The Renaissance Affair ((Attn: All))

[CyledyrWyllt]

There was just the faintest glimmer of dawn on the horizon as Marcus sets up his forge at the Renaissance Faire. He noticed that the stalls on either side showed no signs of activity as yet. Not surprising really, at this early hour. The leatherworkers had only to set out their wares and possibly drape a few unfinished skins on which to work in front of the eager fair-goers. "Ye Olde Tavern", on the other side, didn't open for business until noon. A pity, that. Marcus noiselessly set his anvil in place and laid out his tools. As he waited for the fire to burn down to coals, he started unpacking the latest pieces he had chosen for the Faire. He wondered if anyone had even seen the note he had posted at the Freehold...

[Bo Albion]

Derry O'Dell wakes up in her trailer at the Faire. She feels exhausted from staying up so late and meeting so many people at the bar last night. Still a little buzzed, too, she thinks.

Not too many wares ready to set out today for her Heart's Desire Woodworks booth, but she could work while people browsed, and might be able to finish some nice pieces. She yawns and puts on the coffee pot. Gonna be a long day.

[Lexi]

ST Note: This thread is after all current threads end.

~Narration~

The Renaissance Faire opens up its doors at 8am on Friday morning, ready for crowds and the party paid for by the 4Cort Corporation. The outskirts of Sac City take you back in time as you cross into the faire, with jousting lists, performing bards, and a motley of vendors, actors, and regular folk portraying the peasantry.

Tents and stages made of dark wood line the area, and a blonde woman with an older man in black can be seen supervising the setup of a band off in a Greens area.

Rumiko and Garrick arrive early, carrying in some supplies and paint, and begin setting up a kissing booth, with a big coyote painted over the booth itself, and a big pink pair of kissing lips on either side.

[Bo Albion]

Derry looks at all the gear she'd have to drag out, and thinks Screw it, I'm just going to help with the party.

She gulps down the rest of her coffee, and gets dressed for the day in her usual Ren garb:

Teal blue full, floor-length circle skirt, with a robin egg blue overskirt which has multiple points hanging down resembling a jester's cap. Short sleeve off-white muslin peasant blouse, with sleeves than can be pushed up or down to suit her mood. Teal velvet bodice featuring embroidered birds in flight, tightly laced to- there's no better word- display her already generous cleavage to even better advantage.

Derry looks at her hair- up or down? She decides to be practical, and pulls her long wavy hair into a ponytail, which she then braids. She pulls a few tendrils of hair out to frame her face.

Time to go help with the party.

[Thistle]

Theo enters the faire. He's dressed in a short sleeved, button up, light green, traditional Germanic shirt. It has embroidery and stitching along the sleeves, pockets and down the buttons. The buttons themselves are shaped like oak leaves and acrons. A red feather decorates a hat you would expect to see worn in the Alps. His pants and shoes are more modern, tan slacks and hiking boots. A fully functional spear completes his outfit. He had been provided material so the weapon could be peace bonded.
He wanders the stalls for a short time before settling on Marcus' establishment.
"Hello. Do you only do metal work? I'm looking to get another spear."

Betony Rue's costume was almost entirely homemade, a fact which she was very proud of. She had searched around the city for material and supplies. Of course it was the patterns she had been suprised at. So much money for a few scarps of paper telling you how to cut some cloth. It outrageous how much they cost and she had told the clerk so. She'd told him in such a way he had taken a dollar off the price. That was another fact she was proud of. Haggeling was a dead art sometimes it seemed.
At first glance outfit appears rather simple normal peasants outfit. Blouse, bodice, long skirt, apron, and shawl all serve to make up the assembly. They are all colored deep, dark and rich greens and blues. It's the darkness of of the pallet that hides the complexity. Even darker emerald thread runs across the green and dark navys cover the cloth in complex patterns. The form plants and creatures that writh within the cloth. Ivy, roots and flowers bloom and snakes, birds and animals writhe deep in the shadows of the folds. But this can only be seen up close, at a distance the detail is soon lost.
She had been lucky enough to find some jewlery as well. A necklace of bone carved like a leaf and a large pin in the shape of antlers to hold up her shawl.
It had taken Betony Rue near three days to make and she was satisfied the effort had been well spent.

[CyledyrWyllt]

Marcus' skin glinted in the early light and a slight distortion, or heat haze, already seemed to follow his movements. Appearing to be made of seamlessly overlapping metals, his smooth skin is broken only by the swirling designs engraved into the flesh exposed by the open collar and rolled-up sleeves of his peasant shirt. Marcus sets his hammer down next to the slack tub as he sees the man with the feathered hat and spear enter his stall.

"Guten Morgen. I am a Smith, so while I excel at metalwork, I am capable of basic wood- and leather-work for weapon shafts, hilts, and pommels. If you want something really extraordinary, I could craft the spearhead while a woodworking artisan carves the shaft." Marcus refused to speak in the "Olde Englishe" the Yanks at the Faire seem to love. His true English accent was enough for most.

"Speaking of..." Marcus notices the blonde changeling exiting the woodcraft stall. He had seen her around, what was her name... Mary? No, Terry... something like that. After wiping a hand on his long leather apron, he raised it and nodded in her direction.

[Derek Noble]

Derek Noble and several other instructors from the Wagner Academy arrive at the Faire early with many of their students in tow. Though there was only one other changelnig among the Academy staff at this time, the event provided an excellent opportunity for the students to get out and do some live-venue performance while also having fun. He was glad he'd been able to talk the school's principal, Adrienne West, into authorizing the change in schedule, and several of the faculty into going along with the idea at short notice.

Derek was even happier that Adrienne herself had decided to come along. Aside from her well-known public presence adding some bit of added style to the event, it was a good chance for her to get to know and interact with more of the freehold. Though she'd been Ensorcelled for most of the time since Derek had escaped his Keeper, she'd had relatively little experience with other changelings. Derek felt it was important that change, both so she could become more comfortable among the Lost and so she might be better able to see past the Mask of any changelings unknown to her, and thus be more aware of potential threats to the Freehold and the Academy.

Derek had made sure to obtain a bracelet for Adrienne as well as for himself, in hopes that she'd stay around late and perhaps loosen up a bit, maybe even get drunk or laid or both. He knew well that she had a secret desire to behave in a more unhibited manner, but also felt actually doing so would be inappropriate for a lady of her station and age, and might bring scandal to the Academy. She was one of the few from the Academy that had not raided the costume shop for an outfit to wear to the occasion. She was instead dressed in a stylish grey skirt suit and pale blue blouse, with a selection of exquisite but tasteful jewelry and stylish but sensible shoes. Derek felt this a shame, as she was truly quite a fit and attractive woman of 50.

Derek himself was dressed as a pirate, complete with black-and-red striped hose, an open-front, puffy-sleeved white cotton shirt, wide-cuffed leather buccaneer boots that came to just below his knees, a red sash, leather gauntlets and, to top it off, a classic pirate hat - complete with a large, red plume - and a patch over his left eye. His stage rapier with the blunt tip was sheathed at his side, and he bore coins and bills in a black leather pouch. He only regretted he'd not had time to obtain a parrot, though he was somewhat consoled by the recognition that this likewise meant he wouldn't be ending the day's festivities with bird shit trailing down his back.

Derek ran his fencing students through their routine a few times, wanting to make sure they'd put on a show that would be memorable, and of which they'd be proud . Between the fencing exhibit and the staged swordfighting, Derek was going to be fairly busy, but he looked forward to every bit of it. Since he'd started teaching, Derek's opportunity to perform on stage for anyone other than students had been fewer than he wished, and he planned to enjoy today to its utmost potential.

Beyond that, Derek planned to deal with the problem of one of his students, Lauren Kingsley, having a crush on him that was so strong that it was interfering with her classwork. He had finally deciphered the second clause of the Contract of Fleeting Spring, and he planned to use it today, to refocus her fixation on him toward some pleasant lad her own age. He'd do the same in regard to the boy's feelings toward her if necessary, though he doubted that would be the case. Lauren was quite a beautiful young lady, and most of the boys at the school that weren't more interested in other boys fantasized about catching her eye, or at very least getting into her pants.

"At least I won't have to worry about not having Glamour enough for the task," Derek thought. Ren Faires were overflowing with Glamour, and particularly that of desire, which so energized the Spring Court, because practically everyone attending one couldn't help but feel desire for one thing or another. For one person, it might be the simple desire for a beautiful woman in a corset and revealing bodice - there'd be no lack of those here today - or for a buff, fit man portraying some roguish figure dressed in revealingly tight clothing, such as Derek himself. For others, it was the desire for food or drink: the tarts and chocolate-dipped strawberries, the turkey legs, the hollowed-out rounds of bread filled past brimming with steaming soup, or perhaps simply an ale as the day grew warmer. One could feast on the glamour flowing at the lines that would form at the more popular vendors' stands just as easily as the customers could fill themselves with the flavorful offerings. For yet others, it might be desire for the finely-crafted chainmail, or the beautiful womens' garb fit for a true princess, or the sword fashioned like something from a Frank Frazetta painting. The fact that such swords were 95% of the time cheap, poorly-balanced crap that would break or fold if used to strike anything sturdier than a pose didn't keep the unaware from wanting them. Derek knew that during their breaks the Academy students would do their part to keep the glamour flowing right along with all the attendees, and probably build up significant credit card balances in the process.

Aside from Derek's groups, several other faculty had students performing at the event. There were numerous music students - flutists, harpists, and a madrigal group - as well as student jugglers, dancers and - inescapably - mimes. Though he accepted mime as having some legitimate role - a very small one, but nonetheless legit - among the performing arts, Derek didn't tend to find it any more tolerable than did most of the general public. He hadn't asked the colleague teaching this semester's mime class to come, but he'd invited himself and his class anyhow, hungry for any opportunity to let his students show off. For the students' sake, Derek just hoped they didn't get too much beverage or food tossed at them.

"Perhaps I could attend some of their events and turn the desires of the audience toward liking mime. That would be perverse, though." Derek wondered if such an act would put Clarity at risk.

Aside from student performers, many of the students were attending to observe the performances and study the techniques of the Faire's performers, actors and craftsmen and women.

And then there was his fellow drama instructor, Alice Chang, and her first-year acting class. They were set to perform as well, having worked overtime to prepare a medley of scenes from Romeo and Juliet. Alice had intended to have her students do scenes from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Derek had managed to dissuade her from that course of action only by impressing on her the lie that it was "too cliche in these sorts of events." In fact, he'd never seen a troupe perform Midsummer at a Ren Faire. It was simply a matter of his time in Arcadia having permanantly destroyed what he'd thought would be an undying love for that masterpiece, and the fact that a good many of the Lost in attendance would no doubt be disturbed by a portrayal of fairie lords and ladies and hobgoblins as being merely spiteful and petty and cruel, but ultimately pretty harmless. He figured they'd probably find the preponderance of girls - and the occasionaly boy - flitting about dressed in dance shoes and tights and tie-on butterfly wings portraying fairies harmless enough, and perhaps even amusing, but the Bard's fae masterpiece was unlikely to find so receptive an audience. Something so good and yet so wrong could be a hard thing to take.

It briefly occurred to Derek that "so good and yet so wrong" summarized the disturbing ambivalence so many of the Lost felt in regard to their time with the Keepers, but he chose to dismiss that thought and focus instead on the many pleasures promised by today's event, and even moreso by the night's entertainment.

[Thistle]

"I don't need anything too fancy. The shaft doesn't need to be a Bayeux tapestry, just servicable."
He turned briefly to see who the Smith was waving to. The woodcrafting stall seemed to be more of an assortment of small craved figures than combat staves. He turned back to talking to the weapon crafter.
"I'm Theo by the way." He held his hand out, not minding any soot Marcus might have on his own. "So do you speak German?"

Betony Rue didn't fully appriciate the atmosphere. People running around with an overly romantic view of past stories. It reminded her of a weak little girl how had loved to run around playing make believe with unicorns and good witches. She hated that little girl. Still she wasn't going to let such thoughts rule her actions. She had set out to form closer relations with the courts and people in general and this was as good a place as any.
She noticed Mr. Noble. He looked ridiculus in his outfit she thought. Part of her wanted to simply ignore him. It was the same part that wanted her to leave this farce, so she ignored it. This is for your own betterment, she kept telling herself. How many times had the Hag told her the same thing she pondered.
She walked over to Mr. Noble, gave a rigid curtsey and said "It's good to see you here Mr. Noble. How are you doing?"
Betony Rue flinched.

[CyledyrWyllt]

The Smith looks at the man blankly for a split-second before saying, "Marcus". He envelops Theo's hand in a brief, yet firm grip. "I'm afraid that exhausted my knowledge of German... I just thought you looked incredibly Teutonic." Marcus glances at the beer stall next door, then adds rhetorically, "Hold on... 'Becks', 'Warsteiner', and 'Hacker-Pschorr'... do those count?"

Smiling at his joke, Marcus makes a sweeping gesture toward the spears on display againt the back of his stall. "If nothing strikes your fancy, I also do custom work." Two of the three spears on display appear rather plain upon first glance, but reveal intricate details upon closer inspection. The spearheads are etched with swirling, Celtic-inspired knotwork and flourishes. The third spear is a formidible-looking fantasy piece. The shaft is inlaid with a metal dragon coiled along its length, the spearhead shaped like a tongue of steel flame erupting from its mouth. In spite of the elaborate design, it seems both strong and serviceable.