(1311-05-04) Day of Camael: Duel Contest
Summary: The duel contest of the Day of Camael
RL Date: Sat May 04, 2019
Related: Days of the Companions
aidan antoine armandine bastien boniface ciarrah cyriel desarae dorimene_npc drake etienne farah jaide leda lilyana marco odric yves 

Tournament Field — Outside of Marsilikos

The wind billows pennants and banners as far as the eye can see, here. The terrain is generally flat, with some signs that areas of the plain might have been built up to help flatten it— one corner in particular overlooks a steep downward hill. The plain is partitioned off by fences into walkways and competition grounds, and in the middle of each set of fences feet have long worn away the grass, leaving the centers of each area naught but earth and dust, all the better not to accidentally trod in a hole and break oneself.

On the western edge of the field a huge mass of stands has been erected out of fresh beams of wood, all redolent of pine and of cedar, nailed in place with giant iron stakes and sturdy enough to stand firm below the mass of humanity which moves onto and off of it every day during the tournament competitions. Opposite the stands are the brightly colored pavilia, each with its banner waving overhead, where the competitors of each family might store equipment, rest and prepare. In the middle of the pavilia is a raised stand where the Duchesse, her family, and invited VIPs may sit under a canopy of their own and watch the games from closer to the action.


However storied the resemblance — however established a fact the residence of both ladies in the city of Marsilikos — there must be some still who draw back and wonder at the sight of Dorimène nó Cereus de Shahrizai: a vision of her mother at that age, fine-boned and dignified with the same unmistakable Shahrizai colouring, but gliding in bell-shaped skirts where Emmanuelle is so wont to swagger about in breeches and high boots, and turning her large cool sapphire-blue eyes modestly aside where Emmanuelle would surely return challenge for challenge. Hardly ten days after the discovery of her consort Victor Delaunay dead in the Bois d'Aubagne, she steps up into the ducal box clad in a high-necked gown of black linen in lieu of any richer cloth; she wears no jewels, but carries a little posy of snowdrops in one gloved hand. The Mereliot guard who escorted her thus far remains outside, where he has no shortage of brethren with whom to pass the time of day.

Dorimène's first act is to find her Aunt Armandine at the front of the box, and to deliver even in so confined a space a perfect and unhurried Cereus curtsey which seems to open like a flower. The rest of that night-blooming bouquet is composed of courteous words of greeting, from her lady mother as well as herself. Then she steps back, executes a second curtsey which if measured would prove to be precisely half the depth of the first, and yields the duchesse's attention long before she risks becoming tedious— for she has already espied an empty seat next to a younger lady in ivory brocade bound at the waist with glimmering gold.

"… You see, I came after all," she murmurs, bending her smooth dark head to confide to her cousin Desarae: "I'm so glad you had faith." Careful of her snowdrops she guides her full skirts through a gap between two chairs and takes the place saved for her, and there they sit — two Kusheline beauties, one light and one dark, one with the radiant warm complexion of House Mereliot and the other gazing out at the field through the hooded eyes of its late duchesse. How marvelously they do intertwine, the strains of Eisheth and of Kushiel.

It's a fine day to get one's ass kicked! And that's just what Boniface de Baphinol is here for, only he doesn't know it yet. The young vicomte is accompanied by the retainers one would expect- a page to help with his arms and armor. Which, its worth noting, he is currently not wearing. He arrives on horseback- dismounting and handing the reins off to an attendent before taking a good hard look at the grounds- perhaps looking for the tent baring his family's sigil.

Drake Rousse is present as well, the new-fangled Vicomte de Draguignan and soon to be married man wanting to show off on the tourney field. The dragon banner is fluttering above the blood-red and golden tent of the Rousse and he can be seen warming up with a squire.

It might come as a surprise to see a woman present on the field who actually intends to take part. And indeed the short blonde figure of Jaide Ferraut does turn some heads when she steps out of her tent, clad in armor with a tourney sword at her side. The woman has her pale hair up in a loose elegant bun so it will be out of the way while she fights. Steel blue eyes survey the competition calmly as she strolls through the fields, a guard and a page following behind her.

Another person coming to be part of this event is Antoine Valais. Wearing armor and with his tourney sword with him, the Vicomte de Marcoux watches the other present rather thoughtfully at the moment, offering those looking his way a nod and a smile. He's looking rather relaxed for now, it would seem.

"It's glad I did too, Dorimène." Deserae offers a smile, together with the gentlest of kisses to the cheek of her cousin as she settles herself beside her. "I hope that all went well in Aix. A terrible business for you." Her hand reaches across the divide to find the one of her cousin's that's not engaged in holding the snowdrops, and the gentlest of squeezes is given. "I'm glad that you could make it today. If nothing else, it might serve to distract you." Her fingers remained entwined with those of her cousin, and with a smile she directs her attention to those that gather on the field. "Do you expect to see anyone in particular here today?"

The Duchesse of Eisande had received the greeting of Dorimène with a pleasant smile warming her features. For now she seems relaxed, and at ease, expectant of the spectacle that is about to unfold. "A tragedy, and one I fear must make your heart feel heavy," Armandine remarks now, with concern in her eyes as she looks towards her half-sister's daughter. "I admire your strength, for arriving here today to attend an official occasion."

Ah! There it is! Spying the Baphinol tent, Boniface makes his way over there- followed by his suffering page and all his gear! His disappears inside- and that's where he'll remain for a good long while before reappearing in his armor- very new looking armor that clearly hasn't seen much use. Yet.

A fleeting, fading smile softens Dorimène's composed features as she returns Desarae's kiss; sitting side by side the hems of their skirts flow together and so do their hands, strength reinforcing strength. "You are very kind, Your Grace," she replies to Armandine, meeting the duchesse's eyes when they seek her own and then lowering her gaze to receive that praise all the more modestly. "At such a time I think it is well to turn one's thoughts toward the inevitability of divine grace…" That thought she allows to trail away incomplete; her answer, next, to both her kinswomen's remarks, is likewise an indefinite musing. "The ceremony at Aix was beautiful, of course. Later I heard one of Lord Victor's brothers speak of an intention to compete today, in his brother's honour as well as Camael's. I have not seen him yet, but perhaps he is here."


The most anticipated competition of the Days of the Companions is about to begin, and many people have gathered on the tournament grounds outside of the city. Tents and pavilions have been erected on the field to the side, where competitors can withdraw and prepare for their bouts. And thus, a multitude of banners is flapping on poles, and with the coat of arms on display before each tent, this adds color to the otherwise dominating white canvas. For commoners who like to take part in the competition, a special pavilion has been erected, where they can get refreshments. A single scribe can be seen in that area, taking on late assignments for the pairings.

As for spectators, they have been divided into those of more common background, standing at the front right behind the fences, hooting and cheering and singing, and those of higher standing and financial momentum. Benches have been set in place, canopies offering shelter from the spring sun. There is the ducal box of course, where the Duchesse of Eisande watches the proceedings among her ladies and certain dignitaries. Mereliot staff is seeing to the needs of lords and ladies in attendance, there is wine, and there are small refreshments for those who require any.

The Priest of Camael has come out today, he is hard to miss with that dark green attire of his, and the sword that hangs at his side. For now, he observes the tourney field attentively, now and then offering a few words to Armandine Mereliot.

The Duchesse Mereliot wears a dress today that somehow reflects the martial nature of today's festivities. The color is dark blue that leans towards petrol, the bodice sporting a white lace collar and modest plunge if neckline is tightly laced as if it were some sort of armor. Sleeves are gathered at the wrists and elbows, and have turned-back lace cuffs. Skirts and bodice show off fine embroideries of lighter, silvery thread, to add a certain glimmer to her attire, whenever it is touched by the rays of the sun.

Étienne's armour is not fashionable in design, but the level of wear suggests it's not a hand me down, but armour made for the heir to Berk which he's likely been using for several years. He has a bright tabard with his coat of arms ver the well polished metal. He's currently stretching out near the dueling area.

After wandering a bit to examine her competition Jaide returns to the Ferraut tent. Standing nearby she watches the crowds and waits for the event to begin in earnest. Her armor is high quality, made to fit her and looks to have seen some minor use, still its well cared for and maintained. The tabard bearing her family's coat of arms is worn over the armor. The sword she carries is a lighter form of a broadsword, blade dulled for tourney use. She stands near the Ferraut tent with an expression of perfect calm, her composure as solid as steel.

He arrives a touch late, perhaps, exiting from the Charlot tent, with the striking coat of arms positioned at the front, the black horse on a field of red. But there Cyriel Charlot emerges, surprising perhaps to some. The man's hawk-like features have the usual pallor and they have a look of determination. Brown hair has been gathered into a ponytail, and he is outfitted in the full maile that everyone taking part in the duels will be wearing today, beneath the tabard that designates his House. Pale blue eyes look towards the spectators, narrowing just so as they spot Desarae in conversation with Dorimène.

Standing where he can see the other competitors, Antoine seems a bit thoughtful, but then again he often does. He watches in quiet for now, every now and then looking towards the spectators, then back to the field. Letting out a bit of a breath, he starts moving his arms around a bit, as if to make sure he's ready for this event.

As things get underway, Drake finishes his warm up and takes a short break to mentally prepare for the first round. He, too, just watches the audience and the competition for now, trying to get an idea of their abilities, strengths and weaknesses.

Boniface is in his armor now, yes, but he's still forgetting something- a sword. Not that he's realized that yet as he strides out of his tent, a broad grin on his face. Its a moment later that his page follows suit wearing a frown and carrying the young man's blunted weapon. "My lord, your sword."

Standing amongst the competitors, young Yves Valliers is wearing his usual garments in red and white with the appropriate full maile as mandated. Finding himself a bit of free-space to practice with the blunted dueling sword, he waves it around a little and finally puts it back away. "Okay," he says to himself, blushing and watching his boots while he waits for the start of the event and starts walking around the edge of the competition area, looking at the people who are gathered to watch the event.

"I am not kind. I am far from it," Desarae states in response to Dorimène's compliment. "And I am convinced, that should Lord Victor's brother indeed decide to compete, that he will fight well. I believe that malaise has a curious way of focusing a person's intent." Seated as they are within the elevated ducal box, she's a clear view of the tournament grounds and the comings and goings of those about to compete. It's inevitable that her eyes are drawn towards the particular colours that are worn by a certain Kusheline nobleman, and a bump of her shoulder is given her cousin. "See now who comes. The Vicomte de Chavagne. He won the event in last summer's tournament, and tends to handle himself well. I will tell you a story of him, but not now."

Aidan strides out of the Delaunay Tent wearing his armor the maile having been polished and has a nice gleam to it and the young Delaunay looks around and shifts his shoulders a bit to adjust the drape of the maile his sword sheathed at his side before he steps up to the fences around the tourney fields looking over the others gathered for the event with a black ribbon tied around his arm as a sign of his mourning his brother's death.

Rolling her shoulders Jaide moves to join the other competitors standing near the dueling arena. Any looks she gets be they friendly or surprised are merely met with a calm and intense steel blue gaze and a faint nod of her head. The woman takes up position among those waiting to compete, not fazed at all by the fact practically all of the others are men and much larger than she. She stands quietly waiting her blue eyes wandering slowly over those gathered closest to her.

Étienne wanders towards Drake, shaking out hislimbs, "I don't kow if you remember me from the consortship ceremony, but I'm Etienne, Symon's friend." He offers Drake his hand, "I wanted to wish you luck."

The Priest of Camael is only to be guest today, or so it seems. He seems little inclined to steal the spotlight from Armandine who moves to stand after giving the sign for the fanfare to be given. "Lords and ladies. People of Marsilikos! Today, we are to celebrate Camael. In today's competition, we shall see a display of Camael's virtues, in the most ancient traditions, the duel." She waits and smiles as the crowd cheers for her and the occasion, and then with a nod, urges the herald to speak. "The first two pairings of the first round will be Lord Drake Rousse versus Lord Cyriel Charlot, and Lady Jaide Ferraut vs Boniface Baphinol. Then to be followed by Lord Etienne d'Arguil facing against Lord Antoine de Valais, and Lord Aidan Delaunay against Lord Yves Valliers."

Drake makes a face when he hears the name of his much older and more experienced opponent, but so be it. He juts his chin out and stalks out into the tourney ground, giving a wave to the cheering audience, while he waits for Cyriel.

In the ducal box some have sunshine enough to set their embroidery aglow; others shade enough to protect delicate complexions and to permit of a clear-eyed, unblinking and unsquinting survey of the tourney grounds and the panoply of house banners and colours. Dorimène searches her field of vision methodically, quarter by quarter, her thinking a sight more businesslike than her dainty appearance ever suggests. Her sapphire gaze catches just twice upon the armour displayed below: once for Lord Aidan Delaunay, whom she points out to Desarae with nothing so gauche as a waving finger, but only a few soft-spoken words that suffice to identify him by the black band he very properly wears, and then… well, then there's Lord Cyriel Charlot. "Really," she murmurs, tilting her dark head toward Desarae as the vicomte de Chavagne faces off against the new vicomte de Draguignan. "Of course I missed the tournament last summer…" At the time she was distinctly enceinte. "I might like to hear that tale, cousin." She offers no payment in kind: the nature of a Cereus blossom tends toward absolute professional discretion.

Jaide arches a brow as she takes note of her opponent. Whatever she might be thinking isn't clear but her eyes blaze with determination as she moves into position, preparing to face her opponent. She studies Boniface with those steel blue eyes bringing her sword up into a fighting stance and waiting for the call to begin. Her gaze is steady, calm and unwavering.

Antoine nods as he hears the announcement of the pairings, and glances around, before he looks back to the competitors taking the field first, studying them in quiet for now.

Boniface flushes with just a hint of embarrassment as he takes his weapon from his attendent. "OH, right. Yeah! I guess I'll need this!" he says, quickly trying to cover his faux pas with bravado. As the pairings are called out, he glances toward the woman he's matched with- giving her a friendly wave and a grin before afixing his helmet atop his head- one wouldn't want to get one's pretty face bashed in, after all- and makes his way onto the field.

Cyriel looks a touch surprised when he hears the name called out of his opponent. But that doesn't keep him from affording the Draguignan Vicomte the required courtesy by offering a bow. "May the better one win," he remarks lightly.

Drake can't help a little smirk at that. "Of course, Mylord.", he replies simply and bows in return, before he grabs his sword tighter and assumes a fighting stance.

Aidan simply nods when he hears his pairings and that he'll be fighting in the second bout. Looking around for the Lord Yves Valliers before he rests his hand atop his sword's pommel thumbing it lightly as his gaze falls back onto the pairings that are getting ready to begin their duels.

Jaide arches a brow at Boniface's wave. She smiles ever so faintly to the young lord and inclines her head to him. "Best of luck to us both my Lord." She offers in a soft voice.

"Am I too late?" The question comes from Farah Shamabarsin as she joins the Duchesse's ladies in the box. A shy nod is offered towards Dorimene and Desarae, as the Akkadian soon to be Mereliot lady takes her seat, obviously slightly out of breath.

<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Boniface with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Drake with Broadsword but Drake DODGES!
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Boniface attacks Jaide with Broadsword but Jaide DODGES!
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Boniface with Broadsword - Light wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Boniface attacks Jaide with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Drake with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Cyriel with Broadsword but Cyriel DODGES!
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Boniface with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Boniface attacks Jaide with Broadsword but Jaide DODGES!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Drake with Broadsword but Drake DODGES!
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Cyriel with Broadsword but Cyriel DODGES!

Drake only gets one initial hit in, but his sword slides useless away from the other man's armour. And while he's still busy being annoyed by his ineffective hit, he is suddenly struck rather soundly in the chest, taking his breath away for a second. "Fuck it all.", he mutters and tries in vain to get another hit in.

This is a slippery one! Cyriel curses under his breath when Drake evades his first strike with the sword. But neither does the Rousse cause a bruise, when the weapon hits the maile armor. It is the next movement in their dance of swords, that has the Charlot land quite the blow to Drake's chest, and after that it is once again a match of swiftness and agility, when both blades only hit air!

Desarae lifts a hand, gloved fingers covering the smile that's worked it's way to her lips. "It involves a horse," is all she offers in response to her cousin's confessed interest. "But look, here they come now. He is matched with the Vicomte de Draguignan. Do you suppose that that family are truly descended of dragons?" She reclaims her hand from Dorimène's, and pleats them in her lap as Farah joins the ducal party. Her expression hardens. "Lady Shamabarsin, isn't it?"

Moving so that he has a good view of the first round of the matches, since he was here mostly to watch, Yves watches the exchanges and the flashes of the blades as they dance to their own tune. Each duelist having their own song and style, and he makes a basic guess about their respective origins and how he speculates they might have learned to fight. "I don't know the Lady there, but she's doing well," he mentions to nobody in particular as he watches Jaide against Boniface. The duel between Drake and Cyriel seems a touch tighter in terms of the contest, but there does seem to be an edge appearing.

Antoine watches the ones fighting rather carefully for now, trying to see if there's any particular things with how these people fight, perhaps some kind of a weakness, or something.

The first strike Jaide lands is too light to do any real damage. However the lady is quick on her feet, dodging and weaving away from any blows sent her way. She manages to strikes twice more after that, each strike a bit stronger than the last.

Étienne cheers for Drake and his Baphinol cousin vociferously.

Farah finds herself addressed, and she inclines her head to Desarae. "It is. Farah Shamabarsin, my lady. Lady Desarae Mereliot? We spoke once, in the solar, I believe?" There is an Akkadian accent to her speech, but the smile she gives Desarae and Dorimène is amiable - even if her looks are slightly foreign.

Weakness? Boniface is all weakness, it would seem. Or more likely.. inexperience. While he's clearly held a sword before, this might very well be his first time fighting an opponent who isn't one of his tutors and it shows- the boy is overly cautious in this first round, and his caution profits him nothing as the lady he faces gets in two pretty solid thwacks. "Ow!" His exclamation is followed by a bout of musical laughter- he's not taking this very seriously, it would seem.

<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Boniface with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Boniface attacks Jaide with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - Light wound to Left Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Drake with Broadsword - Serious wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Boniface has changed stance to normal.
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Boniface with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Cyriel with Broadsword but Cyriel DODGES!
<COMBAT> Boniface attacks Jaide with Broadsword but Jaide DODGES!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Drake with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Boniface attacks Jaide with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Boniface with Broadsword - Serious wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Drake with Broadsword - Critical wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Cyriel with Broadsword but Cyriel DODGES!
<COMBAT> Boniface has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Boniface spends a luck point to keep fighting!

Relinquished by Desarae, Dorimène's other hand curls likewise about the posy of tiny white snowdrops held in the lap of her plain black linen gown. It may be that Farah is forcing upon them a distraction from the combat below — it may be the Akkadian girl's own controversial self, a distraction of late for all the nobility of Eisande — but the expression with which the Cereus turns to her is cool as marble and no more yielding. "Lady Farah," she pronounces, in the murmurous accents of Mont Nuit's very summit, sounding as remote as if she were speaking from there indeed; "a pleasure to make at last your acquaintance."

In a tough fight it's obvious who's the better one and it isn't Drake Rousse, whose lackadaisical approach to training is now giving him the trashing he deserves. While he manages to hurt the other man's arm, it's not enough to disable him; and in return he is hit hard twice… and once in an area where a man about to get married does NOT want to get hit. Somehow he manages to not yelp in panic but remains standing.

Jaide arches a brow and eyes the laughing Boniface with an expression of serene calm. "Do you find this amusing my Lord?" She asks before delivering two decent blows followed by a much harder one. "You should not underestimate me, or any opponent for that matter." Her tone is composed and calm as she watches him, waiting to see if he has had enough.

Another couple of solid thwacks and Boniface drops to a knee- taking the moment of respite that Jaide has offered him to adjust his helmet. "Oh, I'm not underestimating you, my lady- you fight very, very, very well! But yes, this is fun and I find it amusing!" His words are breathy as he catches his breath and gets back to his feet. "Let's go!"

Étienne winces as drake takes a hard one to the cod. He makes a horrified sound as his cousin goes down.

Arriving late, no doubt due to really not truly knowing her way around the city and having had to ask for directions, the Ambassador from Eire enters escorted in to the Ducal Box and takes her seat to watch the goings on and festivities. All pomp and circumstance is observed as she bows to Armandine, "Your grace, my sincerest apologies for not arriving in due course." She waits to be excused before taking her seat.

Cyriel gives a somewhat displeased grumble when Drake manages to land a hit to his left arm. And he pays him back, more than adequately. "Draguignan," he calls. "You can yield if you already had enough?" It might be helpful suggestion, or just the usual taunt. If Drake does not yield, however, Cyriel is more than ready to go at him again.

"In the Solar, yes," Desarae confirms to Farah. "And your much anticipated wedding to my cousin will be quickly upon us." A smile. "You must be excited for that, and I hope that you have been pointed towards the very best of the couturiers that Marsilikos has to offer. But as one of my future vassals, I am at quite the loss as to what to gift you with, for I know so very little of you—" She breaks off, the blows being struck and recieved within the tournament grounds causing her head to twist and her eyes to narrow. "I should have placed some bets upon this," she says, a half-smile forming on her lips.

"A DRAGON NEVER YIELDS!", Drake shouts. As much as he can still shout.

Antoine grimaces as he sees the hit Drake takes, but keeps on watching gaze moving from one fight to the other, rather thoughtfully. Raising an eyebrow as he watches that other fight.

<COMBAT> Boniface attacks Jaide with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Boniface with Broadsword - Light wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Drake with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Boniface has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Drake has been KO'd!

Aidan continues watching the duels drumming his fingers on his sword hilt and winces at a few of the hits but his focus seems to be on the two who are dominating their opponents for now.

Jaide springs into action as Boniface gets back up. Her blade lightly strikes the side of his helmet in a carefully controlled fashion, just enough to hopefully knock him down again. "I would suggest you stay down. I wouldn't want you to get that pretty face of yours hurt." She smiles faintly amusement glinting in those steel blue eyes.

Drake manages to get another slight hit in, but then he's whacked on his pretty head and suddenly the world seems to consist of two worlds. He blinks a few times in irritation and mutters some curses, but there's no way he can pick up that sword again. "Well done, Mylord.", he tells his opponent with what modicum he can still muster, starts to bow, sways and staggers off instead. "Fuck you."

All it takes is another strike. And Cyriel Charlot executes it with the precision of a chirurgeon. Well. A chirurgeon that is using a blade with blunted edges. "Thank you.", he replies coolly towards the Rousse, pale blue eyes flashing brightly at the vulgar addition Drake makes as he staggers off. But this does not dim his disposition, as he looks up to the ducal box, where at least two ladies might be glancing his way.

It's enough to not only knock Boniface back down again- but also knock him partially senseless- but not before he can offer a jovial "Don't threaten me with a good time…" Well, as jovial as can be expected, given the circumstances. And then he's out.

Desarae claps politely for the dismissed.

Étienne winces again at the display of bad sportmansip.

Ciarrah has a slight smirk on her face, this is a good fight.

Oh, they are, they are. The clash of wooden practice weapons has drawn the green eyes and the blue back from Farah Shamabarsin to the field, before even proper introductions have been completed amongst the ladies; a second pair of gloved hands rises to applaud, courteously, winner and loser alike, Dorimène still holding her posy of snowdrops between thumb and forefinger and striking that hand only gently with the other. The gesture lacks fervour, perhaps, but for an instant her eyes find Cyriel's and she dips her chin in a private salute to the victor.

"THE FIRST TWO PAIRINGS OF THE FIRST ROUND," the herald begins, "have Lord Cyriel Charlot and Lady Jaide Ferraut proceed to the next round." He gestures for the field to be cleared. "Next up are… Lord Etienne d'Arguil facing against Lord Antoine de Valais, and Lord Aidan Delaunay against Lord Yves Valliers."

"Good show!" Yves calls out towards all of the competitors, winners and losers and joins in whatever applause there might be for the first group of competitors. He doesn't really seem to pay any attention to any raw feelings might be having, that's just the heat of the moment, and sort of expected. When their turn comes to enter the combat area, he bows to Lord Aidan and salutes him with his sword, "Lord Aidan," he says in greeting but doesn't get all verbose, just sort of focuses on his fighting technique, settling into a neutral stance.

"Ah… yes… The wedding." Farah looks towards Desarae, "It is exciting." There is the faintest roll of her eyes there, but then attention is pulled towards what is happening on the tourney field, and Farah leans forward to observe what is happening down there. "It looks quite brutal," she states in all simplicity.

Aidan watches as the other competitors leave after their bouts and takes a deep breath before he steps into the 'ring' for the duel as he's called forward and draws forth his tourney blade and offers a salute to Ducal box then a salute to the younger lord, "Lord Yves. May the better swordsman win." He settles into a cautious stance as he looks to get a feel for the young man's fighting style.

Antoine shakes his head momentarily at the end of the other fights, before he gets ready for his own fight. Offering a polite nod in Etienne's direction, he smiles to the man. "Good luck, my lord. May the best man win." A glance around at the crowd, before he looks back to his opponent, readying himself for this.

Cyriel moves to the sideline, ready to watch from there the next pairings.

Oh, the field has to be cleared? Sine Boniface is in no condition to clear himself, his page makes do- stepping in to drag the young man off the field and into the Baphinol tent.

Jaide leaves the ring with a shake of her head, moving to find herself a place to watch the next round of fights.

The ambassador from Eire takes her seat and goes about watching the tourney, resting her hands in her lap as she does.

Étienne salutes the ducal box and bows. He then bows politely to Antoine, all Azallese grace despite the field armor. He gives him a friendly, dimpled smile, then lowers his face plate, "May this contest be blessed."

<COMBAT> Etienne has changed stance to banzai.
<COMBAT> Etienne will spend luck on attack this turn.
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Critical wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Antoine with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Right Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Antoine attacks Etienne with Broadsword - Light wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Yves with Broadsword but Yves DODGES!
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Aidan with Broadsword but Aidan DODGES!
<COMBAT> Antoine attacks Etienne with Broadsword - Light wound to Right Leg (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Antoine with Broadsword - Light wound to Left Hand (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Yves with Broadsword but Yves DODGES!
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Antoine with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Antoine attacks Etienne with Broadsword but Etienne DODGES!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Yves with Broadsword - Serious wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Antoine has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Antoine spends a luck point to keep fighting!

Marco meanders his way through the tourney. Marco is not particularly known as a swordsman or a fighter in general. Eventually in the nobles area he finds no doubt part of what brings him out. He makes his way towards Farah. He has smiles for most as he passes and makes towards Farah moving over to smile, "Enjoying the festivities, My Lady?" He asks as he drifts to her side.

When Lord Aidan Delaunay takes the field in earnest Dorimène, his sister-in-law of sorts and likewise lately returned to Marsilikos from the funeral rites at Aix, takes hold again of her cousin Desarae's hand and watches with perfect composure but absolute attention the contest transpiring between him and… a Camaeline lordling, of Montchapetre blood. No wonder she's riveted.

Aidan engages the young lord and had seriously misjudged the young man's skill with the blade stepping to the wrong side and taking a massive strike to his head, rattling the soldier for a bit as gets his bearings back he manages to land his own solid hit to the young man.

Odric is late to the tournament, fortunately for him and perhaps unfortunately for whoever would have been lucky enough to trounce him, hes no swordsman. There is a brief word of prayer and small donation to a priest of Camael upon entering the grounds, and then Odric is in search of the nobility and those watching the games. He ends up entering near Marco, and seeing as that man seems a little more aware of his destination, Odric uses him as a way to get through the crowd. As Odric moves to continue on he offers Marco "thanks m'lord" for services (unaware or not) rendered and then heads to the ducal box to offer the duchess a bow and brief greeting "your grace, a pleasure for you to host such an event" it is the polite thing to do, no?

Blunted sword swing with enthusiasm, Yves comes forward from a neutral position and goes forth to trade with Lord Aidan. He seems to be enjoying himself, even when he takes a hit to the head in one of the latter exchanges, ringing his bell slightly. "Well swung, m'lord!" he calls out with a smile.

Étienne swings his sword solidly for Antoine's sword arm, which opens him up a little. He grunts at the tap to his abdomen.

As the fight starts, Antoine finds himself on the defensive, taking a few more hits than he's able to deliver. Stepping a bit backwards to gather himself, he frowns, looking a bit more cautious now as he watches Etienne, waiting for the other man's strike.

Farah had exchanged a few words with Desarae, in the Ducal Box. But now that Marco approaches, she turns towards him with a smile that looks surprised. "Ah, my lord. You are late. I didn't know you were interested in swordplay?", she begins, trying to fight down the beginnings of a blush. She then answers his question, "It is… exciting yes. But also sort of brutal."

<COMBAT> Antoine has changed stance to Cautious.
<COMBAT> Etienne will attack Antoine this turn. Options: called=head
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Antoine with Broadsword - NEAR MISS!
<COMBAT> Antoine attacks Etienne with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Yves with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Serious wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Antoine with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Critical wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Antoine attacks Etienne with Broadsword - Light wound to Right Hand (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Yves with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Aidan has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Aidan spends a luck point to keep fighting!
<COMBAT> Yves tries to attack but has no target!
<COMBAT> Aidan passes.
<COMBAT> Antoine attacks Etienne with Broadsword but Etienne DODGES!
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Antoine with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Antoine has been KO'd!

Jaide tilts her head watching the fights intently from where she stands. She is rather easy to spot among the competition, the lady the only woman who has dared to compete today.

Marco smiles warmly at Farah, "I'm not overly. I am more comfortable with small blades. But we are here to honor Camael and that I'm in favor of." He says warmly as he moves to sit beside Farah. "It can be brutal but this is mostly sparring. Did any of the warriors catch your eye?" HE asks of the half Akkadian woman.

Étienne's cornflower blue eyes are intense where they can be seen through the visor slit, but the next flurry results in the clang of blades until he takes a light blow to his hand. With new focus, he gets in over Antoine's guard.

Aidan grunts a bit as the fight continues on taking another massive hit to his chest that staggers Aidan to a knee. Taking a solid breath he refocuses on the fight again standing back up and stepping towards Yves, "Well struck m'lord. You're an artist with that blade."

Continuing to exchange with Lord Aidan, Yves continues to land a series of heavy hits to his opponent. Dancing out of range and taking a glancing blow off of his full maile for the price. After he manages to stagger his opponent, he pauses and gives the lord ample time to recover if he wishes to continue, but doesn't say anything, just nods and salutes a second time. "Oh, thank you," he says, blushing a touch though thankfully the light dapple of sweat and the exertion on his face hide it well.

"There is little to see of them, when they are wearing helmets," Farah replies to Marco. "But… of course… they are trained swordsmen. And all of noble birth. How odd. I heard it say that commoners were allowed to compete as well, and yet, none of them is."

Bastien did not come to the competition with any delusions of fighting himself. That was definitely not in his training, even if he dallied with idea of being a daring swordsman, but no, not today. The young noble comes to the edge of the tournament field to watch amidst the others who are hear to watch the test of blades and those who are here to dance with the blades.

Cyriel watches the bout between Yves and Aidan with more than mild interest. Pale blue eyes scan the movements of each of the two most attentively. His nostrils flare just so when Aidan takes a particularly harsh blow but does not yet yield.

It's never that good ending up on the defensive so soon. And so, Antoine gets caught again. This time he moves his sword in an attempt to knock the incoming strike out of the way, but that doesn't work, and the strike hits his head. Stumbling back a bit, he reaches that moment time slows down completely, as he tries to regain his footing, fails to do so and ends up falling to the ground. Staying down for a few moments, blinking as if to clear his head, before he rolls over on his side, then works his way to his feet. "Well done," he offers to Etienne, offering the man a brief grin, as he gets to his feet. "Good luck in the rest of the competition." Retrieving his sword, he stumbles off the field now, finding himself a place on the sidelines where he can sink down to his knees again. That hurt!

The blow to Aidan's head half-closes Dorimène's clear sapphire eyes; her lashes lift when he seems to rally, only to lower again when he falls to one knee before his brash young opponent. Otherwise her composure holds, and the Cereus steel beneath her delicate petals sustains her; and only the cousin with whom she sits hand in hand has some idea, perhaps, of what she must feel, to see a second Delaunay battling even in play a second lord of Camlach, in honour of that very tutelary angel with whom she came here today to make her peace.

<COMBAT> Aidan has changed stance to normal.
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Critical wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Yves with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Aidan with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Yves with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Yves with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Left Leg (Reduced by Armor).

Étienne attempts to offer Antoine his hand, "Well fought!" He goes to salute the ducal box again, and freezes in alarm for a long moment at the sight of Dorimène in the front. he shakes his head again, as if dazed, then finishes the gesture before stepping out of the way until it is time to fight again.

Aidan takes another massive strike and just shakes his head as he refuses to go down fighting through the pain as he pushes through swinging at the young lord and managing to just miss every time, "You're talented m'lord. I'm honestly shocked somebody so young has so much to teach me about the blade."

Still fighting from that neutral position, Yves continues to strike at Aidan with heavy blows, his guard kept up in front of him, though he manages to sidestep a great deal of the swings almost entirely, twisting his blade for quick deflections. "My lord," he mentions amiably, and seems ready to continue for as long as Lord Aidan wishes it, "I think you have something to teach everyone here about persistence."

Farah's eyes go wide, when she observes the beating Aidan receives down on the field. "Oh… What is this Lord Yves doing to him?", she mutters with concern in her voice. Then she looks towards Marco. "My lord. I didn't mean to evade your company lately. It's just, I have been caught up in my studies. I need to catch up on so many things to prepare adequately for the time after the wedding.", she offers at a lower volume to Marco Mereliot at her side.

<COMBAT> Yves attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Yves with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Aidan with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Yves with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Yves with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Aidan has been KO'd!

Marco smiles at Farah, "The helmets make it difficult hmm?" He asks and he smiles, "I'm glad you've enjoyed." He says his eyes surveying the crowd and both the competitors and the observers smiling, "Did you see anyone familiar?" He waves a hand at FArah, "They are firm competitors it seems. Oh it's quite alright. There will be time enough in the future. But I enjoy the opportunities when we get the chance."

Aidan continues to push the attack until another hit to his already pummeled chest falling back to his knee he shakes his head, "I yield m'lord. Well fought." Using his blunted sword he pushes himself back up to his feet, "Good luck with the rest of the duels you'd best win m'lord so I can say I lost to the champion."

Advancing for another exchange, Yves continues to sidestep and weave and narrowly parry Lord Aidan's attacks. Landing two more hits to the other man, he steps forward as if he might offer a hand, but instead bows again and says, "Indeed well fought, m'lord," he agrees. "Though I don't think I'll do that well, I will do my best," he confirms and walks with the lord from the fighting area.

It is a hard fight, and it seems, the crowd is quite drawn in by the spectacle, hard blow after blow inspiring many reactions, cheers but also cries of concern. When eventually Aidan does yield, the herald raises his voice to announce the outcome. "Winners of the second bouts of the first rounds are: Lord Etienne d'Arguil and Lord Yves Valliers! There will be a brief break, after which the next pairings will take place: Lord Cyriel Charlot is to face Lord Etienne d'Arguil. And Lady Jaide Ferraut is to face Lord Yves Valliers."

Étienne says to Aidan as he passes. "I am sorry about your brother. I know how devastated I would be if something like that happened to one of my siblings."

Introductions made, Odric finds a place in the noble stands, jotting a few notes in a journal before accepting a glass of wine from one of the attendants. There are casual glances towards the field of fighting, but more attention is spent to people watching the crowd than to the tournament itself.

In the ducal box two shining dark heads incline close together again, Dorimène's plain smooth chignon tending toward Desarae's shining waves, when Aidan Delaunay is knocked down onto his knee once more before the Camaeline Yves Valliers. Then the two men leave the field on what appear to be fine and friendly terms, and the Cereus murmurs in a soprano voice distant and glacial and consciously detached: "Camlach does send Eisande its most puissant warriors, don't you find—? One wonders whether they have simply run out of Skaldi to fight."

Shaking his head a bit slowly, Antoine lets out a breath. "Ah, good…" he mutters to himself. Turning to watch the competitors remaining, he grimace, getting to his feet fully once more. He looks to the stands for a few long moments, then moves to find himself somewhere he can sit down while he watches this.

Recognizing a few faces in the crowd of watchers, Bastien moves a little more into the throng of people. His attention is mostly on the competitors, as this is their day to shine in the eyes of the people and the Companions. He sees Marco, offering him a bit of a nod, whether or not the other man even notices him. He pauses by Jaide, "Good day, Lady Jaide." He smiles, "I doubt you remember me… we met very briefly the other day. I was little more than a footnote to my cousin's attempt to be charming."

It's around this time that Boniface emerges from the Baphinol tent- changed out of his armor into more comfortable clothing befitting his station. He's bruised and battered but still in rather high spirits as he limps his way over to the noble viewing areas to cheer on the penultimate fighters. "Go Lady Jaide!"

Aidan offers a nod towards Etienne as he walks past. Well more staggers, "Thank you for your thoughts." He finds himself a seat near the Delaunay pavilion and begins to remove his armor enough to take a look at the bruises he might have in various spots under the armor.

Moving back once he has seen Lord Aidan from the field, Yves moves to the dueling ground with Lady Jaide and offers her a salute and a bow. "Lady Jaide," he greets her as he twists a little from side to side to keep himself limber, and readies his sword again in a neutral position. His attention on the Lady, he seems to still be excited and happy to be here.

Jaide turns her head as Bastien greets her. A soft smile is given. "I believe you give yourself too little credit Lord Bastien. You are quite memorable. I would be pleased to speak further sometime in fact." Just then her former opponent returns cheering…for her? She blushes a bit, just a touch of pink to her cheeks as she looks back to Bastien. "Wish me luck in the next match?" Then she moves towards the field. She offers a bow of respect and a salute. "Lord Yves." She returns the greeting calmly as she slides into a fighting stance.

Bastien smiles and offers the lady a bow, "May the Companions guide your aim true. Good luck, indeed be yours, Lady Jaide." He grins and watches the lady head out onto the field. The young man watches with a bit more interest than before.

Étienne warily salutes the ducal box, then bows to his new opponent. Enthusiastically he gushes, "You fught really well last bout!"

Marco waves at Bastien grinning at him and smiles as he watches the crowd. He listens as the announcements are made. He then offers to Farah, "Do they do it differently at your home in terms of such events?" He asks as he considers Farah and the crowds.

Cyriel has had time to recover a little from the thrashing he had given Drake Rousse, and so he stands at the ready now, meeting Etienne's bow with a bow of his own. "Etienne d'Arguil," he greets, ignoring the compliment altogether. And he also doesn't add one of his own.

The return to the field of the oft-victorious vicomte de Chavagne prompts the usual, the natural, the inevitable flutter of talk amongst the duchesse's ladies — and her nieces as well. Dorimène and Desarae are by now each in possession of a goblet of chilled white wine, to refresh them amidst the afternoon's fatiguing warmth and perhaps also to bolster the Cereus's façade of tranquility. Drinking together they share as well a whisper or two, for no ears but one another's.

The Duchesse of Eisande turns her attention back to the tourney field, as things seem to progress there, after offering a quick smile to Marco and his betrothed. And to Dorimène and Desarae, of course, as the two ladies seem to be exchanging a few whispered words of confidence.

Bruised and Battered Boniface (Hereafter known as Triple B) limps over to find a seat to watch the fights, though he's fallen quiet now. No more cheering from him. It hurts too much.

<COMBAT> Yves attacks Jaide with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Head (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - Light wound to Right Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Yves with Broadsword but Yves DODGES!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Etienne with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Jaide with Broadsword - Critical wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Yves with Broadsword but Yves DODGES!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Etienne with Broadsword - Light wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Jaide has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Jaide spends a luck point to keep fighting!

Seated among the other observers is Lilyana, attention rapt as each participant has their opportunity to give a show. There are gasps, winces and cheers of triumph and low whispers of worry as the victors move on and those not faring so well do not.

Étienne tries the same trick with Cyriel that he tried with Antoine and makes apained sound as he's hurt rather more than he was by Antoine. he comes around for the chest and gets a light blow to the gorget for his efforts. His aquamarine eyes are wide as he swings for the hand.

Having found himself a place to sit as he watches the combat now, shaking his head a little to himself as he does. His eyes are a bit more narrowed than usual, as he focuses on the fights happening now.

Cyriel lands a few hits on his opponent, but it seems, Etienne is more up to the task of paying him back in turn. Pale blue eyes shine all the brighter, as the Kusheline bites back any sound of discomfort, but continues in pursuit of winning this bout.

Jaide tries her best but Yves is quick and he hits HARD. Her head is struck followed by her neck multiple times. It sends her backwards reeling and looking ill. She looks rattled forced to use her sword to stay upright out of sheer determination. She tries to push herself, to keep fighting but she cannot do it. Finally a harsh blow to her neck causes her to take a knee and lift a hand in surrender. "You win this my Lord, well fought." Bowing her head she tries to get up and then moves to leave the field, she needs to rest a bit now.

Once the combat begins, Yves salutes with his sword a second time and strides forward, sidestepping Jaide's first attack with a riposte-and a quick thrust to lady's chin and neck, followed by another narrow deflecting exchange that misses him entirely results in a blow in nearly the same location hitting her under the chin with a quick flicking gesture of the training sword. As she takes a knee and is staggered, he stands back, giving her adequate time to recover and then advances again, repeating the same motion as before. Dodging her attack and sidestepping into a quick chop to the side of her neck again, hitting off the armor there. "Well fought, Lady Jaide," he says and turns to walk with her from the fighting area so that he can watch the other match as it continues.

Bastien continues in his meandering through the crowd. At Marco's waving, the smokey-eyed boy wanders in that direction. In many ways, he is still uncertain about representing the Mereliot in public, but he is getting better about it. He walks over, offering a slight bow. "Good day, cousin." His attention is still out on the field and Jaide's defeat.

Antoine yawns mightily.

<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Etienne with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Right Leg > <COMBAT> Etienne attacks Cyriel with Broadsword but Cyriel DODGES!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Etienne with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Etienne with Broadsword - ARMOR on Right Hand stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - Light wound to Left Hand (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Etienne will spend luck on defense this turn.

Étienne exchanges another flurry of blows with the formidable Cyriel with only a small ding to Cyriel's hand to show for it.

The ghost of a grin dances on the hawkish features of Cyriel Charlot, as he continues to exchange blows with Etienne d'Arguil. A worthy opponent the man is, it seems, but the Kusheline's strike he lands on Etienne's right leg seems a touch more severe than that hit against Cyriel's left hand.

<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Right Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Etienne with Broadsword - Light wound to Right Hand (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Etienne has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Cyriel spends a luck point to keep fighting!

"So bored with the festivities already?" Lilyana, hopefully seated somewhat closeby Antoine asks of him. Laughter dances in her eyes before she lowers her lashes enough for a coquettish look. "Or perhaps keeping late nights?"

The tilt of Dorimène's elegant head suggests that she has chosen just one of the two current bouts to follow with her eyes: the vicomte de Chavagne, versus that young man who (though she's quite sure they've never been introduced) gave her so stricken a glance… She knows what that usually means. Her gaze is steady and blue, easily caught by either of the men if, in the aftermath, they should turn again to the ducal box, to see her once more politely applauding.

Odric glances up at a few rounds between contestants before hrming a little and tapping his pencil on the notebook and mentioning to Lilyana, who he happens to overhear, in a pure deadpan. "Thats just how he asks for more wine."

Étienne smiles back at Cyriel Charlot as he smacks that sword arm hard again. Limping, hand so pained he can barely hold his own blade, he makes one last, heroic attempt. Clang! And down he goes like a puppet with cut strings.

"We don't have… festivities like this at home. At least, not that I ever attended one," Farah tells Marco, belatedly, to his question. She sits beside the Mereliot lord, and now that Bastien approaches them and addresses Marco, she looks towards the charming young man and smiles.

Turning to look at Lilyana, Antoine offers her a smile. "Not really, just trying to clear my head a bit after that hit I took earlier," he replies, before he adds, "Sorry it's nothing more excited than that." It's said a bit lightly.

"Damn!", Cyriel hisses, when the Arguil lord deals him another nasty blow, that sends waves of agony through his sword arm. It forces him to pause for a moment, nevermind that his own strike convinces Etienne to yield. "Well fought," the Charlot allows, straightening, with the slightest wince of pain. But he keeps himself upright as he watches Etienne stagger off the field.

Marco smiles at Farah, "Oh? Well I'm glad you got to see this then." HE smiles as BAstien, "Lord BAstien. How are you? Have you found a favored champion?" He asks playfully and then offers, "Bastien, may I introduce Lady Farah Firzadeh Shamabarsin? My betrothed." HE says brightly, "Farah Lord Bastien is another of the Mereliots." He offers warmly.

Standing just outside of the dueling area, Yves steps back inside and leans against the fencing for comfort. Not sure how the brackets will be resolved, he watches the resolution between Cyriel and Etienne, nodding to himself passively but enthusiastic. "Well fought!" he calls out when the fight ends and claps a little. His attention not wholly on the task ahead, occasionally turning his head to look around at the gathered crowd out of curiosity.

"Aaaand… We have two people proceeding to the semifinal. Lord Yves Valliers and Lord Cyriel Charlot.", the herald announces. "A brief break, and then we will continue!" Again, attendants clear the tourney field, and there is time for Cyriel and Yves to enjoy a sip of water or wine, if they so choose.

With the laughter still in her expression, Lilyana looks after Odric a moment, fingers absently smoothing over the skirt of her dress as she considers his response. "Perhaps then he only needs more wine before his second bout." Inquisitive eyes turn towards Antoine. "From my vantage point, I would think all of it is exciting. I find myself unable to look away for long."

Cyriel does not tarry overly long. Just a sip from a goblet brought to him by a Charlot attendant, and he hands it already back. Rolling his shoulders, and then doing a few swings, he prepares to face Yves Valliers, offering the lad a not as he steps out to meet him in the next bout.

Bastien offers Farah a slight bow, "Bastien Aubrey de Mereliot. It is a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to offer my congratulations." He looks over to Marco, "I am doing remarkably well. It is a glorious day, is it not." He chuckles, "Favored fighter? Perhaps, we will have to see if she can pull herself from the loser's bracket though. Lady Jaide bid me to wish her luck, so I feel obligated to remain constant to her side until the end of the tourney."

Its around this time that Boniface's page finds him lounging, whispering something to the young vicomte. "WHAT?" he exclaims in response, as he starts to ease himself up from his seat with a little wince. "I have to go another round?" Still, he's able to laugh about it as he starts to limp back toward the Baphinol tent- no doubt to clad himself in armor once more for the loser's bracket.

Odric spares a glance up from his notebook to look over at Lilyana and Antoine, in particular Antoine first up and down and then to Lilyana. "Perhaps you're right, or perhaps the lord is just part duck." He counters back, still deadpan, doing his best to not even hint at the idea that he's joking. Then he glances back towards Antoine "wine m'lord?" look at that, there happens to be an attendant nearby for just that thing!

Since they've been given a chance to take a bit of sustenance, Yves drinks a bit of water and returns to the field bouncing on his toes. "M'lord," he says once again, and offers a salute with his blade, before he settles into that same neutral stance. His sword coming up in front of him. Neither of them seems disposed to a great deal of chatter or taking a long break. Nervous, but excited and in a good mood, he prepares to exchange with the older man.

Étienne seems to be lolling unattended, without anyone to give him even a cup of something to drink while he recovers.

<COMBAT> Cyriel has changed stance to Cautious.
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - Critical wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Yves with Broadsword but Yves DODGES!
<COMBAT> Cyriel has been KO'd!

The moment the semi final begins, Yves and Cyriel exchange rapid blows that do nothing and then the young man narrowly dodges by a hair's breadth and then throws a quick chop at the man across the side of his neck and across his ear. He nearly throws another follow-up blow then, but brings it up short and stands back, examining the Lord to see how he will weather the initial hit before he launches another. Not wanting to give insult by pressing an attack when it is not necessary.

There is a thing about necks today. When Cyriel launches his attack on Yves, he does so with his eyes flashing brightly. The way he swings his sword is with elegance, and it shows the prowess earned in many years of practice. Perhaps he knows that it will be just this one moment, this one chance he will get.

Alas. Cyriel's sword hisses through air, when his opponent dodges. What is even worse, there is the Camaeline strike that hits him at an unsuspected angle, and for a moment, the world begins to spin. The Kusheline takes to a knee, hitting the tip of his sword into the dirt so that he can use the handle for support. "Kushiel…", Cyriel murmurs, and then shakes his head. As if to regain his clarity. "I yield." He looks towards Yves from his pale blue eyes and then moves to stand, departing the field for the sidelines.

"I'm glad we've managed to provide you with good entertainment," Antoine replies to Lilyana, along with a brief smile, before he looks to Odric, shaking his head a little. "No need for wine at the moment, really." It's offered a bit quietly, as he smiles briefly. "There's a time for enjoying wine, and it's not right now, for me."

"Winner of the semifinal in the winner's bracket is Yves Valliers!", the herald announces. "We shall continue with the loser's bracket now, to determine the lucky lord or lady who may face Lord Yves again in the final match." He looks down at his notes and then adds, "First off will be Boniface Baphinol, who is to face Aidan Delaunay!"

Yves follows the departure of Lord Cyriel with his eyes, and he nods his head at the yielding. Putting the practice sword back at his side, he turns in place and after a pause, makes his way from the dueling area. Biting his lip as he goes looking for a sandwich, and finding someone who can make one, is soon standing at the area outside of the dueling area with a sandwich in one hand and a goblet of water in the other.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Lord Bastien," Farah says amiably as the young man is introduced to her. "I do not have a favorite," she then adds. "But I was remarking on the absence of commoners in the competitors. When I was given to understand that they would be allowed to compete."

"Part duck," Lilyana muses to herself for a moment, unable to hide the smile tugging at one side of her mouth, eyes cutting between Odric and Antoine. "Should anyone else want wine then?" Just to alert the one serving it there are potential interested parties for them to serve. Hearing the clash of swords brings her attention back to the fight and she gasps audibly as there is a yield. She applauds for both before directing a look back towards Antoine. "Are you in terrible pain?" There's a soft gentle tone to her voice.

Aidan climbs up from where he'd been sitting outside the Delaunay tent and puts the armor back on having gotten time to rest and stretch out a bit he walks back out into the ring when his name is called back out. He takes his blunted sword and offers a salute to the Ducal Box again and then turns to his opponent and offers a salute to Boniface, "May the better swordsman win m'lord."

It's a good thing Boniface went to change- even so the semifinal fight went so quick, the young man is STILL late getting out to the field. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he finally says, limping out of his family's tent. At least he has his sword this time.

Soon (but not too markedly soon) after Yves Valliers stands victorious again, having cut such a swathe through the field as to mark him out as a Scion of Camael, Dorimène sets down her goblet of wine half-full upon the ducal box's broad railing and holds her snowdrops to her nose. She breathes in their scent and breathes it out again as a sigh. And then she rises in a rustle of petticoats. "… I think perhaps the heat and the crowds are just a little much for me today," she confides to Desarae, in taking her leave. There's a last whisper between the cousins, and a promise extracted — a last curtsey for Armandine — and she withdraws.

Antoine applauds briefly for the participants, before he looks over at Lilyana again, offering her a brief smile. "Terrible pain?" There's a brief pause, before he adds, "It has been worse, but it's been better as well. At least my ears have stopped ringing now." It's said a bit lightly.

"That'll probably be you," Boniface says with a grin, giving Aiden a little salute as he joins him in the ring.

<COMBAT> Boniface attacks Aidan with Broadsword but Aidan DODGES!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Boniface with Broadsword - Serious wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Boniface has been KO'd!

Bastien comments to Farah, "It is open to anyone who wishes to join, but perhaps none chose to compete. For some, work and service does not always give way to festivities such as these, that the nobility has more idle time. In truth, M'lady, I cannot say as to why, just the way things have worked out this time."

"Thats why I never bothered to work too hard learning how to use a sword" Odric says in return to Antoine "I couldn't stomach the idea of being too sore to drink." He takes another drink of his own glass of wine, because companions forbid someone is left without wine. There is another scan of the field and then Odric turns his attention back to Lilyana and Antoine "though, truth be told, if he is a duck, his d'angeline is remarkably good. Someone should most likely notify the menagerie." He scribbles down a note, perhaps to that regard.

Aidan nods a bit towards his opponent as he settles into a neutral fighting stance. He waits for his opponent to move before he slips in a quick strike at Boniface his blade striking the man's chest and the Delaunay Scion of Camael resets his stance to prepare for the next attack.

Armandine looks a touch concerned, when the young Vicomte d'Orange goes down so swiftly. "Does his mother know that he is here, and what he's upto?", the duchesse wonders towards her ladies. "I somehow suspect that this won't be the last beating he'll receive, even if Lady Delphine prefers those of the verbal sort."

Joining in the applause at the conclusion of the fight, Yves picks his sandwich up again and finishes it off with a few last bites. Not about to get too tight from the post-fight cool down, he starts stretching in preparation for going onto the dueling field again in a few minutes. "Well fought Lord Aidan," he calls out towards the man at the well-struck blow.

Except there isn't a next attack. Boniface goes down- hard. And he doesn't get back up, having had first had the wind knocked out of him and then his senses knocked out when his head rattles around in his helmet. Still, he has time to mutter- "I think I'll stick to horses." before his lights go out.

Farah just ah's softly and nods to Bastien's words. "You must have quarters at the palace as well," she wonders then, out of the blue. "You being family with Her Grace. And you have spent all your life here in Marsilikos?"

There is a startled murmur going through the crowd as the young Baphinol collapses on the field. And soon attendants arrive to carry the young man off to the side, to tend to him there by splashing a bit of water onto his features.

Aidan gives a quick salute to the Viscomte before he moves out of the way of the attendants who have shown up to help Boniface off the field walking back out to wait to see who's in the next bout.

"Onto Round two proceeds: Aidan Delaunay!", the herald announces. "Next up would be Lord Antoine Valais and Lord Drake Rousse!" There is a pause that follows. Some attendants rush over towards the herald, and a whispered message is given to him. At which the herald clears his throat. "I hear, that there may be a delay. Lord Drake had to deal with something, but he shall be right back. Let us proceed instead with the next match, of the next round, where participants have already been determined. Lord Etienne d'Arguil is to face Lord Aidan Delaunay."

Bastien watches the tale unfold upon the field. He then looks back over to Farah. "I do, though only recently so. I was not born into the luxury of Palace, but I have lived the entirety of my life here in Marsilikos." He cocks his head, "How are you finding our jewel by the sea?"

Étienne rises creakily and limps out on the field, untended. He squints up at the Ducal box, confused as he gives his customary salute, then bows to the recently bereaved Lord.

Antoine pauses as he hears his name called, and looks ready to get to his feet again. "See that's why I…" he begins, before he hears the rest of what the herald said. "Seems like I will have to wait a bit longer, then." Remaining seated for now.

Aidan hears his name called back out he takes a quick drink of water and then heads back out into the field before he offers Etienne a quick salute as his opponent steps onto the field, "Good luck m'lord."

"Oh… I find it delightful," Farah replies. "It is different. But then again, all of Terre d'Ange must feel different from the world I was brought up in. So far, I have only seen the Capital and Marsilikos." There is a look she gives Marco beside them, then her attention is back on Bastien. "So, in a way, I think we are both new to our circumstances."

Boniface is still out. Or maybe he's just taking the opportunity of a nap.

<COMBAT> Etienne has changed stance to banzai.
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Etienne with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Etienne with Broadsword - ARMOR on Right Hand stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Serious wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Etienne with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Aidan with Broadsword but Aidan DODGES!

Étienne gives Aidan a sunny smile, "And to you!" He moves into his stance and lands two hard blows to his abdomen before taking a tap to the chest. He gives the other man an encouraging smile when he's hit.

Aidan wades into this bout and begins to receive the beating that was to be expected having been mostly out of practice. He takes a few solid hits but gives plenty in return even if the armor seems to be working better for his opponent.

<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Etienne with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Aidan with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Etienne with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Etienne attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Right Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Etienne with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Etienne has been KO'd!

Clang! Etienne smacks Aidan another good one and reels back as the Delaunay attacks him in a sudden display of real swordsmanship. He gives a whooof as the wind is knocked out of him and lifts a hand to yield as he struggles for breath.

Aidan continues in with the fight landing a solid few hits on Etienne before the man yields and Aidan steps back lowering his sword, "Well fought m'lord." He offers a salute with his blade and then back down before he offers to walk off the field with Etienne.

Cyriel Charlot watches the bout between Aidan Delaunay and Etienne d'Arguil with an unmoving face. One hand goes to his neck, checking that fresh bruise there, that the Valliers lad left with his tourney sword. He gestures for a goblet of wine when the duel match on the field is decided, and then takes a sip from it absent-mindedly.

Moving over towards the gate to the dueling area, Yves calls out, "Best exchange so far," by way of congratulating them both, but hangs back a bit as well. Handing off his goblet as he finishes that as well. "When you came in with a riposte, m'lord it was well struck," he is saying and willing to talk exhaustively about the swordplay with anyone who exits the field. Regardless of their success or failure.

Étienne flashes him a smile, "It was! you really got your second win there." he staggers off and away.

Odric finishes his glass of wine before closing his notebook. There is a nod to Antoine "should have taken that glass of wine m'lord, seem that you've a bit of a reprieve." He rises from his seat and offers a polite bow to Lilyana and Antoine "mlord, m'lady. A pleasure. If you make it out alive I'll buy you your next glass m'lord." He says before he begins heading out of the stands towards the grounds.

"The first to proceed to the third round, is Lord Aidan Delaunay!", the herald announces. "As we need to wait for Lord Drake, there will be an intermission. We shall continue as soon as the contestants are here and ready to proceed with the next bout."

Smiling, the young noble nods, "Well, if you ever find yourself in need of company, please let me know. " Bastien glances back to the field for a moment. "I would love to hear about where you come from, Lady Farah."

"Khebbel-im-Akkad.", Farah replies, lowering her gaze for a moment. Her attire looks more d'Angeline than Akkadian though. "I didn't see much of the world, except for when my uncle, the ambassador, brought me and some sisters here. To be wed to d'Angeline nobility."

Bastien cants his head, as he listens. "I am sorry. That sounds terribly lonely." He pauses, "But of course, here I am, never having left the city and never really had a great desire to. But then again, that was before my situation changed."


Some time had passed. Time that had gone to good use, as nobility in the ducal box and on the higher benches had been provided with fresh wine and some refreshments, and even through the stands where the commoners are cheering, people are making their rounds selling cheaper snacks for the common folk. When the announcement comes from the herald, a cheer rises in the crowd of spectators. "There. We will now see Lord Drake Rousse test his mettle against Lord Antoine Valais."

Farah looks up when the match is announced, and she leans a bit forward in her seat to look towards the tourney field, holding her breath for a moment. "They are continuing," she says with a smile and looks towards Desarae. As brutal as the sport seems, the Akkadian lady seems to discover a certain taste for it.

Having spent some of that time recovering from the last round, Antoine makes his way out onto the field. There's a glance to the stands, before he looks towards his opponent, offering a polite nod in greeting. "May the best man win," he offers.

Desarae allows herself another sip of her chilled white wine and, bereft of her cousin Dorimene's company, glances Farah's way when the young woman speaks. "Have you picked your own favourite to win, Lady Farah?" A quiet smile is offered, and she lifts one hand to shield her eyes from the sun so that she's better able to concentrate on the two combatants as they make their way to start the next round of knockouts.

"I like the one with the auburn hair," Farah decides after a moment, "the Vicomte de Draguignan. I know he is to marry the Princess Rajiya of Bhodistan, and she and I would consider friends." There is a bit of a shy flicker in her gaze as she states this. "What about you, Lady Desarae? Who do you think will win?"

Drake was slightly unaware that there would be another round for the losers until he's shooed back to the tourney field. He's still putting his armor on, his squire stumbling after him to help. "Ah, who's the lucky one then?", he smirks and eyes Antoine when he's pointed out. "Hello, Vicomte. Ready to have your ass handed to you?", he grins.

<COMBAT> Drake attacks Antoine with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Antoine attacks Drake with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Antoine with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Antoine attacks Drake with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> A turn is already in progress.
<COMBAT> Antoine attacks Drake with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Left Leg (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Antoine with Broadsword - Serious wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Antoine has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Drake has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Drake spends a luck point to keep fighting!

Desarae twists her glass in her fingers, her expression hardening when Rajiya's name is brought up. "If you mean between the two about to test their blades, then I favour neither of the pair. It is difficult to pick one, when a person knows neither. My favoured for the overall contest would be the Vicomte de Chavagne, since I enjoy his company and admire his skill with a blade." She breaks off, the commencement of the duel causing her to forgo further conversation in favour of watching the sudden flurry of movement that unfolds on the field.

Drake goes into the combat unfocused as per usual and is rewarded by being whacked to the chest, while his own attack remains ineffective. But he warms to the task and despite being hit in the leg once more, he finally manages to get a big swing in - at Antoine's neck, almost as if he is intent on chopping the poor man's head off. Then he groans with pain and sits down, rubbing the injured leg.

"Bring it on," Antoine offers, before he moves towards the other man. He's not going to make the same mistake as the last time, and get caught on the defensive. For a while it works well, but then, even as he manages to deliver some good strikes, he winces at that big swing from Drake catches him around the neck. Stumbling forward, and falling, he takes his time on getting up again. "Quite a strike there," he offers, quietly. "Well fouhgt." Hand moving to where he was struck. That's going to hurt.

Farah cheers, when Drake turns out to be victorious in this round. "Ah, this will please the princess," she tells Desarae beside her.

"Didn't mean to take your pretty head off.", Drake assures Antoine with a grin and gets back to his feet as well to offer the man a hand. "Well-fought, Vicomte. That leg will hurt for a while…" Clearly strong drink is the answer to that problem.

"And… on to the next round proceeds: Lord Drake Rousse, Vicomte de Draguignan!", the herald announces. "He is to face Lady Jaide Ferraut next!"

Drake gasps. A lady!

Antoine shakes the offered hand, with a grin. "Ah, sure you meant it," he offers lightly. "Part of the game, right?" Nodding a bit as he hears the part about the leg. "Hope it'll get better as well. Good luck in the rest of the competition." And he starts moving off to where he can get that armor off now that he's no longer fighting.

Jaide hears her name called once more and strides out onto the field with smooth graceful steps. Her expression is calm, steel blue eyes watching her opponent carefully. A tilt of her head is given to Drake. "I hear you call yourself a dragon? I look forward to seeing how such a man fights." Her voice, soft and gentle carries over to Drake as she looks him over. Slipping into a fighting stance she waits for the signal to begin.

Drake saunters back onto the field, trying not to limp on the leg Antoine whacked earlier. He eyes the woman in front of him with a look between doubt and amusement. "And I hear you call yourself a lady? What are you doing here with a sword in hand? Shouldn't you be embroidering cushions or something?", he asks with a grin.
Yves has arrived.

Jaide arches a brow at Drake composure unwavering. "Ladies are perfectly capable of fighting Lord Dragon. This lady I wager could knock you on your rear. I am as capable a warrior as I am a lady."

<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Drake with Broadsword - Serious wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Jaide with Broadsword but Jaide DODGES!
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Drake with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Jaide with Broadsword but Jaide DODGES!
<COMBAT> Drake attacks Jaide with Broadsword but Jaide DODGES!
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Drake with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Drake has been KO'd!

Drake should have known better than to not take a woman seriously - or antagonize her. As soon as the fight begins, he's seriously whacked in his nether regions and it more or less incapacitates him. "Fuck fuck fuck", he groans, although that's perhaps precisely what's not going to happen any time soon. Two more hits, despite being lighter and lighter, are enough to bring him to his knees. "Ouch! Enough!"

Having just gotten changed back into normal clothing, Antoine makes his way out from his tent in time to see the end of this fight. Coming to a stop, he raises an eyebrow as he watches the combatants rather carefully. "That's some impressive strikes," he mutters to himself. Starting to move to find a place where he can sit and watch the rest of this.
You last paged Yves.

The comment that Drake made before thier fight seems to have inspired Jaide to prove something here. Her movements are quick and precise, wacking him below the belt once and arching a brow at his profanity. As she follows up with more blows he finally yields and she lowers her blade. Bowing politely to her opponent she flashes him a soft and rather sly smile. "Such langauge in front of a lady, Lord Drake. Thankfully I'm not so delicate as to be offended. Thank you for the bout." She smirks ever so faintly at him.

The duel between Drake and Jaide is ferocious, and it's not too long before the Herald climbs back up onto his dais to announce the result. "The Lady Jaide Ferraut will progress to the next round, where she will face Lord Aidan Delaunay! Now let's have a cheer for these two as they leave the field!" A roar goes up amongst the crowds, though it might be noted that several of the loudest are from the female contingent spectating today!

"Well done, Mmmm…ylady.", Drake replies and offers her a hand, still trying to get his brain around the fact that he was beaten by a woman. Good thing Philomene isn't watching, he'd never hear the end of it. "Perhaps some time you and I will meet under more auspicious circumstances, such as sharing a cup of wine."

Jaide accepts Drake's hand and smiles softly. "I think that would be quite a pleasant meeting to have my Lord. I shall look forward to such an opportunity." She walks him off the field and then with a dip of her head turns to go prepare for the next round. "Until later Lord Dragon."

Drake offers her a little bow in response and wanders off to soothe his assorted wounds and curl up in a hot bath later.

Applauding the latest duel, Lord Yves Valliers is standing by, watching the various duels and seemingly enthusiastic to see their skills in use. "Well fought Lady Jaide," he calls out towards the Lady, his helmet resting on the fence post by his hip.

"Congratulations!" Desarae calls as Jaide and Drake make their way from the field. Setting her glass of wine to one side, her hands add to the general noise that's been created by the crowds, and the brightness of her voice is only matched by that of her smile. "A shame that your favoured one didn't progress further than he did, my lady," she says through her smile in an aside to Farah. "Wine?" She beckons the server over whom is closest, and asks for more wine to be served. "It is a shame we have no Mereliots entered in this today. I feel sure we must have some excellent swordsmen amongst them. Alas."

Someone who could, were her memory more reliable, provide any amount of expert inside information vis à vis the swordsmanship of most of the great houses of Terre d'Ange, is Leda Lavecq: a skinny little woman in a flaming red silk gown, with broad panniers beneath and a column of big lustrous red satin bows marching down the front of it as far as her lissom waist. Beneath the red her bodice and petticoat are stitched from shimmering cloth of silver, just in case she wasn't visible from a sufficient distance without. She took time this afternoon to curl her hair and dress it half up and half down. The charm and precision of her toilette, allied with her inveterate habit of oversleeping, explains why she's arriving so late at the field. Commonborn, as a servant of Naamah she regards the noble stands as her natural habitat: but she hasn't even found somewhere to sit down when her quicksilver attention is caught by the present display of martial prowess. Catnip. She wanders up to the nearest fence and leans her paws upon it, looking this way and that, and then when the combat is decided she actually jumps up and down in her red silk shoes, twice, and laughs aloud her pleasure at seeing a woman standing victor over that gingery young man. Such good sport! "Oh, well done!" she calls out cheerfully to Lady Jaide. Then her next thought is of wine, and where she might obtain it in quantities.

Jaide takes a moment to rest now while she waits for her next match. The cheers from the females watching her in the stands draw a warm smile as she removes her helmet. A bow of her head is given as she hears people cheering for her. Still she manages to keep both her composure and modesty even though its clear she is touched by the support she is receiving from the crowds.

As the bout between herself and Aidan prepares to commence Jaide makes her way out back onto the field. Putting her helmet back on she gives her opponent a polite bow and arranges herself once more in a fighting stance. A slow breath is drawn inwards as she prepares herself to fight.

As Jaide and Aiden get into the dueling area, Yves continues to observe from the sideline. He'd eaten and had time to relax and now he watches with total rapt attention. He'd seen them both fight up close, so he isn't too curious about their styles, but he's curious how they'll do given their various bumps and bruises from the previous matches.

Aidan looks around a bit as he steps back into the ring having taken some time to relax and drink water as well as a light snack before he was called back out to the dueling field. Once he's out there he offers a salute with his sword towards his opponent as they come out and then slip into a neutral stance as he prepares for the fight ahead.

Antoine watches in quiet, looking a bit curious as to what's happening now. Fully focused on the combat to come now.

<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Left Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Jaide with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Right Leg (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Left Hand (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Jaide with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Jaide with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Aidan with Broadsword but Aidan DODGES!

Striking out as soon as the signal is given Jaide lands a solid hit to Aidan's arm, however she winds up taking an equally solid hit to the leg. Stumbling a bit she moves to the side delivering another light blow before she is hit in the neck. Her eyes narrow in determination, stubbornly refusing to quit just yet even as her next strike misses altogether.

Aidan slips into the fight trading solid blows with Jaide hitting the woman on her leg as she strikes his arm but as he shifts his footing he takes another hit to his left hand as he lands another solid hit to her neck. As he slips out of the line for her counter attack he lands a jab to her chest before bringing his sword back up to see where the next attacks may go.

"Well fought!" Yves calls out as the two start to exchange blows, not really cheering for one or the other, since they were both his former opponents he didn't want to show favoritism. He's just happy to see a good match.

<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Jaide with Broadsword but Jaide DODGES!
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Aidan with Broadsword - ARMOR on Right Arm stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Jaide with Broadsword - Light wound to Left Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Right Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Jaide with Broadsword and MISSES!

From his spot on the side, Yves leans forward across the fence, watching the duel as it unfolds. The next series of exchanges between Jaide and Aiden doesn't seem to gain either of them a considerable edge, even if Jaide manages to edge out the number of hits to the full maile of her opponent. It wouldn't be decided by such glancing blows.

Aidan steps back into the bout missing his first strike but taking a hit to his chest. Then he trades some hits but ends up missing Jaide completely on his third attack but she still hit his arm. He step back shrugging his arm a bit making sure his sword arm still works before he offers a nod towards Jaide, "Well fought so far."

Jaide keeps moving, quickly making her strikes. Of course this means she sacrifices power behind those strikes. But still the lady has a determined look to her as she darts here and there slicing and slashing.

<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Aidan with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Jaide with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Jaide attacks Aidan with Broadsword but Aidan DODGES!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Jaide with Broadsword - Light wound to Left Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Jaide has been KO'd!

The next few attacks have Jaide battered rather consistantly. She keeps getting pushed back, unable to get a hit in. Finally she bow her head as she is forced onto a knee. "You win my Lord. Well fought." Her head is bowed low as she rises with all the dignity she can muster. Steel blue eyes lock with Aidan's after a moment. "I will cheer for you in your next round. Don't disappoint me." Then she returns to her tent.

Aidan lowers his sword after the first two exchanges of blows had come to an end and his opponent yields. Offering her a salute he nods, "Well fought my lady." As she heads off to her tent Aidan walks off the field to get some water in him sighing a bit as he works his joints to keep them from tightening up

"This round goes to… Lord Aidan Delaunay!", the herald announces, into the cheer of the crowd. "He is to face Lord Cyriel Charlot next."

Boniface has been senseless during the period between his last bout and this one- dragged off to his family's tent to recover. It seems now though he's awakened, limping out with a somewhat pained smile on his face.

Aidan finishes up with a quick drink of water before he walks back out into the field stretching a bit to keep limber as he waits for his opponent to arrive onto the field with him.

Cyriel had been watching from the sidelines all the while. The benefit of being the last defeated by the unstoppable Yves Valliers held the advantage of being allowed to recover for a moment. Refreshments had been brought by a Charlot servant, a goblet of red wine and a bowl with small baked pastries filled with cheese. The Kusheline vicomte kept scanning the audience now and then. He had noted Dorimène's departure sometime ago, but his pale blue eyes flash brightly once the herald calls his name. A smile is offered to Desarae in the ducal box, and with a soft sigh he hands goblet and pastry roll to the servant. Reclaiming his tourney blade he gives it a few swings, his eyes lingering all attentively on his opponent. "Lord Aidan Delaunay," he greets, voice calm and of a certain ominous dark timbre, and he inclines his head in respectful greeting. "You have fought well so far." It is a comment given in a flat tone, perhaps more consequence of courtesy than conviction. As he gets ready for the next bout.

Desarae falls silent as the next two competitors are announced. Bright green eyes settle upon the hawkish features of the Kusheline nobleman when he sends her a smile, and his reward is one of her own. "Good luck, my lord," she calls as he turns to make his way to the field, and fingers tighten about the stem of her wineglass: its contents forgotten. "This should be interesting," she notes, her shoulders straightening as with a shift of her weight, she corrects her posture. By doing so, she adds an inch or two to her height, allowing for the best possible view of the duel.

<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Cyriel with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Neck (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Cyriel with Broadsword but Cyriel DODGES!

Antoine watches in quiet, leaning forward in his seat a bit now. He otherwise stays silent, just watching carefully for now.

It seems to be an even match, this time. Cyriel's blows are skillfully deflected, and when they land they only cause minor bruises. One time in particular, he manages to sidestep in the moment Aidan strikes after him, and the blade hisses merely through air.

Aidan offers a salute to Cyriel, "You've fought extremely well my lord I look forward to this bout." And then the fighting begins with Aidan taking a hit to his chest and manages to land a massive hit to the air near Cyriel and with the next clash of blades a trade off but once again finding a good chunk of air near Cyriel but not the man himself taking a light hit to his neck.

"It appears that both have learned a little more caution," whispers Desarae to the woman at her side. "They're both managing to avoid the hardest touch of each other's blades. At least for now." Not that the young heiress is an expert on swordplay, but the fact that both are still standing without too much strain showing on their faces, most likely speaks for itself.

Boniface finds a place to sit, limping over there for extra dramatic effect (after all, his legs weren't injured at alL!) Once settled in, he proceeds to watch the er.. proceedings, though he doesn't seem to be all that invested in the fight.

<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Cyriel with Broadsword but Cyriel DODGES!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Cyriel with Broadsword but Cyriel DODGES!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).

Aidan begins to take a beating by Cyriel never managing to land a solid enough hit on his opponent but he does manage to stay standing… Somehow. But for now he changes his fighting style keeping just at the extreme range of each other's weapons, "Well struck my lord."

A bit cautiously, they start out, it seems, but then Cyriel Charlot adds a bit more force to his strikes — or perhaps the dulled blade manages to connect at a more effective angle. Circling as they are each other, the steps have the grace of a dance, were it not for sound of steel clashing against steel. Cyriel allows the ghost of a smile to appear on his hawkish features. This time, he gets more hits in than his opponent. "Thank you," he replies to Aidan's compliment with a bit of dryness in his tone.

The fight that had started out cautiously, now gains a bit of a bite. Desarae's attention is all upon the two men as they circle and strike at each other, and she's invested enough that she winces as some of the blows begin to find their mark with greater and greater accuracy. Something is murmured her by her companion and she nods quickly in agreement, not averting her eyes from the fight. "Yes. I think perhaps soon. Elua knows if he doesn't yield he'll be on his back in the mud…"

<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Aidan with Broadsword but Aidan DODGES!
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - Light wound to Right Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Cyriel with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Aidan with Broadsword - Light wound to Right Hand (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Aidan attacks Cyriel with Broadsword but Cyriel DODGES!
<COMBAT> Aidan has been KO'd!

Aidan must not have managed to keep out of reach of Cyriel well enough and eventually succumbs to the beating dropping down to one knee and shaking his head, "I yield my lord. Well fought. Good luck on your rematch."

Cyriel's next strike goes amiss, when Aidan seems to anticipate the blow already, whereas the Delaunay manages to bruise him at the sword arm. But after this, he pays him back, albeit lightly, blunted steel clashing with the flat side against Aidan's chest and then his sword hand. When the Delaunay yields, Cyriel inclines his head to the opponent. "You fought well.", he allows. "And thank you." he holds out his left hand to pull Aidan to his feet. The least he can do, when the last and final duel will indeed hold a certain deja vu.

"So… I believe we have a winner of the loser's bracket. Lord Cyriel Charlot shall proceed to face Lord Yves Valliers once again, in the final match that will decide the contest.", comes the announcement from the herald.

Aidan takes Cyriel's hand and accepts the help up, "Thanks. I'm just too stubborn to know when I've been beaten." Once onto his feet he begins to walk towards the edge of the field looking for water and perhaps now some wine.

Again there comes that roar of approval from the crowds as the match is settled, and amongst the commoner stands, bets are either collected or abandoned in disgust. It's a good day for those that are of a gambling nature, though the biggest stakes will be laid upon the final that's yet to be fought. Desarae's applause joins the more reserved one that comes from the ducal box, a smile now allowed to touch to her lips. "How long before the final fight?" she asks of one of the stewards.

Boniface applauds lightly. "And here I was hoping I could have at least -lost- to the overall winner," he comments to no one but himself. At least, he thinks he's talking to himself.

"True, but once you're out, most people probably hope for the champion to be the one knocking them out of it," Antoine replies, before he adds, "Either that or hoping that the one that knocked you out get knocked out just as fast, I guess."

"Stubbornness can be a great quality in war," Cyriel replies to Aidan, but then he moves off the field as well, towards the sideline, to prepare for the final fight.

"I suppose if you want to be petty," Boniface responds with a little smirk, glancing toward the field before looking back at Antoine. "Either way, I think I need some practice."

Antoine grins, "I don't, in most cases," Antoine replies, before he offers a grin. "You're not the only one needing more practice, I think I got a few painful reminders of that myself as well."

Aidan stretches a bit as he exits the field and looks over at Boniface, "Well at least I can say that whomever wins beat me… So I guess I can be petty on this one."

Boniface offers Aiden a grin in return to his comment before turning too sharply causes him to wince in pain. "Ugh," he mutters, "Yes, there is that."

Antoine grins as he hears Aidan's words. "Well fought," he offers to the man, before he nods at the words. "True," he offers.

Quite a few rounds of duels have already been fought, adding to the entertainment of the crowd. By now, they are cheering wildly, excitement enhanced with ale or finer fare of wines as had been enjoyed where nobility is seated. The last match had decided that it would be Cyriel Charlot who will face Yves Valliers in the final pairing, perhaps a repetition of the fight that had marked the only previous defeat of the Kusheline today.

"Finalists, please step forward. I call to the field Lord Yves Valliers, unbeaten as of today, and Lord Cyriel Charlot, Vicomte de Chavagne!", the herald roars, when Armandine Mereliot gestures for him to make the announcement. The Duchesse of Eisande has a goblet of white wine in her head, and her gaze turns towards the tourney field, expectant of the fight for the first place that is about to ensue.

The final bout has not yet begun when the slippered feet of Dorimène nó Cereus de Shahrizai glide again over the carpeted boards of the ducal box. She has changed her gloves for a pair with tiny golden keys embroidered inside the wrists; she retains her snowdrops, clasped close to her bosom to protect them from jostling as she weaves her way to join her cousin at the front of the box, scattering to those she passes soft apologies like a shower of fragrant white petals. She rests her hand upon the back of an empty chair on the other side of Desarae from where she sat before; her snowdrops appear in the younger woman's field of vision as though an advance guard for the different kind of flower who carries them. "… Coward that I am, may I still sit with you?" she murmurs, with a wry note in her voice which makes her sound more closely akin to Emmanuelle.

Heading into the dueling area with Lord Cyriel, Yves is limbering up again after the stretch of inactivity. Spinning the training sword a bit to loosen up, he twists from side to side and salutes the older man. "Lord Cyriel," he greets again, saluting with the sword and then settles into a neutral stance. The red and white he wears over his full maile are mildly disheveled from the previous duels, but he seems to have held together rather well.

Boniface continues to 'watch' from his seat- though he really isn't paying too much attention at this point. Someone had given him some wine and that seems much more enthralling to him.

Cyriel hears his name called for a last time today. He keeps his gaze lowered for a moment, his eyes taking on a distant expression as he focuses for the impending match. Rolling the shoulder of his sword arm as to feel the bruises there, and perhaps to remind him to pay better attention to the young valiant Camaeline, and the pattern of his strikes. It is then that he lifts his chin, jaw setting in determination, and steps forward to take his place opposite of Yves. The young lad is assessed once again with an unmoving face, as the Kusheline offers a bow, and then mirrors the salute of the Valliers. His colors are red and black, and for the fights he has fought, some traces are visible in the full maile armor.

"Of course you might," Desarae's quick to reassure her cousin. "You missed some interesting pairings, but the final is now decided." She gathers the silks of her skirts about herself, shifting just an inch or two to the right in order to allow extra space for Dorimène on the seats beside her. "I'm unsure how this will go however, for it's not long since the vicomte last fought, and their styles are so terribly different…" She ghosts a smile, accepting a refresh of her glass of white wine from one of the servers. "I suppose that we are not too far from finding out, however. Are we?"

<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Yves with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Cyriel with Broadsword but Cyriel DODGES!
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Yves with Broadsword but Yves DODGES!
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Yves with Broadsword - Serious wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Yves attacks Cyriel with Broadsword but Cyriel DODGES!

This bout is going quite a bit different from his previous duels, but Yves perseveres through the first exchange despite taking several sound blows. He doesn't look any less excited or enthusiastic however, and seems to be trying to understand the Lord's movements and to learn from them.

The Kusheline fights with more focus this time. Or perhaps, he has learned a lesson from the first time he saw himself defeated with one single devastating blow from the young Camaeline. He goes for a series of swings, moving with an agility that tries to anticipate and evade the blows of Yves Valliers. One hit he takes to his chest, but Cyriel deals two strikes in turn, well-placed and making sure to cause bruises that will hurt.

The same servant offers wine to Dorimène; she accepts it with a slight smile which melts into a warm expression of gratitude for her cousin's courtesy. She rests her glass for a moment upon the box's railing and settles in the place made for her by Desarae's grace, with one hand for her flowers and the other to arrange her own skirts with a negligent caress of white linen over black. Then, wine again in hand, she inclines her head nearer to Desarae's and murmurs, "How interesting…" She draws breath as though about to add some further remark; but the the first blows ring out upon the field below, and in lieu of words she utters only a faint and pensive sigh as she trains her sapphire gaze fixedly upon the duel.

Aidan strides out of the Delaunay Tent having stripped himself of the armor and is now dressed like a proper nobleman… A bit of a sheen of sweat on him and he seems to be nursing some bruises but he's heading over towards the nobles stands to take a seat taking a glass of wine to wash down some of the lingering pain.

Desarae drags her teeth over her lower lip. "It'd seem that the vicomte has adjusted his style in light of how the first of their encounters went." There's the smallest crinkle of her nose as she lifts her glass and inhales the bouquet of the wine that it's been refreshed with, and on sudden impulse she leans and whispers something quietly for her cousin's ears only.

Armandine noted the return of her niece, the one that had elected to withdraw inbetween. Tilting her head just so, she remarks, "It will be interesting to see, whom Camael will favor more today, the Camaeline or the Kusheline.", with a fine smile. She looks towards the tents where Aidan emerges, gaze flicking back towards Dorimène where she speaks with Desarae.

<COMBAT> Yves attacks Cyriel with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel attacks Yves with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Left Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Cyriel has been KO'd!

Today, it is all about fighting prowess, and both contestants got the opportunity to show their refined skills. Cyriel's advantage in years and experience is suddenly negated, when Yves strikes him hard across the chest, with Camaeline strength. It knocks the air out of his lungs, and the vicomte sinks to his knees. With pale blue eyes flashing brightly, he looks up with his chin lowered, stating a low but clearly pronounced "I yield.", to Yves Valliers.

Despite taking what he feels like the worst of the whole exchange, it seems like youth may have won out. Young Lord Yves Valliers is a bit surprised when his first sound blow to the older Lord manages to stagger the man, and he backs off a few steps and salutes with his sword. "Well fought, m'lord," he calls out, handing off the training sword to an attendant once it's clear that the yield has been recognized. Taking a goblet of wine as well, he sips at it a few times and rubs at his chest through his maile.

In truth it was one of Emmanuelle Shahrizai's little lectures that buffed the dents out of Dorimène's full plate armour — worn beneath her translucent white skin but no less sturdy than that sported by the duelists below — and sent her back out into her own field, for another round or two of combat against herself. Polished, prepared, well-girded for whatever may come, she seems hardly to react to the martial exchange she's studying with such intensity that her answer to Desarae's whisper comes belatedly, distractedly, delivered via only the briefest parting of unpainted lips in a profile carved from cool Kusheline marble. And then the vicomte de Chavagne utters those uncharacteristic words, and in an audible mild voice the Cereus ventures, "My, my," and raises her hands and her posy from her lap to offer the courtesy of applause to that very Camaeline lord whose exploits so distressed her earlier in the day. Her smile is slight, tranquil, untouchable.

The herald is about to announce the outcome, when Armandine's hand, touching his shoulder silences him. She gives him a smile as she moves to stand, showing herself proudly to the crowd, that cheers for the winner but also for her. "My lords, my ladies. People of Marsilikos! We have a winner of today's contest, held in Camael's honor!", she states in confident tone, and volume that shows her training in addressing a crowd. "It may come as no surprise, that it is one of Camael's province, the young Lord Yves Valliers!" A cheer rises in those gathered at the tourney grounds, as Armandine lifts her hand and points towards Yves, to where he stands and recovers from the final bout.

While he certainly blushes at the mention of his name by such a notable, Lord Yves turns to bow to the Duchesse. Eyes a touch downcast, he does this to the crowd as well a few times, hoping that such propriety means he can be spared some extra effort at propriety and conversation. Removing his helmet, he hands it off and stands there wiping at his bow, once the moment in the spotlight has passed.

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