Grand Tournament of 1102
The Grand Tournament of 1102 was a tournament held in the city of Old Rudora to commemorate the 500th anniversary of the collapse of Aelven rule in Kirshall & Rudorei. The tournament was organized by King Garibald Bourdot in an effort to bring closer together the kingdoms of man who had grown increasingly hostile towards each other.
The tournament was significant as it was the last gathering of the kings of man before the start of the Decades of Blood and the Dread Centuries which followed the death of Aman'Yok, The Lifebinder.
Leadup To The Tournament
With the conclusion of the The Second Khirinan War just the year before, King Garibald noted the increasing hostilities between the kingdoms of man and sought something that could heal the divisions that had existed in the years leading up to the invasions of Benalon I Ulanala. With the collapse of the Empire of Great Benalor now in it's 500th anniversary, the perfect reason for a celebration was found and a Grand Tournament was the perfect event to celebrate.
Fortunate for King Garibald, his father had left the kingdoms coffers full with plunder from the Soudspring Campaigns the decade prior. This money was used to pay the winner of the five different major tourneys and the nearly half dozen minor tourneys held out outside of Garlanstown.
Announcements were sent to the Calpurnian Kingdom, Kingdom of Aminum, Kingdom of Festinian and to neighboring Amanora. When the Amanoran Council expressed desire to invite the Confederacy of The Frensari, they were rebuffed by King Garibald who claimed the Frensari were collaborators who had willingly surrendered themselves to the Illalorei without so much of a fight. Seeing their response as another in a long line of Rudoran hostility to Aelvekind, Amanora refused any part in the tournament.
The King and Queen sat in the Noble's Dais alongside the Queen Dowager and the many invited lesser lords from. Among the most important of these were, Margrave Edran Vernholt there as special guest of honor of the recently established Vernholt March, Lord Marten Thalassar of Thalasport, Lord Ecbert Tarnel and his Daughter Anneth. From the Grand Duchy, only Boyar Dolvus Karlof had accepted the invitation, but in his failing health had sent his son Brosov in his stead, from the Bhamram Isles, Thane Magros Sunhammer sent three of his bastard children the Fair-Skinned Lady Bharra, the grumbling Black Drovo and Magros Saltfish. Lastly, there was the serpent, Count Marius Virellan of County Virellan who arrived late and disheveled .
With the tournament fast approaching, a caravan of the faithful arrived bearing many holy men who either wished to enjoy the festivities, preach the word of the Aman or whose services might be needed (For free, or at a fee). Among these were a trio from the Sworn Knights looking to join in the Grand Melee and also seeking those who might wish to join in the Second Crusade for the Fell Islands having begun only a few years prior, nearly two dozen men and women of the Order of Open Palms to assist with the many wounded sure to follow, eight of the Good Wayfarers as well as the Lesser Supplicant who had traveled from the Church at Forest's End. Likewise, a caravan of Goblin Merchants had arrived at the same time but they were instead quickly seized by the town guards and, as some say, were expelled from the city bound back where they came, while others say they were swiftly cut down by the increasingly on edge guards of the now bursting populous.
The Tournament Itself
The First Day of the Tournament
The Peasant's Melee
The first event held during the tournament was the Peasant's Melee, a melee opened to all of low birth or acknowledged bastards. The winner of the melee was Black Iron Reinald who, among the last three standing, and with his sword broken at the hilt, won the melee after taking his helmet off and launching it towards Pepyn of Tyrrun which brought him low before tackling the other, the royal bastard Redbeard Ionus and pummeling him well into unconsciousness. The officiants of the tournament quickly protested as the throwing of the helmet was seen as a dishonorable move. King Garibald himself intervened stating that "The Peasants Melee is well a home to the dishonorable, and it was an excellent fight!".
The Trial of Horsemanship
The second tournament, a horse race held around the perimeter of Garlanstown was started not long after the conclusion of the Peasant's Melee shortly before the sun began to set. While there was no restrictions to the kind of horse to be used in the race, unsurprisingly the horses were overwhelmingly Palfreys save for the horse of Sir Tiber of Calpurnia who, a poor knight of unusual charm, having been promised the hand in marriage of one of the daughters of King Malte Iovius should he win all of the tournaments held in the honor of Calpurnia (Sir Tiber had been defeated quickly in the Peasant's Melee, but would quickly begin the lie that he could not compete in a peasant's melee as an anointed knight.) Sir Tiber instead brought with him the only horse he had available on hand, an aging Destrier which had seen it's far share of fighting and very little in the way of racing.
The race began with a thunder clap as late afternoon clouds began to fill the sky and rain threatened the whole of the tourney. Early on Sir Lucan of the Vernholt March made tremendous gains on his horse the Pale Mare when a section of uneven terrain sent the horse to ground, crippling Sir Lucan underneath. Sir Valter Ebrus of Fort Krennan took a commanding lead shortly thereafter, his horse Resplendent leaping clear over the fallen knight. Valter raced neck and neck with a masked entrant known only as Garlan's Own and their unnamed Light Brown Palfrey.
At one point, while nearing a the corner of one of Garlanstowns gatetower's, a commotion started as the horses racing past had by some means started a fire which threatened to grow into a conflagration that might take half the city with it. It was only the good fortune and quick thinking of Sir Valter's squire that disaster was averted as he was rushing to relocate a jug of wine which he had mistakenly left in the improvised track which made up the route for the race.
The race came to a conclusion with victory going to the unnamed Garlan's Own. When the King bid them to unmask themselves and be rewarded for their prowess, it was revealed that the winner of the race was Lady Anneth Tarnel, the daughter of Lord, Ecbert Tarnel. Aghast at the woman's gumption to compete in the tournament, the King was momentarily silent and would have raised his voice in anger, had it not been for the interjection of Lady Tarnel's namesake, the Queen Dowager Anneth who praised her skill. The King might still have raised his voice and driven a wedge between his mother and himself that very moment, had the crowd not erupted in applaud for the Lady. Unwilling to sully a joyous moment in what was supposed to be a uniting event, the King promised the reward would be granted to her as was her right. Behind closed doors however, it is said there was a fury summoned, most notably from Sir Valter, who himself had been scorned by the lady some years prior.
The Second Day of the Tournament
The Archery Competition
The first tournament held on the second day was the Archery Competition. The patron of the competition was Queen Anneth Rudane who had fancied herself an archer in her youth before the duties of ruling and then motherhood overtook her life. The competition was won by Lemon-Yellow who had hit every single target including a target tied to the back of a local stable boy, Symon who was commanded to run from side to side with an archery target held high.
The Grand Melee, First Round
The Grand Melee would live up to the spectacle of it's name, all told over one hundred-twenty were signed up for the melee and the fighting would continue throughout the day until nightfall and would pick up again early the next. Knights, nobles, lowborn and bastards, from Great Irinoff to the north and Mistharbor to the east, from Amanora and Arluck, men from all across the domains of man entered in for a chance at glory and gold. The first day saw a tremendous battle where 16 groups of eight assembled at random and grouped into four cohorts of four teams. Each cohort would do battle until such a time where only two teams had members left standing.
Lady Tarnel had been absent from the Dais following the previous day's excitement. Lord Tarnel, red-faced spent nearly the whole of the Archers Tournament trying to apologize for his daughter's actions until the Queen Dowager told him to pipe down to which his face grew red as a ruby to the point Black Drovo quipped he'd burst.
"I am.."
"feeling faint..." He meekly let out before departing from the dais.
At the other end of the Dais, Marten traded rumors of curious cults growing from the Narrow Claw with the Boyar as the Dwarven Bastards tried to maneuver closer to the King in the hopes to petition him for some ill conceived scheme but were intercepted by Lord Vernholt, who had wished to share his thousand stories he had from the fighting in the Soudspring.
"And what of the health of your father?" Lord Thalassar was heard asking of the Boyar before the roar of the crowd overtook any wandering ears.
Many notable events came about in the furious storm including Sir Tiber, who having finished 9th of the 12 entrants in the race (The 12th entrant, the now Lame Sir Lucan not able to complete the race, or ever compete for that matter again), back to back with his teammate the previous winner of the Contest, Lemon-Yellow while they did battle with no less than five Gutter Rats who it is said, through dishonest means had arranged themselves to be on the same team. Their reckless assaults had little impact unpon the two trained fighters. During the match of the second cohort, Stout Sir Barhbin who was said to be the half-dwarf son of Morfulim Forgeborne lifted with his own hands a contestant and slammed them behind his back and into the dirt, inadvertently sparing himself from a downwards swing of Braddock The Bard, a favored not to win, but by the local innkeepers' daughters. Braddock himself would then be brought down from a hammer blow to the back of the knee, hobbling him permanently by Strong Tarrywise who had only signed up on a whim the day before.
The final match of the day took place under a setting sun and saw the Sworn Knights split into separate teams and fought against one another. Each the last remaining man of their respective teams, they fought with all the fervor their brotherhood had instilled in them. The three brought to the brink of exhaustion one final blow brought each of the three down almost all at once with one, Brother Marius staying up if only but a few short seconds longer than his other brothers and allowing his team to advance before he too collapsed.
As the wounded were tended to, a great feast was held to allow the competitors energy for the next days fight as well as to commemorate the victors of the last two days. To Black Iron Reinald, it is said the renown of his fight gave him the degree of prestige necessary for him to be considered for to be legitimized. To the controversial victor of the riding competition, Lady Tarnel, the King's herald twice called for her to approach and receive her reward. Yet she was not present in the hall. It was said, though with dubiously at that, that she was entertaining a guest that night in Cassiar Ebrus, brother to the scorned Valter.
The Third Day of the Tournament
The Jousting Competition, First Day
An unusual chill came with the rising sun on the third day of the tournament, the previous day's sun marred by cloud. Trumpets sounded the calling of the knights competing in the joust to the tiltyard. Built in view of the King's Estate in Garlanstown, the tilting yard was bedecked in half a hundred standards, banners and flags with the Black and Red banner of Old Rudora held highest and grandest over all. The grey tower over a copper field of House Forn, the scythe resting atop a wreath of wheat on a white field of House Tarnel flanked the King's standard in the corner closest to the Villa. Opposite the Rudoran flags, the three flags of the Fair Houses of Aminum stood with the Gull of the then ruling House Iulia standing highest in another corner. The three Chalices on purple field of House Iovius and the three Satyr's heads on black field of House Kantor placed in the farthest corners.
The Queen sat by herself at her throne on the dais, grumbling aloud "Our Liege, the lionslayer means to prove himself to the crowd how fearsome he still is, as if a single Knight here would dare hit him. A fool's gambit for the King of Farces..."
"Men have been clasped in irons for saying kinder to the king" Her Sworn Sword, Beran of The Rivan chimed in response
"And speaking back to the Queen has had better men gelded Sir Beran. We like you, but know your place.' She barked sharply.
Meanwhile, Lady Tarnel spoke with the babbling Bastard Bharra who laughed like a choir of screeching hawks . Across from them, Lord Thalasar and Boyar Karlof discussed the Saltfish of the shipbuilders of the Bhamram Isles, asking of ships under the bastards commands, and of costs to raise men.
Trumpets flared upwards in a rising chorus and the drummers produced a warring march.
"His Grace, King Garibald, The Lion's Slayer, The Rudoran Pride, Conqueror of the Soundspring and Protector of the Western Wealds!" shouted the Crier
The Crowd roared, the Queen sighed.
The joust saw thirty-six contestants and their horses paired together into 18 bouts. Unlike the tournaments of the first two days, the Joust would be a competition of only the most chivalrous of the anointed knights in Rudora and Kirshalll. The joust was commenced first, by words of prayer from the High Supplicant of Old Rudora, followed by a speech honoring those who would put themselves in harms way for todays events. The first saw the return of Sir Valter Ebrus, now astride his fearsome destrier Benalon's Bane, he faced off against Sir Daniv The Darring of Forest's End. Valter scored a glancing blow on the first tilt but was returned in kind on the second. Rounding for the third, Daniv and Valter struck one another but Sir Valter was torn from his horse and tossed aground. The second match saw. much to the protestations of his mother, the Heir to the Rudoran Throne, Sir Garibald Bourdot atop his chestnut destrier Pride and it's cloak of checkered Red, Black and Gold facing off against Sir Beril of Adoran, a loyal servant of the Kingdom and soldier in the Soudspring Campaign, Sir Beril begged forgiveness to Garibald who returned in retort "You'll need to hit me first if you have want to apologize". Their match was ultimately rather uneventful with the first tilt being a miss from Garibald and a refusal to lift his lance by Beril. Snapping at the timid knight before the second tilt, Ser Beril attempted but missed his mark and was given a strike on his shield and the third tilt saw a repeat of this.
The remaining matches passed by with a number of displays of gallantry and fine sportsmanship, the sad passing of a horse struck in the neck by a lance that had struck a shield and slipped downwards into a small patch of exposed skin. The last match saw Sir Erik the Red thrown from his horse in the first and second tilt by the returned Sir Tiber of Calpurnia astride his black destrier Aman's Grace. As his lance struck Sir Erik for the second time, a crack of distant thunder was heard by all in attendance.
With the conclusion of the first day of the jousting contest, the crowd dispersed and made for the grounds which hosted the Grand Melee.
The Grand Melee, Second Round
The second day of the Grand Melee saw the remaining 64 contestants split into randomly drawn pairs and each pair set to fight an opposite pair. The fighting started with Stout Sir Barbhbin, paired with Black Iron Reinald fighting against Lord Yon Forn and Iacona, First Blade of the Beast Hunters. Lord Forn traded heavy blows with the Stout Sir, the two too stubborn to give each other ground while around them danced the lithe swordsman Iacona around the tower-made-man of Sir Reinald. The first match came to a climax as feinted a strike to the right, which Sir Reinald had seen coming, when the Iacona struck the second time, the blow was parryed, then with Black Iron's Riposte, Iacona lept forward and to the side of his thrust, landing a strike to his underarm. As moved to recover, from the strike, another came faster than he could block and then a third. The fourth blow struck true to his Black Iron Helm and the man was brought low. The two against Stout Sir Barbhin should have been a route, but the small man's indefatigable stature allowed him to take blow after blow. When the two struck the Half-man at once, he returned with a blow to Iacona which shattered a rib and brought the quick-witted swordsman down. Now man to man, the two squared off once again, the air thick with moisture and the sky now gray the two struck sword against sword, sparks flying up with each traded blow. It was at last Lord Forn who, having broken a piece of the armor of his opponent with his last, thundering strike, that was victorious when he was able to abuse the now exposed back of the the Stout Sir.
The remaining matches proved each more exciting than the last, Brother Marius and Sir Tiber, faced against the Strong Tarrywise and Cassiar Ebrus, the two began the fight with a word of prayer to the Aman and they appeared to be Aman Blessed as indeed they made short work of the pair, Cassiar Ebrus being noted as looking as though he had not slept the night before. The Ferrani Telani of Seinah and Sir Garael of the Knights Resplendent made short work of Sir Valter Ebrus and Sir Matom Ados (Not to be confused with the Matom of the Brothers of Haulle who had perished several hundred years prior at the Tragedy of Immrion), naturally. The final match saw Lemon-Yellow and Sir Garael face off against the two Knight-Errants, Sir Denyldwin and Sir Tarwin, both of Arluck. The graying sky gave way to a light rainfall which grew and grew as the fight went on. By the time Lemon-Yellow and Sir Garael stood victorious, the rain was now in a full pour with a terrible gale joining it.
The feast on the third night of the tournament saw fewer people than the previous nights, first as the list of wounded knights being cared for by the increasingly overtaxed healers. Among these wounded, Lemon-Yellow nursed a broken foot, sustained during the last fight. Unwilling to concede his placement in the tournament with only a single day of fighting remaining, Lemon-Yellow bribed the healer to not speak a word of his injury and under the din of the Dwarven troupe hired to perform for the feast, Lemon-Yellow treated himself with plentiful glasses of wine and when the wine ran low, ale. In the morning, he would switch to a stronger drink until he was so drunk the notion of pain was lost on him entirely. The downpour lasted well into the night, soaking the fields of Garlanstown.
The Fourth Day of the Tournament
The storm subsided shortly before the roosters began their morning song but left the tourney grounds sodden, untreadable and dangerous for the horses. While the Grand Melee was sure to go on, the tiltyard was a mess of muck and mud and some were worried the jousting contest would be declared over before a champion could be crowned. The steward Lyman , in charge of the Royal Villa in Garlanstown, was tasked with saving the tournament. Calling upon the royal carpenters a system of stones sunk into the mud, then reinforced with wooden board and covered with mud created a kind of bridge which once covered would appear, Lyman hoped, normal.
The Axe Thrower's Tournament & Jousting Competition, Second Day
While the Steward's furious efforts were happening, a silly sort of thing had developed naturally, an improvised Axe Thrower's Tournament with various children, both noble and lowborn, equipping themselves with old tournament weapons, having raided two barrels of arms left over from the last two days of the Grand Melee. A handful of hay bales and used archery targets from the first day were arranged across a twenty pace field as the kid walks and the firstborns on of the heir to the throne himself, Garlan Greengrass oversaw the tournament himself judging fairly it is said. The rules for scoring started simply enough, landing an axe safely onto a target granted a point to the thrower, then after the first bout proved too easy a new rule was added, and then another and more followed after that. Slowly growing to be so complex and serpentine that even the King's Counsel, who overseeing the event to watch over the Heir to the throne threw up his hands in confusion and simply stopped trying to keep track, choosing instead to just enjoy the fun.
The victory went to the oaf Symon a local stable boy whose advanced age had not carried over to that of his mind following a blow struck to his head as a child working with a mare. Symon had been seen the during the previous day's Archery Competition. Garlan Greengrass bid Symon take a knee and rise a knight to the laughter of the now gathered crowd, including the royal guardsmen assigned to protecting the king. Garlan's father the King having witnessed the false knighting took to the joy of the event and legitimized the Simpleton, naming him Sir Symon The Simple a knighting if only, in a token way so as to not insult the true knights gathered for the event..
The second day of the Jousting Competition saw the remaining eighteen competitors each assigned an opponent and the jousts would now consist of five bouts instead of three from the previous day. The match order, drawn at random started the day first with Sir Garibald Bourdot astride Pride facing off against Sir Constantus of Naxxa astride his horse Apple's Ruin. Sir Garibald stood victorious but after the fifth tilt did he get his win. The next three matches were relatively dull affairs of unlanded knights and minor nobles which did little to inspire the crowd. The fifth match saw the return of Sir Tiber of Calpurnia, who nearly ragged from now four days of tremendous effort make a mockery of his opponent Titus of Tarqunii, unseating him from his horse three times before even a mark could be added to the many etched now into Sir Tiber's armor. The sixth saw shields shattered, the seventh saw bones broken and the eight saw tragedy when the horse Swiftling was pierced in an exposed section of armor, removed the day prior due to it's ill-fit. The rider was thrown from the horse and died from the fall, Swiftling dying shortly thereafter. The three Sworn Knights who had visited for the Tournament, Brothers Marius, Tomas and Garrus took to sharing words of prayer alongside the High Supplicant and the few Lesser Supplicants who were in attendance. Allowing a brief reprieve, the final match was allowed to proceed which saw the Amanoran Sevorin Cherrain and his horse Old Oath competing against Sir Tarwin The Breaker his horse Blackguard, Sir Tarwin scored an impressive early two rounds against Sevorin Cherrain but was returned with two points against him. In the fifth round, the match ended with both knights breaking their lances off one another's shields with the four judges pressing in hot debate over who had been struck first. An extended debate followed in secret between the judges, the King's Counsel was called in for his opinion when ultimately it was decided. The match would be considered a draw, when the score of the first day's joust had been taken into account there would be no change in the final match. Heir to the throne, Sir Garibald of House Bourdot would face against the low knight Sir Tiber of Calpurnia.
It was shortly before lunch time that the last tilt began. The first charge shattered both lances in unison. The second left Tiber reeling but upright, Aman's Grace staggering beneath him while Garibald, his armor adorned with an ornamental Lion's paw on his right shoulder, saluted with the broken shaft, the first point going to the King. The third saw Tiber strike true, a blow ringing from Garibald’s pauldron, knocking the paw from his armor and nearly tearing him from his seat. He laughed through gritted teeth. They wheeled round again, slower now, breathing heavy as an ox. The fourth tilt ended in a storm of splinters. Tiber’s lance snapping against Garibald’s shield, the king’s finding purchase, driving the younger man half from his saddle. The crowd’s cry rose to a cacophony, some chanting aloud their King's house "BOURDOT! BOURDOT!" while took their chant from the words of the royal house, chanting "WE TREAD!". Yet, in the next tilt, the tide of fortunte turned once more, Tiber’s strike caught the king’s helm nearly glancing but landing true in a flare of gold flecked armor and kicked up dust. On the fifth and final run the field fell silent as death. Even the banners stopped their relentless waggling brought with the previous day's storm. Both men lowered their visors, both horses strained at the reins. When the flag dropped, they rode thunderous, a cloud of earth following at each's rear.
The Queen Dowager's ears were not as sharp as they had been in her youth, but she still held command over what she listened to over the sounds of the crowd. The Dwarves were many things, quiet was rarely one of these. The Saltfish as he was called seemed to redefine the terms entirely. "Shipyards for Thalasport" at one point "Able-bodied Dwarves" another, it wasn't until she had heard him bellow "Spill the red... his whelps too" that began to listen of her own volition, her thoughts turned to the Young King Malte Iovius. Anneth had not been blind to the discussions had between Lord Marten and the Boyar, between the two of them and the Dwarves. She was not unfamiliar with the lingering tensions in Calpurnia and she was not unfamiliar with the concept of treason.
"Your Grace, how it must pain you to see your son so wounded! Lord Marten interrupted her, appearing from her periphery like a hawk. His eyes betrayed his warmth. "The King is a man and has been for some time if his Children are any hint of this, he will survive and rise again... When tonight's feast is prepared."
"I had put half a hundred marks on his victory... Confidence is ever my ruin." He said, grinning from ear to ear. The Queen Dowager replied, "Sir Tiber has mine, you should never bet against your own kind, but a good friend of mine spoke quite loudly of all Sir Tiber has done and is doing, and how could I not notice his many efforts..."
Her words held barbs, and if Lord Marten's face did not betray his thoughts. He began to open his mouth when the now drunk Margrave of Vernholt intruded.
"And what of the King?" The drunkard proclaimed "The Swine of Aramoine soil the very notion of nobility with their Whore-Countess Alaria" "I rather like her" said the Queen Dowager
"I must agree with Her Grace" Lord Marten chimed in. "I'm glad we're in agreement then Lord Thalassar" "Are we? Your Grace?"
On the Jousting Field, some poor fool took a strike to his chest, he was insignificant.
The crash came sharp and it came decisively. Garibald’s lance struck Tiber’s shield and splintered, but the Kirshallan’s blow caught square upon the King’s breastplate, knocking loose royal ornamentation and pitching his grace from the saddle in a din of crashing metal and the deep thud of struck mud. The world held its breath for a terrible moment as the king lie still. Relief coming a moment thereafter as the King rose his arm in a sign of life. Stubbornly, and with one knee sinking into the earth. He raised a gauntleted hand. “The champion of the tourney,” he called, voice hoarse but steady, “is Sir Tiber of Calpurnia. With that, the crowd broke into rapturous applause for by now the story of Tiber's cause had warmed the commonfolk.
The Grand Melee, Third Round
The third round of the Grand Melee saw the remaining combatants split into eight groups of four, again chosen at random. The first round saw Sir Garael, Lemon-Yellow, Telani of Seinah and Brother Marius pitted against Sir Beril of Adoran, Sir Garrock, Sir Hadthric and Sir Hadreld The Mute. With each stepping into the field, their feet sinking into sodden earth, a fanfare screamed from the gathered trumpeters, horn blowers, drummers and fifemen. The King, not wishing to rise from his seat of honor for the wounds he had taken the day before bid the men well and wished them the Grace of the Aman. The High Supplicant began to lead another blessing to the combatants to which Telani, a worshipper of the Ferran Pantheon dismissed audibly, if quietly. Brother Marius, having little love of the heathen grew red in the face at his partners blaspheming. When the High Supplicant concluded, the groups were led to their respective ends of the fighting grounds and with the drop of the commencing flag the first fight commenced.
Mathen Thalassar shifted uneasy in his seat, the Queen Dowager had departed to speak with her son, the King. The Crone's ears betray her years he thought to himself. It would take only a word from her and the King could have him summoned. The contents of last night's feast shifted in his stomach.
Sir Beril and Sir Garrock approached the left flank of the grounds nearing Telani and Brother Marius while Sir Garael and Lemon-Yellow marched guardedly to both challenge Sir Beril and Garrock's flank while also engaging and occupying the attention of Sirs Hadthric and Hadreld. The first strikes came as Sir Garrock struck at Telani whose nimble Ferrani fighting styles were impeded in the muddy ground that was fighting his feet every bit as much as the knight closing in at him. Ducking low under a side swipe, Telani throw himself forward tackling Garrock to the ground who launched the lithe fighter into the mud on his back. Brother Marius traded counter with counter against the onslaught of blows coming from the veteran knight Sir Beril but with a lucky strike caught the veteran behind the leg causing him to reel back in a howl of agony. With this Brother Marius came to Telani's aid with a blow to the still rising Garrock. What happened next has been disputed as either an errant blow coming from Brother Marius struck falsely against Garrock's armor and Telani was hit by the glanced blow or there are also those who say the blow came as a response to the disrespectful attitude the Ferran had shown before in the faith of the most holy Aman. What is known with certainty is the sickening crunch of broken bone being heard throughout the fighting grounds followed by the screams of the Ferani filling the air. Brother Marius turned to face off against Sir Beril but was sent aground, pushed to the earth by his own man, the chivalrous Sir Garael. By the time Brother Marius had time to rise, Sir Garael was upon Sir Beril, moving against him as if in a dream. Sir Beril threw swings, wild swing after wild swing against the legendary knight and with each swing Sir Garael was no longer where Sir Beril swung. Sir Beril stepped left, then back and left once more, right and then back again every attempt to position himself favorably got him more turned around. Sir Beril stepped back once more before slipping backwards into the mud and coming to his senses only to find a tourney sword at his helm.
Lemon-Yellow, with his mind a choir of screams from his efforts to numb the pain were second only to the pain itself from his pink-purple foot. Sir Hadreld and Sir Hadthric appeared to him in double vision as four great charging beasts set upon tearing him asunder if not for the arrival of Brother Marius. Marius's martial prowess was as much an amanborn gift as his violent tendencies (Brother Marius's actions would both distinguish himself in the Second Crusade For The Fell Islands, and also there disgrace himself), Sir Hadthric took a blow to the neck crumpling like a doll and Sir Hadreld would fall similarly with a blow to his ribs, gasping for air the tongueless Hadreld fell over.
The rest of the third round saw Sir Vallyn exhaust himself against the redoubtable Sir William, known as The Tower Knight for his lumbering stature before being brought to sleep with a single downward swing from the Tower. Iacona, The First Blade would be first fell in the last match facing the same troubles Telani saw in the mud, beaten down by the twin efforts of Sir Aelar of Thalasport and Lord Forn. Sir Tiber of Calpurnia would best both Sir Lucian in one on one combat, the last standing of their teams at the end of the third round.
Those remaining to move forward into the final round were Sir Garael of the Knights Resplendent, Sir Aelar of Thalasport, Brother Marius, Lord Yon Forn, Tiber of Calpurnia, Lemon-Yellow and Sir William The Tower Knight.
The Grand Melee, Fourth Round
Over a now setting sun, the fourth and final round saw the remaining knights gathered in a circle, each man twenty paces from their closest. Along the perimeter of the fighting grounds men lit torches. The crowd nearly as tired as the fighters, but every bit as enraptured in the final fight to come. A name was drawn randomly, Brother Marius. He offered a quick sign of praise to the Aman before stepping into the center of the circle. A second name was drawn, Sir Aelar of Thalasport, stepping into the circle as well he called out the words of House Thalassar "Hark! We Herald The Tide!". With the horn blowers fanfare, the final round began.
Brother Marius fought with every ounce of violence he had shown in every fight so far, but was now acting with wild abandon. The Warrior Monk gladly accepted Sir Aelar's blows if it allowed him the opportunity to strike back. Sir Aelar was glad to accept the trades until at last he misstepped and was slapped by the hilt of the Monk's weapon. With Sir Aelar bested, once again, a name was drawn, this time Lemon-Yellow was selected. Hobbling to the center, the wounded drunk could only gather his senses one last time before the fanfare signaled the match start. When the horns blew and signaled Lemon-Yellow approach, he stood his ground. The crowd quickly began to jeer, the king exclaimed "Get on with it!" still he did not move, but slowly began to sway before collapsing into the mud. "Oh roll him out of the mud, before he drowns!” the King was heard to say in response. Lemon-Yellow would awake several days later at the cost of one of his feet, but for the sake of the tournament he was eliminated. Another name was drawn - Sir Willam The Tower Knight. This time, it was Sir William who bested the holy man, Brother Marius struck cleanly against the Tower Knight's armored stomach. No less than a half-hundred strikes landed and could not move the mammoth. Marius slowed with each strike until at last The Tower Knight began is assault in response. A hundred blows it's said landed against Sir William, but only one was needed against Brother Marius who collapsed to the ground, a dent visible in his breastplate from where the response and landed.
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As the crowd roared in response to the showing, a new name drawn, this time it was Sir Garael of the Knights Respledent. The legendary knight approached, his armor still agleam despite the days of fighting approached the center, bidding well to the crowd as moved. The horn's blew once more and the fight recommenced. Garael's approach was measured and thought through, striking joints and rousing Sir William to striking back, but leaving himself open for Sir Garael's responses. When it would appear he was striking low, Sir William would move to block but this was a feint, and exposing his sides in the process. Sir William would be brought down finally after a final strike to the back of the leg brought him to his knees left him dizzy and his attempt to rise thwarted by a kick to the mud, the weight of his armor making it impossible to get up.
Sir Tiber and Lord Forn exchanged glances at each other knowing one of them was next, granting each other a show of respect, a name was drawn and it was Lord Forn who would compete next. Yon Forn, having led men into the Wastes of Illalon on campaign for nearly a decade was at this point a long-honed warrior who was at its highest. Their fight would go on for nearly fifteen minutes of exhaustive fighting. Each man breaking or bending not one, nor two but three tourney swords until at least they were reliant on weapons loaned to them by other competitors. Sir Beril told Lord Forn as he handed him his sword, "Let mine be at least the sword that ends the legend". This would not come to pass though, as Lord Forn would at last fall prey to the same conditions of mud and exhaustion which seemed to run through every competitor.
The crowd now roared as the final competitor approached: Sir Tiber of Calpurnia. Trumpets sounded, but before stepping forward, Sir Tiber raised a hand, requesting speech. Sir Garael, blade lowered, granted him the moment. From his breastplate, Sir Tiber produced the pale-blue favor of Lady Althea Thalassor. He lifted it high and proclaimed: “For my Lady’s love, whose favor I bear, whose hand I seek—I fight! And by Aman’s own light, I shall win!” A surge of voices answered him, rising like a wave. On the Noble’s Dais, Lord Marten Thalassor gazed down at Sir Tiber, his expression unreadable. After a long heartbeat, he inclined his head and raised his arm in acknowledgment. (It should be noted, lest we feel too much passion for Sir Tiber, that when the Third Calpurnian Civil War erupted in 1115, it was House Thalassor that led the uprising—and Sir Tiber who would become one of their greatest commanders, until his disappearance at the Battle of the Broken Bridge.) The King called for the match to begin, and at last the two knights closed.
What followed was no graceful duel of champions, but the staggering struggle of two men who had already outlasted all others. Exhaustion ruled the ring. Their strikes were heavy, desperate, each blow a test of sheer will rather than technique. They fought not to best the other, but simply to remain standing longer than their opponent. At the final exchange, their blades met with a ringing crack mid-swing. The impact sent both men sprawling backward into the mud. The officiants began the count and for a moment, neither moved. It was only then. that at the very last beat, Sir Tiber’s hand rose from the mud. The crowd erupted. Sir Tiber of Calpurnia had won the day. The King declared Sir Tiber as the Champion of Lance and Sword for his victories and the feast held that night was in
The roaring celebrations of the feast were dimmed behind the shut wooden doors of the parapet. In the damp night sky, the Champion Sir Tiber approached Lord Thalassar.
"I have needs to congratulate you Tiber my boy" Thalassar said with his full chest.
"The Champion of Lance and Sword, it's not a bad title isn't it"
"No, I can't say it is" Tiber chuckled "but we have much to discuss concerning our arrangement my lord"
"We do Sir, much to discuss..."
Ultimately, the efforts of the King would be for not, the cracks which began to appear in the Kingdoms of Man throughout the last century would only deepen. In the Soudspring, Old Rudora would funnel gold into the coffers of County Virellan while Festinian's Kingdom would supply men and steel to County Aramoine and continuing the bloodshed which had overtaken the region since the Rudoran's invasion. In the Calpurnian Kingdom, Marten Thalassar would rise in rebellion against King Malte Iovius with the Champion of Lance and Sword at his side. Worst among these though, would be the terrible fighting in Ferran as the Kingdom of Aminum fought savagely against the Khirinans and the Ferrans caught between the two. It were these very hostilities that would, in 1134 lead to a young member of the Efreti tribe sending a poison arrow into what he believed to be some foreign nobleman but would instead land in the chest of Aman'Yok, The Lifebinder and usher in the Dread Centuries.
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