(122-07-26) A Tourney at Skyreach
A Tourney at Skyreach
Summary: The tournament at Skyreach.
Date: 26 July 2015
Related: Seeds of Peace
Players:
Alaeyna..Maelys..Visenya..Torren..Manfryd..Rhaegor..Emira..Oona..Ryam..Malcolm..Lara..Lillian..

Skyreach

Skyreach.jpg

The grand tournament at Skyreach is the first hosted since Alaeyna assumed the title of Lady Fowler, and envies even the largest of tournaments hosted by her father in his lifetime. An hour's ride by horse from the fortress proper, temporary lists and stands have been erected in the midst of the wide open desert. Knights have erected pavillions in the distance, and canopies in brilliant Fowler blue provide shade from the harsh Dornish sun, a place to sit and take strongwine and socialize, when not watching the events.

The day began with the joust, in which a number of Crownlander and Dornish knights rode in the lists, culiminating in a final match up that saw Maelys Targaryen ride against an unlikely opponent, a northroner called Malcolm Storm. The latter had just unhorsed one of Lady Fowler's bastard siblings earlier in the day, but was himself unhorsed by the Prince of Ashes, whose attempted wedding the day before was aborted following the intervention of the now-slain Lorenzo Yronwood. Still, the tournament proceeds even if the marriage between Maelys Targaryen and Alaeyna Fowler did not, for one death is hardly enough to ruin the Dornish festive spirit.

Prince Torren Martell did not participate in the joust, nor will he in the melee — those who know him well know that he never does. He is at present in the stands, his new wife Visenya Targaryen — who is looking particularly lovely today, make sure to note — on one side of him, and the Lady Alaeyna Fowler on the other. He has been watching the joust with mild interest, though the final bout is more exciting, and when Maelys comes out the victor, his applause is genuine. "As it should be," he comments to Alaeyna.

Beyond the lists, one hundred and fifty men stand assemble upon a field of dun hued sand. There are knights and lord's sons in the colors of house Velaryon, Celtigar, Massey, and Stokeworth. Al of the great Dornish houses are in attendance too, Martell, Manwoody, Ladybright, all save for house Yronwood. There are freeriders, swornswords, and half a dozen squires too. All of them intent upon making a name for themselves and winning the purse.

Maelys Targaryen is arrayed in red scale and a large greathelm, dragon's teeth surmount the helm, and the front half is etched and painted to resemble a wyrm's grinning maw.

Lillian has come abit late, being she had a long way to travel to come. The lady Hightower looks around and is sad she has missed the jousting. Well, there will always be other tournaments - this one she will watch, slowly she looks for an open spot to stand or sit to watch the remaining activities.

Oona does not participate in any of the contests, for though she grew up with the spear, she was not devoted to it in the way that her older legitimate sister has been. But she's enjoyed being a spectator throughout the course of the event, cheering for her half-brother during his joust and applauding Maelys upon his own victory later. She's not seated next to Alaeyna, but she has the privilege of close enough seating that at some point between major events, she's made her way briefly to her sister's chair and murmured a request, which regardless of agreement or refusal, then has her return to her seat nearby. Conveniently, there is a space next to her should Lillian think it a good view.

The Twilight Storm is in Dorne on his way back from the campaigne in the North. Ser Malcolm is wearing serviceable plate. It is not new, but well fitted. His shield and surcoat are blazoned in with the reversed Kellington colours: an azure book bound in bronze on a field of black. His helm is of simple design and balances coverage with field of vision. He is sporting a new, fancy looking long dagger, likely a gift from the Starks, given the pointings and design. The greatsword appears to be his real weapon today. He rode the joust earlier with a favor taken from an elderly lady chosen at random from the stands as is his custom, and he has dutifully transferred the bit of ribbon when he changed from his jousting to his melee armour. Though he is a bastard of a very minor house, he has made a bit of a name in the Oldtown Tourneys and recently won the Dolphin Tourney, at which he named Princess Visenya the Queen of Love and Beauty, though during this tourney he has not even glanced her way.

Alaeyna Fowler is dressed in her house's colors, and she sits proudly by the side of her guest of honor, Torren Martell. Her pride was evident when Maelys emerged as champion of the first contest, but she says to Torren, "I've never been one for the joust, but I am rather irritated that I must miss this." The participants in the melee have begun to converge upon the field, and she shifts restlessly in her seat, lamenting that she is in the stands and not the sand. When Oona approaches, Alaeyna tilts her head, and then nods. "Of course, darling."

Black on red, the symbol of the scorpion, House Qorgyle stands represented with the young knight from Sandstone, the one who took a life of a dragon not too long ago. He stands with the traditional sandsilk robes and leather armor over top, looking rather confident in the way that his hand holds the spear, tip pointed down but certainly ready to use if someone decides to start the melee a little early. He wears a helm but it isn't as heavy as the other participants, something that will ensure his head won't get clocked off at the first hit. The Dornishman lowers himself to the sand, in a kneel, reaching out with an arm to sweep the sand in front of him. He clasps a fist full of sand as he patiently awaits for the melee to begin, letting the sand drift through his fingers.

Alaeyna's disappointment in her current inability to participate in the melee gets a short laugh from Torren, though he is not unsympathetic. "I shall hold one for your name day," he says, his tone conciliatory, "and expect you to win it." Visenya then turns to Alaeyna and says with a little smile, "A pity that you do not joust; if you won you could name him the Queen of Love and Beauty.

Dressed up in his usual brigadine armor, and with his sword ready, Ser Ryam Sand looks around briefly, unable to hold back a grin. "Lovely day for this," he remarks to those nearby, as he looks up to the stands and his siblings up there.

Brashly, perhaps, in his state of readiness, a hand lays upon the shoulder of Manfryd Qorgyle. Upon it, a black scorpion ring with a ruby-tipped tail. It is Emira Martell's favoured jewelry; she is here, ready, with fire in her eyes, pausing just before taking a place on the field. "I look forward to seeing the scorpion sting, cousin." She wears armour in the Dornish style, metal disks sewn upon her leathers, enameled in copper hues; some upon her bodice are painted to make up the sun and spear of House Martell, when they lay flat. If she has armour further than that, it is hidden beneath her flowing sandsilk skirt. Her small but muscled arms are bare but for leather around her forearms. Already shorn above the bold strikes of her eyebrows, the rest of her hair is pulled back; still, it looks wild.

Lillian moves over to the chair which seems left open for her and she situates herself in tha seat, her attention moves to Alaeyna as she mentions jousting "I do, very upset I missed it, I did win the Ladies Tournment back in the landing"

A young squire in Fowler livery approached Prince Maelys, the boy carries a small polished chest in his arms. He throws wide the chest and Maelys lifts a long sandsilk favor from out of the chest, a beautiful thing with argent ribbons down its length. Maelys ties Lady Alaeyna's favor to his spaulders. Two of his men bring a wicked greatsword out from his pavillion. The Prince draws the greatsword from a dragon leather scabbard and raises it, one handed, in a salute to Alaeyna, then tenders a salute to the Princes and Princesses of Dorne seated beside the mother of his heir.

Rhaegor Targaryen is among the Crownlanders waiting to enter the raucous fray of the melee, one of his Velaryon men drawing his attention to Emira, who stands with Manfryd Qorgyle. The Targaryen prince is outfitted in his full plate, even in the high heat, but then what is a bit of direct sun to the blood of the dragon? Nothing whatever, and he stands confident and ready for the contest, even in light of his near-miss at the joust earlier in the tournament. No doubt the opportunity for Crownlanders and Dornishmen to crash together in the melee will prove cathartic, after the events of the past weeks.

<COMBAT> Malcolm will attack Manfryd this turn. Options: called=Head
<COMBAT> Maelys has changed stance to normal.
<COMBAT> Malcolm will attack Ryam this turn. Options: called=Head
<COMBAT> Rhaegor has changed stance to normal.

"Thank you, my lady." is Oona's murmured appreciation before wandering back to her seat. She moves back to her place but doesn't recline just yet. She remains standing, shading her eyes as she looks across the field, no doubt seeking a particular splash of color on the armor of one of the competing knights, and after a few moments, takes a few steps closer to the seats where Alaeyna and her proto-husband are seated. Perhaps she's hoping no one will mind her loitering, and such events are more entertaining when there's others to cheer along with.

Manfryd turns his eyes upon the hand that appears when he rises from his kneel, seeing the scorpion settled upon the finger curling around his broad shoulder. His eyes flicker back toward Emira, nodding once for the fire in her eyes and the sentiment she delivers. "The scorpion may not always seem to sting, but when it does, it is fierce. No Middle Ground." He keeps the dust of the arena sand on his hands, wrapped in cloth, to which leather gauntlets enshroud his wrists. His eyes stretch across the field of battle, "Scorpions do not sting their own until they are forced to fight…" his chin turns toward the assembly, "Let our sting work together, cousin."

<COMBAT> Ryam will attack Malcolm this turn.
<COMBAT> Rhaegor will attack Manfryd this turn. Options: called=chest

Alaeyna grins sidelong at Visenya, and tells her, "If I did not keep the crown for myself, I would most assuredly grant it to a Prince of Dorne. And who among them is prettier than our Torren?" She watches in avid anticipation as the champions take the field, preparing for the start of the melee. When Maelys points his blade at her, demonstrating her favor, she smiles, even though he can't likely tell from the distance.

<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started the combat! Pose and pick your first action.
<COMBAT> Manfryd has changed stance to cautious.
<COMBAT> Rhaegor has changed stance to normal.
<COMBAT> Rhaegor will attack Manfryd this turn. Options: called=left_arm
<COMBAT> Maelys will attack Emira this turn.
<COMBAT> Emira will attack Maelys this turn.
<COMBAT> Emira has changed stance to normal.
<COMBAT> Ryam attacks Malcolm with Longsword but Malcolm DODGES!
<COMBAT> Manfryd attacks Rhaegor with Spear but Rhaegor DODGES!
<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Ryam with Greatsword - ARMOR on Head stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Emira with Greatsword but Emira DODGES!
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip - ARMOR on Right Arm stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Manfryd with Greatsword but Manfryd DODGES!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.

A Fowler herald takes the field, announcing each of the champions participating in the melee. The rules are recited (there seem to be very few) and then there's nothing to do but look to the Lady Fowler in the stands, who nods, before sounding the start of the match. The herald makes a quick exit, dashing out of the cross-fire as the contestants descend on each other.

Lillian sits near Alaeyna as Oona allows her to - The lady Hightower looks onto the melee with wide eyes as she follows the match, her voice lowers as she murmers to Oona quietly ..

Malcolm is focused and still before the fight starts. Eyeing the more exalted bloodines and sygils on the field, he selects another bastard with no particular ill will. He moves in quickly, circling and dodging, steps arhythmic, and swinging above the guard gives him a litte tap on the head.

Dragons and skybirds and scorpions, they all engage as the melee begins, but Oona's attention is on the engagement of two men with less fortune of birth. As Malcolm rounds on Ryam, her brows lift, and she tilts her body a little toward Lillian to hear what the lady has to say. "Ah! You are very kind. I also have some modest skill. I am sure if there is need, we will be called upon." A flash of a smile, "I'm Oona Sand. You see him, there?" She points to the field, at Ryam. "My brother." she says confides proudly. "If he bleeds, he'll bleed well, and not without another's blood joining his on the sand."

The's a shake of his head as Ryam sees Malcolm coming in, and he tries swinging for the other man, but misses, thanks to the other bastard's dodging skills. Taking that tap to his helm, he is unable to hold back a grin. "You will have to do better than that if you want to win this, my friend." Working on circling the other man, while still glancing around quickly to see where the others are.

As the herald reads off the long roll of knights, freeriders, and squires, Maelys's squire and pages depart the field. The Prince of Ashes swings his helm around. Not a rose to be seen. Despite the rich purse, all of Lord Tyrell's retainers are conspicuously absent. The Prince spends several seconds surveying the field, lumbered forward in his crimson plate. Many of the finest fighters have paired off. Then, he catches sight of a maid in leather armor and sandsilk skirts, bearing the spear and sun of house Martell. A Spearmaiden and a worthy foe. The Prince charges at Emira, drawing his greatsword back in a vicious backhand, he swings at her with the flat of his blade. No need to injure one of the Prince's sisters. She dodges his attack with ease, and blood blossoms along the joint above his elbow, as her whip tears through mail and leather.

Torren doesn't seem put out by the jests; in fact, he just sits back and smiles, replying, "None, to my knowledge." But then the melee is starting, and he turns his attention back to the field, making particular note of his cousin, just as she dodges Maelys' swing. "Prince Maelys will find my cousin a particularly difficult target," he comments, "especially if he continues in that way." Despite his and Emira's sometimes contentious relationship, this is said rather proudly.

It just so happens that one scorpion's caliga's slide in the arena sand as Manfryd swings around another faceless opponent and finds himself in the shadow of a dragon. What might be the largest target on the field is certainly his own. The spear twists in his hand as he holds it against the bottom of his forearm, before turning to attack Rhaegor, holding back though, cautions. It is just a prod, an attempt to see how fast the dragon really is. He keeps himself with bent knees, side stepping one foot over the next to keep his eyes upon the dragon and any other opponent away from his backside.

When Emira sees Rhaegor and Manfryd exchange blows, the flare in her eye strengthens, and her face splits into a toothy grin. "My cousin will warm you up with his sting!" she calls out before giving them room upon the field, Maelys singling her out. While the other competitors wield their blades, it is one of her beloved vicious whips which the Martell woman unfurls from her hip, many several feet of sharp bite. She's fast and light on her feet, jumping back with a faint spray of sand. "Prince of Ashes!" she shouts, a harsh taunting to the foreboding Targaryen, sparing nothing for the prince near-married to her friend the Lady Fowler. "Will you blow away in the desert?!" She's smiling that toothy grin still as her arm lashes and the whip follows, forcing crack through all the early clangs of others' blades and armor. That split of his arm is little more than a tease, so far.

<COMBAT> Emira will attack Maelys this turn. Options: called=Right_Leg
<COMBAT> Malcolm will attack Ryam this turn. Options: called=Head

Lillian follows Oona's finger as she points out her brother "let us pray he dose not bleed as well as you say"' .. she chuckles as she looks o the field her eyes flicker gently as the sound of swords on steel echo in her ears. She claps for the Prince, leaning forward as Emira calls out

Rhaegor and Manfryd seem to have eyes for each other. The Targaryen prince meets the Qorgyle knight on the field, mirroring his opponent in caution and curiosity. For now, they take each other's measure, a sly grin coming to Rhaegor's face as he hears the taunt that Emira casts his way. "At least one of you will," he offers in turn, feeding the rumors of the strain in their relationship in light of their forced betrothal.

<COMBAT> Ryam attacks Malcolm with Longsword - ARMOR on Left Arm stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Emira with Greatsword - Light wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Manfryd with Greatsword but Manfryd DODGES!
<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Ryam with Greatsword - ARMOR on Head stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Manfryd attacks Rhaegor with Spear but Rhaegor DODGES!
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip - ARMOR on Right Foot stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Malcolm has changed stance to banzai.
<COMBAT> Ryam has changed stance to cautious.

Malcolm works a polite aproximation of a bow into his next bit of footwork. Another light tap to the other bastard's helm, signifying nothing. "I am getting your measure. Either way, let us toast each other later."

Alaeyna watches with interest as the fighters find their partners in the dance, grinning wickedly when Maelys pairs with Emira. "If any were capable of taming him, it would be her with that mighty whip. I can hardly wait to watch it happen." All this to Torren, and to Visenya too, as the three of them observe the action.

Manfryd's spear swings in fast, as he turns and tries to double up with the butt of his spear, both of which the Targaryen dodges. He holds his own shield up as he bounces away from the greatsword, a weapon that seems perceptively slow from where he's standing. Slow but deadly, as most bulky swords were, in the right hands. His own weapon moves with a grace of speed, for now, whistling through the air as scorpion and dragon get into a combative dance.

Still working a bit more on his dodging, Ryam ends up getting hit to the head again, just as he strikes out for the other man's arm. "Yes, let us toast later," he says, with a grin as he goes back to the circling and attacking.

"Ah, a little blood is nothing a Dornishman fears." says Oona proudly, observing a moment later, "Though he's playing with his food. Which means he rather likes the man he's dueling. I think it's the same one who got him in the joust. Here's hoping he returns the favor." There's a glance at the dance of scorpion and dragon, her expressin briefly turning wry. "Now that," she can't help but note, "Will likely involve a fair bit of crimson for the sands to soak up."

"Indeed," Torren replies to Alaeyna, watching with more interest now, though he does lean over to murmur something low to Visenya, who smiles a little bit slyly and whispers something back, which gets a laugh from her husband, before he turns back to the field just in time to see Manfryd's spear swinging toward Rhaegor. His expression doesn't change, but he does lean forward slightly.

Rhaegor watches as the scorpion skitters across the sand, maintaining the cautious, abiding tack he's adopted as he and his opponent make slow circles along the same orbit. The Dornishman's spear may soar through the air, but his greatsword glides; in the end, Manfryd evades the reach of his blade, and Rhaegor sidesteps the point of his spear.

Not one to be outdone, Alaeyna leans in to whisper something to Torren, with or without the aim of making him laugh louder than he just had.

Despite the blood, and a steady stream of blood rolling down his arm, Maelys laughs aloud. A deep metallic sound rolling up from his great helm. "The title is not so literal, dear Princess." Maelys's advance becomes more cautious, he swings at the Emira once more. Then, when her whip comes in low at his leg, the flat of his sword comes at Emira's abdomen. Her whip cracks against the steel girding his right leg, and darker black streak upon his black plate. "The joints, Princess." Maelys advances, not half so quick as Emira, his sword in a guard position.

<COMBAT> Rhaegor will attack Manfryd this turn. Options: called=head
<COMBAT> You set your action.
<COMBAT> Malcolm will attack Ryam this turn. Options: called=Head
<COMBAT> Rhaegor will attack Manfryd this turn.
<COMBAT> Maelys will attack Emira this turn.

Whatever Alaeyna says does have Torren laughing again, maybe not louder than whatever Visenya had whispered, but in the same vicinity. "My cousin, of course," he says, and there's no doubt in his voice when he says it, especially considering Emira's current attack on Maelys.

After being knocked sideways by the prince's greatsword, Emira shouts out of ferocity more than pain; the strike only adds fuel to her fire, and even in this stumble she's swift upon her toes, turning into a spin that lashes her whip through the the air — briefly threatening the combat of Manfryd and Rhaegor with a kiss of sharp air, perhaps not by accident — on the way to striking Maelys low. She's unfazed when it doesn't pierce flesh; she bares her teeth at Maelys for his words, instead, and hits her whip in the sand, stirring it up. She takes a number of steps back, but it's no retreat; she starts to circle the Prince of Ashes, her knees bending low. Her grin vanishes in favour of a warrior's ferocity, dark eyes marking Maelys with the intent of a predator— one who's thrilled by the hunt. She's forever moving, her muscles lithe and restless, difficult to predict.

<COMBAT> Emira will attack Maelys this turn.
<COMBAT> Ryam attacks Malcolm with Longsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Ryam with Greatsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip but Maelys DODGES!
<COMBAT> Manfryd attacks Rhaegor with Spear but Rhaegor DODGES!
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Emira with Greatsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Manfryd with Greatsword but Manfryd DODGES!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Manfryd attacks Rhaegor with Spear but Rhaegor DODGES!
<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Ryam with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Emira with Greatsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Manfryd with Greatsword - ARMOR on Neck stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip - ARMOR on Abdomen stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Ryam attacks Malcolm with Longsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.

Another flurry of inefective blows in the Battle of the Bastards has The Twilight Storm grinning at the Sand.

<COMBAT> Malcolm will attack Ryam this turn. Options: called=Head
<COMBAT> Rhaegor will attack Manfryd this turn. Options: called=head

Manfryd let's one side of his lip curl up at the challenge that the dragon is proving to be. A stronger dragon than the last he felt the tip of his spear slide through. His dark eyes settle on Rhaegor as the spear twitches in his hand, like the stinger poised to find a place bewteen the dragon scales to bite. When indeed he goes again after the dragon, it seems the great wings carry the man aloft since again, the shaft of his spear sails through empty air and in return, a great smash of that greatsword comes at him. He manages to pull his shield up in time to help deflect most of the blow, armor doing the rest. Still, it has the scorpion bouncing back with a raised brow. He rolls his shoulders as if trying to shake off the blow, tilts his head side to side, then nods at Rhaegor in a way that suggests 'good hit.'

After the ineffectual blows this time, Ryam takes another hit to the head, this time bringing out the blood. Growling momentarily, he moves forward, in an attempt to get through his opponent's defense.

<COMBAT> Ryam will spend luck on Attack this turn.
<COMBAT> Malcolm will spend luck on attack this turn.

Maelys advances toward the Princess of Sunspear, as her whip cracks against his cuirass, he issues a rejoinder. The flat of his greatsword comes down toward the metal disks protecting her chest. Emira's blow leaves another darker streak upon his black steel. Maelys draws back and reverts to a guard position. His eyes dart across the field. Rhaegor looks to be doing wel against Scorpion Knight. Ryam Sand has taken two wounds. He turns his great helm toward Emira. "You're quick." Indeed, he had only met one spearmaiden with Emira's alacrity.

Rhaegor's pale violet stare stays trained on the scorpion, tracking his every fleet-footed movement. The spear lends his opponent the advantage of speed, but Rhaegor has cut his way across harsher climes than this, and he knows to conserve his energy if he hopes to best his opponent. But that nod, he returns it with a tilt of his head, and then points his greatsword at Manfryd and attempts once more to find purchase with his strike.

<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Ryam with Greatsword - ARMOR on Abdomen stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Manfryd with Greatsword - Light wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Manfryd attacks Rhaegor with Spear but Rhaegor DODGES!
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Ryam attacks Malcolm with Longsword - Light wound to Right Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Emira with Greatsword - ARMOR on Right Hand stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Manfryd has changed stance to banzai.
<COMBAT> Malcolm will attack Ryam this turn. Options: called=Head
<COMBAT> Ryam attacks Malcolm with Longsword - ARMOR on Left Arm stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Manfryd attacks Rhaegor with Spear - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Ryam with Greatsword - NEAR MISS!
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Emira with Greatsword but Emira DODGES!
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip but Maelys DODGES!
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Manfryd with Greatsword - ARMOR on Right Arm stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Rhaegor will attack Manfryd this turn. Options: called=head
<COMBAT> You set your action.
<COMBAT> Ryam has changed stance to banzai.
<COMBAT> Manfryd has changed stance to normal.
<COMBAT> Ryam attacks Malcolm with Longsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Manfryd with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Emira with Greatsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Manfryd attacks Rhaegor with Spear - ARMOR on Right Hand stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Ryam with Greatsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Manfryd has changed stance to banzai.
<COMBAT> Maelys will attack Emira this turn. Options: called=Left Leg
<COMBAT> Emira will attack Maelys this turn. Options: called=Head
<COMBAT> Manfryd will attack Rhaegor this turn. Options: called=neck
<COMBAT> Manfryd will attack Rhaegor this turn. Options: Called=Neck
<COMBAT> Malcolm will attack Ryam this turn. Options: called=Neck

Emira's whip dances and seems to electrify the air around Maelys. She's everywhere: rolling upon the sand, leaping up again, running; she is is in her element here, under the sun of Dorne, her feet dancing over the sand. Even so, she is struck again, not once but twice, heels digging in to that very sand to withstand the hit to her armored chest without showing pain or fear. "You bore me, Prince of Ashes! Impress me as you have impressed Alaeyna!" Most who have come head-to-head with spirited princess of Sunspear know she is as fast and fearless as she is shamelessly taunting on the field. "I would insult your would insult your betrothed but I already know she is a good lover!" All speed, her whip lashes at his chest; she takes off at a run, blocking his sword with her arm as she makes to 'round upon his back, her whip flying through the air.

Hitting and getting hit, Ryam's starting to move in a bit more aggressively now, in an attempt to get through the other man's armor. Shaking his head momentarily, before he moves in again, this time from a bit further to the side.

<COMBAT> Ryam will attack Malcolm this turn. Options: called=Neck

… And find purchase it does. Rhaegor strikes true, glancing a light blow off the Qorgyle's brow. At the same time, he turns left to evade Manfryd, and then sharply right once more to deliver another hit to the scorpion. "There is no shame in yielding," he tells his opponent, in the wake of the blow. And yet he already rounds to prepare to strike again, his appetite for the scorpion's blood evidently not yet sated, despite his words.

Lillian tilts her head as she listens to the air crackle and the blood swell on the man that Emira is fighting.. she listens to the comments and she blushes slightly because of them

Oona leans forward intently as she watches the Battle of the Bastards. Despite her dismissal of something so trivial as bloodletting, she lets out a soft hiss as Malcolm slashes Ryam across the chest. "You owe him an answer for that." she murmurs softly, as if her words could be carried on the wind to her fellow Sand. It's difficult not to be distracted by the other fights, and occasionally she checks to see how they're going. If anything, as Lillian blushes, Oona only laughs.

Manfryd's head whips to the side as he's not able to get his shield up in time to completely block the hit that could've been worse, breaking open his brow and sending his own blood first to the sands. He's able to pivot and thrust his right arm up in time to block a further, but it's the momentum of the dragon that carries the third completely on course. His spear does nothing to counter measure the leverage the dragon has found and so he staggers back, almost blinded by the secondary hit to his head. All this does though, as he shakes out his vision, is bring rage inside of him. He will not be made a fool of! He crans his head slowly to regard Rhaegor, rolling his jaw side to side before spitting a gob of blood to the sand. He sets his spear in the brace of his arm again, raising up his shield, hissing, "No middle ground." And he attacks…

<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Manfryd with Greatsword - ARMOR on Head stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Ryam attacks Malcolm with Longsword - ARMOR on Neck stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Ryam with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Right Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Emira with Greatsword but Emira DODGES!
<COMBAT> Manfryd attacks Rhaegor with Spear but Rhaegor DODGES!
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip but Maelys DODGES!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Manfryd with Greatsword - Light wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Manfryd attacks Rhaegor with Spear - ARMOR on Neck stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Ryam with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Ryam attacks Malcolm with Longsword - ARMOR on Neck stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Emira with Greatsword - Light wound to Left Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Emira has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Manfryd has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Ryam has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Ryam spends a luck point to keep fighting!

Maelys Targaryen's armor is etched with streaks of deeper black, scoured each time Emira Martell's whip has kissed cuirass, pauldrons, and spalduers. The Prince's sword descends and he rushes at the Princess. Sand rises up from the field, as Emira dances past him, leaving the prince to spit sand out from the airholes of his great helm. Amidst the clang of swords and the crack of her whip, he catches the edge of his taunt. Maely's eyes glitter like amethyst pulled from an icy mine. The Prince ceases his cautious advance and charges at the Princess, his sword swinging low for her left leg. "I know of no better love, Princess!"

Malcolm seems to have the Storm's measure now. He slashes the Sand's arm. He himself only has that one thin line of blood dripping from an arm joint. He wirls back and forth, a trained eye would see hints of the water dance in the way he moves, despite the heavy sword and the stifness of the armour. In he comes again, over ser Ryam's guard to strike his gorget, fast as a snake.

<COMBAT> Malcolm will attack Ryam this turn. Options: called=Head
<COMBAT> Maelys will rally Emira this turn.

On the defensive, Ryam takes tose hits from Malcolm, and after the one to his gorget, he sinks forward, down to his knees. It takes one moment, it takes two, but then he slowly gets back to his feet, moving forward to face the other bastard again. "Good ones…" he mutters.

<COMBAT> Ryam will attack Malcolm this turn.
<COMBAT> Ryam has changed stance to cautious.

Manfryd does not yield, but Rhaegor seems intent on finishing the scorpion so that he might advance to other prey. They circle again, and he takes advantage of the scorpion's vulnerability, exploiting it as he presses the attack. The first effort is deflected, but then his greatsword glances upon flesh already rent and bloodied, and he utters a low sound that's nothing short of feral with the satisfaction of his effort. "They say Aelyn's back was turned to you when you buried your spear in his neck," he spits at his opponent, adrenaline thrumming through his veins. "Don't care to look a man in the eye when you sting him?"

The Prince's armor rings, once more, as Princess Emira cuts another bright black stripe across his armor. As Emira draws back, Maelys's greatsword slashes at her left arm. The blade is nearly three feet long, a weapon a smaller man, or one not as freakishly huge, as Maelys must needs swing with both hands, but the Prince's strike is one-handed and unnervingly swift. When the Princess falls, Maelys stands over her for an instant, he lifts his greatsword up in a salute to the Fury of Skyreach and to the Martells above the salt. Maelys looms over the Princess, a veritable giant, he lowers his sword and tenders one gauntleted hand. A strong arm takes hold of the Princess's lower arm and literally lifts her off the ground. "You fight well. Find in the yard, if you care to try me again, Princess." Maelys turns, then and advances toward his cousin and the Stormland bastasrd, Ser Malcolm.

<COMBAT> Rhaegor will attack Maelys this turn.
<COMBAT> Maelys will attack Rhaegor this turn.
<COMBAT> Maelys will rally Emira this turn.

Rhaegor was exactly the type of opponent Manfyrd wanted a turn at. The weaker ones didn't satisfy his taste for battle. Though as the dragon finds his weakness, he slips up and thereby cannot fully put his arm up to defend against the in coming blow. He's dazed and sent to the arena sand, on one knee, head bowed as blood trails down his face. His dark eyes look up at the dragon, peering through a curtain of blood, his lips turn to smile at his opponent's anger. There's a laughter that is dark as it settles underneath his chest, "I witnessed the fire of a dragon's eyes extinguished. Do not confused me for your craven kin." His own adrenaline was keeping him up on a knee, but he was out of this fight, anyone could tell. Even if the blood pouring down his face was like some twisted war paint, his spear was unmoving beside his foot.

<COMBAT> Ryam attacks Malcolm with Longsword - Light wound to Left Hand (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Maelys with Greatsword - ARMOR on Right Arm stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Ryam with Greatsword - Serious wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Emira passes.
<COMBAT> Maelys attempts to rally Emira and SUCCEEDS. Emira is back in the fight!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Ryam has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Malcolm will attack Maelys this turn. Options: called=Head

Malcolm waits politely to see if his opponent yeilds or stands, sword up, and ready, but not striking. His acent is a Stormcoast lilt, barely gentry, "You fight well…." And then Ryam is slicing him and with some regret he rings tha other bastard's helm with his sword, then turns to see who is left to fight.

Fighting on with stubborn determination, Ryam manages to cut his opponent briefly, but that last hit to his helm is enough. Falling to the ground, he seems to be passed out right away.

The slice to Emira's arm would bother her little, were it not for the force of Maelys behind it, and the bruises already spread beneath her armour. It was a split second in which her deft feet slipped upon the desert sand, and in the next she was already staring daggers upward at her opponent— only to find him helping her up. "How noble, Targaryen," she says rather unlike a compliment, although there's a flicker of a smile at the edges of her sand-dusted lips. She breathes out a harsh breath as she's raised to her feet, a sheen of sweat enlivening her tan skin. She watches him go … and following him is the sound of her whip, swinging around and around high above her head before it, too, follows after him. "Unbent. Unbowed— !"

Lara Gargalen watches the melee, seated somewhere near Princess Visenya. When the Scorpion is taken down by the younger Targaryen Prince, she jumps to her feet, dark eyes staring to where Ser Manfryd drops to a knee, her lips pressed together, forming a thin line.

<COMBAT> Emira will attack Maelys this turn. Options: called=Neck
<COMBAT> Maelys will attack Malcolm this turn.
<COMBAT> Malcolm has changed stance to normal.

Rhaegor looks down upon Manfryd, knelt in the sand with droplets of his blood falling fat upon the earth and painting Targaryen crimson. There's a flicker in the dragon's amethyst stare, but it's not anger. Just straight-up satisfaction. "Well fought," he tells his opponent, before he catches sight of Emira's fall just beyond, where she and Maelys had been toe to toe. Evidently he's done with the Qorgyle knight, for even though Maelys stoops to offer Emira his hand, Rhaegor moves in, making to strike at the Prince of Ashes when he's barely turned away from the Dornish princess, engaging him in the melee. "Shall we dance, uncle?" he asks with a grin. But it would seem he and his betrothed are of the same mind, for she's no sooner than found her feet than she charges Maelys once more.

<COMBAT> Rhaegor will attack Maelys this turn. Options: called=abdomen
<COMBAT> Rhaegor has changed stance to banzai.
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip - NEAR MISS!
<COMBAT> Ryam passes.
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Maelys with Greatsword - Light wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Maelys with Greatsword but Maelys DODGES!
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Malcolm with Greatsword - Light wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip but Maelys DODGES!
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Maelys with Greatsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Malcolm attacks Maelys with Greatsword - Light wound to Right Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Malcolm with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Left Hand (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Malcolm has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Rhaegor has changed stance to normal.

The Prince cannot help but return Emira's smile. Perhaps it is the girl's startling resemblance to his own natura born daughter, or perhaps his wellknown admiration for the spearmaidens of Dorne, suffice to say, his guard is down. He turns, and then, as he closes with the Stormland bastard and his nephew… there comes that familiar his. Storm and Rhaegor move to close, their blades coming at him high and low. "Stranger's cock. Fuck!" Maelys attempts to duck and slashes wildly at Ser Malcolm. As Rhaegor takes him in the chest, Maelys grunts sharply, but manages to keep his feet. He narrowly dodges Emira's whip and presses the attack against the Stormland knight, as Malcolm's sword comes down, hard upon his left hand.

Malcolm spins and swings at Prince Maelys, but a blow to his helm sends his own blade wild, and the Dragon's next slice sends his sword flying. He kneels, bleeding before the Prince. "I yield."

Manfryd's hand tightens around the spear, though, he does not move to rise after the man. He cannot, for whatever reason, rise. His head is tilted low then, watching underneath dark brows as Rhaegor goes off to continue the contest elsewhere. Manfryd's sigil is removed from the fight. Even if he gets up, he's been officially noted as being out and would be liable for punishment to enter the melee. So he lingers there, on his knee, the awful throbbing in his head not even a point of consideration as blood drips off his chin. He's watching Rhaegor. Sometimes, the scorpion plays dead to strike where it counts next time. For those who had heard of his slaughter of the weaker dragon, this may be a good and satisfactory end of such a quarrel, or a beginning of a whole new one.

<COMBAT> Malcolm passes.
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Maelys with Greatsword - Moderate wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Maelys tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.

A near miss from Emira's vengeful whip, but she is unstopped. She chases after Maelys; seeing the other men, Rhaegor among them, attacking him with their blades, prompts a wild laugh from the wild princess. She darts here and there, fast-moving would-be distraction, leaving droplets of blood in her wake from the gash on her arm, red trailing down, down, dripping off her left fingers. She comes up beside Rhaegor without laying eyes upon him — her eyes are only on Maelys, ever-ready. "The northroner yields. It is just us now. Who will tear apart who?" She twirls, snarling, and her whip attacks Maelys in dangerous proximity to Rhaegor himself on the recoil.

Malcolm's hands are nigh useless and it is his servant collects the sword. Ruefully he bows to the Prince and heads off to the healer's tents.

Oona leans forward at the sight of Ryam going down for the count, letting out a soft hiss of satisfaction as his victor is taken out only moments later. The corner of her mouth quirks, and wordlessly she turns toward the newlyweds and almost newlyweds. Dropping a curtsey she seems to not expect them to really take notice of but etiquette nonetheless dictates, she begins to make her way down from the stands and heads toward the healers tents, planning to see to her brother's wounds.

The yielding northroner presents an opportunity for Rhaegor to press the attack on the Prince of Ashes, for when one finds themselves crossing blades with Maelys Targaryen, one must seize whatever opportunity they can. His greatsword deals a hefty blow to the other dragon's gut, and now that he has identified that particular weakness he is not above pressing it to his own advantage. Shoulder to shoulder with Emira, he does not spare a look her way either; such could be his downfall. Her whip sings through the air, precariously close, as though he might be as much her target as Maelys is. Rhaegor turns to side step it just in case, and then he rounds on Maelys with a grin. "Must you win every event at your own tournament, uncle?" he asks.

Maelys lowers his sword, "You fought well, Ser Malcolm. Seek me in my pavillion on the morrow, Ser." The Prince hasn't a great deal of time to speak, Emira's whip comes at him, then another brutal slash from his nephew. "Your Master at Arms taught you well, nephew. But, you're still quite young…. if you will permit… in war, a knight must dispense with chivalry. Maelys flies at his nephew, his sword whistling at the younger man's neck, at the last instant, he comes in high and moves to slam the flat across Rhaegor's helm.

<COMBAT> Maelys will attack Rhaegor this turn.
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Rhaegor with Greatsword - ARMOR on Left Hand stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Maelys with Greatsword - ARMOR on Abdomen stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip but Maelys DODGES!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Maelys with Greatsword - Serious wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip - ARMOR on Neck stops the attack!

The newlyweds and almost newlyweds won't take notice perhaps, but Lara does. Her head turns, seeing the curtsey, a nod given to Oona Sand as the woman moves off, dark eyes following her for a moment, before the shift back to the field again, noting the Scorpion is still kneeling, and not collapsing. The blood running down his face may quite a grisly sight, still, the Gargalen lady's lips curve upwards ever-so-slightly. Tenacity being a quality she holds in esteem.

<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Rhaegor with Greatsword but Rhaegor DODGES!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Maelys will attack Rhaegor this turn. Options: called=head
<COMBAT> Rhaegor attacks Maelys with Greatsword - Light wound to Right Hand.
<COMBAT> Emira attacks Maelys with Whip - ARMOR on Head stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Maelys attacks Rhaegor with Greatsword - ARMOR on Head stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Alaeyna has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Maelys has been KO'd!

Visenya, who has been relatively quiet save for the occasional chatting with Alaeyna and Torren, does appear to be quite pleased when Rhaegor takes down the Qorgyle, applauding particularly eagerly at this. Torren's expression is mostly impassive, though he does seem to be enjoying himself, clapping here and there at an especially good attack.

They're not a bad pair, working in concert; Emira taunts the Prince of Ashes with her whip, and Rhaegor with his blade. "Is this war? I thought it was sport." Still, Rhaegor rises to the occasion, and when Maelys taunts him he only redoubles his effort. The romantics in the crowd might observe that he was endeavoring to impress Emira Martell with the show of his might, as if each blow he landed upon his kinsman might invite her favor little by little. They trade the hits mercilessly, but it is Rhaegor, ultimately, that catches Maelys on the neck with the keen edge of his greatsword, scoring his flesh and spilling his blood.

Indeed, Emira provides a flurry of constant motion around Maelys and Rhaegor, all aimed to put the older of the formidable dragons off his game — including deafening battering to his greathelm with the unusual tournament weapon. After jumping away, she lands with both toes and hands in the sand, crouched animalistically as she watches the victory of her betrothed and waits to see if it is true, with glittering eyes that seem almost hungry; it is difficult to tell her true thoughts through all her bloodlust.

"Emira!" Manfryd's shout can be heard, his hand lifting the spear to indicate the weapon. He knows with that whip, she won't take the dragon down. He takes a deep breath to rise to his feet. A spear at least, if not a blade, will allow her to fight more keenly against the man. He lobs it in her direction if she should come in his direction. Then, he's staggering back, a hand finally going to his head. There might be a wobble, though unlike others, he may not have anyone to rely on to drag his ass off the sand, so he walks off, until he's out of sight. Then he'll slouch somewhere and hope he doesn't die later from the hits to the head.

Emira's whip cracks across across Maelys's helm, once, twice, setting his ears ringing. Maelys slashes at the younger Prince's helm, but Rhaegor ducks and dodges with the poise and grace of a born swordsman. His retort is a brutal strike at Maelys's sword hand. The Prince of Ashes roars as blood wells up from the wound and his sword falls from hsi hand. Maelys lowers his helm in a nod, and tears the cloak off from his armor, to sling his arm up. "The day is your nephew, and yours Princess."

Rhaegor grasps his uncle's shoulder, giving the Prince of Ashes a slap to his back now that their fighting is done. Maelys declares the day won, and the younger Targaryen prince turns to regard the Martell princess, as if to gauge her satisfaction with that particular verdict. And then he hears Manfryd's call, and sees the spear offered, and his hand on the hilt of his greatsword flexes. Just in case.

Emira leaps up from her low position — her feet leaving the ground — to snatch the spear from the air, acrobatically turning midway to face Rhaegor from a new, armed, angle. Her whip has fell to the bloodied sand in a half-coil. No time to thank her Qorgyle cousin; immediately, she maneuvers the weapon into a poised-to-strike position over her forearm, bloodying the weapon. Just as immediately, her grin appears, challenging. She sways on her feet not out of fatigue but energy (though it would be warranted, and perhaps she covers it with her restlessness). "The day is ours."

The day is ours, she says. Very well. Rhaegor meets her in the attack, and he does not spare her the intensity he treated Manfryd and Maelys to when he faced each of them under the hot Dornish sun. It is their turn, now, and he tracks her with his stare as she dances across the sand with the spear. His first few efforts are fruitless; she has the advantage of nimbleness and agility, and she skirts her way out of his reach. But then he feints her, giving the impression of bearing right when he bears left, and the coins on her armor sing when his greatsword strikes them.

The elder Prnce lifts his good, albeit bloody, left hand and tears his great helm off. "And on to the purse. Squire!" Then, Emira has a spear, she darts at the younger Prince and Maelys ducks and slips from off the field. "Ah… none of her kin are like to share a purse." Maelys and his squire make their way to the stands where Alaeyna, Visenya, and the Martells observe the final battle. The Prince sits down beside Alaeyna and offers her his hand. He tenders a kiss and looks to his spaulder. "Your favor served me well, lover, but I have never seen my nephew in such fine form… and his betrothed, well…"

Emira's gaze never fails to track Rhaegor's, either, and they are bound by their intensity. She's on the verge of lunging with her spear when he feints the opposite way, and she's struck by his greatsword. The Martell sun on her armour disfigures and shimmers again as she jerks back, a gutteral "unh" emerges from her, her battle-forged injured breath stopping and rushing back again with fury. "You and your heavy armor. Dragons and their scales. But I know," she's on the assault, "you can be scarred."

When Maelys joins her, he finds Alaeyna intent on the final battle unfolding on the field below. "You fought well," she tells him, "if not as well as your nephew." She grins sideways at the Targaryen, but then her eyes are for the melee once more.

Rhaegor dodges the assault she delivers him in retaliation for the landing of that blow, her words inspiring, in turn, his own. He holds back, at first, long enough to tell her, "We can all of us be scarred. I'd sooner it be by your hand than any other's." They stay locked in that stare, a temporary standoff between two predators circling each other like prey, and then serves his greatsword toward her in a broad, soaring arc, sinking past her spear to deliver a harsh blow to her chest piece once more.

Emira shouts in the rage of pain and more, of defeat. She's a small thing, for all her ferocity, and the blow should send Emira flying to the ground in defeat; should, except that as the strike of Rhaegor's sword rings through her armour and cracks into her chest and she starts to swirl toward her fate, she refuses to fall. Instead, she grabs onto him, reaching for firm handhold on his neck — a feat that nearly lifts her feet from the ground, for he towers in comparison. "One of many battles," she says to him, quiet, mischievous even still, yet it sounds more a promise than a threat. More obvious to the tournament audience, she wraps both arms and legs around the knight to be her husband, holds her spear high, and screams victory. Rhaegor's. Hers, despite. The day is theirs.

Rhaegor drops his sword to catch Emira, discarding the blade without second thought, now that he's no further need of it. How must they look from the stands, the Martell princess it's rumored pulled a blade on the Targaryen prince now climbing him like a tree and giving that cry that declares their victory. He holds her aloft, wearing a grin upon his blood-speckled face.

The commons errupt with shouting and curses, as the Spearmaiden falls to the Dragon Prince. When Emira rises, the commons explode. The spearmaiden has fought with some of the finest knights in the Crowlands and Dorne and made acquitted herself well. However, the commons cheers all the louder for Prince Rhaegor, the groom's nephew, and the champion. Lady Alaeyna's steward must wait nearly two minutes for the commons to quiet. When he speaks, squires in Fowler and Targaryen livery have already made their way to the field. One of their number bears a chest, the other carries the reins of a beautiful sand steed.

"For the champion, Lady Fowler, the Fury of Skyreach, awards you this chest of rare furs." Here, the groom throws wide the chest and a low murmuring rolls up from the commons. A shadowcat pelt draws every speck of ambient light into its black skin, there are striped Zorse skins, and even a white Hrakkar skin."

And for the spearmaiden, Princess Emira, the Prince of Ashes awards you this sandsteed, the finest beast in his stables." She is as sprightly as she is beautiful, a sand-hued mare with a white strip running down her head and nose.

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