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kingdomcomes2017-10-01 04:06 pm
loveskulls) wrote in kingdomcomes2017-10-01 04:06 pm
Entry tags:
The Harvest Faire: October Catch-All!
[ As the sun rises at the start of the month, a forest of colorful tents arises outside the city gates. It is not an enemy encampment, though, unless you hate fun. Then yes, it is an enemy encampment. Fun is assaulting the Kingdom in full force, as Harvest Faire fever sweeps across the nation. ]
[ You may join crowds of eager people on the initial days, or wait until the mania has died down to a more casual flow—but either way, there’s a lot to see and do at the faire. It all has to do with people trying to sell you on their religions by showing you their October Best in holidays, but the people of the Kingdom know that if they’re boring or too hard with their sales, no one will come back. So expect a fun, full immersion experience into this or that cult! Food, beverage, and substances will be provided, along with any props you may need to participate. ]
[ Or, I guess, find opportunities to get paid to be a carny, if money is more your speed than fun. ]
[ Cults are on a rotating schedule, so they won’t be the same every day, but eager acolytes will be glad to tell you when they’ll be back in the tent again, so you’ll be welcome to come back again. Maybe even bring a friend along with you? They’re often all smiles on the advertising side, no matter how macabre or dark their faith may be. ]
[ And hey, look, on some days, there’s empty tents... ]
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OOC Event Information | NPC Threads
[ You may join crowds of eager people on the initial days, or wait until the mania has died down to a more casual flow—but either way, there’s a lot to see and do at the faire. It all has to do with people trying to sell you on their religions by showing you their October Best in holidays, but the people of the Kingdom know that if they’re boring or too hard with their sales, no one will come back. So expect a fun, full immersion experience into this or that cult! Food, beverage, and substances will be provided, along with any props you may need to participate. ]
[ Or, I guess, find opportunities to get paid to be a carny, if money is more your speed than fun. ]
[ Cults are on a rotating schedule, so they won’t be the same every day, but eager acolytes will be glad to tell you when they’ll be back in the tent again, so you’ll be welcome to come back again. Maybe even bring a friend along with you? They’re often all smiles on the advertising side, no matter how macabre or dark their faith may be. ]
[ And hey, look, on some days, there’s empty tents... ]
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OOC Event Information | NPC Threads
no subject
[Well, that's not exactly a subtle advantage to him. But she's not backing down, so she clears her throat, scrutinising the line of people.]
She will judge. [Pointing to a woman of about her own age.] If she wishes it.
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Meanwhile, the woman Éoywn has chosen bows. She looks sincerely honoured to have been chosen by one of the Mistress's people... but regardless of that, she still wants to get paid, and so of course she'll have to obey a few pre-established rules.
Kaphlar made quite sure to only get people who wouldn't consider the possibility of him running off with the money for a single moment, too. Pretty sweet deal, in his view.]
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[But she isn't going to fight it. She'll probably lose, regardless of her skill, with one of his people judging, but it would be unseemly to make a fuss over it.]
[Instead, she just folds her arms back over her chest, staring him down.]
The rules?
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No holds barred. All that matters is utterly destroying your opponent with, as they say, "sick rhymes". That's sick as in really good, mind you.
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[Her expression probably makes it pretty clear what Éowyn thinks of that turn of phrase, and it is decidedly not "sick".]
Then who will begin?
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And then he opens his mouth.]
Well, if you're not taking the initiative, then let me step in and - [he squiiints] - show you what a primitive p... prerogative you're trapped in!
[IT'S COOL. HE'S GOT THIS.]
Excuuuse me, princess, don't you accuuuse me of all that crap or [uhhhhh] anything... less!
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[She takes a deep breath, and launches into it. Her tone is more "poet declaiming an epic lay" than "sick rap battle", but that's to be expected, right?]
Princess he names me, in poor poetry shames me,
Paling and puling, ailing spirit... [come on what rhymes with puling] ...seeks ruling,
Envy sickens him, the trickster tricking him...self
So aye, name me princess, thou shame to the shameless
I know it burns thee, the knowledge that turns thee
Rule thou wouldst claim, but misrule all thy fame
I need not accuse thee, thy screed truthful proves me
Fool in word, fool in deed, poor cur without creed
Rhyme, rhythm, or rule
Run thee ragged, poor fool.
[Hey, she's getting the hang of this.]
no subject
His eyes narrow with spite. The impressed look on his assistants' faces does not escape his notice.]
'Sfunny you're calling me a trickster when you don't know the half of it, the... truth of it, the real power of this "fool" you're messing with!
[His teeth are bared, but in truth, she hasn't hit him where it hurts the most yet. If he were REALLY angry, any attempts at poetry would fly out the window.]
Look at her all high and mighty, strutting around like tonight she's... [fuck, uh] not... gonna... [ah!] be thinking of the man she thinks she hates, the one who stands on top, the cream of the crop, the immortal flame that burns while the clock turns!
no subject
[Even if the part about thinking of him is uncomfortably plausible. Good thing she can manage a half-decent poker face when she has to.]
[She scoffs, the corner of her mouth curling into a scornful smile.]
Name thyself flame, but one burning with shame
Pass on the blame, I know many the same
Men who think themselves high, none of us sigh
For the man making much of a spirit not such
Thy lies coming thick, thy truths never show
My eyes are more quick, and this I know:
You ne'er stand on top, but will glad lay below.
["You're totally a sub" is an insult, right?]
no subject
Shut--!
[Focus. FOCUS.]
Shut your mouth, turn and go... south, take your poetry and your... the fuck rhymes with...?!
[God fucking DAMMIT. He takes the nearest solid object, which happens to be the little box he's been collecting "donations" in, and swings it at Éowyn's head, because clearly the best and most reasonable way out of this is to give her short-term amnesia.]
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You concede, then?
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This isn't over yet. Laugh while you can.
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[Yeah, she's enjoying this more the angrier he gets. She shifts her weight to one foot, hand on her hip, and gestures to his chair.]
Have you more to say, or shall I take my seat now?
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No.
[His tone is bitter and cold.]
The seat is for the people who've come victorious in competitions of wit, cunning and strength. Not or.
no subject