(514-05-20) Burcombe Bodenham
Summary: Catryn is in a suspiciously good mood at the challenges today and equally so after losing.
Date: 05-20-514
Related: Tournament Wedding
idris catryn 

Tournament Field

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.

Another day, another set of challenges at the training field. Idris seems determined to score as many wins as he can this tournament, whatever it is he has to prove. His tabard conceals some slight damage to his armor, from the excessive fighting. Will there be any takers this early, anyway?

One Burcombe comes from the tent area holding her shield, her squire not about. She looks ready to fight though, armor and sword worn, helm under her arm. Seeing the Bodenham, she approaches. "A challenge good sir?" She's actually wearing a -smile-. Imagine that.

A smile. Well, that's something that draws some suspicion from the Bodenham, but he smiles back, courteously enough. He nods when she offers a challenge, gesturing to the fields ahead of them. "We shall, Sir Catryn, we shall."

Without further ado, Catryn walks out to the field, places her helm on her head and draws her sword. "And so we shall. The best of luck. Today finds me in a rather good mood." There's a brief glance to the sash wrapped a few times around her arm and tied off before she looks back at him. "At your ready."

"Why is—," Idris then follows her gaze to the favor and laughs, "I see." He draws his sword, the one with the simpler pommel but likely better weight against his hand, and points it to Catryn. "Very well," he replies when she states her readiness, charging forward to strike.

Idris checked his sword of 15, he rolled 1.
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 12.
Catryn rolls 4d6 and gets (5 2 1 5) for a total of: (13)

"Today, I find myself in a new circumstance," Catryn says conversationally, even as she moves to try and block his attack with her shield while countering with a swinging motion towards his body, stepping back after making contact to get her shield back up and prepare for another of his hits.

"Good hit," Idris replies, his attack evidently blocked and though he tries to use his shield to block her on, it is a little too late for that. "What new circumstance would that be?" He inquires, taking a step backward to rear back his arm, the blade pointed down for a wide arc across her torso.

Critical Success!
Idris checked his sword of 15, he rolled 15.
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 9.
Idris rolls 10d6 and gets (1 4 1 2 3 1 3 2 6 1) for a total of: (24)

"Likewise," Catryn tells him with a smirk, and though the smirk is hidden behind her helm, it could be heard in her voice even as she is knocked from her feet with the wide arced slash. It skews her helm but doesn't ruin her good humor. "I think I am falling in love with my betrothed." Cue goofy grin behind the helm as she takes to her feet and collects her sword. "One and one," she says good naturedly.

"Is it perhaps because he's not afraid to fight you when the situation calls for it?" Idris is a little observant of other people's fights, "but I suppose that your falling in love with your betrothed is a good thing for your future marriage," he suggests, waiting for her to get back to her feet. "Aye," he agrees, in a cordial mood.

Critical Success!
Idris checked his sword of 15, he rolled 15.
You check your sword at 15, you rolled 13.
Idris rolls 10d6 and gets (3 1 6 5 4 1 6 4 1 6) for a total of: (37)

"I would never want a man who allowed me to walk over him. What would be the fun in a floor beneath my feet? I desire fire and he gives me that in equal measure as I deliver it to him." Catryn does a little wrist action with her sword, making a little loop with it. "And a son, named by the king himself, should we have one." With herself ready, assuming he is, she swings her blade simultaneously as he does and manages to get hit in the process. It knocks her down and bruises her slightly either from the fall or the hit, but once more, she manages to get to her feet, a little slower this time and take up her sword. "And two," she says before swinging her blade at him.

You check your sword at 15, you rolled 8.
Idris checked his sword of 15, he rolled 14.

When she swings her blade, Idris lifts his own, stepping to the opposite side in order to lift his shield and take the blow there, while his sword works on slicing in an arc to Catryn's other side. "I am rather appreciative of fire as well," he tells her with a lopsided smile, "but I am too moody to let someone walk all over me. That would be counter-productive."

Idris rolls 5d6 and gets (4 2 3 1 2) for a total of: (12)
You check your dex at 17, you rolled 14.

The third point is scored, very easily, and Catryn takes it with an easy smile and a bow. "Then I wish you all the fire you can handle without getting burned." Removing her helm the smile is still in place. "Well fought, I do believe you've been fighting everyone successfully in equal measure. Perhaps you will win."

"I wish you likewise, Sir Catryn. It seems that your union is inspiring passion and love in you," Idris removes his helmet, offering the Burcombe a salute. He smiles back to the Burcombe lady knight, sheathing his sword while his squire approaches, talking about something or another. "Gwyn, for the last damned time, the reason why I am not letting you flirt with the barmaid at the shoddier tavern is because it's a trap. Got it?"

"It's always a trap." Catryn counters with a grin, "Anything involving women is a trap." She nods, looking towards the tents. "I suppose I should go wake that Durnford, lest he think he can sleep all day."

"I highly suspect they are trying to kidnap him for a ransom. You know how those sailing folk are, Sir Catryn," Idris remarks, grinning. He nods when she looks towards the tents, "Well, if you do wake him up, make sure it's in a pleasant way. You don't want your future huband to remember you for the way you broke his rib when he was asleep."

"Pleasant." Catryn muses, an idea lighting her eyes as she casts another speculative glance towards the tents. A gloved finger is lifted to her lips, "Shh, I'll go wake him. Pleasantly." With a waggle of her brows, she heads off towards the tents with a jaunty step.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License