Toad, a flippity-floppity smoosh-face of a Keaton Hound arrives, following Ripley.

Resolute, an Oakhaven bloodhound, Dart, a Kite of the Cloudspine arrive, following Kastelon.

2 Valardin Knights arrives, following Fiachra.

Rian, the overworked, lovelorn seamstress have been dismissed.

Light footsteps carry Caprice into the training center, clearly - CLEARLY - not dressed for training. Or eating chili, for that matter. But her eyes are bright, interested, and a tiny smile lurks just at the corners of her mouth.

3 Thrax Guards, 1 Thrax Elite Guards arrive, following Cassima.

Kastelon has arrived, with his usual coterie, though said companions are clearly not competing in either portion of the festivities to come. No, Resolute is settled close at hand, near Kastelon's gear, and Dart is perhaps having a little bit of a time being settled there on a post, where he can be tethered and left to his own devices for a little bit. The huntsman himself is preparing, ensuring that his bow is ready for the challenge, as he's weighing the matter of the targets that await, and perhaps casting a bit of an eye towards the others who might be competing.

"Poison stewwwwwww" Ripley's ambling beside the seamstress, hands in pockets, a hat on his head to spare him some new freckles and hair all shaggy. But at least the cheeks and chin has been scraped smooth. "I wonder if the Duchess Mazetti submitted hers. It'll grab the raccoons stuffed in your nose and yank em out by the tips!" Toad is ambling beside him, the blood hounds ears jostling about as they go, happy as can be.

Rosemary enters with a funny little waddle to her walk. The four foot pear is here to watch the contest, but she doesn't look overly enthusiastic as usual. Arguing with her escort one can overhear, "..well six is too young. We'll see how it looks up close. I swear, I love that man but he is too much some times!" This must be about the twins taking their first lessens with a bow. Anyone caught up with the Rosemary drama knows her little ones are just learning to hunt and fish with poppa and she /may/ be starting to have a taste of empty nest syndrome.

"You're putting -what- in your nose?" Caprice's focus pulls back to Ripley in mild alarm. Paused mid-way to the benches closest the fighting grounds, she eyes the Thornburn another moment, mouth opening...mouth closing again. "Actually- maybe, don't answer. I'm not sure I can imagine anything worse than what you actually said." Says the Disciple of Jayus. Flashing him a quick grin, she resumes her trek, already veering towards a prime front seat only to pause again with a curious closer look to the ring. "Mm! Are we early?"

Fiachra arrives with a couple of knights in tow, who follow at a distance. While he concedes to have bodyguards, of sorts, it's fairly clear that he prefers them to not be underfoot. The Warden of the West walks towards the edge of the training grounds with his bow in hand, giving it a bit of a visual inspection as he walks. A brow lifts to Riply and then he cants his head a little. "Poison stew?" he repeats, seemingly oblivious to anything else up to that point.

Cassima arrives quietly, guards trailing her as they usually do, though she sends them to 'scout out' a good seat to watch the competition from. Watching them go to ensure that they do, she turns and moves to approach Kastelon, offering a small bob of a curtsy to him. "My lord... I wish you the best of luck in the coming competition." She glances towards his things and his companions and offers, "Would you like for myself and my guards to watch over your things while you compete? I promise I'll make the shiny armored one sit in the back to make less noise." There's the faintest hint of a smile twitching at her lips before she leans in to murmur something to him.

Cassima takes a swatch of sail clothe is embroidered with Mangata's wave from a leather thigh purse bound with umbra ribbons.

AWOOOOOOOOOOOOO

This is the sound from Toad at the sight of the Valardin prince as he catches the scent of the man and departs from Ripley's side without so much as an iota of permission and trots to the man and his bow so that when he makes it to the man, the dog's jumping up in an attempt to plant it's front feet on the man. Awoooooooo he belts out in greeting. "Chili. If it's real spicey, you'll think you got poisoned!" Ripley proclaims. He spots Rosemary. "Well aren't you a tiny thing!" Peering over at her. It's not often he's made to feel tall.

"Your highness." Kastelon offers a slight bow when Cassima's curtseying to him, and there's the faint play of a smile. "I appreciate the well wishes for the contest. Hopefully the gods smile upon me in it." There's a turn of his expression towards Resolute and Dart, and there's a grateful inclination of his head. "If you'd be so kind," he says softly, more seriously. "Not that I think the dog's inclined to run off, but one never knows what trouble he'll encourage the kite to get into." As if Resolute's a troublemaker of any shape or size.

Rosemary notices Caprice and gives her a friendly wave as she approaches confidently. "This seat taken?" She has a seat. "Terrel is telling me the twins are old enough for a bow! A bow!!" A shake of her head. "I need to do research so I can win this argument, couple more years for weapons! That is all I ask!" It might actually be a good idea for them to learn how to use something with the war coming, but they might also shoot their eyes out..

Reaching down with one hand, Fiachra lets Toad jump up on him with his front paws while giving the hound a good scritching behind one ear and then the other. "That's spicy stew I take it?" he asks, looking curiously over at Ripley. "With Lycene peppers and such? Those things will burn your face off. Honestly, I don't even know why they bother with poison poison."

"Messere Rosemary," Caprice spares Ripley more side-eye in order to greet the shorter woman headed their way. Her smile blooms fully for a moment, in welcome, and she gestures unnecessarily in invitation to the bench, where Rosemary's already sitting. "Ah.. who's Terrel?" Evidently she's not all caught up with the woman's gossip, herself! But there are introductions to be made. Dipping faintly in a curtsey aimed for the more noble/royal grouping, she murmurs to the pair nearest, "Ripley, this is Rosemary Hawkeye; Messere, Ripley Thornburn - among other things, a fantastically gifted artist with precious metals, and family to me in all the ways I find most important." Mention of the Lycene, or maybe the poison, draws her attention back towards Fiachra who earns a brief, amused grin. "That was a rhetorical statement, I suppose."

"See! He gets it." Ripley gestures to Fiachra. "The Prince gets it!" Ripley is overjoyed. "It melts your face off, and if your nose is stuffed, gods it real properly just clears it out. Though you eat too much and you have regrets because in one way out the o-" Awooooooooooooooooo. Toad drowns out the rest of what Ripley says though there's hand gestures but eventually though calloused and stained hands slip back into pockets and Toad, after a generous slurp of his tongue to Fiachra's chin, drops back down with a thump and finds some shady dusty spot to lay down in on his back and roll around.

Ripley however, offers his hand rosemary if she takes it and gives a vigorous hand shaking, pumping it up and down. "Pleasure to meet you! Children! Just turn em loose in the market, I'll go play kick a ball with them and return em when their noses are snotty or they've had too much sweets!"

Rosemary laughs at Caprice, "My /husband/!" Ripley gets her hand and Rosemary is looking him up and down. "Oh so you are Ripley. The one the brokers tell me about." The way she says it one could easily tell this is his new competition. "Just stay away from my rubicund traders!" She begs, her hands raising dramatically in surrender. "You don't want to take food out of my baby's mouths do you?" A bat of the innocent eyes but they way she is dressed, no one is keeping them from being fed.

"More a silly joke," Fiachra replies to Caprice with a shake of his head and a smirk on his lips. He's slurped by Toad then and closes his eyes in a squint. Still, he doesn't seem to actually *mind* the hound's sloppy affection and gives him another good scritching behind the ears and up under his chin. "Alright, buddy. That's enough now."

"Well, if you ask nicely, I will. Don't come swaggering in being a right propery nasty bint and insult me, I'll stay away from the Rubicund." Which given that she didn't, Ripley just smiles and palm to his heart. "I shall defend your little corner of Rubicund my lovely lass, lest Caprice smack me upside the head and give my ear a tug." He reaches up, rubbing at an ear.

Toad continues to roll in the dust after leaving Fiachra alone. Dust baths, are the best baths.

1 Templar Initiates, 5 Templar Knight guards arrive, following Cassandra.

Kastelon's head briefly turns to consider the discussion that's occurring the few paces away, listening as Ripley, Caprice and Rosemary, a bushy brow rising while he's listening to the back and forth and... the breath slides free. "And this is why I'm glad I spend much of my time in the forests."

A longsuffering sigh escapes Caprice while she's studying the ceiling. "Is this how you talk about me when I'm not around? No wonder people run away when they see me coming..." But with her corner of spectators all introduced, it looks like the copper-haired clothier is prepared to abandon them in favor of approaching the fighting pit. "Alright, you're spared my waxing poetic on the subject," she tells Fiachra on a low laugh. "Well, don't retreat to them yet, my Lord," she bids Kastelon. "It seems we're early or late, but I say we get some practice in, mm? A bit of friendly competition maybe? Who's in?"

Dipping her head towards Kastelon, she doesn't smile but there's a warmth to her expression as she offers, "I would be happy to, my lord." Cassima glances again towards her guards once more before looking back to Kastelon. She reaches out and touches his arm briefly, flickering a brief smile towards him, "I'll leave you to the challenge. Good luck." Pulling back, she moves to go seat herself near his gear, reaching down to gives scritches to Resolute.

Rosemary catches Kastelon's look and wiggles her eyebrows, a borderline inappropriate sweep of her eyes following. "Help you handsome?" It's not cheating to flirt after all. If it was Rosemary would be the biggest courtesan in Arx. She takes note of his sword and comments, "Looking for someone to help you get a bow or some armor to match that blade? You might be in luck.." Never off the job, Rosemary can't help but make connections for future business deals.

Gawain saunters into the center, not carrying a bow and not seeming to have any chilli either, or, judging by the curiousity flickering across his features as he looks about, necessarily any idea at all of what he's come in to.

Caprice has joined the fighting grounds.

"By all means, wax away," Fiachra says to Caprice and gives a brief shake of his head accompanied by a laugh. "It's not really a thing I often come across, thankfully." Both of his shoulders lift in a shrug then, seeming to have said all he's going to say on the subject of poison. Again he inspects his bow, closing one eye.

Rosemary has joined the Benches.

Kastelon nods to Cassima, with that hint of a smile of his, watching when she's moving over to ensure that Resolute's not off causing trouble or conquering a hearth or two. He's briefly seeming surprised by the quip from Rosemary, as if he knows not entirely what he ought to be doing about that, but then there's Caprice with the helpful suggestion... and he's nodding. "I think there's nothing wrong with a little friendly competition, no," voices he, as he's getting his bow and moving over to the practice ground.

Kastelon has joined the fighting grounds.

" I say only the sweetest things when you are not around! So much so that people sicken for I shut my tra- pies, oh they have pies... hand pies" And off Ripley goes to probably stuff his face with pie and leave no room for chili.

Toad, a flippity-floppity smoosh-face of a Keaton Hound leaves, following Ripley.

Rosemary has left the Benches.

"That's the spirit," Caprice encourages, chuckling softly. She sweeps the group curiously for any other vic-volunteers, brightening when she spots one of the newer arrivals. "Lord Blanchard!" she calls out in greeting, hand lifted for Gawain. "Another impromptu adventure? Come shoot at targets while I judge, we're getting in practice; I think the official event is likely to be rescheduled."

Offering no particular reassurance as to his capacity, Gawain informs Caprice, "I have seen bows before and heard many opinions on them. This can only go well, right?" Still, he does go to collect one of the practice bows and, at the behest of a slightly worried looking member of the center's staff, a bracer. This is gonna go great.

Gawain has joined the fighting grounds.

"Good luck, archers!" Cassima calls out from the stands, offering a small wave while she keeps a hand on the Keaton hound, petting and scritching. The Princess does nto budge from her seat, more than happy to spectate over participate.

That there's discussion of perhaps holding off on the contest gets the faintest of frowns from Kastelon, though he's still approaching this seriously - the draw of an arrow from his quiver as he's considering the target for a moment, before notching the arrow on his diamonplate bow, lining up with the target before he's letting a practice shot fly to find the thing, as if still possibly accustoming himself to the thing. "I'm quite happy for there to be practice," he pronounces finally. "Just means perhaps a better competition when the real thing does happen."

"I'm of a similar opinion," Caprice nods towards Kastelon, smiling. She directs a curious look towards Fiachra - will he be joining them? - before the woman seeks out a few of the staff to assist with some minor tweaks to the current layout. "I'm proposing three rounds," she remarks to the competitors, informally. "Short range, long range and moving target." Thus the tweaks. She slants another look to Gawain before adding, "I'd be willing to toss in a bonus round of shooting on horseback, but at that point I'd feel obligated to offer a prize."

"Hang on, hang on. One thing at a time," Gawain says, laughing at the prospect of shooting from horseback. Gripping the bow like he's attempting to strangle it rather than use it to shoot at something, he manages to nock an arrow after a couple of efforts, then he has a crack at shooting one of the targets...

Gawain checks dexterity and archery at easy. Botch! Gawain fails completely.

CLUNK. The arrow doesn't get very far. Gawain doesn't get the string nearly back far enough and the projectile falls to the floor a full couple of metres short of the nearest target.

Kastelon checks dexterity and archery at easy. Kastelon is spectacularly successful.

"Some of us are still but learning to ride at anything other than a simple walk." Kastelon's expression is inscrutable as always, but there's the faintest sense that he might be having a little fun at his own expense, even as he's pulling back the string and letting the arrow fly at the close-by target, sinking it easily into the center of it before letting the bow's aim drop. "I think that it'd be a good thing in a full challenge, though, to push all of us."

Caprice checks command and performance at easy. Caprice is successful.

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

"Oh, you inspire poetry at first twang, my Lord!" Can hosts be hecklers? APPARENTLY. Caprice's grin broadens, unrepentant over the ribbing of the Blanchard noble, though she's not above turning some of that teasing against herself either - especially after Kastelon's remark. "Some of us have yet to seat a horse, for that matter, but I -did- see wheels on some of the practice equipment carts." With a last scan of the center, and a cheery but undemanding wave of invitation for Cassima, she confers briefly with the center staff before letting her voice carry, clear and distinct - proof of theatrical training, perhaps, though there are stranger things in Arx than too-thin, silk-clad secret military generals.

"ARCHERS, to the line!" Staff helpfully direct attention to the first line, roughly 18 meters from the first row of targets.

Gawain grins over at Kastelon. "If you shout 'hyah' at the average horse over and over and kick your heels into its sides, you will both agitate it and go quite fast. I make no promises about safety." Then he bows his head towards Caprice. "Thank you kindly! The arrow probably needs to be higher up than that, but so too shall the verse about it soar ever higher."

Kastelon advances to the line when there's the call for it. There's the turn of his head to consider Cassima, with Resolute and Dart - checking as much that his coterie of companions are behaving while in another's care - but then his attention comes back to Gawain at the teasing. "I suspect it'd go about as well as it does when someone does the same to me," says he, the faintest twitch at the corners of his lips as if he's not wanting to smile at the consideration of that. And then the dip of his head. "A gift for verse is a wonderful thing. I've no gift for it, hence, the bow."

Reese arrives in the training center while adorned in her pink and ivory. She seems a bit confused about what is going on even as she starts toward a bench. "oh...this is a tournament." She murmurs softly.

Off to the side, at a hopefully safe remove from the competition, the Disciple of Jayus continues to roll out her impromptu practice competition. From out of a pack comes a length of petal pink satin, unraveled before Caprice shakes it aggressively - creating a distinct if somewhat quiet rustling.

"Tired of tracking and days-old bread, bushes rustling up ahead! Relax your brow, begone that furrow, you've finally found the rabbit's burrow. FIRE!"

(check dexterity + archery at easy for the first round!)

Gawain offers a cheerful if faintly absurd suggestion to Kastelon (who is definitely not a pirate), "If you care to hold still for a moment, my lord, I dare say I can get up there in a jiffy, and perhaps even shoot a bow, though I make no guarantees as to your well-being." Then there's a direction to shoot another arrow, so Gawain does so, and this time...

Gawain checks dexterity and archery at easy. Gawain marginally fails.

Kastelon checks dexterity and archery at easy. Kastelon is successful.

Amazingly, Gawain's arrow doesn't hit the floor immediately this time. It still misses the already big enough target by a clear half a metre, but it did go in the right general direction. Then it hits the floor again a bit further down the range. He seems pleased enough about this, all the same.

Kastelon looses his arrow, without responding at first to Gawain - it's the matter of his concentrating on the target, the sinking of the arrow into the thing, with a motion from his hand as natural as walking and breathing. "I think that'd be quite hazardous to my health, truth be told," he responds, though there's still that hint of his being amused at the matter, when he's looking at his handiwork. And then softly, "You're improving, my lord."

Spotting Reese as he turns to look back across the centre, Gawain raises his free hand in a brisk wave. "Come shoot some targets with us, your highness!" A grin is turned aside to Kastelon and he replies, "I wouldn't bet on it sticking without a very great deal of practice."

Reese looks over to Gawain, giving him a sheepish smile. "I mean...." She says and then trails off. "I am not very good at archery, but...that make it okay, but I generally avoid all contests." She says.

Caprice is more gentle about the task of tucking the silk away again, her own amusement clear in the lingering curve of a smile. Both competitors earn a cheer from the host/heckler, and Gawain's invitation draws her attention towards the newly-arrived princess. "Oh, please feel welcome! There's time to catch up if you're interested." Indeed, the staff are pulling the targets out of the way to reveal the next row, some seven meters further away from the line. "I'm quite terrible at it, myself, but I took down a rabbit, and helped take down a stag, and ran away from a bear in my first and only hunting trip to date." She sounds inordinately proud of all that.

Gawain grins at Reese. "Fair enough, fair enough!" Then he turns to scrutinise Caprice, though without leaving his spot at the line. "And you are still here now, meaning you either outran the bear successfully or, having been overtaken by it, you leapt atop it, caught it by the neck with your teeth and shook it until it conceded defeat."

Caprice informs Gawain helpfully, "No, no. I just outran the other hunters."

Round Two's sound effect employs two practice fighting sticks, whacked together by Caprice, gently, at random. And the story behind it: "The rabbit's down, it's decent eats, but your larder pines for bigger meats! Heavy hooves snap over sticks - behold, a stag! Watch out for ticks."

"FIRE!"

(dex _ arch at normal for the 25 meter stag!)

Laughing at Caprice's reply, Gawain replies earnestly, "I am sure they were most valiant!" Then there's the direction to shoot again, though he takes the time to inform the 'stag' target first, pointlessly, "I'm not going to eat you on account of you being cloth and stuff."

Gawain checks dexterity and archery at normal. Gawain is successful.

In a pretty weird turn of events, when Gawain has a go at hitting the further away target, he actually does so, though not thanks to any technique, because he has none. This surprises the Blanchard, and he spends a moment staring over at it.

Kastelon has left the fighting grounds.

Resolute, an Oakhaven bloodhound have been dismissed.

Dart, a Kite of the Cloudspine have been dismissed.

Kastelon checks dexterity and archery at normal. Kastelon is successful.

There's no appreciation on the part of the Keaton huntsman for the matter of poetry. There's the faint arch of a brow, however, before he's notching his arrow and listening to the rhythm of the two sticks, the thunking of them when he's breathing slowly, evenly... and in the wake of one such exhalation, he's loosing the arrow, which flies through the air with a zing and....

And a faint turn of his attention to Gawain. "I told you you were improving," says he, evenly but equally pleased by the result from his competitor. "Just have faith in yourself."

"Oh-" Delight, surprise mingle together as Gawain's arrow finds a mark other than the floor or wall. The smile it brings warms further for Kastelon's success. Caprice brings the sticks together in modified applause. "Well done, both of you!" Staff have already hustled off to help with the last part, and are wisely waiting on cleanup until after the competition has finished.


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ROUND THREE! No intentional sound effects but there is the faint squeak of oiled metal and moving rope. Paces beyond the last line of targets, a fluttering, ragged old padded tunic appears to be sailing across the fighting grounds (thanks to some hastily repurposed ropes and pulleys). A comically simple 'mean' face has been pinned to the collar, hastily painted and evidently still dripping...which is perhaps a little more macabre than the artist intended. Caprice calls out from the safety of the sidelines:


"The stag is down - but thieves abound! They swipe your kill and make for town. No time to fret, no time to frown! Bring those bastards to the ground. FIRE!"


(dex + archery at hard!)

Gawain turns a grin on Kastelon. "I could have aimed sideways and it might have gone there, for all I know." Then when the final target is up, the Blanchard peers up at it. "Woah. Did the thief's face get inside the stag or something?" Leaving such questions for after it's brought down, he has a bash at hitting the final target.

Gawain checks dexterity and archery at hard. Gawain fails.

"This is where I warn that I accidentally shot Lady Thea in the backside when I was trying to be a hero," Kastelon says softly, and he's not joking this time at all, as if that's to encourage Gawain in the attempt. "So even when you're aiming right, you've no guarantee that you're going to hit the thing you want to hit."

Kastelon checks dexterity and archery at hard. Kastelon marginally fails.

This time, Gawain's arrow sails well clear of the target - it's not even near where the target had been. It does make it most of the distance, at least. He offers Kastelon a smile. "I'll do my best to keep in front of Lady Thea at all times, that being the case."

Perhaps it's the fact that he has mentioned that he's shot someone in their fleshy hindquarters when aiming at a target. Or the fact that the gods clearly do not like when someone's a little too confident. But whatever the reason, Kastelon's arrow does sail wide of the target by a whisker, which makes it all the more fortunate that the staff are not doing any of the cleanup yet. And... "No, that would be most recommended. I was teasing the good lady that it was good fortune I'd not been at her wedding, where apparently they were chancing things with knives, as I'd have feared the same result."

"I advise at least -one- pause behind her, it's a gorgeous view. Ooh," sympathy groans from the judge's station, as the dribbly villain escapes with the imaginary kill. "Nicely done, my Lords. Rabbit stew is actually quite good, I've learned. When someone other than myself is trying to cook it." Caprice applauds them both, smile warm. "I hope this was a suitable practice - and that I'll see you both should the real host reschedule the competition? But for now, I should run and be fashionably late to a wedding reception."

Gawain peers off after Kastelon's arrow, "Oh, very close! I think I might just avoid chancing things with knives too." Then he replies to Caprice, as he strips the borrowed bracer off his arm, "Interesting, to be sure. And I will certainly agree regarding stew. Enjoy the reception!"

Kastelon looks, for his own part, to be glad perhaps to be elsewhere from the reception, as he's contemplating stew and the like, turning his attention to Caprice. "Let us know when the real event's going to be," the huntsman says seriously, as he's easing back a few more paces from the firing line. And that familiar half-smile to Gawain. "I look forward to seeing you at the event, if you should decide to take place." The tug of that smile again, before he murmurs, "Though I too shall make sure I'm standing beside, and not in front of you."

"I'll be sending word to the Lady Commander, encouraging her to reschedule," Caprice promises on her way out, after a dipped curtsey for all and sundry. "And confessing that I borrowed her audience and competitors... Until next time!"

Caprice has left the fighting grounds.

"An excellent plan," Gawain answers Kastelon, quite cheerfully so. "I'll see if I'm able to show up. So much to do, you know? And who knows what the coming weeks might bring to the Compact? We'll see."

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Kastelon before departing.

"If the gods are gracious," offers Kastelon quietly, nodding about the things that are to come. "But who knows - we might still have this again before things find us and put us in a state where we need worry about those things." Though he's briefly interrupted by a messenger, who hands him a message at which he frowns distinctly, before he's shaking his head. "Apologies. I'm apparently needed elsewhere."

Resolute, an Oakhaven bloodhound, Dart, a Kite of the Cloudspine leave, following Kastelon.

Gawain has left the fighting grounds.