(1866-06-10) Coronation Tournament: Fisticuffs
Jean-Paul's Coronation Fisticuffs
Summary: The Fisticuffs event for Jean-Paul's Coronation Tournament, in which Evelyn comes out as the winner.
Date: 1866-06-10
Related: Other Coronation Tourney Logs
Alaric  Alina  Artos  Corvin  Emilia  Evelyn  Graham  Joffrey  Lucas  Talia  

Tourney Grounds - Rovilon - Couvier

The tournament grounds stand ready for use at a moment's notice. The stands are setup with the nobles sitting in the center, with the best seats and the Heraldry of the House set about them, and for any courtiers the Royals would have present. A half canopy has been established to help keep the shade in the area and protect from any of the elements, a thick leather trim going across the area where the royals are sitting raised up about fifty feet and supported by heavy wooden poles and tethers tying it. The benches have been formed of thick wood in the gallery, with lesser galleries set to the side for commoners, guards, and those who are watching and not immediately involved over in the arena. There are roughly eight rows of seats set up for the commoners stretching off the full length of the viewing gallery, and roughly three rows thick for the nobles to sit upon. Among the rows are those who are bringing beverage and refreshments.

The arena is dusty, a pit formed in the ground which has been dug down flat with padded dirt roughly two feet down from the main tents, the incline designed to give the crowd a better view. The center of the arena betray tell-tale markings where it is apparent that the rail for jousts could be set, if not set already. The dirt is thick and solid, packed down as firmly and evenly as it can be to ensure good footing. From the opposite ends of the exhibition pavilions are a pair of berths where the combatants would enter from and where judges and guards would otherwise sit, as well as attendants to quickly go and tend to the injured or break apart the combatants should it be necessary. The main pit is larger than the pavilions, being roughly fifty horse lengths wide, enough for all the combatants to have plenty of room to brawl without being so spread out that the main viewing area would risk losing track of them.


The field for Fisticuffs is small this year, but not surprising. It is always a small field in Rovilon and Murnord, two places the sport isn't considered very… knightly.

Still, the field has been hectic today, even if small, and has come down to the final three: Lucas l'Saigner, and the siblings Evelyn l'Faust and in a surprise to most, her older brother Alaric l'Faust.

Only a few rounds left, but the three remaining fighters still look like they are ready for the end of the competition.

"I think," says Sir Evan the Cavalier, the announcer for the tournaments events, "I may be in love. Or at least lust. Have you seen how Sir Evelyn has… well, shall we say, pummelled her way through today? I, why yes," and he twirls his moustachios, "I would very much enjoy to be… recieving sure a beuaitful pummeling from such a beautiful lady."

"Is that wise to say when her brother might overhear you?" the Circuit offical groans.

"Ah, but my heart! It beats for this lovely— ah, wait, she is next." He raises his voice to be heard. "The lovely and entertaining EVELYN L'FAUST faces her brother ALARIC L'FAUST in the next match, my ladies, gentlemen, and masters and mistress of alllll ages!"

Talia t'Corbeau sits within the judges booth with the others, murmuring quietly to the others after the announcer, "She has certainly improved, but she has a way to go, yet, before she's within the capability of a well-trained Wraith." There is a certain pride in her tone, but a sincere, critical assessment as well.

Evelyn loosens up, rolling her shoulders a bit and flexing her legs to stay loose, fit, and she looks nearly amused at the announcers call as it refers to her. She steps into the tournament ring, fingers flexing before turning to fists, and she calls to her brother, "This," she says, with a grin on her features, "Is going to be the thrashing I should've given you for going off with Dad all those years ago." Of course, she refers, known to her, her brother and a few others who might know her well (or him) of her unexpected position change. She wasn't /meant/ to be a Knight. At least, not originally.

Sir Joffrey t'Synclarre sits in the noble stands, the section that seems to have been claimed by a large number of Murnord nobles. He grins a bit when he sees Evelyn taking the field, and cups his hands around his mouth and calls out, "Take him down, Sir Evelyn! You can do it!" There's an empty seat beside him, no doubt reserved for his Lady Wife, should she arrive.

Corvin Fremont sits in the stands as well, watching the proceedings with a bemused smirk and yes, a bit of a critical eye, though his first comment is more complimentary as he notes, "Leave it to the l'Fausts to at least make the effort at being interesting."

Thaddeus Greycen sits in the box with the other honored guests, still appearing to be a less-kind mood than he was at the feast. He has given some support to the Rivanans competing, though sadly none made it into the final three, which might be contributing to his foul mood.

Artos t'Acuto, however, is sitting amongst the other nobles, closer to the l'Saigner and their vassals, as his wife is currently with him. Artos has shown approval in his nephew making it this far.

It had certainly made for a different sort of competition to watch, but Emilia had watched with some turn of stoic interest all the same. Perhaps not the most knightly of competitions, but well…one didn't always end up in a position for knightly combat, especially one wasn't a knight. Comenting along to Graham,"How have you been of finding of the event? Do you of think you could of face of your sister in such of a event? Or is of sparing of enough?" A faint glance sent his way. Knowing her own brothers didn't even spar with her,even if for different reason. Something about being vastly older.

Alina is sitting in the ducal box beside her bastard brother, watching her trueborn brother below with only mild interest, as he's currently not fighting. She looks paler and more tired than usual, but she is making the effort to actually be in public, especially with her recent supposed death thing.

Graham sits up in the stands and has watch most of the field however small that it is. He is dressed down for the most part though still in his house colors. He watches the events unfold as well as listening to the commentary. The Lord and Knight looks over to his cousin at her question "It has been interesting to watch though not sure it will ever be an event of mine. How about yourself?" He ponders the next part but shakes his head "Sparring with the sword with you Emilia and her is close enough for me I think. I practice hand to hand combat, but more as a last choice or very select situation." he looks back to watch a bit more. "We should try to get some sword work done while here or you'll have forgotten by the time we're back home." he teases lightly.

It seems that the announcer's words were not lost on Alaric, as to be blunt, he's likely as surprised as anyone to find himself on the field for tonight's festivities at all, let alone this close to the finish… and face to face with his younger sister to boot. And yet, here he stands, matching Evelyn's loose and limber stance. "Perhaps. Don't think I'll make it easy on you." There's an enigmatic grin curling his lips.

Perhaps it's a l'Faust thing? For Evelyn has that same grin on her features she did duing the Free-For-All Melee event, and she moves forward fast, slugging her brother in the arm. It would seem she has no qualms of holding back on her own flesh and blood. She is out to win. As she knows Alaric is, as well. His first score on her isn't too rough, but it does put her slightly off balance and allows him to come in for a heavy blow in her midsection and she's only able to counter to hit his right arm again, before both exchange blows to the chest. She backs away, eyeing her brother warily. "You've been training too," she accuses him, grinning. "But you aren't going to win."

Blows are exchanged between the two siblings, and the Cavalier sighs. "See how lovely her form is? You know, in Lonnaire they do this positively uncivilized, which is to say, shirtless. I should like to see that…"

"Blue Cavaliers," the official grumbles, "are all insane. INSANE."

Emilia gives a slight look Graham's way, eyebrows rising in stoic fashion,"Ever of be mine event?" A faint glance goes to the attire the woman in the events tend to wear and then there is a look back along towards Graham,"Not of likely. Am not of good at of taking of a hit. You know of that, do not have such of strength for such of a thing." Turning her attention to the match as it got underway between the two siblings below. "Though you are of correct, we should of get some of practice of in, though I am of sure I would not be of forgetting." Pausing a beat before adding,"Least not of the foot of work." Canting her head a little as she watche the blows being traded along.

Joffrey watches the first exchange of blows and whistles low. Looks like the siblings certainly aren't holding back! He cheers again, but doesn't call out any particular competitor this time.

Corvin leans back in his chair and watches the flurry of strikes intently, giving a bit of a shrug, "Could be much worse."

Talia, from her vantage, nods her approval, "Neither of them are holding back." Perhaps she thought they would. They are siblings, afterall. Her attentive eyes turn to the battle, watching with curious interest, now. It's not often, afterall, that two siblings face off each other in any Tourney competition so directly. And as the Blue Cavalier announcer continues, she agrees, mostly speaking to herself, "Agreed," as the official declares them all insane.

Perhaps it is. Alaric's technique isn't as practiced as his sister's, his movements learned out on the road, not in a dojo. Absorbing her first hit to his right hand, he steps in close, knocking her hand aside and landing a solid blow right at the center of her torso. It's enough to push her back, which is good, because it leaves a moment for Alaric to catch his breath. "Experience is the best trainer," he remarks, idly, before raising his hands in what's clearly an aggressive stance - ready to press whatever advantage he's got. "Confident as ever, Eve. But words don't win battles."

The young man will chuckle a little "Your stronger then you seem, i've seen it though I meant it wouldn't be something i'm likely to compete in unless at some urgency of my house." Graham comments though he looks back watching back and forth as the hits are taken on eitherside. "You hopefully will not have to endure any more hits at all." he says with a smile the talk about the sword work gets a nod "We'll set sometime aside real soon hopefully before the joust to go over things."

"Words won't, but this will," Evelyn calls back to her brother, and steps in for a solid blow to his chest. She takes a hard one in turn, but this time it doesn't stagger her back, her footwork is better and she lands a second blow in a quick follow-up as she moves to Alaric's side, before her next swing, a third-follow up swings just a little short as the distance has changed, and that gives her chance to dodge his next incoming punch.

Quality over quantity, as they say. Alaric takes a pair of hits from his sister, both of which are enough to give him pause, but neither of which is enough to stop him from delivering another solid blow to her midsection. Using his momentum to his advantage, he's able to whirl away from her final punch, though his own half-hearted blow misses wide in turn. "Why, I expected no less, Sir Evelyn," he addresses her in a mock-serious tone, a teasing quality entering his voice with the formality of the words. "But you haven't won yet."

Emilia nods slightly towards Graham at his comment about her strength, it was a different sort of strength really, though her comment comes on the other topic,"Not of likely something I would be of encouraged to be of competing of in." Agreeing though,"Would hope not to endure of hits, though is part of the practice, of learning some of hits end of being taken, of aye?" Dark eyes following the hits that continue to be exchanged, a curious turn as fists start to find air in the last few exchanges.

"I cant imagine so, no it is a chosen things to compete for the most part." Graham considers her words a bit further nodding "It is part of training yes, if you are not used to taking a blow when it comes to real combat your body might well shutdown.. trying to "protect" itself when what it truly needs to do is to react." He explains though looking back "Hm wonder if their getting winded? I wouldnt be surprised."

Joffrey cheers loudly when Evelyn manages to knock Alaric down, "That's the way, Sir Evelyn!" He doubts she can hear him, but no sense not being in the spirit of things, right? "Well fought!" He adds, grinning widely as he watches the next contestants prepare to face each other.

Corvin leans over to Alina and murmurs, "Are you all right, sister? Lucas is up next." He adds with a grin, "I'll be sure to give him extra combat drills if he loses."

Thaddeus gives the appropriate applause for the victory of Evelyn over her brother. He stops at the earliest appropriate opportunity and takes a drink from his cup.

Artos smiles as he applauds Evelyn's victory. He is aware that Lucas is up next, but the baron keeps that comment to himself, instead paying close attention to the ring.

"We had a lot of time to spar at camp, Alaric," Evelyn states. "Let me show you something I learned." She moves her feet well, keeps her body tight, protected, and fakes left, but keeps her weight on her right leg and her bodyweight pulls with the shift that comes, and her fists slams, hard, and unforgiving into her brother's head, and she dances back a few steps, breathing hard, the grin wide, now. She hears Joffrey's cheer, and she looks up into the stands, gives the older Knight - and her wartime companion a brilliant smile for his support, before offering a hand to Alaric to help him up. "You're good," she tells him, proudly.

"HO HO HO!" the Cavalier chortles. "My beautimous lady love has trounced her brother." He checks the bracket. "…who will now fight Lucas l'Saigner. Well, I almost feel sorry for him. I'd feel less sorry for him if he'd get me a few moments alone with her gloriousnessness later…"

"AHEM." The Official snatches the bracket sheet away. "Yes yes. Lord Lucas l'Saigner versus Lord Alaric l'Faust. May the best fighter come out on top!"

Alina leans heavily against her brother. "Yes, well, hopefully he wins quickly so I can go home. I'm not feeling well," she mutters to Corvin.

Lucas steps into the ring, rolling his shoulders and his neck. He had a few bruises from previous bouts, but nothing that he felt would hold him back from this one. He nods shortly to Evelyn's brother, and prepares to strike.

It seems that 'yet' was the operative term a moment ago. Alaric was, perhaps, a bit too aggressive, a bit too eager to knock his little sister down. His stance is wide-open, and she makes good on it with a savage blow to his head, leaving him crumpled on the floor.

For a moment, anyway. He takes Evelyn's hand gladly, grinning up at her as he gets back to his feet. "Father's blood is in both of us, mmm?" And the mock-serious tone enters his voice again. "Well fought, Sir Evelyn."

And, because there's no rest for the wicked, he's immediately face-to-face with Lucas l'Saigner. For just a moment, he glares daggers at the Cavalier, and then he turns to face the Wraith properly, dipping his head in a deferential nod. He doesn't know this one so well, and his stance is a bit more tentative.

Emilia nods a touch,"Of aye, doubting mine-sister will push for such of a thing. " Though stranger things have been known to happen. Considering a little,"This if of thing had not of thought of exactly, but is of making of sense. Or of mind not of knowing how to quite of react of even." Leaning a bit on her seat as that final punch seems to send Alaric staggers a bit,"That must of stung a bit." More than! To the neck like that! Giving a light bit of applause for the round, dark eyes looking on for the next match up.

Lucas waits until the officials gesture for the bout to begin, then he steps forward, then moves to the side fluidly. He catches Alaric's strike on the left arm, but he expected that. He wanted a swift resolution to this fight… tiring as he was. So the Wraith-trained l'Saigner throws his weight behind his right fist, cracking it like a whip against the l'Faust's chest.

And bam.

Graham will watch the match until an end is had he will clap for both of the fighters it was hard fought from all that he'd seen anyways. "Hm, Raelyn does like to push herself but no I cannot see that either." He nods to the words about the trouble with going into battle ill prepared. "Exactly right." He winces in confirmation "Yes that cannot of felt good." he turns to watch well the entire next match as its short his eyes widen. "That was a bit swift, and oww." he comments.

Not cautious enough, it seems. Fresh on the heels of a rather draining contest, Alaric is up against a figher of exceptional skill, and it's clear from his face that he knows it. The blow he lands on Lucas' arm is almost an afterthought, and while he's surprised in a certain sense by his opponent's counterattack, he's not at all surprised by the outcome.

The l'Saigner hits like a ton of bricks. Alaric hits the floor like, well, a ton of bricks. And that's that.

Evelyn cheers. Though - it's not, perhaps clear who she is cheering for. That's likely because she's cheering for both Lucas, and Alaric. Though when Alaric goes down on the first exchange of blows, Evelyn can't help but wince a little. She looks over at Lucas, then down to her brother, "You placed third. A fine showing. Father will be proud," she assures him, earnestly. And she's grinning, too. There's a nod of respect, before she looks over at Lucas. "I will try to avenge you, Alaric." She was confident she could beat her brother. Lucas, the man who helped train her and promote and refine her skills during that long, brutal, and wearisome campaign in the winter? That, she's a little less confident on. Still, the Knight is smiling. Again she rolls her shoulders to keep limber, telling Lucas, "As I promised, I've come further this time 'round. Shall we, Lord?"

"That was…" the official begins.

"HOLY ONE ON A BISCUIT. I knew the Wraiths were all a bunch of mother-killing scum— no offense, your lordship— but that was vicious!" the Cavalier exclaims. "Well, looks like our vicious Wraith lord is going up against the queen of my heart for the final match!"

You mean, Lord Lucas l'Saigner will be combating Lady Sir Evelyn l'Faust?"

"…isn't that what I just said?"

The next bout is rather swift to say the least and Emilia does blink at just how quick. Some of the ealier matches it is perhaps expected. But at this high in the rankings? There is a slight clapping. "Of true," Emilia comments to Graham,"Of doubtings she would be of competing of either. " A flick of her eyes towards the announcers. They did make things interesting. "Wonder of how this one will of go."

"Ha! Looks like you got your wish, sister. though I suppose there's still the final rounds to go." Corvin notes, laughing at Lucas quick work on the l'Faust lord. He turns and asides to Theo, one of the other Wraiths present as part of Alina's bodyguards this day, "I taught him that one…" He notes in a stage-whisper.

Alina blinks, but does not look overly surprised by the result of the round. "Well," she says teasingly, "I expect that if you were down there, you'd have downed him in half a blow, brother dear."

Talia allows herself a brief smile at Lucas' performance, and his one-hit takedown of Alaric. "A fine showing of the true skills of Wraith training." But, nothing that would otherwise be considered even remotely illegal. "I would suspect the l'Faust girl is decidedly outmatched," she confides in a low commentary to the other judges. "We shall see."

It doesn't take long, even after that hit, for Alaric to get to his feet. There's a nod of respect in Lucas' direction, and then his attention is on Evelyn as she prepares for what is, in effect, the final round. "Sir Evelyn will be defending my honor, then?" Grin. "And perhaps I will do the same…" Eyes flicker up to the Cavalier again, and he sounds like he's only half-joking as he settles in to watch the match.

Perhaps it was his entanglement with the l'Faust girl that had him going a bit easier on her in the first set of strikes than he should have, striking firmly but not as hard as he might to her chest, and receiving a strong blow to the neck in return.

He did teach her not to go lightly, and so his followup blow to her neck comes a little too late. She manages to get his leg out from under him and he topples to the ground.

Alina sighs from the stands, looking annoyed. "Really, little brother?" she grouses. "Just bed her and be done with it."

The cavalier twirls his moustachios again. "What a beauty. What skill, what talent, what legs…" he pauses. "And what attached those legs to her back…. but yes, The winner! EVELYN L'FAUST!"

Evelyn takes a more cautious stance with Lucas, she knows he's dangerous. Afterall, last time they fought in this event he trounced her, thoroughly and she didn't even touch him. This time is a different story, right off the bat. She moves as she did in that first round, again to pretend like she might be making an initial mistake - and as Lucas buys into it she instantly shifts her weight to land a hard, nasty blow against his head that was meant for his chest as he goes down to land his own fist against her. The rest, as they say, his history. Evelyn stands there a moment over Lucas' body, before offering him a hand as well. She's exhausted. And having the time of her life. "It would seem you're a -very- good teacher, Lucas," she tells the young Lord. "You owe me a drink."

As the Cavailer announces her win, she raises her hand up to the crowd - more than a bit surprised, and rather pleased with her performance. She'd knew she'd place better than she did last time, but had hardly expected to win. She gives a nod to the Cavalier - or maybe the official? Hard to tell.

Artos smiles broadly and applauds sincerely, pleased with Lucas' performance in the first of his two bouts. Sadly, this elation dies quickly for the baron and the baroness as the final bout ends quickly with Lucas falling after a few moments. Artos gives the requisite support for the l'Faust lady, but resumes his seat after.

Graham nods in agreement and he'd expected something from the match himself "I quite agree these matches can go that way apparently." He turns back to the last round which is also fairly quick "Hm, perhaps as the matches go up in bracket the fighters just get better and so the matches shorter?" He wonders, but also claps for the winner of the round.

"Well…I hope it was worth if for him." Corvin snickers, "He has to know he's going to catch no end of hell for this for weeks now…"

Given what he knows about the ferocity of both of these fighters, perhaps Alaric shouldn't be so surprised that the match is over before it began. Regardless, when Evelyn emerges the victor, his cheers are as loud as anyone's, his injuries ignored for the moment if not forgotten. "Father will be /quite/ proud, I should think," he addresses his sister first, grinning broadly. And to the l'Saigner, there's an obligatory, "Well fought, Lord Lucas, on all counts."

Things seem to last, well a few blows longer in this final rounds…sort of. "That was of quick. But still good shots of made in there." Emilia clapping as the winner is announced. "Perhaps of so, admit, have not quite of watched of such before. Has been of interesting."

Talia frowns, her eyes narrowing as she considers Lucas. Especially his showing after her faith in his training. A training she'd had a hand in. But, the l'Faust girl, just like Lucas the round with Alaric, had followed the rules, and she politely claps for the winner, but only just. "It would seem his prior competitors hit him harder in the head than we assumed." Her tone is dry, and slightly terse at having been embarassed so. She looks up, then, into the stands to see both Alina, and Corvin to assess their reactions to Lucas' loss.

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