(124-05-20) Rotten Apples at the Lizard Lion Tourney
Summary: Insults at the Lizard Lion Tourney.
Date: Sat May 20, 124
Related: Awakening, Safeguard, Behind Hidden Walls, Demons, An Apple in the Square, Fossoway Folly plot

Despite the uneasiness among the smallfolk throughout the city, a good crowd has gathered for the Tourney, entertainment on this sale having been rare of late, and people do like a spectacle. Most of the tents represent Reacher houses, not many having traveled much further at a time of ill omen. Still, amoung the usual banners fly the Fossoway apples, known to be staying en masse with the Hightowers. Indeed, Lord Haemon Fossoway, reigning Lord of the Red Orchard is up on his charger and ready to enter the lists. Ser Jesper Blackbar of Bandallon is also ahorse, lately betrothed to Lady Jana of the Golden Orchard, once Good Sister to the Lady Marsei, the Flower of Oldtown. Indeed, many Fossoways can be seen in the noble stands.

It seems the Starks must be back in residence at Weirwood, for here comes riding out Ser Malcolm Storm known as the Bastard of Kellington, sworn to the Starks, after being away from the city for half a year. His armour is fresh painted the familiar black with cerulean blue pointings, and to a roar of delight from the small folk, he rides back and forth before their stands before selecting yet another respectable Grandmother to ask for a favour to bless his ride. Indeed, a number of women of a certain age have brought ribbons in hopes. The ribbon tied on, he goes to line up for the preliminary bouts.

Not missing among the tourney knights is the local Tyrell boy, Ser Loryn, who - so some whispers say - may be set to follow his uncle into the rule of Highgarden and the Reach later. His wedding tourney victory had become stuff of legends and so he is met with a big round of cheering when he appears for his first joust. But the Tyrell only seems to have eyes for his lady wife, the heavily pregnant Lady Miranda, come out with some lesser Tyrells to cheer him on.

Malcolm rides over to Ser Loryn, and quietly wishes him the best of luck. He seems very sincere about it.

The usual early bouts go as one might expect, purses changing hands as lesser knights are unseated. Sharp eyes might notice that seated amoung the lower gentry is a rather beautiful dark eyed and raven locked woman who cheers rather loudly for the Twilight Storm. Her dress has a Braavosi cut to it and her accent matches. As one might expect, Ser Loryn is a crowd favorite and many are hoping that a win for him might be a better omen than than distant dolphins and all to present lizard lions.

The semi-final has Ser Loryn Tyrell facing the rather rude and unchivalrous Lord of the Red Orchard, who has been drinking deep between tilts. The Bastard of Kellington is facing off against the young knight Ser Jesper.

Loryn Tyrell only has some cool looks of disdain for the rude Lord, offering him a stiff bow in greeting before he closes his visor and goes to take up position at the far end of the lists, ready for their tilt…

It seems the famously frisky Motley is in good form today despite the long absense of his rider, as Ser Malcolm gets a decent hit of Ser Jesper's shield while deflecting the dreamy newlywed's lance. The dark eyed beauty cheers as loudly as the kin of the matron who's favour he wears.

Loryn ignores the shouted insult from his opponent who clearly seems a little inebriated. Knowing that alcohol tends to slow the senses down, he goes for speed on his attack, planting his lance into the depth of the other man's stomach, giving him little chance to somehow dodge the blow. And while he himself can dodge the attack, the Lord of the Red Orchard goes down with a heavy thud.

…Or perhaps it's Ser Malcolm's horsemanship has improved. Whatever it is he taps Ser Jesper's shield on the second pass and the other knight misses him entirely. Whatever is going on in the other list, this bout is textbook for polite salutes and sportsman ship. The third pass goes much as the first, with Ser Malcolm easily winning on points. He congratulates his opponent on fine riding, but both men are stunned as the Lord of the Red Orchard lets loose a string of slurred insults at the popular young Tyrell Knight, and then, like a furious boar a huge man comes barrelling out of the noble stands, bellowing, "You traitorous roguish montebank! You cheated! You Sheep biting impudent Bubear! How dare you, you sneaking fellow!" All this at the popular Ser Loryn. The crowd gasps in stunned horror and outrage as if one. Other Fossoways are clearly embarrassed, though the rather elderly Lord Matthias of the Golden Orchard can be heard demanding of the Ladys what happened and what HAS the impudent pup done now?

Loryn is stunned by the accusations and his wide-eyed expression shows it. But he soon narrows his eyes at the other man and juts his chin out. "Are you insulting my honour, Ser?", he asks very coolly. He wears no sword at his side at present as it would only get into the way during the jousts, but his hand moves there automatically.

The big man spits contemptuously, "You heard me, you…you thing of no bowels! No way could a mewling effeminate Nut Hook like you unhorse Lord Haemon!" Lord Haemon himself is still sitting in a puddle of horse piss muttering rather unlikely things about Ser Loryn's ancestry and his intimate relations with his horse.

"I have won tourneys before.", Loryn points out coolly, "And now I would suggest you return to your seat and take a few deep breaths before you force me to take action against you and your attempt to besmirch the honour of House Tyrell… rulers of the Reach." Just a subtle reminder who it is he's shouting at. Meanwhile some lesser Tyrells draw near, -their- hands on their swords.

Several squires and lesser Fossoways are trying to coax the unhorsed Lord of the Red Orchard off the field. He goes reluctantly and more than a little unsteadily, whether from drink or the fall, still muttering about Ser Loryn's person and character, but softly enough the crowd can no longer hear. The big man draws himself up, "I knew you were a cowardly custard the moment I set eyes on you. Afraid to face a real man on even footing, eh? I bet you wear horns, for what Lady would want a wisp like you. I heard you brother were a real man…." He waggles his brows and leers obscenely. The crowd had been murmuring in fury, this last draws another collective gasp. Then louder murmuring about Roberd Flowers' open insult to the Beloved Lady Marsei, last years Queen of Love and Beauty. Many had noted that neither the Flower nor her Prince were in attendance this morning, and now here is the offending Roberd saying such things about the Lady Miranda and her much beloved and chivalrous husband.

"Enough.", Loryn says sharply, "Tomorrow morning at dawn. Here." It is all he says before turning around to walk away from the man.

The big man spits again, and growls, "If you've the stomache for a real fight!" He stalks off after his Master.

Ser Malcolm and Ser Jasper are still staring, stunned. After a murmured pleasantry, Ser Malcolm rides towards Ser Loryn, while a stunned and embarrassed rides off after his kin. Ser Malcolm asks Ser Loryn quietly, "Need you a second?"

Away from the crowds, it's easy to see that Loryn looks rather dismayed by what had developed. Malcolm's appearance and indeed offer brings a relieved smile to his face. "Would you?", he asks gratefully, "I've… I've actually never done anything like this before but I couldn't just … just let him talk about me and besmirch the Tyrell name like that."

Malcolm places a guantletted hand on Loryn's metal bedecked arm, "I've stood second for Ser Daevon a couple of times and I will gladly do it for you. It was…I can't imagine anyone would believe his nonsense, but you couldn't let it go, especially not after his insult to your Lady. You have my full support…." He glances around at the murmuring and clearly incensed crowd, "What do you want to do about the rest of this? If you are to furious to go on, I'll happily concede."

Loryn snorts at that. "Hide like a dog licking his wounds? Which would imply that he had actually managed to wound me which he has not. He's a drunk fool, nothing more, nothing less." He smiles at his old friend. "Let us ride!"

Up close, Ser Malcolm usually warm olive skin it tanned as it is possible to be from his travels. His grin is all the brighter as he claps Loryn's shoulder with a clang, "Good man!" He salutes his friend and rides off to take his place in the lists. The crowd cheers as two favorites line up for the final. Bets are being made all over the stands.

Loryn returns to the other end of the stands, his face a mask of concentration again as he tries to banish the unpleasantness from his mind. He closes his visor and takes the lance from his squire. Lastly he blows a kiss to his wife on the stands, perhaps to make a point, before he looks straight ahead, ready for the signal to ride.

Malcolm closes his helm, and when the flag drops, rides hard for his friend, missing his sheild by a hair, the Tyrel Knight's hit rocking him back in his saddle, but not unhorsing him.

Loryn rides well, perhaps fired by his anger about the Fossoway and by his desire to make a point about his abilities. Lances crash and splinter, but both riders remain ahorse and so return to the end of the lists.

Malcolm it was another disappointing pass for the bastard knight as his own lance glances off the Tyrell shield and he is rocked back again by the man he knighted with his own hands.

Loryn manages another good blow, but once again it is not strong enough to unseat the older more experienced knight. At least he's now so focused on what is happening that he has all but forgotten the Fossoway knight. And so it continues…

Malcolm manages a touch on the last pass, but is thumped good and solidly again by the recently slighted Knight. He rides back to congradulate his friend on the clear victory, visor up and grinning with good humor in honest pleasure at a good bout lost fair and square to one who so clearly deserves it.

Loryn manages another good blow without unhorsing his friend, but he seems content to secure his victory without any broken bones. So he removes his helmet to reveal a big happy smile, as he approaches Malcolm and offers him a hand to shake… before his head turn to the stands to find his wife and now… Queen of Love and Beauty.

The judges come forward with purses for Ser Jasper and Ser Malcolm, and this year the dolpin necklace for the Queen of Love and Beauty goes to Loryn Tyrell to bestow where he will, along with the winner's purse.

Loryn beams with pride when he receives the dolphin necklace fromt he judges and a loud round of cheering from the audience. He is quick to dismount his horse and clamber across the fence so he can hop up the steps of the stands to where his wife is sitting. Leaning in, he first gives her a long happy kiss before withdrawing only far enough to place the necklace around her neck. "My Queen of Love and Beauty… now and forever.", he smiles happily and then, quieter, only for her ears: "See, the dolphins were lucky indeed."

For certain the crowd is well pleased and the cheering loud and prolonged, the only sour faces those who had bet heavily on the bastard knight winning a third year in a row. The cheering in the smallfolk stands for Ser Loryn is especially loud given the poor behavior of the Rotten Apples and the fine, properly knightly behavior of the winner, like something out of a Story. Ser Malcolm storm cheers as loudly as the rest.

Miranda is nothing but adoring smiles and sweet glances as he adorns her, the very pregnant Tyrell adding the dolphins over her seven-pointed star. "The Mother smiles on us, my knight. I told you," she says, resting her hand on her stomach. "Your son will be so proud too."

This over, Loryn reminds everyone that there's a Ball at Garden Isle the next day to celebrate his victory and the festival in general. There's only a very brief frown as he realizes that he might well be dead by the time the ball rolls around. But he quick to smile again and kisses Miranda once more, before leaving the stands to take care of his horse and peel himself out his armour.

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