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Grass Before Breakfast

Started by Stabbity, October 19, 2018, 10:03:54 AM

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(Personal message) - 3 hours, 11 minutes ago
Luarin Bowker, Duchess of Sun Hall, Margravine of Shinnen meets her challenger Sevastian Schwarzherzig, Legatus of Luria Ferrata for the agreed duel till surrender.
Sevastian has decided to use the 'trick moves' strategy while Luarin has chosen the 'defensive' strategy, giving Sevastian the advantage.
The duel rages for quite some time and superficial wounds are suffered on both sides. Finally, a deep blow strikes Luarin down and her second declares it a surrender.Since there was a bounty out on her, Sevastian gladly collects.
Sevastian, although the winner, has also suffered a light wound.

"Legatus, it is time." Sevastian's Tribune dutifully announced. Sevastian exited the villa he had commandeered as his headquarters and made his way to what would serve as the duelling ring. He shrugged off his cloak and breastplate, which were dutifully taken by a servant. Queen Luarin arrived just then, and he offered a smart salute with his sword.

"Your Majesty, you caused me insult by disobeying a command that was lawfully mine to give, and left me to face the monster hordes alone. It was in this very field I was wounded as a result of your turning from battle. I do not wish to harbor a grudge, but my honor demands satisfaction for this affront. Let us bleed away bad blood upon this very grass, so that we may again walk in friendship." Sevastian intoned, and stepped into the hastily marked ring.

His opponent did the same, and Sevastian's second counted down, and gave the signal to begin. Luarin took up a defensive posture, and Sevastian carefully closed the gap, feinting a thrust and following it with a high slash. His technique showed considerable experience and skill, and it was clear he had the advantage... If only just.

The two traded blows at an increasingly furious pace, Sevastian's feints and maneuvering failing to draw Luarin from her defensive posture. Sweat beaded on Sevastian's brow, and he knew he couldn't keep this pace up for forever. He began to force himself to breath heavier, and held back on his blows to give the impression he was tiring, and then with a dramatic flourish... He was exposed. Luarin thrust home, hoping to finish the match, but Sevastian had been waiting for this. He stepped into the thrust, catching the blade in his thigh. He cried out in pain, and Luarin's eyes went wide as she tried to pull the blade free... But she was too late. Sevastian thrust his blade home, and she crumpled to the ground, bleeding... But still alive.

The Queen's second called for a halt and healers rushed onto the field. Sevastian had the sword removed and his leg bandaged. He began to limp off the field when a strangly dressed man appeared from seemingly nowhere.

"Legatus Sevastian Schwarzherzig?"

"I am." Sevastian replied, his piercing eyes sizing up the man before him.

"Sign here." The man intoned, holding out a quill and a piece of parchment.

"Luarin Bowker had a price of 2,000 gold on her head to whosoever kills or incapacitates her. The prize is yours."

Sevastian looked surprised but happily signed the reciept.

"2000 bonds in your name, which can be redeemed at any Ferratan bank. Take care." The man tipped his hat, and was gone again. Sevastian's Tribune shot Sevastian a puzzled look.

"Legatus, who was that?"

Sevastian shook his head.

"Bounty Comisssion Official. Strange bunch."
Life is a dance, it is only fitting that death sing the tune.


(Personal message) - 2 hours, 55 minutes ago

"Lega-" Sevastian's Tribune began, before he cut her off.

"I know." Sevastian growled, buckling his sword to his belt. Pushed into a second duel less than a week later, Sevastian was in no mood, particularly given the circumstances surrounding this duel. Either him or Praetor Benedict wouldn't be walking away from this one, and all because the Praetor decided to lie. Sevastian stepped out of the lord's manor into a storm of activity, the takeover was running well, but it still kept everyone's hands full. Sevastian marched to the dueling ring, and after a short wait, Praetor Benedict and his second arrived.

Sevastian simply drew his blade and stepped into the ring, glaring at Benedict as if he could erase the man from existence with his gaze. Benedict stepped into the ring and the seconds wasted no time counting down. The two men threw themselves at each other, both opting to eschew technique for raw, unchecked aggression. Both men swung their blades with both hands, and when they met Sevastian could feel the ring of the blades reverberate down his arms. The two traded back and forth, and then locked blades. Sevastian stared daggers at his opponent, his hatred almost palpable. The two seemed evenly matched, when Sevastian pushed forward, and stomped on Benedict's foot, causing him to recoil in pain. Sevastian had his opening, and swept his blade in a downward arc, severing Benedict's hands at the wrists.

The Praetor opened his mouth and cried out, Sevastian lashed out, and drove his blade home. The blade entered Benedict's open mouth, and emerged out the back of his head, instantly silencing his cries of pain. Sevastian twisted the blade and drew it back out. Pulling out a handkerchief, Sevastian cleaned the blood from his blade before sheathing it, and silently marched out of the ring, as attendants scurried to and fro to deal with Luria Ferrata's first dead noble. Sevastian stopped at the edge of the ring, turned, and muttered a short prayer for the departed, and left.
Life is a dance, it is only fitting that death sing the tune.