[darkstorme]

A human, and elf, and a half-orc were walking by Vehl, when they heard a cheer from the docks. Strolling down there, they were astonished to see a huge pavilion had been erected. After some inquiries, they were informed that, as a part of a celebration of the return of the sun, the tradition of Mistone/Alindor sporting tournaments had been resurrected, and men and women from both continents were inside competing in great feats of athleticism.

Not wanting to miss the spectacle, the three asked to be let in, only to be informed that the tickets had sold out a week before, and there was simply no more room. Disappointed, the three turned to leave, when the elf espied a stack of unfinished quarterstaves, discarded outside of the craft hall. Inspired, he snatched one up, and returned to the gate.

"Look, I told you, there aren't any more tickets!" the gatekeeper said.

"No, no, you misunderstand," said the elf, "I'm one of the athletes. Pole vaulting, representing Port Hempstead!"

The gatekeeper apologized and let the elf in. Watching this, the other two started looking for their own excuses. The human found his over by the blacksmith. A nearly-round hunk of metal had been left behind - clearly intended, at one point, to be a mace, before the smith had given up. Hefting his prize, he trotted back to the pavilion. "Representin' Lyn, shot-put!" he cried, before the gatekeeper could even open his mouth. Wordlessly, the man let him in.

Desperate now to follow his friends, the half-orc scoured the city for an excuse, but it seemed bare of discarded trifles. Finally, outside the gates, he found a farmer repairing the pickets about his field, and his prop at last.

The gatekeeper looked up at the sound of footfalls, and saw the half-orc trotting happily towards him, rolling a bundle of barbed wire. "What on earth..?" the man began.

"Um.. representin' Fort Vehl," the half-orc said proudly, "fencin'!"