Early on in the week Her Majesty Padraigin stopped me with her sweetest voice and asked, “Oh Wistric, is your foot broken?” “No, Your Majesty.” “And are you obligated to fight for any other Rose in the Rose tourney?” “No, Your Majesty.” “And is there anything else that would keep you from fighting for me at the Rose tourney?” “Just walking pneumonia, Your Majesty.” “REALLY?” Well, yes, really. Ish. All of Little Kberg had seemingly contracted a horrifyingly rotten upper respiratory viral infection at about the same time, so Letia and I were still coughing damp, tubercular coughs throughout war. “But it couldn’t keep me from fighting for you, Your Majesty.”
After last year’s miscommunication, and having been on a bum foot at Pennsic’s Rose Tourney, I felt I really still had to make it up to her. Also, fighting for The Queen is extra doubleplusgood.
Tuesday evening, when dropping off the scarves for Giacomo and Roland, her Majesty had nudged me, again, about it. Master Alan was there, giving me crap, and said something to the effect of “I think it wouldn’t be acceptable if you didn’t make it at least four rounds.” “Master Alan, how many rounds did you make it last year?” I asked. “I think it was nine.” “Very well, then, Your Majesty, I shall make it at least nine rounds.”
I warmed up with Letia, and had nothing in my legs. I just couldn’t lunge, and so I was a little worried.
My first round was against Captain Elijah Cameron. He was a lefty. I drifted my guard to the inside and he tracked to his inside, then when he initiated an action I cavazioned to the outside and landed a little bit of a stiff shot to his face.
My second round was against Captain Tristram. I threw a lunge for his center line and came up short (see above about the legs). He countered and took my right arm. I fought lefty and threw a couple of more attacks, but all came up short until he killed me (maybe took my other hand, can’t recall). Damn. That four rounds was looking like it’d be difficult, much less nine.
So I went over to a shady spot, tucked my feet into diamond pose, and rocked some pranayama until I could feel my heart beat and my mind was focused (also, the diamond pose helped stretch out the quads and get blood into my legs). This losing thing would not do. As Ella observed when I walked back to the field “Ooo, somebody’s got his grr face on.”
My next fight was Don Ceallach. I pretty much dictated that one. I launched two unanswered attacks that he just voided, then a third with a cavazione to the outside and landed on his face (I use it because it works).
Next round was Lady Christiana Ivarsdottir, or as Davius put it: “That’s my mom, so watch it!” Apparently, Christiana is the lady of his Don. The fight was a simple and direct affair, I shut down the center line and was able to get a counter into her torso. Hey, look, four rounds! Just five more to go…
Then was Baron Ryan Dollas, my champions fight from last year. It was good to see him again, and it went very similar to last time. We’d brought the same weapons we had last year. He was as fast on his feet as I remembered, and it still took me a lot of work to run him down, but eventually I did.
Next round was Trap. I don’t quite remember how it started, but it ended with me in a high quarta, angling my blad back to place my tip on his gorget and trying to get the angle to apply pressure while blocking and squirming to avoid his counters. Eventually it stuck, and I had just three rounds to fulfill my promise.
And then I pulled Hawk. I played into his game, and when my weight shifted forward a little bit he took my foot (you’d have thought Dante would have taught me not to do that). Grounded, he set to work and eventually I was dead. Seven rounds, not nine. Crap.
Self analysis time: If I’d done my pranayama, got my grrr face on, before the tourney started, I’d have survived my second round, and been able to shrug off the loss to Hawk and still be in the tourney. Lesson learned. Then I got to watch good fighting.
At that seventh round, at least a third of the field (10 or 11 out of 30 or so) was Atlantians. That was just pretty. And they continued not to suck. Against Edwin the Lame, Mattheu parried a descending chop with a low void and high quarta counter-lunge that was straight out of a plate. Somewhere in there I think Aedan dropped Hawk. And when there were three left, it was Aedan, Mattheu, and Don Symone. In the three-way semis, Mattheu went out, then Aedan beat Symone (who had beaten Aedan once in the tourney, and once in the semis three-way). Not a bad day for Atlantians at all.
After that, we went to waterbear for the heavy fighters in the field battle, and got to watch Atlantia get crunched, then do the crunching, then take one for the team while Trimaris and the Mid swamped the rest of the enemy. There were some enemy archers who got caught in the open field and I think they were reminded about the ravine battle, in case they’d forgotten.
That night was the Knowne Worlde Party where, again, there was C&T at the barrier by torchlight. I think I’ll run that as a Pas at War of the Wings this year (except for the not being a C&T marshal part. Hmmmm… I wonder if I can find one).
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