Ashley
Lord Eric Stafford
The Mizzen

Eric Stafford emerged onto the sandy grounds of the Mizzen to the roar of the Islander crowd. Eric brought his specific set of tourney armour for the occasion. His left side had an additional guard that covered his neck, in the event a lance hit too high, it would have more armor to smash through to cause any harm. The armor he wore was bright green with a silver trim on the high points of the armor. He held his jousting helmet in his left hand when he emerged so he could better look over the crowd, eventually ending his gaze on where his wife sat, watching. Eric gave her a confident smile before putting the helm on. Ser Gerwold ran out with the tourney lance, placing it into Eric's gauntlet firmly. 

"Ready my lord?" He asked, looking up at him. Eric could see excitement building in the young knight, he'd been knighted only two weeks ago. 

"I am." Eric replied, "I'll make sure you are able to take part in the lists for the next tourney."

"It isn't a problem, this is a bit high profile for me anyway, my lord. I'll keep to local ones back home for now." 

Eric nodded and looked over to his emerging competition. "Have the others keep some water on hand, it's fucking hot out here." 

With that, Eric brought his horse to his starting position and waited to see if the king had anything to say before the horn was blown.
Michael
Edgar Esmann 
Southern Isles Village 

As the proud pillagers revelled in their takings, the world around them was still. They were alone, free to pick and plunder whatever hidden treasure, trinkets or lumber they could get their mitts on. Though, the occasional gaze into the green void of woodland and jungle soon became unnerving if peered into for too long. As if something was demanded attention - something amiss, but the brain couldn't discern what it was with any definitive cause. So, it went unchecked. Still, the hours trickled on with the calm ripples of the adjacent sea, for that too was still. It was gradual, and mostly imperceptible, but as the looters continued to pick the village like a corpse, the looming jungle gained a perpetual air of menace. If the trees could speak, they would warn the raiders - warn them of their own greed. 
"Loose!" 
Suddenly, the still air and cordial choruses of the raiders were shattered by a fusillade of arrows. Smoke followed the arrows, and the arrows announced themselves with fire - fire that scorched the warriors ships and sails alike. The archers were invisible, obscured by the jungle's dense foliage. Shadows danced wickedly amidst the undergrowth. Retaliating villages? An opposing army? There was no other way to tell but to brave the jungle and march onwards to battle. 
"Loose!"
Retreat? Well, that would be difficult. The incipient blazes swept across the longboats the raiders had arrived on, slowly turning their escape into an inferno. Some were shot dead, the arrows finding a home in their chests and necks. While the arrow fire was steady and persistent, it was not vast. The hidden archers - whoever they were - knew that if a charge was not swiftly countered, they would drown in the steel of hundreds of axes, and their own blood. The flames danced from ship to ship, creating an infernal wall that separated the once ebullient warriors from their ships. Battle was the only option. 

"Loose!"
Terri
Jesper Kyr
The Mizzen 

The crowd's roar greeted Jesper as he moved into the Mizzen, shielding his eyes with his hand for a brief second, the armor he wore clanking heavily around him as his arm moved. Black hair dropped in front of his eyes, and he bit back a sigh as he tucked it back into his helmet. Jamesly told him the dye used would come out eventually, but he didn't specify a time frame for that, which worried Jesper. Light bounced off the steel plates he wore, drawing his eyes down as he looked at the nondescript armor. It would protect him from the worst of the bouts, and the slightly raised neckline of the breastplate would stop his neck from being crushed. Jamesly made his way over to Jesper with his lance, passing it up to him with a calm smirk on his face.

"Nervous?" Jamesly asked, the devious look in the man's eyes set Jesper on edge slightly, and he couldn't stop the scowl he got.

"I still fail to see how you convinced me to do this." Jesper growled, taking the lance with a bit more force than was really necessary.

Jamesly just offered a small shrug as an answer, shaking his head as he turned back to where he came. "I'll make sure to keep some water to cool you down." He called over his shoulder, waving as he walked off.

With a shake of his head Jesper moved the horse over to the starting position, annoyance shooting through him as the horse whinnied, wishing for nothing more than Pontus to be his companion for the joust.