IC: Chapter I - the Summons of King Bard

The afternoon turns into evening and the sun sets behind the ridges, and very soon the parade is set to begin.

You each find a spot which provides you adequate viewing along the route of the worn, cobbled path. And although the warmth of direct light is gone, and the breeze still blows, the press of the crowd and particularly the heat of the great braziers used to cast light on the main parade-theater is more than enough to keep things pleasant.

And before long the first contingents of the parade come within view from the west and proceed along the route to the east, toward Lake-town. Each feature of the parade is best seen in the evenings failing light when it passes into a central, 50 meter stretch of the path, which is illuminated by a set of 4 great braziers on either side of the route, their fire's-light reflected into the route by tall white-canvas backings erected behind them. The stark flickering light creates a dramatic effect, and the bulk of the parade-goers are concentrated in this stretch.

The parade is lead by standard bearers of King Bard, waving the colors of Dale and creating a rolling cheer as they go. Immediately following the heralds are tumblers turning cartwheels and vaulting round-offs and doing hand stands as they go, pausing in their acrobatics to wave to the crowd and shout joyous 'Yops!' to work people up. Following them is a percussion band, pounding out a thunderous energetic beat, you can feel and hear them long before seeing them, and as they pass before you your heart joins into the rhythm! Next up is a flat-bed cart with a great sculpture of dyed canvas stretched over a geometric frame depicting a red dragon curled, belly-up, as if falling through the air - a great black arrow protruding from it's heart! The cheer that this illicits is truly raucous, and it goes in from there... There are dancers, and more tumblers, and a cart bearing a couple of the spectacle-folk from the festival - a strong man and fire-breather, trumpeters and lutes and flutes, another set of standard bearers, and another canvas sculpture - this time of the Lonely Mountain looming over warring puppets of orcs and Free-folk, and it goes on for such a time as that it feels as though all the performers and spectacles of the world must be gathered here! It is simply tremendous...

And, as the full darkness of the night has set in, a pair of yellow, sparkling fireworks rocket up into the sky a short ways away, heralding both the end of the parade, and the thing which everyone has come to see... the rumored mūmakil from the South and East! And suddenly you can see it! Lumbering into the dancing light of the braziers, it lifts it's trunk and bellows an unearthly wail, unlike anything you've heard, setting your heart racing again! The oliphaunt shakes it's body, creating a rustle of wind around it, and wags it's four great tusks from side to side.

Even in all his years as an elf, Caranthiel has not seen such a spectacle. Perhaps it is for this reason, that he doesn't notice much in particular, but rather just the grand scope of it all.

...

Vidar, though his eyes are focused on the oliphaunt at first, he catches sight of something beyond it... Still within the shadows of night, it looks as though the final cart - is that where the fireworks jumped forth from earlier? - is experiencing some sort of trouble. Hard to say exactly what though in the dark...

...

Eadmer, after his initial wonderment, realizes this must surely be a young oliphaunt... It can't be more than 3 meters at it's shoulders. Nothing like the storied stature of the mythic beast of legend. Or... maybe the myths are just myths...? Anyway, he does see that most of the control being exercised over the thing is coming from attendants walking on the ground, using some sort of enticement (is that a giant feather being waved before it?), and guide lines. That's as good as no control at all, compared to skilled a rider., he can't help but think. The only person on it's back is a performer, standing and doing acrobatics.

...

Its difficult for Astrid to discern much about the people accompanying the oliphaunt, their features are so distorted by make-up and costumery, but she is a keen observer. She can tell, even from this considerable distance, that the men and women are certainly some manner of outlander (from the East or South she cannot say), and she can see - even through the immovable make-up painted similes and expressions of joy - that these men and women are extremely focused and under considerable stress right now, managing this beast...

...

Looking across the gathered crowd, Finrod doesn't think much about it other than it's not the type of position he likes to put himself in. Nothing to put at your back. Nowhere to go.

As the oliphaunt proceeds into full view of everyone, excitement from the crowd grows.

Many people applaud and shout out (or just mutter) exclamations of wonderment, many people go silent and slack jawed, some people even shriek in fear, and some people thrust out fists clutching some manner of food item. Another firework jettisons up into the sky, it's red and crackling, and the oliphaunt wags it's head and makes a groaning sound like a great tree falling... it nearly tugs an attendant off their feet!

Its hard for Finrod to get much of a sense of the oliphaunt's handler's control. They're both performing - waving and trying to entertain the on-lookers, possibly even as they faulter, turning stumbles and other gaffs into physical comedy - and visibly working with the animal, presumably as they have trained it. He doesn't have much of a sense of how it's going. However, from his position at the flanks of the crowd and outside the main light of the parade-theater, he notices what looks like must be the final cart in the parade ... The mule pulling it is bucking wildly and has broken a strand of the reigns, it looks fit to break into a gallop, it's driver's shouted commands all but drowned out by the din of the audience as he now tries to clamber onto the animal's back to gain control.

...

Astrid hasn't been around oliphaunts before, of course, to know much of their mannerisms... But how different could they be, really, from a large bull or auroch? Well, if those animals are anything to judge it by, this oliphaunt - with it's wide eyes and bared teeth - is distressed... anything could set it off.

Cranthiel knows about only what he's heard of Legend of the things... ferocious, beasts of war, afraid of nothing.