smartass_captain | A Very Nexus Reception

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A Very Nexus Reception

To all the friends of the happy grooms, PINpoint messages have already been sent weeks ago inviting them to expect quite the street party arranged in the commons of the Nexus. Guests have been invited to bring an appetite--both for food and for a social adventure. Nirnish weddings are public affairs, after all. While the ceremony has had to be somewhat sequestered for the sake of keeping the existence of Other Worlds a secret, neither Felix nor Jim would want to leave out their interdimensional friends entirely. Having a reception party arranged in the Nexus became the natural plan of action.

Overnight large sections of the Commons are transformed via diligent craftsmanship and quite a lot of magic from those who’ve volunteered. Lanterns representing the Divines are hung along every lamp post, bringing at least the idea of warmth even if the flames are too small to heat their surroundings alone. Bardic tunes carry in the air as readily as the scent of food and drink. Past banners of red and black, blue and white the people gather.

For both grooms this is nearly a continuation of the day before. They’ve had the chance to sleep off the nerves of their ceremony. Today is entirely for celebration--uninhibited celebration at that. No more minding what is said and isn’t. No more pretending to be anything other than who they are. Jim’s traded out his Nirnish finery for a suit and tie, garments he’s much more familiar with. Felix is staying with his native clothing; though he may have dressed down a little from his wedding clothes, the conjurer’s dressed in fitted breeches and his best fur-trimmed coat and boots, the soft hide dyed blue to match his tunic. By their side sits the conjurer’s spectral wolf familiar, ears pricked at the gathering.

As the guests find their ways over it will be easy to spot their friends amidst all the decor along with many other avenues with which to enjoy themselves….

Greetings
Food and Drink
Music and Dancing
Bonfire Entertainment
Party Games

((Links to all relevent wedding Prose can be found Here!))

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The organisation is well in hand by the time someone blows a horn to draw attention to the main jousting line. A couple of enterprising souls have rolled out barrels of beer to refill nearby cups from, ensuring the curious spectators are kept merry while they wait. Other competitors are still sorting out their armor or preparing their mounts, but first, the people who started this are going to take their turn. Sir Celann Lemont takes his place at one end, the Breton’s face masked by his protective helm, his gold and green glass armor aglow in the sunlight. There’s a faint glimmer of green too, when he leans forward to pat his chestnut destrier, the warhorse lifting his head and snorting as he takes in the field. A pole on his side of the field bears his banner, with the knight’s mountainous coat of arms displayed in green and white.

On the other side, a woman in light, flexible gear leans on her thrust bike, retuned antigravs holding the sleek vehicle lightly above the ground a couple feet higher than normal. When a squire runs up to ask about a banner for her, she just turns on her heel and jerks a thumb at the cloak she wears, a translucent matrix of blue-white material more akin to crystal than cloth. It shimmers around her as she swings herself onto the bike. Hunter Turnstone’s face is hidden behind her mask, but she looks utterly relaxed as she shoulders a six-foot lance that really shouldn’t be so easy for a human her size to handle.

Riders at their marks, the squire with the starting flag signals another blast of the horn, and lets it fall. There’s a pounding of hooves, a low singing engine thrum. The riders charge.

They meet almost in the center. Wood rebounds on metal; Celann’s lance goes wide of its mark, grazing the Hunter’s shoulder and narrowly missing her head. Hers slides off the wrong side of his chest without unseating the knight. By the time they slow at the end of the course, the holographic score board someone scavenged up is already flashing a white square beneath each of their names. A draw. The lances are checked for cracks, and then it’s time to go again.

The second time round, Celann’s adjusted better for their relative positions, the way the Guardian leans forward in her seat. Decades of practice guide his hand when he drives the lance into Turnstone’s shoulder and topples her off the bike. The crowd around them cheers, or groans according to inclination. She rolls to her feet, graceful but wincing at her injured shoulder. Her bike keeps going. It whips over the grass, heading straight for the startled squires on Celann’s side- until Tarana steps out and grabs it by the hood. The Titan’s plate armor flexes as she holds the screaming Sparrow, until she reaches in and deactivates it – much to the squires’ relief. Tarana gives Turnstone a look from across the field, and a comms message: “Failsafes engaged from now on, please.”

Right. Turnstone bobs her head. A flash of healing Light from her Ghost, and she’s ready to go get the bike and try again. Celann’s only got one green mark on the board, and it’s best of three. Turns out, even for a woman with preternatural marksmanship skills, a lance is just a damned awkward thing for the untrained to use.

This time, though. This time she’s thinking over how he hit her as they line up. This time she’s holding back until they get close- and then she braces, gives the Sparrow a burst of acceleration, catching him off-guard and taking him in the shoulder. There’s a flash of warding magic as she strikes, and this time the knight thumps to the grass. His horse, rather smarter than the bike, canters to the end of the course and slows to a halt without needing to be grabbed.

A draw, then. Celann is chuckling as he picks himself up. His squire has the horse in hand, so he heads over to salute his opponent and clasp her hand. A worthy contest, and a fascinating experiment. Hopefully the other jousts will be equally entertaining…

((Feel free to start threads in this section with your preferred partners, or as spectators enjoying/covering their eyes/'helping' from the sidelines. I recommend putting the contestants in the header of a match thread as shown here, just to help navigation and make it easy for spyreaders. ;) )

For her part, Dia's unaccustomed to actually wearing armor, as someone who's usually wearing light clothing, or, more usually, loose, flowing robes. She may not be a Sith by any standard any longer, but she's so accustomed to the clothing, she's seen no real reason to change.

She's always preferred it that way. Much of her usual fighting style requires her to be able to move lightly on her feet, flow from motion to motion like the wind or a river.

But given that she wasn't going to be using the Force directly in this sort of competition, armor's required for it.

Lance in one hand, settled on the speeder with her other hand on the controls, Dia waits for the signal, shifting a little restlessly, anxious, and ready to begin.

It doesn't appear to be a sport that allows much in the way of agility, for sure. Just line the combatants up and crash them into each other as fast as you can. That said, once she's on the Sparrow Dia can feel how nimbly the bike moves, and how much balance is required to handle it with that sodding great lance under one arm. How much will be needed to take even a glancing blow without falling off. Her assassin's reflexes will stand her in good stead here.

Blaze pulls her own Sparrow up at the other end of the field, on the other side of the wooden divider. Her bike's a bit more solid-looking than the one Dia rides, and to compensate she's changed into an older, lighter set of her armor, wearing just the chestpiece, gauntlets and helm, and detaching the right shoulder guard.

The Titan doesn't seem nervous, perhaps because she's not taking this too seriously. Her face is hidden behind her faceplate, much like Dia's, but the Exo lifts her lance in a jaunty salute to the waiting assassin. She has to keep a steady hand on her bike when she does: this balancing act is a harder than it looks. The Titan has strength on her side: it's easier for her to handle the length of wood she's wielding. Aim and precision are more like to be her problem.

And easy-going fun or not, the most laid-back Guardian in existence has a competitive streak. Once the trumpet sounds for them to get ready, Blaze settles down, adjusting the weight of the lance in her arm and focusing on her opponent. When the starting banner falls, she's riding to win.

Admittedly, it does show that the weapon is a little unfamiliar at first, between balancing it and handing the nible speeder's controls. It's a lot like her own speeder, a little bit on the more sensitive side, due to Dia's having a much wider profile than the one she's borrowing.

However, once she's got it down, it's easy enough.

Dia mimics the salute with her lance, waiting for the trumpet sounds she kicks it into high gear.

She may not have Blaze's size or strength, but Dia's certainly smaller than Blaze, and will likely be much more difficult to hit.

She's riding to win this. An Assassin she may be. Dia's certainly trying to find a more... balanced lifestyle, rather than a Dark one.

But there's something to be said about winning.

There's no finesse in what Blaze is doing here. She cut her metaphorical teeth as a Striker Titan: charging in and hitting things hard is what she knows best. And that's exactly what she does. It's not precise or thought-out, but the lance hits on target. The tip shatters against Dia's chest armor and delivers enough force to unseat the smaller assassin. Her own lance clips Blaze's shoulder and slides into her collar a fraction of a second later, driven off-course by the impact.

The top-heavy Exo sways in her seat, but she's still on the Sparrow as she swings it to a halt with a cheerful whoop, engine rumbling. The squires are already hurrying to see if Dia needs any help and replace any damaged gear.

"You okay there, Dia?" she yells over, craning her head over the barrier toward her opponent. The Titan tosses her broken lance on the ground and rubs at her dented collar. Over to the side Ghost is doing a mid-air twirl in celebration for his Guardian. "Ready for another round?"

Another round, now that the assassin knows much better how she moves...

After getting her motorbike adjusted by the Ghost on task, and hitting the practice field a few times, Harley Quinn is ready for her match. As an acrobat and gymnast, she is not used to wearing armor, but fortunately for her she hardly notices the extra weight on her body due to her enhanced strength. It was an adjustment to learning how wearing a pauldron and gauntlet changes her balance on the motorbike. Just as it was a learning experience to handle the jousting lance too.

But Harley is a quick learner when it comes to new weapons and armor.

She waves at a few familiar faces in the crowd who are watching. Much like anything else that Harley does... there is a lot of performance attitude to the way she heads to her bike. To even the simple methods of adjusting herself on the motorbike, and staring across the jousting field to learn the identity of her opponent. Harley had only met Dia'ndria once before, last winter after having to tell the other woman about the condition of her spaceship.

At least it appears as their method of transportation is similar. Dia is on a speeder, and Harley on her motorbike. So it is bound to be interesting.

Harley wiggles her eyebrows a little, before adjusting her helm into position. She waits for the signal to start, her mind on the task ahead of her.

Dia remembers Harley. To be fair, the blonde woman is .... difficult to forget. Having done this once before already with Blaze, this time, Dia's prepared once more, with a new lance in hand on a hovering speeder bike.

The ex-Sith nods to her opponent as she hauls herself onto the speeder and gets nice and settled on it, hoisting her lance up and raising it in a salute.

While she had hit the practice jousting area before this match, this is the first real match against an opponent. So Dia has a slight advantage.

Harley raises her own lance in a salute. Waits for the flags to mark the start, and roars the motorbike towards her opponent. There are so many factors to consider. The speed of her bike. The speed of Dia's speeder bike. Trying to calculate where to aim to hit her mark. And trying to calculate when Dia might make her attack.

All in all... there is just a little too much calculating for Harley to wrap her brain around in the first round. She gets hit by Dia's lance, and completely misses any opportunity to gain a hit of her own. And she has to steady her bike, reacting to the way the joust almost knocked her off.

The first point of their match goes to Dia. But Harley is still all smiles, getting back on her bike ready for the next round.

No one's watching the initial match more closely than the Starfleet lieutenant. There are plenty cheering, others checking over their gear or sizing up the competition. This human? This human just wants to see if he can garner a lesson through observation so he doesn't make a fool of himself out on the pitch. Hikaru can hear Jim carrying on with the rest of the spectators behind him--it sounds like his husband may have joined him in the crowd.

No matter.

After the first match is over and new champions begin lining up, Hikaru slips off to actually give a test run on the bike to see how he's going to manage driving it one handed while holding the lance. Trust Kirk to give him such an awkward task. His first test lap is a bit dodgy but he won't give up.

It's when he's pausing to take a bit of a breather that the squires announcing the matches belt out his name. Well, they try to at least. Though it sounds as though they're just as unsure with both names.

"Hi...karu Sulu? Ime Turnstone? Will you come forward please?"

The pilot swallows when he catches sight of the woman who'd ridden in the initial bout. Squares his shoulders. Steps forward while easing the bike alongside him. In the borrowed gear made up of leather, some kind of lightweight plasteels, and reinforced cloth he won't be immediately recognizable save by voice.

"Here." He swings himself onto the bike before scooping up the hefty lance with much less ease than the Guardian will. To his credit he's managed to figure out how to keep it Mostly steady at least while they're still. "Present and ready."

This is an interesting one. Turnstone's never actually seen one of those old motors running before today, despite occasionally running across half-rusted remnants of them. She's going to have to get a feel for how her opponent moves if she wants to win this bout. Lower to the ground than the cavalryman was, too. The first round, both of them are going to be feeling this out.

Got to give the civil- the Lieutenant credit, though. Man fills out that Hunter gear pretty nicely. Turnstone salutes him in passing before they split up, heading to each side of the field. She's noticed the two grooms cheering his name as they head to the starting lines too, which is... not exactly a damper on her morale, she doesn't know any of them. But she'll try not to knock the guy off too hard, out of courtesy.

Once the flag drops, she might not be accelerating as hard as she should. It gives the Hunter slightly more time to line up her lance tip- but so too does Sulu have an extra second to angle at his target. Which one learns the hard lesson might come down to luck...

"Good luck out there." Hikaru calls out Ime's way when she salutes him. Not that this Ime really probably needs it given how easily she handles her vehicle and that she's got at least a match over him under her belt. This is just yet another crazy stunt Hikaru's managed to get himself roped into thanks to Jim Kirk.

Of course, while it's easy for anyone outside to blame Jim for these kinds of situations what no one accounts for is the tiny unseen smile playing at the pilot's lips as he swings the bike around at his end of the field. This is a crazy, silly, stupid stunt they're pulling here for the sake of entertainment. When else will anyone here have the opportunity to do something like this? That alone is worth putting his all into this.

The chance to excel at something new and challenging definitely doesn't hurt either.

When the flag drops Sulu guns the bike with every assumption that his opponent will be doing the same. The lance jerks off center with the sudden burst of speed and while Sulu doesn't panic about it and over-correct he'll be too slow in getting his sights on the hunter. If he connects at all it's going to be a glancing blow too low to move the Hunter. Her own lance drives him right off the vehicle and into the grass with a Thud. Jim's bike tips over and slides across the grass without its rider, momentum carrying it along but thankfully not the engines without it's rider.

Sulu can go after it in a minute if no one else is helping out. For the moment he's hauling himself up to unsteady feet while he tries to get his bearings. Alright. Ow. Lesson learned for the next round. The crowd's yelling is indistinct noise while he tries to parse out what just happened. It's the only chance he's going to get to prepare before they go again.

Edited 2020-02-02 16:19 (UTC)

Ime's ready for the shock of the impact this time, half the reason she doesn't lose her seat when the other lance glances along her ribs. She rocks to the side but regains her poise as she swings her bike around. The layers of spinfoil and sapphire wire in her armor deflected the brunt of the force, but she winces when she shifts her lance up to inspect it. The tip's crumpled and broken off, as promised, sparing Sulu the worst of it, but she's glad the man was well-armored.

While a knight comes over to replace her lance, one of the squires is running to help Sulu to his feet. The crowd is cheering- or at least, shouting about the result as the Ghosts put it on display.

"Sir! Are you hurt?" The young man dusts grass off his gear carefully. A couple of his fellow squires, a girl and a boy, have run to fetch the bike... although they stop short and approach the growling machine rather nervously. It'll take these medieval teens a few minutes to gingerly prop it up, talking to each other as quietly as the noise allows.

The squire helping Sulu relaxes when he sees the man standing all right. There's a moment of hesitation, but then he leans closer and whispers a couple of tips about how to handle the weight of the lance. He's a trainee when it comes to jousting himself, after all. And Sulu is a friend of Sir Celann's friends, so...

The Lieutenant won't know what material science (or magic) went into the gear protecting his insides from that lance but he will be incredibly grateful that it works as intended. When they signed up for this bruises and a bit of a knock were explained and expected as a likely outcome to doing this.

"Mostly just my pride." Hikaru murmurs quietly as he lets the younger man steady him on his feet. "Wasn't expecting that thing to be so awkward...to.." The pilot stops talking entirely to take in everything he's being told. Leans back just a bit so he can see the weedy squire a bit better through his visor. The kid clearly does a lot more manual labor than Sulu does but he's not built like a Klingon unlike at least one of the knights (and a few of the Guardians) he's seen out here. His nod is slow. Rapt.

"Thanks." Sulu is no Jim Kirk in charisma but he is a father. His hand reaches up to rest on the squire's shoulder for just a moment in unspoken gratitude before he lets it fall and starts heading over to his bike. "Thanks for grabbing that for me. I've got it from here." He won't call out loudly, just enough to be heard over the noise the bike makes. "If I really mess up and can't help, here's where you push to turn it off, okay?" Last thing he wants is for these kids to be afraid while they're stuck helping out at this crazy event the adults are putting on.

This time it's the civilian saluting out to Ime once he's gotten himself a new lance and walked the bike back over to the far end of the field. She will read no hesitation in him when he swings back onto the bike and adjusts the lance at his side. Shifting his posture and grip the way he'd been advised helps keep the lance steady but is a little awkward for driving the vehicle he's on. If he was going to have a handicap though, Hikaru Sulu would rather it be to a skill he's actually got plenty of experience with.

The squires signal for them to ready up on both of their metal mounts. Again when the flag drops Hikaru spurs on the bike to it's limited full speed. It takes him an extra second to get there with how he's sitting to keep the lance steady which could be all the opening a sly Hunter needs to strike true....

This is not something Runa would usually get involved in. Wrestling or fighting was never all that easy when you were a five-foot-nothing baker who'd only survived mosh pits because of mosh pit etiquette and rather large friends. Even with more than a few friendly pointers from the squires she wasn't feeling all that confident about her chances of winning. Not that it mattered: She was here to have fun with the strong friend helping her out this time.

Sitting on Harrowheart in full death knight armour is strange and difficult, but really the most difficult part is trying not to talk to the worgen supporting her. The two of them are quite the pair, and Harrowheart is immensely skilled at making Runa laugh. Once she's directed to her side she has to bite her lip to stop herself from giggling at whatever Harrowheart is saying to her this time.

She's nervous, and excited, and so, so ready for this!

Edited 2020-01-26 22:18 (UTC)

Even with one match underneath his belt her opponent isn't much better on his ride than Runa is going to be. Crucially his is also incredibly less intimidating than a woman in a full set of shimmering other worldly armor sitting atop a giant...wolf? Man wolf? Are the old stories about wolfmen reality in the Nexus? What the actual hell????

Even with descriptions of Jim's Nexus friends somewhat fresh in his mind neither Runa or Harrowheart are going to look anything like the people that have been described to him right now. Unlike Runa's bubbly demeanor, her opponent stifles his nerves by squaring his shoulders and staring down his foe from behind his protective helm. This is all supposed to be just for fun, but Hikaru is definitely feeling a bit of better judgement trying to urge him to throw in the towel before he has to face a charging knight and her hulking humanoid wold mount.

"Best of luck." He calls out to them both with a steady voice he doesn't exactly feel.

Sulu's had control of the ship through worse, probably. This shouldn't be actually life threatening! It'll be fine. He hates Jim Kirk just a little bit in this moment. It feels like both no time at all and eons before they're urged to opposite ends of the field. Sulu shifts his lance a couple of times while they're waiting to try and ease his nerves.

All of this is still a novelty to Runa. Really the distant harsh music and headbanging from earlier helps immensely. The armour and Harrowheart only add to the feeling of strength mingling with the excitement in her veins. When she sees their opponent appear at the other end of the yard, she feels like she's about to burst.

"Oh! You too!" She calls back, just about managing to keep herself from falling into a bout of nervous giggling.

"Come on, let's do this," she whispers eagerly to Harrowheart.

Those few moments as she readies her lance, waiting for the signal to go feel like they take an eternity. Then, in a sudden twist, the signal sounds and they're charging and everything feels like it's done in a flash. She's used to the strange loping of the worgen beneath her, and the heavy weight of the lance, but it still takes all her focus, all her concentration. Her posture, her balance, her aim. Her aim. She's got to aim...

And then she's on the other side, and her opponent isn't racing towards her anymore. And she's still on Harrowheart. Was it really so quick? Is she really ok? She looks over herself, and then Harrowheart, and then around to Sulu in a daze.

When you're the steed, the hardest part of the joust is stopping. With his head so near the ground, he can't see the action. There's only the sudden crash of lances against armor, and then it's all over. Harrowheart drags his claws through the ground and skids to a stop, then turns, ears perked, to assess the damage. Runa is still on his back. So...

"Did we win?"

In the instant the signal drops several things happen at once. The lovely voiced woman who called back to him settles on her terrifying mount in all of her heavyset armor and both of them come barreling down the pitch as Sulu urges forward Jim's bike. The man's never been more grateful for a face covering helm because his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates watching her charge him.

Her lance connects with his chest before he's even remembered what they're doing. His own bounces harmlessly off of Runa and flies out of his hands for how unprepared he was for contact. He's on the ground rolling to his side and gasping for air as it's knocked from his lungs while Jim's bike cuts off and fishtails in the grass before coming to a stop.

This? This is almost preferable. Shock and a bit of pain are at least known companions to a man who has never faced down actual monsters before. He's safe here, curled up on his side and reminding himself how to breathe. Safe...but not finished. Reason only filters back in after everything is said and done. He could have--should have-- done better there. Has to do this at lease once more, even.

The knights' squires are quick to go and make sure everyone's alright. Although Runa might find them calling to her from a bit of a distance. They're well within pouncing distance yet but they feel a bit safer not getting Too close to the giant worgen she's riding. Sulu pushes himself to his feet before anyone has to help him up. His pride's bruised enough after freezing up like some new cadet still in their Academy Reds.

"Fine, I...I'm fine. Where's my lance?" He just needs to gather everything up again before he'll wave off toward where Runa's at. Not throwing in the towel just yet.

After practising Isidor is feeling much more comfortable about all of this. Her armour has plenty of freedom, and she's found the best way to hold the lance that gives her maximum support without risking internal damage. By the time the first match starts, she's much more relaxed about the whole thing.

Of course, now isn't the times to be relaxed.

From the sidelines she watches the first match as it unfolds. Lances smashing, opponents crashing. She's soon cheering and roaring with the rest of the crowd. It sends adrenaline searing through her veins and she finds it impossible to stay still any longer. Until it's her turn, she practices what she can, tries not to burn through all of her energy, but wants desperately to go and fight.

The second she's told she's up next, Isidor swings up onto her mount. Integrity isn't the most feisty bird, but with Isidor's encouragement she all but rushes to the starting point. The Durant patron does her best to calm down when she's preparing herself, but she's eager to see who she's up against. She's ready. She's ready to win!

Isidor cuts an imposing figure with her polished black armor and predatory mount, but she's not the only one who got all dressed up for this. Trotting up to the opposite marker is a knight clad in sleek gold and green armor, glittering in the sunlight. The grey destrier she rides seems remarkably calm facing the giant bird across the field, though he does toss his head and snort at the smell, his green caparison fluttering.

The squires announce: "Lady Isidor Durant against Sir Yolande Hawkwood of Glenumbra." Across from her, the knight's crested helm tilts as she inclines her head and lifts her lance in salute. They're far too distant to see the way Yolande's narrowed eyes take in the gryphon and her rider, or the sharp curve of the smile she wears. This is a match like none in Tamriel, and she's a woman who's always had a lot to prove. No less so on the jousting field.

As soon as the banner drops, she's spurring her war horse into a charge. He springs forward readily, hooves thundering towards Isidor- and that lance lowering into a deadly threat.

The glinting armour and the horse's matching covering suggest one thing: This opponent has experience. Isidor steels herself in the face of this reasonably safe assumption. It doesn't matter, though, she has to win. The greatest difficulty is in not using magic to help her. Just to nudge the other's lance a fraction, or keep her own on point. Now that would be easy, but she pushes those thoughts out of her head. Where would be the challenge in that? she tells herself, as if that's a good enough reason to play mundane.

It doesn't matter, though. She's good enough to win, and she will win. That's the only option here. A thought that comes just in time for the banner to fall.

Integrity charges forward and Isidor's heart skips a beat as they get over the first hurdle: Lowering the lance at the right point of the gryphon's bounding charge. Too often in her practice the weapon sped into the ground with the help of the rocking motions of her steed's gait, but not this time. This time she keeps it up and she fixes her sights on her opponent.

The heavy weight of the knight's lance pushes against her chest and then slips away, but she tightens her grip on her own lance as it hits her opponent... and then they've passed each other. She can hear the cheering, and she's still on her mount, but she catches her breath until she reaches the side opposite her starting point before she turns around to see how her opponent has faired.

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A Very Nexus Reception

First Match: Sir Celann vs. Ime Turnstone

Match: Dia'ndria Starfall vs Blaze-37

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Match: Harley Quinn vs Dia'ndria Starfall

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Liuetenant Sulu vs. Hunter Ime

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Match: Runa and Harrowheart vs. Liuetenant Sulu

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Match: Isidor Durant vs. Sir Yolande

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