(121-12-07) New Knight Tourney
Summary: All Comers a tourney in honor of new Knights Ser Loryn Tyrell and Ser Andolin Stark.
Date: Date of play (07/12/121)
Related: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:212-11-12-arise-sers

Preparations for the great tourney in honour to Ser Loryn Tyrell (and Ser Andolin Stark) are well underway by now… the stands have been decorated with the Tyrell sigil and bunches of flowers everywhere. Knights and their entourages have set up colorful tents nearby. There are small groups of people everywhere, preparing themselves, their armors and their weapons. Smells of freshly fried food drift around as vendors have come out from the city to set up shop by the tourney grounds. Amidst the chaos stands the newly minted Ser Loryn, himself dressed in the leather that will later go under the metal bits of the armor, surveying everything excitedly and a bit nervously.

Lady Hellan Stark strikes a rare figure on the tourney grounds, taking the lay of the land since her absence. Even before her departure, she had been rarely sighted. It is not hard to tell she's one of the Starks; she wears their stoic colours head to toe, even her near jet hair with its streak of aging grey suit the wolf. It's only the small blaze of green at her throat, serving as the background to her silver wolf's head pin that hearkens back to her Mormont roots — aside from her face, its unmistakable structure. She stops briefly to speak with a weaponsmith who seeks to find business this day before going on her way in the direction of Ser Loryn, who she seems not to recognize offhand. She is without accompaniment, though whenever a great noble lady is about, it is a fair guess there's an escort nearby, ordered off her hip and blending with the people preparing for the event.

Loryn knows the lady from sight - but then her ressemblance to Lady Maera and the little bear who starred in his last play are hard to miss. Glad for some distraction from his worries about the day, he smiles and approaches her. "Lady… Hellan Stark, isn't it?", he asks politely, smiling, "Are you looking for Andy? There's a whole area reserved for the Starks, should you wish to take your place already…" He gestures to the nearly empty stands, where, indeed, a lone direwolf banner marks the space set out for the Starks and currently being minded by a lone guard.

Hellan comes to a slow halt. Her gaze is cool, and calculating, and investigates Loryn thoroughly though her eyes don't search over him. Nor does she look the way of the direwolf banner; perhaps she already knew its place. "Not as yet," she replies in her deep voice. "Thank you. You're the Tyrell this affair is in honour of," she says with a hint of question, but not much; she seems to have determined as much by now, somewhere between the hair, manner and guard. As such, her head bows, short of a curtsey. Her body seems stiff as iron.

Loryn bows deeply, his cheeks colouring a little with pride. "Indeed. I am Ser Loryn Tyrell.", he introduces himself, making sure to stress the first word a little. "My family wished to honor the occasion with a tourney… and also as a way to offer people some spectacle after the sad weeks of the plague that tore so many loved ones from the bosoms of their families. Have you only just returned to Oldtown since the gates opened again?", he asks curiously, "I have not seen you for a long time… but you look very well, Mylady.", he adds quickly.

One of the woman's dark eyebrows lifts, forcing a thin wrinkle or two above. "I am not dead, if that's what you mean… ser," Hellan replies flatly to the quick compliment, and by her intrinsically serious, bold tone of voice, it may be rather difficult to determine if she meant it in jest. She's near pale enough to be among the dead, though more colour may not suit her wintry features. Something of a smile then graces her mouth. "I have only just returned," she confirms, "to stay among the Starks here in Oldtown." She glances away from Loryn for the first time, looking out over the grounds as people bustle here and there. "This city does love its tourneys to bolster its mood."

"There is quite some excitement coming with the tourney… people like to place bets… coppers among the commoners, the odd dragon or two among the nobles. Perhaps you want to wager a gold dragon on my victory in the joust?", he smiles at the woman, trying to appear all confident and cool. "And you should bet on Andy in the archery contest… he'll be impossible to beat. His arrows brought down the beast after all.", he adds rather proudly.

"I have not seen your skill with my own eyes," Hellan states, "so I shall not bet blindly." But this is followed up by a smile — though doesn't make he prior statement any less true, which only serves to spark a gleam of amusement in her cool eyes, to say such a thing to the man whose name is tied to this very tourney. "But Lord Andolin's I// have// seen; his arrows flying in the chaos of battle. Perhaps I will bet a dragon on him. Thank you for the idea, Ser Loryn."

"You're welcome.", Loryn smiles, "And since archery will be first, you might want to use the money you won on Andy to invest in me." His eyes drift around when he sees other familiar faces arrive on the tourney grounds and he starts looking a bit jumpy. But he's too polite to run off, so he asks: "Who else is coming? Your Mormont relatives? I haven't seen the little B—, Lady Ulyka, for some time. I hope she is well? Did she leave Oldtown because of the plague?"

Andolin actually arrives roughly on time - a bit early, even! - and, after leaving his big heavy (fat) northern horse in the care of one of the Stark stableboys, makes his way onto the grounds. With so many eyes around, there's some sense of self-consciousness in the way he walks, a sort of attempt to mask his limp, but it's still obvious enough. "Loryn," he greets, with a little grin, and then transfers that look over to Hellan. "Lady Hellan, it's good to see you made it."

"The little bear is well," Hellan answers; it is a stock answer, just short of dismissive, but then she smiles again, showing a sliver of warmth for talk of her relatives. "I have not spoken to my fellow Mormonts of the tourney to know if they are coming to see the spectacle. I would not be surprised, though I suspect it will be more Starks in attendance. Ah," her sliver of a smile turns on Andolin, speaking of which. "I am glad to make it, Lord Andolin." She glances here and there as Loryn had, giving the new Tyrell knight an escape if he so chooses: "Do you have preparations to attend to, Ser Loryn?"

A group of Lannister servants and a stableboy step onto the field with Edwyn leading them. The golden haired Lannisport heir is dressed for the torney, apparently he had some custom armor made for it even. He wears a set of steel plate with a deep red tint to it. The crest of the Lannisport Lannisters is emblazioned proudly upon the chestplate. He walks to the pavillion that has been set up for his house and stands there a moment taking in the scene while he has time. His expression is calm but there is a nervous sort of excitement in his eyes.

The Lannister stableboy is leading a large golden charger that appears to be Edwyn's horse.

"Andy!", Loryn smiles warmly at the arrival of his friend, "Good to see you… I believe the archery will be starting soon…" He looks towards the area of the grounds where the archery butts have been set up and some young ones are already going through some qualification rounds for the main event. "Yes, I should go and greet others.", Loryn nods to Hellan's suggestion, "Please do enjoy the day, Mylady…" He looks from her to Andy again, then wanders off to greet a bunch of familiar faces.

Elyas leaves Oldtown proper through the Tourney Gate in the city walls.

Eonn arrives, on the big white mare he rides, some part destrier and some part plow horse, huge and heavy. He doesn't go to the lists, but instead rides to stand his horse beside the teired benches.

Norah is quiet, carrying a basket with her of some sort of sweetbread of all things. She is on foot, and in a rather lovely purple silk gown. She hurries to try to find a place to spectate.

Malcolm rides up in full armour on his ridiculously pretty destrier with the fluffy feet, dressed in full armour. It is plain and in an out of date fashion, but well cared for and well patched. His visor is up, displaying the braiding on his striped beard. As his is once again without a squire, his servant follows with spare armour and weapons.

Andolin gives Hellan a little smile, and then turns that look over toward Loryn as he departs. "I'll see you soon." And then, back to Hellan, he considers the grounds. "I'll admit, it's a bigger showing than I expected."

Some people don't have entourages and Lorayne is one of those people. Still the silver haired lady stands out a bit as she enters the field wandering around a bit as if looking for someone. The Florent is wearing a new gown today a gown of deep rich and some would say Tyrell green. The silk gown is fitted at the top and wrists and then flows down and trails behind her. Its rather modest but still very elegant. Her hair is secured in golden rose shaped clips, pulled up into a loose updo. The Lady wanders toward the spectator area her eyes still searching the area as she goes.

A fanfare sounds, heralding the official beginning of the tournament. A herald dressed in Tyrell colors welcomes all the spectators and contestants in a little speech, reminding them all of the reason for this tourney - the miraculous slaying of the ferocious beast by Loryn Tyrell and Andolin Stark, who were then rewarded by receiving their knighthoods. It is then announced that archery will be the first content and those who wish to compete should enter their names in the list if they have not done so yet.

"The people are eager for fanfare," Hellan responds, looking the way Loryn left to take in the growing number of spectators as well as contestants and a fluffy glimpse of Malcolm's horse. "I will admit I am not certain of titles of knighthood, the way these southron people vaunt their status and gleaming armour," she tells Andolin in her idle yet exacting way, "but it gives them light on a dark day, I suppose, and," there's the fanfare she spoke of, "I do wish you luck in the contest, Andolin." An eyebrow inches up; her eyes don't touch the young man she speaks to, half-amused: "Should I say Ser Andolin?" She turns to see him off.

A young Dornishman, dressed in the ochre-yellow and red of his home, pushes his way through to the archery contest area to declare his intention to compete. He's brought a rather plain bow and a bunch of arrows. His name, apparently, is Elyas Seafarer.

Eonn doesn't seem very fanfare-ish. Then again, he never does. He comes to these things, sometimes, but he always looks grave.

Surprising to some Edwyn is entered to participate in the archery contest. The Lannister is handed a bow by one of his servants and approaches the area where the contest will be held. His bow is a rich golden wood with a quiver of matching leather and his arrows have red fletchings. He steps up calmly eyeing his competition carefully.

Faelyn is late or perhaps the Targaryen has been here all along. The Silver haired Warrior Princess of House Targaryen is in her armor and riding upon a silvery white horse, a mare whose lean body looks built for speed and strength. Faelyn dismounts and a servant she brought exchanges her sword and shield for a bow and arrows. She strides up to the archery contest with confidence. Her bow is a rather plain affair except is made from white wood. She swings the quiver across her back and glances around with curious violet eyes.

Andolin glances over to Mal's horse as well, sending the man a tip up of his chin in greeting that's likely lost in the crowd. Hellan's commentary, though, earns a wry expression; indeed, for all the title's been thrust on him, he's just in fairly nondescript northern leathers, and the only thing that marks him in any way is the small direwolf sigil pin he rarely wears. "Yes, somehow that came about," he murmurs to her with a scarce grin, and then when the fanfare comes about declaring the beginning of the archery, he excuses himself to head thataway.

Norah settles in a rather cheap seat - rather deviously using her sweet breads to bribe small folk into letting her sit near the front. She sits daintily, her gaurd rather belatedly joining her. A soft mumble is audible from her as she mutters some variety of apology. Her eyes spend time between Loryn and Edwyn - as soon as she spots them.

As Andolin departs, Hellan winds her way toward the direwolf banner that marks the benches designated for the Starks. The guard that's with her makes himself more known, appearing closer to her side. On the way, she espies a familiar face. "Eonn." She need not call out, her voice low and distinctive cutting well through as she nears. She looks no more excited by the tourney about to start than he does, but seems quietly pleased to have found him by accident. "You may sit under our banner, if you choose."

Elyas eyes the young Lannister with a wry smirk when he approaches the archery area. "Hey kid, could you tear yourself away from your Mommy's teat long enough to compete?", he asks him, seemingly highly amused.

Obviously Loryn Tyrell does not compete in archery. He couldn't hit a barn door at ten foot's distance. Instead the young Tyrell suddenly appears among the spectactors and sits down briefly next to Lorayne Florent, whispering something to the young lady.

Edwyn is eyeing the the crowd and has just spotted Norah, he is offering her a warm smile as she looks his way when the Dornishman speaks. He glances to Elyas calmly his expression one of control. "You would do well not to discount me due to my age. I just may beat you at this competition." His tone is confident but not arrogant and he turns away from the man ignoring than man now.

Faelyn eyes Elyas and Edwyn calmly. She turns her puple gaze upon the Dornishman. "You would discount him because he looks young? Will you also discount me for being female. Try it and I will show you just now fierce a warrior I am. Archery is not my strong point but I bet I could beat you in the melee." She gives him a challenging look.

Elyas looks Faelyn up and down thoughtfully for a moment, then smirks. "Are you that fierce in other departments as well… Princess?" Taking a wild guess at her coloring, sigil and so on. "I don't think I'll bother with the melee, but I'll be happy to wrestle you later…" His dark eyes drift from her to Andolin, the smirk widening a little. "And here comes the hero of the hour!"

Lorayne looks to Loryn with a warm smile as she sits down next to her. Whatever is whispered has the woman blushing lightly but she nods and silently removes a long ribbon with the colors of House Florent from around her delicate wrist. She slips it into Loryn's hands carefully her expression warm. "I will be cheering for you Ser Loryn. I hope you do well."

A kitten emerges from one of Eonn's saddlebags and climbs its way up to his saddle. He pays it no mind. He's watching Elyas now.

Malcolm dismounts Motley and goes to greet his friends, thumping Ser Loryn and Andolin on the back. In his stormcoast lilt he congratulates them, "Your first tourney as knights! Makes a man proud!" He watches the Princess Faelin ride up and flashes her an encouraging smile. He's not noted for his archery so stands where he might cheer on his friends in the early contests. The Dornishman's comment to the Lannister earns a dark look, and a very cold, "He fought well a few days ago. I did not see you when we stormed the plotter's nest.

A white haired man in Tyrell greens, with an obvious martial bearing steps out to confirm briefly with two secondary judges before proceeding to his spot. He announces, "Welcome one and all to the this tournament in honor of my young kinsman, Ser…" He squints, and leans down. Those close might here him mutter, "That's not young Laurent, he's too short." Another judge murmurs, "That's Loryn his younger brother." He straightens, "Ser Loryn Tyrell and… Ser Andolin Stark?" He shrugs it off and continues. Archers, take your places. We will do this round Robing style."

"I will do my best to not let you down.", Loryn promises quietly, clutching the ribbon in his hands. Laurent would faint seeing him clutch a Florent-colored ribbon. He facepalms a little when his elderly uncle makes the announcement. "I think Uncle Lonnie's eyes are not what they used to be.", he tells Lorayne softly, then gets to his feet, "I should go…"

Faelyn raises a brow at Elyas her eyes narrowing slightly. But thankfully the contest is about to start and she turns away and focuses on the accouncer and gets ready to shoot.

Andolin's fetched his bow from somewhere on the way over; it's not a fancy thing, the wood worn from use and the grip recently rebound with leather. He's fiddling with the leather armguard as he makes his way over, yanking on strings to tighten it, and Elyas' words pull his attention over. The Stark's return smile is even and polite, though just a tad reserved. "I think that's a little premature," he says, wry, and then glances up as Malcolm approaches; thus thumped, he grins a little at Mal and says nothing, turning his attention over to the field thoughtfully.

Eonn looks down when Hellan calls to him, and smiles at her, suddenly not so solemn. "Thank you, My lady," he replies. He looks over the banner and those sitting under it rather carefully before he urges his mare to make her way over, however.

Lorayne smiles happily at Loryn. Abram would likely kill her for giving her favor to a Tyrell but she looks quite happy. "Remember Ser Loryn, if you get hurt I will be likely to drive you crazy making sure you heal properly." She says quietly to him and then sits back to watch the archery.

Hellan lays a hand on Eonn's mare's neck for a few paces as they make their way. The seating meant to be for the Starks and their company is… sparse, at best. Perhaps that's why Hellan has even showed, to fill a bench in honour of Andolin. She seems largely unconcerned that the event is underway, taking her time to reach it and chooses one of the frontmost places, smoothing the slightly coarse fabric of her grey skirt. She sits, quiet, unfazed, but focusing on the archers.

Norah watches Edwyn with interest and then the others, quiet, her weight swaying slightly in the stands, her smile showing as she claps for Edwyn, cheering a bit noisily. The small blonde stands up, cheering noisily in excitement at Faelyn and Edwyn. She actually is just slightly bouncing in her slippers.

Eonn puts his own hand over Hellan's, very briefly, before he dismounts. He then plucks the kitten off the pillion-pad of his saddle and follows the lady to her seat.

Once the Targaryen woman has gone, Elyas turns his attention to a buxomy wench nearby, probably a servant to someone. When he is called to shoot, he grunts a little sourly and steps up to the mark to fire his arrows at the target. All in all it is a rather lackadaisical performance and the arrows don't get anywhere near the bullseye.

Edwyn looks like he is about to try and sneak over to speak with Norah but then the contest is starting up and he gets ready. When its his turn he pulls back his arrow and looses it. He shoots rather well almost hitting the bullseye, the arrow is off the mark slightly but its terriblly close. He blinks and then grins sneaking a glance at Elyas target and then looking to the cheering Norah. He can't help but smile in her direction.

Faelyn readies herself pulling out an arrow and pulling it back as she stares down the target with determined eyes. The arrow flies and lands a mere inch away from the bullseye. Faelyn tilts her head slightly looking surprised but then she glances around looking at her competition and their attempts at shooting.

Andolin's shooting is a little lackluster for those who have seen him shoot before; the reason why isn't clear, but it could likely be attributed to nerves. Still, though, he doesn't say a word and his expression doesn't change.

The winners and losers are paired off for the next round.

As she can't help but hear and see the various interactions around her, of spectators and contestants (save Andolin) alike, Hellan mumbles, "They're all so trite." Even spoken under her breath in quiet, her voice has a resonant nature. "Which Targaryen is that?" she asks of Eonn. By the direction of her gaze and slight slant of her chin toward the target struck better than Andolin's, she inquires after Faelyn.

"The Princess Faelyn," replies Eonn easily. He sets the kitten, a brown-stripe-and-white one, on Hellan's lap. It proceeds to experiment with hopping.

Once again they are called to shoot at the target and Elyas offers Andolin a good-natured wink before he fires off his next arrows. Again, it's a fairly lacklustre offering by the Dornishman, only just about hitting the target.

The next round has Faelyn shooting once more as well. Her arrow lands slightly further away from the bullseye this time though. Its a good shot, just not as good as some. She glances around breifly once again taking in the others.

Andolin sends a hint of a grin toward Elyas, and fires his second round; this one hits well, and again he doesn't have much of a change of expression; just pulls an arrow for the following round.

Edwyn's arrow flies and lands right next to his first one. Its closer to the bullseye but its not quite there. Still the Lannisport heir looks pleased. He glances back to Norah to see if she is still watching him.

Hellan raises her hands in a small jolt, where they wind up hovering above the tiny animal as if she hasn't a clue what to do with the thing that's suddenly bouncing about on her skirt. "You and your cats." It would be a scold, if it had any rancor. She settles a gentle hand on the kitten, idly trying to encourage it to stay still as she watches the contest with a blank face but a more focused eye on the princess, and a subtly approving tip up of her chin at Andolin's shot.

"I can't stop them," says Eonn. A lie, he probably could, he's gentle to the things. The kitten proceeds to roll onto its back and bite and kick at Hellan's hand, in squirmy kitten play.

Attendants go around after this round, to quietly let those who lost both bouts know they have been eliminated. Those not eliminated are lined up for the next round with the targets placed further away.

Norah is indeed watching the shooters, letting out cheers from the cheap seats - absolutely cheerful. Her hands clapping together excitedly. Her weight shifting again to lean, expression cheerful.

Elyas snorts when he'S told that he's been eliminated, though he strolls over to Andolin to whisper something to the Stark before wandering off to the drinks' stalls nearby.

Lorayne watches the archers compete quietly but with interest. Her gaze lingers on no one more than anyone else she just watches everyone carefully and will occasionally glance towards Loryn out of the corner of her eyes.

Loryn is just standing among the spectators at the archery grounds… facepalming a little when he sees Andy's performance. Still, should the Stark look his way, he'll find him offering a little encouraging smile to cheer him up.

Well, that one causes a reaction; the Stark grimaces, looking momentarily a little pissed at something - probably himself - and he stuffs it down and sends a quick smile and a nod toward Edwyn before slinging the bow over his shoulder. Unfortunately, he doesn't look up toward the crowds; that was embarrassing.

"You don't want to stop them," Hellan corrects Eonn without looking. She moves her hand this way and that to avoid claws and teeth, though she's hardly invested in the escape and the creature can hardly hurt her seasoned hands. There's not a much greater contrast in existence than the squirming kitten and the Lady Hellan stoically pretending to ignore it. "… Perhaps it's a good thing I didn't find the time to bet a dragon on Andolin. Poor boy." She doesn't sound especially sympathetic; simply vaguely and noncommittally disappointed.

Faelyn's arrow flies and lands. Once again its a good shot but not the best. The Targaryen doesn't seem to mind though she glances around breifly her expression calm though she does offer Edwyn a warm but rather faint little smile as she sees his next shot.

"All right, my Lady," says Eonn. "I confess." He smiles. "I suspect the young knight will do better, when it matters. I see little point in these things."

Edwyn has been doing surprisingly good so far. All his shots have been fairly solid and relatively close to the mark. He fires his next arrow and it strikes the target with a solid thump. A good shot but not too much better than the Princess he is shooting against, at least not this time. He offers Faelyn a return smile and waits to see who will be declared the winner.

Malcolm cheers on both Ser Andolin and the Princess in turn, and he visibly winces at Andy's bad shot.

The Tyrell elder consults the judges and steps forward to lift Edwyn's arm, "The winner of the Standing long bow is Ser…" The helpful fellow judge whispers something in the old fellow's ear, "Squire Edwyn Lannister! Congratulations, on a steady nerve, young man!" He hands him the prize purse of coin, a green velvet sack with a longbow embroidered on it.

Arriving fashionably late, Ludvik is dressed to compete, it would seem. He pauses as he hears Edwyn's name mentioned, looking in that direction with a grin now. "Well done!" he calls out.

Edwyn accepts the purse with a grateful smile and a rather bashful dip of his head. He looks rather proud of himself as he is declared the winner. He quickly moves to speak with Norah before the joust begins. He approaches her and drops into a graceful bow in front of her. "Lady Norah. I am delighted to see you here…I wonder if I might have the honor of wearing your favor for the joust?" He looks up at her hopefully giving her one of those winning smiles of his.

"They bear little resemblance to real battle," Hellan concurs. "They only serve to fuel and crush egos." She glances aside to admit, "But I do always enjoy when a kinsmen, or a woman, crushes one of these silly, shiny knights." Now is not that moment. A Lannister; how boring. She eventually bends her head to pay more attention to the kitten in her lap than the tiny lion on the field.

Faelyn dips her head to Edwyn. "Congratulations." And the the Princess is going to get ready for the Joust. She trades off her bow and mounts her silvery white mare before taking up her lance and shield and riding to the lists. She glances to Malcolm and offers him a rather bright smile as she rides by. Ludvik is also noticed and he gets a dip of her head and a small smile as well.

Norah claps loudly for Edwyn, her voice rising up cheerfully, her weight bobbing over in the cheap seats. The people around her seem to be enjoying her sweetbread bribe. Her expression is full of joy like normal. She blinks at being approached, sort of squeaking at Edwyn, without much fuss she undoes a small necklace around her neck, lifting the small cut amethyst pendant before placing it around Edwyn's neck, tucking it under his armor for him. "Of course, my lord." she offers, plenty rosey in coloration from people looking at her - the reason she won't do stagework at the Whimsy is plenty apparent! "If you win, perhaps I'll make you some sweet meats and we can eat out in a garden."

Eonn laughs softly. "Some egos want for crushing, mmm?" He doesn't seem to disagree. The kitten bites at Hellan's fingers with its tiny, ineffective needle-teeth.

Andolin's done for the day, and he just slings his bow over his shoulder and, after congratulating the winners, merely limps his way off the field; his features are pretty difficult to read.

Elyas nods a curt acknowledgement to Edwyn Lannister, as good as it gets for him to offer congratulations. Then the Dornishman disappears somewhere among the tents.

Malcolm squeezes Andolin's shoulder in consolation, and says something too quiet to hear. He smiles a sunny smile at Faelin before going to say something else quiet to Edwyn Lannister. As is his wont he scans the crowd. Spotting a noble lady old enough to be his grandmother, he bows and kneels, "May I have your favour for this joust, fair Lady?" Amused, she gives him a ribbon to tie to his lance. The Bastard knight mounts his fluffy Destrier for the next event. Blanchet, his servant hands him his lance.

Edwyn smiles happily at Norah dipping his head as the pendant is slipped over his neck and tucked into his armor. "Thank you my Lady." Then with a quick move he leans in and kisses her cheek lightly. With a grin he turns and moves to go prepare for the joust now. His golden horse is mounted and his lance and shield are taken up. He looks quite determined as he rides up to where the other contestants are gathering.

Looking around again now, Ludvik directs his horse over towards where the rest of the people competing in the Joust is. Studying the competition a bit carefully now. Not asking any ladies for a favor at the moment, it would seem.

Eonn watches the knights gathering at the lists, his eyes distant now.

As the Lannister wins the archery Lorayne claps lightly along with everyone else. But then the joust is about to start and her eyes are seeking out Loryn in the crowd. When she spot him she will offer an encouraging smile in his direction and lean forward to watch her expression excited and rather eager now.

Ser Loryn Tyrell rides into the tourney ground on his large black destrier, the young knight proudly wearing the fancy new armour he had been given upon his knighting - tiny golden Tyrell roses etched into the metal. On his arm a favour has been bound in the colours of House Florent. He looks towards the stands to offer a wave to his family and other spectators, then tries to focus on the event at hand.

The Tyrell Elder bellows, "Will those planning to joust take the li-Is that a woman?" The Quiet judge murmurs, "It's an all comers tourney and she's a Princess." The Tyrell elder harumphs, but finishes, "Take your place in the lists!"

Eonn says to Hellan, "A pity I am not a young lord, for the Princess to wear my favour."

Hellan's demeanor is much the same as Eonn's, save for a few interruptions to unconcernedly pry the his clawed cat friend from snagging her skirt. "You never know," she encourages Eonn, though it may be in jest. "It seems Ser Malcolm wears a crone's favour."

Faelyn simply raises a platinum brow at the announcers shock at her entering the joust. Malcolm taking the woman's favor is noticed and for a moment the Princess looks troubled and there is a touch of longing in her eyes before it is replaced by pure determination. She takes her place and waits.

Eonn laughs softly. "Somehow, I don't think she'd take mine if I offered it," he says.

Andolin is caught by Malcolm; he catches Mal's eye briefly, gives him a wry smile, then pats the man's shoulder. "Ride well, Mal," he murmurs, low, and then goes to take up a spot to watch.

Whatever Malcolm whispered has Edwyn smiling and nodding in the mans direction. Edwyn's horse is as golden as his hair and the Lannister rides up to the lists and glances around watching the others gathered with barely contained excitment. He tries to look calm but he is apprarently looking forward to this.

Ludvik moves forward towards the lists as well, offering a nod and a smile to Faelyn as he spots her. "Good luck," he offers, with a smile.

Faelyn offers Ludvik a soft smile and a dip of her head as he speaks to her. "Thank you Ser Ludvik, and good luck to you as well."

Loryn looks a little aghast to be riding against Ser Malcolm of all people, but he accepts the draw and waits for a squire to bring him a wooden lance, readying himself for his first joust as a knight.

The flamboyant Storm finds himself facing his recent Squire. Ser Malcolm flashes the Tyrell a good natured smile and salutes him before lowering his visor. He lowers his lance. The pennant drops and motley pounds down the lists.

Eonn decides, weirdly, to make the effort. He reaches under his battered studded-leather brigantine and pulls something off over his head, just a lace of leather, with nothing on it but three copper beads. He holds it out, towards Faelyn, swinging it a bit.

Faelyn blinks in surprise at Eonn as he approaches her and offers the favor. She smiles softly and reaches out to accept the favor sliding it over her neck and tucking it into her armor. "Thank you Eonn. I appreciate the thought." Her smile brightens. And now she has a favor!

Eonn laughs, seeming pleased that she took the thing. It's not valuable, it's not even pretty. But it does count. He returns to his seat.

Hearing the draw mentioned, and seeing who he's facing, Ludvik smiles, before he smiles to Faelyn. "Thank you," he replies, before starting to get ready for facing Edwyn now. "You ready for this?" he calls out, a bit lightly now. Ready to charge off as soon as they will be told to do so.

Loryn is going first and Lorayne leans forward slightly in her seat watching eagerly. When she sees who Loryn is up against she nibbles her bottom lip in worry and watches the first round eagerly.

There's a quiet, pleasant rumble in Hellan's throat that might be a chuckle when Eonn sits back down. "And more egos are fuelled, after all," she says, but this time it's good-natured.

Eonn smiles at Hellan. "Maybe a few need that, too," he says.

Loryn gets the upper hand as he charges against Ser Malcolm, but his lance barely brushes the other man's armor and fails to make any sort of impressive impact.

Andolin declines to take a seat, instead propping a shoulder against one of the support beams for the tents. He's watching, though, most his attention riveted on Loryn and Malcolm's joust.

Norah is cheering, for multiple people or at least trying to, her weight shaking just a bit with excitement and curiosity from the event.

Edwyn grins at Ludvik and readies himself. "More than ready and good luck cousin." Edwyn calls back and waits for the signal before urging his golden horse forward to charge lowering his lance to strike. And what a strike it is! His lance strikes hard against Ludvik's shield shattering against it with incredible force. Edwyn's shield is also struck but its a rather light hit in comparison. Edwyn's horse charges by and turns about and the Lannisport heir glances towards his cousin with concern to see how much damage was done.

Motley shies slightly at the last minute and Ser Malcolm's lance glances away without finding it's target. He turns the beast, trying to calm it.

Charging forward at the same time as his cousin, Ludvik's lance has a bit of trouble with hitting more than just a glancing blow, since at the same time, the rider holding said lance is thrown out of his saddle, landing rather heavily on the ground. The landing was mostly upper back taking the ground first, and he remains down on the ground, not moving.

Loryn stares a bit when he sees the Lannister's rather spectacular unhorsing, but, quite sure that he will live to see another day, wheels his horse around and prepares to ride against Malcolm again.

The pennant drops just as Malcolm notices the sudden unhorsing, but gamely he pounds down the lists yet again failing to get a solid touch.

Two healers rush out to check if Ludvik is injured. The Elder Tyell looks surprised at the impressive showing my the Lannister Squire.

Edwyn blinks in surprise at what just happened. Apparently he never expected to do that well. He watches as the healers rush to check on his cousin, his expression worried despite his victory.

Silent once more, Lady Hellan at least looks faintly intrigued by the possibility of violence after the Lannisters clash, but to be fair, her interest level is roughly the same for Malcolm's horse.

The healers signal. Stretcher bearers come to carry Ser Ludvik limp from the field. The Tyrell announces the next bout with a hint of grumpiness at the impropriety, "Princess Faelyn will ride against Edwyn Lannister!"

Lorayne is on the edge of her seat her expression one of worry as Loryn faces off against Malcolm. The Lannisters are given a glance but no more than that as Lorayne is focused on the Tyrell who wears her favor.

Andolin grimaces at the unhorsing, his attention briefly pulled from Mal and Loryn. His features look just a tad concerned, buried in thought.

Eonn grins at this. He might actually be excited. He reaches over to poke the kitten in the belly, gently, to prove it.

Someone leads Ser Ludvik's horse away.

Norah is absolutely shocked and cheerful, her hands clapping excitedly still, her feet bounce lightly in nervous anxiety.,

"Let us see how your princess fares," Hellan says with a hint of teasing in her voice, all but impossible to hear if one didn't know her.

Edwyn tears his eyes away from Ludvik and focuses on his next match. He rides up to face Faelyn offering the woman a salute before he charges in lance poised to strike. He lands a glancing blow and manages to avoid taking a hit from the Princess, deflecting the blow she sends his way.

The kitten renews its efforts to cull Hellan's hand from the hand-herd.

Faelyn watches Ludvik be carried off the field with concern. But then its her turn to ride against Edwyn. She rides up and offers the Lannister a nod before urging her silvery white mare forward. The animal rushes forward all speed and grace. Faelyn's strike is delfected though and she take a faint hit as well. The Princes turns her horse about and gets ready to go again.

Finally, Malcolm's horse stops frisking. This time there are no flying Lannisters. He pounds towards Ser Loryn with his full focus on his friend and makes a solid strike against the new knight's shield.

Helped off the field, and away from view, Ludvik's still been motionless. He's probably moved to a tent somewhere.

Edwyn deflects another blow from the Princess and this time he strikes harder. His lance is slightly broken against Faelyns shield. The next round has him taking a rather solid hit as well and his own strike misses the Princesss by a rather slim margin

Faelyn's eyes narrow a bit as she keeps getting deflected. She charges in for the final pass and lands a decent hit. Its not enough to knock the Lannister out of his saddle but at least she hit him.

Ser Loryn and Ser Malcolm are well matched and so the regular rounds do not bring a decision about. He agrees to going another round (even though his horse might not agree) and, summoning all his strength and willpower, gets a better hit in this time, his lance splintering slightly on Ser Malcolm's armour.

Hellan quietly spars against the kitten's reinvigorated attack — once giving it a look of motherly disdain which it is immune to — while the louder jousting goes on in front of her. "It's almost at an end," she remarks over the sound of a splintering lance. "It's the horses I pity in these events. How do you think your princess fared, hmm?"

Malcolm switches to a fresh lance and gets ready for one more ride down the lists, but sharp eyes might notice his concentration is off. Loryn strikes him his own lance goes wild.

The Elderly Tyrell gives a loud cheer, unfortunately for Ser Laurent. The Helpful judge stands to pointedly announce the bout is won by "Ser Loryn Tyrell four to two." Glare.

Andolin's attention is back to Loryn and Mal, and when Loryn wins, the Stark gives a grin despite himself; his excitement for his friend's win is plain, though he tries to keep it tempered. He succeeds. Mostly.

"I shouldn't wonder if some of the horses like it," says Eonn. He shrugs. "At least, until it goes awry." He shrugs a bit and looks at Faelyn.

When his victory is announced, Loryn raises both arms and cheers loudly, a little surprised and most certainly happy. He steers his horse over to Malcom and his mount and smiles warmly. "Very well ridden, Ser Malcolm… I hope you are a little proud of how well you taught me.", he winks.

The Quiet judge declares the other bout for Squire edwyn three to two, realising the elder tyrell has forgotten he's meant to be watching both bouts.

Having been around in the crowds, Brynden's been sitting out as the jousting's happened. He looks quite equipped for the competitons, though. So maybe he'll participate in the melee?

A happy sounding cheer comes from where Lorayne is sitting. She claps for Loryn and watches in delight as he advances to the next round. The Florent Lady looks like she wants to bounce in her seat, still she refrains and simple continues to watch.

Malcolm opens his visor for a drink of watered ale before riding back out. he studies the Princess from across the lists, then flashes her a mischievous smile before lowering his visor and giving her his most respectful salute. He settles in to ride against a Princess for the first time.

Faelyn smiles back at Malcolm her violet eyes sparkling as she gets read to face the man. "Good luck to you Ser Malcolm." She lifts her lance and her horse charges forward.

And once again a Lannister goes flying! Its just that kind of day isn't it? Edwyn strikes hard against Loryn's shield but his own shield is struck with a force that sends him flying backwards and landing on his ass. He sits there a moment stunned and then shakily rises to his feet and gives Loryn a respectful salute before he takes the field his servants going to fetch his horse.

Lorayne sits there stunned silent for a moment but then she is on her feet clapping and cheering for Loryn with enthusiasm. She bounces on her heels and then blushes and settles back into her seat once more.

Loryn has been watching young Edwyn Lannister for a while and realized to not underestimate the squire. As they meet for their first joust, lances splinter and break in an almighty impact. Loryn hears the crash and clatter of armour hitting the ground and wheels his horse around, a little surprised to see the Lannister on his ass. When the squire indicates that he wishes to yield, he inclines his head respectfully… then quickly removes his helmet to cheer happily. His eyes drift over to where Lorayne is sitting and his hand goes to the favour on his arm.

The Elder Tyrell is on his feet again cheering openly and this time he actually remembers that the smaller nephew is Ser Loryn.

The Quiet judge stands and addresses the crowd, "The Young Lannister here has one more point, but Ser Loryn has unhorsed him, what says the crowd?"

The bastard knights heart doesn't seem in it somehow. She strikes true, his lance goes wide. There is no chance of him blaming it on the horse this time.

Norah is careful to move down out of the stands now that Edwyn has been dehorsed, cheering for both combatants and casting a concerned glance at Edwyn and pausing to stand and wait for him, looking a little worried but soon smiling brightly.

Faelyn's lance strikes Malcolm's shield with a solid hit. The horse she rides is fast and she manages to avoid the hit. She rides past and gets ready once again. She seems to notice Malcolm's lack of enthusiasm and calls out. "You aren't going to break me Ser Malcolm! Hit me like you mean it, challenge me!" And then she rides forward once more.

Eonn laughs in pleasure at Faelyn's challenging cry.

Malcolm straightens and levels his lance with more determination.

Down the feild the Bastard knight pounds. The flamboyant knight can joust after all it seems. His lance strikes to and shatters into shards even as he flies ass over tea kettle to lie stunned.

The Princes meets Malcolm head on her own lance shattering as well. The hit she takes sends her flying back off the horse to land in the dirt. She lands on her butt and lower back groaning softly as she reaches up to remove her helmet. Malcolm is given a happy grin, clearly she is pleased. Slowly she staggers to her feet and goes to help the bastard knight up. "Now thats more like it. Well done."

Malcolm opens his visor and meets her halfway. A proper bow is impossible in jousting armour, but he bows forward awkwardly and offers her his hand, "Well fought my Princess." his eyes speak admiration, but his tone is properly deferential as befits a bastard of a minor house.

Faelyn smiles softly at Malcolm and dips her head. "We both did well, we will have to find a way to celebrate. That is if you don't mind celebrating with a Princess?" She gives him a playful little smile as she accepts that hand.

In the end the judges argue, the Elder Tyrell the most vigorous. The even the coins between first and second prize and Squire Edwyn and Ser Loryn each have an hand raised in victory. The Elder Tyrell begrudgingly hands over the third prize purse to Princess Faelyn, muttering a crotchety, "In my day…"

Eonn casts an amused glance to Hellan. "Well enough, it seems," he says.

Malcolm lifts her guantletted hand to his lips, "I never begrudge a fair victory."

Brynden applauds the victors, unable to hold back a brief smile from his position on the sidelines now. Spectacular jousting deserves that.

Loryn seems content enough with that and after enjoying the cheers for a bit, he disappears off the tourney ground to the Tyrell tents to recover a little. Later on, he'll be among the spectators, having for some reason decided to not join the melee after all.

Lorayne cheers happily for Loryn and watches as he disappears. She waits for him to return but when its clear he won't be in the next event she rises and sneaks off before the melee can start.

Edwyn is surprised as the prize is split between them. He accepst it graciously though a happy smile on his lips. His eyes seek out Norah only to find she isn't there anymore. The Lannister looks sad for a moment and then goes and begins to prepare for the melee.

Peri is.. rushing in, a bundle in her arms in her re-done tealish-green scale maile, looking annoyed at something "Gods be damned I said pull the laces as hard as you can." she laughs out, "Its okay. Here." She eyes around, cracking her neck and handing her bundle to the girl and jerking her armor properly into place.

"Mm," Hellan agrees with Eonn quietly, pleased at least that it was a woman who done so well. Though she sits mostly still, save for hands upon the cat, there's a sharp restlessness about her demeanor that suggests she's growing tired of sitting here. She jokes, "Don't go thinking it was your favour brought her luck."

"No," says Eonn, amused. "Not that. Are you tired, my lady?"

"Of this show," Hellan clarifies. Perhaps other tirednes does plague her, as it often does, but the source of her restlessness is true. She plucks the kitten from her lap and deposits its rambunctious mass on Eonn's leg. "I think I'll take my leave. I have business to attend to, anyhow. I'm sure I'll hear of it eventually should someone win spectacularly or die in the melee." She may not care either way.

Peri adjusts herself, adjusting her trousers, hips shimmying as she pulls on fingerless leather gloves, back stretching out. THe tall woman's hair is covered with a silk kercheif before the head covering is pulledin. She waves at Lady Hellan, shifting to peek over at her bundle.

Eonn nods slowly to Hellan. "Should I escort you?" he asks, as the kitten attempts to climb his boiled leathers.

Malcolm hurries off to change into his field plate. For all his Braavosi style hair, beard and his usual choice of sword, in this formal setting, he makes us of his height and strength rather than speed and lightness of foot. He arrives in Westeroi arms and armour.

Hellan seems to consider before beginning to rise from her seat. "No, stay — or go as you please." A momentary distraction arrives in the form of the woman with trousers and a kerchief; narrowed eyes try to discern identity before landing on it and giving a vague, squinting look of acknowledgment. She nods, too, to Ser Malcolm, who she also must reacquaint herself with thanks to his new armor before she turns to depart from the stands.

Eonn looks at Hellan with mild questioning in his eyes, but he doesn't rise. He bows his head to her.

Malcolm bows politely to Lady Hellan. Then he is entirely focused on the fight. He starts toward Ser Brynden, having never fought him before, but seeing the women zeroing in on him he turns and knowing fill well how dangerous the Princess is, focuses his swing on her sword arm,, while trying to dodge the lighter armed foe.

The kitten takes this opportunity to leap up and entangle its claws in Eonn's shaggy hair. Of course, nobody is going to notice this indignity, because at much the same notice the Tourney's judges let the banner fall to indicate the start of the melee.

Stepping forward with the others, Brynden sees Edwyn coming in, and swings for the young Lannister. He takes a hit himself, armor managing to stop that one. Grunting as he moves forward again.

Peri is quick to limber up, bouncing, for a moment, the rather large woman is quick enough running to throw a good punch at Malcolm's torso, staying cautious with her stance. She isn't as well armed, but she is pretty big and scary when she's mad.

Faelyn heads straight for Malcolm. She smiles mischievously as he turns away from what would have been his opponent to face her. She swings her blade in a graceful arch landing a fairly light hit to one of Malcolm's arms she takes a hit in return but this only seems to encouarge her to fight harder.

Edwyn dodges that strike from Brynden even as he land a hit that scraps off the Hightowers armor. He is focused on the fight his expression calm and determined.

Malcolm flashes Princess Faelyn a roguish grin, though everything about his sword play suggests he takes her very seriously. "So we cross swords again, My Princess." He feints and swings for Faelyn's leg, testing her guard, moving constantly to keep both women guessing.

Peri 's fist flies at Malcolm again, her feet moving quick, her long legs shifting to bounce as she flexes her old leather boots. She's quick and graceful, turning on the heel of her foot. to make sure she isn't in the sharp thing range.

Faelyn's cheeks color just a bit at that grin Malcolm sends her. "Indeed. I hope it will be an enjoyable test for us both." She grins back and swings her blade toards the knight. but she falls for the feint and her leg is struck her blade missing its mark.

Edwyn lands a decent hit on Brynden taking a lighter hit to his chestplate in the process. Still the Lannister looks highly determined and he circles the knight swinging his blade once he finds another good opening.

Brynden manages to deliver a blow to the Lannister, although he takes a harder hit to his abdomen in return. Staggering back a few steps, he moves forward to attack again.

Malcolm tries a slice to her arm, but it glances away. Despite the heavy armour he moves surprisingly well, always trying to stay off either woman's center line. Seeing Peri break off her attack on him he focuses all his attention on the Targaryen.

Faelyn is completely focused on Malcolm. Her blade is dodged this time and her eyes narrow with a determined gleam to them as she readies herself for another strike.

Peri 's weight moves, sliding away from Malcolm to begin a hard charge at the Hightower. The warning is a bellow rar, the woman is soon enough throwing a hard punch at Bryden, her expression determined. She's nearly as big as the knight afterall. She's likely looking just a bit insane at this point.

Edwyn's broadsword hits Brynden but doesn't to anything but bounce off his armor. The Lannister dances back and then lunges in for another attack. He is momentarily distracted by Peri charging in to attack Brynden alongside him.

Missing this time, Brynden frowns a bit as he takes a few steps back. Seeing both Edwyn and Peri coming in, he switches targets, attempting to knock the woman off her feet.

Malcolm weaves, setting up a footwork rhythm only to break it, stabbing suddenly when she opens to swing, but her armour holds.

Faelyn strikes again missing and taking another hit that her armor blocks. She watches Malcolm's movements carefully and moves in to attack one again her eyes narrowed in focus.

Peri 's weight rolls in without warning to move back and charge Bryden again, waiting for Edwyn's sword to not be at face level tip wise before charging Bryden to ram her shoulder against him, using her entire weight to try to at least stun the knight.

Brynden frowns as he doesn't hit anyone, once more moving in now.

Edwyn watches Brynden go after the woman with a frown. He continues to focus on the Knight even as the man turns away from him if anything the Lannister gets even more aggressive now.

Malcolm risks open himself in the hopes of a disarm, but her armour defeats him again. He swings up fast towards her head.

Faelyn's strikes are either missing or not hard enough to get past Malcolms armor. Still the Princess is stubborn and she lets dances back out of the way a bit before she lets out a cry and charges forward her attacks becoming even more feirce.

Stumbling a bit, Brynden gets hit in the head again. Staggering back a bit, he lowers his weapon and holds up his hand. "I'm out…" Grimacing as he does, he steps back further, starting to move off the field, stumbling quite a bit now.

Malcolm sees the lucky Lannister bearing down on him, and suddenly swings for his head, likely hoping that the Squire wouldn't expect the sudden shift of focus.

Edwyn watches Brynden yield and then charges towards Malcolm intending to take the other Knight out first. It could be that he really doesn't want to hit a woman as well though.

Faelyn takes a couple hits but then Edwyn is charging Malcolm and her focus shifts turning to face the Lannister.

Peri 's arm goes up in a yield, even though she's unharmed entirely. Her arm goes up under Brynden's shoulder, around him to help him off the field, her free arm loosening her armor ties. "I have you sir, lets see those injuries and mend them. After I get your head I'll need a break to tend my babe." she offers, to Brynden directly, leading him towards a bench for treatment.

Edwyn is focused on the fight trying to dodge Faelyn while focusing on Ser Malcolm and attacking whenever he sees an opening.

Brynden mutters a little as he hears Peri. "I'm fine. I should get home…"

Malcolm Switches things up with an attack on the Squires chest, but goes back to trying to ring that bell soon enough.

Edwyn is doing quite well considering he is up against two older and likely more experienced fighters. His helmet and armor protect him well though the Princess does land a light hit to his chest. The Lannister still remains fixed on the knight however. Dodging Faelyn when he can but not attacking her.

Faelyn's expression is a mask of calm though a hint of admiration is present in her eyes for Edwyn's determination. She hits him and circles getting ready to try and hit again.

Peri eyes Brynden "How about I walk you home and … stitch those up and get some wine in your belly?" she asks, her hand patting Brynden "I assure you I'm a competent healer.

Edwyn stands strong continuing to fight Malcolm and Faelyn with determination. His ears are ringing and his helmet is slightly dented on one side but he isn't stopping just yet.

Faelyn's focus is on Edwyn still, trying in vain to bring the squire down. But her hits keep glancing off that armor. The princess circles around slightly and looks for another opening.

Brynden hmms a little at Peri's words. "I could need the company until I get home, at least?"

Edwyn strikes and strikes but can't seem to land an effective hit. He takes a rather strong hit from the princess and then Malcolm strikes him in the chest so hard the Lannister stumbles back his chest heaving. Still his eyes are narrowed and he is determined to give his best and so he charges back in to continue fighting.

Malcolm builds a rhythm again and then suddenly swings with frustration born strength at Squire Edwyn's chest with a loud growl.

Faelyn does land a hit but its not enough to bring the squire down. Malcolm's hit though might have done it if the Lannister wasn't so stubborn. Her eyes widen a bit as the lad keeps fighting. She too isn't giving up yet and she aims another blow continuing to aid Ser Malcolm.

Malcolm swings hard again, yelling "Stay down!" And looks utterly surprised when the Lannister does. Then he turns back to Faelyn with a shrug and a grin and has at.

And then another hit is struck Edwyn goes down on one knee yielding to Malcolm and Faelyn. He looks to one of his servants and the man rushes to help him off the field and to a healer.

And then another hit is struck Edwyn goes down kneeling first and then falling onto his side in the dirt. He groans through his helmet and then passes out his wounds apparently too much for him. A group of Lannister servants comes rushing to get him off the field.

Malcolm does not take it easy on the Princess. The armour is heavy and he is tiring. He keep slashing away with the same seriousness he treated Edwyn to, giving her a chance to yield after each wound.

Faelyn grins back at Malcolm and turns to face him with a look of pure determination. Blows are traded and then Faelyn is struck hard enough to send her onto a knee in front of Malcolm. She looks up at him with pride in her eyes and smiles gently. "You win Ser Malcolm….well fought. I could not have asked for a better man to fight beside…or for a better man to lose to." She lowers her head.

Malcolm offers her his hand, "Well fought, My Princess. you are a worthy opponent as always."

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