Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Valentine Park

as written by Emperor Jester

Izaic wanted to press Luca harder on the topic. It was a good one after all, skinship and all that. There was no shame in it, despite their upbringings and the Order's rules. His mentor had told him something, long before the whispers of darkness began to spread from Paladin to Cleric to Proselyte. Kurtrin had told him to have fun. Live life. While he still could. He hadn't pressed the old warrior on what he had meant, but in all his years of knowing the Golden, the proselyte knew only one thing terrified that man. Only one name. The wisdom was hard to ignore, really. It was so sound. If there was any time to explore things normally forbidden from his life, this was it. The festival. Before winter took hold. Before daylight began to slip further and further away from them with each passing hour. Before the snows came.

Hell, in the days previous, he'd already done quite a bit. He had fought numerous times and won. He had defended his honor, however dishonorable his retort had been. He'd fucked, simply put. There would be a lot of people to talk to between now and the final sunset of autumn, and a lot of things to talk about. Izaic knew now was not the time to be petty.

But damn it, if he couldn't help being himself.

"Out...Out of ale?" The look on Izaic's face spoke volumes. His opinion of this girl had turned, on a dime, from affectionate to extremely annoyed, almost disgusted. "Alright. If you're going to lie about it, keep the drink for yourself. I'd rather not overload my body with a ridiculous amount of carbs and sugar." It was all the bully could do to keep himself from knocking the drink out of her hands and walk away in faux-anger, but he refrained. No sense in pushing an entire other group away completely.
 
as written by Peachy00Keen

Souci stopped dead in her tracks, her expression turning icy as a winter gale. Her delicate lips pursed tightly together into a very thin line and her eyes narrowed severely. She shoved the drink toward him, spilling a bit over the sides and into his lap as she did.
"Yeah, out of ale for asses like you!" she snapped. "It was a joke you moron. Get your own drinks in the future if you want something other than what's offered."

She popped up out of the seat and whirled around, knocking into him as she got up. With a huff and little else, Souci marched off into the fair grounds and was quickly lost in the crowd. She had left the receipt on the table next to Izaic, and it was now sitting with its corner soaking in a puddle of spilled root beer.

The receipt read:
Purchase: 1 lg Root Beer Float
Subtotal: $7.00
Tax: $0.07
Total: $7.07

Sorry I couldn't serve you the ale. Best of luck anyway. ; )
The note at the bottom had been neatly printed, handwritten by the lady at the stand.
 
as written by Script

A small sigh just barely escaped Luca's lips, marvelling at the ridiculousness of Souci's continued flirting. He restrained himself from rolling his eyes, but his brow did shoot up at Izaic's response. He was consistently surprised by how quickly the older proselyte's moods could seemingly change. He supposed that the 'out of ale' excuse had been a bit transparent. But worth such disdain? Perhaps not.

"I'm sure that no insult was meant, Izaic," he interjected softly. "There's no need to be quite so-"

He was interrupted by Souci's outburst, then, before he could complete his sentence. He winced at her storming off, and let out another, heavier sigh. Souci was certainly far from what he saw as a shining example of a proselyte, but he had no desire to see her upset.

"Well..." he rubbed at the back of his head awkwardly. "That was dramatic."
 
as written by Krysis

Pierette cackled in amusement, rocking on her barrel seat and almost in tears at Jimmy's reaction. Soon she grinned at him and explained, "Relax, I know who the father is, and let's just say that he and I are a perfect match for each other. Mostly I just said it that way to get rid of Celeste."

Then she jumped down from her perch so she could pull the neck of her shirt to one side and show... well, it didn't look like a bite. More like someone had very neatly punctured her skin shallowly in concentric circles on her shoulder, recently enough that they were just scabbed over. "Come on, Jimmy. Did you think that I wouldn't know?"

After that peek, the cloth got tucked back into place quickly, and then she was reaching for his arm to try to lead him a little further from possible eavesdroppers. "Certainly is a novel solution to the problem you were facing."
 
as written by Faithy

Mia grinned up at Neera at her embrace as well as the words spoken. The idea of getting training on areas that lacked experience and grace was an incredibly good one and she wished she would have entered this year. Stretching out a little while making sure not to knock Neera away, the eighteen-year-old couldn’t stop the snicker that slid through her lips, though she was fairly sure that the male hadn’t had his shots, not where Souci was concerned. She was definitely something else.

The grin quickly disappeared at Izaic’s outburst and Mia could already tell where this was about to go. Sure enough Souci took the male’s words just as expected and she just watched as Souci shoved the drink at the Proselyte before going off on him. Sweet Selene this was turning out terribly. When her friend stomped off, Mia glanced up at Neera.

“One of us or both need to go after her… who knows what she’ll do.” Mia shook her head, waiting for Neera while just shrugging at Luca. Dramatic was Souci’s middle name at times. It would probably be best if they both went, but upon occasion, Mia made a bad situation worse.

~*~*~*~​

His brow arched when she indicated not only that he wasn’t the father, which was a huge relief, but also made mention of someone else that was supposedly a perfect match for her. Was there such a man? Jimmy shook his head at the thought, fingers running through his hair before glancing at her exposed shoulder. He noted the very familiar puncture marks and wondered if Arien had bitten her too. No, certainly not. Thankfully, he was able to keep his expression mighty blank, something he gained from all those hours in boring classes.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pierette.” He answered easily enough, allowing her to lead him away from anyone that might be eavesdropping, though most everyone avoided him like the plague once they were informed he was the son of the wolf that went berserk at the Park.

“The doctor said I’ll be experiencing the effects of the bite and clawing within the next few days. I just came around for a final day before I curl up in my room and wait for my fate.” His voice was steady and he didn’t stutter in his words a bit, for all intent and purpose, it appeared as if he were speaking the truth.
 
as written by FizzGig

The social atmosphere turned chilly. Neera squeezed Mia's shoulders once, indicating that she'd go after their friend. She stood straight, grabbing a fistful of napkins out of the dispenser in the middle of the table before walking around and essentially dropping them into Izaic's lap. Her eyes were cold, lips pressed in a thin line.

Words bubbled to the surface, but she kept her tongue still against the venom, instead softly informing the table that she would go after Souci.

Glancing briefly to Luca, she turned and walked after her friend at a brisk but unhurried pace. She'd find Souci. She'd always find her, but she also knew her friend would need a minute to herself. Neera understood that better than most.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

It was hard for Izaic to decide on what sort of action he should take. On one hand, it was hard to not rise from his seat and backhand the uppity bitch. On the other, even the brute had to admit that maybe, just maybe, he'd over reacted, and ruined his chance to have some late night fun all. It was a bitter pill to swallow, made all the worse by the looks and reactions he'd gotten from the rest of his peers around him. Those same looks he had always seen. Those judgemental eyes.

The napkins would be used, and Izaic would remain eerily silent. While no one at the Monastery outside his mentor could hardly claim to really know the proselyte, it was easy to tell that this wasn't like him. No outburst. No curses. No clever rebuttals that cut too precisely and too deeply. None of it. Just a sullen quiet as he removed the remains of the float from his armor.
 
as written by FizzGig and Peachy00Keen

Souci stormed through the fairgrounds, brooding and murmuring to herself. Stupid boys and their stupid smug faces and their dumb manners-- "Who does he think he is anyway?" she murmured angrily under her breath. I can't believe I wasted my money on that... that scoundrel!
She stormed past the funnel cake stand and several other familiar faces. She glared daggers at any of them who dared look her way. Eventually, she wove her way out of the carnival area and into a more secluded, forested space. Sou jumped up and grabbed onto a low, sturdy-looking branch. Her boots scraped against the bark, chipping some away as she climbed up the tree. She ascended two or three branches before she wedged herself between a forked limb and the trunk. She sat there, arms crossed, her legs dangling down. She let the clunky soles of her shoes thump against the wood of the massive tree.
"Stupid freaking boys..." she grumbled, swearing quietly under her breath at the end of the statement.

Neera wandered behind, barely catching sight of Souci's wild hair as she wound through concessions and barrelled through crowds of innocent bystanders. It wasn't until she disappeared into the treeline that Neera sped up a little, concern for whatever might lurk in the shadows spurring her more quickly onward.
She hesitated when she came to the edge of the forest, her brow furrowed as she paused to listen. Not too far off, she heard faint grumblings, and the sound of heavy shoes thumping against a tree trunk.
Moving forward, Neera kept her eye on the treeline above until she caught sight of Souci's shoes. Rather than climb up to meet her, Neera cleared her throat and sat down at the base of the tree, wrapping her arms around her knees and looking back towards the festival.
"You shouldn't be alone out here." she said after a minute. "It isn't safe."

Souci grumbled something incoherent in response.
She was silent for a moment after that and thumped her heavy shoes some more, a bit louder this time.
"I don't care about safe," she finally muttered, barely loud enough for Neera to hear her. "All I care about is containing myself long enough and well enough to not go slug Izaic in his big dumb face... and maybe break his other arm..." Souci shifted positions and leaned over the side of the branch, directing her voice toward Neera. "That stupid drink was seven dollars. That's a lot! And I did try to get the booze for him. I wasn't about to use my ID, but I lied for the little creep, and he had the gall to spit it back in my face when I tried to be cute about it, the big ugly oaf."

Neera sighed softly, glancing up to her friend with an unusually tender expression on her face. Sometimes it didn't work to tell Souci that something wasn't going to end well right from the start. Sometimes she had to sit back and let her do some stupid stuff so that she'd eventually learn.
It didn't mean watching her learn the lesson was enjoyable, not at all. Neera hated to see Souci hurting, and under the anger, her friend was definitely a bit wounded.
"I would have shared the float with you." she pointed out. "And split the cost, to boot."

Souci was quiet for a moment.
"Can we go do some carnival games first? I'm honestly not sure I'm in the mood for a root beer float... I'd rather hit stuff." She sneered as she said it, not sure if it came through in her voice and not caring either way.
Shifting off the branch and swinging one leg after the other down the ladder of boughs, eventually, Souci made her way back down to the ground, landing beside Neera with a soft thud. She leaned back against the tree and huffed, still upset about Izaic but grateful that her friend had showed up. "At least cede to me that he's a pompous fool. At least give me the satisfaction of your agreement there..."

"Souci I knew that before you started flirting with him." Neera said quietly, giving her a look.

She looked away, taking sudden interest in a pinecone on the ground beside her left foot. "Yeah, well..." she trailed off briefly. "I... I kind of have a type, don't I...?" she sighed.

"No, I don't. That sounds like you're resigning yourself to failure, and that doesn't sound like you at all." Neera looked away from her, out towards the woods now with an odd expression on her face.
"Don't make excuses, Sou. You do have a choice in this, and you're smart enough to make the right one in the end." she sighed. "You just...choose not to half the time."

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Well I don't want to miss out on the fun of life before I have to sign away my soul and become a paladin, another pawn of the church and savior of mankind! It's not my fault guys are pricks!" She lowered her hands and placed them defiantly on her hips. "It's either play with them or ignore them. There's no other way to deal with them. They're basically animals, at least from what I've seen."

Neera had to bite down on her tongue, hard.
She took a second, tasting metal for a brief moment, and sighed, letting her shoulders relax.
"Izaic is a challenging person to deal with. There are men out there worth pursuit, but unfortunately given the nature of what it is that we do...it ends almost as soon as it begins." She trailed off for a moment, becoming unusually thoughtful.
"So, perhaps the only reason why you haven't found someone decent to direct your attentions towards is because the decent men are the ones who are focussed on their training, and dedicated to the Order." Her cheeks colored a bit.
"Duty before love." she murmured after a moment.

Souci narrowed her eyes, analyzing Neera. "Uh-huh... Say, is there something you're not telling me...?" Her eyes focused intently on the hint of color that had graced her friend's face.

"There's a lot of things I don't tell people." Neera replied simply, looking up at Souci.

She perked an eyebrow suspiciously. She wasn't about to prod, but Souci made a mental note to keep an eye out for clues as to what might be going on. Did Neera have a crush or something?
"Well, regardless, I'm beginning to think guys are a waste of time. Maybe it's a good thing I'm in the Order. I can kick ass and take names without having to feel bad about the name attatched to the pretty face, because I can just assume he's another hard-hearted jerkwad." Souci thumbed back toward the carnival. "Wanna play some games?"

Neera was watching Souci's face, noting her expression. Her friend was no idiot, as foolish as she liked to act around their friends. She felt anxiety stirring in her gut but kept her expression in check, standing to her feet and dusting the dirt and leaves from her skirt.
"I think the sooner we all come to that realization the better off we'll be." she agreed, reaching to take Souci's hand in a private, tender gesture.
"I'm good with that. I heard they have a paladin up in the dunk tank." She eyed Souci playfully.

"OH MY GOSH, CAN WE??" she practically squealed, dropping all previous gravity and discussion as if it had never happened. She took off in a trot in the direction of the festivities, dragging Neera along with her. "Come on, lets goooooooo!"
 
as written by Script

Luca had offered Neera a sympathetic smile as she set off after Souci. In the briefly awkward silence that followed, he cleared his throat pointedly. "Well, in any case. If I want a good seat to watch the shooting, I should go over there now." A pause. "Would you care to join me, Izaic? You're welcome too, of course, Mia. I'm sure the other two will figure out where we've gone if they look for us."

He smiled to both of the other proselytes, trying not to let the pointless drama interfere with the positive atmosphere too much.

Honestly, there was a reason why they were discouraged from attempts at romance, especially within the ranks.
 
as written by Krysis

She didn't intend to take him far, counting on the murmur of the crowd and just not being directly in the walkways to cover their low voices. Pierette shook her head slowly and grinned at the former proselyte, "Jimmy, you've gotten to be a good liar. Most people would be fooled."

Her hand specifically pressed over where Jimmy's father had bitten him, as if she knew where it was despite having not been a witness to his injuries at the time. A knowing smile curled her dark lavender lips as she gazed up at her friend. "Look out for those that can see beyond the normal range of things. Real werewolves, animancers, some necromancers, and the occasional beyond-human that you find on Valore all can tell. Not only when you lie, but what you were, and what you are, are all plainly visible to me." Which was a bit of an exaggeration, but Perilous was counting on Jimmy being too new to his gifts to know that she was still learning her own as well.

Then her other hand slid up Jimmy's arm to cup the side of his neck as she whispered, "I think you fucked up, honestly, and picked the wrong side. It is not yet too late to give your allegiance to someone who deserves our loyalty though. You still have time to find out just how screwed most of the powers-that-be are."
 
as written by Faithy

It was sad how one event completely ruined the fun they had been having. Glancing up and just nodding at Neera, Mia wasn’t surprised that the female was going to go after Souci. For some reason and maybe it was just how she was perceiving things, but she felt a third-wheel a lot of the time with the two of them, as if they had managed to become closer with each other than they were with her. Stretching out her body, she remained silent as Neera dropped napkins into Izaic’s lap before stalking off. She knew there were a million and one things her bud wanted to say, but thankfully not a word was spoken.

“You’ll know where to find me…” Mia called out after her friend, watching her disappear into the crowd before she returned her attention to the two males that were left. Thankfully the brute didn’t say anything and remained silent as he cleaned himself up, which was probably best because she would not stay her tongue if he spoke poorly of Souci. Instead, she focused on Luca, not sure if she wanted to go with him if Izaic did. Then again, sticking around her alone or with the other male wasn’t a delightful idea either.

“I’ll come with you, Luca. I wanted to see the shooting anyways. Need to know what I’ll possibly be up against next year.” If there’s a next year… Shaking off her negative thoughts, she slid up to her feet, once again stretching out her body.

~*~*~*~​

Jimmy’s brow arched slightly at her words, paying no attention to where Pierette’s hand rested despite how unnerving it was that she knew exactly where the bite had been, it still bandaged up and hidden beneath his shirt sleeve. He continued to feign ignorance at her words, realizing he was absolutely in over his head. Where was Arien or the twins when he needed them the most. He had no idea that she was able to see things that most couldn’t and that worried him, especially when she mentioned who else would be able to tell he wasn’t human. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, the Proselyte sighed heavily, his shoulders rolling back to ease the tension.

“Whatever you think I am, Pierette, you are mistaken. Your gifts are incorrect.” He kept up the same façade, his fingers running through his hair to push the strands out of his eyes. He needed a damn haircut was what he really needed, not all of this stress and nonsense that seemed to be occurring constantly. When he felt her hand on his neck, his eyes shifted towards hers and he shook his head.

“There are no sides, Pierette. There’s just death and destruction. As for loyalty? Hah. I’ve been raised in a Monastery my whole life. There’s liars and monsters everywhere. I know what goes bump in the night and like anyone around here, I believe in monsters, but I’m loyal to none.” Jimmy shook his head, pulling away from Pierette.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Izaic would narrow his eyes at Luca before standing from his seat, grabbing at both his weapons with a tisk of disdain. "No, I think I'll go by myself. I was going to participate, but I can't risk straining this arm any further. The two of you have fun or whatever it is you all were doing before I showed up." One blade would be attached to the belt looped around the mid-section of his armor, and the other slung over his shoulder, the older proselyte struggling slightly due to his handicap. This was not how he had wanted this day to turn out in the slightest.

"On second thought, I think I'll go back to the Monastery instead. Get a head start on some physical therapy, get a shower, some food. Seems like a better idea than sticking around here anyway. Let me know who wins next time you see me."

And with that, Izaic would leave, disappointed in himself, and the hopes he had for socialization.
 
as written by Script

"Alright," Luca frowned faintly at Izaic's decision, but didn't question it. "Until later, then."

He smiled faintly across at Mia then, shrugging. "I suppose it's just us, then," he remarked. "Let's get going."

Once Mia had joined him, Luca would set off in the direction of the shooting tournament, maintaining idle conversation as they walked.
 
as written by Krysis

"Sure. I'm wrong. That does seem to be the safest thing to say." Pierette laughed, that harsh edge to her mirth again. Her knowing smirk didn't fade until she let go and stepped back from the teenager while he was pulling away.

Her expression was grim briefly as she spoke seriously, "There are sides, Jimmy. I hope you and I will be on the same one in the future. For now, I am willing to part peacefully. You have my number if you find yourself in over your head."

The dyed-hair girl shook her head, and then gave a smokier version of her smirk. "I was hoping to have you again, but it doesn't seem to be in the cards." She lifted one hand, not quite a wave, to mark their amicable separation as she headed off in the same direction that Celeste had gone.
 
as written by Faithy

Her brow arched at Izaic’s quick departure, but Mia didn’t bother saying anything to the brute. From the rumors she heard, he wasn’t someone that should be messed with and when he made up his mind, there was no changing it. Realizing that meant she was alone with Luca, the blonde swallowed hard and tried desperately not to blush. He wasn’t interested in her anyways and it was stupid to try and get any further with him. She wasn’t as brave or brazen as Souci, but was working on it.

“Good luck training, Izaic!” Mia called out after the Proselyte before walking with him over to the shooting event. She hoped that Neera had found Souci and that they’d come find her sooner than later. If she didn’t know any better, she would think that Souci planned this somehow.

“I’m sorry for my indecent clothing, Luca. I just wanted to get tanned and needed to expose a great deal of flesh to achieve my wishes.”

~*~*~*~​

The sickening sensation that had started to well up when Pierette started talking to him seemed to intensify the more she said. There were so many layers within her words that he wondered if he had signed his death warrant. He wanted to ask her what side she had chosen, but couldn’t find the words. Instead he just chewed on the inside of his cheek, glancing down at his front pocket where his cell had been crammed.

“Yeah, I still have your number and as much as I’d like to spend time like that with you again… I don’t think that’s wise with you being pregnant with someone else’s baby.” He shook his head as she walked off, wondering who the father of her child was, though he had a feeling sooner or later he’d find out.

“Damn it…” Moving over to where the shooting event was going to be, he slid his fingers through his hair, wondering if it was time to say goodbye to his friends and leave the Monastery before he was outed.
 
as written by Ronin and Script

The fourth day of the Aurellae was growing cloudy and blustery, the local news projecting a storm to hit the city sometime in the evening. Some had wondered if the shooting contest would be cancelled, but by noon the winds diminished and the officials declared that the tournament would go on. Many gathered in the stands overlooking a wide grassy field as the contestants set up their equipment at the tables in the center.

There were three phases to the trial: the 50 meter pistol, the 200 meter rifle and the 1000 meter long-range rifle. All contestants would use the same weapons, three different guns for each trial. Each competitor would complete all three trials in one go.

Tristram Arodring was among those competing that day. The ecclesiarchal scribe fiddled with his wedding ring and looked over the pistols while his brother, Robert, narrowed his eyes down the field at a team of proselytes erecting targets.

"Still a bit of wind," the paladin glanced up at the stormy skies, "you'd do well to keep the bead a bit to the left."

Tristram shook his head. He was average height, but next to his brother the scribe seemed a dwarf. "I don't know why I'm competing here. You're the paladin. My weapon is the pen, not the gun."

Robert smiled. "You were always the better shot between the two of us, Tris. Besides, you know father. He wants an Arodring competing in every major tourney."

Tristram sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was young, handsome - a bit on the thinner side with the trademark sandy blonde hair and green eyes of the Arodring family. "Father's turned this into an ego contest, as usual." He picked up one of the rifles and began inspecting it. "I'll be glad when this is over."

Robert crossed his arms but said nothing. His eyes ventured to the stands, surveying the gathered crowds face-by-face.

"Giving a pep talk, Robert?" A familiar voice cut across the hum of the crowd, as Peregrine made his way over to the pair of brothers with a grin. He was clad finely, his shirt and trousers perhaps a touch tighter than might be considered 'proper' by monastery standards and showing off his slender, well defined figure. A colourful half-cape hung off of one shoulder, proudly displaying the colours of the Lacroix family, and a decorative holster rested at his hip complete with an ornate gilded pistol.

Close behind him followed Noah, the Warden with whom he and Robert had been working of late. The animancer was, as ever, dressed in the formal white garb of his order, and was practically projecting bored exasperation in an aura around him, his arms folded and his expression stony.

"I wouldn't bother," Peregrine went on, grinning. "I've got this one in the bag, after all."

He winked cheerily at Tristram to reassure him that his bravado was at least largely in jest. "Hawk by name and by eye, that's me."

"What a shame, then, that you're peacock by nature." Noah's dry remark came accompanied by a small smirk. It would seem his temperament was not so poor as it had first appeared. He nodded his head to Robert and Tristram in turn. "Good afternoon," he offered as greeting.

"Yes," Peregrine wiped the huffy glare that he'd directed at Noah from his face to return to smiling at the Arodring brothers. "Hello! I trust the day finds you both well enough?"
 
as written by glmstr

Amidst the bustling activity and endless festivity of the Auraella, the only ones that stood out were the stagnant and the plainly dressed. Simply standing in one of the squares brought about a cacophony of chatter, laughter, dance and merriment, while the colorful costumes and dancing performers provided a kaleidoscope of color to amaze even the weary elders, jaded paladins and fussy children.

However, on one of the curled steel benches sat a steep exception, wearing a rather plain yet well put together leather and linen overcoat, paired with matching slacks and shoes. His nose was firmly pressed into a book, likely a tome much older than many of the fair's attendees judging from the ornate spine and likely-arcane runes gilded in low relief along the front cover. The yellowed pages crinkled in protest whenever the reader turned them, but his delicate and practiced touch was able to prevent any lasting damage he could inflict by handling or reading them.

The only ones that might recognize the nearly-motionless figure would be those within the Order, particularly the proselytes. The young Abel Lachapelle grew quite notorious among his peers and instructors for not only his brilliance and reclusiveness, but also his peculiar interest in arts which the church largely ignored. Rather than animancy or other equivalents, Abel possessed a certain curiosity for the old arcane, of the witches and warlocks of Lornaine forest, of the druids and necromancers of Aanar, and even the elementalists of Caldonia. Something about them had hooked his curiosity once the more standard studies became monotonous and banal.

He was likely brought to the park against his will by someone else, but that other party was nowhere to be seen. After a considerable amount of time, he gently closed his reading material and gingerly lowered it into a messenger bag at his side, and skirted around the crowds to procure a cup of coffee. In less than a few minutes, he was planted back at his original spot on the same bench, but now simply drinking his brew and watching his fellow Lutetians lazily.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

It was obvious from the haggard looks around the old man's eyes that the recent nights had not been kind to him. In truth, no night for the past fifty or so years had been 'kind' to him. Nightmares and memories far worse would do that to a man, any man, no matter their mettle if they kept up an assault long enough. However, if sleep was not your friend, one could find other ways to spend the time. When he was younger, those other ways usually meant sparring or drinking with friends. As he got old, the sparring gave way to busy work, little things he could do without leaving his quarters, and drinking alone.

Last night's busy work had equated to polishing his goldish-bronze armor until it practically glowed. It was his name sake after all, the armor. It contributed to his Golden status just as much as his age, and what he had lived through. What he had accomplished.

Through the crowds he strolled, heavily scarred helmet tucked and carried under one arm, the other more focused on keeping an almost oversized flagon of ale from spilling as he navigated the throngs. Luckily for Kurtrin the Golden, most people gave him a respectful distance. He wandered with no sense of purpose, simply enjoying the smiling faces of his fellow Lutetians, their joy, their blissful ignorance. He could almost feel himself drowning in it. It was a familiar feeling for him, equal parts bitter jealousy and disappointed judgement.

In truth, he had no plans for this day at all. None whatsoever. For all intents and purposes, unless it was an emergency, he had declared himself 'unavailable' for any official duties. At his age, they tended to be more lenient about taking your own time off, whenever you wanted. He hoped, at the very least, to watch the proselytes compete today, perhaps cheer on the Swigelf boy or the Hogan girl, if they participated. The others too, of course, but Kurtrin had never been shy about showing his favoritism.
 
as written by Krysis

Of all the times to go first, the shooting contest was the worst for Celeste Hogan. Anything else, any other contest she was part of, there would have been someone else in the ring as well. Someone to compete against. Someone to focus on. Not so with the shooting contest. It was just her, the cold guns and the hot crowd.

The brunette proselyte tightened her ponytail with one hand as she waited for the signal to begin, pristine in the uniform that she had donned mere minutes before the contest was to start.

Even waiting for the signal, she almost missed it. The referee's starting pistol was almost drowned out by the crowd. A half beat late, Celeste sprinted to the first station...

~~~

Her score was good, but not perfect. High for a proselyte, very high, but missing the head or heart of the things they faced would mean that it could get up and kill again. A mistake that a paladin could not afford to make in the field.

Angry at herself, and somewhat mussed from sliding into the third station, the female proselyte took her place on the sidelines to see how the others would do.
 
as written by Ronin

"Perrin," Robert grinned from ear-to-ear, "looking dashing, as always, though I fear your bravado will do nothing to impair by brother's marksmanship."

"...it might," Tristram admitted with a sheepish grin, "...something intimidating about a man in a cape." He offered Peregrine a nod, much less invigorated than Robert's. "A pleasure, paladin. Robert's told me much about you."

"And Warden!" Robert smiled at Noah, "pleased to see you as well. Are you entering the shooting tourney?" He folded his arms over his chest. "I had the pleasure of watching you compete in the melee. Fine work, my friend. You're full of surprises."

They would continue talking for some time before, evidently, the tourney began. The 50 meter pistol consisted of three phases - a standing target, a moving target pulled along the grass by a track, and an aerial target launched by a pulley. Celeste Hogan performed quite well, followed by two more marksman, each of whom shot respectably but failed to match Hogan's score.

Next came Tristram. The scribe secured his earmuffs and goggles, approaching the stand and inspecting his pistol. He nodded at the referee. A moment later, the targets went up.

BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. The medium-caliber pistol roared through their targets - the standing target punched clean through the bullseye, the moving target marked slightly left of center, and the aerial target exploding in mid-air. The crowd applauded. Both the speed and accuracy of his shots earned Tristram the highest score yet, though he looked a bit annoyed at the missed bullseye on the second target and with his shooting time. Rifles were his forte, pistols not so much.

The scribe returned the firearms and walked back to the contestant's rest area.

"Well shot, Tris," Robert clapped his brother on the back.

Tristram groaned at the impact, rolling his shoulder forward. "Thanks. Not my best work." He looked at Peregrine, offering him a half-smile. "Watch that second one. I think it speeds up a bit on the track once it gets going."

---

As Abel assumed his seat, a teenager walked by and scowled at his smart phone. He looked about Abel's age, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and a hoodie.

"Damn, Valentine has awful wireless," he angled the device into the sky, looking at the proselyte out of the corner of his eye, "you getting any data here, dude?"

---

It wasn't long before Kurtin's gleaming armor attracted the attention of the civilians. One of the most prominent heroes of the Caer Skirmishes, Kurtrin was easily one of the most well-recognized paladins in Lutetia - not just for his deeds, but for his aesthetic. It was hard -not- to look noble in a suit like his.

"The Golden!" two young children raced for the striding knight, their exhausted mother in tow not far behind. "It's the Golden! The shining knight!" One looked to be about nine, neck craning up at the towering knight in clear awe. The other was maybe six, missing his right front tooth, and danced around the paladin like an exuberant puppy. He did most of the talking.

"Terrance, look it's really him!" he tugged at the shirt of his older brother, "I told you. I saw him five minutes ago but you didn't believe me!" His little fists shook. "Sir, you're the greatest knight who's every lived! I've read all the stories about you, from the skirmishes, when you took down a dozen bloodsuckers with nothing but your sword and a tire iron!" He made little 'slashing' motions with an invisible sword, fighting a horde of surrounding vampires. "And then and then! In the church! When you went up against her..."

"Alfred, that's enough," his mother finally caught up - a middle-aged woman with dark circles rimming her eyes. She smiled apologetically at the paladin. "I'm sorry, Sir. I tried to stop them but they slipped out of my hands - wouldn't stop looking at you. You must be very busy..." She moved to collect her young.
 
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