Northern Struggle; The Joust {1 of 2}

- Just Outside of Old Psophis, Dawn

The tournament's first day began full of vigor in many ways, the early morning was dominated by irregular contenders and northern hedge knights, running individual bouts or single tilts. Providing the full tournament participants a chance to spar, readying themselves for the hard events to come. While the urban and visiting population had already been eager to watch a joust they were joined by thousands of highlanders. Thirsting to witness what was to them an exotic sport. To such a degree the terraced stands were covered in bodies. Even the lowest hedge knight losing a simple tilt received shouts and cheers. It was a day of clear skies and warm winds, and all present were invigorated by the good weather.

Hundreds had crowded the coin brokers who handled the gambling, overseen by the tusked Baron of Tyv. The merchants who'd arrived hawked valuables wherever they could on the outside of the embankments, as the Tea Begs prowled the earthen stands for customers. Those Lords present without obligation watched from on high, while those who participated were down in the arena. Even before the day had begun, attempts at victory had been made, but all had seemingly been met with defeat. Perhaps fate reming those masters of magic and subtlety that they were in alien territory. Perhaps the Vožd had wished to begin with a clean slate.

Loudest of the indignations had come from Baronet Lupa, who'd looked like he'd almost had a seizure when finally presented with the restrictions on magic, just the night before. He'd not slept, snorting a combination of pale powders and drinking noxious bitter drinks of Koko and Kaffe as he'd tried to circumvent the rules in place, and perhaps thinking himself most clever had appeared in the early hours at the Arena. Only to be met with a witch and a druid here to 'observe.' Whatever plans he'd were eventually snuffed out. But he was not alone. The Earl of Groan had managed to acquire the 'list of restrictions' early, and under the most adept forms of cloak and thuggery had crafted a fine workaround in liquid form for the horse he'd been promised. He'd successfully snuck into the temporary stables and delivered the vial to his future steed, only for the "horse" to go ballistic. While Steerpike had done everything correctly, he'd been given the wrong stall. The Highland Dire Donkey had proceeded to run wild around the arena in the twilight hours before the Earl had manged to stop the beast by landing his drake atop it. While the Donkey had been sedated, it had managed to break two of the drake's toes with a kick.

Of course, there had also been the incident. Several parties had attempted to sneak into the building that had, allegedly, been the Joust's registry to get an edge. All while the ferocious ass had been rampaging outside, at least three parties had met in the wee hours and engaged in a brawl with clubs, stockings filled with dung, fists, and teeth. Only two Pneumin nights were captured but injuries could be seen in many camps. Even among those who hadn't attempted subterfuge like good Sir Alfred 'the Chilly' who'd been stretching his legs before being pulled into the building.

Ironically, he'd saved the lives of those Black knights. One of whom would have choked on his own blood due to a throat kick, and the other hadn't noticed half his hand bitten off until he passed out from blood-loss. With only a black eye Alfred had continued his preparations.

Twelve champions were slotted to compete in the formal event.

Lady Robin of Stormlily had maintained her willingness to compete, despite a lack of experience and a need for very hasty learning. The entire morning she'd spent being tutored by a host of independent hedge knights, Arcaadjitte hussars, and Last Rest lancers who'd run her through the process. Though the odds were against her, her armour was ill-fitted, she was eager. Even if the sight of her atop a broad highland steed was almost comical.

Tiberius's champion and his crew had arrived early to witness the early catastrophe. It seemed almost like Nero had some experience with the Joust. Almost like he'd been the second son of a noble, who'd had an understanding of the processes of jousting and horse riding. Which was clearly why Tiberius had sent him. Certainly. He'd spent the early hours testing tricks with his assigned horse.

The unusually large Housekeeper of the Wizard Baronet proved to be particularly vexsome to the armourer and horse managers, as she refused to be fitted with all but the most simple plate and weighed far more than she should have. Such that she wouldn't even mount several horses out of a fear she'd accidentally crush them. Eventually a crude set of very light scale male and a particularly strong ploughman stallion were procured.

After Sir Alfred had returned from the Psophis prison and his delivery of the Black knights, he'd spent the rest of the morning in training, quickly coming to terms with his steed. Such that he was able to quickly make rounds about the Arena and win two early bouts against independent knights. He proved to be one of the favourites of the crowd with the rumours of his death hitting close to home among Arcaadjittes.

Among the Carnival Menagerie there was some confusion over who would serve in the Joust, just as much the enigmatic fifth event. Neither champion of the Turncoat was well-suited to Jousting, but in the end the lady Lynntao rose to the position. A light felinid who was a skilled performer, rider, and archer. Though her natural lightness was not exactly a plus with the lance. She drilled from the moment she stepped forward and would kill two practice dummies in cold blood.

Lord Haruto on the other hand had come with a more open hand, seemingly taking a "more diplomatic" approach to things. At least until a Dwarven smith woman had grabbed him by the ankle to stop him from riding 'Lady Godiva Style' about the Arena. He'd emerged minutes later in a suit of hastily assembled plate blushing like a bride.

After the other incident and ensuring his great scaly mount was properly taken care of, the Earl of Groan returned to stick his nose to the grindstone. Feverishly striking down scarecrows and dummies as much to train as to take out his frustrations. While he had been known for learning, magic, and 'unconventional' means it was clear his current mindset made him a true threat. At least in the formal event where he could utilize lance and horse.

Elsewhere, Lady Quinn Smith took an alternative route. Already fitted with worthy armour and more than familiar with northern Horses she'd neglected direct training and had run in the early bouts with the hedge knights. Winning herself a pittance of coin from betting on herself. Occasionally side eyeing the competition. No matter what she had said earlier she proved rather... Focused.

The mystery rider had proved to be another crowd favourite with the crowd and his popularity only increased as he rode in fashionably late with his purple cloak billowing. He briefly stopped at the booking, placing down bets on all participants weighted to lose in the initial bouts and made his way in, training with whoever was willing. While he had some skill, his true strength was and aura about him of confidence as thick as a cloud of fog. That made it difficult to run against him.

The Knight of Godsiron, Sir Frederick Haugen had also arrived fashionably late. Though this may have been more to do with him needing to drag one of his fellow Godsiron champions out of an altercation in the streets of Psophis. The experienced member of the Order of the Coin was... Admittedly less than confident. More used to escort duties, light armour, and actual combat than with traditional knightly activities. A fact that had no doubt prompted Lord Raspail to place money against him.

The champion of Dragonbad was in a similar situation, though he was not even a knight in name. The young man had been a proven rider guarding and scouting along the formal borders of the empire but, alas he was not well seasoned. Especially in formal competition And he was likely daunted looking over at his fellow competitors. Especially one particular camp...

The Pneumin Knights had refused to name an immediate champion, though for once, not out of immediate malice. Arriving at a good hour in their black horned helmets and their blood red cloaks, it quickly became apparent their first choices may or may not have been in the process of being sewed back together in a cell, forcing the present knights to draw straws. A one 'Sword Brother Krooger' was chosen. Krooger may not have been the best choice, lacking the ferocity of many of his brothers, as well as their malice. But he was still a Pneumin Knight and proved his skill in the preliminary bouts, getting the first true explosive dismount of the day.

Up on high, the Lords present shared one of the observation towers. As a vantage point for the Hetman to rule on disputes. Vožd Erymanthius was among the first to arrive in order to keep a watch on things, swiftly joined by the Duke-Elector Barca. The moment the latter had been seated he produced a large bottle of 'morning' red wine and was more than willing to share. Baron Raspail eventually made his way to the tower after finalizing his bets, watching leaned up against the tower railing with rapt interest. Filius Lupa eventually crawled into the framework of the tower to escape his druidic escorts, and could be heard mumbling beneath the bench seating. The Marquise Bolivard was the last to join them just before the competition began, as he'd insisted on touring the arena floor. He arrived with a small stack of spiralling 'chimney cakes' and breakfast dumplings.

When the fated hour came, the Vožd blew upon an enormous brass horn, and the games began in full.

The victory conditions were simple; the first to three dismounts of the enemy would win, and tilts would be run until that was achieved. There was a special bracket for two champions defeated in the first round, who would get a second chance in the second. With any magical arts limited to that which was; 'Provided by natural providence.' A painfully coy definition that favoured (and was patrolled by) the local witches and druidery. Encouraging a straightforward proceeding.

The first match to take place was between Lady Robin and the Champion Nero. With the first tilt seeing the young woman launched off her horse like a skipped rock on the lake. Nero immediately dismounted with his beard almost falling off, though by the time he'd reached her the Scholar was on her feet. A bit shaken, but quick to climb back into the saddle. She actually took the second tilt landing a centre strike, resulting in Nero being dragged some distance with one ankle stuck in the stirrup as his horse circled. The third bout shattered both their shields, but neither was dismounted. Tilts four, five, and six saw only glancing strikes. On tilt seven, Robin overextended, and moments after being struck she toppled. A little slower to climb back on, but determined to keep fighting. Though it was clear to everyone she was winded. The eighth and ninth tilts shook her, and she was cast off by a glancing blow on the tenth tilt. Tiberius emerged the first victor of the day, as he'd helped Robin back to her feet.

She would join the other presiding nobles up in the tower, accepting a glass from Vicaro and being startled by Lupa grunting beneath her seat.

The latter was eventually coaxed out of the light timber tower's framework and his stupor by an offered chimney cake.

The bout to follow was between Sir Alfred and the Good Maid. The housekeeper immediately taking the first tilt when Alfred struck her in the chest, only to be popped off his horse like he'd placed his lance against the city walls. He rose swiftly and shifted to a defensive posture. Tilts two, three, and four seeing only glancing blows while the housekeeper struggled to land a hit. On the fifth tilt she was baited into leaning forward, letting Alfred land a striking blow that sent her toppling. She'd pulled herself out of the sand without issue and continued. The sixth tilt was completely hitless, neither competitor seeing an opening and passing awkwardly along the fence. On the seventh the Knight pulled a brazen move, sweeping his lance up to make the Maid flinch, toppling her again. She returned to horseback spitting smoke, and knocking the old knight off in the eighth tilt, and after a hard hit on the ninth she defeated him on the tenth tilt.

She would help him back to his feet afterwords, then when it was clear how exhausted he was she'd carry him to the medical tent.

The next match-up was between Gristletooth's Champion and Lord Haruto. The dusky noble had made the mistake of winking at his opponent. Perhaps if fortune had smiled upon her that might have unbalanced his opponent. But at that moment? The first tilt passed with two glancing blows, while by the second; Haruto was on his back with a portion of Lynntao's lance embedded in his pauldron. Once the smith had removed the shard he returned to the match, finally taking the event seriously. Only to be knocked off again in the third tilt. He managed to recover, the fourth and fifth tilts clashing without a victor. In the sixth and seventh he managed to finally knock Lynntao off her horse, though she did not give up. Tilts eight and nine were again, fruitless, and for the third time that day the tenth round saw a victor. Lord Haruto managing to pull of a hard glance that sent the Felinid spinning off her horse.

She was helped out of the Arena by her fellow champion Hide-Render and a cloaked figure, while Haruto trotted away to slump off his horse and stick his head into a horse water trough. Before returning to watch the round to follow.

Next was the confrontation between the Lords of Last Rest and Groan. Lady Smith and Lord Steerpike. Their first round was immediately declared illegal, and almost ended in a fist-fight. Forcing Hide-Render to briefly return to separate them, the Maid even reappearing to pick up the Earl. After a brief intermission and a Steppe Cassowary race, the bout began again. The second tilt seeing both lances shatter. Smith took the third tilt with a body strike that took the wind out of the Earl, while he took the fourth tilt with a devastating shoulder shot. The fifth tilt came with mutual wiffs, neither party flinching. Smith took the sixth tilt with an underhanded blow, managing to work her lance under Steerpike's shield, a move copied by the Earl to win the seventh tilt. The eighth and ninth tilts were hard clashes with neither noble flinching as their lances shattered. Again it ended in the tenth tilt, Lady Smith managing to crack Steerpike right over the heart, toppling him and taking the match.

Steerpike returned his horse to the stable and after briefly checking on his Drake (still 'sedated' by way of a barrel of potato liquor) he marched up to the tower with the other Lords. Quinn had remained, only pausing to drench herself over the head with a bucket of water, before removing herself from the Arena. Returning to her camp to hammer her chestplate back into shape.

The next round was between the Mystery Rider and Dragonbad's champion. Unfortunately for the Young Dragonbader it quickly became a disaster. He was knocked off in the first tilt, almost knocked off in the second, was thrown down to the ground in the third tilt, and took a chunk of his own shield to the helmet in the fourth, toppling him. He was hauled up from the sand by the Mystery Rider who elicited cheering on his behalf, and walked the Dragonbad rider to the medical tent.

Afterwords, the Mystery Knight circled the arena, as the last match-up of the First Round was called forward.

None realizing what was about to unfold.

In the north of the Arena came Sir Frederick Haugen, his armour polished a natural steely grey and draped in a cloak of the Godsiron Red and Yellow. On his shoulder the Oak of Godsiron was emblazoned on his Besagew. In the south, the Pneumin Brother Krooger was, His heavy armour black, dark and crimson cloak fluttering atop his Taupe mare, the horns on his helmet shined like ivory. They did not acknowledge one another, until the horn blared and the pair charged at one another.

The first Tilt was a stalemate, both knights shattering their lances against the other's forms. The Second tilt just as explosive with Sir Haugen's Shield shattering, sending him and the saddle he'd rode on to the ground in a heap. Neither flinched nor broke as they struck one another in the third tilt. The same with the fourth tilt. Then the fifth tilt, as shards of shield and lance began piling up along the length of fence the match was fought across. Then the sixth tilt. Then the seventh tilt. By the eighth tilt a silence had crept over the Arena that was alien. All watching with baited breath as the ninth tilt splintered Sir Haugen's lance, but the Black Knight remained undaunted under the blow. As he'd circled back Krooger cracked his gauntlet against his chest, while across the the fence Frederick had snarled like a dog.

Sir Haugen finally broke the stalemate in the tenth tilt, barrelling down the line so close to the fence he almost scraped it with his leg, smashing his lance into Krooger's flank sending him tumbling, a pauldron flung off into the crowd almost fifty feet away. The crowd had cheered as the Black Knight had shambled to his feet.

Both men were almost sent tumbling off in the full frontal crash of the eleventh tilt. The shattering of lances coming with Haugen smacking headlong into one of Krooger's helmet horns. While shaken both men immediately moved in for the twelfthtilt as soon their lances had been delivered. In the crash that followed Haugen was almost flung off while Krooger was thrown down, his helmet shattered when he hit the ground head first. He was up in a moment though, kicking his crumpled helmet out of the way as he stumbled over to his brothers, snatching one of their helms up before he returned. Haugen awaited, panting just as hard as his the stallion he was riding.

Tilts thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen came and went, both men riding with an almost manic force, taking hits that would have ended any other bout there on the spot, a roll of blood visibly escaping Krooger's helmet while it seemed Haugen could not move one of his legs. Neither side relented though, entirely focused upon one another.

In the shattering sixteenth tilt most of Haugen's lance struck Krooger in the shoulder, while the glancing blow to his side sent Haugen wide, and falling off the Horse moments after as he'd failed to regain his balance. Haugen hit the ground face first, smashing his fists against the sandy soil before he forced himself to rise, his horse returning to him as the Pneumin camp cheered.

The seventeenth and eighteenth tilts came without victor, even then neither knight stopped. It was clear both the riders and the horses were exhausted.

The nineteenth tilt arrived with Haugen visibly swaying in his saddle, while Krooger had awaited the round hacking out a plague victim's cough. When the horn was blown they both bent forward, charging like they were on the battlefield. The explosive meeting flung Krooger's lance out of his hand, spinning into the crowd, while the Black knight was flung from his horse. Haugen barely holding on as his shoulder armour on the shield armour shattered. The crowd cheered as the Knight of Godsiron roared, flinging his shield away as he threw up his hands. In the dirt Krooger stirred. But stayed prone for some minutes until the Mystery Rider entered to help him up.

Both men were brought over to the Medical tent where Krooger, despite being unable to stand had gifted Haugen his sword.

Beyond in the earthen stands the end of the first Round was treated with electric shock as a pause was called. In the noble occupied observation tower, Lord Raspail had depressed into his seat as he realized the money he'd just lost in his 'pragmatism.'

During the break, expert healers were summoned to restore the combatants to fighting form. The Master of Ceremonies oversaw the selection of the 'proving bracket' from among the defeated. To the shock of all, the Dragonbad rider was chosen again, along with the now thoroughly concussed Krooger who'd groaned at the news. Neither man had refused the call though. The former eager for a second chance, Krooger knowing he would be endlessly mocked if he gave it up.

The Second Round began behind schedule, all but dashing any hopes of finishing the event today. The supply of lances had been absolutely diminished by the Godsiron-Pneumin clash, and earlier with Smith and Steerpikes unusually agressive tilts. The supply of shields was likewise deteriorating. Throw in a small riot when the gambling managers had run out of money and a giant Stone Lizard breaking out into the arena like a particularly overgrown possum and it was well into the afternoon when the joust resumed.

The first match of the roung began with Nero against the Maid, both had paid attention to the other's performances in the prior round, and were ready to begin.

The enigmatic house keeper nailed the first tilt with a sweep that tossed the nautical volunteer from the saddle. He switched gears as he'd climbed back into the saddle and huddled down, not unlike his opponent in the first round. The second tilt came with glancing blows, Nero switching to a cautious stance to avoid making Sir Alfred's mistake. In the third tilt he finally got his proper tip, winging the Maid's shield and sending her sliding off the horse. She hit the ground hard enough Nero felt shaking. But she was up in a moment. The fourth tilt was another fruitless one, neither side landing a hit. In the fifth the Maid managed to toss Nero off again though he came back in the sixth to topple the huge woman. The seventh and eighth passed with bated breath. Until in the ninth round Nero baited the Maid into a risky move. She over-extended herself and toppled, and the horse went with her in a catastrophic ball. The shrieking of the beast loud as the Maid was buried, prompting Nero to immediately jump off his horse.

The Maid herself jumped up a moment later, carrying the wounded horse in a bridal carry.

Nero looked at the Maid. The Maid looked at Nero.

Both sides trotted off the Arena as a carpenter was summoned to repair the fence. Mercifully the Maid's horse would make a full recovery and the 'Unusual display of strength on the horse's behalf' would be a source of much humour among the crowd. And for Nero who'd barely managed to keep his beard on throughout the hectic event. In the stands Filius would summon his reserves of liquor to share with the emotionally exhausted Raspail, where the two would get progressively more besotted as the events went on.

The next round was another Noble to Noble struggle. Lady Smith against Lord Haruto. Haruto restrained himself this time, attempting to play defensive. Unfortunately, Quinn was...

Rather determined. She smashed him in the first tilt almost having him perform a back-flip as he went off the horse. In the second tilt he scarcely stayed on, losing his shield and helmet when she'd hit him like a carriage. Tanaka was flung off in the third tilt to a leg strike that flung him sideways into the fence. He lost in the fourth tilt to a straightforward dismount, quick to rise. He briefly congratulated her as the crowd cheered, and the young Lord trotted off to 'find the armouress who'd ravished him with a suit of light plate.' Vanishing until the second round had ended.

Smith had circled again to the edge of the arena, as the third match began.

The Mystery Rider against Sir Haugen. Both favourites of the crowd with their cheers loud enough they echoed through nearby hills and atop the walls of Psophis. The enigmatic jouster bowed, prompting Haugen to do the same. The horn blew and the match began. The first and second tilts passed with glancing blows, both sides testing the each another. Until the third, when Raspail's champion landed a hard hit, casting the mystery knight off his horse. Only to rise a moment later to the cheering crowd with his arms wide. He came back in the fourth tilt, landing a solid hit on Haugen's shield that toppled him. The fifth tilt passed with more glances, neither side committing to a major move. In the sixth the Mystery Rider lurched, destroying his lance against Haugen's shoulder. In the seventh tilt he repeated the motion, earning himself another victory. Haugen though did not give in, accepting the unknown knight's hand to help him up and beating his gauntletted hand to his chest. The eighth tilt saw him press the advantage, almost knocking the Mystery Rider off his horse. Haugen succeded in the ninth, repeating the maneuver to dismount the stranger lightly to the point he landed on his feet.

Sir Frederick Haugen took the tenth tilt with a feint, landing his lance right in the Mystery Knight's gut and taking him out of the event. Though, ever magnanimous he was quick rise with Sir Haugen's help, and standing to raise Frederick arm before the cheering crowds for his moment, then he parted. On his way to the edge of the arena as Haugen limped off.

There was some slowing as the 'second-chance' bracket began. The Afternoon had snuck up on the champions present and it was clear that both Nero and Haugen were running low, even Smith was worn though she would not admit that fact with how hungry she was for victory. Despite complaints it was agreed the tournament would be continued tomorrow in the finals.

Dragonbad's finest eager for a chance to redeem himself for his poor performance while Krooger needed to be dragged out, a glass of whisky and sweating salts shoved into his mouth by his brothers to keep him conscious. The tilts began slow, the Dragonbad champion landing solid hits in the first and second tilts while Krooger almost ignored them, the Pneumin Knight only landing a glancing blow in the third tilt. In the fourth the Dragonbad champion finally got his taste of victory, getting a centre of mass blow that knocked Krooger off his horse. Though that shocked the Black Brother awake from the drug induced daze. Lucid at last he quickly took the fifth tilt with a shoulder blow. The sixth and seventh tilts passed, costing Dragonbad a shield and the Pneumin Knights a lance. In the eighth tilt, Krooger landed a brutal hit that knocked Dragonbad's finest on his back and the wind out of his lungs, but he wasn't bested. The ninth tilt passed with the Dragonbad champion on the agressive, continuing into the tenth tilt where he managed to knock Krooger down a second time. But all his efforts fell short when in the Eleventh round Krooger hit him with a near career ending hit, bringing him down hard enough the shattering of his leg could be heard by those watching.

He was carried off by Sir Krooger and Sir Alfred as the day ended. A few practice bouts continuing into the evening.

Tommorrow; the victor of the first event would be decided.

Between: Lady Smith of Last Rest, Nero of Kraken's Repose, Sir Frederick Haugen of Godsiron, and Black Brother Krooger of the Pneumin Knights.