Jim Kirk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smartass_captain) wrote2019-12-07 04:26 pm
smartass_captain) wrote2019-12-07 04:26 pm
Entry tags:
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!))
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….
((Links to all relevent wedding Prose can be found Here!))
Send Forth Your Champions!
Now safety barricades have been set up in two rows down a long stretch of a nearby green. A squire is checking the poles of some bright bunting fluttering overhead. Guardian Tarana Parvin props a sign on its haft and drives it into the cold ground with one good drive of her armored fist, leaving it clear for all to read:
Lances Provided
Bring Your Own Mount
Sir Celann’s squire is setting up a board to hold the names of the contestants. The Breton chevaliers are fussing over their newly-arrived horses at one end of the field; on the other, a Hunter has her hover bike upturned while she tweaks its internals for the event. This isn’t the kind of mounted combat a Sparrow is designed for, but it should prove interesting - even before the rest of the Nexus picks their champions to send in. Of course, there’s also plenty of room on the sidelines for people to cheer, or laugh- or bet on their favorites…
(( Feel free to jump in as contestant or spectator; if your character wants to challenge someone specific, feel free, otherwise we’ll try and pair folks up for casual silliness. Medical aid will be on hand if needed ;) ))
Jim NO
stumbleswanders over to see what all the fuss is about, a mostly full bottle of whiskey still in his hand. Considering how much of it Jim and his Asgardian drinking buddy have had it really shouldn't be so full but who's counting right now?A grin spreads across Jim's face when he reads the sign (for the fourth time, and finally understood it). Who thought this up? They're geniuses. He needs them on his ship at once. Or maybe they already are his crew are pretty smart.
"Where d'we sign up?"
OBJECTION!
"Is that your first bottle?" she asks pointedly, while Celann's hurrying over. "You look three sheets to the wind already."
"
Three and a half, I'd say.""Captain! What do you think?" Celann is a little behind as he joins them, beaming beneath his mustache. "This ought to be marvelous fun, eh?"
Sorry Jim your rank means nothing to a Guardian
Doubly so when a familiar face arrives.
"I love it! Sign me up. I've got....a bike. Back in Iowa. Shouldn' take long to go get."
Not that a 'bike' will mean much to the knight but it's probably some sort of mount. Anyone who trusts this man with a PINpoint right now, much less a moving vehicle and Especially a non living one, is out of their minds.
HOLD IT MISTER :|
No Overrule here
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"Runa!"
And there she is! He hustles over to her and makes a show of puffing when he drops a heavy hand on her shoulder. After all that running he's going to need to hydrate. Better knock back that alcohol. Annnnd now he's good.
"Runa, whew, glad I found you. You know what I just saw? Joustin'. They got a joustin' competition goin' on! Runa, I really wanna joust, but, look... It says you gotta bring your own mount, and I ain't got one, so I was thinkin'..."
He jabs his thumb into his sternum, then points frantically at her. Him. Her! JOUST!
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"Jousting?!" That sounds amazing! That sounds like so much fun to watch!
She watches his hand go back and forth between them, her eyes going wide.
It could be way more fun to do.
Runa laughs again and then claps her hand over her mouth. "Us? Do you think I could do that? Do you think we could do that?"
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He pats her, then disengages from their half-hug to look her up and down. "If you're gonna be the knight, you're gonna want some kinda armor. You ever wore armor before? You know, my set oughta fit you..."
There's only a foot's height difference between them, after all.
"And you know how to ride a horse?"
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She makes her over the barricades near where the horses are being sequestered. A bright smile overtakes her face as she leans over and calls out to the chevalier. "Does one need to participate to handle the horses? Or might a lady be allowed a few moments with one to help warm them up before they're taken onto the field?"
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"Well, one surely needn't be a contestant to enjoy the affair. But, begging your pardon, my lady, may I ask who you are?" Most of the guests seem very respectable, after all (most of them, but Felix is one of the hosts), but those well-bred and well-trained coursers aren't cheap or readily replaceable.
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"Lady Amelia Ronsam. I'm a friend to both the grooms and a few of your men who have been posted here in the past." More "friend" than friend for the latter, but the distinction hardly matters. Amelia's smile grows a few notches brighter as she inclines her head and shoulders politely to Celann. "Might I have your name as well, friend? It would be impolite of me to speak to a perfect stranger when I can so easily ask his name."
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But this contest has caught her attention, almost certainly. If nothing else, out of curiosity as a spectator. She's heard of similar contests on various worlds, but this is interesting to see in person.
Of course, she still sticks out in a crowd, pale skin, dark hair, and a long black dress similar to the robes she usually wears--something she acquired in the Nexus, since she lacked any real dressy clothing.
Her lightsabers, of course, are strapped to her hips, since her paranoia prevents her from being without them.
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"Dia!" Doesn't take a Force-user's senses to hear that heavy tread coming. Blaze salutes to her as soon as the ex-Sith looks round, almost aglow with anticipation. "Are you going to ride in the joust?"
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After all, it's a very basic, functional, but still dressy-in-a-nice kind of way sort of dress. Really, her belt and lightsaber look out of place with it, but she's cautious to a point, and the weapon goes literally everywhere she does if she can help it.
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"Jousting! I have never jousted before!"
She arches up on her tiptoes to look around to the other mounts. Oh look... someone has a hover bike! That means...
"My motorbike would be allowed? Right?"
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Indeed, the Hunter over by her bike is twirling a laser cutter while her Ghost sweeps its gaze over the engine internals. Tarana goes on, "Training lances will be used for safety, but unless you have armor of your own, some will be provided."
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"I have armor of my own. Give me two minutes."
Harley uses her PINpoint to open a portal to her world. There she changes in her uniquely styled armor and gets her motorbike. When she returns through the portal, she is safely walking the motorbike, with a bright smile on her face.
"So where do you want this, so a Ghost can look at it?"
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It's a competition.
She tries to ignore it. For all of two minutes, but then tells the squire not to start anything without her. By the time she returns she's in jet black armour with its scaled motif. She needs to break it in anyway. Her steed has already been acquainted with her, but they, too, need practice together. Its feathers are ivory and its rear is golden, as a lion's should be. The jet black rider atop the gryphon is certainly A Sight to see.
Thankfully Integrity is more than used to manoeuvring around a bustling area, and even more thankfully they aren't going flying anywhere. So Isidor eventually manages to find her way back to a squire again. It's with wide, eager eyes that she says, "Tell me where to set up."
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It's only after she turns away that he remembers to squeak: "W-wait- sir, um, or my lady-" which is correct he doesn't know, "Your name! How shall I record you in the lists?"
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Her head snaps back round to the squire at his question. The stammering gets another quirked grin. At this point she's more than used to being mistaken for nobility. Her family is rich, old, and well established enough to blend in beautifully with lords, viscounts, dukes and all the rest.
"Isidor Durant. Just Isidor Durant."
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First Match: Sir Celann vs. Ime Turnstone
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. ;) )
Match: Dia'ndria Starfall vs Blaze-37
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.
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Match: Harley Quinn vs Dia'ndria Starfall
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.
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Liuetenant Sulu vs. Hunter Ime
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."
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Match: Runa and Harrowheart vs. Liuetenant Sulu
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!
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Match: Isidor Durant vs. Sir Yolande
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!
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