Post by The Stranger on Apr 18, 2008 22:13:59 GMT -5
Ser Mychel Hill sat on the back of a courser in the training yard of the Red Keep long after the sun had set. He was a decent horseman, and his skill with a lance was slightly lesser. He had never cared for tourneys, but knew that as a Kingsguardsman he would be expcted to excel in every field of combat, including the joust, so his only alternative was practice. He had been a decent jouster as a youth in Faircastle, but when he was appointed Master-at-Arms he ceased practicing with the lance in favor of the sword.
He had set up a quintain with a heavy bag of sand on one crossarm, and a shield on the other. He spurred his horse towards it, couching his lance as he was taught so many years ago. He struck the shield slightly off-center, and almost dropped his lance from the impact. The sandbag swung around and struck him in the head, knocking him sideways from the saddle. He landed heavily on the ground, but sprang to his feet nimbly and remounted the horse to try again.
The second time he charged, he came to a similar effect, but retained his seat in the saddle after being slapped by the sandbag. He rode slowly back across the tilt, wondering what he was doing wrong. He shifted his grip on his lance slightly and changed the position into which he couched it, and his lance struck dead center in the shield. He spurred his horse just before the strike, pushing it faster, and the bag swung by missing him completely.
He charged at the quintain for three more hours, and was knocked from his horse a score or more times. His white tuinc was now brown from dust, and he was aching all over and covered in sweat, but he considered this a victory. He could already otice difrences in his own form that would lead to better success on horseback in the future, and every one of his strikes with the lance as more accurate than the last.
Ser Mychel Hill improves to Apprentice Horseman
Ser Mychel Hill improves to Novice Lance
He had set up a quintain with a heavy bag of sand on one crossarm, and a shield on the other. He spurred his horse towards it, couching his lance as he was taught so many years ago. He struck the shield slightly off-center, and almost dropped his lance from the impact. The sandbag swung around and struck him in the head, knocking him sideways from the saddle. He landed heavily on the ground, but sprang to his feet nimbly and remounted the horse to try again.
The second time he charged, he came to a similar effect, but retained his seat in the saddle after being slapped by the sandbag. He rode slowly back across the tilt, wondering what he was doing wrong. He shifted his grip on his lance slightly and changed the position into which he couched it, and his lance struck dead center in the shield. He spurred his horse just before the strike, pushing it faster, and the bag swung by missing him completely.
He charged at the quintain for three more hours, and was knocked from his horse a score or more times. His white tuinc was now brown from dust, and he was aching all over and covered in sweat, but he considered this a victory. He could already otice difrences in his own form that would lead to better success on horseback in the future, and every one of his strikes with the lance as more accurate than the last.
Ser Mychel Hill improves to Apprentice Horseman
Ser Mychel Hill improves to Novice Lance