| Jousting at Seagard |
| Summary: | The Mallisters of Seagard host a tourney to celebrate the betrothal of Lord Patrek Mallister and Lady Syrah Redwyne. It begins with lots of jousting! |
| Date: | 16/06/289 |
| Related Logs: | Other tourney logs to come; see final standings here. |
| Players: |
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| Tourney Grounds — Seagard |
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| The fields outside the city of Seagard have been prepared for a tourney, and a grand tourney at that. The lists and its stands along with are somewhat apart from the sea of pavilions that make up the encampments of those various noble houses in attendance. All around, purple banners flap in the sea breeze - purple and silver for House Mallister, purple and blue for House Redwyne, paired together everywhere one looks. This space between the various competition areas, the pavilions, and the roads, is perhaps the most highly-traveled part of the grounds, one which no attendee can avoid traveling several times per day. |
| Sat Jun 16, 289 |
The first round of jousting is not quite ready to begin, it seems, but crowds have already drawn to the lists, commoners lined up in a crowd at the rail, the stands for nobles filling up, especially those seats in the shade of the awnings overhead, as it is a bright, sunny summer day. Oddsmakers circulate through both noble and common crowds, offering wagers of various sorts on today's proceedings. Knights and squires make ready, while the hosts are awaited.
Jarod is in the lists. Which may come as a surprise to some, given he was stripped of his horse when he left the service of House Terrick. He has a mount with him, too, a large red stallion and paws the ground impatiently and occasionally snorts at him. Some veterans of the Iron Born campaign might recognize the beast as belong to his former squire/present bride, Rowenna Nayland. Jarod makes an attempt to pet the horse's nose, but it doesn't respond in an affectionate manner, snorting at him again. He's wearing no heraldry of any House today, but his black-and-gold winged 'bastard' surcoat. He goes through a last check of his gear once his horse - such as it is - seems ready.
With all the spectators starting to take their seats, Jocelyn does the same. Wanting most of all to ensure she gets a good one so that she can have an acceptable view of all that goes on. Making her way through the line of bleachers, she finds a seat still under cover to provide her with shade. Sitting, she sits back straight, looking left to right and back again. Toying with a small cloth in her hand excitedly.
Rowenna Nayland is in the stands today, dressed in a proper, pretty blue gown, her unruly dark hair pinned up as best can be managed at its awkward, in-between length. She grins — perhaps a bit nervously — at Jarod's attempts to calm her horse, and waves her hand way up in the air to catch his attention, blowing kisses. Go Team Half-eagle!
Dmitry is not with the other knights in the lists, but sitting amidst the noble spectators with his arm slung over the back of his seat in dark and purple-frogged finery, his boots crossed at his ankles as he waits with bright dark eyes narrowed on what will become the field.
In amongst the other knights of the lists, a big bluff Tyrell knight is waiting with a kind of monumentally amused patience as his squire runs last minute errands in high gudgeon. Ser Gareth, Hammer of Highgarden, is geared in long-worn armor in his house colors and in high polish, looking over the length of his spear with the idle anticipatory ease of long habit.
Given recent rumors out of the Roost, it's hard to imagine what might be expected of Lord Jacsen and Lady Anais Terrick. It was not, however, likely the way things are at the moment. The young couple is seated together in the stands, holding hands and both looking…happy. With each other. Weird.
A tourney is always a call for high spirits among the smallfolk and noble-blooded alike. Among the jostling crowd in the standing-room-only section there's a bit of kerfluffle, girlish squeaks and giggling, as Lark ducks and darts and squeezes her way to the fore. She drags a dark-haired girl of similar age along with her, hands tightly clasped, merrily offering apologies and warnings as they barge their way to the rail — likely depending on their youth and prettiness to get them a lot of leeway in the barging department. "Coming through! Gangway! Oops! So sorry! Can we just — ? Everyone can see over us, I promise, we're so very small! Thank you! Maiden bless! Sorry for your feet!"
Katrin picks her way through the crowds, looking for a place to sit, her grim faced Septa following along, almost running down her heels in an effort to make sure she doesn't lose her young charge. "The stands look quite busy," the Haigh murmurs quietly, nibbling on her lower lip. Where to sit, where to sit. As she inches her way along, she gives a half curtsey to both Anais and Jacsen. "Good afternoon, My Lord, My Lady," she says politely.
Among those gathered at the lists, Justin is here and this time, dressed in his partial maile and holding his horse's reins. The grey's tack has been adorned with purple cloth covers for the reins and a golden edged purple drape to hang over the horse's sides, leaving front and haunches pale and uncovered.
As for himself, Justin is dressed in black edged discreetly in his house colors, still in mourning. He somehow or another has managed to borrow a more suitable helm rather than use his steal cap, but the rest of his gear is usual to him - except for the addition of his new spurs, rawled with the Seven pointed stars of the Sept.
A tourney is also excitement for those participating. Especially when it's in a place one knows quite well. And so Martyn has made his way out among the participants. Nodding at the others competing, he also looks to the crowds, studying them rather carefully for familiar faces. He then looks back to the participants, unable to hold back a bit of a grin in Jarod's direction as he sees the man's attempt to pet the horse. "Seems like someone is impatient," he comments a bit lightly.
"Lady Katrin," Anais smiles swiftly to the Haigh lady as she approaches. "Won't you come sit with us?" she invites, moving over just a little to make what space she can. "I think we've got a decent view of things from here. Besides, I love watching a joust with someone I haven't before. Everyone has a different opinion about the knights."
Nathaniel is already standing at the rail in the commoner's section, studying knights and horses alike from his vantage. He turns when he hears the approach of Lark and the other dark-haired girl. Noting their struggle from behind him to come that rrail, he says a few words to some people near him, and then motions for them to make room for the girls. When the men at the rail refuse at first, he gives them a menacing glare. "They're shorter than you. You can stand behind them and look over their heads," he insists. The men yield.
Hugh picks his way through the hubbub heading for where the knights are. He is walking with a veneer of confidence and a very serious look on his face that he hopes hides both his excitement and his feeling of being a bit lost. Perhaps he will pull it off, but not likely. He does spy Jarod, and hurries forward.
And what would a tournament be without a mystery knight? Such a one appears now, as preparations get under way. A crown of thorns is worn over the knight's helmet, and smaller tendrils of thorns are curl over his vambraces. A surcoat of pale green is worn, a match to cloth that drapes over his steed, masking both armor and mount from specific scrutiny. As for the knight's shield, it is white, with a knot of thorns painted on it. And, worn over his heart, is a single rose, pinned to his tabard by the thorns alone, or so it seems. Perhaps the sight of him is not too surprising - after all, there are knights of the Reach here today, and it is entirely possible he is one such.
Dragging her eyes away from the men and horses on the field, Jocelyn glances around her after several minutes. Spotting her cousin, Rowenna, Jocelyn lifts her hand and waves. Though it could go unseen considering the attention she is giving her husband. Her gaze wander to the others, and she overs another wave to Anais when she is spotted as well. Leaning towards her Ladies maid she whispers something to her, keeping her smile on her lips the whole time.
Kittridge Groves is planning to compete as well, it seems. He and Brynner, his squire, are busy checking over his tack and his armor, doing a final quadruple-check that everything is ready to go. He wears dark green brigadine, and his shield has been repainted since the last time, it seems, no longer dented and scratched, once again bearing the crown and trees of his house, differentiated by a black star and red crescent to either side.
Two seats have been cleared and adorned in Mallister colors, up high and in clear view of both the combatants in the joust as well as the spectators. They are empty, awaiting the Lord Mallister and his betrothed, the Lady Redwyne, until a trumpet of fanfare announce the arrival of both. Lord Patrek Mallister is still in black, though he has grown a couple of inches since the end of the Ironborn rebellion, and he holds himself taller and straighter than he did, then. Hands and feet are a little large for the rest of him, and he's gone long and lanky from growth spurts of adolescence with which the rest of him has not caught up, yet. On his arm is the Lady Syrah Redwyn, a pretty, dark-haired girl in a lavish gown done up in the colors of her house. She looks to be no older than her soon-to-be husband, and she smiles as she walks through the crowd, though it's a little strained and nervous on her lips. The Lord and Lady make their way to their seats, Patrek standing until Syrah sits. He settles beside her and leans over to murmurs something which makes the lady lift her hand so she can hide a giggle behind it.
Lark beams at Nathaniel, bobbing a quick and slightly ungainly curtsy — her companion does the same. "Oo, thank you! That's so very kind. Would y'like a ginger snap?" She offers him his pick from a small bag of cookies. The girl with her, making a slightly more urband curtsy, says, "Thank you ever so. I'm Alona Henry and this is my cousin, Lark, from Stonebridge. This is her first tourney, so you'll have to excuse — " at which point, the girl completely forgets her composure, pointing and squeaking, "Ooh, look, it's the Lord and Lady aren't they lovely!"
Also in attendance are, as many have been whispering about, a number of knights of the Reach. The grapes of House Redwyne ought to be familiar to all present by now, adorning the shield of one red-haired knight, his helm ornamented with hawk's wings. He stands beside a tall, dark horse, occasionally speaking aside to a darkhaired knight who looks better suited to throwing rowdy patrons out of taverns. His shield is dark, marked with a white tower with a beacon blazing atop it. Also in evidence today are, most notably, the golden rose of House Tyrell, but others too: beehives between golden stripes on black, a red huntsman on green, apple trees and towers, etc., etc.
Jarod raises a hand to wave Hugh over to where he's tending his big, borrowed red horse. "Make sure the saddle's on proper, but watch out for Dragon," he says wry to Hugh, about his big, borrowed horse. "He bites. Except Rowenna. I think she indulges his foul manner." The horse snorts at him, as if objecting, and Jarod ceases criticizing him. "This'll be a hells of a show, Lordling Asterholm. The knights of the Reach are legends in the tilt." He even looks excited, if a touch nervous.
There's a dark and foreboding figure on the field, adorned all in black and decorated with ravenfeathers. His shield bears no sigil, not even one of his own manufacture, and is simply plain and dark like the rest of him. He must be the one they call the Ravensknight, another new mystery addition to the tournament. He must not be a knight of means, though, since his maille does't fit him too well. It causes him to jostle about as he waits to start, trying to get it to settle in a comfortable way.
With the other competitors at the lists, Inigo is appropriately outfitted and armored for the joust. His armor is a touch fancier than than a plain set, embellish with a bit of scroll-work engraved here and there like curling smoke as well as the Vance dragon and tower. Otherwise dressed in the dark green, he fidgets with his armor and his stallion's tack, checking both though they've been checked times before, his borrowed squire hovering nearby. All of his armor is painstakingly buffed to a gleaming shine, but he keeps rubbing at it now and again anyway. Fussy.
"Oh, Lady Anais, that is very kind of you," Katrin says with a nod, taking one of the free spots and tipping her ehad in greeting to Jacsen. "Are there any knights here today that you favor, my Lady?" she asks curiously, gaze sweeping over the variety of men and horses that are preparing. She seems both excited and a touch nervous, a happy flush marking her cheeks.
Joining Lord Patrek and Lady Syrah on the dais with their other closest kin and guests is Lord Paxter Redwyne, a tall, gaunt man whose thinning orange hair necessites he retreat into the shade with haste before his head burns, not that he seems to mind finding himself a seat and a cup of wine to watch.
Hugh grins and nods to Jarod, and starts to check over the saddle and tack in a methodical manner, jumping a bit whenever the horse looks like he might want to have a taste. "Ser, thanks for letting me attend you. I didn't want to miss the experience." Hugh occasionally looks up and around, seeing a couple of faces he recognizes. The vast majority are strangers, however. These glances are very brief as he concentrates on the job before him, however.
Not on the dais, but in the stands instead are two other orange-haired men, a pair of twins, from the looks of it, young men who can't seem to stop elbowing each other and snickering long enough even to drink their wine, though they manage somehow, pouring a steady stream of it down their throats, and calling out for someone to take their bet that Lord Hoxley will defeat all comers. This is probably why they aren't allowed to sit up with their relatives where people can see them.
Justin watches as Lord Patrek takes seat with his wife. He has not yet covered his hands so he strokes the grey's face and watches the other knights assembling. Rather than stand alone admist mostly strangers, Justin turns and leads his horse over closer to where he sees Jarod standing. He gives his half brother a nod, if noticed.
Anais raises a hand to Jocelyn's wave, smile flashing to the Nayland lady. She's distracted as Patrek and Syrah arrive, and the sight of the young lord brings a rueful smile. "Look how much he's grown since the siege, Jacsen," she murmurs to her husband before her attention is back to Katrin again. "Do you know, Lady Katrin," she laughs, "All of the knights of the Roost seem to have their own sweethearts to ride for. And I'm ashamed to say, I know nearly nothing of the knights of the Reach. What about you?" she asks, smile broad. "Are there any young lords bearing your favor out there today?"
Not quite in the noble stands, but in the commoner section nearest by it, Ella watches as well. Having secured herself a decent place near the front but not quite at the rail (where one is more liable to get dusty), she talks with another young woman, and watches eagerly for the event to begin.
"Good, now check his feet," Ser Gareth rumbles to his squire, slapping his hand against the glossy hindquarters of his chestnut stallion. The horse snorts and laps at water from the trough before lifting its head and looking impassively alongside its master toward the other contenders as the boy checks each of his hooves. The Tyrell's mount is big, matched to his master in imposing muscle and in the fineness of the gear he wears — green and gold, armor gleaming with the device of the Rose.
Martyn watches in quiet as Lord Patrek and Lady Syrah has taken their places, studying them a bit quietly for a few moments, before he turns to look at the other competing for a few moments. Offering a bit of a grin and a nod in Justin's direction as he sees the man. "Ready for the exiting experience, Ser Justin?" he offers, before he adds, "I remember my first joust as a participant. Or at least the first few moments of it, until it all blacked out." Is he serious or joking, his expression isn't telling.
The knight whose green shield bears a red huntsman is currently busy, it seems, berating his page. He's a tiny, round little boy, the page, who looks to be almost on the edge of tears, lip wobbling as he nods and nods and apologizes for whatever he has done, and is sent off with a slap upside the head to retrieve whatever he has forgotten.
After a nod in greeting to Lord Paxter Redwyne and another comment to Lady Syrah, Patrek Mallister stands, holding his hands up for quiet (or as much quiet as a crowd and a gathering of armored men can manage). "My lords and ladies," Patrek belts out once the din dims, "Sers and squires, masters and mistresses! I welcome you all to Seagard for this week-long celebration of skill in honor of my betrothal to the Lady Syrah Redwyne!" He pauses, as he was likely instructed ahead of time, for cheers and whatnot, before continuing on, "Today, the joust will proceed in single elimination challenge format. Combatants, look to the heralds who will assist all competitors in lining up of order of precedence. When that is arranged, the challenges will begin. Good luck, my lords and sers! Warrior be with you on this fine day!"
Jarod lets Hugh handle the last spot checks of his horse, his eyes scanning the stands. Rowenna is indeed spotted, and he raises a hand to blow her a kiss in return. It shows off the favor he wears on his wrist, dark hair with a gold ribbon. "Thanks for attending me. Few squires would dare to be seen with a man of my ill repute, young Asterholm. I'll try not to embarrass you." The remark is glib and merrily said, but he does sound grateful enough to the boy. As he scans over the other knights waiting he spots Justin, and offers his half-brother a quick wave in return for the nod.
Nathaniel bows to Lark and Alona. "You're welcome, Mistresses," he answers in a subdued voice. "I'm Nathaniel Corbitt, recently of Stonebridge." He studies Lark for a long moment, as if trying to remember whether he might have seen her on his many travels as a courier in that region. Rather than dive his hand into the bag, he extends it with palm upward. "Please do me the honor of selecting what you want me to have," he urges.
Everyones gaze seems to be moving in one direction, and when Jocelyn turns to see what it is, she knows why. Lord Partek and Lady Syrah make then entrance. The Nayland Lady is enamored with the two, she watches them take their seats and listens to those loud whispers around her about the couple. and when Lord Patrek speaks, her attention is once again fully on them.
Oh, Martyn's so encouraging! Justin smiles thinly to the Mallister knight, "Aye, my first. I pray I won't loose everything and be unable to pay my ransom, but a man who does not dare also can not win nor prove himself, even to himself." His own grey gelding is a bit wild eyed with so many men and horses in one area, so many strange scents. He holds his head high and siddles a bit, Justin keeping a firm hand on him. Alas, Justin wears no lady's favour upon his arm, nor does he have squire or page to attend him. Jarod's wave is noted.
Kain normally wouldn't be here, but he is here for one singular that draws him out the woods more than anything. The archery competition. It doesn't even matter if he wins or not, it's the challenge in of itself that gets him to come to Seaguard. Or anywhere that there happens to be a large population of people. Probably why he spent this last week doing more hunting than usual, to make up his time the week previous with the bandit issue and now for his time gone here. But, in the commoner section, the ranger stands alone, a bit away from the larger gatherings of people in attendence and it is here that he stands out poorly, his camoflauged cloak doing nothing to help him blend into the scenery. Hood drawn up, he's content to watch the proceedings of the tilt.
Katrin's cheeks color for a different reason at Anais' question but she lets Lord Patrek speak and the sounds to mostly die down before she nods. "Ser Martyn did me the honor of bearing my favor in the joust today," she replies lightly. "I pray that it brings him luck."
Riding out only when the call to line up is given is a knight whose presence has not been seen often at the lists in recent years. Lord Ser Rickart Nayland, his armor polished to a wicked shine, makes his way to the head of that line of precedence, helm held under his arm so that he can better watch the reactions of those assembled.
Hugh shrugs and tries to check the horse's feet. He looks up at Jarod. "If the Lord Regent, my knight has confidence, then why not me? I am looking forward to this." The boy straightens up and despite his young age, he is very tall. He turns to listen to Lord Patrek.
Already at the head of that line, and not looking pleased to be passed by Rickart Nayland of all people, is Ser Calvan Mallister, brother of the late Lord Ser Jason, and, at least for the time being, Lord Patrek's heir. He bears a strong resemblence to his departed brother, fair-haired and bearded, with fine armor and a white horse. The picture of a storybook knight… ten to fifteen years past where those stories usually end. He glares at the Nayland for a moment, and then turns away, feigning obliviousness.
Dania is moving with the crowd. She has her basket perched on her hip and she seems intent upon what is happening around her. Her blue eyes seem to be everywhere at once. Her long hair has been pinned up as is proper and she wears a wide brimmed straw hat on her head. Today she is dressed in Linen and wool. Both are rather plain.
A young boy with freckles and a gapped tooth spots Kain. He is carrying a small package. He runs up to huntsman can is calling. "Master Kain! Master Kain!"
"Oh!" Lark blinks at Nathaniel, beaming all the brighter. "How gallant." Yes, not just pawing all over ALL THE COOKIES is gallant, in her world. She picks three cookies — three! — from the bag and places them in the man's palm. "There you are! I — Oh!" She squeaks and spins around at her cousin's cry, standing on tiptoes as though it might help bring the distant nobility into better focus. "Oh, she's very pretty, isn't she?" A moment later, her wandering eye lights on the little round squire being berated by his knight. She frowns. "Oh, I don't like that one. Which one is he?" She turns Alona toward the knight with the red-hunstman-on-green, pointing. "I hope he loses. No cookies for that man."
Jarod mounts up and takes his place in the order of competitors. Which is rather far in the back. Bastard and all, his precedence remains…not very precedent. He nods at Hugh to follow him. "We'll get to see Lord Rickart on the tilt, at least." His tone is more curious than anything else. "I wonder what sort of showing the Harpy Lord'll make." He is, perhaps, not sure whether he wants the man to win or lose. But he's definitely interested.
"Oh?" Anais grins back at Katrin, laughing even as she lifts Jacsen's hand to press a kiss to it. "Ser Martyn is a good knight, and a kind man. Even if he doesn't win, I'm sure he'll bring you honor." She pauses as Rickart Nayland rides up, shifting a bit in her seat to get a better look. "Is that Rickart /Nayland/?"
The more richly appointed of the two mystery knights, known only as the Knight of Thorns, for obvious reasons, takes his place at the at the appropriate place of precidence - dead last, along with his more muted counterpart. The knight inclines his helmted head to the Ravensknight, then seems to have his attention caught - like most others, no doubt - by the arrival of the Harpy Lord.
"Oh, maiden fuck me twice, is that my father?" mutters Rowenna, leaning forward in the stands to squint at Lord Rickart. "Maiden fuck me twice, that's my father," she sighs, sure of it.
Martyn listens carefully as Patrek gives his little speech, nodding a bit before he looks over at Justin again. "No risk, no reward," he offers with a bit of a grin, before looking around at the various participants at the moment. Blinking a bit as he sees Rickart Nayland, studying the man carefully for a few moments, before his gaze goes to Ser Calvan. Offering the man a bit of a polite nod and a half smile, before he moves to find his place in line.
A pleased Jocelyn turns towards the field once more, sitting up more in her seat to see all that have lined up. At the sight of Lord Rickart, she pauses. Staring. She looks around her and has no one close enough to her that she knows to ask any questions or family. Her smile only faulters a little when she looks back to Lord Rickart. She squirms in her seat now, looking just a little nervous.
Hugh's eyes are bright as he watches his uncle, Lord Rickart. "Yes, I want to watch." He glances over at Rowenna and grins at her, though with a bit of curiosity in his eyes.
The Ravensknight turns Lord Patrek speaks, tilting his head and almost pitching sideways with the weight of it. "Can't hear a bloody word in this thing," he mutters, the words echoing in his ears as he looks to either side of him trying to see how the others are reacting so he can follow suit. Everyone's armor is so damn shiny compared to his dull black gear. "Oh, we're going now?" he asks nobody in particular as everyone starts moving, ending up in his place by the Knight of Thorns. He raises a hand in stiff greeting to the fellow mystery knight. Then turns to look in the general direction everyone else seems to be turning, though he has no clue what they're all interested in.
Dmitry chuckles behind the fingers curved over his mouth, watching beneath upswept brows.
Nearly late for the tourney, another mystery knight makes his way onto the line. The armor is plain, simple, perhaps the armor of a sworn sword commoner, but it is shined. The boy walking alongside him is clearly a squire chosen from the ranks of peasantry, though the boy does wear clothing in shades of crimson to match the crimson swatch of color on the Knight of Arrows' shield, which also bears the head of an arrow.
The Ghost in the darkness, otherwise known as Kain, looks down at the boy that comes up to him, colors of his cloak shift as he turns slightly and the shadows of his hood deepen slightly. "Yes, boy, that's me. What is it?"
Jarod spares a look down the lists at the Knight of Thorns, and offers the man a tip of his lance. It's a subtle gesture, and easily missed if one isn't looking for it. "Should be a fine show," he says with a wink to Hugh.
Very proud of himself the young boy hold up the package to master Kain. He is proud because he found Kain in the crowd. "I was told to give this to. Do not know who sent it but I was told to give it to you." The boy waits for him to take it. He is practically bouncing from one foot to the other with his barely contained energy.
Justin gives Martyn a nod, "Indeed," then moves to mount as well. He turns his pale grey and moving to take up his place in the ranks forming, somewhere in the middle for sons of Lords. While he hasn't really chosen a personal shield persay, he has for now elected to use a plain dark purple with a single golden eagle. As it turns out, Justin ends up much further near the front of the column than he would have expected, which makes him look about more carefully.
"Well!" says Rowenna defensively to Lady and Lord Enpeasea, who happen to be sitting beside her, "He's older than the Crone! People can get hurt during these things." Aww. Look who's worried for daddy. She has, apparently, conveniently forgotten they both just fought the same war. He came through that okay.
The Hammer of Highgarden smiles through his beard and leads his own stallion at a brisk clop to his proper station amidst the noble cousins. He is all ashimmer in green and gold. He nods to the knights nearest him with a faint crinkle at the corners of his eyes, butt of his lance tapped in light salute against the ground.
"Seven," says Kittridge as he finds his place in line, frowning a bit to find his twin lining up beside him, "Three mystery knights? These fellows from the Reach were mysterious enough with their own names."
Katrin blushes, "Yes, he is a good man," she agrees with a smile. "I am sure that he will do well, Lady Anais," she says, looking across the field to find Martyn. She squints. Ah, so that is Rickart Nayland. "Oh my," she murmurs. "He is far more imposing in person that I would have even imagined."
"Maybe they're forming a club?" Nicodemus replies to his brother, fingers drumming gently against Lady's neck as they get settled in the line.
"He doesn't keep that family of his in line by being a gentle man, that's for certain," Anais agrees with Katrin, looking over the rest of the field. "Gods, look at the Reach knights," she murmurs, laughing softly. "Like a whole field of flowers strewn with swords. I've heard they're capable of all kinds of fancy lance work." She shoots a sidelong glance toward Jacsen at the last, a slight curve of her lips adding another layer of meaning to the words, teasing.
Having found his place in line now, Martyn first looks to the stands, looking through it rather carefully now. Not looking to the start of the happenings until there is a real start, so to speak. One fist moving to punch at his own right shoulder, a bit absently.
Nathaniel inclines his head to Lark when she places not one, but three cookies in his hand. "You are too kind, mistress," he replies. When Alona and then Lark turn in the direction of the stands, he follows and squints. "I'm …not sure," he says. He repeats the same answer when lark asks about the knight who is rebuking his squire. Then he spies Ser Justin, and offers, "That's Ser Justin, of the House of Terrick. He became a knight quite recently, but he seems deserving of it."
As the knights et al line up Lord Patrek speaks again, though it's a far simpler and more succinct speech, this time. "The first combatant," he calls, "may choose his challenger!" He leaves it to the heralds, however, to announce the names of both.
The Mallister heralds look somewhat flustered at Lord Ser Rickart's appearance, but cannot quibble with his place in line. They spend a few minutes running up and down helping direct the knights whose places are less sure, and determined by a combination of birth, the opinion of their hosts, and luck. Finally, everyone seems to be in order. A signal is given, trumpets are blasted, and a strong-voiced herald calls out, "THE FIRST CHALLENGE GOES TO SER RICKART NAYLAND!"
Justin is certainly checking out Lord Ser Rickart Nayland himself as he's positioned to ride behind that man, as well as the Mallister he doesn't know. He's carrying no lance himself as yet, keeping his hands free until they are ready to go. He raises his pale grey eyes to the stands and seeing his goodsister Anais with his brother Jacsen, and them both looking /good/ instead of strung out and angry, makes Justin take a second look.
With a smirk, the patriarch of House Nayland strokes his beard and dispenses with his great, fur-lined cloak with a majestic sweep of his arm, tossing it back to his squire and donning his helm. He urges his horse out, and rides down the line, eyeing Justin as he is checked out, and then wheels his horse around and, somewhat predictably, chooses to lift his lance and strike the purple and silver eagles hung above Ser Calvan Mallister's place. The heralds nod. "SER RICKART CHALLENGES SER CALVAN MALLISTER."
"I don't know," Alona says to Lark, with an authority born of complete ignorance. "Probably no one important." Lark cranes her head to look at Ser Justin, smiling brightly. "Oh! Huzzah! Cookies for him, then. I hope he does well." She crams a gingersnap into her mouth and chews like a bright-eyed hamster.
Jocelyn tightens her hold on the cloth between her hands as Lord Rickart gets called out first. At least her nervousness will not have to last too long? Still squirming in her seat she watches eagerly.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Ser Rickart=animal Handling Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Ser_Rickart: Great Success Ser Calvan: Good Success
< Net Result: Ser_Rickart wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Ser Rickart=spears Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Ser_Rickart: Good Success Ser Calvan: Good Success
< Net Result: Ser Calvan wins - Marginal Victory
The two big old knights on their big not-old horses make their way to opposite ends of the lists and, as the flag is dropped, charge at each other. Both are skilled, and both hit well, but both also hold their seats well, and, nothing decided, wheel about for another pass.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Ser Rickart=animal Handling Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Ser_Rickart: Failure Ser Calvan: Great Success
< Net Result: Ser Calvan wins - Crushing Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Ser Rickart=spears Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Ser_Rickart: Good Success Ser Calvan: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
At the subtle salute from Ser Jarod, the Knight of Thorns, tilts his head forward slightly, but all attention then goes as the Harpy Lord and his Mallister opponent begin to face off.
Martyn pauses for a few moments as he waches the start of the competition. Letting out a deep breath as he watches the Nayland and Mallister come together. "Come on, uncle…" he mutters under his breath, still watching a bit carefully now.
The first pass was a near thing indeed, but the second shows the difference of years between the two men. Ser Rickart is still a match for Ser Calvan with the lance, scoring a solid, well-placed hit on the Mallister knight, but his increasing age is perhaps his downfall. Hit hard in turn, he fails to slide the blow off as a younger man might and loses his seat, falling to the dirt to a great roar from Ser Calvan, and from the heavily pro-Mallister crowd of commons.
Jarod tries to keep his expression impassive as Lord Rickart takes the field against a Mallister, but his eyes are all conflicted. He does impassive so, so poorly. He keeps himself from cheering at Ser Calvan's victory, but he can't help but crack a grin. "There's little love lost between Seagard and any of the Frey-sworn houses," he says to Hugh. "But the Mallisters are damn fine warriors, at sword or lance. They aren't tourney peacocks, but I figure they'll put up a fine challenge against these Reach sers nonetheless."
Lord Patrek has settled back into his seat, though he leans forward a little when Rickart Nayland taps the shield that signifies Calvan Mallister. He sits, stiff and taut as the men clash once, and one hand curls into an anxious fist in his lap as they turn around for another go. Patrek breathes out a sigh of relief as his uncle wins the day, applauding and lifting his voice to join the cheers. Beside him, Syrah claps politely for the end of the match.
Justin gives a faint nod of respect to Lord Rickart as the Nayland rides by and meets his own eye boldly enough. Otherwise he has turned his horse to wait in the line with the other knights and to observe the exciting first round of the joust. Justin's gaze is sharp for the two men riding, and when Ser Rickart is defeated, the young Terrick quietly looks pleased but says nothing, keeping his horse quiet.
Ser Rickart picks himself up, and bows politely in the direction of the pavilion, and then strides back towards his pavilion, turning to his squire to make what is, those who know him will have no doubt, a somewhat-snarky joke of some sort. Ser Calvan tosses aside his broken lance and returns to his place in line. The heralds step up and indicate for Justin to take his turn.
KnightOfArrows watches Lord Rickart Nayland carefully as the man selects the Mallister. As the eldest of the Naylands finally takes the loss, the Knight of Arrows' squire begins making a minor adjustment to his saddle straps. The Knight looks down, and for a quick moment, points and instructs the boy quietly. Those watching, who know of such things, would note it almost seems as if the boy had never worked with a horses' saddle before today. But as the crowd cheers for Calvin, the moment passes, and likely goes unnoticed by most.
Rowenna is on her feet the moment the Mallister's blow lands on the second pass, gasping, "FUCK!" She knows a felling blow of the lance when she sees one. Her fingers are laced tight together and her expression drawn until her father regains his feet. When he does, and apparently in good humor to boot, she breathes out and sits again.
With his attention distracted between the joust commencing, Kain takes the package the young boy gives him with an outstretched hand, looking a bit confused, or at least, that he probably looks like under his hood. Unwrapping, he forgets seeing the second impact, looking what's there. Looks like a favor from….well, -someone-. There's no note or indication of who the sender is, leaving the ranger at a bit of a loss. "Thank you." he mumbles to the boy. But then his eyes scan about, trying to pick out a somewhat familiar face. Someone that he might know, someone perhaps watching him opening the package that was given to him. But while he might be able to see a deer or rabbit in the middle of dense forest, his eyes and training are not meant for seraching through face too many to count. The white favor is still held in his hand for a long moment before it's tucked away into the folds of his cloak. Taking his mind off that for the moment, he sees Justin and even if he doesn't look his way, he still offers the man a salute in good luck.
Martyn nods with a momentary grin as he sees Ser Calvan getting the win. Offering a bit of a nod in the older Mallister's direction as the man returns to the line. Looking a bit curious now, as he sees that it's Justin's turn to challenge someone.
Dmitry adds a whistle to the general cheering and clapping in the aftermath of the tilt, and then leans back in his seat, dark eyebrows arching as he looks to his cousin in the line.
Wide eyes watched the match carefully. Jocelyn lifted the cloth up slowly as the horses charged one another. Body tense, so much so that she almost lifted herself off the bench. At the blow to Lord Rickart, making him fall to the ground, Jocelynh as to force the cloth to her to keep from making any shouts. She does, however, wince. Closing her eyes, offering a prayer for safety and when she opens her eyes again, she sees the Lord Rickart standing up again. Relaxing noticably at the sight.
Katrin's hands clasp tightly together in her lap as she watches the challenge between Nayland and Mallister and she shakes her head. "Perhaps you are right, Lady Anais," she says slowly. "But perhaps sometimes there is such a thing as too old for certain play," she muses. "He could have done himself great harm and then where would his House be?"
The Ravensknight whistles at the first pass, impressed. Then the second pass - BAM! The mystery man winces as though he himself were hit, and raises his head a bit to look down at Ser Rickart. The old man's fine, he notes, and goes back to a more neutral position to watch the rest.
Hugh does keep his expression hidden. He is disappointed. "Mmm, I guess he did well enough. I was hoping he would have won." And what would one expect from son of the younger brother of Lord Rickart's wife?
Well, he's to go early. Justin licks his lips and looks back ashe gestures for a Terrick house retainer to bring the lance the man has been holding for him, since he has no squire. Taking it firmly in hand, he urges his horse out and looks over the line. His gaze lingers briefly on Ser Kittridge, but then moves on. So many he does not know here, but there was a man close in line to himself he does not know, wearing red and green and is of the Reach. Justin rides forward and strikes Frederyck Tarly's device to choose his challenge.
Jarod lifts his lance to offer Justin a knight's salute, brightening with less conflicted interest as his half-brother takes the field. Dragon paws at the ground and snorts irritably. The big horse seems impatient to go bash things. "Settle down, you can go eat a child later or whatever the fuck it is you like to do," Jarod mutters, keeping a firm hand on the reins and patting the big creature's neck. More snorting ensues.
The boy offer Kain a smile then darts off into the crowds so he can see the joust. Soon he is he out of sight.
"In Lord Rutger's hands," Anais answers Katrin with a rueful smile, watching as Rickart leaves the field. "But as he made it back from the Iron Isles, I suspect he'll manage all right. Oh, here comes Justin!" she exclaims, smile flashing. "Ser Terrick!" she calls in her goodbrother's honor, waving toward the field to offer what support she can.
"SER JUSTIN TERRICK CHALLENGES SER FREDERYCK TARLY," shout the heralds, and Ser Frederyck Tarly gestures impatiently for his lance, closing his helm with a snap and making an exasperated gesture at squire and bumbling little page, grabbing up his weapon and making to his end of the lists. Once he and Ser Justin have both reached their places and indicated, by raising their lances, that they are ready to proceed, the heralds lower their flags, signalling the knights to ride on.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Justin=spears Vs Ser Frederyck=animal Handling
< Justin: Good Success Ser_Frederyck: Success
< Net Result: Justin wins - Marginal Victory
<Misc> Summer comes for Lucienne says, "…"
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Justin=animal Handling Vs Ser Frederyck=spears
< Justin: Good Success Ser_Frederyck: Good Success
< Net Result: Justin wins - Marginal Victory
Justin catches Jarod's salute and lifts his lance briefly to the other man before wheeling his gelding around to ride down and take up his position at one end of the lists. This isn't practice on the Green this time, everyone's watching. The grey is excited, eager to go! Justin has his helm settled, his lance pointed up and ready, his shield on his other arm. He awaits the signal, keeping his horse checked until it's given, then putting spurs to the grey he sets him galloping down the lists as he lowers his lance.
The two clash, Justin's spear the better placed and making a hard knock upon Ser Frederyck, staying a horse himself!
It's a very near thing, this pass, as Ser Frederyck gets in a good solid strike on Ser Justin, as well, both knights knocked back in their saddles. For a moment it looks like they might fall to the ground together in a disappointing sort of draw, but at the last second Justin manages to keep his seat and right himself, while Ser Frederyck, despite his best efforts, slowly but inexorably slips to the ground. As soon as he hits it, he is on his feet again, tugging off his helm and stalking back towards his squire, at whom that helm is shortly thrown.
As the next grouping pair off, Katrin chuckles, "Oh, yes… so I must ask again, where would that leave House Nayland?" she queries of Anais with a shake of her head. She claps politely for Justin as he manages to keep himself upright. "So new to knighthood and yet already thriving in the tourney," she muses aloud. "I should expect nothing less from Terricks."
Lark squeaks and leaps into the air in her excitement. Gingersnaps, accordingly, go flying up and comg raining down. "Huzzah! Oh, HUZZAH SER JUSTIN! HIT HIM SOME MORE!" She looks down into her now near-empty back of cookies. "Oh — fiddlesticks."
Dania is standing in the crowd. When Justin wins the round she cannot help but let out a cheer especially when Ser Frederyck is knocked to the ground. Her eyes are bright and she smiling.
"Well struck, cous!" Dmitry calls with laughing cheer amidst applause. Since complimenting Justin on sitting seems sillier somehow.
As he sees Justin go out there, Martyn holds back a bit of a grin. "Good luck…" he mutters under his breath, nodding a little bit as he sees the two knights clash with each other. Unable to hold back a bit of a grin as he sees the result of this one. Offering a grin in the Terrick's direction as the man gets to come back to the line.
Nathaniel watches the jousts and nods to Lark, and comments, "Ser Justin is well respected at the Roost, and he does know how to treat a horse properly. His gelding is a fine animal." He follows this by munching on the first of his cookies, with a grin of pleasure. "Mmm," he murmurs. "These are quite good. Did you bake them?"
"Not bad for his first joust out!" Jarod says to Hugh with a broad grin as Justin puts the Tarly on the ground. He offers an enthusiastic cheer.
Kain gives one more look at the boy before he is gone, but his attention is now on Justin's joust. He watches and watches and then, he feels the impact reverberate through the ground and up to his feet. Even he, one who doesn't do much spectator sport watching, holds in his breath as he sees his friend almost go over, but when he doesn't, he fist shakes in a sort of arm pumping congratulatory motion.
From atop his horse, Inigo nods his head with a smile, and cheers for his cousin as Justin wins his joust. He may be a new knight, but that's a good way to start off, isn't it?
"He did it!" Anais tries to clap, dissolving into laughter when it's complicated by the fact that she's still holding Jacsen's hand. She leans over to kiss him in apology, letting it linger just a bit longer than is strictly proper, before she's looking back to Katrin again. "I couldn't say for certain, I'm afraid," she admits. "But it might be different. Anyhow, it looks as though he'll be all right. And making a donation to the rebuild Seagard fund," she adds, a glimmer of humor in her eyes.
Jocelyn seems to have settled herself by the end of the next match. Smiling again and pleased by the win for Justin. Sitting up excitedly again she looks towards the cheers offered toward the winner and laughs softly, having similar ideas herself, but she restrains herself.
Somewhere in the crowd is Pariston, more or less just studying the happenings. He hasn't really been one to be around jousts so often, or tourneys for that matter. For now he applauds at the jousting and sees as Ser Justin seems to win. A smile on his face as he let his eyes move around.
Hugh nods, his eyes alight with the excitement of it all. He grins and winces with empathy both when the fallen knight throws his helm at the squire. He looks up to Jarod, "How many of these have you faught in, Ser?"
Owe, owe, that hurt. His shield took the brunt of it but a man should be wearing at least a breastplate for the joust. Justin doesn't have one, only partial chain. You can bet he's going to have some nasty bruises and maybe cracked ribs before this is finished. He barely keeps to his own saddle and catches his horse up to slow and turn once he's righted himself. The grey gelding is brought around to rejoin the line for the next match.
There's a quick YES!FIST pulled in by the Ravensknight as Ser Justin unhorses his opponent on the first pass. Seems like he was rooting for the man.
Ser Frederyck Tarly punts his shield, and finds a broken bit of lance to throw as well, before, fuming, sticking out his arms to be helped off with his armor. His page is not quick enough, fat fingers fumbling at the straps, and then somehow managing to fall over entirely.
The field cleared and a moment allowed for the cheering for another local victory to die down, the heralds step to Inigo, and indicate he should make his challenge.
"This is only my second joust, actually," Jarod admits to Hugh. "I'm more of a melee man. I didn't bother with it when I served the Terricks, save for my brother Lord Jacsen's wedding tourney. It was always something more that my elder brother Ser Jaremy liked." He's exiled to the Wall now, of course, so no fear of hurting his tender feelings. He sits up straighter to watch Inigo, still grinning.
Ser Gareth Tyrell chuckles a little to the knights nearest his place in line amongst the noble cousins. "Unsaddled by a green knight, is it," he murmurs with a kind of bland, good-natured humor. He rolls smiling eyes toward the sky as he rubs the hand not on his lance over his beard. He muses aside to the Redwyne nearest him, "Ser Tarly will be insufferable at supper."
"Ser Tarly is always insufferable," remarks the red-haired Redwyne beside Ser Gareth, his keen gaze sweeping across those left in line, and lighting on Inigo, watching as he makes his choice as he continues, "At least at dinner he's too busy stuffing his face to be insufferable as loudly as usual."
Hearing himself called by the herald to make his challenge now, Inigo nods and puts his helm on before he rides slowly down the line, armor gleaming while he considers his opponents critically. He eventually comes to a stop in front of the knights who have come from the Reach, pointing at Ser Lennard Hightower to challenge.
Martyn is unable to hold back a bit of a chuckle as he hears Ser Gareth's words, turning to study the man for a few moments. Looking over to the Redwyne as he hears the man's words as well, offering them both a bit of a grin, before he watches Inigo carefully now.
Lark blinks up from mourning the loss of her cookies to smile brightly at Nathaniel. A little praise makes it all better. "Oh! I did, yes." She nods rapidly. "I'm so glad you like them!" She frowns a tiny bit, looking around as one might when feeling eyes upon her and trying to catch out the gazer — but she's quickly distracted again by the next knight coming forward. "Oh, oh! Who is that? I like him." Once more failing her heraldry check, Alona shrugs at her cousin. "They'll shout out their names in a minute."
Katrin laughs as she nods her head, "An excellent hit for Terrick," she says by way of congratulations to both Anais and Jacsen, smiling brightly. She looks across to some of the mystery knights, tilting her head. "Why do you suppose they hide themselves?" she inquires. "Do you believe they are so vain or so hideously disfigured that they cannot bear to let anyone see their true appearance?"
"SER INIGO VANCE CHALLENGES SER LENNARD HIGHTOWER," announces the herald. In the stands, the Redwyne twins snigger and inform those around them, "They call him the 'White Calf'. Like how his great uncle Ser Gerold was the White Bull, get it? Because he's built like a bull, but he's young? Get it?"
Ser Lennard dons his helm, no doubt specially crafted to accomodate his almost total lack of a neck, and manuevers his absolutely gigantic white destrier to the lists, lifting his lance to indicate readiness, and charging forward when the signal is given, leaned well up in his saddle, as if he intends to try to punch his lance straight through Inigo.
"Oh, I doubt that," Anais chuckles to Katrin, looking over the mystery knights herself. "At our wedding tournament, Rowenna rode in as a mystery knight. She was still just a squire, but it looked as though all of my champions were going to be overthrown. But she rode in, won her joust, and saved the day. I imagine some of them are doing it for the romance, others for a chance to compete without also competing with name and reputation. It does make it more interesting, doesn't it?"
Lark WHOOPS and starts to bounce again — then stops, quickly rolls closed the top of her bag to preserve her remaining cookies, and resumes. "INIGO, INIGO! HUZZAH SER INIGO!" she cries, then turns to her cousin, grinning. "What a fun name to say!"
Justin has got his breath back, stroking his horse's neck to quiet his gelding and has his helm removed until he's to go again, the retainer keeping his lances. He nods to Inigo as that man is called out to make his challenge, then watches as they each go to the opposite ends of the lists. Justin comments over to Ser Martyn who's not too far down the line, "Ser Lennard is a big one. If he's any good, he looks like he'll hit hard."
Hugh asks Jarod, "Who do you favor in this pairing, Ser?"
Ser Gareth sighs in a jovial kind of resignation and nods, shifting in his saddle as he watches the upcoming match. "That's so, true enough. Ahh, and now the Calf rides." His bearded smile turns toward the young Terrick, and he rumbles, "Indeed. He'll hit on the charge like the bull he favors." He sounds a little wry.
Kain looks around a few more times. Damn it's so hard to pick out faces in crowds. Why can't these things take place in a forest? He'd be just fine then. But during the lull between tilts, he pulls out the white peice of cloth, turning it over in his hand, examining it quietly.
"Ser Inigo's a cousin to me. Son of Lord Jerold Terrick's sister," Jarod replies to Hugh. "So I'd like him to come out the better. Looking forward to seeing Ser Hightower ride, though. His father's a legend."
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=spears Vs Ser Lennard=animal Handling
< Inigo: Good Success Ser_Lennard: Success
< Net Result: Inigo wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=animal Handling Vs Ser Lennard=spears
< Inigo: Good Success Ser_Lennard: Good Success
< Net Result: Inigo wins - Marginal Victory
Martyn offers a bit of a grin over in Justin's direction. "Well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall," he comments a bit lightly. He then adds, "Good job out there…"
Inigo rides to his place, lifting his lance in salute at the other knight before readying himself to the signal to go. By contrast, the Vance knight and his brown courser are a much sleeker, slimmer pair as they race forward to joust. He sits low, perhaps trying to get as much hold on the horse as he can, while aiming his lance high to try and use his opponent's weight against him.
"But it is fun to imagine who they are beneath their helmets, wouldn't you agree?" Katrin says with a smile. "Whether they be noble or commoner." She tucks back her hair, eyes sparkling with delight.
Lifting his hands to hoot from his perch in the stands, Dmitry calls a totally helpful, "Stay on the horse, cous!" Aren't you glad you brought him to Seagard.
Although still in the shade, Jocelyn leans back a little and starts to fan herself. The heat of the day was starting to make itself evidently. Turning to her maid she leans and whispers something about needing a drink. Letting the woman move through the crowd in search for one. The next two take their place and again her eyes are set to not miss a thing.
Justin gives a nod to Ser Gareth, then smiles to Martyn, "Aye, I hope my cousin stays horsed."
"Oh yes," Anais agrees with Katrin, looking over the mystery knights as well. "Whatever the reason for riding as a mystery knight, it's certainly bound to make an interesting story for someone. If things play out that way. It's just as likely the winner could be…One of the decorated Reach knights, after all."
Use his weight against him, Ser Inigo does. Though Ser Lennard delivers a thunderous hit, and appears at first to absorb that dealt him by Ser Inigo, experienced observers will note that the Hightower's seat upon his mount is not very good at all. He may be strong enough to give and take significant strikes, but at the slightest provocation, he loses his balance and is tumbled into the dirt.
Ser Lennard's lance smashes against Inigo loudly and hard enough to shatter, knocking the Vance knight back…but thankfully not out of his saddle. Ouch. He slows his horse at the end of the line and looks down at himself, gingerly rolling his shield arm as if expecting some part of him to be missing or have a hole punched through him. Turning his stallion about, he turns to see if his opponent still stays up and finds Ser Lennard unseated, to his satisfaction. The knight is given another salute for hitting like an avalanche. Then Inigo rides back to the lists, bowing and waving at the crowd as he goes. Hello, hello.
Rising from where she was Dania starts to weave her way through the crowd. She is not certain of the rules of the joust. But she has an idea. She holds her basket against her hip and she is moving in the direction of the lines. She is careful as she weaves her way through the crowd. It is then by chance she spots Kain with the white ribbon in his hand. She looks away and casts a look over her shoulder at the lists.
"Oh! Oh, my goodness!" Lark tucks her bag of cookies under her arm to she can applaud wildly, grinning so hard her face must hurt. "Two for two! I wish I'd wagered something," she tells Nathaniel and her cousin. She cups her hands around her mouth. "INIGO, INIGO, INIGO! HURRAY!"
Dmitry laughs aloud and claps for Inigo with demonstrably amused enthusiasm.
Jarod joins in the cheering for Inigo as the Vance knight does come out the better of that tilt. "Riverlands is making a fine showing today," he says to Hugh, with no small amount of pride. "I bet some of these knights from the Land of Flowers figured they'd make easier money."
"That's very well done." Justin watches and though unexpected, is quite pleased to see Inigo stay in the saddle after that pass. He grins and slaps his gauntlet against his thigh a few times, his other arm occupied with shield and reins. When Inigo rides past, Justin raises his baritone, "Good job, cousin!"
The line of knights is slowly starting to get smaller and a smile appears on Katrin's lips as she lets her gaze sweep over those remaining again. "Do you have any favorites on who might win?" she asks of her new Tourney friend, glancing aside to Anais.
Ser Lennard hauls himself to his feet and gathers up a big chunk of broken lance that has landed beside him, then steps over to bow to Inigo as he rides by, and bows to Patrek and Syrah on the dais as well. Then he leads his horse back towards the edge of the lists to watch, looking disappointed but, unlike his fellow Reach-knight Ser Frederyck, not angry.
The heralds step up to indicate that the next challenge belongs to Kittridge.
Hugh laughs and claps, stepping back a bit. He pats the horse and examines the saddle again, unnecessarily as the next knights move forward.
Lark heaves a sigh. "I absolutely must bring flowers to the next tourney. I think if I started throwing cookies at people, it might be misinterpreted." She wrinkles her nose and makes a face.
"I haven't the slightest idea who'll win," Anais smiles crookedly to Katrin. "There are too many knights I've never even heard of today. But I'll admit, I do hope Lord Justin does well. It would be quite the feather in his cap, don't you think?"
The ranger runs a finger over the stitching, every now and then looking up at the next impact of the joust. It's interesting enough to watch, but it's more likely that he's a bit enraptured that someone had given him a gift like that before. Setting it back into his cloak, he looks about the area again, but this time he gets a different result, spotting Dania. His feet are moving then, heading towards her. "Mistress Dania." he greets. "I didn't expect to see you here. Come to watch the tilt?"
Hands coming together, Jocelyn claps after the match takes place, a smooth win. Obviously a skilled man. Her maid returns be the end, bringing her a glass. Accepting it, she takes a long drink of the liquid, hoping it will do something to cool her.
"Told you so," Martyn offers in Justin's direction, before he grins a bit at Inigo's waving at the crowd. Looking to the crowds for a few moments, studying those he knows a bit carefully for a few moments, then back to the action.
Kittridge dons his helm, accepts the lance his squire hands him, and shares a quick smile with the lad before nudging his horse out into the lines. He mutters something to his brother as he passes, and rides down the line… all the way down. He turns to start back up again, and then, in a fit of indecisiveness, wheels back around, heading towards the trio of mystery knights. His lance points first at one, and then the other, and then, with an exaggerated shrug so it can be seen in the stands, chooses the one in the middle.
Pariston moves towards Dania and Kain, who are not too far away from where he first was. "That actually looks to be kind of fun. Now I might get why people become knights." He offers with a loud chuckle. Then turning to those around and inclining his head to them.
"Ser Kittridge is a fine jouster. I saw him ride at the Twins, and he was one of the champions that day," Jarod says to Hugh. "Though I'll admit…I wouldn't mind seeing one of those mystery fellows unhorse him." He adds quick, "Just to keep things sporting."
The heralds announce, "SER KITTRIDGE GROVES CHALLENGES…" they trail off, and step over to speak briefly with the mystery knight in question before clearing their throat and adding, "THE RAVEN KNIGHT."
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kittridge=spears Vs Ravensknight=animal Handling
< Kittridge: Good Success Ravensknight: Failure
< Net Result: Kittridge wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kittridge=animal Handling Vs Ravensknight=spears
< Kittridge: Good Success Ravensknight: Success
< Net Result: Kittridge wins - Solid Victory
As she weaves her way through the crowd she passes Nathaniel and Lark. A bright cheerful smile touches Dania face as hears Larks Declaration. "I would rather have the cookies. That is just me!" Dania says as she passes.
Hearing her name Dania looks back over in Kain's direction. She moves towards him as he moves towards her. A meeting in the middle if you would. "I am here for that. My brother will be joining in the Melee and Lord Ser Justin Terrick is here and Mallisters. So I thought I would come and watch. I am also hoping to come and watch the archery competition." Her eyes are bright and she offers him cheerful smile. "How about yourself? I know you said you were coming for the competition for the Archery, did you have a pleasant journey here?"
Kittridge tips his head to his chosen opponent, and turns his dark grey charger to head toward his end of the lists.
Nicodemus has been mostly just watchful, thus far, though he offers a whistle, and taps a gauntleted hand to his shield as his twin moves forward and challenges the Raven Knight.
Lark leans her head on her cousin's shoulder and sighs happily. "Oh, I'm torn. A myst'ry knight's so… mysterious but Ser Kittridge is funny. I do so love a funny lad."
Hugh nods to Jarod, thankful of the play by play. He asks, "Have you wagered any money on this tournament? Do you have a favor from Lady Rowenna?"
Having been standing easy the whole time watching the rounds go by, the Ravensknight is surprised when Ser Kittridge's lance rests to him. He points to himself. Yep, definitely him. He gives his opponent a nod before he mounts up and prepares, looking less than certain in his saddle. Facing off, he gives his salute and waits nervously for the signal, barely holding his steed back from charging before the cue.
Justin shifts in his saddle and watches as Ser Kittridge passes by not once, but twice, ere he makes his challenge. He let's out a breath, "Ser Kittridge is very good with horse and lance. Whoever the RavenKnight may be, he'll have his work cut out for him." He glances over to Martyn.
Jarod shakes his head to Hugh, as to wagers. "Hoping to make my money in the lists," he says, a touch of nerves creeping into his tone. 'Hoping' is plainly the key word. Though the question about the favor just makes him beam. And lift his wrist, to show off the lock of dark hair, tied with a golden ribbon. "Not unlike the first favor she gave me, though I didn't know it was her that time. She gifted me my first one as a Mystery Lady at the tournament at Stonebridge. I think I rather prefer getting to ask, though."
"I am. There are few things that get my attention like an archery competition." Kain admits with slightly smirk, pulling back his hood just enough so it isn't obscured by a mass of shadows. "I will wish your brother luck then in melee. But here? I'm here to watch Ser Justin. He earned his knighthood and I'm here to support that." Another glance at who's going to be going next. "I'm well, spent the last week in the woods trying to make up catching game i wasn't able to during the bandit problem. And I walked. A pleasant walk though."
"That's quite true," Martyn replies to Justin's words, unable to hold back a bit of a grin, as he turns to watch this little battle, frowning a little bit.
"I've seen a fair few incognito knights do well in the lists," Ser Gareth comments as over the breadth of long experience, fingering his beard. "Sort of wonder about the ravens, I'll admit. Not exactly mighty heraldry—" Says the fellow with the flowers on his shield.
Nathaniel watches the jousts with keen interest, groaning audibly when Justin sways in the saddle from that blow to his shield, and cheering whenever other knights from House Terrick do well. When he sees her looking into the new almost empty bag, he leans again her. "Take one back for yourself, if you'd like," he offers, showing her that he still has two of the cookies that she was so kind to give to him. "They're delicious." He looks toward the field again to watch the next clamorous charges.
"It would be lovely for Lord Justin to do well," Katrin agrees. "I have met him a few times and he seems quite a compassionate man," she says. She smiles cheerfully. "Of course I cheer for Ser Martyn that he might win. But so long as he emerges mostly unscathed, I will be pleased."
There is a look to Kain as Pariston is a bit intrigued about the man being in the archery competition. Grinning at that, though for now he won't interupt their conversation, just listening and letting his eyes go to the joust.
Each of the bouts today have gone rather quickly, and this one is perhaps the quickest yet. When the signal is given, Ser Kittridge urges his horse forward at a sprint, and his lance hits home precisely where it's meant to. The Raven Knight's counter-strike hits him squarely, but it is not enough to knock the Groves from him saddle.
"Stupid fucking horse," the Ravensknight mutters as his steed gets restless. "This is why I didn't even want to do the jo - " And they're off! There's a rather shaky start to his run, though he mostly gets the beast under control again by the time lances land. He leans… aims… and goes flying from his mount, beautifully unhorsed by Ser Kittridge in one blow. It takes the man a little while to pick himself up, having had the wind knocked from him - not to mention the mighty pain in his chest and shoulder. "Ohhhh," he groans, stiffly offering his salutes before moving off. He doesn't look too crushed by the defeat, as though he expected it.
There's another cheer from the waiting contenders as Kittridge wins his match, as once again Nicodemus beats on his shield. "Well done, Kitt! Well played!"
Having sat up a bit straighter again, Jocelyn watches with antcipation for the joust between Kittridge and one of the mysterious riders. Pleased with the outcome of the finished result, claping her hands together once more.
"And I'm sure Ser Martyn will be as well," Anais grins to Katrin. "A good day for the Riverlands in the lists so far."
Hugh smiles to Jarod, "I should have bet against you on it." He peers at the favor. "Well, now you will have to win!"
Despite the difficulties between their two houses, Justin nonetheless applauds Ser Kittridge by rapping his knuckles against his shield, "See? He did very well at the Frey's tournament and I expect he'll do well here." Justin pauses to look around, "I rather expected to see Ser Riordan here, today." His left side and shoulder aching, he lifts a hand to press into his maile before he looks around. Ah! There's Mistress Dania and Master Kain not far from himself, on the other side of the list fence. Justin smiles and watches them both a moment until the next round.
Martyn nods a bit as he sees Kittridge unhorse his mysterious opponent, watching a bit carefully at the moment. Keeping silent as he looks between the others still participating though. Studying them each carefully for the moment.
Dmitry is less obnoxious in his applause for Kittridge Groves than for his own family members, but he does still applaud.
"His spurs were well deserved Master Kain, I agree with you whole heartily. Myself I found a lovely place by the stream. It is a good place to relax and think. I have Sparrow back. So I will not be begging rides from my brother and others. He and I will be back and working with the farmers. He lost a bit of weight but he will put it back on. It is a good thing he is an easy keeper. Not as easy as Donkey or Mule, but he is close." Dania laughs. She offers a slight curtsy to Justin as she sees him and then to Pariston she offers a wave. "Master Kain this is Master Pariston. He is also hunter and works with the House Flint he is the guard to Lady Nightingale." She forgets herself for a moment and uses a nickname that she has for Tia. Her eyes go to the List as another rounds happens Her eyes are glued to it for a moment.
Kittridge rides around to make sure his opponent is unhurt, as the Raven Knight is slow in rising. He begins to dismount just as the dark mystery knight gets to his feet, and he returns that salute, bowing to Lord Patrek and waving to someone in the stands (or maybe just everyone) before heading back to retake his place in line.
The heralds nod to Nicodemus, though one frowns thoughtfully and turns to whisper to the other, who then also frowns. They continue to whisper as the other Ser Groves makes his choice.
"It seems only right that a knight of the Riverlands win the tourney," Katrin considers. "This is our homeland and we simply cannot allow others to ride through and steal our glory." She flashes a smile. Her head tilts. "Lady Anais, who is that?" she asks, nodding toward Nicodemus. "I do not believe I have seen him before."
Larks smiles gratefully at Nathaniel, but shakes her head. "Oh, no thank you. Please enjoy them. I've been doing nothing but eat cookies since I got up this — " She eeps as the Ravensknight is unhorsed, gasping and then bouncing again, offering the victor more wild applause. "Oh, this is so exciting." She turns to Alona, asking, "Is Ser Kittridge fair under his helm? I didn't see."
The other Ser Groves moves forward and down the line of sigils. Nicodemus lifts his lance and taps it at the rose that stands for Ser Gareth Tyrell, sending the little wooden image spinning. His choice made, he nods to the man it signifies and then trots his black courser down to the end of the lists.
"If luck doesn't find me it's entirely her fault," Jarod says with a chuckle to Hugh. "That's how favors work, you know. That's Ser Kittridge's twin, Ser Nicodemus Groves." He points to the next Groves in line. "He went into exile rather than bend the knee to King Robert, after the Rebellion. The Groves fought for the Royals, you see. I guess he worked out some way to come home, though. I met him brief on the Iron Isles, though he was calling himself Benedict Lawson, then, and posing as a hedge knight. Decent with a blade, though I'd put my money on the Tyrell in this one."
"Good, I'm glad you were able to retreive your hoes. I know your own was quite important to you." Kain states, nodding. "I still have to speak with my contacts over the other missing items, but at least that's one thing we can cross off the list of many." Watching Dania's gaze he turns to find Justin, and returns with a nod and slight wave of his own, before he's suddenly being introduced to Pariston. "I've met Master Vis in the serach for you and the others. And I'm not ashamed to admit that Master Vis here is a better tracker than I. Aftersoon, Master. Enjoying the tilt?"
Ser Gareth grins bluffly, thumping the butt of his lance once more against the earth underfoot. "Ah, and another young knight has chosen to risk the pound of the Hammer," he says, good nature in the rumbling humor of his voice. "Ride well, Ser." His chestnut stallion, a large and glossy beast well-trained to the tourney knight's passions, is light on his feet as the big Tyrell rides forth.
Anais cranes her neck at Katrin's question, looking over the lists and trying to gauge who's where. "That looks like…" She pauses, brows rising. "That might be Ser Nicodemos Groves," she answers. "I remember Lady Rosanna saying he'd returned. Bold, showing up for the tournament. Good for him."
"SER NICODEMUS GROVES CHALLENGES SER GARETH TYRELL, THE HAMMER OF HIGHGARDEN," announce the heralds. A murmur goes up from some parts of the crowd, both nobles who recognize the name of the exiled Groves brother, and the commoners who are loving that the heralds were somehow bribed to announce Ser Gareth's nickname.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Nicodemus=spears Vs Ser Gareth=animal Handling
< Nicodemus: Good Success Ser_Gareth: Good Success
< Net Result: Ser_Gareth wins - Marginal Victory<FS3> Opposed Roll — Nicodemus=animal Handling Vs Ser Gareth=spears
< Nicodemus: Failure Ser_Gareth: Good Success
< Net Result: Ser_Gareth wins - Solid Victory
Pariston smiles and nods to Dania and Kain, having met Kain before. "Master Kain, I hope you have been well. And thank you for that compliment. Though you were of great help as well." He offers and then grins at Dania's nickname for Tia. He is rather sure that she means lady Tiaryn at least. There is a nod about enjoying the tilt "I am, even though I am to fully understand it yet. How about you? Is it to your pleasure?" He asks and then tilts his head. "So, you're participating in the archery contest? Then we might get to see who is the better archer." He offers and grins.
Dmitry leans forward with his elbows on his knees, eyebrows up as he studies Nicodemus ahorse. His lips lift only a very little at one corner over the Hammer's nickname.
Larks cousin leans over and stage-whispers, "They say the 'hammer' is his — " Lark gasps and blushes, giggling as she puts her hands over Alona's mouth. "Hush, you!"
"A Hammer made of flowers does not sound that imposing, does it?" Martyn comments a bit absently after he's seen Ser Gareth make his way forward. "It'll be interesting to see, though." Studying Nicodemus a bit more closely at the moment, expression thoughtful.
Justin still isn't close enough to Jarod in the line up to speak to his half brother, so he gives Kittridge a nod when that man retakes his place, "Well ridden, Ser." To Martyn he muses, "Perhaps the ladies like to be knocked out by his rose." Justin smiles, in good humor despite his ache.
"Well I see you both are in it. It will be good show then. As I have a feeling you are both very skilled. I am very interested to see this." Dania tells both men with a charming smile. "As for the rules I do not have the slightest clue, this is my first Joust. Master Kain do you know the rules and can you explain them to us?" She gives a bright cheery smile.
Nicodemus lowers his helm before taking proper hold of his lance. Shield lifted, lance at the ready, he gives a kick to his horse's sides and sends the eager mare charging down the lists and towards The Hammer of Highgarden.
Ser Gareth draws his helm down over his face, the clean-forged metal gleaming golden-gilt in the sunlight. He lifts his lance in salute, his saddle stance that of a knight who has done this countless times. Then he surges forth, and his horse charges in a sudden thunder of pounding hooves. (Those are not the hammer.)
Nathaniel smiles broadly when Lark declines his offer. "Then I am happy to enjoy them," he tells her. "Thank you." He continues to watch, and cranes his neck when the heralds announce Ser Gareth. While he munches the second cookie, he watches the next joust.
Nicodemus's lance lands a decent blow on Ser Tyrell, but the other man's greater size and strength shows, and when The Hammer's lance slams into Nicodemus's shield, the Groves knight goes toppling from his horse. He's up on his feet after a moment, offering a salute to Ser Gareth before collecting Lady and making his way off the field.
"I would not miss an archery contest for anything, Master Vis." Kain replies, letting a smile creep over his face. Finally, he decides to pull his hood down all the way at this point. "I don't really go to win, I just enjoy the idea of being challenged by other men skilled in the bow. If I should would be nice, but I don't mind being bested by those better skilled than I. Only makes me want to do better. But competing against you? I think I'd enjoy that." The question about the how the tilt works makes him glance at Nicodemus and Gareth taking turns against one another. "I don't claim to know the offical rules, really. I don't often go to tilts, but more or less; knock your opponent off their horse. If neither falls, you take another pass at each other. If both men fall, it ends in a draw. The winner moves onto the next round, the loser doesn't." He shrugs then. "I'm sure there's more details and nuances to how it works, but that's what I was told when I asked once."
Kittridge does not seem particularly surprised by his brother's choice, looking Ser Gareth and his mount over briefly before turning back to eye the crowd, scanning it, and watching to see reactions to his twin's announcement, if he can pick any out. The he turns back to watch the contest, wincing at its outcome.
Roslyn is late to the jousts, flushing from practically sprinting from her tents to the lists, her fingers caught up into her skirts as she frees them from her feet to make her way here all the quicker. Plain wool fares well for taking a quick seat in the stands, the soft yellow color at least sitting well against her coloring. She does not look for friends nor family yet, instead turning her attention to scan the knights first with a neutral sweep of wide eyes marking each.
Ser Gareth bears down on Nicodemus shining in gold and green. His hooves pound, his lance brought to bear on the younger knight with the weight of experience to go with all his heavy strength. It is not the prettiest hit, but more like the smash of an avalanche, all power and weight and not very floral. (Is that the hammer?) He stays his seat despite the solid slam of Nicodemus's strike, and then rides out in a greater circle, watching as the other man regains his feet and then turning his stallion back to join the line of knights.
The grey gelding tosses his head, the horse jangling his bit. Impatient to go again, Justin's horse paws the ground several times in testiness. The Terrick pulls his head back up, "Shh.. " but his horse side steps and bumps Martyn's horse with his hind quarters. It stops the grey, Justin then using his leg to get the horse to step over and back into place. And there they go! The Groves man goes down!
Martyn blinks as Miramis is bumped into, taking a few moments to steady his horse, as the animal moves around a bit. "Easy, Miramis, easy…" he mutters to it, managing to steady the animal.
Another wince comes from Jocelyn when Nicodemus falls frorm his horse. Obviously internally have been cheering him above the other rider. This time she doesnt clap as the end of this match. Leaning towards her Lady's Maid she says something to her quietly, gesturing toward the field with her cup.
Jarod lets out a low whistle at the thundering of Ser Gareth's stroke. "Don't call him the Hammer for nothing," he quips to Hugh.
Hugh nods and makes a note to develop a really cool nickname for himself in the future.
"So says every whore in Highgarden," Ser Hoxley Redwyne calls over to Jarod, overhearing his quip.
"Ooh!" Nathaniel exclaims as The Hammer lives up to his billing and slams into his opponent. He also applauds when the dismounted rider rolls with the blow and rises quickly to his feet. "It wasn't so bad, I think," he says to Lark and Alora, "but I'm sure that he'll feel /that/ for quite a while!"
Justin huffs a breath, "Perhaps the Hammer is a name well earned." A sideways glance to Martyn, "Sorry, Steadfast thinks he's still a young stallion, sometimes. Don't you boy?" The grey looks annoyed, not his usual, quiet self. Justin laughs at the quipping back and forth.
"Ha!" Jarod laughs at the call from Ser Hoxley. He calls back merrily, "Good on him. Far better than having the girls call you The Wilter or some such."
Hugh laughs and then shakes his head. "Ser Jarod, perhaps you need a good nickname. But not that one."
As Sers Nicodemus and Gareth recover and vacate the field, the heralds point to Martyn. He's up next!
The moment Martyn's name is called, the Knight of Arrows pulls a single arrow from the strap of his shield. It's a simple arrow, with crimson fletching. The Knight simply points it at Martyn, and follows Martyn with the arrow wherever the other knight moves, as if in challenge.
"Indeed, will you both be staying the entire event?" Dania asks them both and she cannot help but wince as the hammer makes contact with the knight and the knight falls to the ground. She looks back to them both. "My bones ache for the poor man." As Martyn's name is called she grows quiet and her eyes are now glued to the Lists.
"Oh…" Katrin murmurs to herself. "It seems it is not the best day for Groves then," she says as he is unseated. "I suppose it falls to Ser Kittridge to do well for his House then." She sits a little straighter as it appears Martyn is next. The movement of the Knight of Arrows draws her attention and a sudden frown appears. "Oh no." The Haigh is suddenly very restless. "No, no no no."
There is a low chuckle on Ser Gareth's breath as he rejoins the other knights to hear the buzz of his own fame. He lifts his helm again and settles on his horse, glancing aside amongst the others. His expression turns somewhat quizzical as his gaze lights on the activities of one of the mystery knights. "What form is that supposed to be?" he says.
"Nice work, Ser Hammer," Martyn offers in Ser Gareth's direction, before he hears his own name called. Pausing a bit to look between the others, he pauses a bit as he sees the Knight of Arrows and his arrow-pointing. Looking a bit thoughtful, he moves forward to the right place to indicate that he has picked that one. Challenge: Accepted.
Pariston chuckles and nods to Kain, "That sounds good. More or less the same for me, though it does pain me a bit to know that I am still not good enough to beat them all, if I lose. But it works well to make me better." He offer back. Then looking to Dania, he shrugs. "I would think so. Unless something happens."
Anais' brows rise at the Knight of Arrows, and she starts to perk up until Katrin starts with the no. "No?" she echoes, glancing to the other woman. "This is what's supposed to be fun about mystery knights." She pauses, then grins wickedly, leaning closer to Katrin. "Do you know who it is?" she whispers. Or as much whispers as one can in a noisy spectator crowd.
Ser Gareth is not the only one to notice the odd arrow pointing. Justin sits up a bit straighter in his own saddle though it makes his side ache, "I don't know what that's about. Unless … we have a mystery 'knight' come from the Iron Isles?" Would one dare?
"SER MARTYN MALLISTER," the heralds pause for cheering at the name, "CHALLENGES THE…KNIGHT OF ARROWS?"
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Martyn=spears Vs Knightofarrows=animal Handling
< Martyn: Good Success Knightofarrows: Good Success
< Net Result: Knightofarrows wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Martyn=animal Handling Vs Knightofarrows=spears
< Martyn: Failure Knightofarrows: Good Success
< Net Result: Knightofarrows wins - Solid Victory
The Knight of Arrows bows his head slightly to Ser Martyn, and hands the arrow to his squire. The boy takes it, and the knight rides forward, taking his place on the field.
"I'm called the Half-Eagle, which does me well enough," Jarod says to Hugh. "I'm sure I picked up a few choicer ones after that business with knighting Rowenna, and having my spurs chopped, but Half-Eagle is what I'm trying to make stick." He cranes his neck back toward the lists as the next match starts. "Ser Martyn's more a melee man than a jouster, but I'll take a Mallister over a mystery."
Oh, look. Once settled and with a firm understanding of where certain knights wait, Roslyn catches sight of Katrin with a hint of interest as Martyn is called out, a brow curving upwards before she stands and slips through the crowd to make her way to the paired ladies. "Lady Anais, Lady Katrin," she greets warmly, sliding up next to them. "An interesting way to challenge a man, is it not?"
"I don't know about the entire event. I have things that're expected of me and there is always food to catch for the Roost." Kain states to Dania. "I can't just ignore that. I've already been distracted by it too much as it is, recently. There will always be work that needs to be done. Managed to live up to my promises thus far and I don't want to start breaking them now."
Also moving to take his place on the field, Martyn's gaze moves in the direction of the Lord of Seagard for a few moments, before it moves over the crowd, seeking out one lady in particular for a few moments, before he moves to the right place and finishes getting ready for action. Shaking his head a few quick times before being ready to send Miramis charging forward.
"He is going to get himself killed," Katrin says, shaking her head. "Has he no sense, whatsoever?" Her face is pale. She ignores Anais' question, eyes focused on the lists. Even Roslyn doesn't get her attention.
Well, that's impolite, Katrin. Likely, Roslyn will forgive her anyways, as she glances sidelong towards Anais with a questioning look for the girl's words. "Who?" she repeats. Because if you ask enough questions, you are bound to eventually get an answer. An aside to the Lady Terrick, she also adds, "How fare you today, my lady?"
At seeing her cousin, Jocelyn lifts a hand and waves to the Roslyn from where she sits, just before she sits down with the Ladies Anais and Katrin. Smiling softly in that direction before looking back to the field.
"Lady Roslyn," Anais smiles swiftly to the Nayland lady as she approaches. "We were just…" But she looks to Katrin again, nudging her gently. "Are there gentlemen fighting over your favor and you're not even going to tell us about it?" she asks, only half teasing.
Just one more face in the crowd, Nedra is seated in the stands with her Septa seated alongside her, a pair of their armsmen seated behind them, watching as the tourney progresses. Nedra leans forward as she watches this bout, recognizing her cousin in the list, holding her breath as it commences. Holding her breath, that is, until Anathe elbows her lightly, "Breathe, child," is murmured in a tone of voice that's amused at how focused Nedra is on each pass.
KnightOfArrows charges at Ser Martyn. As inexperienced as his squire seemed, the Knight of Arrows seems to be confident and trained. While his spear seems well-matched with Martyn's, he handles his horse in the impact better, remaining steady as they clash. As the match finishes, the Knight of Arrows looks into the crowd, and bows his head at someone in the stands, before galloping back to the line.
As his horse charges forward, Martyn takes aim with his lance all the way into the impact. But at the critical moment, the combination of horse and rider doesn't quite succeed, sending the Mallister knight tumbling out of his saddle and hitting the ground. He takes a few moments, but manages to get to his feet, while removing his helmet. A few deep breaths, and he offers a gesture to the crowd, indicating he's at least mostly unhurt. Looking in the direction of the man that unseated him, he offers a bit of a bow. "Well done," he offers, before moving himself out of the way now.
Hugh looks up and sees the Lady Roslyn watching. He is attending Jarod. And he will smile at her and lift a hand if she looks.
Hardwicke is indeed on the lists. He has been here the entire time. You just can't see because of the power of his scowl.
"Shit!" Jarod can't hold back an exclamation of surprise when Martyn goes down. He winces. "Not quite as good a showing as Ser Calvan. Pity." He eyes that knight of arrows with more interest, and more open curiosity. It's an appraising sort of eyeing, which narrows slight in thought.
As Ser Martyn is unseated, Lord Patrek frowns, leaning over to speak quietly with one of his advisors who only shakes his head and shrug. He settled back, still scowling a little, though he offers the Knight of Arrows a small nod of acknowledgement for his victory.
Roslyn already saw you, Hardwicke. When she did her very vague scan of the knights, in which she named no one. But this time as she watches the clash of knights, she catches sight of her young cousin with a touch of a smile, lifting her own hand in a light gesture. Her smile lingers where she looks to Justin as well. "Was that the outcome that you wanted at least, Lady Katrin?" Roslyn asks in as low a murmur as she can manage.
Dmitry cocks an eyebrow at the showing made by the knight getting all arrow-fancy because that is, like, his schtick. He doesn't applaud for a Mallister unhorsed, though; his mouth hidden behind the curve of his fingers, he glances back toward the lined up knights.
There goes Martyn, having trouble with his horse at a critical moment. Justin grimaces and pats his gelding, "You just keep behaving yourself." He turns his head, bared with his helm removed, to look up towards the stands. Does Lord Patrek and his betrothed look as though they are enjoying their tournament? Is Lady Anais and his brother still seated up there together? Wait, there is Lady Roslyn! Justin watches her from where he sits mounted in the line inside of the lists before he glances back to see if Ser Martyn is all right.
There is a visible Wince from Dania and she shakes her head. "Damnit, at least his ribs have had a chance to heal from the last Melee he was in. Poor Lord Ser Martyn Mallister." She shakes her head and looks back to her companions. "Hrm… I will have to brother him after this for I am not certain I am allowed to that and he may go to the Maesters." She says lightly. She looks to Kain and then to Pariston and then back to Kain. "Master Kain what is that white cloth you have?" She pays with the fabric of her blue apron dress.
Anais is indeed still sitting with Jacsen, though it's Roslyn and Katrin who seem to have most of her attention at the moment. "Oh my," she grins when Martyn goes down, quickly tamping down the expression as she looks to Katrin. "This is why knights ride as mystery knights, Lady Katrin," she answers the other woman's earlier question. "For the favor of lovely ladies."
Nedra makes a small sound of dismay, wincing as the conclusion of the match and leaning back again, taking a much deeper breath and a sigh of relief when Martyn gains his feet and removes his helmet. This breath helps her color return to a more normal shade before she murmurs, "That always looks just so positively jarring," to Anathe. "I dare say the horse possibly doesn't enjoy it either," she wonders with another small shake of her head.
Oh, Anais, Katrin, and Roslyn are sitting in the same general area? Rosanna was…sitting somewhere else. But now she is here! She flashes a warm smile to the three women. "My ladies," she greets as she takes a seat, her septa settling nearby. "It's even more brilliant than the Twins, isn't it?"
Katrin's expression is torn. Concern over Martyn's health combined with a faint smile as the mysterious knight goes unscathed. "I… I do not know, Lady Roslyn," she admits in an equally quiet voice. "If you ladies would excuse me." She rises and gives both a curtsey. "I should…" Yeah, fill in your own ideas of what she has to do because the Haigh doesn't even bother trying to make up a lie. She just hurries down the steps and away.
Dmitry's eyebrows continue their climb as his dark glance marks Lady Katrin's skedaddle.
As Ser Martyn is unhorsed, the crowd makes a sound of disappointment, but at least it was by a mystery knight! They can also cheer for that, because, you know, EXCITING. The two clear the field and the heralds nod to the red-haired knight bearing the shield of the Arbor, blue shield painted with burgundy-red grapes, his personal device adding a hawk in flight above them. Her scratches briefly at a gingery mustache and chin-beard, and dons his helm, hawk wings jutting out from either side. He rides down the lines, and then turns and heads back up, tapping the tower and dragon of House Vance. "SER HOXLEY REDWYNE, HAWK OF THE ARBOR, CHALLENGES SER INIGO VANCE!" proclaims the herald. These Reach knights and their nicknames. You can almost see the retainer rolling his eyes.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=spears Vs Ser Hoxley=animal Handling
< Inigo: Great Success Ser_Hoxley: Good Success
< Net Result: Inigo wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=animal Handling Vs Ser Hoxley=spears
< Inigo: Good Success Ser_Hoxley: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
Anais watches Katrin depart, then turns a wry smile on Rosanna. "I'm quite certain we just missed something fascinating, Lady Rosanna," she admits, making room for the Groves lady where Katrin has fled. "But the arrow knight there convinced Ser Martyn to challenge him, and Ser Martyn was carrying Lady Katrin's favor. Theories?" she invites, smile flashing.
"This should be interesting. Ser Inigo rode well in his last tilt, but Ser Hoxley's a reputation as a fine tournament knight," Jarod mutters to Hugh, in his continued commentary on the competitors.
Lark perks up with bright interest as Ser Inigo is called once more. She bounces and claps. "VANCE!" she cries. "VANCE! INIGO-NIGO VANCE!" And thus was cheerleading born. Bring it on.
"He's a stalwart man, he'll be alright. Don't know about competing in the melee, but let's hope." Kain replies, watching on. Even he has to give a low whistle at the sound of impact and the feel of it as the air pressure changes with the strike. The mention of the favor surprises him. "Ah, I guess you saw me looking that, then." he states, pulling it out of the inside of his cloak. "A boy gave it to me. I don't rightly know who would give me a favor. It's well made though, someone certainly put some thought into it. It's just…surprising. If anyone has fancied me, I haven't been informed, but I really can't imagine why they would. Last I checked, women don't often look to the dirty hunter."
"She seemed rather upset at it, and said she was unsure if she got the outcome she'd prefer," Roslyn admits in quiet tones to Rosanna where she greets the younger lady with a smile and gossip.
Hugh listens intently, absorbing everything he hears and sees.
After the match is met and Martyn falls, the movement from near the Ladies she knows draws her attention. seeing Katrin get up and leave, just like that. Lifting a brow in question, again not saying anything as she isnt close enough to anyone she knows. However, before she knows it, the next match is being called and her eyes drift back to the field.
"Ser Martyn is carrying Lady Katrin's favor?" Rosanna says with a hint of surprise when she settles. "Well, I suppose Lord Rafferdy isn't available for her to give it to. Ser Martyn's certainly a more respectable choice for it, anyways." She smooths her hands down her skirts.
Sitting easily (lazily) in his saddle, Inigo looks perhaps a little surprised to find himself challenge, sitting up straight again as he's challenged by Ser Hoxley Redwyne. So chosen, however, he is prompt to pick up a new lance and heel his stallion to take up his place at the line. He salutes the other knight with a lift of his lance before lowering it again, shifting a little in his saddle as he waits to tilt.
His horse quieter for the moment, Justin watches the next round pairing off before his own gaze returns to watching the stands. He twists in the saddle and motions for the Terrick house retainer who's been handling his lances to come forward. Justin says something low to the man, then sends him off on some brief errand.
"But my brother is not a knight," Roslyn begins to counter, in some inborn sense of defense of her family, "He is an arche—." Oh hey. Her gaze slides to the lists again, narrowing on that 'Knight' of Arrows.
Anais pauses, looking to the knights on the field and slowly breaking into a grin. "Isn't Lord Rafferdy usually an archer?" she asks, looking to Roslyn with an arch of her brow. "I suppose armor could be made to cover his arms," she adds with a sly look to Rosanna. She still holds Jacsen's hand at her side, apparently at ease with her husband today.
Ser Hoxley salutes his opponent, and guides his dark grey horse out into the lists. He must do this often, as he seems to have a little pre-tilt routine, checking each gauntlet twice, twirling his lance once in his hand, then shutting his visor and crouching down, off like a shot when the signal to charge is given.
Pariston grins as Kain explains about the favor. "I think there are quite a deal of people having their eyes on you, without you realizing." He offers and then shrugs. Watching as the new pair take off.
Dmitry glances up toward the ladies seats a little away from him, eyebrows up. "You know, it is technically possible to be both," he says lightly, and then resumes watching the match, leaning forward to watch his Vance cousin tilt again.
"Well, he's not a knight, but she's mad about him anyways," Rosanna says with the slightest roll of her eyes. "I can't imagine why, the way he behaves." Oh, sorry Roslyn is that your brother? Her gaze flicks back to the lists as Inigo and Hoxley face off, and she leans forward slightly to watch. Except for that little wiggle of her fingers she gives to Dmitry. "Of course, Ser Dmitry," she calls, a humoring smile playing on her lips.
Much to the dismay of the Redwynes and other Reachians in the stands, many of whom seem to have bet heavily on 'the Hawk', Ser Inigo manages a nifty strike that catches the perhaps-arrogant knight of the arbor in precisely the right spot. Despite his own well-aimed hit, and his sturdy seat in the saddle, the unlucky timing sends Ser Hoxley to the ground. He slams a fist against the dirt, and then gets to his feet, bowing stiffly to those assembled, and stalking off.
Inigo looks patient settling into his saddle as Ser Hoxley goes through what appears to be a routine, though his horse stamps a hoof with less patience than his rider. When the signal is given, the pair take off with a burst of speed and a flash of polished armor to the thunder of off hoof-beats. The Vance knight takes another blow this tilt, well positioned if not as hard as the last time, causing him to sway in his seat like he might fall this time…but he doesn't, righting himself straight once more and turning to find the other man unhorsed. Despite the other man's show of temper, he salutes 'the Hawk' again for a good show. Then he bows to those on the platform, before riding back to this lists, once again waving cheerily at the crowd as he does so.
"Huh." Jarod can't hide his surprise at the outcome of that tilt, but he cheers loud for Inigo nonetheless. It's pleasant surprise, at least.
Once again Nedra winces, glad to be far enough back from the field that - while the sound of the impact carries well enough that it can probably be heard well away from the field - it doesn't quite make her teeth ache to hear it from where she sits.
Ser Gareth looks surprised, too, losing a chuckle to his next exhalation. "That was quite a hit," he remarks, giving the younger knight a long look.
"A man certainly doesn't have to be a knight to be worth being mad about," Anais chuckles to Rosanna, leaning over to kiss Jacsen again. That's just gross. A husband and wife being affectionate. "The knights of the Roost are making quite a showing of themselves today," she approves, flashing a brief smile to Dmitry.
Justin raises his right hand as a fist up into the air, "Ser Inigo!" Of course he'll praise his cousin's victory! "Very well done!"
The best verb for Dmitry's reaction as Inigo slams the Redwyne right out of the saddle is a whoop, hands cupped to his mouth. This is how you can tell he was totally expecting Inigo to not win.
Kittridge seems surprised as well by the outcome, and grumbles a bit, perhaps (certainly) having laid a few bets himself. As he has for all the bouts, however, he applauds politely, enjoying the spectacle whatever the outcomes, it seems.
The heralds look to Hardwicke to challenge next.
Nathaniel twitches when Inigo lands a solid strike, and shouts, "Hurrah!" Then he nibbles at the last of the cookies that Lark shared with him, trying to savor the taste for as long as possible.
Lark SQUEALS and hugs her cousin, jumping up and down. "HUZZAH, SER INIGO! HUZZAH!" She looks positively overcome with delight, swooning into Alona's side. "Oh! That was marvelous. I think I'm dizzy."
Dmitry settles back in his seat again to cock an eyebrow back up at Rosanna, dark eyes lit bright with lingering humor. "I am delighted to see them do so indeed," he says. "Now it seems the captain's next to frown them off their horses."
Oh, his turn? Hardwicke spurs on his courser up the line, his gaze habitually hard. He finally comes to stand before Ser Hoxley, giving his sigil the lightest of taps with his lance to challenge.
The Terrick retainer does not go into the stands, but goes instead to the Warden of the Lists. He speaks to that man briefly, then returns to take his reply back to Justin.
Oh, his turn? Hardwicke spurs on his courser up the line, his gaze habitually hard. He finally comes to stand before Ser Gareth, giving his sigil the lightest of taps with his lance to challenge.
Jarod perks up with interest when Hardwicke steps up to joust. He offers the Terrick Captain of the Guard a knightly salute. When the man isn't looking at him. So he can perhaps avoid any glaring it might prompt.
"Master Kain there are qualities that you have been blessed with and other see this. As Master Pariston stated you do you have a few followers," Dania looks at the favor with what could appear as mild interest. "It looks well made, I recognize a number of the flowers." She adds she looks like she is about to say something else but she stumbles on the words in her head. Instead she says. "Master Pariston well put." She eyes the next round and she too looks surprised by the outcome. She turns and looks at the two men before her eyes go back to the joust.
Ser Gareth smiles at Hardwicke. "Ser," he acknowledges with bluff courtesy from the midst of his brown beard. He again taps the butt of his lance against the ground and then urges his massive chestnut stallion out to the field again. "The Hammer rides again!" he plays to the crowd a little, with the air of a man perfectly enjoying his own bombast.
"No," Rosanna agrees easily enough with Anais. "But he ought to behave better." Her smile warms on Dmitry as he chatters back at her. "You say you are a knight and an archer, ser, but I do not see you on the lists," she teases.
Seated among the retinue of Lady Lucienne, Ser Hardwicke's rather pregnant wife, Belle, reaches over and grab's another handmaid's hand. She sits up a bit straighter, tucking back a lock of golden hair, tense with anticipation — both excitement and dread.
"My brother is given to high passions," Roslyn—defends? Who knows, it is a rather polite, neutral statement that she gives, though her gaze flicks to linger a moment on Rosanna in a look. Yes, she is here and a Nayland.
Justin waits until Inigo comes back into the line next to himself and smiles to his cousin, "I bet you feel pretty good just now." He juts his chin out to indicate the next round, "This might be interesting." The retainer coming up to his stirrup distracts Justin to listen for the reply. He nods and looks towards the stands once more before Justin returns his attention to the next joust, "If you haven't see Ser Hardwicke joust, Inigo, he's very good."
Anais chuckles to Rosanna's quip to Dmitry. "Lord Dmitry is like a honeybee, Lady Rosanna," she teases. "He can be a fine and sharp-ended fighter, but in the end, he's mostly after the flowers and the honey, and that's all up here in the stands." As Roslyn defends her family, Anais reaches over to give her hand a squeeze, offering her silent support.
Martyn has finally gotten out of his armor, and makes his way over to find himself a spot he can watch the rest of the joust. Wearing a hooded cloak, with the hood up at the moment, he moves to find himself a place to watch from, if possible a bit away from the worst of the crowd. Hopefully the hood can protect him a bit from it as well now.
Kain looks at the favor in his head, then looks between Pariston and Dania for a moment, as if the two of them as if something had started to grow out their ears. "…like what?" he deadpans. He looks around him. "Followers?" That makes him look around him almost unconciously. Saying a man who likes to make sure his steps can't be tracked seems to unnerve him slightly. "I just fine what the two of you are saying hard to believe. And part of me thinks you're just pulling my leg. It's just odd. Not unwelcome. Flattering, even, but…odd."
Nathaniel turns to look at Lark when she speaks about being dizzy. "Perhaps you should take a walk for some fresh air," he suggest, looking at her with noticeable concern. "Or I can fetch a skin of water if that would help."
"Lady Anais knows me so well," Dmitry says with a brilliant smile. "I earned my knighthood with my arrows, Lady Rosanna, so it is with my arrows that I will make a showing here in Seagard. The Roost shows up very well without me today; I'd only weigh them down with a lance. And miss all the delicious gossip."
"Fantastic," Inigo answers Justin as he rides back to his place, removing his helm to grin widely at his cousin. "If, I admit, surprised. Though I clearly was not the only one feeling that way," he continues, referring to some of the gasps from the crowd and his opponent's temper. "I have seen Ser Hardwicke joust, at the Twins when he became a champion. Yes, he is very good. Should be a fine show."
Pariston grins and offer a dip of his head at Dania's words. Though his eyes stayes on the joust. Knowing too little about it all to make a fair assumption about who is going to win. "Watching this, it does remind me of hunting with a bow, sometimes. If you try to chase a faster animal out in the plains, the horse and spear can do quite well. I prefer to use the bow, but I know some does use the horse and spear for it." He offers up and smiles a bit.
There is then a laugh from Pariston as Kain goes on. "Your dedication and so on, and that you seem quite nice. It might be one of the women that were captured by the bandits, maybe even a lady." He offers teasingly.
Amused, Justin adds low for Inigo's ears, "He'll also knock us on our butts."
Nedra waits until the next bout is called before she rises from where she's sitting and, with Anathe at her side and their armsmen walking escort, makes her way from the stands to where she'd glimpsed the familiar form of her cousin. The brief sight of his profile before he pulls the hood of his cloak up is just enough for her to navigate by and she makes her way toward Martyn, being mindful of the crowd of course and the general air of revelry that makes the crowd thick at times but not impassable.
Lark smiles warmly at Nathaniel. "You're so very sweet. I'm quite well. Just SO much excitement!" And cookies! SO many cookies. Which reminds her. She unrolls the top of her bag and crams one of the remaining ginger snaps into her mouth. Munch, munch, munch.
Announce the heralds, "SER HARDWICKE BLAYNE CHALLENGES SER GARETH TYRELL, THE HAMMER OF HIGHGARDEN!"
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hardwicke=spears Vs Ser Gareth=animal Handling
< Hardwicke: Great Success Ser_Gareth: Good Success
< Net Result: Hardwicke wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hardwicke=animal Handling Vs Ser Gareth=spears
< Hardwicke: Great Success Ser_Gareth: Great Success
< Net Result: DRAW
"Hyah!" roars Ser Gareth Tyrell as he charges forward on his big shiny horse. WHAM! Both lances strike. But for all the hard hit from the massive Tyrell and his big lance, Hardwicke hits harder. In a shower of shattered lance and flying splinters, the Hammer of Highgarden takes the blow. The impact of Hardwicke's lance smashes right into Ser Gareth's center of gravity. Despite his mass and strength and excellent horsemanship, for all his struggles to remain ahorse, he cannot. He hits the ground shoulder first, and winds up flat on his back in his gleaming armor, wheezing for breath. The massive chestnut stallion leaves him behind, trotting in a widening circle only to turn his head back and find his master looking a little squashed in the dirt.
"I agree Master Pariston." Dania then has nothing more she can say to Kain. Instead she leans over and places a light gentle peck on his cheek. She then quickly scans her surrounding seeing Martyn and Nedra she offers them both a curtsy. "Lord Ser Mallister and Lady Mallister, is there anything I can do for you both?" She rises from it.
Dania looks back to the joust and this man also gets a sympathetic wince.
Hugh says, "Aw!" about the man with the cool nickname. "I didn't think that was going to happen." He is rocking on teh balls of his feet now as things get even more exciting.
Patrek jumps to his feet, cheering as Hardwicke unseats The Hammer. Then he clears his throat and drops back into his seat, reining himself down to some heartfelt clapping and a wide smile as he nods to the victor.
Inigo is momentarily distracted watching the joust. He smiles knowingly and nods his head a few times in a slow fashion as Hardwicke charges forth and Horribles the Hammer. "Well," he murmurs low in reply to Justin. "It is bound to happen eventually." He smirks a little and adds, "Maybe it will at least get him to smile?"
"Ser Hardwicke!" Justin briefly stands in his stirrups though they are long enough you can hardly tell he does, "That was brilliant!" And that is what the excitement of the joust is all about, isn't it? Even the Terrick house retainer who's handling Justin's lances today starts cheering for Hardwicke!
Belle gasps with delight, struggling to her feet against the counterweight of her swollen belly. "HUZZAH!" she cries, beaming. "Ser Hardwicke! O Captain, my Captain!" She laughs and applauds, flushed and aglow.
"Oh, beautiful," Anais exclaims with a laugh as Hardwicke unseats the Hammer. "We'd best be careful," she grins to Jacsen. "At this rate, Ser Hardwicke is likely to go off and start a jousting career."
Martyn grimaces a little as both Nedra and Dania comes over. "No, thank you," he offers to Dania, before he adds. "The poem was fine, though." He looks over to Nedra as well, offering her a bit of a nod as well. Pausing as he looks out to see Hardwicke's work. "See, a Hammer of Flowers couldn't be that tough…" Throughout what he says, he keeps his voice as low as possible while it still can be heard, thhough. Seems he's still working on keeping himself hidden while in plain sight now.
Dmitry laughs aloud and claps several loud, sharp reports of his hands.
All that cheering and excitement of his rider nd the crowd makes Justin's horse prance about so that the grey has to be reined in again before it leaves the line. Justin thumps the grey's shoulder, then turns his head down the line to look for Jarod, "My half brother's up next."
The heralds are a bit bemused as well by the misfortune of their visitors from the reach, it seems, but they carry out their duties, Jarod next in line being given the go-ahead to make his challenge.
Jarod lets out an ear-piercing whistle when Hardwicke is victorious against the Hammer. Enthusiastic cheering. In a way that might piss the Captain of the Four Eagles' guard off. But that couldn't possibly be why he's doing it. He whistles four times more when his own name is called, heeling his big horse forward. Minus spurs, but the beast responds eagerly enough anyhow. "Wish me luck," he mutters to Hugh, before raising his voice to all and sundry. His eyes scan the mystery knights remaining, though they pass rather quickly over the thorny man. "I like a good mystery! I'll take the Arrow!"
"I have always thought that these are natual things." Kain supplies, scratching his head at this information given by Pariston. "Thank you though, I figure there's no reason to hold malice against anyone in particular, but then again, I tend to stay out of people's ways. The trees, they tend to not argue. But as do I. I was told once that the bow was the wise man's weapon. And you're not wrong. Ser Justin himself killed a bear with spear and horse. I witnessed that very thing. And…what?" his train of thought is suddenly derailed at Pariston's suggestion it was from a Lady. It makes him cough into his fist. "I…I would not be wrothy of such looks." If that doesn't make him flush, then the peck on the cheek from Dania gets a real good shade of red out of him. Another cough into his fist, stammering his words a bit. "Horses…kicking up. Dirt. Lots of dirt."
Hoping for a smile? Perhaps the crowd will settle for a hint of satisfaction in Hardwicke's expression when his lance hits home and unseats Ser Gareth. He returns off the field, back straight and chin lifted just a touch — though his gaze does find a certain Terrick handmaiden among Lucienne's retinue.
Nedra emerges from the thick of the crowd just as the next bout commences with the same thunderous crash of sound and resulting cheers, and equally resulting exchange of bets and debts. She looks a bit triumphant to have emerged exactly on target and equally in time to greet Mistress Dorsey with a sudden smile and a warm tilt of her head in a nod, "Mistress Dorsey, a pleasure to see you again." She turns to Martyn and gives him a searching look, the same she'd have treated Kamron too were he standing here instead of Martyn, and is relieved once again to see him speaking and holding himself so normally. "You are well, cousin?" she asks, simply having to ask the question because she just can't stand idly without asking, worry evident in her tone of voice. "And your horse?" she hastily adds, priorities after all!
The heralds announce, "SER JAROD R" one pauses as the other touches his arm in a staying gesture, and begins again, "SER JAROD NAY" again he is stopped, this time with whispering. He frowns, brows confused and skeptical, and then shrugs, and shouts, "SER JAROD THE HALF-EAGLE CHALLENGES THE KNIGHT OF ARROWS."
It takes Ser Gareth a few tries to get himself upright again after that hit — a few tries and the demanded assistance of a young Nayland squire who appears to be on loan. Dragged up to his feet, he bows to the platform with a deep puff of breath, and then limps haphazardly toward the pavillion.
Nathaniel blushes at Lark's words, but also nods. "It's quite a show. There will be other events later, if you have time to stay," he answers. He is pressing his hands on the railing and leaning slightly forward on it to watch the next joust. When Hardwicke wins his round grandly. "Oh!" he exclaims. "Did you see that? Wow!"
"Oh, of course, Lady Roslyn," Rosanna smooths over with the Nayland with a warm smile. Look, she totally didn't just badmouth your brother. She promises. She laughs aloud at Anais's words. "Well, I suppose we should be happy to have such gallant company here in the stands, ser," she says to Dmitry.
Hugh grins and tenses as his Knight is called. he does a last minute check and hands him his spear. "Knock him on his ass, Ser!" Hugh's wide mouth is spread into a grin.
Belle presses both hands over her heart when Hardwicke's eyes find her, then throws him a kiss, mouthing a few silent words to her husband.
Rowenna is on the edge of her sear as Ser Jarod is called, applauding at his choice of opponent. "KNOCK HIM INTO NEXT WINTER, JAROD!"
The Knight of Arrows returns the challenge with a nod, and then rides to his place in silence.
Roslyn smiles warmly to Rosanna at the agreement, seeming all too willing to let the moment pass without further pressing it. Instead, her attention transfers to Dmitry with a subtle study of the younger man, a polite tip of her chin.
Jarod gives the Knight of Arrows a salute and takes his place to tilt. Dragon paws the ground and snorts, straining to knock something down.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jarod=spears Vs Knightofarrows=animal Handling
< Jarod: Great Success Knightofarrows: Great Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jarod=animal Handling Vs Knightofarrows=spears
< Jarod: Good Success Knightofarrows: Success
< Net Result: Jarod wins - Marginal Victory
"I am sure that I will most nobly and gallantly protect you from anything that happens in the audience, my lady," Dmitry says, prompt in his obnoxious humor. He even executes a little seated bow, smile tucked more at one corner of his mouth than the other. "All right, Jarod," he adds undervoice as he leans forward again, palms on his knees with eyebrows up.
"I'm fine, Cousin," Martyn replies, a bit quicker than what he probably should have. Looking about to say something more, before he hears the part about Jarod challenging the Arrow Knight. "Come on, Ser Jarod…" he mutters, before he goes silent again, watching the action carefully now.
Pariston listens and nods about Justin killing a bear in the way Pariston had offered. Then hearing the coughing and seeing the shade of Kain's cheeks he chuckles. Though then his eyes takes a look around. Stopping at a couple spots. Lucienne and her retinue, glancing to both the lady and her handmaid, when the latter cheers. Then his eyes goes back to the new pair jousting. A draw it would seem and he loks quite interested in seeing how it will end.
The line is considerably shorter now. Justin shifts in his saddle, eager to see his bastard brother ride against the mystery knight. The two of them start thundering down the list at one another, both of them looking strong on keeping their lances perfectly aimed … and KAPOW! It looks like both of them take a hell of a knocking but … then both of them somehow manage to stay on their horses! It's enough to make Justin forget that he's sore from his own round earlier. "Look at that! Come on, Jarod." Yes, somebody's excited about the joust.
"Ser, I thank you kindly and it was not my best. If you would like I can send more but you need to respond in kind." There is concern in Dania's eyes for the Mallister. She looks to Nedra and she nods. "It is a pleasure to see you again Lady Mallister." She offers her a warm sunny smile.
Dania looks over at Kain as he is bright red and coughing. From her basket she takes out small wrapped parcel that she unwraps and she holds it out to him. "Horehound candy, I use honey to make them. They will help with the cough." She holds them out to him. Then she looks to the others there. "Would you all like some?" Her eyes are then drawn to the Joust.
Jarod rides forward hard and fast. His borrowed horse, at least, seems less reproachful of him when he's letting him run full tilt to violently into something. He hits the other man's shield square, his lance splintering, but it's not aimed quite right to actually unhorse the other man. As he rides back around for a second pass he hollers, "Hugh! Lad! Another lance, quick!"
Anais watches the knights on the field, leaning against Jacsen's shoulder with a small smile. They're just the picture of marital contentment. Maester Pyrs must be handing out the good shit.
Inigo purses his lips and makes a hmming noise as Jarod is up next and picks the Arrow Knight. "Perhaps some mystery knights have more to them than you would think," he murmurs. It's been awhile since there has been more than one pass. "Or he has tied himself to that saddle."
"I am glad to hear that, ser," Rosanna laughs in reply to Dmitry. "I should feel quite unsafe otherwise." She draws her gaze to the knights, though but for some minor curiosity about the mystery knight currently at the tilt, they don't seem to hold particular draw for her.
The Knight of Arrows rides hard at Ser Jarod, and holds steady as the two knights armaments collide. As he reaches the other end of the lane, he turns back, and he nods in approval at Ser Jarod, relaxing for a moment as the other Knight tends to fetching a new lance. The Knight of Arrows takes the moment to look towards the place in which Lord Rickart Nayland now sits, before returning his gaze to his opponent and waits.
Hugh is on his toes, which makes the tall boy even taller. "Ser Jarod!" And when he sees the broken lance and gets the command, he scrambles all arms and legs to get another lance ready for the knight. "Good pass! Way to stay form in your seat. Do it again! You are fresh and he isn't." All this advice…what does Hugh know??
Lark flashes Nathaniel another bright smile, then links her arm with her cousin's, asking, "Who is that and why'd they have so much trouble with his name?"
Alona blinks at Lark. "You don't know? That's the Sword of the Tower, from the song!"
Lark gasps. "No!"
Alona nodnodnods. Both girls dissolve into giggles. And sing — in harmony — "YOU'LL FIND HIM OUT WHORING AT ANY ODD HOUR… OH, WHAT'S A POOR FATHER TO DOOOOOOOOO?"
Nedra fixes a long look at Martyn, one that may be rather unexpectedly similar to one that could possibly be seen on Kamron's face from time to time, but doesn't press the issue. Instead, she turns to Mistress Dorsey, speculation evident in her tone of voice, "I do imagine that the combatants in this tourney keep the healers tent busy with a constant flow of customers," she ventures with a small shake of her head. From where she stands she has to move to the side a few steps to be able to see the match clearly, but it's enough to again make her wince but she doesn't turn away, fascination being what it is.
Kain is more than happy to take the offered small parcel. "Thank you, Mistress." he croaks out, not hesitating to eat it the moment he unwarps. As long as it gets his mind of these two proding him or kissing him. As long Pariston doesn't get the urge to cuddle, think the ranger will be fine.
Oh dear gods, they are singing /that/ song. Justin settles more into his saddle and rolls his eyes up at the heavens briefly. "We need a new song for us Terricks, Inigo. You any good with music?"
"Thanks, lad," Jarod says to Hugh, taking the lance and hefting it. He takes the squires advice with sage nod, and readies for another go. He might catch a strain of the song from the stands, but it only makes him grin.
Kittridge applauds the first pass, whistling appreciatively as there is call for a second. He's not cheering for either combatant in particular, really, just for the general principle of a second pass happening. He chuckles when he catches that song on the breeze, and whistles along.
Martyn blinks a bit at Dania's words, "Respond in kind?" he asks, after a few moments, before he looks to Nedra as well. "I'm fine. No need for you two to worry about me…" Looking back to see them starting on the second pass. Expression a bit stony as he pulls his hood a bit further forward.
Once Ser Jarod has his lance, the Knight of Arrows readies his lance once more.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jarod=spears Vs Knightofarrows=animal Handling
< Jarod: Good Success Knightofarrows: Great Success
< Net Result: Knightofarrows wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jarod=animal Handling Vs Knightofarrows=spears
< Jarod: Great Success Knightofarrows: Failure
< Net Result: Jarod wins - Crushing Victory
Brows rising at at that song, Inigo shakes his head as he replies to Justin. "I am afraid you will have to look elsewhere. I could only fashion a poor attempt at verse and tune. My artistic talents lie only in appreciation of the finer things, I am afraid."
Round they go again. Ser Jarod SomethingorOther powers forward. Even on a horse he's unfamiliar with he's a solid rider and keeps his seat without any trouble when his shield is knocked. His own blow may, again, not be enough to down the Arrow, though.
With a kick of his horse, the Knight of Arrows charges forward again for the next pass against Ser Jarod. This time, Jarod's spear strikes his shield, and it clearly forces his own hand a bit astray, making his blow against Ser Jarod light. He has no trouble staying on the horse, however, and rides to the end of the lane, turning once more to face his opponent.
That song has Dania laughing when she catches a few snippets of it. She shakes her head. "Meaning if I write you should write something in return, Ser." Dania points out to him as she says this to Martyn and she studies him for a moment as she nods to herself. She then looks over at poor Kain. "I have more if you need them. I made a few batches before I came I did not know how the dust would be, Master Kain." She eyes are drawn back to the Joust. "Bloody!" She exclaims.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jarod=spears Vs Knightofarrows=animal Handling
< Jarod: Good Success Knightofarrows: Good Success
< Net Result: Jarod wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jarod=animal Handling Vs Knightofarrows=spears
< Jarod: Good Success Knightofarrows: Failure
< Net Result: Jarod wins - Solid Victory
Jarod sets up for another pass. His horse might, just might, actually snap at the air before taking off again. Like he's disappointed this activity involves less chances for biting. And then he's off! Once again it's nothing flashy, but he's strong in the saddle and his aim is square on the other knight's shield. And on his big horse, there's definite heft behind the blow.
Nathaniel laughs at Lark and Alora when they start the bawdy song that most of the commoners take up. When the heralds announce another pass, he turns to fix his gaze down the field. His hands clench into fists on the railing while he watches for the outcome.
This time, the Knight of Arrows takes the hit from Ser Jarod's lance, and he's sent backward off the horse, toppling to the ground. He lays there for a long moment, before pushing up to his knees. His squire runs over and helps him finish standing all the way. The Knight lifts his fist in the air, acknowledging his health, and then begins to walk off the field. He looks to the Lord Rickart Nayland once more, and then nods to Jarod as he passes.
Rosanna claps politely for Jarod's win, because at least he provided a couple of passes of entertainment.
His own horse is quiet once more though the grey's ears twitch around and his head moves to keep tabs on the excitement. Justin has quieted somewhat likewise, eyes glued as his sibling charges down the list again and this time, "Ser Jarod!" It's not quite a shout but he's obviously pleased to see his father's bastard knock that mystery knight arse over head and into the dirt!
Hugh back on the balls of his big feet. He winces and then breaks into a grin, pumping his fist and giving a whoop! "Huzzah!"
The tips of Nedra's ears turn a bit pink as she picks up the words from the song, laughing as well as she realizes the gist of the words, even more amused by Martyn's moment of confusion. She isn't prone to giggling, no, but she does laugh quietly all the same. "If you say so, cousin," Nedra says, knowing better than to argue with a Mallister (takes one to know one!). She looks back to Dania, following the conversation as it passes back and forth, glancing then from Dania to Master Kain and back before around again to the joust.
"FUCK YES!" crows Rowenna, leaping to her feet and punching the air (much to the distress of Lord and Lady Enpeasea.) She beams and does a little jig, clapping. "WOO! SER JAROD! WOO-HOO!"
If he was pleased by the prospect of a second pass, Ser Kittridge is even more happy to see it come to a third. He claps and whistles through his fingers in the run-up to that last clash, and then continues clapping for Ser Jarod's victory and the Arrow-Knight's showing.
The heralds step up once again, and point to the Knight of Thorns. His turn!
"Good work," Martyn mutters as he sees Jarod's win, unable to hold back a grin. He then pauses at Dania's words, "Write something in return…" He goes silent again now, nodding a bit absently, watching as the Knight of Arrows is walking off the field. Looking a bit thoughtful at the moment.
"I think the will be just fine for me, Mistress." Kain replies quietly, watching with a curious eye. Something seems to irritate him and it causes him to pull his hood back up over his, once again his face becoming awash and hidden in shadow. "But you were quite thoughtful to somehting like that along."
Jarod waits until the Knight of Arrows regains his feet, still watching the man curiously, especially after that look to Lord Rickart. But he can solve that mystery later. He takes his place back in line again. He's whistling as he goes, and the tune sounds unmistakably like a jaunty version of 'Lord Jerold's Lament.' He flashes Rowenna a salute in the crowd, raising his hand high to show off his favor.
"Good for Jarod," Anais smiles as the Half-Eagle wins his pass, too. And as the Knight of Thorns is tapped, she tilts her head to watch, scanning the crowd as well. "I wonder if we'll see another fight for a lady's favor," she muses to Roslyn and Rosanna, smile quirking.
And so the last of the Mystery Knights, the Knight of Thorns, rides forward, pale green cloth fluttering on armor and horse alike as he urges his steed forward. His thorn-crowned, helmeted head as he surveys the remaining opponents, and then tilts his lance forward… and taps the sigil for Ser Calvan Mallister. And then, offering a most courtious salute for the happy couple, Lord Patrek and his Redwyne betrothed, the knight takes his place at the lists. Readying his white shield with the knot of thorns painted on it, and lance.
"Oh, I hope so," Rosanna says cheerfully to Anais. "It adds a wonderful layer of drama."
Hugh watches the mystery knight very carefully with eyes shining.
"Do not look to me, my lady. I find that even Ser Justin has not yet approached me for mine," Roslyn answers with a hint of humor to Anais, glancing towards Rosanna. "You, Lady Rosanna? Any fights about to break out for your favor?"
Ser Calvan Mallister leans against the pommel, watching the various bouts and applauding politely, sipping from a cup of wine passed up to him by his squire. He straightens as the Mystery Knight approaches, and nods as he is tapped. "THE KNIGHT OF THORNS CHALLENGES SER CALVAN MALLISTER," announce the heralds, and Ser Calvan covers his rather-shiny gold hair with his his very shiny silver helm, takes up his lance, and with a kick, rides his white steed into the lists, waits for the signal, and charges on cue.
"Oh no, he didn't?" Anais asks Roslyn with some dismay, shooting a bit of a glare out at the sands. "Honestly. That's just…Well. That's just rotten of him."
Lark catches her breath. "That was incredibly exciting!" She looks puzzled, then asks Alona and Nathaniel, "Why do you think there isn't a verse for Ser Justin?"
"Maybe he's not very interesting," Alona theorizes.
IN THE LOSERS CIRCLE, best known as the paddocks past the lists, one dark haired youth finds himself trudging over to see to his knight. There's a brief turn of his head as the clash of armor and hooves can still be heard along with the cries of the crowd. Locke raises a hand to rub along his mouth, as he spots the form of Ser Nicodemus Groves. "Lemme help." the youth adds with a grin. "Mayhap, Ser..the lists ain't for us." He'd hug the knight, but he has armor to help him out of.
The Knight of Thorns gives another salute, this time to Ser Calvan when the Mallister takes his place. And then, with true form, he leans into position, lance poised, and urgers his mount forward. With a rumble of hoods and a flash of green, the Knight of Thorns rides forth!
<FS3> Opposed Roll — KnightofThorns=spears Vs Ser Calvan=8
< KnightofThorns: Success Ser Calvan: Good Success
< Net Result: Ser Calvan wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — KnightofThorns=animal Handling Vs Ser Calvan=8
< KnightofThorns: Good Success Ser Calvan: Great Success
< Net Result: Ser Calvan wins - Marginal Victory
Dania's eyes go to Kain and she watches him then she looks to Nedra and shrugs her shoulders. She studies Kain now as she has grown quiet. There is a thoughtful expression on her face. "Thank you Master Kain, I have a tendency to over think when I pack. There is a reason I ride Sparrow." She looks to the Rose Knight and then to the Mallister. "We need this win." She says softly then she looks back to Kain and then to Pairston. Finally she looks back to Nedra. "Lady which knight do you favor?"
"Oh, it would be terribly exciting if someone tried to fight Lord Rutger for it," Rosanna says with bright interest. "He asked for mine again, naturally." She tsks lightly at the news of Justin and his non-favor-asking-for. Yes it's a word.
"Surely he only wanted a time to find me alone, and has not found it. Perhaps before tomorrow's jousting, he shall ask. Or the melee," Roslyn replies easily, polite as she dismisses the tsk and Anais's words with her own. She smiles, warmly, again. "Who shall it be, then, Lady Rosanna? Shall we find someone to challenge my lord brother for it?"
Pariston has been looking at the joust mostly, though as Kain goes on with the hood, he looks over and is a bit curious. "Everything alright, master Kain?" He asks and then he looks back towards the joust, while waiting for the man's answer.
Hugh watches the Knight of Thorns carefully, but doesn't give anything away. Nevertheless, he will be there to help him out of his armor later.
Nedra's look of amusement remains in place, her head tilting back slightly in order to see up into Martyn's face before turning back toward the lists. Seeing the conclusion of the joust, or - more accurately - the crowds reaction TO the result of the joust, she looks both fascinated and amused in turns. When she's not holding her breath between the charge and the crash, that is. At Dania's question she turns slightly, then shakes her head, "I don't, that is, have a specific knight to favor, I mean." She casts a quick smile at her cousin before turning back to Dania, "They all appear to be doing their very best," she says, muddling her way through her own reply, turning a bit pink again before laughing quietly again. "What about you, Mistress Dorsey, do you have a knight that you favor?"
Martyn watches the current happenings, nodding a little bit at the mention of the win being needed. "Come on, Uncle…" he mutters under his breath, before he still draws the hood further over his face. Either this is done for mental reasons, or because he doesn't want to see anything of the happenings, or something.
The sound of the hooves is replace with the meeting of lances on shields, and then, for a heartbeat, almost silence… And then, a loud crash, as the Knight of Thorns, thrown from his steed, lands with a solid thud onto the ground. He lays there, for a moment, not moving. And then, finally, a hand is raised, and he is getting up. Moving perhaps a bit stiffly, but apparently whole. He offers a deep bow to the victor, one to Lord Patrek and his betrothed. And then, finally, to the crowd, before he collects his horse and moves to limp off the field.
Perhaps that was magical wine of de-aging and increased-skill that Ser Calvan was drinking, because while he struggled to overmatch Lord Ser Rickart, he makes reasonably quick work of the Knight of Thorns. He strikes him hard and true, and he weathers the blow dealt to him, keeping his seat, and making a circuit of the lists, raising arms above his head to cheer with the crowd. Yaaaaay! Mallister! Wooooo!
Completely oblivious to be the topic of two conversations, Justin watches the jousting closely. The next pair gallop through the lists against one another and they clash, lances against shields and armour. "Well, there goes the KnightOfThorns. Ser Calvan is in spectacular form today. Very nice." And one more down in the line of knights. Justin once more looks towards the stands to see if Lady Roslyn is still there, seated by Anais.
"Well, I am terribly fond of Ser Dmitry's wit," Rosanna says with a sly smile, "but I don't think he seems the type to fight over favors. "Perhaps one of our finer-looking visitors from the Reach should be overcome by my beauty."
"Mmm?" Nicodemus asks, glancing over at his squire. "Sure, thanks, Locke," he agrees, holding an arm out so that his squire can get the sleeve off. "Only one way to get better," he points out, not looking especially bothered at having his ass handed to him by 'The Hammer'.
KnightOfArrows leaves, heading towards the Tourney Grounds [Tourney Grounds].
Katrin leaves, heading towards the Tourney Grounds [Tourney Grounds].
Hugh moves over to help the squireless knight. Just cause…okay? Just cause.
"A knight of the Reach would be fun," Anais agrees with Rosanna, looking over the gathered guests. "Although I must say, the Riverlands are making a good showing today." Distracted from the jousting, she starts to scan the crowds. "I'd almost hoped my family might make it in for the tournament."
"Ser Justin," one of the heralds indicates that he is to go next.
"Just fine." Kain replies. "Perhaps I'm just thinking about the idea that I should go get some practice in before the contest tomorrow." The favor is in his hand. Another look at it. A long pensive look, like there's something on his mind. But it's not said. "Whoever this mystery woman is, I hope that maybe one day I'll meet her." is all he says, then taking the foot-long strip of white cloth to his wrist, wrapping it around once and then tying it off, letting the tail dangle past his hand. "I've never competed for anything but myself. Strange doing so for another."
"Perhaps we should place you in a particular patch of light, my lady, so that we can draw attention to your beauty for those that may be overlooking it in favor of preparing for jousting," Roslyn allows with light humor, her own distraction evident where the herald calls Justin and she meets his gaze, hazel eyes catching on his. She smiles, quickly, brightly.
"My brother of course." Dania really is no fun. "Though why I would give the poor man my favor is beyond me. I am hoping he asked for the Mistress of the Horse to give him one. Or she gave him one. Even in my wine haze I noticed he was sweet on her." She says to Nedra as she clings to the topic. She looks at Kain for a moment. "Master Kain, would you be kind enough to help me a little later with some herbs?" She asks him before he takes off. She looks at the ribbon and she gives him a shy smile and then it is gone.
"Is to let me start riding against you, or your brother against you?" Locke offers with a smile, before it's screwing up as to pull the armor from the man's arm. Of course there are hooks and buckles to unfasten. But still he is doing his squirely duty for Nic. "The Hammer though. That's a fine man to lose to." Locke tacts on. "Better than bein' unhorsed by the Titmouse."
Well then, he's up again. Justin puts on his helm but opens it up, the retainer bringing him a lance. He looks towards those stands again where Lady Roslyn is seated, then gets his horse moving. Right up the line, looking over the other knights … and past them to the stands where he stops and turns his grey. Justin pitches his voice to carry, "Lady Roslyn! I have not seen you since I was granted my accolade. Ere I choose whom I will challenge, I would ask for your favour." Justin tries very hard to ignore ALL THESE PEOPLE who are watching.
"Oh! Oh, how romantic!" Lark gasps, gripping her cousin's arm and swooning again. "Ser Justin just got more interesting. How nice for him!"
Pariston nods to Kain's words and then to the favor as the man ties it around his own wrist. "I can understand that." He offers with a small grin before looking around the crowd again. Nedra and Dania as well. But his eyes, just as always, continues to move to the joust.
"What, are you saying that my beauty is not radiant enough without especial positioning?" Rosanna says to Roslyn with another laugh and feigned indignation. She quiets when Justin calls over, and then looks to the Nayland lady with arched brows and waits for her reply with interest.
The Terrick house retainer did go and ask the Warden of the Lists if his Lord would be permitted. The man beams when Justin does as he said he would.
The Knight of Thorns, off to the side of everything, pauses as he hears the commotion, and turns to look, and perhaps wait, to see how this turns out.
"Oh, excellent," Anais approves of Justin's gesture with a broad flash of a smile, clasping her hands together and looking to Jacsen.
As he hears Justin's words, Martyn pulls back the hood a bit, so he can better study the young Terrick at the moment, raising an eyebrow. "Not that I'm surprised, but the kid's brave," he remarks, to those nearby. Looking over in Roslyn's direction now, a bit carefully.
Drawing up with slow, studied grace, Roslyn draws a length of ribbon from her hair, the light yellow matching her dress and her house's colors. She steps forward, also attempting to ignore the crowd as she nods in indication to Justin. Stepping up to the divide between stands and lists, she ties her ribbon to his shield arm for him. "Good luck," she murmurs, lowly.
Nicodemus snickers. "Though if you were unhorsed by 'The Titmouse', I suppose you could say you went tits up," the Groves twin points out. "Maybe Kitt will take a practice turns or two with me before the next joust. He's still in it, unseated one of the mystery knights."
Jarod turns his head to watch the Favoring between Justin and Roslyn. He lets another of those whistles he likes so much. Hard to tell if it's at the lady or his half-brother. Probably both.
"Of course, Mistress Dorsey." Kain nods politely. "Though you're more knowlegable than me when it comes to herbs, I tend to just which ones will heal and which ones will make you ill for a week. I don't really know how to apply them. But sure, if you can't find me, I will most likely be at the archery range practicing. But I think…I'll at least watch who ends up winning this."
Nathaniel turns from the next crunching joust. "I honestly don't know, mistress," he answers Lark's query about a verse for Justin. "As I said, he seems decent enough to me although I have met Ser Justin only twice." He steps back from the rail to add, in a lower tone, "They say, however, that he waited for an unusually long time to gain knighthood. Pehraps a minstrel could make something of that."
Nedra nods at Dania, "Quite logical," she murmurs, perhaps her sense of fun is just as warped, as she'd have been loudly supportive of Kamron at each bout. She watches with open curiosity to see the result of the request, another sudden smile forming on her face to see the result. She rests one hand lightly on Martyn's arm, "Is it always this entertaining?" she wonders curiously with a glance upward.
"Or the tits fucked you properly." Locke offers with a horse grin. "Oh is he? That Brynner feller on him? Or do I need to run back t' the lists?" Locke is quick to ask as he continues to help peeling Nicodemus out of his armor. "Right dent he left on you." the squire murmurs.
Still watching from the side, the Knight of Thorns glances over as Squire Hugh comes up to him. Still wearing his helm, the man murmurs to the young lad, giving him a nod, and then turns back to watch Justin recieve his favor.
Justin is doing his best not to look as nervous as he is until Roslyn comes down and so kindly moves to tie her hair ribbon around his arm. Yes, he can breath again. "Thank you, dear Lady." Justin watches her, keeping his lance tip up high, and once Roslyn has stepped back, he turns his horse and moves on to stop before Lord Patrek and his betrothed and give a deep bow of his head to them, for he forgot to do so before.
Justin can't keep everyone waiting. So he rides down the line once more to try and make up his mind. Who to challenge? Well damnit, he's steels himself and strikes Ser Kittridge Groves's shield, even knowing the other man was a champion at the Frey's tournament. Justin watches the other man boldly, "Come show me how it's done, Ser."
"Maybe he was waiting for his true love to inspire him!" Lark theorizes, breathlessly. By the time she's done embroidering him, Justin might be The Most Interesting Man in Westeros. "And then he met that lady, and did great deeds he'd never dreamed of before! And now he's going to make a splendid showing in his first joust — oh, my goodness, I think I need another cookie."
Well gosh, who saw that coming? Kittridge did, certainly. He is already prepared by the time Justin makes the challenge official, helm already on, lance to hand, riding out into the lists as the heralds should, "SER JUSTIN TERRICK CHALLENGES SER KITTRIDGE GROVES."
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Justin=spears Vs Kittridge=animal Handling
< Justin: Good Success Kittridge: Success
< Net Result: Justin wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Justin=animal Handling Vs Kittridge=spears
< Justin: Good Success Kittridge: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
"Good round," Nicodemus agrees, glancing at his dented armor. "Have to ransom it back, now. I hope he won't be an ass about it." He turns a little as Locke works him free. "Kitt's got Brynner, he should be all right." He glances over as the name they're discussing is belted. "Huh. This should be fine."
Hugh nods and turns back to go prepare Jarod for his next turn, which will come sooner or later. He runs a hand through his thick hair and reaches to tighten the saddle a little.
"Did a Terrick jus' challenge our Ser Kittridge?" Locke asks, before he's turning back to the lists. "Thought we was all on the same side." Apparently the boy needs a lesson in politics or heraldry. As to Nicodemus needing to ransom back his armor. "Well we're Groves right? We got more money than when we was Ben 'n' Locke, right?"
"Hmmm? Oh, I don't know, Cousin," Martyn replies after a few moments of pause. "This last month has been almost a bit too interesting, really…" Going quiet again as he looks around rather carefully, shaking his head at Justin again. "Kid's brave, but is it to the point where bravery takes over the part of brain…" Going back to being careful as he looks around thoughtfully.
Roslyn's smile falters only a single, subtle moment at that challenge, her attention caught and held on the knights riding even as she makes her way back to Anais and Rosanna and re-takes her seat. "I only hope my favor does him well," she says, on returning.
Ser Kittridge is ready, quick as you please, saluting the crowd and the heralds, and when the signal is given, getting on with the jousting.
"Now that's how you get a girl warmed up for you," Jarod says to Hugh, with a little gesture toward Roslyn. Nevermind that that's his cousin. "This should be interesting. My half-brother seems a fine horsemen, but Ser Kittridge is an accomplished jouster." He adds, in case there's any doubt, "Warrior send the tilt goes Lord Justin's way, of course." His partisanship is clear, though apparently this one also called for a prayer.
"Oh shit." Dania murmurs at Justin's antics. She then looks to Kain and nods. "True, but I still would like to ask you a few questions." She tells him. She then looks over at the Martyn and Nedra and Pariston.
"Oh, Kittridge!" Rosanna says with delight as her brother is called forth. She claps eagerly for him, eyes bright.
Hey, everybody else left is either a Terrick, a half brother, a Mallister or Kittridge. Who was he going to pick? Justin closes up his helm with his shield arm, keeping his lance held high. When he's got his horse positioned and is as ready as he can hope to be, he dips his lance to salute the Groves Knight and indicate his preparedness. His horse paws the ground and blows out his flared nostrels, the grey eager to go.
"Either way, that was very well done of him," Anais grins to Roslyn, looking fondly out to where the men will ride. "Now you two be nice," she teases, pointing between Rosanna and Roslyn. "They're both good knights."
"A Terrick did," Nicodemus agrees. "Ser Justin, newly knighted, I believe." Looking back out at the lists, he nods. "We've got more money now," he agrees, "Doesn't mean we want it all spent on getting back dented armor and a horse, fine as Lady is."
Riding a brand new horse in a joust is a risky proposition, but one Kittridge has decided to try anyway, and it backfires on him here. His aim is true, his arm is steady, his seat is good… but his mount gets away from him, just for a second, moving in a way his usual charger would not, and it costs him, sending him into the dirt and ending the bout. He gets up, bows politely to Justin and Lord Patrek, and exits.
Hugh listens carefully and nods again as though he really understands what Jarod is trying to tell him. Then he turns to watch the knights. Eventually, he asks Jarod. "Are you ready to go again?"
"I'd rather us not." Locke states, as he looks back on to the lists. "You know, we could buy some fine things with money. Like chicken." A sigh there, before he is looking back towards Nicodemus. "Oi, I have a question for you?"" Might as well ask and all. "You think Lord Patrek is going to have a Squire's melee?" and then without a beat "Did yer sister's handmaid come along?"
"Oh!" Anais exclaims as Justin unseats Kittridge, brows rising in pleased surprise. "Oh, Roslyn, he did it!"
Kain is wholly focused on this next joust, mainly because Justin is the one involved in it. The ranger had figured that the new Knight's luck would eventually wear out, but to his surprise and another close clash, he sees the Terrick come out victorious. Another arm pump for his friend. "Yes. Show, Ser Justin." he states approvingly.
All of Rosanna's attention is in an eager, intent lean to watch her brother. Her expression falls as Anais's lifts, and her lips set in a sullen pout. Stupid Justin. With his stupid face.
"He rode well," Roslyn replies neutrally, a bit distracted as she watches the knights. Her lips may have parted with a soft note of surprise as Justin wins the pass, because really, who expected that? "They both did," she adds to Rosanna.
"Ah, fuck," Nicodemus mutters as Kittridge is unseated. "Uh. I don't know to either. Haven't heard anything about a squire's melee. Perhaps." He squirms out of the last of his armor, watching to see when (if) Kitt joins them in the circle of losers.
"Think so. Make sure there's another lance or two handy, in case I break a few more," Jarod replies to Hugh. Justin's victory is met with more enthusiastic cheering and whistling from him. "Terricks're having a good showing today." And he sounds, for a moment, sad that he's no longer counted among that.
Inigo scrubs a hand through his hair after Justin asks Roslyn for her favor. Shaking his head, he leans forward with interest to watch his Terrick and Groves cousins joust each other. "Good show," he calls out, including both loser and winner in his cheer, though Justin's gets a smart nod from the Vance when he returns to the lists.
Justin's teeth, unseen, are gritted as he rides hard down the list towards Kittridge. His horse isn't heavy in build and hasn't a lot of experience but Justin keeps him going straight, his lance lowering to aim carefully and keep his eye on the other man to the very last. The expected blow comes and it rocks him hard in the saddle and almost out of it, the lance ripped from his arm. His horse keeps going and with an effort, Justin manages to right himself and stay seated. Breath up, he turns his horse and looks with surprise to see the other man down. Kittridge is up again at once and walking off so he's obviously not hurt. He makes his horse pick up a canter and come back up the list to stop once more before Lord Patrek and his Lady. Justin pulls off his helm and bows his head to them before he rides past the stands and smiles to Roslyn before he retakes his place in the line.
Martyn blinks a bit as he sees Justin winning this one. Letting out a whisle, he shakes his head a little. "That wasn't the most expected…" he offers, quietly. Then back to quiet watching again.
"Maiden's balls." Locke states with a faint frown. "Fucking hell. Two down. If I were riding." it would be three as Locke is almost shit with a spear. Still the squire glowers before going to get the jack of plate off Nicodemus. "Ho well. Could been worse. Coulda been A..A Harlaw?" But then they don't ride anymore do they? "I figgered to ask. See if I can't win at somethin. Been practicin' my blades..So I thought I should show you." and of course Miss Rhodes.
Hardwicke glances with a bit of unfair annoyance at Roslyn and continues to mostly pout. At least she doesn't say anything.
Rosanna glances with a bit of unfair annoyance at Roslyn and continues to mostly pout. At least she doesn't say anything.
Anais tilts her head slightly when Roslyn isn't more excited, but doesn't press the issue. Maybe she's trying to avoid Rosanna pouts. That's a perfectly reasonable decision.
"There's something to be said about living in interesting times, cousin," Nedra replies in turn with a nod, clasping her hands together again and standing quietly to watch the next match. She applauds as well at the result of the match, responding in kind to the general air of festivity that rises from the crowd with each. "I take it, this was unexpected?" she wonders quietly, glancing from face to face, again trying to read the lay of the land - so to speak - by the response from the gathered crowd.
Lark IS EXCITED ENOUGH FOR EVERYONE HERE. And then some. She squeals and bounces around in circles with Alona. "Ser Justin wins on true love's wings!" she sings happily. "I'm sure he'll get a verse now! Or maybe a whole song of his own!"
"He rode well," Nicodemus answers. "Just would have been fine to see him win. I think he's good enough. Kitt always had a touch with horses and he's better with a lance or a spear than a sword." One brow lifting he asks, "Do you fancy Miss Rhodes?"
The heralds nod to Ser Inigo. Yes, go ahead. Challenge away.
Martyn nods a little bit as he hears Nedra's words, while looking a bit distracted. "Quite unexpected," he replies, before he adds, "If you will excuse me… I need to take a walk or something to clear mind…"
Nathaniel slaps the railing several times, so soundly that the wooden beam rattles and causes some people to stare. "Hear, hear! Cheers for Ser Justin! Cheers for Ser Justin Terrick!" He grins.
His turn once again, Inigo drums his fingers idly as he considers the dwindling men on the lists. Hm. Donning his helm once more, he rides out to make his choice, pointing at Ser Calvan Mallister for challenge.
"Eh." Locke says with a faint shrug. "She's got good hips." Which is to say for any aloof man of ten and eight-that is probably a yes, or a maybe yes on fancying the handmaid. A rub of his nose and there he's motioning to Nicodemus. "Show me yer neck, so I can get the gorget." After all you have to peel out of the armor before you ransom it.
Once he's back in the line and his horse settled, Justin looks more closely at Roslyn's favour tied to his upper shield arm. He fingers it lightly, then looks back to the stands where she has returned.
Her gaze meets Anais's, a quick smile touching her lips even as Roslyn winces slightly in a gesture. It says yes, she is avoiding Rosanna's pouts. "No one is going to be struck by your beauty if you do not smile, Lady Rosanna," she suggests lightly, too distracted to meet Justin's gaze in trying to cheer up the Groves lady for the moment.
"SER INIGO VANCE CHALLENGES SER CALVAN MALLISTER," announce the heralds, and Ser Calvan once again returns his wine cup to his squire and rides his big white Prince Charming-approved horse out into the lists and makes ready. Chaaaaarge!
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=spears Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Inigo: Success Ser Calvan: Good Success
< Net Result: Ser Calvan wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=animal Handling Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Inigo: Great Success Ser Calvan: Good Success
< Net Result: Inigo wins - Marginal Victory
"Of course, cousin," Nedra replies with a nod and gives Martyn a smile, a quick nod to accompany the smile, then wanders back a few paces to stand by Anathe and watch the next bout.
With the man unseated Dania Cheers loudly for Justin's victory. She looks over at Martyn. But she does not follow. Instead she just keeps a quiet eye on him.
"I do not stop being beautiful when I'm not smiling," Rosanna claims huffily.
Once the joust between Justin and Kittridge has ended, and new contestents take their places, the Knight of Thorns quietly exits the area. Off to wherever it is defeated Mystery Knights go.
Eyes still on the tilt as Inigo Vance and Calvan Mallister take the field, Nicodemus leans down a little, head tilted to the side so that said gorget can e undone. "Mind yourself with her," he murmurs. "Girl's got enough to worry about without a broken heart."
Martyn had started to move away, but stops for a few moments at that announcement of the next bout, turning to watch this one before he disappears to wherever he's liked taking his quiet walks.
All that cheering and Justin's dragging his gaze from the stands to Nathaniel, Dania, Lark and others. He flashes a rare full smile, almost a shaky laugh before he refocuses on the next match about to ride. "Gods, I want a drink." But that will have to wait.
There's a glance back towards Nicodemus. "Yeah, your sister." And he'll be ducking any hand coming his way for that comment. "Err. Why do you think I'm going to go breakin' her heart?" idle comment, because he totally doesn't care. Not AT ALL. Locke fiddles with the straps and clasp before he's cracking it open. "Here you go."
"Mmm," is all Nicodemus says in regards to Laurel and his beloved sister. "Well, because 'she has good hips' isn't really the sort of thing a man says about a girl he's inclined to court rather than, say, flip her skirts up and forget about her."
Taking up a lance, Inigo rides to the starting point, adjusting his seating and doing last minute checks before the joust. As he has done each time, he lifts his lance in salute to the other rider, then settles into his saddle and adjusts shield and lance, readying himself.
Pariston had fallen silent for quite awhile but now seems to be glancing between those closer to him, watching the two Mallisetrs that are closeby.
"Oh, Lady Rosanna. I'm sure Lord Rutger will win the melee for you again," Anais assures the Groves lady with a small smile of her own. "And once again, we'll all be green with envy. Except for me, of course," she adds with a smile for Jacsen at her other side.
"GO GO, INIGO — GO GO!" Clap, clap! Lark bounces in place. Her chant is lusty and loud — maybe a little hoarse. She's beginning to lose her voice after a full day of cheering.
The first pass is indecisive, both knights scoring hits and keeping their seats. Lances are exchanged for new ones, and they ride 'round into place again, and charge once more.
"How does a man forget about a woman whose going to flip up her skirts at her? Not like you can find vaginas on trees." At least that has been Locke's experience. "An she's no whore. You forget whores." Locke adds, keeping back that they are not people. Coughing lightly there is a raise of a brow. "Court? How're you to do that? I thought Lords courted and knights. Well I don't know what we do."
With a kick, Inigo charges forward, lowing his lance and hoping that his aim is as good as it has been so far. A pair of lances hit with a loud crack, but while he scores a hit on the Mallister knight, it is not enough to unhorse the other man. And he's thankful it's not enough to unhorse himself. Getting another lance, he gets ready for a second pass, eying the other man with a thoughtful look in turn.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=spears Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Inigo: Good Success Ser Calvan: Success
< Net Result: Inigo wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=animal Handling Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Inigo: Success Ser Calvan: Great Success
< Net Result: Ser Calvan wins - Solid Victory
The second pass is much like the first first, and around they go again for a third, Ser Calvan shaking out a shoulder before hefting his lance into place once more.
"Getting down to the interesting ones now. Good on Ser Inigo to make it this far," Jarod says to Hugh, as the Vance knight lines up against the Mallister. He watches the Mallister heir particularly attentively, trying to get a sense of how he rides, and perhaps looking for weak points.
"No, you do not, my lady. Only, men sometimes cannot see much beyond a pair of smiling lips," Roslyn agrees simply, laughing at Anais's words with a tip of her chin agreeably. Then she leans forward to whisper into Rosanna's ear. Probably just nice things about Rutger.
Wow, Inigo's holding his own most stoutly so far, even against the older Mallister knight. Justin lets out a breath, "This is a tournament full of surprises." And so they line back up for another pass and the pair thunder down against one another a second time to simular conclusion as lances pound against shields, wood splinters and horses and men keep going without falling! Justin tenses in his saddle, not daring to cheer his cousin out loud against the Mallister here, but damn! "Amazing."
Nedra watches this match with quiet intensity, holding her breath between tilts and being elbowed by Anathe as need be to remind her to NOT do that - at least not while standing up, perhaps. But she cheers after the first crash of sound, adding her voice to that of the crowd.
Hugh says, "He has been challenged a number of times. More than some of the others and you." He takes a look at the winner and then looks back at Jarod. "Do you think you can beat him?"
The hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Rosanna's mouth for Anais's encouragement. "I suppose he'll have to," she says, preening at the least bit of encouragement at the very reminder. She tips her chin slightly as Roslyn leans in to whisper, and her gaze flickers quickly over the Nayland lady's face in brief but close study before she smiles benignly.
"Finish him off," Martyn mutters under his breath as he sees the not-finished bout. "Come on…"
"Well you… that is…" Nicodemus frowns a little. "It's a process," he says to his squire. "You bring flowers, tell her when you find her lovely, let her know how much you admire her."
A quick look over to his half brother Jarod and Ser Hardwicke before Justin says, "Ser Inigo's doing very well against the Mallister champion." He looks impressed with the unexpected again.
"It's an honor to ride against men with skill like that," Jarod says, of Ser Calvan. "I'd be glad to give it a go, though. I regret not getting to tilt against the knights of the Reach, though perhaps some will make it into the championship circle from the other matches."
Dania takes a few steps towards Kain's side. She is quiet and she leans in to ask him a question. Her words are almost a whisper.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=spears Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Inigo: Success Ser Calvan: Good Success
< Net Result: Ser Calvan wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=animal Handling Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Inigo: Good Success Ser Calvan: Good Success
< Net Result: Ser Calvan wins - Marginal Victory
The third pass ends it - Ser Calvan somehow manages remarkable consistency with past performances, striking well, holding steady, and maintaining his seat as Ser Inigo loses his.
And there's the pass where Inigo's luck finally runs out. He strikes the Mallister knight each time, but Ser Calvan strikes back. The last pass finally hits him in a spot that is enough to unsteady the Vance knight in his saddle and his slips back and off with a flash and clatter of armor. A dazed moment he lifts an arm in a wave to show he's alright, then pushes himself up slowly off the ground. After removing his helmet, He bows to the Mallister champion for the good joust, then the platform and gives the crowd one last wave before making his exit.
Martyn lets out a bit of a cheer as he sees the end result of the bout, before he makes his way away from the field now, looking rather lost in thought.
Lark cries out unhappily as Inigo is unseated. "Ohhhhhh — fooey!" She stomps a too-large boot. "Cheese and crackers!"
As Indigo is unseated Dania let out a cheer that is loud she cannot help herself. She smiles brightly and she lets out another cheer.
Roslyn only meets Rosanna's study with a steady gaze, giving little away in her expression as she smiles politely to the young lady. She glances instead towards the lists again.
Kain may of noticed Dania closing in to his person, so watching the lance blows as he has been much like how watches deer grazing in a field. It is a steady and intense gaze. But he does seem to notice that the healer wants to whisper something to him, so he leans down a little to let her speak. There's a moment of pause, then he looks at her, as if to check her sincerity. Then, a simple nod in reply.
The field has been winnowed to a decidedly local group. Ser Calvan Mallister, riding back to his place, basking in the cheers. Ser Justin Terrick. Ser Hardwicke Blayne. Ser Jarod the Half-Eagle. It is to Ser Hardwicke that the heralds look next. He is up.
And there you go, three passes! Justin raps his shield several times to 'clap' for the knights, "Excellant, both of them! The Mallisters have a seasoned man there." He glances to Jarod and Ser Hardwicke, as there isn't many of them left, now. He gives Ser Calvan a nod of respect as that man comes up beside him.
Hardwicke's gaze travels the few men left on the lists, and his gaze narrows on a particular knight. If his first challenge was of particular financial benefit, this one is entirely about spite: he rides down to strike Jarod Half-Eagle's sigil. His glare is locked on the young knight's face.
Nathaniel remains at the rail. His hands curl around the raw wood in anticipation of the next pass. He gasps a low, "Ooh!" when Inigo falls. He steps back from the railing for a moment, and disappears into the pressing crowd in the common section while everyone else is clamoring about the bout. Soon, however, he returns, carrying a leather water-skin. He shoulders his way through the throng again, and nudges Lark with the cool water-skin. "You'll lose your voice," he warns. "Drink."
"SER HARDWICKE BLAYNE CHALLENGES SER JAROD THE HALF-EAGLE," says a chorus of dancing girls. Just kidding, it's the heralds.
Jarod stands up straighter in the saddle as Hardwicke rides toward him. His green eyes are more somber than anything else, but they meet the glare without flinching. He nods to the Terrick knight, offering him a salute before taking his place in the lists against him.
"Yeah?" go on DAD. Tell him what he needs to do. "So if I bring her flowers, she'll like that?" the youth asks. And Locke scratches his chin. "What if I cut off another squire's ear for her?" He won't really do that. Honest.
"Ohshit," murmurs Rowenna, blanching. She watches unhappily as the Hardwicke Stare falls on her husband.
Over in the Camp Lucienne, Belle reaches for her fellow handmaiden's hand, once more, her other hand on her belly. It's all right, BB Blayne. Daddy will do just fine.
Anais winces a bit as Hardwicke calls out Jarod. "Well, that's going to end poorly," she murmurs to no one in particular.
Hugh tenses up when Jarod is named. He glances over at Rowenna and then shouts, "You can do it, Ser!"
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hardwicke=spears Vs Jarod=animal Handling
< Hardwicke: Good Success Jarod: Success
< Net Result: Hardwicke wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hardwicke=animal Handling Vs Jarod=spears
< Hardwicke: Good Success Jarod: Great Success
< Net Result: Jarod wins - Solid Victory
"Most women do appreciate flowers," Nicodemus allows, though he frowns sharply for the second. "Locke Septswood, you will not be de-earing squires for any reason, besides which women do not appreciate bloody presents." (Unless they are Lucienne.)
The crush and snap of lances has Hardwicke's jaw hardening as the first pass fails to unseat Jarod. He draws around for a second with a fresh lance.
There's none of the easy cheer or showmanlike whistling as Jarod takes the field this time, and just buckles down on his borrower charger for some hard riding. The first pass is a fierce draw, with broken lances on either side, so Hugh gets to do some scrambling for him again. In the second past, he's all of tight focus and heeling Dragon as fast and furious as he can down the field. He might just feel like he has something to prove as he aims a second lance square at the Captain of the Guard. He just might.
Hugh is going to run out of lances here, soon! He prepares another lance for Jarod and gives his some words of encouragement. "You looked good there!"
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hardwicke=spears Vs Jarod=animal Handling
< Hardwicke: Great Success Jarod: Great Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hardwicke=animal Handling Vs Jarod=spears
< Hardwicke: Good Success Jarod: Great Success
< Net Result: Jarod wins - Solid Victory
Rowenna laces her fingers together, knuckles white, and presses her hands against her lips. "Come on, Jarod…" she whispers.
Belle squeezes the hand she's holding and breathes so hard that her fellow handmaids look a little bit alarmed. No one's prepared to deliver a baby in the stands.
"But, back on the stones. We thought about makin' a fine necklace of ears t' show of your kills." Okay, maybe by we, Locke means he. And that didn't last long. Still he is looking back towards Nicodemus. "Flowers I can do. I know what they look like." a rub of his chin. "Jus gotta find pretty ones." And not poisonous or stank ass ones.
And there is the Terrick captain, clinging just barely to his seat — and then he falls. There is something hard and furious about him as he picks himself back up to his feet, his jaw hard, his eyes dark with frustrated anger. He storms off the lists. (fuuuuuuuuuuu jarod)
This is definately exciting stuff. Justin is a bit wired after the long day's event and his aching side was jostled pretty hard the second ride, but hell if he can keep his eyes off this pair - his half brother against Ser Hardwicke! He raises his right fist and shakes it, "Go! Go!" It's so hard to choose which to cheer for, they are both riding so well! His horse picks up on the excitement and moves around a bit, wanting to break out of the line but Justin holds him. And then … Hardwicke miraculously … falls from his saddle! Wow, Justin's mouth hangs open at his brother!
For the ear-necklace idea, Locke is simply given a long, flat look. It was a bad idea on the Stepstones. Seems it's not any better. "Good lad," Nicodemus approves, ruffling the boy's hair, as the squire returns to the idea of non-stank-ass blooms. "Stick with flowers. If it's growing on a body, don't pluck it." Easy rule, right?
Hugh cheers Jarod. He doesn't hate him. He just met him and doesn't know any better. Plus, Jarod needs to stay alive for 7 days. "Huzzah!" he jumps up and cheers again.
Dania takes a few steps back from Kain and the look of her face is one that is bright and sunny. Perhaps it was what Kain had agreed to or perhaps it is the thrill of the Joust. She looks like she was just given a gift from the way her eyes are bright. She smiles and then she is back to watching the joust
"Right. An if it's got briars, be right careful wit it." Locke replies before he is self consciously placing a thumb to his lips. "An clip em off before you hand em to a lady. They don' like a numb hand o' blood, I imagine."
Oh, also, Nicodemus and Locke watch the jousting and respond appropriately.
Jarod doesn't crow about his victory either. He just salutes Hardwicke again and returns to the lists, barely even looking happy to have come out the better on that tilt.
When Jarod and Hardwicke are through, Ser Calvan is the next to challenge, and he taps Justin's sigil without even bothering to actually ride out of the list to do it. Just reaches over and *tap*s. Then finishes his wine, tosses his goblet to his squire, and off they go.
"Right," Nicodemus agrees for Locke's assessment. "No blood."
"SER CALVAN MALLISTER CHALLENGES SER JUSTIN TERRICK," says the herald, as if anyone present is still unclear on what's going on.
"So A Mallister versus a Terrick." Locke states from his place in Loser's Corner. "Which eagle flies higher an harder, Ser?" he quizzes his knight, totally setting aside the girl talk for now. "See!" beaming. "I remembered they was eagles."
Belle bites her bottom lip, breathing out and releasing her fellow handmaid's hand with a wan smile. She watches her husband rise and salute, her expression pensive. Jarod receives no glare from Hardwicke's wife, at least — rather an expression of sympathy that doesn't seem entirely appropriate for the winner. But that's what it is.
Rowenna is on her feet for the outcome, once again — but she also doesn't quite cheer. She applauds, slow and loud and approving, letting the accolades be for both men. Her nod to Jarod is full of fierce, silent pride — and some sympathy, as well.
Justin actually laughs at what the Mallister knight does to select himself. "Aye, I'll ride, Ser." But before his horse goes, he looks to his brother, "Shame, because here I was starting to itch to ride against you, Jarod." Justin grins, then puts on his helm. Once it's secure, he takes the lance from the retainer and moves his horse out. A look over to Lady Roslyn up there in the stands as he passes, then a halt before Lord Patrek to bow his head to his leige lord. Justin holds that for a breath before he looks up to young Patrek, then turns with Roslyn Nayland's favour fluttering in the wind with his horse's passing down to his end of the list. A dip of his lance in salute to Ser Calvan to indicate that he's ready, once his helm is closed.
"Oh, I hope he wins," Anais murmurs as Justin comes up again, smile flashing toward her goodbrother in the lists.
Hugh looks around noting the reaction and falls silent.
Hugh whispers to Jarod, "Are you in trouble now that you won that?"
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Justin=spears Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Justin: Good Success Ser Calvan: Good Success
< Net Result: Justin wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Justin=animal Handling Vs Ser Calvan=8
< Justin: Good Success Ser Calvan: Good Success
< Net Result: Justin wins - Marginal Victory
There is jousting that happens, and Justin wins. Ser Calvan is unhorsed, though he doesn't look too unhappy about it, brushing himself off with a laugh as he waves to the crowds anyway. Let's be honest, he's been drinking wine for hours and he's pushing forty, this is a much better day than anyone hoped for from him. He waves some more, salutes his very striking, dark haired, fourth wife in the stands, and walks his horse back to the lines, where more wine awaits.
"Again!" Anais exclaims, actually reaching out to shake Roslyn's shoulder in her excitement.
Jarod shakes his head at what Hugh whispers to him. "It's just play war, lad. All rather silly, really. Good money in it, though." He manages another ear-piercing whistle as Justin takes the field against the Mallister man, cheering on his half-brother. It takes him a moment to realize that he and Justin are now the last jousters standing. "Huh…" he mutters.
This time, Roslyn looks appropriately pleased for the man riding with her favor, a bright whoop slipping past her lips as she claps. She laughs, saying wryly to Anais, "I saw, my lady. You do not need to shake me."
Anais flushes, though she laughs. "Sorry," she grins to Roslyn. "I just- Well. Look how well he's doing!" Focus on Justin, not her, yeah.
"You must be very happy, Lady Roslyn," Rosanna speaks up, sounding ALMOST sincere. (Stupid Justinface.)
Justin pulls his horse up, turning sharply to look back. He stands there to watch the Mallister pick himself up from the earth, then puts his gelding back into a canter to run back up and draw up before Ser Calvan, "An honor, Ser. Thank you." The grey is lightly sweated in the heat, still fresh enough to go a bit more.
A nice and proper salute with his lance to his leige Lord Patrek, then Justin turns his attention to the last man on the field - his own half brother.
"It's eagles," Nicodemus agrees, but he takes his time answering until Justin's won the match. "Looks like the Terricks fly higher today. Now we'll see if a half-eagle can best a full one."
Hugh arms Jarod with a lance, checks the horse and the armor. "You are good to go!"
Kain goes still, no where near expecting this kind of turn out for the man he met in a forest months ago. Suddenly, win or lose for his friend, the ranger no longer regrets showing up.
"I can only imagine I feel as you feel when my lord brother won the melee at the Twins with your favor," Roslyn allows warmly to Rosanna, but pleasure flushes her cheeks with color and she smiles again to Anais. "It must make you and your husband proud as well, my lady. He is your goodbrother."
And then there were two. There is no more need of the heralds, though they gesture Jarod forward anyway. "THE FINAL CONTEST WILL BE BETWEEN SER JUSTIN TERRICK AND SER JAROD HALF-EAGLE," they announce. Let it begin, and be ended.
"Guess so, have another lance or two ready," Jarod says to Hugh. Deep breath, and he rides out. Wordlessly, he rides up to his half-brother and taps his signil. Offering him a very rueful half-smile as he does. Let's get it on, then.
Jarod then takes his place in the lists to get the jousting on.
"The Sword of the Tower versus The Champion of Love!" gushes Lark, grabbing Alona's and Nathaniel's arms simultaneously, one on each side. "Oh, could this be more exciting!" She pauses. "Well, possibly, if they were riding for the favor of the same lady. But — still!" She bounces. "HUZZAH!"
"I told him he'd do well," Anais admits to Roslyn with a broad smile, leaning forward and clasping both hands in her lap as she watches the next bout eagerly.
It's been a pounding. Ser Calvan hit him /hard/ and he barely stayed a horse himself. Justin opens up his helm to get his breath, rubbing his left shoulder and chest before he looks back to the stands. For Roslyn he looks to see if she is pleased, because he didn't see before if she was. Justin's shield is now quite dented and scraped. When he's tapped, Justin nods, closes up his helm and takes a fresh lance from the Terrick retain who's pretending to be a squire today. A slow breath, then he rides on down to take up position to ready himself, a dip of his lance to Jarod. Whatever happens, there will be drinking tonight!
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jarod=spears Vs Justin=animal Handling
< Jarod: Success Justin: Failure
< Net Result: Jarod wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jarod=animal Handling Vs Justin=spears
< Jarod: Good Success Justin: Success
< Net Result: Jarod wins - Solid Victory
Roslyn is, and seems so. Flushed lightly still, she smiles when her gaze catches Justin's and mouths a silent, "Good luck." Then she leans forward to watch intently.
And whatever happens someone will be sleeping alone. Specially here in the loser's section. Locke grimaces watching as Ser Calvan is dropped from the saddle, and then as the Nayland Terrick is going to be riding the non nayland Terrick. "This should be good." nudges the squire to his knight.
Again, no whistles or showy preening from the Half-Eagle. Jarod's not pulling any punches either, though. He rides forward hard, fast, and lance on target. If anything, Dragon is far more on his game than he was in Jarod's first joust. The borrowed charger may not particularly like his rider, but he likes riding toward things really hard and really fast, to possibly knock something down.
And here they go, the match he was really wanting, to try himself against his half sibling. Justin grins behind his helm, puts spurs to his horse when the signal is given and the grey leaps out. Hooves pound the earth, lances lowering as the two riders draw together in the instant before the clash of arms. Justin's lance is right on but … the grey suddenly spooks at something or stumbles, throwing his head up and his balance off. THe lances strike and in the next instant it isn't Justin thrown from his horse so much as his horse goes down hard, legs and hooves flailing in a wreck.
Nedra may not entirely understand the dynamics at play, but she certainly appreciates a good show - and this is decidedly a very good show - when she sees it!
"Oh." Rosanna looks a bit too sympathetic for it to be entirely believable. "Well, he rode very well, Lady Roslyn."
All right. This time? Rowenna WHOOPS! She leaps from her seat, laughing and cheering, then turns and hugs everyone within reach who'll stand still long enough for her to grab them — even poor Lord and Lady Enpeasea. Who look scandalized and a little queasy to be so manhandled. Girlhanded. Whatever.
Roslyn claps politely for her goodbrother, a quiet thing as her smile fades. "He did, Lady Rosanna. He did his knighthood a great justice today," she answers easily.
"Oh, so close," Anais says as Justin goes down, though she can't help but continue to smile. "But what a good joust. And what good showings all around."
Patrek has been watching this whole time, for realz, and as it comes down to the final pair, he speaks to a nearby servant who darts off and then returns with an oddly shaped pouch. The young Lord Mallister accepts it, coming to his feet as Justin is unseated and Jarod Half-Eagle becomes the victor of the day. Making his way down the stands, the boy stops near the ground of the lists. Champion, you may approach your (kinda) liege!
Whee! For Lark and her cousin, it's a win-win — both contestants are larger than life, in their eyes. They squeal and embraces and hop in circles. "The bastard turned out to be LANCE of the Tower!" sings Lark, and Alona joins in, "Lance of the Tower! Lance of the Tower!" And Lark goes on improvising, singing lustily, "Knock your arse from the saddle at any odd hour!" And the girls harmonize once more for the chorus, which is too beloved to alter, "Oh, what's a poor father to doooooooo?"
Hugh also responds with celebration. He grins and gives a triumphant shout!
Kain just nods. He is proud.
Nedra winces, both from the crash of sound and then the sight of the horse toppling and flailing. "Poor thing," Nedra says quietly, shaking her head but joins in with the cheering at the end of the match all the same.
Concern writes itself across Roslyn's expression at that spill of Justin from his horse, her gaze lingering on him instead of watching her goodbrother receive his reward as victor.
Jarod quickly wheels his horse around so it won't actually trample Justin's, or spook at the other animal's behavior. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he call-whistles at the beast, dismounting and motioning Hugh to lead Dragon clear of the lists. He stays put, to try and offer Justin a hand up.
Locke whistles softly. "Nayland winner." And he looks over to Nicodemus for a moment. "Or is it a Terrick winner?" a brow raised, as the lad is curious enough to ask.
Dania says, "Shit." Dania holds on to her basket as she darts towards the List. Quickly she ducks under the ropes. She is careful not to get in the way of others. But she is at Ser Justin's side. She moves to lift his visor."
"Shit." Dania holds on to her basket as she darts towards the List. Quickly she ducks under the ropes. She is careful not to get in the way of others. But she is at Ser Justin's side. She moves to lift his visor.
Hugh jumps to take Dragon by the reins and lead him clear, as difficult as that that may be with the excited horse. It's a good thing his is a big kid. "Now, now…no biting! You won. Calm down!"
"I'm… not really sure," Nicodemus admits, squinting a little. "He's uh… um. Hrm."
The horse gets up, shakes himself and jangles his gear before he trots off a bit like he didn't enjoy that too much. Justin got hit with Jarod's lance even before his horse did whatever he did so he just lays there for a minute while the world spins around and 'round. He raises a hand to try and get his helm opened up and Dania's suddenly there helping him with it, "Stranger's prick." He can barely get his breath. Oh, and there's a Jarod hand. Justin puts his hand out to take it, a bit dazed so he could use the help but he gets up, "Well done, brother."
Rowenna finishes hugging random acquaintances and lifts her skirts enough to bound down the bleachers. She dashes over to the side of the lists, ducking under the rope to help her cousin with Dragon, and hug him at the same time. Hugh, not Dragon.
Nathaniel grins broadly and laughs when Lark chatters excitedly about the happy quandary of cheering for the Sward of the Tower or a Chamion of Love, although he glances shyly at Lark's hand on his arm and blushes for an instant. His now muscles tense while he watches the final charge. When the gray gelding bolts suddenly and then seems to stumble, he glances to Lark and Alora. "Excuse me, mistress," he says to Lark before ducking under the railing without regard for any rules against such things. He rushes toward Ser Justin's horse, with arms outstretched and hands ready to grasp the reigns if possible.
"Well ridden. Fun little tilt," Jarod says simply, shaking Justin's hand firm, before leaving his half-brother to whatever girl is taking the field for him. He catches Rowenna's eye briefly, but he has other things to do before celebrating. He approaches Patrek, and kneels. "My Lord Mallister. It has been an honor to compete upon the fields of Seagard again."
This has been a bit much for the grey. The horse tries to evade Nathaniel, not wishing to be caught by a stranger. Whoo - catch me!
Dania's voice is low as she whispers to Justin. She moves to steady him as his dazed and trying to still catch his breath. She looks from Jarod to Justin and as Jarod move away she nods.
"Yeah, let's do this again, sometime." But not tomorrow. Justin watches Jarod go to receive his winnings and he looks to Dania who's asking him something low and helping him stand. "I don't know … can't feel anything, yet." He pulls off his helm with a little effort and lifts his chin to indicate a direction to walk so he can take a seat. "Hard to breath, aye."
Hugh grins and returns Rowenna's hug. "I didn't expect that the first time I would squire in a tournament, my knight would win!" he laughs. "It must have been your favor."
Lord Patrek nods courteously as Ser Jarod kneels. "You rode well today, ser," he says, "and have come out the champion. For your talent and skill, I am pleased to award you thus, that you might remember this day proudly." He reaches into the sack, pulling out an impressive burnished metal wine goblet. One side are the grapes of House Redwyne, each one a purple stone. On the other, the eagle of House Mallister, it's eyes and talons equally gilt. "Rise, ser Half-Eagle. Well done."
"Actually, I think it was the horse," Rowenna asides, sotto voce, to her cousin. Dragon paws the ground and tosses his mane. Like a boss. Her expression of pride and adoration, however, as her husband is recognized by Lord Mallister, say the man himself might have had a little to do with it.
Jarod rises, bowing once more to Patrek before he takes his prize. The recognition by the Lord of Seagard does bring a smile to his face that lights his green eyes. "I only grieve that your good father, Lord Jason, was not here to see you wed to such a beautiful and fine lady, my lord. He was the finest knight I have ever known, and I was honored to bleed for his House in my younger days." Even if he doesn't now. But there's no real edge or pointedness to the statement. Another bow, and he takes his cup, striding toward Rowenna and Hugh. But mostly Rowenna.
"Trust me when you start to feel you will be hating life." Dania tells him as she supports him while they walk towards the spot he chose. "We will take care of it. Kain, Pariston!" She calls out towards them. "I need some help with the armour."
Pariston had been watching Jarod and Patrek, but as Dania calls out for him and Kain he moves swiftly over to her side. Standing and nodding to her words. Offering his help with the armour right away.
Kain wasn't expecting to be called upon, as he was going to let Justin handle himself, mostly because he did'nt want to insult the man. But seeing that nobody else is going to help, besides Pariston, he might well. Setting his hand on the waist high fence that seperates the track from the spectator stands, he pushes himself up, vaulting it in a bound, feeting landing suspiciously quieter than usual. Then he's moving over to assit Justin.
Justin puts up a hand to forstall then, "No," he will hand his helm over to Pariston though, since that man seems willing, "We've pavilions set up." Get a breath, "I will retire … there." No point stripping down out here. Justin only wishes to sit for a moment to get his breath, "My armour and horse goes to Ser Jarod until I can pay ransom." But as it's his half brother, he smiles, "He's earned it."
Offering a final nod, Patrek watches Jarod depart. He then returns to betrothed and offers her his arm. As she accepts it, there is another trumpet of fanfare as the Lord and his Lady depart, likely to oversee some aspect of the next day's event. And so the joust ends! Huzzah! Talk amongst yourselves!
Nathaniel watches the gelding. He smiles, and shift his leather pouch just enough so that he can reach inside it and retrieve one of the pieces of fruit that he bought in the afternoon before the tournament began. Perhaps that will entice the gelding to calm enough so that the young man can approach and grab those reigns.
The grey quiets enough to lower his head and start checking out … the grass! Ooh, grass. Yummy.
Hugh leads Dragon the horse off with a grin on his (Hugh's) face.
As the joust is ended, Anais sits up once more with a small smile. "Well. That was impressive all around, I'd say," she declares.
"Breath but they are going to help you out of the armour. You will thank me later for it. The less you move the better off you will be." Dania tells him in a firm tone she then looks at Pairston and Kain. "Thank you." She lowers her voice and mutters something to the three of them.
"Well done, lad," Jarod says to Hugh, grinning broad and reaching out to shake the squire's hand as he gets ready to depart the field with the horse that isn't quite Jarod's. That done, the Half-Eagle is left with Rowenna. And, without further ado, he grabs and kisses her. Very long and very deep. It's almost a dip-smooch. He'll be at that awhile.
And with that, Justin wants back up to his feet to go to the Terrick pavilions, "I'll live." He waves off the help, though he finally nods to the healer, "All right. Thank you, Mistress." Now, just to get to the pavilion. That's the new goal. And breathing.
"Mistress Dania." Kain says, not needing to look about. "We can help him to the pavillion and help with the armor there." Then he speaks quietly to Dania.
Dania nods and like all good mother hen's follows closly by Justin getting making sure he gets to where he needs to go.
