looped it around her waist to pull her against him once more. Taeth smiled softly, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

Then, as the last notes faded away, Lail suddenly spoke up and proposed a toast. Taeth smiled at her friend's words, and she reached over and stole the drink for Frost's hand, raising the glass. "To old friends and new meetings!"

Taeth took a sip of whatever was in Frost's glass, wrinkling her nose at how overly sweet it was, and also the harsh pungency of alcohol that chased it down. "Dear Bema, have you been drinking this all night?" Taeth asked as she handed it back. "After that blow to the head? You're going to regret that later."

---

OOC: Minor godmodding with permission from @Frostbite.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Allacan, human, she/her

The woman finally eased up the pressure on the blade and stepped off her and into the shadows. She subdued a sigh of relief; she may have successfully avoided a cut across the throat for now but she was no means out of danger yet. She did not hesitate to catch her breath or for her heart to stop its hammering, but stood swiftly and walked back to the rear tent entrance; she intended to use the adrenaline rush of her near-death experience to help her fuel what had to come next.

Still shaking from her interaction outside, she slipped back into the tent via the rear door and glancing around, chose a path to the middle of the tent that took her past Gwai where she stood to one side still nursing her bruised eye. She paused as she walked by, offering her comrade a friendly smile and laying a hand on her shoulder as though simply checking she was well, but with her back to the crowd her low words were deathly serious and intended for Gwai’s ears only. “My attempts to ingratiate myself with the criminally-minded has paid off; something is about to go down. No; don’t react. Just spread the word to the staff to close the bar and start subtly ushering people towards the exit; starting with the old and injured” she said with a deliberate glance towards where Ducky was still dragging his injured leg towards the door and where Nymlac had passed out at one of the tables “Gift away the platters of food if you have to incentivise people, maybe spread a rumour that Ducky is putting on a firework display or something; do anything you need to, but keep it discrete if you can! We don’t want the rascals to think we have caught on to their mischief. I’ll arrange a distraction to buy you time. Then, after the dust has settled on whatever is about to happen here, get yourself armed and to the old Aethelmund pub as soon as possible, but stay hidden. I need you to witness whatever happens there and report it to the Marshals in case I don’t make it out alive.”

She squeezed her friend’s shoulder and without waiting for a response, walked away, trusting Gwai to see to the necessaries. She collected a chair and carried it to the middle of the tent; right beneath the central smoke-opening far above and furthest from all the exits, so that all eyes would be focussed inwards and away from the growing activity around the edges of the gathering. She stood up in the chair and cleared her throat.

She held a long dramatic pause as she waited for the party to shift its focus from Lailyn's toast to her; she was no longer dressed in sequins but now surrounded by an aura of intense sobriety. While she waited for people to notice her, reflected on her life and how in some ways every choice made had led her to this moment. She met eye with a number of people in the room until she had their attention, pointedly ignoring where Gwai had subtly engaged the cavalry staff (NPCs) to make the rounds and begin guiding the vulnerable and infirm towards the exits.

Then, into the quiet, she began to sing a song of her conflicted soul searching for acceptance, melancholy notes of the passion and devotion reflected and contrasted between both the nations of her heart. The words were constructed to convey multiple meanings; a subtle rallying cry and long-awaited signal for those who sympathised with her darker side, and an even subtler warning to those who were aligned with her lighter aspect. A toast to the wonderful memories all the festival attendees had built together, and a prayer for protection of her allies on both sides of the covert war. Her voice carried through the crowded tent and distracting many of those gathered even as the waiting Zôrzimril and Zarâm finally put spark to kindling, fire catching quickly as flames began to climb up the tent walls.

♫ “Oh, burning eye on the tower of coal
Keep careful watch of my peoples’ saw souls
And should the sky be filled with fire and smoke
Keep watching over all our folk ♪

♫ If this is to end in fire, then it should all burn together
Watch the flames climb high into the night
♪ Calling out Bema oh
Stand by and we will
Watch the flames burn auburn here ♫
On Edoras rise, high.

And as we have dined tonight
♫ And we have all dined together
Raise a glass of wine for the last time ♪
Calling out Melkor oh
Prepare as we will
Watch the flames burn auburn here ♫
On Edoras rise
♪ Desolation riding with the night

Now I see fire, catching on canvas
♫ I see fire, in cavalry tears
I see fire, hollowing souls
I see fire, blood in the breeze
And I hope that you remember me ♪

Oh, should my people fall, then surely I will do the same
♪ Corrupted by the call as we are drawn closer to the flame
Calling out Rohir oh
Hold fast and we will
Watch the flames burn auburn here ♫
♪ On Edoras rise
Conflagration climbing through the sky ♪

♪ Now I see fire, rise like a mountain
I see fire, burning the trees
I see fire, in loyal souls
I see Fyre, spirit at ease ♪
♫ And I hope that you remember me

And if the night is burning, I will not shield my eyes ♫
For if the dark returns, then I will welcome its cries
And as the sky is falling down, it’s burning through this lonely town
And with my shadow upon the ground ♪
♪ I hear my people screaming out

Now I see fire, reaching out skyward ♫
♪ I see fire, in Rohirric halls
I see fire, where allies gather
I see fire, purging their souls

♫ And I see fire, oh you know I see a city burning
And I see fire, feel the heat upon my skin
And I see fire, uh-uh-uh ♪
And I see fire burn auburn here on Edoras rise”

The drinks being served had muted the senses of many in the crowd, and Balfur’s keg of Stonefoot Stout slowed the reactions of those on duty, and the reaction even among the soldiers on guard was delayed. At first there was awe, as many mistakenly believed the flames rising up through the tent around them to be some sort of special effect, carefully choreographed to compliment Allacan’s lyrics. Then there was puzzlement, and finally realisation and panic. Thanks to Zôrzimril and Zarâm‘s earlier preparations and Allacan’s distraction, the flames were already spreading quickly to become towering walls of flames before the crowd truly caught on, and by the time Allacan had reached her final refrain many had already abandoned their sentry as audience to flee the inferno.

At cries from their cavalry seniors, the soldiers at the door swiftly snatched at weapons to cut open the the tent entrance to provide a wider escape path for those within. The tent rapidly emptied, but Allacan persisted in the performance until the end. As she finally stepped down from her chair, the tent poles that held up its structure grew ashen and threatened to give way at any moment. She stepped swiftly to the rear entrance and used her own sharp blades to cut an escape through the burning exit, moving quickly to minimise the risk of burns. Just as she - the very last person to leave - stepped outside, the spreading fire finally reached the last supplies of alcohol and a great eruption of billowing heat exploded outward, quelling any immediate attempt to quench the fire and drove the last of the crowd away from the tent’s burning cover even as the struggling frame finally buckled and gave way.

FINAL UPDATE

During Allacan's final performance, a fire has been started in multiple places, swiftly spreading until the whole tent is aflame. Feel free to post your reactions to Allacan’s performance and escape from the tent. This thread will be closed in a few days to allow people a chance to react, but please reserve your replies here to how your characters get out of the tent safely. Anyone who does not post will be presumed to have been rescued by the cavalry NPCs (we don't want anyone losing characters because they did not have time to reply).

For those who wish to engage in the fire-fighting efforts, please post in the Edoras Burns thread.

Thank you to everyone for all your contributions and for helping us conclude the festival belatedly but in a blaze of glory, quite literally!

[Silky Gooseness]

Silendris, they/them. Ula godmoded with permission

Silendris, quite frankly, did not care for the musical entertainment: the screams of the damned or the roar of a theatre audience were most pleasing to their ear (often they were one and the same, of course. If you don’t know what this means, question some thespians). Naokis in particular was convinced that he could’ve done better and Silendra had to exert all her mental will to prevent them from leaping up and performing an impromptu play involving their mop head figurines, their pony, and a nearby ladle which was being used to portion out the drinks.

But all of that was by the by. As if on cue, as the melancholy song drifted up to the rafters, it was accompanied by sparks. And smoke.

Silendris, quite unusually, leapt into action.

With the haste of desperation they buzzed to the bar and shoved several bottles deep into their pockets.

Secondly, they headed for Ula; and; securing their grip with a handful of sequins, they dragged their spare outfit (and its occupant) bodily out of the tent before the fire could take hold.

Fancy fabrics are often highly flammable.

“Well we saved the drinks,” Silendris mumbled. “We do hope your pockets are full of snacks.”