"Is this the mighty bastard? Ha... it shall be revealed to you, knight, why your mother fled from you," he taunted the man before placing his helmet above his head. He grasp the lance, gripping his balance. His tactic was to launch his lance much earlier than his opponent. When the horse began charging pride and boast filled the young elf but it was seized by a knocking blow square in the stomach.
He may bear armor but the failure and defeat that entered him set a sickening feeling in the gut. Terrowin rather have spill out of his head than the later of the Knight of Samestand. He exhaled as the words of his girl rang through his mind, as if she were calming him. He plotted to be graceful with agile.
Winning the next two rounds was easy, but it was the example of sportsmanship that grew with difficult. He rested his eyes on the defeated man. Terrowin shot out his fake smile with a hesitant helping hand.