(514-09-14) Acwel de Woodford vs Rheiderch de Tilshead
Summary: Acwel tries his hand at jousting, with surprising results.
Date: 514-09-14
Related: none
acwel 

** NPC Played By **

eirian 


Success
Acwel checked his tourney of 10, he rolled 9.

Acwel rides in with Saint, his lance in hand, and he is clad in his usual suit of chainmail, now fully repaired and perhaps a little brighter; maybe the blacksmith decided to clean it up or give it a different sheen, this time. Still, he is clad in the black and red of usual Woodford livery, the dark red mingling nicely with the sable. He taps his helmet in a salute to the marshals, and then to the other rider as he lifts his lance in a show of presentation. Once he deems it sufficient, he lifts the lance, readying himself to tilt with his opponent. As soon as the marshal lifts the flag, the charger gallops forward, lance at the ready to hit his foe.

Success
Acwel checked his lance of 12, he rolled 3.

Success
Eirian makes a check for Average Knight Lance at 15, she rolled 4.

Eirian rolls 6d6 and gets (4 1 1 6 2 4) for a total of: (18)
Success
Acwel checked his horsemanship of 15, he rolled 8.

Critical Success!
Acwel checked his lance of 12, he rolled 12.

Success
Eirian makes a check for Average Knight Lance at 15, she rolled 4.
Acwel rolls 12d6 and gets (4 6 3 6 3 3 3 2 1 4 3 6) for a total of: (44)

Acwel's opponent is a lanky fellow with a shock of wheat hair and, in a prevailing theme, a sheaf of wheat on his shield. His grey horse similarly wears yellow caparison, prancing into the tourney field to the fanfare of at least a few people. He's no heir to a manor, but Sir Rheiderch de Tilshead nonetheless has his fans. He waves a gloved hand to the participants, and straightens in the saddle while his squire makes the last checks. A lance is handed up to him, and he adjusts his grip on the long, somewhat unwieldy weapon. He salutes across the field to Acwel when they are presented to the marshals, the dance of his lovely horse speaking to its spirit to charge into it. "Hoi!" He shouts once more, and then gathers himself to prepare for the first launch. When the fluttering flag lifts up, his heels press to the warhorse's sides. It leaps into motion, hooves throwing up clods of earth. The steadied lance point is lowered, pinned fast…

The first tilt and Acwel is hit on the chest, the damage mitigated somewhat by expert use of his shield. It keeps him on the saddle, and so the Woodford salutes his opponent, wheels about, and reaches for a lance his squire so promptly hands to him. Then, he takes in a deep breath as he retakes his place in the lists, waiting for the go of the marshal once again.
Once it is done, Saint gallops forward and this time he exhales the air he's kept in a single breath, jabbing the lance forward with such precision it shatters against the opponent's side, perhaps inflicting more damage than intended by the Woodford.

It's just a fraction of a second but the force is sufficient to throttle the rider off of his horse, and so, Rheiderch de Tilshead has been defeated by Earl Robert's vassal.

The grey gelding thunders through the soil of the jousting field, keeping to the straight in an explosive burst of speed. Rheiderch sits a bit loose in the saddle, but the plan serves him well as he sizes up Acwel through the blur of motion and his helmet's fixed path of vision. Adjusting his lance at the last moment, the tip dips and strikes hard in the chest. Splinters explode into the air and he rises slightly at the impact, absorbing much as he can. The lance is tossed aside to be captured by some poor lackey, and he slows his horse's manic plunge. There is a courteous efficiency to his actions, and he circles around, nodding curtly to his obviously thrilled squire. The young man tosses up the next lance, a third already set back in case. The horse has the jitters from that success, swishing his tail and bobbing his head. The twitch of motion stills as the knight whispers to calm him.
For the next round, it's a mess of motion in the warm summer sun. The horse lurches into movement when the flag rises, though maybe a step out of sync from the masterful gallop before. The forward plunge is a bit of a miss on the knight's part, but he corrects his form, tucking the lance up instead of too low for Acwel's height. The split second difference is all that's needed, though, to crack right into his chain armour. The man's breath is lost explosively before he can even punch his lance up at the man, though he was at a good state had the Woodford not been so superbly on form. He goes flying from the saddle, and go crashing to the ground. Almost immediately his squire bolts out into action to grab the horse, while other observers are in place to try to pull the injured man to his feet if he's not out cold.

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