Date: Steelday, 17th, Greyeven

Sheila suggested I start writing my adventures down, since we know no bards to do it for me. I really shall have to find a bard as a herald once I am a knight - I'm horrible at these things, despite my many attempts to write short fictions about the Sais' battle against the Vers.

I suppose I should preface myself a bit, as whoever reads this won't know me from Firiona.

My name is Merrique Anne Mai`claire - I come from a simple line of an otherwise well-off family, but I prefer to be as we are in some respects. While I do not enjoy watching my family suffer financially, I do not wish to sell myself as my aunts have.

Even with their actions, my aunts are still not in any sort of grand position, though it appears being a scribe or librarian pays better than what any in my direct family does.

Father - Jonthan Mai`claire - is a groomsman at the Coldwind Coast Stables in Southern Qeynos, mother - Eliza - is an assistant tailor to the heirophant Selwyn, while my older sisters are good wives of a baker and an apprentice smith; all of which make their homes in Nettleville Hovel, as no one can afford a better life than that.

I suppose I have always been looked to as sort of a last hope - though my sister Malina tells me that our parents wished for a boy, but settled for me. Their desires were granted at least in a small form, as I am quite the tomboy and the like.

Being the youngest, and the tomboy, my youth was spent being encouraged to follow my dream of becoming a knight, though I think neither of my parents truly believe this to be possible. Despite such things as being far to petite and frail, I have become quite good with a sword, and have since been sent to train under the Master-at-Arms until I am sworn to a knight as a squire.

Though I have not heard from my childhood friend, Andrew, since he became a squire, I keep the tin long sword he gave me for my seventh birthday with me. It is mounted on a wood plaque now, to remind me both of the dreams we shared and his betrayal to them. It is clear he no longer cares for me now that he is a squire - no letters have been recieved, and no word of him since his family moved to the Thundermist Village in the Steppes.

So that is Merrique in a nutshell - less the fact I pose as a boy when necessary, but that's another situation entirely.

And now, the daily accounts Sheila said I should write begin.

Today had been largely uneventful - I spend my time training by fighting undead fighters in Antonica, laying to rest the souls of squires and knights that have been perverted by Varsoon or some other well to do necromancer. However, today a refreshing interlude was given.

A page summoned me from near the Isle of the Forbidden, and informed me that Master-at-Arms Dagorel wished to speak to me. Of course, I knew what this meant and followed the page back into town, up to the Fount of Storms where Dagorel met us.

Once the page had left, the Master-at-Arms took me into his office, a small affair that was once part of the large hall there. He informed me that 'Drew' has yet again caught the attention of a knight with 'his' marks and references, and that said knight was waiting for 'Drew' to arrive at the Northern Farmlands where he was practicing.

Dressing the part of 'Drew' is no longer difficult, as I've done it so many times. Keep the chestwraps tight enough to press down the breasts, but not enough to chafe beneat the chainmail; wear the smaller chain shirt that was made for Andrew years ago, and pad the crotch a bit to make it look like I've got the slight bulge all boys do. Muse the hair into anarchy, marr the face with some dirt, and there you have 'Drew'.

There were many knights and their squires up on the fields of the Northern Farmlands. Several archways had been set up, each with small rings hanging by thin threads on them; the knights all were arguing over how they were going to make "this" work, and make it an addition to their tournaments.

When I asked another of the squires, he explained that one of the knights had found an old tome about the tournament games the they used to have before the Age of Turmoil and the cataclysms. Some of them were already in use - sword on foot, sword and board on foot, sword on horseback, sword and board on horseback, etc - but one really had the men going crazy.

It's a sport called "jousting" - which I assume the knights meant by "this" - and they were up in arms over the fact that the lances made now were too light for horseback charges, causing them to flutter about in the air no matter how tight a stance they used.

There are two ways to joust - one requiring another party and the other a single rider, though each actually has several participents over time, with several rounds each.

Apparently the first is referred to as rings commonly, and requires a rider to make up to three passes at small rings, which they spear with their lance. Should there be ties, the rings get progressively smaller until one rider is able to spear more rings than the other in three passes.

For as simple as that sounds...the knights were having a time of it due to the shoddy lances. I don't think I've ever heard such words from the mouths of crusaders in all my years training with the Master-at-Arms!

The second is considered a 'purer' form of the event, with a low fence running several yards as a guide rail for the two riders; each is on an opposite side and charge each other with blunt lances, the idea is to knock the other from their horse or break the lance upon their being. With the awkwardness of the lances, they were not even attempting to use this form of the sport, wishing to avoid injuring each other in their tests.

I rather like the idea of the sport, personally, and I plan on harassing Dagorel until he helps me find out more about it. I'm sure the old dwarf has a book or two up his sleeves on the subject.

After a time of talking with the squire, I was finally approached by a knight. He was rather baudy, and lewd for a paladin, but I suppose I should expect such things from a Barbarian. I was made to tend to his gear and horse, which was more than easy considering my upbringing, and then fight another one of the squires.

Despite winning, the knight dismissed me - citing as all the others have that I am far to scrawny a lad to be considered. They always believe that I'm going to break under the smallest amout of extended work, and dismiss me.

Frustration is of course burning within me, but I will become a knight - even if I must teach myself!