Norlandic Flyting Tournament

[AnonymousAlexa 3877]

 

Norlandic Flyting Tournament

((Friday 8/18, 5 PM EST))

By the Authority and Will of the King of Norland

 

 

FOREWORD

Flyting, the art of wordplay to belittle one's opponent, is an ancient Norlandic tradition that has fallen out of fashion in recent decades. In efforts to revitalize this custom, a tournament of words shall be hosted in Vjardengrad. Participants will engage in a battle of words, using clever rhymes, inventive metaphors, and quick-witted retorts to outshine their opponents. The victor will receive a prize of 200 minas and the title of Skald in King Balon’s court.

 

Spoiler

OOC:

Friday 8/18, 5 PM EST

 

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Our Will be known to all on the

24th of Thoromir’s Plight, 467 FifAe at Vjardengrad, Kingdom of Norland,

 

BY THE BLOOD OF THE HERALD

 

Balon Eiriksson Ruric, King of Norland, High Chieftain of the Rurikkid, Jarl of Vjardengrad, Defender of The Red Faith, Bulwark of the Norlandic People

 

Hilda Eiriksson Ruric, Queen of Norland, Master of War, Captain of the Red Cloaks

 

[Meb_KatYT 91]

A man in his early thirties walks down a snow-covered road somewhere North, the only sounds being his breathing and the crunch of snow under his boots. Behind him is his younger sister, in her mid to late twenties. As they trudge along the snow-covered road, she spots a lump among the snow. "Look!" She says, pointing at the lump. The man turns, goes over to the lump and kneels down to pick it up with his metallic left arm, revealing a crumpled-up piece of paper.

 

The man pauses and cautiously unfurls the crumpled paper, revealing an advert for some kind of poetry contest in Norland. "Heh. Interesting. Very, very interesting." He turns to his sister, "Another chance to prove our identities should those schematics not be enough." He folds the advert and puts it into his satchel.

 

The two siblings resume quietly trekking through the snow towards their destination, their home: Norland.

[_pr0fit 2945]

"They missed an excellent opportunity to name it after Myro..." The old elf chuckles, shaking his head.