Wolveshire Tournament: The Joust

Wolveshire Tournament: The Joust
Summary: The Jousting event from the Wolveshire Tournament where many a mystery Knight seemed to put in an appearance.
Date: 5 May 2013
Related: The other Wolveshire Tournament Logs
Aethel Amira Carisse Eldrick Elenore Lyam Krakensteel Pawel PhantomDancer Roltoff Samwell Stefan Talia 

Tournament Grounds - Wolveshire
A green field is the setting for the tournament grounds in the shadow of Wolveshire Castle. There's the list for the jousting, as well as room for pavilions of the various participants in the tournaments. A cold steel rail has been put up to keep the lower stands, meant for the commoners, from the area for the participants. There's also a higher stands for members of nobility and other very important people to enjoy the events from, with more comfortable seating and a better view.

To the north, one can get back to the road between the town and the Castle.

Sun May 05, 1329

Having arrived for the tournament wearing the red and gold colors of her house, once again Amira sports the red and gold ribbon choker necklace with the ruby drop decoration that she had given as a favor the day before to the victor of the event. As she does arrive, she is alone other than her guards, two of them, who follow behind her.

Making her way to join those amongst the stands is the graceful young Taniford, Elenore. A single gurad trailing her until she enters the stand, her dark eyes sweeping over those already gathered as she perhaps looks for someone.

Rather Amira thinks she is alone. As another Rhaedan comes to follow her with guards around and moving to join his sister. 'Stefan' moves and does wave and nod to people around. Keeping hood on and scarf up to hide a bit. From the looks of things it seems to be her brother. Joining her. "Sister." Comes low spoken words, for Amira's ears only. Going to join her and keep an eye on her seat, as promised.

As 'Stefan' is with his sister prepared for the joust is the Phantom Dancer with his horse nearby. A Lohstren favour upon him. Same as he had at the sword of foot competition earlier on. Making last moment preparations. One could guess him being over six feet and muscular. The armor tinted in a dark color. Almost real dark blue. Perhaps not of the greatest quality but still enough to be good enough, so to speak. The helmet is a simple one made to cover the entire face with a blank solid one over the mouth and a bit of room for his blue eyes. The armor itself seeming almost wavy with the neck being protected around by rounded shoulders and neck protection all around.

And another fine day for the last competition event of the Wolveshire Tourney of this season. It's the joust, and the participants have lined up for it, just like the people in the stands have. The MC is in his usual place, looking around for a few moments, before he raises his arms again. "And now, good people. The event I'm sure you all have been waiting for, the Joust. First bout will be between one of the best participants overall this entire week, Sir Eldrick Lohstren, and the mysterious Phantom Dancer. Competitors, mount up and take your places."

Dressed in heavy armor, the hulking figure of the mystery knight is large, a portly fellow for sure. Dressed in the colors of the Shire, he rides out on his warhorse, carrying a lance with a hold that suggests that he's not entirely sure of his grip on it. As the warhorse trots over to where Elenore is, the man inside the armor extends a hand to her. "If I may have your favor, if it has not already been granted?" says a voice that echoes and distorts inside of heavy plate of the armor.

The Phantom Dancer, now that is the mystery knight that the Lohstren remembers, having to face off against him in the finals of Sword on Foot though it ended rather gloriously for Eldrick. This time, the noble knight is perhaps not as confident but is still making a good showing of it. With his name called, the armored Heir mounts his steed and trots to his end of the tilt. There his squire waits with his first tourney lance.

Not seeing whom she wishes, Elenore gives a slight sigh and begins to take a seat but is interupted by the approach of the mystery knight and his request. Noting she she turns to face him better,"It has not already been granted, Sir." A slight studying being made of the portly figure before her dark eyes widen a little, her voice softening a touch as she continues,"I would be honored for you to carry it." The movement that had gone to pull a simple ribbon changes direction and instead the ribboned choker about her neck with the opal that hangs from it is removed and places into his hand with a lingering press.

As he is called up the Phantom dancer does seem confident as he prepares and get onto his horse. Holding lance and shield ready as he rides up to be ready on one side of the area. Offering a bow of his head to the Lohstren. Remembering Eldrick as well, as he lost to him last time. Hoping for a better result this time around. Looking to the crowd as well and just taking in any cheers before turning to be ready for the jousting.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Eldrick=Joust Vs Stefan=Joust
< Eldrick: Good Success Stefan: Great Success
< Net Result: Stefan wins - Solid Victory

Standing next to his horse, Pawel is watching the stands for a few moments, as if looking for some people in particular. It's not sure if he sees those people or not, but at the MCs call, he turns to watch the first bout, with a quiet smile now.

Once the signal to start is given, Eldrick kicks his horse into motion as his steed's hooves thunder down his side of the tilt. As the two riders approach, the Lohstren's lance lowers at the right moment and his blow is accurate, right in the body of the mystery knight and shattering. The at the same time, he receives a blow in turn, an even better one that hits his helm, shattering the tourney lance. For a moment, Eldrick is dazed but he recovers enough to remain mounted.

A tall knight moves from the pavillion, he is clad in a fine silver and red jousting harness which befits his noble status. On its chest and shield, there are paintings of the Varghem crest. Aethel approaches the lists, raising his visor to glance at the crowd. His horse it's the same used in the past contests, a black rouncey of name Shade.

"Fine jousters, aren't they?" The knight questions to the Varghem Duke as he moves closer to him and his horse, "But we will show them how lances are broken in Wolveshire."

As both are ready and the bout is starting the Phantom Dancer is riding hard. Setting the lance up nicely. He does feel the hit to his body and does his best to hold on. though he does feel the hit he get in on his opponent as well. A hard hit to the other man's helmet with his lance breaking. Turning around after it to prepare for the next one. Looking over to see how Eldrick did. Having hoped to get him unhorsed perhaps. Ready for the next bout now. Readying his lance.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Stefan=Joust Vs Eldrick=Joust
< Stefan: Good Success Eldrick: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

Shaking off the hit that stunned him, Eldrick returns to his side of the tilt where his squire has his second tourney lance ready and also asks if he is all right. A nod is answered to Zariah before the Lohstren grips the lance firmly and readies it. Waiting for the Phanton knight, Eldrick steels himself for another pass and soon they are off. With hooves thundering, the Lohstren Heir's lance strikes true yet again, another shattering blow to the body, taking the same in return.

With the next round the Phantom is only focused on his opponent now. Going in and tries for another hit. Both hitting each other to the torso. Hanging on still and continues on. Feeling them both being neck to neck. Dropping the second lance as it shattered, to get ready for the last bout.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Eldrick=Joust Vs Stefan=Joust
< Eldrick: Good Success Stefan: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

Throwing the remnans of the shattered lance away, Eldrick returns to his side of the tilt once more and takes the third lance from hsi squire. Knowing that this could be the last pass, he once more steels his mind and body. Again, he kicks his horse into motion with hooves thundering and the Lohstren strikes true once more, another body blow with lance shattering. But once again, he receives the same in return, which means the difference lies in the first round.

Pawel nods a bit as he hears Aethel's words. "It will be interesting to see who wins the day, brother," he offers, letting out a bit of a breath. "Looks like a good bout, this one," he offers.

Getting the third lance the Phantom gives himself a pound to the chest with the shield hand. Showing respect to the Lohstren before starting to ride. Knowing that he needs a good one this round. Doing a good job to hit Eldrick in the shoulder but taking a blow himself as well. Waiting to see who is deemed winner, but feeling quite good about himself.

As the passes are done and the score counted, the MC looks around. "And the winner of our first bout tonight is the Phantom Dancer, by a score of seven to six. Congratulations." A brief pause, before he continues, "For our second bout, we have the Portly Jouster facing up against Duke Pawel Varghem. Get ready…"

As the Portly Jouster accepts the favor from Lady Elenore, she might be able to hear the smile in his voice as hands much to small for the armor move to tie the favor from Lady Taniford around his wrist. The lance in the holster as he watched others doing, there is a turn of the armored head towards Elenore as he speaks,

"Bright shone the afternoon soon, blue bent the skies,
And the knights still hurried amain.
To the tournament under the ladies' eyes,
Where the jousters were Heart and Brain."

"Flourished the trumpets: entered Heart,
A youth in crimson and gold.
Flourished again: Brain stood apart,
Steel-armored, dark and cold."

"Heart's wrist bore favors from thee,
from his lady's white hand caught;
While Brain wore a plumeless casque; not he,
Or favor gave or sought."

"To the grounds, Heart must ride,
the feel of his morale taken seriously.
With the favor of his Lady Taniford at his side,
win or lose, he will taste her sweet caress of victory."

Dressed in the crimson and yellow of the unaffiliated, since this jouster is sure not to bring shame to his House, the young man settles back into his saddle and draws out a breath, and he lets out a breath, a small prayer to the Guardians given as he pats down his armor and nods firmly and gives a salute to his opposition. Every joust has that one jouster. The one that has no business being there. Usually a minor noble or a squire, who is supposed to boost the morale of crowd and to be wholly entertaining, while remaining shrouded in mystery. That would seem to be this jovial and portly fellow that spouts poetry so easily as he waves around his shield in a rouse to the crowd before he ohs. The Duke? Him? Oh dear. A small chuckle escapes from inside the armor. Ahem. Be serious, PJ!

Sitting in the stands watching the Joust competition on the tilt, Amira looks to her brother beside her, yet does not keep up a steady flow of conversation. Hearing the poem, her lips curve in a smile and she applauds, enjoying a good show when she sees one.

Pausing for a few moments as he hears the name of the Portly Jouster, Pawel looks around for a few moments, "Any idea who whis one is?" he asks to Aethel, before he looks around again as he hears his own name. "Guess we'll see how good this one is," he offers, before he mounts up and moves to his place. Offering a bit of a salute to the man, before he gets his lance in hand.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Lyam=joust Vs Pawel=joust
< Lyam: Good Success Pawel: Success
< Net Result: Lyam wins - Solid Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Pawel=Joust Vs Lyam=Joust
< Pawel: Good Success Lyam: Failure
< Net Result: Pawel wins - Solid Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Lyam=joust Vs Pawel=joust
< Lyam: Success Pawel: Success
< Net Result: DRAW

With her favour given, Elenore yet looks to.well..now it seems her chosen Knight for this event. A gift of poem comes, and how it causes such a fine mixture of pink and red to color her cheeks. But a rather warm smile and a soft,"My Knight, your honor me already," is given to him before he makes for the start with being called to his match. Leaning forward in her seat to watch, a soft gasp as she realizes who is paired against him. Her own soft prayer being offered up as it all gets under way.

After the Phantom is done and won he moves aside. Watching the next pair. Applauding a bit. Seeing the good hits. Tough one bad bout from the Portly Jouster seems to be the end for him. He does still applaud and watches a bit interested.

As they line up at the start, the PJ draws in a breath. "Here we go. Please don't let me fall.." he whispers to the horse. "My brother will be so pissed if I lose a horse from the stables. Well.. is it really losing if he gets it back?" It's this thought that is in the young man's mind as he takes off towards Pawel. As the two meet in the middle, there's a lift of the lance, and it strikes the head of the Duke, and the Portly Jouster immediately tosses aside his lance to take up a new one, a muttered apology offered underneath his breath.

When they turn to take up the second round, the PJ can't seem to get his lance around in time and it passes by the Duke easily, though his own helmet gets knocked clean off. It exposes the head and face of the young man that is riding the warhorse and in the armor too large for him to be the youngest of the Varghem family as Lyam smiles brightly and sends a servant to recover the dented helmet.

Helmet retrieved, put on his head anew, the youngest Lord of the House Wolveshire takes a moment to set himself as he charges again. Another good and solid hit on the Duke, but in this case, he doesn't get the decision. Which really, is just as well. Waving his hand to the crowd, Lyam just seems to enjoy himself as he gave it his best effort and really - surprised a lot of people - including himself. "See you later, brother mine!" he offers cheerfully as he leads his horse off to the side and towards the undressing area.

Standing now at the edge of the field, leaving her 'brother' in the stands, Amira watches the knights on the list and cheers for Pawel when he wins, glad his previous injuries did not prohibit him from joining in the last competition of the tournament.

As they line up at the start, the PJ draws in a breath. "Here we go. Please don't let me fall.." he whispers to the horse. "My brother will be so pissed if I lose a horse from the stables. Well.. is it really losing if he gets it back?" It's this thought that is in the young man's mind as he takes off towards Pawel. As the two meet in the middle, there's a lift of the lance, and it strikes the body of the Duke and his lance shatters cleanly, and the Portly Jouster immediately tosses aside his lance to take up a new one, a muttered apology offered underneath his breath.

When they turn to take up the second round, the PJ can't seem to get his lance around in time and it passes by the Duke easily, with the strike to his own body breaking the Duke's lance, the vibration through his armor causes his own helmet to break free and fall to the ground. It exposes the head and face of the young man that is riding the warhorse and in the armor too large for him to be the youngest of the Varghem family as Lyam smiles brightly and sends a servant to recover the helmet.

Helmet retrieved, put on his head anew, the youngest Lord of the House Wolveshire takes a moment to set himself as he charges again. Another good and solid hit on the Duke, but in this case, he doesn't get the decision. Which really, is just as well. Waving his hand to the crowd, Lyam just seems to enjoy himself as he gave it his best effort and really - surprised a lot of people - including himself. "See you later, brother mine!" he offers cheerfully as he leads his horse off to the side and towards the undressing area.

Closing the visor of his helm, Pawel gets his horse into motion. Scoring a hit without breaking the lance, he takes a hit in return, the opponent's lance breaking. When he succeeds in the second round, he lets out a bit of a breath, before he blinks as he sees who his mysterious opponent is. "What the…" he begins, shaking his head a few times, before coming in for the third pass, and only scoring a light hit, but enough to stay in the lead. Was that on purpose, so he would not injure his littlest brother? Who knows. Having finished, he watches Lyam head off, before he removes his helm, and moves back towards where he was before. Pausing a bit as he looks to the stands again, his gaze stopping on the Northern Princess. "Your Highness, in case there is no lucky man riding with your favor today, I humbly ask for that honor," he asks, loud and clear.

The Varghem knight glances at the mysterious competitor and shrugs to his brother, "Guess you will have to find out, good luck, brother." Aethel says with a impish smirk, wacthing eagerly as Pawel wins the tilt after some fine blows from both parts. He chuckles at his brother presentation, "Well done, Lyam!" Shouts the knight.

"And the winner, by a score of four to three, is Duke Pawel Varghem." There's a pause as the MC adds, "It was a fine showing by his youngest brother, Lord Lyam, though. The next bout is between Sir Nydan Krakensteel and Sir Aethel Varghem. Take your places."

A Kraken approaches riding a dire black charger. Such a combination can only mean one knight, one many nobles and fighters have faced before.

Sir Nydan Krakensteel, wearing his dark sea blue armor, topped with a closed full helmet that reminisces the monstrous mythical creature, rides slowly to his place. The sun steals the bright of his full plate, letting the observers to discern patters of a ship sinking on his chest. The crowd is examined from hidden eyes. A hand trails, delicately caressing one of the tentacles that fall from the head piece, only to be extended afterwards to accept the lance offered by a young girl covered by the shadow of a hood. A simple flattened piece of iron, the size of a coin, is made more artful by the light purple ribbon strung through the hole at its top. Golden hair is braided with the ribbon, worn on his wrist.

Holding his shield tightly, the man wearing the Kraken armor spares a nod of his head to his contender. Not a word escapes him.

It takes several minutes for Lyam to be removed from the too big armor and he grabs one of the pillows he had used to pad himself. Coming out of the tents, the young Lord comes back to the stands and climbs up to join with Lady Elenore. "If I may?" he asks the young Lady, moving to remove her favor so he can return it. "I think you brought me much luck, Lady Taniford." he offers with a smile.

Aethel listens his name being called by the MC and quickly moves towards the lists, receiving a lance from his squire and holding it rather fiercly. The knight waits for the signal to begin, lowering his helmet and conserving a rigid posture on the saddle.

All focus is given to this next match by Elenore, leaning forward in her seat as hands fret over each other in her lap. Cheers being given for the portly knight, along with murmured prayers to the Guardians to keep him safe. Eyes widen as the first pass is made and it ends in his favour. A fine cheer from Elenore….perhaps the prayers helped! But to see the lance striking his helm in the second bout brings a gasp of worry, not surprise! A breathe held until the final round is made, it is let out with a bit of relief. Another cheer is given up for her knight! "Well done!" Elenore tracking his progress when he departs from the arena. Many a glance going that way even as the next match begins to get under way.

And it does take awhile but evenutally he is there joining her,"You may, Lord Varghem." Dark eyes bright as she gives him an affectionate smile,"I think perhaps it might have, you did wonderfully, I do not think I would have wished for any other to wear it, my Lord."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Aethel=Joust Vs Samwell=Joust
< Aethel: Failure Samwell: Success
< Net Result: Samwell wins - Marginal Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Aethel=Joust Vs Samwell=Joust
< Aethel: Good Success Samwell: Great Success
< Net Result: Samwell wins - Marginal Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Aethel=Joust Vs Samwell=Joust
< Aethel: Great Success Samwell: Great Success
< Net Result: DRAW

Having been standing on the edge of the tournament field away from the lists however, a safe distance away, Amira watches the different knights gather and cannot contain the enjoyment she finds in the event. As she had been applauding Pawel, watching when he returns towards where he was before, she smiles at the question and offers a dipped curtsy. "I would be honored, Your Grace." And she reaches for the ribbon pleated through her braid and gently tugs it free as she closes the distance between them, leaving her 'brother' in the stands. Once she reaches the Duke, she offers him the ribbon with another smile. "I wish you the best of luck."

Settling down on the pillow he brought with him, Lyam gives a smile of affection back to Elenore as he removes the favor and offers to put it back around the Lady's neck. "I actually am quite surprised by my showing, though I think my brother eased up once he realized who I was. That was my first time jousting!" there's an amused chuckle as he turns to start to watch the match with Ellie, his hand settled over hers lightly for the moment.

The Varghem knight doesn't start very well, as his first attempt hits nothing but the wind, but exposes his plate to an easy blow. As the joust proceeds, Aethel manages to hit his opponent twice, not managing to unhorse him. The knight grunts as his presentation, visibly frustated by his performance.

The back charger, its name unknown, starts a swift run as a black dart, making the ground explode around at each hit of its steps. The mysterious Knight of the Kraken manages to land a hit, without breaking or particularly good, but without receiving one in exchange. The lance is thrown to the side, just to quickly take a fresh one from the young squire. Nydan turns his mount back, without losing any more time than it is needed to charge again to his opponent. And it hits hard, resounding and breaking in the end of the wood, getting hit in the process.

But it only serves to fuel his will to charge again, both landing a receiving powerful strikes. Before he leaves, and before hearing the statement of the winner of the match, he offers a slow, respectful nod to the Varghem knight.

"And the winner, with a score of seven to five, is Sir Nydan Krakensteel. Congratulations." The MC then announces the final bout of the first round. "For our last bout of this round, we have Sir Auric Moray facing Sir Lora Sandwell. Find your places."

A hand draw up her loose hair to accept the offer from Lyam to replace the choker about her neck,"I was surprised to see that you had chosen to compete….after the talk this afternoon." After the choker is refashioned, but before Lyam draws to far away Elenore leans to murmur something softly to him. Whatever it is causes a crimson blush, eyes turning to the match in progress, a cheer given up for his brother. She had promised to cheer for him! "I do bet your brother was nearly surprised as I to dicover it was you her rode against." Her fingers drifting to twine with his when his hand settles upon hers.

Sir Auric Moray, a rather heavily built man from one of the vassal houses of House Riedel, makes his way to his starting point, offering a nod to his opponent as he gets ready for the tilt now.

Sir Lora Sandwell rides up on a black stallion, pitch black as a starless midnight sky. Her armor is shining, the joust lip at her neck area in place for her protection. Her lance at the ready, her eyes peer through the helm as she awaits the shout to begin. Confident, she's on her best horse and wearing her best armor, ready for the tilt. Only when the shout is given does she spur her horse into action.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Auric=5 Vs Lora=5
< Auric: Good Success Lora: Great Success
< Net Result: Lora wins - Solid Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Auric=5 Vs Lora=5
< Auric: Success Lora: Good Success
< Net Result: Lora wins - Marginal Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Auric=5 Vs Lora=5
< Auric: Failure Lora: Great Success
< Net Result: Lora wins - Crushing Victory

There's a reason for that confidence as apparently Sir Lora is very talented. As she makes her first pass, she manages to crush a lance on her opponents head, on the second pass it's against his body and on the third against his head. She took a few hits herself but nothing near what she has done to her opponent. "Well done, Sir." She calls to Auric before riding over to await her name being called.

One lance broken against the opponent's body, and one small hit seems to be all Auric can do in this one. After taking the solid hits from his opponent, he misses on his third, and after he gets back to where he's supposed to be and starts dismounting, he falls to the ground. Just after he gets his helm off, his lunch and breakfast seems to make its way out of the man now.

"And the winner of this tilt is Sir Lora Sandwell, by a score of eight to three. Congratulations, Sir Lora." The MC waits for a few moments longer, before he begins. "The next round will start with the tilt between the Phantom Dancer and Duke Pawel Varghem. Find your places!"

Keeping his eyes focused on the other men and their competing. Unmasked knights and all of it. Though when he is called up once more the Phantom Dancer does make himself ready and riding up to take the lance. Ready for this now. Greeting his opponent as he is making ready to start the first bout.

"Thank you, Your Highness. I really appreciate it, and will do all I can to give it justice," Pawel replies quietly to Amira, before he ties the ribbon around his upper arm. Pausing a bit as he hears the call, he offers a smile. "Well, time to prove myself, I believe." Mounting again, and riding to take his place at the list, putting on his helm again and getting the lance.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Stefan=joust Vs Pawel=joust
< Stefan: Amazing Success Pawel: Good Success
< Net Result: Stefan wins - Crushing Victory

Attention is given towards the remainiing matches, or at least Elnore tries to give them attention. But glances are often stolen towards Lyam, her other hand slowly ending up on top of his. Noting with the next match being announced,"Your brother is up again, should we not cheer him on?" Even if perhaps it may not do him any good.

Fully ready Phantom starts off when they both start to ride. Setting his lance in position. Feeling a bit to his body but getting in a good hit of his own. Not only a good one a great one. Not seeing what he had done until after he rides past and looks over. Dropping what is left of his shattered lance.

Hands settled together, fingers laced, Lyam grins over at Elenore. "I wanted to at least show that I am willing to try anything once for you, m'lady." the young man starts to say, but as soon as he sees the match starting, there's a sudden gasp at the crushing blow his brother recieves and his hand tightens on Elenore's as he moves, straightening up in his seat as his breath catches. "…Pawel?" he says worriedly as the crowd goes quiet as the hometwon Duke is unseated, healers ready to rush out if there is a wound.

On the sidelines, Amira watches as her brother and the Duke compete. Both are highly talented. When the Phantom Dancer dismounts Duke Pawel, "Your Grace!" Concerned, she watches, yet she does not rush out to her friend, instead, she moves out of the way for the others that are tending to him.

Charging towards his opponent, Pawel aims his lance carefully for the opponent. But as he manages to get in his hit, he's lifted from his saddle and sent back a bit. Hitting the ground with a solid crash of armor against the ground, he remains unmoving now, as the healers come out to tend to him, and get him off the field.

Roltoff watches on from the edge of the field as he hears the thundering hooves of the two horses and slowly makes his way around ot see one toss the other from their horse. He wonders just who was up as he makes his way to the stands so that he can sit down and watch the events more throughly. He nods to those he knows, but doesn't expect any replies as they seem quite engrossed in the show.

The Phantom does draw closer as he sees the downed duke. "Will he be alright?" Comes the dark voice. Making sure he is well before he will move away to leave room for the healers.

"I do not know how you managed in that armor, there was so much of it." Though Elenore notes more soflty,"You truly did not need to do so, my Lord." Some manner of cheer about to be given for the Duke as the match gets under way but it quickly turns into a gasp as it is over with such a well aimed lance that unseats the Duke. Her hand given Lyam' a reassuring squeeze, murmuring,"I am sure he will be fine." Eyes watching as the healers run out with the Duke yet laying on the field,"Shall we head toward the healer tents so you may get any news at the earliest, my Lord?"

"And the winner, through unhorsing his opponent, is the Phantom Dancer. Congratulations." The MC calls this out, before he adds, "And the next tilt will be slightly delayed as they work on getting the Duke off the field. But it will be between Sir Nydan Krakensteel and Sir Lora Sandwell."

Having recently arrived in the city, quite literally recently, Talia is just one of the spectators on the side of the field and had engaged in conversation with those other healers who were standing ready - just in case. When the Duke went tilting tot he ground she had run forth with the other healers, hoping to help.

"If you don't mind, Ellie." Lyam says, quick to rise his feet. All the revelry he felt earlier is lost for a moment, before the young lord glances towards the Emcee stand and nods as he takes control of the situation, and the young Lord calls out. "Let the matches continue! The Duke will be fine!" he says with a quick breath as he waits for Elenore to rise so they can head over the healer's tent.

Still not moving as he's being carried from the field and over to the healer's tents, Pawel is probably dreaming of something as he's beiing carried off.

"I do not mind at all, Lyam," easily rising to her feet to join him. Elenore stepping swiftly to keep pace with him as she lets him lead the way. Her hand keeping to his as they go to check on the Duke' condition. Who will of course be fine.

As it is clear again, the MC looks to Lyam at his words, nodding a bit. "As you say, Lord Lyam. Sir Nydan, Sir Lora, take your places."

The wearer of the Kraken Armor enters the field once again. Dark blue plate shining, and even for a moment, perhaps just for the game of lights and shadows, but it could seem his eyes have reflected the fire of the battles as a dark mirror. Whatever the case, the silent Nydan takes a lance from the equally silent squire, nodding in greeting to the lady knight and preparing his horse for the first run.

What ever the Duke is dreaming of will probably be ruined by the efforts of the healers in short order, for once he is safely settled in the tent a burning feather is brought around to try to rouse the Duke with that nasty smell.

Atop the stallion, Sir Lora awaits her turn, troubled eyes watch the removal of the Duke. When it's time, she goes….
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Lora=5 Vs Samwell=Joust
< Lora: Good Success Samwell: Good Success
< Net Result: Lora wins - Marginal Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Lora=5 Vs Samwell=Joust
< Lora: Success Samwell: Good Success
< Net Result: Samwell wins - Marginal Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Lora=5 Vs Samwell=Joust
< Lora: Good Success Samwell: Good Success
< Net Result: Samwell wins - Marginal Victory

Standing outside the healer's tent, Lyam waits on news from his older brother's condition. Already having shaken off the initial fear and worry, the young Lord becomes more resolute, speaking quietly with those that ask on his condition that the Duke is recovering and all will remain as it is. The young man just seems to fit into the role as he keeps his hand linked with Elenore's, allowing her to assist as she sees fit.

Krakensteel and his horse dart to the contender. A solid exchange of hits in which the blue armor resounds but both lances shatter. The squire, always ready to handle a new weapon to her knight, so quickly it never stops his motion, looks worried at the close match that is just happening. Two more runs, equally skilled, finishing in a new show of lances being destroyed.

Riding slowly when the combat has finished, the mystery knight nods to Sir Lora and awaits for the result to be spoken.

As that nasty smelling burning feather is brought out, it takes a moment, but it would seem that the Duke is catching the smell. After a few seconds now, he starts trying to sit up as he opens his eyes. "Fire!"
From afar, Lyam grins. more the part of the future wife that is his strength when he needs it most.

With a waist up now, Lora concedes that indeed, she was the loser. "Well done." Riding off now to the edge to get herself out of her armors, her eyes drift to the Varghem tent.

Hastily drawing the feather back and dousing it in a bucket of water, Talia eyes the Duke with care - eyes slightly narrowed eyes - before she nods and rests one hand on the Duke's shoulder to gently press him back down onto the pallet. "It's alright, your grace," she offers in a polite voice, "can you tell me where you're hurt, your grace?"

"And advancing to the final, by a score of 6-5 is Sir Nydan Krakensteel," the MC announces. "We will commence with the final, between Ser Nydan and the Phantom Dancer very shortly. Prepare yourselves, and take your places when ready…"

Keeping to Lyam's side as he waits outside the healer's tent, Elenore aids in passing news quietly and helping to keep the area semi-clear, encouraging people to return and watch the last matches finish out, to see who comes to be the victor. Though perhaps mostly, Elenore is there for Lyam, a gentle word murmured, a reassuring squeeze to his hand.

Two mystery knights meet again. Not long ago, the Phantom Dancer bested the Kraken knight. But now, Nydan has a new opportunity to face him, this time riding a black horse, with a lance instead of a blade.

The night colored charger brings the man with a sinking ship in his chest to his end of the field. A lance is taken, and this time a longer look is given to the squire. Getting ready, very slowly, he nods making clear he is ready for the final match to begin.

The Phantom Dancer does applaud the winner of the last match. Making himself ready for the final as he is called up for what will be the last thing. Riding up. Patting the favour on his arm as well as turn to nod towards his opponent. Raising his hand to the cheers before just being ready to charge. Getting his lance then to make ready for the final match. The rematch against the Kraken. Ghost against Beast.

As he hears his brother's voice, Lyam pushes back the flap of the tent and looks towards Talia and Pawel. "How is he?" he asks quietly, looking to the Duke as he steps away from Elenore for just a moment to check on his older sibling.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Stefan=joust Vs Samwell=joust
< Stefan: Good Success Samwell: Great Success
< Net Result: Samwell wins - Marginal Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Stefan=joust Vs Samwell=joust
< Stefan: Good Success Samwell: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Stefan=joust Vs Samwell=joust
< Stefan: Failure Samwell: Great Success
< Net Result: Samwell wins - Crushing Victory

The first bout the Phantom Dancer got hit in the head and it does not seem like he fully recovered. Doing well in the both the first two bouts. But the head hit shows at his final bout. The lance just sliding off his opponent's shield while getting another hit to the head. Sending the helmet off. Short and dark brown hair showing and with brown stubble on his face. Cheeks a little puffed. Skin having dirt as well as looking almost tanned. Hanging on though and not allowing himself to fall off. Letting someone gather his helmet and give it back to him to put it on. Not giving people a long look.

With Lyam stepping into the tent to check upon Pawel with that voice being heard, Elenore takes up the task of informing and deflecting those seeking news of the Duke' condition. The young Taniford some how managing this task smoothly enough on her own…for the time being.

The Beast hits the Ghost, making the wood shatter in a powerful strike. He, in turn, receives a strong hit, and even the Kraken shaped helmet turns to look at his contender before dismissing the broken lance and taking a fresh one. The horse hits the ground fiercely before attempting a new ride, and the blow taken is as strong as the given one. But the last one looks more definitive, as no lance strikes the Kraken Armor.

Turning to get closer, even though just for a moment, Nydan nods to the Phantom, now uncovered, but without mimicking the gesture. He just awaits patiently until the result is made official.

With the help fo the Duke's squire, the squire doing most of the heavy work - that is, removing the armor and other necessary attire - Talia is examining the Duke with care. She makes note of the assorted bruises and cuts, bathing those and dressing what she can before the asked question draws her attention. Intent green eyes lift and she gives a polite dip of a curtsy, "Bruised, scraped up and if I am accurate, my lord, possessing a quite intense headache," she surmises as she turns back to the Duke and studies first one eye then the next.

Relaxing a bit as he hears there's no fire, Pawel lets out a breath and lies back a bit again. Eyes focusing on the healer for now, he blinks a few times. "What? Head hurts. Was I drinking again?" A brief pause, before he adds, "Because that's when one's awakened by good looking women, right?" A pause as he sees Lyam step in now. "What…" he begins. Not noticing that much how his armor is being taken off him, and how he's being treated for his wounds.

The MC looks around, watching the final tilt. "And the Champion of the Joust, with a final score of eight to four, is Sir Nydan Krakensteel. Congratulations!"

"Thank you, Healer. You, Your Grace, stay put." Lyam offers - his words firm for his brother, even if they are said with a smile as he takes the news and turns to head out. As he meets up with Elenore again, he takes her hand. "He's going to be fine. Come with me and we'll make sure the emcee gets the news out." he offers as he offers her a grateful smile, the young Lord walking with Elenore towards the emcee's stand and passes the news up.

<FS3> Talia rolls Healer: Good Success.

The Duke's words bring a faint look of amusement to Talia's face, though she only says, "You're to kind, your Grace." She says as she gives a measured nod, hearing that his words aren't slurred. "Your Grace, you've a touch of a concussion, but your own personal healer can confirm that as you'd like."

The Kraken gives a final look to the audience, letting the black charger to move slowly, perhaps smoothly, through the jousting field. The squire is already gone, and Nydan doesn't take long to do the same. A nod or two are offered, not fast and happy, but just slow and thoughtful - or so it would seem, without knowing what happens inside of the monstrous helmet.

A smile goes to Lyam when he returns, a bit of relief in Elenore's expression at his return and the news her brings,"That is good to hear, and aye, let's. It would be easier than telling each as they come to inquire." The young Lady giving his hand a squeeze as they go about seeing the news spread via the MC.

"Concussion… What happened? I remember getting the fav… Wait!" Pawel looks first to the healer, then to his armor now. "That ribbon…" Pointing to the ribbon on the arm. "Bring it here, please…"

Nodding a little as he hears Lyam's words, the MC turns towards the crowd again. "We have an update on the condition of His Grace, the Duke. He is resting now, but is expected to make a full recovery," he calls out.

As he takes the emcee stand for a moment, Lyam makes sure to accounce. "The Duke of Wolveshire's injuries were only light and he is expected to fully recover. The family thanks your for your prayers and well-wishes, please continue the celebration and we look forward to seeing you at the closing ceremonies." With a clap of his hand firmly on the annoucers shoulder, the young man climbs back down and looks to Elenore.

"Of course, your Grace," Talia replies as she moves to the armor and, with a nod at the Duke's squire, carefully removes the ribbon and carries it over to the Duke, offering it forward once she's returned to his side.

After some time, Aethel returns from his pavillion and still seems to be a bit annoyed. He arrives just in time to listen to his younger brother words, raising a brow and quickly moving towards him, "What happened, exactly?" He questions in a low, but very concerned tone, "Don't spare me of any details, Lyam."

Pawel looks a bit relieved as he's handed that ribbon. "Thank you…" he asks, before he lets out another bit of a breath. "May I ask about your name?" he offers to the healer, words coming quietly now.

"He was dismounted in a joust, brother." Lyam offers to Aethel, taking his older brother's arms to steady him and to hold his attention. "He hit his head and lost his breath, but the healer's have brought him around and he is responsive. He's at the healer's tent if you want to see him. But the Duke is fine. I promise." he says firmly.

After the announcement is made and Lyam step back down, Elenore offers him a reassuring smile. Seeming about to say something, but then Aethel appears and Elenore keeps quiet while the brothers speak. Lingering just off of Lyam's side.
Long distance to Lyam: Elenore was just about to say yes when Aethel's pose came through!

After the loss the Phantom had moved away and disappeared. While 'Stefan' is still sitting and watching Amira's seat. Just having the guards around and talking a bit to them while seeing to the seat. He does rise after the winner has been crowned and cheered for. To try and get a hold of his sister to talk, in the crowd.

A bit relieved by his brother words, Aethel takes a deep breath and places a hand on the shoulder of the younger Varghem, "Then let's make sure he has an easy and quick recovery and may he appear strong even when hurt." He says. If the knight notices Elenore's presence, he makes no word or gesture of it.

Adding quickly as he looks to Elenore. "I am going to go to the castle and make sure he has plenty of medical supplies and his room prepared for him." Lyam offers quickly and turns to Elenore. "If you wish to accompany, Lady Taniford?"

Arriving late with messy hair and rushed breath, a man in a simple blue robe walks through the healing tents with a concerned look in his deep dark eyes. His steps are graceful enough, but tiredness is more than evident in each one. "How is he?" a gentle voice can be heard in hurried speech, stoping just in front of the place were Pawel might be resting. "How is the Duke?—Oh, excuse me. My name is Samwell Taniford." the clarification can be justified, for the Prince and Knight of the Citadel looks like a little more than a commoner in such plain clothing.

Carisse too comes flying … okay, riding. She dismounts hastily, and makes her way to find where Pawel is, once word reaches her. One would think she'd be at the joust, but it seems she'd other things to do, and so she's arriving late. And somewhat behind Samwell.

A gentle bow of Elenore's head is simply offered to Aethel, offering up nothing that would interupt their conversation though. Speaking again only once Lyam turns to her,"Aye, Lord Varghem, I would. I think it is best I returned now as well.

As his brother mentions the Taniford lady, Aethel finds himself surprised by her presence. "Lady Taniford." He says, turning briefly to his brother, "I shall remain here and assure that the rest of the event runs smoothly. Thank you for the assistance, brother."

"I trust you to do so, brother. I will make sure the castle is prepare." Lyam says with a resolute voice as he moves to leave with Elenore.

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