Laketown Circus and Tournament: Archery Competition

Laketown Circus: Archery Competition
Summary: This year's archery competition proves to be very chaotic.
Date: 13 July 2013
Related: Opening Parade
Players:
Amira Cordelia Eldrick Jerric Katarina Laurel Paule Pawel Prada Roltoff Sarah Thomas Xander Storyteller 

Laketown - Open Field
The tournament field is expansive and properly flattened to accommodate the events. The center is dominated by the list, deliniated by a series of wooden markers. To one side is a special dais for the highest sovereigns and their guests - the berfrois - where nobles and royals sit above the rest to view the events. To the left of the dais is a small circular station ringed with a single-rail fence where the melee events are hosted. Far off to the right a series of archery targets spaced at various intervals allow for archery competitions. Beyond all of this the field has been cleared for the various pavilions of those competing.

The single packed dirt road leads back eastward toward Laketown.

13 July 1329

Cordelia paces along the edge of the archery field, gnawing at a bit of meat (on a stick). Her gaze travels the crowd, watching the watchers as well as eyeing the competitors. A hand lifts to wipe at her mouth as she chews.

"Well, I thought about entering, but with a daughter and my wife in it, I do like to sleep in my own bed at night." Paule is saying teasingly as he walks with his wife, holding hands with Katarina on one side as Laurel is with them. "Especially since it is just going to be the three of us for the next nine months."

"It's always going to be all of us," Katarina counters with a laugh at Paule as she glances past Paule to their youngest, "as though somehow we're not going to spend time with Cricket or see what mischief Castor is or is, conversely, not up to. And I think it'll be fun," she adds, speaking of the contest ahead. "It's a nice change of pace to shoot at targets that aren't moving to begin with and, equally, not moving, bleeding or smelly when we're done," clarified with a gallic shrug and a gleam of amusement in her eyes.

Eldrick approaches the tourney field from the direction of the Taniford tents, walking alongside one of his squires. Glancing about to place the shooters and their targets, the silent knight steps to place himself behind the archers, facing the targets, and coincidentally bringing him nearer to the path of the Westmark trio.

Making his way across the wide field, Thomas is wearing not his usual armor but a bowman's attire. Slung across his back are both bow and quiver that is full of arrows. He walks easily, making his way, stopping and chatting here and there as he nears the area that has been set up for the archery.

Laurel's typically serene expression is broken by a crinkle of her nose at her mother's clarification, though it is to her father that she tilts her head. "Don't worry, papa. You should enter. If mama sends you to the couch to sleep, I'll still bring you a blanket." Her eyes glitter mischeviously, but then she twitches her skirt up out of the grass where it has come unpinned. "I'm nervous. This is more Cricket's domain than mine." She squints softly as she looks over across the field, surveying the competition.

Catching up with Eldrick for a moment, Xander gives his cousin a grin. "Hey. You should take a shot. After all, multiple members of the same family, multiple chances to win." he winks as he heads on his way to take care of some last minute set up for his turn when the contest begins.

"There's nothing to be nervous about, Laurel. It's like shooting rabbits when you were little. Hold your breath, keep both eyes open, and lead the arrow to the target with your eyes." Paule says encouragingly, reaching over to give the new Heiress a brief ruffle of her hair before the Count-Palatine gives a brief nod to Eldrick. "Sir Lohstren."

Certainly not alone, Amira leaves the Rhaedan pavilion with her handmaid and four guards trailing along with her, encompassing her on all sides. Having grown so used to them, she functions as if they were not there at all. Her armor is only a simple leather jerkin she wears over black leggings tucked into black boots and a red tunic that reaches almost to her knees, quite modest and hides any curves she may possibly have underneath. Her hair is pulled back in a braid that rides over her right shoulder while her bow is over her left. A quiver of arrows is at a belt that spans her beneath the armor with exactly seven arrows, in case one should bend or break during the competition and she need a replacement.

"Sir Negotiator," Katarina says by way of greeting - accompanied by a nod that is both cordial and assessing to Thomas that is, in turn, followed by a longer look at Sir Lohstren - quiet assessment and careful note of face and armament - "Sir Lohstren," she adds as well, her greeting following Paule's. "And remember, in this instance, you are not having to compensate for where the target will be, but be mindful of the wind," she says softly to Laurel with another easy smile once her attention settles back upon her family instead of the competition.

Elsewhere in the fairgrounds, some fiddlers and flutists have taken up a jaunty tune around a small platform where a woman with hair the color of flame has been doing some mild acrobatics. Every once in a while, she stops her routine to take up a bow and perform a simple trick shot—nothing too terribly hard, but things that impress townsfolk.

Now, however, as the latest song dies away. The woman on stage takes up her bow with a twirl and winks at the crowd. A helper sets up a target behind her, and, glancing over her shoulder a few times, the archer starts to line up a shot at an odd angle…in reverse. As the band starts to play a whirling tune, the woman slowly bends over backwards, arching her knees far out in front of her as she bends lower and lower, until her back is parallel to the platform!

A few gasps rise from the crowd as she readies the bow to strike at the target now /above/ her head, carefully balanced on the pads of her slippers.

Cordelia finishes her snack and finds a place to toss the stick. Wiping her hands off on her pants, she heads for the lineup. As with the other competitors, the sailor is equipped with bow and quiver. She pauses to watch the show, one dark eyebrow arching. "Not enough gold in the kingdoms…"

Coming from the general direction of the town itself, Pawel has a fair bit of distance to any guards walking with him, and from his expression, it might seem that is as much for the guards' protection as it is for the Duke's. Slow steps takes the Varghem to where he can find the right spot to watch the happenings, gaze moving to the various people present with a bit of disinterest at the moment.

Each notable personage that her parents salute earn a solemn, appropriate dip of recognition from Laurel - though she leaves the greetings to her elders, as she is just far happier hiding in their shadow. The advice is also given sober attention, and a little nod. She has heard all of this before, but it is always good to hear it again just before the event. "Oh, yes, the wind…" Laurel glances up to find a visual reference for the wind-angle, and there upon catches the last trick of the gymnast's show - and is strangely transfixed.

Eldrick glances back aside at Xander, a dry note coloring his words. "I shall be quite content to behold your own prowess with the bow, cousin. I lack your skill for japes, and any presence of mine in an archery round would be little better than a poor joke." Turning aside to face Paule as the northern border lord and lady greet him, the heir to Lohstren offers a short bow of the head and shoulders in acknowledgment, first to Katarina and next to Paule. "Baroness Westmark. Baron Westmark." His expression and tone are solemn and even; every movement measured, eyes centered upon the one to whom he speaks.

A bow of his head "Baroness Katarina. How are you this fine day?" Thomas greets and looks the woman over "I am guessing you are here for the competion?" He follows her taling to the others and nods his head politely to each "This should be fun. I really had not thought to compete but Mother Superior goaded me into it." Just then the show begins and he turns to watch, a thumb stuck under the quiver's sling.

As the song and trick shooting dies away, the Ringmaster of the circus wanders forth to where the targets have been set up and the crowd has gathered. "Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, Majesties and Graces, welcome to the Archery Competition of the Laketown Games!" he calls out. "We have eight…" he pauses as someone whispers to him and he frowns. "Noone dares to challenge the Queen of the trick shot, Sarah of the Sky?" he calls out, looking amongst the crowd. "Surely you big burly men of the bow are not afraid of the whisper of the wind, the beauty of the flame, the bender of the bow!" he calls out in a challenge.

And he shakes his head as he waits. "Then in the meantime, shall we present the prizes. For the winner of this competition, there awaits a gold medallion and this new Altheara Longbow!" Brought out in a case, the longbow and its quiver of arrows are set upon the stand to await it's new owner. "For second prize, there is a lovely silver medallion and for third, a copper medallion. It's the best of five shots between two competitors, the winner advances!" he calls out. "For our first two competitors, I call forth.. oh, this will be interesting! Rival houses meet in the first match - the spurned and the stolen - the navy and the land - the honoroable and the stealthy - Lady Cordelia Sollinger will take on Baroness Katarina Westmark!" he calls out, summoning forth the two women.

Carefulling balancing above the platform, the acrobat archer slowly tilts back her head, even as her name is called. Her brow furrows, but her concentration remains true…and the subtle smoke and mirrors trick of hitting a target that is not very far away from her at all is executed!

The bowstring sings and the arrow thunks into the target—in the red! But not in the center. Still, she cheers as she wobbles a bit, and laughs as she rises from the backward-bending display. Raising her hand to wave to the crowd, Sarah of the Sky cheers and calls out taunts, grinning as she places a hand on her hip and her bow on the platform.

The sound of fiddlers fair and flutists flair draw Katarina's attention, her gaze skimming over the crowd - both assembled for this competition and in general assembled to enjoy the fair and the shows - before casting a longer, and more assessing, look at the rest of the competition. A moment of focus is settled upon the Varghem duke, and his entourage that is a rather distinct and measurable distance from the Duke himself, the sight of which draws a gleam of a smile before she once again shares a much warmer smile with Laurel as the Lohstren Heir greets her family. The solemn tone and expression is returned in kind, after all; when and where better to assess the potential ability of any enemy combatant than in a display of skill. Her head angles slightly toward him, again, in a nod before Thomas makes her smile quietly once more. "The Mother Superior has her reasons, I'm sure, but it never a bad thing to enjoy some friendly competition," she reminds the Chosen with a somewhat arch look of amusement. Her attention settles upon the ringmaster, listening quietly, before her attention shifts to settle upon the Lady Sollinger to whom she angles a solemn tilt of her head in a nod as she strides forward.

"Good luck, beloved." Paule graces his wife's cheek with his favor, a kiss, before slipping a small flask of cider or wine into her hand. The favours of the Westmarkians, as always.

Cordelia can't help but give a short laugh as the pairing is announced. She strides forward to take her place, giving Kat a nod of the head as she nears. "I'd wish you good luck but, having heard of you, I'm fairly certain I'll be needing it for myself," she offers goodnaturedly, giving the baroness a wide grin.

When her mother's name is called, Laurel reaches out to squeeze her hand gently before retreating silently to her father's side as he gives forth the favours.

Having found himself a place to watch the happenings from, Pawel remains standing for now, just shaking his head a little bit as he mutters something under his breath. Moving one hand to a pocket for something.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Katarina=Marksmanship Vs Cordelia=Marksmanship
< Katarina: Failure Cordelia: Failure
< Net Result: Both Fail.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Cordelia=marksmanship Vs Katarina=marksmanship
< Cordelia: Good Success Katarina: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Katarina=Marksmanship Vs Cordelia=Marksmanship
< Katarina: Good Success Cordelia: Success
< Net Result: Katarina wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Cordelia=marksmanship Vs Katarina=marksmanship
< Cordelia: Good Success Katarina: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Katarina=Marksmanship Vs Cordelia=Marksmanship
< Katarina: Good Success Cordelia: Success
< Net Result: Katarina wins - Solid Victory

Katarina had shared a smile Laurel, "Remember to have fun," she murmurs to their youngest before she'd shared another moment with Paule that, perhaps in spite of or BECAUSE of the years they've spent together, is both warm and a clear sign of affection between the married couple. With his favor, and the small flask in her hand, she'd stepped forward to share a surprised burst of laughter with Cordelia.

"On land, I'm rather solid. Put me on the deck of a ship, however, and it's a while before I stop having to revisit lunch in a unpleasant way," she admits with a gleam of a grin before drawing on the target and selecting her shots with care and letting the arrows find the target to which they are intended. She draws, aims, fires in silence; the silence born from a learned appreciation for being quiet, still, utterly focused, the variables of wind, the sound of the crowd, they are all noise and input to be filtered, marked, sorted and ranked accordingly until their match is over.

"Oddly enough, it works quite the opposite for me," Cordelia confesses to her family's rival and then she falls silent, waiting respectfully as her opponent draws and fires. She could chalk up the first shot to nerves, especially since Katarina didn't do so well either. Each shot after that, however, finds her frowning just a bit. Still, by the end of it, she's grinning again. The Sollinger lass shifts her grip on the bow and turns towards her competitor to incline her head deeply in acceptance of the other woman's victory and her own defeat. "Next time," she tosses out, amusement dancing in her eyes.

The woman called Sarah of the Sky calls out with a swing of her fist through the air, "Woo hoo! Baroness Westmark!" Jumping up and down, she pumps her fist and bow in the air, "Come on, Lady Cordelia! You can do it!" When the shooting is over, Sarah aws, looking disappointed for a moment before cupping her hands and shouting, "Huzzah! Westmark! Yeah!" A few people standing near the excited redhead look puzzled.

Watching the shooting, Thomas stands stoically till they are done. A bit of a clap is started but stopped as he turns to see the one called Sarah cheering. He laughs and shakes his head. Looking back the two contestants.

After some inital confusion on who's rules they're using, finally the judges make a decision. "The score is 32 for Westmark, 18 for Sollinger! Katarina advances!" the Ringmaster announces. "For our next intriguing match, we have the sinner and the saint, the seductress and the stalwart, Princess Amira Rhaedan facing the Chosen Thomas…" he pauses, and looks towards one of the others. "What's his last name again? Mayberry?"

"Marby?"

"Really? Okay. "Chosen Thomas Marby!"

Westmark and Sollinger. Amira could not help but cheer on her fellow northerner. At the moment she is waiting on the edge of the field for her own name to be called. While she does, she looks over her opponents, then back to the bow, steeling herself against the nerves that settle in her stomach. The bow is something she certainly wants to win and she tries to tame her own breathing when the first match ends with the Westmark as the victor. As she approaches the designated area, with her entourage firmly in place, passing the two, she offers a smile and an incline of her head. "Congratulations, both of you." As she takes her places, she also inclines her head to the Chosen. "I wish you all the best."

Noticing Prada, Xander sneaks up behind her and hugs her quickly. "Hey. Got a favor for me?" he asks with an amused smile. "Looks like I'm up next - against someone named Laurel? You got some intel on her for me?"

As Thomas moves to the archery station he bows "May the Four guide you this day, I am sure they will smile upon you and guide your arrows to the mark." Then he removes his bow and draws out his arrows, each stuck in the ground before him.

Sarah jumps and cries out a cheer before pausing and calling out, "Wait, which one is which?!" Sarah scratches her head before finally just shrugging and crying cheers for both of them. Her skirt swishes to and fro as she looks on excitedly, sapphire eyes wide as she waits to see who comes out triumphant.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Amira=Marksmanship Vs Thomas=Marksmanship
< Amira: Great Success Thomas: Great Success
< Net Result: Thomas wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Thomas=Marksmanship Vs Amira=Marksmanship
< Thomas: Great Success Amira: Good Success
< Net Result: Thomas wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Amira=Marksmanship Vs Thomas=Marksmanship
< Amira: Good Success Thomas: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Thomas=Marksmanship Vs Amira=Marksmanship
< Thomas: Good Success Amira: Good Success
< Net Result: Amira wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Amira=Marksmanship Vs Thomas=Marksmanship
< Amira: Good Success Thomas: Success
< Net Result: Amira wins - Marginal Victory

"Good job, beloved." Paule says, welcoming his wife back with a kiss on her cheek. "You're gonna do great." he promises her with a wink as he watches the competition continue.

Cordelia nods to Amira as they pass one another and then heads off to the sidelines, loosening the bracer on her left arm as she walks. Her chin lifts, dark eyes watching the next bout with interest. For her own part, there is little in the way of self flagellation or disappointment from her loss and, as Thomas takes the win, she lifts her fingers to her lips and lets out a shrill whistle of congratulations.

As the time comes, Thomas plucks one arrow from the ground, notches it, and no sooner has Amira's arrow hit his is in the air and hitting the target right after her's. This goes one for each successive shot. First there is the thunk from Amira's then right after that of Thomas's. When all is said and done, the shooting so close Thomas bows to Amira "It seems that you have beaten me, Princess." But then another Chosen nudges him he looks back down tot he target and sighs. "Oh," he says "I did." Not a happy winner, perhaps him not wanting to be here in the first place has something to do with it. "I am sorry, Your Highness, I really had thought you won." The whistle only makes his cringe that bit more but he does wave to the others that have gathered to watch.

When he gives the word to go, Amira nocks her first arrow, drawing back her string and releasing. Over and over she does it until all five arrows have been loosed into the target but at a glance over to her opponents, it is clear to her that she has failed in this particular event. Turning, the Rhaedan offers a bow of her head to the Chosen. "Well done, congratulations and thank you for an exceptional challenge." Her lips curve as he mentions having thought she had won, but she does not mention it. "I wish you all the best in the rest." Again, she inclines her head before making her way with her entourage to the sidelines to watch once more, eager to see who will win the coveted bow.

Sarah cheers at first, but as the bout goes on, Sarah's eyes slowly widen, and her bouncing subsides. By the end, she is clasping her hands together at her stomach, watching with wide eyes, her lips formed into an 'O' of amazement. Her grip tightens when the last arrow flies, and she gasps when Thomas wins by a hair. Jumping all around, Sarah cheers hard, trying to shout above the crowd, "Fantastic shots!" She comments to someone beside her, "Wow, weren't they both great?!"

There's a small bottle that Pawel pulled from his pocket. Taking a few sips as he watches the happenings, he looks towards the other people gathered nearby, shrugging a little to himself now. And taking another few sips from the bottle.

Katarina had aimed a subtle head tilt that was accompanied but a equally subtle partial bow, "Well met, Lady Sollinger, and thank you for the good sport," she says quietly before stepping away from the field of contest to rejoin her family standing on the sidelines. A hug is shared first with Paule and then with Laurel before she turns to watch the next match, "I'd almost forgotten how much fun it is to just compete," she admits in a low voice with a quick gleam of a grin aimed at Paule. She cheers the results of the next match, shooting a grin at the winner of as the match moves to continue.

"Excellent shooting, both of you!" the Ringmaster calls out. "It was extremely close, but the Chosen wins, 25 points to the Princess' 24 points, unless he wishes to forfeit to her beauty, haha!" he calls out as he looks around. "This one is interesting as only water parts them, and one of them is a child. Will Sir Xander Lohstren go easy on Lady Laurel Westmark, or will he show her the strength of House Lohstren!"

Twirling a couple of arrows to smack into the ground, Xander takes his place and tosses a two fingered salute towards Laurel. "Ain't you a cutie." he says to the young woman. "Not quite as attractive as your sister, but you're still growing. Just make sure you keep drinking your milk." he teases her with a wink, trying to get the young Lady off-balance as he prepares his shots.

"That would be cheating." Prada whispers back to Sir Xander with a quick pat toward his cheek, "Besides any intel I have is costly, you couldn't afford it. Not to mention you talked me into this and still owe me on that. I shall put it your account. At this rate you will be in debt to me the rest of your life starting…yesterday." The names make called out bring forth bubbling laughter, "A Westmark. There is your information."

Laurel's stoic reserve had shattered a little bit each time her mother took a round, the girlish, quiet little claps an involuntary hammer against noble composure. When Katarina returns to them, she hits her with an excited hug before turning to watch the next match, tilting her ear towards her parents as they talk. Of course, she roots for the Rhaedan princess, though she does not look disappointed when the Chosen wins, either.

And then her name is called. Laurel's eyes go wide, and she fidgets just a little with her bow as she walks to the center court, the hem of her surcoat trailing behind her like a kid who has borrowed her mother's cape. When the man teases her, she just juts her chin up in the air, then gives an ever so slight curtsey. "May the Four guide your arrows, Sir." Oh, up close, she looks even more a child. But a stubborn one.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Laurel=marksmanship Vs Xander=marksmanship
< Laurel: Great Success Xander: Great Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Xander=marksmanship Vs Laurel=marksmanship
< Xander: Amazing Success Laurel: Success
< Net Result: Xander wins - Crushing Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Laurel=marksmanship Vs Xander=marksmanship
< Laurel: Good Success Xander: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Xander=marksmanship Vs Laurel=marksmanship
< Xander: Good Success Laurel: Success
< Net Result: Xander wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Laurel=marksmanship Vs Xander=marksmanship
< Laurel: Great Success Xander: Good Success
< Net Result: Laurel wins - Solid Victory

"You too, squirt." Xander says with a wink as he kicks up the first arrow and it slams into the bullseye arrow. As she matches his shot, he huhs. "Well. Let's see how this goes." With that, he takes the girl seriously and his next shot slams center of target and brings a roar from the crowd as the first true bullseye is scored. "Yeah. That's better." With his next shots hitting home, he checks out his shots. "You're good kid." he says to Laurel. "I bet you'll do better with practice. Look forward to seeing how you do next year." he winks at her before he goes to gather his arrows.

Sarah has a funny smirk on her face as Laurel takes the stage, and she cheers each time the girl takes a shot. But Xander is devastatingly accurate, and Sarah puts on a warm smile of consolation when Laurel loses. She comments to the same harassed fair-goer next to her, "Oh well. I guess it's up to me and the Baroness, then, to put the men in their place." The man next to her just shakes his head and rolls his eyes, knocking back another swig of cheap fair ale.

A brow rises as he watches the pairing shoot. Thomas says to the Chosen that stands beside him "He's good," and motions with his head in the direction of Xander. To Laurel he nods "A bit more practice, the games will be her's. Just a bit more."

It is not a /bad/ showing, and so Laurel doesn't even frown. She was tutored in this art by her mother, and so her face is still, her breathing even, all distractions outside of her care, until the last shot hits. Then her nose crinkles ever so softly as she counts the arrows herself… and the numbers are not in her favour, so she smiles gently and tilts another curtsy towards her opponent. "Aye, and you as well, Sir." Ever so gracious, and without (quite) a hint of that Westmark temper. It was just a game.

"And here we thought Sir Lohstren was only good at riding horses and women!" the Ringmaster calls out. "It seems he's accurate with a bow too. We have a bullseye! And with a final score of 32 for Lohstren and 18 for Westmark, the match goes to Sir Xander Lohstren! For our final pairing, our own beauty of the trick shots, the flaming archer of red, Sarah of the Sky will be competing against a Varghem.. wait, really? Her? The negotiator, the peacemaker, the lady who battles with words and not with swords, Lady Prada Varghem!" Asiding to someone next to him, the Ringmaster mutters. "This should be amusing." he comments under his breath.

Still on the sidelines, Amira is cheering once more for the Westmark. When Laurel matches the Lohstren, she applauds, her delight clear. When it continues and the apparent winner is the Lohstren, she applauds lightly. It was all in good fun after all right?

Sarah strides forward. Her hips roll with a lazy, unashamed gait, sending her swishy skirt swaying. But her gaze is all business. Her bodice is laced taut to keep her shots clear, and her sapphire eyes blaze as she ascends to the platform. Tossing her flaming hair back into the wind, she unshoulders her bow and sets out five, carefully crafted arrows. The fletchings are smoothed, and the shafts are straight. As she readies her first arrow, she whispers loud enough to carry, "There is no wind…"

Katarina slides one arm around Laurel as her daughter rejoins herself and Paule, tilting her head to the side to brush a kiss against Laurel's temple. "Well done," she says quietly, "very well done."

Another sip is taken from his bottle, before Pawel hears the next pairing, and he turns to watch a bit more carefully for now, dropping the bottle back into his pocket. "Interesting…" he mutters to himself, watching a bit more carefully now.

"You did wonderful, daughter mine." Paule promises as he places a kiss to Laurel's other temple. "We'll buy you a candied apple when the matches are over." he comments in suggestion to his daughter.

Prada passes Sir Xander with an audible grouwl, "You owe me." she comments before her long legs lead her to mark. As she reaches her place the lady pauses and turns to the crowd, "You may all want to get down." She calls out as she waves her hand downward. Bow and arrow are quickly readied and here eyes glance toward Sarah, "By all means, you first. I will give you plenty of time to find a hiding place from any mishap."

"I thought I was already doing enough for you, Prada! Wait, let me go put on the heavy armor to protect myself." Xander catcalls at Prada as he goes and stands next to a convient set of hay bales.

As soon as gracious nods are given to all the nearby well-wishers, Laurel sinks back into the fold of her family with a barely audible sigh. Already, of course, the perfectionism is whispering through her like a bog-dragon. "My finger slipped on the third shot, and I did not quite adjust for how the pavilions sway the wind…" Oh, but she is still smiling, and her eyes sparkle ever so at the promise of a candied apple. "Thank you for asking me to do this." She murmurs. And then the show is on again. She looks just a little wide-eyed at the banter, just a bit concerned at how true it might be.

Katarina makes a startled sound, quite nearly a yelp, as one of Prada's arrows does the near unthinkable - factor in trajectory, bow tension, the fletching, wind resistance, do some geometry… - and one of the arrows flies wide and somehow gets caught on a errant thread of wind to send it into the dirt near the Westmark family. The started sound is followed by a near burst of laughter, carefully choked back of course but she is careful to pluck the arrow out of the dirt and holds it ready to return to Lady Prada when the um.. danger is over.

Like lightning, the fire-haired archer is bending and scooping, nocking and firing. It's a storm of arrows, each one only a second or less off Prada's. There are no taunts this time, no cheers. Sarah is the bow, is the arrow, and her eyes are a hawk's as she launches each flight. It's only after the last arrow has been grabbed and launched that Sarah relaxes…and she flashes an easy, warm smile over to the other woman.

"I'm sorry… The wind was against you, I think." Sarah winks, offering a bit of good-natured cheer in her smile, "Maybe we could practice some time?" But then she is whirling around and jumping around for the crowd, cheering and whooping and making a show for the townsfolk. She's trying to get them fired up, and her hips swing as she descends from the platform.

Shaking his head a little as he hears his sister's words, Pawel takes out his little bottle again, taking a quick sip. Holding it by the small chain attached to it, it dangles from his hand as he seems unsure if he should take another sip or not.

The next pairing is up and Thomas stands, the bow in one hand, the other resting easily at his side. When the arrow flies wide, he watches it intently till it strikes the ground by the Westmarks. A bit of a chuckle "Perhaps you should stand back a bit more, or behind the target when she is shooting?" The smile is easy and directed to Katarina.

The cloak of Paule Westmark moves quickly to shelter his wife and child, ready to take the arrow himself, but at least it misses, and the man breathes a sigh of relief. "Make sure you have her vision checked!" he calls out towards Pawel.

Certainly there was no ill intent with the arrow marking the ground near the Westmarks and the North, as another glances off toward Thomas, yet it is the last which clearly shows the lady has no ill intent as is clearly strikes the bottle dangling from her brothers hand shattering it to pieces. She then turns to Sarah with an arched brow. "Trust me it was not the wind. At least noone was permantely damaged.." she tells her as she passes the girl with a dimpled smile. And then she pauses to take a bow, standing again with a comment to the crowd, "Thank you. I shall be here all week." she cheekily calls to them as she moves toward her brother.

Whatever meek facade she so easily slips into, Laurel just stares blankly - no, glares - at the arrow that lands near her feet. Then she gives a level glance up at the shooter, the rather… bereft target, then up at her parents as her father hovers protectively. "Yes, I think the Brother Chosen speaks wisely. And if she's here all week, perhaps we should go to the carnivale instead?"

"Is it over?" the ringmaster asks meekly, peeking out from behind the cover of the lovely lass he hid behind who in turn hid behind one of the strongmen. "It is? Excellent.."

Ahem. The ringmaster stands up fully and calls out, "With a score of.. uh.. 8 to 29, the archer extraordinare is victorious - and please, for the love of the Four, take Prada's bow away from her!" he offers. "Next up is our second round - Baroness Katarina Westmark and Chosen Thomas Marby, come to your marks!" he calls out in invitation. "And even if you lose, stay around for the consolidation match for third prize!"

Katarina is chuckling quietly now, apparently - fo the three of them - she is the only one neither upset nor genuinely alarmed. "These things happen. Remember, the gods - as well - must have some manner of amusement, must they not? If we are made in their image, in any way, the amusement MUST be part of it." She cheers for Prada then, applauding and giving a rather startlingly loud whistle of approval AND amusement at the cheeky remarks.

Cordelia laughs as the arrows go astray but harm no one. She applauds Prada and gives another shrill whistle for her cheekiness. The woman remains on the Taniford side of things, enjoying the show.

Xander gives Prada's butt a light pat as she passes by. "Good show, love. I'll try to get you something nice." he says with a wink as he waits for her to settle down.

Arriving to the archery contest late as he shoo'd out the last few customers so that he can see how things are progressing, only to arrive after the first round has taken place. Though he does ask around and finds out more or less how things progressed and in doing so his eye seek out two Individuals, One being Amira as he's practiced with her and the other the lady Prada whom he's employeed with for now.

Sarah sidles through the crowd, eventually making her way next to Xander, trying to be inobtrusive as she can be until she's found the expert marksman. Running a hand back through her wild red-and-orange hair, she flashes him a sly smile, "Hello there… That was some nice shooting up there…" Her gaze is lidded as she looks up at him through her bangs, smirking faintly.

Thomas bows his head "Indeed they do, Baroness, indeed they do," and with that he turns to the Ringmaster waiting for the call of the next pairings. He sweeps out his hand to allow the Lady to precede him and then follows. Taking the same tact he did the first round. Five arrows struck in the ground before him, he looks to the targets before he plucks one and notches it. "Ladies, first, if you would be so kind, Lady Katarina."

Blinking a bit as the bottle shatters, Pawel looks from the bottle, to Prada, and then back to the bottle, rather carefully for a few moments now. That done, he turns around and heads off the field, shaking his head a little as he does.

"Hey, you weren't too bad yourself." Xander drawls as he gives Sarah a grin, his own light red hair given a brush through with his fingers. "And all that twisting you did on stage to get limbered up, that was pretty nice too. Didn't know gals could bend like that."

"We should… aim forward, right?" Katarina remarks loudly enough for the crowd to hear before she gives Paule a kiss on the cheek, hugs Laurel again and only then strides forward. She squints at the target, rather comically, then turns back to the crowd, squints again and covers one eye, "Ahh, there it is," she remarks before spinning about again and winking at Thomas. "I'll try to keep from shooting you in the foot," she promises with a sidelong grin before settling down once more and attending to the task at hand.

Cordelia'a gaze drifts towards Sarah and Xander, a brow arching slightly. She gives a little clearing of her throat, amusement dancing in her eyes as she shakes her head. The Westmark and the Chosen duke it out and her attention quickly returns to the targets.

Sarah laughs softly, "It just takes practice. Climb enough trees, run away from enough bears, and you learn a few tricks…" Planting a hand on her far hip, she cocks the other toward him with a tilt of her shoulders, "Maybe I'll show you sometime? You'll have to provide the bears, though." With a raise of her eyebrow, she smiles up at him before glancing sidelong at the competition on stage.

Prada watches her brother leave with mild amusment, then works through the crowd back to Sir Xander slipping her arm through his. Little can be told from the ladies expression as she looks down upon the redhead, yet her words ring clear just as the pinch to the inside of his arm is true, "Is there perhaps something we can assist you with you with……Commoner?" she asks the lady with a gentle tone.

Seeing how the second round has begun, Roltoff make his way over to where prada, and Xander are smiles. "Seems I was a bit late getting here to see the first rounds go.. " he looks to Sarah and nods. "hello again. " as he smiles softly to all the contestants.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Katarina=Marksmanship Vs Thomas=Marksmanship
< Katarina: Good Success Thomas: Good Success
< Net Result: Thomas wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Thomas=marksmanship Vs Katarina=Marksmanship
< Thomas: Great Success Katarina: Failure
< Net Result: Thomas wins - Crushing Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Katarina=Marksmanship Vs Thomas=Marksmanship
< Katarina: Good Success Thomas: Good Success
< Net Result: Katarina wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Thomas=marksmanship Vs Katarina=Marksmanship
< Thomas: Good Success Katarina: Good Success
< Net Result: Thomas wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Katarina=Marksmanship Vs Thomas=Marksmanship
< Katarina: Success Thomas: Success
< Net Result: DRAW

At the moment, Amira is on the sidelines surrounded by her guards and her handmaid, she tips her head in to listen as her handmaid speaks, smiling at something that was said, but the bulk of her attention is on the competition now. When the Chosen who beat her is now up, she silences her maid and is riveted by the arrows and the placement. With applause, she cheers them both on but when the winner proves to be the Chosen, she looks between them, and continues to applaud, pleased for him. "Well done!"

Xander chuckles and shakes his head. "I believe I accepted Lady Prada's favor for this, so perhaps another time." he says, though there is a slight, perhaps small wince at the pinch on his arm. "Looks like we're up next, Mistress Sarah. I wish you the luck of the King of Imps himself." he winks.

Katarina casts a sidelong look at Thomas and grins, "Lets. Just for the fun of it." And, with a glance toward the ringmaster, just to make sure no one is planning to scurry toward the targets without warning - and takes aim one more time. "we ought to both close our eyes and fire," she suggests with a quiet chuckle.

Sarah eeks when Prada addresses her, not having noticed her approach on Xander's other side. Shaking her head quickly, Sarah withdraws at a rapid pace! "No, milady, pardon milady." She bows and curtseys and tips her head and generally covers her etiquette bases before turning and beating a swift, half-skipping retreat. She looks a bit terrified!

Stepping from the Rhaedan Pavilion, Prince Jerric takes a moment to watch the crowds over at the archery range. Nodding to two of his guards "lets go see how this is turning out, shall we?" And of course he doesn't wait for a response as he begins to make his way to a better observation point.

Xander grins and gives Prada's side a squeeze. "Sorry, Sarah, this knight is spoken for. But there are plenty of others that are available." With a chuckle, he kisses Prada's temple. "Root me on, beloved." he offers to Prada.

"And in another close match, we have a score of 13 for Westmark and 21 for Marby, Thomas advances! Stay around though, Baroness, your match will be chosen by our next match - Sarah of the Sky against Sir Xander Lohstren!" the Ringmaster calls out.

Paule grins at his wife as she returns. "A nice showing, love." he says and gives her a tight hug. "Come now, we shall see how the rest will do."

"You know where I am." The Varghem Maiden tells Sir Xander as she steps away with one last look of amazement at the redhead, "Roltoff my good man. I have need of you." Taking the man by the shoulder with a single hand, her head moves close to his ear and she whispers a bit too loudly, "Deal with that." she tells him with a nod toward Sarah.

Sarah continues her half-skipping retreat from the ire of noble ladies right up the steps to the platform, and she grabs a pole to swing from. Not in any provacative way, but rather to execute an acrobatic leap to the starting area, grumbling as she withdraws five excellent arrows from her emptying quiver. "I'm going to slay me a dragon. We'll see who's a commoner then." Sarah huffs and tosses her hair, drawing an arrow out of the ground an nocking it with eyes narrowed at the distant target. "No wind. There is no wind."

"Don't worry, Sarah." Xander says as he goes to take his mark. "Just bat your eyes at Roltoff a little and she may forget you were flirting. Me.. well, I suppose I better win this thing now, or I'll be owing her footrubs for life." he chuckles in amusement as he sets up his arrows, and gestures. "After you, M'am. A dragon? Oh, now that I would like to see!"

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sarah=marksmanship Vs Xander=marksmanship
< Sarah: Success Xander: Great Success
< Net Result: Xander wins - Crushing Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Xander=marksmanship Vs Sarah=marksmanship
< Xander: Great Success Sarah: Success
< Net Result: Xander wins - Crushing Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sarah=marksmanship Vs Xander=marksmanship
< Sarah: Success Xander: Good Success
< Net Result: Xander wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Xander=marksmanship Vs Sarah=marksmanship
< Xander: Great Success Sarah: Good Success
< Net Result: Xander wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sarah=marksmanship Vs Xander=marksmanship
< Sarah: Good Success Xander: Amazing Success
< Net Result: Xander wins - Solid Victory

A laugh comes from Thomas as the challenge is laid by Katarina and he does shoot, closing his eyes at the last moment. When they open he laughs again as they both have struck the target in a draw "Good shooting, My Lady." Then as Xander steps up against Sarah he watches closely. A soft whistle escapes him as he witnesses the shooting "Gonna be tough to beat."

The storm of arrows starts once more, but for all that Sarah has speed, Xander has accuracy. When she's loosed her last arrow, Sarah simply sighs. She smiles faintly to Xander and turns to bow with a flourish to the crowd. She sweeps from the staging area with nary a word, giving a few waves to townsfolk who whistle. Eventually, however, she ends up where she began, in the common section of the crowd.

Katarina retires from the field, sharing a grin with Thomas before rejoining her family to observe the next match; she doesn't go far, mind, as it may be a shoot-off for 3rd place. "They should have a blade throwing contest next year," she muses in a quiet aside. "Can you imagine the sheer hilarity of it?"

Xander fires off all of his shots, mechanically, not even thinking. As each arrow slams home as far as bullseye rings and then a perfect bullseye, he suddenly turns and fires one last arrow, pinning the tail of Prada's dress to the ground. Striding towards her even as the results are tallied, the knight stops in front of the woman. Kneeling down, he grabs her hand and looks up at her. "I love you, you jealous idiot. Now will you get over the fact that I do get a girl's attention and realize that you hold me in your heart alone. For the sake of the Four. Court me, dammit."

Arms crossed over his chest as Prince Jerric has come to stand in the crowd. Well not in it, actually more like a bit to the front as is his want. "Good shooting," he tells Xander as he walks by, no more, no less.

"Uh.." the Ringmaster looks downright confused at the show that the Knight puts on. "40 for Lohstren, 11 for Sarah of the Sky. Our finals are set up. First, the consolation match - Sarah of the Sky against Baroness Westmark!" he calls out as he sends someone out to clean up Xander's arrows.

"The death count would increase dramatically." Laurel muses in turn to her mother, her eyes following Xander as he stalks back from the competition to claim his woman, as it were. Her voice drops so that it carries no further than her parents. "So, some knights truly are such vulgar, romantic fools? When I come of age, please keep them away from me. She should stab him for shooting at her." The little girl sniffs primly. "What do they say about chivalry being dead?"

Sarah looks surprised as she's called again so quickly. Keeping a wary eye on the crowd, as though expecting a knife from the shadows already, Sarah carefully climbs back to the staging area. She flashes a smile to the crowd, but her bravado is gone, and she's guarding her back as she gets into position. She flashes a smile to the Baroness as well, but it's a weak one. Arrows planted, bow ready, Sarah gets into position.

"At this rate, maybe they should have a spouse catching competition." Paule says in more than a little amusement. "I swear, she's as firey as you are." he points out as he looks towards his daughter and laughs. "Oh don't worry, daughter, that's what the bog hunts for suitors are for. Has Coriaria not introduced you to that fine tradition yet?"

The Duke of Wolveshire is not the only Varghem with a temper. A temper seen as Prada's dress is pinned to the ground. She turns head once to look over shoulder then back to the man kneeling before her. Her eyes squint to near slits and leans foward, "Youre a /pig/ from hell Xander Lohstren." she tells the man, yet she pats his cheek, "Now get off your knees and stop begging. Youve been given your answer. Go win."

Roltoff nods to Xander and Prada as he backs up and pauses only briefly to see Saraah and the baroness shoot one last time before he coniders returning to his tavern.

When it comes to the consolation, Amira still watches, cheering on the Westmark, her applause the only sound from her part of the sidelines where she stands in the company of her guards. What she is really waiting for is the finals, to see if the Chosen or the Lohstren wins the coveted bow. How exciting it would be to own something so grand?

"Yes. Well, we seen pigs fly in the last few days." Xander retorts and plucks his arrow from Prada's dress, turning away from her. "Now come watch. You are what brings me my luck."

The smallest Westmark nods with some small glimmer of approval as Prada sends Xander packing - sort of - but the rest of her reaction is cut off at this tradition her father mentions. She turns to look at him, slowly tilting her head with wary curiousity. "Cori hasn't quite introduced me to all of the traditions of being a young lady in Westmark lands quite yet, so … I have not heard of this. I think she and I have much different … tastes, as well." And really, that's all Laurel's going to say. No true sixteen year old really wants to talk to her father about love.

"Very well." Prada offers as she turns to follow Xander passing by Roltoff, "Of course I bring you luck. As you do me, on occasion." she calls after the Knight while motioning the sellsword along with her. "Come Roltoff, let us see how lucky I can be."

The words of luck drift to Thomas and he turns to see where they come from. Luck "There is no luck, there are the Four that guide us always. They are the one's that make your arrows fly true, not luck," His words are intended to the chosen next to him, but perhaps they can be overheard by others?

Katarina smiles from where she's standing and shakes her head, "Thank you, no," she calls out to the ring master. "I already have everything I want, prize wise," and smiles at her small family.

The ringmaster looks confused for a moment, then shrugs. "By forfeit, then, Sarah of the Sky is the winner of the copper medal. For our championship match, Sir Lohstren will face Chosen Marby. Gentlemen, if you will!"

The family of the Westmark catches Jerric's eye and he moves closer to them. A bow of his head to each is given "I do hope everyone is enjoying themselves? I sure don't want /them/" motioning to the Taniford types "to win. Though they are rather skilled in the use of bows." He looks down at Laurel "And I must say, Heriess that you are looking rather pretty today. I would not be surprised to see a line of Knights all wishing to get a dance with you this evening."

Roltoff looks up at Prada just as he was about to slip away and sighs. "How in the four do … " he just shakes his head and follows the noble woman and Xander.

Sarah smiles politely to the ringmaster, and slips away into the crowd. Soon she's slipping away from the fairgrounds as well, heading for the edges of the crowd and making her way toward the crowd. A few coppers are tossed to the men who helped with her performance earlier, as she passes them by.

Xander shrugs his shoulders at the forfeit, but moves into position. Preparing his arrows, he glances over at Thomas and gives a grin. "Whenever you are ready, Chosen? And good fortune in your aim." he offers as he prepares his arrows, one of them carrying a little strip of Prada's dress on it. Her favour, hard earned.

Thomas takes a breath, says a silent prayer to Bornas and nods to the Ringmaster. He moves to his firing position and the 5 arrows, as before, are stuck in the ground before him. He turns his gaze to Xander "May the Four be with you and guide your eye as well as your hands, Sir."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Xander=marksmanship Vs Thomas=marksmanship
< Xander: Good Success Thomas: Great Success
< Net Result: Thomas wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Thomas=Marksmanship Vs Xander=Marksmanship
< Thomas: Great Success Xander: Good Success
< Net Result: Thomas wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Xander=marksmanship Vs Thomas=marksmanship
< Xander: Amazing Success Thomas: Great Success
< Net Result: Xander wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Thomas=Marksmanship Vs Xander=Marksmanship
< Thomas: Failure Xander: Success
< Net Result: Xander wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Xander=marksmanship Vs Thomas=marksmanship
< Xander: Good Success Thomas: Great Success
< Net Result: Thomas wins - Solid Victory

Perhaps distracted by what happened. Perhaps worried. Xander's not on his game. He fires his arrows, and while he scores yet another bullseye, in the end, he knows he comes up short. "Give Lady Prada my medal, please." he calls out to the ringmaster, before he turns to collect his arrows, a bow to Thomas. "Excellent shooting." he offers, and then with that, the Lohstren knight makes his departure.

Roltoff looks to prada and wisely keeps his mouth shut as he'd rather xander take the brunt of her Ire but has a feeling it'll roll down hill and he'll end up with some of it anyway.

"This day is stranger and stranger…" the ringmaster says, and finally. "Very well. With a score of 32 to Marby to 25 to Lohstren, Thomas Marby the Chosen is the winner of the Laketown archery tournament and uh.. well.. second goes to Lady Prada Varghem in turn of Sir Xander Lohstren and third to Mistress Sarah of the Sky. Let's hear it for our tournament winners!"

A bow to Xander "And to you as well. That was some remarkable shooting." Thomas collects his winnings and makes his way to, who else, Laurel. He kneels before her and holds out the gold medallion "My Lady. This would serve you better than I. Perhaps as your first entry into the Archery trials you may look at this and remember them by. It would be my honor for you to have it." His smile is easy as he holds it out for the young Lady to take it if she wishes.

The girl falls silent as the Prince of her realm comes near, quite unwilling for her musings about courtship to be public, and when he addresses her family, she dips a respectful curtsey, drawing full one corner of her pale gray skirts. When she straightens, it is with a blush high on her wan cheeks, and her expression composed in defiance of the rosiness. "Thank you, Your Highness, though I would hope they would perhaps be more interested in my skill, and not something as ephemeral as beauty." She falls silent as the final round of the tournament comes to an end, fighting between respectfulness to the crown and curiousity about the outcome.

Prada has little time with the retreating Knight to choose what she should do, looking toward Roltoff she shrugs, "I know when youre leaving simply because your eyes get shifty." she tells as she elbows her way through the crowd toward Sarah. "You. Here, take it. I have all I will ever need." she tells the woman holding the medallion out and before laying it to the down and turning to follow Xander.

Roltoff is at first speechless at the remark and follows it with a bunch of "eh, ah.. o. ummm " then "Damn… " as hesighs and continues to follow prada.

Sarah tenses when Prada approaches her, having not been taken surprise by the approach this time, but still obviously on her guard. "I trust this means that I need not fear a knife in the dark, my lady?" She curtseys with as much formal poise as a woman-of-the-woods could be expected to have, and her tone is remarkably even. She rises from the bow and accepts the medallion, her expression blank.

Paule offers a bow to Jerric. "Your Highness. It seems you arrived just in time for the most confusing ending in.. history, I think." he says as Thomas approaches his daughter, and he watches to see how Laurel will react to this latest twist.

With the festivities over for now, Amira nods to her handmaid and instead of heading for the Rhaedan pavilion, she and her crew begin walking back towards the Blue Duck Inn where her room awaited her. It was indeed a lovely tournament and she would make sure to attend the next event as well. It was just so nice to be out and about! Seeing Jerric with the Westmarks, she lifts her hand to wave her farewell to him for now.

And then there is no fighting back the blush, as an errant glance to the competition field finds not the normal celebration but the Chosen winner. Right there. Knelt in front of /her./ Laurel's hand draws up to her throat as her eyes widen, there is just the slightest tremble of wanting to flee out of the sudden limelight - and then the years of training kick in. She smiles gently, unlatches her hands from her collar, and covers the Chosen's hands with her own. "Of course, Brother, you fight and win for the greater glory of the Four and their Temple. I am honoured you thought of me in the least." A careful admixture of noble pride and Temple-trained humility, or so she hopes. "Thank you, Brother Chosen. You are a delight to Altheara and to Eikeran." She drops her eyes modestly, and manages another courtly curtsy, this time bent over the older man's hand.

Prada turns back to Roltoff and waves him away, "Let her know she is safe." she tells him quickly with a nod toward Sarah.

Jerric nods to Katarina, a knowing smile is given to her. "Perhaps this evening you all shall care to join me for dinner? I would very much like that." He grunts "What I have seen is arrogance and pompous asses." He says as he gives the Tanifords a glance. Kettle, black, what? He chuckles to Laurel "Trust me, soon all they will see is the skill you poses, Lady Laurel." Jerric watches the shooting and a sigh of relief as a Taniford did not win. "Would have been better if a Rhaedan had but, I will take a Chosen over them." But then as Thomas makes his way to the circle he takes a step back and watches as the Chosen offers his medal to Laurel. "Amira," Jerric calls out "Where are you going? Have dinner with us. You have a place at the table you know."

Roltoff disengages from prada, as he heads back to where a still stunned Sarah resides and says softly. "you've nothing to fear mistress. " he grins softy, "her comment is that your safe. Though I really cant say the same about Xander.. " he chuckles

Sarah watches Prada walk away before smirking to Roltoff. She flashes him a flirty wink, a hand on her hip, "I'm glad—I was /certain/ I was going to be putting an arrow through your throat and that would have made me terribly sad." She smiles brightly, "But it all worked out in the end, so no arrows or knives in the dark!" She beams, "And I got TWO medals. Now I just need to find another Dragon-Slaying Bow."

When a brother calls, a little sister is bound to listen, but when the brother is a Crown Prince, Amira certainly obeys posthaste. Hearing her name, she turns and approaches the group, offering a nod to the others and a hug to her brother. At least she could now congratulate the Chosen! "I offer my most heartfelt congratulations on your success." Bowing her head to him in respect, she watches as the younger Westmark accepts the medal and she is truly happy for the young girl. "And you as well, my lady."

When the medallion is taken Thomas stands and bows "Thank you all and may the Four follow and protect you always." He turns and makes his way from the grounds, the ornate bow held loosely in his hands, not as a prize that it really is.

Roltoff looks at sarah and arches a brow. "really now and arrow thru the neck you say. "I might prove to be a bit harder to kill than that mistress Sarah, Im not some pretty boy solider and Im definately not that easy to kill. " he nods "you have your winnings, so enjoy them . " with that said he backs off and heads back to towen and his tavern.

"My family would be honoured to join yours for dinner, Your Highness, after all, we are related by marriage." Paule points out with a grin towards Katarina. "Where are we dining at this evening so I can inform my oldest daughter to join us as well? The Baroness is running around here somewhere."

"We would be honored, your highness," Katarina echo's, speaking for her family and glancing from face to face to confirm this general acceptance of Jerric's invitation to dinner. "Princess," she offers with smile to Amira, falling silent as the crowd begins to disperse, watching the general flow of the crowd for the moment.

Sarah beams happily, "Oh it's okay, they all say that." She rocks on her heels when Roltoff heads off, "Hmm…so much anger in this town!" She turns and starts to wander off toward the candied apple stands, "Mmm, apples!"

When the Chosen stands, Laurel's hands retreat, folded carefully around the medal and clutching it to her collarbone. "I shall fight to be worthy and shoot straight, Chosen." She murmurs, in an exceedingly quiet voice. Perhaps he cannot even hear it. She stands moonstruck for a long moment after he retreats, before a cold breeze on her cheeks draws her back to the real world and she realises there is a hubbub and royalty and plans being made and people going places. At least her parents have things well in hand. Laurel's smile is somewhat ephemeral itself as Amira addresses her. "Thank you, your Highness. I - not quite who I would like to have won the tournament, but it was only my first entry."

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