(121-02-20) Music Competition
Music Competition
Summary: The Dolphin Festival's music competition.
Date: 20 Feb 2014
Related: none

Hightower Square

This is a broad cobblestoned square, ringed by grand buildings hewn from stone. A massive fountain, also hewn from the same strong grey stone, stands in its center. It is wrought in the form of the Hightower in miniature. A tiny flame burns at its peak, and crystal waters pour from its base, pouring down the stony pedestal into the mirror-smooth pond below.

Stone benches offer places to sit, vendors cry their many wares, merchants ply their trade, and all around one can see the finely-dressed Oldtown wealthy meandering about. There is a pleasant smell of cooking food in the air, tingeing the ever-present smell of the salt sea, and a hint of perfumes and spices.

To the West, the Hightower street leads away. To the South, the archway to the Beacon Boulevard rises. To the North, with the Watch House standing alongside, is a stretch of street leading to the Beacon Gate and out to the Roseroad beyond. The cobblestone market square is quite clean and fresh, with nary a sign of any beggars, street rats, or grimy peddlers hawking stolen goods.

The square is still in banners for the festival. There's a wooden platform set up for performers, and another for nobles to watch. There are a lot of people here, smallfolk and nobles alike, milling around the square, and a lot vendors with cakes and hot pies to sell.

Garvin is sitting on the platform with the other nobles, with a small contingent of men-at-arms scattered around nearby. His squire is not with him, but a page holds his harpcase with care.

Dainel despite being a noble, is setting up his stand, his ass and an assistant pulling in an ass with casks of wine that are set up and swiftly tapped for use. The Redwyne seems to even have cheap wooden flagons - the sort customers can take home as part of the celebration. The enterprising bastard looks condident and comfortable

Unfortunately one of the first voices heard is not from a trained performer, or from the stage — As the crowd mills about, a particularly audible woman's voice can be heard, belting out some country ballad. "Iiiii sold my horse for a tankard of ale, I sold my hat for a milkmaid's pail, I sold my cow for a carpenter's naaail! I neeeever will stop driiinking!"

The blonde-haired woman is clearly a spectator, thank the Seven. She sort of makes up for lack of skill with sheer presence. She also has a cheap wooden flagon in her hand. "Oooh, Sorry, Gentlewoman!" Ilona finally stops the nonsensical song to exclaim an apology as she maneuvers through the crowd to get a better view. Which shouldn't be hard, she's just plain /taller/ than most of the people down there. As she finds a comfortable spot, she turns her head to take a good look at the concessions first before reorienting herself facing the stage, laughing as she says something to a short, middle-aged, balding Braavosi man with a creeping case of baldness. The man laughs a bit, nervously.

Luckin is here with a bunch of novices from the Citadel. A bit odd of him, perhaps, though the old man seems to command such respect that the students are actually happy to be gathered around him. They do start for the wine, though. Free drinks cannot be missed.

Jhav is standing near the platform for the performers, his arms crossed along his chest as a grin is formed of his lips. Upon his shoulders? Well, as usual, his two lemurs who are looking about in a curious manner, their tails with patterns of black rings swaying from left to the right. The man holds his flute in his right hand, his left hand is clenched around a few grapes, he brings his left hand up, offering one to each of the lemurs whom happily take it and begin munching down as he simply waits for the time being.

Ilona's laugh is loud and piercing but it finally gets lost in the crowd noise and she quiets down, hitting the flagon as she settles in to watch the performers. She's having more fun than you are, clearly.

Dainel whistles at the drunk blonde, grinning cattishly. He seems content to watch his premium wine be given out. Instead of leaving Luckin to chance, he personally brings a flagon for the aging Maester "Sweet red made in the Arbor, aged for five years." he offers, calmly, head bowing with respect.

Garvin's men are all wearing new cloaks of purple wool, and they've tied small pansies to their armor. They're drinking too, but from their wineskins. Garvin isn't drinking, though he has a small, silver goblet of mead in one hand. The tall, boisterous woman's singing causes him to cringe, but it's the lemurs he's keeping an eye on.

The Archmaester takes the offered flagon with a smile. "Why, thank you," he says. "Sweet red." He looks at it, and though he makes no move to drink, he seems pleased.

Did the large woman notice Dainel's attention? Maybe she did, but she's not drunk enough to make a fool of herself to a lord like that. Yet. She does smile though, almost demurely. If that's possible. For her.

It's not a well organized event. There's just a man with a slate and Hightower livery near the steps to the performer's platform, taking down names when people run up to him, and a boy with the Hightower device on his doublet running around calling performers. A group of women take the stage to attempt a country dance.

Luckin inhales the bouquet off the wine for a moment, then whispers something to one of his novices before sipping it.

Dainel bows his head again, backing up and back over to his wine, eying Ilona before taking out a few candies from a pocket on his belt, moving to press them into the blonde's hand. "There you are, try not to get too drunk my dear." he teases, softly.

There's another swig of wine on Ilona's part, an she turns to eye Dainel. "Oh! What is this?!" She's actually not stinking drunk, but this stuff goes to your head, and she's had enough to get a wee bit tipsy and as it turns out, she's a happy drinker. Eyeing the candies, she exclaims, "Thank you m'lord!" Whether or not she really knows the hawkish man's identity or not she sees the silver he's wearing and is made clear, he's well off. And then she munches the candy, There's a grin of approval there, and follows it up with a wine chaser.

Garvin's page enters his lord's name with the slate-holding man. Garvin watches the country dance with little interest, slowly turning the goblet's stem between thumb and forefinger.

The dancers have a drummer to help them along. Their good, though the tune is familiar, heard all over The Reach. There is a bit of ankle-flashing, though.

Jhav watches the people group of women step up to the stage, the lemurs blink about, following his gaze for a moment before simply looking about, finishing up their grapes for the time being. Jhava glances to his flute taking a moment to bring it up to his lips and test it quietly for a second or two, he grins as he draws it away from his mouth, twirling it casually between his fingers for a second before grabbing it once more with a sigh, tilting his head to the left so he could look to one of his lemurs, muttering to it in summer tongue for a bit before looking back again, waiting his time to go upon the stage.

Dainel enters his own name lazily and rather calmly continues serving wine - Attractive women, old women, and adorable children seem to get a number of candied fruits from the rather relaxed Redwyne lordling. He takes his time checking his wines and replacing old barrows with new ones.

An Ilona stands a bit upright, blocking some poor man's view as she strains to get a good look at the dancers. She tries to mimic a step but decides it's a terrible idea, and then abashedly notices she's in danger of ruining someone's fun. Stepping out of the way, she gives the man a better view of the stage. "Oh, seven pardons!"

The archmaester drinks the wine, slowly, and wanders the square with the young men who came with him, looking at the things offered for sale, glancing up at the dancers and the banners from time to time.

Garvin continues to watch and wait, his mead still untouched. Despite the flashes of ankle, his men seem as bored as their lord by the common country dancers.

The dancers finish, flushed and grinning. Next come a couple, singers, performing a traditional romantic duet. They've dressed the part, in cheap costume versions of noble's clothes, several years behind the fashion.

Yes, in fact, Ilona is that person who spoils the ending. She leans over towards her short Braavosi companion, "no no no, she's singing the part of Breilana, Breilana was masquerading as a beggar but she's really a princess! That's not his /sister!/" Indeed, that would be gross. Unless you're a Targaryen.

Jhav appears to pay a good deal of attention to this display, rather than the country dance. He wears a smirk upon his face as his lemurs simply look about in a uninterested manner before the aged summer isles man raises his hand to offer each lemur a grape again, and they go back to eating.

When the duet is over, the singers bow, and the Hightower page runs up to whisper to Jhav.

Dainel is observing, watching Ilona with interest. Instead of fussing he heads over with a full proper bottle of wine, his hand on his hip, grin lopsided as he watches "Now now dear, don't ruin the ending for everyone my dear." he teases, watching the woman and now Jhav.

The archmaester disapears amid the crowd, probably on his way back to the Citadel.

"Oh, he just had it wrong, is all." Ilona protests, but hastily corrects herself. "Err, sorry m'lord." Whatever was going on surrounding the singers is long gone, as she claps like the Seven Hells for their performance. But what's next? Oh my. Lemurs.

Daevon's dressed simply but comfortably today. His hair's windswept, and the scent of smoke clings to him. He walks alongside Malvolio, taking in the sights.

Malvolio comes along at Daevon's side, grinning and chatting with the Maiden's Knight, casual and comfortable.

Garvin remains on the nobles' platform, the silver goblet of mead in one hand, though still unsipped.

<FS3> Jhav rolls Music: Amazing Success.

Jhav leans his head over, allowing the page to whisper to him before giving him a nod and a pat on the shoulder. He twirls his flute about with his right hands fingers for a moment as he brings himself from leaning against the platform as he begins to take the stage. Once upon the stage he squats down, whispering to both of his lemurs before looking to the crowd. The lemurs hop from his shoulders and move to some small pouches upon the man’s belt, before taking out two miniature pair of drums.

The ring-tailed lemurs drag the drums out in front of Jhava and look to around as they begin beating down upon them. Is the beat bad? No, it's not surprisingly, but it's certainly not fantastic. It's steady, close to be repetitive but still quite enjoyable. But once Jhava lifts his flute to his lips and begins to blow into it, the listeners would most likely find that the beat is quite good as it's accompanying Jhava and his flute. Jhava plays quickly, his fingers swiftly dancing from one hole to the next as he plays his exotic song. The song is playful, and occasionally picks up speed before toning down ever so slightly as the man plays. One of the lemurs begins slowing down his beating, as well as patting against the drums lighter until he simply stops before hopping over the drums and… Beginning to dance? Well, it appears so as it begins swaying its tails from left to right and hops about, when the animal lands it quickly takes off again to the sound of Jhava's flute.

As the lemur dances, the song suddenly shifts, but the transition is anything but unnatural sounding as Jhava continues to dance his fingers along his instrument, while the song is still exotic, it's a bit slower, but still sounding good as it accompanies the beat of the one lemur that continues to beat upon the drum. Perhaps the song is a bit on a more sorrowful scale, but the song slowly picks up, becoming more and more happy and playful. And now, as the conclusion of the summer isles mans performance begins to dawn, the other lemur stops drumming and begins to dance with the other one as Jhava breaks into a solo. The sounds from the flute are both playful, exotic, as well as a bit aggressive, the type of song you could imagine accompanying the tale of a valiant knight who is in battle, and as Jhav continues to play, the song picks up, before toning down considerably as he softens his blowing of air for a while, tapping his finger down before holding down, playing the same note for a few seconds before stopping, and thus his performance has concluded

Daevon's here in time to see the lemurs it would seem. He watches the stage, with amusement at first and then increasing appreciation. "What are those creatures?" he asks Malvolio, in a quiet whisper, as if he would somehow be more likely to know. He cannot help but smile at the whole performance.

Children in particular seem delighted, but many are enchanted by the tune, and the performance of the dancing lemur. A lot of the smallfolk in the square dance along. The drunken ones dance as freely as the children, who dance as freely as the lemurs.

Malvolio smiles. "Is this often happening?" he asks of Daevon. Then he laughs at the question, says, "Tree-creatures, from the Summer Isles. They are a little like a cat, a little like a tiny man? I am not knowing what the name of them is here. Pretty, no?" He's grinning. "I am not knowing they would to do a thing like that."

Her attention positively glued to Jhav and the lemurs, Ilona looks down at the middle-aged Braavosi man with her in the crowd and tugs at his sleeve, pointing at something on stage and then begins laughing, clapping her hands after she sets down her cheap wooden flagon. "The Monkey Knight!" She laughs some more. The man good-naturedly smiles along, and it's obvious that her good humor has rubbed off on him at least a little. There's a whisper, and suddenly, she whips around, as some of the voices chitter in the crowd. "Maiden's Knight? MAIDEN'S KNIGHT?! WHERE?!" She covers her mouth with her hands, "Sorry." It just dawned on her how loud she is. Of course, she now unfortunately is a little distracted, there's a glance at the performance on stage, and then she tries to drag her gaze through the crowd — probably to get a good look at Daevon, wherever he is.

Dainel watches the lemurs with great amusement. "You are good fun, if you want to gawk in person, maybe we can both meet him." he whispers softly to Ilona, grinning lopsidedly

There's another singer, a man with a little lute, waiting to take the stage. The boy page whispers to Garvin's men.

Garvin sits forward in his chair, watching the Summer Islander and his little lemurs with great interest. His page runs up and whispers in his ear, and the lord nods to him. "Prepare my harp," he whispers. "And the chair."

Daevon shakes his head. "I would not know. This is the first time I have been here, and the first time I have seen such a performance. They are charming." As Ilona calls out his name, he flushes a little, then offers a wave to his admirers. He's not all fancied up today, but then after the beating he got yesterday during jousting, coupled with being unceremoniously dumped off his horse and into the mud is it any wonder. Still he seems in good spirits.

Malvolio waves too, cheerfully. It's possible, judging from his grin, that the barefoot Braavosi thinks this is funny. "Dancing pig, maybe?" he asks Daevon. "And zhese animals are for, mmm, exoticism?"

Ilona just looked like she got handed the keys to the kingdom. She has no way of knowing whether that wave was directed to her but it's the thought that counts, and that slim hope that keeps smallfolk like her going. This little brush with celebrity done, she returns her attention to the stage, clapping her hands some more, the calluses from months if not years spent with the blacksmith's hammer impacting on each other. She finally catches Dainel's comment though and her attention is torn. "REALLY M'lord?!" Her blue eyes are big here, and she actually asks this question as quietly as she can possibly handle. "I mean, after the Lord's piece. I hear it's magnificent." She's beside herself. Yup.

Daevon laughs and shakes his head. "I've never seen a dancing pig either. Do you think there is one?" He looks around in hope. "I do not know. I suppose so." His gaze keeps skimming around for a pig.

Jhav, by now, is again leaning against the performance platform, arms crossed as he maintains a content grin, looking to his lemurs as he mutters to them, again, in summer tongue, reaching into a pouch as he offers them some grapes once more, occasionally glancing to the platform every now and then.

The newest performer, a single young man dressed all in green, is florid. So many trills in his playing, and in his sad, romantic song.

Malvolio says to Daevon, "I am sure that somewhere in the world is a dancing pig. Perhaps we make a quest to find it?" He grins.

Dainel grins a bit. "We'll try, certainly do try to behave yourself, poppet." he reaches up, gently touching Ilona's chin. He takes a sip of his lovely home grown wine. "It is my specially - a lovely peach wine, you wish to try?" he asks, pausing "Dainel Redwyne, enchanted to meet you." he offers with a lopsided grin

Daevon's starting to look a little sad as the next song places, but it's only a moment and Malvolio has him laughing again. "A fine quest indeed. I fear it is one that will need to be fueled with far more wine than I've currently drunk. And I do feel pity for such a pig. Would it enjoy dancing? Would it do so on four legs do you think, or just on its hind ones like some dogs do?"

Garvin begins slowly drinking his mead, just tiny sips, as he listens to the next singer performing. His attention is all upon the stage, lost in the song, as the rest of the square falls away from his consciousness.

"I think," says Malvolio, "That a dog is better for standing on his hind legs that a pig. So perhaps it dances on four. Surely it loves to dance, it is better to dance than be a roast," He winks. "Or to be ridden into battle by one of these pretty leetle cat-men, no?"

Ilona appears to be a bit nonplussed. "Uhh, peach wine?" She says, standing tall again, and rosy-cheeked. "Maybe, M'lord Redwyne." She notes. "Um, they call me Ilona." Simple, uncomplicated, smallfolk. But she is anything but small, one would note. For now though, she takes a step forward to get closer to the stage, looking at the man in green. There is no dancing pig though, not at all. She stands on her tiptoes to try to take in as much of the performance platform as she can, and spies Jhav and his lemurs, and sticks out her tongue at one of the little creatures.

"I suppose," Daevon says. "I've not had much experience of pigs as such. Boars, now they are fierce but not particularly inclined towards dancing either. I would not like to be the one to try and force a board into a dress and make it dance on two legs. You're right though, better a dance than a roast, at least for the pig if not for us.

When there is a crowded room or a square-there's always room for one more. Really there is. It's just an unsaid rule that one more person can put themselves into that situation. And really, Hightower Square is no exception. Soon another body is there to add to those already engaged in commerce. Though like a bad joke, this newcomer exits the Watch house, while speaking to a young woman, whose profession could be anything. The man, of this pair is dressed in drab grey robes of a Septon, and quickly makes the sign of the Seven over the waif's forehead, before sending her on. Hands folding into his sleeves, he watches her go with a somewhat satisfied smile, before he is looking back to the watchman who followed him out.

"Thank you officer." Everett calls out before giving a cheery enough wave, before he is moving further into the square. A whistle fresh on his lips.

The bard finishes, bows with as much flourish as he played, and leaves the stage. Bowing three more times as he departs.

Garvin spends 1 luck points on Composing a song.
<FS3> Garvin rolls Mind+Music+5: Good Success.

Garvin drains his goblet at last, swallowing down the sweet mead, then leaving the goblet behind, as he steps off the nobles' platform and accept the harpcase from his page. His page half-carries, half-drags a chair up onto the performer's platform, while the lord follows, his goldwood harp cradled in his arms. Once the chair is in the center of the stage, Garvin sits and softly strums his fingers across the silver strings, as he prepares to begin his song.

Garvin spends 1 luck points on Playing a song on the harp at the music contest.
<FS3> Garvin rolls Presence+Music+5: Great Success.

Garvin spends 1 luck points on Singing an original song at the music contest.
<FS3> Garvin rolls Presence+Singing+5: Success.

Garvin begins to play his harp, a haunting melody of his own composition. Soon his voice joins the music, and the song is called "The Lady Bravo's Honor." Again, it is his own composition, an epic duel between Rona Vielo, the beautiful and courteous lady bravo, and the brash and craven sellsword, Vuk Aleksey. It's a thrilling battle, with the hulking, snarling Vuk swinging his great axe, and the lighter, quicker Rona laughing and dancing away from the blows, while darting in to make a few lightning strikes with her Valyrian steel blade. In the end, Rona leaps upon the wooden tilt barrier, and when Vuk slams his axe down at her, she dances away again, leaving his axe stuck in the wood. She then springs in for the killing blow, to the cheers of the noble onlookers.

And in response to this, the big 'smallfolk' woman belts out a huge cheer as the Green Man finishes his performance. She's safely discarded her empty flagon now, jumping up and down. Ilona's callused hands slap together as she blocks some other poor bastard's view before settling down for the finale, as Garvin approaches. Now she's — almost quiet, which is a special thing for her.

It's going to become somewhat clear that she's just more naturally boisterous than she is absolutely wasted. It's just that a little bit of wine didn't help. (Note - "Little bit" is a relative term). Now it's all about Garvin, and the ballad of Rona and Vuk.

There is, for the most part, silence. People are interested in the narrative of Garvin's song. Hushingly interested.

And then the song ends, and Garvin lets the harp rest against his shoulder, lowering his head. After a minute or so, his page scrambles up onto the platform and relieves him of the goldwood harp, returning it to its case. Garvin rises to his feet, takes off the floppy hat with plumes and pansies, and sweeps into a deep bow.

Hushingly interested, Everett's attention turns to the stage and there he stares for a moment, mesmerized by the song that is being played. A faint jaw drop before it closes, and the septon's face screws into a frown. "Huh." said to no one in particular as he jostles in the crowd for a better view of the stage and the one playing. "I've not heard this one before.." Which is not surprising. the poor Brother has been down in the sands of drone. Music travels there later…it seems.

Dainel is quiet, moving his fingers to pet Ilona, quietly slipping off, clapping - likely needing to check on his wine cart and get more booze.

There's a cheer, and applause that lasts. Attention is all on Garvin. Some people throw pansies in the air, to have them rain down on the young lord.

Garvin stands erect again, holding his hat high, as the pansies tumble all around. With another bow, he makes his way off the stage, as a page drags away the chair.

Dainel gets a look from Ilona that is polite, but shy, which is a tad absurd considering how — well, unshy she seems to be, for the most part. Nobility and all. She edges a step towards the stage, and suddenly that shyness is pretty much gone as she lets loose a howl of praise at Garvin. The Tyrell Lord with the harp just won a lifelong fan as she trills a loud cheer. "LORD TYRELL!!!!" And then applause.

Malvolio and Daevon slip out of the square while attention is on Garvin. The boy page runs to find the next performer.

Lord Pansy returns to the nobles' platform, giving a smile to the crowd and waving his hat overhead. But soon enough, he sits again, propping the hat atop his curls and turning to watch the next performer. Now that his own performance is over, he's no reason to say sober, so when his page pours mead into his goblet, Garvin drains it at once, then holds it to be refilled again.

Everett looks towards Ilona, whom is not very far away, and there's a brief laugh before he is looking back towards Garvin, his eyes squinting briefly as if trying to pick out, which flower this one is. Though with the Pansies laying about-that should be some clue. However, the septon is no detective or lawman. So his investigative skills are no where near, Lady Marple's. Hands back inside the sleeves of his robes, the Septon looks to see who is next.

The contest continues. There will be singing and dancing far into the evening in the square today.

Well, back to the flagon for Ilona. The night ain't over yet! "For the Mother and the Smith!" She yells between performances, her large frame shifting slightly as she jumps. Turning towards the short Braavosi man who temporarily made himself scarce, she says, as quiet as she can manage, "I think Lord Tyrell…" muttermuttersomethingsomething.

The muttering is what catches the Septon's attention first. And then he looks down to the squat little braavosi for a moment, before he looks back towards the mountain of a woman that is talking to him. "Mother's-" And any rude comment that is taken from the startled Holy man, is quickly swallowed up with a blinking look between the two. Coughing slightly, Everett turns his attention back to the stage.

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