Gryphon Faire - Part II

Tournament Field - 


 * ''The Lionsgate Tournament Field is a grassy oval bowl carved into the northern area of the Noble District, with jousting lists, a rock tossing pit, and a wide circle for combatants to compete against each other with swords, polearms and other weapons.


 * ''An observation platform for nobility rises along the northern face of the bowl, while commoners are relegated to the elevated wooden stands and benches that run around the edges of the field.


 * ''The Lionsgate Tournament Field is known throughout the realm as one of the only sites to hold night-time tournaments, because of the ample illumination provided by the various stone stanchions that rest upon the high stone perimeter wall above the stands that can be lit to create large torch fires to cast the arena into a state of faux twilight.

Zia shrugs lightly, shifting position to sit on the end of her wagon with her legs dangling off the end. Silent, but attentive to whatever happens over there.

"I don't know nothin you wouldn't know if you had eyes to see," the old woman avows with a sniff, gathering her tattered yellow cloak about her and continuing to step away through the crowds.

"I will not argue the philosophy of the known world. Espeically with who will not speak truths and instead tries to subvert it with riddles." Pardus says with a dissmissive wave. He doesn't feet don't follow, but his eyes certainly do. "I am not sure what to think of it, My Lord." he intones to Gefrey when he approaches. "Its not the first time I've heard someone speak as such."

"How very enlightened of you, Y'Grace," Varal drawls at Gefrey, obviously annoyed at his interference and taking no pains to hide it. "But I take matters of the Shadow quite seriously on Valorian lands." There's a pause, and he frowns at the woman. "Enjoy the faire, woman. And next time, be more polite to your superiors." It sounds more like he's saying: Rot, you foul hag, and speak to me again and I will kill you.

Zia cocks her head at the retreating hag from her position on the end of her wagon. Swinging one leg idly, she hesitates a moment before glancing up at Meian. "Is there any chance I could get you to watch the wagon for just a moment? I won't be long."

"Ahh, yes, as matters of Shadow should be taken," Gefrey agrees calmly, looking over to the old woman, before turning back to Varal. "Was she making dire threats? Something of that sort? I hope not - the elderly can become a bit... less wise about their word choices at times." His eyes slide down to look at Pardus, considering the Lomasa.

"Hence my hesitation. The elderly; while to be respected for their wisdom, their minds can sometimes falter and leaves room to say things not normally...hrm..welcome." Pardus notes, while watching crone until the mass of people obscures his vision. A shake of head. "However I don't wish for it to put a damper on anyone's day."

"Hm..." Meian glances aside, then takes a deep breath. "All right. I had been t-thinking about... going to play, to distract people, but not a problem." She flashes Zia a smile, tucking the wolf statue she'd bought into her backpack.

Ailith sighs quietly and walks over to Varal. "My lord," she says calmly. "Welcome. Did you ever complete the team you were forming?"

"The situation is well in hand and over. I do not need the oversight, Your Grace. But I appreciate your attention to the matter," Varal replies, almost snapping the reply, before he forces himself to be a little more civil as he addresses Ailith. "Nay, cousin, I did not. Matters in Wedgecrest took my time, and I was afraid I wouldn't even be able to make the Faire."

Zia grins and hops off the wagon. "I won't be long--I swear. You'll scarce miss me 'fore I'm back again." Step brisk without being hurried, she moves off towards the departing crone, one hand slipping into her pocket as she does. She stops before the old woman, and something exchanges hands. A couple words--too quick to brook an argument--and Zia moves back again for her wagon. "That's all. Told you it wouldn't take long--but it can take even less for some light-fingered thief to take what they like."

Gefrey just shakes his head, looking up at the sky as if asking for some help, before he gives Ailith a nod. "Good eve, Marchioness. Congratulations on your promotion - Warpriest, yes? Quite a step."

Ailith bows slightly to Gefrey. "Indeed, your Grace," she says calmly. "I prefer 'Warpriest'. To accept 'marchioness' is to imply I wish a hand in secular politics; my concern is only the Light." Turning to Varal, she says, "Regrettable. I had looked forward to the contests."

"T-that was quick, I'll give you that," Meian laughs softly, smiling at Ziavri. "...y-your kindness... it m-makes me feel a little better a-about being back here again." Saying nothing else, she turns away and slips off the back of the wagon, scurrying towards the stage.

Pardus Lomasa appears to subtlely step away at that, letting what looks like friends converse. His steps carry him somewhere near the main enterance, though he was close by to begin with. That unsettling meeting has put the young Knight on edge and takes up an empty space of ground for a decent vantage point.

Zia smirks, waving Meian off and seating herself once more in her seat at the end of her wagon. "Had to find *something* to do with those twenty Imperials, aye? She looked like she could use it."

Varal shrugs. "Well, we are here. Perhaps, we can add a team to the lists at the last moment. We are two Valoria of influence, after all."

"You would need someone to compete against," Gefrey notes lightly. "Is there anyone here looking to take part in such?"

Meian is about to climb on stage when she encounters another woman, her finery suggesting Valorian nobility- the bard stops and converses with her in a low voice instead, looking thoughtful.

From the main square of the district arrives the well-dressed, nonchalant-looking form of Norran Lomasa. The nobleman whistles a cheerful tune as he makes his way onto the grounds, gingerly sidestepping obstacles in his path as he makes his way to get a decent view of the field.

The field remains largely empty of people at the moment- what it does feature is scenery, however, and plenty of it. A great curtain's been strung to divide it neatly in half, a number of potted plants having been hauled in- the end result is a mock forest, created right there in the center of the tournament grounds. Various clearings within it are full of equipment, weights and ropes and wooden practice weapons, suggesting an area intended for all sorts of games.

Ringing the field, booths of crafters and cooks create a constant hum of activity and flow of appetizing aromas.

Retrieving a small block of oak from under the table, Zia unsheathes the knife at her waist and sets to work carving another figurine, whistling to herself while she works and glancing up every now and then to keep an eye on the hubbub of activity.

Naoi returns from business elsewhere, exciting stuff really. The chainbook is still visible, one hand keeping tabs of the object.

Finally, a familar face that strikes Pardus's memory. The teen moves from his spot, trying to catch up to Norran, visibly excited. "Sir Norran. Its good to see you again!" he calls out, doing his best to bob and weave through a random group of patrons.

Ailith nods. "There are many nobles in attendance. Surely a few hold interest in a game; we have so few opportunities for such sport."

The Lomasa Earl stops rather abruptly as he hears his name called, turning on the heel of his boot to face the source and beaming in Pardus's direction. "Ah, Baron! My congratulations on your recent feat! Whether you can make it further is based entirely on your ability from here on out. And I'm glad I could be of service! I suppose I must have a special place in the Duchess's heart," surmises Norran proudly, breathing a sigh as he glances toward the field. "Bards, hm? A shame. But nevermind! Baron, point me in the direction of the registers, as I'm here to fight! Somehow...although I didn't bring my armor...although I doubt I'd need it."

Varal nods to Ailith. "Indeed. I think I'm going to find something to eat, if you will excuse me for a moment," he states hoarsely before wandering off.

The Valorian noblewoman turns away from Meian, climbing up the stage, while the bard cools her heels at the foot of the stairs with a faint smile. "Excuse me, lords and ladies," the woman calls. "As the Faire is entering full swing, we will soon begin the entertainment. But if anyone wishes to register for any of the afternoon's sport, please visit the fellows in the white robes at the table by the entrance to the field itself. Thank you, and enjoy your taste of Valorian hospitality."

Gefrey shakes his head. "I admit, I came unequipped for an actual tournament," he says. "So I shall have to sit it out." Varal gets a nod. "And do take care."

Naoi's path is an ambling affair, between patrons, drawn by a bold voice to the announcer offering the chance to 'sign' up for events.

"She was impressed, to be sure." Pardus replies, grinning while stepping to the Earl's side. "And yes, I have you to thank for it, Sir Norran. And yes, while I do hold a drive to push myself further, that time is some time away. But one day, I would like to see myself there." he says, pausing to listne to the declaration and then to the nearby described white-robed men. "I believe over this way, My Lord. And of course, you will give any who step onto the feild more than a decent challenge." he nods while pointing out such men with a gloved hand.

Zia watches from a distance, that knife moving deftly over the surface of the wood. A little shaved off here, a little more there...

"As we of Valoria believe valor is best shown in teamwork and regard for others, there will be no individual sports today," the noblewoman adds after a moment. "Please speak with the registrars if you're curious as to what the events will be, or come and speak with me. Thank you." She half-bows, then moves off the stage- Meian follows her up, to replace the announcement with pleasant and lively dancing music.

Ailith nods. "And then, perhaps an entry into the games," she says quietly. "Though I think we need a third."

"That answers that! Well then, such a shame to leave a Knight of the Silver Tankard wandering about on tournament day, but I suppose I'll see you another time," declares Norran, bowing and moving off in the direction of the registers. When Norran arrives, he bows deeply to the men present. "Light's Greetings, my friends! Please, sign me up for absolutely any event you have that doesn't require armor...except for archery. There would be...casualties..." quietly asides Norran, looking about suspiciously as he does before reclaiming his upright posture and folding his hands behind his back. "I'd enter the armor-required contests if you've an old suit of half-plate laying about. I assure you, my lineage is genuine! I am Sir Norran Lomasa, of the great noble House Lomasa and Earl of Riverhold, Knight of the Silver Tankard and the Crown."

"I wish you luck with that, Lady Valoria," Gefrey says lightly, before nodding his head and turning to glance at the former Lomasa Duke. "And here's a familiar face. Earl Lomasa. Good evening to you, come to compete?"

Naoi just listens, fingers tapping the chained book. She looks to the bold declarations coming from bold nobles as they sign up. She does not interfere, but she does watch, lips pursing thoughtfully.

"I wish you luck, Sir Norran!" Pardus call back. By himself once again, he meanders in the direction of the seats that line the arena, hoping to grab up a good seat to watch the soon to start sports.

The men in their conspicuous white robes blink, a bit stunned by Norran's exuberance. Nonetheless, the one closest to him nods hurriedly and starts writing. "M-my lord, sir," he stammers a bit blankly. "The mock group battle... that requires a team of three and almost all of the slots are already filled... but I can put you down for the... tactical exercise with the flag. Yes?"

Needless to say, Norran looks somewhat dejected as he stares at the men. "That's all, Master? No tests of swordsmanship? A horse race? Not even a brawl?" asks Norran, breaking into a momentary bout of rousing shadow boxing before he tilts his head in confusion. "Perhaps I've come too late! Well, the flag, then, are there any teams who merely need a third? I'm certain I can reach an agreement!"

...Norran then turns his head slowly in Gefrey's direction, flashing a warm smile toward the man and bowing his head. "Ah, Your Grace! Welcome! This is quite the unorthodox tourney, I'm afraid, but I'll see to the best show I can offer!"

Naoi's arched eyebrow at Norran's direction says all that needs to be said.

"Now, a horse race," Gefrey says as he walks over. "Now, that I could see myself getting involved in today. Left the weapons back home, but Whitehaven is always here, yes? And welcome to you." He smiles warmly. "I do hope for a good show."

"This isn't exactly a tournament, my lord, sir," the white-robed man dares to timidly dispute. "This is a celebration of House Valoria, and, and its virtues. One of those most important ones is teamwork, more than individual valor. So... that's why. Um, you don't need a team for the flag, we'll divide everyone into teams."

Ailith turns to head to the registrars, and offers her own name for the contest. "One soldier, however gifted, does not win a battle. All soldiers fighting together, may."

Varal returns to the booth, standing behind Norran and Ailith. He's munching on a rather sizeable leg of some sort of bird. Too busy eating to talk.

"/Clearly/", agrees Norran as he scratches behind his ear, shaking his head somewhat at the man before him before he perks upon notice of Ailith, a warm smile directed toward her. "Ah, Warpriest! Or...Warpriestess, I'll settle for the latter, if I must. Do you have a third? Perhaps we can enter this other contest. I do so hate fighting against those I kno-AHA!" exclaims Norran, rushing over to Varal and patting him enthusiastically on the back. "Varal! My friend! Let us all enter this mock combat ruckus they speak off, we'll surely earn our place! It would be /quite/ a show! Quite a show indeed!"

Naoi remains just a short distance from the sign up, not tossing her name in. Being a Freelander and such.

Other Freelanders are signing up, it seems, judging by the dress of those clustering about the table.

Gefrey looks thoughtfully between those here, then steps back, closer to the stage. "Good luck to you, then," Gefrey says. "I shall enjoy watching."

Ailith looks amused. "I am not a first, my lord," she says to Norran. "I am Count Varal's second. At least, it was he who approached me."

Varal grins broadly, the food apparently driving the previous event from his mind. "Now, it wouldn't be fair to the other competitors, but, in the name of friendship between our houses. Earl Lomasa, I would be honored to have you on my team."

Naoi slips into one of the line, behind a woodsman. When or if she gets to a position to do any announcement, she speaks softly but firmly. "Naoi Cloth, whatever event is open for participation. That won't cause me undue embarassment."

"So, Warpriest, my lords," the robed man pops up timidly, "all three of you wish to make a team for the mock battle? We need people more for the flag-hunting, but, if, if you desire..."

One of the other white-robed men nods and marks Naoi's name down. "All right. We'll assign you a team, Mistress Cloth."

"Warpriestess! Firsts, seconds, why trifle about with such flimsy ideas as /command/. He'd try to order us about despite whether he began it or not, I'm afraid, so the point is rather moot," explains Norran with a nod in affirmation, tilting his head somewhat toward the man. "One is not allowed to participate in more than one event, Master? Why, in usual tourneys, I typically find myself in at least three. Unless they are simultanious, I can assure you I'd have no difficulty. Besides! This battle will be ours quite swiftly. Two Knights of the Crown and one who for some reason hasn't made his petition quite yet."

"Now, /that/ is something I do need to look into," Gefrey says, pausing in his trek to look at Norran thoughtfully.

Ailith bows slightly. "I am flattered, my lord. I am less interested with who leads the team than who is on it. I am ready to participate."

Zia has been sitting on her wagon all this time, where she continues to sit now, watching the festivities with a decided smirk. The wood in her hands is slowly starting to take the shape of a bear, though rough yet.

"Perhaps I ought to defer leadership with these companions," Varal states with a shrug. "As for knighthood, the Duchess has held onto my petition for quite some time now. Perhaps she prefers to keep me as her own caged wolf."

"Thank you," Naoi notes, bending her neck and moving out and away from the line.

"Well, you -can- be in both, my lord, it's just that we wanted all the three-man teams to register *before* the event, and so with you coming in now we are a team off," the man mumbles. "We might be able to do something about that, though... if we do the flag-hunting first..."

"Oh, has she? Worry not, for I've certain knowledge that your freedom will soon be at hand," playfully notes Norran, clapping Varal again on the shoulder with a wide grin. "Oh, I'm quite fine with the Count here deciding command. In a tournament, I much prefer to take to simpler roles." At the man's words, Norran blinks somewhat. "Is that so? Well, Master, whatever is most convenient. Call my name and I shall be there!"

Zia pauses a moment, her knife halted over the bear's snout-to-be while she considers something a moment. Making a sudden, last-minute decision, she unclasps her cloak from around her shoulders, sweeping the figurines carefully into it and bundling them inside the wardrobe. Shutting the doors and praying that everything will still be there when she gets back, she makes for one of the white-robed men. "Er... what might I need to know to take part in one of these events?"

Gefrey hmms thoughtfully to himself, before he continues toward the stage and Meian, where he promptly turns around to just... watch for now. His eyes are especially on Norran, today.

"Nothing really," one of the men tells Zia, peering at her with a smile. "If you sign up for the flag-hunting, the captain of your team will lead you and tell you what to do."

Naoi moves away from the registering stage, moving to a convient bench, slowly settling down onto the surface. She pulls her chain-book into her lap, then opens it to a seemingly random page, and begins to read.

Zia glances away towards the clusters of nobles, pursing her lips thoughtfully and tapping one finger against her leg. A sigh. "Aye, then, sign me up for the flag hunt."

Ailith spreads her hands. "I am game for both events if you wish."

The tournament field's been all rigged up for a faire, the center of it turned into an impromptu jungle by careful position of many potted plants. Clearings within it hold various stockpiles of equipment, though they're hard to glimpse clearly from the outside.

Encircling the field is a ring of booths, some focusing on merchandise and others on food, a great variety of both on display. Much of the crowd is currently clustering around a registration table manned by men in white robes, and lively dancing music can be dimly heard from a stage in the middle of the stands.

A small blonde girl comes running at full tilt into the tournament grounds, cursing at herself softly. Marisa skids to a halt to avoid barreling into a nobleman and bows lowly as she stammers an apology, before taking up a quick walk. "Oi! 'As I's miss'd anehtin' good?" is called to no one in particular as the teen heads for the area of the densest population: the registration table.

Naoi remains deep in her reading, finger tracing a line.

Zia gives the men in white coats... er, robes... her name and steps out of line, headed back to her wagon to wait until Marisa comes charging through the crowd. Turning, the bardess lifts an eyebrow curiously, a slight smirk coming to her features as she recognizes the girl. "Ai, this could be interesting." And she turns back to her wagon and her miniature bear.

Gefrey hmms, then stands up, starting to walk for the registration stands. "Actually, might I put in a late entry for this first event? And some better idea as to what we are doing?"

"A team flag-hunting exercise, Your Grace," the man who takes Gefrey's name explains. "Everyone who signs up will be divided into two teams, and each team will have a leader. You start the game with nothing but your own selves, and the objective is to try and find a flag hidden somewhere on the playing field. Once it's found, you have to take it successfully to the enemy team's base and plant it. Equipment will be hidden as well, wooden practice weapons, to help with any contests when enemy team members meet each other. Such meetings will be decided by first successful blow."

"Wooden weapons! For confrontation!" laughs the Lomasa Knight, displaying a proud, toothy grin. "My! Far better than a game of hide and seek. Random teams, however? That will make it challenging."

Marisa starts asking random crowd-members what's going on and then grins. "A flag 'unt, aye? Soun's like fun," the teen remarks as she gets in line to register. The blonde is in her filthy raggedy clothes, but she seems in good spirits. When it's her turn, she'll give her name and all that fun stuff, "Oi, 's dere wood'n dagg'rs? I's nae aneh good wit swords." Norran's voice gets an ear-perk and a swallow from the teen, but she doesn't look in his direction.

Her knife out again and scraping along the tiny wooden flank of the bear in her hands, Zia listens to Marisa's babble from afar. The line of her lips tightens at the mention of wooden weapons, but no other motion breaks the rhythm of her carving.

"There are wooden swords, wooden daggers, and wooden clubs," the white-robed man explains with a slight nod. "It should be enough for everyone, we think, Mistress. All right, we have your name..."

"All right, team 1..." the man calls after a moment. "The leader is Duke Gefrey Driscol. The team consists of Warpriest Ailith Valoria, the Duke, and Mistress Ziavri Silverdrew. Team two, the leader is Earl Norran Lomasa. The team consists of Mistress Naoi Cloth and Mistress Marisa Greening. Both teams, if you'll please assemble..."

Naoi looks up as her name is called, closing the book and checkening the strap's of the strange apparel. She then straightens, with the book hanging taught to her form, moving to the registrar table.

Gefrey takes off his cloak, setting it aside for the moment as he walks forward, looking to Ziavri and Ailith with a smile. "Well, let's see how we can manage, my Lady, Mistress."

Ailith approaches her assigned group and nods. "I prefer the sword. We shall see how we do."

Zia smiles, setting aside the bear and re-sheathing her knife once more. A hesitation, and she tucks her cloak and pack carefully away under the table, out of sight before joining the other two. "Aye. A dagger for me will do, I s'pose."

The man who initially explained the rules clears his throats, and notes, "The weapons will be hidden, Warpriest, Mistress, and you will be able to use whatever you can find. It's your choice if you want to try and spend time looking for them first, or hunt for the flag immediately. Part of the strategy of the game." Even as he speaks men and women are slinking into the 'jungle', moving through it and presumably redistributing the equipment.

Ailith looks out at the field. "Is the flag on a person, or hidden?" she asks. "Or is that information available?"

"/Sir/ Norran Lomasa!" grumbles Norran in correction, folding his arms across his chest as he gives an eye to his 'comrades'. "Both freelanders...one is a scourge of the new order, however, although the other one is a brigand...we shall see," murmers Norran, beginning to make his way into the field as he reaches to unsecure the clasp of his cloak to leave it with a herald, before continuing to the aforementioned meeting place.

"Strapped to an object, or on a pole?" Naoi likewise questions. Norran's judgement on her is missed, perhaps due to intentness on the question.

"It won't be on a person, it will be somewhere within the jungle," the white-robed man confirms, "but anything else... good luck looking, lords, ladies, Mistresses. Sirs," he adds, carefully.

"And when you're struck by one of these wooden weapons?" Zia asks, not about to have her two cents left out. "What then? You retreat from the game, return to the sidelines..?"

"Probably the case, yes," Gefrey says, looking to Ziavri thoughtfully. "Or are we doing this by a number of hits?"

The tournament field's been all rigged up for a faire, the center of it turned into an impromptu jungle by careful positioning of many potted plants. Dark shapes move within the quasi-forest, rearranging foliage in their wake.

Encircling the field is a ring of booths, some focusing on merchandise and others on food, a great variety of both on display. The familiar faces within the crowd are gathered in two groups by a table, speaking to a man in white robes.

Naoi slowly nods to the man, then moves to join her team leader. "Excuse me, m'lord, for the tardiness. Do we have any standing orders you wish to make?"

Norran glances about, looking downward somewhat at Naoi before looking about again. "It seems it may just be the two of us. This is bothersome, but not insurmountable. 'My Lord' is too complicated. For this duration, you're free to refer to me by my given name, Norran. I'll refer to you by yours once you tell me it. So. With that out of the way..." trails the Lomasa, the nobleman glancing toward the foliage. "We'll remain together, for the meantime, and begin our search immediately. The other team is larger, so we will avoid direct confrontations until we secure a means with which to defend ourselves. Until then, our priority is the flag. Quite simple, really. If you're prepared, we'll make ready."

Gefrey glances to Ziavri, then Ailith. "We have three," he murmurs for the pair. "Warpriest, I haven't tested my strength against you, but I'll make the assumption that a knight is our strongest. We'll want you on defense. Mistress, how swift and silent can you be?"

"If I may suggest something, m'lord, if we're travelling as a duo, let's resist from use of names. You have a distinctive, well known one. If they do not travel as a group, they may not approach if they hear low whispering for fear it was us, or simply a teammate as they broke up. Perhaps... I can be Eh-lath, and yourself, Zeevree. Or the other way around, I admit, the former sounds more masculine." She allows her lips to tilt up. "For the duration. Similiar names, perhaps, but they'd have to listen closely to mark the difference. It is a shame our third has disappeared, we could have her attend to weapon duty, claim three, and hide the rest." She nods. "Just a thought, though. I am at your service, Naoi Cloth." She bows at that.

Ailith simply nods. "I believe it is less than fair in such a contest to call on the Light," she says. "But I will do my best."

"E-excuse me..." There's a soft call as Meian scurries across the faire towards Norran and Naoi. "My l-lord- is your t-team the short one? T-they just told me to s-stop playing and fill in..." The girl looks more than a little chagrined, as well as breathless.

"Fairly so?" Zia suggests, also keeping her voice low. "More swift than silent, typically, but silent enough."

Adrianna wanders into the area, watching the groups quietly for a moment before waddling her obviously pregnant way toward them.

"Hrm. Too long," notes Norran, a hand reaching to stroke at his beard as he arches his brow toward Meian. "An interesting turn of events. Well then." Norran points toward himself, "Ran," then Naoi, "Now," then Meian, "May. Suitably mysterious. Beyond that, I am still restrained to divide our strength. We'll continue to avoid confrontation, focus on the task at hand."

"You'll likely be more silent than me," Gefrey says quietly to Ziavri. "Look for the flag, first off, and the Warpriest and I shall find weapons. I'll try to cover you while she covers our stronghold."

"All right," the man in white still at the table declares, rising. "Is everyone ready for the contest to begin? You will enter the field at opposite ends, and a rope has been placed dividing your territory in half."

Naoi bows low, apparently not arguing the chosen course. "Understood, Ran." She looks to Meian, nodding her head. "Hello, it has been some time. Welcome, I suppose, to the... entertainment."

Zia listens to the Duke's instructions silently, nodding. "Aye." She smiles slightly. "I will do my best--if you bring me a weapon, though, you should know that I'll be useless with anything but a dagger."

Gefrey grins a bit. "Alright, but if we do get the flag," he says, "we'll want to converge. Whistle."

Adrianna makes her way to the edge of the groups, stopping when the man in white announces the beginning of the contest, "Contest?" she asks curiously, and her eyes scan all the people there, listening, watching, "What kind of contest?" she asks nobody in particular.

"A flag-hunt, Mistress. Each team must try and find a hidden flag, and then post it at the other side's base," the white-robed official remarks gravely. "All right. Team 1, to the left side. Team 2, to the right side. At the blow of the trill, you may enter."

Meian smiles a bit shyly to Naoi, bowing her head. "I've been at h-home- aye- I'll... t-try to be useful, ah, Ran."

His spot secured, Norran gives a nod toward the man. "We are ready!" he calls, looking over to the others. "Amongst us, I'm likely to be the quickest, but I've no talent for stealth. Avoid confrontation whenever possible, take whatever you can find. I'm an amateur tactician in this sort of situation at best, I'm afraid, but we'll see."

Naoi says nothing in response to quickest, but shows no real sign of disagreement. She just allows a nod of understanding.

"Aye," Zia murmurs--a single syllable of acquiescence, and nothing more.

Return to Season 7 (2008)

Continue to Gryphon Faire Pt. III