| 
  • If you are citizen of an European Union member nation, you may not use this service unless you are at least 16 years old.

  • You already know Dokkio is an AI-powered assistant to organize & manage your digital files & messages. Very soon, Dokkio will support Outlook as well as One Drive. Check it out today!

View
 

Sendor War: A Duel of Dishonor

Page history last edited by rgs 14 years, 8 months ago

Calamity terrifies us all.

 

============================= Plot Announcements =============================

 

Message: 9/152                     Posted        Author

 

A duel of honour!                  Thu Jul 23    Calamity

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

    Have you heard? A supposed Baron from Stormgarde was at the Rosalia a day or two ago, and picked a fight with Lieutenant Northwind from the Alexandrian light dragoons! The Lieutenant issued a challenge, to take place tomorrow (Thursday 23rd, 6PM PST/9 EST) after being accused of setting the stables on fire days previous! My word, everyone's going to be there. With all the fuss about this, you'd think there wasn't a war going on!

 

==============================================================================

 

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* Myrrish Camp *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

    Soldiers. Ferriers. More soldiers. Cooks. Cavalrymen (and cavalrywomen). Healers. Officers. All these and more bustle through the neatly-pitched sea of tents that make up the Myrrish camp, no matter the time of day or night. At night, firelight flickers off the tents and lengthens peoples' shadows.

 

An herbal scent comes from a large group of tents off to the side, nearest the front lines--these tents an an appropriated farmhouse make up the field hospital, where the wounded are brought. A neat graveyard stands behind the field hospital--a few men are almost always on duty digging new graves. 

 

Nearby, an entire (albeit quite small) town has been appropriated for officer's quarters and Myrrish war business--the smithy in particular is certainly making money. The only tavern in the tiny town, the Blushing Rosalia, is something of a gathering place for officers and adventurers.

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

 Ionus           Broad shouldered, scarred young man with blond hair a 0s   20m

 

 Dern            A black haired mountain dwarf of regal bearing. For a 3s   2h

 

 Karelin         Tattooed Korite warrior. Tall, dark and scarred.      9m   2h

 

 Xander          Tall, handsome, goatee-wearing human mage.            4m   1h

 

 Arngrim         An impossibly colossal man. Did we mention he's huge? 7m   1h

 

 Darshan         Mechagodzilla                                         0s   8m

 

 Ceres           Silver-haired elf, tall and extremely graceful        2m   1h

 

 Sophia          A young highborn woman in priestly attire.            20s  3h

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

Blushing Rosalia <BR>     The Front Lines <TFL>     

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

 

It's Korday, Aestry 23 21:30:51 1006. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and rising.

 

Soft rain falls from a grey-black sky without moon or stars. A warm gentle wind blows from the southeast.

 

---------------------  At a glance around Myrrish Camp  ----------------------

 

Calamity          5m           Lb                                    

 

    Oh. It's just a cosmic catastrophe. Move along.                           

 

Darshan           0s 6'4"     274 Lb     Sith'makar        Male      

 

    Mechagodzilla                                                             

 

Arngrim           6m 8'9"     1045 Lb    Giant-Blood                 

 

    An impossibly colossal man. Did we mention he's huge?                     

 

Ionus            15m 5'10"    186 Lb     Human             Male      

 

    Broad shouldered, scarred young man with blond hair and blue eyes.        

 

 

Xander           40s 6'1"     184 Lb                                 

 

    Tall, handsome, goatee-wearing human mage.                                

 

Karelin          52s 6'2"     232 Lb     Human             Male      

 

    Tattooed Korite warrior. Tall, dark and scarred.                          

 

Dern              3m 4'4"     260 Lb                                  

    A black haired mountain dwarf of regal bearing. For a dwarf, that is.     

 

==============================================================================

 

 

Well, look over there! It's a Xander! Currently, he seems to be on a break, sitting on a crate below a tarp and having himself a cigarette. It should be noted he does NOT, in fact, stick his foot out and trip Ionus, even when the other man runs past. He just glances, with raised brow, at the buckets.

 

Ceres grins, "Well, maybe. But it could still be interestin'....." she points out, kicking her feet against her seat.

 

Karelin growls. "What did the damned gnomes do now?" He shakes his head, then runs a hand over his hair to purge some of the water.

 

Sophia shakes her head, "Well, I wasn't there directly, so I don't think I'd be best to comment on events I didn't witness..." She looks somewhat amused, though.

 

 

Armor. An outfit. A way of life. A philosophy. The hammerfall at the edge of camp stopped some minutes ago, and Darshan makes his way with a ring in claw towards the center of camp. He focuses on the earth in front of him, appearing deep in thought, and holds the metal firmly in one hand. It has the look of a giant ring, or ornate but as-yet rough band, with the start of metallic figures over the surface, roughly-hewn and in need of shaving.

 

Now, well, there's Dern still over by the smithies himself. He pauses. He looks at Darshan. he eyes him. EYES HIM. "Master Lizard, sir," he says, in a tone that's lightly teasing, "I trust I could get your advice on a matter soon?"

 

"Have not a clue, myself. However, gnomes causing explosions is not a grand deduction to make.." Ceres admits cheerfully.

 

Calamity has arrived.

 

Ionus emerges a few moments later from one of the junior smiths shop surrounded by a cloud of escaping steam. Waving a hand before his face to free up a bit of air, he steps back into the cooler afternoon..."Hello friend!"

 

Darshan shifts the ring to his other hand, palm to palm, as he turns to look to the dwarf. "Advice?" he says, then after a time, "One supposes. It isn't often I'm asked," he says, solemn. "I don't suppose this has anything to do with your recent fortune?" The tail flickers, and he passes the ring again, perhaps to have something to do with his hands.

 

Karelin grunts. "If they could be trusted to make explosions in the -right place-, I would be far happier with them." He looks up, considering Dern and Darshan briefly. THen he wipes his hair again, flicking at droplets on his eyebrows.

 

Xander simply offers a pleasant nod to Darshan from where he sits. Not much more, however, as it is not his intent to interrupt his conversation, merely say hello. A mouthful of smoke is exhaled for the wind to disperse.

 

Ionus gives a quick bit of waving as he comes back to the group as Karelin's comment draws his attention, "Who is making explosions?"

 

"The gnomes, if we can get them some bonfires to set?" Ceres offers with a quick grin, before offering a wave to a couple of the newcomers.

 

Well. At one side of the camp, there's a bit of a gathering. A party of soldiers crowds around, as that young lieutenant Northwind was walking along, followed by Sergeant Gibbons, carrying what seems to be an engraved pistol case. At the other, a few curious onlookers follow a dark-haired man clad in a black featureless tunic and cape, walking nonchelantly towards a field near the outskirts of town. Several who spot the parties go silent. The talk has been about the town for two days now, and this must be that duel between the Alexandrian gentleman, and the mysterious so-called Baron...

 

"No, no. I've, believe it or not, got that mostly under control." No, not really. Dern clears his throat. "Clearly, I am going to be getting more use out of that broom than I thought, though." The one that'll enable him to fly. Fly away! "Actually, it was about today's duel. I wsa wondering.." And then there's Lieutenant Northwind. He pauses. "...damn. Well."

 

"...I've not heard of him," Darshan says slowly, as he also turns around. "I've met a few of the dragoons here in the camp, but regretfully, I've never had time to make their acquaintance." He waves to a few of the familiar faces, looking as distracted as the rest when the two combatants take the field. And, also, as though he might develop a case of indigestion. "Who's overseeing the fight?"

 

Ionus turns to Dern, "Do you know anything about this Baron?" Then, far quicker and in far too hopeful a voice, especially for somone you know, living in Alexandria, "Is he fromt he north?"

 

Xander hops to his feet. "A paladin of the Dragon might do well. It is, after all, a matter of honor." says Xander, to Darshan, nodding at him. He hops to his feet, intent on going to observe the duel himself, apparently, if the duelists allow such.

 

"Why, Darshan. I am sure that an honorable paladin such as yourself, a steadyfooted member of a Sith-Makar tribe in good standing, could assist these men in their duel." Dern makes his way over towards Darhsan and leans over to mutter to him.

 

Dern whispers "Holy thinks stinks to high heaven. Something is very, very wrong."

 

The Duelists of course, must not meet before the match is started as with custom. Their seconds meanwhile, are about. Both Mister Grey and Gibbons are performing their duties. They were talking with rather quick remarks to each other, before Gibbons stomps away. The horse-merchant, Grey, seems completely unmoved otherwise, walking back with a slight shaking of the head.

 

"Damn it to hell, Captain Halling is overdue from a skirmish..." he can be overheard murmuring to another soldier, shaking his head. "Who will be Master of the Field? Should we reschedule this affair?" he asks of Northwind, who seems grimly focused on the upcoming duel. The man seems on edge, and was grasping a slip of paper tightly in a fist.

 

Karelin's arms fold on his chest, metal scraping. "Well," he rasps, "it shouldn't be me. I'd want to see best three out of five falls." A coughing laugh (stupid ribs) wracks his chest. "And that just wouldn't do with pistols." He approaches the knot of people with a certain professional interest.

 

A slow, slow flicker of tail, and Darshan looks startled. Startled again, as the merchant starts muttering, and at that point looks a moment towards Xander and Dern again before clearing his throat. "I've spent some time with the Myrrish and their customs," he offers, leaning forward. "The Myrrish are familiar with duels, and I'm currently in service with the Daeusite Church."

 

+ Calamity is STARING at you! +

 

Gibbons looks up, turning. "You are..." he pauses, looking up and down the mechanically-augmented form. "..Mister Darshan?" he pauses, giving a polite nod. She turns a little. "Sir, are you really going through with this?" he looks particularly upset. Northwind only nods. "He will be more than sufficient." he says, seeming distracted by his own thoughts.

 

Mister Grey walked over, giving a slight shrug. "Well, are we to reschedule yet again on behalf of your first?" he remarks simply to Gibbons, with no bite or emotion in his tone, before pausing, lifting an eyebrow at the paladin, and the party of Xander, Ionus and Dern who seem gathered close.

 

Oh. And that Korite Ruffian.

 

"I've tried to interest them in the Dwarvish game of Krochalk, but they showed no interest. Indeed, it was insisted upon that the duel be pistols in all rejection of good and common sense." Dern smiles cheerfully. "I *still* say that is a far better option than anything else." Then he eyes Karelin for a moment before glancing back to the men. "I shall attempt to go find the First. Where was he when last seen?"

 

Sophia has disconnected.

 

Karelin grins at Dern raffishly, and opens his hands at the dwarf. Then he considers the duellists with a professional's eye.

 

Xander gives the merchant a look, and a little nod of acknowledgement. One should always be polite, even to rude people, after all. "Have you managed to agree on the exact terms of the duel?" he asks, offhandedly, of both the seconds.

 

Ionus frowns as he hears they will be competing with pistols, "What sort of contest can you have with pistols out here? What is there to even shoot at?"

 

The mechanical gives a slow shrug underneath all that weight, and a hiss which could be laughter. "Yes. The Mandaras have me on the field, presently...though one is surprised to see this taking place in the middle of the war," and that comes with it the voice forcibly level, and it comes through as he looks over the men there. And settles, eventually, on the Baron.

 

"Each other, Ionus," says Dern to Ionus, "One man feels the other was responsible for the stable's fire. It's very troublesome, especially since no one else has reached such a conclusion." He is deeply unhappy about this.

 

"It has been agreed." Grey says, looking up rather blandly to Xander. "Pistols at thirty paces. One bullet each." he said, looking to Gibbons again with turn of the head. Then he nods, and cracks the faintest of smiles to Darshan. "You would offer to be our replacement Master of the Field? Excellent. I would accept this on behalf of the honorable Baron Vladstromir."

 

Ionus frowns, "Wait, what?!? Why would they shoot at each other?" He turns and starts over towards Grey, "Excuse me.." getting a little closer, "Excuse me?"

 

Ceres has disconnected.

 

A slow nod, just--the movement's slow, naturally, and the armor shifts in the way it will shift. "Lieutenant Northwind also accepts?" Darshan asks, looking towards the Lieutenant and Gibbons. And then surprised as Ionus steps forward--the sith'makar does a double-take before glancing down at the monk. "Excuse me?"

 

Karelin looks towards Darshan, then uncoils, reaching out a hand for the back of Ionus' collar. "Brother Ionus. I think you're getting too close to the line of fire."

 

Xander gives a little "Mm-hmm" in answer. He turns to the armored Sith-makar, a few quiet words, and his hands fold, business-like, behind his back. And then settles in to wait. There is not much more that he can do, truly.

 

"The Lieutenant... accepts." Gibbons says after a moment, looking anxious before straightening up. He did not wish to cast his superior in a bad light after all. "I'm sorry we couldn't have done this in the Dwarf's custom." he says, slowly after, though the Baron looks vaguely smug at the comment. "Very well, can we begin now?" asks the Baron, the first time he or the Lieutenant seems to have spoken once within earshot of each other.. "I have many things to attend to."

 

Dern's inquirty into Captain Halling is answered by one of the soldiers gathered to watch their brother officer. "Captain Halling's dispatches arrived two days ago. His company will be returning in a few days, they've stalled and have had to divert to another encampment to resupply and drop off their wounded."

 

Startled. Darshan looks startled as Xander passes by. It flickers over the scales in small ripples and disappears into the armor, and he blinks, twice, before falling silent. "Then I will see both canidates' weapons and armor, briefly," he says, simply. He looks grateful as Ionus is moved from the potential line of fire, a brush of relief. He probably worries the monk might've been well...he might have gotten holier?

 

Ionus gets pulled back from Karelin, the determination of his step sending his feet breifly flying into the air as he's yanked back, "Line of?....Oh yeah, I want to stay out of that. They do know they do not have to do this?"

 

"Of course they do. It's just that *one* of them is particularly insistant on this matter." Dern seems deeply disappointed in all of this, actually. "You know, I'm going to fetch some healers." And with that, he's going to step away, aiming to go tell the healers exactly what's going on -- so that at least *one* Althean can be present. "Such foolisheness in a time of war.!"

 

Karelin nods curtly. "THey do. Now stand back."

 

Gibbons offers up a case to Darshan, opening it to reveal an elaborately hand-carved longbarreled pistol, clearly exceptionally crafted and expensive.

 

Grey moves back to the Baron to ask for his, but the Baron only nods and walks closer, personally drawing his gun from a side holster hidden under his cloak. It was a decent quality flintlock, one that may be sold to most officers of reasonable income. He flips it over, offering the grip to Darshan with a sly smile.

 

Xander remains as he is. He isn't really entitled to meddle in the matter much, so all he does is settles in for the wait, silent, glancing every once in a while between the lizardman, Grey and the Baron, Gibbons and Northwind.

 

Xander shakes his head suddenly, as if... almost as if feeling something nobody else can. Maybe he's just finally gone crazy? Who can tell. "There's magic in the air." he mutters. "I can almost feel it on my skin." Brows furrow in a small frown. "Master of the Field. Permission to employ a spell of detection?" he addresses Darshan, with this.

 

"Thank you, m'lord, Lieutenant." Of course, the dry, appropriate response is given. Of course, the pistols are turned over in unfamiliar claws. Only...he runs a hand over the metal barrels, thumb over either, and a gentle grin plays there. And then, standing back, Darshan nods to the two men, so they can see what he's about to do, and steps back and fires into the dirt. Two, hard shots clearly visible to everyone there. 

 

One shot goes into the earth with a soft THUF!, the other veers first. He looks at the second, then the Baron. "You don't happen to have a second gun, sir? One isn't an expert, but this one veered." He looks distracted, and doesn't answer Xander immediately.

 

Karelin has reconnected.

 

Karelin has partially disconnected.

 

You have left channel Public.

 

Arngrim arrives - which is something like saying an elephant has arrived or a bull has arrived with the world as his china shop and the denizens therein as meager sheep to be scattered away! Epic entrances aside, the lone jotun kund begins to approach the gathered group with earth rumbling steps and his great maul slung over his shoulders like a felled temple pillar. He studies the duel as it gets underway and frowns slightly, "Mmm? This is no gladiatoral contest...?"

 

"I can provide." Xander says, pulling his own pistol out of his belt. "The safety latch is on the left side." Holding the weapon upon his upraised palms, he offers it to Darshan for testing.

 

And so Dern is, of course, returning. He's brining a few back with him. Clerics in Althean Robes. Stern, disapproving clerics. Disapproving clerics that look annoyed that they even had to be brought her. They're squabbling amongst each other about 'stupid men' and 'stupider egoes'. In other words, they're clerics that are very deeply annoyed with teh whole situation, mirroring Dern in that particular fashion. 

 

 "..and you better marry that girl," says one, giving Dern's ear a yank. "OW," yelps the dwarf in an undwarf like manner.

 

Ionus turns as the large man appears, "Oh no! Brother Arngrim, it is good to see you again! No, they want to shoot at each other with pistols instead. I do not know why, but I can tell them it really, really hurts if that will help."

 

Karelin glances towards Xander, then back to Darshan. A scowl, then a look at Blackrose. "What is it?"

 

"Very well. May I see your pistol?" asks the Baron. Northwind watches him coldly otherwise, as these details are worked out.

 

Darshan accepts the pistol, and then, turning it over, hands it to the Baron. "If you'll fire it for the crowd, m'lord," he says, solemn, and with apology. "We can move forward. It's really a fine gun, and I've seen his lordship use it in battle, myself." He glances at Karelin, then, then quietly towards the set of guns in question. "The Baron's gun veered," he says, after a moment, quietly. "Xander's offered a replacement."

 

Karelin grunts. "Good enough." He takes a better view, now, eyeing the guns warily.

 

The gun Xander has handed over is already loaded. All it requires before it can be fired is that its safety latch be released. The mage himself nods. "Master of the Field. The magic I feel in the air gives me concern. Might I attempt to locate and identify its source with a spell od detection before we proceed? After all, I am sure we wouldn't want anything of the sort to interfere with the duel." he speaks to Darshan, once again.

 

"I believe the good Mage's speaks wisely and he should be, OW," another yank from a cleric still chewing him out about some girl! Dern clears his throat, continuing and trying again, "I believe the good wizard should be allowed to do exactly as he says. If there is indeed a magical spell.." He is truly concerned about this! Truly!

 

"Hrn." rumbles Arngrim as he hears Ionus, "What are they going on about then? Whose honor was insulted and why? Do you know what is happening?" He swivels his head from side to side, looking over those gathered and then pausing to study the duelists themselves. "The matter seems overly drawn out."

 

A pause, and then--well, he grimaces. He has to. The responding words are short, formal. Very little expression for this sort of event--he's not an entertainer, no. So the sith'makar nods, and turns these words over, as a sith'makar might do. "Very well, then. A general test, mrm..." he closes his eyes. The 'not an entertainer' could come to mind, again, "Bearing in mind the manipulations of Bludguni forces nearby, and the requests of both Lord Blackrose and...Warsmith Dern."

 

Ionus shakes his head, "I do not. I heard there was some talk about the fire that happened earlier, but no one has relayed anything specific." He looks back, "I do not know why they want to use pistols -- they hurt and take all the fun out of it."

 

Xander nods. "Perhaps it would be best to fetch another magus as well, so as to lessen the chance of error or claims of favoritism." the mage says. And then he goes into the incantation of a spell of spell detection. He goes about the words and gestures slowly, so it would be very apparent to any individuals who can recognize magic what it is.

 

The Baron looks smug, smirking. He feels the weight of the gun, and eyes something off to the side. He hefts it, before firing a shot. "Hrmph. Not as fine as my trusted pistol, but it will do." he hands the weapon to Gibbons for loading. He turns his head at the mention of magic. "My. I would hope that our duel would be a fair one." he says.

 

The Lieutenant's expression hardens as he waits. "Master of the Field, may we continue?" he asks, returning the glare to his opponent.

 

"It would be a poor reflection on ones honor if magic were involved to soil what is already the result of a likely petty arguement." voices Arngrim's deep voice. Practically rattling the armor of those nearby.

 

Xander humms softly at his findings, approaching Darshan to speak to him about them. After he is finished, he takes a step away, letting the Sith-makar do what he will with the information.

 

Karelin looks about carefully, assessing the ground beyond the duellists. He refolds his arms, eyeing Blackrose and Darshan.

 

"Ow," says Dern as he is *still* being lectured by a particular Althean. They're all staring at the Baron and the Lieutenant, though, making chiding sounds about this whole affair. 

 

Dern clears his throat, glancing towards Darshan as well. He's a bit concerned about all of this, and he did doubletake when he was called 'Warbringer'. "..ahem. That's not necessary, good ser 'Shan."

 

Karelin gaze focuses on Mr. Grey. He murmurs something to himself akin to: "Well, isn't that handy." Squinting, he studies further.

 

Darshan glances at Xander quickly, and then again, and then lets go what sounds like a burden of two tons of bricks. "M'lords and ladies, to those present...my thanks for your cooperation and your patience," Madrienne's training, down to its very inflection. "The Lieutenant and the Baron came here in good faith--mrm, however, it seems that that good faith isn't shared, especially so near the Bludguni border. If they both express the wish to continue, one will ask the magus to prepare a blessing for the field. This will be done quickly, and obviously to those present."

 

Karelin nods once, focusing his attention on Grey, at -that- statement.

 

"I think that is an excellent idea, Darshan. Clearly, we would not want anyone to interfere in such a manner of honor," Dern nods towards Darshan, giving the participants a look as well. "I take it you both *agree*?" It is clear that the dwarf does not want any arguments out of them. And no one is more stubborn than a dwarf.

 

"So the scoundrel has cheated, hasn't he?!" The Baron calls out quickly, lifting a finger towards the Lieutenant, who appears livid at the accusation. "You northern dog, you plotted to cheat from the start!" he calls out.

 

Karelin's hand drifts to the hilt of his sword. "Why don't we wait for the determination."

 

"Cheating..a rather serious accusation and also a bold effort if it is true, considering the amount of magic around here and those with it.." muses Arngrim. He absently rolls the tree sized great maul up and down his huge shoulders as if itching for a reason to use it while slowly grinning, "This is getting exciting!"

 

"Might I ask you not make a scene, Baron? Your own gun was found faulty and the good Lieutenant did not jump to conclusions." Xander remarks, exceedingly calm. He doesn't seem to wish to take sides. "If you wish to continue this, I will strip you both of magic at once and then you can pursue this to its final stupidity."

 

Darshan looks quickly to Karelin, and back again--to the yelling, shouting Baron. An idea forms in his head, an idea so vicious, so wonderful...it makes the happy, lizard part of him hiss and dance with glee while the other part tries desperately to throttle it. They compromise. "Gentlemen...one offered a solution," a pause, and then, wry, "If you're determined to battle outside of a duel, one fears the Korite might just try to keep the peace through violence. You see his hand's already near his blade? This is mrm, a /religious/ exercise for the faith, by what one knows of it, and as a paladin one should not interfere with the holy expression of divine and sacred belief." Usually.

 

"I was merely evening the odds with this.... gentleman." the Lieutenant says, peering across. "I have heard reports of him employing possible magic to cheat in this affair." he remarks. "But if you can make this challenge fair, Magister, please do so."

 

The Baron smiles. "This man's cowardice know no ends, now he fabricates lies about myself to cover for his own attempts at deceit! Yes, make the field even between us." he says. "I wish to continue, Master of the Field."

 

Karelin glances towards Xander. "What is the nature of this?" He looks at Grey. "You're very calm about this, sir.

 

"Thank you, sirs," Darshan says, and a smile almost makes it there. Almost. At both of them, then, he looks stern again. Or, as as stern as a lizard may look--usually, they look fairly lazy. "Then, with both of your concerns...one thinks perhaps, this is the best outcome. Lord Blackrose! If you would, sir, where everyone may see." And let the spectacle commence. To the two, "Watch, please. All of you! Everyone here, please observe. Let's be fair, and give these men a fair fight."

 

"As you will, then, gentlemen." Xander speaks, raising his hands. He performs the spell in a very obvious fashion, slowly speaking each word of the incantation, presenting each motion to the onlookers. It is a spell to unweave spells. A circle of runes, faint but visible, outlines the area in which spells are undone, covering both the combatants at once.

 

Now Dern frowns at the Lieutenant, "Good sir, you use magic and then assault the good Baron's honor by implying that he would too? I have heard no such thing." Dern actually seems a bit offended about this, frowning at the Lieutenant. "If one were to bring such an accusation out in the first place, one would expect that he had proof of these things?"

 

Karelin goes OOC.

 

Karelin has left.

 

Ionus has disconnected.

 

"I am ready for this." the Baron pronounces, casting aside his cloak. He was wearing a featureless black tunic, hard to make out one's profile with it's plain color. Not flashy, not showy... but calculating and professional. Grey takes his pistol, and loads it with a lead ball and powder, while Gibbons does the same with the Lieutenant's returned pistol.

 

The Lieutenant frowns back to the Dwarf. "I assure you, I have heard of their... their scheming." he points to Grey and the Baron, lifting his nose. "On the honor of my house and family, I have a report of their plot! But no matter, I will reveal my source upon this fiend's demise!" he takes the pistol, looking to Xander a moment as he casts.

 

The mage's motions repeat, slow and deliberate, and another circle of runes flares, then subsides. Xander turns to the crowd, speaking: "I have done all I can. There may still be magic on either of these men in the form of objects, but if so, they have evaded detection and removal." He turns to the two, nods. "Good luck, gentlemen."

 

"Have you, now. If you do, I ask, humbly, that you hand it over *now* instead of proceeding with this duel. For one, such a thing could certainly be important in ways that you clearly underestimate, especially with regards to all this -sabotage- we've been experiencing." Dern sounds firm here, and more than a little offended.

 

A nod, and after the casting, Darshan turns back around to the two men. He's silent a moment, and then Dern speaks up. He's silent again, and lets the dwarf's words speak for themselves, lets the two men respond, before he says anything else.

 

Upon seeing that Karelin is disinclined to .. intervene.. Arngrim relaxes and seems rather disappointed. He unslings his weapon and sets it to the ground before him to use as something to lean upon while also narrowing his eyes and growing more serious as he hears the conversation between Dern and the Baron. He glances briefly to Darshan and Xander but otherwise remains silent.

 

"It was actually I who mentioned to the Lieutenant the possibility of the Baron cheating, as his accusations were rather oddly placed and his reasons for this show flimsy." says Xander to Dern, cooly. "I did not advise, however, that he cheat himself, and have removed the spell accordingly."

 

Again...Darshan drops his head forward, obviously wondering what he should say. It stays there a moment, thinking, choosing words, throwing others away... "Thank you. One understands...we're under the difficulties of war, and tensions get hot, just like they are today. If it's someone's fault, then let us settle that /now/, and accept the mage's blessing /now/," his voice picks up, and he raises his head. "The Baron and Lieutenant know the dangers, and have resolved here and /now/ to settle their differences. Whatever...occurs, let this be the end of it. Gentlemen, please. Take your positions and let us begin." Darshan rubs at the side of his face, then, a silent prayer, before looking to Arngrim, "Hammer...Could you give us a count when they signal they're ready? I believe that among us, your voice can be heard from here to Veyshan."

 

The Lieutenant clears his throat a moment, producing a small note from his pocket. "I recieved this, in the dead of night under my door. It stated that the Baron was planning with Mr. Grey to employ magic bullets in our duel for the purpose of cold-blooded murder." he says, before staring suddenly to Xander. He looks flabbergasted.

 

The Baron squints a bit. "These... interuptions aside, I think I am ready to proceed." he says, before giving one last glance and turning, taking paces as Darshan resides.

 

The Lieutenant closes his eyes a second and turns with immense dignity, taking his pistol and walking back for his own position...

 

"I believe that is more than you stated, Xander, unless you sent this note?" Dern is shocked, shocked by this possibility! He reaches to take the note from the Lieuteant, however, should he be allowed to do so. "Did you check the bullets for such magical trickery?" He glances back and forth, deeply concerned. "This whole affair is nonsense and should be stopped at once. The day's proceedings have already been tainted!"

 

Arngrim seems confused as if he was lost part way through Darhshan's words, "A ..count?" he rumbles absently while frowning, "A count of what? I do not understand these strange dueling methods. In Dran, when we have grievances with one another, we simply fight. There is to much talk here." He points at the Baron, "He is annoying. And indeed, this whole matter is nonsensical now. They should both be flogged."

 

An Althean priestess then yanks on Dern's ear again.

 

"Honor is honor, and I know it well." Xander says, with a shake of his head. "But going to these lengths in these times is... unreasonable at best." There is a nod to Dern. "I did. But I fear the Lieutenant may have misinterpreted my words of warning. Read the note, if you will - it will confirm what I say. I merely overheard the conversation between the two, and while they did speak of killing the Lieutenant, the word 'murder' was not used, neither between them nor by myself. There were also bullets, obviously enchanted, in the Baron's possession, that I mentioned - but again, I never said with certainity they would be used."

 

Darshan looks to Dern, and nods, a moment, but keeps his eyes on the two. "We have their knowing consent, Warsmith, magus. They declared intent, each knowing the other's character. We might might just be grateful they're taking a measure that involves /only the two/ of them." And then he looks to Arngrim, and nods. He takes a step back. "ONE! ..."

 

"I am Dern," begins Dern, his voice lifting, "*Son* of Korrack, a warrior of stout heart and firm beliefs. He fought on the side of right in the Crown Wars!" He's brought this up rarely in his time here, but here it is. "In his time, he oversaw such grudges between dwarves that were always settled fairly and honroably and my father would *never* settle for proceedings so tainted as these here have become! This matter can no longer be resolved by a mere *duel*, as any such duel will always be viewed as suspect, now and forever! It is time to end this farce before these men go any further! No further, my fellows, no further! These precious resources, this precious time, is being wasted by all of us present as inquiry into the 'fairness' of a duel which now I find impossible to believe in. Enchanted bullets. Enchanted guns," the dwarf scowls, spitting on the ground. "I *offered* these two men a *dwarven* way that they rejected -- rejected the words of a noble's son, I must say -- and one can only see why now!" He wanders over to a supply crate, popping it open and pulling out a nice, ripe tomato. "This conduct on either side only shows that there is no trust that these matters will be fair. BOOOO!" 

 

He's booing loudly. "BOOO!" 

 

He's hoping others join in!

 

There's boo's alright. But they're for Master Dwarf to exit, stage right! Someone hurls a bottle at him, and then a chair leg! The action seems to startle the pair of duelists, who twitch at their weapon hands. The chaos makes it so difficult to tell what's going on at any one place, with the tension in the air overflowing! Also, tomato juice flows down Dern's arm, dripping onto his beard.

 

Darshan stops. Stops, and looks to Dern, quick, before turning back and looking at the Baron and Lieutenant. "Son of Korrack," he says, chewing over the name, and pauses. A breath, and because they're still in the middle of it, "TWO!"

 

Arngrim just...sort of..stares at Dern, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. There's a brief moment as if reality itself is hanging by a razor thin cord.. and then suddenly everything snaps and there's utter chaos as Dern's plan horribly backfires. Arngrim sighs and puts a hand to his head. "This is madness!"

 

A bottle hits Darshan in the back of the head!

 

There's this long pause from Dern as he holds up the now destroyed tomato and it drips down, oozing onto his beard. He looks...horrified. And upset. And embaressed all at once. His face is as red now, nearly so, as the tomato he now holds.

 

The shouting continues, with it being increasingly difficult to hear the bellowing voice of the powerful Sith'makar in the noise as her counts. Both Duelists are certainly at their tensest, while soldiers and civilians alike are shouting at each other or the two on the field.

 

Xander sighs. "Listen." His voice is gentle, but it carries. "I, personally, do not wish to see blood spill, today or ever, over whatever petty reasons drove you to create this conflict. This is a war, gentlemen, and we need every single capable sword-arm, gunman, spell-slinger and person with resources to help us wage it. We do not need... THIS." There is a wave of arm that indicates the entire... the entire THING that's going on. Yes, he's trying to diffuse the situation. Knowing the way these things go, though, it'll probably earn him a bottle in the head too.

 

Ow. That--Darshan bends down and grasps the neck of the bottle. Grasps it, and takes a breath, two. "Dern," he says, voice tight, angry. So angry. "This is their /choice/. They /know/ the dangers." So tense. He straightens, stiffly. And makes his hand drop the battle. He doesn't want to be where he is. He doesn't like what's going on. He keeps his eyes on the two men. "THREE...!"

"EVERYBODY ... FREEEEEEZEE!" roars Arngrim's voice finally as he raises his huge arms over his head and waves them wildly. His body ahs also taken on a stoney hue as well, muscles tight and enlarged and etched in granite as an aspect of the Dran Juggernaut sweeps over im. His huge figure sinks into the ground slightly from the added weight, leaving immense footprints and the ground literally shakes as he steps forward to waltz into the melee. 

 Hugetastic, awesomassive, incredinormous guy coming through and shouting at you now. Please be frightened into silence.

 

...and Angrim's bellowing voice causes both duelists to turn suddenly. A single gunshot cracks out... and stunned, the Baron jerks back. The crowd is nearly silent, at the peaking of the tension. The Baron however... remains on his feet, as blood trickles down the thigh of his black clothing. He smiles viciously. "Thank you, you musclebound juggernaut." he smiles, lifting his gun very slowly towards the Lieutenant, who only can stare in shock and straighten. With a crack, the ball lances out, striking the Lieutenant full on in the breast. With a horrible jerk to the side, then away to the other direction, it separates from him, blasting out the top of his shoulder as he falls down with a hideous groan, landing face-first in the dirt.

 

"...clerics! To him, now!" Dern is already rushing to the Lieutenant, swiftly, aiming to jam the contents of a vial down the man's throat. Just like that. He's not about to let someone -die- if he can help it.

 

Xander is an eloquent man. He's polite, well-spoken, and almost never coarse, especially in public. But now? Now he offers one word, and it sums everything up really nicely.

 

"... shit."

 

He waves the clerics to take action, too, and looks the way of the Baron and his second with a small frown, a brief glance. Just to make sure they don't suddenly vanish or whatnot.

 

"Well..that wasn't quite how I envisioned it.." grunts arngrim as he lowers his huge arms and just stands there, looking sheepish and embaressed. But at least not as embaressed as Dern. Just almost as.

 

The Clerics rush to him quickly as Dern tried to pour something down the man's throat. The Crowd is going INSANE right now, shouting at that damnable Dwarf clearly trying to poison the downed combatant! A riot is about ready to break out, with even the soldiers ready to lunge in and secure their comrade.

 

Unfortunately, it seems that bullet did some acrobatics inside the man's body. Entering through his breast, striking a bone to his hip then out the top of his shoulder? He seems exceptionally dead.

 

Darshan stops, and rubs his hand over his chin, because what is there to do? It's hanging open and the gesture lets him manually shut it. "Ladies and gentlemen," he says, heavily. "The men before you--a Lieutenant, a Baron, they had armies. Rather than disrupt the war, they chose to settle their battle through TRADITION," he adds, cutting off the words in vicious, heated anger. He's upset at how it turned out. He's upset, as chaos rages, builds. "But even tradition, sometimes, fails. Ser Baron...THE COUNT WAS NEVER COMPLETE!" he says, voice rough.

 

"He is dead," says Dern, his expression filled with sadness. He puts his hands up. "It was a healing draught, Sister. I merely tried to help him before he expired. Swiftly -- do one of you know a spell to help him? Is there not that can be done?" So very sad. He's very upset about his own failure to stop this madness and he does give the Baron, and Arngrim, angry looks.

 

Arngrim gives Dern a sort of, 'You started it' look in return. Not exactly angry but a 'Who, me?' sort of thing. He shrugs and steps back a few paces to give more room.

 

"By Daeus...no," Darshan says, firmly, voice shaking as he straightens. "/Everyone/--" he starts to say, and the roar of the cloud, its upset. Soldiers, incensed. The onlookers... Anger overflows at it, chokes him, and even failure marks his steps as he marches over towards one of the coweled men. "Father," he growls, and blinks again. Remembers, and shakes his hand free of the cloth he'd so quickly grabbed. "Please fetch members of the Church. Daeuses'. Vardaman's. We're about to have a riot."

 

"... Dead? Not on my watch!" Xander bellows, pushing through the crowd, leaping forwards towards the man. Everyone can see it. It's so heroic it hurts! He chants a spell, and his words warp, his voice an overlay of two different ones. The other one sounds... kinda like Agril? The mage's hands glow white, and he lays them on the man's chest. The wounds heal and the poor Lieutenant takes a breath.

 

It's a MIRACLE.

 

Darshan'd let go of the priest. Now he's staring at something else. Paladin and sith'makar brain roil, neither one coming out on top as he watches, for a moment uncomprehending as the man's chest shudders and starts to breathe again. So he stares.

 

And Dern is simply gobsmacked. Also, there's a fly trying to get at the tomato in his beard.

 

Xander stands. He looks... drained. He remains there for a moment, his head down, kneeling on the grass as the clerics cart the Lieutenant, now only MOSTLY dead as opposed to EXCEPTIONALLY dead, away. Maybe he's wondering why he did it. Or he's just sitting there in a dramatic pose waiting for the cheers.

 

So when you're about to fall over--well. Claws aren't the best things to hold a person up, but Darshan tries. Or rather, he walks numbly over and grabs a fistfull of the mage's robes. "That's the last time I'm doing that," he says, voice...floating. Somewhere. "The...very last...where's the Baron?" he asks. And if there's time for a sinking feeling. It's now. 

"Now, then, Baron. If you would kindly return my pisto--" That's Xander, who just turned. And the Baron is gone. And Grey is gone. So now? He SNARLS. No, really. It's rather ferocious, too. Uh-oh, angry Warmage. He tears himself away from Darshan in a surge of adrenaline. "Find him." he says, voice low and dangerous. That was his goddamn gun!

 

Darshan glances back at the crowd, which is settling, settling. Or brewing. The mood's heady, the air's scented with blood. "Srassha," he says, one word. "We need her. Get something of the Baron's--she's going to need his scent." His tail flickers and he drops his gaze, eyes ground numbly as some part of him reaches for...well. The other half Daeus gave him.

 

Xander seems to be one step ahead of Darshan - or at least, thinking in parallel. The Baron was shot in the leg, and something of the Baron's in this case turns out to be his blood that has been spilled. There is, of course, also the cloak (should he have left it) and the gun.

 

Eventually--on two legs, it takes her a while. Eventually, the thrum of feet come from the distance, great, squishy lizard toes! Eventually, she shows up, running past to get to them. At least, well. She's focused on it. And she does find them...and drools on them, and wonders why on earth they're scrabbling in the dirt and not feeding her.

 

Because she never gets fed. Ever.

 

And then she notices Dern's beard has tomatoes on it.

 

 

It takes him a good twenty minutes to recover the bullet. But when he does, and when he gingerly picks it up in a handkerchief? Xander's rage returns, twofold. "... Svarshan. To me." he calls, in that all-too-calm voice which signifies he's FAR from calm. Also? He called him by name. It MUST be serious.

 

The sith's muzzle rumples, rumples into what could be a grin, only it's too grim for that. "I don't like this," he says, and that's it. "Dern had a point..." he looks over to where the swift's slobbering on the dwarf. And would rub the back of his neck, the universal expression at times like these--but it's covered in metal. Metal. "Mrm."

 

Metal and beer. Cheap beer. That damn bottle.

Stupid beer.

 

"Paladin, this bullet is STILL WARM." the mage remarks, chill in his voice. Even a Sith-makar should be aware of the logical impossibility of such a thing. He looks at Darshan, pointedly. "I intend to go after him. Are you with me?"

 

Darshan looks towards Srassha, and hisses something--it's with reluctance she leaves the fascinating, ketchup-covered object, before trotting that way. "We have a scout," he says, simply, and catches her underneath the chin, scratches, and begins speaking to her gently.

 

And the scent? It goes off pretty logically, and surprisingly, to the Inn where the Baron was staying.

            

"...well," and the sith'makar looks towards the mage. And looks towards Srassha. "Can't go in, girl," he tells her, regret. And looks to Xander, this time, "Can you find his window, and gum it up while I go inside?" he asks him. And, "You know this is probably going to hurt." Alot.

================================= Sendor War =================================

 

Message: 18/24                     Posted        Author

 

Duel turned near riot!             Fri Jul 24    Calamity

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Daeus on a stick, have you heard the latest? No? Ach, terrible shame lads and lasses! That dreadful duel between that wanker Baron and the Leftenant, I means. So the judge o'er the whole ordeal is lates, you see. So there's this big lizard Darshan fellah, tall as one 'er dem locomotives, they say.

 

He goes here and tells 'em "You'll be following 'dis 'ere one's rules, sees?!' and then some conjurer goes and says to thems that the Leftenant's gun was magic! I can't believe the Leftenant would be caught cheatin, and figured myself it was some foreign devilry that Baron was plottin'. So, they get into this big shoutin' contest before the duel when this Dwarf suddenly starts wavin' around big ol' tomaters, threatenin' with ems, see?

 

By the gods, then the whole crowd goes nuts ats him. I think I hit that darshan fellah with one 'er mah bottles of scrumpy, but 'es a tough lot. But dis 'ere Drannish monster comes over, roaring like some bear with a stick in 'er arse. The poor leftenant got shot down dead in all the 'citement. We were at 'each others throats, and it was a good bit of fightin', see.

 

Well, then that conjurer guy goes up and daeus strike me down, glues the poor leftenant back togethers with his hands! Like fixin' a leaky boat. Craziest thing aye's ever seen. But strike me down, you shouldda been dere!

 

==============================================================================

 

Comments (0)

You don't have permission to comment on this page.