Punchy Friends

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A11: Festival Grounds *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The sweeping Festival Grounds serve many purposes. For much of the year they serve as practice grounds for training knights, for the games of children who pick up ball, bat, and begin a game of stickball. During other times, they're filled with colored tents, with performers for some of Alexandria's many festivals.

Along one side are a set of permanent bleachers, and at either end an archway. Each archway is carved in the style of a grand entry and marked with images of of Daeus, with rearing horse and flying pennon. Here, the god stands depicted in his roles of defender and knight-warrior. Recently, the Lancers of Serriel have taken to practicing here, along the knights and warriors of other orders, and a small number of them take a select pride in the upkeep of the grounds, alongside the Daeusites, Navosians, Gileans, and other mixtures.

Littering the grounds are places for archery, target practice. Here too, scheduled a few times a month, is the space given for ridden sport, organized recently by the arvek nar. The reining champion's name is displayed in an upright lance at the end of the field, a silent challenge for next month's contender.

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Svarshan has arrived.

Gragnar has arrived.

Sandy is preently in the middle of the festival grounds, dueling with wooden swords with a young elf who's challenged her to such a duel. Something about 'insulting' and 'Dana' and 'rude'.

"Left," comes a voice, slowly, from the bleachers. Svarshan rests on one of the bottom rows, his arms folded over one another where they rest upon his knees. He occasional speaks up to offer advice to the younger sildanyari, though whether it does any good is up to debate. Srassha rests behind him, looking twitchy in the midst of the City, though the Grounds are as about as calm as they come.

Gragnar strolls through the city, much as he always does, though more sober than usual, and without recent bruising. Another difference is the tusk amulet he habitually wears around his neck is missing, and with it the most distinctive part of his outfit. Although, the size and quality of the Oruch's presence makes mistaking him for another difficult. He sees Sandy dueling and climbs up into the bleachers, smacking Svarshan on the shoulders in a friendly, boisterous greeting.

Aenyn lurks. There's no other word that describes it better really. He's under the bleachers at the moment, using its shadows to his advantage. Or just because he likes it better under there. His attention is split between the ongoing duel and those seated above him. He sidesteps a discarded bottle from above that once contained mead. He sighs softly and eyes the bottle a moment before looking back up at the spectators. "So, which one of you is too rich for your own good?" he murmurs to himself.

Liessa is out on the grounds today and for once doesn't seem to be cutting purses. Or maybe she is, but if so she's doing a good job of not being caught. No, this is about a kind of morose nostalgia: it's a festival, which means performances, which in turn only reminds her of her days with the Blue Moon, curse that copper-pinching skinflint that owns it today. So basically there's a rather glum-looking halfling lass wandering through the crowd, currently looking aimless. She could be just any girl on the street if it weren't for the rapier.

But what's this? A fight? Fights are good. Punters pay attention to fights and not other things. And of course a bet or two would help show where people are stashing their coin. "Three coppers on the shorter one!" Because she's not going to bet on the tall people.

Svarshan makes a sound as he's thumped, and after a moment flicks his tail against the bleacher-wood. It lands with a heady thump! followed by a rusty sigh, as wind rustling through dry leaves. "Saaa. Ancestor's. Blessing, Warrior. May you be shhhhaded beneath His Wings always." And a pause after that, a considering of words, of terms, and he nods to the field. "Insults." Regarding what the fight was about. He doesn't notice the lurking, the shifting beneath the bleachers, though Srassha sniffs the air. She looks lazy, though, and soon dips her great muzzle into the grass. Looking for rabbits.

The arrival of Gragnar as well as Svarshan's yelling is enough to distract Sandy from the duel she's in. The other elf takes advantage of this and thumps her ac ross the head with his wooden stick, resulting in the shorter (by far) woman to fall on the ground on her bustle clad bottom with a grunt.

"I am victorious," declares the slender male elf who seems to be setting his wooden sword aside and marching away. Dana's honor has been avenged!

"She can lift more dan ya!" Gragnar declares, and bends awkwardly to peek under the bleachers. "No more, I have spent mostuv my coin. I'll get it back in da ring, though."

Aenyn catches the end of the duel and winces. That was unfortunate. He turns his attention back to a rather fat purse in front of him. With a slip of his dagger, the purse strings are cut and the purse drops into his open hand with a squish. One eyebrow quirks upward curiously. Squish? Gold doesn't squish. He opens the purse and nearly retches before hurling the purse away from him and anyone else. "Who keeps pieces of rotten fruit in their coinpurse?" he mutters. "What is this world coming to?"

The glum looking halfling earns a dollop of Sandy's attention too. Glum looking halflings are actually fairly rare, after all! Sandy gets back to her feet, rubs her skull, shoots Svarshan a dirty look, and heads over towards Gragnar. She produces a piece of string from a pocket, upon which the orc's tusk rest. The tusk in question has now been neatly inscribed with Oruch runes and symbols of power and toughness. She holds it out to him. "This is your's," she tells him, slightly dazed looking. Then Liessa is eyed again. "You again. What's eating you, anyways?" She demands, then another dirty look at Svarshan. Just because.

Liessa looks up, hands with thumbs tucked into her own belt, when someone starts talking to her. "Aye, and you again. What's it to you? Can't a lass have a mood in public?"

Svarshan's leaned over to scratch the swift along the jaw. Srassha's eyes half-close, the raptor rumbling along with each scratch. "Fighting?" he asks Gragnar. And, "Who...did you face. Last time?" After a while, he stops scratching, only to have her shove her face against his palms again. "Hanh. They have. Taken on...there was rumor. Letting some of the pirates...fight...for their freedom." He half-directs the question to the world, as though wondering at the answer, or the sanity of it, wondering if it could be true. Eventually, he pushes Srassha away and stands up from the bleachers. He looks curiously at some of the new arrivals, including the one who'd just yelled out. And been yelled AT.

Gragnar takes the amulet, smiling at the symbols now inscribed on his tusk. He ties it back around his neck, it once more resting in it's familiar spot over his chest. There's no immediate effect to it, though he seems to feel a lot more secure with it on than without, the psychological talisman now a magical one as well.

"Sure you can," says Sandy to Liessa, "I do it all the time. But I'm wondering what brought it on this time for you to be moping about in public." She then nods towards Gragnar, "First time I've ever put a tooth to work like that," she tells him before glaring at Svarshan. Aenyn, for the time being, has gone unnoticed by her. Luckily. For everyone. For now.

Liessa sighs. "Festivals remind me of me old job, that's all. Those were good times but times behind me now. Nothin' fancy to it."

"Well, weren't a fight, but," he gestures at Sandy as his last opponent, smiling. "It's gud," he says to Sandy, giving her a firm nod of his large head, the long braid snapping slightly with the motion.

Svarshan looks over at the tooth and then rubs at his jaw as the exchanges take place. "Amulet?" he asks slowly. And it takes a while for this to clear, and when it does, a small smile makes its way there before he walks over to attend to Srassha, now that he's on the ground, on her level.

"Your old job, eh?" says Sandy, casting a glance around. Then she grunts and adds, "I *see*," before turning back towards Svarshan. Oh, look! There's a piece of rotten fruit from somewhere. She's nto sure where it came from, but pick it up she does and promptly aim to bean the lizard with it. After taking a blow to the head, she's in a bad enough mood to do something like that. Then again, when WOULDN'T she do something like that?

Aenyn finds another mark soon enough and quietly procures another pouch. This one actually clinks quietly though it's not as full as the one full of fruit. He slips quickly to the edge of the bleachers where he finds a waiting street urchin. He shoves the purse into the kid's hands with a finger held to his lips and a wink. The kid's eyes grow big as bucklers before he scurries off in the direction of the food stands. Aenyn watches him go with a grin.

Gragnar notices Svarshan rubbing their jaw. "It broke years ago," he assures, and turns to the other conversation, looking between the pair for a moment, but saying nothing, though he raises a dark eyebrow.

Liessa grins a little, Halfling braggadocio coming to the fore. "Aye. An acrobat I was, an' a fine one, too. Have ye ever heard of the Blue Moon Troupe? They were me home, they were, when I was but a wee one." Which in turn brings back the scowl. "At least until the no-account" and here she switches to what sounds like gnollish and, more to the point, unflattering gnollish "took over an' threw me out on me arse without so much as a 'job well done.'"

Sandy reaches into her pocket. She hands an apple to Liessa thereafter. "Hit the lizard with this, would you?" she informs her. She then steps to the side and addrresses Svarshan, "Yeah. Gragnar here asked me to make his skin tougher. So I did. Imagine you could bite him and you'd have a hard time puncturing now." A CHALLENGE.

The damaged fruit lands with a splort! and then drizzles down Svarshan's back. The reptile stops for a moment, and then looks towards the sky in what looks to be a 'Daeus give me strength' moment. And then he takes a deep breath, and then another. Other than that, he does nothing at all.

Liessa eyes the fruit. She tosses it up and down idly for a moment, then up again, a good solid lob. "I try not tae pick fights withe people I dinnae know," she says with a grin as the fruit lands on Sandy's head.

"Ssssandy," Svarshan says after a moment. Still looking up at the Sky where Daeus is Magically Offering Guidance and Eternal Wisdom Versus Demonic Elves.

Gragnar gives a little chuckle. "Den how will you make friends?" he asks of Liessa, it seeming to be an honest question to the Oruch.

Liessa thinks about it. "Well, that seems like a reasonable question for a big, strapping laddie like yourself, but think of it this way:" another grin. "How could I hope tae make friends if I were to keep beating people I meet?"

"Look at me. Do *I* make friends?" asks Sandy as the apple lands on her head. She stands there, balanced, eyes rolling up to look at the apple on her head,e ven though it's out of sight. She cowls, briefly, then mutteres, "Clearly, I need a hat. And not one of Gelfure's." She then glares at Svarshan and takes the apple off her head. She begins to catch it one hand. "You there," she calls to Aenyn, "What do you think? Friends by punching? Or not by punching?"

"And yet. We are old friends." Svarshan says, after a moment. He glances at the lucht a moment, a smile barely present--though it's /there/, and what's there seems honest enough. He just doesn't seem someone prone to big, infectious grins. More slow, quiet ones, as slow as he is. And as Sandy begins to toss the apple, he watches, watches as it tosses, hits the air. Spins.

Aenyn turns with an almost "deer in bullseye lantern-light" look in his eyes as he's addressed, but the look disappears quickly as what the question actually was sets in, "Uh...not? I think? I can't say I've ever made a friend by punching them." There's a pause, then he adds half-indignantly, "What's wrong with Madam Gelfure's hats? I happen to have one myself. Just...not here right now."

Gragnar shrugs. "No betta way to make friends than to fight and celebrate victory afta," he says, shaking his head. "All my best friends were cuz of that kinda thing."

And that 'friendship' thing is probably why Svarshan just turned around. And punched Sandy IN THE FACE.

Liessa shrugs. "Well, thanks for cheering me up, at least. You're all right, for a tall one. I think I'm going to see what the festival has to offer." The fact that she has a knife in her hand when she says that is maybe a little worrisome.

When Svarshan turns on Sandy, Gragnar just cheers the pair of them on, applauding with his large, thick-skinned hands.

Liessa has disconnected.

THUNK. Sandy is punched right in the god damn face. She goes down like a ton of bricks since she totally wasn't expecting it. The apple rolls out of her hands. "Ow," she says after a moment of dazed laying there. "ASSHOLE," she yells back up at Svarshan.

"Old friends," Svarshan corrects and then slides a look at Gragnar. One could swear. He grinned.

Gragnar chuckles a little, and offers Sandy a hand up. "Hey now, don't be a sore sport," he says with a grin of his own.

Aenyn's jaw falls open as he watches Sandy get laid out by the big lizard guy. He really is quite speechless as he looks back and forth between Svarshan and the fallen elf. Slowly, his mouth closes as he takes a step backwards. Then another. Then another...

Sandy gets to her feet with assistance and then just picks up and brushes her apple off. Before biting into it. "Lucky I didn't lose a tooth," she mutters.

Svarshan tilts his head to the side, and he's quiet a while. Except there's a change in the air, a different /feel/ to it. The feeling of violence isn't there. That charged redness just before a fight, that bright energy. ...instead, it's a sort of a laid-back familiarity, a friendliness. Like two players on a chessboard. ...he looks at Sandy then, and reaches over to clasp her on the shoulder before looking to Aenyn. ...shrugging once, and then heading towards Srassha's saddle.

Gragnar looks at Aenyn as he starts to back away. "You're not afraid of a little brawl, are ya?" he asks with a laugh, waving the cutpurse over.

Aenyn pauses just as he was about to turn around and looks to Gragnar. Straightening, he shakes his head, "Not really. Just...don't want to get caught in the middle. Not my idea of having a good time." He glances towards the direction where the street urchin disappeared, spotting the young boy waving at him. "I need to go anyway. Have to go meet someone." He grins and turns to leave, noticibly not heading in the direction of the urchin.

Svarshan goes OOC.

Svarshan has left.

Aenyn goes OOC.