#Tournament of Ages

[orfeoarte]

Latest commission, this one for the Art Auction down at the Tournament of Ages <3 Ciretti for Bloodsworn

info in replies

[eluviannaa]

ToA art auction piece

[dicenne]

It's that time of year!

No booth this year for the Tarts due to too many scheduling conflicts, but come catch Dicenne performing on the main stage!

Tuesday, August 6th Moon Guard server Shows start at 8pm MG time (Central Time) Dice performs 2nd to last! Main Stage-Argent Tournament Grounds, Icecrown

Sad the Tarts won't be hosting a booth this year? Come to our Anniversary party on the 17th to get your fill of glitter!

[laedrin]

My final slot for the Tournament of Ages art auction :D

I got to draw some fun spiky ice magic and some soft Elune light magic, and overall just a sick character design to work with (and also another blue dragon elf priest??? so hype lol)

[bellsisokay]

My night elf priestess, Yedriel! She also comes in grape.

[aleklah]

Aleklah is ready for the Wonderlight Ball~

[noonmutter]

It's That Time Again!

The Catty Crow and Mekandawn Mechanics are BACK at the Tournament of Ages 2024!

Come see the coolest stuff Leon and Caythaes have to offer! There's new plushies, new books, new belts, new hats, corsets, dangerous drinkware, and lots of returning favorites! They've even got heirloom pieces that'll last longer than you do! Maybe! They can't necessarily back that guarantee for Draenei but they're pretty confident otherwise!

Turns out that your homeland finally being both safe to inhabit and more or less clear of insurgents gets a guy feeling really nostalgic, and Leon is far from immune to this phenomenon, so if you want to get into the Gilnean spirit of things, you're in luck--Prepare to get DAPPER! And also kind of gloomy. Gloomy and dapper. Very Gilnean, really.

Last but not least--Leon's even got a performance lined up this year! It's his first one, at all, ever! Poems and stories don't count for some reason! Come see him do a li'l song and dance alongside @celedyn on Tuesday night!

And did I mention there's a shoe-eating contest all week?

Because the shoe-eating contest is back. And there's a new flavor in town.

Are you ready to

OUT-GOBBLE THE COBBLER?

WHEN: August 4th - August 10th WHERE: The Argent Tournament Grounds, Northrend WHERE PART 2: Booth 27, same as last year!

See you there!

( @mekandawn )

[konietzko-sylvoran]

Reforging Your Destiny, a tale written by the Hearts of Tenacity's @talthorn-sylvoran and performed by @konietzko-sylvoran Friday at 10pm MG. Bringing back the story one last time Live at the Tournament of Ages before our indefinite hiatus. -> Don't miss it! <- Original artwork by @syrosaur and Wei Wang!

[cellody]

Tournament of Ages 2023

The performance area was taken up by one lone soul with an equally as lonely stage; no assistance with background entertainment nor effects, no enchantments prepared for illusions nor audio enhancing, no props nor... anything at all. Just a chair, the microphone, and the natural, wintery lighting of Northrend though it seemed apparent why he made such choices when nerves were evident from the start.

The mic was readjusted with subtly-trembling fingers (after having failed to offer any sort of introduction or explanation about what this may entail) to aim lower towards the cello he’d brought with him, a small, white hand towel peculiarly draped over the instrument’s upper bout. Seemed that was it. He took one gut-wrenching look out across the gathered crowds and slumped into his seat with a visible swallow.

Following that was a rather loud sigh. His bow raised, hovered in place, and... hesitation lagged through his limbs. There was no backing out now, though; he needed to do this for himself. What then finally boomed forth was a piece likely (and hopefully, by choice,) unexpected of someone so wracked by stage fright.

...It was not a bore nor a classical ballad at all; this was just a flex to prove that the lamb had a monstrous wolf of a talent, wasn’t it? The textures of the notes dribbled, the craft of the cello bore through the tone’s volume, and his brows knit in an immediate show of focus. Lance may have been petrified and had to force himself into position where he now was but the moment he began, he was lost in perfectionism.

His speed fluctuating through all those notes was worthy of awe on its own but as the seconds passed, it became clearer and clearer that this was no mere proof of his prodigious exhibit. There was not one pause. One technique after another—rapid fingerboard ups and downs and fortississimo measures—seemed all the more profound, too, when his focused breathing periodically came through the mic.

Then came the plucking. It was, after all, a stringed instrument not unlike a guitar; it didn’t need a bow (kept out of the way in his cupped palm) to be played in all the ways possible. But of course he would display that when wanting the world to know he not only had this mastered; he crafted this very cello himself through a luthier-ancestral background. No embellishments, no magic.

He ought to have played for the tournament duels considering how tension-focused and vrykul-esque the melody was—or perhaps that was part of the reason he chose such a song for his first true performance. There seemed to be no end in sight, though; just how long was this? And with not a single sheet of music nor a stand in front of him, this must have been practiced like an exercise, the towel of which now made sense. Lance’s forehead was beginning to mist with the sweat that it was meant to soak up and keep off the wood should any eventually drip. This was not easy.

The expressions upon his fair face were ones very rarely ever made unless in the zone of acute, musical concert; he almost looked irate. It was, however, pure, unadulterated concentration. He was as one with the cello as he was with the piece never once allowing him a second of reprieve. For there to be this much contained in the music and for it to stretch across his entire allotted time slot was frankly absurd. He could have gone with two simpler tear-jerkers expected of an orchestral man, but... there he still sat, shredding away so fervently that even the hair of his bow was beginning to fray.

A third of the way through yet still unsatisfied. Lance would not look up properly towards the audience nor break from his trance. It really was no wonder at all why he chose to present on such an isolated stage; had he any other support or pizzazz added, it would have distracted from the raw mood and kept others from being able to soak in what musicians and their apparatuses were truly capable of at their peak—unleashed, exposed, and intense. Hard to believe he was a crybaby in his everyday life when he had all of this grandeur thrumming through his veins.

Adding to the wear of his craft was the accumulating dust of overworked resin and hair fibers settling upon the cello’s waist. At the very least, this came at a time where there finally seemed to be some relief in the tune though it came only in the form of a more hushed, memorized page; he was still swiftly fluctuating from low to high notes no matter what the volume. Then, finally, a true respite! His bow gracefully drifted away from the strings for a handful of seconds though he did not appear to have finished. When the cello’s neck was leaned back into his form as proof of there being more to come in the same piece, his spaced-out gaze resumed closing and his head bowed forth like a metronome in time with the fragile sawing of work that made up this entire composition.

The essence that grew from the silence was less like a peaceful breath and more like one being held to keep from having an intruder overhear. That is to say... the stress came right back in full swing, hushed notes lifting in volume over a series of buzzing measures meant to keep listeners on the edge of their seat. Had he any room to think about things beyond playing, Lance would have wondered what stories others were envisioning to the aura all of this depicted. Surely, everyone’s would be unique; his arrangement was bare-bones mainly to act as a canvas for the audience’s imagination, after all.

It was not feasible for him to waver the notes out any quicker. What began as the whirr of a bee’s wings taking flight turned into the nearly-impossible consonance of a hummingbird’s. Speed, speed, and more speed—easing during one span then picking right back up in the next like a chase across the very strings of his cello. The fact that they could even hold up throughout all of this was outright astonishing.

Pizzicato rejoined the song—this round alongside the usual, bowed notes that now left one feeling as though the race either came to a standstill or a long, grueling fall. Lance was definably (albeit metaphorically) intoxicated by how deeply he himself had fallen into making sure this was seen all the way through, heart and soul. If he ever held back, the entire piece would fall apart. This needed passion and this needed drama unlike anything others would have thought him capable of.

B minor chords began to take on the likenesses of sea shanties whence the music swelled forth like waves across a sea. Travel, shadowed adventures, clothing drenched against flesh; there were so many things he tried to paint through the medium of his instrument and it depended entirely on one’s perspective which hues rang truest.

White-knuckled serenity. This sonata could not at all be deemed soothing, no, but he’d be damned if that wasn’t pulled off to some degree during the next moment—at least as far as the usual rigidity was concerned. The notes remained steadfast in their flair for toil though the hush had even the musician bowing forward to curl towards the dwindled volume like a child drawn into a ghost story. There then came a refrain to an earlier tune strummed out as though teasing at others’ hope for a brighter outlook.

As fate would have it, however, that very hope would then begin lilting back towards the weight of the song’s ever-brewing temper. Strange buildups merging sunlight with a distant storm acted out through the soundwaves he played—the fluctuation of which formed a very stand-out, brief glissando that sounded entirely like one that belonged to the slide of an electric guitar.

Back to the reminder of his skill over that fingerboard. His thumb lingered over a note as the other four digits trekked to and fro across the chords’ joining, vibrato-brimming pairs, the hairs of which cascade them forth from down below by this point thinned seemingly to repair. It was in this stanza his accruing sweat would have been visible even to those seated furthest away, no amount of wintery air able to balance out the exertion this song wracked his form through. This... this was the thrill and lineage of music.

Rubbery connotations bounced through the playfulness that pushed onward when stern, bow-less portrayals once more found their place within the song. Strumming a cello made for such a bizarrely familiar yet eerily mesmerizing sound no matter how often it was shown off; what, then, would the method sound like on other stringed instruments? Could those usually plucked be instead bowed? This was exactly the sort of creativity he would have died to bring back into Azeroth’s population.

Lance’s entire left arm got into position when posing through some of those thumbed notes. His right, naturally, only stopped rowing just that once for the song’s earlier rest, but it otherwise kept on due course with very few changes in angle. It was surely the handiwork higher up on the fingerboard that would catch the eyes of most. Even that seemed to be an art form of its own; hells, to go so far as to say it looked a bit sensual wasn’t unfathomable. Perhaps the passion of intimacy wasn’t a stranger to the passion of playing music.

How much of this was even a struggle for the young man? Clearly, physically, he was working himself out to the point of perspiring, but there were uncountable moments where it seemed more like a game to him than a gift. What more could he accomplish? What more could he prove? How many more notes, how fast, how whispered? Just as the piece was peaking towards the finale, the unanswered wonder over whether this was a cello solo or philosophical performance art must have weighed heavy on the mind. It’d gone on for what seemed to be forever... and some parts were so raw it felt almost like studying the naked form of an exhibitionist rather than that of a perfect-pitch, instrumentalist prodigy.

By the final, heavy, long note, Lance appeared forlorn. It took a while for the reality to dawn but when it did, he hastily used that little towel to dab at his face and then to hide his unoccupied fist in—the other being clutched about the cello’s neck in preparation to dart from his seat with it. However... at the very least (and thankfully), he’d managed to muster up enough sense in himself to pause halfway off the stage, lean over in a bow, and wait five rapid yet formal seconds before actually fleeing.

[thewarlocksdream]

A Warlock's First Performance (TOA 2024 Performance Day 1)

*As the announcer announced him, Lord Flarevein would feel the burden of nervouness, try to grip and control him as he heard the crowd's beyond the curtains of the stage call out for the next performance. Flarevein would shake the nervousness off and walk up to the stage and took his position in the center of the stage. Prepared to give the audience an amazing performance.*

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John:

*Flarevein would wave to the crowd as he quickly summoned a piano to the stage. Would move to sit down at the piano and crack his knuckles. Smiling as he briefly nodded his head to the stage hand. Would start to play a brief piano solo before heading directly into the song.*

"When are you gonna come down?" "When are you going to land?" " I should have stayed on the farm!" "I should have listened to my old man!" "You know you can't hold me forever!" "I didn't sign up with you!" *Flarevein would shake his head no as he sang* "I'm not a present for your friends to open!" "This boy's too young to be singing!" "The bluesss… ahhhhh, ahhhhhh!" "Ahhhhh, ahhhh!"

"So goodbye yellow brick road!" "Where the dogs of society howl!" "You can't plant me in your penthouse!" "I'm going back to my plough!" "Back to the howling old owl in the woods!" "Hunting the horny back toad!" "Oh, I've finally decided my future lies!" "Beyond the yellow brick roadddddd!" "Ahhhhhh, ahhhhh!" "Ahhhhh, ahhhhhh!"

*Flarevein's hands would briefly move across the ivory keys on the piano in a brief solo before continuing to sing as he played on.*

"What do you think you'll do then?" "I bet they'll shoot down the plane!" "It'll take you a couple of vodka and tonics!" "To set you on your feet again!" "Maybe you'll get a replacement!" *Would Shrug as he continued to sing* "There's plenty like me to be found!" "Mongrels who ain't got a penny!" "Sniffing for tidbits like you!" *Flarevein would point at the audience as he sang* "On the groundddd..ah, ahhhhhh!" "Ahhhhhh, Ahhhhhhh!"

"So goodbye yellow brick road!" "Where the dogs of society howl!" "You can't plant me in your penthouse!" "I'm going back to my plough!"

"Back to the howling old owl in the woods!" "Hunting the horny back toad!" "Oh, I've finally decided my future lies!" "Beyond the yellow brick roadddd!" "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh!"

"Back to the howling old owl in the woods!" "Hunting the horny back toad!" "Oh, I've finally decided my future lies!" "Beyond the yellow brick roadddd!" "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh!" /s Ahhhhh, ahhhhh!"

"Back to the howling old owl in the woods!" "Hunting the horny back toad!" "Oh, I've finally decided my future lies!" "Beyond the yellow brick roadddd!" "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh!" "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh!" *Flarevein would stand up as the song ended and smiled, blowing a kiss to the audience and taking a bow to them before heading into the back to quickly change into his next costume*

While Your Lips Are Still Red by Nightwish:

*Flarevein would carry a violin and bow in his hands after returning to the stage. * *Smiling at the crowd he would speak up to them* "Before I begin this next song…I'd like to dedicate it to my beloved who is here with us tonight watching…Gwilanna Blodwyn who's put up with my shenanigans over the last many weeks and being there during my practices." *He would smile and nod to staff, allowing the music to begin playing, a soft piano melody would be heard. Flarevein smiles and begins to sing to the audience soon after.* "Sweet little words made for silence, not talk…" "Young heart for love, not heartache…." "Dark hair for catching the wind." "Not to veil the sight of a cold world."

"Kiss…while your lips are still red." "While he's still silent." "Rest…while bosom is still untouched, unveiled..."

"Hold another hand…" "While the hand's still without a tool…" "Drown into eyes while they're still blinddd…" "Love while the night still hides the withering dawnnnn!"

*A small grin would appear on his face as he lifted the violin to his shoulder, resting his cheek on the delicate instrument, and began to play a violin solo. Once the solo ended he would pick up the song again.*

"First day of love never comes back.." "A passionate hour's never a wasted one…" "The violin, the poet's hand…" "Every thawing heart plays your theme with care…"

"Kiss…while your lips are still red!" "While he's still silent!" "Rest….while bosom is still untouched, unveiled!"

"Hold another hand.." "While the hand's still without a tool!" "Drown into eyes while they're still blind!" "Love while the night still hides the withering dawnnnnn!"

*Would continue to play the violin as the music picks up a more uplifting melody as the next part of the chorus was sung with much emotion put into it, while dancing on the stage.* "Kiss…while your lips are still red!" "While he's still silent!" "Rest…while bosom is still untouched, unveiled!"

"Hold another hand!" "While the hand's still without a tool!" "Drown into eyes while they're still blind!" "Love while the night still hides the withering dawnnnn!"

"Flarevein would dive into another violin solo as the chorus and song came to an end, eyes closed as he focused on playing, feeling a great deal of emotions well up inside of him as he brought the song to an end.* *Once Finished he would smile and takes a bow after blowing a kiss to the audience and to his beloved that evening.*

Voices by In Flames:

*Flarevein quickly summoned his two demons, a tall and fierce Wrathguard named Mekgorath and a blue but very grumpy-looking void walker that was named Helmoth to the stage. Flarevein, once ready would nod to the stagehands to begin the next song with a smile.* *The song would begin with a soft guitar rift and bass line for a few minutes. The song would gradually build up before finally, the main part of the song began. Flarevein would begin to dance and sway to the beat of the music.*

*Mekograth would be seen playing his guitar, a long heavy guitar riff. Mekgorath would be soon joined by Helmoth. Flarevein would start to sway and dance to the music before grabbing the microphone and started singing. Pointing to the audience as he sang*

"Could you be the angel left in the dark?" "It's mostly silence echoing through the halls!" /s Kill the hunt instead of lying to myself?" "For long I've seen the signs written on these walllsssss!" *Flarevein would quickly scream out* "WRITTEN ON THESE WALLLLLSSS!"

"I will search through the wreckage of my soul!" "Believe in what I have cause…that's all I ammmm!" *Another death scream would be heard from the Lord* "That's All I ammmmm!!!!"

"I swear I could hearrrrr…..!" "Voices from the edge of Azeroth!" " Reminding myself to breathe slow!" "Wandering alone in this wasteland…." " We used to call home!"

*Flarevein would quickly point to the crowd as he sang the next verses* "Could you be the demon left in my heart?" "All these feelings I wish I could turn them off!" "Kill the hunt instead of lying to myself?" "For long I've seen the signs written on these wallllllssssss!" *Flarevein would scream out again* "WRITTEN ON THESE WALLLLLSSS!"

"I swear I could hearrrrr…." "Voices from the edge of Azeroth!" "Reminding myself to breathe slow!" /s Wandering alone in this wasteland…." "We used to call home!"

*As Flarevein ended the chorus, Helmoth would begin a short drum solo as the music built up to the next part. Mekgorath's guitar would be heard amongst the drum solo before finally...* *Mekgorath would walk up to the stage and kick off another guitar solo along with Helmoth adding in a drum solo of his own. Shredding the notes with expertise as he headbanged with his master.* (Flarevein:) "Mekgorath on the guitar everyone!" *Flarevein would finally come in after this and began to sing again.*

"I will search through the wreckage of my soul!!!" "Believe in what I have…. cause that's all I am!" "I swear I could hearrrrr….!" "Voices from the edge of Azeroth!" "Reminding myself to breathe slow!" "Wandering alone in this wasteland…. we used to call homeeee! "We used to call homeeeeeee!" *Flarevein would yell out for the final time* "I swear I could hearrrrr….voices from the edge of Azeroth!"

*As the song came to its conclusion Flarevein would come to a halt in his dancing and smiled at the crowd. Thunderous fireworks and fire magic display would be seen as the audience shouted and cheered and applauded Lord Flarevein* *Before taking his final bow for the evening Flarevein would yell out* "THANK YOU TOA!"

[nahisummerhold]

Come see me perform tomorrow night (tonight depending on your time zone) at the Tournament of Ages! Performances begin at 8:00 (central) and I am the third performer of the night!

See you there! XOXOXO 🩶💜🩶💋

[tarttsweetshriek]

New Artwork of Tartt Sweetshriek 8/4/24 (Artist is Popoto).

[eluviannaa]

Today's air of defeat BUT the sword will be one of ours this week yet!

[dicenne]

Dicenne will be performing TWICE at the Tournament of Ages!

Tournament of Ages August 6th-12th Argent Tournament Grounds, Icecrown Moon Guard (Central Time) *Fire, loud noises, flashing lights warnings for both shows!*

Performances on the Main Stage Sunday, August 6th - 9:45pm CT Thursday, August 10th- 8pm CT

Be sure to also visit our booth, check out more info here: Succulent Tart Booth #15

*Poster art done by Zoratrix*

[laedrin]

My second Tournament of Ages commission! This one was a real treat to draw, I was just havin fun with it

for @moonleafart <3

[rylandfalkov]

Tournament of Ages start SUNDAY!

Ryland will be performing twice this event! Argent Tournament Grounds, Icecrown August 6th-12th Moon Guard

Be sure to stop by Succulent Tart's booth! Booth #15, near the stage!