Second Competition: Brevin vs. Walter

Pulling himself up onto his horse, Lord Brevin DeVencille made sure his feet were firmly in the stirrups. He wasn't going to be thrown from this stupid animal, even though it was eyeing him nervously. The curse of his species, horses were very afraid, and he was a quicker runner by far. Locking his shield in place, the picture of a coiled snake on its surface, he took the reins in his hand. A squire handed him the lance, and he gripped it. Finally, he snapped his helmet down over his one good eye. Most would underestimate him, but he hoped his opponent didn't. Otherwise, the older man would find himself on his back.

Sir Walter, a muscled man with a long, grey beard and moustache, mounted onto his horse as a servant boy handed him his lance. Putting on his helmet, he glared at the Brevin closely, seeing how young his opponant looked. Maybe the odds of him winning was in his favor. "Hey, you! Brevin, isn't it?" The old man spit on the ground as his steed whinneyed and shook its head in distaste. "Why the hell is a boy so young as you in the competitions?" His horse shifted, causing Walter to have to steady it for a few. "Now, answer me, boy! What are you trying to prove? Think your brave, boy?"

Brevin smiled under his visor, his fangs baring, yet not visible. His horse shied slightly, but Brevin expertly reined him in again. He let the vampire aura travel outward, causing Walter's nervous steed to shy as well. "My young man, the name is Lord DeVencille or Sir Brevin. Not boy." His accent was old, he knew it. And he knew Walter would recognize that as well. "I have been doing this since well before you were suckling at your mother's teet. Insult me again, please. Because you will be apologizing from the flat of your back." He lowered his lance, aiming it with unerring accuracy at the other man's heart. His arm was strong, his lance steady, his vision excellent. The man's arrogance would be his downfall.

"We'll just see about that!" Sir Walter replied with a strong grin that stretched to his cheek bone. Spitting again, he calmed his horse before watching the stranger again. "Then are you ready for some action, Sir Brevin? Hm?" Truthfully, because of the attitude of his adversary, Walter felt slightly apprehensive. He wasn't sure what the outcome would be, but he knew one of them would end up with a funeral. "Cheers to whoever the winner is. I can tell that one of us is going to die here. Well, it ain't gonna be me!"

"Whatever you decide to do, Wat, do not bleed." Brevin shortened Walter's name on purpose, knowing that he would probably not like it. "I cannot be responsible for what might happen afterwards. And if one of us must die, I am not afraid. I have died once already." He fell silent, riding into the starting position. I am truly sorry, Sir Walter, he thought to himself. May whatever god you worship give you a place of comfort.

"Eh..." Walter said, spitting again as the trumpets sounded. The announcer didn't voice, so he suspected that the man was tending to Callohan. With lance held ready and pointed towards Brevin, he forced his horse to charge at his opponant. "You better be ready for this, Brevin! And what makes you think you died already? You a vampire or someth'in!?" he asked loudly with a laugh.

Brevin spurred the horse into a charge. He did not give the other man the curtesy of an answer. Pulling back slighlty with his lance arm so he could move it forward on impact, Brevin angled his shield arm so the blow would glance off. Time seemed to slow for Brevin as he rode forward. It always happened like this, they always underestimated him.

Sir Walter ended up clashing his lance with Sir Brevin's shield, sending the tip of the weapon into splinters. Growling, Walter took a new lance from the servant. "I never lost a lance before," Walter muttered under his breath as he waited for the second round. "Second round, aye? Well, this is a first. I apologize. I guess I did underestimate you a bit, hm? I shouldn't be making that mistake again."

Regripping his lance, Brevin turned again. He hadn't touched Walter, but Walter didn't manage to even move Brevin, either. Brevin wasn't sure if Walter had felt the solid mass he had connected with that had caused his lance to splinter. Riding in a circle, Brevin came around to the starting position again, raising his lance into position. This time, he would hit. God help you, Sir Walter. You will not survive this round...

Walter's steed pawed at the dirt and made for a swift charge at Brevin. Walter spoke nothing as his aimed his lance at Brevin's chest. He wasn't sure if this was his last, but he was certain that he was enjoying himself. He always believed that this would be his entertainment until the very end. For my dead wife and children! I could be coming home!

Kicking into a charge, Brevin lowered the lance. He bit his lip, accidentally biting through it again with his fang. Brevin let go of the reins, raising his shield and knocking Walter's lance aside. At the same time, he drove his lance just under Walter's shield, catching him in the chest. The strength of Brevin's blow was enough to completely shatter his lance, but not before he felt it drive through the other's armor. Sir Walter went flying from his steed and Brevin dropped the lance. He picked up his reins and rode the horse to the other side of the arena, breathing hard as he picked up the scent of blood. His tongue met his own lips, which distracted him enough to not go back and drain the dying man.

Walter felt the hard ground as he fell along with the pain of being defeated at his own sport. It was a funny thing really, to be lying here, realyzing that he was dying because he was beated in his profession. "Congradulations, Sir Brevin. Now, at last, I think you have my respect. Take this as your victory prize. You did your duty and I did mine." He took out a silver chain necklace with a dragon pendant that had ruby eyes and a jet stone sphere.

Brevin hurried over on foot to where Walter had fallen. He took the man's hand that was holding the pendant, kneeling down. His helmet was abandoned. His fangs were revealed as he smiled weakly at the knight. "You did your job. And you did it well. Rest now, Sir Walter. I will carry you with me, as your spirit will help me." He kissed the man's hand as he watched the lifeblood leak from him. Brevin very carefully pierced the man's wrist, helping him along. He felt the strength and sorrow that was within the man. Once Walter closed his eyes, Brevin let his hand fall and stood, fastening the pendant around his neck and picking up his helmet. He headed towards the sword arena with one more glance back. "Farewell, Sir Walter."



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The Sacred Knight Jousting Competition