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(Cydra) The Year 271 Campaign (Low Magic experiment)
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 2408108" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>Afternoon is turning towards evening. The final posts are hammered into the ground, and the wire is strung from post to post, until finally the enclosure is finished. Then, one chicken per contestant is released into the enclosure, and the contestants are allowed to enter.</p><p></p><p>And the chicken-plucking contest is on.</p><p></p><p>Dahlia and Goer, among other folk, scramble after the chickens, struggling to be the first to catch, slaughter and pluck. Cheers, laughter and general jocularity ensue. The crowd shouts its enjoyment as the folk in the pen leap, run and scramble after the panicky fowl. Old Blake Cooker himself, head of the Cooker clan, and his wife Cathy (not the same Cathy that ate the sausage) are both formidable foes. Dirkyl Fisher, old weird Drendlin, Ulga Boatwright (Jorgen’s little sister), 11-year-old Terri Goodsoil, Dahlia, Jorgen and Goer all take part, chortling with glee as they catch their targets. Soon all of them have captured a bird, and the slaughter and plucking commences. Though it is a tight race, Drendlin, one of the so-called “weird ladies” in town wins. Dancing and cackling once she’s done, she holds the de-feathered, headless chicken aloft, dancing and crowing her victory. When she stops, face flushed, she receives a truly fantastic prize: the right to hunt pheasants on the Whitewater lands, so long as she sends half of each bird to the knight. Sure, there might have been more applause and acclamation if it were someone with a better reputation around town, but at festival time, even the Weird Ladies are cheered.</p><p></p><p>The shadows are growing long, but there is still enough golden autumn light for the final contest: the prettiest girl contest.</p><p></p><p>Cara Reed takes a deep breath as the contestants step up. <em>I’m going to win this one, I know it!</em> she thinks to herself. During the chicken-plucking contest she took a few minutes to clean up, check her hair and makeup, and compose herself. This is going to be <em>her</em> moment, after all- at least, as long as she doesn’t mess it all up somehow! She joins the other contestants, Fiona (one of the Garden maids), Prenda Miller (the younger), Tara (one of the Whitewater servants) and Lanie Cooker. And <em>none</em> of them have ‘the strut’ like Cara does. They are all dressed a little provocatively, but not to the point of looking unseemly. Just enough to look... enticing.</p><p></p><p>The young ladies line up, turn around, parade about; the five judges rate them by putting chits in a bowl for each. In the end, Cara has the most chits. Beaming, she is awarded her prize- a fancy ribbon leafed with real gold! She almost cries in happiness. <em>That’ll show all the other girls!</em> she thinks with a short burst of irrational jealousy.</p><p></p><p>The crowd disperses back into the entire area set up for festival. Kyle Goldenbow looks happily at the depleted supply of stones in his booth. Brandon Mallard and Jimmy Goodman are selling the folk ale and wine to clear the dust of a hot day off their tongues. The sun is near to going down, but large fires are being lit in several areas to provide lighting. </p><p></p><p><em>I think it’s near the eighth hour,</em> Kyle thinks to himself. <em>That’s when the halflings are going to hold their performance, whatever it is.</em> With a slight smile, the elfblood begins putting his things away. As he does so, he glances up and sees an unkempt woman with more than a few splatters of chicken blood on her clothes (from the contest) and a few feathers in her hair. His eyes widen slightly as he realizes that she, too, has the blood of elves in her veins. And she is staring at him fixedly.</p><p></p><p>For her part, Dahlia is fascinated by things elven. She truly wishes to re-connect with her elven heritage, and when she sees the elfblood man, she exclaims to herself softly in elven and can only stare. He catches her looking at him, so she hurries off to the halfling performance. </p><p></p><p>And what a performance it is! The curtain rises to the amazing spectacle of the halflings hanging from platforms attached to ropes, and swinging from one end of their high-peaked frame-like structure to another, jumping off and catching themselves on another moving platform on ropes (or even on each other!)- it is amazing. None of the townsfolk have ever seen anything like it before. Gasps, oohs and ahhs, and finally, at the end, roaring applause are the halflings’ answer. It is an amazing spectacle.</p><p></p><p>“My lord, that was amazing!” exclaims Goer. “Perhaps we could invite them back to the castle.”</p><p></p><p>“Goer, I thall have to thpeak to my father about that,” Cedric replies. “But thertainly, they detherve thome recognithon for their amathing talentth!”</p><p></p><p>By the end of the halfling performance, everyone is tired and worn out from the day’s events. It has been a fun day, an exciting day full of contests. Jorgen congratulates himself for having successfully prevented any trouble so far. He watches as the townsfolk go home and the strangers retreat to wherever it is they are staying, be it in their wagons or in the common room at the Fat Mallard.</p><p></p><p>Cedric and Goer return to the Whitewater estate, just about a mile outside of town. The estate consists of a small fortress with a connected tower and a large outbuilding that is a combination servants’ home and stables (split half and half). They enter the fortress and Cedric soon approaches his father. He regales him with tales of the halfling entertainment and finishes by saying, “Father, you thould thee them! I thought perhapth we could bring them back to the ethtate for dinner or thomething tomorrow...”</p><p></p><p>But Cedric’s father, Sir Martin, frowns. “Son, I understand that these entertainers amused you, but that would not be... proper.” </p><p></p><p>“Oh. Of courthe, father.” Cedric is somewhat crestfallen, but he nods.</p><p></p><p>Sir Martin studies his son. “Perhaps, instead, you could take them out to breakfast in the morning,” he allows. “Here, I’ll give you a purse for them as well.” The old knight favors his son with a fond smile.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>“I know I saw him,” Narmox insists. “He’ll be out here again tomorrow, I’m sure of it.”</p><p></p><p>“Unless we scared him off,” Tumenore replies. “But even then, the townsfolk will notice that he’s missing.”</p><p></p><p>Narmox rubs his hands together. “I can’t wait! We’re gonna hang us some bandits!”</p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> The bandit-hunters make their move!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 2408108, member: 1210"] Afternoon is turning towards evening. The final posts are hammered into the ground, and the wire is strung from post to post, until finally the enclosure is finished. Then, one chicken per contestant is released into the enclosure, and the contestants are allowed to enter. And the chicken-plucking contest is on. Dahlia and Goer, among other folk, scramble after the chickens, struggling to be the first to catch, slaughter and pluck. Cheers, laughter and general jocularity ensue. The crowd shouts its enjoyment as the folk in the pen leap, run and scramble after the panicky fowl. Old Blake Cooker himself, head of the Cooker clan, and his wife Cathy (not the same Cathy that ate the sausage) are both formidable foes. Dirkyl Fisher, old weird Drendlin, Ulga Boatwright (Jorgen’s little sister), 11-year-old Terri Goodsoil, Dahlia, Jorgen and Goer all take part, chortling with glee as they catch their targets. Soon all of them have captured a bird, and the slaughter and plucking commences. Though it is a tight race, Drendlin, one of the so-called “weird ladies” in town wins. Dancing and cackling once she’s done, she holds the de-feathered, headless chicken aloft, dancing and crowing her victory. When she stops, face flushed, she receives a truly fantastic prize: the right to hunt pheasants on the Whitewater lands, so long as she sends half of each bird to the knight. Sure, there might have been more applause and acclamation if it were someone with a better reputation around town, but at festival time, even the Weird Ladies are cheered. The shadows are growing long, but there is still enough golden autumn light for the final contest: the prettiest girl contest. Cara Reed takes a deep breath as the contestants step up. [i]I’m going to win this one, I know it![/i] she thinks to herself. During the chicken-plucking contest she took a few minutes to clean up, check her hair and makeup, and compose herself. This is going to be [i]her[/i] moment, after all- at least, as long as she doesn’t mess it all up somehow! She joins the other contestants, Fiona (one of the Garden maids), Prenda Miller (the younger), Tara (one of the Whitewater servants) and Lanie Cooker. And [i]none[/i] of them have ‘the strut’ like Cara does. They are all dressed a little provocatively, but not to the point of looking unseemly. Just enough to look... enticing. The young ladies line up, turn around, parade about; the five judges rate them by putting chits in a bowl for each. In the end, Cara has the most chits. Beaming, she is awarded her prize- a fancy ribbon leafed with real gold! She almost cries in happiness. [i]That’ll show all the other girls![/i] she thinks with a short burst of irrational jealousy. The crowd disperses back into the entire area set up for festival. Kyle Goldenbow looks happily at the depleted supply of stones in his booth. Brandon Mallard and Jimmy Goodman are selling the folk ale and wine to clear the dust of a hot day off their tongues. The sun is near to going down, but large fires are being lit in several areas to provide lighting. [i]I think it’s near the eighth hour,[/i] Kyle thinks to himself. [i]That’s when the halflings are going to hold their performance, whatever it is.[/i] With a slight smile, the elfblood begins putting his things away. As he does so, he glances up and sees an unkempt woman with more than a few splatters of chicken blood on her clothes (from the contest) and a few feathers in her hair. His eyes widen slightly as he realizes that she, too, has the blood of elves in her veins. And she is staring at him fixedly. For her part, Dahlia is fascinated by things elven. She truly wishes to re-connect with her elven heritage, and when she sees the elfblood man, she exclaims to herself softly in elven and can only stare. He catches her looking at him, so she hurries off to the halfling performance. And what a performance it is! The curtain rises to the amazing spectacle of the halflings hanging from platforms attached to ropes, and swinging from one end of their high-peaked frame-like structure to another, jumping off and catching themselves on another moving platform on ropes (or even on each other!)- it is amazing. None of the townsfolk have ever seen anything like it before. Gasps, oohs and ahhs, and finally, at the end, roaring applause are the halflings’ answer. It is an amazing spectacle. “My lord, that was amazing!” exclaims Goer. “Perhaps we could invite them back to the castle.” “Goer, I thall have to thpeak to my father about that,” Cedric replies. “But thertainly, they detherve thome recognithon for their amathing talentth!” By the end of the halfling performance, everyone is tired and worn out from the day’s events. It has been a fun day, an exciting day full of contests. Jorgen congratulates himself for having successfully prevented any trouble so far. He watches as the townsfolk go home and the strangers retreat to wherever it is they are staying, be it in their wagons or in the common room at the Fat Mallard. Cedric and Goer return to the Whitewater estate, just about a mile outside of town. The estate consists of a small fortress with a connected tower and a large outbuilding that is a combination servants’ home and stables (split half and half). They enter the fortress and Cedric soon approaches his father. He regales him with tales of the halfling entertainment and finishes by saying, “Father, you thould thee them! I thought perhapth we could bring them back to the ethtate for dinner or thomething tomorrow...” But Cedric’s father, Sir Martin, frowns. “Son, I understand that these entertainers amused you, but that would not be... proper.” “Oh. Of courthe, father.” Cedric is somewhat crestfallen, but he nods. Sir Martin studies his son. “Perhaps, instead, you could take them out to breakfast in the morning,” he allows. “Here, I’ll give you a purse for them as well.” The old knight favors his son with a fond smile. *** “I know I saw him,” Narmox insists. “He’ll be out here again tomorrow, I’m sure of it.” “Unless we scared him off,” Tumenore replies. “But even then, the townsfolk will notice that he’s missing.” Narmox rubs his hands together. “I can’t wait! We’re gonna hang us some bandits!” [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] The bandit-hunters make their move! [/QUOTE]
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