(1867-05-01) Normont Tourney: Opening Parade
Normont Tourney: Opening Parade
Summary: The opening ceremonies of the Normont Tournament are help under less than sunny skies.
Date: 05-01-1867
Related: Normont Tourney logs
Players:
Amara  Clara  Clarke  Evelyn  Odilia  Malcolm  Gastogne  Raelyn  Emilia  Samuel  Martyn  Devlin  Symon  Dora  Jasper  Eleanor  Raimond  Philippe  Thaddeus  Tiadora  

Tourney Grounds - Falconreach - Normont

The tournament field of Normont is a wide, sprawling field with three tiers of stands for the viewing audience to partake in. A wide field of gravel with straw and mud packed atop it serves as the primary tournament grounds, with embankments that can be used for a separation bar for jousting and barriers set up for melee. A track leading up to the main streets serves as a lead in for the traditional parade for the participants, and when the tournament is being held as a readiness zone for combatants and their assistants coming to and fro to the tournament grounds that is sheltered.

The viewing stands are backed by a large herald of a Falcon, the ducal crest of House Gerrell, made out of laid stone and carved in blocks to be carefully assembled as high as the main stands, marked underneath with a carved map of Rivana and with emblems of the One Faith about it.

The stands are divided up into three main sections. They are wooden stands, braced against stone and metal, with a long overhang to provide the crowd with protection from the elements. A grandstands area is at the center, where the ruling families of Normont sit with their honored guests and those conducting the tournament, with surrounding areas for nobility. The grandstands, of course, have the best view and the most comfortable chairs, and servants go to and fro attending to the nobility. A large flag rests about the grandstands of the heraldry of House Gerrell, the red and black banner displaying the falcon sigil. The next layer of stands are for the richer merchants or those who have managed to pay for better tickets, and are comfortable and have easy access to comforts and sellers taking up food and concessions, and good drink. The lowest stands are for Commoners, and those 'stuck in the mud' - and occasionally they might even get some flung up at them from the combatants. Often sections of the stands will be unofficially divided up to those from specific cities amongst the kingdoms of those participating in the great tournaments, making cheering sections.

1st of Mai, 1867

A good sized crowd resides in the stands, awaiting the start of the opening ceremonies for the Normont tourney. Despite it being a circuit tournament, there seems to be a lesser crowd than normal for this, the parade of knights. It isn’t a drastic drop by any means, but it is certainly noticeable. Perhaps part of the blame is the overcast day, the clouds grey and full?.seemingly threatening to rain but never quite following through on that threat. Though…it may be more due to past events, which the Duke of Normont, Symon Gerrell, has about as much ability to control as he does the weather.

Which is to say, not much.

Dealing with the threat of rain is the easier of the two. The VIP box itself is mostly enclosed with a canopy sporting Gerrell colors, with windbreakers set up to protect from nearly every angle, leaving only the view of the tournament field free. No…it is dealing with the long memories of the wary gentry that Normont…and in particular the house of Gerrell…that will be more difficult. Hence the need to open up…the need for the tournament to be held in Falconreach. Hosting a tournament may be small in terms of winning hearts…but it does show willingness in wanting to change. It shows willingness to be part of a whole, unified Rivana. It is only a matter of time before the rest of Rivana sees it. At least…that is the hope, as Symon stands in the VIP box, entertaining his guests within.

And who is in the VIP box with him? Dora Callidus, his betrothed from Venderos, as well as her half brother Jasper Callis, are seated, enjoying the protection from the weather and chatting with Symon rather amiably. Next to them, close enough to join in conversation if needed but far enough to give the Venderos contingent a modicum of privacy, is the princess Clara Tracano. She herself is dressed in her usual Tracano splendor, her red hair cascading down her back as she awaits anxiously for the parade to begin. She doesn’t seem all that nervous, though she is certainly more reserved than she would be around her immediate friends?.acting her part as royalty as appropriate. Also, in what may seem to be a surprise for most, the newly elected Archduchess Eleanor Greycen, can be seen in the VIP box, though she is considerably more detached from the rest within. It is rather apparent that Eleanor seems to be there more for appearance sake than anything else, as part of her new role. There is nary a smile to be found from the older woman…and even the most adventurous of individuals seem reluctant to try to strike up a conversation with the Archduchess.

Nevertheless…those in attendance have more things to distract themselves than the sight of the Archduchess. The crowd stirs as the knights on the field are preparing themselves for the promenade. Already there are murmurs and whispers about who is attending and wagers are being cast, as they always do. Any chance to indulge in food and drink seem to bring out the people, even in a reverent city such as Falconreach. Despite the smaller crowd, the anticipation is no less exciting as the crowd watches the preparations on the field below.

The lady Tiadora, youngest sister of Duke Symon, stands proudly with her family. Her smile is broad and warm, putting dimples into her plump cheeks. She wears a gown of vibrant red, modestly cut high and adorned in black and grey traditional Kherzari bandwork patterns as a visual tribute to her house and heritage. Her black hair has also been braided in traditional fashion with gold-edged red ribbons intertwined. A golden sunburst hangs at her neck and a set of dark walnut-stained prayer beads chain about her waist as a show of traditional piety.

She glances sidelong at her brother and grins with delight. "So exciting, to have the world come to -us- for once." She shares that smile with her future sister and goes to sit back beside her royal friend. "Isn't it exciting," she gushes to Clara. "I finally get to show you and Emi my home. It feels so odd being back."

Over in the line of knights on the dreary, overcast day then on a white charger with brown splotches over its frame in light chain maille and leather armor, a helm upon his head, and wearing a tunic embossed over with the heraldry of the Blue Chevaliers Clark t'Cauthone rests with one hand on the reins of his horse, his other hand over on a lance then that is held at an at-ease position. He lightly surveys the crowd then, and the other knights then and persons in attendance. Eyes lightly flitting around then, waiting for the signal to go ahead to be given then. Lightly alert, but more to make sure he is obeying proper etiquette and within his position over within the parade group and cluster of knights.

Giving the ArchDuchess a run for her money in the 'nary a smile' department in that VIP box is Emilia Cassomir. The rather stoic young woman having been extended an invitation by Tiadora to join her and Clara. All the proper respects had been given to the others in area, even a few words extended to the ArchDuchess, respectfully. Before having settled with Clara and Tiadora. She had even worn a dress for the occasion, given where she would be sitting. "It is quite of exciting. It will be of interesting to see who has of come to compete." It would be some indication who was trying for the overall circuit.

Down on the field…more precisely in the prep area already abuzz with knights, mounts, and squires…a certain young knight preps for his ride. The younger of the two Giraldi brothers, Leander, straps on the last bit of what appears to be a new set of full plate armor. It has to be new…for it looks like there isn't a blemish to be had on its surface. Seated next to him, on the bench there is a grey feline, curled up upon the wood. A bare hand reaches over to scritch behind the ears, before the hand is encased within a gauntlet. "Hopefully things go better for us this time, Fritti." Leander then stands…to walk over and claim his place in the saddle of his dark mare charger.

Clarke waits over on his steed, taking a breath then over as he scans the field then, seeing knights familiar and not, and competitors that he will possibly be up against. Rubbing the tip of his horse's mane, he murmurs "Well, hopefully this time you'll last beyond the first round in whatever you get into." Mostly to himself then. His eyes went to sweep the field then once more, lance still held at ease, hand rubbing along his horse's mane with the rein loosely dipped over his wrist.

Present somewhere in the noble section of the stands, Lord Malcolm Howlett, the baron's grandson, is seated, watching the various people a bit thoughtfully. He's leaning back in his seat, smiling as he watches to see who's present, both in the stands and on the field.

Another of those who has come to compete would be a certain Sir Samuel l'Corren. He can't stay away when there's friendly competition to be had, can he? Glancing up towards the crowd, he smiles momentarily as he stays ready for this to start.

In that bottom tier set aside for the common folk, there is a fair enough turn out in spite of the threat of weather. All told, the folks tends to blend more down there to as vendors press through selling ale and meat on stick. Mostly local folks come to see the knights, but there are still the non-locals who have come to pay witness to the doings, often part of the staff for this or that noble House. Unceremoniously gnawing on one of the mysterious meat on a sticks is Odilia as she gives a shrug to the man next to her. "Tastes like chicken."

Evelyn l'Faust has not been within Normont before, and thus it is a new measure of Tourney Grounds for her to experience. A new crowd. Still Rivanian, of course. And still Tourney Grounds. Certainly many carry similarities, but she has been on the circuit long enough to know there are subtle differences within each hold. She sits atop her horse, ready to ride and near her countryman. She watches the other knights gathered, getting a feel for the ambiance.

Near her sister, the Viscountess Raelyn Cassomir sits with the other young women, "The weather could be more favorable, but the welcome has been more than pleasant," she assures Tiadora, warmly. She glances, briefly towards the Archduchess, then looks back to the others. "Still, these competitions feel almost empty, without Jaren. Devlin, perhaps, shall amend that with a victory. Or at least, we can hope." She's partly teasing Tiadora, of course, knowing she wishes her brothers to win, too.

Lord (Sir) Raimond Giraldi awaits the proper time to proceed in the parade, eyeing the overcast sky speculatively, but not commenting on it. Instead he turns his gaze to his younger brother, giving him a touch of a sardonic grin. A bit of a silent "here we go again" before he turns his eyes to the parade route, "I should've had my squire throw an extra polish on my armor. You might outshine me." He quips to his younger brother, then frowns, "Though I doubt anyone's going to be gleaming too brightly with these clouds." Raimond certainly seems to be trying, though, with his own shiny full plate.

At the front of the line, ready to start off the parade, sits Prince Martyn Tracano, clad in his own elaborate set of parade plate, emblazoned with the gold-leafed Tracano Dragon, and his steed girded in green and gold livery to match his house. He doesn't seem inclined to socialize much, but he does turn about to offer a nod and a faint smile to Sir Devlin Cassomir, who awaits nearby in considerably more simple full plate, a few spaces behind in the parade lineup.

Devlin Cassomir returns that silent greeting, lifting a hand to Prince Martyn, before he straightens in the saddle, in anticipation of the Parade's start.

In the Commoner's sections, the lout called Gastogne sits back then, some seats over from Odilia then, going to munch on a large battered chicken on a stick then, some of the grease sloshing down him as he went to watch. Dipping his head over at her then at her comment on what the meat was, "Probably has bits of it in it. At the very least it's hopefully not rat." He went to take another bite out of it.

The princess herself is watching the field…turning to face both Emilia and Tiadora with a smile. "Oh, I am more than happy to visit your home, Tia. One knows that getting out of the Palace for me is an event oft looked forward to. And I have never been here before. I am sure we will have the most exciting of times." Even if there isn't as many people here as the other tournaments Clara has been to.

Leander offers a laugh to his brother as he withdraws a black, white, and green silken piece of cloth from a saddle bag just before he claims his seat. He tosses a comment over to Rai even as he ties the fabric to his upper right forearm. "Well, it wasn't my fault that Mother decided to give such a gift. Though…I did certainly make sure I didn't wear it during practice. I did want it to be a surprise." Then…as an aside, he adds. "Hell, I would settle if we together outshone the lot."

Sitting next to Odilia, Philippe tilts his head back to address Gastogne. "What a lovely thought, Gast. You certainly know how to charm a lady." With a roll of his eyes, he turns back to Odilia, flashing her a wry little grin, before his attention returns to the field. "Dreary day, today. Though, with the amount of bravado upon that field, it might make up for a lack of sunshine."

Tiadora blushes and looks down at mention of Devlin. "I pray he does well," she murmurs, not really able to talk much about him after her party. "Will you tell him, I, um, I liked the book?" She looks to the Cassomirs with a worried smile.

Odilia looks over towards Gastogne,"I am quite certain it isn't rat. Well yours might be." Returning a smile to Philippe,"Not everyone can be even half as charming as you after all. " Eyes flick up towards the sky,"Oh, I'm sure they will find way to blind us with all that armor and ego. All that prancing about. Think there is any chance of one of them tripping over themselves, tongue or foot at that?"

Seeing the famous Giraldi brothers up ahead, Clarke t'Cauthone raises his hand over to them in a quick salute then over as his eyes go back to the field and he relaxes. Even though the day ahead is dreary, it will hopefully bring itself to resolve in a tournament that will be fruitful, even if only for him to work on his skills. He hums under his breath, a quiet marching tune remembering from earlier days then as his head lightly bobbles along to it.

There's a chuckle from the lout Gastogne then as he dips his head over at Philippe, "And it's just as like.." Remembering his place, he dips his head over at Odilia and quiets himself, looking back over the field before turning to Philippe, "So you be competing or scouting this time along then?" Competing in the musical competition or just watching for once. At Odilia's words then he went to let out a snort then as he went to look over the field. "Generally the knights know how to carry themselves, I doubt they would trip, at least in a parade."

Those dark eyes do take in the field and the knights that were starting to line up in preparation for the parade to begin, trying to pick out her brother amongst all the shiny…that isn't quite as shiny with the overcast day. Emilia gives a nod towards Tiadora,"Of course, I can pass such of a message of along to of him. He has been of putting time into of practicing, I am of sure he shall do of better this of time." Not that he had done poorly before. There could only be one winner afterall. A faint look goes to Clara,"This is of why all of our visits have you coming to of us, so you might of escape of the Palace."

While there may be a majority from Rivana, there are some from Couviere in the stands to cheer on for the knights who have traveled from the north to compete. Amara t'Tremaine is one of those seated in the regular noble tier of the stands. The younger woman often raising up out of her seat to get a better look at the knights. Nervously biting upon her lip at times.

Sitting up in the stands separately from some of the Rivana contingent then watching, the slightly portly Raul Moreno sits and watches then. An idle grin on his face as he looks along then through the knights, then over through the crowd. Murmuring to himself, "Have to see whom the wagers favor.." Reminding himself to put in some bets later.

"Mayhap," suggests Raelyn towards Tiadora on the heels of Emilia's comments to Clara, "When the weather is kinder, perhaps you would enjoy showing us," and by us, she certainly at least means herself, Emilia, and Clara, "The countryside. I would much enjoy a peaceful journey by horse in your land," she assures the young Lady. Raelyn quirks a quick smile. She notes then aside to Emilia, "He was rather set on scoring much higher," she concedes.

"Wouldn't that be something?" Raimond notes to Leander with a grin, "Let's hope between that favor and that shiny armor we'll have some luck." He chuckles, "And if not, well, there's always the next tournament." He looks ahead, much like some of the others, anticipating the official start of the proceedings.

The murmur of the crowd dissipates as Duke Symon Gerrell stands, his eyes peering out and over to the knights who have started to line up. There really isn't much that is needed from him, as everyone seems to know their place quite well. As such, there isn't a herald, or a grand display. It is simply Symon, offering a wave to both the crowd and the knights below, then nodding once, offering the signal to start the parade. No words…no grand speech. It seems that simply the fact that there are people present to witness the parade is enough for the Duke.

As the Duke signals the start of the festivities, Clarke t'Cauthone takes one final quick bit to adjust his helm then and ensure he's presentable then, before falling over into line along with the rest of the knights then, and giving an informal salute and acknowledgement to them and murmuring to himself, "For luck."

Tiadora murmurs to the ladies, her voice low enough for them but hopefully escaping her brother. Not likely escaping the Iron Duchess for she sees all, hears all — "Anything he says will likely get twisted against him; grandstanding, not being pious enough, being too boastful, insincere. He could simply say 'Let the parade start' and a half dozen conservatives will start to write treatises on how it will ruin our good nation because he didn't invoke the One Above first…"

Emilia nods to her sister,"Of aye, he was. And I am of sure he will of do of so." Having faith in her brother on that accord. Realizing she'd forgotten to inquire to her cousin if he would be competing again, or not. With that signal given for the parade to start off, Emilia does turn that stoic gaze towards the knights who move to present and announce themselves. There is a sideways glances towards Tiadora at the murmur, a slight incline of her head in agreement. Noting simply,"Such is to be of expected."

Prince Martyn flicks the reins of his steed, moving to take the lead as he trots along. He comes to a pause in front of the viewing stand, calling out in his "battlefield voice:"

"I am Prince Martyn Tracano, Knight of Rivana, and Templar of the Order of Saint Michaelis. This day I ride in honor of the Royal House of Tracano, whom it is my pleasure to serve, and carrying the favor of my Lady wife, The Princess Johanna Tracano. May the One grant the best knight victory in this contest." He salutes Symon, and then moves to trot away, allowing the next in line to proceed.

Thaddeus Greycen urges his grey warhorse forward. His plate has been cleaned as well as it was going to be, his surcoat cleaned and mended displaying the white lion of Stoneshield upon a blue field. Thad's golden head is without a helm, currently, as it rests under his arm.

When the time comes for his announcement, it comes bearing the words, "I am Lord Thaddeus Greycen, Lord Marshal of Rivana, heir to Stoneshield, current Circuit Champion and Victor of the Battle of Three Crowns." His role in the liberation of Sunsreach is not said for obvious reasons. "I come here to ensure a victory for Rivana, by lance and sword!" With that, he continues riding.

The Couvieri minstrel glances back towards Gast and offers a one word answer to the question of him scouting or competing. "Both." Then that wry grin is cast Gast's way as Philippe turns to Odilia. "Oh, these knightly sorts are far too clever to trip over themselves with either foot or tongue. Why…those that can't speak let their actions do the talking…and those that find themselves wanting in action speak too much. Just watch, and it will all be crystal clear as to who is what type of person. " As an example, when Prince Martyn speaks, Phil nods to the Rivanan. "See? He lets his actions speak for him." Philippe settles back, as yet another example in Lord Thaddeus Greycen does the same. "Short and to the point. Not much for words. Unlike me."

"Sure, they know how to walk about. But don't mean one or two can't go tripping over their tongues, saying the wrong word. Rather like you manage half the time," Odilia throwing a wink at the Gastogne along with that open tease. Addressing Philippe,"I like how he asks you and not me. Though that does bring ta mind, you going to risk them pretty hands and that face, or saving them to serenade all the ladies?" Odilia gives a look towards the VIP box and the movement there,"Oh, looks like the prancing is about to begin." Settling back as the first does come along. "Not an extra word at all spoken there."

Clara nods lightly to Tiadora, as her brown eyes cast a sideward glance to Symon. "I can understand that dilemna, Tia. When it comes to that sort of thing, no one seems happy regardless. Though…no words might be better than too many."

Clarke t'Cauthone takes a breath then, saluting up to the stands then with his lance, staying at attention then as his horse strides to salute the nobles, the commoners, and the other competitors. "I am Sir Clarke t'Cauthone, of the Blue Cavaliers. I have the honor of fighting for my King, Jean-Paul l'Valdan. I was raised in the Blackfens and had the honor of being sent to the great city of Rovilone to be trained and joining the Cavaliers. I fought side by side with my other Cavaliers and our Lord Marshal at the time and helped break the siege of Valetta and in the Battle of the Three Crowns. I have the honor of competing in this tournament to win honor for my fellow Cavaliers and my King." He goes to salute then, taking a step back then as he glances and then moves his horse along with the procession.

Gastogne glances over at Philippe and dips his head in a nod, "Well enough then. I'm sure there will be plenty of things for us to do, both for fun and for profit." And letting his eyes wander through the crowd then. And likely him being one of those that would speak too much. A glib grin being sent over the way of Odilia. Gastogne glancing up and over along the crowds then and at the knights again. "So, for fun and sport it tis."

In the stands, Raul Moreno lightly glances over the knights, rising to applaud with each then and watching things, and those around him, shifting to turn up to glance at the stands and where the Normont Nobles were.

Odilia tosses a grin at Philippe,"You wouldn't be your fine self without all them flowery words. And I don't think one of them suits of metal would suit you all that well. " She looks at Gastogne and then back to Philippe,"Why does he think we come ta these things for? It's all about the fun and sport." Giving a roll of her eyes before giving the next knight to prance along an eyeing.

Evelyn l'Faust moves her steed forward, clad in the armor she will soon be competing in. As her horse trots forward lightly and she moves behind Thaddeus. Her own surcoat bears the golden eagle on black of the l'Faust upon it. Her own plate shines with a polish that shows much attention and pride.

She recognizes, then, the time of her own announcement. "I am Evelyn l'Faust of the Lightning Brigade." She does not have claims as others do to the Tourney Titles. But then, that is why she is here. "I come here to claim victory for Couviere." She moves on, then, not apparently having much more to say than that, despite her sincerity in the spoken words, and the will within her to see that claim completed.

A glance to his brother and, with a smirk, Leander rides out next with that black and white favor, for favor it certainly is, fluttering upon his arm. And, in keeping with his usual perceived nature, he rides out to the center and offers a bow…upon horseback…with both his mare and Leander dipping their heads in respect to the ducal house in tandem. As he lifts his head, the voice calls out true. "I am Lord Leander Giraldi of Watch Hill. I ride for the honor of Rivana and her Queen and to provide honor to my house and home." He seems to keep his comments short this time…a rarity for him. However, as he offers another shorter bow and starts to ride off, he spies a certain noblewoman within the stands…and offers her a short bow all her own, before riding off the field.

Amara cheers for the various knights as they present themselves, but there are certainly a few that get excitement out of her than others. Several from Couviere, and there is one from Rivana that does seem to cause a wide smile and ever so loud cheer. And quite the smile as her head is bowed to him as he passes.

Gastogne lightly and somewhat exaggeratedly huffs then over in amusement at the riposte from his two companions to his words, and then goes back to his otherwise less than meaningful grumbling then as he lets out a quiet guffaw, watching the rest of the parade.

There is a short laugh from Philippe. "What? You think I should try my hand at the bareknuckle? I might consider it. Who knows…it might be fun." There is a wink to Odilia before the bard turns to regard the parade as it passes.

With the knights parading past, Emilia does slip into her more quiet and stoic nature. Or perhaps in being about so many important folk in that box. Politely clapping for the knights as they present themselves, though when he brought comes by, there is a little more energy to that clapping.

Odilia grins at Philippe,"It can be. I figure to give it a shot. Least you can come give it a watch." Taking another bite on that meat stick as she gives the parade a bit more attention. Bets might be in order after all.

Devlin Cassomir rides out, saluting towards the Dukes' box, then the crowd, before speaking, "I am Lord Devlin Cassomir of Ironhold, Knight of Rivana, brother to King Jaren Tracano, and the Viscountess Raelyn Cassomir. I fought at Giorgio's Redoubt and lived to tell the tale. When traitors to our kingdom invaded my family's lands, I led men to aid in liberating them. I fought at Goldhollow, and Blackstone. It is my honor to compete in the name of House Cassomir, and I pray the One grant my strength in this contest." And that said, he moves off the field, clearing the way for the next rider.

And that next rider proves to be Raimond Giraldi, who pauses before the box and offers a saddled bow towards it, his horse dipping to a semblance of a "bow" as well. When he straightens, he speaks,

"I am Lord Raimond Giraldi, Knight of Rivana and heir to Watch Hill. I fought at Blackstone and the Battle of Three Crowns, for the honor of my house and in service to my liege, Duke Darren Haldis. I compete in honor of my family, and in hope of whatever glory the One sees fit to grant." And that said, the elder Giraldi brother moves off the field.

Tiadora giggles as Rae gets a 'shout out'. But when the battles are named she grows sober. Her eyes fall to her lap and she fiddles with her prayer beads in a silent anxiety.

There is applauding from the VIP box as Clara greets the arrival of the Cassomir knight. The Tracano shifts to address Tiadora, but frowns as she catches the devout one playing with her prayer beads. "Are you okay, Tia? You seem rather nervous. Sir Devlin is a courageous man…I am sure he will be perfectly well for this tournament." It is only a guess…but when it is Tiadora and nervous twitching, usually it is because of Devlin.

Tiadora shakes her head and quietly explains, "Just… regretting they had to fight -any- of those battles." Battles her parents were aiding and abetting and the cause of. She doesn't say more than that.

Raelyn looks at Tiadora, then, soberly. "I am pleased they were there to fight. If they had not, we would not be holding this Tournament," she points out, gently, kindly. "War is never a wanted thing by those who must defend. We can only hope to be a better example. And these times," Raelyn gestures, "With Couivere show that, perhaps, some good comes out of it. We shall see."

Parade mostly over, Clarke t'Cauthone goes to look over the other knights, and then gives them a casual salute then with his lance in passing then, murmuring if any were close enough to hear, "Good luck."
It seems that the One was watching out for the festivities after all. As the last of the knights present themselves and ride off, the tell-tale splotches of rain splatter upon the dirt of the field, dark brown splatters appearing upon the horse-trodden tracks. This seems to prompt the observers to move on…mostly noble types too frail or too pompous to afford getting wet. Yet, others, mostly commoners, seem to pay the rain no mind. After all it is not falling hard, yet. Why, there might be a good solid twenty to thirty minutes of gossip and revelry to be had before the weather may force a change of venue. But, at least for most, the threat of rain has brought the opening ceremonies to an end.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License