(514-05-18) More Jousting Madness
Summary: Round 1 of the Jousts: Martyn de Baverstock faces Peregrine de Mildenhall, and Bryce de Baverstock rides against Selivant de Durnford.
Date: May 18th, 514
Related: Other wedding tournament logs.
martyn bryce selivant lysanor dalan acwel 

Tournament Field - Carlion

The tourney grounds are little more than an open field, the grass spotty and bare in spots, with stands erected for the comfort of viewers, and more elaborate seating for the king, and the various high lords of the land. A larger expanse of ground has been set aside for the mock battles of the melee, and the area surrounding the tourney grounds has been set aside for the tents and pavilions of the visiting knights.

Having watched some of the earlier tilts in quiet, Martyn prepares for his turn facing an opponent. Or, as he likes to think about it, facing himself, through the use of another person. Mounted up, he brings the horse into position, and waits to see his opponent now.

Sir Peregrine de Mildenhall is what most would call a seasoned veteran. The hard battles he has fought in his long career as a knight have left their traces, visible and evident in the manner he moves, the scar covering the left side of his haggard face, the greying strands of hair that frame features of a rather principled, strict lifestyle. He is armored, as is to be expected, and already ahorse when the herald announces the pairing against one Martyn de Baverstock. And as the other already rides to claim his place in the list, Sir Peregrine takes the time to raise his lance in salute at least to the King and Queen, before his dapple grey courser has brought him to the opposite side, facing Martyn now. Visor is lowered, the lance couched, as the Mildenhall knight spurs his steed on, and they are bound to clash in the middle of the lists.

Critical Success!
Seriol makes a check for Old Knight Lance at 18, he rolled 18.
Martyn checked his lance of 13, he rolled 19.
Seriol rolls 6d6 and gets (2 5 1 5 5 1) for a total of: (19)
Martyn checked his horsemanship of 14, he rolled 6.

Sir Peregrine lifts his visor, once he reaches the other side of the lists, after his lance almost pushed the other out of the saddle. Seeing Martyn is still ahorse, the Mildenhall reaches out for a fresh lance (the other probably getting cracked from the impact) and spurs his steed on for the next pass, to decide the tilt once and for all.

As the two clash, Martyn takes a solid hit, wobbling a bit in his saddle but managing to stay in the saddle. Wincing, he mutters a bit to himself, slowly turning around at the end to prepare for the next round. Hopefully, it will go far better now.

Martyn checked his lance of 13, he rolled 6.

Bryce de Baverstock, the lord and cousin to Sir Martyn winces inwardly in empathy with the pain his relative must feel at the moment. Even so, Bryce is already on his black stallion Devil, wearing his tourney armor, a lance in his right and a shield showing the coat of arms of Baverstock in his left. He will be next in the contest it seems, But until then, he will watch his cousin's tilt most attentively.

Seriol makes a check for Old Knight Lance at 18, he rolled 16.
Critical Success!
Martyn checked his lance of 13, he rolled 13.

"Hah! Well done!", Sir Peregrine cannot help to exclaim, in his rather characteristic raspy voice, probably the consequence of an occasional stiff drink now and then, after the next pass has their lances skitter on each other's shield without really doing much damage. And so it is another pass.

Martyn rolls 6d6 and gets (5 4 2 4 1 6) for a total of: (22)
Critical hit means double damage of 44
Seriol makes a check for Old Knight Horsemanship at 18, he rolled 5.

Selivant comes riding into the field atop his trusted steed, a dun named Wind. His tourney armor has been treated and polished to perfection for the tournament, which seems a waste considering it will be dirty and muddy before the first day is over. He brings Wind to a stop and watches the two current contestants in the title, waiting for his own turn. As Sir Martyn lands an excellent blow, Selivant nods in appreciation but remains quiet.

But… this time it seems to be Martyn whose lance hits home with momentum. Great momentum. "NEVER FALTER!", comes the approving roar of Bryce de Baverstock when he sees that once in a lifetime hit that lifts the seasoned veteran knight out of his saddle and makes him fly the flight of the bested. The arrival of Sir Selivant earns the man in question a glance of intrigued attentiveness, before the Baverstock's attention is back on his cousin.

Having gotten through that first hit, and still managing to be in the saddle, Martyn focuses a bit more now. And in that last pass, he manages to strike well. "Whoa…" he mutters, his body language suggesting he's more surprised than anything else. As he reaches the end, he looks towards Sir Peregrine, watching the man carefully to see if he can get to his feet. Still a bit shocked about his strike.

Lysanor has been watching the jousts through most of the day. No matter the match, every event was exciting. She had seem many sweet victories, including bouts won by friends and the like, along with bittersweet losses. At least she had her family to keep her company with she and a cousin or two acting as their own cheering section. Some of the most exciting jousts are when the veteran knights actually take the stage. Their prowess on horseback and familiarity of their weapon greatly shows when they have unhorsed many an opponent who gone up against them. So when Sir Martyn is actually seen unhorsing one of these older knights, Lysanor is quite pleased by this, applauding the man for a job well done. "That may very well be the first unhorsing of a veteran knight that I had seen all day."

"And the winner of this tilt is… Sir Martyn de Baverstock!", calls the herald from the side, while a squire and a few others run to check on Sir Peregrine de Mildenhall who so violently unhorsed, has finally landed on the soft ground of the tourney field, but seems to be conscious and able to speak. An old critter of a knight. He rises to his feet with help from the others and walks off the tourney field, on his own. After the required congratulations towards Martyn de Baverstock.

Bryce checked his Awareness at 10, he rolled 13.
Critical Fail!
Dalan checked his Heraldry of 15, he rolled 20.

Acwel is standing at the sidelines, watching the competitors quietly. He is not in armor, so evidently this is not the contest he is waiting for.

Time for another Baverstock to get ready. Bryce may be aware of many eyes lingering on him when the next pairing is called. But even so, the gaze of a certain Dinton lady he seems currently oblivious to, when his squire Carl offers last adjustments of the armor, before his knight rides to take his place in the lists. The lord knight of Baverstock's face shows determination and that hint of competitiveness when he meets Selivant's gaze, the lance raised in respectful salute nonetheless. But even so, this particular knight is an old acquaintance, a regular match that he dreads and likewise appreciates. "May the better knight win," Bryce calls to Selivant in good-natured challenge, lowering the lance then and tightening the grip on the Baverstock shield, before the sign is given and he spurs Devil on, aiming to unhorse!

There's a deep breath as he sees the other man get to his feet, and Martyn offers the man a smile in return. "Thank you, sir. You hit like a wall," he offers. That done, he gets to the sidelines, and off his horse.

Since the Jousting has started, Sir Dalan has put on his armor to prepare for when he is called to Tilt, but for the time being he mills about enjoying the matches. Seeing Sir Martyn urhorse his foe, Dalan gives him a good hearty 'Huzzah' of support. His helm tucked beneath his arm and his coif pulled down, Dalan approaches at knight in Woodford colors, He eyes the crest and the colors and walks up to him and says, "Good Day, Sir Acwel," Dalan says, please of himself that he's reconized the man by soley his colors and coat of arms. "I was hoping to see you at here at the Tourney. I hope you are enjoying the proceedings."

Dalan is, of course, talking to the completely wrong person who just blinks and stares at him awkwardly.

To those of keen eyes it is apparent Sir Bryce wears a favor wound about his right arm, something glinting there in the fabric - perhaps some sort of pendant?

"I am Sir Acwel," the Woodford intones to the man who apparently went to speak to another man so he could… speak with him? Something convoluted to retell, surely. "How may I help you, Sir?"

Selivant checked his proud of 13, he rolled 1.

Is that the Lord of Baverstock about to joust? Lysanor seems to rise even taller where she stands, though she is more than like standing on her tip-toes. Looking from the Baverstock knight, she peers across the way now, curious as to his opponent is. But then, her cousin comes over and distracts her with an odd question. No, Sir Dalan isn't speaking to another man, but the fair Dinton maiden in the crowd, who now, though it's hard to look away from a good joust, has to peer up at the Newton and ask, "Cousin, it is I, Lysanor." There is much confusion on her features with the man having completly messed that up altogether. But look, the Woodford knight approaches and in turn, she curtsies to the pair, "Sir Acwel…" Though her attention does not linger on them both for long, there is a joust to watch!

Dalan looks to the first person the tried to address, then to Lysanor, then to Acwel, and back to the man he mistakenly addressed. His ear's are beat red by this point as he quickly tries to come up with some suave and causal way to talk himself out of this mix up.

He's got nothin'

He clears his throat and bows to Lysanor, "It is good to see you cousin, you are looking Lovely as ever." He turns then to Sir Acwel and says, "Sir Acwel." he says having the right one with Lysanor's help, "I am Sir Dalan de Newton, We have only meet in the briefest of passing the past, so I hoped I could find you at the tourney and introduce myself."

"Sir Dalan," Acwel replies, nodding back to the man. To Lysanor he flashes a smile and bows his head courteously in a greeting. "Lady Lysanor, I hope things are going well." Then back to the Newton, "How can I help you, cousin?"

Selivant offers a salute to Bryce as he also prepares for the tilt. "Sir Bryce, it is always a pleasure to unhorse you." He chuckles as he says it, indicating it is meant mostly in jest. His grin fades somewhat, as he prepares himself for the tilt, knowing that his opponent is one he has to take seriously. "May the gods or god favor the better knight." They may be rivals, but Selivant can appreciate the other man's choice of religion. He clicks his tongue and kicks his horse to move into the correct position to begin the joust. He nods once to indicate readiness.

Bryce checked his Lance at 15, he rolled 3.
Selivant checked his lance of 15, he rolled 13.
Selivant rolls 6d6 and gets (3 6 1 2 6 6) for a total of: (24)
Bryce has SIZ of 12, hence he is unhorsed
Bryce rolls 1d6 and gets (5) for a total of: (5)
5 points of damage from falling off the horse

Dalan nods to Acwel and clears his throat, trying to appear confident, "Well.. I had hoped to talk to you. Woodford and Newton have long been close, and I'd like to do my part to keep that relationship strong and, I wanted to ask if I might court your cousin, Lady Laurwyn." Dalan just coming right out with it.

Lysanor is far too distracted to take full notice of Dalan's error, hence some of her confusion and she barely notices just how flustered the man is right now too. Though one word does, for whatever reason, pique her attention and that is one calling the other 'cousin' as well, the very same term she had used with Dalan. "I guess, I should have known that where would be some links with the both of your families." She muses, though her eyes never leave the field. Not even… when Dalan speaks of courting one of the Woodford's! As much as such talks do interest her, she seems invested in this match. In fact, even her fingers fidget with with the edge of one of her sleeves, feeling the tension of just the sound of the hooves alone.

Hoofbeats thundering below him, Bryce's dark eyes narrow as they take aim, the right arm tightening its grip about the lance that intends to push Selivant out of the saddle… But when the two knights finally clash in the middle of the lists, the other knight goes flying; Bryce managed to hit, but the blunted tip of the tourney lance skittered along the shield, not hitting it with enough impact and in the right angle. Alas! Selivant's lance hit home with more momentum. Bryce is less heavy, a lanky knight of rather short stature which shows in the way he glides through the air as if he were a bird! A heavy bird though, judging from the clanking of his armor as the Baverstock finally lands on the ground, a fall that pushes the air out of his lungs from the impact.

Carl rushes already to his side, as Bryce lays there on the ground, blinking as he stares up into the air. But it does not take long, and the Baverstock moves to stand with the kind assistance of Carl, and inclines his head towards the Durnford - a rival from previous tourneys. "You have… bested me, Sir," Bryce allows in a tone that is of a lower register but still loud enough to hear for those in the stands. "This time." A hint of a smile there curving his lips as his dark eyes meet the gaze of Selivant de Durnford, the glance he gives him, very much suggesting there will be another match with another outcome, next time.

Selivant kicks his heels into Wind and screams a "Hyah!" to begin charging towards Sir Bryce de Baverstock. He brings his lance to bear, aiming for Bryce's shield, while bracing himself for impact of both lance and possibly the ground. As they pass, his lance smashes into Bryce's shield, while he receives a glancing blow in return which is off enough to keep him from being unhorsed. The other man is not so lucky, as the pass completes and Selivant is riding off to the other side, slowing his horse for another pass if needed. Fortunately his lance did not break from the impact. When he turns and sees the Baverstock knight on the ground, he pauses to wait a determination and to see if he is injured.

"Well, what is your relationship to Sir Gwion? Are you his first cousin or his second?" Acwel asks of Dalan, rubbing his chin at the man. "I ask because Newton and Woodford have blood ties, Sir, and I am not sure of the legality of such a courtship."

While one of his main wishes right now would be to get out of the armor he's wearing, Martyn carefully watches Bryce's turn at the jousting. As he sees his cousin flying, he almost moves forward, but sees Carl move in first. Waiting until his cousin makes it off the field before moving in his direction.

Dalan considers this for a moment, after all he doesn't keep a flow chart handy and says, "Well my father was Sir Gwion's uncle, So I would be Sir Gwion's first cousin." Dalan answers as he talks himself through the relations.

Bryce checked his Proud at 7, he rolled 18.
Bryce checked his Modest at 13, he rolled 10.

"Well, that would end up complicated, but I will accept. I do not think the two of us have blood relationships save as cousins once removed," Acwel replies, considering this for a moment. "And Lady Laurwyn is my second cousin, if I am not mistaken, so that would clear you of any kinship. Very well, I accept."

Bryce stands just fine, and even if the look of his dark deyes had for a moment appeared like something of a glare, his expression softens, and he admits: "But today, I have to admit, you had the better aim." Another nod is offered to Selivant, as the Baverstock moves off the field, beside his squire who leads Devil by the reins. For those with keen eyes, the slight limp in the gait of Sir Bryce may hint at some minor injury.

Acwel also murmurs something to the man, reaching out to pat his fellow knight's shoulder.

Selivant approaches Bryce on his horse, gives another salute, and addresses him in a much more serious demeanor than his earlier jesting. "It was an honor facing you today, Sir Bryce de Baverstock. I look forward to the day you even score once more, as you surely will." He smiles then and nods once to the man. "Good luck with your other pursuit this tourney." He then steers his horse to trot off the field, as Bryce moves towards his squire.

Martyn checked his Awareness of 10, he rolled 18.

Dalan pats Acwel's shoulder and and murmur's something in return to him before leaning back and speaking more painly, "Know that I will honor and protect her always."

"You okay there?" Martyn asks as he moves over towards Bryce, moving a bit quickly to catch up to his cousin. "That was a solid crash to the ground there."

With all of this talk of marriage and now familial relations buzzing in her ear, Lysanor picks up bits and pieces of what is being discussed by the tall people behind her. Though it's the action on the field that seems to have this hold on her, the charging of the horses, followed by the clash of lance against shield that follows. It's a loud, almost frightening sound, one that makes her body tense as she braces for the impact. Sometimes, it's difficult to watch, but she does not dare tear her eyes from any of this. Once the damage is done and the Baverstock is unhorsed does she finally let out a heavy breath, one which she may have been trapped within her lungs this entire time. She didn't really know the man's opponent, but she had known the Baverstock since they were children! And so, she makes her way out to the field, sensing that the Baverstock knight's injured leg, noting his gait. "Sir Bryce," She calls out, once she draws near, her eyes looking towards Selivant now, when the pair exchange words. "Your leg," She starts, "For now, you really should give it some rest and I wish to have it examined to ensure that there is nothing serious involved." Careful eyes scan the Lord's features, noting his expression and body language now that she can better see him.

Martyn receives a glance from Bryce, as he pauses in his progress, a slight upturn of his lips meeting the concerned gaze of his cousin. "I am fine," he assures. "If there is one thing I've learned, it is how to fall off a horse without breaking my neck." A hint of amusement lacing his tone there. Before the arrival of Lysanor de Dinton diverts his attention. "I believe it is little more than a sprained ankle," Bryce states with a dismissive gesture of his hand. "But yes… In a way I wish I could have offered a better showing…" Aware as he is that she was there to witness his unhorsing. "I shall head your advice," the Baverstock lord adds at a lower volume, meeting Lysanor's gaze with a sigh. "If that will make you feel more at ease."

Martyn smiles as he hears that, nodding a bit. "Ah, yes. Good to hear that, cousin." There's a brief pause as he offers a smile and a nod to Lysanor as well. "Lady Lysanor," he offers to her, nodding a bit in quiet at what's being said.

Dalan relaxes as he conversation with Sir Acwel comes to a close and it's as if a burden is taken from his shoulders. Drawing a deep breath, Dalan starts to leave the grounds, He has some preparations he has to make before it is his turn to joust.

With Bryce's squire helping him along, Lysanor remains at a respectful distance from the man, all the while she continues to access his injury through sight alone. "Even a sprained ankle needs its rest, Sir Bryce, or else it will never have any hope of recovery." When she notices Martyn standing beside his cousin, Lysanor graces him with a curtsy and continues to trail the Baverstock's back to their tent, where their gear and the like must surely be housed. "Congratulations, Sir Martyn on your victory today." She has to start, having witnessed the man's win just prior to… But in response to Bryce's words, she can only offer a reassuring smile, "I have been here for most of the day and have witnessed some remarkable performances and also, many such as your own, that end far too quickly. Do not worry, there will be other events for you to participate in." That reassuring smile then turns into a gentle frown, "If that sprain goes away." That almost sounds like a warning.

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