Week 2: Jousting

Azlyn had always liked lancing and jousting, working in coordination with his hose, combining his intelligence with the might and grace of such a powerful and beautiful creature, was like poetry in action. He’d been riding horses for as long as he could remember and was well acknowledged as one of the best horsemen and lancers in the kingdom. The sight of the king racing his roan stallion through the countryside around Dovwynn and as far as Bartia and Karmozijn Kerk was a familiar sight to the people of Elon.

His stallion, Rassesslas was a big red horse, known for his spirit, agility and ability to jump tall fences, while still maintaining the typical strength and power of an Elonese warhorse. Azlyn and Rasseslas understood each other well and the king could command him with only subtle moves from his legs or slight shifts in his weight. This allowed Azlyn great precision with his lance and the ability to time his collision in such away to put the full force of both the horse and rider behind the blow.

He intended to this force to unhorse his opponents with precise and powerful blows to the body. He didn’t want to aim for the head, both because of the risk of doing serious harm and also because hitting the center mass of his opponents was more likely to knock them cleanly from the saddle. He knew his weight and the strength of his legs would help him stay secure in his own saddle, but when dealing with the power of horses, nothing was certain. All the same and he intended to his best not to be knocked down himself.

Pulling on his helmet and taking up his lance, Azlyn rode into the area to the sound of uproarious cheers. Jousting was popular in Elon and many of the people of Dovwynn had crowded into the stands or around the fences to support their king and the son of the late lord Sarvo of Ayvon.

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Alan Sarvo rode a stallion that was a grey so dark it was almost black. Like Azlyn, he’d grown up around horses and around the jousting sport. In fact he and Azlyn had learned a lot of their skills together and faced each other often in practice and in other local tournaments.

The game didn’t seem as good-natured to Alan anymore though. After the brawl at the commencement feast, he’d got back to Ayvon with his mother to burry his father and missed the whole first week. He was still bitter toward the king for forcing his father into the duel against Gudrik and sick of all the strangers and commotion. He wanted to hit something hard and hitting Azlyn, or anyone with a stick from atop a charging horse was even better.

He certainly wasn’t worried about aiming for the head today, especially since he knew that after having a stick explode in your face, it was difficult to maintain balance and concentration and a fall was likely to follow.

His house had lost a lot of their former honor, thanks to his father’s crime and Alan was intent on winning it back however he could. Pulling on his helmet, he rode with determination to his place at the end of the rails.

Alphred asked for more padding under his cuirass as the squires finished fastening and tying the last pieces of plate onto his body. The young knight kept looking at his horse, a brown mare with a bit of a kick as it stomped at the ground with her hooves. As the squires stuffed more bundles of leather and cloth, Casomir checked the saddle and reins of the horse.
"Do you know what you're doing Casomir?" Alphred asked his cousin, who took a step away from the beast.
"No, I don't have a clue, I'm assuming it's on right" Casomir looked to an attendant who checked all of the straps and devices that connected and fastened the saddle and reins again.

Alphred smirked quickly at his cousin's honesty, a lot sure of how stuffed his armour was by the tension it pressed against his body.
"You're not nervous are you?" Casomir asked Alphred, who examined the various plates and joints across his body.
"I'm feeling the pressure to succeed definately" Alphred was honest with both Casomir and himself.
The king of the Hessnyans folded a frown on his brow.
"Well, all you can really do is aim for the chest or shoulder, try to brake your lances and the most important thing of all... have fun" Casomir grinned at his cousin with a kind of delight that usually laced the king's words. Alphred remembered his instruction well, both the years of training and tips and hints he'd been told, right up to what Casomir had just said.

"Now come on, let's get you in the saddle" Casomir offered to help as the plate armour restricted much of Alphred's muscles below the waist. With the assistance of a king and a servant, Alphred sat on his horse with a fresh lance in his right hand and a shield in his left.
Alphred's sight was trained to spot the few inches of weakness in a opponent's defense, he'd done this before, though the pounding of his heart beneath his padding and plate made the next few minutes feel very real.