ANST-Announce - Ansteorra's Crown Tournament

Ulf Gunnarsson ulfie at
Sun Mar 4 16:34:33 PST 2001

The day was dark and dreary. Rain drizzled off and on, and the wind bit cold
through damp tunics and cloaks.  The best fighters in Ansteorra gathered to
determine the Heirs to the Lion Throne.  Dukes and counts, knights and
squires, all men of might and honor, met on a muddy field to match swords
with one another.  Before the list started, Earl Barn Silveraxe, already a
Peer, was made a member of the Order of the Pelican.  That noble water fowl
was a perfect omen for the weather.

The rain continued.  The number of combatants dwindled as even the best were
laid low to a faster or cleaner shot.  Finally three stood to do battle:
Earl Daffydd, Jarl Timo, and Sir Duncan.  Earl Daffydd twisted a knee in the
clinging mud of the water-slicked field, and regretfully withdrew, leaving a
jarl facing a thane, round shield against heater.

Blows were thrown and one fell.  The combatants rose.  Again a flurry of
blows, and the other fell.  Finally, a third time these men of might and
speed faced one another.  Even the rain stopped to watch.  The field and
fell silent.  Every creak of the armour could be heard over the drip of
water, every huff and gasp of breath from the fighters stood out.  Swords
and shields suddenly met, then separated, then met again.  Then, quite
clearly, the sound of sword on armor.  Jarl Timotheous fell.  As the
herald's voice was raised for the vivats above the already cheering crowd,
Her Grace Larissa ran on the field to jump in the arms of her Prince.

And then...  before the last cheering had stopped, the sun came out.  In ten
minutes the clouds had left the sky.  Ansteorra was lit again by the golden
radiance of the sun and a new Prince and Princess.

Vivat the Heirs!
Vivat the Crown!
Vivat Ansteorra!

Baron Ulf
(And if you don't believe me, ask any one else that was there... :) )

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