Cahal has joined the Benches.

Flavien has joined the Benches.

Shae has joined the Benches.

It's poetry and jousting - what could possibly go wrong? The rules are posted up on a wall for everyone to see. If one wishes to joust, a poem is required first. (@check wits+performance/riddles) Then they get to ride whatever anomaly they choose, (@check dex+ride), and attempt to hit someone else with a weapon. (@check strength+any weapon skill.) The silent and totally visible judges will confer and assign a score based on the poetry, riding skill, and strength of the rider's attack (add the scores together - a negative score will just be zero.) The winner will get a prize to be shown later.

People hired to do so wander around handing out milk mixed with honey. Unless brought in by the outside, there is no alcohol in sight.

2 Whitehawk Guards arrives, following Bedivere.

Lord Bedivere shows up and sits down, doing so with a couple guards taking their own seats, too, behind him with one on either side.

Bedivere has joined the Benches.

Acantha's going out for the first time as Baroness. She'd been wanting to see a joust and the thought of it mixed with poetry was going to be interesting. It was going to be one of those events where fun was taking place and those are the best kind. The woman makes her way to the benches and has a seat as her companion plops down on the bench to her left.

Alejandro has joined the line.

Amari has joined the line.

Erasyl, a sharp-eyed thick-billed raven arrives, following Eshken.

The clamor and sight of the Training Center is something wholly new for the lady in black as she slips through the door. Narcissa's burnished gaze dances over the sight before her, flitting this way and that and not quite settling on a solitary individual. A beeline is made for the side of the grounds where the battle of wits and steel shall be played out, but given her willowy build it is clear the Fidante has never lifted a sword in her life.

When the Sword of Lenosia arrives, its in the saddle of a lean and well groomed warhorse. Speckled coat and hearty northern blood, Scout trots along carrying the black-clad swordsman to the jousting course. When they arrive, he jumps down, resting a hand on her side and giving a look around. Harlex tongues his eyetooth, a little wary. He spies Narcissa and tips her a nod and a slight grin.

Harlex has joined the line.

Ducking in from the snowy cold outside, Alejandro makes his way into the rather unfamiliar training center. With a shrug of his shoulders he dislodges the majority of the snow and, with a brief frown, gets out of the way. Eyes shifting as he looks about the place, he soon gravitates toward a familiar face that's just arrived as well, "Lady Narcissa. The poetry I understand, but are you going to be participating? I should talk, having hardly been trained in combat or horsemanship myself."


Norwood is totally hosting this thing. It mostly involves making sure there is enough honey'd milk for everyone, and that no one falls off their horse so badly that they break anything. Otherwise he'll move through the crowd nodding at a person here and there with nice basic, "Welcome, I hope you enjoy. Yes, it is fine if you are not good at poetry. No one is." That's a gauntlet thrown at any good poets, because good poetry is apparently not a thing.

Flavien has joined the line.

Cahal finds a spot amongst the benches to sit and watch. He looks to those who have also taken places on the benches and offers smiles to the few he knows.

Cristoph has joined the line.

Flavien shakes his head as he sits down on the benches, looking down at a crumpled note in hand.

Ouida enters in polished steel, and a fine cloak in Harthall colors, riding a pretty bay mare. As she reaches the grounds, she moves to dismount and lead, her sky blue eyes looking about with some amusement at the crowd gathered, an easy grin upon her face.

Eshken steps into the Training Center with slight hesitation, pausing a moment upon entering to judge his surroundings. He quickly makes his way to the side of the room, attempting to remain free from any conflict. His gaze shifts between patrons, stopping a moment on Bedivere to give a light smile and nod before continuing on, hanging for a moment upon spotting Narcissa.

Is Cristoph going to join this jousting contest? Yes, yes, he is. Because it's been a solid year since he's broken a bone in his body doing something on a horse, so it's about time to do that again. Like clockwork. Where is his sister, anyway? He leads in his palomino mare, a placid patient steed.

Ouida has joined the line.

From the first row of benches, Bedivere lifts up his left/only hand in a gesture of greeting to Norwood then shifts the same to Eshken, too. Then, the Whitehawk lord rests his hand down on his lap with his right arm's stump.

Narcissa looks immediately relieved and makes a beeline for Harlex with nothing more than the rustling of umbra silks as she bobs this way and that, weaving through the crowd. She murmurs low, "So..it appears I can compose, but you have to perform it. I will show you how it is done before? Please tell me you can be echoic, if not evocative of the tone I try to portray."

Berenice sweeps into the Training Center with an unplanned sort of air, as if she followed a last-minute whim of attendance. She keeps her lush, fur-lined coat on, even in the comparative warmth of the large hall, and saunters over to the benches with the dramatic skirts of her coat sweeping about her. Her gaze draws slowly along the grounds, noting the competitors, and there's one that she spies without any hint of surprise: her eyes land on Harlex, and her lips curl with a slow, satisfied little smile. Berenice's attention drops briefly to Narcissa when she approaches him on the field, studying her at a remove, and she takes a seat with a warm rustle of silk.

Kedehern has joined the line.

Amari strolls down to the front and has a look around, leading her white palfrey. Norwood is waved to and a honey'd milk sipped at, because that's one of the first things she seeks out. She's wearing steel armor that looks to be a loaned harness, maybe some of Veronica's old gear. It all matches, it's just nothing fancy, and a bit battered. It's probably heavier than she's used to as well, cause she looks /beat/ and the jousting hasn't even begun.

Harlex stands at a rider's lean and studies the Fidante in black as she approaches him. He raises a dark claw and says, "I think I know what echoic means," he offers -- helpfully. "Reckon I'll give it a shot. Show me." He's going to be fantastic. There's a look aside, maybe catching that sweep of silk and he offers a smile toward Berenice and a flashing wink. Focus falling back on his -- sponsor?

Already sitting on one of the benches, Shae sat with her dog, whos head was resting in her lap as she rubbed his ears softly. And then petted his head. Her racoon resting in the hood of her cloak, its nose just peeking out of it. Coughing a little, she covers her mouth, and then pulls her cloak tighter about herself. Eyes a bit red around the edges, looking weary. As she watches as Norwood's event begins.

Eshken shifts his way through the crowd, pushing toward the benches. He continues to make note of various guests as they arrive, giving each entry a thoughtful inspection before moving on. Eventually, he settles down on the bench near Bedivere with a heavy breath, "Not competing, Lord Bedivere?" He asks with a soft grin.

Kedehern arrived on the grounds, and was leading his destrier towards where the Duke Laurent stood, giving the man a nod, as he looks over the crowd. "You know, when I first heard about this, I didn't think it was going to be so... Popular," he remarks.

Eshken has joined the Benches.

Stefano, an inconspicuous Lycene bodyguard, Carmela, a gleaming dusken-feathered crow, Ambra, a plain-faced Lycene scribe arrive, following Mirella.

Jael shows up fashionably late, dressed to the nines (nines that work for riding) and accompanied by a groom in Laurent livery leading her wicked-looking black warhorse. She takes the reins from the man once they've reached the jousting area, and she leads the horse the rest of the way.

Jael has joined the line.

Amari gets just some honeyed milk.

"Oh, people always show up for a good joust. Do you have your poem ready? I spent a lot of time on mine." And it's terrible, Kedehern. But look, Cristoph seems to proud of it. He even holds the paper up for the other lord's inspection ahead of time.

Alejandro mingles in such a fashion as to suggest that he's going to participate in this even in which he is only marginally qualified. If even that. He appears to be first amongst those milling about wishing to compete and he takes a moment to eye his fellow poetical jousters. His expression suggests very little in the way of confidence yet he remains, eyes no longer moving to glance about but instead focused up and to one side as he tries to wing a poem out of thin air.


Norwood nods back to the people who address him, like Bedivere, Amari, and Shae. A critical eye looks about before he nods to himself and turns to make his way to a nice place where he can be heard. Parade ground voice, "WELCOME." Hello yelling. "TO OUR POETRY JOUSTING. YOU CAN SEE THE RULES," a gesture of his hands. "MAY GLORIA AND JAYUS SHINE ON YOU ALL. LET US BEGIN. MASTER ALEJANDRO PLEASE COME FORWARD."

Narcissa checked wits + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 33 higher.

"I do! I'm rather proud of it, actually," Kedehern nods to Cristoph, beaming. It's also terrible.

Alejandro checked wits + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 48 higher.

Right there on the side of the field, Narcissa slips into the poet's repose like a second skin. The woman of marmoreal skin breathes out slowly, and with eyes closed recites to Harlex alone, " An army rides forth, name and honor to defend,
The foe advances, opponent surely but motive akin.
The ringing of steel, sinews to wrench and rend,
Amid sanguine fields, both hold virtue and sin."

Flavien looks up to Cristoph. "I am so, so ready for this. Norwood will regret everything."

Alejandro checked dexterity + ride at difficulty 15, rolling 8 higher.

Alejandro checked strength + small wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 30 higher.

As the games begin, Cristoph leans forward and gives Flavien a crisp high five. "Where is Eiran? This really seemed like it would be his sort of thing."

Bedivere looks out toward those who seemingly mean to eventually compete, and then he looks back to Eshken, "Not today. I considered it, but I should not risk an injury for fun when our troops might need me." The faintest smile briefly happens after he speaks of Whitehawk military. But, as usual, it does not last long. "I do hope you are well." He turns to those at the benches and tells them, "For those who have not met him yet: Master Eshken Greenblood, Minister of Coin of Whitehawk as well as trusted house servant, too."

Harlex studies Narcissa closely as she stands and speaks. He bobs his head a little. Muttering the words. "Well, that's a fine poem. I'll try to save the butchering for when I'm on the tilt." He makes a small 'tch' sound at the corner of his mouth. "Wish me luck."

Into the scene comes Mirella -- dark of garb, cool of expression, wreathed with the potential to be a real downer in what might be a light-hearted and joyous event. Not yet, but there's always time. Her eyes like duskstone sweep across the gathering, seeking out the flannel-clad form of an Eddard Clement, and upon not finding him, her lips purse and her pale face takes on a look of very mild disappointment that barely touches her features. Nonetheless she nods politely to all the nobles, curtsying neatly and efficiently when required, and then standing somewhere out of the way so as to watch the activities for a focusing moment or ten. She's not lurking. Just watching.

"I've not seen him. But I had expected to," muses Flavien wiht another look around.

6 Redoubt Buccaneers, Bengalo, the sneaky black cat, Luna, the sweet, studious assistant arrive, following Carita.

6 Redoubt Buccaneers, Bengalo, the sneaky black cat, Luna, the sweet, studious assistant leave, following Carita.

There is a tired smile to her step-father and then she is glancing toward Kedehern, Cristoph, and Flavien. A tired chuckle at their conversation. "I'm looking forward to hearing all of these poems. Do you think people are going to really try to make them good, or do the opposite on purpose?" Having to pause there as she breaks into a coughing fit. One that was loud, the sort that made people turn to look at you.

Luna, the sweet, studious assistant arrives, following Carita.

Carita has joined the Benches.

That wasn't enough time to prepare! Alejandro seems mildly startled when his name is called and he pauses a moment before proceeding, offering a jaunty bow toward Norwood and then something even more dramatic toward the crowd at large. Then his poem begins. It's simply constructed though expertly performed. While spouting his occasionally rhyming lines, the Bard of Roses speaks clearly and emphatically, emoting all over the place with witty charm. What was it about? Love? And stuff? When he clambers atop a horse, he nearly tumbles out of the saddly, but manages to get by and remain upright through sheer physical grace rather than any inkling of ability. Upon looking across at his jousting opponent, he shakes his head, "Gods help me. Go, horse! Go!" remarkably, he eventually manages to kick the horse into action and thus the joust commences. It somehow goes well and Alejandro concludes looking rather pleased with himself.


"That depends on what someone considers good. Knowing what makes a technically good poem is also necessary in order to make a *truly* heinous one. It's very creative either way. As for the strikes, that'll be just another interesting skill to take into account." Flavien... may have overthought that answer. Like everything else as he looks down to his crumpled paper.

Turn in line: Alejandro

Turn in line: Amari

The silent judges sit and silently judge, because that's what they do. When they are done they scribble down a number that they came up with in their own complicated and round about way. Norwood checks it, nods once, then announces, "Master Alejandro's score is 86. Ah, Lady Amari!" Up up and away.

Amari checked wits + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 24 higher.

Amari checked dexterity + ride at difficulty 15, rolling 5 higher.

Amari checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 67 higher. Amari rolled a critical!

"Where do you think he found those judges? Is that man over there Baron Norwood's grandfather?" Cristoph asks, pointing at one extremely old judge that's being extra critical. "How did he get him all the way to Arx?" Flavien and Kedehern would remember Grandpa Clement from his time at court in Artshall, where he was incredibly grouchy all the time. This is probably /not/ Norwood's grandfather.

"He hasn't hit anyone with his cane yet, it's not him," Kedehern states, shaking his head, convinced of his correctness.

Amari climbs up onto her mount and pats the sturdy old palfrey's neck reassuring. It'll be fiiiine, Clopsy. To the start they go, the Keaton lady readying her lance and turning in her saddle to look back at the crowd. The visor on her helmet clunks down into place, perhaps not intentionally, and her voice is thus somewhat muffled when she calls out her poem. It sounds as if it's about Limerance, maybe? Keeping oaths. Somehow she rhymes something with 'decorum' too, and it's moderately clever. With that, she's off, lance couched and Clopsy who doesn't really seem to like this jousting business much, tries to veer off the line. It looks grim, like every other time Amari has attempted to joust, but Norwood's teaching evidently has stuck. She hits her opponent squarely and it looks so awesome. The lance goes BOOM and shatters and there's a loud bang and everything. Solid! She gives a wave to the crowd and rides off out of the way without a fuss.

"Kedehern has you there. If he's not violent, it can't be the same man," says Flavien dryly.

Carita slides into the area, her smile warm even if the snow is falling. The deep cowl of her hood pulled up, is lined with fur and warm enough for the slender Darkwater Countess. There are a few dipped curtsies, another few finger wiggles at familiar faces, and then she's sitting down on the benches with the others.

Jael, who has been standing at her steed's shoulder and keeping him from dancing around too much, sticks her fingers in her mouth and whistles /loudly/ at Amari's performance. The horse next to her tosses his head in displeasure.

As Flavien speaks to her, Shae nods a touch, "Ah," she murmurs. Glancing toward Aljandro, and clapping for him. The movement a touch too slow, almost too tired. At the mention of Norwood's Grandfather, Shae's eyes widen a little and she sits up a bit more looking for the man. Look she had now idea it wasn't him. She blames Norwood for this sad fact. "Really?" Glancing around some more, pausing to rub at her tired eyes. "Where is he?"

"Maybe Baron Norwwood confiscated his cane," Cristoph insists to his cousin and uncle. "Where is Jael, perhaps she'll be able to tell? Jael! Where are you!" Amari gives off an impressive performance, which he does notice! Much clapping ensues.

Mirella has joined the Benches.

Flavien couldn't help but clap for the stunning show of Amari as, well, that happened.

Turn in line: Harlex

Norwood is suppose to be impartial, right? Wait, maybe he doesn't need to since he's just announcing the scores? Hopefully he doesn't because he gives a huge WOOP! When Amari hits before clearing his throat. "Ah, yes. Well done Amari." Yes. Totally serious. A pause before, "Lady Amari's score is 96!. Mastr Halrex to the lists please!"

"Well rode, Lady Amari!" Kedehern shares for his betrothed's cousin!

"For the love of the gods, Cris, I'm next to this giant horse that /lives at your house/," Jael replies over her steed's back. "And that's not Grampy Clement. I'm going to tell Mama you need to work with the flashcards."

Norwood mutters, "... grandfather ... //not// here, ... ... ..."

Oh wait that was Amari! "Amari!" She calls out, her weariness not hard to read in her voice, even though she was excited for her cousin.

Harlex checked wits + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 4 lower.

Kedehern has joined the Benches.

Shae mutters, "But ... don't even ... ... he looks like!"

Harlex checked dexterity + ride at difficulty 15, rolling 41 higher.

Harlex checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 30 higher.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Cristoph asks Jael, calling over the top of the horse. Then Norwood is whispering something in his general direction and he sighs, shoulders sagging. "Fine, I suppose it's not him." But he wishes it was. A motion in the crowd briefly catches his attention and he glances that way.

Narcissa glances back over her shoulder to the benches, offering Berenice a polite nod, the cupid's bow of her full lips curling into a winsome smile. As Harlex rides however, her attention is snapped to the forefront to see her poem and the jousting play out.

Turn in line: Flavien

There's some serious whispering going on among the judges this time, and one guy actually starts pounding his hand against the wood because he's so passionate. Finally they come to an agreement and pass over Harlex' score. "Master Harlex' score is 71, next, ah. The inspiration for this whole affair. You might notice a poem by the entrance that was not written by him. Lord Flavien Laurent!"

Flavien checked wits + riddles at difficulty 15, rolling 7 higher.

"Flashcards," Jael replies irritably with a headshake to her brother before vanishing back behind the bulk of her stallion.

Flavien checked dexterity + ride at difficulty 15, rolling 6 higher.

Flavien checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 20 higher.

Amari pushes her visor up once she's rode over to join Jael, grinning. "Better than the last attempt, when I couldn't even hit the rings and Clopsy tried to ride away." She laughs while giving Clopsy a few pats on the neck, lightly since she's wearing gauntlets that seem a size too large. She sags a bit, all the borrowed steel weighing heavily on her shoulders, which probably is the prompt needed to start removing the extraneous bits, like the helmet.

Berenice has left the Benches.

Harlex swings into the saddle and takes his lance. No one would ever accuse him of gallantry, but he does look rather dashing in that rough and tumble way. Then he speaks. "An army rides forth, named -- or, name and honor to defend. The foe -- advances. Opponent surely but motive akin. Ringing of steel!" He shakes his lance. "Sinews to wrench and rend. Amid sanguine fields," awkward pause, "Both hold virtue and sin." Not quite a poet but -- once he takes to the lane its a blur. Master horseman and equally deadly with a lance, he unseats his foe with a crushing hit before he can even lower his weapon to defend. Much more impressive than his verse-reading, that's for certain.

Flavien rose to his feet before making awkward amounts of intense, mildly threatening eye contact with Norwood as he recites the following, "Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
An elder is wizened,
And so are you.

Orchids are white,
Ghost ones are rare,
Darkness is receding,
And so is your hair.

Magnolia grows,
With buds like eggs,
My chest is hairy,
And so are your legs.

Sunflowers reach,
Up to the skies,
The sun is dazzling,
And so are your eyes.

Foxgloves in hedges,
Surround the farms,
The fellow is burly,
And so are your arms.

Daisies are pretty,
Daffies have style,
My moonlight is illuminating,
And so is your smile.

This poem is beautiful,
Just like you."

When it comes time to ride, well, he's not a natural to the saddle, but he certainly does try. He's managed to find someone to loan him an irritable looking, slow-as-can-be ass for the trial. And when he whips a flail hard at someone when it comes time to whip it good. I, uh, mean joust. Yes, joust.

Norwood checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 2 higher.

There was an attempt. The words are said, almost verbatim, but before she can even groan at its deliverance, Narcissa is cheering for Harlex as he begins to ride. She laughs brightly, the ripple of jovial air surprising to hear from the woman that looks as though she has a perpetual rain cloud over her curls.

"You did great!" Jael tells Amari with delight when the other woman draws near. "You've been practicing!" She'll help with the armor pieces, passing them off to her somewhat beleaguered groom who isn't at all sure what he's meant to do with it. Her horse tosses his head and makes weird horse-faces at Clopsy. Then it's cousin Flavien's turn to ride and when he recites his selection she just /stares/.

Acantha checked composure + etiquette at difficulty 15, rolling 40 higher.

Cristoph checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 1 higher.

Out in the field, Cristoph just barely stops himself from laughing.

Kedehern gives a silent prayer to the gods that years with the Telmars have trained him to maintain a straight face.

From the benches, Mirella adds to something she said after Flavien's own offering. Maybe just to herself, or to others. "That one was better." Her expression is stony but her voice rings with cold authenticity.

There is a quick snort from Shae and then she is giggling as she tries to hide it. Cheeks bright red because of it.

Acantha gives a look towards where Flavien's voice is coming from and the Baroness gives a look back towards the others as she talks quietly. She's not laughing, she's pretty stone faced.

Mirella is overheard praising Flavien: I am no connoisseur of poetry, but I didn't hate that.

Turn in line: Cristoph

Even the judges just stand there. Staring. There's silence at their table for a long moment before one of them shouts out, "YOU AREN'T TALKING ABOUT ME, ARE YOU?" He quickly gets shushed before the other two, one of whom mutters, "I rather liked that hairy legs part..." before they lapse back into silence and pass over a score. "Master Flavien, I now believe you did not write me that poem. A solid 33. Duke Cristoph, forward please!"

Cristoph checked wits + riddles at difficulty 15, rolling 8 lower.

Cristoph checked dexterity + ride at difficulty 15, rolling 8 higher.

Cristoph checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 45 higher.

"I was," Flavien says matter-o-factly as he goes to join the benches again as if nothing happened.

Nevermore, the sulking raven leaves, following Narcissa.

"Whose Queensguard is that? I think /I/ know!" Cristoph begins with ridiculous, over the top volume and far too much emphasis on the words. "Its owner is quite happy though! Full of joy like a vivid rainbow! I watch him laugh! I /cry/ hello!" This horrendous poem goes on for... awhile. The duke maintains eye contact with Norwood the /entire/ time and concludes with, "He rises from his gentle bed! With thoughts of kittens in his head! He eats his jam with lots of bread! Ready for the day ahead!" It's awful. The entire thing is just laughably bad. Intentional? Well, who knows really. Then he brandishes his lance, pulls down his visor and rides off against his opponent. He's a far better horseman and knight than he is a poet, that's for sure. He makes it through the event without breaking his arm this time.

Norwood checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 7 lower.

Harlex dismounts once the ride is through and gives Scout a rub on the neck. He did his duty and now, it was time for the Sword to amble on out of the center.

Amari is happy for Jael's help getting some of the armor off, and compliment too. "Uncle Norwood set up a wheelie horse in the field, I've been practicing on it... it's hilarious. Clopsy doesn't travel in a straight line, is all. You go how you like don't you?" She addresses her palfrey at the end, more amused than upset by her willfullness. There's a grin for the other runs after hers, Harlex and Flavien's attempts at poetry both getting a head tilt, but not a whisper of criticism from her, just applause. She seems delighted. Cristoph's poem just has her in stitches, despite best efforts to not laugh. "Uncle Norwood, are you thinking of kittens now?"

The judges are going to judge that one so hard. Norwood, for his part, is just going to keep up eye contact until the end. Then he'll turn himself around and just bang his head against a nearby wall for a few seconds. It's okay. No big deal. He's fine. Totally fine. Norwood can't announce it so the old judges look around then run out to hand Amari a piece of paper. She's a good announcer, right? "Here, Lady?"

Dolmen, a Crimson Agent, Scout, the high-spirited war horse leave, following Harlex.

Turn in line: Ouida

Ouida checked wits + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 11 higher. Ouida rolled a critical!

And now Amari is the announcer, apparently. She takes the paper and Norwood's duties while he's engaged, "Duke Cristoph, 53, although I would be tempted to score his poetry much higher."

Ouida checked dexterity + ride at difficulty 15, rolling 34 higher.

"Cristoph. I did not realize you felt so about our dear baron. I will, of course, withdraw my own claim upon him so that you may both find true happiness," states Flavien evenly as Cristoph approaches.

Ouida checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 41 higher.

As Cristoph rides, his uncle Kedehern is there, clapping for the man and his... Inventive poetry!

Eshken has left the Benches.

Erasyl, a sharp-eyed thick-billed raven leaves, following Eshken.

Nope. Norwood doesn't manage to compose himself. He's still over here. Ouida does get waved up, so he's there at least that much.

Her cousin's poetry is bad, her brother's is worse, and by the time they're both done riding, Jael is leaning against her horse's shoulder and laughing until tears are coursing down her cheeks.

Once Cristoph has quit the field, he leaves his destrier in the hands of a capable stablehand. "Oh, no. Baron Norwood is a happily married man, Lord Flavien. I wouldn't get in Barnoess Margerie's way. He's more like a dear older brother to me." A much older brother. But still. "I think I'm going to go take a seat in the stands." He removes his helmet from his head, gives a jaunty bow to the laughing audience and finds someplace to sit down.

Cristoph has joined the Benches.

Domonico strides into the training centre, helm under his arm as he sweeps his gaze around the area, akin to searching the horizon for ships. A frown is on his serious features as he tries to work out just what is going on.

Ouida looks every bit the beautifully polished and chivalrous Oathlander knight. Her armor gleams. Her horse is so very well behaved! Her eyes are bright, though not as much so as her smile. Her posture is straight so as to show all of this off to the full credit of her house. She could have ridden out of a storybook, really!

When it comes time for her poem, the young Harthall's voice is loud and ringing, clearly trained to call out commands and orders from the battlefield, each word enunciated /just so/. "RUBICUND IS RED, SAPPHIRES ARE BLUE," she begins, though then it begins to go off the rails just a wee bit, as she starts to forget her perfect rhyme that she spent so much time thinking about on the way over. She looks about, scraping all the effort of her wits together to attempt to save the day, her eyes narrowing here and there on the crowd assembled. "CROW AND RAVEN," she points out various birds amongst those assembled, and then sees some other pet in the crowd. "BEAVER?" this seems to throw her a bit until a horse nearby drops a load of inspiration, "POO!"

And then she is off racing for the her opponent across the field, drawing her sword dramatically, something far far FAR more comfortable! And while the Harthall Sword's poem that she so totally wrote all by herself may indeed were one to actually write it down, the charming personality of the speaker perhaps shines through just a bit, providing a laugh perhaps to go along with the showing off of martial prowess!

Acantha looks to see where Norwood got off to after that speech from the Duke and there's a bit of a smile when he's still waving people up. Ouida's poem gets her though and she picks up Benny when she shouts out Beaver. He raises his paws in the air as if cheering. Then she settles the companion back in her lap.

Acantha is overheard praising Ouida: Benny's never been in poetry before!

Turn in line: Kedehern

Kedehern checked wits + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 2 lower.

Someone brings Norwood some honeyed milk to help him get his all together up and together. He manages in time to see Ouida go off. The not-so-impartial judges who may-or-may-not be related to Norwood stand up and applaud the word poo. "THAT IS MY KIND OF POETRY LASS!" Someone needs to start doubting where Norwood got these men from. "Sit down," Norwood, severe, before taking up the score. "We have a tie with Master Alejandro, at 86! I should have gotten something for second..." Norwood, focusing on the minute so he doesn't die. "May Jayus forgive us, Lord KEdehern!"

Kedehern checked dexterity + ride at difficulty 15, rolling 30 higher.

Kedehern checked strength + huge wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 37 higher.

As Kedehern is called forth the lord rides out on his mighty steed., The Laurent speaks in a booming voice, used to being heard over the din of the battlefield. If only these words had been as useful as those ones usually are...

"See the searching of the Knight,
I think he's angry in delight.

He finds it hard to see the horse,
Overshadowed by the gallant field of force.

Who is that hunting near the lance?
I think she'd shine with the chance.

She is but a glorious Ranger,
Admired as she sits upon a dog in the manger.

Her honorable steed is just a rose,
It needs no prose, it runs on bows.

She's not alone she brings a forest,
a pet hound, and lots of chorist.

The hound likes to chase an elk,
Especially one that's in the belk.

The Knight laughs at the vigorous amber
He wants to ride but she wants the cambre."

May Jayus forgive us indeed. Still, as terrible as the man's poetry is, he at least shows a fair amount of skill at the joust itself, as he unseats his opponent. He canters back to where he was, and dismounts to join the others...

Somewhere from her perch up... somewhere... Mirella's crow lets free a horrible, horrible CAWWWWWW in reply to Ouida's poem. It sounds somewhat approving.

Ouida canters off the field, one gleaming gauntleted hand lifted in a wave, her head bowing to the judges, and that hand then clasped over her heart in salute to them. But then she waits amongst the others who've gone before, patting her mare's neck, and looking quite surprised and proud of herself.

Turn in line: Jael

Jael checked wits + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 28 higher.

"Do rose and bows rhyme? I don't think they rhyme..." That's probably because the judge who is talking his missing some of his front teeth so the words come out all funny sounding. "Are you hiding alcohol?" Norwood, to the judges as he sqints eyes at them. "Lord Kedehern scores at 67, oh may heaven help us all, Lady Jael Laurent!"

Jael checked dexterity + ride at difficulty 15, rolling 34 higher.

Jael checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 16 higher.

There is some blinking, and then a loud snort from Shae as Ouida shares her glourious poem with them. Her gaze shifting to Kedehern as he is called up. Watching the Laurent Lord as he begins his poem, her eyes widening a touch as she just stares at the Knight. And then her brows furrow, "That... that didn't make sense at all." She murmurs.

Domonico just stands there off to the side, looking utterly confused indeed by the contest in play currently. The serious Malvici looks... utterly bewildered.

"Sometimes someone attempts to grasp the void of all things in order to create something to make one think," says Flavien. "It was a good study in the decline of madness."

Jael wipes the tears of laughter from her face with her sleeve and mounts up easily, letting her warhorse curvette as she declaims her poem. If one thing can be said about it, it's WAY better than the other Laurents' efforts. If another thing can be said about it, it also seems to be about people who wear armor as underwear. Then she bows at the waist and steers her steed down the field. She makes the galloping part look /real/ good, hair and split riding skirts streaming in the wind, but the hit to her opponent is somewhat anticlimactic. Still, she princess-waves as she leads her horse back to the staging area.

Amari applauds for Ouida and Kedehern in turn, supremely amused, even if she keeps her own laughter tamed now and doesn't suffer a full fit of giggles like she did with Cristoph's ode to Norwood. "Well done!" She calls out. Jael's armor underwear poetical turn almost undoes her attempts at being serious and dignified again. When she returns from her excellent showing, she's offered a broad smile. "Armor underwear? Who would ever?" Why does she then turn to peer at Norwood?

Cahal has left the Benches.

Kedehern finds himself rubbing his chin, curious as Jael recites, but then he's cheering her on as she makes her tilt!

"//Not me!!//" Norwood protests abruptly as Amari turns and Looks at him at the end of Jael's poem. Instead he'll lift up his hand and point ACCUSINGLY at Cristoph. The judges: "No, you can't give her points because she's pretty you idiot!" There's a small scuffle before Norwood turns to announce, "Lady Jael, 78." His line of people to go is empty so he'll call out one last time, "Any one else before I announce the winner?"

Ouida nods quite approvingly at the poem about armored underwear. "Not a bad idea, if one only has a very small scrap of steelsilk," she observes, quite pragmatically. "Sometimes every bit helps!"

"You know," Jael tells Amari, loudly, "Uncle Norwood says Cris wears it and Cris says Uncle Norwood wears it so I have to assume they both do."

The line has been dismissed by Norwood.

Clapping as Jael finishes, "Well done Lady Jael!" She calls out, even as she gives Kedehern a 'you have to be kiddin'' look. And leans in to murmur to him.

Shae mutters, "What was that ... ... to be about?"

At the benches, Mirella's bodyguard Stefano appears, holding two cups of what is definitely milk and definitely not red wine acquired from... wherever. He nudges himself sideways onto the bench, right next to Mirella, then hands her a cup. Nodding towards Jael, he mutters, "She *is* pretty, though." In reply, Mirella stares at the other Lycene for a good few long slow-blinking and heavy-lidded moments before her bland voice slides into the air with a velvety drawl. "Shut up, Stefano." With that, she nods politely to Cristoph, and whispers something to her bodyguard. With that, he slowly turns her neck to regard Cristoph. Then he nods. Politely. And looks back to the joust and takes a swig from his cup of totally-not-alcohol.

Kedehern looks both ways, and then leans back to Shae, to murmur in turn, as he waits for Norwood to announce the winner.

There's a distraction as Jael accuses him of Underwear armor, and so he's just going to POINT more at Cristoph. Not him, it's Cristoph. But it's time for being SERIOUS PEOPLE. SERIOUS. "Lady Amari! Step forth! Your elegant poetry, horsemandship and strength of arms," Norwood is literally about to burst with pride, "have won you the day. Please be careful as you hold it, everyone, Lady Amari Keaton!"

Stefano turned his neck, not Mirella's. Because it'd be weird if he'd turned hr neck.

Acantha applauds for Amari when she's announced as the winner, "Good job, Lady Keaton!" she calls.

Domonico spots Cristoph in the crowd, amidst the madness of jousting poetry and the Malvici Admiral nods to the Laurent Duke before listening to the announcement of the winner and applauding.

Flavien claps for the lady of the hour.

Flavien is overheard praising Amari: She rather handily won the contest of finesse, wit, and might all in one. That's no easy feat.

Ouida claps and cheers for Amari as she is announced as the winner, her gauntlets adding to the loudness of the sound. Her bay shifts a little, though does seem to be somewhat used to rattling metal and boisterous shouts!

From the benches, Cristoph claps loudly for Amari's win. "Congratulations Lady Keaton!" he calls out to her before he continuing a few quiet conversations around him. He notices people nodding politely at him, then he nods politely /back/ at them. He also waves to Domonico. So many greetings. Such cheer. Much clapping.

Jael whistles again, several long loud blasts as Amari's triumph is announced. Luckily her horse is spared this display as the Laurent groom takes the imposing-looking beast off for some treats and a well-earned rest.

Kedehern gives Amari a hearty round of applause, delighted for the Keaton noblewoman.

Bedivere reaches up and gives his own chest armor a good pounding because actually clapping the right way is beyond impossible.

Bedivere says, "Well done, Lady Amari!"

"Congratulations Amari!!" Shae excitedly calls out for her cousin.

Well then, Cristoph is treated to similar scrutiny as Amari tries to see through their topmost layer of clothing, or armor, rather. Ouida's comment has her nod, "I think it would have to be steelsilk. How could you fit even more armor under proper armor otherwise?" Perhaps she's applying too much logic to this, and she seems to recognize that but she's still thinking about it until Norwood is talking about her. Her expression says 'what?' and she's clearly startled. "I did? It was all your training then, Uncle Baron Norwood. Thank you." She bows to him in her saddle and immediately gets moist eyes seeing his proud look. The prize lance she's given is handled carefully, and held aloft. She's just at a complete loss for words at that point, glancing to Jael as if she sees this and it's a real thing that is happening for real.

Amari gets a clasp on the shoulder and a quiet word from Norwood before he steps off and POINTEDLY marches in Cristoph's direction. There are words that have to be said.

Alejandro is overheard praising Amari.

Norwood has joined the Benches.

Alejandro is overheard praising Norwood.

Cristoph is overheard praising Norwood.

Cristoph is overheard praising Amari.

Norwood is overheard praising Amari: Such skill!

Carita is overheard praising Amari: For a beauty wrapped in aeterna that's an inspiration to the cream puffs of society that beuty can also be quite strong.

Shae is overheard praising Norwood.

Shae is overheard praising Amari.

Shae is overheard praising Kedehern.

"'Tis true," Ouida agrees rather soberly with Amari. "Anything else would be rather weighted I'd think. The last thing one needs hen one is rushing the enemy to meet upon the field is the sensation of something starting to sag quite precariously within one's suit." She sighs, ever so slightly. "That would not do at all." She watches as Amari claims the lance, her smile bright.

Domonico shakes his head slightly in disbelief. The martial displays were impressive but... the poetry? It seems lost on the stoic Malvici.

Jael helpfully punches the air when Amari looks over at her. Who knows if that's a good way to convince someone they aren't hallucinating, but it's definitely enthuasiatic and the Laurent is positively beaming.

Mirella hands her cup to Stefano so that the Lycene bodyguard is helplessly holding a drink in either hand. This frees up her digits so as to allow her to bring them together in a golf clap for Amari's victory. It's not a rude clap. Just the sort of slow, gentle applause of a woman too stoidly phlegmatic to ever be able to go crazy with such gestures of approval. Afterwards, though, she gathers up her skirts in her hands, stands carefully, and gives another nod and a neat curtsy to Cristoph. "Duke Laurent. A very good gathering." She considers with a thoughtful narrowing of eyes, "Ah... inspired verse." To all the others at the benches she dips into another curtsy and murmurs, "Lord, ladies." And then she crooks a finger at Stefano and the two of them Lycene their way out of there, with only a little drop of wine spilled by the southern man as he clonks his knee on the bench. Her voice can be heard fading away into the distance.

Acantha claps for Amari as she rises. And there's a smile to those she was seated with before she starts to head down from her seat.

Carita is overheard praising Laurent: A BEEautifully run event!

Mirella mutters, "Pretty! She's a skilled jouster, ... objectifying ass. I can't ... you ... that in front of her ..."

Amari is overheard praising Norwood: Excellent instructor and Uncle Baron!

Norwood walks by and blinks when the words 'objectifying ass' wash past him. Lips form a small, 'why' but he's going to keep walking. Just... keep walking.

Mirella is overheard praising Norwood: A unique event. Well done.

"Thank you!" Cristoph calls out to Mirella and then blinks as he catches a whisper of something. There's a distracted wave to Acantha as she makes her exit and then he glances over to Carita, looking faintly confused at the conversation washing over him. He sees Norwood approaching and just smiles at him.

Mirella is overheard praising Cristoph: A well-done event. Hopefully he didn't hear my bodyguard fawning over his sister.

Flavien sliiiiiiides on out of there.

Flavien has left the Benches.

Mirella has left the Benches.

Stefano, an inconspicuous Lycene bodyguard, Carmela, a gleaming dusken-feathered crow, Ambra, a plain-faced Lycene scribe leave, following Mirella.

Kedehern turns towards Mirella, raising a brow, and then looking Jael, and then the judges, a moment, before starting to frown somewhat.

In the congratulating, Shae murmurs back to Kedehern, and then heads out.

Shae has left the Benches.

"//really//?" Norwood's voice carries and he's just going to sound old for a bit. "I'm going to go take care of the judges." That kind of thing makes sense. Excuse him.

Ouida dismounts once she nears the hosts, handing her bay's reins off to her squire, as she moves to bow first to the Duke and then to the Baron. "A fine competition, Duke Laurent, my lord. Thank you very much for your kind invitation." But she doesn't seem inclined to take up too much of their busy time, for after this pleasantry she begins to step back so that others can speak with them as well.

Acantha has left the Benches.

Jael seems completely unaware of her nascent fan club. After a few comments to her fellow jousters, she slips out of the crowd, probably to go spend the rest of the evening saying nice things to her horse.

"Oh," Norwood is flustered at the moment, but Carita's introducing herself, so he's going to pause and bow. "Baron Norwood Clement. This," a glance about everywhere, "Is my fault, I appologize."

Domonico slowly makes his way out, utterly perplexed by the Laurents. "Madness..." he murmurs as he leaves.

Ouida frowns ever so slightly as Norwood seems to find himself at fault! But as she is a stranger, more or less, she appears to take the better part of valor and holds her tongue, merely fixing him with a warm and sympathetic gaze, before turning too to make her way out of the crowd.

At some point, Kedehern makes his exit!

Kedehern has left the Benches.