It had been a particularly long event. Well, it seemed like that to Lord Aaron Darmouth. He had been having fun with the war scenarios, despite not doing very well, and now it was Sunday night and time for the bonfire. Everyone would be packing up tomorrow, the end of the Labor Day weekend, and it was time for some more fun.
Aaron grabbed up his towel and body wash and wandered over to the stone privys where the showers were located. Sure enough, as usual, there was a line. He patiently waited his turn, alternately making small talk with a merchant that sold fantasy swords and another heavy weapons fighter that had been given a sprained wrist in the events of the day.
Eventually he managed to make it to one of the showers, and he made sure to wash the sweat and dirt off. His lean, muscular body was something to see. He worked out regularly, and managed to turn himself into something he could be proud of. He realized that he had an average face, but the ladies quickly forgot about that as soon as they saw his pecs.
Finishing up his shower, he wandered back to camp. His tent was a modern one, since saving up for a period tent would take a while. At well over a grand for the one he wanted, it might take quite a while. Ah, well.
He dressed in a red tunic which was emblazoned with his device, and a pair of black pants. He pulled his boots on and strapped on his swordbelt. Donning his cap and a large, billowy cloak, he was ready. Grabbing a bottle of rum, he waived at several of his household members and he made his way toward the battlefield.
All of the hay bales that had been used to simulate a castle were stacked in a semi-circle, with rows of seats one above another to a height of about 8 feet. This kept the noise down, and you had to get within 200 yards to realize there was anything going on at all.
He nodded to the guard at the entrance, a heavy that he had had the pleasure of crossing rattan with earlier in the day. He had gone down quickly, thanks to a quick overhead strike. The smile on his face as he saw Aaron told him he had no hard feelings. The drummers were already at their craft, pounding out a beat that several women dressed in Gypsy garb were whirling and dancing to around a large bonfire. The seats were about half full, but Aaron knew that they would be completely full within an hour. It was going to be a good night.
A young woman wearing a large Kinsale cloak approached him. In the firelight he could see nicely braided blonde hair and a glowing smile. Quite beautiful, he thought.