What's a bit of Rivalry between friends? (Agron)

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan had arranged a friendly duel between himself and Agron and was rather hoping he would win. He had no idea of the ability this man had with a sword although had glanced over every now and again during training sessions. He had warmed up to Agron as he was very much like himself and they had many things in common. They were both nephews of quite powerful kings, both had endless and unconditional passions for what they did and both had been brought up and raised with the idea of becoming a knight in mind. Because of this he knew this was going to be a match well-set and wouldn't be surprised if the fight ended in a draw or even Tristan losing.

Normally before he participated in a fight Tristan knew his chances of winning or not yet in this case he wasn't too sure. He wasn't a guy that liked to lose and certainly didn't want to risk getting hurt, hence the use of sheilds. Tristan re-positioned his sheild on his arm and gripped it tightly to prepare for the fight. Agron hadn't showed up yet as Tristan had arrived fairly early to go over his tactics. It built up his confidence if he prepared extra in advance so he knew he had put his best into each and every fight. He was looking rather forward to this and plus it would give them a chance to talk. Tristan didn't have a whole lot of friends in the Army and was hoping that would change. He could see a lot of himself in Agron and could see a strong frienship in the making.

Tristan rose from his sitting position and picked up his sword. He began practiseing manouvers that he wasn't too confident with and started to image moves Agron may undertake. Tristan stopped in his tracks as he saw other members of the Army move into his field of vision and he wasn't expecting an audience. The army had caught wind of him and Agron's fight and he could tell they were eager to find out the outcome. They were both strong warriors and had the potential to become better than most of the soldiers who were baring witness to the duel. The other members of the army busied themselves pretending to fight yet Tristan knew they were secretly here to watch.

A small, aggrivated sigh slipped through Tristan's mouth as he returned to sit down. The pressure was mounting now as he didn't want to lose face in front of the other soliders and was convinced Agron would be the same. He took a deep breath to compose himself and turned his head to look for any signs of Agron's arrival. This match was meant to be for fun, and nothing more yet he couldn't help but feel a small hint of rivalry brewing, but what was a bit of rivalry between friends?

[Sir Agron Esa]

Tristan didn't have to wait long before his friend and opponent sauntered through the crowd, a look of bemused amusement on his face. Agron was in full armour with his sword sheathed at his waist. In one hand he held two gauntlets and at a jaunty angle, balancing on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, he carried his shield.

"Where's the party?" Agron quipped, as he approached Sir Tristan. "I suddenly feel over dressed," he added with a smirk. It wasn’t unusual for the sound of a duel to attract an eager and curious crowd but they hadn’t even started clashing blades together yet and already they had an audience. Mostly it was fellow soldiers though, unfortunately, not many lovely ladies for them to impress. Maybe they’d wonder over when they heard the metal sound of battle.

Agron lowered his shield from his shoulder and handed it over to an eager page boy who had run up to hold on to it, freeing up Agron's hands, while he donned his metal gauntlets, swapping them with the leather gloves.

"So who's the favourite to win?" he asked the boy with an accompanying teasing nudge of his shoulder against the boy's. He put a bit too much power behind the nudge though and the boy swayed precariously before straightening again. It would be just like the army recruits to place bets on who would win, but the boy dipped his head in apparent embarrassment and said nothing. A brief flicker of regret crossed Agron's face but it was gone as instantly as it appeared. He couldn't ever remember being that shy and subservient, though he supposed with a foreign king for a maternal uncle he must have been.

"Right!" Agron declared, quick to brighten, gloved and ready. He drew his sword from the scabbard and threw the casing to the side and out of the way, not particularly wanting to fight with it on if there was a choice. "Helmed or unhelmed?" he asked, taking his shield back from the boy and sending him off for a helmet regardless. It was a friendly fight but there was always a certain satisfaction to be had in the unhelming of an opponent. It always made him feel rather smug when it happened in tournaments and for the sake of honour the still helmed victor could remove his helmet for himself to even the score, as it were, having already proved himself in that instant to be somewhat the superior.

"Ready for this, old man?" Agron asked with a grin. Sir Tristan was only two years his senior and they were training together for knighthood but after some of Arthur's particularly gruelling training sessions they were all old men… bones creaking, muscles aching in places they didn’t even know they had muscles. Agron bounced on his feet a couple of times twisting his head to the left and then the right, stoked for the duel.

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan's face immediatly enlightened to see Agron sauntering over with an air of confidence in his step. He surveyed the supposed glint in Agron's eye and Tristan's eyes immediatly attached onto the armour his opponenet was wearing. Agron was a lot more 'well dressed' than he was as Tristan was only wearing light chain-mail to cover his clothes, steel knee and elbow protectors as well as shoulder protection to cover his more vulnerable area's. Tristan saw no use in wearing gloves as they only seemed to hold him back. Gloves masked the feel of the sword and he found it better to fight with complete sensation in his hands. Some saw that as his weakness having no protection over his hands, yet he saw it more as a confidence and a way to show that he was fearless; it mae his opponenets feel more threatened.

Tristan smirked as he watched Agron remove his metal gauntlets for leather gloves and took pride in the fact that he was wearing none. He was about to express some smug reaction yet Agron spoke first. "Helmed or unhelmed?" Tristan thought for a moment and wondered if a helmet would be better for aid in this fight. Helmets tended to get on his nerves and restrict his vision somewhat so fighting without helmets on seemed the most sensible idea. "Unhelmed I think. Unless you want to wear a helmet if your too scared?" Tristan teased watching as the page boy returned to Agron with a helmet etched in his hands.

"Ready for this, old man?" Tristan raised one eyebrow and shook his head slightly in disagreement. "Old man?" He said with a laugh, opening his mouth to deliver his comeback. "Not old my friend, I think the word is 'wise'. My advance in years is sure to beat your inexperience and naivity in life and in battle" He said playfully knowing full well that Agron was a few years younger than himself. Tristan loved the playful banter the two had and it always lifted and raised his spirits. Sort of reminded him of two school boys siking each other out in the playground in the bid for popularity.

"If your too afraid you'll lose, I give you the opportunity to back down now. Save you the embarrassement for when I win" He said laughing, standing up to follow suit, picking up his sword and flicking it in a series of motions to get ready for the fight.

[Sir Agron Esa]

"Scared?" Agron repeated, his mouth agape in mock astonishment. "Give me that," he said to the boy, taking his helmet just so he could trust it out to playfully bap Tristan on the head with it.

"Thanks awfully," he said to the boy, returning the helmet to him for him to scamper away with. It would be unneeded in this battle.

"Now," Agron, addressed Tristan again, "where were we?" Agron backed away from Tristan and out into the training pitch, waving his sword about in front of him and in the vague direction of Sir Tristan, proactively. He smirked at Tristan's splutters of indignation over his old age jibe.

"Alas that with age does not come the assurance of wisdom," Agron lamented, for the sake of his poor aged friend. "You are but three and twenty years closer to your demise, my friend."

When Agron had backed himself into the centre of the ground he stopped and cast a glance at the excited faces of their spectators. They might as well put on a show. Agron raised his voice to add:

"...and three and twenty strikes away from crawling off this field in an honourable but exhausted defeat," he concluded, bringing his sword baring hand up to his chest to cover his heart, hidden behind a sheet of chain mailed metal. Agron dipped his head as if in mourning but was smirking all the while.

"Let's see what you've got," Agron demanded, settling into a defensive stance, shield protecting his body and sword poised ready to make its first strike.

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan resisted the urge to duck out from Agron's hit and instead absorbed it and laughed. He was truly starting to enjoy himself and almost but completely forgot about the bystanders who were gathering round in their hoards to watch them fight. Both he and Agron had bountifuls of courage which was beginning to clash and show at their attempts of intimidating each other. Normally, if it was anyone else other than Agron, would have become angry at being called an 'old man', but as it was Agron who was saying this seemed to egg him on a lot more to perform well and win. Plus, he found it more funny than intimidating. Tristan's smile widened when Agron carried on making fun out of his age.

"...and three and twenty strikes away from crawling off this field in an honourable but exhausted defeat,"

Tristan waited until he had finished his little 'speech' and ignored the uproar the crowd produced. Instead he flung his sword from side to side and returned it to his main fighting hand and impressively flicking his sword around his wrist. Once again he refused to let these 'jibes' infuriate him and playfully retailiated back. "You keep dreaming Agron." He said happily before carrying on. "You know I'm faster than you... stronger than you. Carry on bigging yourself up because you know your going to lose in the end" He knew this wasn't completely true as Agron was nimble and able to react quickly, much like himself. It made him doubt that the end would end in any kind of victory.

"Neigh, let's see what you've got" He said flashing Agron a quick smile. Tristan tightly gripped his sheild and raised it against his chest in defense. He began moving to the left, his feet crossing over one another as he circled Agron. He raised his sword and made out like he was about to attack from the right. At the end he changed direction and attacked from the left, loudly clipping Agron's sheild and causing the crowd to 'Oooh' in unison. This was all part of Tristan's plan of intimidating Agron and grinned as he removed his sword for his opponents sheild.

[Sir Agron Esa]

Agron was ready for Tristan's first strike. His eyes darted from Tristan's crisscrossing footwork, which made him grin to see as he recognised moves from their similar training, to Tristan's eyes, taking in the enjoyment and exhilaration, the smile that was reaching them, which made the grin on Agron's face all the wider. All the while he kept a close and returning watch on that sword of Tristan's. Waiting for its strike, watching for the feints.

When the first strike came towards Agron's left he knew he had no attempt at blocking it with a sword without twisting his body right the way round and leaving his back and right side vulnerable to attack so instead he let the metal crash into his shield, which rather seemed to be Tristan's point of aim.

Agron frowned at this, in slight confusion but then remembered he had no helmet to mask his expressions and quickly sort to remove any form of bewilderment from his face. It was clearly a tactical move not intended to be a body hit. Agron was just slightly worried about what the riposte would be.

He resolved to not wait and find out but instead thrust his defending shield into Tristan's strike and followed through, pushing his shield against Tristan's sword as it moved backwards and away from Agron, trying to prevent a riposte and also to push Tristan off balance. Though Tristan too was probably expecting this as a move.

Agron pulled his shield back close to his body twisting slightly on the spot to that he could block his torso while he made his first attack. He brought his sword into a sweeping arc towards Sir Tristan's left shoulder.

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan read the expression on Agron's face and smiled in satisfaction. It seemed his tactical hit had done its work as it confused him somewhat as he had intended. Another reason why Tristan liked having no helmet on meant that the opponents face was easier to read. Fear, anger, frustration, confusion were all the emotions one was likely to go through in a fight and it made it all the more easier if you knew what the opponent was feeling. One of the downsides to not wearing a helmet was that Agron could read his facial expressions. Tristan smiled happily giving away the fact this was what he was planning to do; make Agron confused.

Tristan quickly resumed his face to expressionless, much like Agron had done to clear any reminents of confusion off his face. He cleared his thoughts just in time to block Agron's hit to his shoulder. He raised his sword and ignored the loud 'clang' that was produced when the two swords connected. He added a little extra force onto his blade, pushing back against Agron's sword to remove it from his facial region. He carried on resisting until he was far enough away from Agron's blade to duck under and stear well clear of any kind of hit. "Nice try" Tristan expressed with a contented laugh, twisting his body slightly so to re-grip his shield as the impact had nearly knocked it out of his hand.

"That all ya' got?" He said jokingly, egging Agron on to try and make him angry. The crowd this time seemed to have stopped what they were doing and turned solely in their direction to watch the fight, shouting support to both sides. Tristan slung his sword into the direction of Agron's head, hoping he would block it with his shield or his sword before it hit as he didn't want to hurt him.

[Sir Agron Esa]

"I'm going easy on you," Agron replied, pausing in his response to meet Tristan's sword with his own. The metal of the two blades met with an almightily clang and scrape above his head and the force sent judders down Agron's arm as he stepped back mid manoeuvre to be sure of not finding himself suddenly without ears. The blades scraped together as Agron withdrew his own weapon from the parry.

"We've got an audience," Agron rather unnecessarily explained, as the jeering from their onlookers was almost as loud as the crashes of their swords. He raised his shield slightly in gesture towards the other men. A rather stupid move that left his body completely open. It appeared Agron was too busy failing to get to his point though to really be paying much attention to the fact that they were mid fight.

"Can't knock you out this early in the game," he concluded, sending a cheerful smirk in the direction of Tristan as he danced a step to the left in a feint and then back to the right. He twisted his sword in his hand, letting it spin round in a lazy circle, a frivolous and somewhat boastful gesture the he'd probably picked up from Arthur. It was all for show and it would serve him right if one of these days someone knocked it right out of his hand while he was mid flourishing twirl. It was not to be on this occasion though as he lunged forward with a chest height thrust to his opponent, aiming for the chain mail just beneath the plate hauberk protecting Tristan's upper chest.

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan was glad that Agron blocked his attack to his head and withdrew his sword with speed like Agron had done. He smiled as he heard Agron say that he was going easy and mocked him playfully for saying so. "Going easy? Yeh, if that's what you would like people to believe" He directed to the crowd who jerked up a cheer as they were eager to be included in the fight. He hoped Agron knew that he was only joking as it was far from his intention to hurt Agron's feelings. It was all part of the 'fighting' talk that Tristan was trying to become accomstomed too and was trying to survey if it had any effect on Agron which so far had no signs that it was.

The mention of the audience seemed to take him off guard for a moment. He had never really liked people watching him when he had a fight because it made him feel as though he had to win. He didn't want to lose infront of half of Camelot, it would be humiliating. Yet he didn't want this for Agron either. He was thrown into an unwinable situation yet would just have to see how everything panned out; it was out of his control.

"Can't knock you out this early in the game,"

Tristan laughed realizing that they would have to slightly prolong the 'game' to keep the audience interested so he understood what he was saying. "Take pity on me. These 'old man' bones can't take much more. Weren't you ever told to take care of your elders?" He joked as he dodged Agron's swipe, raising his sword to his left and swinging it into Agron's shield ignoring the clattering his bones felt upon impact. He then lunged towards Agron's shoulder eagerly awaiting to see if he blocked it.

[Sir Agron Esa]

Agron pulled a mock expression of aghast at the audience betrayal when they cheered on Tristan's effacing remark. He grinned in amusement as he turned his attention back to the causer of such rousing.

"Yeah, we'll see," he attested, waving his sword about before him in a rather haphazard manner. He raised his voice to rile the audience by upping the stakes, adding: "we'll see who's buying the drinks when this is over."

He shook his head. A crowd was a fickle creature indeed. May the most comical win their heart, but be wary of the most skilful, who in turn ought to be wary of the most flash, who in turn had to watch out for the most handsome. Though unfortunately their audience still consisted predominantly of men. Where were the female supporters? Surely they'd made enough noise by now to attract the attention of at least one or two swooning maidens. It was lamentable! ...and rather amusingly pathetic that these were the thoughts running through Sir Agron's mind at that moment and not thoughts of Old T's sword tip.

Tristan's laughter inspired a broad grin to stretch across Agron's face, which only widened when Tristan admitted to his own ancient, ancient old age.

"You may have a point," Agron agreed, as his shield took yet another hit from Tristan's sword without him really having to move it all that much. "I think your eye sight may be going," he confirmed, referring the fact that Tristan seemed to almost be aiming for his shield and not trying to get the strike past his defence. Though admittedly his shield-baring arm was starting to ache something awful from the intense hits it had received.

"Have you seen Gaius about that?" Agron continued to tease, holding onto an expression of complete seriousness coupled with slight concern for a whole two seconds before his smirk broke rank and marched right the way across his face.

The rather precise shot that came towards his left shoulder put rest to that idea though and Agron was forced to jump back a step and bend backwards to avoid it, thrusting up his shield just in case he hadn’t moved out of the way quickly enough.

...which it turned out he hadn’t.

Agron spun, momentarily turning his back to his opponent as he followed his shield round in its deflective arc.

It was time to up the game, Agron thought, with a feral grin, as he deliberately thrust his shield towards Tristan's sword, while at the same time lunging his own sword towards his opponents left thigh. It was a move that left his torso wide open, with shield and sword going in opposite directions. It assumed that Tristan would be too distracted by the oncoming onslaught to take advantage of that fact... otherwise Agron was in trouble.

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan was hoping that his constant hits would eventually weaken Agron, meaning an almost certain victory. If Tristan carried on delivering hits to his sheild than surely his arm would take the beating making it difficult to lift and wield the heavy sheild in defense. As a result of that would then knock Agron's confidence either making him withdraw or lower the level of his performance. Being involved in a sword fight was all about endurance and stamina. The longer you could withstand hits and deliver them succesfully than it meant the fight would end in your favour. As both the men were of more or less the same standard and level it was more of a waiting game of who got hit first. The playful banter the two were throwing merely filled in the time and warmed up the crowd.

"Have you seen Gaius about that?"

Tristan found it amazing how quickly the audience were to change sides. They were quick to leap on the winning bandwagon and soon began the transaction from himself onto Agron as he made the remark about his eyesight. It didn't phase him much that the crowd were now backing Agron and made him all the more determined to get them back on his side. He smiled and politely ignored his comment about his eyesight so to not give him the satisfaction of an angered response. He just simply kept a smug smile on his face and carried on with the fight.

Tristan didn't see what was coming as he played straight into Agron's bait and thrust his sword into Agrons shield as an instictive reaction as it was coming towards him. This kept his left side completely open making him open for attack. Before he could correct his mistake he felt the side of Agron's cold blade hit his thigh and a pang of pain shot itself up his leg. Luckily the tip had not penetrated his skin yet the sharp edges of the blade was enough to puncture through his chainmail and get a hold of his thigh drawing a steady stream of blood which took several seconds to stop. He jumped backwards pulling his sword out of Agron's shield and keeping his face emotionless so he didn't show any pain.

"Ow, that was rude!" He expressed with a smile, trying his best not to limp as he circled Agron and criss-crossed his feet as if he was stalking his prey. He was becoming serious now as playtime was over. He had been injured so he was at a point of no return. He made him even more eager to level the score.

Tristan stopped pacing and rapidly advanced on Agron, walking forwards instead of in a horizontal direction. He flicked his sword in a series of fluid motions and slashed the air several times in an attempt to delude Agron as to which direction he was about to go in. He swiped Agron's shoulder, not seeing if it hit or not before withdrawing his sword and setting it into his stomach direction; an area that was hard to block without ducking or dodging. He was ready for any set direction Agron may go in and prepared himself for striking whilst his defenses were down.

[Sir Agron Esa]

There was a slight problem that came with duelling against your friends and that was that one always felt rather bad when victory came at the injury of the opponent. They hadn't set any rules to begin with and were just fighting for fun, certainly not with the intention of doing the other harm. If either put the other out of commission for even a matter of days Arthur would no doubt be furious, and rightly so. Had they been duelling until first blood then Agron might have just won at that point but they were not.

Agron was really rather proud of his friend to see that Tristan not only bore the pain that the hit must have caused, and be causing him yet, with remarkable nonchalance and bravery, but also to see that he was spurred on by it.

The first strike in retaliation Tristan made caught Agron completely by surprise, the young knight appeared to be too busy working out whether to feel smug or guilty over this first blood. As it was he barely got his shield up to block the shot against his shoulder and felt the wrist holding up the heavy wood twist and strain as it took more of the force from the hit than the rest of his arm due to his haste and bad angling while trying to save his shoulder.

His big mistake came, however, in that he didn’t move his shield out of the way in time when he blocked the strike to his chest.

Agron brought his sword, blade pointed at the ground sweeping across in front of his body and, with a clash of metal, misdirected Tristan's sword away from the targeted mail-clad torso. But in doing so he pushed the sword towards the inside of his own shield. He grinned broadly for a moment, thinking this was an incredible coup, to capture Tristan's sword between his own sword and shield but then he felt the pressure of the blade against his shield arm and began to rethink that idea.

He made a split second decision and dropped the shield to prevent causing injury to his own arm.

"Err..." he considered for a moment, taking a step back and considering whether it was worth trying to retrieve the shield or not.

"Didn't need it anyway," he proclaimed, shaking the stiffness out his arm and then took the hilt of his sword with both hands. It was very freeing not being weighed down by the shield but with nothing to block Tristan's shield with, should he choose to use it as some kind of bombardment, he had to be careful not to get too close.

"How's the leg?" he asked, half teasing and half genuinely concerned. "Want to withdraw?"

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan struggled against Agron's sword and soon found his entangled between Agron's sword and his sheild. His mind quickly buzzed and thought a way out of the manouver yet was surprised to see that Agron dropped his sheild. A smile immiedatly rose to his mouth as he saw that Agron's arm was obviously becoming stiff from bearing the bront of a lot of the impact. His strategy had worked so he knew for future battles this may make him win. One thing he liked about friendly duels was that you could try out different moves and see if they worked well or not. It was all well learning the theory of swordfighting yet battles like these meant you could truly put what you learnt into practice.

"Didn't need it anyway,"

Tristan laughed, glad that Agron had grown confident enough to fight without a sheild. A dangerous move that could mean life or death. A sheild did bring the user protection yet it was heavy and could limit what moved the user wanted to undertake. Plus with no sheild meant two hands could be used when fighting. Tristan threw down his sheild too to make it even; he didn't want an unfair advantage over him and certainly didn't want to injure him badly. "Sureee you didn't... But I'll even the score anyway. The sheild was only holding me back. Be prepared to lose" He said flashing him a quick smile before gripping his sword with both hands.

"How's the leg?"

Tristan was glad to see that Agron was concerned and made a mental note to make him feel ultra-guilty and bribe him later on over his injury. He smiled when Agron asked if he wanted to withdraw and his immediate answer was "Of course not". A large crowd was beginning to gather and he didn't want to bail out over one small injury. Plus he didn't want to give Agron the satisfaction of winning. "Unless, you would like to Withdraw?" He asked giving him the opportunity to if he wanted.

Tristan heard his fellow army soliders shout in protest to anyone withdrawing. They all stepped closer not, keen and eager not to miss any of the action. "Fight fight fight fight fight" They all began to shout in unison, so loud he was surprised Prince Arthur himself had not ventured out to see what all the commotion was about. Tristan tried to drown out and ignore the loud chanting to concentrate on the fight. "Well?" He prompted Agron's answer to see if the fight was going to come to an end or not.