Promotion Awards Ceremony for January, 1456

Walther is waiting in the tent. He doesn't want to be out there seeing Lydia impaled on her opponents lance. His jacket thrown over the armrest of the chair he sits in, his shirt half unbuttoned to occasionally tug at the uncomfortable bandage, he reflects upon the fact that she just didn't want to listen. If she always was like that - going head first through walls, putting valor and bravery and her targets and view of matters above everything - and everyone - else then they have no future together. But it wouldn't matter as she'd anyway get herself killed rather sooner than later. So if it were that way he'd better ....

In that moment she steps into the tent.

He is unbelievably relieved to see her alive, but when the fact that she was in her undergarments penetrates his thinking, his next thought is Massive head trauma!

He gets up, steps close, grabs her upper arm with his right, running his left through her hair searching for new injuries, but he can't find any, and she seems to move quite normal.

He catches her gaze and angrily exclaims, Looks like your ok. This time! What did you have to prove out there anyway, hu? He reaffirms his grip, jerks her, pulls her up and toward him. Jousting without good plate armor he looks into her eyes, for a very short time distracted by their depth ... is like catching an arrow with your teeth! If you were a cat you'd just have used up your nine lives! Why can't you listen to all the people who care about you?
He doesn't know if he should give her a good hiding or kiss her - he grabs her other arm now and pulls her so close. He tilts his head, his breath touching her face, his voice gets lower and a little raspy. Why can't you listen to me? To people who l... he catches himself before continuing. Tell me, do you really want to die?! His eyes glare at her now. His hand suddenly releases her arm and clamps under her chin. Because that's what's inevitably going to happen if you continue to be reckless and imprudent!

His eyes dart back and forth between hers. He wonders if any of this is even touching her inside, somewhere. ...and I will not be there to watch it happen. It was more of a thought spoken out loud and he half mumbles it to himself as he looks into her beautiful eyes.
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IG Walther_von_der_Tann

The day is waning.

Lamps will soon be lit.

On her way to the infirmary Lydia stops by the people in charge of the Jousting event.
Everyone gathers and a long mostly quiet, often solemn, exchange takes place...

In the end, it is decided to stop the joust, regardless.

If MG Correus has any objections, she will have quite a few good reasons in favor of this decision. They have a winners circle and that could be that.
At least for this day, the lances shall be put up, the shields returned, Knights unarmored and the horses stabled.
It is getting too late no one can really see. Jousting isn't safe during day light, let alone at night.
She groans, grabs her side, and is reminded that she should really be moving toward help and relaxation now.
She touches her forehead which is throbbing and pulsing. Her stomack isn't feeling well.

Lydia walks over to see if Maj. Alsafe is alright and to see if there is anything she can do.
As she approaches she sees fury on his always soo calm and serene face...
Very surprised at this she realizes it was a good thing she came over...something seems to have upset him tremendously!
Major!? she inquires, Is everything alright?
The rest of her query is drowned in the announcers proclamation:

LAAAADDDIIIEEESSS AND GENTLEMEN!

IT HAS BEEN UNANOMOUSLY DECIDED TO END THE JOUST HERE.

THE LAST WINNER TO BE ADDED TO THE CIRCLE IS CRPL RAGNADOUR.

THANK YOU HONORED KNIGHTS.

*rounds of applause hits the stands, cheers are heard and roses are thrown, the winners are applauded*

PLEASE RETURN ALL EUQIPMENT...

...the voice semi fades as Lydia enters the ambulant med station.
She has just enough time to see Walther coming, as he is upon her in a flash.
His grip is tight, almost too tight. She has no strength to retaliate.
Lydia catches his glance and it's the only thing that saves him.
She sees something there, in his eyes. Something keeps reoccuring there.
Suddenly he seems to fly into a semi rage...
Her eyes fly open wide as he shakes her violently on occasion which makes her conscious flicker, she hears things only off and on.
What did you have to prove out there anyway, hu?
He jerks her up and closer while tightening his grip like a vice...hurting her.
...is like catching an arrow with your teeth!...nine lives!
He grabs both of her shoulders angrily now (angry with whom? her? himself?)
His face fractions of an inch from her own, she feel his breath on her face and closes her eyes. She is weak. Physically, mentally exhausted.
She can't fight him or anyone right now.
Her knees get weak and she feels herself slipping.
She prays to Jah that he won't hurt her...that no one will hurt her anymore. That she won't hurt anyone.
....Why can't you listen to me...to people who l...
The word lingers in the air like a wisp.
He didn't finish but he uttered more than one syllable as his lips brushed against her slightly.
Disguised as anger he seems to show his grave concern.
Great concern for...her?
Lydia's eyes cling to his as her conscious slowly fades and she slumps inside his grip of steel.
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Hearing the announcement, ending the joust. McMannanan nods his head slowly. Aye, twas good to see the SgtM win her joust, but at what cost? Looking around him, he sees many faces that appear sad or upset by the announcement. What more do they want? A death?

He decides to go back to his room, gather his belongings and start back to Worcestershire. Preferring to travel at night, this will give him the best time for moving undisturbed on the roads.

He nods and waves slowly, softly toward the SgtM, knowing that she can't see him. He knows that she put in a tremendous amount of effort bringing this event together, and he greatly appreciates her help when he first arrived. Now though, he needs to move and 'twould be best to do so quietly. Avoiding the great hall and the drunken reverie that is happening, he slips out the doors through to the gates and out...
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Walk peacefully between the earth and waves.

The moment Lydia passes out Walthers anger vanishes, is replaced by the intense urge to care for her. He lifts her near unconscious body and carries her to the next cot where he carefully lays her down. He checks her breathing, it's regular, so he gets a blanket to cover her. Then he kneels beside her, brushes her hair out of her face and gently follows the contours of her cheek with his fingertips.

A Doctor wants to check Lydia, but Walther sends him and the squires angrily away, then bends slightly over to watch her now peaceful face... His hand now follows the curve of her jaw, than runs slowly down the side of her neck to her collarbone ... finding the blood soaked bandage there, the thought of her delicate frame wounded by the splinters of of a heavy lance makes his heart ache. He softly kisses her forehead, her eyelids, and, nearly not touching but resting for endless seconds, her closed lips, as if he could wake her that way.
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IG Walther_von_der_Tann

...complete blackness...the kind you don't know....nothing....then sudden awareness....too sudden to react.
Like flood lights suddenly illuminating a space.

sound coming in from all over, the slightest noise amplified.

Lydia breathes thru her nose. Evenly, in and out, slowly, shallow ...she feels a presence.
A warmth, something nice and cozy. Her face moves by accident and...her lips touch his.
Her eyes open. Not too fast for she is not comprehending what just happened.
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Being surprised by the sudden, accidential kiss Walther flinches, but after a glance at her eyes he leans towards Lydia again, his lips searching hers for a long, soft kiss.
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IG Walther_von_der_Tann

Subject: Blood Red Dream Sat Mar 15, 2008 5:57 pm

26 January

Collen’s bitterness grew supreme. Many lifetimes of blood had been his lot, yet watching as two whom he cherished above all others came close to death, Coll had nearly been undone. Of late, sleep often escaped the man, and when it fell upon him, the knight fought its grip like the icy hold of death, often arising with a murderous growl if his eyes should close too long. Ever before him lay Kathryn’s stricken form, and his dreams had warned of two torn and bleeding bodies. Now Coll knew who those two deathlike forms were. Coll had emerged from Kathryn’s side to see to the care of Lydia, openly horrified at the struggle between the two women.

Making his way from Kath’s side, Coll once more walked along a familiar path and absently gazed upon a pavilion near the lists where he spent the night before the joust, away from his own chambers. Yet now, the man pushed aside all other thoughts and played the events of this hateful day across the canvass of his mind. A sardonic bark of laughter escaped the knight as he reflected upon how an unknown warrior emerge upon Coll’s own warhorse. Fairly fuming, a murderous rage had fully filled Coll's mind since that moment. No steed in all the world could surpass the black stallion's strength and speed. The beast had run the sea coast faster than any horse alive, passing through Southampton to Dorchester in less than one day. (This must have been a briefly appearing game bug, but I led a mounted patrol that covered four nodes in one day with this horse.) What puzzled Coll most was that this fierce warhorse had never allowed another to mount unless Coll had ridden also. The knight that sallied forth upon Collen's stallion had easily tamed the beast in a way that the huntsman would have deemed beyond the keen of any other man. Briefly, a grudging respect had begun to replace the anger in Coll's heart on that long past day, when he considered the audacity of this mysterious knight, yet that fledgling emotion became abject horror couched in disbelief when Lady Lydia Morningstern appeared as the nameless knight's adversary. It was not the damsel’s decision to joust the upstart that concerned Sir Coll, for the young noblewoman had earned fame at the point of a sword, even besting Anto Capone in fair fight. The general's horror fell full upon the fact that Lydia wore no armor. Even as the lancers hurtled toward one another, Coll moved forward to put an end to this madness, breathing silent curses upon the unknown knight who would surely die if he harmed Lydia. Still, Collen knew no man born of woman might reach that ill fated fray in time to avert disaster. When the nameless knight was revealed to be Kathryn, doom fell upon Coll's world as the two women were shattered against each other.

The rest had been a nightmare of blood. Lydia had been awake and moved to receive medical attention and Collen had carried Kathryn to safety in his own chambers. Physicians provided by Coll’s own brother were being summoned to treat the women. Those worthies would use fresh air and clean bandages for the most part, and bathe the women in water that was boiled, covered, and safely cooled. When delirium took the wounded, Coll had watched as the physicians scattered a dust akin to brimstone in the festering wounds, and now, such unusual treatments would bear fruit. Bodies would heal, yet what of young spirits.

Coll entered the medical tent, noting the absence of the guard, and upon seeing a man lurking over Lydia’s semi conscious form, a heavy hand strayed to sword’s hilt. Death awaited the one who came near the girl, yet seeing that the man wore the livery of a knight, Coll left his sword only half drawn, rather than splitting him where he stood.

The general’s voice came as cold as dead man’s steel, hissing, “At ease soldier,” yet his eyes betrayed murderous ire as he recognized the man and continued, “Sergeant von der Tann, relieve the guard at the outer court; I’ll see to Sergeant Morningstern for now.”

The blood of women close to him had driven Coll near unto a raging madness, and seeing Lydia ill treated during her wounded delirium played upon a strong sense of murderous rage. The blood of young knights would run hot when faced with such beauty, so Collen called for black robed knights to bear the Lady Morningstern back to his chambers upon a linen litter. Coll’s only regret was that another knight had come close to personal disaster by fawning over the injured girl, yet Coll could not blame the man for attempting to steal a kiss from Lydia, for Coll had kissed those lips once upon a dream.

Entering the Infirmary to check on Kathryn and Lydia, Correus overhears Walther's outburst. Stepping on into the tent, Correus Yells Out! Belay that attitude good Knight! You Mis-Understand General Collens Concerns for Lady Lydia. Now pick up those Chevrons, get your uniform repaired, and meet me in my Office. Turning to General Collen, Correus whispers to him, Sir if I may speak with you privately, after you have tended to the Ladies. I see they are in Good Hands, so I will get back to my Duties.
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Subject: Sword returns to sheath Mon Mar 17, 2008 12:06 pm

“Aye, Sir Cor,” spake Collen. “It’s a pity the man thinks himself to be some sort of competitor.” Slamming his sword back into its sheath, Sir Coll related, “When both Lydia and Kath were injured in a joust that smote my very core with its ferocity, I took Kathryn to my chambers where surgeons of my brother’s own house joined us. When I returned to bring aid for Lydia, that one lurked over her, a wounded woman known to me, one of my house, one who bleeds by my side in battle as he never has, all when she is delirious from lack of blood. He denied Lydia surgeons and then thinks to insult me for bringing her medical aid?”

In cool and measured tones, Coll continued, “If she had died ‘ere I brought aid to her, I would kill him. It is best that you arrived.”

Just about to follow Correus' order, picking up the braids from the floor Walther hears Collens insulting words and rushes at him
HOW DARE YOU! Where were you when Lydia rode without proper armour! Where were you when she was wounded and bandaged! Where were you when the people that really care for her and love her tried to hold her back from riding again! NOW you come here with your petty arrogance when your authority would have been needed earlier! Now, when she's tended to and just faints of exhaustion, when all is over and done and she just survived thanks to pure luck you come here and play the role of the great caring general and friend! Take your sword and kill me as you long to do, unarmed as I am, but by Jah I will not let you soil my pristine feelings towards Lydia! Judge without looking, act without thinking, order without caring, that's all the likes of you always do.
True, I didn't bleed with you on any battlefield, and if the price of honour is to be filled with prejudices and pride of ones former deeds to he point of thinking of everyone else as inferior I'd rather die the honourless death of an old beggar, trampled by the horse of an uncaring noble.
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IG Walther_von_der_Tann

Corporal Almogrief entered the medical tent with the supply crates he had been ordered to get, as he entered he saw how Walther spoke to the General, he put his crates on the ground and walked up behind Walther and waited for any sign from the General to react
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Sir Almogrief Robertus, Lord of Chard -That's me!

Subject: I Think He's Mad, in the English Sense Tue Mar 18, 2008 7:27 am

Though now eyeing the contorted features of the sergeant with a chilling scorn, Collen understood the fellow's rage to an extent. Twice in the last hour, bloody Coll himself was prepared to kill in the heat of anger, so the emotion was not unknown. The first murderous thought came when the huntsman had seen a nameless knight inexplicably stealing his very own stallion for use in the tourney, and the second surge of rage was born with the sight of that mysterious knight riding against an unarmored Lydia Morningstern. Murderous intent had continued to dominate Coll's very being until he realized the unknown knight was a maiden, and none other than his own betrothed, Kathryn. Hate had turned to anguish in an instant, and the aftermath of that heartfelt flood left the man with little of the common concern for any trivial niceties. In this time of life or death, Sir Collen wasted no concern on any matter that did not direct the healing of those in his personal charge, expressly, two women of his very own household. Surgeons had been sent to Lydia while Collen carried Kathryn to safety; yet Coll had come to view their handiwork only to discover that another had rejected their aid even as the girl was haunted by the delirium of blood loss and shock. Coll removed all possibility of similar mischance immediately by removing the girl to more permanent quarters for convalescence in the south tower where his own offices and chambers housed his staff.

Now that the care of physicians had been insured, Collen of Caen briefly turned from Sir Cor to address the sergeant that so clearly struggled with his emotional anger.

Wasting but little precious time for the needs of the fuming man, Coll quipped, "Your rage has imbalanced you. Realize that above all, I only kill men who require it and I protect those in my charge. If my ways are alien to you, it is because we hail from distant shores. Perhaps we judge differently." Collen of Gal and Thule wore a face that was an inscrutable mask as he leveled, "If I am direct in the care of those in my household, then know that I fulfill a prior debt, an unseen bond greater than any other." Even as cool eyes noted the continued aggression before him, Coll betrayed no acknowledgement of interest when he concluded, "Distractions were not permitted at this time, yet if you wish, have your factor call upon my factor so that you may gain satisfaction when worthy cares fail to bind."

Nodding cordially to the good general, Coll breathed, "Sir Cor, other duty calls. I have trained at the universities as a surgeon under the guidance of my brother, a lordly knight of another order, yet I do not make this generally known. The good fight was ever my first trade, but for now, I shall join my brother's knights in treating my own wounded on this wretched day."

Seeing Corporal Almogrief, General Collen stated, “My highest compliments sir. You’re welcome in my household if you should ever have a need.”

Coll accepted no foes or rivals, save one, the very hand of death, the warrior's lifelong companion. When the man strode from the tent, the true struggle began anew. Collen of Caen went to fight death once more.

Death take the first one who screams.

Lydia felt herself being kissed.
Ever so tenderly...
She tried to get a grip on whoever it was.
But she seems pinned to the litter.
Lyds eyes closed. The kiss is long and exciting despite, or maybe just right for her little aches and pains. His body strong, warm and muscular. She feels herself crushed into the bedstead.
But predominantly weak, frail and fragile.
Not so much the strong warrior woman but more a helpless child.
Suddenly she wishes for her Mommy to be here and she releases a small whimpering cry.
The headache is so splitting her mind apart making her numb and her faculties leave her.
The back of her eyes hurt with dull, throbbing pains. She can neither focus nor think at all.
Realizes she hates being vulnerable. Hates having to rely.
That part is bad enough during healthful days.
Just wanting, needing sleep now.
Please!
...sleep...!
She can barely cling to consciousness.
No strength, no resolve, no defense.
Crusted, caked on dried blood cracks on her skin and fresh drips down the side of her temple into her ear.
Or is it a tear?
She feels safe in his arms. She needs, wants, yearns for safe arms.
His kiss is soft and wanting...covers her mouth...takes her breath...
His arms pin her, his hands caress her...
It would be so easy to give in here...

The unexpected growl, the threatening hiss of a voice somewhat penetrates her frail conscious.
Lydia tries to turn her head.

"Sgt Von Der Tann... the voice commands, I’ll see to Sergeant Morningstern for now.”
Something familiar there.
Her resolve to settle or determine had long past and Lyds is praying and relying that she might be in good hands as she, exhaustedly, falls into a blurred comatic state.

The black robed knights seemingly liberate Lyds limp body as they transfer her out of the tent, all very unbeknownst to her.
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Subject: the wait Tue Mar 18, 2008 9:06 pm

Back in the south tower, Coll kept a silent vigil over the two wounded women as black robed hospitallers donned armor and mail to cure the sick. An interesting combination, yet not unknown in the fight against death.

Grimly, Collen awaited one or both women to regain full consciousness.