The heroes Hal, Brendon, Ulæth, John and Frotha made it through to the final round of the mêlee.
Before the event, Bryan Telson approached Baron Brendon asking to join in the hand to hand, who, troubled, recounted the tale of how his dear father had been hood-winked by Sir Genadi Shælyn out of his ancient family heirloom: the scorpion sword. Seemingly Bryan’s true name was Tyger Wyld, whose father (Lord Wyld) has lost his fraternal name-sake artefact, and that Tyger wished to avenge the wrong done against his old-man, in the upcoming debacle.
Trumpets sounded and crowds cheered in jubilation on the afternoon of this martial contest. The King’s Herald spoke once the audience had silenced at his gesture, “The final contest of the day is met, two noble houses made it through to the ultimate challenge, the arena!”
Our two groups faced off inside the green-fields of glory midst an array of bright heraldic banners, flittering in afternoon breeze. Hal stepped forward, bravely, with Brendon, John, Ulæth and Frotha stood steadfastly beside their regent. On face was the ‘mountain’, flanked by various Knights, both teams had a handful of retainers.
Hal stepped in, his wooden axe having a no discernible effect on his golden-cloaked opponent. All hell broke loose, the two houses clashed, erupted into a cacophony of fierce fighting. A whirlwind ensued. Brendon tagged a gold-cloak before being struck down by the Mountain, he was unconscious. Hal caught his blade before it hit the floor. Ulæth took down a Knight. John brought one down. Frotha disarmed an enemy guard, Hal capitalised on the happening, striking the unarmed man shamefully, two strikes and the man was down. The battle raged.
The Mountain had struck many of our guards down in battle, Hal weighed in against him with his brother’s blade. John snuck round and attacked the Mountain, he hamstrung the warrior. Hal bashed away at the Mountain, to no avail. The Mountain grievously wounded Prince Henry, bruising him badly. John waded in there, Ulæth and Frotha slew some more golden clad guards.
The Mountain lashed back at good Friar John, who purged his destiny point right there and then. Boom! (It was so on!) Eventually the struggle came to a drawn out conclusion, with only a handful of their number still standing, and all but one of ours (Player Characters). Surrounding and rounding up the precious few scant smattering of soldiers still standing on the other side. They were down.
Retreating back to the Green Tree tavern, brother Brendon ordered a neat whiskey upon the discovery that his beauteous paramour had fled, without trace of her belongings, from their chamber. He soon went about in search if her, Frotha bade him look at his wounds and healed him before setting off, the mæster in tow. Ulæth took off to the tourney field tent where might be found the Dannet family. He had a sense of deja-vu, an ancestral soul of his, Tabatha, had experienced a similar doomed fate. Unfettered following his hunch he set forth for their tent, flanked by Friar John and Hal, Earl of Richmœnd and tournament champion.
Brendon did n’er find his belovēd, neither did the others turn up much. Without futher ado our adventuring company went to the ceremony.
The King threw a feast, offering Hal to take his place at the high table, for being solemnly conferred with the honour, of winning the tournament. For winning the joust, a grands worth of goldragons, for the archery: another thou’ in gold. (Hal slipped both into his secret crotch box stash beneath his monogamy wood ornamental armour, then duly paid homage to his King). Raising a goblet of the finest wines available to humanity, King Robert raised his own as all thereabouts dids’t follow. “To Prince Hal and house Richmœnd!” Everyone spake, “To Hal!” The King appealed for quiet, and bade brother Brendon, our baron, to stand beside his King. “Now, the bountiful prize for the rightful champions of the arena, five thousand golden dragons for you all.”
Following some deliberation over how the prize money should be divided: Baron Brendon wishing all seven large to be sank into a Rookery for Froth’. Hal decided to give each man in his Royal entourage a grand, with a further one thou’ for the team treasury, in the care of Brendon. Each member of our company philanthropically donated their full share to the group fund. Hal gave up another thousand and a further tonne in gold, to the treasury, keeping nearly one large back in his boxers.
Brendon broke off and honed in on the original Dannet family pimp who sold his burd into slavery, from across the room. Banter ensued, again, not much forthcoming. The King offered another toast, then as all was settled, basking in the glow of victory, into the atmosphere of high-spirits, a serpent did come. A woman, her visage shrouded shrouded by a dark purple veil, clad in silken dallians entered and strode with graceful aplomb across the room. ’Twas surely her. She soon spoke up, against our good name. We protested our innocence. The argument became heated, the King appealing for each side to plead their case, rumours of a triple poisoning, that would furthermore besmirch our family’s good name.
After a lot of smooth talking on our part (mainly Brendon) and following much eloquent and poignant defence, we were proclaimed innocent. One of the rogue knightly poisoners confessed, we dumped all the blame on that scape-goat, straight away mate. That was the break we needed. (Though our family did take a -5 to our reputation).
XP will be awarded (for the first time this week). The goldragons earned should ideally be spread equally across the team members, for training costs, so all out characters can level up).