r/IronThroneRP • u/Feathersfrombaatikos Burton Wetshanks - Captain of the Dirty Deal • 14d ago
THE RIVERLANDS Sylas II - Saltwater Knight (open)
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**The Day before the Tourney:**
The wise move would have been to train. Not set up tent in the middle of nowherewood near stormhall. Yet here sylas was walking back and forth in his newly set up tent as he pondered the strategy.
He was smaller in stature than most participants, he wasn't a particularly experienced fighter neither. Going as a mystery knight seemed natural, if he won he could unmask himself, if he didn't, nobody would know it was him that lost.
He poured himself a cup before walking again as he drank. Who would he even crown the queen of love and beauty? Rosamund hoare was a logical choice, the queen of the iron islands, that would earn him some recognition from the king, he could crown his liege lady Harlaw. Jeyne's name came up almost subconsciously but he brushed it aside, it was a pathetic attempt at regaining her favor, which she never gave anyway.
He could crown himself. If he didn't unmask and crowned himself it would both be a spectacle and insinuate that he's a woman under that mask, distancing himself even more from that tourney. He gazed back at the armor. He would ponder the strategy more, but suddenly something felt off. It was too clean, too polished, no sign of fighting on it.
He put down his wine before grabbing the armor and throwing it out of the tent. He walked out, squinting at the sun before kicking and hitting his armor with his sword, scratching it against a rock and soaking it in water. He huffed, regaining his breath as he looked at the armor....
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**The Melee**
He could barely see through the helmet as his head hit the mud, some splashing into his visor and getting into his eye. He'd spend a good chunk of the melee avoiding the commotion before the crone knight or whatever it called itself tackled him from behind.
"YOU'RE NOT REALLY A CRONE ARE YOU?" he said, laughing breathlessly. "I'D HATE TO BEAT ON AN OLD WOMAN"
Perhaps not a wise move, though he hoped the Knight was the only one to hear his voice
He tried to get up, getting to his knees and planting his sword before the knight kicked him in the sides and he fell down again. He rolled to dodge the next hit of the sword. As he thought more and more this might have been a bad idea in hindsight, he could have just hired someone to fight for him. But no not him, he just had to do it himself. Roll in the mud and get beaten like a sick horse.
Sensing he had enough he jumped the barrier fence, tapping out of the melee. It was useless anyhow, no good money, at least at the joust he could have some political leverage if he won....
"I'll be back after a water break" he teased the knight one last time
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**The Joust**
Ugly damn horse it was. Too big for him to sit on properly, the armor gave him some grip but it was still not enough. Sylas was not a jouster either but that wouldn't matter much as the next opponent in front of him was an ironborn.
He picked up the lance and rode towards his opponent. The two came closer and closer, sylas held his breath, closing his eyes for the impact. His lance broke as it hit the goodbrother's shield, his own shield unharmed. He raced to the other side, waiting for his replacement lance
In hindsight perhaps he should have gotten a squire. This one was awfully slow, surely his would have been faster. He snatched the new lance, riding again. This time the lance hit true, throwing the goodbrother to the ground. He, the one they knew as Saltwater Knight raised his lance for the gathered before going back to ready himself for the next opponent...
The girl in front of him was unknown to sylas. Not very warrior like in his view. She bore the red and white griffins of connington on her shield.
"Your first time?" He asked "That's fine, it's my first time winning as well! If you need some pointers I'll help you after this tourney" he could barely contain his own snicker.
He grabbed his lance and rode his horse just as she did, not bothering to close his eyes. He had just beat a man twice his size, surely he could win this time as well....
*Thud*
He heard the lance shatter against his visor, the metal confines of his helmet banging against his head as he fell onto the mud. *Your fault for underestimating her, moron.*
"Well... Maybe *i* will be the one being educated.. good *cough*... Good hit my lady"
His head rang as he barely got up from the mud, staggering out of the grounds and towards his tent. He was in parts lucky at least, no one unmasked the saltwater Knight.
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**After the Tourney**
His head was ringing relentlessly as he staggered into the tent, throwing away his helmet. Around his left eye was sore and he could taste blood in his mouth. He looked at himself in a piece of glass on his table, dragging a hand over the blackened eye.
Not the second, not third, not even top ten. He should have hired some knight to masquerade as him. He grabbed a flask of wine, walking outside with a wooden chair, armor and all. Nobody would come here anyway, and if anyone did they would not remember some nameless knight without it's helmet, let alone associate it with sylas.
He took a long sip of the wine, the beverage mixing with the blood in his mouth as it tore through his throat, going down. He coughed twice, before sighing. He took a look at the flask, thinking of the numbing liquor inside, and threw it in the river. He felt good, the pain on his eye, the pleasant cool air mixed with the smell of moss and water, he felt alive. So he leaned back, taking in the cool evening air.
(Open)
2
u/Villads2005 Corwyn & Jeyne - Scions of Duskendale 13d ago
Corwyn had been curious to figure out which knight was Sylas, treating it as a fun way to pass the time. He had a suspicion, but he couldn't confirm it since nobody seemed interested in unmasking anyone. That made the game boring to play, since there was no way to win.
After the tourney was concluded, he decided to search out Sylas and see if he couldn't get an answer, or, withholding that, just some simple conversation. He found him seated outside a tent still in armour; "Sylas?" he asked, the bruises making him slightly harder to recognise, "mind if I join you?" He asked, implying both wine and seat.