(514-09-15) Sir Elrick and the Cornish Comeuppance
Summary: Sir Elrick de Laverstock proves a pretty face ain't all that.
Date: 514-09-15
Related: N/A

NPC played by


Elrick checked his tourney of 7, he rolled 5.
Critical Success!
Elrick checked his lance of 15, he rolled 15.

Eirian makes a check for Young Knight Lance at 13, she rolled 15.
Elrick rolls 12d6 and gets (4 4 4 2 1 5 4 6 4 5 4 1) for a total of: (44)

Having advanced to the second round, Elrick is also coincidentally in a better mode, whether it was from the successful tilt the day before or for an entirely other reason, he shows the most proper of etiquette when taking the field. After going through the pre-jousting ritual of setting up lances in the ground and mounting his charger, the Laverstock plucks one of the lances. Then the proper salute is offered to those who are spectating before he slips on his protective bucket helm. Elrick then turns to his opponent, a rather young looking knight, perhaps as young as he or even younger and offers a respectful salute as well.

The Cornish have made their appearance by the trickle here, but another of the kingdom of Kernow is in the lists to face Elrick de Laverstock. Bryok de Lostwithiel is a handsome young knight by anyone's standards and spends a good amount of time posturing on his painted horse, a brown and white oddity. He waves to the ladies and bears no less than four favours from his lances, one doubled up with a pair of ribbons that will probably have those girls in a catfight all summer long.

The marshal is already sighing. Clearly this is not going to be an easy day while the swooning women are crying out their favours and clapping so freely. "You'd think this were in front of the king," Sir Haxton might be heard muttering to the crier. Choking laughter down, the crier heads out to the field and calls them to order. Three times. "Yes, yes. Sir Elrick of Laverstock versus Bryok de…" And he will repeat this in increasing irritation before the marshal thrusts a flag into the air to shut the crowd up.

Bryok does a fine dip to salute the lady of his first lance, and then turns towards Elrick with a broad, fine smile marred by only the slightest gap of a crooked tooth. He salutes there too just in case, the soul of sportsmanship and outright, total arrogance. When the flag drops, he bursts into motion.

A mixture of amusement and disbelief crosses Elrick's expression when he sees just what kind of knight he is supposed to face. But then again, the Laverstock is at ease, knowing that if the knight spent most of this time worrying about how pretty he or his horse is, then his focus may not fully be on the Joust. All he does now is wait for the signal and when the flag is flicked in the air, he spurs his charger forward into a fierce gallop.

With battlefield experience along with previous tourney experience, Elrick's performance is one of beauty and brutality as well. Staying perfectly on his saddle as the charger thunders down his lane, the lance is kept up until they close and soon the Laverstock's blunted weapon dips down towards his target. The timing is perfect, almost to perfect as it slams into the poncy knight's chest in a vicious, shattering blow. If it had been an actual war lance, the poor youth would have been skewered and life would have immediately left his body. Instead, it is a blunted lance and upon impact, shatters. However, the blow was still strong enough to send Sir Bryok flying.

When Elrick reaches the end of the tilt on the opposite side, he looks back despite knowing what the result is. With an almost righteous smirk, what the Laverstock does next may be a surprise to most. He rides towards where one of Sir Bryok's unused lances rest and plucks one of the more colorful favors. Then Elrick trots his charger over towards the downed knight, pulling off his bucket helm, "Sir, are you all right? Perhaps you can use this to bandage the bruise around your chest." With that said, he drops the ribbon, the slim piece of fabric fluttering down towards the fallen knight before slowly riding away.

After all the mincing and prancing, Bryok sets his cherished spurs into his horse. The mount lurches into a rapid gallop, pretty tail streaming out behind him, a sight that makes the girls swoon or hope their favour will be the one to damage the Laverstock so grievously he forfeits and the Cornishman gets all the way to the final round.

His lance unfortunately does not carry the blessing of the right lady. The point sways when his horse hits a divot from the last tilt, and goes high, and he fights to correct his form. The solid wood skews higher than Elrick's shoulder and there lies open a gap between shield and arm that the Laverstock is quick to take advantage of. A collective cheer from the menfolk builds to an outright roar for the display of finesse, though quite a few of the women cry out in alarm. Bryok himself grunts loudly and goes ass-over-tea kettle onto the ground. He wheels over once and smashes into the ground on his back. His horse goes barreling down the list, and it takes a pair of squires cornering the stallion to get it under control. At least one lady faints.

Bryok himself will not do more than turn his head and pull the sourest face seen this side of Sir Lucan of Carlion, at least in recent days.

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