Harvest of Plenty [Valhallan Autumn Festival]

There was really no way she could have eased young Gavroch’s embarrassment with her correction any further than she had. Her eyes shot up to the rat as she commented with a harshness that only seemed to heighten the boy’s embarrassment, and quickly shook her head dismissively at the snarky creature, eyes turning back to the winged wolf as she smiled gently and murmured, “It’s a very great pleasure to meet you, Gavroch. For what it’s worth, there is nothing to forgive. It’s truly the sweetest compliment I’ve ever been paid, mistaken identity or no. I truly hope you enjoy the festival.”

She gave the young wolf a bracing smile, reaching to gently nudge his nose with her own to encourage him, but anything further she might have said was wholly interrupted by the pelting arrival of several pups, all awed by his wings and asking half a million questions at once, as children were so wont to do. A warm smile touched her smile as she observed the scene, before she turned to greet the swarm of arrivals that had come while she’d sought to ease her winged guest’s embarrassment.

There were many to acknowledge, and she met the minor challenge readily, dipping her muzzle to those especially who had introduced themselves, Harbinger in the lead. “It’s a pleasure. I am Aurielle Adravendi, Spirit of Valhalla—Your pack’s neighbor, I believe. I apologize for the belated response.”

The last she said at a lower voice so as not to reach Gavroch’s ears over the chatter of the pups. Her eyes flicked over as she spotted the familiar form of Pegasus, and she smiled readily at the Olympian Zeus. Her eyes flicked to the rainbow marked male that greeted her cousin, however, interest lighting in her eyes as she studied his markings, nodding to him in response. Who had birthed him? Zuriel was the only other she could think of. Or perhaps Baine? Or was it one of her two long missing aunts?

She decided she would have to catch the man later and ask him, or perhaps ask Torin. An interesting form caught her attention as she made that decision, and she studied the man that had arrived. He looked nothing like the wolves she was accustomed to, with his slinky frame, wispy fur and long ears. The Nomads might have had many dog hybrids among their numbers, but most had taken more fully after their wolf parent.

She smiled to each new arrival, chin tipping up to cast her gaze over the crowd – many of whom might be taller than herself – and caught a familiar shimmer of blue swirls. Jupiter? My, he’d grown in the two—three? Years since they’d met. She caught his eye and grinned, flashing her canines as she turned back to the next arrivals. Time was not of the essence—the festival would last for days, and she would have to see come the end of a week if she felt like extending the duration.

A faint clatter of item against item drew her eye to another familiar form—Red, burdened by what looked like a plethora of trade goods. She was pretty sure she saw armor in there. She greeted the man with a smile and a nod of thanks for his participation, though he was a bit too far to speak to just now as her eyes glanced down at the pups with a sense of warm contentment. For a litter of her own. Or litters of her own…

She nudged the thought back to the corner of her mind as Acere Praetor arrived, with none other than Heloise at his side. Was it just her or did the woman look slightly plumper than she had at the first encounter. From the close way they stood, the Spirit hazarded a guess and grinned, tail sweeping across the grassy floor in whisks of long hair as she smiled at Acere and Heloise, answering warmly, “I thank you for coming.”

Nodding to her side to the stocky, bearlike Ancoran and Viviane, she added, “These are two of my pack here. Justice, Viviane, these are Acere Praetor and Heloise of Winterfell.”

Her eyes drifted to the armored wolf that accompanied them, brows lifting slightly as she recognized him, though mainly by descriptions. “Welcome to the Harvest Festival, Dragon.” As warmly as ever, with no sign of a grudge in her voice.

Karma had dealt a solid hand in his life, she felt, with his sight and then his pack having been taken from him. And even had she felt any animosity, this was a neutral occasion. She couldn’t promise the man that Justice or Paladin wouldn’t want to tear into him, but she knew both would hold to the rules of the event and knew not to jeopardize any possible alliances between packs—it was obvious Dragon was a member of Winterfell.

He might not have heard her welcome, or he might have, but her eyes spotted Deathbelle, Empress of Ashen, and she gave the woman an easy smile, nodding as her eyes flicked to the pups and back to Belle, noting the similarities of markings. “Welcome, Empress of Ashen, and to your children. They’re beautiful.”

Her eyes shifted to the male that stood close to Deathbelle, and from the way he glanced at his Empress, she had little doubt that this was the father, nodding to the man with a smile. While he matched the general description of the Abraxas family – big, mottled – she would, again, not break her own law of the Festival by treating him any less like any of the other festival goers. Her eyes did flick briefly toward Pegasus, though, as she hoped quietly that he would show the same restraint and leave such things to other times.

Dear heavens, she worried in the throng that she might miss some wolves. She caught fleeting glimpses of pups, though with Gavroch there, it was pretty easy to guess where they’d end up—the wings attracted them like moths to a flame, poor boy. He seemed to be relaxing, though, and she noticed as she glanced at him that the rat had vanished.

A large man caught her eye. His bearing was that of an alpha (assuming this is set before he stepped down?), and she nodded to him, though she couldn’t help but notice that he seemed almost anxious—at the very least, distracted. As she caught his eye, she nodded, a small gesture that said she would catch him when she could.

A glint of fang turned her eyes the other way, and she spotted the easily recognizable Chaos, whose eyes were right on her. Her brow lifted and she threw the man a slightly wicked grin, holding the eye contact until he looked away.

Her eyes lifted to the sky, and at last, she judged the hour late enough, and the time had passed enough, to call out to the gathered wolves, and announce the feast.

She disengaged herself from the crowd, padding to a ger that was more structured than the others upon closer look. It was, in fact, a platform, upon which she leapt, seemingly floating in the air as she went, before she landed and turned to address the gathered wolves with a smile. It was a vantage with which she could see all that had come so far, and with which her voice would reach them more easily with the silk and velvet of her mezzo-soprano tones, lilted and musical.

“Wolves of Boreas, perhaps even wolves of Auster. I thank you all for joining us for the Harvest Festival—Valhalla’s first festival of what I hope to be many in the following years. As your invitations stated, this is not to be a one night or even a two-night event. This festival and its activities will extend over the course of at least a week, during which I hope that many more will join us to enjoy the festivities. As stated, this is a neutral event. Regardless of any wars or feuds you may be embroiled in, you are asked to please leave your differences behind and enjoy the festivities.

“Soon I will be showing you to the Opening Feast. You are more than welcome to join in the feast, and we have provided a great many delicacies and drinks for you to enjoy and sample. And later, I will be opening the Entries to the Fighting Contest, to the north of the grounds. The rules and ritual to enter is simple.”
She paced with a flick of her long-haired tail to face each side of the crowd before standing center again, waiting until full attention was given before continuing in clear tones.

“Those who wish to enter the Tournament are to enter the circle of Stones, announce their names, titles if any, what pack or band they represent, if any, what Tier – Top, Middle, or Novice – they wish to participate in, and whether they wish to enter the Main spars, or the Melee, or both. Pups can also participate, with the same levels, but in their own division.”

Her eyes roved the crowd, a challenge in her grin as she continued, ”You will be given a strip of colored cloth to signify that you are a contestant, and what Tier you will be fighting in. Melee teams will consist of up to six wolves to a team, if we have enough entrants. Who you will face in both Main and Melee fights is entirely random, though you will be unlikely to face someone of a different Tier level, unless that contestant has managed to battle his or her way to the top as the only one left in his Tier. He or she will have the option to move up a tier, and try his or her luck against more powerful opponents.”

Her eyes glittered as she eyed the crowd and added, “As this is a friendly contest of strength and skill, I ask that you refrain from serious maims that might cripple your opponents. If you truly have something against that wolf, I ask that you excuse yourselves to the Battlefield and fight out your differences there.

Lastly, for this particular subject, I freely admit that this is a work in progress system, and that any feedback is welcomed. Depending on the success, I hope to host a real tournament come next Summer.”

She paused a moment to gather her thoughts, though she wore a grin on her features as she continued on after a moment to allow the guests to absorb all the information she’d piled on them.

“Tomorrow morning, I will be announcing the initial lists for the fights. However, entries will remain open throughout the festival, and should we have enough initial entrants, fights will be held each evening.

“Also, to be of notice each morning is a trade fair that will begin from mid-sun-up to late afternoon. I see that plenty of you have brought your own wares—feel free to store them in the shelters until the Fair opens tomorrow morning. You will have plenty of time to set up your stalls before it starts, I assure you.”

A smile glinted her canines as she said, “There will be many tests of our lands’ hunters, from hunting contests to a bear hunt to be held at the end of the tournament. For our healers, there will be plenty of gatherings, and my fellow hosts, the Nomads, will be sharing their immense knowledge in lessons and training, should you wish to join them.”

Dear heavens, was that all? No, she mentally chuckled to herself as she gained a breath and went on to add, “There will also be races, and many activities for our young participants, alongside the tournament. Pups will also be able to participate in their division’s own Melee.”

Her haunches settled upon the platform as she grinned down at the wolves, finally finishing as her tail flicked to drape over the toughened hide beneath her paws, ”I hope to see many new friendships blossom, and alliances form over the next week. After the feast and fighting contest entries have been finished for the night, we have many, many gers and yurts open for you to sleep off your meals in. Until the feast Call, then, let us mingle.”

She dipped her head in a bow, moonstones flashing and fur glittering, before she descended from the platform in a fluid bound, slipping into the crowd to do as she suggested.

Sort of exit to spin-off threads unless directly addressed here

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think