Sightles

When the Flames Die

Thomas smiled as he stepped off his horse, and as he did so, he removed his helmet. Blood had smeared over the top portion of his face, but he couldn't been happier. He was going to be in the finals against the winner of the other bracket group. Thomas handed his helmet to a squire, and tossed his broken lance on the ground. Thomas then raised both of his hands into the air, and cheered. While he was slightly sore, he was also happy to be in the finals. Thomas scanned the stands of the audience, looking for Gareth. Once he found Gareth, he pointed up at the young man, a beaming smile on Thomas' face. Thomas' horse was led away, and his cape that had been blown off his back was brought back to him, which he dutifully clasped back onto himself.

When the Flames Die

Thomas, still shaky and hardly even able to feel his body, was handed his helmet, plopped right into his hand by a squire. He dutifully placed the helmet over his head, and took a new lance that was handed to him. Thomas shook himself for a moment, wondering when he'd be able to feel again, and righted himself. As he put the lance in it's cradle, the trumpets blew, and Thomas was the first off the line this time. Spurned by the hit, and spurned by the desire to repay his debt to the knight he was facing, he charged forward, raising his lance to slam into the upper left part of the knight's torso. Thomas' white cape billowed in the wind behind him, as he charged forward, before flying off his armor, no doubt loosened by the previous hit. Before Thomas thrusted his lance this time, he tilted his body slightly to his right. His hit wouldn't be knocking any man off his horse, but he was much more likely to have the opponent's lance glance of his arm, rather than break on his chest. The first tilt left the match to 1 broken lance to 1 broken lance, but if Thomas could break his lance while preventing his opponent from breaking his own, which would leave the score in Thomas' favor. Not nearly as impressive as unhorsing his opponent, but Thomas didn't win as many tournaments as he did by going for the sweetest victory.

When the Flames Die

Thomas was surprised at the speed in which his new opponent had gotten ready, and went. Thomas spurned his horse forth, raising his lance to hit true once more. This opponent seemed much more prepared and confident in his abilities than his previous opponent. Thomas put the lance, once more, into a small tight cradle as he his horse gather more and more speed. Once more, all sound disappeared from his hearing, and the only thing that existed was his lance, and the man it was to strike. As the got closer and closer, once more everything Thomas possessed surged forward from the lance, aiming for the opponent's upper torso. The next thing Thomas knew, he was at the end of his lane, his vision uninhibited by the metal of a helmet. He could once more feel the breeze on his face. Warm. Warm liquid washed over Thomas' face. Where was he? He seemed to be on his back, but he wasn't on the ground. As he felt hands prodding at him, he sat himself up. He had been struck well, and fierce. His white plume decorated helmet now decorated the dirt of the runway, forcing a squire to run out and fetch it. Thomas had been knocked unconscious for a moment, and had a small cut on his forehead, but besides that he was fine. Thomas, after a moment of self-recovery, he turned his head back to his opponent, to witness the damage he had dealt, if any.

When the Flames Die

Thomas had hit true, and hard, enough to knock his opponent to the side of his saddle. As Thomas managed on down the runway, he did not look back at his opponent, as it wasn't honorable to watch your opponent fail, but once he heard the trumpets, he knew what had happened. He smiled to himself, under his helmet, and turned to look back at the dejected and defeated Roderick leaving the field, squires and horse in tow. As he made his way to the end of his lane, Thomas handed his broken lance to his squire, and raised his fist up in the arm, to signify his victory. As he stay saddled at the end of the lane, he awaited the next opponent he was to face. If he won his next match, he'd make it to the finals. Then, the next group of the bracket would start, and whoever won that group would face Thomas in the finals. Thomas was brought another lance, and he cradled it in his arms as he awaited his next foe.

When the Flames Die

Thomas spurned his horse as soon as the trumpets blasted, charged down the pipe at his opponent. The man looked as if he was almost unsure of his actions, which would be perfect for Thomas to take advantage of. Thomas placed the lance into a cradle position. Time seemed to slow down as the two men charged at each other, for Thomas. Thomas didn't hear the sounds of the crowd, or the sounds of the galloping horses, or even the sounds of his own armor clanging. As Thomas got closer, he could tell that he would likely win this tilt, as the man's grip didn't look as well placed as his. With a sudden surge, Thomas shoved the lance forward, propelled by over 20 years of practice behind it, aiming for the upper torso of his foe, making a good effort on bypassing the man's shield. At the same time, he felt a sudden blast to his left shoulder, and felt himself slid back in his seat, but he remained horsed.

When the Flames Die

They are separate events. You can chose to just do melee, just do joust, or just do archery, or any combination of the three.

When the Flames Die

Is Hadryn participating in the tournament, or just watching? So far the three events are Archery, Jousting, and Melee.

When the Flames Die

Accepted! Welcome aboard!

When the Flames Die

Thomas watched as his opponent took the field, a typical looking knight if Thomas had ever seen one. Thomas quickly mounted his horse. Thomas would be jousting without a shield, for he preferred simply wearing heavier armor, than having to use a shield, which he was grossly untrained with. One of Thomas' squires rushed up to him, to hand him his lance, but before Thomas took the lance in hand, he turned to face where King Bard II was sitting, and did the traditional Order of the Thistle salute. A closed right fist, over his heart. After a moment, Thomas took the lance in his hand, and grasped it tightly. Butterflies were in Thomas' stomach once more as he readied himself for the joust. He stared down the runway at his opponent, his normal happy and approachable attitude was now slowly being replaced by a more passionate and competitive one. The man down the runway from him was no longer a man, or a knight. He was an obstacle that Thomas had to cross. Thomas cradled the lance in his hand, as he awaited the signal for the beginning of the match.

When the Flames Die

As Thomas opened his mouth to respond, the blaring of trumpets could be heard, signifying the start of the joust. Thomas had learned early that he would be facing Sir Roderick in the first round of the joust. Thomas didn't know much about Sir Roderick, but if he was participating in the King's Coronation Tourney, he was likely a skilled knight. Thomas looked over at Gareth, and gave the young man a soft smile, "See you after the match." Thomas said, sliding his full helmet, with a white plume, on over his head. Thomas was never fully decked out in the armor he was given to wear. As one last preparation, he took his white Order cape, and clasped it to his back. Thomas exited the tent, and headed towards the dirt runway of the jousting section. His three squires which were provided to him, along with his horse, were already present on one end of the dirt runway. As Thomas approached the horse, he noticed that his competitor had yet to show up.