Sess 5, 229: Kincaid Tournament: Archery

Kincaid Tournament: Archery
Summary: House Kincaid Hosts a Tournament in Stormvale, Day One of Events: Archery
OOC Date: 19/02/2104 (OOC)
Related: NONE
Players:
Adlivun Aidan Altair Araltaidan Brendolyn Brienne Bowen Dwyn Elisabeth Eliylw Eoin Hadrian Harmon Kierne Kylan Kieryn Nylie Roslin Ronan Rorey Solara Victoria 
Tournament / Faire Grounds - Stormvale
The fairegrounds are big enough to hold a great many people, during festivals. They are really just a huge field, with a platform at the center, which is used for performances and announcements as is required. Grass never really seems to grow though, as the tents, pavillions and feet of each festival stamp it out. And just as it is beginning to regrow, the next festival arrives.

During a festival, the fairegrounds bustle with activity, whichever festival it might be. Many vendors set up tables and booths, selling everything from hotcakes to swords. Bards play music and poets recite their latest poems. Artists of all shapes, sizes and typse can be spied around and about the grounds. The scene is quite festive.

Over the erected entry gate to the tournament grounds flies high the Kilgour flag, in honour of the Ruler of Mobrin, as is customary. On either side of the great Kilgour flag, are the standards of House Kincaid - black and silver stirring up with each breeze of passing.

The great fields are mottled now by a blazon of colour rising in the form of pavilions, staking grounds for each member of nobility who participates. Merchants also dot the landscape, pushing carts, standing by makeshift kiosks, hawking their goods as they walk through. The smells of roasting meat and food preparation is strong, as small fires dot near the pavilions to see their masters well fed. The Kincaid Pavilion is constantly welcoming noble visitors, while others wearing Kincaid colours are distributing bread amongst the common.

Music is to be had when the events are not on-going, with any spare inch of trodden earth acting as impromptu places to dance. Feasts are nightly, granted, the nobility take it to the main pavilion. Commoners are treated to Lake fish and rice, bringing the charity of Lakeshire to the good people of Stormvale.

Within the tournament grounds themselves, even more decorative heraldry has presented itself, as if the Tournament was one of all Houses and not specifically sponsored by the Kincaid Family. Upon the rises of cushioned seats for nobility upon the erected galleria, there seems to be marked representations for each of the Great Houses of Mobrin, with luxurious seats provided for the Head of these Great Houses. One will find Greenshire, Sky Forest, Sutherland, Weston, Lakeshire, and Darfield - divided and spaced out by obvious decorations, such as having the railings painted and cushions made of the major house colour. The fans of such houses and the vassals to them, will undoubtedly find themselves wishing to close in around said areas, while the commoners suffer the spaces to stand and sit where they can.

It is day 5 of the month of Sess, 229 2E

The first day of the tournament is marked by cool weather of the coming spring, the air full of movement to fill the grounds with the constant flap of banners and flags. Over the entry gate to the tournament grounds flies high the Kilgour flag, in honour of the Ruler of Mobrin, as is customary. On either side of the great Kilgour flag, are the standards of House Kincaid - black and silver stirring up with each breeze of passing.

Within the tournament grounds themselves, even more decorative heraldry has presented itself, as if the Tournament was one of all Houses and not specifically sponsored by the Kincaid Family. Upon the rises of cushioned seats for nobility, there seems to be marked representations for each of the Great Houses of Mobrin, with luxurious seats provided for the Head of these Great Houses. One will find Greenshire, Sky Forest, Sutherland, Weston, Lakeshire, and Darfield - divided and spaced out by obvious decorations, such as having the railings painted and cushions made of the major house colour. The fans of such houses and the vassals to them, will undoubtedly find themselves wishing to close in around said areas, while the commoners suffer the spaces to stand where they can.

The field stretching out from the mob of spectators has been marked for archery. Large bullseye shooting targets haven been drawn in on wooden mounts and others on straw dummies with borrowed armor. The closer targets easiest, the furthest smaller and obviously increasing with difficulty.

Eliylw might not be a noblewoman but that did not stop her from giving her beloved Araltaidan her favor, the gift given a honeysuckle-perfumed handkerchef made of white lace and linen. It has been tucked into the Ranger's quiver before the healer slipped away although she doesn't part company with him without giving him a peck on his cheek first.

Araltaidan has arrived wearing his long grey cloak against the light chill as spring is barely awakening upon the land yet. The Sky Forester has put on some of his finest clothes though he does not dress like some fine lord, still predominantly in greys, greens and browns. The Master Royal Ranger has his bow out and is standing over by Eliylw that she might tie her favour upon his quiver. Aralt smiles as she does so, "I hope it brings me luck. I should not like to shame your favour, Eli."

The archers are gathering upon the field to take their places and ready to shoot. Araltaidan watches so not to miss when his turn is called. Ah, and then she bestows a kiss to his cheek and his gaze follows her as she joyfully slips away. Whatever happens with his archery today, he looks to be a happy man.

Once the galleries for the nobles have filled and the noise of the commoners begins to escalate as they wait for the games to begin, the Duke of Lakeshire stands from his seat and the Tournament Steward on the field begins the speech, "Welcome good people of Mobrin to the first Tournament of the new year, made possible by the generous host, His Grace, Duke Aidan Kincaid of Lakeshire." The Steward points up toward the decorated suite in the gallery to where the Duke stands, now offering a wave to the cheer that follows.

The Steward carries on once the crowds have calmed, "As your Tournament Steward, it is my delight to welcome all those who will be competing in this Tournament over the next few days and to declare these days hence forth, to be judged fairly and enacted honourably. On behalf of House Kincaid, we invite you this day to draw your attention to center field, for the event of archery! Let the games begin!"

One of the eldest Kincaid members enter into the area. His bow slung over his body as he walks in. He had made it clear as he as signed up for two events. This was one of the ones he registered for. His left hand was wrapped in bandages. After his servants made sure his name was marked down for the event, he walks over to the starting area and patiently looks around at those gathered. The man sizes up those who are here before he begins to look for others. It would seem no one he fancies has come to cheer for him. At least no one he can see yet. A soft grunt comes from him. He can tell the Gods were not going to sponsor his win this day. He stands off waiting for the names to be called to the firing line. He doesn't pay attention to his father who might have sabotaged his chances of winning.

Harmon arrives, spends a few moments in grave consideration of the luxurious seat provided, "Gus," He says to the older of the pair of men who ever seem to be in his company, "I think I shall have a troublesome time of it shooting from here. Do me the favor of seeing Lady Brienne comfortable here when she arrives. If anyone asks after me tell them I'm on the field having fun." He chuckles, "Warren." He pulls the other man close, "You're in charge of hunting. Go to the other noble areas and fetch what lovely ladies you find and bring them back here. Feel free to use your title when introducing yourself." Instructions given Harmon moves down to the field to join the archers.

Araltaidan bends his bow to string it as others come out to join the field who will shoot. His grey eyes note his former lord, Count Harmon, to whom he bows his head, "My Lord Forrester, a pleasure and an honor to shoot against you today." The former Sky Forester turned Royal Ranger smiles a little and keeps his baritone low, "Will the Lady Nimue be watching today?"
Adlivun pages: I do wish to participate, but no idea who would spnsor me

Ah, one of the ladies. Bren isn't a ranger but anone who knows her knows her love of archery, even hunting. Will it be enough against rangers who were born with a quiver on their backs? That remains to be seen. No one carries her bow for her, it is slung over her shoulder along with her quiver and while she is pleasant in demeanor there is a fierceness in her eyes as she stops near the field to eyeball the targets. She draws a deep breath and continues on to take her place amongst the other competitors.

Present as well is a certain foreign prince. Altair has brought his bow with him, as he signed up for the event. Looking around at the other participants, he keeps a bit at the background now, watching things carefully.

Settled somehwere amongst the stands, no doubt upon one of those fine cushioned seats as befitting her station, is one Nylie Kilgour. A light cloak sets upon her shoulders and much of the deep silver and purple dress worn. Her hair pulled up in a simple configuration and held with silver combs. The field of competitors are taken in, her eyes dancing over those taking to the field a faint frown coming when she does not quite find someone amongst them that was expected.

"Get your boar ribs, roasted boar ribs!" calls a bearded man waving around meat on a stick, that looks well seasoned. "Right here, boar ribs!" He makes his way along front of the commoner stands as he continues shout.

Harmon points back to where his brother, sister, and the others of Sky Forest are already getting rowdy and recruiting more to their rambunctious cause. "You think I'd let her miss my performance?" he chuckles, "Though I have little expectation of a win, far too long since I've shot at targets, and I still think we should be allowed to sneak up on them, they're stone deaf."
Adlivun pages: Well, maybe the Tyrells, since I am lso training the dog they took from my hounds' litter

Araltaidan is not the only Royal Ranger partaking of the competition today. Ranger Kylan Fletcher awaits over near where the commoner-side spectators are waiting, talking to a particularly pretty young blonde woman with whom he seems familiar. He does give a salute and a polite smile to Araltaidan as he passes, speaking quietly, "Luck and fair winds be with us, Master Araltaidan. Though we shouldn't need either, eh?" He chuckles, then turns his attention back to Dwyn, "Can't say I've ever carried a favor in a contest before, but with the competition on the field today, I'll need all the luck I can garner!"

As the cheers subside and fall into murmurs while they wait for the organization of those enlisted to display their skills, the Tournament Steward has a whole group of other abled bodied men to see to the organization of this. So by the contestants, one young lad calls out, "Is there a Royal Ranger Araltaidan present? He's required into the grounds."

Still central to the galleries and the commoners, the Tournament Steward blares out, "We welcome the first of many contenders to the archery square. The Royal Ranger Araltaidan!"

A glance shifts over to Harmon as he notices he's about. He seems to look harder as if looking for someone and finding none. A look of disappointment flows over Hadrians face a moment before he looks back at the targets that had been set up. He grumbles softly under his breath as his left hand was hurting just a little but feels with his days of steady practice, he'll shoot just fine. He listens to the annoucement of names and waits for his own. Hadrian was getting use to being 'stood' up for things by those he was favoring. This only seeded his darkness a little.

Dwyn chuckles at Kylan's words from her spot beside the tall Ranger, "You do not need luck my dear." She tell him with a soft smile before holding out the green ribbon previously in her hair, "But just in case." She nods her head and flutters her eyelashes just a touch up to him. "You will do wonderfully." She turns her green eyes for a moment to the other contestants before quickly turning back to Kylan.

Kylan gains his smile from Araltaidan, "I'll always accept the luck if the Gods see fit, and especially Umbra, to bestow it, my friend. One must be foolish to turn it away, though aye … hope we shoot well either way and give no shame to our liege." The Sky Forester's name draws his attention and though he minds any reply his former lord Harmon would care to exchange, the Ranger goes when he is beckoned, "I am Araltaidan Dubhwyr."

As he goes to where he's called, Aralt draws his first arrow to nock it and look down the field at the distant targets. He checks his string and then waits for the go ahead to shoot. When he has it, he lifts his bow and pushes it away with his right hand and draws the fletching well back with his left until it nigh touches his ear - and then it's released! Aimed for the further targets down range.

Araltaidan spends 1 luck points on For distant archery target, first shot..
<FS3> Araltaidan rolls Archery: Good Success.
Araltaidan spends 1 luck points on For distant archery target, second shot..
<FS3> Araltaidan rolls Archery: Good Success.
Araltaidan spends 1 luck points on For distant archery target, third shot..
<FS3> Araltaidan rolls Archery: Success.

Adlivun steps to his spot on the field, watching the ones going before him. HIs bow is around his back and he wears his hunting leathers as usual. It's odd seeing a hunter in the competition. he must have found himself a sponsor. No way he'll do well against rangers, though! …. Right?

The first is a pretty decent shot but nothing amazing… and the second one is good, and the last … well, it hits the target and didn't miss but was no where remotely near the center. Aralt stares and thins his mouth. He draws a slow breath and then shrugs, "Not my best shots by far. Clearly the Gods do not favour me to win today." Yet he is in good humor nonetheless, thanks the steward, and then removes himself to make way for the next archer. Now, where did Eliylw go?

Harmon nods to those greeting him, waving dismissively if any try to make something formal of it. His attention, however, is focused downfield watching the arrows as they fly towards distant targets.

Ok, ok, it's not just somewhere in the stands that Nylie sits, for those gossips and their wagging tongues, it is upon the cushioned seat right next to the Duke of Lakeshire. Sitting up a touch as the master ranger is called first up and giving a clap and a cheer, he does serve Kilgour afterall.

Aidan Kincaid indeed has invited Nylie Kilgour to sit with him, turning to regard Nylie with an appreciative smile as the first ranger is called forth. "This will certainly be a fine time for Hadrian to prove that he's not wasted his years as a ranger," he mumbles all but to himself, before turning a look to Nylie, "Would you like anything my Lady?" Because of course, the Kincaid has attendants waiting on them, to provide them wine and an assortment of finger foods.

Aralt won't have to look for Eliylw too hard as she didn't go off too far. In fact, the hunt for her is made the easier when she rushes forth to give her betrothed a hug. "Well done," she cries out, so pleased! Is he happy with the results? Probably not, perfectionist that he is where his archery goes, but she is very proud of him, just the same.

Kylan laughs quietly at Dwyn, holding out his arm so that she can tie the ribbon around the upper portion of it. When that's concluded, he grins, inspecting the work with a satisfied nod. When Araltaidan makes his shots, he watches intently, frowning just a touch as well, though when the man returns, he smiles once more, "Always difficult pulling the first lot, my friend." He notes to the other Royal Ranger.

Looking around for a few moments, Altair glances to the stands for a few moments, before he lets out a bit of a breath. Expression a bit distant, as he watches the various people present for the moment. Concentration, or something else, that's a good question.

A juggler pauses before the crowd as it takes a moment for the spent arrows to be retreived from the field, spinning five apples high into the air and keeping them moving with ease. hands tossing the green skinned fruit back up time and again back into the air. Giving a spin himself and catching the next apple as it comes down without missing a beat with a wink to one of the girls up front as he works to get a few coins for his efforts.

Brendolyn steps to the edges of the group and waits, watching every shot, studying form, shifting from one foot to the other. She scans the area and her azure gaze pauses on Altair, giving him a nod in greeting then her focus returns to the targets.

Hadrian shifts his gaze to look over at Dywn and the ranger she's with. His eyes dart away as they were not his concern at all. He stands there with his eyes look around before they watch the other shoot. He smirks a little bit and shakes his head some at the shots. He then stands there, waiting, plotting. A look is given to his father before he thinks how easy a botched arrow might fly mistakenly towards his father's throat or even better, his…new lady. The darkness in his eyes shift to look at Nylie. Then he looks away from them.

The Duchess of Sutherland is looking every bit the part in her first public appearance since her wedding. The Roslin arrives just a few minutes late, draped in a fine new dress of royal blue brocade patterned in paisly. Her silver eight-pointed star still sits around her throat, and her hair is pulled up and back in a dramatic braided bun, covered with an embroidered knit decorated with pearls. She is on the arm of her equally finely attired, handsome in his dark hair and blue doublet. They speak quietly between them, their faces relaxed in contented smiles as they move to sit and survey the field.

Araltaidan slips an arm around Eli and tries not to be annoyed with himself, "No, they are not good shots. Not for me. As long as I can make my shots when I really /need/ to, that's what matters. Do you wish for something to drink or eat?" Ah, and there is Kylan. Aralt nods, "Aye, the wind kicked up some. The others will better correct for it." All the same he's interested in watching who goes up next. "Are you doing well, Kylan?"

There is a faint glance Aidan's way to catch him mumbling a bit, even if perhaps not catching what was said for having been giving attention to Araltaidan's shots, Nylie commenitng,"An off day for him, it seems." Offering Aidan a smile at the question,"Some wine would be lovely, Your Grace." A curious look sent back towards the field to see who will be next, pausing though to take in the juggler that wanders down near the ffront of the stands.

Cheers meet the shots from Araltaidan, though as the people await their next contestant, it would appear the Tournament Steward calls out toward the good people and the young men search for the very same person named, "We are graciously pleased to announce another Royal Ranger to our grand Tournament, Royal Ranger Kylan Fletcher."

"I do believe I heard the cry from one selling boar ribs but I don't know where… ah, there they are. May I have some coin to buy us some dinner?" The Ranger's annoyance is caught and Eli frowns slightly, a little sympathetic down-turning of her mouth. "I will also get us some mead." Because mead should do well to wash away the bitterness of the archery results.

Eoin may have been busy these past few days with naval arrangements, but that does ot mean that he can not find the time to partake of a little archery. His tunic is well cut but not particularly elaborate so as to leave nothing for his string to catch on and his bow is of the traditional Greenshire variety, the kind that the majority of the royal army's archers will be sporting this season, is perhaps, a slightly more elaborate carve. Looking focused he waits near his cousin, the Lady Brendolyn as others are called to the line ahead oh him, only momentarilly breaking that intense expression to shift the lie of a scarf that sits tied around his draw arm. Doubtless a token from some ladie or other.

Dwyn is focused on the Ranger she is with and does not notice any looks her way from anyone. She ties the ribbon then lets her hand linger on Kylan's arm a moment as she hears his name, "Go, go. You will do fine." She assures him with a bright smile before standing politely back and watching with a touch of anticipation coloring her features.

"Well enough my friend. But it looks like I'm up." He nods to Araltaidan and Eli, then gives Dwyn a brief smile before moving to the firing area to salute the noble members of the audience, though particularly the host, and announce, "I am Kylan Fletcher." He waits for the signal to go ahead, then lifts his bow and draws an arrow from the quiver at his back. He seems to gauge the wind for a few moments, adjusting his aim towards one of the furthest targets, and after a few moments…a couple of breathes…he looses.

Kylan spends 1 luck points on shooting at a distant target.
<FS3> Kylan rolls Archery: Good Success.
Kylan spends 1 luck points on shooting at a distant target.
<FS3> Kylan rolls Archery: Great Success.
Kylan spends 1 luck points on shooting at a distant target.

Aidan looks toward the field, nodding at the results, "It could be the pressure of being first My Lady," he retorts with a shrug, clapping all the same for the attempts made, "Shoots still worthy of killing a man from the distance alone." He gestures toward the attendants up in their suite, having the server first give a glass to the Lady before he himself accepts one. The juggler is regarded only in passing fancy as the targets are reset for the next, another Royal Ranger, "It would seem that we have encouraged many a ranger to this day of Tournament. They shall have to best my son, master ranger himself."
<FS3> Kylan rolls Archery: Great Success.

Harmon adds his voice to the roars of the crowd, boisterous in his support of the rangers and this display of their skill. He waves the other competitors forward as the mill about, "Go, go…when my shots are made I feel I'll be sent back to my seat. The view simply doesn't compare."

The three shots fly just a moment or two apart, each aimed towards those smaller, more distant targets. The first strikes in the ring outside the bulls-eye, just off-center, and the next two seem to adjust off of that first shot, despite shooting at different targets, both landing within the little circle in the center, albeit not -perfectly- centered. He lowers his recurve, and nods, seeming satisfied with the results but not revelling in it beyond a small smile. Lots of competitors to go. He bows towards the noble audience once more, and then moves back to where the competitors wait, once again standing at Dwyn's side.

The Hadrian shifts his gaze over towards Princess Roslin then he glances up towards the sky, mumbling, "First my hand and now this. Why don't you just toss down the fires of hell to finish me off." He states in almost more of a grumble before looking to the ranger who fires off his three shots. He makes note this man is his competition. He studies him more and more before turning away to look towards his father, seriously comtemplating shooting his father for his series of unfortunate events!

"It well could be, or simply an off day of it." Nylie gives a nod,"Aye, they were good shots yet, though I have seen better of him." The glass of wine is taken up with a small incline of her head. With another of the royal rangers being called forward, Nylie does offer up some clapping to the applause that comes after he is announced. Her gaze sweeping the field again aas the man steps to take his shot, a smile coming as she does find amongst the competitors the face she missed before. "It does not surprise me that they would come," men are a competitive lot," and fine shots."

Somewhere hidden within the crowd of observers, a hawker cries out, "Meat pies! I got tasty meat pies for sale," only to be drowned out as the crowd's voice lifts in a cheer in near-unison.

Eoin has his bow strung and ready for when he is called, but for now he has one end grounded at his feet and is resting a little of his weight on the upper limb. It's a relaxed stance, but his attention is clearly down range as he watches Kylan's shots in silence. A brief shifting of his weight so he can offer the man polite applause as he steps back from the line and then he's concentrating again.

Again, judges walk out to regard the shots that were taken, measurements and notations marked on the page, before the arrows are retreived from their targets and the field yet again cleared. Cheers will ascend for the Royal Ranger as there seems to be some indication granted that Kylan Fletcher has taken the lead, for his blazon is ranked higher now above Araltaidan's.

The Tournament Steward claps with everyone else before his arms raise in a matter to grab attention, "Some excellent shots from the Royal Rangers! We have yet another enlisted, the Ranger Victoria Skyhawk." More claps as the proud woman comes forward and waves to the crowd before standing where marked to set for her series of shots.

Victoria spends 3 Luck Points on Archery Tournament.
<FS3> Victoria rolls Archery: Good Success.
<FS3> Victoria rolls Archery: Great Success.
<FS3> Victoria rolls Archery: Good Success.

Dwyn seems pleased and uncrosses her fingers as she wraps small hands around Kylan's arm and whispers to the man, "Lovely job." She says simply before looking out to the next contestant, a smile on her face still.

Archery competitors waiting for their chance are welcomed to drink and any food, as Kincaid livered servents tend to their needs, though each contestant is on their own to provide for their weapons. One unlucky devil seems to have broken his string, now crying out for someone to lend him one, getting no results from the Kincaid servers.

Altair still has the distant expression as he loks to the stands, grimacing momentarily. Muttering something to himself, he shakes his head a little as he watches and listens.

Aidan looks toward Nylie after taking a long sip of his wine, making approving gestures for Kylan Fletcher, though he does not know the man other than the missive received. Indeed he does tilt his head, "That is Kylan Fletcher? I should have him invited to sup…" infact, he calls for his own scribe, "Write that man's name down. Send him an invite." And then Aidan gestures for the scribe to finish the invitation elsewhere, so he may turn back to the events ahead of them. "Competition does that My Lady Nylie, it sets the most skillful off their game and the wind fortunes those who have the good blessing of the gods to win." He looks down toward the Tournament grounds to see a Skyhawk take the field and repeatedly get successful shots, but not necessarily enough to beat Kylan, as her blazon settles under his own.

Said Tournament Steward calls forward, "Ahh but we have a special treat for you ladies and gentlemen!! From the far lands of Kundari, we bring to you the Prince Altair al-Milan!!" The same young men in the competitor stands finding Altair to show him the way out after the grounds have been judged and reset after Victoria's shots.

Roslin sets a hand in her husband's as the tournament continues. She smiles at the next announcement, and her mouth moves but its' far too loud for her words to be heard. She smiles too, seeing Hadrian set to compete, but otherwise remains seated.

Araltaidan claps and cheers for Kylan, very pleased for his fellow's marks. He did at least set the bar for aiming for the more distant targets to spice things up from the start. He speaks low with Eliylw as they watch.

Harmon laughs lightly and tracks down the contestant calling for a string. He removes one from the folded oiled leather where his are stored and gives it to the man. "Shoot well." He instructs, moving past him then to obtain a drink. "Recalls to mind a story of a ranger who had forgotten his string on a hunting trip. Not wishing to seem foolish to his companions he quickly drew his arrows from his quiver, cut them in half and reaffixed the heads to the shortened pieces and began throwing them, hard as he could, after the game. 'Hunting with a bow was too easy.' He claimed, 'I've taken to using darts.'"

Kylan bows his head to any competitors applauding him as he returns, before turning to speak with Dwyn once more, laughing softly, "Maybe I should've looked into this favor business before. Those shots felt good. Well, the first one not so much, but that one seemed to carry any anticipation along with it, left my head clear for the other two." He turns his head and watches Victoria make her shots, applauding her efforts as well, before hearing the fellow crying out for a string. "One moment, love." And he will move to offer up one of his spares to the man in question without a word. Then once again returns to Dwyn's side, watching Altair as he takes the field.

"The competion is more fierce than I thought it would be… oh, no…" The cries for help from an archer has Eliylw wincing and her head turns slightly to the side. The concern for the unfortunate participant is forgotten, however, when she leans in close to listen to him while also watching.

Eoin has a spare string in one of the few pouches on his belt, but a quick look across to his unfortunate fellow tells him that thwir bows are of differing style and thus the tension would be al wrong. Still, should the man be drawn after him he may see what can be bodged. As a serveant approaches with drinks he gives a faint shake of his head, such things will come once he has loosed his three, possibly in vast quantities depending. The announcement of the Al-Milan gets his attention though, this will be something new at least, and hopefully interesting.

Harmon nods to Kylan as the ranger has much the same idea, "Well done." he compliments the ranger on his generousity.

Solara has been wandering the faire grounds, but makes her way over to watch the archery, with some amusement. Her maid and guards stay with her, though the young Ruxton lady looks to have no idea at all about what is going on. Well, until she gets there. "Archery, how lovely," she murmurs as she settles in, finding a spot to watch lazily for a bit.

Adlivun is impressed by all of the competitors going before him. When he hears there will be a prince participating, he's intrigued above all else.

"The Kundari Prince…" Aidan looks thoughtful, "So that is him…" he mulls over the wine, looking around at those cheering and the crowds milling now as the archery competition is not as brilliantly exciting as the sword on foot or the joust promises to be. There are merchants beyond the tournament ground and those who are trying to sell their wares now, through the stands of commoners and even up toward the nobles. One such merchant has come to the Kincaid suite, with silken scarves and the like. While the attendants do try to keep the man at bay, Aidan waves him over, "My Lady," his eyes turn to Nylie, "Would you be in need of one?" He says with a quiet look in his eyes that suggests he's inquiring cunningly about the status of her favour.

The man with the broken string looks very relieved at all the aid, "Thank you my brothers! I hope that your charitable strings bring me good favour!" Harmon, Kylan, and Eoin all get favourable nods, while he grins at Harmon's story, "Perhaps what I should have done, though I do not believe the Host would appreciate such mockery."

Nylie glances towards Aidan as he sets word to his scribe, giving attention again to the field of competition as ah…the one who bested Aldren takes field, settingn up a bit with a hint of curiosity to see how the woman will do. A smile with a light comment is given towards Aidan,"They should try dealing with performing before ballrooms ful of people sometimes, or inns." Sips of wine being taken as polite applause is given for each of the contestents called along. Nylie nods to Aidan,"It is, have you not met him yet?" Though there is a small blink as the scarve vendor is along and Aidan is inquiring as he is. Noting gently, with a soft but slightly sheepish look, "It would seem perhaps so, for I do not have mine with me this afternoon." It seems the favour might have been claimed.

Harmon chuckles, "Ah, a man who forgets how to enjoy a good jape is a man who has forgotten his love of life. I do not think the Duke suffers from a lack of loving life." Gus works his way down to Harmon to provide him with a bottle of drink, and the Count drinks as he continues moving about, "Ah, that is fantastically better. I had heard that there were men abstaining from drink so that they might shoot with a clear head, I had thought to do the same, then realized it would be a disadvantage to do so for the first time in my life at a tourney."

Brendolyn looks over at Eoin briefly and back to the targets then her eyes flick back to the man and specifically his arm. Her mouth quirks into a crooked grin and she lifts one brow at him then looks back to the next archer on deck, watching rather closely.

After a bit, Solara makes her way over to the area that is all decorated for Weston, taking a seat where she can be comfortable and still watch events. This gives her a better vantage and she keeps an eye on things. Her gaze goes back and forth between the competitors on the field and those nobles she can see in the area near her.

It would seem that the Prince is not forthcoming… There's that … lull that comes between shooters and the Tournament Steward is clearing his throat, "The Prince has been delayed. We will move on. We have a local Huntsman who has been sponsored to join this Tournament. Please welcome your own Adlivun Soven!"

Aidan frowns a little when the Kundari Prince doesn't make a showing, "Seems he might have been caught up with the ladies of our good nation," he muses though has no idea where the Prince could be. Various factors could have kept him. Though his eyes return to Nylie as she admits that she may have need of a new one. There's a lift of a brow and a soft hmm for her admission of needing one, which makes the Merchant very happy to hear it. He begins to show her the variety he has with him, set across a pillow and others draped over his arms. Aidan just gestures for her to select one, going back into his wine for the moment, brooding.

Adlivun looks a bit startled, but goes to his designated position, turning to the crowd to bow to all, especially the host and nobles. He looks to be somewhat nervous, but then seems to calm, focusing on his target. He lets the wind blow, taking a gauge for it, pulling his yew bow from his back. He slowly pulls an arrow from his quiver strapped to his thigh, then seems to quickly take aim and fire, as though he wasn't aiming like the others, just guaging how to fire with his eyes.

One of them… the commoners cheer loudly for Adlivun!

Adlivun spends 1 luck points on shooting at a distant target.
<FS3> Adlivun rolls Archery: Good Success.
Adlivun spends 1 luck points on shooting at a distant target.
<FS3> Adlivun rolls Archery: Failure.
Adlivun spends 1 luck points on shooting at a distant target.
<FS3> Adlivun rolls Archery: Success.

Eoin notes the look from his cousin and just gives her faint, familial nod before he's glancing across to the steward as the change of archer is announced. He looks, perhaps, faintly disapointed as the foreigner fails to show, he'd been looking forward to see how they do thinks up there, but he offers a spot of polite applause for the commoner who braves the contest, even if his score are perhaps not what might have ben desired.

Nylie frowns a touch as well when the Kundari Prince seems to be long delayed in coming to the field,"It does seem so, Your Grace." Eyes do drift to the various scarves that the Merchant displays for her, though there is a small study of Aidan being made as well. One of the those in silk is selected in time enough. Nylie leaning to murmur something softly to the brooding Aidan, while the current competitor only a vauge bit of attention.

Regardless of how Adlivun shows, the crowd is filling their lungs for him. He is likely to be the only man in the tourney that hasn't a ranger title to him, nor noble blood to carry him forward. No doubt he'll get special attention from throngs of women hoping to speak with their hero and congratulations from the men, likely many a pat on the backs and mead to come Adlivun's way. It is a big thing for a commoner to step into the ring and challenge the leagues of those who were born and bred for such sport.

Hadrian glances over towards Harmon and then as he puts a hand to his lips, he calls out not caring who hears. And in a bold statement, he yells towards Harmon, "I shall win this tournament for your sister." He says to him before he turns to watch the other guy who seems to fail at one point in hitting the target well enough. Hadrian was not worried about him, nor anyone else. What he was worried about is if his long hours of practice to re-strengthen his hand had paid off or not.

Harmon laughs, "I should prefer, Lord Hadrian, if you lost this tournament for me, but if I'm not to win then it may as well be done for my sister. Carry on but do not get carried away."

Adlivun is more than happy to have the crowd behind him! However, he's not so happy at the fact he completely screwed hsi chance of even getting some sort of mention. The only people to remember him would be the commoners, who cared not for his mediocre performance, with only one arrow even landing in a note-worthy spot. He can live with that. "People are flesh, blood, bone. Titles and nobility are just words. The same meat with a few extra words', as his father said.

Aidan looks toward the tourney grounds in time to see the commoner set off his shots, "Well, no surprise there-" he remarks with an indifferent expression, waiting until Nylie has decided upon her choice before he gestures that the man should be paid and silver is exchanged for silk. His brows lift though as Nylie leans to him, his eyes watching ahead to see the judgements that are passing and the field reset yet again. He takes a long drink of wine after she seems finished, offering quietly some in response.

Araltaidan has been on the sidelines, watching. He speaks occationally with some who's walking by, or congratulates his fellow rangers when they have shot, like Vic did. Otherwise he stays with Eli and now has a tankard of ale to keep him company as the archery continues. It's a fine early spring day for it.

The Tournament Steward gives just enough time for the local huntsman to clear the arena before he welcomes the next, "We welcome Greenshire next to the Tournament, for we have two to represent the House now in attendence! Please welcome first, the Lord High Admiral, Eoin Havarean!"

With a Lady Ruxton in the house, the Weston suite becomes a little more active, merchants now trying to vie for Solara's attention as they pass by. She keeps shaking her head negatively at the moment, her attention more on the archery on this fine day.

When the Lord Admiral is called to compete, Nylie sits up a little bit more. Clapping loudly for the King's High Admiral, this time she is also offers up a cheer and trilling whistle. A far more energetic welcoming to the field for the Haravean it would seem. Settling back again as she leans back towards towards Aidan, a soft smile going to him after his own murmur before she again looks to the field.

Eliylw smiles, clapping for those as they complete their turn. It is a pleasant day and the longer it goes on she finds herself a bit more chipper than she was at times when winter was at its coldest and darkest, much like she's blossoming in the warmth.

Seemingly pleased that there is at least one man in the kingdom who can get his title right, Eoin mutters briefly to his Cousin, "wish me luck," before he lifts the bottom of his bow off the ground and makes for the line. Taking his time to stradle it, ensure his feet are placed right and adjust the angle of his stant he then turns his bow over so he's holding the riser with the string towards the ground. Lower limb under his arm pit and upper extended above him he turns at the waist to salute the host's box, then brings the weapon round so his bow hand is resting on the scarf on his arm and inclines his head a fraction. Such formalities done he turns back to his shooting stance, seeing no point in snapping his three off in quick succession but taking his time instead. This is after all, not a speed shoot.

Eoin spends 1 luck points on Thats quite a nice bow..
<FS3> Eoin rolls Archery: Good Success.
Eoin spends 1 luck points on Really quite a nice bow..
<FS3> Eoin rolls Archery: Success.
Eoin spends 1 luck points on DId I mention the bow?.
<FS3> Eoin rolls Archery: Good Success.

Elisabeth looks up from her seat as her brother is called and she stands up. "Good luck Eoin!" She calls out for him. She clasps her hands together in anticipation as he steps up to the line.

Adlivun clears off the field, deciding to go off to the side and away from the stuck-up nobles and rangers, instead taking company with his hounds and pups sitting off to the side waiting for him. "Didn't go so well, I'm afraid. But, at least it wasn't us shooting at animals, eh? We'd go hungry!" he cuckles as the dogs nuzzle him.

Brendolyn smiles at Eoin, breaking from her intensity for a moment for him, and her head inclines. "Greenshire," she says quietly in his direction. Yes, today they are assuredly Greenshire, and hopefully at least one of them will represent the colors well, especially in that there is a favor riding on the arm of one of them.

The judges run on out in the field, make their notations upon their parchements, remove the arrows from the targets and then dash back off the grounds to the sides for the next competitor.

Once cleared, the Tournament Steward claps for the good showing of the Lord High Admiral, thank his liege the Duke of Lakeshire for ensuring the title was appropriately sung out to the crowds. Though, one would notice that Kylan Fletcher's blazon is still yet marking the judge's belief that he's in the lead. All to be reviewed officially after of course and the winner to be declared a few days down the line at the Champion's ceremony. Regardless, now, the Tournament Steward calls out for attention, "Please also welcome forward, the Lady Brendolyn Haravean."

"Mead! Ale! Wine! Get it here!" So shouts a man as he carts a box full of mugs around the stands,"Get it while you can! Ale! Wine! Mead!" The man pauses to pass off a few mugs as coins come his way before continuing on along as he takes to calling out again,"Wine! Mead! Ale!"

Eoin is, disapointed, that much is clear. Those shots were below par and he knows it. Still, as his cousin is called to the line after him he offers her a reasuring smile and a "shoot well," before he moves back to where he had been previously stood. This time thouhg, he does take a drink, a strong one at that.

And her name is called. Brendolyn lifts her head and strides to the field, taking her place on the mark. She passes Eoin on her way but her focus is on the targets already, her hand curled around the strap of her quiver up against her collar bone. Her silvery dress shimmers in the early springtime sun but she's not favoring spring today, her inclination is toward the cold, the ice, the steely look of a determined young lady, knowing full well her chances are slim in this company of rangers and field hardened hunters. But. This is her element, her joy and passion, she couldn't be happier when she pauses to sweep an un-Brendolynesque curtsy of the utmost grace then takes her place, skirts settling as she makes ready for her shots.

Solara glances up as a vendor comes by, with sweet wine. That one catches her attention and she signals, so the vendor stops, bringing his wares up for Solara to look at. The Ruxton lady's red-gold tresses shine brightly in the sunlight, even up as they are. She takes a few moments to discuss the merits of wines and to decide on one, negotiating briefly on the price.

After a time, Kylan moves over to purchase a few ales, moving over to offer one to Araltaidan, and then across to give one to Adlivun, "Think the wind caught you, Master Adlivun." He smiles reassuringly to the man before heading back over to watch Eoin, and then Brendolyn make their shots. A bit of curiosity becomes apparent when Brendolyn takes the field, but there's no hint of scorn behind it.

As her cousin is called, Elisabeth remains upstanding. She looks to her brother as he finishes and smiles encouragement and offers her applause to him as well. She bites her lip with anticipation as Brendolyn steps forward, one of the few women of the field and family as well.

A few more trilling sounds and whistles are given for the Lord High Admiral when his arrows hit the targets, even if they may not be the best made. The cheering is yet done, before Nylie returns to the more even clapping as the next Haravean is called to compete. A draw taken from her wine as she continues to watch the competition, continues a soft exchange with Aidan at times.

The crowds become a bit excited to see a noble Lady taking the field. Some might question the Host on his allowance of a good noble Lady to square off against the men, while others whoot and hollar for her opportunity to prove that even a woman could be on equal stage with the men.

Brendolyn spends 3 luck points on aiming at difficult targets in archery contest.
<FS3> Brendolyn rolls Archery: Good Success.
<FS3> Brendolyn rolls Archery: Good Success.
<FS3> Brendolyn rolls Archery: Success.

Bowen shoots a glance at some of his fellow squires making wagers. The golden haired Kincaid frowns at such unbecoming behavior. There is little to question the young man's opinion of the bets. Of course, it is nothing that any who know the young squire would be surprised by. His lofty ideals of chivalry and nobility is hardly a realistic one, but it is certainly a shielf of his virtue. For this, Bowen is dressed in his finest black and silver clothing. He watches the competition with an avid interest, even if it is that of purely the spectator.

"She marked those targets good as men she did!" says one eager young girl in the crowd, commoner by the looks, gleefully jumping and pointing toward Brendolyn, "I want to be just like her!! She's so beautiful!"

Her fingers curl around her bow then uncurl to reposition and she nocks an arrow, drawing back slowly. In her mind the creak of the strings is loud and slow, time is slowing down and her eyes are fixed on the targets. Those far off ones. Everyone was aiming for those and she'd not back down, not now. ZIP! The first arrow flies and she looks on, watching it land solidly, her face steeled against disappointment that it wasn't like practice, this one did not land dead center. The next one is merely solid as well and her eyes flutter with the sinking of her heart but she draws in a breath and lets the last one fly. The bow is lowered and she looks to the targets, staring them down like an enemy for a moment before jutting up her chin and smiling as she turns to take her place back amongst the other competitors. She'll berate herself later, for now, she smiles.

Kierne rests inconspicuous enough in a light squire's piecemeal armour, more worn in deference to the ceremony of the tourney than for any other reason. He stays in the shade aside the galleria, propping up a wooden post with his shoulder while his bow sits, dog-like, ready, at his heel, propped up against the next side of the post. He's tempted by an ale, but can wait, and will wait, until he's had a chance to thoroughly disgrace himself on the field for the first of many times this week. Uncrossing his legs, he bends aside to snag the hand of the tall instrument behind him, taking it up and wincing into the sun once more, watching the novelty of the lady competitor.

Victoria nods to Brendolyn as she finishes up her shot, "You did good, Lady Brendolyn." The Rangeress will intone earnestly, parting a warm smile for the other female competitor as she steps back, slinging her bow up over her left arm as she rolls it back, the woman turning back to look out at the field, shifting from foot to foot in a fluid bounce of sorts, arching up onto her toes, then settling back down to repeat it all again.

Harmon continues moving about drinking and enjoying himself talking with the rangers and archers. He applauds as Brendolyn shoots, "Well done, Lady of Greenshire." He calls out between drinks. He waves for any others to precede him, "Go on, I prefer to be the last to lose, the celebration for the winner tends to overshadow my defeat."

Kylan nods as Brendolyn makes quite a fair showing indeed. No doubt better than many would have expected. He applauds as Brendolyn returns to the waiting area, and gives the Lady a bow should she draw near.

As it would seem the competitors are dwindling down the very last, with Houses Kincaid and Forrester left to the field, the Honour is left to Forrester to wrap up the games. The Tournament Steward announces as much, "Ladies and Gentlemen, as we look to the last to compete here today, we welcome you to enjoy the festivities of the grounds! More so, we welcome the House of our Host to welcome its represenatives for the Archery Tournament. First, the Lord Squire Kierne Kincaid!"

Brendolyn smiles at Victoria and inclines her head, "That is high praise indeed, coming from you, you have my thanks and admiration," she answers. She smiles at Kylan then curtsies briefly, as the announcements begin, the lady turning to look and listen.

Elisabeth calls out to Brendolyn, "Well shot!" Ok, perhaps yelling out in a crowd is not so lady like but its family and they shot well! Finally she takes to her seat again. As Ronan's squire is called to the field she leans forward in her seat , interested to see how the knight will fare on the Archery field.

Eoin gives Bren another smile as she returns from her shooting. From what he can tell from this distance their scores are likely to be very similar but only time will tell inthat regard. "Well shot," he offers to her as he quenches his thirst, disposing of an empty glass in favour of a full one as a servant passes, "drink?"

Yep. Kierne lifts his chin in brisk recognition of his name, fingers clasping at the tall bow he bears, then tossing it a short ways upward to adjust his grip rather closer to the riser. He's over to one far side of the galleria, and so with his free hand grabs the top post of a bit of fencing and scales a step or two before hopping over and trotting out to the field with a game and steady gait, neither showing off nor showing apprehension. He does his best to dismiss the huge crowd from his mind, only nodding soberly to the Steward, and then, aside, if he can find him, to his uncle and to his master. The significant acknowledgements thus made, he reaches back to his quiver for the first of three arrows.

Aidan Kincaid looks toward the markers that show who is still in the lead. The Royal Ranger. Apparently those Royal Rangers weren't just men to be talked of lightly. A brow lifts as he turns to regard the performance from those of Greenshire and as one might mark, he's clapping for them. Yet, as the Tournament Steward calls first upon his nephew, the Duke rises to applaud the call, his necessary support given in the rise from his cushion.

<FS3> Kierne rolls Archery: Good Success.
<FS3> Kierne rolls Archery: Good Success.
<FS3> Kierne rolls Archery: Good Success.

Altair has been watching the happenings carefully at the moment, smiling a bit at some of the participants as he watches them. Keeping silent as he does, he seems quite lost in his thoughts.

A steward's squire rushes over toward Altair, "Are you Prince Altair?!" Apparently the squire is flushed and has been searching for the wayward Prince, feeling the threat of punishment if he fails to find the said man.

Brendolyn smiles at Eoin then her head lifts toward the stands, Elisabeth's encouragement no doubt, got her attention. She nods to Eoin, "And you, and yes, please," she answers about the drink. "I knew deep down I would not win but it did not keep me from hoping from a favorable showing."

Nodding a little as he hears the squire, Altair studies the young man for a few moments, shaken from his own thoughts now. "I am, yes," he replies, a bit quietly. Realizing he might have drifted off into his own thoughts, or something.

Solara gets her wine, and the fellow with the cart continues on his way. She sips, as her maid settles down to embroidering. The guards keep their position at the entrance to the Weston suite. And Solara gets to watch the competitors, without worrying who wins or loses. So she claps politely for each competitor.

Kierne draws back the first arrow, his thumb touching his ear with a little bit of a wobble, but he takes in a deep breath, lets it out, takes in one more and lets the arrow go with the air, his features displaying something between stoic concentration and almost drowsy-looking calm as he looses a shaft toward the standard target, landing a solid shot, then a second, then a third, in rhythmic, sedate repetitions of motion that manage for a remarkable consistency of shooting, three arrows in a neat equilateral triangle about the center. When he's done, he barely registers being done, letting his bow down to his side and staring at the target for a moment longer before he turns back to his uncle and, with one more nod, heads off of the field again.

The squire exhales deeply and waves Altair forward, "Thank the gods you are! You missed your call sir Prince, I mean, your highness.. Come this way please! You're to be next!"

Adlivun notices Victoria off with her ranger pals, then takes as quiet and uninvasive approach to go speak to her, his hounds following along in an unobtrusive manner as well. "Well done, Victoria. Can't say the same for myself." He chuckles and pets hsi hounds.

Bowen cheers rather exuberently for his cousin's showing. "Huzzah, Kierne!" As almost snooty as the squire was just moments before, he calls out with an almost painfully youthful vigor. That wide smile, that his father so often refers to as 'grinning like an idiot', stretches across his entire being.

While there has been many a good showing, Nylie does not appear entirely surprised that a Royal Ranger yet hold the lead in the contest. They are selected as Royal Rangers for a reason. The Kilgour clapping for each of those called forth, it being marked Aidan does actually clap for those from Greenshire. Returning her attention again to the field to see how the Crawford's squire will do.

Altair nods again as he hears the squire, "I am really sorry. Lead the way," he offers, with a quiet nod now.

Eoin takes a glass for Bren as well and passes it over. "Thank you, although I must confess to feeling that I might perhaps have managed better." A drink. "Still, it is done and that is that. There is no shame in loosing out to the Royal Rangers after all."

There is some confusion down below… as people, including the Duke, prepares for his son to be called forward… The Tournament Steward has the Kincaid banners removed for the moment and replaced yet again with the Kundari, blazons to welcome the next competitor. "Good People, once again, we welcome forward the Prince Altair al-Milan!"

Brendolyn takes the glass and takes a healthy drink, then nods her head, "I suppose we always wish to have done better," she says then her eyes flit to the favor and up to him askance. She smiles, "Indeed, there is some small measure of comfort at the level of competition here, they are quite impressive." Prince Altair is called out and Brendolyn's attention shifts to the targets again, "Ah, he will shoot after all.." she murmurs.

Altair spends 3 luck points on Arcbery targets….
<FS3> Altair rolls Archery: Good Success.
<FS3> Altair rolls Archery: Success.
<FS3> Altair rolls Archery: Success.

Harmon lifts his voice cheering Altair forward, "Shoot well and shoot often!" He chuckles, "Recalls a story of a…hmm? Oh, yes, I suppose quiet."

Aidan gives a good clap for the solid performance of his nephew, "He doesn't have the distance, but he has the aim." A compliment as he regards the confusion of trying to draw forward a competitor not aligned to the lists just then. The Prince is regarded with a bit of a frown from Aidan, not that it'll be seen from up in the galleria in amongst all the other people of course. He settles back down to watch the performance, "I wonder where he got off too. I'm sure someone will be feeling the lash of failing to call him forward before. I imagine he was down there the entire time." Not everyone was perfect.

Taking his position, Altair nods a little to himself, before he readies the first arrow. Sending it off, he nods a little as he sees where it hits, before firing the next one, barely hitting the target this time. And then there's the last arrow, which turns out more like the second one, before he lowers the bow, nodding a little as he looks around briefly.

Araltaidan wandered away with Eli to go and enjoy the rest of the tournament, the vendors, the merchants, the dancing. He has a lute to play after all, so they wander off arm in arm to go do so.

There are cheers for the Royal Kundari Prince, but there is also confusion amongst the crowd. Should the good people of Mobrin be cheering for the Kundari?

Music wafts through the air as the minstrels take to playing, entertaining the spectators while they enjoy the day's event.

Kierne tips his head toward Bowan on his way off of the grounds, turning about and watching the next competitor from the sidelines, resting the til of his bow on the ground and running his fingers against its gentle curve, tapping a fingernail to a tune from a minstrel who passes.

Solara watches with some amusement, glancing around at the crowd. She cheers as well for the Kundari prince, just as she does for the rest of the competitors.

Brienne arrives somewhat late to the event and as soon as she does, she moves for the stands, looking for any familiar face in a sea of unknowns. Rarely leaving her home in Rivermist, she is suddenly hit with the knowledge that being reclusive in her own world was a distinctive disadvantage.

Meanwhile, the Duke of Sutherland has been pleased to show off his new bride, walking at Roslin's side and dressed to reasonably match. Ronan has only been paying slight attention to the archery, enjoying the music and Rosley turning up at his elbow with a glass of wine for his Duke and Duchess each (having poison tasted it for them both first). "It looks to be an excellent turnout for the start of my Uncle's Tournament. A large crowd already. Good also to see that we have managed to lure spring to follow us north and begin the thaw."

There's an interlude that's become regular during this days event for the judges to rush out, measure and assess, awarding points to the Prince for the shots that he has made thus on the day's events. Only when arrows are cleared as well as the field of all personnel, the Tournament Steward calls forth yet again, "Such a day of skill!" Indeed he makes sure the Kincaid colours go rushing through the field again, before calling, "We welcome now the son of our Host, Lord Hadrian Kincaid."

Old Gus, one of Harmon's men, moves to Brienne. "Lady Brienne, Count Harmon instructed me to see you comfortably seated. He's offered his seat." The old ranger indicates the seat amongst the Sky forest people.

Altair makes his way off the field now, taking a few brief moments before he moves to where he can watch the rest of the event.

So far to Hadrian, the only one who managed to be the best here was the Royal Ranger who brought the whore here. Having watched Keirne go, then the Prince, Hadrian was not seemingly impressed. Lord Hadrian Kincaid, Heir of Lakeshire hears his name being called. The tall man moves to the line and undoes his bow from around him, bringing it to bear. He turns a bit as he grabs an arrow, notching it then raises his bow at his father! The moment was for a mere half a breath before he aims it in the air, turning towards the targets then lowering it to aim at the furtherest targets away. This was his moment. He takes in a breath bringing the arrows feathers close to his eye as his right hand pulls back the string. The tug making his left hand hurt a little from the sparring with his father some days ago. Thanks Dad. Hope you die soon.

Hadrian spends 3 luck points on One for Lady Nimue, one for his cousin, and one for that fine bow that he'd have stolen had he known about it..
<FS3> Hadrian rolls Archery: Good Success.
<FS3> Hadrian rolls Archery: Good Success.
<FS3> Hadrian rolls Archery: Success.

Nylie looks to see what the confusion is about then they are announcing the Prince again, looking fairly neutral about it all really. "It is possible the runner couldn't find him." Though really, he did stand out a touch from the Morbins, it really was anyone's guess. "It does sound that there aren't to many more after him." Enjoying the wine, as the shots are watched and then there is Hadrian being called forth. And there is more clapping as had come for the others, save the one..who got all the neat trilling whistles.

Brendolyn sips her wine this time and then sets the glass aside long enough to applaud the Prince's shots. She looks to Roslin and Ronan and smiles, lifting a hand to wave before she takes up her wine once more. "The Ranger Victoria complimented my skill, I shall be happy with that and practice harder for the next time," she says while she stands with Eoin, having a pleasant conversation in the wake of her 'good' but not-stellar showing.

Aidan's jaw tenses as he hears his son's announcement, turning to regard Nylie quickly, but yet again rising from his seat. Although, he isn't clapping at the announcement, he's just standing to show his support, not as he was for Kierne, if some would make note of that. Perhaps the confusion set the line for the difference here. He regards impassively the point of the arrow that has been pointed his way, an arch of a brow as if to challenge the Heir to take what he wanted. There's only a fine smirk left as his son does not indeed loose the arrow in his direction but instead at the targets. He remains standing to watch the fly of Hadrian's arrows. It would seem, that the Kincaid's colours do not rise above the Royal Ranger's this day. With only one competitor left to go, the honour falls to Sky Forset to break the siege of the Royal Rangers.

His hand seems to have crippled him in this tournament, watching as his shots do not do as well as he had hoped. He then turns to his father before he snaps the bow over his knee. There was a strong glare, a death stare towards Aidan before Hadrian turns and begins to leave the grounds completely. There was no more reason for him to be here now.

Victoria is indeed a giver of high compliments! And she's drinking now, leaned back against a structure as she watches the shooters, not clapping, she's a drink in hand afterall. Ankles crossed, elbows bent back behind her to rest upon the stands surface, hand raising with drink every so often as the black clad Ranger waits for the tourney to end.

Harmon walks over towards Hadrian holding out the bottle he's been drinking from, "Tricky thing, shooting when dry. If you should like you could finish this for me while I see to a few shots."

Hisses and whispers start to arise when Hadrian breaks his bow over his knee. There's going to be much talk about that and the death stares sent up toward the Kincaid suite.

Elisabeth sits next to Roslin in the area researved for Sutherland. Her family has had a good showing today and she is much pleased it seems. She continues to watch the archery with avid interest. As Kierne finishes with his round she offers him an applause as well. Well he is a member of her 'other household'.

Altair shakes his head a little as he sees Hadrian's actions, but he doesn't comment anything at the moment. Turning to look at the others in the stands for now.

Arrows fly and Brendolyn looks back toward the shooter, Hadrian, then he shows out. The bow snaps and her brows wrinkle, her gaze following his scowl to the stands, seeing where it lands. Ah yes, his father, of whom he speaks so poorly. "He should learn some of sportsmanship," she murmurs quietly. "And breaking that bow.." she cringes, shaking her head as if to reassure her own bow she'd never break it even if she shot poorly. Promise!

A quiet look had gone Aidan's way when he had regarded her, Nylie having remained to her seat as she had with many. Trying to be even in her support across the field. Brows arching just a little when the arrow is pointed along towards where she and Aidan sit. A faint blink coming and a shake of her head to see how Hadrian breaks the bow after his final arrow is let loose.

Victoria glances as she sees Adlivun, slow smile touching her lips as she nods her head to him, "Haven't seen you 'round in some time, thank you. You did well as well." For a hunter, "You'll do better next tourney, just keep up your practice."

Eoin hadn't been paying much attention to Hadrian's shooting, prefering instead to talk with his cousin, but that snapping sound has him turning quickly, hand dropping instinctively to where his sword would normally rest on his right hip. Once he sees the source of the noise though he can only frown briefly, giving Bren a silent nod of agreement beofer he turns his gaze up to where the Duke of Lakeshire sits, attempting to guage the older man;s response.

Kierne shot dry, pain him though it might. But now that he's done? Yeah, an ale is about the thing, right now, and soon enough he comes up with two, handing one over to his cousin Bowen, if he'll have it. "What goes, cous?" he asks him. "Your master isn't making you take part in the great what's-it?" he asks with a dry twist of a smile which soon comes off less dry for the ale he swallows.

Catching sight of Old Gus, there is a quick nod. "Thank you, I apologize for being behind my time." Brie smiles and happily makes her way over towards the seat, nodding to those around the area. Dressed in a soft yellow dress that contradicts with her chocolate tumble of curls in a complemetery manner. Taking a seat vacated by the Count, she leans in and speaks quietly to someone nearby. "What have I missed?" Getting the quick update before murmuring a quiet word of thanks.

Adlivun chuckles to her. She was good to be around. For a snooty ranger. "Yeah, yeah. Just bad luck today, me thinks. I'll just have to offset it by sweeping away the competition next time." He smirks, looking to the crowd. "Seems the crowd loved me, though." His hounds nuzzle Victoria gently.

Ronan observes his cousin's behavior, the hateful looks Hadrian gives to his father, Aidan's coolness, and Hadrian then breaking his bow over his knee. "My, my… such a juvenile display of tantrum I should not have expected to see from my cousin. I fear the rumors going around about Hadrian may well be true. And if they are, I am very sorry to see it." This is for Roslin's benefit. The Rioga Duke tastes his wine and continues to watch, now seated with the Dutchess by Lady Elisabeth. Ronan leans over to look to her, "Elisabeth, do you wish for anything to drink or eat, Rosley will fetch it for you. Did you see how well Kierne shot?"

Aidan regards a look down toward the field at his eldest son, brow twitching as the bow is heard to snap even from where he was sitting. For all the good people to see he spreads his hands in a postulating gesture of disapproval, though Hadrian himself would recognize it to be more one to declare 'too bad'… "What a poor waste it would've been to see him with the Whitewood Recurve anyhow. Look how he treats his own weapons-" he says with a scoffing snort upon him sitting down again on his cushion, settling back and soon growing quiet, a hand going to settle across his chin, absently drawing it up and down as he starts to brood over the implications of his eldest's reaction. "More wine—" he asks of the attendents.

Harmon laughs, "Just a few moments then we can get the celebrating underway for whoever should be the victor. I do appreciate your indulging me with a few shots."

He makes his way over to where the archers have been shooting and sets a pair of arrows down one pointing towards the the target, the other crossing the first. Harmon takes his knife and draws a line from point to point to nock to nock to point forming a box, then rotates the arrows an eighth and repeats. With his eight pointed star drawn he collects the arrows then crouches in the center, turning and drawing the sigil for each of the gods adding a decorative flourish to those some.

Harmon gathers a few blades of grass from the trodden down dirt, then rises and takes his position, one foot into the circle, the other outside careful not to disturb the lines. The blades of grass are held between the knuckles of the hand gripping the bow. He nocks his arrow, draws then shifts his hand slightly. The grass falls down, tumbling and wafting in the breezes. Harmon's eyes note the favor shown on the wheel of the gods, adjusts, then looses. He draws the second arrow, nocks, shifts his hand, another blade tumbling down, and looses again. A final arrow is pulled, and the method repeated.

Once the final arrow is loosed Harmon carefully reaches down to break the circle with his hand then withdraws his foot and runs his hand across the ground erasing the charm.

Harmon spends 5 luck points on 3 Long shots, two with lucky arrows!.
<FS3> Harmon rolls Archery+50: Great Success.
<FS3> Harmon rolls Archery+50: Great Success.
<FS3> Harmon rolls Archery: Good Success.

Harmon dusts his hand off on his thigh then waits to hear from the judges.

Elisabeth arches a brow at the breaking of the bow and glances to Ronan as he speaks. "I dare say that would be a shooting offense in Greenshire to ruin a perfectly good bow like that." She says with a shake of her head. Where every kid is taught to use a bow, well she is perhaps more sensitive to it than most. At the offer of drink she nods, "A glass of wine would be nice." She asks and glances up to Rosley with a thankful nod before looking back to Ronan, "He shot very well, I did not know he had skill with the bow as well as arms. My brother and cousin shot very well as well."

Victoria watches the actions of Hadrian with disinterest, glancing back to Adlivun and the canines, woman briefly crouching down to give each one a ruffle, "Hello lovelies." Up she goes again, slapping hands to her thighs, "They always love one of their own." She'll murmur to the man, glancing back to him with a bow of her head.

Hadrian had stopped along enough to watch Harmon. He was trying not to get in this mans bad graces before the offered drink was turned down. Having stopped just by the fields exit but close enough to still see the results of harmon's shots, Hadrian is indeed not impressed, "Wait!" He says and storms back towards what he sees. "No, I call a foul here on what I just saw." Yes, the young Lord was indeed calling him out on it as he feels that the arrows used were not adhereing to normal standards. He's just full of drama today.

Harmon looks over his shoulder at Hadrian, "Lord Hadrian, I don't believe that a moment of prayer is considered a foul in most tourney events." He turns himself about, "Unless you objecting to my bending over, in which case I suggest you avert your gaze from my posterior as it is certainly not the most shapely here."

Eoin watches Harmon's elaborate preperate ritual with some interest, a part of his brain even wonders if a Priest should be called, but then surely no one would use magic quite so openly. Surely. No, it must just be some elaborate theater, or preperation. Or perhaps his drink is stronger than he thought. Shaking his head as if to make to clear it he turns and is about to speak to Bren when he hears Hadrian's objection and tunrs to watch that development instead.

Kierne doesn't react outwardly to his cousin's behaviour, but that mathematical production on the tourneygrounds… well, that catches his attention. He snags his bow and flagon and presses a foot up onto a slat of wood, pushing himself up aloft to get a better angle to watch. "Holy crap," he enunciates on watching the subsequent shots, before drama threatens to explode and he steps back down to the sidelines, backing up a few steps. Not his fight.

Victoria will suddenly see someone, the woman reaching out to pat Adlivun on the shoulder, "Sorry, Ad, I've someone I need to see to." And then she's moving off through the crowd, grabbing a fellow by the elbow before leaning in to murmur, then they both move off to chat.
Victoria has disconnected.

Roslin frowns a little at Hadrian's display, no doubt as many others are as well. She turns her head to her husband, shaking her head a little at him. "I pray you not to judge him too harshly, Your Grace," She says gently. "He has a temper, but I have also known him to be exceeding clever and capable. Indeed, what man among those here cannot say he does not sometimes suffer from the same?" Perhaps not to that extent, but Roslin at least seems to be willing to defend the man. She pulls her shawl about her shoulders a bit, turning to Rosley. "If her Ladyship shall have nothing, I would still like a mulled wine, if it is available." Over-mulled, he'll know her preference. To calm her nerves.

Nylie simply gives another shake of her head, it was indeed such a poor showing. Others had shot worse and behaved far better after. A quiet look going towards Aidan at his words and the brooding he sets into. Simply taking a refill of her wine glass as well when Aidan calls for more wine. She does however watch with some interest as her cousin steps up as the last contestent. An mild arch of her brows as she takes in his setup and drawing of the bow, the ritual he moves threw. A flicker of a smile graces her lips, trust in someone from Sky Forest to make such a show. Though, she just has to blink as Hadrian challenges it and a mild sigh before she drinks more wine.

Solara simply watches quietly, not the least bit perturbed. Simply curious, as she relaxes in her seat with a glass of wine. Her maid ocntinues to embroider, as the Ruxton lady watches events.

Kylan watches Hadrian and Harmon's shooting with great interest. He frowns ever-so-slightly as Hadrian breaks a perfectly serviceable bow, but of course doesn't comment. He smiles and applauds as Harmon fires off some excellent shots indeed, then blinks as Hadrian moves forward to make his protest. Still, even as the matter is being settled, he starts to ready his own bow and check his arrows once more. He knows it was close with the Sky Forest Count.

Brendolyn blinks toward Hadrian and then to Harmon and more importantly, his arrows, the remaining ones anyway. What? She glances up at Eoin, "If he's just blowing smoke, he's treading on thin ice..to question someone's honor in that manner," she says, with a sort of unfinished tone, not saying the 'unless it's true' part, her blue eyes a bit wide as she watches bit of tournament drama unfold. She leans in to whisper to Eoin in the meantime, maybe she'll catch him off guard.

The Tournament Steward didn't even call on Count Harmon - more confusion! Though, maybe no announcement was needed! Or perhaps it was lost in the gossip thrumming along about the broken bow and such. Now, as he Count has made his shot, there's cry of a cheat being called. The Tournament Steward looks up to where Aidan is seated and it is the good Host that rises yet again, as his eldest son wishes to make this into a spectacle. The Tournament Steward after the necessary gesture, speaks wide as there are hisses and boos that start to arise after the cry was hollared, "Good people of Mobrin, this Tournament is to be judged fairly and as such, all arrows used in this competition have been collected at the end of each round and will be examined for any alterations or abnormalities." Then he looks forward and boasts loudly, "Should it be proven that any cheated here this day, they will be elinimated from the tournament." A wave to the crowds, "We thank you for attending! Please congratulate all those who par-took and we look forward to announcing our Champion in the days ahead!"
Brendolyn mutters to Eoin, "… know… scarf… not… the…"

Rosley of course bows to Lady Elisabeth, "Would you prefer a red wine, a white, or a mulled? And do you wish it cut with water, my lady?" His duties now include looking after the wellfare of either Roslin or Elisabeth when his lord doesn't at that moment require him. He bows with a smile to his Duchess, "I would be most pleased to get it for you, my lady."

Ronan arches a dark brow at his wife, "Perhaps, for I admit I do not know my cousin well. But such displays …" and now new drama Hadrian is kicking up. Instead of saying anything further, Ronan pauses to see what comes of it.

"Not appropriate, I agree," Roslin says, nodding with a smile to Rosley. "Thank you," she says, before looking back to her husband. "I would simply caution against allowing your opinion of the man to be too negatively swayed. There is very much usefulness and ability in him. If only he wouldn't quarrel with his father so much," At that, Roslin does seem to look a bit dissapointed. She turns her eyes toward Elisabeth. "Does the captain partake in any tourney games, Elisabeth?"

Hadrian shakes his head softly, "Fine. Must been my fathers idea just to make sure I didn't win incase I managed to make good shots." He states and then letting the officals have to it, the young Lord turns from Harmon and everyone else. He begins to make his way offically from the crowd and this tournament. He was not happy with the results of this. Darker emotions begin to fill him as his eyes shift to his father. Did that old coot plan this? Did he know this would happen. How he wished the winds would have made an arrow fly untrue and stuck his father in the throat. Hadrian doesn't stop to speal with anyone else. Today was over for him.

"White with water, thank you." Elisabeth says with a nod to Rosley. Elisabeth cants her head as Ronan and Roslin discuss Hadrian, offering no further opinion on the matter. But the bow did nothing to deserve its fate! As Roslin queries upon her Captain, "I think he had hoped to, but I fear some duty has taken him today. My brother came by early to speak with him on some matter and he left not long after."

The steward's announcement is enough for Eoin it would seem, but then he hadn't suspected their to be any physical differnece in the Count's equipment. THat other thought does prickle his mind once more, but he shakes it clear again, reminding himself silently that Sky Forrest does produce the second best archers in the kingdom. Ignoring Hadrian's exit he turns back to Brendolyn and offers her his arm so that he might escort her out of the competing area, stating as he does so, "I fear his tempriment might not be one for such event, but yes, should the Count choose to take offense then things might get serious indeed." Then there's her mutter and he glances back to her almost in surprise, "Cousin," he asks, "why do you ask such a question when surely you already know the answer?"

Harmon lifts his hand acknowledging Aidan's announcement, he then looks to Hadrian. A lift of his hand and his mouth opens but as Hadrian turns away he closes his hand and his mouth letting him go without further comment. "Warren!" He calls out instead, "I see Gus has managed his work, but there is a far smaller cheering section than I should have expected. You'll need to work harder." He chuckles, "Find some birch beer."

Aidan's eyes watch his son's retreat, nodding toward a few of his guards to 'follow' his eldest… Meanwhile, he claps with the rest of the crowd to cheer on those who did participate. But already, the crowd is dispersing now that the action is complete.

Kierne retreats his way almost all the way back to where Sir Ronan and his freshly minted wifeperson, finally turning and saluting his master with a vague heft of his bow, then offers a polite but faintly diffident nod to the ladies therewith. "Sir. Ma'am. Miss." That takes care of the whole lot of them. He doesn't ask Ronan what he thought, but there's an undeniable curiosity in the glance the squire shoots his knight. Was he here? Did he see?

Seeing that the matter appears to have been decided one way or another, Kylan pauses in his preparations, then moves to unstring his bow instead. It appears it's in the Judges' hands now. He takes a few more moments to properly secure all that he brought with him, and prepares to make his departure with no further ado unless halted for one reason or another.

With the final announcements and declarations being made, Nylie stands to clap with many of the others. Leaving it to the officials to check the arrows and give a fair judgement to the tournament. Everyone left to wait with some level of anticipation until the champions are announced at the end of the tournament. The new black silk scarf having been tucked away as Nylie remains near Aidan's side, commenting fairly neutrally,"There were many fine showings today."

Altair watches the people for the moment, nodding with a quiet smile as he hears the announcement now. Looking like he's unsure about staying, or leaving the area, it would seem.

-What- did Kierne just say in address of the women? Ronan blinks, "Kierne! You /will/ address /Lady/ Elisabeth and /the/ Duchess with proper due respect." The Rioga Duke's dark eyes narrow upon his squire, "Are you drunk, boy?" Whatever has gotten into his squire, being so inexcusably rude?! Whatever Ronan thought and was about to say about Keirne's shooting has been forgotten, "You will apologize and address them with their proper titles."

"I am sorry to hear that. Really, though, my dear, you ought to bring him out more. However am I to get to know the man otherwise?" She smiles fondly to her friend, turning her head just in time to hear Kierne get his dressing down. Roslin seems to have found her propriety's footing after defending Hadrian's display, and she seems a little surprised. She doesn't try to stop or quiet Ronan, though - the squire and Lord business is his business and he shall see to it as he sees fit.

Applauding the placement of the arrows by the Count Harmon, Brienne looks delighted. "Well done, Your Excellency!" She rises to her feet as the prouncement is made by Hadrian, though she remains silent even as Aidan makes his own. Since the even seems to be over for the most part, she remains on her feet, her handmaid at her side, quietly questioning her. "We will wait here," she tells the maid in response.

Brendolyn looks up at Eoin uncertainly then her mouth forms an 'Oh' and she nods her head. "I see," she says quietly then smiles and takes a long drink. Ahem.

With the archery over with, Solara gets to her feet. Her empty goblet is placed carefully on the bench for pickup later, and then she heads off to see what the merchants might offer. As she goes she catches the rhythm of a tune being played and sings along absently.
<FS3> Solara rolls Singing: Great Success.

Harmon reaches the fence separating the grounds from the stands and performs a minor trick, jumping up on the fence, then jumping again performing a flip before landing and continuing onward up the steps towards where his family and friend wait. "Can you believe the ruckus? I'd thought Darfield was far more religious than Sky Forest yet they get up in arms over a bit of prayer."

Aidan lingers in the suite, finishing his glass of wine before he turns a look toward Nylie, "Oh.. wasn't there?" he muses sardonically, being publically embarrassed by his son wasn't enough, he now had to deal with the judgement. For now, Kylan Fletcher's blazon remained on high. He offers his arm to his Lady, "Shall we go socialize and see what the rest think of my ill mannered son?"

Elisabeth thanks Rosley for her drink and looks to Roslin, "Though he hopes to still fight in the sword of foot, in that I will wear his favor." She says with a light smile on her lips though it is brought still by Ronan's words to his squire and she bites her lip. She looks to Ronan as if to wave off the neccessity of the correction but decides it is safer to remain quiet and accept things just now on that matter. "I think my brother and cousin placed well." She offers in a light voice.

Adlivun watching Victoria head off, he pats his dogs' heads and takes off as well, being sure to thank the commoners for supporting him before he heads back to the tavern he calls home.

Several children run about, playing knights and rangers with weapons made of sticks. Their laughter carries, causing others to do so as well for how infectious it is.

"Hardly, Sir," Kierne reports, then, hesitating, "Or rather, your grace. Your grace. My lady," he goes about the circle again for Ronan's pleasure, taking the dressing down with a good grace, even a smile. "I saved the drinking for after the shooting was over. But to watch his…" a moment, there, "Excellency's shots, maybe I should have followed his example and pre-gamed it a bit."

"Is that what the declaration was over?" Brienne asks, trying to contain the laughter from the hop and flip Harmon had done. "You did very well, Count Harmon. Was it exciting?" Eyes alight with amusement, she looks towards the children laughing and playing. "You should teach them your flips."

Nylie sees to emptying her own glass as they linger awhile in the suite, allowing some of the crowds to dispurse. Trying to offer a reassuring smile, but what words could truly reassure the man about the display his son had just put on? Behaving no better than a five year old throwing a tantrum. Her hand easily slips upon his offered arm,"Aye, Your Grace, let us socialize and see what they thought of those who behaved well. Count Harmon did make quite the shots at the end. I had forgotten how well my cousin was with a bow."

Ronan is satisefied with Kierne's answer and glances to the women who thankfully are not angry, "Very well, don't forget it." He retakes his seat, "You shot well. I look forward to seeing you compete in sword on foot." He looks out to the field, "Indeed, Count Forrester did shoot very well, but that is little surprise. He upholds the honor of Sky Forest. There is good reason they are reknown as the finest archers, them and Greenshire."

Harmon shrugs, "I assume so, as the trick of watching leaves fall to gauge wind is well known and I shot the arrows they provided. It was entertaining, and rather educational, I do not think I will be seeking a match for Lord Hadrian amongst my family. He seems a man of odd tempers." He looks back towards the children, "There's no teaching how to flip, only having the courage to throw your face at your feet."

Altair has gotten himself something to drink, taking a sip from it as he looks around once more, expression unreadable at the moment. Glancing around every once in a while, into the crowds now.

"The Tournament Judges will make the final declaration of a winner," Aidan tells Nylie as he helps her step down from the galleria, "The match was pretty close between Ranger Kylan and Count Forrester, it should be a matter of inches that will decide the Champion." Assisting her down the entire way, he will then guide her toward the grouping of nobles, likely those who are shuffling toward the main pavilion where pleasantries can be had.

Waiting beside Harmon now, Brienne and her maid look towards the way the Kincaid heir had retreated before Brie nods to Harmon. "Will it upset your sister?" The words are spoken softly and the matter of the children and flips is forgotten at the wisdom of the advice given in return. "Would you like to go for a ride tomorrow, if the weather holds up to be clear?"

Kylan does not seem inclined to socialize overly much. He smiles politely, makes all the proper courtesies, and accepts any accolades with a nod and perhaps a mild reminder that the matter is not decided yet, but otherwise making his way towards the exit, pulling up the hood of his cloak to shield a bit against the bit of chill that the clear and slightly breezy evening is starting to bring. And then, for the time being, he is gone.

Roslin holds her own cup daintily between her hands. She smiles to her husband as he settles again. "Do excuse me, Your Grace," She says easily to him, setting a hand upon his shoulder. "I do wish to go offer a few congratulations of my own. I shalln't be a moment." Roslin rises then, nodding to Elisabeth. "And you must congratulate your family too, when you've a moment. Do excuse me."

Harmon says, "For the moment, perhaps, but I think she will forgive me for whatever upset she suffers." He looks to the sky for a few moments before nodding, "I think a ride should be pleasant, early, so that we can return in time for the bard's competition. I've a fondness for those who can tell a tale with skill and cleverness."

Kierne waits until his master sits, watching Rosley in his service and giving the guy a companionable smile before sitting down, himself, somewhere behind him and off to one side, as the seats open up and room is let for him to lurk like the trusty hound he is to the Duke, planting one foot idly against a strut of the galleria, growing quiet and thoughtful as he makes his way through his vendor-bought ale and fidgets with his bow in hs fingers, holding it propped upright.

"It was quite close, though I am not surprised that it is down to two from Sky Forest," comments Nylie as Aidan aids her on the way down from the galleria. Greenshire turned out many a fine archer, but there was a reason the Royal Rangers were most often from Sky Forrest. Her hand settling again properly to his arm with a small squeeze as they move to catch the one group of nobles. A smile easily offered up once the grou pis caught on up with.

Elisabeth rises as Roslin does, and when given the permission to see to her family she nods. Though she dips a curtsey to the graces first and pauses by the Knight. "You shot very well today Sir Kierne, might make a ranger of you yet." She says with a half smile before she passes on to the Greenshire Gallery and to her brother and Brendolyn. "You both shot so well." She offers them in congratulations and grins to the younger cousin, "You showed them it does not take a ranger to hit the targets."

"I do look forward to that competition as well," Brienne confesses, though she does not socialize as much as some of the others around, she does look around curiously. "There was a good many people here this evening. Was this the only tournament you had intended on participating in?" As if naturally, she slips her hand into the bend of the Count's arm and her maid falls in line near them. "Early tomorrow, I shall look forward to it then."

Brendolyn brightens a look at Elisabeth, "Thank you, I think we held our colors high," she says then she looks toward Altair and smiles, inclining her head to him briefly. She looks back to her cousins, "A good day all in all."

Ronan finishes off his cup of wine and nods to Roslin, "Enjoy. I will circulate a bit myself ere we return." He moves to stand and make his way down the gallery, "You did well, Kierne." Even if, you know, bows aren't very honorable weapons for a knight to use. Rosley smiles at the young Kincaid and moes to rise as well. The Rioga Duke seems intent to share a few words with various people, congratulate his Uncle on a fine opening to the tournament, drama included, and see about finding something stronger to drink than wine.

Harmon nods, "Yes, while I do enjoy sparring, I don't feel it prudent to risk injury this close to war season. There is too much travel that must be done, and while I manage a fair shot with a bow, I'm not nearly so spry when encased in metal."

Kierne stands sort of in the aftermath of the ladies' standing up, having been lost in thought until addressed and then scrambling to his feet, somewhat, to be polite (if that's something that's considered polite, rising when ladies do, I haven't finished with the etiquette page yet). "Mh," he makes an uncertain noise when praised, then, "Thank you, my Lady," he adds, unless Ronan be wroth with him once more. And then, once the Lady's off speaking with her own folk, he follows Ronan off in search of strong drink.

Altair smiles as he sees the smile and nod from Brendolyn, offering her a polite nod and a smile in return now. Then draining the rest of his drink now.

Aidan bobs his head and gives his respects to those who come address him for the matter of the Tournament, though his intention was see to Count Harmon after that act from son. Spotting the Count, he manages to weasel them over that way, "Your Excellency," Aidan greets, offering a hand to shake, "Fine shots you took tonight. I would ask your apology for that ignominious display of Lord Hadrian's," not even speaking to him of son, "I'm sure he was betting heavily on his odds to win out here tonight." He will nod to Lady Nylie, "You've met the Lady Nylie Kilgour?" An introduction, should it be necessary otherwise.

"I hope to do our family proud in the Bardic competition tomorrow. Was Rorey intending to enter as well?" She asks of her cousin before looking around the crowd till she spots Nylie and offers her a wave and a nod to the Duke of Lakeshire before looking back to her family. Music, the great diplomat, "I will be doing a duet with Lady Kilgour. I hope you will be able to come watch us perform."

Harmon turns and dips his head, "Duke Aidan, no apology is needed. I've had the benefit of watching a large number of rangers surpass my skills with bow and blade, it has made a gracious, if loquacious loser of me." He dips his head then to Nylie, "Lady Nylie, cousin, you're still the vision of beauty I remember from my youth, though you've shrunk some, I remember you much taller." He holds his hand above his head. "May I introduce and reintroduce Lady Brienne Rivermist, the woman most likely to be my blushing bride, should I think of some way to make her blush come the wedding."

A dip of a curtsy is offered from Nylie to Harmon and in turn Brienne once she and Aidan reach the pair. Nylie giving a nod of her in agreement with Aidan's comments,"Indeed, they were good shots, Count Harmon. Though I would expect nothing less from you." A smile coming at her cousin's compliment, for yes, they have met it would seem. "You are to kind, cousin. Though I think it is you who have grown, rather than I who have shrunk." Offering a bow of her head to Brienne,"A pleasure, and it seems soon perhaps crongradulations." A wave going towards Elisabeth when Nylie catches sight of the woman waving, a smile offered that way.

Brendolyn smiles at Elisabeth, "You do and will," she answers to her. "I do not know if Rorey will compete or not," she says thoughtfully. "Oh I shall endeavor to attend, I would not want to miss any of it, I hope to make very single event," she says with a firm nod of her head.

As the Kincaid and his betrothed approach, Brienne removes her hand from Harmon and offers a curtsy. "It is lovely to see you again Duke." A smile to Nylie as well. "My Lady. A pleasure to meet you." Rivermist is a vassal house to Sky Forest. The introduction, the way it is made, does indeed bring a blush to the cheeks of the Rivermist.

Aidan offers a subdued and much practiced smile, one befitting the moment to be sure, though well hidden as he turns to a server who brings wine. He asks of the server properly, "Has the Lake fish and bread started to make its rounds to the common folk?" The charity of such a Tournament is clear, as the servant barely stammers a response, shocked to be spoken too, something along the likes of 'yes your grace' is offered in return. Aidan nods and then looks back toward Harmon, wine in hand and a consequential look toward Lady Brienne, "Ahh, then yes, indeed congratulations are in order. I'm sure you've yet ways to discover a blush Count Forrester." He hadn't introduced Nylie as his own future bride, though there are obvious reasons for that, as no official word has been declared, leaving the nobles to their rumors. A curious look to Brienne, "Of course Lady Rivermist, as it is to see you." A look around for the other Forresters, "We missed your brother Lord Ranger Trevian and your good sister, Lady Nimue. I hope they are both well."

Kieryn wanders onto the tournament field a little late it seems, he glances around a few moments and sees Lis with her family and smiles and he heads over their way. Giving bows and such things as proper and a salute to Eoin. "Good day."

Elisabeth nods to the words of her cousin, "I am hoping to. At least the sword on foot as Ki…Captain Mowbray has entered into it." She says with a smile of someone in love and a glance around to see if he has been able to get away from his work yet. Her attention turns back to her cousin, "What think you of the other competitors today? I could not quite work out who won, Count Forrester did quite well in the end, but the ranger shot quite fine as well."

Brendolyn grins at Elisabeth, "Ah yes, 'The Captain'," she says, emphasizing it. "Oh I think there were some fierce competitors and some rather memorable showings of other kinds," she says with a little smirk. "I await all the results of the day with interest."

Harmon smiles, "If we were always observed when we were observing, Duke Aidan, then we would not be Forresters. It is a temptation few in my family can resist, I should think my brother and sister were observing. Though thank you for the congratulations, there are still some details to be settled before the matter is formally announced."

Elisabeth nods to Brendolyn's words, "Indeed, to destroy such a fine bow? Noone of Greenshire would condone such a thing." Arrows maybe, but not bows! The words are said quietly to her cousin with a shake of her head. Speak of the captain and he does appear. His voice causes her to turn and smile up at him"You have just missed the competition. Eoin and Brendolyn put on a good display."

Kieryn smiles to Lis, "I know, I am sorry I missed the competition." he sighs and smiles again, "I tried to get done as fast as I could, but I just did not make it in time. I hope that they did well in it." he grins.

Nylie glances towards the servant Aidan directs his question to, a faint smile coming perhaps at the reaction of the servant, perhaps simply for the question itself and meaning behind it. Hard to truly tell. The talk of causing blushes does have Nylie looking briefly between Harmon and Aidan, some half wonder flitting through her mind. Though indeed, no offiical word has been declared, but oh the rumors that seem to have been running about. Speaking of running,"If you all would excuse me, there are a few matters I need to see to yet." Offering a bow of her head to Harmon,"It has been good to see you again, cousin." Brienne,"Again a pleasure." And well Aidan gets a warm smile, her hand squeezing his arm just a touch before it withdraws,"I shall catch up with you later, Your Grace."

Altair smiles as he watches the crowd for a few moments again, then makes his way for the exit, steps a bit slow for now.
Robben is not connected.

Kierne returns to the grounds, having somehow become dislodged from his master along the line of drinks. He's also deposited his bow and quiver someplace safe, likely in among the pens where their riders are being stabled. With a few more drinks in him, he's not really buzzed, yet, but has a bit more slack to his limbs, not lazy, just more easeful than before, by a degree. Finding the remarkable mathematician speaking with his uncle, he approaches, not breaking into their conversation but lingering outside the sphere of their interaction before seizing an opporunity to present himself with a fair stern salute tampered with an easy smile. "It was well shot, your excellency," he enthuses gently, obviously impressed with Harmon. "Your grace," he adds, for his uncle, by way of greeting.

"Thank you, Lady Nylie, truly." Brienne offers graciously. There is a glance towards the stands at the mention of Nimue, though arriving late herself, she had missed most of those who had come. "Indeed a pleasure, My Lady. I do hope our paths cross again in the near future." She does not mention the details that need to be settled first, though she does lift her gaze briefly to settle on the Count. "In good time, Your Excellency."

Brendolyn smiles at Kieryn, "Ah, hello. I think we did well..though we did not win," she says, as if anyone would think she could win. She's just a girl. "I trust we'll see you tomorrow at the Bard's event," she says to him with a crooked grin.

Elizabeth nods to Kieryn's words, "I am sure you did as best you can, though I hope to hear your voice tomorrow." She says with a half smile as she looks up to him. Oh the girl is besotted it is clear. It seems the trip to Sutherland had quite an impact. She smiles to Brendolyn, "Perhaps next time. We should perhaps hold a ladies archery event." She suggests.

"My Lady Nylie," he will presently offer her a departure gesture, such as a kiss to the cheek and a smile as she withdraws, no doubt having her own Kilgour shadows following at a quickened pace for the Lady's retreat. Though as Host, the Kincaid Duke will present himself until the nobility have cleared for the evening, either to their own homes or pavilion tents. Either way, the night will be shortly given over to the commoners who feast on Lake fish and bread, dance the jig, while most will spill into the streets of Stormvale for whatever calls to them. He does at that time realize that Kierne Kincaid has joined them, "Ahh, nephew," there's a more familiar greeting for the squire than propriety demands, though it's natural for families, "You did well today out there Kierne. I got word from Duke Crawford that he's allowed you to list in all the events?" Pride apparent for the others around them.

Kieryn smiles to Brendolyn and Lis and he nods, "Of course I will be there tomorrow, I wouldn't midd it for the world. I have to come and show my support for Elizabeth and I plan on cheering for her as loud as I can." he smiles down at Lis, he looks probably just as besotted by her as she is of him. He nods, "If you hear the loudest voice tomorrow it will probably be me." he grins, "I'll scream and yell and such until my voice wont work the next day." he teases.

Brendolyn glances at Elisabeth and then nods slowly, "Victoria would still best me. Besides, I bested some of the men. I would compete in any archery event, likely, but I'd just as soon lose to the best, man or woman.." She looks between the two and nods her head, "Well perhaps you might not make your voice the most memorable, hmm?" she teases Kieryn.

Harmon smiles nodding his thanks to Kierne, "A trick that most archers forget learning, a leaf will drift the same distance as an arrow. There is a touch more to it, but not much more." He chuckles, "The prayer helps too, I highly recommend it as it never hurts to remind the gods that you appreciate their aid." He looks to Aidan, "Duke Aidan, if you will excuse me. I've siblings to find and some drinking to do. Thank you for hosting the event, I look forward to toasting the victor when he is announced."

Kierne lets out a scoff of laughter, breaking into a boyish grin that threatens upon the impish as his uncle breaks propriety with him and he, in turn, with his uncle, falling from a militarily proper posture to something a little more lax. "Rather less allowance and more hearty encouragement, uncle," he reports rather dryly. "I fear my master wishes to see the whole measure of me on the tourney grounds, and doesn't mind that the rest of everyone see it, either. If I do not somehow embarrass myself by the time it's all said and done, aside from the fact that it will remain a minor miracle, I think that Sir Ronan will be sore disappointed, robbed of his chance to mock me." It's all said with a light and jestful air about the words, as though mockery and teasing between knight and squire were given and taken in good spirits between them oft enough. Harmon's advice he heeds with interest. "It was a prayer, then? It looked like something out of my math lessons, the translation of shapes and distances," he tries to scratch up the memory. "I would see it again, some day, if you were minded to show me."

Elisabeth places a light hand upon Kieryn's arm, "I expect nothing less from you." She says with a smile before looking to Brendolyn, "I would love a chance to shoot, it has been far too long since I have had chance to pick up a bow." She glances over to the sutherland stand and nods looking back to the Captain and her cousin, "I fear duty calls. If you will both excuse me." She dips a quick curtsey and scurries back to tend to Roslin.

Kieryn nods to Lis as she moves off and he smiles, "I will see you soon then my lady." he sighs a bit and watches her go off. Well, he's sure he'll see her sooner r later, so not too sad. Besides showing sadness here wouldn't be good. He smiles to Brendolyn, "I am sure you would do well my lady." he tells her.

"Of course Count Harmon," Aidan gives a nod to allow the other to depart for other matters, such is the case. For his nephew, he grins, "As is his right to know. As a Squire, he needs to know how well you'll be able to serve him when the time comes for it. You need only to brush up on your confidence with the bow and try the longer shots, as you did fine with common targets, from where I stood." He claps Kiern on the shoulder, "His Grace will no doubt be looking for ways to aid you in your development. Now, I should be seeing to the guests at our pavilion." He bobs his head and starts to head that way.

Harmon offers his arm to Brienne, "Lady, should you wish to accompany me back to the castle or were there others you wished to speak with before returning?"

The topic of the actions before the arrows being shot comes up again and Brienne looks between the three. When Harmon mentions leaving, she does the same. "I should be getting back as well, it was a delightful event, watching the last few. I wish I had made it here earlier." Slipping her hand into place, she smiles, "I would be grateful if you would accompany me back, Your Excellency. Thank you." A brief curtsy is given to Aidan and the squire before her and her handmaid are ready to go.

Brendolyn smiles and nods her head to Elisabeth, "We shall talk again soon," she says as her cousin departs. She nods up at Kieryn, "I am taking my leave as well, do have a good rest of your evening," she says to him and then turns to go, bow slung over one shoulder.

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