Each hand rests atop the hilt of paired blades, one resting high on each side of Sir Rymarr Lyonesse's waist. Armed and armored the knight of the King's Own marches along silently. The ground-eating pace of the knight is checked upon crossing into the training center proper, slowly to a more casual stroll. While both armored hands withdraw from the twin blades sheated at his sides, both gloved hands move to rest atop the buckles of his sword belt. Upon crossing into sight of the battle field and the benches, Sir Rymarr's barbute shifts from left to right. He seems to visually search for others with intense blue eyes staring sternly from within the depths of his Y-shaped visor. Taking note of a cluster of bodies comprised of Aislin, Tristram, and Killian; Rymarr begins to approach. Announcing himself as he approaches with a loud, firmly spoken question, "Greetings, is this the gathering for the martial practice? I heard some talk of it and thought perhaps I could offer my assistance," he advises as he approaches the trio.

Glory, a deerhound arrives, following Pietro.

"And people doubt my abilities of persuasion and influence.." tsks Killian, grinning at his cousin. Yep, zero shame at all it would seem. He looks up as another approaches, motioning in the direction of Tristram, "I believe it's the Prince's party, as it were...I'm mostly just here to offer assistance to the Lady Aislin in whatever way I may be of use.."

Tristram gestures at the trestle tables, and says: "Welcome, welcome. Yes, sir, this is my little event which I hope will aid people in learning how to handle archers, and fighting in teams; tactics, and flanking. I've seen a few tournaments and melee's have been happening recently. This is a beast of a different nature, for it adds archery to the mix, though thus far I find myself one of the only primary archers I've seen--however, I'm new to the city." A deep breath. "I am Prince Tristram Valendrin. I've spent the last eight years with a small group of retainers as heavy cavalry backed with archers, pursuing bandits throughout the continent. Now I'm here, and I am finding my fighting style does not mesh well with others, or theirs with mine, and I am hoping this might assist both myself and the other members of the Compact in improving tactics."

Tristram says, "The wine, and ale, and food are all free for all. Not fancy; but this isn't that sort of gathering."

Aislin gives Killian another /Look/, before turning back to Tristram. Hey, she'll get the stuffing beat out of her, but she'll humor her cousin in this. Maybe some other familiar faces will show up and share in the humiliation.

Pietro absently tells Glory, "No," when she goes snuffling after the trestle tables. He rolls a sidling pace towards Aislin, favoring her and Killian with a sunny smile and a high leap of his eyebrows. "Hello again."

"Pie- ah, Lord Seeker Pietro!" The smile Aislin gives Pietro is both rare and genuine, one usually only reserved for family. (Or at least, family who aren't trying to blackmail her into participating in events.) "It's good to see you again."

"You're right. Fighting on a full stomach, whether it's ale or meat, isn't good for survival. That's what this is about, yes? Learning to survive?" Rymarr asks back. The question however seems largely rhetorical. The knight of the King's Own shifts his attention first to Tristram, then to both Killian and Aislin. He studies the three for a moment before he gives a slow, stern nod of his helmed head. One hand shifts to pat the hilt of one of the long swords sheathed at his side before he adds, "I'll help in any way that I can. Though, pardon me, I've forgotten to introduce myself," clearly chagrined by his forgetfulness. He clears his throat and then proceeds with his introduction, "Sir Rymarr Lyonesse, First Captain of the Sovereign's Own Royal Guard. Schooled in war and battlefield command. And, well, I know how to use a sword pretty well," he says with some measure of modesty creeping into his stern tone.

Tristram arches an eyebrow. "It is a great pleasure and an honor to have you here, Sir Rymarr."

There's a smile on Killian's face though, so if his cousin's disapproving looks have an effect upon him, he's hiding it well. He looks towards Pietro and smiles, "Lord Pietro.." he says cheerfully, "I thank you for your invitation..I think it would do me well to get away from the house for a time..I think my landlady is considering doing me bodily harm or something.." he says cheerfully. The younger Ashford gives a nod towards Rymarr, "Well met Sir Lyonesse. I am Lord Killian Ashford..much to the dismay of my most respected and well loved cousin.." he flashes a grin at Aislin again. If he hadn't called her cousin, one might easily mistake the white haired young knight for her younger brother.

"Always a pleasure, Lady Pathfinder Aislin." Pietro's teeth flash in a wider grin. Glory sits down on the floor beside him, her tail thumping against the ground, and he tousles behind her ears absent-mindedly as he turns his glance across the training center. He adds a lighthearted, blithe, "Lord Pietro Igniseri," just in case more introductions are called for. "Personally, I make it a habit to get out of the house as often as I can, so--"

As much as Aislin is giving her cousin the stink-eye right now, she couldn't feasible deny their relationship; the resemblance is clear enough that anyone looking at the two can see she and Killian are related. So she lets Killian's comments pass unremarked-upon. "Lady Aislin Ashford," she introduces herself to Rymarr. She doesn't bother to add any other qualifiers to her name; it's possibly lucky the white-haired adventurer even bothered to include 'lady' in her introduction.

A shift of the helmet sends Rymarr's attention to both Aislin and Killian. He looks between the pair with a quick, cursory glance. He nods once and then turns his attention back to the gathering a whole once more. Idly both hands move to rest atop the sigil of the King's Own at the pommels of the twin blades at each side. Though after a moment of silence Rymarr's attention shifts back to Aislin. He seems to consider her for a moment, then a spark of recognition seems to dawn on him, "You're the one which the Lady Regent instructed me to meet with, yes?" The question seems to genuinely be to answer the question and not a question which he's already certain of the answer. He pauses to glance around the gathering, then to the large dog which rests among the throng of bodies, which he watches for a moment. After noting the animal, Rymarr's attention shifts abruptly back to Aislin.

Tristram sorts out the fletching on his arrows, and lets people make their introductions, saying: "There are five of us, and three-on-two does make for interesting odds in theory--but for a practice, it'd be better if the sides were more evenly matched. I hope no one minds if we wait a bit longer."

"I could watch," Pietro volunteers, "for a round or two, while we wait. I've got some note-taking to catch up on," he goes on blithely, which is the /least in character thing he has ever said/.

"Actually," Aislin remarks, as a messenger quietly gestures to her from the doorway of the training center. "I suspect I may need to go deal with something after all. Would two on two work for you, your highness?"

Aislin glances over to Rymarr, and adds, "Yes... I believe so, Sir Rymarr. Though I have on my calendar that I'm going to meet you at the same time you speak to Marquis Vincere, just to save your time."

Tristram says, "'Twould, but I have to admit I was quite enjoying seeing your cousin peer-pressuring you.""

Aislin offers Killian a slightly amused hint of a smile. Despite her earlier mock-ire at Killian, it's clear she's fond of him. "I'm sure he'll have plenty of opportunities to pressure me later, your highness," she notes to Tristram.

Killian sighs quietly at Aislin's messenger and attempt to withdraw, but doesn't press the point. He does seem to realize that work has to factor in after all..he gives Tristram an apologetic look, "Alas, my pressure is no match for her sense of duty," he apologizes, "try though I might I simply cannot convince her to not work so hard..mostly because everyone else in the city seems to feel that if they do not bring everything to her the city will fall apart.." he smirks, "I rather suspect the Lady Regent's hand in that particular matter..something about better Aislin than she.."

"Personally," Rymarr begins as though to make himself heard before he continues, "I could watch. It is partly why I am here. To offer my assistance and advice first and my duties to the King's Own secondly." Rymarr does however glance back to Aislin, a nod passed toward the Lady, and then again his attention returns to the gathering. Rymarr's attention turns then to Tristram and only Tristram, for the moment, "This is your exercise however, so I will conduct myself in whatever manner you deem necessary and only offer my insights when asked," Rymarr states solemnly. After that he goes quiet and turns his stern stare from face to face, which causes his helmet to shift around periodically while he surveys each future combatant.

"Hah. I'm sure Aislin would love to stop working, if it meant she could run away and do something fun," Pietro says. He taps his saber lightly against his boot, and scuffs a little closer to Killian. "I have tried to take /some/ of the work from her plate. First Seeker, and all. Thus far, I can't say for sure how well it's working!"

"Gods and spirits, you're not joking," Aislin remarks to Pietro fervently. "But thank you; it's helping, I promise." And then with a nod to those present, she slips back out.

Tristram says, "Sir Rymarr, learning from you would be a great gift, given your position. Feel free to lend educational comments as much as you might like; we can all use as much help as we can get. Now that Lady Aislin has left us, however, the question is, who would like to partner with whom?"

"I'm easy," Pietro assures Tristram promptly. His smile is wide, lighting his dark eyes, and his weight balances backward on his heels as he restrains himself from the vague urge to bounce in place. "Wherever you want me, I'll go, my lord."

    There's a shrug from Killian who says, "it is of no moment to me as far as the division of tasks and teams. I have not fought much with allies in recent years, and so will benefit from most any practice in cooperative maneuvers.." he grins, "That said..I would say whichever of you and Lord Pietro lost the match earlier should partner with Sir Rymarr, as he is reputed to be one of the finest swordsmen in the lands..?"

Tristram says, "Ah, in that case, I shall partner with Sir Rymarr, and Lord Pietro can partner with you, as I'm the one with the abysmal record in one-on-one fights. As well, I imagine any member of the Royal Guard would enjoy practice in protecting someone else."

Pietro lifts his weapon in easy salute. He turns to the dog and says, "Glory, /stay/," before he widens his eyes and smile at Killian. "Let's go, partner."

"Well then, Prince Valardin. My suggestion would be to start simple. Three on one, with two of the three focusing on defending not only themselves but also the third," Rymarr suggests with a glance to the other three gathered together. He then taps two fingers against the pommel of his righthand blade before he adds, "I can..." and then Tristram divides up the teams. The final point of working on protective meassures is met by a stern nod of the head and followed by a simply spoken, "That works just as well, actually. That was going to be my next suggestion. I would like an opportunity to work on anticipating a wards movements and how to better cover them in a pitched battle," he says with a stern nod of his head.

Tristram says, "Ah, and your hound would make for an excellent wildcard in this fight as well!"

Killian watches Pietro command the hound to stay and looks up at the rafters, "Whisper..stay.." he instructs the owl, which doesn't even bother blinking at the instruction. Killian looks amused with himself as he dons his hawk helmet and heads out onto the battleground, glancing at Pietro..he draws in close to the man for a brief discussion as he draws his own sword.

Percephon arrives, following Sophie.

Once those gathered begin to spread out onto the battlefield that is the main exercise area of the training center, Sir Rymarr follows suit. Adjusting a vambrace as he walks, he quietly speaks aside to Tristram as they go. Their conversation is kept confidential by the soft murmurings from the knight of the King's Own. Once he's finished adjusting his vambrace, both hands move to rest atop the blades at his sides.

Glory, a deerhound wakes up.

Rymarr wields longsword of the King's Own, right.

Tristram wields Deliverance, a purplish-red rubicund composite reflex recurve bow with ivory-inlaid dragon engravings.

Tristram inflicts minor damage to Glory, a deerhound.

Pietro inflicts minor damage to Rymarr.

Tristram inflicts minor damage to Glory, a deerhound.

Tristram stays behind Rymarr, attempting to avoid being struck while trying to get a shot in at Pietro. Alas, his loyal deerhound Glory manages to leap up and interpose just about every attack the archer makes!

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Percephon before departing.

    As the combat starts, Killian advances forward despite the conversation prior to the battle, moving quickly to put himself in between the foes and Pietro, the fully armored young knight moving with surprising speed in that heavy armor. He zigs in and out, constantly trying to keep himself between Rymarr and Pietro, save when he steps aside to allow Pietro to dodge in to attack. His sheer size is the only deterrant he can provide against the archer though, disrupting line of sight as much as possible.

Flying into combat at speed, Pietro seems delighted just how eager Glory is for the fray as the hound leaps and kicks about in the sand, at one point even biting one of the projectiles out of the air. He crows a laugh even as he tries to lunge across the pit towards Tristram for shooting at his hound, only to clash hard up against the defensive wall that is Rymarr, protecting the archer, of course.

A blade in each hand, Sir Rymarr remains a couple paces ahead of Prince Tristram. As the attacks begin to fall upon him in earnest, the twin blades of the King's Own begin to sweep and flicker with quick slashes. While he fails to strike his own targets, he at least prevents a great deal of harm to himself - and more importantly the Prince-turned-archer at his back. Blades that sweep in at the knight of the King's Own are parried, blocked, or swept aside. At one point he even attempts to catch the blade of one of his attackers and send it toward their own ally. The effort fails of course, but the attempt was at least made. Despite the modesty of Sir Rymarr, it is quite evident by his footwork and the sheer fact that he was able to withstand such an assault, that he may have been maintaining modesty when it came to his own skills as a swordsman.

Pietro inflicts moderate damage to Tristram.

Killian inflicts moderate damage to Tristram.

Rymarr inflicts critical damage to Glory, a deerhound.

Rymarr inflicts very serious damage to Glory, a deerhound.

Glory, a deerhound falls unconscious.

Rymarr inflicts minor damage to Killian.

Tristram inflicts minor damage to Killian.

Tristram changes his tactics. First, he attempts to flank around the dog *and* Killian to hit Pietro, but alas, their defenses are entirely too good, teamwork functioning as intended. Then he switches targets to Killian, and while he strikes true, it doesn't seem to do much to the man's armor.

Pietro pitches into a forward roll, shoulder first, as he dodges past Rymarr to slash hard through Tristram's armor, but then as Rymarr takes his beloved hound of the fight, he scrambles back across the sand in a vague, thoughtless attempt to deliver retribution -- only, after his sword clatters against the other man's armor, he remembers himself and goes back to trying to take the archer down. The hazards of having dogs on the field of combat is that it makes you sad!!

The dog has certainly helped to keep the attacks at bay, but when Glory goes down, Killian is pressed upon more heavily by the pair of opponents. The Knight keeps pushing and dodging between foes and Pietro, his shield interposed to catch attacks as best he can, but finally first a blow from Rymarr and then a blunted arrow from Tristram manage to slip in, stinging the young Ashford knight. He moves to rally back quickly though to the defense of his ally.

For the moment Sir Rymarr has a rather large dog attempting to maul him, or worse case scenario, something far more unpleasant. Uncertain as to the intentions of the faithful beast and apparently reluctant to inflict greater harm than necessary on the dog...when it dashes in to nip at his flank again, Sir Rymarr is ready. Two swift downward hammerfists fall, the pommel of his left hand blade striking the dog twice and sending it off. This allows Sir Rymarr to return to protecting the archer at his back. The twin blades that he grips shift around, preparing to attack with a little more gusto. He seems to abandon some of his defensive stance, his footing shifting quickly and efficiently in a bid to outpace Killian.

Rymarr inflicts minor damage to Killian.

Tristram inflicts minor damage to Killian.

Killian inflicts minor damage to Tristram.

Tristram inflicts minor damage to Killian.

Tristram inflicts minor damage to Killian.

Pietro inflicts minor damage to Rymarr.

Tristram continues to try to hit Killian with his bow, and he succeeds for the most part--the arrows keep hitting. Unfortunately, their piercing ability doesn't seem to match up to Killian's armor.

The young Killian in his hawk themed armor..it was on sale, stop laughing..manages to keep himself between danger and Pietro admirably, cutting in and out to catch the blows that their foes rain upon him. He's pinged and dinged repeatedly, but his armor and shield seem to be absorbing the majority of the punishment, leaving the young knight still quite spry and active.

Pietro keeps trying to get past Rymarr to strike at Tristram, heedless of his own defense in ready trust of Killian at his back for all that they've never fought together before. Finally he turns and rounds on Rymarr in a quick pivot on his heel, launching at him in a sudden rush that gets just a little past the bigger man's guard.

For the moment Rymarr maintains his position before Tristram. Acting as a living shield clad in steel and a pair of long blades acting as his deterrent. He strives to deflect and redirect as many blows as possible, sand kicking up around his feet as he moves. The knight of the King's Own shifts his footing, moving at Killian from the side in order to deliver a blow. It is glancing at best and immediately following the blow, of which he returns a graze in reprisal from Lord Pietro, Sir Rymarr falls back in an effort to return to his defense of Tristram.

Pietro inflicts serious damage to Rymarr.

Tristram inflicts moderate damage to Killian.

Tristram's shots are striking more and more true, now; they're getting in between the joints of Killian's armor. Still and all, it's not perfect; and the archer's arrows aren't doing as well as he might like. Rymarr's stalwart defense is, at this point, the only thing that's keeping Tristram alive.

The shield and armor work so well to keep turning away the attacks that come in at Killian, attacks that might otherwise have gone towards Pietro, but all good things have an ending. A particularly well placed shot slips between shield and armor, just underneath the bottom of the Knight's helm. If the arrow hadn't been blunted, the young knight would have likely suffered quite an injury from that shot, but even blunted as it is he lets out a choking gasp, staggering to the side as he clutches and coughs. He makes no move of yielding, but is certainly not moving with the pristine smoothness of a few moments before as he moves to the defense once more, still making coughing noises as a bit of blood can be seen from his mouth beneath the helm.

An audible grunt can be heard from Rymarr when a heavy blow smashes into his left pauldron. This immediately results in his taking a half-step back, closing ranks once again with Tristram. He quietly mutters over his shoulder to his battle-buddy, before his intense blue eyes snap forward again in preparation from a renewed assault from their opponent. Both blades at the ready, he seems prepared to receive a renewed assault from both Killian and Pietro. The left hand blade dips low, while the righthand blade remains up and at the ready. Clearly preparing for his own counterattack.

Pietro dances quickly past Killian to mutter something to him between slashing leaps with his weapon. He keeps trying to get past Rymarr to get at Tristram, except for one resoundingly solid hit; and then he refocuses himself, shaking his head slightly and orienting with more ferocity on the good captain.

Tristram inflicts moderate damage to Killian.

Killian inflicts moderate damage to Rymarr.

Rymarr inflicts serious damage to Killian.

Tristram inflicts moderate damage to Killian.

Pietro inflicts very serious damage to Rymarr.

Pietro inflicts moderate damage to Rymarr.

Rymarr falls unconscious.

Tristram inflicts very serious damage to Killian.

Killian falls unconscious.

Tristram dances around as things get tight. First the hound went down, then Rymarr and--as Pietro takes Rymarr down--Tristram gets a last shot off at Killian, bringing him down. Now it's just Pietro and Tristram remaining...and Tristram's bleeding from various places, while Pietro is pristine...

    There's a moment when Killian just suddenly rears back, spinning around recklessly and hurling his shield at Rymarr with all of his might, catching the King's Own with the heavy steel object. It's a move that pays off painfully for the young knight, as his defenses are opened and he's slammed first by a huge slice from Rymarr and then by two extremely well placed arrows from Tristram. It seems for a moment as though the Ashford will continue fighting on, before he topples forward, his arm numbed by the impact and his sword slipping from it as he rolls to the ground in collapse. He's still conscious, but he looks like hell as he grunts out, "Sorry..Pietro.. On your own.." as he tries to push up so he can watch the last of the combat play out, his sword arm clenched against his chest as spasms of pain shoot through it.

It's a hard, fast, quick series of clashes through the sand, Pietro weaving and dodging through the other combatants. Pietro hurtles into Rymarr with startling strength, a lucky break past the bigger man's guard as he darts past, only to turn in a quick pivot on his heel in a spray of flying sand to find his ally in dire straits. "Ah!" he yelps. "It's you and me again, my lord!" he calls to Tristram, and angles his sword with a faint smile lighting his eyes with that wild battle light as he prepares to charge towards the archer across the pit at speed.

Tristram wields a gleaming steel heavy cavalry sabre with a bronzed steel basket hilt and ivory dragonhead pommel.

The blows begin to rain. Rymarr does his best to parry and swat away the incoming assault. While he's able to deflect some of the attacks, he's unable to stand up to the full assault of two capable warriors indefinitely. The sound of steel armor receiving the beat-down treatment sounds off in rapid succession. The loudest sound being that of a shield which is hurled into the center of his breastplate. It is enough to momentarily unbalance Sir Rymarr, but inexorably he presses forward. With Killian's defenses torn asunder by his own thrown shield, Sir Rymarr steps in and begins to work. Both blades begin to flash, a number of slashes bash against the armor of the other knight. From his flank however, Pietro dashes under and past, before landing a solid blow against Sir Rymarr's backplate. Then causes him to drop forward and prone, both blades falling to the side while Sir Rymarr seems to opt toward taking an enforced nap.

And there it is: the first casualty of the day. That's enough to bring Princess Sophie Valardin, Mercy of Lagoma, onto the field. "Sir Killian, is it?" she lambently asks. "I'm Sister Sophie. May I tend to you?" She's clad in the unmistakable pristine white robe of her vocation, leather medical satchel slung across her body from right shoulder to left hip. "Do you require assistance in standing?"

Tristram swings his bow around his back and draws his sabre. "All right, let's do this," he says, and prepares to meet the charge!

Tristram inflicts minor damage to Pietro.

Pietro inflicts minor damage to Tristram.

Tristram inflicts minor damage to Pietro.

Pietro inflicts serious damage to Tristram.

Tristram is not, by any means, an excellent swordsman. However, neither does he suck...although Pietro, clearly, has the wounded Tristram outmatched. If only his archery was better, perhaps things wouldn't be this desperate for the Valardin noble...

In the meeting of their swords, Pietro is reckless and fierce on the attack, hunting for any weakness he can create or exploit in Tristram's guard. There's something voracious -- as well as, well, Lycenishly flamboyant -- about his swordsmanship.

Tristram inflicts moderate damage to Pietro.

Tristram inflicts minor damage to Pietro.

Pietro inflicts serious damage to Tristram.

    The young knight, downed upon the ground, rolls onto his back at the approach of the healer and looks up at her as he pushes his helm off, letting it fall to the ground. The side of his neck looks absolutely awful where that first arrow slipped past his defenses, swollen already and bruised deeply as he coughs out, "my thanks, gentle lady..your aid would be..most welcome.." He tries to draw himself up towards standing, but it looks as though he's not going to be up so quickly this time.

The ring of steel on rubicund sings, the two sabres clashing as the combatants do their best. Tristram falls back bit by bit, scoring a hit here and there but not saving his ass.

Pietro remains eager, taking the slashing bite of the steel rather than falling back on the defensive; he risks himself for harder, faster hits, in a way that he might not, were he not so aware of how badly off the Valardin prince seems to be in comparison. Sweat glosses bright on his olive skin and his teeth flash in a smile as he keeps at it.

Pietro inflicts serious damage to Tristram.

Tristram falls unconscious.

Kindly, Sophie smiles at the downed knight. "It would seem that the answer is yes, on both counts, but the latter shall certainly wait until its proper time." She's gentle yet thorough and skilled in her ministrations as she examines and then tends to Killian's injuries. "The good news is that you'll live."

Glory, a deerhound wakes up.

Tristram does his best to fight on, but he's overmatched...

Pietro's last strike hits home hard in a flashing whip of red steel, and finally it's done.

Ordinarily, Pietro's first glance at the end of a fight is to his own honor, and that means, to the well-being of his opponent, all sportsmanlike. In this particular instance, though, his dark eyes run quickly to check where Glory sprawls, sad and panting, in the sand, before he turns to look to Tristram and Sir Rymarr, his teeth biting hard against his lower lip.

Slowly Sir Rymarr rolls over from his prone position. Blindly both hands reach out to his sides, scraping gloved fingers against the sand in a bid to find his discarded blades. After a moment he finds each hilt and takes hold of them. Each arm slowly moves back to his sides, dragging the blades back to himself. He makes no effort to stand up yet, instead the knight stares up above himself. He doesn't make a sound for the moment, he only seems to take the opportunity of still and relative quiet to reflect on his errors. When he does finally interrupt his own silence it is to make a short and simple declaration, "That hurt." Slowly he begins to ease himself up again, though only to a sitting position. Each blade is drawn across his lap before he lets out a long, pained sigh.

    There's a quiet, slightly off sounding laugh from Killian as he lays there. "The spirit of my brother will be so disappointed by that news.." he remarks wryly. "I was confident though..both in the skill of my foes not to make dangerous mistakes, and in the skill of mi'lady to mend even the most grievous of wounds.." He actually manages to say it all with remarkable sincerity as well, smiling at Sophie warmly, the look only lightly marred by the blood oozing from the corners of his mouth.

"Worry not, good knight," Sophie replies, mirth in her lament voice and bright face, as she gently wipes away the blood at the corner of Killian's mouth. "It would seem your pride is most grievously wounded, although you will be sore for some time elsewhere." And then she hears a long, pained sigh, and her blue eyes flit thattaway. "Are you in need of aid, Sir Rymarr?"

Tristram says, "Well, we all learned a bit there, I think!" exclaims Tristram, as he springs up once the healers are done with him. His mood is, strangely, exuberant. He seems happy that this battle worked as well as it did. "Thank you for coming, Princess Sophie!" To Sir Rymarr he says, "It was an honor fighting with you, Sir Rymarr. I know it's late, likely for all of you, but I would do this again if you all are interested, perhaps mixing up the sides.""

Pietro crouches beside the fallen length of his hound. "It was very educational, my lord, but I believe my available time is spent. Perhaps another night." He runs his fingers carefully, testingly, over the dog's body as her tongue lolls past her teeth. "I think Glory and I need to be heading back to the Domus."

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Pietro before departing.

Sophie's question results in Rymarr's helmet shifting to one side. Once he's found the source of the voice the knight lifts a hand to ward off the Mercy's offer, though he accompanies with a polite decline, "While I would normally never turn away such an offer of a Mercy in pursuit of her duty, I will return to Crownguard Tower and tend my wounds there. After that brutal battle, I'm of a mind to rest as quickly as possible," he states with a low chuckle. Though it is cut abruptly short by a wince.

    There's a bark of laughter from Killian, "oh, if the worst of the damage is to my pride then I shall be fine indeed, it knows how to take a beating.." he assures before slowly pushing to sit up. He looks over at Tristram and lifts a brow, "Ahh..thank you Prince Tristram, but I think I have enough bruises for one day.." he declines with a little shake of his head.

Pietro is overheard praising Tristram for: An educational exercise!

Pietro is overheard praising Killian for: The boldest, surest man I could have had at my back!

Pietro is overheard praising Rymarr for: A stalwart fighter!

Killian is overheard praising Tristram for: A fine bowman indeed, truly shows the dangers of an archer upon the battlefield!

Killian is overheard praising Pietro for: A sure blade and a deadly ally, most assuredly the man to have at your side!

Uh-huh. That's the look cast at Rymarr, with a twitch of Sophie's lips. "If you would pardon me, milord," she tells Killian, "it would seem that Sir Rymarr's pride is more wounded than yours." With that said, she's on her feet and heading for the King's Own. "The sooner you appease me," she tells him, with a hint of amusement, "the sooner you may leave."

Tristram is overheard praising Pietro for: Not only does the man wield a sabre, but he knows how to fight alongside his wonderful dog Glory! A good warrior!

Tristram is overheard praising Killian for: The man knows how to fight!

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Pietro before departing.

Tristram is overheard praising Rymarr for: Of COURSE he's the Captain of the Royal Guard, he can fight like no other, and he's HUMBLE about it to boot!

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Pietro before departing.

"Oh, come now, Princess," Rymarr offers back to Sophie. He begins to work his way up to his feet, but pauses. He exhales a long sigh before he slowly nods his head and mutters back to the Mercy, "Very well. Do what you must. I'll limit my grumbling about it, Mercy." Rymarr offers back. He remains still and goes as far as to lift his right arm up to remove his helmet and set it in the sand between his legs. For the moment it seems that his left arm, specifically where he took a crushing blow to his left pauldron, seems to be the greatest source of discomfort for the knight of the King's Own.

"All right. Come on, girl." Pietro nudges his dog up, and then decides that he can do one better, and hoists the massive tall deerhound up into his arms. The brindled, shaggy beast lets her tongue loll out in a big dog smile as she permits herself to be carried. Pietro tests her weight carefully in his arms. "Oof," he says. "I think I better get my friend here home. Thank you for the fight, everyone. It was pretty brilliant."

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Pietro before departing.

Glory, a deerhound leaves, following Pietro.

Killian pushes himself up, saluting Pietro quickly, "A good evening to you my lord," he says in parting, "I hope the lady there recovers quickly.."

Tristram heads over to the trestle table and gets a glass of maple wine. Because, damn, he needs a drink. "Can I get you a drink, Sir Rymarr?"

Most graciously, Sophie quips, "By all means, my good Sir, grouse all you like if it makes you feel better." And then she starts the task of getting down to ease of the metal so she may examine the wound. It's tender and not really a pleasant experience despite her careful tough. Heavy bruising simply is that way. "Nothing is torn," she muses about Rymarr's condition. "Ice and rest. Lay off the alcohol if you wish to heal sooner than later."

Killian is a bit too slow, but pushes himself up and manages to start gathering all of his discarded bits and pieces. He laughs quietly as he looks over at his shield, "that..actually got more range than I expected.." he says in a bemused tone. "For the love of all that's decent please never tell Duke Bisland I threw my shield, he'd chew me out for a month.." he says as he sheathes his sword and picks up his helm. He doesn't even try to put it back on, as he walks to claim the shield. "Oh gods..I think I'm creaking worse than my armor..you two are incredible.." he says to Tristram and Rymarr as he makes his way over to the bench. Unlike his usual, he starts popping straps and buckles, and shedding his armor entirely, certain he's not going to fight again this particular day.

Rymarr looks up from Sophie's ministrations while she works to peer beneath the rounded steel of his pauldron. Tristram's question is met with a slow shake of Rymarr's head before he offers back, "No thank you, Prince Tristram. Once the Mercy is finished with her duties, I will be returning to Crownguard to rest. Thank you though," he replies with a polite dip of his chin. Killian's comment however receives a nod from Rymarr, one which he addresses in return, "Never disarm yourself. It paid off - this time. If it hadn't, you'd have opened yourself up to me and if I had really been intent on throwing everything I had at you, that could have been detrimental to your safety. It looks flashy, it looks heroic...but if luck isn't with you, then heroism is just a flowery word used most frequently posthumously," Sir Rymarr offers back. The words don't seem to be scolding or condescending, instead merely advisory. After a moment however he follows up his statement with another, "You fought very well however. Both yourself and Lord Pietro. I was hard-pressed to defend against all of your attacks...it felt like I was fighting five armed men at one point and it was taking everything I had to defend both of us. Excellent work." Then his attention shifts back to Sophie. He offers one curt, professional nod of his head before he dutifully replies, "Thank you, Mercy. I will do as you instruct. As always your skill is equal to your immeasurable grace," he offers in a complimentary tone. Slowly he eases himself up to his feet then, sheathing both of his blades once fully erect.