Lifting the Iron Cowl (Open)

[Anvil Gloom Knight]

(Thread open to reactions from other contestants and general attendance alike. My apologies if some feel I'm trying to gain unfair advantage. Manipulating maneuvers is only so I get to have this reveal. I don't expect to win my next match.)

Ready for a comeback in the grandest of all jousting competitions in the Riverlands in at least three years, the Anvil Gloom Knight makes his entrance riding a grey courser in full plate armor, and offers a bow to salute to the crowd before he makes his first pass. The heraldry he bears on his shield looks much cleaner than it did during his debut.

His armor dulls the hits as he knocks his opponents to the ground, though the last opponents are against whom he meets his match. Against the final, he risks a slight push to inch his lance forward, leaning out of his stirrups to center the hit. A small risk;
is he not quite ready to trust his victory wholly to the face of the Warrior?

After the impact, his final foe barely manages to cling to his saddle. Not the strongest, not the finest, nor the most graceful is this anonymous champion, but the prolonged match is a spectacle that dazzles the crowd nonetheless.

Before a winner can be judged, The Anvil Gloom Knight brings his hands up to the sides of his helmet and lifts. The crowd is disquieted, their attention now squarely on him as he relinquishes his anonymity.

OOC: Reader, if you could take it from here please

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

Corrine recognised the Anvil Gloom Knight's sigil, and watched the tilt with interest. Mystery knights always aroused her curiosity. But, when the knight's hands go to his helm, her mild interest becomes rapt attention, and she leans forward to look intently at what was unfolding, holding her breath.

[Reader]

Some had matched the Anvil Gloom Knight's name with House Kytley's sigil, and speculated as to the mystery knight's identity. Lord Tullison himself as speculated as long-ago as the Great Tourney at Riverrun that the Anvil Knight was none other that Lord Davain Bartheld, given his talent as a smith, and vowed to unmask the mystery knight with typical confidence.

Not for the first time, or the last, Lord Tullison was wrong.

The Anvil Gloom Knight had chosen perhaps the most hospitable audience to unveil herself.

Lord Baelon's Tourney was more than tinged with Black, and the shock had been somewhat lessened by the greater scandal of her knighting by Ser Eoric Tully, but there was still a pause and an audible intake of breath from the crowd, before a great cheer went up.

The reaction was full of warmth, a sentiment Loreia would seldom enjoy in the years to come. A sentiment the whole realm would find in short supply, but plentiful here, now, at Caladan Hall.

"
SHIELDMAIDEN! SHIELDMAIDEN!"


The smallfolk always loved a mystery knight, and this crowd loved this particular mystery knight more than most.

Had Prince Daemon foreseen what would come to pass, wisely providing a name shorn of the controversy of knighthood, even if it seemed an impossible dream beneath Riverrun's ancient walls? An easier name to cry perhaps, for the more conservative elements of the Blacks, one they could cry without feeling they were turning their backs on Andal customs or turning Dornish in their sensibilities?

Doubtless word word spread from here to less receptive ears in time - to Ser Fendrel Bartheld, to House Grell and other traditionalists defeated by the Anvil Gloom Knight in the past. Word of Loreia's revelation eventually travelled to the Reach, where Ser Bryndon Hightower himself was said to be furious.

"
That creature makes a mockery of all the true knights who unknowingly round against her. I swear it by the Warrior himself, I will expunge this stain from knighthood,"
he cried, or so the singers claimed.

All tales for another time, another day.

[Theomore Tullison]

Theomore had already guessed it, there was a certain something in the Anvil's style, brute force and strength, little refinement despite no lack of talent that could have been harnessed. More telling, however, was the fact that the Shieldmaiden had not appeared in the lists yet. The Coldbrooks had endorsed her knighting and keeping her hidden on their own homeground? That did not add up, though it was not unwise to have her wear a mask, all things considered.

More interesting, however, was the reactions of the crowd, not the rabble of course, but those worth noting. Were they all moved along with the emotions, or did some hold reservation in their hearts? Ser Eoric had placed a rather high stake upon this bet, time will tell if it paid off.

[Reader]

Polite applause from the nobles with the rule that day. There were many reasons to support the Blacks, some purer than others, some more conservative than others.

Any fool could notice Lord Frey's enthusiastic support however, even if the other Lords and knights present applauded with no greater fervour or reticence than to be expected. This game had not yet advanced beyond its opening moves, and while there was much to be gained, there was more to be risked from committing too early, too openly.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

Recognising Ser Loreia, Corrine stood and applauded vigorously, cheering.

"
Shieldmaiden!"
she shouted in delight, in the moment unconcerned with those around her, though more than a few nobles muttered that such a display was unbecoming of a lady.

She sat down again once the applause quelled, though she beamed at Loreia, proud to know such an inspiring woman.

[Loreia]

War and combat are oft spoken of as the providence of men, but it is the tournaments where it is made most evident, protected by a veil of exclusivity, traditionalism, and the promise of retribution. It was not her anonymity that pierced that veil before, nor the her lance when she was victorious. Removing her helmet revealed a stern scowl affixed to her face, expecting, or worrying, that she would be met with rancid disapproval, as she had been in a grand melee long ago. As she had been just before she skewered Frank Mooton in Lord Haigh Bracken's ill-timed joust. The man lived, she made sure of that.

The cheering of the crowd surprises her in a small way. A sound she longed to hear before, not drowned out by the disapproving Greens of Lord Tully's court that day. The sound of those who did approve, unchecked by those who didn't, folk worthy of chanting the title given to her by Prince Daemon, lifts her spirits out of the mud. The elation and pride in the eyes of those she recognizes among the crowd give her wings on which to soar.

The veil of traditionalism had in fact not been shattered at all. Shaken perhaps, but perhaps it could do with a little shattering. If it came to it, she could see herself fighting with the sympathizers among these Black supporters, not simply because House Coldbrook is a vassal of the Starks and out of indirect loyalties. Too put a woman on the throne. To see women honored for their ability in whatever profession they choose.

Perhaps this is her last match, or perhaps she is defeated in the next. It is of no consequence now. In victory or defeat, what are their words? Smiling, she raises her lance skyward, grateful that her attending squire is distracted from his duty by the spectacle before him.

"
NEVER FALTER!"

[Septon Arlyn]

Rumors had reached far and wide, Spread like wildfire through taverns and merchants eager to spread the word of recent revel.

A women, Besting knights in the list, not only once but twice!

I heard Shieldmadien herself even went toe to toe with the Ser Kevan himself, the Runner up at the tournament at riverrun!

Septon Arlyn sat sipping some cooled stew from a large tankard. The sweetness of the onions turning sour in his mouth. Oh gods Loreina, please be careful. Hopefully she has someone to watch out for those greens with less scruples then honor

[Baelon Drakeson]

The smith of Caladan Hall was, if truth be told, no master artisan. His work was good enough, and he could mimic the artistry of others to some degree. Baelon would certainly not be able to identify every suit that his smith had made in the past few years... but there were only two suits of plate that he had paid for out of his own purse and not the House's finances. Those suits he was much more familiar with, and I would recognize anywhere. One was the plate he himself was wearing. The other was on the mystery knight before him.

He had held his tongue when the "
mystery"
knight had signed up for the lists. Now, however, he had no such compunctions.

"
Ser Loreia! Shieldmaiden!"


It may be slightly impolitic to cheer one competitor in your own tourney more than others, but that can be set aside for a moment - for the right reason. This was most definitely one of those moments, with the right reason.

[Nathaniel Mason]

"
Disgusting, simply disgusting."
bleated the young man across from him. The other young men at the table nodded in agreement like a flock of geese.

He'd be quite handsome if it were not for the beady little eyes. "
Really, milord? How so?"


"
A woman? Fighting in a Tourney? It's disgusting!"


Nathan gazed at the man, waiting for more. Was he Osgrey's fourth or fifth son? Not that it matters. The Leafy Lakes are even more irrelevant than the Standfasts. All brawn and no brain most of them. Of course, looking around the table he is in good company. Collectively they can't muster the brainpower of one of Lord Davain's wolfhounds. "
Yes, you said that. I know I am naive, but if a woman wants to get on a horse and knock other men off theirs, and she is good at it, I honestly don't see a problem."


"
How can you say that and call yourself a Green?"
speaks up another young man with a reedy voice.

Oswyn, what will you do once you've burn through all your inheritance on liquor and whores? Nathan sat back in his seat and cradled his wine as one of his servants took away his half-eaten bowl of pumpkin soup. "
She's fighting in tournaments, not fighting to sit on the Iron throne. She must be competent, or she wouldn't have been Knighted. Tournaments go with the territory don't they?"
I could care less if Rhaenyra sat on the throne so long as it wasn't guaranteed to start a civil war. Perhaps if Viserys had stepped down in her favour, or at least made her Hand, things would be different. "
What say you, Ser Lynden?"


The strapping young Knight shrugged. "
If I face 'er in a tourney, I'll put 'er in the dirt."


I've seen you joust, Ser Lynden. You couldn't stay in the saddle if you were welded to it. "
I'm sure you will."
Nathan smiled. "
Women fighters are nothing new are they? Dorne has had them for quite some time."
Really, the only thing any of you are good at is spending heaps of money you didn't earn and pouring out information.

"
Savages. Disgusting savages the Dornes are. Civilized people keep their women in their place. A woman should know her place."
snarled Arvin Osgrey.

Oh, I think Ser Loreia knows her place, and from what I can see, she is doing very well in it. "
l'll bow to your wisdom, Arvin."
Nathan waved his hand in casual surrender. At least this will keep people distracted for a few months. Perhaps I should send Loreia a gift. What does one buy a Shieldmaiden? "
I honestly don't see what all the fuss is about."


Oswyn leaned over and put his hand on Nathan's arm. "
We are very fond of you, Nathan, and you're very entertaining, but you know absolutely nothing about politics."


Nathan smiled warmly and patted Oswyn's hand. "
You're probably right. Luckily, I have good friends like all of you to show me my error."

[Darron Greyjoy]

Watching from a box Darron has been taking in the grand event. This mystery knight though piqued his interest, "
Any name for that one?"
"
No Darron, Mustn't have the balls to put name to.."
Darron puts up his hand as the two men get ready for the tilt. The anonymous knight takes the fall and with that Darron loses interest, until he hears they are going for there helmet. Eyes affixed Darron watches in anticipation. The reveal comes as the crowed erupts in cheers. The female knight Loreia, now that was a surprise. "
A fine salt wife she would make."
said one of Darron's group, "
True but to my knowledge you can barely hold your own against a green lander pig farmer, how can you expect to take on a female warrior from the north?"
Darron replies with a sly grin to the laughter of the other members. "
Anyway she could be like the lady reavers of the Iron Islands and have a taste for woman, instead of your salty cock."
Further laughter is had by the group and Darron as they all take jabs at one another.

Later in the evening Darron pens a letter to be sent to Loreia in congratulations of her success in the tournament and how refreshing it is to see a woman take up sword and shield.

[Daveth Coldbrook]

[url=Lifting the Iron Cowl - Will (TN9)][/url]: 4d6 12
Daveth manages to handle his queasiness around violence while watching the 'Anvil Gloom Knight' joust. Of course, he knew the knight's true identity from the first, given that he'd bought Loreia the horse her alter-ego used. He was also aware of the plan for her to reveal her identity here, now that the disguise had outlived its usefulness. So, he didn't bother to feign surprise, merely made sure that his supportive applause was seen, without being extravagant. Still, he felt a warm feeling inside at the reaction had received. More than perhaps even the woman herself, he was conscious of all the threats surrounding her. The memory that here, at least, her merits were recognised would perhaps help her in the trying times to come.

[Aerion Storm]

Aerion watches his opponents -- they're all his opponents, potentially, some day -- and the Anvil Gloom Knight quite attentively.  It's what he's here for, after all.  Not just at the Drakeson tourney, but here, at all, born and breathing and living.  He was built for the tilt, born to ride and fight, and a part of competing in tournaments was knowing the competition.

Still and all, he cheers her.

He can't help but approve when the Anvil Gloom Knight removes his -- her -- helmet.  He's nominally a Green, of course, but for once not being a knight yet, and so being below notice in such things, is in his favor.  All he needs to admire is her form atop her horse, her handling of a lance, the way the smallfolk roar her name...and, truth be told, the way her hair spills out when the helmet's removed, though that's a different style of admiration.  Aerion Storm cares less and little for politics.  It's hoof and lance and sword he loves, and this woman has done herself proud today.  That is knightly, and so Storm admires it. He doesn't care about politics, he doesn't care who sees him in his Baratheon tabard cheering someone on at this tourney, with these hosts...he cares for courage, and the Shieldmaiden deserves to be cheered.

[Luecian LongBow]

Luecian was in the Westerlands somewhere between Lannisport and House Reyne's holdings in Castamere. The huntsman and his companion, Ser Tymon Lannister, were taking their rest and a decent dinner after the last few days travel around the hilly coastal region north of Casterly Rock. It didn't seem to be anything but a normal night on the road until the inn's common room roared alive with rumors a distant tourney in the Riverlands.

A known mystery knight had finally revealed themselves and it was none other than the Shieldmaiden herself, the recently knighted Ser Loreia. He smiled behind his ale and shook his head at the words the majority of the inn's patrons seemed to be exchanging. The Shieldmaiden might be a bit gruff and prickly at times but she was honest, skilled and more than anything deeply determined. They had shared a few conversations and ale over the past year and truthfully for the huntsman she was a beacon of hope. A sign that though he had been dealt a certain hand at the start of this game, it didn't have to be one he ended it with.

The huntsman wasn't one to fight the room's overall mood but no doubtin he could distract it with a story or two, lessening any ill words or feelings in the air and mayhaps promoting his own deeds a bit in the process...

"Friends, Friends...Did ya ever be hearing about the time I killed a shadowcat while taking a piss, me spear in one hand and well me other spear out finishing his business in the other..." He pulls his shadowskin cloak up for dramatic measure to confirm the truth of his story, well mostly truth at least.

[Benedict Marsten]

Willum was still pulling grass from Ben's armor when the cheers went up. He moved to see the lists. "Well, I'll be a ..." He could only smile his crooked smile and shake his head in disbelief. Not that it could be a woman, but that it was that woman. He felt a swell of pride. For her. For the cause. For having known her before her now infamous rise. To think he once stood at the end of her wrath.

"You are witnessing history, Willum. Though it may well be torn from the maesters pages if certain players have thier way."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn nodded to herself, even as she applauded and added her voice to the calls of 'Shieldmaiden.'

It wasn't a shock, but it was nice to see a little suspicion confirmed. Affirming, in a way.

She ducked to one side and signaled a servant to come over.

"Finish what you're doing, then head to the kitchen and get some help to make sure everyone has a glass. Open another cask if it's needed."

Then it was back to Baelon's side, beaming at the spectacle. It was potentially a big moment to have the first woman knight unveil that she had been competing for some time before her knighthood. And it was here, at Caladan Hall.

A curious choice, really. The Coldbrook tourney was bigger, and not far off. But Loreia could be impulsive at times. Perhaps she just felt that the time was right.

There was opportunity and risk alike in this, and she would need to thank Loreia later for choosing to do it here.

[Kevan Lyras]

Smiling, Kevan joined the cheering around him as the former mystery knight had revealed his identity. He was surprised, but only at the Shieldmaiden's decision to reveal herself, not her identity itself as he had long known
Remember when you revealed yourself to me at the Tourney in Riverrun? I promised you to never tell anybody and I kept word... Those were simpler times... He was glad that the strange woman could finally enjoy the cheers she had earned.

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