Nar 20, 228: The Tourney

The Tourney
Summary: Following the Knighting Ceremony there is a a tourney were Sir Symon's skills are put thoroughly to the test!
OOC Date: 23/07/2013(OOC)
Related: Happens right after The Knighting Ceremony.
Players:
Tyrel Callem Ciarrah Ruthgar Aemy Robben Solara Conall Cedric Terrwyn Symon Victoria Flynn Caedmon Emerit Kyra 
Tournament / Faire Grounds, Darfield
A cheering crowd in the stands, valiant knights in the lists, tents and banners somwhere at the side of the field. For more see the scene set.
Nar 20th, 228

There are tents placed around where those Knights are gathered to prepare for the tournament. They also provide privacy for those of the Knights who intend to participate under the guise of mystery. After leaving the ceremony before it was over, Kyra is at the grounds, her cloak around her shoulders still, though the hood is now hanging down her back after she removed it. She walks with a determined step towards where the tents are.

Standing before one of those is a knight, wearing a tourney armor of dark grey steel, the red and black colours of his cloak suggesting his House to those who are versed in heraldry. He spots the woman, grey eyes following her as if he were intrigued by her determined steps. Shifting his weight a little he notices the slipped hood and the wealth of chocolate brown hair that has escaped from it.

Flynn has arrived at the Tourney grounds himself, on his way across the field with a curious little glance at all the pavillions as he starts through towards the benches.

After leaving the ceremony, Ciarrah had arrived with an entourage that usually accompanied the Princess and once at the grounds of the tournament, she takes a seat at the front row, middle, of the stands where the other royals and nobility sit. A shade resides over the stands protecting the delicate skin of the ladies and once seated, her eyes roam over the field, looking for her husband.

Tyrel comes trotting out onto the tournament field, his steel armor glinting in the sunlight. His squires follow along on foot behind, carrying the joust and his helmet. Under his saddle, the Darfield Destrier he is riding has a purple silk blanket. Across the horses front legs, neck, and head, is steel plated armor matching that of Tyrel Kilgour. The Prince stops at the edge of the field, taking in a deep breath as he remembers winning the tournament here only a month ago. His gaze sweeps the area, before spotting Ciarrah in the stands. He clicks at his horse and nudges him along, in her direction.

Ruthgar stands before the Ruxton tent, observing the bustling activity with the intent stare of his pale grey eyes while he fidgets a little with his steel gauntlets, his face unmoving, his demeanour cold and assessing. He wears a tourney armour of dark grey steel, plain and unadorned but of most competent making, his helmet with a plume of red feathers held under his arm with a light pressure from his elbow. The cloak is in the colour black and red of his House and moves a little in the light breeze. One squire carries the shield painted with his coat of arms, the silver anchor on a field of red and black, while another holds the reins of the proud black destrier, looking slightly intimidated by the task.

As Kyra passes an unfamiliar man though with familiar House colors, she offers a quick nod and a brief flash of her teeth as she gives a smile before disappearing among the tents.

Having finished getting ready, Robben steps out of the Ruxton tent, looking over towards his brother now. "A fine day for… whatever it is that will happen, isn't it?" he remarks a bit lightly. Glancing towards the stands, he keeps his gaze in that direction for a long while now, expression a bit thoughtful.

Solara heads for the stands, giving her brothers some peace to get ready. She finds a seat not too far from Princess Ciarrah, and offers her a curtsey before she settles into her seat, smoothing her skirts, and then looking up to the field to see what is going on.

Flynn finds himself a spot nearby the stands, leaning up against the railings so he has a good view of the action without being up in the nobles stands, his gaze drifting about as he looks to see who might be participating in the day's events.

Conall is moving for the stands as well, not really being a jouster. Letting his eyes stay on the field. Though as he continues and more people start to gather he will study them as well. Nodding to those he knows.

When Solara has a seat near her, Ciarrah bows her head, giving the Ruxton Lady a welcoming smile. "It promises to be rather interesting!" The words are exclaimed with barely tamped excitement, then she finally notices Tyrel approaching her and her expression alters to one of complete happiness and she rises, offering a curtsy to the man she had so recently wed. "My Prince," her voice is quiet, hinting more of intimacy than a show for anyone around her.

Ruthgar's eyes follow Kyra, and seeing that nod before she disappears makes him look slightly more thoughtful for a moment. He turns, trying to glimpse more of her between the tents, but alas, too late. She has already vanished. Offering Robben a halfhearted nod, he replies: "Certainly not what happened during the Sword on Foot contest.", his tone decided, although not unfriendly. Indeed he has some experience in tourneys, he even rode in the Great Tourney of Sutherland when he was still a squire, as some older knights can surely bear witness to. "May the Light be with you, brother." And see to it that we are not riding against each other until later in the contest…

Just moving to the stands with the assistance of a handmaid, Aemy Ruxton does not even attempt to move towards the middle, preferring the shortest distance possible, for as the days and months pass, the baby grows heavier, so she remains at one end, there to support her family as they participate.

Atop a black destrier with a white mane, another knight wearing a dark hued harness and a plain black cloak rides out to the field. The posture is straight and a lad of about fifteen accompanies the knight. Squire? Toting the lances to be used for the competition, the younger lad takes his place while the knight rides towards the edge of the list, waiting for the name to be called.

Tyrel smiles softly to Ciarrah, as she curtseys. "My beautiful Princess!" He looks excited, "What a turnout. There are many entries. It will take forever to get through them." He lets out a gentle laugh, looking across the field as he rises slightly on his steed. After a moment, he looks back to Ciarrah, the smile remaining on his face, "May I win this tournament for my bridge?" He asks, taking his polearm from the nearby squire, and holding it out to her, an amused look on his face.

Taking a seat in the high part of the stands, though not the special one meant for his position, Callem Kilgour gets comfortable to watch the tourney. His eyes, always deep and bright, now are the ones of nostalgia and songs of many years past. Cheerful for the occasion, but lost in his thoughts more often than not. The passing wind caresses his light hair and serves as company to a hushed song, sung to himself. The King is, naturally, surrounded by his personal guard, but leaving enough space for anyone interested in joining him. The blade used in the previous ceremony was left back in the castle, and now the steel of his armor has replaced the silk of his tunic.

Ciarrah remains standing, the words of the Prince bringing a soft blush to her cheeks. "There are many entrants, my Prince, yet none are you. I have every faith in you to win." His question brings a confident smile and with it, she reaches just into the bodice of her gown, in quite a daring move, and withdraws her kerchief only to tie it to the end of his lance. "You honor me, my Prince."

Caedmon strolls at an unhurried pace, with Emerit at his side, toward seats near the royal box. Those who saw the lung princess at the knighting ceremony might notice that her hair is no longer bound in a tight braid, but blows freely in the wind, dancing like waves of a bright red sea around her head. When he sees the king, he turns his head slightly and suggests, "let us provide his majesty with some company, shall we?"

Tyrel raises a brow at her action with the bodice. His his dances a moment, to the left. He pulls his lance back, and retrieves the kerchief. He unties the fabric, before stuffing it under his own armor, at the chest. He smiles at her, "I love you." He says nothing else, his horse continuing to dance. After a moment, he jerks the reigns and starts off across the field, toward the procession of Knights that should roll through at any moment.

Symon manages to navigate his way to the tents to prepare, or more likely to get caught up to speed as well, perhaps even offering a nod of greeting to Kyra, unknowing, before she disappears into the tents, herself. The squire he ends up getting help from earns a warmer grin and a muttered comment about how this won't take very long, "Have faith the Light will let me not embarrass myself."

Nodding a little as he hears Ruthgar's words, Robben smiles, "Yes, let it be nothing like the Sword-on-Foot…" he replies, after a few brief moments of pause. Smiling as he sees Aemy, he watches her carefully until she's fully seated, before he starts moving in the direction of her. "My lady," he says, with a smile, as he kneels in front of the part of the stands where she's seated herself. "May I most humbly beg for a favor?" Looking up, he offers her another smile, but remains in the kneeling position now.

One arm resting on Caedmon's, Emerit approaches the stands, long fiery red curls bouncing about her with each of the spirited steps she takes. A long sleeved dress of dark green satin covers her slender frame, moderately cut at the decollete to allow a glimpse of her neck but naught of her modest womanly curves. A belt, a silver chain of small snakes accentuates her waist, and around her neck she wears a necklace with a pendant, shaped like a snake as well and made of silver, with two tiny malachits worked into it to represent its eyes. Princess Emerit is followed by three guards in Moniwid colours, and seeing all the ongoing hustle and bustle she pauses at the stands, letting go of Caedmon's arm and leaning a bit forward to get a better view of all the valiant knights. She beams, her moss green eyes sparkle with delight as she turns towards Caedmon: "How marvelous, Lord Chancellor. I can already feel the excitement. Now… where to sit…?", she ponders, as her long-fingered hands rush to her skirts, lifting them a touch to prevent herself from stepping on them on her way up. "You mean… I am to sit with the King?" Her moss green eyes widen a touch, as the Mist of the Island turns to Caedmon, surprised. In awe as well, perhaps. But then a nod. "Certainly, if you say so, Lord Chancellor…"

Conall does join in on the event But with it all and as it goes into the rounds to start with the eight contestants he first rides over, in armor, to his sister. "Think I can beat these land dwellers?" He asks teasingly. Waiting for a reply before turning towards the Ruxton lady near her. "Though I am not that skilled on horse or with a polearm. Perhaps I could ask for something that will turn my luck?" He suggests and grins.

Seeing the raised brow from Tyrel, Ciarrah watches as he stuffs the fabric near his heart. His smile, as always, takes her breath away and when he says those three words.. words she had never heard from him before, since theirs was an arranged marriage, she looks towards Conall, then back towards Tyrel even as he starts off and calls back, "I love you Prince Tyrel!" The pink flaming in her cheeks by now at the exhibition she has made of herself, though not letting his words go unanswered.

As soon as Robben approaches her, Aemy tips her head to the side as he takes a knee before her and her hand drifts to her chest, over her heart. "My love, you always have my favor and I will gladly give you a token of it." Unwinding her hair from her braid, she removes the ribbon, the colors of her husbands House, before she offers him the ribbon accompanied by a loving smile.

Solara blinks, and her cheeks go a bit pink at Conall's request. She does nothing so risque as the Princess, though she does reach to her hair to pull a ribbon, passing it over to the prince with a nod of her head. "Though, Your Highness, I must protest for you may face my brothers, and I am not convinced that such a favour will assist you in such an endeavour."

Soon enough the sound starts and the commisioner calls out, "The two starting competetitors will be… The mystery knight(Kyra)! Against Sir Robben Ruxton!"

Caedmon grins while Emerit pauses to gaze at the scene before her. "Tournaments are thrilling times for all manner of people, from the low to the high, your highness," he answers. "Do you not have such things in Moniwid?" When Emerit agrees, Caedmon offers his arm once again. "Certainly you should sit with the king. Why should you not?" he wonders. "You are a princess. You should have that honor, your highness, just as I am honored to accompany you." He leads her, being attentive to where she must walk, and warning her when he finds one board that seems weak, so that she will be particularly careful, until the come near to where the king is sitting. Caedmon bows to the sovereign and then indicates their seats with a nod to Emerit before he waits for her to settle.

The unknown knight takes the field after collecting a lance from the young lad assisting, tucking it under an arm, the knight ducks down slightly at the end of the list, waiting for the signal that the opponent was ready.

Taking the ribbon he's offered, Robben presses it to his lips for a few moments, as he stands up. "Thank you, my love," he replies, before he ties the ribbon around his upper left arm. Making his way over to get his horse and lance and helmet, mounting the horse and making his way over to his side of the list, lifting the lance in a bit of a salute to his opponent.

"Lord Chancellor, Your Highness." Callem salutes Caedmon and Emerit as they come closer. "Please join me. It would be an honor." he smiles and turns again to watch the lists as the contenders are still preparing and the first match has been announced. The King keeps silent a while more in concentration, and letting the couple to continue talking without further interruption. At least for now.

Conall chuckles and nods to Solara as he get her favour, "Perhaps not. But it might be in my favour to not meet them then." He suggests and bows his head before ridding off to the side to wait for the people to start competing.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kyra=polearms Vs Robben=Horsemanship
< Kyra: Failure Robben: Success
< Net Result: Robben wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kyra=Horsemanship Vs Robben=Polearms
< Kyra: Great Success Robben: Great Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kyra=polearms Vs Robben=Horsemanship
< Kyra: Good Success Robben: Good Success
< Net Result: Kyra wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kyra=Horsemanship Vs Robben=Polearms
< Kyra: Good Success Robben: Success
< Net Result: Kyra wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kyra=polearms Vs Robben=Horsemanship
< Kyra: Good Success Robben: Failure
< Net Result: Kyra wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kyra=Horsemanship Vs Robben=Polearms
< Kyra: Good Success Robben: Success
< Net Result: Kyra wins - Marginal Victory

Her cheeks are indeed a bit rosy from Caedmon's flattery when Emerit curtseys to the King before - after a short moment of hesitation - lowering herself into the seat the Chancellor just had pointed out to her. Callem's invitation brings a grateful smile about on her face. Her guards - true and loyal as they are - have followed all along and will assume positions that are as unobtrusive as possible. Their princess remains silent for now, obviously overwhelmed for a moment as she beholds the tourney in all its grandeur, her gaze wandering over the stands and the lists.

Cedric finds a spot to watch the jousting and smiels. To think he has winning horse breeding program for his calvary and yet he never got the hang of using the lance. For now he's just watching and enjoying the show.

Upon taking the position, the Mystery Knight rides full speed, lance tucked under the armored arm, feeling a lance shatter against the harness is the first time nervousness sets in and as a the horse is guided around for the second pass, things change for the better and each time a lance is needed, another is brought until finally by the end of the passes, the mystery knight is the victor. Lifting the final lance in the air, the knight bows to the opponent.

Flynn continues to lean against the railing as he watches the first knights take to the list, eyeing the two and cheering along with the crowds as lances shatter and people smash. He lets out another cheer as the Mystery Knight is declared winner.

Watching from the stands, Aemy gasps each time her husband rides down, unable to watch the collisions, turning her head. It troubles her to see him bringing himself to harm, but she remains where she is, applauding him after the competition ends.

It seems that it's not quite Robben's day, as he doesn't succeed with much of anything this time. And so, as it soon becomes clear he's lost, he offers a polite bow to the mystery knight, then starts making his way back so he can get out of his armor. "Seems like it's your day to save the family honor, brother," he offers to Ruthgar, before he looks over to where Aemy is, offering her a smile, as if to say that he's not hurt.

"Thank you, your majesty!" Caedmon answers the king's invitation. When the princess has settled, he lights beside her and joins her in watching the first rounds. The horses fly across the field from opposite ends, and with a mighty clash and the sounds of splintering wood, the tourney is truly underway. When the mysterious knight manages to best the well-seasoned Robben, he murmurs in a low voice, "Well, now. This is an interesting start to the event." He continues to watch while they pair run at each other again and again, each testing the other's courage, skill, and will.

With a rather interesting first one, with the mystry knight showing off a bit of their skill it does seem that some in the crowd were surprised at the outcome. Though at the end the commisioner raises his hand, with a glance to the king to see if he will agree, "The winner of this one was clear. The mystery knight!"

The commisioner then clears his throat. "With the mystery knight onto the next round let us see about this next competition between… Sir Ruthgar Ruxton! And the newly made, ir Symon Farrow!"

Solara watches the battle with Robben, cheering her brother on. And as he loses, she too watches keenly to make sure that he is not hurt. And then the next battle is called, and she looks to see - her other brother taking his turn. "Ruxton!" she calls out, just loud enough that she can likely be heard, each time, for both her brothers. Though, she gives Robben a commiserating look as he makes his way off the field to the armour tent.

Symon eyes the Mystery Knight leaving the field after being helped onto his horse. A small bow of his head is offered in respect before turning his own attention to the lists. As the horse steps up to the end, in place to start, Symon lifts his own lance up in a salute to Ruthgar, then shifts it back into position, turning his shoulder to brace the shield at an angle while he waits for the signal to begin the charge.

"Too bad," Ruthgar offers to Robben at his defeat, "seems like this mystery knight needs a lesson, sooner or later." A dry chuckle follows. But the corners of his mouth twitch slightly upwards in a daring smile when Ruthgar hears his name being called and with the confidence of an experienced jouster he dons his helmet, visor still open and red feathers swaying a little, before he mounts his horse that gives a low snort in greeting to its rider and receives the reins from one squire and shield and lance from the other. Yet he doesn't ride to the lists right away, keeping his prancing steed in check while he offers his sister Solara a nod and shoots a glance at the other Ruxton lady present - this one by marriage, offering both females a moderate but distant smile which will fade as soon as he spurs his destrier towards the box to salute before the Kilgour royalty assembled. A dip of the lance in reverence to the Queen and the King, and then Ruthgar rides on to assume his place in the lists.

Having caught her husbands nod to her, Aemy is relieved he seems to be fine and as the next names are called, her hands clasp together once more in worry as her brother in law is riding next. She does let go briefly to applaud him with he takes his position, having caught the glance and smile to her, she offers a smile in return, every thing about the way she conducts herself speaks of grace.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Ruthgar=Horsemanship Vs Symon=Polearms
< Ruthgar: Good Success Symon: Good Success
< Net Result: Ruthgar wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Symon=Horsemanship Vs Ruthgar=Polearms
< Symon: Great Success Ruthgar: Good Success
< Net Result: Symon wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Ruthgar=Horsemanship Vs Symon=Polearms
< Ruthgar: Good Success Symon: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Symon=Horsemanship Vs Ruthgar=Polearms
< Symon: Great Success Ruthgar: Great Success
< Net Result: Ruthgar wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Ruthgar=Horsemanship Vs Symon=Polearms
< Ruthgar: Success Symon: Great Success
< Net Result: Symon wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Symon=Horsemanship Vs Ruthgar=Polearms
< Symon: Great Success Ruthgar: Great Success
< Net Result: DRAW

Victoria is trailed by two guards into the Tournament grounds, the woman in discussion with one of the guards, her brows pulled down as her lips pull to the side, snorting softly. Into the crowd she goes, moving then towards the stands, helped up by one of the guards up where she'll go and sit, squarely between both men. Her elbows press to her knees as she leans forwards, amber gaze dark as hands cup her cheeks and to watch.

The Mystery Knight turns with interest and watches the next two, the helm nodding in return to Symon Farrow. The new Lord and Sir. With steady interest, the helmed rider watches his every move before looking towards the other Ruxton, wondering who would win.

Perhaps years of handling a pike and fending off calvary charges lends more to it than he might realize, because Symon seems to trade blows evenly enough with Ruthgar that after narrowly hanging onto his seat after the last bout of lances smashing into shields, he shoots a questioning look at Ruthgar, and then the list master, having to wait to hear the name called before he realizes which one of them was considered the victor. Steadying his mount, he offers a bow of his head to his opponent, then lowers the smashed lance and another bow to the King before vacating the lists for the next pairing.

Pale grey eyes narrow a touch as Ruthgar studies his opponent from afar, but then the visor is lowered, the lance dipped in a salute and the Ruxton knight urges his black destrier onwards, hooves thundering beneath him as he rides towards his opponent, his shield readied in a firm grasp to meet the impact while his lance points towards its aim with calculating determination. Again and again. It seems to be a close contest, the Ruxton knight to his own surprise not as superior as he would have thought. For each time he manages to marginally beat the newly knighted former commoner, the same manages to take him by surprise in the next pass. And make him actually look bad. And then it is over.

In a rare moment of emotions getting the best of him, Ruthgar grabs his helmet and flings it to the ground when becomes clear that Sir Symon has beaten him. Defeated him. Him, the experienced tourney knight. All bruises he has earned in this tilt are forgotten, his cold stare seizes Symon, channeling all his disappointment and hate. And then… His expression is gone. "Vialiantly fought, sir.", comes the reluctant gratulation in a low grumble, before Ruthgar rides off the list. Looking very displeased.

Flynn is leaning up against the railing not far from the stands, watching the knights smack each other with sticks, and offering up cheers when there's a good hit here or there.

With great riding and aiming from both sides this one is a close one indeed. Though in the end it does seem that the commisioner lift his hand. "Wow! What a battle. Both did quite well. But we can only have one of these to go on." He says and clears his throat, "The one going on is… Sir Symon Farrow!"

As it goes on and into the semi-finals the commisioner raises his voice again. "First out in the semi-finals are… Sir Conall Aberdeen! Against our own, Sir Tyrel Kilgour! Crown prince against crown prince. Who will win!?"

Having managed to get out of his armor, and out of the tent as well, just in time to see the end of the tilt, Robben looks to his brother, offering him a quiet no, before he moves over to join his wife in the stands now, watching the rest of the event from there. "Not a good day for us, it seems," he offers, a bit quietly.

Oh dear. Solara's both brothers - lost. Shocking. She blinks a bit, and glances over at Aemy, and then she looks at where Ruthgar heads to, debating if she should go talk to him but deciding to wait a bit, so he can cool down first. She watches the rest of the matches, until the semi-finals are reached, and now she leans forward a bit, as it's Tyrel vs Conall. What a choice - who to cheer for? Such decisions.

With his name called up Conall does move to prepare. Nodding and raising his hand. The favour being shown off a bit. Then riding to settle up and be ready. Smiling and puts the helmet down to cover the face.

Conall whispers to Solara.

Victoria turns about, scanning the crowds, before the notices a familiar puff of hair. Pushing from from her seat, the guards scrambling to follow her, she'll move and drop down the steps to hop beside Flynn, nudging him as she murmurs while looking out onto the jousting grounds.

Victoria whispers to Flynn.

Tyrel trots out to the field as his name is called, the knees of his destrier riding high in the air as he prances. He puts his helmet on, then takes his joust, and raises it toward Conall in a salure. He then looks toward Ciarrah, tossing her a wink, before looking back to the opponent, slapping the mask down on his helmet, ready to ride. He reaches forward, patting his horse on the neck gently, murmuring something quietly into his ear.

Watching as Ruthgar does not win and throws his helmet, Aemy ceases her applause and clasps her hands together, though she does watch him as he leaves the field. As Robben comes out, she waits for words between the brothers, but when her husband comes to join her instead, she smiles, placing an arm through his. "It is still a good event. I think you did very well, my love, please do not worry so. Ruthgar seems rather disappointed though. Upon seeing Solara, she smiles, "I think he should be fine once he cools off."

Flynn glances over at Victoria, "Wow, you've still got your head huh? I figured anyone punching a noble was gonna lose their head!" he comments to the woman before murmuring a bit at her.

Flynn whispers to Victoria.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Conall=Polearms Vs Tyrel=Horsemanship
< Conall: Good Success Tyrel: Great Success
< Net Result: Tyrel wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Tyrel=Polearms Vs Conall=Horsemanship
< Tyrel: Good Success Conall: Success
< Net Result: Tyrel wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Conall=Polearms Vs Tyrel=Horsemanship
< Conall: Good Success Tyrel: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Tyrel=Polearms Vs Conall=Horsemanship
< Tyrel: Good Success Conall: Success
< Net Result: Tyrel wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Conall=Polearms Vs Tyrel=Horsemanship
< Conall: Success Tyrel: Amazing Success
< Net Result: Tyrel wins - Crushing Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Tyrel=Polearms Vs Conall=Horsemanship
< Tyrel: Great Success Conall: Success
< Net Result: Tyrel wins - Solid Victory

As soon as Tyrel takes the field Ciarrah is once more on her feet, hands clasped as she awaits to see the victor of the match. Her husband or her brother. She winks back to her husband, though offers her brother a quiet smile. Either one who wins would be exciting to her!

Victoria smirks and rolls her eyes, "Yeah well, I'm used to taking a licking and continuing onwards." Victoria states to Flynn as she leans on her elbows as well, butt jutting out as she stretches out her back while watching the slaughtering of one Conall by Tyrel. Tilting her head again towards Flynn she'll laugh, turning her head to eye him, eyebrows raising, "Very descriptive."

Tyrel completely handles the island boy in the jousting competition. Round after round, Tyrel defeats Conall, and when the passes are complete, Tyrel hasn't even a scratch on his armor. He peels his helmet off at the end, tossing it excitedly toward his squire, "Whoo!!" He shouts from the far end of the field. He tosses another salute toward Conall, and a nod of his head, before climbing off the mount to adjust a piece of his armor.

Cedric calls for his page to arrive and for a while they discuss something before he sends the squire off with a written mistiff and to sub letters to be given to the master of the tourney to not be open until after the final match is concluded. A small wisp of a smile up on his face. as he returns to watching the next two competitors go at it.

Symon makes his way back to a tent, but stops to watch the Princes clash. The last couple of hits are hard enough to make the new Knight wince and mutter to the squire in attendance, "Ow. His children are going to feel that one, I think." He does steal a curious look across the field towards Ruthgar and his brother, trading another comment and the faint hint of a smile, cheering on for Tyrel when he is announced the victor.

Being completely destroyed in that one it seems Conall knew it would get to a stop soon enough. Only barely hanging on. Almost falling off several times. By the end of the last one he does fall off after it all. But not from the impact, mostly due to him not that good with riding, and even worse with polearms. Mostly for when he is going to get off anyhow. And missing Tyrel time after time does help in being in bad balance. Saluting Tyrel in return. Moving towards the side. To get ready to get out of his armor most likely.

With that the commisioner grins a bit, "It seems that one gave us a clear winner. Sir Tyrel Kilgour!" He calls out and getting roars. Then clearing his throat. "Next up. The mystery knight! Against the new knight and lord, sir Symon Farrow!"

Solara nods to Aemy, offering her a brief smile. "I think you are right," she agrees about Ruthgar. She then cheers for the winner, deciding that Prince Tyrel is as good a person to cheer as any, given her brothers have bowed out. She does turn to watch Conall as he leaves, making sure that he too is unharmed.

Robben smiles as Aemy puts her arm through his, and he nods a little bit. "I don't worry that much. After all, my skills with weapons are more in actual battle than this." A brief pause, and a nod at the mention of Ruthgar. "Yes, he might need a little time to cool off. I think he had high hopes for today." Looking over to Solara, he offers her a bit of a smile as well now, before he looks back to the tilt happening. "Ah, finally someone who did worse than me," he remarks, a bit lightly.

"Well, the lordly folk, I've found, don't really like to encourage anyone acting against them no matter who!" Flynn says to Victoria, "So I guess you're pretty lucky!"

Conall does seem fine, if a little banged up. Wandering slow. But he does offer a smile over towards those competing as well as his sister and Solara.

Victoria grunts softly and nods her head, "Well, why do you think I have the guards with me, protection for the mean time." Victoria murmurs, the big burlies right behind her, having had to step back as she leans back with her backside to avoid assaulting the Huntresses' backside accidently, "Lucky my ass."

The Mystery Knight waits alongside the lad who has been serving as 'squire' until the next match is announced. Only then does the Knight climb back on the horse, the black destrier with the white mane. With lance tucked underneath an arm and a rapidly beating heart, the knight faces down a ghost from the past. With a deep bow of the helm covered head as a show of respect, the Knight takes the place and signals with the lance that they are indeed ready.

Symon murmurs one last comment to the squire that's been helping him, before taking up a new lance and encouraging the horse back to the lists. Wheeling around to the far end, he offers a bow of his head and a lowering of his lance to the King, and then to the Mystery Knight. Squinting his eyes a bit before settling in and levelling his weapon at his opponent, he again waits for the signal to charge.

Aemy returns the smile offered by her sister in law, cheering for the prince and then the newly knighted Lord out on the list. With another look up at Robben as he speaks to her, she rests her cheek on his shoulder. "I think he did too. Perhaps once he has gotten over the hangover he will surely have tomorrow, we should all visit him and have a family day if you would all like."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kyra=polearms Vs Symon=horsemanship
< Kyra: Good Success Symon: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Symon=polearms Vs Kyra=horsemanship
< Symon: Success Kyra: Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kyra=polearms Vs Symon=horsemanship
< Kyra: Good Success Symon: Good Success
< Net Result: Kyra wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Symon=polearms Vs Kyra=horsemanship
< Symon: Success Kyra: Good Success
< Net Result: Kyra wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kyra=polearms Vs Symon=horsemanship
< Kyra: Good Success Symon: Good Success
< Net Result: Kyra wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Symon=polearms Vs Kyra=horsemanship
< Symon: Amazing Success Kyra: Failure
< Net Result: Symon wins - Crushing Victory

"That's what I'm saying." Flynn says, "It's wierd you're being guarded and not hanging out in the dungeon waiting to get your head on a pike." He explains, then shrugs, "So you're lucky, I say. If I went and punched some lord in the bar I'd be in the dungeon, I bet."

"Perhaps they enjoy the bubble of my bosom." Victoria offers to Flynn with a laugh, her head shaking, "Leave off though, if you want me in the stocks just say so." A nudge of her hip as she watches the next round, wincing visibly at the activites out there, "Ouch .."

Poor trees. Lance after lance smashed in pass after pass, with both riders seeming to have welded their rumps into their seats, though Symon begins taking hits a bit more heavily than the Mystery Knight. The victor is looking pretty clear until that last tilt - either luck or amazing timing or Sess himself in amusement, Symon manages to take the hit the Knight offers, while landing the blunt of his lance squarely into them. The explosion of splinters is impressive.

The first two passes had gone right and the Mystery Knight was in the lead, the lance shattering against the new Knight's new armor. On the third pass.. something goes wrong, the positioning of the Mystery Knight is just off and the talented aim of the new Knight is dead on and the lance catches just right and the Mystery Knight is unhorsed, falling off backwards off the sizeable horse, knocking the helmet slightly askew, but not off completely. There's a low moan of considerable pain as the Mystery Knight just lays there a moment.. trying to catch the breath that was knocked out. With a muffled curse, the battered knight rises, lifting a hand to ward off any medical help, assuring that the knight was indeed fine. After offering a rather pained bow to the victor the knight limps off towards the horse that had halted nearby, taking the reins and leading it towards the tents.

Solara smiles at Conall, glad he's not injured. Watching him for a bit. And then her gaze goes to the next match, so hard fought and such a good battle. And the first of the knights ends up on the ground, catching her attention, as she half rises. She's about to head over, when the mystery knight gets up, and Solara subsides, relaxing back into her seat. "That's got to hurt," she murmurs softly.

As it starts off it seems the commisioner, and the crowd, think the mystery knight had the lead. But that last run gave Symon an opening and jaws dropped. Another clearing of his voice. "It seems there was quite the turnaround. The victor is, sir Symon Farrow!"

A moment later the commisioner clears his throat again. "The finals! Sir Symon Farrow! Against Sir Tyrel Kilgour!" Shouting and cheering commencing for them both. The newly knighted against the heir of the kingdom.

"Well, if you do end up there I'll come say hi. And, they probably do." Flynn says to Victoria with a laugh himself, though he winces a bit as the Mystery Knight is knocked on his back, "Ooh.." he grimaces a bit. "Wonder if that new lord's gonna make it all the way…"

After having gotten out of his armor Conall will arrive at his sister. Offering her shoulder a grab and squeeze. Letting her watch the finals. While he moves to Solara. "Apologies. Seem I can never bring any pride to your favour." Seeming saddened at that. Bowing his head before turning to head on away. Perhaps slightly ashamed.

Symon tosses the destroyed lance off to the side as he reins his own horse in, wheeling around to go after the unhorsed knight. But they're on their feet before he can bring the lumbering animal around, and waving off help, so he stays where he is…in time to catch the announcement of the next fight. Against the Crown Prince. THIS time, there's some hesitation on his face and he searches the crowd for Tyrel's face and horse.

Robben smiles as he listens, nodding a bit. "A family day? That sounds quite wonderful to me. We'll have to see if it seems to work well for Ruthgar, of course." Pausing a bit as he sees the knight flying off the horse. "Now that was spectacular," he offers, after a few moments of pause. Glancing to Conall as well, offering him a bit of a smile now, before he looks back to Aemy. "Wouldn't it be fun if the newly knighted one wins?" he asks, a bit quietly.

"I hope so, what a grand way to end the day, no?" Victoria murmurs, watching as they set up for the next round.

Solara reaches a hand out to stop Conall briefly. "Your Highness, I think you did very well. Thank you for honoring me by wearing my favour." She smiles, as she does accept the favour back, reaching to try to put it back in her hair.

Conall smiles and stops. Watching Solara with a smile. Moving over to her. "May I?" He asks as he will slide in to try and help her with the ribbon and getting it back into her hair. If she allows.

Tyrel watches the matchup and the so called mystery Knight being knocked off the horse. A brow is raised, his mind thinking of ransoms and horses. He purses his lips, looking to his squire, "That must have hurt." He murmers quietly to the young Kincaid lord, before nudging his horse forward to line up… knowing he is next.

Symon does finally accept a new lance from the Squire assisting him, but hefts it pointed up, waiting for the Prince to take his place before lifting his voice across the field. Apparently the new Rioga and Lord has a decent pair of lungs on him, "Your Highness. Unless you make this an order, I would not lift a weapon against my Liege or his heir, whom I have just sworn to protect. I concede the round and the field to you." He's making no move to set for a charge, just nudging the horse to remain still while he waits for the concession to be accepted or rejected.

The name of his heir announced in the final match brings a new wave of happiness to the King. His fist is raised in enthusiasm, and then some words are said to the Chancellor by his side. "If Symon wins, it would be a fortunate victory after his own knighthood and the lordship he got. But his contender is Tyrel, who -and not because he is my son,- is fierce and powerful. The best finals I would imagine." he smiles full of pride and returns his attention to the field.

Surrounded by family, lady's maid and guards, Solara simply passes the ribbon back to Conall, since she's having difficulties with putting the silly thing back herself. "Certainly, if you wish," she says softly. A glance over at Aemy and Robben, just to make sure they're not getting upset or any such thing. It might be a bit of a distraction from the jousting, at least for some of the audience. "Though I think that my maid could do so, if you have other things you would rather be doing?"

When the Knight is unseated, Ciarrah flinches, knowing it must have hurt terribly, but as the next match is called, she rises once more to cheer on the Prince. As the words are tossed out, she remains silent, wondering would her Prince order the new Knight to continue with the tournament or would he take the win…

Conall does look to the unhorsing and so on. Knowing it does hurt to get hit. With that having to be even worse. Though he grins at Solara then, "Oh, not at all. I'll help you and then I can go deal with other things." He says and winks.

"I think a family day would be lovely, if we can convince Solara and Ruthgar to join us. Perhaps a picnic at the beach and some frolicking in the water? If the weather is nice of course." Aemy hears about the knight being unhorsed from Robben, but she does not comment, instead she smiles at Conall, "A valiant effort, Your Highness." A soft murmur in reply to Robben again. "If they actually get the chance to compete together."

Either Tyrel did not hear the new Knight, or he is ignoring his attempt at chivalry. He grabs his helmet from the squire, putting it on his head. He then reaches for the lance, dropping it in the cradle like an expert. He nods across the field to the man, raising his joust in a salute, as his horse dances forward, ready to charge…

Solara glances over at Robben and Aemy, and inclines her head. "I am perfectly willing to enjoy a family day with you all," she says softly. Now it's just Ruthgar they need to convince. Now she looks back over to Conall, smiling briefly, and then turns so he has the back of her head, to try to put that ribbon back.

When Tyrel braces in and prepares to charge anyway, Symon looks torn for a moment, then seems to consider that an answer, offering a salute of his lance before knocking the visor down and settling in to brace for the charge, and wait for the signal to go.

Robben smiles, "Sounds like a lovely day," he replies to Aemy, before he nods to Solara again. "That's good." If he :smiles, "Sounds like a lovely day," he replies to Aemy, before he nods to Solara again. "That's good." If he has any reaction to Conall helping with the ribbon, he doesn't say anything, before he nods at Aemy again at the part about competing. "Looks like they will."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Symon=polearms Vs Tyrel=horsemanship
< Symon: Good Success Tyrel: Success
< Net Result: Symon wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Tyrel=polearms Vs Symon=horsemanship
< Tyrel: Great Success Symon: Good Success
< Net Result: Tyrel wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Symon=polearms Vs Tyrel=horsemanship
< Symon: Good Success Tyrel: Good Success
< Net Result: Tyrel wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Tyrel=polearms Vs Symon=horsemanship
< Tyrel: Success Symon: Great Success
< Net Result: Symon wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Symon=polearms Vs Tyrel=horsemanship
< Symon: Great Success Tyrel: Good Success
< Net Result: Symon wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Tyrel=polearms Vs Symon=horsemanship
< Tyrel: Great Success Symon: Good Success
< Net Result: Tyrel wins - Marginal Victory

"I'm gonna go take care of something, let me know who wins!" Flynn says to Victoria before he pushes off the railing and is off, heading in the direction of the pavilion tents.

Aemy smiles to Solara when she does offer her agreement. "I think it will be so much fun. I do hope we can talk Ruthgar into going with us." As Robben announces it looks as if the two will be competing, her attention goes there.. and waits to see who the winner is, it was simply too close to call!

Tyrel takes the two shots to his armor, nearly falling from his horse on the last past, but he hangs on. At the end of the run, he turns his horse to face the new Knight, lifting his visor as he narrows his eyes on the man. After a brief moment, his lips spread into a smile, and once again he raises his busted joust toward the man in a salute, before tossing it on the ground.

Conall smiles at Solara, giving the other Ruxtons smiles and nods to them. Getting the ribbon in place. Smiling at her. Continuing with the ribbon. "There we go."

Symon trades hit aftr hit, back and forth with the Prince as hooves thunder down the lists. Again when the final pass is concluded and the last smashing hits are traded, Symon reins his horse in at the end of the lists, lumbering to a stop and offering a salute to the Prince at the far end. Tossing the ruined weapon away so he might take off his own helmet and hand it to the squire, he whips the tail of his hair back out of his face so he can see who's been announced as the victor. When the list master seems to be calling him out, he sits there for a second, just, well, staring at the shield being held up.

Still standing as she watches the turns at the tilt, Ciarrah realizes the new Knight had won and she does applaud him, but her eyes rest on her Prince, a look of pride in her eyes when he cedes the victory without anger. She turns to Conall and Solara to share a smile. "It was wonderful.." Then she cannot help but giggle as she relays. "He loves me!"

The King rises from his seat and walks to the outer point of the royal box. His hands trail up for a moment, to indicate the crowd of his intention to speak, and then rest on the edge as he starts.

"Today we have been witnesses of a great show of skill, courage, and strength. Worthy contenders have delighted us with this spectacle, and at the end only one has remained and emerged as the champion." the flaming shadowy eyes stop as they spot the winner. "The Lord of Hardin, Sir Symon Farrow, congratulations." Callem nods and gives a moment for the people to cheer to the new appointed knight. "Along with the honor of your earning, the Crown will give you a saddle - an incredible saddle, meticulously crafted by one of the finest in our Kingdom. I hope it accompanies you to your next victory, sir. But it is not over, for the Deputy Marshal, Duke Cedric Valarian Crawford, has another announcement to share." his hand gestures to the Duke as the King steps aside to let him speak.

Robben smiles, "A nice ending." A brief pause, as he hears the King's words, before he raises his eyebrows at the rest, waiting to hear Duke Crawford's announcement.

With the Squire's assistance, Symon dismounts, approaching the King's box to take a knee and bow his head when Callem confirms him as the winner. He makes no attempt to respond, instead slowly rising back to his feet and turning his attention to Cedric when the Duke is called out by the King.

Cedric smiles softly and bows to the king. "thank you your majesty. " he replies as he looks at those asssembled and then down at the two knights. "Now I know that you've recieved your rewards for winning Sir Symon, but In addtition to this and " as he looks to tyrel as well. "I've decided to up the ante abit by rewarding each of you with One of the finest breed calvary mounts to ever leave sutherlands program. Now I know that you wont be able to attend sutherland itself to personaly pick out your chosen mounts, but I'll have our master of horses choose the best he's trained and have then brought up to you. I can think of no better reward to bequeth two such fine horsemen than this."

Victoria lifts up her hand to her friend Flynn as he wanders off and proceeds to watching with avid interest. Standing up now against the boards. With the presentation of the winner and everything she rises up and claps, and with the last announcement she lets out a hoot of sound before she's pushing off the boards and nodding to the guards with her to indicate she's good to go before she meanders off through the crowd with them and off back towards the castle.

From the direction of the tents comes the same common woman from the Knighting ceremony. Kyra. With her is the lad who had helped the Mystery Knight. As the ceremony goes on, she realizes many would not assume that the Mystery Knight was a woman, simply because it wasn't done. To make sure, she looks towards Symon, the winner, and has the lad waiting on the fringes to announce to the winner that the messenger of the Mystery Knight is there to work out the ransom. Her face becomes stoic as she realizes the prize won was such a grand one.

When the tournament is over, Aemy rises with the assistance of her husband and the two bid farewell to Solara and Conall, bowing (as best as the most pregnant Lady can) to the King and Queen before they make their escape so Aemy can get some more bed rest.

Symon glances over at Tyrel as the Duke announces the impressive gift being bestowed. When his gaze is turned back up to the Duke and the King, he clasps one fist over his chest and bows his head in respect, "Your Majesty and Your Grace bestow an honor I cannot adequately express my gratitude for. I will not falter in His service." He waits there for a moment, perhaps making sure the king is dimissing the field before taking his leave of it. Apparently he has someone waiting on him to get their horse and equipment back.

Solara smiles at Conall. "Thank you," she offers as her hair is once more back in shape. She looks to Aemy and Robben as they head off, giving both a smile. "Take care, I shall follow soon after the both of you," she offers. She gets to her feet, watching as the prize is handed out, and then she offers a curtsey to the king and queen, before looking over at Conall. "I should take my leave as well," she says, though she does wait to see what he is planning. He did after all suggest he had other things to do.

After the new prizes have been announced and Symon speaks, Callem nods a final time. "Congratulations, once more. And now feast and have fun. Tonight is a night to celebrate." a smile then goes to Tyrel, and the King turns to head out.

Flynn seems to have not found what he was after, so starts on his way out of the tournament grounds!

Tyrel grins at Symon, and then back to Cedric, "Thank you, your grace." He bows his head to Duke Cedric, then turns and does the same to his parents. He then nudges his Darfield Destrier, with a coat of black and white paint, toward the edge of the field, where Ciarrah is. He shrugs lightly at her, "Eh, you can't win them all." He grins, then winks, before nudging his horse toward the tents, and probably a healer to look at his shoulder.

Cedric nods and smiles to Symon and Tyrel. "your welcome your Highness I hope you enjoy your prize. " as he spots someone entering and heads over in her (terrwyn's) direction.

Symon takes the reins of his horse and starts back towards the tents, when the Squire informs him that Kyra is waiting on him. A curious look is shot at the woman, clearly reading 'YOU are the representive of the Mystery Knight?' then slowly rolls a shoulder and murmurs, "Very well. Come this way so I can get the plate off while we talk, then?" He starts moving before the question is finished, though he watches to make sure she IS coming.

Oh naps are lovely things, but Terrwyn missed the entire Joust. But, she is chipper awake and is weaving her way through the other spectators to find a place. It is then that she sees Cedric and she stops to offer him a curtsy.

When Symon greets Kyra, she studies him for a moment and as his greeting remains impersonal, she realizes he had not recognized her. Her shoulders visibly relax and she walks with him towards the tents at his comment. "Yes, I am the representative of the Mystery Knight." Not even bothering to disguise her voice as she and the lad follow along with the knight.

The comment draws Symon's attention back to Kyra's face along with a faint frown, stopping at the tent entrance to let the squire take the horse. Reaching to unbuckle the straps for the gauntlets, he shakes his head lightly, "I'm sorry, did I meet you before? Your voice is…" the comment trails off as some of the metal poundage is shed, leaving him standing there waiting for the Squire to return and help him out of the rest, "I suppose your Lord would very much like you to determine the ransom and be back to him, rather than my asking you questions, hmm?"

The princess has wandered elsewhere, apparently, but Caedmon is confident that her guards are with her. The winners already have enough people offering congratulations for both to be busy for some time. So the chancellor slip quietly away from the grounds to walk back to the castle.

The crowds push around Terrwyn and soon she is lost in a sea of faces. She just continues to weave her way through the spectators she pauses when she nears the lists and she places a hand on her stomach as she stands on her tip toes to look over the heads of some to see what is happening and to see if she can see Cedric again.

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