Outlands Crown Tournament

Fierce gales could not dampen our spirits as our Outlands fighters took the field. Banners flew and danced, tents swayed and snapped. The brutal sun glinted upon polished helms, bright scales of steel. And the wind whipped our banners so high!

Warriors all, sweat and dirt staining their faces, panting breath like feral beasts. One by one, the fallen gracefully accepted defeat, and stood watch to see who would next wear the crown.

Children gathered and made their own game of victory with softer swords, bright flames in their hearts, mimicking the deeds of the day. And I wondered: who of these young men will someday stand in front of Our King, and swear the oath of Crown Tournament?

Fine acts of chivalry made the gathered crowd gasp in awe. We beheld the power and glory of these men, and while our hearts sang like harps, their blood pounded like drums. We were swept away in the music of the battle.

The Final Round! Two Bengal Knights faced one another, brothers until the end. The crowd hushed, intent, while even the wind briefly gave us respite. All eyes turned toward these two Outlanders, though we must have seemed far away to them.

Quickly came the rush, and swords flying, they clashed like steel and stone. Circling like tigers, running madly, dancing like dervishes. Time stretched out, but all too soon it was over. Sir Jaxarticus, cleanly wounded twice, fell under the shining sword of Sir Hrorec. Victorious Bengal, this day is yours!