(514-01-20) Last Minute Challenges
Summary: Several Knights meet up at the field and a bout of sparring goes on with challenge after challenge.
Date: 01-20-514
Related: Any to do with the tournament
kamron bryce catryn cyndeyrn ewin rose arian aluksander rhodri 


The fields are currently the place to be with challenges being issued by various knights, ready to test their mettle and prove their prowess. Currently watching an ongoing match between a bully of a man and a rather tiny female knight is Sir Bryce, dark hair framing a face of rather angular features, a knight of a rather shorter physique, at least compared to the one he is watching. He wears ringmail below a tabard of red and black sporting a yellow bear, and leans casually on a tourney sword. Somewhere beside him is his squire, holding his shield.

Kamron is without a squire at the moment, which is why he came to the fields already in his mail, and with his shield slung over his shoulder. He even has his helmet on, although his visor is raised. Now he watches the giant and the pixie, his lips thinned to pale lines. Stepping out around the circle, he comes up at Bryce's right shoulder, grumbling, "I know that she challenged him, but there is just something that feels wrong about this, Sir Bryce."

A late arrival for the tournament, Catryn is striding with a purpose towards the area where the challenges are being held, to at least attempt to get a match in before the ending of the competitions. Accompanied by a young woman who is hurrying after her, the squire carries a shield. As she approaches, she looks around for suitable competition catching a bit of the conversation. "She's smaller, but she is quicker on her feet. Would either of you like to try your hand in the circle?" An assessing look is raked over each of them, her expression somber.

Bryce turns his head in the direction of the voice that suddenly grumbles into his ear, his features tightening into a faint smile of recognition. "Sir Kamron, I should have expected to meet you here," the smile fades as his dark gaze shifts back to where the mismatched pair is carrying on. "And yes. It was she who issued the challenge. One would hope she has a plan on how to best him…" The new arrival draws his attention, of course, when the woman addresses the both of them. "Perhaps," Bryce allows in regards to the statement of the small woman being quicker than the giant. He shifts in his stance, returning the assessing look of the lady knight with one of his own. "And of course, I'd be pleased to oblige." Challenge accepted, if it was indeed one.

Kamron shrugs a little helplessly at Bryce's first comment, "I do find myself quite at home here, even when it's cold as…" and then there's a woman nearby, and he changes what he was going to say with an easy smile, "…I've known it to be." Bowing his head politely to the female in mail, he gestures toward Bryce, "And if you don't mind this," his right hand pats the Saxon axe at his hip, countering the sword that usually graces a knight's belt, "I would be happy to try the winner, or both of you afterward." Turning his smile to Bryce, he inquires, "How long has it been for us… months?"

Catryn watches the pair sparring with a quiet demeanor, studying how the two move. After several moments, she looks back at the Knights at her side. "I look forward to testing my blade against yours." Green eyes drop to the axe at the other Knights hip. "A blade is a blade, I'd be perfectly accepting of your choice. Winner to you then." A look to her squire who is already moving towards her with the shield to fasten it on. "After you then."

"Felt like years," Bryce counters in half-jest to Kamron, before his gaze slips to the Saxon axe presented, a slight frown forming there on the Baverstock knight's features. "Ah well… It will do, I suppose," he allows with a shrug. A shrug that turns into a roll of his shoulders, as he moves into the free space. "As I haven't placed a bet on that mismatched pairing," he states, "We can very well start right away, if you are ready, Sir… What was your name again? I am Bryce of Baverstock." Extending his left arm to the squire for the shield, Bryce inclines his head. Then he waits till the lady knight is finished with her preparations, and taking her words invitation for the first attack, he swings his sword, aiming for her legs, in a first warming up strike.

Failed.
Bryce checked his sword of 13, he rolled 14.

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 11.

Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (5 1 2 5) for a total of: (13)

Success
Bryce checked his dex of 16, he rolled 3.

"Catryn of Burcombe," the Knight smoothly inputs as she gets her shield fastened and she moves towards the open area. Once there, her blade is drawn, "A pleasure, Sir Bryce. " Prepared for the swing, she deftly avoids it but shows no mercy once he is committed to the forward arc down towards them, she swings towards his side, connecting with her sword, effectively gaining the first point.

Kamron chuckles at Bryce's words, "It is because you miss the sweet sound of my voice, Sir Bryce." Laughter touches his own voice, and then he adds in, "Kamron de Dinton, and I must say, Sir Catryn, that is quite the illuminated view on weapons. So many think it is the sword or lance or nothing else." He turns to watch the pair as they form their own little ring, clapping his mail-mitted right hand onto the boss of his shield in a clatter of martial applause.

"Of course!", Bryce quips back towards Kamron. "The sweetest grumble I ever beheld." He chuckles, attention then shifting to Catryn. "The pleasure…" And here teeth are gritted when his own strike is evaded, but hers connects in a sound hit that almost throws Bryce off balance. "…is all mine," he finishes, dark eyes flashing with acknowledgement of her skill, as he probably will be more on his guard in the next exchange of blows. "Not bad, Sir." This much he admits before he launches the next attack, feinting towards the legs, before aiming for her left shoulder instead.

Success
Bryce checked his sword of 13, he rolled 5.

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 2.

Bryce rolls 4d6 and gets (5 6 2 4) for a total of: (17)

Success
You check your dex at 17, you rolled 6.

"Who am I to judge a favored weapon, Sir Kamron?" Catryn counters with an arched brow, but then they are back into the spar and she watches Bryce move his feet, his arms, trying her best to gauge which way she thinks he is going to go with his swing. The feint gets her and she blocks nothing but air as his blade comes down and strikes her shoulder with enough power to startle her but not enough to buckle her. A nod of acknowledge for the point to Bryce and she's readying for the next strike.

Catryn and Bryce are sparring while Kamron watches and waits for the winner.

Failed.
Kamron checked his modest of 13, he rolled 16.

Kamron proves that Bryce knows what he's talking about as Catryn's words elicit a not-so-quiet grumble, "…just about every other knight in Salisbury…" Still, he mostly keeps quiet as he watches the sparring between the two other knights. After all, he's to face the winner, and should definitely pay attention to how they fight.

With all the activity here and the many knights coming and going and putting up various challenges, Cyndeyrn arrives to take stock of the current lot, no doubt intending some form of participation as he is already in his gear, with his squire leading mostly unladen horses behind. Seeing Kamron in waiting, he wanders up beside him. "Someone getting the axe?" he wonders, in a way that might seem light-hearted if it was coming from someone moreso than he.

This time Bryce manages to score a hit, even if it is rather harmless. There is a loud CLONG as his blade is deflected by the ringmail on Catryn's shoulder. His dark eyes stay locked on her, assessing her movements and even her facial expression as if to anticipate her next move, whilst preparing his own. Even so, Kamron's remark will have Bryce shoot a brief glance his way, an even briefer shake of the head given to his comment. Then… Cyndeyrn arrives on the scene, when Bryce is focusing once again on his challenge. The Baverstock knight launches another attack at Catryn, aiming this time for her sword arm.

Critical Fail!
Bryce checked his sword of 13, he rolled 20.

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 12.

Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (4 5 1 2) for a total of: (12)

Success
Bryce checked his dex of 16, he rolled 1.

Failed.
You check your merciful at 4, you rolled 11.

"Ah, but I asked who was I to judge, I'm definitely not every other Knight in Salisbury, Sir Kamron." With her sword gripped comfortably in hand, Catryn lies in wait, watching, quietly assessing, the slight move of the shoulder with his sword arm has her lifting her own enough to block and hopefully counter with the exact same intention, sword arm, disarming her opponent, the blade swinging quickly with no mercy. When it's clear she scores the winning point, she holds the blade out towards him, making her point before lowering it again, "Well fought." A nod of her head and she steps back, looking towards Kamron. "Next?"

Bryce was aiming for her sword hand, but instead… with her sword coming up to parry and counter his strike, his weapon suddenly flies through the air, to land in the mud a few feet away. And even if Catryn's sword hits, it is deflected by his armor, but at least causing a bruise there. Bryce de Baverstock does not fall. Instead he inclines his head. "I yield. You win, Sir Catryn." A slight twitch there of his brows as he raises his gaze to meet hers, before he bends down to reclaim his blade and move towards the side. Spotting Cyndeyrn, he cannot help but roll his eyes. But such are the woes of public challenges. So many people you know can be around to witness your defeat.

Kamron half-glances away from Cyndeyrn as his cousin arrives on the field, "I do believe so, Coz. Sir Bryce," there's an easy familiarity to the name, "and Sir Catryn," not so much familiarity there, "have decided…" and then Catryn gets in her second strike, "…that Sir Catryn should get the next bout with me." Stepping forward, he draws his shield over his shoulder and settles the strapping in place, "Neatly done, the both of you, although that did look rather painful, Sir Bryce."

Critical Success!
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 15.

"Well, good luck coz," Cyndeyrn will offer when Kamron's turn seems due, although in catching sight of Bryce moving from the field, he smiles in a way that is in no way patronizing or mocking. "What's the matter?" he wonders of the familiar knight. "We all lose some. Let's see if my cousin does any better with her. And if not…" Third time's the charm? "At any rate, how have you been? I've not seen as much of you since you graduated beyond my father's service."

Success
Kamron checked his axe of 15, he rolled 13.

Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (1 2 4 6) for a total of: (13)

Failed.
Kamron checked his dex of 13, he rolled 16.

Failed.
You check your merciful at 4, you rolled 6.

Catryn waits only until his shield is on and his axe at the ready, when he appears to be ready and at his go, with a growled warcry sounding something or other, she swings her blade hard towards the arm holding the axe, as hard as she can at least, taking the first attack if able.

Kamron draws down his visor, and then draws out his axe. He retains the leather cover over the head, and also hefts the weapon up to spin it blade backward in his hand — and he is attacked. To be perfectly fair, he certainly looked ready, before he twisted the axe around. As his right arm was being attacked. He manages to mostly-interpose the rim of his shield into the path of Catryn's sword. There is a loud clatter, and then a thump as Catryn still strikes home, catching him on the shoulder as he's adjusting his weapon. The axe immediately tumbles to the ground, and he ducks after it with a grunt of pain, grounding one knee and leaning over to pick up the weapon once more.

Critical Fail!
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 20.
(add modifier for opponent down)

Success
Kamron checked his axe of 15, he rolled 5.

Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (6 1 1 6) for a total of: (14)

Failed.
Kamron checked his dex of 13, he rolled 15.

Catryn doesn't hesitate when he is down, she comes at him still with the blade, swinging towards his side, or upper arm, whichever she manages to catch with the blunted side of his sword, attacking without mercy and without allowing him to get to his feet first. When she strikes the second time, for the second point, only then does she step back and lower her sword, her shield still in front of her bent arm. "Well fought." A look out to the others. "Next?"

Failed.
Kamron checked his modest of 13, he rolled 15.

Failed.
Kamron checked his proud of 7, he rolled 18.

Kamron raises his shield to intercept the second blow as well, the action instinctive, even as his eyes flash wide with surprise. The impact as the blade slips past the back of his shield and strikes across his back drives him stumbling several steps to his right, shuffling before he regains his balance, down on his other knee. Kamron's lips tighten as he is struck while changing the grasp of his weapon and then again when he is recovering it, and his voice pinches as he rises back to his feet, "Indeed, it was neatly struck, but I do not believe I would call it well-fought, Sir."

Cyndeyrn is, through all this standing off along one of the edges of the field near Bryce who had just completed one of his own matches. Of course, he watches the exchange between his cousin and the unknown lady knight, a slight furrow on his brow through the whole of it. Still, Kamron can - and does - speak up for himself, so he does not seem inclined to immediately rush to defend the other man's honor.

The slow, patient cadence of hooves heralds a rider's approach before Rhodri comes into full view. The man is huddled within his thick winter cloak, hood pulled up, breath misting as he sways just lightly with his mount's steps. His ambling pace suggests a lack of urgency, and when he nears close enough to hear the sounds of fighting, he straightens, alert, and peers about for its source. When he sees the sport going on, he changes course and urges his mount in that direction.

Catryn tilts her head forward in a nod of acknowledgement, "Like I said before, who I am to argue it?" Noting the reactions of others around them, she keeps her sword in hand and waits for anyone else to accept her challenge, holding the field for the moment. "Would no one else like to offer challenge?"

Word of more dueling happening in the farmer's quarter has spread wildfire, it would seem, as shortly after Rhodri enters, Aluksander comes riding in, armor-clad. He heads straight for the dueling grounds, but as he hasn't been invited, he holds off on dismounting for the moment, looking around to see if someone is in charge.

Cyndeyrn is already down and ready to take up the field, most of his gear on, yet uncertain before then of who might still be on it, or if some other pair might start fresh. But with Catryn holding her place and the exchange between her and Kamron, it is probably little surprise when he pauses a moment to take his shield from his squire and then starts forward to join her, not even speaking up before he is most of the way out. "Are we fighting for the honor of the coming tourney or perhaps to try and injure good knights?" he wonders, no doubt making some reference to her prior 'spirit' with his cousin.

Arian de Laverstock does not belong here — or at least that's what the grizzled, sour-faced chaperone she has trailing behind her ruefully has attested. The young woman — petite and lithe — enters the tournament grounds with a piqued curiosity at news of knights sparring. She draws behind her a rather shaggy, squat mare that seems to be in a constant state of chewing the cud, and has serious, soulful eyes beneath its long fall of forelock; her chaperone also leads in a horse that resonates with the same ill-temper as its rider. She pauses just outside the gathering, standing on tip-toe in an effort to get a look at what is happening beyond the spectators.

Rhodri offers an affable nod when his gaze is caught by any of the assembled. As he nears at about the same time as Alex, his head cocks, watching things curiously, a brow arching at the apparent slight heat in the exchanged words. He reigns his horse to a stop, deferring to the cue that's formed before he arrived, for now mute, resting his hands on his saddle pommel.

Catryn remains standing her ground as the others ride and walk into the area. Her blade is held and her squire stands off to the side. When Cyndeyrn steps out towards her, she inclines her head, "Always. Glory. Pride. Honor." Quoting the motto of her house. "Would you be accepting the challenge then, Sir? I am Catryn de Burcombe," dipping her head even as she readies her sword and shield. "On your go, Sir."

"Glory is God's and pride is a sin," retorts Cyndeyrn. Although he does not quite sound angry, he definitely sounds a touch unfriendly in these judgmental pronouncements. "Cyndeyrn ap Cynfarch de Dinton. I will accept your challenge." Without he visors his helmet and readies his shield and sword alike, beginning a slow stalking march toward his opponent.
Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 10.

Success
Cyndeyrn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 4.

Kamron steps back out of the ring, rolling his left shoulder to stretch the bruises forming along the back of his ribs. Slipping the haft of his axe back into the loop on his belt, he immediately starts disengaging his left arm from his shield. Cyndeyrn's commentary to Catryn causes him to shake his head inside his helmet, and he keeps quiet for the moment before looking away to study the newcomers, both ahorse and leading one. Lifting his visor, he offers a nod to each, adding a tight little smile to the Lady.

Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (4 1 3 4) for a total of: (12)

When a knight steps up to challenge the woman knight, Arian ducks forward even closer, leaving her chaperone looking disgruntled while holding the reins to both horses. Arian's mare continues to chew idly, dragging her hoof across the hard, cold ground idly. The Laverstock is quite surprised when she recognize that tight-lipped smile and the face it belongs. "Sir Kamron," she says softly, offering a soft smile of her own. "Have you just finished?" She glances out toward the unofficial spar ring.

Aluksander was juuuuust getting ready to dismount and issue a challenge when Cyndeyrn beats him to it. He sighs, then, and remains on his horse that he might have a better vantage point on the coming fight. Having not seen anything but the tail end of the previous fight, the challenger's words quirk Aluk's eyebrows up, curious what the reason behind the tone might be. But, with the added testy-ness, this fight might prove that much more entertaining!

Among the gathered knights, Ewin de Winterbourne Stoke is in attedance. He's watching with the other knights, but closer to the front; he looks like he's eager to once again go out and fight on the field for glory and honor. Next to him, enjoying a meat pie, is his squire Kensit, also guarding Ewin's shield and sword.

"And who are you to judge, Sir Cyndeyrn?"" Catryn counters, waiting until he was ready and on his go, she jumps right in, shield up, blade swinging towards his arm, the one holding his sword, intent on disarming while attempting to block his attack.

Rose makes her way back into the area, she has found a lovely view point to watch the lists and is settled with her cloak's hood around her shoulders and seemingly dressed in a long dark dress. Her Lady's companion is once again gawking at the Knights and making eyes at the Squires. Ah to be young again.

Kamron bows his head slightly to Arian as she approaches, "Lady Arian." The Dinton finishes freeing his shield, slinging it over his shoulder without a squire in sight. "Indeed, I just finished being drubbed." His tone is a little sour, but at least he's willing to not just admit but volunteer the fact that he was beaten.

There is no witty (or otherwise) rejoinder from behind Cyndeyrn's visor and shield, the latter being where Catryn's blow ultimately lands even as she fends away his own. Though the touch is made, it is not enough to shake him noticably. He merely circles a bit to one side, making a few light slashes now, probing for any sign of opening in the lady's to this point stellar defense.

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 8.

Success
Cyndeyrn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 13.

Cyndeyrn rolls 5d6 and gets (3 6 5 2 2) for a total of: (18)

Success
You check your dex at 17, you rolled 1.

Arian glances over toward the pair of knights engaged in the most current spar, and her lips thin slightly. "Mm," the young woman muses, drawing her hands behind her back as she regards the pair. "Well, my father would say that… being drubbed… is necessary now and then." Her smile returns — soft and a bit apologetic. "Tell me about the pair that are out there now… do you know who they are?" She is once more up on her toes as a taller spectator blocks part of her view, and she rocks onto the ball of one foot to gain an even better advantage despite the obstruction.

Rhodri remains still in his saddle, watching the scene with some intrigue from within his cloak's furred hood. He frowns thoughtfully, turns his head to squint skywards, trying to guage the hour by the sun, and weighing. Apparently whatever business he has is pressing, for with a rueful look towards the combat, he tugs his horse's reigns to continue on his way. He casts a farewell nod to the assembled as the clopping of his horse's hooves begins a brisk cadence off.

Catryn wasn't looking for conversation so when none comes, she concentrates on the fight at hand.. only to misplace the position of her shield and take a hit herself, giving him a point as well. Tie match so far and Catryn wasn't interested in losing. Watching his shoulders, his feet, the movements, she waits for an opening, waits for it, countering any blows if she can.

As the two current combatants fight it out, Ewin looks around at the gathering. There are knights and lords that he knows; some he would want to test his skill against. And then, he notices the Lady Rose with her entorage. Smiling, he makes his way over to the Steeple-Langford lady, bowing before her. Good day, my Lady. Here to see the Challenges, I assume?"

"Into every life, a little snow must fall." Kamron shrugs a little helplessly, gesturing into the fight with his mailed mitt, "Well, the larger of the two is my cousin, Sir Cyndeyrn de Dinton. The nimbler," his lips purse again, but he sticks with that descriptor, "is Sir Catryn de Burcombe."

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 7.

Success
Cyndeyrn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 4.

Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (4 5 5 4) for a total of: (18)

Critical Success!
Cyndeyrn checked his dex of 9, he rolled 9.

"Based on our last encounter, I think even a little snow around you is quite dangerous," Arian says without her attention drifting from the spar, though there is a certain hint of laughter in her words and the corner of her mouth twitches ever so slightly. Now that the obstruction has lumbered off, the lady is back on her feet and watching the exchange of blows. The Pagan woman draws a finger across her lower lip as she critiques the form and presentation from each knight, though she wisely keeps her own commentary to herself. For now, at least.

Rose turns her attention to the bowing Knight with a hint of a smile as she nods gracefully, "So it would seems Sir Ewin, are you to add your name to the list of challengers this fine day?" The lift of her voice is curious as her eyes slowly raise to meet the taller male's own.

Cyndeyrn lands a solid blow and then withdraws again into a more neutral stance as the two continue their circling, probing for whatever weakness they may find, although really, like most combatants at this gathering she is well enough matched that there is no obvious failing, no glaring chink in the armor, proverbial or literally, to make a target of. Eventually, he grunts and makes a hard lunge, shield up and blade low, trying to overpower Catryn's defense, only to find her stepped just enough aside that her passing lash against his shield adds a little momentum to the misplaced charge and threatens to tip his somewhat precarious and top-heavy form over. Still, the young man skids a step and manages to hold his balanace and even twirl to return to a combat facing- albeit meaninglessly, as the touch has been made. "Well struck," he'll note, in the same dull-toned fashion as before, turning to walk toward the fences.

Ewin nods to Rose, smiling. "Aye, my Lady. That had been my hope. But the length of the challenges has taken away the hours of the day. And I find myself about to go to a meeting called by Sir Aeron de Berwik St. James. He is assembling an envoy and I am to be a part of it." He smiles proudly, pleased at being part of an important assignment. "I may be gone for some time, my Lady," and here, his features start to falter. "But there is still time before we depart, and walks to be had, I am hoping."

Kamron seems to lighten up a little as he speaks with the dark-haired woman, "Mostly to myself, as I recall. Justice does have its toll." As Cyndeyrn comes out of the third pass the worse for the matter, he grimaces, and calls out, "Neatly done. Neatly done." Nodding his head upward toward his returning cousin, he notes, "Coz, may I introduce Lady Arian de Laverstock. Lady Arian, my cousin, Sir Cyndeyrn de Dinton."

As with the other challenges before, Catryn nods her head in acknowledgement, "Well fought." Watching as he begins to move out of the circle, her green eyed gaze drifts over the other attending Knights, "Next?" Somewhat certain her confident demeanor was a little too confident, but with it spurring challenges, she came off a bit nonchalant. She waits for the next one.

Rose tilts her head to the side, a sure sign she is listening to Ewin speak, as he comes to the part of the Envoy, she blinks slowly before smiling, "That is a great honor Sir Ewin, I am sure you uphold all that a true Knight stands for.." It's offered softly before she glances up at the Knight again. "I am sure a walks will be needed as plans are made, so then your time away will not seem so long?" She counters as their conversation goes on the far side from the matches.

When Cyndeyrn is bested, Aluksander can't help but grin. Two in a row have fallen, and he beat two in a row just the other day. Now, he would see how good he truly was, or if he had just been lucky before. Swinging down from his horse, he affixes it's reins to a nearby post and begins to push his way towards the ring. When Catryn calls for next, Aluk, who already stands above most, raises his hand and calls, "Aye! I challenge!" Lest someone step forward before he finishes pushing through the crowd.

"I wasn't going to say one way or another, but your honesty is well-noted," Arian says in a low, playful voice. Then as introductions are made, the woman draws herself up tall — which is quite impressive for her already short height. She offers Cyndeyrn a warm, softly dimpled smile. "Sir Cyndeyrn… well met." She narrows her crystalline eyes at Cyn. "You know how to throw a decent snowball, don't you?" The question is presented to seriously that it is hard to discern if she is jesting the newly met knight or not. When yet another challenger steps forward, Arian is peeking around the pair of Dintons toward the sparring field.

Hearing the voice before seeing the man, Catryn looks around through the crowds until the challenger is found. A bow of her head to the knight, "Sir Catryn de Burcombe. I accept." Shield at the ready, blade given a look over before she readies it, squaring up, prepared to tackle the challenge at his ready.

"Aluksander Thane de Pitton, at your pleasure," the man says as he enters the ring. He bows a little, formally, and then unsheathes his sword, no shield to be seen. And, as his opponent sends ready, he wastes no time I'm coming at her with both hands on his sword.

Success
Aluksander checked his sword of 15, he rolled 14.

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 10.

Aluksander rolls 4d6 and gets (2 6 4 1) for a total of: (13)

Success
You check your dex at 17, you rolled 1.

It takes only that moment for him to get his point in, a hit, and Catryn is down by one. Taking a step back, she regroups, considering the other knight, looking for weaknesses, a place unguarded to land her hit.

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 14.

Failed.
Aluksander checked his sword of 15, he rolled 16.

Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (1 3 4 3) for a total of: (11)

Cyndeyrn stands a moment after walking back, allowing his squire to reclaim his shield and help remove his helm before attempting any sort of answer. "An uninteresting spar really, with mostly light touches. Yours seemed a little more vigorous." The introduction draws his attention toward Arian. "My lady, a pleasure-" he begins to offer, although without any particular flourishes or gestures, perhaps owing at least in some part to the fact he's still mostly in his gear, dirt and all. "-What? A snowball? Well, I suppose I do, as lads are wont to throw them at each other and there is no shortage of the stuff in winter." Even the way he says that he makes it sound like the activity might have been a little too childish - he was probably a dull lad! "Why do you ask?"

Well, when the first attack went so wonderfully, Aluksander apparently got a little complacent on the guarding side of things, as he fails to defend himself from Catryn's repost. Scowling and clicking his tongue, he shakes his head and mutters something to himself under his breath along the lines of needing to pay attention more. And, thusly rededicated to the fight, he advances, determined to clear the ring of its previous victor.

Success
Aluksander checked his sword of 15, he rolled 7.

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 6.

Aluksander rolls 4d6 and gets (3 2 5 2) for a total of: (12)

Success
You check your dex at 17, you rolled 15.

Kamron shrugs a little helplessly toward Arian, "Well, honesty is the best policy for any true knight. I can hardly strain for anything else, now can I?" Cyndeyrn's characterization of his experience as 'vigorous' causes the man's lips to twist again as if he'd bitten into something sour, "Indeed. Quite vigorous. Nearly as vigorous as an actual battle. I was a little surprised." The last line is delivered oh-so-flatly indeed. He allows Cyndeyrn to respond to the woman's teasing question, and then cracks a smile, touching Cyndeyrn's shoulder, "Her verbal volley is aimed at me, coz. I missed a throw with a snowball during the last fall and, to my shame, actually managed to hit the lovely Lady.

Catryn is just as determined to take the point as he seems to be with his rededication and she moves her shield into place, hoping to edge past his defenses once again. It's not a simple thing to do and she finds herself increasingly unable to. Finally, he makes contact and the second point is his, effectively eliminating her three win streak. A nod of her head, just as she had with the other three, "Well fought." Turning, she strides off the field, her squire trailing after her with hurried steps.

The Laverstock starts to smile at Cyndeyrn's question, and Kamron's quick rejoinder. "Indeed he did. I was taking a chance to make fun of our cousin… I hope that's alright. It comes so easily." She offers a small smile toward Kamron before she regards Cyndeyrn once more. "You did quite well… I think the Fae must be in favor of that lady… perhaps they have blessed her sword." Her nose wrinkles slightly as she starts to smile. "Or she is just quite worthy of her earned title."

"Better to note that kind of behavior in a cautionary fashion, and thus be warned against falling into it ourselves," Cyndeyrn remarks in turn. Obviously he is no more pleased than his cousin, but his take on the whole thing is quit stoic. "There are moments when such things are appropriate, and we will hold ourselves for them." Toward Arin now he looks a little more skeptical. Oh dear, what sort of lady has his cousin introduced him to? "I doubt such blessings very much. These are light spars, and mostly the luck of a few moments, of a step or miscalculation will account for victory or defeat. Which is not to speak ill of any opponent, or at least, not for the sake of her skill," suggesting he might think ill in other measures, "But it is important to keep perspective. We hold these small matches and even tourneys to hone our skills, or for some for entertainment," some, not him! "But it is in battle against barbaric foreign foes where our faith and mettle shall be tested."

As Aluksander scores the final point against Catryn, he can't keep his smile to himself. However, it was a narrow thing, and there is no cause for him to gloat. So, he turns to his opponent as she leaves and declines his head, saying, "Twas a close victory on my part. I don't know that I'd fare the same on another day. Well met, sir." And then Aluk begins looking around for other challengers, only to find the crowd thinning now that the streak has ended. Aluks looks disappointed, calling out, "Are there no others? Have I come too late?"

Kamron nods grudging agreement with Arian's words about the fight, "One never knows," one hand gestures to his cousin to add on to the larger man's words, "until it is mortal combat with the Saxons." A touch of smile spreads across his rich lips, "Or whomever King Arthur bids we fight." Offering up his smiles to the two, he then steps back forward, "If you will excuse me briefly." Raising his voice, he offers, "I could go another round, Sir. If you don't mind the back of my axe rather than a sword." His right hand pats the haft at his hip as he inquires.

Arian maintains a rather interested expression as Cynderyn explains the purposes of the matches. Her chaperone rolls her eyes behind the pair of Dintons, scowling slightly at her charge who avoids making eye contact with the old crone at all costs. She nods in agreement. "Oh, I'm sure… my brothers are oft to spar off against one another. I'm less inclined, personally." Again, her expression goes unchanged even while her chaperone continues to look cross at the young Laverstock. "I haven't needled my brothers for a match since I was a squire." At this point, the corner of her mouth twitches slightly.

When another call for a challenge is sounded, Arian turns with a curious arch of a brow, but the old woman is quick to shake her head. "Your armor is not here, Arian. Don't be daft."

"Saxons, Franks, or raiders from the north or west," Cyndeyrn agrees, adding a few more to the list of A-OK to slay. Hah that rhymes. If only he was such a poet. Having not paid the new bought in the middle much mind while conversing with the other two, he does look over when both the man in the center - having seemingly replaced the variously overzealous, lucky or fae-favored lass - and then his cousin speak up. But it's surely Kamron's turn if any, and so he'll just say his usual, "Good luck, coz," and rest a bit against the posts while glancing at Arian again. "We all get more than enough of it in, that it's near a wonder everyone is so eager now, but I suppose the coming tourney riles things up."

Aluksander smiles when Kamron opts for another go. He beckons the man in, calling, "Come, good sir! I have no quarrel with your use of an axe." Aluk moves to the other side of the ring to give the man space to enter and make ready. "Aluksander de Pitton, at your pleasure."

Kamron blinks at Arian's revelation even as he nods at Cyndeyrn's agreement. "Oh really? Sir Lady Arian is it then?" And then he's laughing out into the ring, bringing around his shield, pulling down his visor, and bringing out his leather-sheathed axe and flipping it around. "Wonderful. It's good to meet an open mind." Clattering the axe-half to the boss of his shield, he nods, "Sir Kamron de Dinton, at your leisure, Sir Aluksander."

Arian clasps her hands behind her back once more, striding forward a step to get a better look of the makeshift sparring field. The revealed knight smiles after Kamron as he starts to the field. "Mind your aim, Sir Kamron!" She glances toward Cynderyn at mention of the tourney, and she nods, sobering up a touch. "Would be my first tourney not squiring after my brother, if I decided to compete. My father has never been a fan of the tourney… he's old fashioned, I suppose. War is not entertainment, if I were to quote him." She fixes her attention on the sparring field now, watching as the two flourish their introductions.

Aluksander nods to Kamron as he makes ready. Once gfs has settled into his stance, Aluksander is quick to take the fight to him, closing the distance swiftly with his long legs. He feints with his first move, testing out Kamron's defense, seeing if there may be a wick opening before he attacks in earnest.

Success
Aluksander checked his sword of 15, he rolled 13.

Success
Kamron checked his Axe at 15, he rolled 2.

Aluksander rolls 4d6 and gets (3 4 6 3) for a total of: (16)

Success
Kamron checked his dex at 13, he rolled 4.

It may come as little enough surprise that Cyndeyrn quickly expresses agreement with her father's sentiment, as his own manner is hardly boisterous and his mind seemingly focused on these outward foes. "He sounds a sensible man. I see the good in it - competition does breed hard work - but it is also easy for one to become prideful or blusterous over these things. That woman earlier, she seemed to think such overabundant pride a virtue, when we are taught it is a dangerous sin. So I do wonder if such things do not encourage more of the same."

Kamron advances warily as well, keeping his shield hefted ahead of him. He strikes just as Aluksander does, sweeping the back haft of his leather-sheathed axe forward and in toward the other man's torso. He has to pull back from the blow, however, to respond to Aluksander's—oh, that's a feint. His shield is a little slow coming back in, and he takes a light blow of blade to iron rings at his side, "That's one."

"I'll pass along your compliments," Arian says with a wrinkle of her nose and soft smile. When Aluksander lands a hit, the knight offers a sympathetic wince. She shakes her head slightly before responding to Cynderyn's words on pride. "I think that pride is important, but like wine, too much will turn you into a blundering idiot." She considers the departed woman knight, shrugging slightly. "Honestly, I did not see superior skill nor form — though I only saw the two spars."

Critical Fail!
Kamron checked his axe at 15, he rolled 20.

Success
Aluksander checked his sword of 15, he rolled 14.

Aluksander rolls 4d6 and gets (6 1 5 2) for a total of: (14)

Success
Kamron checked his dex at 13, he rolled 4.

Aluksander feints again, this time drawing his opponent even more off guard. As Kamron fails to see through his attack, he scores another hit, winning another bout. Reaching up to finally lift his visor, Aluksander smiles broadly as he approaches the man. "A good fight, sir. I thank you for the challenge," he offers in pleasant fashion.

"She won many in a row… until she lost," Cyndeyrn notes, as if describing something as inevitable as the tides. "I do not think there is much more to it than that. Still, it serves a lesson, why we must guard against such pride. Satisfaction in work well-done is owed every man and woman, certainly, but to become convinced of one'd superiority is to soon see it crumble." He shrugs.

Success
Kamron checked his modest at 13, he rolled 7.

Another tricksy maneuver by the taller man sends Kamron sweeping his axe shy of his opponent, take a hit on his weapon arm, and actually loses his axe, sending it spinning free and into the dirt. Kamron makes a frustrated noise inside his helmet, but manages to raise his helmet and spread a smile across his face and offer out his right hand, "Well fought, Sir. You move a great deal more smoothly than I might expect from a man of your size." Then again, it seems like half the knights in Sarum tower over Kamron.

Arian shrugs slightly, though she doesn't seem to be on the edge of refuting the knight's perspective. She does wince again as Kamron takes that second strike, though she does not comment more than the sympathetic expression. When he steps back and offers his hand to Aluksander, the woman knight turns back to Cynderyn. "Build a tower too tall and it is bound to topple," she agrees in her metaphorical kind of way.

Aluksander laughs as he clasps the man's forearm and gives it a good shake. "Well I thank you, sir. But my size is mostly height and not weight, so it doesn't slow me much. I am not as interested in overpowering my opponents as out maneuvering. I have a longer reach, and without a shield, provide less of a target. Though, I am well aware that it puts me at a significant disadvantage if I am unable to avoid the enemy's blade." As he speaks, Aluksander walks over to pick up Kamron's ax, offering it to him now. "But we must choose our battles, right?"

Kamron clasps Aluksander's forearm, his smile broadening at the other man's good humor, "Just like a tree, such long arms and swaying frame. Too bad I couldn't get my axe a little closer to your trunk." Laughing softly, he takes back the axe, shakes the mud off it, and slips it back into the loop at his belt. "But you seem to have picked your battle nicely, Sir." Looking back to Arian, he shakes his head, "My apologies, Lady Arian. I aimed to show a little better skill with the axe than the snowball, but I'm afraid I've ended with embarrassment on hy face as well…" Smiling ruefully, he adds, "And perhaps a bit of mud."

Arian's warm smile returns as Kamron closes the distance once more and joins in the light conversation. "Now, Sir Kamron… you needn't try to impress me." Then she gestures to Cynderyn. "We were just discussing the downfall of pride." She tilts her head slightly, offering the recently thwarted knight a wry grin. "Do you feel your pride is a problem? You cousin may be a helpful source of remedy if so."

"I think the both of us have had any excess of pride driven from us in recent matches," Cyndeyrn is certain to note, given that it is hardly just his returning cousin who has suffered some losses on the day. "And surely that neither of us is in great need of further remedy. At any rate, it seems that things have settled down here. I may see about getting out of this armor and heading back to the inn for a while."

Success
Kamron checked his modest at 13, he rolled 7.

Kamron laughs easily in response to Arian's jibes, "Oh, I don't know, Lady Arian, or Sir Arian as it may be, but is desiring the pride of another such a deadly sin? Shouldn't we all seek to earn the approval and acclaim of those about us? Especially that of ladies as lovely as yourself?" The mention of Cyndeyrn causes the smaller man's laughter to return full force, "Oh, I assure you, my cousin is quite skilled at knocking the stuffing out of me… and the pride as well. And quite right about having the pride driven from us. It has been a humbling experience trying to fight with a backwards axe against such skilled fighters as have come for the tourney. I'll be back there by supper myself, Coz. Take care."

As Cynderyn departs, Arian bobs her head gently in farewell. She watches the Dinton knight depart, and then her pale gaze returns to the armored man. Her smile remains soft and dimpled, and her pale eyes reflect a slight curiosity. She steps forward a bit, hands still clasped behind her back as she casually circles the knight. "And to be fair," she says, plucking up a bit of conversation that hasn't yet been addressed, "You never asked directly for an introduction. You got my name from Morla. She just didn't address me properly." And she grins slightly over her shoulder to the sour woman.

Kamron nods his acceptance of the correction, "Quite right, Sir Arian, quite right. Although in deference to the good Madame, I believe that she addressed you in the best possible traditions of her post and role, as I understand it." Because it never hurts to butter up the chaperone… any chaperone really, since Kam is pretty certain that they all talk to one another. As she circles him, his helmeted head turns to follow her path, twisting around to look from over his right shoulder to over his left as she passes behind him, "And this is part of your study of a potential foe, is it?"

"Mm," Arian muses. She slips behind him, or attempts to depending on his speed in that dreadful armor. "Foe or friend, perhaps." She brushes a lock of dark hair over her shoulder. Her furlined cloak whispers against the cold, iced ground as she moves. She casts a glance toward Morla who continues to watch them with a harpy's intensity. She doesn't even offer Kamron much warmth in response to his words, though — for a heartbeat — the stony tightness of her lips loosens. Now Arian is back facing him once more, hands dropping from behind her back to cross lazily at her chest. "Are you a foe, Sir Kamron?"

Kamron does not turn fully to follow her, instead just turning his head to match. The point scored with the minderfor how can anything less than full-on-sourpuss not be considered a pointis noted but brushed past, with his attention focused on the younger woman, "I should not think so, for it is ever the duty of a good knight to see to the welfare of the noble ladies about him, but I cannot think of what sort of friend must needs to be studied with such dour intensity."

The petite woman laughs, and her entire being seems to lighten with the soft expression. "Mm, well said… I was just… taking careful note of you." She then glances toward Morla, gauging her minder for a few moments, and then she steps closer to the good Christian knight. "Would you like to take supper with me, Sir Kamron?" The forwardness of the question causes her minder's eyes to narrow quite dangerously. "As friends, of course… knight-to-knight. My brothers are off seeing to my father's business — something he does not see the need to include me in — and I would enjoy some company in their absence." Is replacing the company of one's brother the equivalent of being put in the friend zone?

Kamron reaches back with his free right hand, fluffing the length of his rabbit-fur cloak, "And does my cloak meet with your approval, Lady Arian?" Apparently, he means to use more than just the knightly mode of address, although perhaps there's a purpose behind the use of the womanly title in this case. With a glance to Morla and a faint smile of reassurance, he looks back to the clear-eyed woman, "I would be flattered, Sir Arian," Indeed, there the knightly title is back, "I am sure it would be quite wonderful to share tales of knightly valor on the battlefield, the fighting habits of the Saxons, and the importance of armor cleanliness with such a redoubtable knight as yourself." Not that he knows anything about her status as a knight, "And you can even tell those stories that your brothers have already heard before, provided you can get a word in edgewise."

"I've changed my mind," Arian says dryly, hardly missing a beat. "I'd rather sup alone." Her smile, however, says otherwise. She glances over her shoulder to Morla who is stuck between disapproval and surprise at the pair's exchange. When the knightly daughter returns her attention to Kamron, her expression has sobered a touch. "Well, Sir Kamron… you can meet us just after sundown." She steps back now, widening the berth between them and rejoining her minder's side.

Kamron laughs easily at the dry response, "Think of it this way, Sir Arian, more time for you to enjoy your food, if you do not have the tedious task of talking." Despite his inclination to gab, however, he seems quite willing to let her have her say as well, "I shall look forward to a delightful evening with two charming ladies." This time, the smile includes Morla, although the wink of one bright eye is for Arian alone.

The wink does its intentions — if Kamron's intentions were to make Arian pink ever so lightly at the apples of her cheeks. Knight or not, it appears she will still blush when prompted. She casts a glance toward her minder as she starts to turn away, reaching to reclaim the lead of her shaggy mare. She turns slightly back toward Kamron. "Good to cross paths with you again, Sir Kamron… with or without a snowball." Then she pulls the mare along, both her and her minder heading for the exit of the quarter.

Kamron bows his head, "And you as well, Lady Arian. Fare thee well." The aged minder gets another nod of the head, and then Kamron stretches his aching shoulder, shifts his shield about, and makes his way back into the loose crowds of young men and women still looking to smack one another senseless with blunted weapons.

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