Bayberry, an Oakhaven juvenile bloodhound, Steadfast, a dunskin stallion courser, Bumbling Bees from a Clement bee hive arrive, following Norwood.

Norwood has joined the a small cherrywood picnic table.

Corban has joined the line.

Norwood has joined the line.

Cristoph has joined the line.

Drake has joined the line.

Alis has joined the line.

Ryhalt has joined the line.

Having arrived a little later than expected, the Dragoon of Acorn Hill is not alone astride her courser for sitting behind with arms clinging for dear life, is her Inverno betrothed. Silvery eyes roam over those who are currently present and find a smile touching her lips. Was that an emotion revealed with such abandon? A quiet dip of voice towards Cassimir who is sliding off the broad war horse's back. Leaning down fractionally to let lips brush in sweet linger before straightening out that terrible posture and sees to get herself entered.

Brigid has joined the line.

Piccola has joined the line.

Turning toward the Highlord and Prince Fiachra, Kael is dipping into a low bow by way of greeting. It is a low and respectful thing, as is typical of his nature. "Your Grace and your highness," he greets the pair with a flicker of a smile. "While there undoubtedly are wagers of such a nature, I assure you that I am unaware of them." What Kael is not oblivious to, however, are the children arriving with the couple. "Your highness," he greets to the first and second, and yet, somehow he manages to refrain from greeting the baby in such a manner. His lips twitch however to Ellara. That question is undoubtedly for her parents to answer.

Gerard, an aristocratic secretary, 2 Halfshav skilled veteran guards arrive, following Brianna.

Sorrel has joined the line.

Cassimir checks dexterity at normal. Cassimir marginally fails.

Lenard's head dips and raises hearing Cristoph's answer, "Unfortunately my armor is at the Smithy, I took a rather hard blow while training and it dented the breast place something fierce. So.. if it can't be repaired looks like I will be getting a new one." The man giving a small shrug before offering his thanks, "And I will be sure to get some food and drink and keep an eye out for them. Thanks for this though, It really looks wonderful and I am sure that a joust is just the thing to release some of the stress of planning." When introductions are made by Cristoph the Valardin Prince's gaze shifts to Tyche, His head dipping giving a slight bow to the woman, "Marquessa Inverno, I don't think I've had the pleasure. It is good to meet you." When he spots Kiera approaching there is a brief flicker of recognition Lenard offering the woman a small nod, "Lady Wyvernheart, Good to see you again on another fine evening. Here to watch or to eat? Or maybe heal though lets hope that's not needed." The tease from Tyche has the man laughing, Lenard's green gaze dancing with amusement. "With war on the horizon my place is here, preparing for the fight and doing my duty to the house and the order."

A small crowd of people have begun to arrive, milling about the Valardin grounds and making conversation. Duke Cristoph Laurent is already here, having been overseeing the preparations. He's suited up already, his helmet tucked under one arm as he speaks with Tyche and Lenard. A buffet line has been set up a reasonable distance away from the tables and jousting grounds. In order to accommodate seating, tables and chairs along with benches have been set up on platforms to give a better view all around the field. As Tyche moves to the stands, bows low to her once. "I'll do my best." He offers a nod to Lenard and offers, "I hope you enjoy yourself, your highness. Excuse me?" Then he's stepping away and calling out for riders to come down to the field with their horses and be checked in.

"When you're old enough to climb up on your horse without help and without me hyperventilating." Alis replies swiftly to her eldest daughter, grasping the hand of the miniature version of herself and looking over at Fia with amusement. "So you have a few years yet. You should look for Baron Clement and make sure he doesn't get too grumpy, after he's done jousting. I know he owed you a piggy back ride." she points out, absolutely not above tormenting Norwood in such a way. The young princess bows her head politely towards Kael in perfect imitation of her mother. "Marquis Keaton. Is Lord Aeryn going to be here? He owes me a knights and dragons rematch and I still intend to collect." Yep, that bodes well for their future. "Oh! There's the call for the riders." Gleefully, she ushers daughter back to father and gives Fiachra a quick kiss on the cheek before running over to take her place in line.

Ryhalt arrives, managing to keep his horse to a nervous, energetic jig. The horse doesn't seem to have any inclination to stand still and calm with all the people and other horses for Ryhalt rides him about in small circles while entering and waiting for the event to arrive.

Business had already taken her to the grounds of House Valardin's estate, but the brief confession of never having witnessed a joust before has landed Natasha Thrax here, in the company of her current hostess. With Princess Damiana Valardin's hand securely tucked against the crook of her elbow, her height and contrasting coloring make for a slim and darker counterpart to the Blind Dragon's golden beauty. Clad in her typical sharply elegant but overall austere finery, she steers her companion towards the seating area, midnight eyes sweeping over in search of the right perch upon which to view the festivities; she seems in the midst of conversation with her fellow princess, however, as they cross the expanse leading to it.

"I'd be happy to view your illuminated collection whenever time and duty allows," the Thraxian princess remarks to Damiana. "Truthfully, it's the time period that interests me the most. His Grace has a profound fascination for old histories, and while we can't be any more different in terms of extracurricular pursuits, that happens to be one they share."

Brianna has joined the line.

Joke is on Alis, Norwood loves children and the second that eldest child of Alis notes the gray bearded man that child will GET a piggyback ride, right up to Cristoph for getting ready to joust. How comfortable are piggyback rides in armor?

Sorrel's horse steps up to get in the line for registration as guided by her mistress. She seems to be in a fairly good mood now, and she waves brightly to Alis as she meanders her mount nearby. "I look forward to knocking you off your horse, Your Grace," she tells her with a wink.

Mira, an assistant investigator, 2 Whitehawk Guards leave, following Rhue.

Brianna isn't much of a rider, let alone a jouster, but she is nothing if she is not a good sport. Not an Oathlander. Not a jouster. She knows exactly how much dirt she'll be eating.


Well, it's time.

So, with everyone else lining up, so too does the Sith Lady-General -- err, Piccola -- do the same. She takes her plain-horse by the reins, and gets into the line with everyone else to register, be known, and just quietly do her thing in that dark, brooding suit of armor of hers.

Well, at least she isn't the only non-Oathlander here; she bobs her head to Brianna whilst she waits.



"Not if I don't knock you off your horse first, Sorrel," says Sir Corban as he pulls up next to the Blandesong. His friend gets a little nudge with his elbow, all in good fun, as Rosie whuffles the registration clerk. Perhaps there are some apples here.

With a warm smile to Kael, Fiachra looks left and right as he's greeted so properly by the man to make sure no one can see how awkward he looks in the receiving of it. "Marquis Kael," he utters in return, fidgeting just a little. He gives a dip of his head that turns into a stiff bow. "It's good to see you." Thankfully, he's distracted returning Alis' cheek kiss for the moment and grasping for the hand of their oldest child while making sure he doesn't lose sight of Eirlys in the process. This takes some doing. "As your mother says," he tells Ellara with a nod of his head. "A few more summers, I'm sure you'll be taking the field as well." He chuckles warmly and starts ushering his two children to their seats while carrying the baby. Fortunately, Fiachra is a nimble one.

Cassimir was not /entirely/ sold on riding this horse to the grounds before he's had any real hands-on training with one, but in the spirit of a joust, Brigid managed to talk him into it. And so when they come to a stop near the stables, Cassimir's enthusiasm for the moment is subdued for the fact that he now has to dismount from the beast without even recalling how he got on it in the first place. Eventually, he manages to swing his leg over and, with only the most discreet of expressions betraying his discomfort, manages to land on his feet with only the briefest of missteps sending him cantering backward to catch himself. Ahem. Both hands brush down the front of his jerkin, smoothing away the nonexistent wrinkles, and his eyes shift to the right to discern just who among these Valardin horse riders caught sight of that. Thereafter, a hand reaches out to assist Brigid in her attempt to dismount, as if she needs it.

Before Tyche moves off to find her cousin, she remarks to Lenard, "I am glad to hear it. The threat is real, and the more men and women we have willing to stand, the better. Your family, and Arvum, is lucky that you've found your place here again." She glances to catch Cassimir on the back of Brigid's horse, and she wonders of the prince after he greets Kiera, "Would you care to join me, Your Highness? I promise I will make the best of audience companions. I know absolutely nothing about horses, or jousting, or how one wins at something like this, so my ignorance will be complete and charming." She smiles brightly up at him, and adds an alluring detail, "And you might meet my cousin, who is a wonderful scholar, thinker, and..." she watches as said cousin fumbles at dismounting, a comical wince to her lovely features, "...and a less than stellar rider."

"As long as I'm not the first to bite the dust, Your Highness, my pride will remain intact." Alis smiles up at Sorrel just as she's handed the reigns for Sir Summerwind to lead him the rest of the way. "Of course, since all three of the children are here with Fia, I will no doubt be knocked off in the first round." is drawled, with a polite nod towards Corban as he joins in the bantering. And, her eyes search the crowd to see where everyone is being seated.

Damiana says to her guest at her arm, "I find that old history is often repeated, old lessons hard learned by new students. Make sure you get good seats, I want to know all about the joust and competitors. And maybe we can find two to carry our favor and battle through the challenge. I can't wait. Do you see any pennants flying?"

"Lord Aeryn is home with the rest of the children, regretfully," says Kael, barely able to refrain from a smile. His eyes lift momentarily to flick a glance first to Alis and afterward to Fiachra before the little Princess once more has his focus. "I will however ensure to tell him in the morn that he owes you a rematch of knights and dragons and undoubtedly he will come with me for my rounds at Valardin Manor after you have both taken care of your studies." He looks so very solemn with that statement, too. Still, when the child is beckoned back to her father, he dips his head to her before shifting his focus to Alis. "Good luck to you, Your Grace," he offers forth kindly. Stepping back, Kael searches the stands for a lonesome place to settle. Some place that has a good view, however!

Kael has joined the a sturdy oakwood picnic table.

Drake climbs atop his own horse, ready for the brackets to be announced. He isn't joining in too much banter at the moment, perhaps out of fear of saying the wrong thing this time around.

The line has been dismissed by Cristoph.

Fiachra has joined the a sturdy oakwood picnic table.

Kiera grins "Well I'm primarily here to watch my brother drake compete, though it doesn't mean I won't be getting myself somthing to eat. The food is usually pretty good at these things And I surely hope that my skills are not needed , much less those of a more skilled healer. My elder brother Richard is the physician you see but he's taught me something of the healing arts and i've assisted him from time to time

Brianna mounts her horse, a handsome dapple-grey Maelstom destrier bred by hee husband. A courtship gift, and one who has matured into an exemplary stallion. She spots Sorrel and gives her a grin and a salute.

The registrations draw to a close and the people handling the names quickly draw up the initial pairings, they're handed off to one of the callers who gets up onto a platform and calls for the first pair to joust. "DUKE RYHALT FARSHAW VERSUS LORD DRAKE WYVERNHEART. PLEASE RIDE."

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Ryhalt is successful.
Drake is marginally successful.

Natasha has joined the a sturdy oakwood picnic table.

Damiana has joined the a sturdy oakwood picnic table.

1 Templar Knight guards arrives, following Madeleine.

Ryhalt grins as he hears his name. Making last minute adjustments to his armor, shield, and lance, he coaxes his horse over to one end of the list. After a salute to Drake, he lets his horse surge forward to the mad dash he preferred. Perhaps not ideal lack of control in a jousting horse, but he was built for war, so... Seems it works well enough since he feels the impact of lances, but, thankfully, not the ground!

When Lenard hears Tyche's words on his return his head dips to her as he offers up to the woman, "I have no doubt the threat is real, But if people keep faith and can manage to unite rather than fight between themselves or for personal glory we will come out victorious." The words spoken with a steadfast belief and conviction by the Valardin Prince. The invitation from the Marquessa has him glancing to the tournament field. "Well I will try to not offer too many corrections and simply enjoy the conversation and the commpany then." The man offering up his arm to the Marquessa. Moments later he is looking to Kiera, "I am sure your brother will do fine, If not then let us hope he at least enjoys the thrill of the joust. Would you care to join us to watch for a little bit? A good vantage point of course to also see if you might be needed." The man pointing out as he nods to the stands before offering up his other arm to Kiera.

She almost laughs and it nearly happens, belying her (unfairly?) humorless reputation; Natasha's porcelain veneer threatens to crack at the force of her amusement, though not at the expense of her gracious hostess - rather at herself. "You're a courageous one indeed to rely on the eyes of one who's never had an opportunity to witness such things," she tells her fellow princess lightly. "You're going to have to forgive my less than knowledgeable descriptions then, such as 'knight of so-and-so colors just tried to jam his pointy stick into the other knight of so-and-so colors but neither of them fell, that's a good thing, yes?' Up a step." A brief warning before assisting the woman up before leading her towards a good view of the joust. The announcement of the first bout comes as a relief, angling a dark-eyed look to her companion. "And there you have it, though I've not met either." Catching Sorrel's dark-haired presence at the line of potential victors, her hand lifts in a wave towards her cousin-in-law. "Sorrel! Thank the gods, *now* I know who to place any wagers on."

Madeleine arrives in the company of a Templar knight, who might well be her guard but who she speaks with affably, with all the warmth of summer. She finds a place to sit in short order, offering those already at the picnic table a serene smile.

Madeleine has joined the a sturdy oakwood picnic table.

Drake did give Cider a pep talk earlier, but it seems the horse is still built for speed rather than sturdiness. He does a pass against Ryhalt, and tries to keep his lance steady, but there's a last-second falter. Drake doesn't fall, but he misses his strike, while Ryhalt lands a clean hit on him by comparison. It's not a terrible performance but it's a simple enough call to judge.

"Okay, Marquis Kael. But he better not forget!" Ellara singsongs, looking thoroughly stubborn as she tromps alongside her father to take their seats. And of course, she stands on her seat. So she can see better. "HI BARON CLEMENT!" The hero worshipping portion of of the evening begins. "YOU CAN BEAT EVERYONE BY MY MOM." she adds, waving both arms to be SURE he's seen her. Cause obviously she isn't loud enough. "I hope mother doesn't fall off of her horse, father. She might beat up another training dummy if she does." is noted solemnly, and as quietly as a 7 year old can manage. Which is not at all.

Ryhalt and Drake meet on the field with Duke Farshaw besting the Sword of House Wyvernheart. The crowd erupts in applause for the conclusion of that first match, excited chattering rippling through the crowd as spectators discuss horsemanship and the proper way of lance holding! The caller announces the next match: "BARON NORWOOD CLEMENT VERSUS LADY BRIGID MOORE! TAKE THE FIELD!"

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Norwood is successful.
Brigid is successful.

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Brigid is successful.
Norwood is successful.

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Critical Success! Norwood is spectacularly successful.
Brigid is successful.

Damiana says towards Natasha, "May Gloria see the joust this afternoon and bless the competitors for their honorable combat in her name. And may us in the stands have a bit of excitement. I can't wait to hear the first shield block a lance and shatter it." Hearing Lenard's voice, she smiles happily and says towards him, "Our Faith is our shield and sword, defending the innocent and destroying the wicked. Isn't that right prince Lenard?"

Tyche easily slides her hand into place against Lenard's proffered arm, fingers curling comfortably. Her gaze drifts to Cristoph, who is preparing for his ride, and then (perhaps with Kiera in tow) the group moves to find Cassimir in the crowd. They are just in time to see the first rush of horses careening toward one another, and the tension sweeps through the Marquessa until she hears the crash of lance to armor. A quick wince, but she does not look away nor hide her face from the collision. "A violent business, this jousting," she laughs after a moment. "I can see now why you bowed out without your armor to keep you protected." They near Cassimir, and she looks away from the action to smile at her cousin. "Lord Cassimir Inverno, might I introduce Prince Lenard Valardin." And if Kiera has joined, she introduces her as well! "Are you excited to see Brigid joust?" she wonders of the man.

Norwood carries Ellara upon his shoulders right up until the moment when his name is called. Gallantry a hankerchief is pulled out and delivered to the young girl. "I will ride in your honor my Lady." With that Norwood leaves the girl to the side and mounts Steadfast. Three times Brigid and Norwood joust at one another, after each Norwood bows, takes a new lance, and sets up again. The third time he rises a little higher up in his saddle and for once shows his legendary rider skills.

Madeleine watches the spectacle with glittering eyes. Damiana's comments on the Faith draw her attention, and she nods. "The excitement is catching," she judges the match finishing as she joined, and turns to consider the others at the oakwood table, as if wondering if any of them might be participating.

Glancing briefly towards the stands, silvery sights resting on a singular person in particular, Brigid's visor is shut to bring attention forward. Posture and lance are adjusted, bringing the Moore against Norwood twice with a draw such was their matched ability. Vane's impatience at the third round and Norwood's shifting luck of his lance catches Brigid with a well aimed thwack.

The match between Baron Norwood and Lady Brigid has the crowd on the edge of their seat after that first pass doesn't result in a clear winner, and then the next. When Norwood finally unseats Brigid, the people drop their forks onto their dinner plates and erupt into cheers. The praise seems to not only be for the baron but for Brigid as well, commending her on her excellent horsemanship against a seasoned jouster and rider like Baron Clement. A good showing all in all. The caller raises his voice again: "LADY BRIANNA HALFSHAV VS DUKE CRISTOPH LAURENT."

Kiera takes the prince's arm with a smile as her brother Drake and Duke Ryhalt take the field. She gives a light wince as her brother looses his bought "Oh well. That ended unexpectedly quickly but more time to enjoy the food i suppose" She watches Brigid and Norwood clash " Now that is not so much a surprise. " She nods to Cassimir "It is good to finally meet you lord inverno. zi can add another scholar to those I've met

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Brianna marginally fails.
Botch! Cristoph is simply outclassed. This is monumentally beyond them and the result is ruinous.

Brianna checks strength and ride at normal. Brianna is marginally successful.

Ellara, of course, is all squeals when the memento is delivered to her. "Look what I got!!!" With all of the excitement of youth at their favored events, she exudes both delight and way too much energy. "Look, daddy! See!?" Not that she can keep the cloth clutching arm still enough for anyone to really look at it, she's waving so enthusiastically. Alis, full of amusement since she is not the one having to handle all of that energy, watches every moment of it from her distance in the waiting line. And, of course, even she has to clap and cheer at the skill displayed.

Fiachra looks over at Ellara as she speaks to Kael, barely keeping a chuckle back. "Your mother is a very good rider. The training dummies should be safe." As little Ellara hops up onto Norwood for the promised piggy back ride, he smiles at her but tracks her with his eyes as well to make sure she doesn't get lost. "Now come back here when your ride's over, Ellara..." he starts before Eirlys starts making grabby hands towards Norwood, feeling left out. Fiachra ruffles her hair and smiles. "Next time, dear. I need more hands free." Looking again to Kael, he nods as he speaks of Oakwood. "Well. There's certainly no shortage of things to be done, so also busy."

12 Grayson House Guards arrives, following Liara.

"I'm certain that we'll have plenty in the stands, but all the better with Gloria's blessing," Natasha replies, mezzo-sopranic diction pitched quietly and with due deference at the invocation of the deity's name, and with an acknowledging nod towards Madeleine at her interjection. "I'll do my best to be evocative in my descriptions, though I'll never be the bard Sorrel is. Speaking of, she's waving at us." Catching the flurry of enthusiastic movement from the line, she returns the long distance greeting with a smile that is more visible than its usual subtle wont." As Prince Lenard is addressed by her companion, her darker-than-ochre scrutiny falls on his unfamiliar face - and slightly past it towards the rest of his august company, surprise flitting over her ivory countenance when she espies Cassimir Inverno among them.

Cassimir strides away from the stables just in time to catch a glimpse of the first round. His attention is wholly fixated upon the joust, keen eyes taking in the spectacle, and not once wincing even as the riders come together at full speed, lances colliding with armor in a crash of metal upon metal. He takes up a casual stance near the edge of the tournament ring, one arm crossing relaxed over his chest while the other bends at the elbow for a pensive brush of his fingers over the bearded muzzle of his face. It is only when his cousin's voice piques his attention that the Inverno reluctantly tears his eyes away, even as Brigid is preparing to face Norwood in their round. A friendly smile is paid to those introduced, arms falling away to ease into a proper bow of deference toward his highness, Prince Lenard, and then in turn to Lady Kiera. "A pleasure," he murmurs, in a friendly cadence, and then he turns quickly to catch Brigid's ride. A round of applause is afforded to them both, though there's a degree of apprehension detectable in the set of his brows as he realizes Brigid did not win the round. "Duke Cristoph is up," he says aloud, to no one in particular, and then clears his throat.

Drake climbs off his horse, and takes off his helm, to have a seat in the circle of those who don't advance. At least he can start drinking, which is always the good side of these things. He gives Kiara a nod. "It happens. I don't think, after much trial, Cider is well suited for the joust. Not like Bramble was. I may have to see about getting another horse for jousting--" Cider looks offended for a moment, perhaps, but Drake looks over in his direction, "Save that one for racing where he's the fastest."

Lenard's head lifts hearing the words from Damiana called out, His gaze searching over the other faces seeking her out only to grin when his green eyes settle upon her. "No greater duty or calling higher for a White Dragon." The words holding a warmth to them as he looks to her before he is refocusing on Tyche as she guides him and Kiera along over towards Cassimir. "Yes, jousting without armor tends to lead to unfortunate and sudden cases of death or near to it. So I abstain for the night but not for life." A little shrug is given as he tells her that. When Kiera takes his arm and remarks on the combat as they are guided on the man nods, "I am sure nothing a good drink won't fix for him." The man assuring the first defeated jousters sister. When he is introduced by Tyche to Cassimir his head dips, "Well met." When the focus turns to the field and he hear Cassimir mention Cristoph being up his green eyes settle on the field to watch with keen interest.

Fiachra looks at the handkerchief Ellara has been gifted with, having to crane his neck just a little away as his oldest daughter practically squeals in delight. "That means Norwood is riding in your honor!" he informs her, again, and nods his head with a solemn look. "It means you ought to cheer for him extra hard, though maybe not as much as you cheer for your mother."

With their bout done Norwood dismounts and cares for Steadfast. The poor stallion is going to need a spot of rest before he can go do that again. He makes his way towards Brigid to bow to the Moore. "My lady, that was very well ridden."

It goes so well in the beginning! In theory, Cristoph has ridden a horse before! People have seen it. It's a thing that is known. The horses charge down the field at one another and Brianna manages to catch his shield at the perfect angle to dislodge him almost immediately. This wouldn't be so bad, really. These things happen. If he didn't crash into the ground at the exact WRONG angle. Armor protects you from some things, but it doesn't protect you from your arm catching hard earth in an unnatural way. SNAP. There's an audible snarl of pain when injury flares up his arm. But it's okay, guys. There are healers here who immediately get the duke off the field.

Madeleine smiles at Natasha, quiet gratitude for the acknowledgement. But she hears that snap, springs to her feet. "Oh no!" she says, concerned, watching for the healers to usher Cristoph off the field.

Norwood checks composure and etiquette at hard. Norwood is successful.

Brianna isn't much of a rider. Isn't much of a jouster. She's here because her house's young ward begged her to ride, and so she rides, the ten-year-old cheering in the stands. She readies herself and her lance, saluting Duke Cristoph before beginning the joust. When her lance catches Cristoph's, she doesn't quite know how to keep her seat and goes flying, hitting the ground moments after the Duke does. She hears the snap and hauls herself up, hurrying over to make sure he's all right.

"..... Duke //Cristoph Laurent//." Norwood says and turns to bang his head against the wall slowly and steadily. Yes, this is him being composed. He's not cursing the Laurent.

Cassimir starts forward at the sound of that crunch as Duke Cristoph slams hard into the ground, and then that hand resumes its earlier pass over his mouth, obfuscating the grimace that follows. However, the immediate group of individuals at his side would hear the murmur of concern he utters under his breath for the man's well-being.

There is cheering! Oh, no wait. It looks like Cristoph broke his arm. The crowd seems uncertain for a moment, should they be liking that? Circle Yes/No. But when it's clear that the duke isn't dead or anything, there is cheering for Brianna. Yay! The caller waits until both Lady Brianna and Duke Cristoph are off of the field. "SIR CORBAN TELMAR VERSUS PRINCESS SORREL THRAX. REMEMBER THE GROUND IS HARD." Nervous laughter ripples through the crowd.

Ryhalt engages in a battle of wills with his horse while watching the other jousts, each of which his horse is certain he should be participating in and needs reined back. He claps for the various passes until he grimaces in sympathy at Cristoph's injury, but it doesn't seem critical. Is it bad to be amused by the double unseating?

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Corban is successful.
Sorrel is marginally successful.

Damiana lifts a hand and waves it when she's told that Sorrel is waving. She says to Natasha, "I like people who have spirit and passion, people who take their faith and beliefs and charge into the fray even if it means taking a chance that they'll fall flat on their face. And people who aren't so stone hearted that they can't admit they might be wrong from time to time." The crowd goes OOOH at the crash of the duke's unseating and she says excitedly, "What happened!? Did someone go flying?" Hearing that Cristoph broke his arm, she stands up and cheers at his bravery. Go chivalric flexing!

Earl Peckworthy Flappington the VII, a blue and gold macaw arrives, following Vitalis.

The snap of bone reverberates across the field with the razor-sharpness of a whipcrack. Natasha's dark-haired head immediately swivels back onto the field and the unnatural angle of the fallen jouster's limb. While her wince doesn't fully make it past the ivory bars of her usual stoicism, the sympathetic flicker in her eyes betrays the internal wince. "Duke Laurent broke his arm," she murmurs towards her blind companion. "Hopefully it is a clean break." With Sorrel's turn called up, she tears her eyes away from the unfortunate outcome of the prior joust and towards the present one.

Madeleine offers, in gentle amendment, to Damiana: "There's nothing wrong with being careful." Her eyes turn toward where the Duke fell, lips pressing. "Thank the gods for healers."

Kael was conversing with Fiachra, amiable and quietly at their seating area. Was. That is the key thing. For of course when Duke Laurent takes to the field he is looking in that direction and starting to applaud, absolutely biased. When Cristoph is thrown however he frowns, but that too is a reserved thing. The angle, the tone of it, *that* has him wincing. "Excuse me," murmurs Kael to Fiachra and his family as the Marquis rises and starts to move in the direction of the healers tending to him. Mind you, given Kael's wife being a physician, he *well* knows to stay back. Still, he lurks, with no small look of concern about him.

Oh. Oh dear. Corban, from atop dear Rosie the Roan Warhorse frowns at that snap of the bone. He may not be a Mercy, but he knows the sound well enough and knows that nothing good comes of it. Yet when the healers rush him, he claps like a football player being taken from the field. Yet then it is his turn to face off against Sorrel, and so turn he does, lining the mare up on the list. Off he charges. He sets the lance. And then SMASH it goes into her shield, hoping to use his momentum to send her to the ground.

Brigid's ride has Tyche clapping for the woman, despite Norwood's superior showing, and then when she's directed to Cristoph being up next, she leans forward. Clearly, she has some vested interest in the outcome of this matchup. And it does start well - he on his horse, at least? The way he falls, however, the sound of pain, and she sucks in a quick breath to see him felled. There's a twitch as if she MIGHT get closer to see that he is still alive, but the healers are there, and he's being ushered off. The ribbon she gave him is STILL tied to his wrist, but this isn't her fault, right? She follows him with her eyes, and then turns to the group gathered for the viewing, quietly murmuring an apologetic, "I might see that he is being cared for. If you'll excuse me, your highness? Cousin?" She dips her head quickly, and despite having invited Lenard to join her in the audience, she leaves him to the sharks! She weaves through the crowd to the healing tent, to spy Cristoph cradling his arm, and with a sigh there's a quick string of words spoken, distance closed, and an entire joust ignored!

Kiera is genuinely enjoing lenard's company and with being introduced to Cassimir, she's only half watching the joust until she hears the snap. her head swivels instantly and she appears half ready to make a mad dash for the field despite healers being ready on hand

Rather late, Liara shows up to watch the jousts, and is just in time to see a Laurent break something. There's a sympathetic little wince on her part, then after joining in with the applause, she carries on over to find herself a seat at a table.

"Likewise, Baron Clement. You did well to lift your lance up a little higher." Was echoed in kind, helm having been tugged off to reveal handsome features with a content smile on features. Still settled atop Vane, who is being corrected with a tap to side each time he paws, attention goes towards Cristoph's joust and there is an intake of breath, "Terrible luck." Is tsked, umber head shaken which rattles loose several curls. Slipping free from the saddle with relative ease, a hand does go up to her shoulder to give it a testing roll before guiding the war horse to a holding stall until the end of the tournament. Long limbs carry her towards where crowd is settled, Brigid does not ascended but pauses to watch with an idle lean against the wooden support of the stands.

Liara has joined the a small cherrywood picnic table.

Ellara /does/ cheer extra loud for Norwood. Right up until Cristoph goes flying; her little eyes go pretty wide at that. "Uh oh." Surely those words match Alis expression, which is also an uh oh of rather grave concern as her friend indeed eats dirt. Obviously, she starts muttering towards Laurene to go make sure the Duke is alright.

Having been escorted off to the sides, Cristoph is having his armor removed so that the healers can get at his arm and asses the brake. He doesn't look particularly thrilled, no. He's wincing and grimacing through the treatment, but he seems alive. He notices Brianna heading in his direction and shakes his head fiercely, "I'm alright, Lady Halfshav. I promise you--" WINCE. "This happens sometimes." He spots Norwood banging his head. "Occasionally."

When it is her turn to ride, Sorrel blows a kiss to the crowd, then sets her sights on Corban! She races towards him, charging into him, but their familiarity with one another works against her. He knows just where to put his lance to make her ride extremely awkward, and by the end of the lists, she is essentially jogging next to her horse, laughing. "A good hit, Sir Corban! A good hit!" she calls.

Drake looks rather concerned for that fall, cringing as Cristoph drops.... but, he gets back up again. Drake nods as Sorrel has a pass similar to his own, not bad, but not quite it either.

When Corban and Sorrel get through their match without breaking any limbs, the crowd is relieved! And the cheer heartily for Sir Corban's win. The caller returns to his spot again and announces the last pair of the first round: "HIGH LORD ALIS VALARDIN VERSUS GENERAL PICCOLA TESSERE!"

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Piccola is successful.
Alis is marginally successful.

Left to the sharks by the shark herself Tyche the Valardin Prince looks to the field trying to get sight of Cristoph and visually assess the duke to make sure it wasn't a leg angled in a way it shouldn't, "Of course Marquessa." The man giving a little wave of his right hand. When Kiera shifts and seems to be ready to dash off the man leans in to murmur something to her.

Vitalis is new arrived to the joust on the arm of his attache who leans and whispers in the man's ear as they go, just ahead of the Clement Lord to show first changes in terrain. The thunder of hooves, the shouts of spectators ... none of it can mask that awful CRUNCH. It makes Vitalis wince even if he can't see what caused it. The heavy, collective pang is nearly palpable. And the resultant cheer as well. On his way to the cherrywood table to sit with his liege Vitalis bumps someone at the oakwood picnic table. Madeleine. "Oh, excuse me." Vitalis blinks rapidly in the direction of whomever he bumped. "Feisel?" Feisel doesn't recognize Madeieline and aherms and ahems, "Begging your pardon, Blessed. Gods be with you."

Norwood stops banging his head against a wall and drifts towards Prince Fiachra since Alis is going to head off and joust. "Prince Fiachra," he bows. "What are the chances of you or Alis //ordering// Duke Cristoph into training?" It's said with a wistful air.


Mock the General's horse if you want, but she's got a motor in the back of that Honda.

After Corbin and Sorrel finish their duel, the diminutive Lycene gently brings her steed into place. With a borrowed shield and blunted lance, she kicks Gigi into a charge, and maaaaaaaan that little fucking horse can fly. That ass is all muscle, and even in steel Piccola is a small, slight rider. Of course, so is the High Lord of House Valardin, but for whatever reason Gloria shines down on the General today. Her lance strikes home, even as the other crashes into her shield with a ringing clamor. And her dark cloak swirls about as she turns her horse about to see the result.

There's no doubt that there's a fierce grin under the shadows of her hood and helm.



There is a hearty applause for her cousin (and by that, there is no overt enthusiasm but for the small traces of it in Natasha's stubbornly impassive expression). "Sorrel lost to Sir...Telmar, I think?" The Thraxian princess has never met the man, but the colors are indicative enough to identify him from a distance. "And I believe General Tessere was victorious over Her Grace." If nothing else, it seems that she is at least attempting to take her duties as Damiana's present pair of eyes seriously in spite of her lack of familiarity with the sport.

Madeleine glances up at the bump, straightening her sash a little, and smiles at Feisel and Vitalis. "Nothing of it," she says. "And with you, goodman. Please, sit," a gesture toward the table, "both of you - enjoy the joust. What remains of it - I think the excitement may have peaked."

Once the round is over, Sir Corban rides up and along Sorrel, clapping his friend on the back from atop Rosie. "Well done, Sorrel!" he calls out down to the former Wyrmguard. "Glad to defeat you at once, no matter how evenly matched we are! I'll be sure to try to win the whole thing for you," he promises.

Cassimir affords Prince Lenard and Lady Kiera with a pausing gesture, hand extending outward briefly and eyes communicating his intention to be right back. With that, the lord's determined strides bring him up to Brigid's side, a gentle press of his palm warming the small of her back encouragingly. He leans down to whisper something into the Moore's ear, the corners of his mouth upturned into a faint smile.

Alis is jousting, but apparently not very well! There are no broken limbs or falling off of horses of course. But there is also no winning involved for the High Lord today. And Ellara, from her spot standing on the seating beside her father is peeking around Norwood to watch and see how her mother does. Which she reports back, with all the tact of her age. "She's not as good as you are, Baron Clement. But she didn't eat dirt." As will be revealed when Piccola turns about to see the result, the princess' shield has been broken and thus the General is the winner. "Well done, General. Well done indeed." She has a smile for the Tessere to go with the words, even if her lips are still a bit tight with concern marring the corners.

Fiachra winces as well when Christoph hits the dirt, but doesn't move to crowd the healers. Even so, that looked like it hurt. A lot. Without making too much of a show of it, he cranes his neck to try to get a better look at Christoph to make sure that he is indeed alright. "And that's why we want you to wait until you're older," he tells Ellara soberly. "As many precautions as are taken, it is still a dangerous competition."

Damiana sits back down although it's a little slow to sit because another amazing joust happens which causes her to cheer. Finding her seat though, she says "We need a really big turkey leg. And cider. A big mug of cider. Ahh, get one and enjoy it for me. I'm on a fast until sundown."

Lenard's head dips to Cassimir seeing the little motion of his hand signaling he would be back, His eyes following his movements briefly before turning to the field. When he sees Alis take the hard hit that gives another loss to Valardin the man visible winces. His lips just barely moving as he leans in to murmur something else to Kiera before looking to see if there might be any others to take the field.

There's another round of applause for the win of Piccola against Alis, and the caller is shuffling cards. There's another quick round that sees a man named 'Sir Josef' winning. This is done so this next round has even numbers, yay. "SECOND ROUND. DUKE RYHALT FARSHAW VERSUS BARON NORWOOD!"

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Norwood is successful.
Ryhalt fails.

Ellara would look suitably humbled at her father's words. But, she is seven and is therefore invincible.

Kiera leans to whisper in return to lenard and nods to cassimir at his departure as she waves drake over "Your Highness. My brother. Lord Drake Wyvernheart

Cristoph has joined the Valardin Combat Riding Course.

Norwood goes down on one knee in front of Ellara, "Your father's words are correct. Remind your mother and father I wish to have words with them about Duke Cristoph please?" And then his name is being called. Back up with a small groan and back to Steadfast.

He bows to Ryhalt before they begin, and settles his lance carefully. He doesn't ride nearly as well this time - but well enough for the joust to fall in his favor. "Duke Ryhalt," Norwood turns back to him, "It was a pleasure to ride against you."


"And you, your Highness," says the General to Alis.

"Another night I shall have to request permission to speak to you again on a personal matter," Piccola adds a thought after. "But not tonight." She bows her head respectfully, even if she does not take her helm off. "Thank you for your words."

And then she gently nudges Gigi to take her off the field to await the next round.



Drake, sitting with too much armor on, and his helm off, raises his hand and gives Lenard a wave when he hears his name being introduced. "A pleasure." He takes a mug of ale up, putting his helmet at his side.

Lucky for Norwood, Cristoph is too busy having his arm set over in the corner. He can't hear all of this! Which includes at one point, a single yell of pain that's muffled by something. Because surprise, this sort of thing hurts tremendously. Carry on.

Ryhalt chuckles as he hears who he's up against this time. This wasn't going to go so well. Still he sets up as before and seems to try to get his horse to be a bit more composed, but Evenstrider isn't hearing it. He manages to return Norwood's bow, but it's down hill from there, he never really gets his lance down to even touch Norwood and the impact on his shield makes Evenstrider zig rather than go straight forward. Luckily he's well used to the horse's tendancy to be *not quite* under him and doesn't join Cristoph's fate.

After their tilt, Sorrel heads over towards Corban with a bit of a grin, leading her horse behind her. "That was a good ride, my friend," she says with a smile, then leans in to murmur something to him.

"There is absolutely no chance that I'll be able to finish a whole turkey leg by myself," Natasha tells Damiana, amusement painting its subtle brushstrokes over the lowered pitch of her diction. "Unless your family's managed to find a supplier that's stumbled upon the secret to breeding them into the size of game hens. So a mug of cider it is." Non-alcoholic, hopefully, keeping to her usual limit of just the one, and she is saving it for her customary glass of whiskey.

While there is an arm being set somewhere, Baron Norwood is coming out on top in his second round of the night. The crowd cheers for the Clement man's win. And also whispers of relief at yet another injury-less pass of jousting. "LADY BRIANNA HALFSHAV VERSUS SIR CORBAN TELMAR."

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Critical Success! Brianna is spectacularly successful.
Corban marginally fails.

The approach of Cassimir is the only thing currently capable of taking Brigid's attention away from the next series of jousts. All skilled and capable riders! The pressure at her lower back causes sidelong those tumultuous blues to meet the deep sylvan of her betrothed's, a cant of head to let words funnel into her ear. Whatever is said seems to cause lips to curl with a rare tenderness, a hand rising to let fingertips tease along his jawline before landing a kiss. Pulling back a fraction with a shared pulse of breath does the Dragoon quietly respond.

Vitalis winces when Feisel names the person he bumped into a Legate. "Oh, mmh. Of course, Blessed," he says at the offer of a seat at their table. He takes a seat with some assistance, thanks murmured, before Feisel bows to those At the call of the next round, Vitalis' head comes up, "Oh, I didn't know it was the Baron's turn already." He cheers for the Baron's victory. "Which side of the field was he on?" Vitalis whistles that way.

Vitalis has joined the a sturdy oakwood picnic table.

Lenard's gaze seeks out Drake focusing on the man when Kiera makes that introduction, His head dipping giving a slight bow to Drake. "Likewise, Maybe after my armor is repaired you and I could go for a few goes on the practice field." The Valardin Prince motioning off in the direction of the combat riding course.

"Certainly, General. I'd be happy to speak with you." Alis assures Piccola, pulling her helmet off after dismounting. "Soon." she adds, inclining her head politely to the other woman before weaving her way through the crowd and not caring if she's in the way of /anyone/ as she peeks in to check on Cristoph. "Someone get the man some whiskey, for fuck's sake. That has to hurt like a bitch." she points out. "No, not you. Laurene, go get a bottle from the war room. You know which one." That should dull the pain of a break at least a little. But then before she can be even more of a pain in the ass, she finds her way back to Fiachra and the kids so that she can help wrangle them and give her husband an update.

Alis has joined the a sturdy oakwood picnic table.

At whatever Sorrel says to him, Corban's face screws up and he frowns, shaking his head. He then murmurs something back before he goes to line up on the list, Rosie toeing the line. There is a certain chill in his gaze for Brianna, despite their familiarity. But despite it, he lifts his lance in a respectful salute before he is off. He does his best to steady his shield, but it is not quite there and he is down onto the field, rolling away as Rosie peels off as she is trained. It wasn't all bad. But Brianna seems to just have the skill (or luck) on her side.

Don't worry Cristoph, now that Norwood has finished his second round he is making a //beeline// for Cristoph. He loooooommmmsss over the injured lord and glowers down at him. "Duke Cristoph." Why yes, his teeth are clenched. "When will you stop dodging riding training?"

Alban, an enormous palomino destrier with massive feathered hooves, Bird arrive, following Svoli.

"The far end," Madeleine tells Vitalis, once she's properly collected a sense about why he's asking. "I should get some cider too. Mm." Alis cursing a blue streak sees her brows lifting in unison. Perhaps not what she expected from the high lord.

Drake gives a bit of applause at Brianna as she has an excellent pass. Then he looks back at Lenard, and smiles at him. "Indeed. I could use a few dents knocked out of this rubicund myself. I need to try a few different horses too. Hasn't been the same since I lost my old war horse in Chevalle, but that's a long story."

Brianna looks stony and focused as she prepares to ride against Corban. This time, she holds her seat and looks as surprised as anyone when she manages to unseat the knightiest knight who ever knighted.

Damiana celebrates jousting through Natasha. On hearing that Brianna scored smashingly against Corban, she says "I love it when Gloria shines just a little favor down and there's some amazing exploits of knighthood. Imagine how many little one-day knights are watching and watched that pass, receiving just that extra little nudge that will make them go be a squire and defend the Oathlands and our friends. I love it."

When all of Cristoph's friends come to check on him as well, Tyche takes a small step back, but only so much as to give them room to LOOM and hand over whiskey. "I'll help in a moment, when you are free from all of this affection," she makes a smiled promise to the Laurent Duke, finally looking back to the field to catch the jousting that has continued through the man's treatment of his injuries. Her gaze searches out Cassimir, and a look is shared with her cousin, before she's back with the Duke.

Brianna isn't a well known rider to this crowd, so when she comes out the victor against Sir Corban, there is a brief moment of stunned silence. But they like this! Several people start standing up and cheering, ringing forks and spoons against glasses. Someone drops their glass. It shatters. There are unhappy noises for the broken glass. "GENERAL PICCOLA TESSERE VERSUS SIR JOSEF- wait why is there no surname written here, he says he doesn't have one??"

Kiera smiles "That sounds like it'll br fun to watch. Shall we get something to eat and drink"

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Piccola is marginally successful.

Lenardchuckles giving a nod to Drake, "I look forward to it, And nothing else we can work on our sword work before the battles to come." When Kiera suggests finding food and drink Lenard nods, The Valardin Prince raising from his seat amongst the social sharks of the stands offering his left arm out to Kiera. "Food and drink sounds like a wonderful idea, If I can not joust I can certainly drink."

A late arrival saunters in, if a eighteen hand high destrier stallion could saunter that is. Alban does a good attempt at it though, giving a shake of his long flaxen mane as the pint-sized woman in his saddle chuckles softly. "Show off." Svoli mutters under her breath, the Volkov lady sporting a small crown made of bits of antler upon her wheat blond hair, twisted and braided in to dreadlocks, interwoven with beads and feathers. She's dressed head to toe in leather, and her glaive is attached to her saddle, close at hand, as she she rides her stallion in, looking about for a bit seeing if she's too late for the joust she's heard about.

Suddenly Norwood is LOOMING over Cristoph, which results in a look that is equal parts hassled, embarrassed, and annoyed! He had been speaking with Tyche but she's suddenly pulling away and he's left to face the Baron by himself. "Soon?" he offers and reaches for the whiskey bottle again, bringing it to his lips. "I think your name is coming up again!" he encourages the man. After he's had enough drink to dull the ache of the pain in his newly splinted arm, he twists back to catch sight of the Marquessa again.


Once more, the General leads herself and her fat-ass pony to the jousting grounds.

Once more, she kicks it into gear, and like the Arx-version of a Subaru WRX Piccola's horse launches itself forward with its little rider leaning forward. **CRASH** goes the General's lance against Sir Josef's shield, almost knocking the man off his steed. A slight shift of her weight, meanwhile, causes the opposing lance to glance off her shield easily. And again, her cloak whirls about as she turns to see the result, and then leads herself and Gigi back towards the stalls again.

"Gonna give you double apples tonight," she whispers into her horse's ear, leaning over to do so.



All too willing to cheer for the underdog (and one who married a Thrax, no less) against the favored King's Own, Natasha's own hands come together once the next bout is called, a smile that can almost be described as indulgent cast to Damiana. "I have to confess that I've never seen you so animated," she replies, with an acknowledging tilt of her head towards Vitalis' greetings once he joins their table. "Had I known before today, I would have accompanied you on the prior ones through the season." Observing silently for a spell from her perch, she adds, "It's exhilarating." Not that her tone would ever truly betray the fact, but the remark is genuine and suffused with the rare gossamer threads of amicable warmth.

Norwood TAPS HIS FINGERS. "//Egglesworth// even says it's undignified for a duke to break his arm so often at his own jousts." If Norwood was a woman she would be ~flouncing~. Instead it's an offended straight-ass walk away from Cristoph.

When Norwood straight-ass walks away, Tyche's lips twitch in strained amusement. "I think he cares about your health," she offers to Cristoph, moving closer once more to help him remove bits of armor that weigh him down. She's extra careful to steer clear of his injured arm, her words not carrying past the pair of them as she carries on some sort of conversation with him, most likely over his foible.

With the rolls down to General Piccola, Lady Brianna and Baron Norwood, the caller looks over the papers. "There is an odd number. Considering Baron Norwood's lengthy record with jousting, the judges have decided that he shall go TWICE. For two possibilities to unhorse the man! Against Lady Brianna first, and if he wins, the final joust of the night will be between himself and General Piccola. If he loses, the last joust will be between Lady Brianna and General Piccola."

Natasha is overheard praising Alis: For an exhilarating evening, thank you for hosting the joust!

Natasha is overheard praising Cristoph: For an exhilarating evening, thank you for hosting the joust!

Cassimir catches that /look/ Tyche gifts to him, and nods once, paired with a bit of a dismissive hand-wave in her direction. Thereafter, he steps in a bit closer to Brigid. That hand at her back has been put to work, thumb kneading at the tender muscles that have no doubt been inflamed by her recent fall. Words continue to flow privately into her ear, while his eyes resume their intent watchfulness as the joust continues.

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Norwood is marginally successful.
Brianna is marginally successful.

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Brianna is successful.
Norwood is successful.

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Norwood is successful.
Brianna is successful.

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Norwood is successful.
Brianna is marginally successful.

Fiachra is still by the picnic table with the girls. Not because he fears the injuries they might see on Christoph, but more because Ellara will ask him a series of rapid-fire questions about the match while being tended to for his injuries. When Alis comes over with the update, he looks relieved and nods his head to her. "Good, good. That looked...unpleasant." It's an understatement, but he doesn't want to inadvertently rub salt in the wound. He knits his brows together then in a mildly consoling look. "You did amazing."

Damiana says to her companion Natasha, "The first morning prayers after the longest night at the Cathedral of Sanctum as the sun begins to shine once more through the stained glass halll. The excitement of competitors facing one another in mounted combat hurling their bodies at full speed and smashing their all against the other. The moment a warrior is knighted and they rise, taking their sword and vows from that moment on as a knight. There's a few things which really show the culture of the Oathlands, and this is one of them. When you have a Grand Tournament, with the banners and pennants shifting in position as champions are knocked out and the winner crowned with the laurel of favor? Well, the Valardin in me just loves this even if I'm not able to see it. You can feel it." She touches a hand to her heart. "It's home. It's family."

Madeleine pulls her robes in a bit to make room at the table, smiles pleasantly at Fiachra and Alis - and their daughter. "Everyone performed commendably," she agrees. "It's so nice that people have a reason to come out and enjoy the fresh air, thank you, your grace, for hosting this."

Cristoph shakes his head as Norwood angry walks off on him. "I know," he replies to Tyche in a voice loud enough to carry before he drops his voice to speak lower to her.

Can we all take a moment to spare some thoughts for poor //Steadfast// here?! The stallion has been working hard tonight, and now he gets to do a DOUBLE joust.

For a moment Norwood looks very distracted, and that distraction results in several rounds against Brianna where they thump one another solidly against their jousting saddles. It's only on the final round, poor Steadfast covered in lather, that Norwood is able to get a good hit on the woman to unseat her.

Taking a breather after Norwood touches Queensguard for a moment. "I know." Then he heads out to Brianna to bow. "Lady Brianna, all honor to you."

Brianna never expected to make it this far, and she certainly never expected to last one whole round against Norwood. Two rounds. Three rounds. On the fourth round, she finally gets unseated, taking a controlled fall and roll. She gets up, dusts herself off, and salutes Norwood, then pulls her helmet off. Her cheeks are pleasantly flushed and red hair is plastered to her head with sweat. "Good riding, Baron Norwood. It was an honor."

Kael, having been assured by a stray healer that everything is fine (enough) and well (enough) with Duke Laurent, is moving back to the table in a rather discreet fashion. He glances toward the jousting, but it is a brief thing, and upon reclaiming his seat he dips his head toward those that are near. Maybe there is a particularly apologetic cant toward Fiachra and family, given that he abandoned them mid conversation.

Ryhalt claps for Norwood and his hard-working horse, which just sets his own horse to thinking he's going again and he turns the horse in endless circles. This will end when one of them gets too dizzy to continue.

Drake watches this go down... paying particular attention to Brianna and her horse for the moment. "...Hm. Those two seem quite evenly matched," he says, taking a big gulp of ale. Norwood takes it in the end, but Drake's not so surprised... though either wouldn't have surprised him, really. "Congratulations to the both of you!" he calls out from the stands.

"I definitely did not do amazing." Alis admits wryly, but also looking content enough with her performance. "I'm glad you're all enjoying yourselves. A good joust should be exhilarating and fun to watch." she demures towards Madeleine, while Ellara tries to jump up and down on her lap. "YAY BARON CLEMENT." And, the elder gives Kael a nod at his rejoining the table.

Alban, an enormous palomino destrier with massive feathered hooves, Bird leave, following Svoli.

Vitalis hollers for Norwood when the fourth pass sees his opponent unseated.

With each pass between the riders, the crowd gets more and more excited. The cheering and shouting and hollering is so loud that for a moment, people might forget that this is an Oathlander affair. That is, if they'd never been around Oathlanders at a joust before. Baron Norwood's victory is applauded, as is Lady Brianna's tenacity on the field. There are whispers and wonders if she's another up and coming rider to watch out for?? "BARON NORWOOD FACES GENERAL PICCOLA! Please, do not release any war bees."

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Piccola is successful.
Norwood is successful.

Cristoph has called for a check of strength and ride at normal.
Critical Success! Piccola is spectacularly successful.
Norwood is successful.

Alis is overheard praising Piccola.

Genuine reverence and wholehearted eagerness from her royal companion softens Natasha's expression out of its feminine severity, unable to suppress the curving up of her lips no matter how hard she attempts to stem it. She hides her face once she feels it change, though, behind the mug of cider she has procured, turning her gaze to regard the next set of competitors once more. "It's the first I'm hearing of it," she confessed. "When Aer-- " Whoops. "Prince Aerwan spoke of his childhood in Sanctum it was about its fields, valleys and the people he chanced to meet during his more philanthropic endeavors. I suppose it was inevitable, he was more like a priest than a knight, so what he tended to focus on would be different from the rest of your cousins, though he certainly..." And here a wry look slips into her face. "...carried himself as one. He was never without his vambraces. Maybe I'll have a chance to see it all someday, Princess, when the way you describe it is so evocative."


Gigi eyes Steadfast lazily as she trots up to the posts.

"One more," murmurs Piccola to her horse quietly. "Just one more." She takes in a deep breath, and then hits her heels back to put the turbocharged, super-fly-TNT, rally-car-like plain-horse into motion. The first pass results in nothing substantial: riders remain where they are; lances are unbroken. But then, after making the turn, the two combatants fly once more with their shields up.

And Gloria shines once more on the Lycene woman of war.

It's just a slight shifting of her weight, really. Her shield rides up a little higher, and she drops her elbow to bring her lance back into position. The General's weapon strikes true; but the Baron's glances off the top of its mark. And as she whirls about for the last time, dark cloak moving about her like a live shadow, Piccola finally gives life to her victory by letting out an animated war cry.

It is a roar of delight.



Liara has left the a small cherrywood picnic table.

Madeleine turns on Natasha's discussion with Damiana, smiling with increasing pleasure as she speaks. "He sounds lovely," she murmurs, less interruption, more peripheral appreciation.

Natasha is overheard praising Piccola: An excellent showing at the jousts.

Drake is overheard praising Piccola.

Poor poor Steadfast. The horse is TIRED at the end of this.

It isn't Steadfast that costs Norwood the joust though. Instead, Piccola has him //dead to rights//. The lance hits him spot on and he pops out of the saddle like a bit of corn over the fire. He'll just lay there gathering his breath before rising to bow. "Your skill is undeniable Lady Piccola, I am honored to lose to you."

Drake is overheard praising Norwood.

Drake is overheard praising Brianna.

Natasha is overheard praising Brianna: An excellent showing at the jousts!

The roaring of the crowd is once again deafening, there are cheers for the Baron but also cheers for this small Lycene general on her- horse? Is that a horse? When Piccola emerges the victor, there is significant yelling, clapping and all sorts of very happy crowd noises. A ripple of excitement moves through the people dining and watching. "GENERAL PICCOLA TESSERE DEFEATS BARON NORWOOD CLEMENT." And that's that. They are extremely happy with this very exciting night. Tried and true jousters! Underdogs! Cristoph breaking a limb, again! So much fun.

Cristoph is overheard praising Norwood.

Cristoph is overheard praising Piccola.

Shocking as it is to see someone defeat Norwood, Ryhalt claps for Piccola's well fought win. Time to get some excess energy out of his horse so he rides off.

Cristoph is overheard praising Brianna.

The event was riveting and absolutely spectacular and while it commanded a good portion of Brigid's attention, the tender usherance of Cassimir's whisper seems to cause eyes to widen a fraction. With the end of the tournament rounding out, the Oathlander turns towards her Pravosi betrothed, lips brushing with promise to the line of his throat, "I'm holding you to that."

Straightening from her lean and where the Moore found herself lovingly supplicated by massaging touches to a bruised backside, "You should go check in on your cousin while I go get Vane settled in back home."

Damiana is overheard praising Piccola: The champion upon today's field of glory inspiring a hundred more to become knights.