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The Blue Knight

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  1. Getting started; anyone like Joust knights?

    @Grubbistch Just to make sure, is it okay if Ser Dormaeus follows Amelia?
  2. Friday Knight Lights

    It didn't take long for the Blue Knight to catch the gazes of an overabundance of women in the Ball, as the heat could've rose the room's temperature nearly ten degrees merely by the blush of flushed cheeks, a swoon the bane of any lady who stared too long. Ser Dormaeus had never minded playing the flirt before, as he found it usually helped his reputation, but tonight he could only find himself on edge. Inside that shiny silver helm that conveyed him as the masculine, heroic knight, he was sweating bullets, and once he'd caught sight of Amelia in her purple gown across the room, he felt as if he were practically swimming. "She's only sixteen," he hissed nervously to his sister, voices hushed between them with little danger of being overheard, for all the noise of merriment in the Champion's Ball, "I'm over a decade older than her..." Ada found it hard not to stop in her tracks, mouth agape, and paid her brother a dry look that nearly sobered him. "That's what you're concerned about?" she spluttered, gripping his arm and wondering if the stress of it all had finally made her brother crack under the pressure. It was too bad that he'd worn that ceremonial helm, or else she would've slapped him silly. "You've got bigger problems than a child wife — like the wife part, or have you forgotten?" "It's not that," Ser Dormaeus protested, trying his best to keep from riling up his sister, "It's just that she's so young. I don't want to get her hopes up and damage her." It seemed that his heart and his hesitation were in the right place, but there was little that could be done about it that could still preserve their motives. Even now it was a fine tightrope they walked, wobbling and uncertain above a perilous doom. Ada's expression bore no sympathy, her brow so knitted that it could've tied itself up in knots, as time was running out before the young courtier would approach. "Sweet sibling, we've all got damage. Soon enough she'll learn that the world is a cruel, cold and terrible place." While her voice dripped with sarcasm and dabbled in no small supply of hyperbole, it delved into an unfortunate truth. With a quick glance over her brother's shoulder, she made her last remarks while spinning him around by the bicep. "I don't see you coming up with any better ideas, so go impart some life lessons," she snapped, before giving him an authoritative shove towards the young lady of Einhorn. The soles of his shoes nearly squeaked against the wood-planked floor with all the effort it took to keep from bumping into the young Amelia chest-first, which likely would've bowled the poor girl over. His tension made him stand straight, passing for stoic posture; the blue scarf tied around his neck and tucked into his jacket hid the lump in his throat that traveled down and back up, swallowing his nerves. From within the helm his green eyes flashed to the Lord Einhorn, who was watching carefully as his daughter had brought together the other half of his match, and Ser Dormaeus remembered his manners, along with his sister's unfortunate, albeit necessary, words. Rather than the masculine beat of his chest that he often saluted with, his hand placed itself over his heart much more gently, held there as he greeted her with a formal bow. As he rose, his fingers slipped from his chest one finger at a time, before unfurling in extension to take her hand. He allowed her dainty, slender fingers to be poised on the edge of his roughened, calloused hands like a bird on a branch, held together only by the saving grace of his thumb pressed against her digits. "My lady Amelia," Ser Dormaeus answered tenderly, as his other hand reached for the visor of his helm — the swivel of the hinge lifting up from the bottom of his face, revealing only his chin and mouth, though hadn't spared even a glimpse of his nose. As the Blue Knight raised Amelia's fingers to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon the back of her hand, the amount of envy from the surrounding women who'd witnessed it was palpable. His lips lingered for not a moment too long, before the semblance of a private, clean-shaven smile graced the young woman, before secreting his face back beneath the visor of his helm. "It would be my honor and pleasure." Not one to surrender Amelia's hand, Ser Dormaeus held it aloft as he paraded her to the dance floor, right at the beginning of a Laendler. It was a dance of modesty, yet a certain gaiety, though the Blue Knight was most thankful for that a Laendler was at most a dance of holding hands, spared the immediacy of a close dancer's frame with the Baron's daughter. Ser Dormaeus would be able to lead her forth and back, Amelia at once the rival of every covetous girls' wanton heart, able to swish her skirts of purple and articulate her arms as he led her in a circle with the command of his hand. Amelia of House Einhorn was a beautiful young girl, but he only prayed that she didn't fall too hard. Ada had been watching from the sidelines, having taken solace to the role of chaperone with the company of a glass of wine that swirled idly around her glass. "Show off," she muttered, for while she enjoyed it more, Ada had to admit that her brother had always been the fairer dancer. Training for form upon the tiltyard of the joust had made him that much more particular and precise on the floor of the dance, while she had enjoyed the thrill and rush of a fast dance, and the beauty of spontaneity and attention. Resigned that her brother's fate was much more important this night, she sighed, before occupying herself where she could keep an eye on the Blue Knight. And who's eye should Ada catch upon her brother but the nearby Lady Moray, dressed in blue even fairer than she. Reaching for a second glass of wine in expectation of company, she tread towards Shahdee with an emphasized swing to her hips, before offering the glass. "Not one to partake in the dance tonight, my lady?" Ada asked, though her inquiry rang of more keenness than curiosity. Taking up residence next to her, she gave her maid, Maeryll, an affirmative nod of her head to withdraw and allow her space, so she might not feel too crowded. With a brief glance around them, she noticed that other ladies had been not-so-secretively whispering among themselves as they stared at Shahdee — Ada narrowed her eyes and made a disgusted grimace, a silent disapproval that spooked the ladies nearby. "They're all hens, pay them no mind. All they've got to occupy themselves is petty clucking." Burying her nose in her glass, she took a sip of wine, though it did little from masking the following comment, which was purposefully said just a little too loudly, "Perhaps they should be put outside where they belong, with the other animals." She wasn't bothered by the appalled gasps and chokes of insult that followed, but they hadn't the courage to retort against the wildfire Ava, and dispersed. Catching a glimpse of Ser Moray out on the dance floor, he seemed to be enjoying himself with a young woman, a sweet lass Ada recognized as a Nvengarian general's daughter; he hadn't done too bad for himself, as she was fair of face and sweet of temperament. It brought a smile to her face, reminding her of her older brothers who were absent from the affair, but not the least bit forgotten. "You know," Ada mused, casting a sidelong look at Shahdee, "Your brother may not have won in the lists today, but he certainly hasn't lost. He rode well today."
  3. Friday Knight Lights

    Back in the tent of House Dormaeus... "He said what?!" Ada screeched so high her voice broke, the expression on her face bewildered, struck as if she'd been slapped in the face. "Marriage? You?" she'd been so caught off guard as she'd nearly tripped over herself and brought Maeryll down with her, who was trying to tie her Lady into a bodice from behind. "Seven bloody hells, what did you say to him?" In the privacy of their tent, Ser Dormaeus had finally removed his helm, if only for the express purpose of holding his head in his hands as he sat on the edge of his cot. "I didnae say anything; I couldn't!" the Blue Knight protested, undiluted in his full, thick Irish accent, sharing his sister's exasperation at the tribulation laid ahead of them. "The Einhorns are above our position," he reaffirmed, though they were both aware of the facts, "To reject the proposal outright would surely damage our family. He's going to want a reason." He cast a helpless look at his older sister, his hands cupped above his knees as if she could hand him a solution, though she had looked just as distraught as he. Gripping and leaning onto the central pole of the tent for support either from the incessant tugging of the bodice lacing or nearly reeling from panic, the effort of Ada wracking her brain to get her brother out of the mess he'd landed in. Asking him to throw the match was out of the question, she knew, for her brother's pride would never allow it. However, it would not only bring an end to his excursions, but hers. At a loss, she couldn't decide whether to bite her thumb, shake her head, or sigh, so she did all three at once, practically coming apart at the seams. Pitching the only idea she had, she looked desperately at her brother. "We could write our brothers?" Ada asked weakly and dumbfounded, "Gerrick, or Hogarth... maybe even Bjorn. Have them ride here to take your place, just for the Ball." "You know they'd never agree t' that," Ser Dormaeus said in futility, his shoulders sinking as she shook his head of red hair. He didn't even want to think about sending such a dangerous letter home, particularly at the chance of it being intercepted by their younger brother Arnvalde — or worse, their mother, Isolde. As he caught the gaze of his sister, he noticed the draining pallor to her face; it appeared that she'd just crossed the same train of thought, as well. "And even if we could, I doubt that Lord Einhorn would be so daft to fall for it. He's seen me up close, heard me speak... and if it's discovered that we've swapped, they'll think I've done it in the lists, too. I'd be disqualified." Ada dragged her hands down her face, in her head cursing every god who could have dealt them this poor fate. "Disqualification would be the least of our worries," Ada groaned, with a pitiful whimper, "We'd be lucky if we don't get stoned to death. The only thing more popular than a tourney is public punishment." Ser Dormaeus' expression turned somber, he'd looked as if he hadn't slept in days, and not simply by the residual black paint gunked in the ducts of his eyes. Facing his sister apologetically, he asked, "All because I wanted to joust... Ada, do you blame me?" When asked in such a way, Ada managed a weak, yet warm smile, conceding with a sighing shrug of her shoulders. Finally tied into her dress, she'd nudged Maeryll away so that she might walk up to comfort her sibling, standing above his cot to embrace his head. "Nay, I don't blame you," she spoke into his wavy ginger hair, burying her cheek into the crown of his head. Even if she wasn't sure of method, Ada was determined to be a source of strength. "You can't keep from being yourself any more than I can. Leave it to me, I'll find us a way out of this mess." Upon the Dormaeus siblings' arrival to Lord of Lighthope's estate, the large barn of his land had been the only venue big enough to house the rabble that packed it, done over with a quick renovation of wood floors, and somehow having masked the stench of the animals that were forced out into crude pens, outside. Most of the merchant, middle, and low class had already taken to dancing with the lively string band that played, though the decent number of nobles in attendance were more hesitant, turning up their nose as if they were determined not to enjoy themselves. Grand scale tournaments and jousts were more elegant and pretentious affairs when it came to the Champion's Ball that always preceded the final lists, though a small joust of this meager distinction was a holiday for many. While only nobles, sworn knights, and military men of rank were permitted to joust, the noble families and sponsors around them were expected to attend, as they were both guests of honor and the reason for all the pomp and grandeur. Ada had arrived in a silken, embroidered blue dress, complete with wide bell sleeves and a train, though the chest was cut modestly high. Compared to his sister, Ser Dormaeus' jacket and trousers seemed paled in detail by comparison, but the effort was compensated by a ceremonial silver helm topped with three gigantic blue plumes, with an even more narrow visor than the day's joust had seen. The Blue Knight wouldn't even allow festivities to rid him of his air of mystery, and even as the knight easily topped 6 feet in height, with the plumes he seemed nearly gargantuan. The people cheered as he entered, even amidst their dancing, but a cordial wave of an unusually nude hand — save for the noble ring bearing the seal of House Dormaeus on his finger, same as his sister — begged them to continue. "Now just be your usual, charming self," Ada whispered to her brother as they made their way along the outside of the dance floor, trying not to make themselves too available. They would have to do their part in showing up to the festivities, especially now that Ada had to forsake her fun in order to play chaperone, but avoiding a sticky situation would certainly have made her job easier. "Try to convince her into a long courtship; it's our best bet. It'll give us some more time to come up with another plan." @Aleksei @Grubbistch
  4. Getting started; anyone like Joust knights?

    @Aleksei, I’ll post for Grubbistch next, and upon that next one you’ll have a chance to arrive at the Champion’s Ball once I’ve set the scene. I’ll be working on a post tonight.
  5. Friday Knight Lights

    The Blue Knight ventured forth to retrieve the gift in the handmaiden's grasp, been deposited a blue silk ribbon into his gauntleted hand. It was a feminine and soft thing, seemingly delicate against the worn leather and dented steel, but was strong-woven as he wrapped it around the front and back of his palm. With no message to relay, Ser Dormaeus did not give voice to the many questions that had begun to stir, foresaking curiosity for propriety. Was it a congratulations for a job well done, or was it a concession of her brother's defeat to save House Moray's pride? Was she an admirer of the Blue Knight free to bestow favor now that Ser Montgomery Moray's time in the tournament had come to an end, or was it a reluctant duty of the sister to garner respect from the many spectators in the stands tomorrow? The Blue Knight preferred the game atop the horse, simple and straightforward. The social game that followed had no rules, yet cheaters lingered in every shadow, every doubt, and every hidden meaning. Settling for a tightened grip, he knocked his fist again against his breastplate, and lowered his head in an austere bow. "Gratitude to your Lady," he spoke, only slightly muffled behind the visor of his helm, the splash of black ink making an endless space of what was yet visible of his face, a galaxy crowned by two green stars. "Prithee tell her that I shall wear it upon the morrow against Ser William," he promised, in all effort to reply warmly, "If we are graced by victory, it shall be shared by both our houses." However, it seemed a trial to seem genteel, for he was no handsome and foppish knight of flowers, but a broad-shouldered titan, just over six feet tall and covered in obscuring armor. Ada watched delightedly, doing little to mask a grin behind the coy shield of her fingertips, her green eyes ambivalently swapping back and forth between her brother and the modest lady's maid. Interjecting herself upon what would have been an awkward silence otherwise, she playfully swatted her brother's arm, resulting in a soft ting as her finger struck it. "Oh, look away, brother, staring at anyone for that long would scare them half to death," Ada joked, giving him a gentle nudge in the side to ease his tension. Taking a keen interest in Ingrid, she stepped forward in a flurry of silky fabrics to clasp her hands between hers. Ada smiled so sweetly it might've induced a toothache, for all her exuberance. "We hope to see your lady at the Champion's Ball, should she be in attendance." As if having practiced the routine a hundred times, her rosy-cheeked smile hadn't even left the handmaiden as she turned her brother around by the shoulder, and dismissed the maid with a cursory nod of her head, and began to shove her brother towards the tents with a more forceful vigor. "Pray excuse us, my brother would partake in festivities in his riding armor if he hadn't a sensible sister to guide him otherwise." Ser Dormaeus was already protesting, both noisily and from a half-hearted digging of his shoes into the dirt, but Ada made no relent, and said her goodbyes. "Now, we must away!" Once in the clearing by a few paces, Ada took up stride against her brother, who clanked and clunked with every step of his armor, casting a look over her shoulder to confirm that Ingrid had gone on her way to return to her lady. Hooking her arm with the Blue Knight, his sister took advantage of the close proximity to share hushed tones. "You took that favor so easily, you might have even beaten a rabbit to the carrot. You're starting to remind me of Bjorn," Ada giggled in their oblique privacy, indulging in a keen grin as she intentionally ruffled her brother's feathers. The Blue Knight shot a glare back down at his sister and scoffed with a click of his tongue, projecting his reproach. "You watch your words, Ada; I'm nothing like Bjorn," he quibbled back, with an upset hiss in his teeth. His sister's teasing had goaded him, as often was her way. His hand rose to his temple as if to relieve a headache, though ineffectively knocked his gauntlet against his helm, albeit the gesture was plain. "If I were our brother, I'd be piss-drunk in a tent with some lass, cock 'ere the air and with a sword to my throat," Ser Dormaeus sternly made mock recount, though the glances exchanged between them both suggested that it would not be the first time, "And that's on a good day." Ada rolled her eyes humorously, heaving a sigh of dramatic relent as they neared the tent of House Dormaeus. "And to think, he's the ladies' leading favorite for who resides under the mask. If they only knew, brother. Thank goodness I'm not the only one with problems in this thrice-damned family," she jibed, giving him another pertinent elbow in the side. Holding onto his arm, she lackadasically swung around him, so that she might end a few paces in front of him, clear that she was not going to accompany him further. "Now, I've left your tunic and tabard on your cot, along with your ceremonial helm. Had the plume freshly re-feathered, though in all honesty the grandeur might be lost upon the glorified hootenanny being held at Lord Lighthope's estate tonight." Quick to jump on the first sign of hesitation, Ser Dormaeus was quick to insert clever banter. "We could not go," he suggested, though he could not muster enough temperance to fool his sister into thinking he was anything other than all too happy to do so. "A bold statement; t'would cause quite the scandal," Ada replied without missing a beat, sarcasm dripping off of her every syllable, "But nay." Crossing her arms over her chest, she shot her brother a deadpan stare, to further convey that her decision was final. As the older sister, she was always so entitled to her choice, though Ser Dormaeus was indirectly glad of it, for Ada pushed him to achieve the feats he would not otherwise do alone. "See that you look well, brother." Snapping her fingers, she beckoned her lady in waiting to her attention, who meekly followed. "Come, Maeryll, I'm to collect the wagers from this afternoon." In no sparing amount of hubbub, Ada took off down the rows with her handmaiden in tow, a blithe, bouncy gait to her step as she'd gone to collect her gold. Ser Dormaeus was just about to turn into his tent to prepare for the evening festivities of the Champion's Ball, when he was yet stopped by another valet. "Ser, Lord Einhorn requests your immediate audience with him." Flashing a quick look toward the last place he'd seen his sister, she had already disappeared off into the thick of the tournament camp. With little recourse, his shoulders sunk with a soft sigh, before giving an approving nod to the valet. "Very well," he conceded, though he was certain his sister would be quite cross with him later, but it was not in him to reject a direct request from an Earl, "Lead on." The Blue Knight, still in his battle regalia coated in a fresh wash of dirt from the tilt yard, followed dutifully as he was introduced into the grandiose tent of House Einhorn, where all lavish and luxury had been provided for its master. Once inside, it was almost easy to forget that they were in but a tent pitched upon the ground, for it was as large and as plush as a well to do house. Lord Einhorn had been waiting on the furniture with a glass of wine, basking in the glamorous substitution he'd created where a campground once stood, and stood for a mile around him, outside. The Blue Knight stood erect, shoulders back and towering in his armor, and knocked a fist against his chest, still wrapped in the blue ribbon of the Lady Moray. "Ser Dormaeus of Pinecrest, milord."
  6. Getting started; anyone like Joust knights?

    I've updated all the city names that were mentioned, per Cordelaine's notes. Updated House Dormaeus to be representative of Pinecrest, and the jousting to have taken place in Lighthope. I'll work on a post a little later.
  7. Getting started; anyone like Joust knights?

    Just got word from Cordelaine that Starfall is in the process of being adopted. I wasn’t aware from the lore page. Aleksei, I’m going to switch mentions of Ser Moray to Sea Haven if you’d like to do so as well.
  8. Getting started; anyone like Joust knights?

    I'll relay with Ingrid first, and as soon as that's done, I'll have the Blue Knight address Einhorn's valet's summons.
  9. Friday Knight Lights

    Shahdee was not the only one to leave the nobles' rise after the match had concluded, also on the move was a beaming, gesticulate woman in a frilly gown of Dormaeus blue and white. Her ginger-red hair was swept up into a thin, tailed braid and crowned with an ornament of gold in her coiffure, the only blemish of her fair skin beside hazel-green eyes and shiny pink lips was a purposeful beauty mark poised on her left cheek. With a modest hike of her skirts, her jovial skipping gait proved a challenge for her poor lady's maid to keep up with, practically bounding out of the box and into the arena. "A-ha!" exclaimed the elated noblewoman as she neared the Blue Knight, his pause affirming that she was welcome company, "Huzzah! You've gone and made it into the final!" She was positively giddy with delight, still riding the euphoric high of witnessing the joust. Her skirts and layers were all a-sway as she couldn't find it in herself to remain still, like a child who'd indulged themselves in too many sweets, as if dancing around to the jovial folk music that had broken out at the day's conclusion of the lists. All that remained was the final tomorrow... but before that, the Championship Ball. That, without any sort of doubt, was obviously the woman's favorite part of tournament culture. With only brief intermission from her whimsy, the woman reeled. "Oh, if only Father could have seen you! You'd looked just as the paintings in the foyer," she swooned, clasping her hands together delicately in front of her chest. The Blue Knight was stoic amidst her merry candor, watching with subtle, attentive turns of his helmed head, though a soft arch to his eyes implied that he was smiling, perhaps the slightest bit of his black-smeared cheekbones visible in the slat of his visor. "Prithee, Ada, the trial is not yet over," Ser Dormaeus spoke calmly, with a cautious tone. His armor and chain rattled as he maneuvered to pass the reigns of his horse to his squire, who would see his steed repaid for a fine day of competition with food and water. An apple upon the eve would be an expected treat, though the Blue Knight would have to wait until after the night's Ball was done. It was common for two apples to be in tow, then, the other to be the Blue Knight's reward for participating in all the pomp and grandeur. He motioned for his sister to follow his stride off the tournament grounds, headed back to the camping ground just outside the arena proper, to House Dormaeus' tent. "Ser Moray rode well, but there is yet Sir William to face on the morrow, good sister," Ser Dormaeus reminded Ada, though it was quite clear that she was taken away with daydreams of the night to come. It seemed that was the only reason his sister came to be part of the tournaments' savoir faire, though he had seemed grateful for the company. Giggling, her fanciful good mood and persuasion of the music prompted a spin, in which the change of direction saw that shortly they would not be alone. They hadn't gone far from the arena before being approached, and by one that was not simply a fan of the Blue Knight. Exhaling the last of her giggles with a heaving breath, a raise of her chin shared the attention to Ser Dormaeus. "And speaking of Ser Moray..." she started, taking a polite step back to stand parallel with her brother as Ingrid approached, giving a cordial dip of a curtsy after Ingrid had greeted with hers, as would befit propriety. The Blue Knight knocked against his breastplate in salute, a closed fist over his heart. A side glance from Ada broke the silence as her sights switched between Ingrid and her brother, offering assistance. "This is one of Lady Shahdee of Sea Haven's ladies, if I'm not mistaken," she pieced together, simply from her recollections of the nobles' box view, not having been far from the Lady, herself. With a glance toward the ribbon threaded between Ingrid's fingers, a wry smile took her, flashing an upward grin at her brother. "Come to bestow a token, has she? That is unexpected, I must say..." The drama of it had Ada positively enraptured, considering whose brother had just lost to the Blue Knight. The Blue Knight had worn no favors during this tournament, nor had he yet asked for any. He looked on with apparent curiosity, and with an abundance of patience, to allow Ingrid to relay her mistress' message.
  10. A big welcome to Valucre's new members!

    Thank ye kindly! If that side feature you mentioned is something other Valucre members are familiar with, do you have any suggestions on making one successful here?
  11. That awkward moment when I look at your profile, and Valucre says you’re currently reading my profile... :blank:

    1. Aleksei


      Valucre giving away all my secrets!

  12. Getting started; anyone like Joust knights?

  13. Friday Knight Lights

    Three points to two, made plain by the small white flags keenly placed in wooden slots in a rudimentary scoreboard, three flapping white over the seafoam green and seashelled crest of Ser Moray of Sea Haven. The other two remained poised over Ser Dormaeus of Pinecrest, a blue field behind two white horses emblazoned on the Dormaeus crested shield that was placarded on the makeshift barricade of a wooden arena, well-worn by weather and the stamped tracks in the dirt. In the region of Lighthope, this was but a small venue, but the crowd had amassed too large for its size, spilling over as more persons from the nearby market closed their shops for the day; it had been ages since the last hanging, so the townspeople were quick to indulge in the escape of sport. Even the nobles' elevated box was crowded with anyone with even the slightest title to their name, fewer still had actual seats. Commoners reveled in the drama of the sport, this relatively small tournament having been bred off of an argument between two wealthy Viscounts over whose son was more a pride to his house, and therefore settled the argument in the only way old, rich, fat men with power knew how-- having champions fight for the honor of their word. But one could not have a tourney with only two men, and with the Viscounts' bragging, had turned it into a public event. Though the dirt floor of the tilt yard was littered with splinters of broken lances, the stands were awash with blue. Blue flags waved with reckless abandon, handkerchiefs or shirts with the sporting color if they hadn't the coin for such a token of favoritism. The Blue Knight, he was called, a simpler name on the tongues of the commonsfolk who cheered for the House Dormaeus, echoed of late through a winning streak in the lists after unhorsing well-known wife-abuser Ser Espen of South Valjer City in a come-from-behind upset some months ago. Opposing athletes rose to the challenge in hopes of defeating the budding legend, though the champion of House Dormaeus was much more intimidating on the other side of the tilt than knights and their pride would outwardly admit. The Blue Knight was likened by the people as a specter of heroism, for the black paint smeared across his brow and bridge of his nose left only the glimpse of green eyes visible in the slat of his visor, nearly haunting as it charged towards an opponent on horseback with lance in hand. He was often of few words and foreboding, thanking the crowds and his opponents with only a polite raise of his lance or gauntlet at the end of a match, and making off out of sight until tournament's end. The crowd knew not which of the legendary retired jousting champion Ser Gerrick Dormaeus' sons rode to continue his legacy of the Blue Knight, for he had seven sons, though many fantasized of the possibilities-- particularly, women. Whichever of the sons of House Dormaeus rode, those who remembered Ser Gerrick's heyday were reminded of a young Blue Knight in his prime. "Lance," the Blue Knight said gruffly to his squire, discarding the old one that he was holding, which had been cracked into pieces from the last blow. With a hefting grunt, he lifted the lance to his thigh, watching as the Knight Marshal neared the center of the arena with a flag, watching for the ready of Ser Moray and Ser Dormaeus. In the last pass, the Blue Knight had only broken his lance against Ser Moray's chest, only resulting in a single point. This was about to be the final pass of the match, the victor to proceed into the champion final on the morrow. The digging of hooves was heard from across the tilt yard as the Knight Marshal raised the flag, and with a spur to the side of his horse, the Blue Knight's steed charged as well in a launching gallop. His body rocked in the saddle, grounded to match the horse's gait so that he might keep his balance upon it, keeping his eye upon the coronel tip that capped Ser Moray's lance as it levéed into position. The Blue Knight nocked his lance into the arret ring of his armor, steadying the lance against his body, and zeroed his green eyes upon the target. Within seconds they had reached the center of the yard, though every measure of moments was slowed and precise to the eyes of a jousting knight. Ser Moray withstood those haunting green eyes amidst the shadow of black paint for as long as he could, before lifting his chin to protect his eyes. In a resounding clash, Ser Moray's lance had colluded with the Blue Knight's shoulder, though it had not broken. Ser Dormaeus' lance, however, had shattered itself against Ser Moray's helm, sending the knight flung back against the back of his horse, like a lifeless ragdoll for the rest of the rough ride. A shattered lance on the head was worth two points, and the crowd erupted into cheers, a blue frenzy in the stands as their champion would be advanced to the final with this stepping-stone victory. Slowing his steed to a steady trot and a halt, Ser Dormaeus tossed down the remains of his lance to his squire, before dismounting with a sweep of his leg. The crowd was rioting for him, moreso as he raised his gauntlet in thanks. All that would remain was to return for the championship in the morning, a step closer to another win.
  14. A big welcome to Valucre's new members!

    I've been tagged so many times, and I haven't even done anything yet...
  15. Getting started; anyone like Joust knights?

    My, I wasn't expecting such interest! I actually have a bit of a backseat idea for how to have a jousting tournament, but I wasn't sure if it was too ambitious to start with. It'd be calculated by rolling dice and bonuses, and be welcome to participants and spectators that has ways to involve them both, reminiscent of a lot of my favorite movies and tv scenes revolving around Jousting. I could write up the rules and some flavor text for an event if someone playing a Lord or Noble wants to host it and we have enough characters who'd like to participate, if you guys think it's worthwhile? I gave both Ursa Maedum's and Nvengaria's pages a read, and I don't mean to pick sides, but I feel like Nvengaria has a lot to offer with the direction I'd wanted to take the Blue Knight's story in. Though, that certainly doesn't exclude Ursa Madeum from being a place the Blue Knight may eventually visit; it has a lot of things I like. I really like the medieval experience in both, and look forward to eventually playing in both regions. Jousting events travel, anyhow! Even if it's possible, I'd like to set up Ser Dormaeus' family origin and nobility in Nvengaria, if you have space, Grubbistch. I feel like I could work a majority of what's been listed in the lore into what I already had planned for the Blue Knight. Perhaps rather than immediately scripting to service by your noble, if the jousting tournament might become a thing, we could have your noble extend invitation to said tournament so he might see further skill? I'm thinking they might all meet at a smaller venue, and the Blue Knight is certainly approachable by any spectators after a match, or by any rival competitors looking to engage in a little intimidating wordplay to gauge the field. Everyone's welcome, I'll do my best to give everyone attention. Working on a post now, I'll link it here when the first is up. Just give me a shout here if you plan to enter, so I can hold off until you do. My posts take time, regardless.