(121-04-26) On Bloody Ground
On Bloody Ground
Summary: In which Arrick and Laurent clash on the tourney grounds, and Rosana displays her skills with a blade.
Date: 04/26/2014
Related: In Blood, Truth

Tourney Grounds

Though evening fades toward night, Ser Laurent Tyrell has yet to leave the tourney grounds. A brutal evening's training has seen his squire, a pugnacious looking red-haired youth, pitted against him with various weapons in the same space as was used recently for the trial. The boy now sulks off to one side, one eye black and his lip split by a blow that also cost him a tooth. The Thorn himself swings an arming sword slowly from side to side, stalking up and down the far side of the field from young Willem. He is stretching tired muscles and stiff, healing wounds. But he is also restless, and it shows in his dark eyes.

As the day has faded to twilight, a pair of Dornishmen have been seated quietly in the stands, watching a young squire get handed beating after beating. Finally, as it seems to to have mercifully ended, the older of the pair stands and begins clapping, yelling down to the field, "You truly stand as a thorn among flowers Ser Laurent!" The man moves a few rows down the stands, away from his younger companion. Coming to the end of the stadium seating he hops onto the field adding in a rather foreign drawl, "A great showing ser! Worthy of a vow to the mother, something about protecting children I think it goes?" Now lowering his eyes in the twilight, the knight bends down and collects a long-forgotten sword, weighing the blade in his hand. No man should stand before /this/ man unarmed, that is a known fact. As he finds the right grip he asks as he peers towards the young squire, "Did you forget that vow ser?"

There are several figures just stepping onto the field now. Rosana leads a troope of men all rough looking sailors to the center of the melee grounds. She draws her twin long blades in a flash of steal smirking and eyeing the men as she holds the two curved blades at the ready. The golden haired woman looks both deadly and regal in her black leather armored coat and trousers. She eyes the four men a moment then snaps out in a commanding tone. "Okay two at a time Saemon and Lorcan you two are first. The two men step forward one wielding a mace and small shield and the other hefting up a falchion. Rosana circles them waiting for one of them to make the first move. She has noticed the others present but pays them no mind at the moment.

Laurent turns at the sound of applause, his dark eyes narrowing. His lips curl into a sneer as he calls out, "Do I know you?" His tone is belligerent and rough, even before he recognizes that he's being mocked. And though it takes him a moment, recognize it he does, and bristles at the recognition. If the golden haired beauty might have had his attention elsewise, it's lost to the Dornishman's sneering tone, and he responds in kind. "Though he's yet a youth, the boy is my squire," he calls, taking a heavy swing with the dulled practice blade in his hand as he begins a slow march toward Arrick. "I beat him bloody, indeed. But found him a tougher target than the champions of Dorne."

Arrick kicks at the dirt in anger and says sternly, "You're right, a Tyrell bannerman felled a great Dornish knight where we stand." Arrick slowly circles the thorny Tyrell offering while keeping to a slow backpedal, "And I yielded to a man of the Hightower…." The knight shifts the sword back and forth in his hand and then finishes, "But that was because the seven deemed it so… On a field that isn't prejudged by the seven." Arrick's drawl falls flat as he sneers in saying, "I think you'd be beaten bloody like your squire."

"And I could beat you both senseless!" Rosana calls out to both the knights just as her men charge her. She quickly sidesteps the mace and slices that man in the leg slowling him before she brings her blades to bear against the falchion. Steel clashes and the golden haired woman dances a deadly circle around the man cutting him every chance he gets. She isn't aims to kill but she isn't going easy either. By the time the man drops his blade with a nasty cut to both his torso and arm she whirls about leveling her blades on the neck and crotch of the other man who tried to sneak up on her. She is faceing the knights now and eyes them both critically. "I always wondered how well a knight could fight…I suppose I will find out at some point though." She smirks wickedly those curved blades stained lightly with blood. She turns her head. "Maris. See to thier wounds." A slender bald man runs forward with a small bag in hand and starts healing the men while Rosana studies the knights carefully and more than a little amused.

"Great, was he," Laurent snorts, as though the opinion were debatable. He lifts the arming sword to toss it aside, calling out to his squire, then. "Willem! The heavy mace, Boy. And look lively." The sullen youth, whose attention was wide-eyed on Laurent and Arrick, snaps to and fetches the weapon, huffing as he rushes it out to his knight. It's clear from the look in his eye, and even from his attitude, that Arrick's charges against Laurent have some validity. The Thorn would never concede it, though. He snatches the weapon from his squire's hand with enough force to send the boy stumbling a step, and turns to sneer at the Dornishman again. "Not so great as the Blackrood, I think," he growls. "I may have the favor of seven gods, Dornishman, but have need of none. If you need satisfaction, I'm for you."

Arrick peers at Ser Laurent and the mace and he says as he sticks the sword into the ground, "Play for blood? Or are you feeling lucky ser?" The knight turns away for a moment and waves down his squire from the stands. The boy arrives and quickly tightens the arming coat about his knight master. As the boy finishes and steps away the knight then retrieves the downed blade and proceeds waving the other knight onwards. "You could only win on a field judged by the seven ser, against me, right now… There are no gods on your side."

Rosana goes to settle onto a bench to sit. She takes a rag to clean her blades as she watches the knights bluster and finnaly she glares at them calling out in that same commanding tone one that is used to being obeyed. "Gods don't matter in a fight. You win or you die. Now stop blustering and actually do something about your anger problem before I get up from here and solve it for you." She tosses the rag down her blades now gleaming and eyes them both with an anoyed stare.

Laurent takes no more goading. His focus is on the Dornishman before him, and he fairly leaps to the fight, his heavy mace coming first from high over Arrick's head. It's perhaps meant to be a killing blow, even, and he roars his rage as it drives down at his opponent with force enough to cause damage even to the arm that deflects it. And he presses the attack still, weathering his opponent's more skillful return with a single-minded fury as he hefts the polearm to crash it down again from over the Dornish knight's head.

Arrick suffers a hard shot to the arm and he grunts loudly, which echoes of the stands and distant walls of Oldtown. The Gargalen backpedals slightly and then returns a shot, smashing into the lightly armored chest with another grunt. The Dornishman then falls back after the blow spent and says with his arm feeling as if its on fire and through gritted teeth, "A mace is no weapon for a knight, you might as well be a pirate from Essos instead of a knight." Arrick twirls about, skillfully trying to match the brute force of Ser Laurent with finesse, he aims for another shot at the chest, hoping to put down his adversary with speed and agility and most importantly…Skill.

Rosana's ire seems satisfied as the men come to blows. She rises breifly to sheath her blades and eyes her men who are watching the fight nearby and apparently betting on the outcome. The woman frowns at Arricks comment about pirates. "Keep running your mouth about pirates and I'll show you just how nasty true pirates can fight!" The men around her cheer and jeer as the fight continues Rosana just eyes them critcaly following each move with those dark eyes of hers.

Laurent pants as the two knights separate briefly, and blood runs freely from a deep rent in his arming coat opened by Ser Arrick's skillful sword work. The Thorn may be unsubtle, may lack graces, may be everything the Dornishman accuses him of — but he is also an implacable foe. With another shouted, snarling curse he returns to the fray, perhaps even before Arrick is ready, his attack coming from another angle this time — low at his side and from the Dornish champion's left hand.

Arrick ducks the mace with a quick kneeling motion and then goes for the chest, looking to end Ser Laurent one way or another. The Dornishman's hard steel blade thuds against the Tyrell's chest and he grunts loudly as he yells into the man's face, "SER LAURENT, yield before you're killed on the tournament ground!" Arrick pushes the man forward with the edge of the blade, cutting through the padded chest plate and then he falls back a few meters away, giving the Thorn a chance to right himself or admit defeat. "I swear it ser, I'm not here to kill you! But I will if you force me!" The knight lowers the sword tip to the field and waits, eyeing the Thorn of Highgarden with suspicious eyes. Arrick knows what Ser Laurent is made of and he knows there's no such thing as yielding, there's only honorable death or dishonorable victory.

Laurent stumbles back, his blood wetting the ground between them now. His dark eyes narrow as he catches sight of it, wet on Ser Arrick's blade, splashed on his glove. The words wash over the stubborn Tyrell knight. It all happens in an instant, with no time for thought. His legs coil under him like a spring, and it surprises no one — no one with an eye for battle — when he makes for the Dornish champion again, sprinting across the few short steps between them.

Rosana raises a brow at the yelling. She shakes her head looking both irritated and confused. "Why in the bloody blazes wouldn't you kill him?! He attacked you! You knights are all crazy…far to concerned with honor. Honor is for the delusional or fools." She mutters that last bit to herself and rises inteding to stalk over the her men. She unsheaths her blades and eyes the largest one who is at least two heads taller than her. He lifts his large two handed sword and she flings herself at him fighting like a demon. She si obviously mad and the poor man is gertting the brunt of his captains anger and taking it with nothing more than a few pained grunts as her sword slash into his clothing and flesh. She ignores the other fight and focuses on venting her own frustrations on her crewman.

As the Thorn of Highgarden charges forward Ser Arrick's weapon is raised from the ground as the Tyrell comes within swinging distance. Arrick then deftly sidesteps the mace, letting it WHIFF past his face and into oblivion. Ser Laurent's weight then carries him along with the mace and he falls forward, allowing Ser Arrick to strike him in the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. The Tyrell falls to the ground and the Dornishman grunts, waving his squire over as he kicks the mace away. "Ser Laurent of Highgarden, you are beaten today because the seven were not on your side! They likely ever will be!" Arrick comes over the top of Ser Laurent and places the bloodied blade to the downed man's throat. He sneers as he places his boot onto the back of the defeated man and then he throws the sword away. Ser Arrick says simply in a rather measured voice, an angered Dornish drawl everpresent, "You ser do not deserve to die on the same field as the Sword of the Morning… Your blood defiles the ground his made sacred…"

Arrick turns to the pair of squires nearby, both stunned, he says slowly, "Get maesters, get whoever you need to…."

Laurent's breathing is shallow, and blood soaks his arming coat from the wounds Arrick has dealt him. He is unconscious, but he will live. His squire, young Willem Fossoway, who looked on Arrick with contempt a moment ago is now nervous of the Dornishman, and nods when he is spoken too, overeager. "I will, Ser," he agrees, and the boy heads off at a jog until he's near enough to call out to a pair of watchmen who lurk just outside the tourney grounds, summoning them to throw his knight over top of his horse, brought by Willem for just that. Once Laurent is seen to, the young lad makes ready to depart with one last glance toward the Dornishman, as if to seek permission.

Arrick nods to the boy and says, "Go! Take him back to where he came! Tell them what happened here!" Arrick watches as the boy leading the horse heads off. Arrick's own squire comes to beside him and asks innocently, "Are you?" Before the boy can get out anymore the knight drops to a knee and says, "Just bring the horse Felix and let us return home."

Rosana is still slashing at the tallest of her men. Like a whirlwinds of steel she moves with grace her blades rarely missing there mark. Finally she puases her breathing heavy and glares over her shoulder at the knights. She sheaths her blades and eyes Laurent as he is carried off. The bald man moves to heal the man she just fought as she stuides the dornish knight critically. "Well fought though I still should kick you into the dirt for that comment about pirates. The pirates of Essos are quite fierce and would be offended by such a remark." She eyes him a long minute and a small smirk forms on her lips.

Willem is off in a hurry, ready to be clear of Ser Arrick's presence. He rides his own palfrey, leading Ser Laurent's horse by the reins. The boy will tell this tale, there is no doubt of that. As will the guardsmen, and others besides.

Arrick peers up at the woman and he then rises to his feet and says with blood falling down from his hand and pain flooding his voice, "Pirates are the only people who are feared and loathed up and down Westeros. If there's something to be proud of, it's that you'll never get there respect of anyone… You have to take it…" Arrick's horse is brought alongside and he somehow mounts the steed with a loud grunt. Peering down at the woman now the knight says solemnly, "Pirates at least know what they are…" With that said the knight gives his horse a kick and he moves away from the grounds. With this fight over there's bound to be hell to pay in the very near future… The Dornish of Oldtown cannot win even when they win…

Rosana laughs loudly as Arrick rides off. "And take it I shall along with everything else I happen to want." She smirks as he rides off and turns to her men barking orders for them to return to the ship. She glances at the knight as he rides off and shakes her head. "Try not to die for your honor Ser Knight…its a poor and useless way to go!"

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