"August 26th, afternoon" for those who keep chronological post logs. The race results thread was deleted, but I believe in order, the finishers were to be:
Haven - Dawali - Heath - Hanna - Catherine - Hemming
And for those unfamiliar, the CdM subterritories and map are here, courtesy of Sara-joe/Leroy: http://cdm.soulsrpg.com/map.htm
I will play this as though everyone has already arrived, and the six horses competing are already on the track.
SPECTATORS, you are only required to post during the first round. Make an OOC note if you don't intend to reply again. Posting order will be determined by the first round. The race itself will last two rounds, and after the winner is announced, I'll leave it open for one more week or so in case players want to have a last reply.
Gentlemen, start your engines~! 8D
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Shiny new table courtesy of James! <3
The sun was dazzling at high noon, its summer rays shimmering above the dusty oblong of the racing track. Jacquez Trouillefou, proud owner of all that he surveyed, had never really questioned what the weed-choked circle had been for, especially positioned so near to the horse barn that his followers kept drifting to. And then, like the gambler he was at heart, it occurred to him that the horses were dumb beasts, dumb enough to run in a circle if their rider urged them to... and that if they competed amongst each other, it would be a spectacle easy to bet on. And with that pure and noble reasoning, the deluded monarch had spread word of his intentions, and word had spread quickly.
Perched precariously atop the rickety old stadium seating, the one-armed Optime let his tail lash excitedly behind him, his dark eyes sweeping across the anxious horses, their canine riders, and the murmuring spectators that had gathered to watch the unlikely entertainment. Had Jac had any idea the scale of the human racetrack, the thousands of humans that used to watch a single competition, the pristine expanse of the clean track, he would have scoffed at the ragtag turnout he had garnered today. But without any knowledge of history, he was highly pleased that not only his own loyal subjects had shown up, but a good amount of strangers from a neighboring tribe had come as honored guests as well. His fame had spread, or so it appeared to the egotistical ruler.
Rue, the orphaned filly that had adopted him as a surrogate parent, was loosely tethered to the weathered old post that marked the starting and finish line. The inquisitive paint horse huffed at the tall collection of racing steeds, her nub ears falling back as she saw their canine partners looming over her. Her white tail flicked and swished, small hooves stamping on the weed-covered terrain. She wanted to run, too, to play with the grown-up horses... but mean old Jacquez had tied her up again. He would have locked her up in the paddock, with the rest of the untamed Cour des Miracles mustangs, but she had learned how to clamber under the wooden fence. She had at least earned her place as a spectator, albeit an impatient and very young one.
Shading his eyes from the bright sky, the lean dog rose to his footpaws, his tawny-russet fur preened and coiffed for a regal announcement. He smiled smugly at the crowd before him. At his side was a ragged burlap sack, lumpy with contents unknown. He stooped over to hook his claw in the corner of the bag, whipping it deftly off so that the contents spilled onto the bleacher seat before him. Gold shone and flashed in the sunlight; three doubloons fished out of the Pirata Grotto, a gold-plated chain liberated from a store in Halifax, a strangely-shaped rusted dagger that had washed ashore their side of the Shattered Coast (unbeknownst to Jacquez, it was actually a bayonet), and a shiny glass human-made gem coloured like an emerald.
"Trinkets or treasure?" he called out, his booming voice echoing out over the stablegrounds. Rue squeaked out a whinny at the sound of his foghorn voice, craning her neck to try and see him. "As the benevolent king of this miraculous kingdom, I have gathered you here for a friendly competition. And to the winner of our first-ever horse race-" -he found he still pronounced the word 'horse' with an odd bemusement, still oblivious to the clear bond that these animals had forged with each other- "-I offer you this collection of found objects, along with a flagon of my finest moonshine whiskey. For whatever reason you ride today, be it for the sake of another, be it to reclaim your pride, be it the sheer joy of speed - I wish you bon fortune, and extend my invitation of courtesy to all those visiting our land!" He smiled broadly, high spirits swelling as he felt the attention of every eye on him. He should organize gatherings more often. He hardly ever got to give grandiose speeches anymore. And he was ever so eloquent, too... He would give the motley canines a moment to absorb his cordial phrasings, before telling the racers to begin amusing him.
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