(514-05-19) Challenges in the Quiet
Summary: A small contingent of strangers challenge each other to duels separate from the rest of the field. (I combined them all because I'm too lazy after all)
Date: 514-05-19
Related: Bradwyn versus Rowan (comes right before)
bradwyn brynmor cyndeyrn erion rowan 


Ugh, is it really his turn already? "Who even put my name on that damn list.." Brynmor mutters in annoyance to himself, that handsome brow of his furrowing all the more. His young squire, Guffud, is in the process of finishing dressing the Steeple Langford in his maile and all during all this time when he's not complaining, Brynmor is completely focused on the task at hand. Or, at the very least, of getting some shut eye while Guffud does all the work. The excitable squire then pats his knight on the back, "You're all set, Sir!" And this forces Brynmor to stumble forward, being caught off guard. "Guff, what did I say about…" The squire hands him his sword now as the young blonde knight peers over at his new opponent. "So, uh, yeah."

The names are called and seems the six foot giant doesn't get a break so soon. Lacking his own squire as he's just recently been knighted Sir Bradwyn de Idmiston steps over the rope back into the ring, seemingly unaffected by the match he just had, at least in terms of damage. Checking his shield and readying his blunted sword once again he takes up a ready stance after saluting his fellow knight with the blade.

Success
Bradwyn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 1.
Success
Brynmor checked his sword of 15, he rolled 12.
Brynmor rolls 4d6 and gets (3 3 3 6) for a total of: (15)

When Brynmor is awake, he's usually only half-awake, but that rush of adrenaline does wonders some times. He knows that now that he's here, he can't just call it quits. Not in front of all of his glorious fans, even if most of those are simply in his mind. Slowly, he begins to circle his opponent, that sword hand bet at the elbow while he dons his shield on his other hand. "So!" He calls out to the much bigger guy, "How often do you get a chance on picking on someone your own size?" He asks in what could be playful banter, but his tone is usually harsh with annoyance and just at that moment, she steps forward to strike, bringing his weapon down in slash towards Bradwyn.

Once more it is the first to land three hits, to Brynmor's words Bradwyn chuckles softly and says, "only one. Though I did face one taller than myself recently. Then comes the attack and while Bradwyn blocks the hit with his shield, it is still a hit and so the first point goes to the shorter of the two knights. Bradwyn wastes not time in continuing the fight however as he swings as well.

Success
Bradwyn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 7.
Success
Brynmor checked his sword of 15, he rolled 2.
Bradwyn rolls 5d6 and gets (1 3 6 5 1) for a total of: (16)
Critical Success!
Brynmor checked his dex of 10, he rolled 10.

Seems the six foot giant takes the advantage this time. Knocking Brynmor's sword to the side to avoid a hit, Bradwyn's own sword comes down hard, impacting the shorter knight's shield hard, though Brynmor manages to maintain his footing.

Success
Bradwyn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 12.

oming upon the knights as they face each other is another knight and his squire. Sir Erion de Woodford is out looking for a challenge as well it seems. He pauses near the spectacle of the two knights fighting, watching thoughtfully. The young man is quite the sight to behold, golden hair, handsome features and nicely maintained polished armor. He looks perhaps a bit to polished to be much of a fighter but still he regards the others carefully trying to see if he might convince one of them to face him in a personal challenge.

Brynmor would rather not be struck by a knight as large as Bradwyn, but sometimes it cannot be helped. So when his own slash comes up short, he can already feel the impact of the larger knight's strike against him before he even makes contact. Then he feels this harsh force coming down on him, the pressure pushing him down so that his booted feet dig into the dirt, but in the end, he finds himself miraculously standing… when his eyes open. "Well then!"

Success
Brynmor checked his sword of 15, he rolled 13.
Brynmor rolls 4d6 and gets (4 5 1 4) for a total of: (14)

Ow, that last hit still smarts and Brynmor lifts his rotates his shoulder back a few times to loose his joints there. "So, how many of these did you win thus far?" He continues with some of the annoying chatter, his eyes focused on his opponent, sizing the guy and trying to find some weak spot on the giant. And just that in moment, he charges forward, bringing his own sword down upon the man's shield and feeling the impact of that alone. Bradwyn did not budge and Brynmor could sense that in his sword arm, which is a bit sore from his scored hit!

Success
Brynmor checked his sword of 15, he rolled 9.

Bradwyn nods respectfully to Brynmor, not easy to take a hit from him and stay on your feet, especially with such seeming ease. Perhaps he should hit harder next time. He then takes another swing, but is just short of the the mark, though he brings his shield up in time to block the blow from Brynmor, it still counts as the shorter knight takes the lead once more, two to one. He does answer the question though with a simple, "None of two."

Failed.
Bradwyn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 18.
Brynmor rolls 4d6 and gets (5 4 3 5) for a total of: (17)
Failed.
Bradwyn checked his dex of 10, he rolled 15.

For all of Brynmor's laziness, he sometimes has luck on his side! He's neither large nor all that quick on his feet, but he's trained with the best of them and has been knighted for that. So it should come as no surprise when Brynmor continues to dance about the large man, his keen eyes taking notice of an opening or other and in he goods with a quick lunge, his own lean frame trying to evade the incoming attack which he expects will happen. But it does not! In fact, the Steeple Langford's quick-footed moves seemed to have thrown his opponent off guard and once his sword strikes, he does not hit the man's shield, the blade's arc aiming more towards his chest. Perhaps that was the giant's undoing, the larger man's attack going wide and just missing his wheat-haired opponent. "Holy crap!" Brynmor calls out, blinking quickly at this surprising victory. Off to the side, his squire says a bit too loudly, "I didn't see that one coming!"

A final blow and this one puts Bradwyn on his back with a grunt. A few moments to collect himself and he stands to his full height once more, "Well fought." is offered to Brynmor in good sportsman-styled fashion. Offering another salute with his sword he steps over the rope to leave the ring for the next pair of challengers. Lacking a squire of his own, Bradwyn takes a seat to rest for the time being.


Coming upon the knights as they face each other is another knight and his squire. Sir Erion de Woodford is out looking for a challenge as well it seems. He pauses near the spectacle of the two knights fighting, watching thoughtfully. The young man is quite the sight to behold, golden hair, handsome features and nicely maintained polished armor. He looks perhaps a bit to polished to be much of a fighter but still he regards the others carefully trying to see if he might convince one of them to face him in a personal challenge.

Rowan takes some time to recuperate from his match with the behemoth of a knight, but knows better than to get too comfortable when he expects to fight again in the near future. He spots Sir Erion in the corner of his eye when his gaze drifts from the ongoing duel, and after a quick moment of contemplation, approaches the newcomer. "Looking for a challenge, Sir?" He inquires evenly.

Erion turns his head to study Rowan calmly as he approches and speaks. After a moment of looking the man over the knight of Woodford offers a rather charming grin and a nod. "Indeed I am. Would you like to be that challenge then?" He turns to face Rowan fully considering him carefully as he waits for the reponse from the other man.

"Indeed," Rowan answers Erion, retrieving his abandoned blunted blade nearby. "It seems wise to help each other out, then," he says as he looks back over his shoulder, eyes momentarily glancing over to the match finishing up. His brow arches at the apparent victor - he may have been expecting a different result! He approaches the makeshift ring once the combatants presumably remove themselves. "Sir Rowan de Wylye, by the way." It seems like the proper time for a greeting!

Erion's hand reaches out towards his squire and the boy hands him his own blunted blade. With a polite nod to Rowan he also makes his way into the makeshift ring. The introduction is met with another rather charming smile. "A pleasure Sir Rowan, I am Sir Erion de Woodford." The smiles fades away into a look of focus as the Woodford prepares himself. "Whenever you are ready then." He is on his guard ready for the match to start.

Critical Success!
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 15.
Critical Success!
Erion checked his sword of 15, he rolled 15.

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 8.
Success
Erion checked his sword of 15, he rolled 12.
Erion rolls 4d6 and gets (1 6 1 4) for a total of: (12)
Success
You check your dex at 14, you rolled 5.

Rowan aggressively strikes at Erion first, aiming a slash at his midsection, but the attack whiffs as the other knight moves. He stumbles, clearly not expecting Erion to move, but regains his footing just in time to intercept the counter with his shield with a loud bang as the weapon collides with it. His brows perk up in mild surprise, but he remains silent as he attempts to land a hit.

That agreessive strike is dodged as Erion steps to the left with a slight smirk. The Woodford knight is quick to strike back in return his weapon clanging against Rowan's shield. The sword is pulled back and then brought forward again, the handsome knight in his polished armor apparently not just looks after all. He flashes Rowan a disarming grin as he presses his attack staying light on his feet and ready to respond to the others own attacks.

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 5.
Success
Erion checked his sword of 15, he rolled 13.
Erion rolls 4d6 and gets (3 2 4 3) for a total of: (12)
Success
You check your dex at 14, you rolled 6.

His second attack meets with just about the same amount of success. He doesn't stumble, but his blade hits nothing but air once more. He emits a frustrated grunt at the grin flashed his way as Erion comes at him again. Erion's attack meets it's target, and that is all that is required for him to secure the next point. He isn't out yet, but he knew he can't just flail about if he hopes to win. He takes a step back and pauses to regain his breath, then advances on Erion again, hoping to stay in the fight…

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 9.
Critical Fail!
Erion checked his sword of 15, he rolled 20.
Rowan rolls 4d6 and gets (4 4 1 4) for a total of: (13)

Erion chuckles softly that smile still not fading as he sidesteps another attack and lands another hit. He watches Rowan as he steps back raising a brow at the other man. His expression is amused. Due to this he is a bit to slow in side stepping this time. He is struck with a glancing blow to his side. He looks mildly impressed and offers that sunny smile once more. "So you can hit." And then without wasting time he is darting in for another attack…

Rowan's attack finally finds purchase! Sort of. No actual harm whatsoever is done to Erion as the blade swipes him, thanks to armor. The shorter man smirks softly, but Erion's reply to his success prompts an eyeroll from the Wylye. "Your humility is refreshing, Sir Erion," he says as he puts more distance between them, readying for his next attack. "We'll see if it serves you well." The blade in his hand arcs forward, in a slash, at Erion's right shoulder. It seems to be a favorite spot of his…

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 14.
Success
Erion checked his sword of 15, he rolled 4.
Rowan rolls 4d6 and gets (2 4 1 3) for a total of: (10)

Erion laughs softly at the comment. Those blue eyes shine with mirth and he tilts his head. "My apologies Sir Rowan, I shall endevor to be more…humble." He is struck in the shoulder now but its such a light blow he barely feels it. He smiles that disarming smile again. "You have proven to be a challenge Sir Rowan. Lets finish this then." He circles with determined eyes and aims what he hopes will be the final hit at Rowan's chest.

Success
Erion checked his sword of 15, he rolled 5.
Failed.
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 17.
Erion rolls 4d6 and gets (5 5 6 1) for a total of: (17)
Success
You check your dex at 14, you rolled 3.

The hit lands, with more force than the previous blows. It appears Rowan may have known it was going to land before it truly did, for he steps back along with the hit, ultimately remaining on his feet. His lips curve into an unmistakenable frown, but his sword lowers at his side, in solemn acceptance of his defeat. "Good fight. You deserve your victory, Sir Erion." He turns his head towards the spectators. "There may be a worthy opponent yet, still in this crowd, if you're willing to look."


"You fought well Sir Rowan. You were a wonderful challenge and I hope you feel no shame for your loss." Sir Erion's tone is smooth and filled with a polite respect for the man he has beaten. He bows and lowers his blade glancing towards the crowds thoughtfully. "Would anyone else care to challenge me?" He asks flashing that charming grin once more.

Brynmor wasn't even paying attention to the bout that had just occurred, thus he can be found still in his maile and curled up asleep beneath a shade tree. With his stalwart young squire standing beside him, the boy looks can't help but look excited at the results of the latest challenge. "Did you see that?" He asks his knight. Of course, Brynmor didn't. "Look, look, the victor of the last match is looking for a new opponent!" And here young Gufford lifts his hand, "Me! Me! I mean.. My knight!" And he points to the dozing Brynmor.

The squires call is met with a curious look from Erion. He tilts his head his lips curving into a charming smile for the lad. "If your knight wishes to challenge me then I welcome it but it seems he will first have to be awakened." Erion strolls over to the tree where Sir Brynmor sleeps. He crouches down near the knight his face hovering not far away and smiles that charming grin as his eyes glitter with mischief. "Excuse me Sir? Would you care for another match?" His voice is soft but should still be enough to wake the man and when he wakes the first thing he will see is Erion's smile as he pulls back.

Success
Brynmor checked his lazy of 16, he rolled 2.

Rowan retreats from the 'ring' so the next match can start. His pride nurses yet another wound with his loss, but he broods moodily and goes over what mistakes he made over and over in his head instead of lashing out. When he overhears Brynmor's dozing, these thoughts are replaced with wonder at just how the man managed to defeat Sir Bradwyn when he seemingly couldn't stay awake for fifteen minutes.

When Erion approaches, Guffud hops up and down in his excitement. The kid would like to nudge his knight awake with a foot, but the last time he did thtat did not bring the best of results! "My name's Guffud, Sir." He tries to explain, then points down at the snoozing knight, "And this is my knight, the brave and valorous," He's learn to exaggerate a little when it comes to Brynmor, "Sir Brynmor de Steeple Langford!"

With all of that shouting, Brynmor tries to shift his position to turn his back more fully on his squire and whomever the brat is speaking to. For a time, he pretends to be asleep, even giving off a fake snore… which for a few seconds turns into real snoring, but all of the talking keeps him from falling asleep too soundly. So eventually, with an annoyed yawn and even more annoyed exprssion on that charming face, his eyes stare up at this figure hovering over him now, Brynmor's eyes all narrowed. "Do you mind?"

Erion seems quite amused by Brynmor's squire enthusiasm. Although it seems to be countered by Brynmor himself. The narrowing of Brynmor's eyes is met with a blinking of blue eyes and an all to innocent smile from the Woodford knight. He looks positively impish. "Sir Brynmor, my sincerest apologies for distrubing you but it seems your squire wishes to see you face me in a challenge. I would so hate to disapoint him…wouldn't you?" Erion glances to Guffud and offers him a smile before looking back to Brynmor curious to see how the man will react to his attempt to be smooth and charming.

Success
Erion checked his Orate of 12, he rolled 6.

Brynmor's eyes remain narrowed even when those bright and innocent blue eyes are staring down at him. The young man speaks sweetly though, with his apologies and such that Brynmor is ready to let this slight go and return to the land of nod. But once Guffud is mentioned, those narrowed eyes stare out daggers at the squire, who is already in hiding! "It is /my/ apologies then." He mutters as he forces himself to sit up, failing that and falling onto his back once more, before attempting to pull himself up again. "That my squire decided to disturb your peace and pester you into," 'bothering me', "Believing that I may have accepted your challenge." He then waits, maybe the other guy will just up and leave, but seeing at Erion remains, he mutters once more, "Fiine." And here Guffud returns to assist his knight up to full height and dusting off some of those blades of grass from off his tunic and maile. "My sword Guffud." He demands. Brynmor only hopes that once this is over, Sir Smiley will leave him alone!

"Thank you Sir Brynmor for having accepted my challenge, I look forward to facing you." Erion continues his tend of speaking sweetly and ever so politely. He offers another brillant smile clearly undetered by Brynmor's grumpiness and moves to return to the ring to wait for the other knight to meet him. The other knight is watched carefully the smile fading away in favor of a thoughtful look while he waits. His own blade is still in hand and ready. He shifts his stance a bit preparing for another fight.

With sword and hand and a few blades of grass and twigs still twined in his hair and on his person, Brynmor stretches out his limbs, warming himself up with various rotations of his shoulders and arms and then some. "What did you say your name was again?" He asks, out of curiousity on who to blame for all of this, certainly. He's not surprised that the man knows /his/ name, however, believing himself to be famous. Or will be! Stepping out into the ring, he forces a few crackling in his neck when he decides to stretch that out. And now, fianlly, he places his bucket helmet down upon his head and to himself, he murmurs, "I cannot wait for this damn week to come to an end.."

Standing at the ready Erion tilts his head to the side and chuckles. "You slept through my entire first match didn't you? I am Sir Erion de Woodford, its a pleasure to meet you." He offers another dazzling smile and waits patiently for the other man to signal he is ready. Of course once the signal occurs the Woodfors appears much more focused darting in to try and strike the man.

Brynmor checked his sword of 15, he rolled 13.
Success
Erion checked his sword of 15, he rolled 6.
Brynmor rolls 4d6 and gets (3 2 4 5) for a total of: (14)
Success
Erion checked his dex of 10, he rolled 7.

"I didn't know I was supposed to have been awake to witness it…" Brynmor murmurs nearly under his breath in response to this Erion de Woodford, now that he knows the man's name. His eyes no longer looking at that grinning face or those pretty blue eyes — because for some reason, this Erion has such beautiful baby blues! No, Brynmor is focused on just ending this thing and so he does his usual circlng, then switching directions, all to find a good opening against his nap-waking foe! When he strikes, he strikes quickly, raising his own shield to ward off the other's attack as he brings his sword crashing down to lash out at Erion.

The fact that Brynmor won't meet his eyes has Erion raising a brow his gaze turning curious. "Is there a reason you refuse to meet my gaze Sir Brynmor? Can you not stand to look upon me? Look at me. I dare you." He challenges the man in a playful tone as he circles and tries to strike. Instead of hitting he is struck a blow to his side as he tries to evade the man. He watches the others movements his gaze trying to seek the others out as he continues moving, circling and looking for an opening to strike back.

Success
Brynmor checked his sword of 15, he rolled 9.
Critical Success!
Erion checked his sword of 15, he rolled 15.
Erion rolls 4d6 and gets (4 3 3 3) for a total of: (13)

Cyndeyrn emerges from the town, on horse with squire following, perhaps to go for a short ride or attend some other minor bit of … well, something! It doesn't matter too much. Heading along the road, he soon comes upon the small knot of knights who seem to be up to something of a scuffle, if a friendly one, and thus slows.

Rowan sits there, arms folded over his chest and watching the bout with passive interest. It was tied, as far as he could tell, but he has yet to glean any further enlightenment with how they trade blows. He will have to face Brynmor himself, he believes, if the man somehow gets out of this victorious yet again. Cyndeyrn's arrival is noted - the movement catches his attention first, and he turns his gaze in his direction. "Sir Cyndeyrn… long time no see."

Cyndeyrn draws on the reins to bring his steed from a slow walk to a stop not far from Rowan as he calls over, and from his mounted position, the large Dinton looks down and gives a faint sort of smile. "It has been a while, Sir Rowan. I hope all is well?" He glances from where the Wylye is over toward the other pair, and wonders, "Getting away from the din of the tourney grounds but still up to the same?"

When Erion begins taunting him, Brynmor has no idea what the man is going on about and eventually, his gaze does lift, looking even more annoyed, "Why wouldn't I be able to look at you? It's not like you're hideous or groetsque and scarred." He explains, "And, to be honest, you're not a pretty lady nor a comely tavern wen—" With all of this grousing and talking, Brymor leaves himself open, getting struck hard against his shield, but not only that, the impact is enough to push him off balance and into a heap on the ground. Normally, he would say something smart, like 'I think I'll just lay here for a while', but instead, he draws himself up to stand, looking rather indignant by it all. "You did that on purpose." He says about the distraction.

"It appears this is an offshoot for those who aren't so fond of the… crowds." In essence, this was simply a smaller, less rowdy gathering - meant for knights who may not necessarily know each other. "But yes, more or less, up to the same." His gaze lifts from Cynderyn and returns to the duel. "Are you looking for a duel?" He inquires of the other knight politely.

To the accusation Erion just smiles innocently those blue eyes widening a bit in a rather good display of feigned shock even as he circles Brynmor to prepares for another strike. "Now now Sir Brynmor don't be so quick to accuse me. You did try to compare me to a lady after all…" And never mind that the golden haired knight is likely on par with most all ladies in terms of beauty himself. He regards Brynmor with those sparkling baby blue eyes as he darts in to attack. He seems to be enjoying himself.

Success
Brynmor checked his sword of 15, he rolled 7.
Success
Erion checked his sword of 15, he rolled 1.
Brynmor rolls 4d6 and gets (3 6 3 4) for a total of: (16)
Success
Erion checked his dex of 10, he rolled 5.

"In truth I'd gone for a ride to clear my head after the last several matches," Cyndeyrn tells Rowan, still watching, albeit now with slightly raised brows, as Erion and Brynmor have their less-traditional exchange. "I accidentally injured a man in my last one. But," and now his attention will turn back from the other match toward the nearer and more familiar knight, "It has been some time since we've sparred, certainly not since we were both squires."

"Well, I'm not looking at you this time!" Brynmor grumps, his lower back right above his bum still smarting from his previous fall. As the pair do their little dance, circling and then counter-circling alike, the Steeple Langford watches the Woodford's steps, his movements as he attempts to psyche the guy out with his random back and forth steps! "And I didn't compare you to a lady." He mutters, sword raised to slam down on his opponent's shield, striking it hard, but not hard enough. "Damnit." He curses, his own shield slightly raised as a defensive reaction. "I said that it's too bad you're not one… or something." Now he's getting confused.

Rowan inclines his head curiously back at Cyndeyrn when he reveals he wounded another knight. "With a blunted sword? I can understand why you'd want to get away, then." His arms remain folded over his chest, but he seems to gradually relax now that a familiar presence was nearby. "I won't stop you from continuing on your way, but I would enjoy a duel, for old time's sake." He offers Cynderyn a faint smile and unfolds his arms. "They ought to be finished soon…"

"And why not? I assure you whether or not you look will not affect your ability to fight…who knows it might help?" Erion says with a dazzling smile. He follows Brynmor trying to keep up with the others steps and return the favor of seemingly random movements. The comment about him not being a lady has him raising a brow. "And how would being a lady be an improvement to my current state? I think I'm just fine as I am." He darts in to attack once more as thier banter continues.

Success
Brynmor checked his sword of 15, he rolled 12.
Failed.
Erion checked his sword of 15, he rolled 17.
Brynmor rolls 4d6 and gets (2 3 5 4) for a total of: (14)
Success
Erion checked his dex of 10, he rolled 2.

Cyndeyrn gives a silent nod in answer to Rowan's question, and for a moment, with the idea proposed of simply riding on, he seems to consider it. But with an interest expressed in the would-be duel, rather than it being some mere matter of course that everyone else here is engaged in, he seems convinced remain. "For old time's sake then," he replies, albeit with shallow enthusiasm, now moving to dismount. Maybe he fears doing the same a second time? In any case, his squire is behind and soon comes to supply him with his gear, and he watches the odd pair of Erion and Brynmor as they seem to come to the end of their own match.

Rowan was still in his gear, naturally! He approaches the dueling area - which was a ring of posts tethered with a rope - just as the match concludes. "We're next," he declares in Byrnmor's and Erion's direction. "Color me impressed, Sir Brynmor, but I'll let you nap. For now." He turns to face Cyndeyrn, rolling the shoulder of his sword arm. "Ready when you are, Sir Cyndeyrn. Lets see what we've both learned."

As he is defeated Erion offers Brynmor a cheerful smile clearly undetered by the loss. He bows and lowers his blade. "Well done Sir Brynmor. It was an honor to face you, please forgive my eyes for distracting you." He sends a playful wink at the man as he vacates the ring and goes to sit down nearby. His blade is handed off to his squire and he watches the two as they enter the ring thoughtfully. "Adie. Bring my harp." His squire blinks and hurries over to thier horses. Soon a small bundle of cloth holding a wooden harp inside is pulled from a saddle bag. The harp is unwrapped and offered to the knight. Erion settles down into the grass watching the men thoughtfully as he begins to strum his finger across the strings, testing them at first and then trying out a soft slow building tune on the strings.

Cyndeyrn spends a moment longer preparing, since he is not fully dressed for it. His squire makes sure everything is set in place and fasted with his mail, and then hands him his helm first, with shield and sword to come thereafter. When all are assembled, he moves out to greet Rowan in the small area set aside for the affair. Still shy of enthusiastic, he gives a nod at Rowan's words and brings his arms up. "Ready, then." He will begin to approach soonafter, but in a measured fashion, the day's prior events having put a damper on more aggressive tactics.

Failed.
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 18.
Success
Cyndeyrn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 3.
Failed.
You check your dex at 14, you rolled 19.

Rowan waits for his friend to get prepared, both physically and mentally. The caution the much bigger man approaches him with was anticipated, and for his part Rowan is far more wary than he usually is, too: unlike with his previous opponents, he knows how hard Cyndeyrn can hit. He circles the Dinton carefully for a few long moments, before suddenly lashing out at him with his blunted blade. Amazingly, he manages to miss the significantly larger man, and Cynderyn's counter is hard enough to knock him clean off his feet for the first time tonight! He coughs, but doesn't stay down for long. "You're still quick…" He mutters loudly enough for Cyndeyrn to hear the compliment.

"Finally!" Brynmor exclaims after his victory. On the sideline, Guffud is doing a little dance for his victorious knight, "I knew you could do it! Or I wouldn't have set you up with that one!" To this Brynmor glares down at his squire, "The last person you set me up with was a giant." He then shoots a look in Cyndeyrn's direction, "Yeah. Not challenging that one." In fact, he even avoids Rowan's comment and tries to find a good place to hide away from the crowd and continue with his nap. All the while Guffud remains on the lookout for the Steeple Langford's next challenge!

Even on the defensive, Cyndeyrn's size can be a difficult obstacle, as it presents a wider gulf that any attacker must cross. Clearly, it is something he practices every bit as much as his more powerful, line-breaking charges, and when Rowan comes for him, it is just a half-step he takes that makes that swing miss. And then, in the follow up upon what is so often a foe's overextension in trying to reach him, he strikes back even as the other man tries to re-gain his proper footing, never quite giving him the chance. At least the blow is not especially hard struck, and there is no doubt that he gives Rowan plenty of time to take his feet again before re-engaging. "Not quick, merely… well trained." Bittersweet words, perhaps.

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 9.
Failed.
Cyndeyrn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 18.
Rowan rolls 4d6 and gets (6 5 1 6) for a total of: (18)
Failed.
Cyndeyrn checked his dex of 9, he rolled 15.

He purses his lips at Cyndeyrn's comment and nods. "Yes, you were," he answers tersely, with no heat or bitterness behind it. He furrows his brows, his focus returning, and begins circling his opponent again. Aware of what Cyndeyrn took advantage of, he takes his time assessing for an opening, and when he feels he finally found one he strikes. He does have the strength many others do to push against the other man, so he simply attempts to have the blade collide with Cyndeyrn just hard enough to knock him off balance, aiming squarely for his left side instead of his right.

It seems fitting for the two engagements to mirror one another, as the two men have practiced enough, if not recently, to know a bit of one another's strengths and weaknesses. There is certainly symmetry as Cyndeyrn makes a somewhat more aggressive approach this time, only for Rowan to step out of his line of attack and attack across his body, the blow well-aimed to put his own momentum to work against him. For the second time in the match, one of them topples, although the fall may be a little heavier of a thud for the Dinton. He rises soon enough, and straightens himself out. "I'm glad to see you have kept sharp." His tone is a little more positive now, as if the trip to the dirt did him well! In any case, soon he is lumbering forward again, keeping his shield raised and blade a little higher still.

Success
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 10.
Success
Cyndeyrn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 1.
Rowan rolls 4d6 and gets (1 6 6 1) for a total of: (14)

Cyndeyrn is definitely opening up a bit, not in the sense of dropping his defenses but in fighting without the baggage of the day's earlier incidents. Maybe getting smacked around a bit really is good for him, in this regard. The exchange is a bit more of a classic one, no deft sidesteps or felling counterattacks, but an exchange of blows, of sword and sword, sword and shield. In the pivotal moment, Cyndeyrn hacks downward, but onto Rowan's shield, and earns a solid thrust in return that brushes past his own. But no one falls and nothing slows the action, and so he continues with the same spirit, a little shove with his shield to break their close engagement, followed by a quick thrust and then stronger slash. This is the real clang clang, bang bang sort of fighting for the moment, common of well-matched armored combat.

Failed.
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 18.
Success
Cyndeyrn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 10.
Cyndeyrn rolls 6d6 and gets (2 2 3 6 6 3) for a total of: (22)

The banging and clanging is brought to a sudden stop when Cyndeyrn breaks through yet again and lays him flat with a well-aimed slash. He rolls back to his feet, eager to continue and still not out for the count. He looks up, eyeing Cyndeyrn and absently wiping the dust off his chin. "… I'm sensing a trend, here." Cyndeyrn knocks him down, Rowan knocks him down back. He stands, rolling his shoulder again, narrowing his eyes and going in for the winning stab, shield be damned!

Failed.
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 17.
Success
Cyndeyrn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 13.
Cyndeyrn rolls 6d6 and gets (3 3 6 2 5 6) for a total of: (25)

The culmination of that brief but intense exchange sends Rowan to the ground. Of course, Cyndeyrn is not about to strike him there, but Rowan makes it very quickly to his feet, and there is no waiting. Perhaps, his friend's overeager aggression may be his downfall here, the sudden lunge nearly from the ground, favoring his weapon over his shield and seeking to force past Cyndeyrn's own. Of course, a moment slower and it might well have re-toppled the giant. As it stands, the Dinton meets the attack by the books, albeit a little more roughly, shield positioned neatly to catch the incoming blade, and his own sword brought down nearly like a hammer against his rising (but shorter!) foe. It hits with a good ringing sound, putting the other man back in the dirt, and Cyndeyrn -may- just have another panicked moment: "Rowan, are you alright?!"

Rowan once again finds himself meeting with the ground in a far more personal manner than he had hoped. The wind is knocked out of him briefly and he gasps, but he quickly lifts his hand to gesture that he was alright when he hears the panicked twinge in Cyndeyrn voice. "I'm… alright." The Wylye doesn't get up so quickly this time. "You win. Deservedly so. I may have a few bruises now, but I enjoyed it." He cracks a wan smile up at the Dinton. "Should have known better to think that would work…"

Cyndeyrn breathes a very obvious sigh of relief that he has not accidentally given his friend a concussion or worse. On top of everything earlier, that would have been disasterous. But, failing such misfortune, the good mood holds true, and though Rowan may decide to sit a moment, the other knight will remain to offer a hand when he is ready to rise. "It was a good match, even if that last was… a little unorthodox." He won't fully discredit the attempt, though! "I am glad to know neither of us is rusty, in any case."

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