[EVENT|4TH WALL] THE NEWCOMERS’ ARRIVAL | APRIL 15-22

[ironwood]

Characters: ALL and plus ones.
Date: April 15-22 2015 (2016 in-game)
Location: Farmlands outside the city walls, but this log can also be used for locations within the city.
Situation: Spring planting - fourth wall event, week one!
Warnings/Rating: Add warnings as needed.

The days for the festival dawn sunny if a bit chilly, but the air is clear and the soggy ground has dried enough that there isn’t too much mud in the lanes between fields and homesteads. The broad dirt path to the Woodsmen’s land leads past the tram-line construction, lined with waving ribbons on sticks along the sides. The Woodsmen’s territory circles the city, separated from the city’s walls by five hundred yards of neutral land.

The festival’s central area is Liangken’s Clearing, and this is where the festival will begin and end each day. Liangken is an ancient tree, among the oldest on the turtle’s back. Though it doesn’t flower or bear much in the way of leaves anymore, the kedan have cultivated it carefully and now it’s an excellent representation for the revitalisation of old wisdom.



The lanes between the fields and homesteads will house the stalls, contests and walking areas. The Woodsmen will be keeping an eye on these to prevent anyone from walking off the marked paths. The homesteads provide ‘hotspots’ in among the lanes and fields, with Woodsmen families lending their yards to the comfort and entertainment of their guests.

In general, the Woodsmen are a taciturn, soft-spoken lot who nevertheless take great pride in their work. Their lands are all but sacred -- they accept no attitude, no trespassing, no attempts to thwart their authority. This causes some noticeable tension with the Snakes, who are accustomed to being the sole enforcers within the city; but though there may be some ill tempers and raised voices, at no point will anyone come to blows. It’s hard to argue with someone built like a brick wall and carrying sharp farm implements.

The Woodsmen are a touch anxious about having strangers on their land and this shows in them being overly officious or bossy, but at the same time their pride shows clearly and they are eager to show off the state of their lands, their greenhouses, and their farming processes -- practically without being asked. The residents of Keeliai tend to think of the Woodsmen as ‘cowards’, and the Woodsmen are taking this opportunity to prove themselves otherwise with feats of strength and tall tales.

Due to the farmers’ hours of “early to bed and early to rise”, the festival ends in the early evening at sundown, but begins again before dawn -- usually by greeting the sun with a song.

---

LINKS
Heojin, Ran and Lin | Liangken’s Clearing | Stalls and Lanes | OOC Information post | 4th Wall Character Check In

OOC
While Heojin and his bodyguards are open to everyone (including fourth-wall characters!), they are not available for small talk and general directionless CR. For the integrity of the mod’s inbox, please only request a thread with him if you already have an idea of what you’d like your character to ask/do. Other NPCs can be requested by sending a PM to the appropriate journals directly, with the same guidelines.

The top-level comments are for the festival, but fourth-wall characters should feel free to use the rest of the post for anything within the city of Keeliai itself! Just remember to label the top-level comment for location and date.

Comments

OPEN;

[venivicivetinari]

Ah, street theatre. How utterly ... charming. It was so very filled with ... gaity. And music. And people. And sweat.

Looking at the musicians puffing and blowing and coating their instruments with juices far more ... palatable ... on the inside than the out made Havelock shudder delicately, so he moved away, walking easily through the crowd in that manner of a man so dignified he parted the crowd before him without the crowd being aware of the person for whom it was parting. It was something in the bearing and the faint limp and the way he relied, ever so slightly on the right side of 'injured veteran', on his cane with every step.

It wasn't that Havelock disliked parties. He enjoyed parties, as a matter of fact. It was so very ... illuminating, the things one could hear at a party. Particularly once the wine had begun to flow. But this wasn't a party; it was a festival, where people weren't so much interested in politicking as they were in having fun.

It was a problem. Not much of one, but even so; and only so because at times like this people had no concept whatsoever of 'personal space'. Or 'hygiene'.

But that was alright. Not for nothing was Havelock the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork; there were very few things which could take him off guard.

"Hey, Mister! We need another for the dance! Wanna come?"

--Children, every so often, were one of them.*

Havelock turned to lift his eyebrow at the group of seven hopeful pre-pubescent and barely pubescent locals. Some of them looked like perfectly ordinary humans. One had long scaly ears. Another had a feathered tail. A third had claws she was quietly trying to shrink down to nubs--so she didn't, presumably, trip or accidentally lacerate her companion. They wouldn't have looked out of place in Ankh-Morpork.

They wilted slightly under his impassive gaze, even though Havelock knew--by now--that no one here had the slightest idea who he was. It was, after a fashion, quite as invigorating as riding the steam train high in the avalanche-prone mountains while it was being attacked by regressive and repressive dwarves.

Havelock broke into an abrupt bright smile and bowed. "It would be my pleasure."

He handed his cane off to one of the bemused local guards and let the grinning children take his hands and tug him into the circle. It was an unexpectedly complicated dance--consisting of eight people, quite a bit of clapping, spinning and an awful lot of weaving in and out with other circles. Still, Havelock had been an assassin, one of the best, and the dance was repetitive--it wasn't long at all before he was clapping, spinning and weaving with as much skill as the energetic children who'd been doing it all their lives.

When the music ended Havelock stepped out of the circle, his face slightly more coloured than it had been--though by no means enough to call it 'flushed'. Excusing himself from the disappointed children, he smoothed his faded black clothes back into place and took back his cane with a nod.

[*People frequently said that children were born innocent. Havelock knew this was not so. Children were born psychopathic, and that made them difficult to predict even for him.]

[saraisondetre]

Seles had been sitting the dancing out. For her health; 'youthful spontaneity' and 'activity' had a tendency to make her condition go south rather than north. But she'd watched with amusement as the older gentleman had been pulled into the circle. Her expectation was he'd be like a fish on the beach, but he turned out to be stunningly good. She half suspected he'd danced the dance before or something similar maybe...?

Straightening her ridiculously oversized hat she walked over to him as he exited the circle. She'd like a few words with him! "I didn't think you'd be able to do it. That dance. You surprised me."

Or she could fail miserably at the art of conversation. Her compliments perhaps had a tendency more towards being backhanded than straightforward.

[venivicivetinari]

Another child. Fascinating. There seemed to be dozens of them hereabouts, and they weren't even street ragamuffins. The question was whether this one was local. Havelock looked down at her with his eyebrow raised and then gave her the same bright smile as he had the other children.

"Why, thank you," he said. Backhanded compliments, after all, were perfectly straight-handed given the right angle. "I do so enjoy surprises." Especially giving them to ... certain types of people.

[heliscooter]

Piper had been watching the imposing man get pulled into a dance with the local children, and when he returned to the sidelines, she spoke up, partly covering her mouth to muffle the giggle.

"They're pretty convincing, huh?"

[venivicivetinari]

More children. Festivals seemed to bring them out of the woodwork. There were times Havelock wondered if they weren't bred in the Dungeon Dimensions. This one was wearing what looked like a uniform, however--at least, as much a uniform as the Ankh-Morpork City Guard tended to wear; that was to say, there were certain degrees of easily-copied uniformness. And, of course, a logo.

"In my experience," Havelock said, "there are few things as persistent as a child in pursuit of amusement." Even if it turned out the amusement of watching an old man fumble was supplanted by the amusement of a dance well performed. "What, may I ask, are you?"

[heliscooter]

"I... pardon?" Piper did a sort of double take at being asked that. "I'm not sure what you mean."

[venivicivetinari]

Not yet the sort who equated work with self-identity, then. Perhaps she was still too young; perhaps she was still too new. Perhaps she was simply unfocussed. The fact that she didn't assume the question was about her race was curious, as well. Either it wasn't an issue, or the question was a preparation for offence. Amazing how two opposing reactions could manifest, initially, the exact same way.

"Your uniform," Havelock clarified, indicating her clothes with his cane. "What manner of industry offers uniforms to one so young?"

[heliscooter]

"Oh," Piper said, feeling slightly embarrassed. "A Storm Hawk. I'm part of the Storm Hawks squadron," she said, touching the tip of the metal crest across her shoulder blades. "My name's Piper, it's nice to meet you."

[venivicivetinari]

"Havelock Vetinari," said Havelock with a bow. "What sort of squadron might that be?" Certainly the outfit looked like leather armour, but it was stripped down to be skintight. Possibly to minimise wind resistance? Otherwise it was hardly as practical as a full-thickness piece of armour, leather or otherwise, particular given the unarmoured biceps.

Of course, it could always be magic, but that was something of an exercise in hazard.

in which I shamelessly borrow from the intro voiceover

[heliscooter]

Piper was a little taken aback by the bow, and a faint tinge coloured her cheeks. It just seemed so dignified, and she didn't get any of the feeling of snootiness from the gesture that often accompanied the Rex Guardians.

"A Sky Knight squadron," she replied. "In Atmos, where I'm from, the terras -- those are the kingdoms on top of landmasses, above the cloud layer -- are each protected by a Sky Knight and their squad."

utilising all resources at your disposal!

[venivicivetinari]

"Kingdoms above the clouds?" Havelock repeated thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the skull-head of his cane. "There are legends of such things where I'm from. Though--" He gave her another, charming smile. "--forgive my impudence, young lady--would your squadron happen to ride dragons?"

Only legends in his world, or so most people thought. Havelock had heard of some areas scarred by the Mage Wars whose magic was so dense they could bring the imaginary to life, in much the same way Wonse had managed to manufacture a nobilis dragon.

[heliscooter]

There's a flash of surprise, and recognition, in Piper's eyes when he asks. "Well, not in the last thousand years or so. Before there was mechanical flight, legend says that Sky Knights rode dragons, but once they built skyrides, they hunted the dragons to extinction."

There's just a faint hesitation before the last word, almost unnoticeable.

[venivicivetinari]

Ah. Hesitation and legend. "Yes, that sounds familiar," said Havelock dryly. "The people of my city once thought the same. They were, of course, quite wrong. Tell me, would your world happen to exist on the back of a giant turtle as well as this fine city here?"

It was a direct question, but sometimes direct was the better path. Ruling out the idea that the girl might be from some distant future of the Disc was easy enough to do, though the chances of that were slim.

Havelock tended not to take chances.