That Broken Feeling
Lord Cain Lamont
This is a story about May Coronet AS XXXIII which was a wonderful event and tournament won by a good and noble knight. This mighty tournament was followed by an incredible feast and night of revelry, which made waking up the following Sunday quite an ordeal. This story takes place on that Sunday, the day after May coronet.
There was scheduled for the day a Tournament of Roses and part of this tournament included a challenge field, on which any fighter could issue a challenge. It was on the challenge field that the enemy first appeared. Black as night, with a voice that emanated from the dark helm boomed "WILL NO ONE CHALLENGE ME! IS THERE NO LORD THAT CAN STAND AGAINST ME!"
He stood no less than six feet high with a mighty Great Axe that stood ten foot tall if it was a foot. Now I could not let such a vile creature go unpunished for such insolence, for there were many fighters there that day that could at least beat this Black lord. In hindsight it appears I am not one of them, but I took up the challenge nonetheless.
"MY LORD I WILL FIGHT YOU. A SINGLE BOUT. THE MAN LEFT ALIVE WINS."
"I ACCEPT" the Black lord grinned.
"My lord I must draw your attention to the lady I fight for this day" I said before the bout had begun, "For you will be bestowing a rose upon the cutest babe in all of St Florian."
"Very well" the Black lord replied, "Let the fight begin" And at the marshals command the battle began.
It was an interesting battle as it ranged about the field, a battle of wits as much of strength and skill. Circling about, out of range of the mighty Great Axe, I bided my time waiting for an opportunity to pounce and close the gap. I waited and my moment came. I threw my sword at the Black lord as I closed the range, my shield being crushed by blow after blow from the Great axe. I threw a blow into the Black lord, swinging my sword about with speed, I was sure I had him for he was on the back foot and had no where to go. He countered these successive shots with successive blocks and eventually broke my defence. With a clean strike his axe collided with my arm. "GOOD!" I called. "My lord you have taken my arm. May I swap so that I may continue right handed" I asked this question, not knowing that even if he’d said yes that my arm would not have been able to. He denied this request "I believe the rules of the day do not allow you to swap hands" were his exact words.
So I continued! I lifted a sword left handed, the first time I had ever done this. I swung the sword about to get the feel of it in my left hand. The Black lord, having some vein of goodness, dropped his great axe in favour of a sword to even up the battle. Out from under the shade of his great axe he didn’t seem so bad. At the marshals command we continued.
As most single handed battles go, this one was no different. Parry, Riposte, Parry, Riposte, Parry, Riposte. The battle continued for quite some time, but eventually he slipped a good shot into my helm. I fell to the ground, dead. The battle over, adrenaline dropping, I realised there was something wrong. As I left the field I felt a deep ache in my arm. I thought "This doesn’t feel right. I should see a chirurgeon." The diagnosis wasn’t good. They decided to put ice on my arm and put it in a sling. It felt as a bad bruise would, with a deep aching pain. "I’ll be right", I kept on insisting, "It’s not that bad". All afternoon, my arm in a sling (for sympathy purposes only), I continued to insist that it will be okay.
After being driven home in my own car, visiting my family, having dinner and going to bed, the pain had increased from a dull ache to a much more broken feel. It was at this point I decided to get an X-ray. And guess what ! It was BROKEN ! I was initially shocked to see the X-ray and see that it was actually broken, but being entrapped in plaster these last few weeks has lessened the shock.