Hearing Kaid'an's comment about remembering the events of the night, Gonan remembers that his magic could help him in this contest and casts resistance on himself before addressing The Paladin. Gonan takes the mug of dark liquid and accepts the 'gift' readily. "Thank you, squire to the knight! Good to see you making yourself useful. Why would you want to remember this night?" Looking around within the tent, he asks with a sarcastic tone, "What would you want to remember about tonight?' With that said, he finishes his 'gift' and starts on another, drinking deeply and gesticulating back and forth with his free hand.
While looking around the tent, Gonan is looking for anyone nearby who has a significant stack of cups and looks to be very drunk. While he is drinking his second mug, he starts casting prestidigitation on their drinks, changing the flavour to approximate the flavour of bile, or casting mage hand on the lower mugs of their stacks, causing them to fall off the table and roll away from their spots. He attempts to do this stealthily, without drawing attention to himself.
"Oh, hello there, Mountain-kin! I see you found the party! Hey, I knew a dwarf who could party. His name was...Meatshoulder? Nah, Meanhunter? No. Mearnshundr, that was it! Mearnshundr! Have you ever met a Dwarf by that name? I've heard Dwarf clans are very connected, and everyone knows how they're related to each other."
The dwarf looks up from the bottom of his own seventh drink, eyes taking a moment to focus properly on Mihail's face. "Mearnshundr? I gotsa cous'n... no wait, 's my... ? , 'ts my cousin's , mak'n 'im my...." The dwarf looks at his hands and tries to count on his fingers before giving up and clumsily wiping his face. ", that's enough for me," he slurs before stumbling out of the tent.
You see a handful of true competitors - those with drinks equal or greater to your own. You do well at finding opportune times to work your magic. A drunk man blearily stares as a glass slides towards his pile before shrugging and plugging away again, but nobody else seems to notice.
Two other competitors drop out as a result of your actions, their stomachs turned by the foul taste their drinks have acquired.
A few competitors have begun to amass respectable piles of tankards in front of them; seven, nine, one fellow with eleven.
Seeing the competition beginning to wind down, Gonan puts two tankards down quickly, but then lists slowly to the side and falls asleep, leaning on Iluna's shoulder.
It seems that before falling unconscious, Gonan was casting spells.
He is moving empty glasses and adjusting the flavour of drinks, successfully knocking out two high-scoring competitors.
As more and more competitors drop out, Andaris's pile of empty tankards remains unequalled. A handful of participants still drink on, their every gulp met by a rousing cheer from the spectators.
Kaid'an sits back and watches the wizard adjust the contest and fall asleep on Iluna's shoulder. Seeing as how his cheating didn't actual change who was the winner Kaid'an didn't make a fuss, for now. "Well I am glade I can remember that. Oh, dear wizard, good try I guess. Be careful of this one Iluna. This coward uses magic to cheat at a drinking game. I will confront him tomorrow about it. Actually, I have a question for you Iluna. Have you ever been drunk before? Being raised by a cult could either mean lots of drinks or very little."
Mihail pauses as he sees the dwarf throw in the towel. Perhaps stopping here would be a good idea. I can't imagine that it would be good for my image if I collapsed drunk on the floor of this tent.
Mihail wobbles to his feet.
"I am *hic*, not as think as I drunk *hic* I am*burp*!" Mihail burps unsteadily.
"Head I am bedding to." The drunken Knight declared, wavering towards the tent entrance-the wrong entrance, but still, better than the Fizzard's choice.
"Oh Lanny Boy," Mihail began singing as he stumbled to his tent.
"The pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an 'Ave' there for me.
And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me."
"how are you taking this contest? Enjoying your cider?"
Contest? Realization dawns upon Iluna. I guess that explains why everyone is hoarding their mugs... "This is a contest? A game? To see who can drink the most?" Iluna looks into her empty mug, the warmth of the cider already making her head fuzzy. It looks like this will be one contest I won't win. But I should give it my best effort. I've never been in a drinking contest before...
With new gusto Iluna signals the servers to bring her a fresh mug. A frothy tankard of ale is given to her and she begins to pound it back. "Mmm! This isn't so bad!" she exclaims, casting a charming smile and a carefree gesture at the server who begins smiling affectionately in a way that just moments prior he hadn't' been.
She watches the piles of tankards grow around the elbows of Gonan, Andaris, and Mihail. She listens to the happy sound of reveling voices. Without so much as thinking, small orbs of light, varying in colour, float up out of nothing into the air around her, twinkling slowly. I want to remember the way this looks. The way this feels. The people here are... happy.
A short, stocky server passes her a stout, and she finishes the cup in a flash, not even bothering to mask its potent taste with magic. Indeed the taste only registers with her a minute later, and she makes a mental note not to have that one again. Though now the rest of the people at the table are smiling at her...
"Well I am glad I can remember that. Oh, dear wizard, good try I guess. Be careful of this one Iluna. This coward uses magic to cheat at a drinking game. I will confront him tomorrow about it."
Iluna notices Gonan doing something with his hands, and assumes he is casting a spell, though the fuzziness in her head makes it impossible for her to concentrate and she can't tell what spell he used. Though a moment later a clatter of cups and a startled shout suggests to her that he might be moving something. She shrugs and doesn't comment. Secretly she is actually somewhat impressed.
"Actually, I have a question for you Iluna. Have you ever been drunk before? Being raised by a cult could either mean lots of drinks or very little."
Iluna thinks for a moment, emphasizing the physical motions by tapping her chin with her finger. "Well, we would have wines on special occasions... Ciders during festivities... Ha, ha! Why are you looking at me funny?" She smiles enthusiastically at Kai'dan and moves to give him a hug.
Another server brings her a tankard of mead, and she sucks on the foamy top. "Mmm, I do believe that was mostly brother Casimir's fault. The mead anyways. He had a thing for it." she says between swigs, as if the cup and her arm are on an automatic cycle, and not under her control. "he had a thing for honey. And Brevoy. Not sure why..."
She finishes the mug and sets it down, feeling quite a bit warmer than when she walked in from outside. She feels the mirth of the festivities flowing through her like molasses. She savors the feeling. "Mmm. That tasted just like the mead brother Casimir would bring up from Brevoy-" She stops herself, shaking her head, a trickle of cold sweat running down her neck. There's something- stuck- something- I feel... wrong... "I feel... thick-headed," she says to Gonan and Kai'dan. "I need some air." With that she gets up, excusing herself, and leaves the tent.
"Well, we would have wines on special occasions... Ciders during festivities... Ha, ha! Why are you looking at me funny?" She smiles enthusiastically at Kai'dan and moves to give him a hug.
"Um... okay." Kaid'an accepts Iluna's hug and hugs back. 'Did she just cast a spell before she hugged me? Also I though she liked the wizard, is she just flirting with me to mess with me? Is she flirting with me? Why am I getting so confused?'
Kaid'an watches Iluna down another drink and start talking about her brother. Something happens and she gets up and leaves. Unhappy memories coming back? Kaid'an sighs and follows her out of the tent from a fair distance. He watches her leave the tent and sit down on a stool.
"Well what do now? Do I go over and talk to her or stand here like a fool. Argggggggg!" Kaid'an stops talking to himself grabs an empty mug and fills it with water. He takes a deep breathe and walks over to her.
"Hey, you okay? Here is some water, if you want it. It helps clear your head. Trust me I have been drunk many times. Way too many times. Remembering is often a terrible burden and drinking to forget often means you can't forget. Sorry, now I am talking about me and I come out here to make sure you are okay."
Iluna looks up as Kai'dan approaches. Unaware that someone had followed her from the tent she tenses momentarily, but visibly relaxes when she sees it is a familiar face. "Thank you," she says, taking the cup of water, "I'm alright, though I may have got a little carried away back there. Did something happen? Did I... do anything?"
"Do anything? No, no everything is fine. Nothing embarrassing, not like some of the stupid stuff I have done drunk. You just stopped mid sentence and then ran away saving, saying that you were feeling thick-head. Just wanted to make your your weren't throwing up somewhere or fallen over. I am the sober one, so it is up to me to make sure everyone else is fine." Kaid'an shuts himself up before he says something stupid. He changes the subject. "When I was too young to drink the others hunters would give me the task of making sure their wallets didn't get stollen when they were passed out. However, they often forgot to pay up before hand. So I had to get money from their wallets to pay the bar keeper at the end of the night and I am not a good thief. I remember this one night that I tried to get elf to pay up for his drinks, sorry long story. He was really farts and didn't want to pay. I had to chase him down the street. It was actually a lot of fun."
'Great idea fool. Just keep talking. She asked you a question and you gave a speech. And now you don't know what else to say so you are just going to stand here awkwardly. This is going so great! At least you haven't fumbled any words yet. I think... I said farts. Crap.'
As Iluna listens to Kaid'an's story, a bubble of laughter grows in her chest. It bursts just before he finishes and she can't help but let out a little giggle. Kaid'an's so funny when he's honest. I wonder if that's why Mihail picked him to be his squire?
"Your friends are lucky to have someone like you watching out for them," Iluna says sincerely, "even if they don't recognize it at the time."
"Thank you for the water, and for talking with me. I really appreciate it. We should probably go check on the others," she says with a wink.
"And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an 'Ave' there for me."
Mihail staggers past the duo outside the contest tent, tipping his hat at his faithful squire chatting up a peasant girl. Giving the doughty boy a roguish wink, he wavers onward towards his tent.
"And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me."
More muttering than singing, Mihail slips between the folds of his tent, and plops himself on his bed.
"I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me."
With one final line, the beleaguered knight falls asleep.
"Thank you for the water, and for talking with me. I really appreciate it. We should probably go check on the others,"
"Thank you Iluna for your kind words. To the others." Kaid'an turns around to hid his ridiculous smile and sees Mihail staggering back very drunk and singing. His smile disappears.
"And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me."
Kaid'an watches Mihail go towards his tent. "Right one down. Two more to go." Kaid'an goes back to check on Gonan and Andaris to finds the pair sound asleep on each other's shoulders. Each one keeping the other one upright as they sleep. "Awwwwwwwww... that is so cute."
The final few contestants soldier on, but none are able to match Andaris’s pile of drinks. One man reaches 13, cheered on by a large section of the crowd. As he reaches for the tying pint he slips off his stool, hands grasping in vain for the handle. His eyes roll back, and he is snoring before he hits the ground.
Andaris is gently slapped and shaken awake and is given some tea before being presented with his prize. A portly man and an equally stout dwarf dressed in monk’s habits rise from where they were seated, bearing a small golden box. A tiny silver tankards dangles on a chain from each of their necks.
The tankard is a holy symbol of Cayden Cailean, patron god of adventure, freedom, and good drink. The two men are likely priests of the Lucky Drunk, as he is also known, due to him ascending to godhood due to a drunken dare.
From the gleaming box, the monks pull out an undecorated leather wineskin and present it to Andaris. The crowd gasps as the dwarf friar pronounces it true caydenbrew.
True Caydenbrew is a very rare brew crafted by devotees of Cayden Cailean, consisting of only the highest-quality caydenbrew. It is said to be blessed by Cayden Cailean himself, and it is said to inspire the imbiber to great acts of valour. Tales also speak of its ability to cure poisoned wounds and turn water to ale.
The friars are from Goldenhill, a nearby abbey renowned for its brewery. Their true caydenbrew is near-legendary in the parts, primarily because a mere drop will turn water to caydenbrew. It has been over 7 years since the last time they produced true caydenbrew.
The dwarf is the abbot, widely known as a generous fellow, though fiercely protective of the orphans cared for at the abbey. The man is the chief brewer.
The skin contains enough true caydenbrew for four proper drinks, or perhaps 16 small mouthfuls.
True Caydenbrew
Aura faint enchantment; CL 5th
Slot none Price 3000 gp; Weight 2 lbs.
Description
This golden ale is named after the Lucky Drunk, Cayden Cailean, who is the god of adventure, drinking, and freedom. Blessed by Caydenite priests, this caydenbrew has many properties valuable to those who risk their lives to accomplish great deeds.
Drinking one dose of true caydenbrew spurs the imbiber to perform mighty tasks, empowering them with the effects of a heroism spell.
A single dose can be applied to a creature affected by a contact- or injury-delivered poison to completely neutralize the poison. A cured creature suffers no additional effects from the poison, and any temporary effects are ended, but the spell does not reverse instantaneous effects, such as hit point damage, temporary ability damage, or effects that don't go away on their own.
A single mouthful (1/4th of a dose) is enough to revitalize the drinker, acting as a casting of cure light wounds that only removes damage dealt as strain.
Finally, a single drop of true caydenbrew can transform any non-magical liquid into caydenbrew, converting up to 5 pints at a time.
A single batch creates 4 doses.
Construction
Requirements Craft Wondrous Item, enhance water, heroism, neutralize poison, Creator must be a worshiper of Cayden Cailean, Creator must have 5 ranks in Profession(Brewer); Cost 1500 gp
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Next morning, shortly after Mihail breaks his fast, a messenger from an Earl Mercucius arrives at his tent.
You recognize the messenger’s liege from his colours before he announces himself. Earl Mercucius is fairly important in local politics, owning three castles in the heart of the Tandak plains. He has a reputation for shrewdness and scheming.
The messenger explains that Mihail’s first joust of the day is against the Earl.
”His Grace is most assuredly prepared to meet you in combat, but surely you understand that the stakes are significantly higher for His Grace than for you. You are but a foreign knight-errant, questing for wealth and recognition. There is no glory for your father’s house to be won this far from home, dan Razvan. His Grace stands to gain priceless political capital, perhaps enough to reunite these lands and provide a restoration of the glory and honour of Taldor.”
”For this reason I have been been authorized to provide a solution that will satisfy the needs of both parties. If you permit His Grace to defeat you in the lists, you will be awarded 3000 crowns in platinum and gems, as well as a suit of jousting plate from His Grace’s personal armoury-” the messenger sniffs, a hint of derision clouding his voice, ”- an item you seem to be sorely lacking.”
Mihail scratches his stubbled chin sleepily as he looks at the messenger. 'What manner of scum does he think I am? Better to try, yet be honorably defeated than to take a dive. A challenge dealt is a challenge accepted.'
Mihail coughs softly.
"What an intriguing offer. We shall see what comes of it." Mihail enunciates clearly and tonelessly, his face blank. "Now, please excuse me. I must prepare for my...performance."
Andaris groans loudly, uncertain why he is being awoken so early in the morn- his brain slowly catching up to what is going on, Andaris plasters a lopsided smile on his face. He takes the unornamented wineskin and says a soft but sincere thank you to the monks. The crowd cheers and drinks to Andaris' success, but with his head pounding he decides to retire early.
Back in his room, Andaris takes a minute to detect magic on the wineskin. 'This will certainly be of great value on my quest, but I truly cannot stand the thought of more drink this night.' Placing the wineskin in his bags, Andaris settles down to sleep.
"What an intriguing offer. We shall see what comes of it." Mihail enunciates clearly and tonelessly, his face blank. "Now, please excuse me. I must prepare for my...performance."
The messenger narrows his eyes. "Give me your word, upon your honour as a knight. I will accept no less."
'Hmmm, he seems spirited.'
"What an interesting conundrum. First you ask me to purposefully lose the tournament, and now you want my word upon my honour as a knight." Mihail looks at him as if he has grown an extra head. "Make up your mind. Do you wish me to be an honourable man, or do you wish me to throw the tourney?"
'Foolish, but spirited.'
"Is it not honourable to put aside one's pride for the benefit of an entire nation?" the messenger counters.
"You have done well to make it this far, but frankly your chances of victory are non-existent. Put aside your vain quest for trifling adorations, and take the reward His Grace offers for your skill. The jousting plate will be fitted to you and set with your house colours, of course. Would 5000 crowns be more suitable in your eyes? You would hardly receive so much coin even if you won."
"I require your decision. This is your opportunity to make something of your progress. I recommend you take it."
"Such a sum of money and a trinket is hardly worth the cost of my honour. Why, just look at last year's winner. Surely to protect his pride your Grace could offer me fairer compensation."
Mihail recalls that the last major tournament held in these lands was hosted by Count Reglan, one of the most powerful lords of central Taldor. The prize, won by a Baron Issling, was a set of enchanted dragonhide fullplate and a lance of jousting, with a total value of around 10 000 gp.
The messenger frowns. "Your premise is flawed. Baron Wylder lacks the resources of His Grace, and Count Reglan is by far wealthier than both combined. His prizes cannot be compared to Wylder's."
"Even so, I can also offer you a matching sword, lance, and shield to accompany the armour. That is the absolute maximum. His Grace already stands to lose money in this venture, but is willing to do this for the good of the realm."
Mihail rubs his goatee slowly and thoughtfully.
"I must thank His Grace for the most generous offer, but I must regretfully decline. My father, the Lord Baron Theodor Dan Razvan, taught me to direct my full energies toward every challenge issued to me. I must accept the challenge of winning this tournament. I will, however, say nothing of this meeting to anyone. A pleasant morning to you, good man."
Mihail respectfully dismisses the messenger, and puts on his armour, gearing up for the tourney.
Mihail finds Kaid’an and heads to the lists for his match against Earl Mercucius.
The Earl sits astride his charger, visor down. His armour and his horse’s barding bear a seated lion and an inverted sword in red on a silver field.. Scattered ‘boos’ come from the crowd as he is announced - he doesn’t appear to be a favourite of Wylder’s peasantry. In contrast, the crowd cheers on Mihail, the valiant traveller who has unseated four knights in a single tilt.
It seems clear that the Earl is upset about something. He is preparing to use power on this tilt.
Mercucius gives a stiff salute with his lance. The horn blows, and the knights rush towards each other.
The victor is the contestant who breaks the most lances in three runs or unseats the opponent.
Lances break if you hit the target’s AC. You will make a charge attack to hit the enemy’s shield. AC is as before: 15 + dex - charge penalty, shield focus feat applies.
Should you hit, you may roll a bull-rush attempt to try and knock the opponent out of their saddle, opposed by a Ride check to stay in the saddle.
Each run, you may focus on one facet of your performance:
Aim - Roll twice and take better on attack rolls, but holding steady makes you easier to knock off. Roll twice and take lowest to avoid unseat.
Power - Roll twice and take better on unseat, but at a penalty to your accuracy. Roll twice and take lowest on your attack roll.
Riding - Roll twice and take better to avoid unseating, but reduces your power. Enemy rolls twice and takes better to avoid unseat.
Balanced: Roll as normal.
"The Earl seems was angry today. I wonder if a bee got stuck inside his armour. He will power this tilt and try end it early and fast. To bad you are better." Kaid'an smirks has he hands the lance over.
Mihail nods once, and surges forward.
'If he is focusing on a powerful charge, then perhaps I should focus on staying in the saddle.' Mihail muses silently as he thunders towards the irate nobleman.
Earl Mercucius and Mihail meet, but the tension between the combatants prevents either from performing well. Both exhibit skilled horsemanship, but their lancework is sloppy. The crowd had been expecting another quick victory from Mihail, but his failure to do so discourages them.
Mercucius wordlessly prepares for another pass.
Mercucius's body language still exudes hostility, and he is clearly set up for power again.
Mihail surges again, aiming for his opponent's shield.
As the two armoured warriors rush together again, Mihail manages a solid blow that causes his lance to break into splinters. Mercucius clumsily shifts at the last moment, barely glancing his lance off of Mihail's shield. The crowd boos at Mercucius's second consecutive poor display, but he contemptuously ignores their jeers.
Mercucius is switching his focus to accuracy this round.
Kaid'an hands Mihail a new lance. "He seems to be changing his tactics. He will try for accuracy next. He wants a good hit to end this because he knows he is messing up."
Mihail wheels Lanfarnesse, and makes his final run at his opponent.
Mihail and Mercucius drive their horses together, and with a loud snapping they turn both their lances into a cloud of splinters. Mercucius lands a solid blow, but Mihail brilliantly holds his position in the saddle until the lance snaps.
With two lances broken to Mercucius's one, Mihail wins the tilt! He is now one of the last four remaining entrants in the tournament.
Earl Mercucius finally raises his visor, his bright blue eyes spewing pure venom at Mihail, bearded mouth set in a line. His stare lasts for a handful of uncomfortable heartbeats before the Earl slides off his charger, passes the reins and his shield to his squire, and stalks away.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
After his victory, Mihail is approached by a knight in Baron Wylder's livery, followed by Sir Eren, who points you out.
"Greetings, Mihail Dan Razvan, and congratulations on your successful tilt," the tall, well-built woman begins. The gilded hilt of a finely-crafted sword is visible at her waist. "I am Dame Ellys, commander of Baron Wylder's household knights. You have distinguished yourself in the lists and by your service to our lord, so the Baron wishes to extend an invitation to fight under his banner in the upcoming mêleé."
Sir Eren glances at Dame Ellys, then explains: "That means that you will be on our side of the combat, and that the Baron will pay your ransom should you be captured. In return, he claims a tenth's share of any ransoms you claim, as well as the honour of having a warrior like yourself under his flag."
"It is understandable if you wish to fight under your own flag, but I would consider it a pleasure to fight alongside you."
Mihail considers for a moment.
"May I have some time to deliberate on the matter? I have recently acquired a squire, and wish for his wisdom on the matter."
"Of course," Dame Ellys nods. "Inform myself, Sir Eren, or another of the Baron's household before the mêleé begins."
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Mihail and Kaid'an are called for the semi-final round of the tournament. There is much pomp and ceremony, and the viewing boxes are filled with nobility. Baron Wylder has a prominent location in the center, along with the most notable lords attending the tournament - including Earl Mercucius. Common folk crowd the viewing areas set aside for them, pressing against the rope barriers.
Heralds announce each contestant. "Knight-Errant Mihail Dan Razvan, of House Dan Razvan, hailing from Ustalav!" The crowd roars as Mihail waves. Many of them have been following Mihail since the first day, and his exploits have made him a sort of hero of the common man (despite his noble birth).
"Baron Issling, of House Falsivus, Lord of Issling Manor, 273rd in line to the throne of Taldor, hailing from Nerev!"
Baron Issling sits astride a lean charger, encased in glimmering jousting plate. His arms are prominently displayed on his shield and his horse's caparison.
The crown and lion on his heraldry is indicative of a familial link to Grand Prince Stavian, though the quartering means that it is on his mother's side - a weaker connection, since in Taldor succession is generally through the oldest male offspring.
A wave of applause rises from primarily the nobles, indicating their support of Issling.
Kaid'an listens to the proposal as Mihail explains it to him. "Hmmmm... seems like a good offer. I don't know much about Baron Wylder but Sir Eren has been fair with us. This melee sounds more like a large drunken brawl and any friends we can count on would be nice. I am not amazing with a sword so any help we can count on is great. Also more of us on a team means we should be able to 'capture' more knights and make more money. 10% sounds like a fair deal. This also sounds like a big boost to your own notoriety. Unless you have issues fighting under his banner I say we should take it. A few negatives but many positives. What do you think?"
"Alright, you have persuaded me." Mihail nods decisively, and continues his preparations.
--------------------------------------------------
Mihail waves to the crowd, and gives a respectful half-bow to his opponent.
"This should be a fantastic match," Mihail grins at his squire.
"This should be a great match. I look forward to seeing you knocked off, I mean seeing you knock someone else off." Kaid'an matches Mihail's grin. "The common people want to see their favourite win. Think you can do it?"
When she awakes in the morning, Iluna finds Gonan and drags him to the lists where they stand among the crowd eagerly watching the days jousts. She cheers when Mihail valiantly braves the blows of Earl Mercucius, and again when he appears for his match against Baron Issling.
Baron Issling has his horse kneel to Baron Wylder's viewing box, demonstrating excellent control of his mount. He salutes Mihail then closes his visor, readying his lance for the charge.
Issling looks like he's going for accuracy.
Mihail salutes his opponent back, knowing that this is the proper protocol. 'Shame Hs Gracelessness didn't show the same...'
When the signal is given, Mihail rides forth.
Baron Issling aims carefully and makes an excellent pass, neatly breaking his lance on Mihail's shield. Mihail has difficulty aiming his lance at the bobbing target, and strikes a mere glancing blow.
Issling retrieves a new lance from his squire and prepares for the second run.
Issling is favouring accuracy again. His horsemanship is good enough that he doesn't need to pay much attention to it.
Kaid'an hands Mihail his lance. "Sorry, no advice this time."
Mihail sighs, but is resigned to his fate. He sallies forth, charging his opponent.
The two horses thunder towards each other, bearing their mailed riders to a collision of wood and steel mid-list.
Both men strike true, but while Mihail's lance shatters in his grip, Issling's holds firm. With a near-perfect blow, Issling lifts Mihail out of the saddle and deposits him on the dirt behind Lanfarnesse.
Baron Issling dismounts and strides over to Mihail after Kaid'an helps him back up. The Baron flips up his visor and extends a hand. "Well met, Dan Razvan."
Issling is a trim, lively man with a bushy moustache that mimics his eyebrows. "I am pleased to have crossed lances with a knight of your obvious calibre. I have heard you are entering the melee under Wylder's flag? I look forward to fighting alongside you."
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As one of the top four finalists, Mihail is not sent away empty-handed.
He is presented with a set of finely-crafted arms: a flail, sword, lance, and shield, all masterwork in quality. A purse of 500 gp rounds out the prize.
Mihail turns to his squire, holding out the beautiful longsword and 100 pieces of gold.
"Here is your portion of the winnings. Shall we see if we can do better in the melee, under Baron Wylder's flag?"
Kaid'an takes the sword and money. "Thanks and I am ready to hit some nobles. I mean win a melee."
Baron Issling goes on to win the jousts, beating Lord Stoneglen (Knight-Commander of Count Reglan's men-at-arms) in the finals.
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After lunch , the tournament attendees shift their attention to the melee field in the center of the tournament grounds. A large rectangle bordered by a wooden fence, it measures several hundred feet along each side.
Knights and nobles, attended by their squires, begin to enter the field. Two teams are formed, each warrior selecting a side. Baron Wylder and his knights are joined by Baron Issling, Lord Excius, their respective retinues, and dozens of other minor nobles and hedge knights. On the other side of the field sits Count Reglan atop his charger, surrounded by well over a dozen of his retainers and knights. Earl Mercucius is also present, accompanied by a handful of knights bearing his colours. All told, there are over fifty knights on each side, in addition to their squires.
Mihail and Kaid’an make their way to Wylder’s side, meeting Dame Ellys, Sir Eren, and a third household knight named Sir Tristyn. A couple minor nobles have also agreed to fight under Wylder’s flag, and they shift astride their horses in anticipation.
Wylder’s court wizard walks into the field carrying a steel rod. He walks to four places, casting the same spell he did at the spell duels at each point. That done, he bows respectfully towards Baron Wylder before leaving for the castle.
The spell seems to convert deadly force into non-lethal damage within its area of effect. It's probably designed for tournament combat, and was likely researched independently for this express purpose. The four castings, three widened with the metamagic rod, seem sufficient to cover the entire field of battle.
Sir Eren nods appreciatively. ”You don’t need to worry so much about holding back now. That spell should stop most injuries from occurring,” he confides with Mihail. Sir Eren grows sober, continuing, ”Even so, be careful. People do occasionally die in these - even though blood won’t be drawn, necks can break and bones can shatter. Watch yourself.”
The two teams of knights gleam in the afternoon sunlight, their colourful banners flapping from raised lances. With the sound of horns, both forces spur their horses forward - battle is met.
Mihail is positioned on the right edge of Wylder’s retinue, with Baron Issling’s forces some yards to his right. A number of hedge knights fill the gap. As the gap closes between the two teams, he is able to pick out a target - either a noble in glittering plate, or a hedge knight of poorer status.
Mihail charges the noble in glittering plate.
Mihail and the noble pass by each other, neither landing a solid hit.
Ahead, Mihail can see a gap where he can pass through the enemy ranks easily, reuniting with Wylder and his knights. However, to the right he sees one of Earl Mercucius's knights focussed on engaging one of Baron Issling's men - he doesn't notice you, leaving him open.
Wylder's group are pushing through the fracas on your left. One of the lesser nobles is missing, but both Sir Tristyn and Baron Wylder have left unhorsed knights on the ground behind them, while Dame Ellys has unseated two.
"Back to the group, squire!"
Mihail surges back towards Baron Wylder and his men.
Kaid'an charges with Mihail against the shiny knight.
"Back to the group, squire!"
Mihail surges back towards Baron Wylder and his men.
"Right behind you, Sir!"
Kaid'an fallows Mihail back towards Baron Wylder.