| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| MalariaMoon |
Posted - 20 Mar 2026 : 15:35:07
Inspired by watching A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, I decided it would be fun to run a tourney in the Realms. I’ll be creating thirty-two knights, who will face off across five days until a final winner is found. I’ll be creating the contending knights randomly, drawing on a variety of sources from across all editions in the Realms, then running the jousts in 5e with a few house rules. Follow below and we’ll find out who wins the tourney!
1368 DR, Year of the Banner, Teziir
The weak breeze gusting off the Lake of Dragons promised little relief; this Shieldmeet of the Year of the Banner would prove to be one of the hottest remembered by even the greybeards who had seen a dozen or more. The day after Midsummer’s Eve, few in Teziir would rise early to suffer the sore heads dealt by a night of revels. But this Shieldmeet was different, for who would miss the Grand Tourney of Teziir? Thirty-two knights from across the Realms, all due to tilt at the lists before the noon bells were struck. Even now, with the sun barely a fist above the horizon, the stands were groaning beneath the finely dressed merchants of the Council, with their fat wives, indolent husbands and wastrel children all gathered about them. Across the tourney grounds, the lesser folk were on their feet, straining against the fences.
The first knights were already mounted, their warhorses pacing at either end of the tilt. Sundazzle, the Herald, stepped forward to announce the contenders. Pointing left, he bellowed;
“Under the banner of a red striking hawk on a field of green, Lyra Duskwatch, knight errant, with no lands or lord.”
Lyra’s appearance belied her lack of patronage. Her plate armour had no lustre, but many pits and dents, and she bore no shield, only the greatsword strapped to her back and the lance in her hand. Her pale horse was unbarded. Her face betrayed at least forty winters of hard living, her tousled brown hair hacked by her own hand to a sensible length, but her blue eyes flared with courage, and she gave a crooked grin and raised her hand in recognition of the cheering.
“Under the banner of a Black Sun, Vaelis Ashbrand.”
Sundazzle’s announcement evoked a murmur of excitement among the crowds. This mysterious knight on his black stallion had been the talk of Teziir for all the last tenday. Who was he, and where had he come from? A dozen names and a dozen stories had been whispered. Some said he wasn’t even human. It was impossible to say, for Vaelis Ashbrand was clad head-to-foot in piecemeal armour, all dyed black and projecting spurs and spikes, with a full faced helm bearing a leering visage. Like Lyra, Vaelis bore no shield, only a longsword buckled at his side and the lance in his gauntlet.
A maiden rose from the stands, her blonde hair ablaze in the sunlight. The crowd hushed with anticipation. The girl held a handkerchief in her delicate hand. She released it onto the breeze, and the horses surged towards one another . . .
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| 1 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| MalariaMoon |
Posted - 20 Mar 2026 : 15:46:34
Lyra Duskwatch against Vaelis Ashbrand
Lyra Duskwatch is simply a Knight as statted in the 5e Monster Manual. Vaelis Ashbrand is a crude conversion of a 7th-level Ranger/5th-level Spur Lord as per the 3rd-edition product ‘Lords of Darkness’.
The horses had not even come together when the first blow of the tourney was made. Vaelis flicked his free hand, and a throwing dagger went slicing through the air. Lyra twisted in her saddle, and both knife and lance slid past her, but her own lance was off-line, neither struck, and then the two knights were past each other. A cry of dismay went up from the crowd; surely such a dishonourable opening spoke ill of the gods’ favour.
Now the warriors were tugging their mounts about to thunder down the lists again. On the second pass, Lyra’s lance found its mark, crunching into Vaelis’ leering visor and tearing it clean off. Another ripple of disquiet came from the stands and the common folk; Vaelis’ face revealed was a copy of the hideous mask his helm provided – the only difference being where the knight’s armour was black, his skin was crimson red. He laughed at his misfortune, then languidly raised one index finger to the sky. With a crack, Hellish red fire crackled from it to arc across the field and fall on his foe.
Both Lyra and her horse screamed as the fire licked them, yet somehow, she kept control of her steed, levelled her lance and galloped free of the flames. Vaelis returned her charge, and as they met for the third time it was his lance that ran home, bending and shattering as it plucked Lyra from the saddle.
Her fiendish opponent nonchalantly dismounted, slowly drawing a longsword as he strolled towards the fallen knight. The blade had a fell look, its pommel a jawless skull, with a second skull resting between the quillons. By now, the onlookers had chosen their side. Shouts of “Get up!” and “Rise, fair knight!” rang out, then a cheer as Lyra groggily pulled herself to her feet, then celebratory whoops as she batted away another of Vaelis’ hurled daggers with an armoured vambrace and slid the greatsword free from the sheath upon her back.
Yet before the blades could meet, Vaelis had another treacherous move, blasting Lyra with fire from his open palm, black this time. The knight errant rolled away, found her feet and came in hard. Blades were flashing, and despite her heavier sword, Lyra fought with agility, beating Vaelis back, the edge of her blade catching his flailing ripostes with the spurred extremities of his armour. But then two strikes crossed her guard, the tip of Vaelis’ sword stealing in beneath Lyra’s breastplate, then a swipe of his spiked gauntlet knocking her open-faced helm from her head. She swayed, her tousled hair swiftly tamed by the blood running freely from her temple, but raised her weapon once more.
And for a moment, on that fair day in Teziir, it seemed even the very sun withered and darkened, and Vaelis’ eyes matched that ebon hue. His crimson scaled skin turned chalk-white, and the onlookers quailed as one as dark flames erupted from his skull blade. Lyra, undaunted, raised her greatsword to strike, but now she was slow and unsteady, and Vaelis’ burning sword sunk itself through the gap in the plate at her right armpit, and she fell without a word.
Vaelis slumped over his foe, his face infernally red once more, the sun shone hot again, and the larks sang above the field without care for the carnage below. The crowd was silent as Vaelis staggered to his feet and led his black stallion and Lyra’s scorched mount away.
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