Warren stood on top of a hill that overlooked the festivities for the ongoing tourney. He had his all black stallion, and his two protectors at his side. He sighed as he ran his hand through his short hair. He worse leather armor and some sparse metal coverings, all Nordic in appearance- since he’s a Viking. His shield, his sword, and a lance were attached to his horse’s saddlebag. This was hell; Warren having to be here under the guise of diplomacy. Some sickening irony.

He still had to sign up for the jousting and the sword tourney. But standing with Bjorn, he had no clue what his plan was anymore. He hears the trumpets, sounding the start of sign ups, and he can faintly make out the profiles of Sir Lancelot and King Arthur at the tables, signing up for some of the main events.

Bjorn and his guardians shuffle, the sound of Bjorn’s armor and shield rattling as the two fae dogs whine. And Warren was completely considering and rethinking his plan.