Ser Vardis Egen was steel from head to heel, encased in heavy plate armor over mail and padded surcoat.
Large circular rondels, enameled cream-and-blue in the moon-and-falcon sigil of House Arryn, protected the vulnerable juncture of arm and breast.
A skirt of lobstered metal covered him from waist to midthigh, while a solid gorget encircled his throat.
Falcon's wings sprouted from the temples of his helm, and his visor was a pointed metal beak with a narrow slit for vision.
Bronn was so lightly armored he looked almost naked beside the knight.
He wore only a shirt of black oiled ringmail over boiled leather, a round steel halfhelm with a noseguard, and a mail coif.
High leather boots with steel shinguards gave some protection to his legs, and discs of black iron were sewn into the fingers of his gloves.
Yet Catelyn noted that the sellsword stood half a hand taller than his foe, with a longer reach...and Bronn was fifteen years younger, if she was any judge.
They knelt in the grass beneath the weeping woman, facing each other, with Lannister between them.
The septon removed a faceted crystal sphere from the soft cloth bag at his waist.
He lifted it high above his head, and the light shattered. Rainbows danced across the Imp's face.
In a high, solemn, singsong voice, the septon asked the gods to look down and bear witness, to find the truth in this man's soul, to grant him life and freedom if he was innocent, death if he was guilty.
His voice echoed off the surrounding towers.