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Post by Roland Cordwayner on May 16, 2019 13:46:33 GMT 1
The seventh round, a holy number indeed!Roland thought well of Ser Raymun, he was a knight of worth. Not only that, but he had fought in Roland's team at the Black Tourney, nobly bearing an injury from his captain's natural brother. He raised a hand in acknowledgement of his foe before taking a lance from Hugh. PR: 21 AR: 11 Health: 12/12 I/W/F: 0/0/0 [P2] know Raymun Lyberr: 5d6k3 14
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Post by Father on May 17, 2019 12:50:57 GMT 1
Ser Raymun should not be too much of an obstacle, hubris is more like to deny Roland the champion's due.
Animal Handling 4 Ride 2
Endurance 4
Fighting 4 Lances 2
Destrier
Full Plate
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Post by Roland Cordwayner on May 17, 2019 13:08:07 GMT 1
A former comrade in arms or not, Roland rode impressively thundering in at near the peak of his prowess. Duty and his rider were in perfect harmony. [P2] Ashford v Raymun Lyberr N,EF;SiS;CyB: 9#8d6k4+8 29 31 32 27 25 27 30 32 27 9#6d6k4+1 16...PR: 21 AR: 11 Health: 12/12 I/W/F: 0/0/0 |
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Post by Septon Abelar on May 24, 2019 2:43:03 GMT 1
Ser Raymun smooths his mustache with a gloved hand before donning his helm. Roland tends to finish his foes early, so the son of Felicia takes his time preparing. His shield shows the brown jug and grey cat of Lyberr against a field of sable and white, a familiar sight in Ashford. Almost overtop the shield lies his cloak of checkered white, grey, and black squares. An vain indulgence? Or an attempt to obscure his shield? More than one busybody begins to murmur in the crowd. With his simple helm in place, Ser Raymun takes up his lance in a gloved hand--a cat requires more finesse than lobstered steel will allow. When the trumpets sound, he digs his spurs into his grey mare and charges with less guile than the busybodies surely expect. Ser Roland's lance strikes him on the breast with terrific force, causing Raymun to somersault backwards absurdly, his leathern sabatons kicking wildly at the sky before his horse runs out from under him. He lands on his feet for a brief moment before falling on his ass. Defeated, he props himself up in a sitting position and catches his breath for a moment. When his squire arrives, he stands and waves him away from taking his helm. After falling like that, he'd prefer not to show his face just yet.
PR: 18
(Ashford R7: Raymun Lyberr) N; SiS; CyB: 9#5d6k3+4 17 20 19 17 14 16 20 17 15 9#6d6k4 12...Roland hits 29 v. 18 for 3 DOS on the first pass, forcing a TN 18 test which is critfailed by Raymun (hence the somersault). Raymun's breaks a lance for 0 DOS. |
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Post by Roland Cordwayner on May 24, 2019 11:09:00 GMT 1
No matter the size, it seems a cat lands on its feet.
Roland thrust what remained of his lance to the sky in victory. An unimaginative gesture from an unimaginative man, but his place among Ashford's champions was hard won nonetheless.
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