Referee
The grand stand begins to fill again,
the servants leave the field and the guards take their position
raising their horns. The next pairing is announced: Sir Heldris the
Dove Knight versus Ser Perilake the Gilded Knight!
Heldris the Dove Knight
The Dove Knight emerges from the
pavilion as the next round is announced. “Wretched herald,” he
mumbles, as he walks his horse towards the stand sombrely, waiting
for the Gilded Knight
Perilake the Gilded Knight
As the sun glitters through the clouds,
its rays catch on the shining breastplate and helm of the gilded
knight, reflecting flashes across the onlooking crowd. His mighty
black steed carries him forth into the stands. "May the best
knight lose my friend! For I have hopes of winning this tourney
myself!" Perilake bellows across at his companion, lance raised
in salute
Heldris the Dove Knight
Heldris nods to his friend over the
field, raising his lance in response. For a moment, he thinks of
holding back, letting on the brave Gilded Knight the burden of
fighting Anastaz, but suddenly realises that that would be just as
much as an insult to Perilake, who always gives his best no matter
what. So he lower his lance, and signals that he's ready to joust
As Heldris sets his lance ready, Colmán
snorts loudly. "Don't worry my friend," he pats his horse's
head "you look majestic too." He lifts his eyes to watch
over the tiltyard, the royal steed waving its mane in the wind, and
the golden armour shining under the bashful sunbeams. "Let's
hope it'll be quick, at least." he spurs his horse and charges
forward, the wind blowing through the wings of his armour.
The two friends rush to meet at the
center of the field, their lances set. Clouds of dust lift under the
steady pace of their steeds. As their weapons are about to reach
their target, an eerie silence falls among those present. Someone
clutches a wolfish pendent, someone else gasps as the Dove Knight's
lance brushes against Perilake's shoulder, as the latter dodge the
lunge leaning backwards and to the right of his saddle, and with a
formidable effort thrusts his weapon against Heldris' chest.
From the stand, hundreds of eyes
watches the Dove Knight fall to the ground, hitting his elbow upon
his weapon in a painful and almost wolfish owl. They all seem to
relax before they realise the bout is far from over, as they watch
the Gilded Knight struggle to recover from his elegant movement upon
his saddle, and fall to the ground next to Heldris, and a cloud of
shining dust lifts into the air.
Perilake the Gilded Knight
Two stewards run forwards and grab the
reins of the horses, leading them from the field. Through the dust,
the gleaming armour of the gilded knight is the first thing the crowd
sees as Perilake rolls to his feet. Dropping the lance, he unslings
the mighty warmace across his back. "Well struck Heldris!"
he breathes heavily as he speaks, forcing air into his winded lungs
as he waits for his friend to gather their feet beneath them. "For
a moment I thought I had you." He grins beneath the helm. "But
I'm glad this is no fleeting exchange of blows from the saddle. The
realm deserves to see the skill of our brotherhood in all its
valour." Perilake raises his mace into a fighting stance, and
advances
Heldris the Dove Knight
Heldris stands up, unsteady on his
feet, and through the sudden noise of the crowd he can hardly breath.
Then Perilake's words cut like a gust of wind through the heavy dust
of the tiltyard. "Yes," answer the Dove Knight, "let's
give them the show they came here for!" and with great pain from
his sore arm, he unsheathes his sword, and advances.
 |
| We're all friends here |
Perilake the Gilded Knight
The two knights close the distance, and
the crowd cheers. Even the King lifts ever so lightly from his seat
as their weapons raise and clash. Heldris's first swing comes in hard
and true, but with his arm stiff from the fall it has lost its
typical alacrity. His friend leans out of the blade's arc, and then
Perilake steps in to the second swing, taking the blow on his
armoured shoulder as the steel flashes harmlessly off the golden
pauldron. With a yell, the gilded knight twists his body and brings
his great mace down and around in a low sweep that connects with his
opponent's legs. With a loud crash, the Dove Knight flies - but ever
so briefly, his body driving heavily into the floor. Before he can
gather his breath, Perilake steps forward and places one foot on to
their sword arm and gently rests the mace upon his chest
There is a moment of silence, before
applause rings out from the crowd. Some cheer with all their hearts,
whilst others merely give the appearance demanded of their presence;
more than one purse was wagered on this fight, and more than one was
lost with the Dove Knight's defeat.
As the noise washes over them, the
golden helm is raised and Perilake smiles down. He steps back,
proferring a hand. "A fair battle my friend. I am sorry to have
clipped the wings of the Dove Knight, but honoured to have the glory
of doing so."
Heldris the Dove Knight
Heldris, still dazed by the mace's
blow, catches Perilake's hand and let himself be hoisted up. Still
much unsteady on his feet, he catches his breath and smiles in
return. "Honour's all mine, dear friend" he manages to say
in a whisper, "honour's all mine." And he leans on the
Gilded Knight's arm, as his friend helps him out of the field.
Referee
The next two bouts are over quickly:
Sir Johann of Szalai dismounts Lady Katarzina at their first meeting
as does Sir Vladislav with the Marshall of Szalai. All eyes are on
the final joust of round 2: Lady Dagmar the Snare Knight and Marshall
of Karpat vs Sir Anastaz the Salt Knight
Lady Dagmar enters the arena on a
tattered steed, wearing a bruised and battered gambeson, a roped
handaxe on her belt. She slowly approaches the stand and raises her
lance in an almost lazy gesture lacking the respect one would
normally show. Disapproving hisses are heard around the field.
Anastaz the Salt Knight
Sir Anastaz rides in on his scaled
mount. Where her disrespect is clear from her lazy gestures, he
performs the usual rites rigidly, almost sarcastically. "Let the
knight favored by fate win this bout, my dear Lady," he shouts
Referee
The crowd cheers loudly after your
salute. "Pray to the Sun, it's not the better fighter who wins"
she says over her shoulder while she rides back. Then as the shouts
of "Salt Knight!" and "Anastaz, Anastaz!" die
down, she yells: "For the glory of Karpat!", spurs her
steed and gallops towards you, lowering her lance slowly!
Anastaz the Salt Knight
Dagmar's boasts and threats seem to
Anastaz to conceal weakness and fear. He does not care for this
Knight, and whispers in Tibor's ear, "Do your worst," and
aims his lance at her heart. As before, in moments he has reached an
incredible speed, tilting at the Snare Knight as he sees her lance
suddenly fly up from his chest to his head. He rolls to the side to
avoid the hit, making contact with his lance, but also sliding down
Tibor's side and towards the ground, unbalanced from the quick
maneuver. "Damn!" he mumbles, as he scrambles to his feet,
though he breathes a sigh of relief when he looks across the field
and sees his own strike has unseated the Lady as well
 |
| Anastaz and the Snare Knight brawling |
RefereeLady Dagmar raises her lance in the
split second before the contact to strike at Anastaz head but misses.
Anastaz' lance strikes true and she tumbles off her steed. She lands
hard but gets up quickly and uncoils the rope that is attached to her
axe in one motion starting to circle Anastaz. With her left she draws
a dagger while footmen run onto the field and lead the horses from
the arena
Suddenly she releases her roped axe
that flies in a strange curve towards Anastaz threatening to ensnare
his legs, while she rushes towards him trying to find a vulnerable
spot for her dagger.
Anastaz the Salt Knight
Anastaz swings his spiked mace as she
approaches, but the nimble Snare Knight ducks out of the way and
continues her advance. He evades a flurry of devastating swipes with
her dagger but falls to the ground, and she is upon him. She thrusts
down her dagger, missing Anastaz's eye by a hair, and sticking her
knife into the mud. Now, with the Snare Knight finally helpless for a
brief moment, the dagger in Anastaz's left hand claims its due as he
cuts along her side.
Referee
Blood gushes out of the wound and she
withdraws holding her side. She breathes heavily but looks at you
with newfound respect: "Maybe fate has favoured you today, Salt
Knight, and the better Knight lost ... but you fought well!" She
extends her other hand to help you up.
Anastaz the Salt Knight
He accepts, his breath ragged and
heavy, trembling from his brush with half-blindness. "I was
wrong about you, Snare Knight... You are a worthy opponent."
Referee
The Snare Knight bows and leaves the
tiltyard. The applause from the stands is wild and there are cheers
for the Salt Knight. Then the trumpets sound again to indicate the
end of round two and the long break before the tournament is resumed
in the afternoon
Anastaz the Salt Knight
Anastaz acknowledges the cheers with a
nod, sighs, and leaves the arena in search of wine
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