Northern Struggle; The Joust {2 of 2}

- Just Outside of Old Psophis, Early Morning

It was a slower beginning on the second day, for many of the contestants had been worn down.

Aside Quinn who was up before the dawn for jogging and decided to take a bath in Lake Do. The bad news was this was mating season for the carnivorous "sawfish", the adults growing almost a foot long and bold enough to attack humans. The good news was she escaped with only a light nibbling and one of them hanging off her thigh. She waited for the other contestants just outside the arena, one of her people cooking the sawfish over a spit at her side.

The crowds from Psophis slowly made their way in, though many of the nomadic highlanders had made camp right outside the city. Cooking fires with full hogs above them were not an uncommon sight within the many small camps that spread out far across nominal grazing land.

Attendance remained high as a pleasant breeze defanged the cloudless sun.

The Lords slowly filtered in, beside their retinues. The Duke-Elector and the Marquise in rapt discussion, the Baron of Godsiron stumbling in eagerly, despite the emotional toboggan (and minor bender) of the other day. Earl Steerpike and Lady Robin joined shortly afterword in rapt discussion over the magical allotments for the tournament. Ironically the Vožd would be one of the last in, joined by Lord Haruto who'd met him in the baths. The Baronet Magus could be seen shuffling about through the crowd still hell-bent on his productivity taking measurements from the myriad Lamia, Harpies, Fauns, and assorted greenskins present, until the preliminary horn called out. Prompting him to waddle up to the observation deck.

Tiberius's champion Nero was the second to arrive, joined by the Mystery Rider who'd insisted in riding along. To 'watch.' The shorter bearded pirate was all but eclipsed by the stranger but he did not complain.

Sir Frederick arrived next, still monitored by a local Druid in case he was slightly more concussed than expected. Much to the grumbling knight's disdain, though he was still able to compete.

Last, Black Brother Krooger, who might have blacked out if a noxious herbal concoction hadn't been shoved down his throat. He'd briefly turned purple, hurled, then jogged out of the medical tent clad in only a loincloth to arm and armour himself. Riding out fast while his strength remained.

Those defeated the other day watched from the stands, the Felinid Lynntao beside the Ursine Hide-Render and a cloaked man who watched with rapt attention. The Tall Maid sat with Sir Alfred at her side talking quite casually, the older man chewing on a biscuit and now wholly undaunted by the enigmatic housekeeper. The young champion of Dragonbad managed to drag himself over and was immediately joined by the Mystery Rider to congratulate the young man on making it.

Only a few practice tilts were made, warming up the men and the woman competing for the finals. The hunger for victory remained though; Nero still eager to claim a title, an almost barbarous ambition suffused Quinn, the unlikely favourite of the crowd Sir Haugen beat his chest to overcome his betters, and Sir Krooger seemed only able to be aware of his shield, lance, the horse beneath him, and whatever was running against him.

The draws for the finals came in. Lady Quinn against Champion Nero, and the Knights once more set against each other.

Kraken's Repose and Last Rest were called first, slowly circling about to their starting positions. Eyeing one another, though in that moment it felt perhaps to the man called Nero he was being watched by a hungry leopard. While Quinn watched for something to indicate his strategy, the many colours of his armour a collage that made predicting and undercutting him... Difficult. But it was entirely possible.

As they reached their positions, the Arena fell quiet, aside a few barks from the Last Rest adventurers, and the southern Mariners. The horn rang out the the match began.

Both riders darted forward in the first tilt. Smith going hard right out the gate and seemingly Nero did the same, only to slow and swing his body to the side, letting Quinn's braced lance catch a load of air. The sudden hidden strike catching her off guard to knock her clean out the saddle. Shouts came, though the Pirate ignored them as Quinn rose and returned to her steed.

In the second tilt he attempted the same manoeuvre, but this time he caught only air, Smith slowing just as he launched the bait.

Nero heard a laugh as she passed that was not wholly sane, he turned, readying for the third tilt.

He stopped trying feints then, attempting a rush down and smashed his lance into Quinn's shield, but she remained untoppled as they swivelled about.

In the fourth Tilt Nero attempted another feint, but was caught off-guard by Smith's broadside, levelling her shield for the exchange that sent Nero flying off his horse like a swatted fly. He hit the floor hard enough his helmet was flung away, being restored to him by Sir Alfred. He climbed back on his horse, pulling his helmet low as he braced.

The onslaught to follow was like a shark tasting blood. In the fifth tilt he barely remained on, his shield shattered with his arm armour coming loose. In the sixth tilt came off losing the exchange, Quinn taking his broadside strike while her flank-shot sent him spinning and tumbling. He tried one last feint in the seventh tilt and for his trouble he was knocked clean from the saddle.

The crowd erupted as the Lady of Last Rest rose in her saddle, circling the arena. While in the sand Nero's mount stuck it's nose into his face.

"Should have rushed the last one." He sighed, patting the mare before standing, another wave of cheers coming as he waved.

Both combatants departed the Arena in short order as the Knights entered.

For a second time in as many days, the Knight of the Coin readied himself against the Pneumin Black Rider.

Perhaps, some thought, the prior bouts had worn them down. That this would be a more conventional match.

At least as much as this brutal sort of jousting tournament went.

Those concerns faded as the horn came, both knights shouting aloud as they rushed down their lanes. A crash of metal and wood coming and for a moment both men rode past lanceless. But seconds later Sir Haugen toppled in a pile of plate-metal, Brother Krooger made a noise comparable to a rabid bear as he circled around to ready himself. Frederick was slow to stand, but the moment he was back in the saddle he was off.

Tilts two and three passed with crashing strikes, but neither managed a knock-off blow. In the fourth tilt Haugen's lance caught the Black Knight's helmet by the horn, sending him spiralling off where he half landed on his feet, up in an instant growling to himself as he climbed back onto his horse.

Tilt five passed with a mutual 'whiff,' both knights side-eyeing each other for a sign of weakness and finding none. Two lances shattered and the Pneumin's shield splintered in the sixth tilt. Krooger tossing aside the crumpled wooden shield into the crowd, where a young barbarian girl caught it. In the seventh tilt the Black Knight finally took his second victory, knocking down the Godsiron champion with a shoulder hit.

But Sir Frederick did not give in.

Tilt eight.

Tilt nine.

Tilt ten.

Neither man was moved or broke rank as they continued with a borderline animal fury. Shouting wordless feral noises.

Tilt eleven.

Tilt twelve.

Tilt thirteen.

In the stands Baron Raspail could be seen waving his arms and striking the railing. One of the Pneumin's on terraced seating having an episode as he screamed for Haugen's death. For a second time, two normal knights who'd come from nowhere dominated the arena. Against all odds bringing out a level of performance not seen by even 'lordly' contenders.

Tilt fourteen.

Tilt fifteen.

Tilt sixteen.

A temporary break was called, as just before the seventeenth tilt, Haugen's horse slumped on its own, heaving for breath the stallion refused all attempts to bring it back up. Prompting Krooger from across the arena to dismount. Or try to, as he tumbled down headfirst to the dust. Ironically for all the times people had fallen this was the first to elicit great concern with how hard he planted himself on the face. The horses were replaced and briefly the knights convened, sharing small talk over their water before returning to their own ends of the Arena.

The stalemate finally broke on the seventeenth tilt, with Haugen placing his lance on the inside of Krooger's shield, the Black Knights' own lance going wide as he was jerked back, losing his balance and toppling. The Arena roared as Frederick circled back, making sure his opponent was still alive before pulling up to shout. Another wordless roar as he beat his armoured fists against his breastplate.

Tilt eighteen. Tilt nineteen. Tilt twenty.

Despite being again at the end of their leashes the knights put everything forward, shattering lances and shields as both parties became increasingly unhinged. The crowd waited with baited breath.

At last, in the twenty-first tilt it came to an end, both parties slow to start their sprints forward, watching the other to see if they were committing. And when both did, they hurtled forward. Another crash of metal and wood, shards sent flying as Krooger's abused chest-plate finally gave up the ghost, he seized as his body jerked up, carried by the broken lance before he landed, rolling as his armour came away. The imbalance jerked Frederick Haugen up and for some length he attempted to save himself. He gave up when he reached the end of the Tilt, letting himself finally slide. Cracking his helmeted head against the fence, yes, but landing on his feet. The crowd erupted into a cacophony of noise as the second stunning saga between the knights ended. The Knight of Godsiron had won.

Sir Frederick walked over to the fallen Pneumin, offering him a hand which was slowly accepted. A slow chorus of cheers and shouts followed them, one of the enraged Black Knights trying to hop over the fence after them, only to be crushed by the Maid. The startled man was tossed back to his brothers.

A brief intermission was called once more, the finals now decided. Firstly the battle for Third Place; between Nero and Sir Krooger. Then the Final; between the Lady of Last Rest and the upstart Sir Frederick of Godsiron.

Lord Raspail ventured down to the aid tent once more to offer what he could to his shocking champion. Lady Robin went down directly to the arena floor as another Cassowary race was held in the intermission where her cheering attracted the attention of the horned bird she'd bet on. She lost her money, but got a new pet. The Vožd vanished entirely and only returned at the end of the break, a blue feather tied upon his earring. The Earl of Groan also briefly ventured to the medical tents, offering some advice to the Knight of the Coin on his upcoming opponent.

The joust continued without delay this day, the Großmeister's champion riding in blatantly unhelmed with a bottle of herbal liquor in one hand that he destroyed right there before the watching crowd. Krooger's restraints destroyed by his bouts against the Raspail Knight. For a second time Nero was faced by an opponent who was... Rather unhinged. But the mariner did not complain as he levelled his lance.

The Joust for Third began, in the first Tilt both riders struck, Nero's lance splintering against the heavy sat knight while Krooger's lance bounced off Nero's arm. In the second, Nero tempted the Pneumin Knight with an aggressive rush, only to be met by the same. The steel hammer of Kraken's Repose bounced off the drunken fury of Sir Krooger and was knocked wide by a second shoulder strike, falling off the horse moment's later in a heap.

He climbed back on without hesitation. Nero Came back in the third tilt, baiting Krooger into another forward sprint and swivelling away at the last second, his swerving lance taking Krooger in the flank and knocking him down cleanly. Tilts four and five passed with clattering and broken shield, in the sixth he managed to land dismounting strike to the flank, attaining the lead until the seventh tilt, when Krooger slowed his horse from the outset. Only to jump his horse forward when Nero neared, letting him catch the Pirate off guard, knocking him clean off.

But Nero was not so easily bested. Tilt eight, tilt nine, tilt ten, tilt eleven, tilt twelve. Clashes without release as the two riders searched for a sign of weakness, a hole in the metaphorical armour. Only in the thirteenth it end, with Nero shifting his shield high against his shoulder. A prime target that drew the addled Black Knight galloping down the fence, right into Nero's lance. While the Pneumin's lance went wide, the Pneumin was cast back. He wavered, off balance until he caved, tossing himself off the horse to land on his feet. A respectable roar shook the stadium as Nero secured Kraken's Repose its first points toward the Tournament's Crown. Not quite first place or even second, but a foothold that nine other contenders lacked.

Nero made his way out of the Arena to the stands, looking on as Brother Krooger simply climbed back onto his horse, the Black Knight riding off towards the city.

While the Final Joust was called.

In the North the Lady Smith with her battle tested armour atop a northern courser, putting on her helmet to hide her fox's grin. In the South Sir Haugen, no longer wearing the cloak of Godsiron. But he didn't need it, for everyone knew who he was now.

The horn was called, both contenders rushing down the fence. The crowd howled as Haugen's lance exploded against Smith's shield, the adventuress swaying hard and only barely staying upon her horse as she tossed her ruined shield away, the steel bent in half as another was carried to her. Alas, time was not on Haugen's side. Quinn redoubled in the second tilt with a low posture, the Coin Knight's lance skipped across her shoulder while her own strike caught him on the centre of mass, toppling him and bringing his horse to a halt. He did not give in though.

Not as he struggled to land a hit while Quinn continued landing blows. Tilt three blowing aside his wooden shield, while his battered armour suffered more in the fourth tilt. He was brought low again in the fifth tilt with a trick shot to the leg.

Tilt six again brought no change, with Haugen's lance cracking wide against Smith's Pauldron while he broadsided her strike.

Then came the seventh Tilt. Both riders began slow Haugen swaying slightly in the saddle. Lady Smith rushed forward first, eager for the victory. But Sir Frederick wasn't finished yet, and followed suite a moment later, abandoning the Lance strike to put all his mass behind his shield. Quinn's lance struck true and the woman behind was jerked out of her saddle and stirrups, landing on her backside a moment later as the crowd erupted.

He could not repeat that trick though, and in the eighth tilt his run was ended at the balled tip of Quinn's lance. Both riders rushing forward, as Haugen's lance found air and Quinn's found his flank, swinging him wide and taking him off the horse.

Like Krooger before him, he decided to land on his feet. Once more the crowd erupted, though it was a notably muted response compared to the extended match earlier, but the noise was still deafening.

There was no ceremony to congratulate the victor, not that one was needed. The free-men of Last Rest quickly swarmed their leader on the field while Sir Haugen went briefly to his Liege. Then the Knight of the Coin walked off to Psophis, where he would join Sir Krooger drinking away in the corner club. The only thing that was awaited on was the call for the next event. That was decided there on the spot by the Hetman. Erymanthius stood atop the tower scratching his chin. Then he roared; "Qüreş!"

The next event was to be Northern Wrestling!