(514-09-14) Sir Steffan de Wylye vs Pelin ap Granwy
Summary: Steffan learns the hard way about the Knight of Two Elms
Date: 514-09-14
Related: N/A
steffan 

NPC played by

eirian 


Failed.
Steffan checked his tourney of 2, he rolled 15.
Failed.
Steffan checked his lance of 10, he rolled 13.

Failed.
Eirian makes a check for Young Knight Lance at 13, she rolled 16.

Success
Eirian makes a check for Young Knight Lance at 13, she rolled 10.

Failed.
Steffan checked his lance of 10, he rolled 19.
Critical Fail!
Steffan checked his horsemanship of 15, he rolled 20.

Steffan rolls 1d6 and gets (4) for a total of: (4)

Eirian rolls 6d6 and gets (1 3 2 2 1 6) for a total of: (15)

The brother to the heir of the de Wylye has returned from the Dorset front to attend the Summer Tourney, knowing that it is proper form to attend such important events, not just for himself but for the morale of those who are competing and watching. Though the lance is not his favored choice of weapon, he has had training in such arts of warfare as proven during one of earlier skirmishes against the Dorsetmen.

Without much experience in tourneys, it is evident that this knight does not fully understand the protocols involved as Steffan merely looks at the crowd and then his opponent, offering the other knight a nod in greeting. Then his squire runs towards him with a blunted lance and the de Wylye takes it from the youth. Trotting his steed to his end of the list, the protective helm is slipped over his head, ready to go once the signal if given.

Sir Haxton, the marshal of the tourney field, makes a signal. The criers rotate out and out comes a fresh man, swilling a bit of ale and puffed up like a pheasant. He throws his arms out to the Sarumites come to watch the events. "Another tilt for your pleasure, Sarum!" he shouts. "Sir Steffan de Wylye competes against the son of the Knight of Two Elms, Sir Pelin ap Granwy!"

This booming shout finds a man of twenty-one seated upon a rather unremarkable little Welsh horse of a caramel colour. He comports himself fairly well, beginning by poking his lance in the air and earning a few cheers from the tourney going set. Like father, like son? When he lines up, the horse is calm but he fidgets. He takes his lance at the list's end, rather than ride with it. When the flag drops, he hesitates for a moment. Then training takes over. The horse bolts forward, and he rocks back into the saddle, never quite getting a good grip or strong arm behind his lance. Its green point sways up and down like a demented needle but when the two men pass, his deflects off Steffan's.

Once the signal falls, Steffan kicks his own charger into motion and soon the sound of thundering hooves fill the immediate area. Clots of dirt is kicked up behind the horses and the Wylye Knight lowers his lance once he gets closer to his opponent. However, it was ill-timed and lowered too late, the lance missing completely. Luckily for him, Sir Pelin also misses on the initial pass and both knights reach the end of their respective lanes without issue.

Wheeling his charger around, Steffan kicks it into motion again and once more the pair of competitors approach at blazing speeds. This time, Steffan lowers his lance too soon and is unable to hold it level for too long, the blunted point flagging which results in a miss. The Knight of Two Elms's strike is true and fierce, sending the de Wylye flying off of his mount. There is a crunch as he lands on his back, like a flipped turtle and the wind is completely knocked out of him. With a painful once, he lays there for a moment before slowly rolling onto his side and climbing to his feet, a hand raised to show that he is all right. The bruises will no doubt hurt for the coming days and will fade, but the loss is permanent on his record.

On the second tilt, the shaken knight seems to have found some of his seat… by accident. The miss corrects that tendency to sit too far forward. The crowd shouts while they go past in a ripple of dismay, aiming to enflame the pair of competitors to do more than clash. Squires watch on worried, ladies flap their cloths, and Sir Pelin takes up his second lance from his squire. He lines his horse up with the rail and waits to see when Steffan is ready to advance, and then charges again like a battering ram for a wooden door. Alas, this door is a man and no impregnable fortress gate. His blunted lance is pointed lower this time, and it's with some greater control that he guides it into the Wylye's chest. The wood bends without breaking, though the same cannot be said for Steffan: his lance completely shatters and does no harm at all.

"Bout, bout!" howls the crier to get their attention. He throws the flag down at the marshal's instruction. At once the aides go scampering out over the grass to help the fallen knight to his feet while his horse is gathered. Sir Pelin slows his horse and salutes. "Good fortune the rest of the tourney, sir!"

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