(514-05-18) Dine on Humility
Summary: A few challenges are issued and taken.
Date: 514-05-18
Related: Wedding Tourney
acwel catryn kamron morag brynmor 

The Woodford knight was as good as any. Neither an ally or a rival, it would round things out nicely. So, at some point, somewhere, sometime, a challenge had been issued. Catryn was at the designated place at the designated time, armor, shield, sword. She's set. Even her squire Anais is there. A nod is given to the girl, "Yes, Annie." Even the sash is tied to her arm still as she awaits.

So was Acwel, for that matter. He has a thing about being punctual, clad in chainmail and wearing the tabard that displays the colors of his House. His shield is being strapped to his arm by his squire, for whom he offers a nod, as he looks across to Catryn. Interestingly, his sword has a piece of blue cloth tied just under the guard, which he caresses with his fingers as he reaches to draw sword from scabbard. A glance to the designated marshal, the Woodford awaits for the signal to start.

Likewise, Catryn would not go before the cue was given from her opponent. Her blade is raised though and she awaits the go ahead. As soon as it comes though, she will swing her blade with what she intends to be ruthless precision. It does not mean it comes across as such, but she gives it a try, slashing across his midriff, if she can find a place left open.

You check your sword at 15, you rolled 16.
Acwel checked his sword of 15, he rolled 8.
Acwel rolls 5d6 and gets (6 4 5 5 4) for a total of: (24)

Acwel is the type that stands still until the very last minute, and then the energy that seems to flow like blood in his veins finally comes to be seen. It is a last minute effort, but the Woodford parries the Burcombe's strike, stepping forward quickly to then hit her at her other side.

Critical Fail!
You check your dex at 17, you rolled 20.
Acwel checked his modest of 13, he rolled 10.

Brynmor is both rival and cousin to the infamous Catryn de Burcombe, but at this moment, he's just bored. Seated atop his springtime horse, dull eyes watching the silliness of these personal changes, but having someone in his family enter his own name on that list all the same, the Steeple Langford knight is still hurting from the last contest he entered, where he was unhorsed by the gaudiest knight in the land. Or that's what Brynmor will tell you when he gives his version of the story. He's not overly enthused about going head to head with any of these people and especially not his sweet cousin, so he's hoping that this a really long match. So long that once it's over, all anyone will think about is having some good ale and a tavern wench by their sides.

Catryn takes the swing too early and completely misses her opponent, the blade swishing past, finding only air. It gets her off balance so that when Acwel's sword strikes her, she is already half way there and faceplants on the ground getting a mouth full of dirt. Spitting it out on the ground, she flips around and gives him a wry look. "Well that was embarrassing." Using the sash, she wipes off her face and reaches for her sword, if he allows it, offering a bit of a sheepish grin if so. "Talented Woodford." Lifting her blade (if she has it) she takes a more defensive stance this time.

"It was merely luck," Acwel defers, modestly. He steps back and lifts his sword slightly up to the right, anticipating, it seems, that he will start with a sideways blow. Once the marshal gives the sign again, this time he dashes forward to strike Catryn. Once she has caught her sword and everything.

Acwel checked his sword of 15, he rolled 11.
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 2.
Acwel rolls 5d6 and gets (1 4 4 6 1) for a total of: (16)
You check your dex at 17, you rolled 5.

Luck or skill, he's doing something right! Catryn lifts her blade but not in enough time to make an effective block and his sword finds her. Not strong enough to knock her from her feet this time, she does manage to at least remain standing. Still, it's a second point to him for the contact. She lifts her sword and as soon as the go ahead is given, she strikes.

You check your sword at 15, you rolled 14.
Acwel checked his sword at 15, he rolled 7.
Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (3 4 1 4) for a total of: (12)

This time, the Burcombe does get the better of their contest. Acwel attempts to parry the strike but cannot, instead, he brings his shield up to deflect the attack, but it is still a hit. "Good one," he tells her as he steps back. The sword is lifted, but he seems to face her sideways, so that his shield can cover as much of his flank as possible.

Critical Success!
Acwel checked his sword of 15, he rolled 15.
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 2.
Acwel rolls 10d6 and gets (1 4 1 1 5 5 6 1 6 1) for a total of: (31)

With only one strike, Catryn lifts her sword and shield to block and manages to get herself hit again in the process. He had bested her and when the strike is made, she steps back. but the step back only successfully puts her back on her backside on the ground anyway because of the force of the hit. Rising to her feet, she offers a nod. "Well done." Without another word, she scoops up her sword and walks towards her squire.

"Well fought, Sir Catryn," Acwel offers a salute with his blade to the Burcombe woman, watching her as she walks towards her squire. Nodding once to the marshal, he wanders back to his own, the strip of cloth wrapped to his sword guard fluttering in the wind.

With her face washed, Catryn returns to the field, the circle to be exact. Just awaiting another challenger. Her shield is on, her squire nearby and her sword at her side. Everything she needed for a challenge. Armor is already in place, she'd had a match already and lost famously. With a sash around her arm, it looks as if it's some sort of favor but it's now dusty from wiping off her face when she had faceplanted.

Morag missed her sister's faceplant, and it's probably better for everyone involved. She's certainly curious about the personal challenges, and with a badge on her dress to proudly display her affiliation with Burcombe, she wedges in as close to the action as possible in order to watch Catryn's next efforts on the field, along with whomever else catches her eye.

Critical Fail!
Kamron checked his forgiving of 10, he rolled 20.

Kamron is out for blood — metaphorically speaking. He's armored, armed (with a heavy wooden-headed axe), carrying his shield, and accompanied by his tall, lanky squire carrying the knight's helmet. There is a red ribbon tied around his right bicep, although it is not horribly obvious, considering that he wears a red surcoat over his mail as well. As the pair of them approach the circles set aside for challenges, Kamron scans around, eventually spotting the Burcombe lady knight, and his features tighten. Clashing the wooden axe against the wooden face of his shield, he calls out, "Sir Catryn de Burcombe, shall we dance?"

It is the announcement Catryn had been waiting for, a plan since the wedding and giving of gifts. Or possibly even as far back as the last tournament. A look is given her sister first, a bow of her head and a smile, glad she had made it. It's brief before she is looking back towards Kamron. "I thought you would never ask," she dips her head, "And I see you brought your favored instrument of destruction." Him having an axe hadn't bothered her before, and it doesn't bother her now. "Shall we?" A salute given as she takes up her sword, shield already on her arm.

Kamron nods sharply, drawing in his breath to loose some of the tightness around his features, "I wouldn't leave a Lady waiting, Sir Catryn. First to three falls, or first to three strikes?" This time, there is no flourish from the axe, just Kamron ducking his head so that his squire Newt can settle his bucket helm over his face, then turning back to the circle and stepping inside. Axe in one hand and shield in the other, he brings up both, showing that he's ready.

Interesting… "Three knockdowns, I've developed a taste for dirt recently." Her green eyed gaze skitters over the Woodford, if he is still around, before coming back to the Dinton. "To old times and old rivalries." The crooked grin Catryn gives takes some of the heat out of it, hopefully. Almost immediately after, she lifts her sword and nods, taking a defensive stance, "At your ready, Sir."

Acwel is, indeed, here. He flashes Catryn a smile at her remark as he watches, on the sidelines, the challenge that is about to occur. His squire is offering him a wineskin, which he drinks from as he waits for the results of this particular clash, considering the competitors' previous tourney history.

Kamron checked his axe of 15, he rolled 2.
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 6.
Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (1 5 6 5) for a total of: (17)
Kamron checked his dex of 13, he rolled 4.

Kamron bows his helmet slightly in a heavy nod, "It's always good to taste a little humility." Whether he's smiling or not within that heavy helmet is impossible to see. He advances on the lady knight, attacking directly and without any particular hesitation. Just a straight-forward attack and an overhead sweep of his axe.

"Humility." Catryn echoes even as she lifts her sword to counter the blow and swing an attack of her own. "I eat it, daily, recently." She doesn't look back to Acwel, nor does she search for any other who had bested her in spars recently. Instead, she turns her concentration on Kamron and his axe.

Critical Fail!
Kamron checked his axe of 15, he rolled 20.
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 4.
Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (2 5 2 6) for a total of: (15)
Kamron checked his dex of 13, he rolled 4.

Kamron gets his shield in between Catryn's blade and his side, but it still strikes his ribs, thumping into his ribs. He shuffle-steps to his right, but retains his feet, coming in to press what little advantage he has — which is to say, none at all. When he comes in next, he tries to parry her sword with his axe, setting himself up to slam his shield into her shoulder… only to see the haft of the all-wood axe crack under the impact, the head spinning away to thump into the earth a couple of paces away and leaving him with a heavy wooden… stick.

Morag bursts into applause from her spot at the sidelines, bouncing up and down on her heels. "Get him, Cat!" she calls out, clearly familiar with the lady knight. The priestess is quite fervered in her enthusiasm; clearly she's a fan.

Catryn lifts her blade, fully intending on swinging it and finding any place she can to put enough heat behind it to take his feet out from under him. What happens next, she wasn't even sure and would never quite know, but she finds herself standing there, staring at Kamron and his broken axe, the sound of her sister in the background cheering her on. "Sir… your axe." As if he didn't know. "Do you have a replacement?" There was his one chance.. she was waiting.

Kamron takes another blow to the right shoulder after his axe breaks. At her offer, he hefts the broken axe a moment, then shakes his head, tossing the haft out of the circle, "Newt, sword!" Because it's a whole lot easier to pull the blow of a sword than it is an axe. His squire skitters forward, and Kamron backs up, holding his right hand out. The squire stumbles, but manages to get the hilt into Kamron's hand. Stepping forward again and bringing the blade up before him, he nods to Catryn, "Thank you, Sir Catryn. At your ready."

Kamron checked his sword of 10, he rolled 2.

Waiting, Catryn watches as a sword is called for, and delivered. Once it's in place, she tilts her head, a curious expression worn. It wasn't his first choice of a weapon, she was aware of that. Still.. it's a challenge and she lifts hers again at his call for being ready and nods, "Ready." Without hesitation, she moves to be on the offensive, swinging her blade in a sideways motion, a slicing motion, aimed for his side.

You check your sword at 15, you rolled 17.
Kamron rolls 4d6 and gets (5 5 2 4) for a total of: (16)
You check your dex at 17, you rolled 9.

Kamron hefts the sword, and it becomes clear as he shuffle-steps back in the face of Catryn's attack that it is clearly not his best weapon. He twists to catch the blow to his right with the edge of his shield, and the swings the sword over the top of the shield, aiming a slash down at Catryn's right shoulder while it is still extended. Evidently, he is not exceptional with the weapon, but neither is he totally helpless.

A hit it is! Catryn manages to keep her feet beneath her despite the force behind his sword. Taking a step back to catch herself, she inclines her head in acknowledgement of the move he had made, impressive as it was. It also gives her the opportunity to try and put some weight behind her next attack as she swings her sword, stepping into it this time.

You check your sword at 15, you rolled 6.
Kamron checked his sword of 10, he rolled 4.
Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (2 4 3 1) for a total of: (10)

Kamron pushes forward to try and take back the initiative from the Burcombe, only to step into a whirlwind. He manages to catch most of the blow on his shield, but it's enough to completely cut off his assault, and he is pushed backward, taking another touch to the shoulder. Inside his helm, he grimaces, but buckles down, shaking out his right arm in the wake of the hit and to get a feel for the unfamiliar weapon.

The sword strikes and Catryn once more appears to have the upper hand if only a moment. The step forward had given her the attack, but not enough force behind it to do anything desired, such as remove his feet from underneath him. Figuratively, of course. Intending to keep the advantage, when he shakes out his right arm, she goes right for it with her sword, trying to knock it from his grasp, if possible.

You check your sword at 15, you rolled 19.
Critical Fail!
Kamron checked his sword of 10, he rolled 20.

Kamron stays low to ensure that he does not get knocked down, but that does not work in his favor as he tries to come over the top again, giving Catryn the perfect opening for her plan. The blades clash, and his grip is not what it should be, used to wielding an axe as he is. The metal jars in his palm, and goes spinning off into the grass. The Dinton steps back then, holding his arms out to his sides to show he has no more offensive intentions, "This match is your, Sir Catryn." Once that is clear, he steps forward again, holding out his right hand, "Thank you for a well-fought match, and may fortune favor you going forward." See, he can be polite, when she follows the accepted rules of courtly combat.

It wasn't what Catryn had expected, to have him lose the sword after losing the axe. Flinging up the visor of her helmet, she gives him a searching look, seeking his for a moment. When he moves forward, she sheathes her blade and offers her arm in return. "Well fought, Sir Kamron, you are indeed quite the fighter." Once the gesture is made, returned, she steps back and dips her head in a polite bow, features unreadable before she looks towards her sister and walks over to her, squire in tow.

Kamron's features are unreadable within the big bucket helm, but he clasps her forearm readily enough, nodding once, then stepping back. No apparent insult intended, but one can always be found if one wants. By then, his squire has gathered up both pieces of his axe (only dropping them twice) and his sword, and comes up to take the helm off, dropping all three weapons as he tries to do so, leading to the first vision of Kamron to the outside world after the match being of him rolling his eyes at his squire.

People are cheering, right? So of course Morag is too. As Catryn strides forward, so too does her younger sister, until Morag has sought to brush her hands against the arm braces of the lady knight's armor. "You were marvelous." Morag's eyes might be a little starry-eyed. Surely Catryn's used to the hero-worshiping expression on Morag's face by now.

Catryn leans in to brush a kiss over her sister's forehead. "Thank you, love." Because she adores her sister, yes she does. "Thank you for cheering me on, it helped a lot. I could hear you. Would you like to go see the King and the Queen now? I could escort you?"

"Could you? I've a gift for the Queen, and though it's on behalf of Danu, I'd just as soon have family with me when I present it." Morag says, giving Catryn a cursory look over to see if she's injured. "Is your opponent relatively unharmed? He seemed able to walk and breathe and so I assumed he was fine."

"He is unharmed." Catryn looks back towards Kamron then again to Acwel, inclining her head to each before offering her arm to her sister. "A gift for the queen? Interesting. I've already requested my gift of the king. A name for my firstborn son." That thought brings a small frown. "Now to get along with Sir Cynrain long enough to have one.."

With a laugh, Morag takes Catryn's arm. "Once you are wed, I shall make offerings daily on your behalf. As they walk away, "If he's brave enough to wed you, he's brave enough to bed you." Sassy talk, but then she's priestess to a goddess of fertility, so! "We'll need to stop at our pavilion, but otherwise, let's be off!" And so they do.

Acwel nods to Catryn as he speaks to his squire about the particulars of swordsmanship or some such. The Woodford and the boy start drifting toward the exit of the grounds, the former holding the reins of his horse, Saint, the latter tagging along with his own mount.

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