The Homecoming 30.

Lé Grande Melee...

Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy and Riley Hait the mercenary ranger share a look as the army commander, sir Galmot, who won the joust this morning, walks by on his way out into the lists where the grande melee is soon to get underway. Many in the crowd cheer the nobleman who won the jousting event this morning.
They cheer the other competitors walking out onto the field too. Including sir Parvin, as well as lord Milburn, who were both knocked out of the jousting event in the later rounds.
Though the loudest, and longest cheer is reserved for sir Percavelle Lé Dic. The former earl of the fief, who won the dueling event yesterday, who is more recognisable in his full suit of heavy armour and white cape, than any of the other competitors in the grande melee.
Grins from ear to ear, and waves to the cheering crowd as he makes his way out onto the muddy field where the last event of the tourney is taking place.
The ranger Hait glances over at Dorc da Orc, who is to the left of him and the spy Tanith. The large ork who is sitting on the ground, sipping from a barrel of fortified wine, is scowling as he watches the competitors in the grande melee walking out onto the field.
The ork warleader is still annoyed that he can't enter the last event of the tourney celebrating the late winter festival.
It's with good reason he's not allowed to enter. It's because he'd be the certain winner if he was in the grande melee. There's a reason why many tourney's don't allow orks to participate. Not that there's many orks to be found in the Southlands proper to be part of a tourney.
It was only the insistence of sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who had to be persuaded by Riley Hait, that Dorkindle was even allowed to enter the strongman competition yesterday morning, which of course the large ork easily won.
The mercenary ranger who was raised and trained in the elven principality of Envadarlen looks over at the stands to the right, where sits someone else who also wanted to be in the grande melee, but isn't.
The ranger Hait forbade Tamric Drubine from entering the final event of the tourney held just outside of castle Lé Dic.
And though the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin hides his annoyance at not being able to compete in the grande melee, a hell of a lot better than Dorc da Orc.
For those who know him as well as Riley Hait knows him, can see that the former heir to the knight of castle Drubine is more than a little disappointed that he can't show his skill in the grande melee.
"Percavelle?" asks Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy in his native language "I suspect so" replies Riley Hait the mercenary ranger in the same language as the crowd continues to cheer those who have made their way out onto the field.
The mercenary ranger who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of Riley Hait. Nods towards Dorc da Orc, and says in elven to Dalinvardél Tanith "He seems to think Percy will win too" the ranger Hait then adds "Not that he'll admit it to anyone".
"Dorc" says Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman in common, who then asks the warleader of the ork race "You think Percy will win this melee?".
"Nah" is the answer from Dorc da Orc who then adds "The stupid cunt is gonna slip over in that mud the first fucken step he take" the ork weaponsmith continues with "Then some other fucker is gonna come along and donk the silly cunt on his head and kill him".
After rolling his eyes, the ranger Hait says in elven to Dalinvardél Tanith "See, told you". The elven spy from the principality of Alínlae nods his head in agreement, as it's obvious the large ork knows that sir Percavelle will win the grande melee, just that he won't admit it.
"Did you warn Percy to be careful?" quietly asks the spy Tanith "I did" is the quiet reply of the mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen.
They know that there's a chance that there might be some competitors in the grande melee, who don't just want to knockdown the former earl of the fief, but actually want to harm him, maybe even kill sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
There's a few in the court of his niece, the lady Linara Lé Dic, who aren't exactly pleased that he's returned to the fief he once ruled.
And in the grande melee, it is the perfect opportunity for someone unscrupulous to eliminate the former paladin who is a member of the knights of the order of Saint Mar-che.
In the stands that's on one side of the field, about halfway along the length of the lists. Opposite of which, most of the competitors in the grande melee are standing in the large roped off square where the final event of the tourney is taking place.
Lisell Maera leans forward and says "I think your uncle will win" in response to the lady Linara Lé Dic looking back at her and Tamric Drubine, and asking them who they think will win the grande melee.
"I agree" says Tamric Drubine after nodding his head at what Lis just said. The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin slightly gestures to those out on the field, who the crowd are cheering on, and says "It will be difficult for anyone to even get close to eliminating Percavelle".
Lisell Maera glances at Tam who she knows wanted to enter the grande melee, but was forbidden to do so by Riley Hait. She quietly says to him in elven "Remember to keep an eye on Percy and anyone near him". "I will" replies the nobleborn teen from the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Then he and the orphan teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury, along with everybody else in the stands, look towards the lists, where out on the field, in a roped off area, all the competitors in the grande melee have gathered.
And where the town crier, standing with an officer in the army of the fief, is about to call out the command for the grande Melee to begin.
Standing towards one corner of the area designated for the final event of the tournament to celebrate the late winter festival. Sir Percavelle Lé Dic grins in anticipation for the grande melee to begin as he watches his competitors.
There's nearly forty of them in the grande melee, all in heavy armour. Either full plate armour, or half plate.
Many of the nobility are taking part in the grande melee, with the rest of the competitors being soldiers in the army, most of whom are officers.
For some of the younger ones, this will be their first ever grande melee, and though they think they know what to expect, they have no idea what they're about to be part of.
Others are experienced competitors in the most hectic, and brutal of events in any tourney, and they know what's about to happen. And though the joust is where you're far more likely to see more severe injuries and even death.
In the grande melee it is far more chaotic, where injuries will occur. As weapons are swung at anyone and everyone. It's basically a battle within a set amount of space. Where the aim is to incapacitate everyone else, but not kill them.
The former earl of Lé Dic who with the visor of his full helm up, continues to grin as the officer in the army with the town crier, calls out to see if everyone in the grande melee is ready. Head nods, and calls of yes come from the competitors. Then the officer has a quiet word with the town crier standing beside him.
The former paladin who is member of the order of Saint Mar-che takes hold of the weapons he'll begin the grande melee with.
Though some of the competitors will use broadswords. None of the more experienced competitors will use a blade of any kind, they'll use bludgeoning weapons. Including sir Percavelle, who takes from his belt, a couple of hammers.
In one gauntleted hand he has a square headed hammer, that's slightly heavier than the other. Which is a pick hammer. Percy reminds himself not to use the pick side of the hammerhead, as that will definitely badly injure, and even kill someone if he was to hit them with that.
Not that getting hit with hammerhead is a delightful experience anyway. The heavily armoured knight who once ruled his family's fief, knows he's going to break some bones and crack the skulls of some of his competitors.
He'll do his best not to badly injure anyone. But this is a grande melee, which Percy knows is chaotic as all hell. And is often more unpredictable, and even more dangerous than actual battle.
For the simple reason it's in a designated area, but most importantly it's everyone against everyone, as there's no sides like in a real battle.
The former earl of Lé Dic reaches up and closes the visor of his full helm, as the town crier after holding his arms up for the crowd to quiet down, calls out to the competitors in the grande melee "Ready!".
There's near silence across the field as the final event of the local tourney to celebrate the late winter festival is about to start. Then the town crier calls out in his loud voice "Melee!".
"Right Percy lad, time to show them what's what" sir Percavelle Lé Dic says to himself in a happy tone as the grande melee gets underway. And he starts walking across the muddy ground, and makes his way from the corner of the roped off area that he's in.
As the former paladin figured, no one particularly wants to take him on. Those nearest the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, are avoiding him, as they move away to attack one another.
And though the rules of a grande melee is that once you face off with someone, it's just the two of you who'll fight one another, until one is incapacitated, then the other moves on.
Those rules in any grande melee in any tourney, from a small rual one held at titled land holders small estate, to the king's tourney held in the capital. Are instantly forgotten, as it turns into a free for all, where everyone swings at everyone. Hoping to take out anyone they can.
And it's no different in this grande melee held on a muddy field just outside of the castle that's the Lé Dic family's ancestral home.
"Hmmm Percy, seems you've got to go to them" the former paladin of the first rank murmurs to himself as no one will face him. The heavily armoured knight then continues murmuring with "Not to worry old chap, a little bit of a walk around this fine winter's day will do you good".
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic, with a grin still upon his face behind the visor of his full helm, walks across the muddy ground, to where a knot of competitors are bludgeoning one another, trying to knock one another down, or send one another out over the rope that marks off the area of that grande melee.
"Ha! Take that!" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic in his overly loud voice as he comes up behind one armoured figure, swinging one hammer at the unsuspecting man's back, then swinging his other hammer at his right shoulder.
The grin on the face of the former earl of Lé Dic gets even wider as he makes his first hits of the grande melee, dropping the man infront of him, who is the first competitor to be knocked down and incapacitated.
"Bad luck there fella, try harder next time wot" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic to the twitching figure on the muddy ground, that he steps over, to swing one of his hammers at another of the competitors in the grande melee who has his back to him . . . . . .