The Arconian Open

[Swordsman]

You're beautiful!

[Moonitic]

I HATE BLUSHING!

Take it back!

[Moonitic]

Okay, back to the story...Lady Moon thanks you for your kind words (& Moonitic thinks you're nuts!).

Yes, Ken-Dall, ousted princess of Schoolcraftia, hated the feeling of helplessness that this handsome stranger had caused. She had to be in control at all times, and this young man threw her entire world into a dizzying spin. She walked quickly away from him, fighting the urge to turn & run to him. To find out who he was.

But she had a tournament to prepare for. She was fair with the sword, and hoped that she could match her dear sister's style. To win the tournament, she would be queen. Perhaps there was a place at court for the young man with the piercing eyes. She smiled at the thought. Perhaps there was a place beside her. Ken-Dall shook her head. She simply had to stop daydreaming! If she were hurt, her plans would not be fulfilled. She found a quiet place to prepare. But a swirl of thoughts filled her mind. The young man, the upcoming banquet...and the fact that she, as Lady Moon, would have to entertain the guests with a tale. Oh well, when she went up to dress for the banquet, she would merely rifle through her sister's things and see if she could find a suitable piece.

She simply could not concentrate, however, and decided to seek the young man out. With her curiosity quenched, she might feel better. In the crush of people, she searched him out.

[Darion McNair]

Darion had had it with all this waiting and decided to wander about and investigate the local merchants. He stood and as he made across the tournament area he tried to shake the depression that was trying so hard to reduce him to nothing. He wanted to be in top form of course, and he knew he couldn’t afford to be distracted, lest the whole of his concentration be shattered.

Yet in some cases he didn’t mind so much, for instance, musing about that woman he’d seen earlier. True he’d had his share of experience with women but something about her made her stand out. The way she carried herself was so measured and calculated that Darion thought she might be nobility. If that were the case she certainly would have no time for him. The one thing he feared was that in the split second they made eye contact he gave something away about himself even though he said nothing.

A fruit stand caught his eye and he began to wander in that direction. He hadn’t had anything to eat since the morning and his stomach was getting uncomfortably empty. His eyes scanned over the variety of fresh produce. He really didn’t care what he ate as long as it filled him up.

“Try the apples, I just had one and they’re delicious.” A voice next to him said.

“I guess I will, thanks.” he replied quite obliviously. Glancing over he was shocked to realize that the very woman that occupied his thoughts was standing before him. He stood there a moment before his wits grabbed him. “Uh. . . good afternoon mu-lady.” he nodded, the nod became a bow, something he himself did not expect.

“Hello” she replied, gracing him with a smile. “You don’t look like you belong in Arconia. Where exactly are you from?”

“Oh, my homeland is a long way from here mu-lady, a region called Bosconia. May I ask, are you entering in the tournament today?”

“Yes actually, I am. You may call me Ke…...Lady Moon. And your name would be?”

“Darion McNair at your service.” He bowed again. “And I have also entered the tournament though I can’t say I hope to bout you.” He grabbed an apple and threw down some money. A smirk crossed his lips as he turned and started to walk off.

“And why is that?” She demanded, catching up to him.

“Because if your skill so much as matches your beauty I don’t have a chance.”

“Flattery will get you no where.” she returned, bluntly.

“On the contrary, it got me AND you from the fruit stand walking in this direction.”

“True.” She said, not knowing what else to say. There was a moment or two of silence.

“I apologize Lady Moon.” He replied, much more seriously now. “I’m never this free with my speech there’s just something about you that puts me incredibly at ease.” That’s all that was said, there was more silence but more than anything Darion wanted her to say something.

[Moonitic]

These strange feelings that Ken-Dall experienced did not put her at ease. She felt tense. Nervous. "I..." She did not know what to say. "I hope to see you at banquet tonight. I must...go." Flustered, she ran off, cursing herself for acting TOO much like her foolish softhearted sister. She had to go collect her thoughts. Yes, that would be the best.

Unbeknownst to her, someone watched the exchange. Lord Tellurine smiled a greasy smile as he watched her hurry away.

[Lord Tellurine]

Lord Tellurine didn’t like it when Ken-Dall smiled. It reminded him too much of Lady Moon. This little love affair of hers was not acceptable to him. If he were to lose the tournament, which he had to admit was a possibility, and Ken-Dall as Lady Moon were to lose, which he was almost certain of, then the only plan he still had was her marrying Meekal when he returned from his quest to find King Arcon so that Schoolcraftia and Muu could join, fulfilling a desire of the King of Muu that Lord Tellurine wished to make come true. And if she was going to marry Meekal, then she couldn’t date. Not even fly-by-night tournament competitors. Dressed still as Sven Lutefisk, Lord Tellurine ran up to the young man Ken-Dall had just left.

“Excuse me,” the orange-skinned Tellurine said to the man, “but who was that you were talking to?”

The young man took a moment to examine Tellurine as Sven. “Er, that was Lady Moon,” he said.

“So that’s the name she told you, huh?” he said with mock surprise. “She told me her name was Ken-Dall.”

“I’m sorry?” asked the young man.

“From what I hear,” said Tellurine with a lowered voice, “she’s a common criminal who’s been lying her way across Arconia.” He lowered his voice further. “If I were you I wouldn’t get involved with her. She’s trouble.” He gave him an orange wink and slithered away, leaving the young man to wonder what had just happened.

[Darion McNair]

The stunned expression remained for several heart beats, the severity of the man’s statement rolling over in his mind. He wanted to ask the man more about what he said but looked around only to find that he was nowhere to be found.

“Great.” he thought to himself. “The first girl in a while that I feel comfortable with and not only does she run off, I get told she’s a criminal! Sometimes I worry about my taste.” Darion rested his hands on his sword hilt. Suddenly he shook his head, as if trying to erase doubt from his mind. He had never been easily impressionable, especially ideas he didn’t accept willingly.

“I’m free to do as I please.” He began murmuring to himself. He began walking back to his spot in the tournament area. “I don’t know if she’s a criminal and I’m going to treat her accordingly. If I find out she is, well I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

He didn’t think it mattered anyway. She had run off and left him standing there. . . .but she say she hoped to see him at the banquet. He spirits were lifted a bit. This wasn’t the end.

He noticed a well dressed herald approach the entrance of the tournament area. The herald, a young boy held a piece of parchment. Taking a deep breath he announced: “Hear Ye! Registration will close in forty-five minutes! All who still wish to enter should do so soon!”

“Good.” He thought. “It’s almost time. That’s it, no more chasing mysterious girls for now. Till this is over, the only one I want to be close to is my blade.”

[Lord Tellurine]

The night before the day of the tournament to find a new king for Arconia there was to be a grand feast… or more aptly described, a Super Grand Mega Feast, the likes of which had never been tried in Arconia. Or as Nani would call it, “A pain in my derriere.”

Nani was less a cook and more a general the evening of the banquet. Because Queen Zelda had insisted that every person competing in the tournament was to be given a meal the night before the contest was to begin, the event had to be held in the newly built tournament stadium just to hold everybody. That meant Nani was supervising large fire pits near the stadium where pig, goose, and ox were being cooked and bringing in food from the castle kitchens such as roasted vegetables, breads, and soups. Every castle servant was being utilized in the food preparations from the chambermaids to the gardeners.

Gladys and Michael Wesley were on pastry patrol. Four tables were set up just outside of the stadium and were packed with the most delicious looking baked goods ever assembled in Arconia. They were prime targets for thieves, hungry soldiers, and greedy tournament goers. It was up to Gladys and Michael to protect them.

“These tarts are delicious,” said Michael, talking between chews and through a mouth full of raspberry tart.

“Michael!” snapped Gladys. “We’re supposed to be keeping these desserts safe!”

“I can think of no safer place,” Michael explained, while licking each of his raspberry covered fingers, “then my stomach.”

“These are for the guests attending the banquet! Not for our stomachs!”

“Nobody’s perfect,” he said with as much innocence as he could muster.

“That’s very apparent,” she agreed. “It’s up to us to protect these from thieves, crooks, and undesirables.”

“Hello, Wesleys,” came an oily voice. They turned and saw Silas von Schmect, grandson to Baron and Baroness von Schmect. Years ago when they had a farm on von Schmect land Silas would come by to collect the von Schmect share of the crop. It looked like he was carrying an armful of tablecloths.

“Silas von Schmect,” intoned Michael without hiding his disgust. He took a moment to look him over and then he smiled broadly. “Are you carrying tablecloths?”

“Yes,” he admitted sheepishly. “Due to an altercation I was involved in at the Bitter End Pub I have been reduced to menial labor.” He saw Michael and Gladys stifle a laugh. He countered it with a booming, “And when my grandparents the Baron and the Baroness get here I’ll make sure to tell them all about the way YOUR Queen Zelda embarrassed me like this! And when I’m King I’ll make sure she’s the first one I throw into the dungeon! She has got to be the worst queen Arconia has ever had and the day King Arcon was lost was the greatest day Arconia could have! I can’t wait to tell my grandparents how I‘ve been treated here!”

Gladys smiled and picked up a blueberry pie. “When you talk to your grandparents, make sure you mention this.”

“Mention what?” Silas asked.

Gladys pushed the pie into Silas’s face. Bits of blueberry filling fell onto the tablecloths he was carrying. He screamed, “You imbeciles! Look what you’ve done! Nani told me that if I get these tablecloths dirty she’d tan my hide!” He turned and began running back up to the castle. He shouted as he left, “I’ll make sure you two are the second people going into the dungeon when I’m king!” The blue-faced Silas disappeared behind a hill.

Michael smiled at his wife and said, “I thought we were supposed to protect these goodies.”

She shrugged and replied, “Nobody’s perfect.”

<small>[ 07-09-2002, 09:45 AM: Message edited by: Lord Tellurine ]</small>

[Zelda]

The Queen had witnessed the altercation between the Weasleys and Silas and quietly smiled to herself. Ufortunately bad attitudes run in that family she thought to herself as she made her way down to the feast.

[Darion McNair]

The feast was prepared, set out, and the competitors were just beginning to arrive. Most of them stopped and stared in amazement at the shear amount of food beautifully enhancing the banquet table. One by one, even two by two they took their seats and waited for Queen Zelda to come and say a few words.

From Darion’s seat in more or less the middle of the very long table he could see quite a lot of people he recognized as they walked in. Just then a servant approached him from behind.

“What will you have to drink sir? The queen has permitted it, though you may not eat yet until after her speech.”

“Water please.” he replied, not wanting to have any ale before the competition. He handed the servant his empty goblet, the servant scurrying off to fill it up. The Bosconian native sat back in his chair and lazily observed the other competitors as they took their seats. He saw the man who had warned him about Lady Moon, or Ken-Dall or whatever her name is. He sat on the far side of the table. Darion figured it was too late to ask him any questions about what he said earlier.

They came more frequently now and it became more difficult to pick out people. He did notice the heavy set man whom he had talked to earlier. Also, a rather shady looking character dressed in all black sat a few seats down from Darion himself.

The servant returned with his water and he took a small drink. Upon putting the goblet down he saw Lady Moon enter the banquet hall. Not many had taken notice of him as they entered the hall (which was the way he liked it) but she certainly did, looking right at him for before taking her seat. What bothered him however was not that she didn’t sit near him but who she did sit near. She strolled over and sat directly across from...the man who warned him about her.

Darion’s jaw dropped nearly to the floor, but he caught himself soon after. He thought fleetingly that in was a coincidence, but dismissed it quickly. Darion cursed himself, he thought she had no love interest. It was obvious now why the man wanted Darion to stay away from her. He sighed long and heavy and remembered something his father taught him as a young man upon giving Darion his sword as a present: “Always fight to defend a woman, never to get one.”

He really had no idea how to approach the situation, should he talk to her or not? Try and clear things up? One thing he hated was when people acted on false assumptions, perhaps he was doing just that.

The queen rose from her seat at the head of the table and the crowd quickly quieted. “I would like to personally welcome you to this tournament of Arconia’s best.” she began. “ As you all know, the winner will be crowned ruler of Arconia, as I’m sure all of you are worthy candidates. I expect all of your to be at your best tomorrow and I look forward to a wonderful show of skill. With that said, all of you may eat, I for one am starving.”

With that everyone began eating, only, Darion didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

[Moonitic]

Ken-Dall notice her new aquaintence across the room, but she had other worries. She tore her sister's room apart earlier, searching for some writing that she could read for the banquet. She found a little poem called the Song of Arconia, & decided upon that. She purposely chose a seat near Tellurine, hoping that it would keep him at bay, at least for the moment. But she could not help stealing glances as the young man. Once, she caught his eye, but he quickly looked away, frowning as he did so. She glanced up at Tellurine, who grinned a sneaky grin down at her.

Now what was he plotting?

No matter, though. When it came time to dance, she would see to it that she danced with...Darion, was it? She noticed the glances of the other men, but turned her nose up at all of them. Perhaps they would get the hint...

[Swordsman]

The banquet was as Nækos had expected: Crowded, noisy, excessive food too rich for his tastes. At the same time, though, it was a wonderful opportunity for observation. There was a great number of newcomers in the area, and not a one didn’t merit calculation. Most were dismissible at first glance; the usual competitors. Varying levels of confidence, many believing they actually had a shot at winning. Egos to be sure, high spirits, and a barely respectable knowledge of the blade. There were, of course, the few that entered the tournament for no apparent reason, unable to tell point from hilt. Nækos almost pitied them.

No, it was not these that Nækos noted or measured as he sat back in the large chair at the banquet table. It was the ones that were too quiet, or too calm. Or too…anything.

It was the orange man across from him and down a little ways; his smile was too easy, a little too oily. And he had a trace of the Scent about him. Nækos would give him a beating at first chance.

Beside him, it was Moonitic, the same he’d rescued from Fencingsucks so long ago. Or…yes, it had to be her. Who else would it be? But there was something wrong with her; why should she look like that? Something, something he couldn’t put his finger on, was different in her face. At a casual glance it was all right, but a careful study like the one he’d just given showed…something.

Nækos followed Moonitic’s line of vision across the table. A mirror on the wall behind her allowed him to view her object of interest without seeming interested himself. He wasn’t sure he liked what he saw, as he sipped his goblet of water. The man was a giant. Well, perhaps not. But he was tall by Arconian standards, which made him a giant by Nækos’ standards. The size, however, was not the problem. It was the way the halfling, the keen and perceptive observer, felt his eyes slipping off the man. He simply wasn’t easy to look at or notice. And suddenly he looked up, meeting Nækos’ eyes in the mirror. That was startling, and somewhat disturbing. This man was truly skilled, and quite possibly dangerous.

Zelda began to speak from the head of the table, startling both guerrillas out of their stare-down. “I would like to personally welcome you to this tournament of Arconia’s best. As you all know, the winner will be crowned ruler of Arconia, as I’m sure all of you are worthy candidates. I expect all of you to be at your best tomorrow and I look forward to a wonderful show of skill. With that said, all of you may eat; I for one am starving.”

All worthy candidates… Nækos laughed to himself. Not a fourth of the men here were worthy even to lick her boot. Of them, maybe a hundredth could handle the throne. But it didn’t matter. Nækos would win, return the throne to her, and back it with the strike force. That was all there was to it; failure wasn’t an option or a possibility.

And then…one that had escaped Nækos’ earlier notice. Down the table a long ways, seated in the shadow at the corner. A large, brutish-looking creature. A tattered shirt struggled to remain intact, stretched over the massive upper body. How it had fit over the head, Nækos would never know. The seats directly to either side were, naturally, empty. Blade!! Perhaps I won’t win after all. Better make sure you’re still on my side here… He knew he was the fighting superior of any man or woman in the room, the tournament, the area, the continent. But he also knew one other thing: Noboby could ever even hope to defeat a Talruum. He smiled a little, feeling what he imagined must be happiness. Good to see you again, my friend. I’ve missed you.

[Swordsman]

The remainder of the banquet was boring as anticipated. Moonitic read, rather awkwardly, her “Song of Arconia”. Several people of importance, whether real or merely titular, stood to give their speeches. Nækos sat and ignored them, hearing instead only his own thoughts. He felt exposed, vulnerable, carrying only two weapons. Things were happening…he could feel it. And they would continue to happen for quite some time.

The period of rest was over. He’d been back long enough, sedentary for far too long, actually. The king had called him back in from the borderlands to raid Fencingsucks and rescue Moonitic and Craig. Nækos had planned to head back out shortly after the banquet that followed his mission, but there were complications. Ledgerto had been assassinated; no one knew even now, though there were plenty of suspects. Muu, Schoolcraftia, Zarconia, Fencingsucks…it could have been any number of agents from any of them. He’d stayed back to watch fiercely over Josephine, until even that became too dangerous. So he left. Far beyond the borderlands, down into the southern wilderness for several months. For animals don’t have to feel anger, loneliness…love.

And what wonderful timing he had. Arriving back home just in time for more madness in the castle, with another banquet the following night. During which time Moonitic had gone mad, and he spent the majority of the evening chasing her around and trying to take her alive. Then Blade had reappeared, telling of trouble back in Nova Zemblar. After another month or so spent assassinating officers in the city, they’d returned to find Arcon missing, presumed dead. And since then…two days? Three? He wasn’t even sure. The total was probably six months since he’d come back in with the force.

Too long. He could only imagine what was happening out there, beyond the reach of the city, in those shadowy areas where the rule of law was questionable at best. Too long. He’d been complacent – lazy. Time to get back out there.

It was the smith that had made him think of the borderlands again. A journeyman, former berserker – with wanderlust. And a desire for justice and penance. Senyik’s perfect, really. But…also formerly of the Russic ranks. Should he even live? Remorse…killed. He’s killed, halflings. But so have I. But, they deserved it. Raided villages. But I’ve still probably killed a lot more. And…they deserved it. It was not murder. And he didn’t enjoy it. Or says he didn’t. Why would he lie? I’d kill him. But that’s why he would lie. But he’s not, I can see it. I’ve killed more. But I never enjoyed…or did I? Nækos felt the blood drain from his face, and was thankful there were plenty of people surrounding him. He’d been chasing the same little bit of meat around his plate for the last twenty minutes, and his knuckles were white on the handle of the fork. Only the ones that deserved it, really had to die. I enjoyed that they were gone – that I took them out. That I was the one to bring justice, safety. Right? Why would I, how could I, enjoy it any other way? It was a question he could not answer for himself, he realized. He was too close to the situation; none could be closer. He needed somebody with a fresh, unbiased perspective. But who would that be? Was there anybody like that? He sighed, stuffed the chunk of meat in his mouth, and told himself to give up for now. Senyik would work. Actually, just perfectly.

Next matter of business – should he take the rest of the force? Yes. They needed to work together again, not be left to drift apart like before. He’d put them in three-man teams, spread them around. Cover the most area that way; three would never be inadequate, not for the work they did.

A sudden commotion throughout the room startled Nækos from his meditations – everybody was getting up; dinner was over. He looked quickly around, jammed another piece of meat in his mouth, and snatched a roll for later. Find the smith.

[Darion McNair]

The night was dragging on and it became more evident who was going to be a serious competitor and who was not. Those that were, had no alcoholic beverages of any kind. He made note of those people, they would likely give him trouble the next day. For the less than serious contender, however, the beer was high and the laughs were long. Darion envisioned at least two or three of the no name, wannabe champions hurling on the tourney strip tomorrow from hangover.

With dinner coming to a close, large plates of food were being reduced to nothing but crumbs and bones. The minstrels were beginning to come in with their assorted instruments, the dance would soon begin. That was far from Darion’s mind at the moment, he was more concerned with what he was going to do if he were to stay in Arconia.

Grabbing his goblet of water he began walking to the balcony adjacent to the banquet hall. The subject of occupation was one he had yet to approach since he arrived in Arconia, assuming he didn’t somehow win the crown in this tournament. Really he’d only been one thing his entire life, a soldier. It ran in the family. Suddenly he let out a curt laugh “Yeah and look where it got me.” he thought to himself. “The raid failed miserably and my country is still in the hands of Dion....I wonder if any of my men escaped as well.” He didn’t think it likely, consider the size of the calvary unit that attacked them. “Something besides soldier that I’d be good for...” a mercenary perhaps? Maybe, but he suspected his moral convictions would do him in after a while.

He gazed out at the hundreds, maybe thousands of torches lighting streets and houses throughout Arconia. God forbid another war break out in this country as in Bosconia, he didn’t want to deal with it, not now.

He noticed Lady Moon walk up and stand a few yards down of the very long balcony. She said nothing and merely looked out at the picturesque scene of thousands of flames in the night. He knew she was waiting for him to speak first.

“I would ask you to dance later but I don’t know if you’re companion would like it.” he told her, bluntly. She looked over at him, rather puzzled at the comment.

“What companion? I came here alone.” she returned.

“The man you sat across from. He told me about you, told me to stay away from you.”

“Tellurine?” She laughed mockingly, looking back at the landscape before her. “He is a fool. He thinks he controls me and for now I’ll let him go on thinking that. But please, don’t think I’m interested in him.”

“Very well Lady Moon...or is it Ken-Dall? Which would you prefer?” With that he saw her face become more serious, gravely so. “This...Tellurine raised a lot of unanswered questions. I don’t want to jump to conclusions but I do want you to tell me the truth.”

<small>[ 07-17-2002, 05:03 PM: Message edited by: Darion McNair ]</small>

[Moonitic]

Tellurine...

Ken-Dall would KILL him for telling the handsome stranger her real name! Something had to be done, & fast. She moved over to him, & stood inches from his face. As she gazed at him, her eyes as blue as her sister's, she whispered, "The name, if the truth be known, is Princess Buffy of Schoolcraftia. Tell no one, for our lives would be in jeopardy if you did. There is a price on my head. Horrible people wish to do me harm, simply because I refused to marry someone that I did not love." She stepped back. "Now, if you will excuse me, I will return to the dance. If you will not ask me, I will find a more suitable choice." She turned to leave, but stopped. Ken-Dall looked over her shoulder at the bewildered young man, & raised an eyebrow.

A challenge.

<small>[ 07-17-2002, 10:21 PM: Message edited by: Moonitic ]</small>

[Swordsman]

Yikes. She is one decidedly NOT-COOL chick.

[Moonitic]

ed. note

Damn, I'm good!

[Darion McNair]

Darion did not expect that one bit. Now alone on the balcony, he had no idea she was in any sort of danger. He wanted to help her, go to her and offer to protect her. Just then, he remembered what Lord Tellurine had told him. ‘From what I hear, she’s a common criminal who’s been lying her way across Arconia.’. How could he be sure what she said was true? He wanted to love her but he couldn’t love a lie.

He needed to know the real her, whoever that was, only then could they have a relationship that meant something. There would be no leading and following with the two of them, it would have to be equal.

Wandering back into the banquet hall he leaned his rather tall frame against the door. Everyone was heading to the ballroom for the dance. Darion lingered far behind, when he arrived at the ballroom the first dance had already started. He stood against the wall and observed the others around him, he himself remained unobserved as usual....except for a moment. His senses tightened, for once it was he that was being watched and it made him very uncomfortable. The moment passed and he knew whoever was watching him had stopped. But still his eyes shot around the room looking for the one who had noticed him.

He spotted the man that was dressed in all black, he was shorter than Darion had expected and seemed to be leaving rather quickly, perhaps in search for someone. But he knew he had taken notice of him. Darion could tell his skill was great, perhaps too great for Darion himself to handle. He welcomed a challenge, though he was unmatched in him homeland, this obviously was not Bosconia.

And so he watched, Lady Moon was dancing with someone else, and the stranger in black was taking stock in him. Perhaps he would not last very long in this tournament but he would make sure he left him mark.

<small>[ 07-18-2002, 02:43 PM: Message edited by: Darion McNair ]</small>

[arcon]

Arcon

<small>[ 07-19-2002, 12:25 AM: Message edited by: arcon ]</small>