(514-05-20) Evening Challenges
Summary: A few more challenges are made before the end of the day.
Date: May 20, 514
Related: Arthur's Wedding Tournament
isyld elrick idris bartimaeus neroven kamron eirian rowan john seraphina maeve 

OOC: If anyone has previous poses, feel free to add them.

Point three. Isyld loses to the larger knight by a small margin, but it doesn't stop the smile as she switches hands with the axe and offers her arm for a clasp. "It was really good. I look forward to another with you just for fun since only one would count for the tournament. And I wish you luck in the remainder of the tournament."

The blow that Elrick receives from Idris is most certainly felt as it strikes him solidly on the chest. Luckily his chainlinked mail deflects any serious damage from the pulled blow. Seeing that the Bodeham pulls back in a defensive stance, the Laverstock Knight presses, his style of fighting leaning more towards unrelenting, forceful pressure than graceful dancing of the sword. Once more, Elrick seeks to smash shield against shield, a favored tactic of his before reaching over his own defensive barrier with his blade to strike from above.

Elrick checked his sword of 15, he rolled 10.
Idris checked his sword of 15, he rolled 6.
Elrick rolls 5d6 and gets (3 4 6 2 1) for a total of: (16)
Idris checked his dex of 8, he rolled 11.

Of course, Elrick appears to be the better man in the exchange as he manages to smash against the Bodenham's shield long enough for his sword strike in retaliation to be sluggish, tagged on the shoulder as Idris collapses on the floor. It takes a moment for him to stand up, but he does, and nods once to Elrick. "Good one," he tells the other man, apparently content to simply walk away for the time being.

Bartimaeus steps up to the edge of Sir Elrick's dueling green just in time to witness the climactic crash, his bearded face set in a solemn expression that is rather hard to read. Nodding once to Elrick in recognition of his deed, the priestly knight quietly observes the reaction of Sir Idris, helm tucked under his right arm.

Neroven's grin does not fade, "Yes, anytime you'd like a friendly spar, let me know; and also, I wish you luck in your future battles. Have a pleasant day, Sir Isyld." Neroven returns to the stands to observe the other fights.

"Well fought, Sir Idris. It appears that honeyed bread is that delicious that it causes distractions, I shall also give thanks to Lady Eirian." Elrick says still wearing that amused grin, not exactly mocking but it is there nonetheless. Sheathing his blade, the Laverstock slips off his helm and tucks it under his arm, feeling the cool breeze wash over him. As he steps towards the sideline, Elrick flashes Bartimaeus a grin along with a casual salute with his fingers. "Second opinion needed, Sir Bartimaeus, how was the honeyed treat?"

With her own match over, Isyld walks over and has a seat near Neroven to just watch. It leaves him subject to her conversation though, poor guy. "So, who have you not challenged yet, of those on the field?"

Kamron and his tall, gangly squire Jonnin "Newt" de Newton are for the tournament fields. Kam wears his mail and surcoat, carries his shield slung over his left shoulder, and an all-wood practice axe in his right hand. The Dinton chuckles at Newt, apparently continuing a conversation, "Yes, you can do whatever you like while I'm out riding with Sir Mallory this afternoon, Newt." The squire begins beaming, although his smile falters when Kam continues, "Although you would do well to practice with your time." Grinning crookedly, Kamron claps his squire on the shoulder, causing the young man to fumble the bucket helm and almost drop it.

A red-petalled flower offered to a girl very much adorned in the shades of high spring causes Eirian a brief pause. The Burcombe lady stoops to catch the basket of sweet rolls in her hand and offers the bounty of said larder over the wooden rail, an exchange as fair as one can provide. "May you find the tourney to your liking, and rewarded even by so small a token," Eirian chimes, her bright tone light as ever. She will be prevented from applauding until the sweet roll is taken, and the rose will end up tucked into her rather elaborate coif. The Lady of Flowers, evidently, a little Blodeuwedd, laughs merrily.

The gloved hand used to bow is then used by the Ebony Knight to take said honeycake. No words, but at the blessing a deeper bow of said head is given and then the Knight steps back, allowing the lady to move on her way. The honeycake disappears into the hood before the Knight turns once more to seemingly look over the field and the different Knights.

"The rolls are quite good." Bartimaeus replies, answering Elrick's smiling salute with his usual calm-eyed regard. "If you have naught else to do, perhaps you could provide company for the young lady whom brought them. Lady Eirian is quite charitable, and that is a truly noble trait indeed." The priest's solemn expression breaks then, the briefest of grins flashing a set of strong white teeth.

Neroven hums, apparently ignoring the fact that he had just bid her farewell and pretending it didn't happen. "I've dueled Sir Bartimaeus, Sir Catryn, Sir Hadyn, and yourself. So, I have yet to challenge most of the other Knights around here." He shrugs. "I've been a bit preoccupied lately." He pauses, and then shouts, "Although if anyone wants to add their names to my list of tournament combatants, do let me know!" He apparently decided to throw out a challenge of his own, and watch to see what happens.

Neroven notices the Knight in Black and calls out to him/her, "You sir, in the black armor! Would you care to trade blows with me this fine day?"

Tall, golden and haughty, a woman dressed in mourning black approaches the gathering of knights and ladies. Maeve de Chalke does not so much as walks, but glides, moving with ghostly grace to take up a watchful pose near the ongoing personal challenges. Her green-blue eyes are critical, taking in each pass of blade, and she clasps her slender, pale fingers together before her. Her well-honed ears catch fluttering tidbits of conversation, and she casts a glance aside, particularly when a challenge goes out to the Black Knight.

Glancing from Bartimaeus to the Burcombe Lady with the basket of honeyed treats, Elrick appears to be in thought for a few seconds, "Sounds enticing, but I'm afraid that she and her treats may put me under a spell like it did Sir Idris. I may still be challenged by another knight or two here on the fields. And I must have my wits with me." Words most likely spoken in jest, but the thought of honeyed bread does have his stomach rumbling a little in protest.

Kamron glances around the gathered group, nodding slightly as he recognizes a couple of faces. Shifting his axe to his left hand, he approaches Bartimaeus, holding out his right hand, "Sir, I believe that I owe you a match from the other day, if you've a mind to get a little exercise." The shout from Neroven draws a chuckle from the Dinton, and he shrugs a little, "And if you don't, it seems that perhaps I can find my own match elsewhere."

It takes the Bodenham a minute to get his bearings, removing his helmet, calling for his squire, drinking from the waterskin and putting the helmet back on — but removing his shield. Bold. "Sir Bartimaeus," Idris calls out, sheathing his sword and opting for the one he acquired as a trophy on the day of his knighting. "I owe you a fight."

Somehow the Knight in Black is looking just in Neroven's direction when the challenge is issued. There is a studying pause from the form before another bow is offered in his direction, though it can be noted just slightly less of a bow than the Lady Eir had gotten before. With slow steps the Knight heads to the a green that is open and slides a sword from somewhere along the back into the open. It glitters in the light and is raised to the hood, before being raised in accepted challenge to Neroven. The Knight simply waits…

The Wylye knight trudges onto the tourney field for the second time since the tournament started. He moves along the fringe of the combatants, to an area he can simply spectate without fear of being harmed. That was all he was intent on doing, for now.

Neroven turns to Isyld, "I shall be off to make this five battles!" He heads down to the field. When he is only a few feet away from the Black Knight, he unsheathes his rebated blade and says, "I am Sir Neroven de Durnford. If you wish to remain anonymous, I will indulge your desire." He twirls the blade deftly, before leaping into the fray, closing the distance and making a horizontal slash with the rebated blade…

Neroven checked his sword of 15, he rolled 19.
Seraphina checked her sword of 15, she rolled 6.
Seraphina rolls 5d6 and gets (6 3 4 1 5) for a total of: (19)
Neroven checked his dex of 9, he rolled 19.

Fey and fair, Eirian settles back against the slender shelf of wood that other spectators lean on or, if they dare, sit. She laces her fingers together to rest against the curve of her knee, the balance of her weight distributed such she appears at once attentive and tranquil in the face of such violence. Duels forming and falling asunder hold a certain interest, though she gives a curious look towards Elrick and Bartimaeus. Perhaps unable to hear them at a distance, she may well be puzzling them out. Then a distraction of the fallen sun renders a light smile in Maeve's direction; the Chalke woman may well be in mourning but not beyond distinct interest.

"A fair point, Sir Elrick." Bartimaeus responds. The smile that lit his face just moments ago is quick to fade, leaving the contemplative expression of the priest once more in place.

Reaching over to clasp Kamron's forearm in a firm grip, the Bishopstone knight offers the axeman a slight nod. "We shall face one another soon. But first I must oblige Sir Idris. Until that time I have no doubts there will be others to meet your challenge. There was a fellow knight answering challenges with an axe of her own not long ago. perhaps you might seek her out." And with that said, Bartimaeus releases the other man's arm and steps out onto the green.

Lifting his helmet onto his head, the Bishopstone strides to a spot not 10 feet from the towering bodenham. Shrugging his broad shield from his back he hefts it on his arm, and reaches across his body to draw his silvery sword with a ringing scrape.

"Come, Sir Idris. I believe we have waited long enough. You are owed a combat of love, and I shall provide it." His muffled voice is placid as ever, boots planted firmly on the grassy earth.

When the Bishopstone gets bombarded with challenges, Elrick laughs once more and slaps the other knight on the shoulder, "I best be out of your way, Sir Bartimaeus, it appears that you have work to do. Luck to your blade and your shield, Sir." The Laverstock then inclines his head to both Kamron and Idris, stepping away to give them space, for whichever pair will be dueling first. Elrick's mind was on whether to claim a honeyed bread or not when he sees Sir Isyld not too far away and steps in her direction, "Sir Isyld! How do you fare this day?" He did not get a chance to witness the ending of her duel against her latest opponent, only seeing that devastating blow she dealt with her axe.

The Knight that is going against Neroven is dressed in black, from the slight sheen of the chainmail to the black cloak that is settled around shoulders and hood that is held in place to give the figure a shadowed appearance. The rebated blade that is being used is patient and they let Neroven move first, as the other Knight slides into battle, it's a simply and well slow, still graceful step to the side as their blade comes down from the other side to slash just over the shoulder, enough that a slight shove is given by blade alone as the Knight in black ends up standing on the other side of the falling Durnford Knight.

As Neroven leaves to the field, Isyld watches him for a moment, offering a wave and calling out a: "Good luck!" Standing as she is, she notices.. Maeve. And she tries to duck behind a person or two, but Evae, her squire, is still there, very apparent. Attention is brought to the Laverstock and she visibly brightens, forgetting all about her good sister, and offers him a warm smile and a dip of her head. "Sir Elrick, I am doing wonderfully, thank you. And yourself? You're doing well?"

Neroven falls to the ground. He stands, chuckling, "That's one point to you it seems." He lunges forward again, this time aiming a thrust at the Dark Knight's torso…

"We have," Idris replies, "After this I might just rest until my time to tilt again comes," he remarks, the now free hand placed under the pommel for a two-handed sword stance. Not optimal, but maybe the Bodenham wants to try something new. His sword is slightly angled towards the knight of Bishopstone as he breathes in, exhaling the air slowly, repeat. Perhaps an attempt to still the adrenaline, or to make more calculated blows. Once his opponent has given signal of his readiness, he attacks.

Neroven checked his sword of 15, he rolled 13.
Seraphina checked her sword of 15, she rolled 16.
Neroven rolls 6d6 and gets (6 5 2 1 2 1) for a total of: (17)
Seraphina checked her dex of 12, she rolled 11.

Kamron chuckles as Idris calls out Bartimaeus as well, shrugging and laughing easily, "It looks like you have your choice of partners." Nodding at the other man's words, he steps back, "Enjoy yourself, and good luck." He studies the two fights going on at once, spinning his axe a little idly in a circle at his side.

"A combat of love? Now I wonder that I should have brought a basket of hawthorn flowers." Eirian's brow knits for a moment, then smoothes as her face forms a mask of laughter concealed by the curve of her hand. "Someone ought to oblige what story lies behind that." Arms cross and she rests in the bracket, leaning forth to see whether the curse of the wicked sweet roll descends upon the unsuspecting.

Slow movements seem to be the style of the Knight in Black,as Neroven falls, the Knight readies again. With the aiming thrust to the torso it is hard not to connect, hitting the small Knight just in the side as they once more twist to the side. The blade was aimed at Neroven's other shoulder but barely misses because incoming it. The Knight steps back and dips head once in agreement of 1 to 1.

Bartimaeus checked his sword of 15, he rolled 1.
Idris checked his sword of 15, he rolled 4.
Idris rolls 5d6 and gets (2 4 3 5 6) for a total of: (20)
Bartimaeus checked his dex of 12, he rolled 16.

Inclining his head in return as a greeting, Elrick manages an easy smile as he answers Isyld's own query, "Can't complain, the cut to my cheek is healing well though it was more like a scratch. Won my first challenge for the day. Saw you deliver that devastating blow earlier, lucky for the other fellow that he wasn't a Saxon." The Laverstock then surveys the field with his gaze, seeing a pair of knights already in the middle of their duel and the familiar two getting ready. "Have you sought out Sir Kamron de Dinton for a duel? He is an axe user, just like you, quick on his feet, just like you too."

Idris checked his modest of 13, he rolled 9.

Neroven steps forward, making a downward diagonal slash, aimed at the Black Knight's right shoulder. The rebated blade gleams dangerously, mimicking its master's battle-lust.

Neroven checked his sword of 15, he rolled 17.
Seraphina checked her sword of 15, she rolled 13.
Seraphina rolls 5d6 and gets (6 2 6 6 3) for a total of: (23)
Neroven checked his dex of 9, he rolled 7.

Lust has it's places, thought it seems for the Knight in Black the challenge field is not the place for such things. A calm in the storm, the Knight moves as Neroven, again moving to the other side of the last strike and giving a hard sliding slash towards the left hip. Once the hit is counted the Knight steps back and readies once more. Not yet has a sound come from that Knight.

Giving a lopsided smile, Isyld lifts her eyes to his cheek, not having noticed it before. "It doesn't look bad at all." There's a glance to Neroven and an absent sort of nod. "He's a strong and powerful competitor, he bettered me in the end. Thank you though." Shifting her look to him again, she indicates the Dinton across the way. "I would like to challenge him. Could you perhaps introduce me?"

Shield raised and sword held in a brief salute, Bartimaeus steps forward to meet the much larger knight. Their sword clash in a shower of sparks, the sound of metal on metal ringing as the initial blow puts the Bishopstone back on his heels. Undeterred, he exchanges a couple of testing slashes, the play of blades growing faster with each strike.
Perhaps Sir Idris is on to something with his more measured approach. Or, possibly, the sweet roll has is decided to rear its ugly head. Either way, one of the larger knight's blows sweeps past the priest's own blade and strikes him a hard blow to the side, sending him staggering off balance. Rather than go over backwards, the shorter man collapses his stance and takes a knee, digging the point of his shield into the ground for balance. After a moment, he pushes back upright and pry's his sword from the turf, saluting Idris once more and closing with a flurry of sweeping overhead blows.

Neroven staggers to the side slightly but keeps his balance. "That's two to you then." He twirls the rebated blade. He makes a horizontal slash with the blunted weapon…

Neroven checked his sword of 15, he rolled 18.
Seraphina checked her sword of 15, she rolled 14.
Seraphina rolls 5d6 and gets (2 5 1 1 3) for a total of: (12)

"A shame… though in the end, the results of the duels are usually determined by a matter of near hits and near misses. Since we fight to points, where as in a real battle, it is to the death." Elrick says with a nod of his head, knowing that Isyld has had a run of bad luck in the tourney. When the request is made to introduce her to Kamron though, the Laverstock is pleased to oblige, "But of course, I believe he is near where Sir Bartimaeus and Sir Idris are dueling, this way." With that, he heads to where he last saw Kamron, calling out to the Dinton as he nears, "Sir Kamron! A moment of your time if you will, Sir."

And Neroven misses that slash, allowing the smaller Knight to twist to the side and come up with a nice tap against the shoulder. Now making three different spots on his body hit. The Knight in Black steps back two paces and bows once more, rising the sword in salute to Neroven as the score it's 3.

Neroven checked his modest of 7, he rolled 17.
Critical Fail!
Neroven checked his proud of 13, he rolled 20.

Plucking up her basket, Eirian tips the handle over her forearm. A simple decorum and grace devolve into the action of slipping through the stands full of heaving humanity. A gap opening up guides her away from the milieu of high and lowborn souls, letting her melt into the masses towards the fringes.

Neroven bows, somewhat awkwardly considering the heavy armor he's wearing, to his victorious foe. "That was a good match, Sir Knight." He rubs the back of his head, smiling sheepishly and blushing slightly from embarrassment. "It seems I got a bit too enthused about our battle, and it led to my defeat. Never the less, it was an excellent fight, and I look forward to a rematch one day."

The Knight in Black salutes Neroven once more, all polite and careful, but still not yet a word has been spoken, nor as the hood be pulled back to show anything but the shadows within. Unless called for another match the Knight moves with slow but graceful steps to the side once more. Head turns this way and that as if taking in the surroundings.

Isyld checked her proud of 7, she rolled 18.
Isyld checked her modest of 13, she rolled 10.

Walking with Elrick, Isyld wears that same easy smile she's almost always got on, a good humor about her. "A battle is a much better use of anyone's talents, I agree. This is my first tourney to fight in though and despite my poor showing I am learning a lot from everyone. So much talent among all of the knights." When they get to Kamron, she nods to him and the others around them. "Good day to you, Sir," she dips her head and offers a warm smile. "Sir Isyld de Chalke."

Kamron claps his mailed hands as one of the matches finishes, glancing over to the two knights approaching, "Sir Elrick, Lady Sir." The greetings are polite, accompanied by a grin, and his brows rise as he spots the weapon at Isyld's side, "Another axe-wielder. Charmed, I'm sure, Sir Isyld." A rueful, crooked smile touches his lips as he asks, "And do you get so many jabs and jibes about using a Saxon weapon as well, Sir?" And then he adds his own introduction, "Sir Kamron de Dinton. I've found that I rather enjoy the tourney, or at least the pageantry. Although I must say that the Saxons and Picts that I've faced in battle are a great deal easier to deal with, in general. Less skill, and the assistance of a good mount is invaluable."

"I don't mean to say that these duels are not as important as battle." Elrick says with a slight nod of his head. "As you say, it is good practice for us since we can learn a trick or two from our peers. Sir Bartimaeus taught me in our last duel, by ringing my bell. Was quite the good tactic by him." As the introductions begin, the Laverstock Knight steps off to the side slightly to allow the two axe wielding warriors to converse more easily. When the pleasantries are exchanged, Elrick interjects with a suggestion, "Perhaps a demonstration for everyone on what a duel between two axes look like?" The request sounding hopeful.

The knight lurking around the bend decides to take the initiative and step out of the throngs of competitors to approach Elrick, who also seems unoccupied with a duel. Rowan stops a few strides short of the man, arms unfolding from being crossed over his chest. "Would you be interested in a match, Sir? I see you may be waiting for another…"

The Knight in Black has not faded into the shadows but it also doesn't seem to be calling out any challenges. Slow movements takes the Knight closer to where they others are getting ready for a fight and pauses to watch.

"I am," Isyld immediately agrees about the axe. "I do get the jabs about it, but I don't really mind them so much. It's something different. It's tough when it breaks though, in a duel, and all I have as backup is a sword because I'm not as good with the sword." His crooked smile is contagious and brings another smile to her features. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Sir Kamron. A genuine pleasure." A dip of her head follows, "I agree, was on a patrol recently with a group of others and we ran into a Saxon party. All I can say is I'm glad I was with so many others skilled." There's a glance out towards the field and a semi-solemn nod that loses the seriousness of it when she smiles. "I have seen him in a few duels, he's very good." At the last, she nods to Kamron, "Would you be agreeable?"

Kamron chuckles at Isyld's description of fighting with an axe, and he nods, "Quite. I actually had to buy this one," he holds up his own wooden practice axe, "here in Carlion after my first broke. It cost… well, I would say 'an arm and a leg,' but it was rather more than that, at least to a poor bachelor knight like myself." He bows his head at Elrick's request, and again at Isyld's compliment, "Thank you, Sir Isyld. The compliment is dear. I would be glad to go first-to-three with you." He gestures toward the nearest of the circles, then turns to his squire, ducking his head for the taller youth to slip the helmet onto his head.

When the Wylye Knight approaches and offers a challenge, Elrick turns his attention from the two axe wielders and looks Rowan over. Inclining his head respectfully, the Laverstock appears to be agreeable to the duel request, "I am certainly waiting for another challenger, Sir. I am Sir Elrick de Laverstock, brother to Sir Lainn and Sir Arian." Making the proper introductions is part of his protocol when he meets a challenging knight that he has made an acquaintance of before. There is a side glance to both Isyld and Kamron as they appear to agree on the duel as well, a nod to them both is offered.

That odd shadow of Black turns and makes their way off the field, slipping into the crowd with oddly graceful steps before disappearing as quick as they came. The Knight is Black is gone….

Rowan's mood lightens when Elrick accepts his challenge, but it likely looks neutral to everyone else. He inclines his head in a nod when Elrick introduces himself. "I'm Sir Rowan de Wylye, lord of Wylye manor. It is an honor to meet, and fight you, Sir Elrick." He moves to retrieve his blunted tourney blade - the only time he truly uses it - and the corresponding shield. "Does the standard first to three rules seem good to you?"

His chosen words bring laughter, "Accidentally had to buy. Me too, all brand new." Isyld indicates her own with a crooked grin. "I should bring more with me next time, since the up the prices of everything here when the visiting knights are in town, I suppose." The reference of being a bachelor knight isn't lost on her and she finds herself responding with another soft laugh, but her glance is to Elrick, though it's brief. "First to three it is," she agrees with an incline of her head and takes her axe in hand, though down at her side for now. As Elrick disappears for his own, she nods, a smile given, "Best of luck, Sir Elrick." Then she starts walking towards an open area, remaining there. "Ready when you are, Sir Kamron."

Critical Success!
Kamron checked his axe at 15, he rolled 15.
Isyld checked her axe of 15, she rolled 14.
Kamron rolls 8d6 and gets (1 3 6 3 6 1 5 3) for a total of: (28)

"Well met, Sir Rowan, the honor is mine as well. And first to three is fine with me." Elrick says with a nod of his head as he himself begins head onto the tourney field after agreeing to the terms of the duel. Taking the helm from under his arm, the Laverstock Knight slips it over his head and secures it. Then he turns to face the Wylye as he draws his blade, his usual which means he will be using pulled blows for this match. A quick salute is offered before he moves into a ready stance with his shield, waiting for his opponent to stand ready as well.

Kamron unslings his shield, bringing it up in his left hand and hefting the wooden axe at his right side. His voice is hollow from within the helm, "Personally, I'm thinking of just cleaning up the battlefield after my next encounter with Saxons." And then Isyld calls her ready, and he immediately advances. Evidently, despite being a lady knight, she's just another knight in the ring to the Dinton. His assault is quick and direct, leading with a jab of his shield's leading edge aimed to catch Isyld's own shield, and then a quick step to his right, hefting his shield to catch her return blow and looping his axe around in an attempt to clip her left side just under the ribs.

Rowan finally takes the field behind Elrick. He doesn't don a helm himself, strangely! The rest of the suit of maille was worn, however, gleaming dully in the light. He squares his shoulders and takes his own stance, eyeing his opponent. "Ready?" Elrick presumably answers that he was, and Rowan closes the distance between them in hope of landing the first hit.

Elrick checked his sword of 15, he rolled 1.
Rowan checked his sword of 15, he rolled 9.
Rowan rolls 4d6 and gets (1 6 3 5) for a total of: (15)

Once out on the field, Isyld takes her axe in hand and slides her hand down closer to the bottom of the handle to be able to put more power behind it. Her shield is strapped on the other arm and the look on her face holds good humor even as Kamron mentions the Saxons. "Perhaps I am more fierce when fighting a Saxon than I am fighting my own allies." At the advance, she tries to prepare, she does, but it proves fruitless when her own axe finds only shield and his finds her falling to her back. It doesn't destroy her sense of humor though, and as once before she mentioned, she takes to her feet as he allows her and says laughingly, "Sweeping me off of my feet, Sir Kamron." Favoring her side, she does wince though. It was her wounded side. Squaring up, she faces him again, hand back on her handle tightly as she takes another swing.

Isyld checked her axe of 15, she rolled 19.
Kamron checked his axe at 15, he rolled 14.
Kamron rolls 4d6 and gets (1 4 1 5) for a total of: (11)
Isyld checked her dex of 14, she rolled 18.

When Rowan begins to close, Elrick does the same, eager to meet the other knight in the middle, his confidence no doubt fueled by his earlier victory. However, the Wylye is quick to extinguish the fire from the Laverstock Knight as the faster knight manages to find a way past his guard. The sheld defense was decent but not anywhere close to his best, meaning that Elrick takes a blow to his midsection, one that is light enough that he manages to stay on his feet without issue. Reverting to one of his more successful tactics, he chooses to stay close to his opponent, shield slamming forward against the other knight's before he slashes out at Rowan's thigh.

Bartimaeus checked his sword of 15, he rolled 18.
Idris checked his sword of 15, he rolled 7.
Idris rolls 5d6 and gets (4 2 2 5 6) for a total of: (19)
Bartimaeus checked his dex of 12, he rolled 4.

Rowan is, as one fellow knight once put it, 'woman-sized' - and it wasn't that big of an exaggeration. He approaches a knight as big as Elrick differently than he would someone closer to his size, hoping to simply land a hit rather than harm him, no matter how small said hit actually was. He feints where he was going to hit Elrick, causing his opponent to move in the wrong direction and take the hit before he could properly react. The shield itself appears to be easy to bat away, too! He backs up when Elrick uses his shield to push him away, slightly startled at the sudden change of tactics…

Elrick checked his sword of 15, he rolled 14.
Critical Fail!
Rowan checked his sword of 15, he rolled 20.
Elrick rolls 5d6 and gets (2 5 6 3 4) for a total of: (20)
Rowan checked his dex of 14, he rolled 2.

When Isyld is knocked onto her back, Kamron takes a step back, lowering his axe a moment and laughing easily at her comment, "Well, it's been said that I'm a romantic, Sir Isyld. I wouldn't want to disappoint." As she is rising up again, he nods, "There is something more… desperate… about fighting true enemies, I agree." When she is squared up, he advances again, feinting his axe up high, and then dropping it quickly down, trying to hook the beard of his blade over the top of her shield and pull it down, trying to open the way for a quick jab of his shield's leading edge toward her right shoulder.

The flurry of overhead blows are parried, one by one, by Idris as he only has his sword as a defensive recourse. Eventually, he lets his sword clash against Bartimaeus', pulling back only to pivot so that he is now flanking the man, which opens an opportunity to wave his sword in a short arc, striking the Bishopstone on the side as he steps forward, bringing the sword up in a guard while he waits for Bartimaeus' next move.

The feint does what it was intended to do. When Isyld swings her axe, there's nothing there to hit, Kamron had not been where the Chalke had aimed and it unbalances her enough that when the axe hooks over her shield and strikes her shoulder, she once more falls, more to the side, her shield held aloft so she doesn't fall on it. "A romantic," she muses from the ground, pushing herself to a seated position before collecting her axe and using it as a cane to stand, the head of it on the ground as she does. "I could not confirm or deny, but I do know you're a very good fighter and I am glad we're on the same side." Another smile curves her lips and she hefts the axe up that seems suddenly heavier. Facing him again, at his front, she nods, an indication she is ready.

Kamron checked his axe at 15, he rolled 14.
Isyld checked her axe of 15, she rolled 18.
Kamron rolls 4d6 and gets (1 1 3 1) for a total of: (6)

The edge of Sir Idris' blade strikes Bartimaeus just above the kidney and skitters off along his mail, the larger knight's intentionally softened blow unable to part the links.
A short, quiet laugh escapes Bartimaeus' helm as he turns, head shaking just once. He had not expected such restraint from the Bodenham, and pauses once more to salute the man respectfully.
And then he is stepping forward, darting in a quick thrust for Sir Idris' lower belly.

Bartimaeus checked his sword of 15, he rolled 3.
Idris checked his sword of 15, he rolled 5.
Idris rolls 5d6 and gets (4 1 4 3 5) for a total of: (17)
Bartimaeus checked his dex of 12, he rolled 2.

There is only one choice when you have no shield and your enemy thrusts his sword at you. Idris seems aware of this, quietly nodding once to Bartimaeus' salute. He watches as the sword is jabbed forwards, his own blade coming to bear in a sideways parry as he steps into the sword's effective thrusting range, while the edge of his own grazes against Bartimaeus' midriff in a calculated, deliberate strike. With the point sealing his win on the matter so clearly, he tells the knight-priest, "A fine fight. I enjoyed it very much, Sir. Looking forward to see what you do in the battlefield."

Whether Elrick feels bad about using such brutish tactics against a knight a bit smaller than himself, it certainly doesn't show in his actions. He may be pulling his blows with his blade, when he slams forward with his shield, he uses the weight and power of his body. Catching Rowan off-guard no doubt helps open up the Wylye's defenses and seeing the knight's sword out in the open, the Laverstock Knight swings down hard at the blade itself to disarm. Once that is done, it is an easy stab to score his first point against the Wylye.

Kamron ducks low behind the punching shield to avoid the return blow from Isyld, and he backs up again when she falls once more. Backing up again, he allows her back up to her feet, only to begin circling to his left, his steps short so that they do not cross. "Well, you'll have to spend more time around me, Sir Isyld. You'll learn quite quickly that I believe in the romance of knighthood and life in general. It's the only way to find delight in the world about us." He feints his axe forward a moment, and then circles back to his right, "Thank you, Sir Isyld. It is a pleasure to match blades with a skilled fighter." For a third time, he advances, slowing as he approaches the lady knight, gathering himself as if he were going to launch another shield bash, he instead darts forward again just to within range, sweeping his axe up and over, aiming to score a quick hit on the top of her left shoulder before she can get her shield up quite far enough. It might hurt his forearm when her shield does come up, but if he can get the third hit, it's worth it.

With the fight done, Idris will likely hear clapping from over his shoulder and a sharp whistle from another Griffin knight. Smiling his elder brother, John merely moves from where he was leaning, now walking out to congratulate his brother and offer a cup to him as well. "Well done, I say. Bloody well done. You danced rather well Sir Idris." a toothy smile is applied as he looks to thenother competitors. "How is the showing?"

Bartimaeus steps back after the relatively light blow, dropping the point of his gleaming sword to the ground. For a moment he holds that position, seeming to consider the large Bodenham Knight before him.
"You conducted yourself with admirable skill and restraint." The priestly knight responds with typical calm, "You have impressed me. That is not the attitude I have seen in you thus far. Perhaps my judgement of you was hasty. Good fight, Sir Idris. It was a pleasure."

His blade is knocked out of his hand and clatters to the ground. He yelps in surprise, but rights his balance and remains on his feet. Rowan flexes his wrist, as though to test it, before plucking up his weapon again. "Well done," he mutters, as Elrick allows him to regain his bearings, his brown eyes narrowing with renewed focus. "It's one each," he remarks to himself, suspecting Elrick did indeed know math. He circles his opponent once more…

Rowan checked his sword of 15, he rolled 12.
Elrick checked his sword of 15, he rolled 17.
Rowan rolls 4d6 and gets (4 2 2 6) for a total of: (14)

"Likewise, Sir Bartimaeus." Idris replies, removing his helmet as he turns to see John applaud him over his shoulder, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Brother, thank you. But I had some harsh lessons today, and I think I need to reassess the worth of my shield as a support for the attacks," he comments, sheathing his blade, as he looks to the Bishopstone knight again. "Sometimes we must shed ourselves of our impulses and simply let everything fall into place, Sir. My master had taught me that."

"I should like that, Sir Kamron, to see the actions of a true romantic knight." Isyld doesn't swing as of yet, she keeps her axe in position and her shield arm out just slightly to try and make herself in a more defensive manner, able to lift or lower it as needed. His circling action has her turning slightly, following his movements and the feint brings her shield up prematurely. "I agree, I find delight in almost everything. It is much better than focusing on the negative, whether or not there is plenty of negative to focus on or not." The approach sends all her senses warning her to prepare for the hit and she tenses, shield lifting again. Too little, too late, she is hit and the third point is scored, sending her stumbling a step or two back but able to retain her feet this time. Her smile returns, even at her loss, "It was an honor fighting you, Sir Kamron. It truly was." A dip of her head and she switches her axe to the hook where it hangs at her side and offers her arm for a clasp. "Thank you for accepting the challenge."

"Your tutor was a wise man." The Bishopstone knight responds, lifting the tip of his blade from the dirt and hefting his heavy shield. "You have given me much to think about this day. Lord's blessing be upon you." And with that having been said, Bartimaeus sheathes his sword and turns to stroll off of the green.

John snorts towards his brother and holds his hand out for the man's helm ro allow him to drink. A glance is given Bartimaeus before he is nodding. "That is why I asked for a better shield. And look! Nome have asked to test it." a click of his tongue. "Well. Tis your lessons little brother. Not mine. I was humbled enough previously."

After scoring a point against the disarmed opponent, Elrick lets up on the attacks as he pulls back, taking a few steps away so that Rowan can retrieve his dropped blade and set himself. Once the Wylye is ready, the Laverstock also returns to a defensive position and begins to slowly advance once more. He does indeed know the score but a nod of acknowledgement is offered and once they are close again, Elrick slashes out with his blade while keeping his own shield close. This time though, he is too slow as the blade skids off of his opponent's shield and the attack leaves his shield open for just a moment, and that is all it takes for a point to be scored on him.

Kamron hisses a little as his forearm clatters against the top of Isyld's shield, and as he retreats, he shifts his axe into his left hand, shaking out his right arm. He tilts his head toward his squire for a moment, the gangly young man pulling off Kamron's helmet so that he can look back to the lady knight and take her forearm in a firm clasp, "A pleasure and an honor, Sir Isyld. It's good practice, I think, to face an axe without the threat of death hanging from meaty Saxon hands. I'm glad that we could have this match, so that we could both attain that practice."

Idris checked his flirting of 3, he rolled 6.

The helm is passed on to John as Idris takes the offered drink, chugging from the container before passing it back to his brother. "It is true, brother. Thus far, all have failed to answer your challenge to fight. I fought roughly ten people, now, with seven victories. Small feat, perhaps, but I have to fight three more victories and then perhaps I might be halfway to respectable." He looks to Isyld when her fight ends, nodding once to the Chalke lady. And perhaps a smile added on there, "I see you're still- er, looking good with an axe in your hand, my Lady."

Evae, Isyld's own squire, comes to the field and takes her axe and helm from her before Isyld clasps arms with Kamron, offering the firm clasp in return. A smile still manages to find and curve her lips. "I admit it's tough getting hit by an axe, even a friendly one, but it is much better than getting cut with Sir de Bodenham's real sword he uses during the fights." Releasing his arm, she absently rubs the side that had gotten cut where it had pierced her armor, the chain being fastened back together haphazardly for the moment in a quick fix. "Thank you, I've learned a lot and look forward to fighting at your side someday."

Elrick was soundly poked again! The Wylye's sharp eye catches the opening and prevails again. Elrick's blade noisily clangs against his shield, but both knights remain on their feet. The Laverstock is given only a second of respite before Rowan pushes back with his own shield - however futile such a gesture is - in an effort to capitalize on the opening a second time. Only doable if his aggressiveness catches Elrick off guard, he assumes!

Rowan checked his sword of 15, he rolled 11.
Elrick checked his sword of 15, he rolled 2.
Rowan rolls 4d6 and gets (6 1 4 3) for a total of: (14)

Hearing the familiar voice of the Bodenham in question, Isyld looks over with a friendly smile. "Thank you, Sir Idris. I hope you are faring much better than I have thus far today?" Another look towards the field where the others are challenging, but it's brief.

John takes the cup back and holds on to now, both helm and cup, looking rather posh doing so as well. A faint curl of lips and he offers his brother a non comittal shrug. Though to his brother's words to the Chalke he laughs, loudly. "You are a charmer, Idris."

Aggression was not what Elrick had expected from the Wylye Knight so when his own shields gets bashed and pushed, it gives a little bit. But that little bit is all it takes for the much quicker opponent to find that small opening. Rowan's blade strikes again, registering a solid hit, which still counts even if the larger knight shrugs off the blow rather easily. Knowing it was the third blow, Elrick lowers his weapon and inclines his head to Rowan, "Well fought, Sir Rowan. The victory is yours as your quickness has bested me. Well done!"

Kamron frowns at the mention of using a real sword, shaking his head, "I know that we are all skilled knights, but it seems a touch… violent… to use one's sharpened blade in a challenge of honor and love." But then he nods sharply, "Of course. We'll have to show the Saxons how to really use an axe… and perhaps get a few backups for ourselves, eh Sir Isyld?" The arrival of Sir Idris with the group draws a nod from Kamron, "Sir." And then he looks about for the Bishopstone he's missed twice now.

"Well, I did lose a fight but I won one just now, I would say," Idris shrugs, smiling back to the Chalke, "that I'm about even Sir Isyld." He laughs at John's making fun of him, reaching out to place his hand upon his brother's shoulder. "That was bad, I know." And then he approaches the lady in question, murmurs something to her, smiles just a tad brighter and heads back over to where his brother — and now his squire — are waiting. "I need to sleep," he declares.

"Sir," he intones back to Kamron, nodding once to the man. "Perhaps we shall fight sometime. I see you about the field as much as I am and yet we never actually threw the gauntlet."

The tactic proves fruitful, and Rowan lowers his blade and guard when Elrick concedes defeat. He looks a smidge relieved that it didn't backfire! "Good fight, Sir Elrick. Your strength is impressive. You did have me worried after you disarmed me." He bows his head respectfully to the Laverstock. "Should you challenge me again in the future, I will gladly accept it."

At just this moment Bartimaeus is stepping through a crowd of armored knights toward Sir Kamron. And though his helmet is on, his mildly distinctive grey chain and the personalized emblem on his shield separate him from the rest.
"Sir Kamron!" The priest calls, voice muffled by the metal bars that cast his face into shadow, "I saw naught but the end of your match, but it was well fought. Do you still wish a challenge?"

John snorts once more before shaking his head and passes the helm over to Idris' squire. "One day, someone you are trying to bed will stab you back. Watch yerself." he adds softly before pushing at his brother's arm. Eyes scout over the assembled men and women fighting and there is a brief sigh. "Go and sleep then. I will remain here like an aloof maiden and see if I summon a dance."

"Perhaps, Sir Rowan, perhaps. Or the next time we are on the field together with weapons in hand, it is to defeat a band of Saxons." Elrick says with a grin, showing that he certainly has no love for the Saxons. "Thank you for showing me that I still have work to do to improve against faster opponents." It does appear that the Laverstock's size and strength does come at a price. "I should retire for the day though."

"I am fairly sure the Sir de Chalke won't appreciate that remark quite so much, brother," Idris shakes his head in disapproval at John, snatching the helmet from his squire and resting it at the crook of his elbow. "But if that was true, it would be a rather infamous way to die, don't you think?"

"A touch violent, it was, but I will heal." Isyld glances to her squire and hands over her axe, "I think I am finished fighting for the day, I will watch for awhile, see what else I can learn." Offering a nod, she agrees rather whole-heartedly with Kamron, "I look forward to it. And a few backups would be very nice after spending so much on this replacement." As Idris approaches, she looks to him, "Congratulations on your win, Sir Idris." Falling silent to hear the murmured words, she shakes her head after. "It's not necessary, truly it's not. Thank you though."

Kamron nods upward at Bartimaeus' call, looking back to Idris and Isyld, "Indeed, Sir. Perhaps I will have that honor in the near future. I do, however, owe this good sir a match." He nods to each again, and he steps back to get his helm from his squire. And then he is moving around to Bartimaeus, "I could not leave a debt such as that unpaid, Sir. Thank you for the compliment. I hope that I can prove worthy of it after our match as well. First to three?" Always best to get the stakes down before stepping into the ring.

"Yes. Should you improve, I dare say you'll be nearly unstoppable, and many Saxons will have a good reason to fear you." He turns, beginning on his way back to his plum spectator spot along the fringes of the field, and nods to the Laverstock once more. "I won't delay you any further, then. Farewell, Sir Elrick."

"I am sure she doesnt either, Sir Idris. But, I also expect her to have class and taste. The opposite of you." he adds with a grin before he is shifting slighty. "It would, though I will prefer my sleep to take me. As unlikely as such is." John adds before regarding Kamron and Bart. "I must not have bathed properly."

"As you wish," Idris tells Isyld, offering her a bow before heading to the tent city, his squire trailing along. John says something about class and taste and he stops, to reply, "Look who's talking about my not having class and taste, brother. Should I remind you not to take the savior's name in vain next time you're in public?" He points his index finger at John, his smile turned wry — he knows exactly what Idris is talking about. "I will see you later, John. Make sure to fight Sir Isyld, but be gentle — she has seen the ugly side of a Bodenham blade in the past."

"Indeed." Bartimaeus confirms, "First to three. I warn you now that my blade is sharp, but I shall strive to insure this is a contest of gentleman. I have no desire to see the blood of my fellows upon the ground." The Bishopstone knight's tone is placid as he strolls slowly out into the field to face Sir Kamron. His sword rings out as he draws it and raises it in salute, the gleaming metal much scratched but still bright.

Kamron shrugs a little helplessly at John's commentary as he moves off to join Bartimaeus, "Challenges before conversation, I'm afraid, Sir." Studying the bared blade on the other side of the ring, he nods slowly, any expression he might have hidden by the bucket helm he wears. "I'll trust that you have the skill to pull your blows then, Sir." Drawing out the all-wood axe from the grip of his left hand and getting a better grasp on his shield, he draws in a breath, "For as you can see, my own weapon is wood entire." The axe is raised to his brow, and then he settles in behind his shield, "As you are ready."

Bartimaeus bows his helmeted head in acknowledgement of Kamron's trust before moving forward in three measured steps. Hefting his shield, he tilts it slightly in preparation for impact and opens the fight with a wide horizontal swing at chest height. There is real force behind the blow as it whistles in, but hopefully not so much as to part his opponent's mail.

Bartimaeus checked his sword of 15, he rolled 17.
Kamron checked his axe at 15, he rolled 9.
Kamron rolls 4d6 and gets (6 6 2 6) for a total of: (20)
Bartimaeus checked his dex of 12, he rolled 13.

Kamron was on the offensive for his last match, but it appears that his sword-wielding opponent intends to keep him on the defensive this time. He appears to be ready for the simple attack, coming in low (an easy task for a man who stands 5'3" on a good day) and angling his shield to deflect the swing up and above his head. Shuffle-stepping forward, he punches out with the head of the wooden axe, aiming to slam the top of the weapon straight into the right side of his opponent's ribs.

Bartimaeus' right side, obviously his week side due to the lack of a shield, is probably used to catching blows by this point in his life. A quiet grunt is force from the man as the wooden axe gives him a good thump in the ribs, causing him to take a staggering sidestep. Horribly off balance, he swings his sword back to keep from accidentally stabbing himself or Kamron as he falls, and relaxes his left leg. The move looks practiced, and is in fact one that he has already used at least once today. His mail jingles as he lands hard on his left knee, shield jammed point-first into the ground for stability.
"A mighty blow." The Bishopstone grunts through his helm, pushing back upright and tugging his shield from the turf. Lifting his sword, he salutes his opponent once more, then steps forward and brings his blade down in a heavy overhead chop. He follows that with a quick step forward and a lunging hit from his shield, swinging the heavy bit of wood and leather like an enormous fist.

Bartimaeus checked his sword of 15, he rolled 1.
Kamron checked his axe at 15, he rolled 4.
Kamron rolls 4d6 and gets (4 6 3 5) for a total of: (18)
Bartimaeus checked his dex of 12, he rolled 8.

Kamron holds back as Bartimaeus tumbles to the ground, letting the man rise in his own time, "Thank you, Sir." He returns the salute, and only just has time to get back down into his low stance. This time he shifts off to his right as the overhead chop comes in, once more sending the blow glancing off his shield. He is rocked in turn by the blow of shield to shield, staggering back a half-step and swinging his axe in a sharp horizontal swipe, aiming to curl in behind the shield and strike the man's left shoulder while his arm is extended… and hopefully to give himself time to recover from the bashing blow.

Withdrawing his shield after the collision, Bartimaeus swings it up protectively, the painted face meeting the shaft of Kamron's axe with a dull 'thunk'. However, the weight of the descending axe forces the Bishopstone knight's arm back and the wooden head strikes home on an odd shiny streak of links that stand out against the grey chain on his shoulder. Tilting his shield, the priestly knight pushes the axe head aside after the touch and swings his own blade around in a gleaming arc to try and smack the flat into Kamron's extended arm.

Bartimaeus checked his sword of 15, he rolled 4.
Kamron checked his axe at 15, he rolled 4.

Kamron regains his steady footing and brings up his shield again in time to catch the blow aimed at his arm, steel thumping hard against painted leather over wood. At the same time, he yanks back on his axe, trying to pull it free of its curl behind the other man's shield. It would probably have been fine if the axe were steel-headed, with a tighter fit between head and haft. As it is, the knight does not move beyond the tug for a moment, and then he is stumbling back again as the head pops free, dropping to bounce against the trampled grass and leaving Kamron holding something not much better than a simple stick. Inside his helm, he grimaces hard, tossing the haft away and starting to back up from his opponent.

Bartimaeus lowers his sword as he notes the useless stick coming into view, letting the tip of his gleaming weapon rest lightly against the ground. He makes no move to attack, but instead waits and watches to see if Sir Kamron's squire has another weapon to hand. He doesn't speak, but then again,what is there to say? This is a gentleman's fight with gentleman's rules. He will wait until his opponent is ready to rejoin him in battle.

Kamron nods as Bartimaeus holds back, half-turning back to his squire and calling out, "Newt, sword!" The squire scurries forward, holding out the hilt of a rebated sword, undoubtedly a practice weapon used between knight and squire for training. Kam takes up the sword, hefting it a little as if to get a feel for the weapon, then nods his helmeted head to the Bishopstone, "When you are ready, Sir."

"If your war axe is to hand you may use that." Bartimaeus responds, noting the relative lack of familiarity his opponent shows with the blade. "Though such weapons be more difficult to control, I shall take the risk in favor of facing you at your best. The choice is yours, Sir Kamron." The priest's voice is serene, the tip of his sword lifting from the ground just high enough that he can respond to an attack if it is offered, or else return it to the ground if a weapon swap is in order.

Kamron checked his sword at 10, he rolled 11.
Bartimaeus checked his sword of 15, he rolled 17.

Kamron ponderously shakes his helmet of a head, "Thank you, Sir, but I prefer not to risk allies. Especially just before the melee." And then he's advancing, sword up and held in a middle guard. Again, there's nothing fancy about his attack, just a simple stroke, diagonally down and in from above his right shoulder toward his opponent's left, his shield held close at his left side to block a counter.

Bartimaeus brings his own blade up in a counter arc, meeting Kamron's blade stroke for stroke. Sparks fly from the contact, the sound of steel on steel shimmering through the air between the knights. Moving immediately into a counter attack, Bartimaeus steps forward behind his shield and swings his blade down in a quick slash aimed for his shorter opponent's right thigh.

Critical Fail!
Bartimaeus checked his sword of 15, he rolled 20.
Kamron checked his sword at 10, he rolled 9.
Kamron rolls 4d6 and gets (5 6 6 2) for a total of: (19)
Bartimaeus checked his dex of 12, he rolled 2.

Kamron grits his teeth at the impact of blades, never particularly liking the shiver that solid steel sends down into his arm. Still, he holds it long enough to step aside and reset his guard, and so when his opponent goes low, Kamron reacts on instinct… this much is the same whether he's wielding a sword or an axe. He steps back with his right foot, getting his thigh out of range, and then takes the shorter route presented by his opponent, hacking down at Bartimaeus' extended forearm.

Bartimaeus realizes what Kamron is up to a fraction too late. He is in the process of pulling his hand back when his opponent's blade strikes, unfortunately missing the arm and striking the Bishopstone knight hard across the knuckles. Metal plates set in the back of his thick leather gauntlets are likely all that save him from a couple broken bones. AS it is, the unfortunate man's fingers spasm and go numb, his sword dropping heavily to the ground between them.
The sound that escapes from beneath Bartimaeus' helm is part indrawn breath, part surprised laugh. "Huh!" He grunts, instinctively bringing his hand in to press it against his middle and stepping back, shield up. "Ah, well done." he states, his hand flexing behind the shelter of his shield as he tests the use of his fingers. "There is a bit of pain in his usually placid voice, but not enough to dampen his good humor.

Kamron draws back at the grunt and the pain in the other man's voice, immediately lowering his sword, "Are you alright?" He chokes up on the dulled blade of the sword, offering it out to his squire hilt-first, and when it's been taken, he pulls off his helmet, tucking it under his left arm, "Can you still move your fingers, Sir?" There's a rueful twist to his sweat-sheened features, and he adds, "I don't know that I ever got your name between yesterday and today." Or he's forgotten it, "I'm Sir Kamron de Dinton."

Lowering the point of his shield to the ground, Bartimaeus removes his damaged hand from behind it so that Sir Kamron can see all his fingers slowly clenching and unclenching. "It is the nature of such wounds. I do not think you have damaged me beyond repair, but it shall throb quite nicely for some time. A reminder, perhaps, not to take my opponents lightly." Hoisting his shield up onto his back one-handed, the Bishopstone knight then reaches up to tug the heavy rounded helm from his head. His bearded face is equally sweat slicked, dirty-blonde hair plastered across his forehead.
"Sir Bartimaeus de Bishopstone." The priestly knight offers. His scarred lips twist into something of a wry grin, dark blue eyes contemplative as he looks from Sir Kamron to his hand. His sword remains on the ground between them. "Well met." And, perhaps surprisingly, his tone holds no sarcasm.

Kamron nods, reaching out to offer Bartimaeus his forearm to clasp, or to pat, if his fingers are hurting too badly. "A pleasure, Sir Bartimaeus. You knocked me around quite neatly, there. Finely done, even if the final result did not suit you, and it was honorably done as well." He chuckles softly, "Here's hoping that the axe can be repaired. I've already had to buy one here at Carlion." The comment appears to be amused more than anything.

"I have grown lax and set in my ways." Bartimaeus responds, clasping Kamron's forearm tightly in his injured hand. "Too often I have focused on defense. My attacks have grown sloppy." Releasing the clasp hen, the priestly knight stoops to retrieve his gleaming sword from the trampled grass.

Kamron shakes his head, "I don't know that I would go that far, Sir Bartimaeus." The words are spoken with a crooked grin, "My shoulder is like as not to ache from those strikes to my shield." He bows his head then, "But we all have things we need to improve on, don't we? I clearly need a better sense of the stresses my weapon can handle." Grimacing slightly, he gestures to the fallen axe-head, "Speaking of, if you'll excuse me, I should look to this and see if I can repair it or get it repaired. Thank you for the match."

"God be with you." Bartimaeus replies, sheathing his sword with a quiet 'shhhnk.' His expression is mild and contemplative as he watches the other knight depart, gaze turned inward.

"And also with you." And then Kamron is gathering up pieces of weapons and passing them and his helm off to his squire before departing.

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