Knights of Tezoth

Alex? Neira? The next duel is yours...

Let's go, before the internet gets cut off

Ambrose, soon after donning his armor, personally checks before heading out to the lists that his horse is properly saddled and shod. Though the mute animal cannot know what games of prestige and vanity lie hidden behind the guise of a festive tournament, sensing its master's agitation, it glances around restlessly and paws the ground with its hoof.
-- Once more, old friend, we are in the fray, though death
Today's clash does not promise us. Let us be
Swift and fierce, and our lady's glory
We shall multiply in this tournament.
I know your savage temper, but do not trample, should we win,
Our opponent's fair face. Save your fury
For the knight of the marshes, who sits astride
A foul creature with eight legs.
Thus does the master counsel Mordred. Before the first bout begins, he nods to greet his opponent before lowering his visor — during the feast she had left a most favorable impression upon him.
-- They shall meet in battle's dance, son of earth, daughter of sky,
The weight of armor against the lightness of robes,
And mighty Mordred, black and heavy-built,
With snow-white Zephyr in swiftness
Shall vie. Let the clash be worthy
In spirit and pleasing to the eye
Of worthy lords who gaze upon us