Duel
message to everyone in Brive - 2 hours, 47 minutes ago
Andross Blint, Duke of Blades, Baron of Tabost meets his challenger Godric Tórrarin ka Habb, Chief of Justice of Eponllyn, Knight of Oligarch for the agreed duel till death.
Godric Tórrarin has decided to use the 'overrun' strategy while Andross has chosen the 'defensive' strategy, giving Andross the advantage.
The duel runs its course, until Andross delivers a fatal blow. The healers carry Godric Tórrarin away, seriously wounded but still breathing.Since there was a bounty out on him, Andross gladly collects.
Roleplay from Andross Blint
Message sent to all nobles of Eponllyn (30 recipients) - 16 minutes ago
Godric launched himself at Andross with equal parts ferocity, and strength. His spear was akin to a deadly stinger on a giant hornet and he wielded it with brutal efficiency and strength. He was a master of the weapon, and of combat. He outclassed Andross. Andross knew any attempts at an aggressive strategy would likely be met with a quick and swift death.
Godric swung his spear at Andross and it took every ounce of training and strength Andross had to fend him off. He countered and parried the strikes he had the strength to block and dodged and evaded those that would surely have broken his guard, punched through his obsidian black armor, and killed him. Andross fell into a battle rhythm, not by choice, it was instinct. He was reacting to the duel instead of controlling it. But Leatho's teachings were saving his life right now and he let them.
Steel clashed against steel, the sound of armored boots scraping the stone floor echoed throughout the chamber. Godric had entered and readied himself so quickly that nobody really had the time to react or say much of anything to prevent the duel. Andross and Godric danced death around the temple, Andross far more nimble and agile than the large Torrarin but Godric exceeded him in strength and skill. Andross was sweating, his arms starting to tingle and threatening to go numb if he sustained much more of the vicious onslaught of Godric. This duel needed to end. Soon. Andross gritted his teeth and fought on, counter, parry, riposte, strike. One after the other, flowing and weaving among each other. If the shock of two sons of Xavax fighting hadn't been the mood in the temple, if the near sureness of death wasn't as pervasive as it was, this duel might've been an example the tutors would go to for years to come.
Andross shook his head and returned to the moment. He could afford no distractions, not when death was clawing it's way towards him, ripping down every attempt at a barrier he could muster. He needed to end this duel, or death would surely trap him in it's permanent clutches. He saw an opening. It was a small chance, but it was all he had. He feinted with his body, telegraphing the strike as subtly as he could. Godric moved his spear to block, and as he realized it was a feint threw two lighting fast strikes towards Andross. Counter, riposte, strike. Andross stepped into Godric, a dangerous place to be, and one he didn't intend to remain in for long. He smashed the pommel of his blade into Godric's cheek with all his might, causing the Arbiter to spit blood. Andross side stepped and spun his sword and slashed down with all the strength his faitgued muscles could summon. He chewed threw Godric's gambeson and felt steel bite into flesh. Pulling his sword out, ready to fend off the strike he was sure was coming. Godric grunted, and Andross feared that he wouldn't stop, that he'd made a fatal error. But Godric slumped to one knee, blood pooling . He looked up at Andross with hate in his eyes and with the half-strength he could muster and struck at Andross in an attempt to catch him in a moment of carelessness. Andross batted away the spear and raised his sword, preparing to sever the head and herald the end of this legend of Xavax. His eyes flashed over Selenia, who either hid her emotions behind a mask of stone or hadn't decided what she felt yet. Selenia. The thought was profound, it infested his mind with rapid abandon.
The sound of Godric's shield rattling to the stone floor as he lost his grip on it. Andross's eyes refocused on the Arbiter, Godric Torarrin, lying on the stone floor, his blood pooling beneath him. Andross saw his chest rise and fall, Godric's eye fluttered before they shut. Torrarin. Ayden. Thoughts of Ayden flooded his mind. She would be ashamed. A tear fought its way to his eye and streaked down his cheek. Andross lowered his blade, breathing heavily, and whispered, more to himself, than to Godric. "Rest now, brother. The Maelstrom isn't ready for you yet."
Andross stood over his mortally wounded opponent as the Abjur boy checked the downed' judge's vitals. Andross was already sure the Judge would live. Before anything else could happen though, the Duke of Blades heard the distinct sound of metal leaving leather behind him.
***
Roleplay from Kanchelsis Abjur
Message sent to all nobles of Eponllyn (29 recipients) - 2 hours, 31 minutes ago
"Perhaps it is good that my father is dead. To imagine we would see a day when two of the greatest of Xavax would turn their blades on one another for the "honor" of a foreign Queen!" Kanchelsis had left the blood stained banner standing outside the temple and had made his way, mostly unnoticed, through the crowd of retainers in time to witness the confrontation, his left hand on the hilt of the short sword on his belt. "What, do we not have enough enemies to kill that we have to start killing one another?" As the spear fell from Godric's nerveless fingers, the young knight shot out of the crowd, blade drawn, and stepped over the Arbiter's prone form. Once he was sure the Duke of Blades was not going to strike, he knelt, checking the old warriors wounds and, finding a pulse, pulled some gauze from a pouch and saw to the wounds as best he could before motioning for some of the Fearless to take the stricken man to the Priest's quarters.
***
Godric launched himself towards Andross. His heart true, he would resort to no trickery this day. Instead he vowed to pummel the traitor into dust. They did not trade blows, instead Andross weathered the strikes like a willow in a storm.
"Home."
Godric shakes the thought. He sees the clustered, frantic energy of the room. Selenia is unmoved. The elder priest has restricted his vita. The crowd is boiling like the straits at Valkyrja.
"Home."
Godric maintains focus. Parried, dodged, Godric is relentless in his assault. He must protect Xavax from Andross. He will see their reputation destroyed. The war will be lost. They will be cast to the winds. He wants to go home.
"Home."
How the Shrine must look, warm Sun, cool wind, the labyrinth of passes and alleys leading up to the keep. Godric must fight for his home. How his bones would ache climbing up and down those streets. His bones ache. Godric is old. Andross is very quick. He snarls as he renews the assault. He is trying to overwhelm the room. Trying very, very hard.
The Nourishing Tree, the vital spark, the connection between all. He is spreading his rot. Elysia frowns on him, for such anger to belie such hope. Godric ignores the lesser gods, Tor booms in the distance, growing closer and closer. Great heavy footsteps on the temple floors. Ancient bindings undone by the Dead God. They are all speaking to him now in turn, but his heart pounds louder and louder.
"Home."
The voice of an old lady pushes through the mayhem. "Home? Oh, I can send you home. The fire is warm, mother has put soup on again. Fresh bread from the tall, dark man. Eat up! I will send you home, look!" Godric sees Andross err, exposing his liver. "Go home, boy. Don't you want to?"
It was a feint. Godric tries to recover. Riposte. A pommel in the cheek to reward his fault. He hears the old woman cackle gently as the blade cuts deep into his flesh.
"Home."
Godric grunts, slumping to a knee. He looks up at Andross, who is shocked by his own success. He tries all he can to drive the spear into his gut but it is whipped out of his hand. The blade is lifted high and Godric can feel the bloodlust drooling from Andross.
"Boy."
Tor is here now. Godric trembles. He is unworthy. He always has been and he knew it. He dies today. The horror washes over him. He sees the wolf-friend, who snickers, "done yourself in good this time, haven't you? Toren do not die. We endure. Put the shield down and accept Him." The shield clatters to the ground as Godric collapses. "Rest now. Tor says you are not going home today. He rewards His faithful."
Godric's eyes flutter as he drifts from this world.
