[mission: hyrypia] give me my scallop shell of quiet, my staff of faith to walk upon

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE
WHERE: Hyrypia - The Graze
WHEN: DAY :013
SUMMARY: A day of competition begins, and Hosts put their newfound skills to the test.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

THE GRAZE
DAY :013

A MOURNFUL SOUND passes across the Graze in the early hours of the morning: the mingling drone of the wind coming up across the flatlands and funneling into the depths of the Finger Maze. It saws, a tired, hollow constant noise. Carried with it up through the Great Flat are maybe forty visitors carried by a variety of carts and wagons, automated and incredibly austentatious live mounts. Apparently the events of the day are drawing a crowd from the surrounding farms and homesteads on top of the various diplomatic envoys already in attendance.

After a brisk, light breakfast the short blare of a horn cuts across the encampment. It seems it's time to saddle up.



I. THE SIDELINES
A CHEER SWELLS up from the assemblage of Rabadoceans as a team successfully completes their event. On a nearby platform, musicians takes turns striking up a series of fast paced, sparkling tunes and the tang of roasting meat is heavy in the air. There's a sense of festival in this that quickly becomes lively as the Hyrypians' official pleasantries cede encourage the Meradan's cheerful, competitive shouting and the Descendants'' entertained clapping and smiling. There might even be a few smiles to be seen among the typically grim faced Carpathan diplomatic envoy.

Get something to eat. Talk to a stranger. Make friends. Sabotage a competing team. Most importantly: keep your eyes and ears open. For every moment you might spend machinating, someone (or something) else might be doing the same.

II. THE SORTING
THE SUN HAS FULLY RISEN by the time the first event is ready to begin. There has been a constant bustle up until this point, people meeting up and splitting off again, members of Envoy’s checking in with each other, carefully discussing their strategies- or laughing the challenges off as a game. Now, all of the competitors are gathered together to be given their tools- the ropes and crooks of the Gryer wranglers- even as the spectators begin to gather at the edges of the large pen, some standing at the fences, other on long staggered benches along the edges. There are a flags strung up all along the fences and large banners fly from the outermost posts of the pen. When it is nearly time the teams are split- each of the members led to a different point on the outside of the pen, to the gates that will set them loose upon the false gryer within.

When it is time for the Hosts to begin, the gates are again reset, the Gryer are all released from their holding pens, and the spectators have become no less raucous. They’re so loud it’s almost hard to hear the horn that calls from the holding pen, but the gates that spring open in front of the hosts are signal enough for them to begin. They are afforded just enough time to make their way fully into the pen before the three Gryer are lit, scattered through the herd and still milling about. The clock- or whatever passes for a clock- is ticking, and the faster they manage the task- if they manage it- the better.

When it is over, the crowd cheers, either way- energized by the competition and the strong grassy flavored drink that seems to improve every Rabadocean’s mood.

III. THE MESSENGER RACE
A SERIES OF FLAGS marks the route of the relay race that runs along the edge of the outermost cliff faces - not that it's necessary. Spectators are strung along the sidelines that it might be possible to run the race using only them as a guide for where to go. The course itself is studded with obstacles - logs and ditches, stacks of brush and at least a few imposing walls made from coral harvested out of the Finger Maze. The riders of each team are dispersed along the length of the course toward the finish line, quiet and lonely (if you disregard the forty or so other riders from competing teams in your company) and waiting in the midday heat for--

The short burst of a horn. The first string of Elin and riders, each in possession of a ceremonial scroll, launch forward across the starting line. Hopefully. What would be even better? If they keep all their riders in the process.

IV. THE ELINMASTER RUN
THE FINAL EVENT comes late - so late that the sun is already beginning to move towards the high horizon of the clifftops, leaving a cool purple cast across the landscape as the competitors and spectators alike are gathered at the yawning entrance of the isolated splinter of the Finger Maze. Unlike the other events, there is no seating, no rows, no stretches of banners or strings of flags. The environment doesn’t allow for it. Instead there are ropes separating the milling crowds from the riders. There are no gates and no strict starting point; rather, there is an area the width of the entrance and forty feet behind it that the racers may begin from. A large number are clustered near the very front - eager but clearly at extra risk, the metal and rubber flesh of the Elin automatons pressed close enough to crush. In the stillness of the near-evening air, the anticipation for this event is more subdued. More hushed. It's clear that the majority of the race will not be visible to spectators or judges. There will be only a small party waiting at the end of the course, ready in the clearing to mark places, and no witnesses before that.

The most senior members of House Basittia stand on either side of the entrance, protected by the ropes and flashy in their officiator-wear. When the horn is blown, sharp and with very little warning, it echoes down the length of the waiting canyon walls. It echoes strangely, broken only by the sound of metal hooves pounding forward into the maze and out of sight.

The first challenge is immediate - beyond the wide entrance the canyon begins to narrow dramatically. Those who have chosen the front of the pack will be forced to either get ahead or muscle their way through the others around them. Those that have chosen to stay further back will find that the distance between them and the next rider ahead of them narrows. Before there is much chance to adjust to the new positions, there is the first obstacle - a ditch, narrow but sudden, ready to take the legs out from under an Elin that fails to jump. From there the course begins in earnest. A number of paths split off from the main line, each with their own challenges. Coral branches fallen in the path, others arching just over rider’s heads. The course is full of switchbacks and sudden turns and in places the ground is made of pebbles that slide beneath the metallic hooves of the mechanical beasts. The course narrows in sections, barely wide enough to allow one rider to pass, and as the race stretches on fewer and fewer are able to continue. Some riders simply fall, others are knocked off, others foul their mounts and end up as new obstacles for those behind them.

By the time the end is in sight - a large open clearing, the far end of which has a simple stage where the judges wait - many racers have been unseated and countless others have simply fallen behind. But for those who make it to the end, there is a note in an ancient looking tome and a ribbon to be tied around their wrists to show that they have completed their trial. They will linger there in the winner’s circle until the last of the racers trickle in. Once that happens, they will be allowed at a much more sedate pace to make their way out of the canyon and into the awaiting cheering crowd - into the beginning of night and the lighting of the great braziers and flames, the scent of a well-earned meal that awaits them carried across the Graze by the mournful sigh of the wind.

V. BEFORE, AFTER, AND BETWEEN
THE COMPETITION stretches long, each individual challenge met by scores of Envoys eager to impress or simply eager for something to entertain themselves with. But the day is made far longer by the time between the competitions which is filled with talk, general chatter, and some good- and less good-natured betting - all lubricated by a constant stream of the cool grass drink that’s growing rapidly more popular as the sun’s heat increases. There's plenty to do- and plenty to enjoy between the events themselves. People will have little trouble finding things to keep busy with. And after the competition is said and done there is dinner (of course), the great dining tents pulled open and even more crowded than before with the additional local color. It’s those locals, and perhaps the camaraderie born of shared experience, which seems to help encourage some of the Envoys to intermingle more than they have before.

Of course, not everyone is in a good mood. Some of the participants didn't perform as well as others. Bruised egos are as abundant as bruised bodies among some envoys... a potentially volatile situation considering the close quarters they share with other Rabadoceans who clearly think very highly of their own performances.

---

((OOC Notes: This log covers the competition events of Day :013 and any related sideline activities. You can find a full breakdown of the events/a place for mini-event specific questions HERE. Sign-ups will remain open until the next event log goes live, however going forward please make sure to either join the individual event or have a full team selected for the team events. Please be aware that signing up late won't give you extra time to finish your thread to qualify for the finale event.

Have more generalized questions? Drop them on the MISSION: HYRYPIA OOC POST or get in touch with us on the Mod Contact page.))

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Comments

[redheadcarrier]

Asuka instantly scoffs at the idea, even as she gathers up the folds of her robes and ties them out of the way so they won't catch on branches or the Elin or something else.

( I'm not going to lose intentionally. If someone is actually good enough to beat us, whatever- )

Although, really, she'll still be pissy about it.

( But I'm not going to throw this thing. )

It's not as if this race matters in the grand scheme of things, but it's really the first chance she's had to show off in ages and she's going to take it. She needs to prove something to herself. And maybe more importantly, she needs to prove to Seviilia that she's not deadweight.

No pun intended.

[perroquet]

He feels the disapproval of his new queen, but only holds it in regard of her as fellow brood. Fine, she and Seviilia and Mr. Darcy Darkling don't have to take his support if they think they are all above it, but he'll provide Miss Asuka with the advantage of magic well before she's out the gate. As for the nature of that magic-

(Bard magic goes in all directions, Miss Seviilia. Light, dark, neutral. The spells I have in mind for today all lean towards the latter two.)

And for their desire for sabotage-

(If someone can provide me with a visual I can make sense of... then I might be able to cast spells on specific riders, given I am within range. The front rows should allow me that.)

His staff digs further into the ground, mental voice taut with begrudging agreement. But he offered all this, and he'll do it.

(I'm beginning to believe this entire Pilgrimage is a test to determine the most worthy of all the envoys. To that end I agree with Miss Asuka. Until we determine whose side this mysterious enemy of ours is on, we would do well to do well.)

[unsea]

Excuse you, Mr Easily Offended, he's all in favor of magic!!

( Fine, we'll give it our all. )

A pointed, ephemeral glance at the rest of them. Young Asuka, and the two experienced women he'll be relying on to complete the race. If they wish to win, there is no purpose in it, but he'll perform to his best as well - sabotaging themselves would give them nothing, and he's loathe to become stories and laughter in the other faction encampments.

As for you, Gildor - can you feel the intensity of his mind on you? Because he's very interested in your magic and what you've said.

( I agree. But again, WE do not count among the promised, so a win for us is merely for our personal pride. I'm not without such a thing, the same as you all. ) He won't throw the race, but win or lose, nobody will come to care any more or less about a gang of recluses.

( That being said, I'll also take any advantage - bard. )

[miscreant]

( Have we considered that we will have no lead on where they hide until we take a risk on one of them? )

She offers her suggestion as she takes her arms from The Darkling, not before offering a small gesture of thanks by taking one of his arms in both of her hands. As far as Gildor's spells go -- all he needs to say is that the Light has the potential to be involved to steer her away.

( Surely one endorsement from a single trial will not be enough to sway the others -- but it may indeed gain us enough leverage with one respected faction to make more educated guesses in the future. )

[shri]

( Second, then. We should come second then. )

Said as if she does not have her own competitive streak - but for the sake of planning this all out? They are right, the immediate victory does not matter so much as to further their goals.

( Coming second shows our skill, doesn't put us at too great notice. But it gives us reason to meet whoever is better, and those who did not place may come to congratulate us on our hard work. It will provide ample opportunity to meet other competitors should there be some kind of... celebration for the race. )

[miscreant]

There is some obvious disapproval from Seviilia. That hadn't been her goal at all -- but her pride far outweighed any other quality she held near and dear to her heart, and so she is quick to speak up when Lakshmi makes her opinion known.

( I disagree. Our opinion on the others would carry more weight if we triumphed, even by a small margin. We are not presently respected as it is -- let us change that. Give them reason. )

Its a fight not to fold her arms, but she manages.

[redheadcarrier]

( I agree with Sev. )

[ Asuka interjects, mental voice rather "loud". ]

( We need to send these people a message! That we're respectable! Not just some religious weirdoes! )

[ Even if that's part of the point. She just can't imagine herself intentionally trying to throw this thing. It's just not her. She always gives 100%. Even if it's not always the best call. ]

[unsea]

( I won't stop you, if you intend to win. I'm not without my pride.

But, why invite the watchful eyes of those that could endanger us? That's my only concern. )

Seviilia, he's very much enamored with you ( and your, uh, protege? is that what Asuka is? ) but sssssssaints among us.

[perroquet]

[ He's a bit distracted by the Darkling's mental eye fixed on him. For one who made a living in the spotlight before, he's not sure he likes the attention. But the riders all seem to be craving a similar spotlight, and though he's just providing support, he agrees- ]

(I like the ambition here. Let them live a little, Lord Darkling, Rani. It's only one of three competitions after all.)

[ There's still plenty of changes for the other envoys to show off elsewhere. ]

[miscreant]

( There are always eyes upon you, my lord. )

Some of her annoyance is exchanged for easy flattery. Asuka gets the feeling of approval from Seviilia, a firm and supportive hand on her proverbial shoulder. The reality is that even if The Darkling and Lakshmi chose to tone down their competitive edge to force a loss, she would simply fight twice as hard to win.

But she won't put that to thought.

( Gildor has the right of it. We have been posing as a conglomerate of alien nobles with wealth and strange religious practices. Do you not think there are not eyes upon us already? )

[shri]

[ She feels the press of something long suffering at it - wayward, all of them. So inclined to win so directly. Her hands stop there drumming, then flicks them as if - what can she do? A huff of breath. Someone had to give.

Knows some battles aren't worth it - in the end, whilst there might be more prudent options, this doesn't hurt their over all go any more or less than anything else said. ]

( Very well. If that is your preference. Come first if you think it suits better. Try not to be too obvious? )

[redheadcarrier]

[ There's a spark of something when Seviilia's thoughts turn toward her. It's sudden abd bright and fills the space between all of them with a flash like that of the noonday sun emerging from behind a cloud. It's joy; simple, unfiltered joy at being thought highly of, of being backed up, at being reassured and cherished. She can't hide it, not through link, and she doesn't try. ]

( They haven't noticed anything yet. They won't notice anything now. )

[ Her voice, though, is the easy arrogance of someone who is young and thinks themselves invincible. Even if she, of all people, ought to know better by now. ]

[perroquet]

[ That spark unfiltered joy is all the more reason to protect her. For all of them to. Gildor latches onto the fuse and rises from his post, following that mental trail of warmth till he finds Asuka perched atop her Elin. ]

I believe you will be riding soon. Your hand for a prayer, miss?

[ He holds a hand up to her. He'll only need a touch, and the gloves matter not. ]

(Tell me when you are ready, and I'll cast my spell. I promise there is no pain, though you may feel... a heightening of some senses.)

:* blows kiss jumps all ovr this plurk

[unsea]

Hey, Lakshmi. Someone in your party likes the cut of your jib. Even if everyone is prideful, and despises being among a losing party. He's just radiating the most subtle approval re: the way her mind works. ( Even if she is

unfortunately

nobility. )

[shri]

It gets a polite nod back - well, at least there is someone with sense.


( Oh she hopes you never find out she was born as common as muck. )