Felix was seated down below, armored, armed, and waiting for the event to begin. There was an easy smile on his lips, though he turns frequently when others arrive, just to see who all else might be coming. The slight tap of wood on the floor underfoot can be heard coming from the smith's position, though he otherwise keeps his silence, both excitement and anticipation evident in his bearing.

The little vixen enters the Hart's vast arena through the large heavy twin doors that lead in from the main hall. Already the arena is filling with revelers and combatants. Valencia stops to speak with the Hart's master barkeep, Maggnus to offer last minute instructions. The large broad shouldered silvering haired ex-solider grins and gives her a wink to let her know all is well as a bevy of the Hart's lovely barmaids come to see to serving the guests. The atmosphere is jovial and filled with anticipation.

Ian seems, as usual, as though he's here to watch, rather than fight. He has a drink that he's nursing along as he sits at the bar. Those intense eyes follow the people who filter in, one after the other.

While he'll compete, Theron is driven here by the promise of drinks more than anything else. The Sword of Ostria has a grin stamped on his features as he heads on right over to the bar, so as to take advantage of those libations, before he's joining the ranks of the competitors.

Darrow enters with sharp clicks of his sea boots, and makes for the bar. A reserved nod is given to Valencia, who's organized things, and he takes up a spot which might be customary near Ian, though silent for the moment he remains. A glance is given to those nearby - Apollis and the person who arrives and heads for the bar at the same time, Theron.

Having just arrived, Caspian looks around a moment, trying to decide where to sit. Though when he spies the bar he heads over that way, moving a seat there, giving a dip of his head in greeting to Ian. "Good morning, my lord," he says to the man before turning to the bartender to order some rum.

Ian nods a greeting to Caspian, and makes a vague gesture towards the empty seat next to him in what's probably an invitation.

Lethe arrives to the event and takes an eager look around. She goes to get a drink and takes a moment to enjoy it.

Seeing that he was invited, Caspian doesn't refuse, and slides on over to the stool next to him. "Thank you, my lord. How has the day faired so far?" When his rum comes he thanks the bartender and pays him, then takes a sip of the drink and lets out a sigh to release the burn.

Valencia smiles brightly as she moves through the room like a petite shadow, offering warm welcomes, seeing that each guest is well cared for and happy. Ian is welcomed as always with a fond smile and warm incline of head as is Darrow who also gets a bright and sweet smile offered in his direction. Waldemai a wave and a nod to Lizette, a pretty buxom barmaid who immediately takes a tankard of ale up the tall ladder and up into the rafters to where the smith, and one of the Hart's beloved patrons, likes to sit for the matches. Caspian is shown a respectful incline of head, though here eyes glimmer playfully, and Lethe a bright happy smile as she is recognized. "Welcome back," the little fox beams at her.

Waldemai grabs the ale and waves down to the Princess. "Thanks, your highness," he calls. Gonna be a great night for a fight!

"It's been interesting," Ian allows to Caspian.

"Interesting is always better then bad," Caspian reasons to Ian, not at all minding the cool nature of the man sitting next to him, offering a dip of his head and a smile back to Valenica. Looking over Ian for a moment, he says, "I see you are not dressed for a fight. A shame, I would have loved to test my skills against you. Though I suspect you would have won."

Lethe looks to Valencia and smiles. "Thank you. It looks like it will be a fun evening." She looks up at Waldemai and greets him with a quick wave.

Theron approaches Valencia once he has secured a tankard of ale for himself, drinking before bowing his head just deep enough it might be seen as a measure of respect to their apparent host. Her title carries far, after all. "Your Highness. Lord Theron Mazetti, Sword of Ostria, at your service."



Barbrey is no stranger to the challenge of a brawl. But she is an older women, a Prodigal of the north, and though she has been voice in Arx for quite some time, she is still stranger to many of these young folk in the games house. Nodding curtly, she struts into the house and takes a seat by some of her fellow nobles, twiddling her thumbs aimlessly.



Ian shakes his head to Caspian. "I don't usually fight here," he explains. "I'm sure we'll run into each other at the Gauntlet before too long."

"Master Felix," Darrow addresses the smith with an even tone. "It's been some time since I've seen you. I hope that your smithy and craft proceed well."

Caspian has joined the bar.

"I think so, too, Missere Waldemai," Valencia calls up to him with a little laugh, her large dark eyes brightening even more. Glancing over, Theron is noticed with his flash of a grin that makes her want to grin back, "Good evening, sir," the little vixen smiles, happy to see his quest for a drink is resolved. "I agree, my lady. I hope you will perhaps sit with me this evening?" she invites. She turns and there is Lord Theron introducing himself, "How do you do, Lord Theron. I am the Princess Valencia," she offers back with a warm smile and the offer of a delicate hand in greeting. "Welcome to my Hart. You will be sparring this evening perhaps?" A smile is offered to Barbrey arrives and takes a seat, and the raven-haired princess scans the growing crowd. There is a pause and her lips part and then break into a brilliant smile and Felix is seen,though she does graciously return to her conversation before excusing herself to greet the man enthusiastically.

The hand is taken, and Theron kisses Valencia's knuckles softly while he looks up at her, dark brown gaze meeting her own for a moment before his grip loosens upon it, his expression just as warm. "I will, yes. Judiciously, perhaps, but I will be sparring. I will need to peruse your armor and weapons, though."


Having been keeping to himself, the address to Felix finds him lifting his head with a blink, before he inclines his head. "My Lord Darkwater. Well enough, though I am recently returned, and the shop has only reopened some days ago, it has seen no small number of people pass through the doors. Hopefully it will see you there in the future" he hadn't wanted to interrupt Valencia, but when she looks his way, he doesn't shy from meeting her gaze, standing so that he an offer her a proper bow across the distance, without interrupting.

Mongoose arrives, following Joscelin.

Mongoose have been dismissed.

The little vixen looks up at Theron and beams a little more. "I shall cheer for you then. Please be so welcome in my Hart. I hope this is the first of many times we see you here," Valencia says with a little nod. "If you will pardon me. I must say hello to an old friend, but if it pleases, you are very welcome to sit at my table and tell me a little about yourself." Earnest invitation offered, she takes her leave to properly greet Felix. She moves swiftly across the floor, in and out of the crowd, arriving before him. For a moment it looks as though she might lose all decorum and jump up into his arms and hug the man, but some schooling keeps her her wild ways, though just barely. "Missere Felix, I am... I am so so happy to see you! Welcome back to my Hart! I have missed you so very much," she says, her warm, smooth honey-sweet voice filled with fondness for him. "Welcome home, missere. I cannot wait to catch up with you."

Ian is having a quiet conversation with Caspian at the bar. He nods towards Darrow once as he explains something.

Lethe takes another sip of her drink and looks for a place to sit.


Joscelin Arterius is not a frequent visitor of the Hart, but makes an exception on a particularly random day. That it's busy means there's more to lose herself, so she arrives with no fanfare to the hopping establishment. Dark curls bounce as she heads to the Arena, peeling her coat as she goes, revealing gold matte silk tunic that's backless and sleeveless, and form-fitting leather trousers that hug her wide hips. The plump, pretty jeweler is offered a seat and the woman promptly orders a drink as she settles in, curiously peering at the goings-on.

Apollis enters the Arena and pushes through some gathered spectators. The Golden Hart has been recommended to him and it seems to be some sort of event going on tonight. He pulls his dark hood from his head and smooths back his fair-hair.

Felix does grin, not restraining the expression as he greets Valencia. "Princess Velenosa. It is truly a pleasure to see you once more, and to enjoy the comfort of your Hart again. Nothing could keep me away, now that I have returned to the city." Perhaps it's his birth, or bearing, but the smith doesn't hesitate to take a step forward and wrap her up in a hug - one arm wrapping around her to squeeze for a moment, the other keeping his weapon from falling over or from smacking into her. It's just for a moment, before he releases and takes a step back. "Besides, with the crowd tonight, I will perhaps be able to attract further business to my own shop." eyes gleaming with good humor. "And you are looking as divine as ever - but please, don't let me keep you from your other customers, I know well how much attention tonight will take."

Lethe has joined the corner table.

Joscelin has joined the ringside table.

Seeing Joscelin, the woman is given a wave and a friendly smile, though then his eyes go upon Lord Darrow a moment before he turns back to Ian and continues their conversation at the bar.


Joscelin is momentarily distracted, surprised to see Felix Meadson here and ready to spar, it seems. Caspian is then given her attention, she gives him a nod and a smile in return. Seems she showed up on an interesting night!

With a nod to the Velenosa, Theron flashes her a smile, watching the Princess head over to greet Felix for a moment afterwards. There's a nod to the smith from afar and then he's taking the Princess' invitation to seat himself at her table. He'll turn to see Joscelin come in, watching the jeweler with interest; he sips his ale, in relative, but watchful silence.

Valencia hugs Felix back without hesitation, the little vixen giving over to his affectionate welcome wholeheartedly. "I am so happy right now. You were missed," she admits as she finally releases him from the small but mighty hug, her cheeks flushing pink as she suddenly realizes that she has her duties to fulfill. "Oh, your pardon. You are right, please excuse me for a moment," she says to Felix and nodding to Darrow, Ian, Caspian and the others nearby. "I should open the event properly." With that she is off again, a big bright smile for Joscelin as she arrives. "Welcome, Mistress Josclein, I'm so happy to see you!" And one for the dashing Lycene lord Apollis, who causes a pause with is striking pale looks. The little vixen blinks and seems to remind herself she has work to do and slips off to step onto the sands.



Gracefully clad in simple fine linen gown that embraces slender waist and enticing curves, Valencia glides into the center of the Ring of Valor. There is a gracious incline of her head as she offers radiant and welcoming smile to the room. Pausing for a lull, she calls out to the crowd, her voice ringing out across the arena bright and clear.

"My lords and ladies, misseres and madams, dearest friends, again, welcome to my Hart. As always, tonight is a night to unwind and enjoy the remarkable skills presented in the ring in excellent company with a strong drink or two."

"All here are welcome to participate and the bar is open for your pleasure,” the little southern princess invites the growing crowd with a sparkle in her eye.

I would also like to thank you all tonight for the recent support you and the Champions have offered, we were able to help so many families and businesses harmed by the fire. Thanks your kindness shown at our three events, we have raised over 100,000 silver and 669 economic writs. All of which will go to this fine cause,” the little vixen continues with a grateful smile. “Thank you again for your help. It will mean so much to so many,” she says, clearly moved by this show of generosity. “As always we will continue to raise funds to raise spirits and for good causes and tonight any donations received will help us continue this good work. If you can spare some support or would like to join the Hart and help us support the peoples of Arx and our realm, we would be so grateful. These are hard times for many, but if we all pull together we can make a different.”

“And so, as always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kindness and friendship, and for blessing our Hart with your good will, fine company and generous spirit.

And now, let us all come together and enjoy another evening of fine friends and excellent skill. We hope you enjoy the festivities! Much life, luck and love to you all! Thank you! Warriors, if you will take to the sands!"

Waldemai cheers Valencia's speech. "Hear! Hear!" he shouts. "My gambling winnings for the day will go to the Golden Hart fund!"

Felix sees Joscelin right as Valencia greets her as well. Growing still for a moment before he relaxes, and offers a warm smile to the woman. He's about to go and greet her when Valencia begins her opening speech and calls for the warriors to take the sands. He lifts a hand in greeting to her for now, holding it for a moment before he turns to follow the same path the Princess had taken. Looking to unwind a bit this evening, shifting his feet a bit as he takes that first step, making sure his boots have a grip before he takes the next, taking up a position and then relaxing where he stands, leaning into the polearm that he's brought with him.

Caspian has left the bar.

Caspian has joined the ring of valor.

Felix has joined the ring of valor.

Valencia has joined the ringside table.

Caspian checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 10 higher.

Caspian doesn't need to be told twice. He rises from his stool, sets his rum down, nods to Ian and then heads for the ring, walking towards the center before doing a sudden roll and pops upon his feet. He turns to the crowd, "Before we begin, I want you to join in the song of my people, which we sing before every battle!" And then he begins to clap his hands. Anyone who's been on the street today might have heard this song. He sings as if he expects the whole crowd to join, "Say it again! Who's that man among men? And we'll say it once more! Who's that hero next door? Who's that super success, don't you know can't you guess? Ask his fans and his five hangers on.... There's just one guy in town who's got all of it DOWWWWWWWWWN. And his name's C-O-R... C-O-R-B... C-O-R-B-A.....CORBANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

Caspian checked charm + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 7 higher.

Waldemai cheers Caspian. "Yes, indeedy! THat's the way to start out a night!" He waves for another ale.

Apollis spots Valencia before she begins her speech and when it seems like she was staring at him he smiles. He stands listening to her speech with his arms crossed. After she finishes he walks over close to her. "Fine establishment," he says, a little too quietly for the room. "What do they call you?"

By the end of the song, Ian is looking down at his glass and grinning.

Theron has joined the ringside table.

Apollis has joined the ringside table.

Darrow has joined the bar.

Felix doesn't bother to restrain the laugh, and - eventually, joins in the clapping. He hadn't heard it, but it was done in good fun. With weapon haft tucked into the crook of his arm to keep it from falling as he joins in. "I'm going to have to hear the story of how that got started, from someone. Either tonight or in the future." looking Caspian over as the man stands in the center of the ring - glancing over to Valencia to see if she was going to start them off.

Caspian wields Nature's Fury.

Felix wields Rising Squall.

Once the song is over Caspian draws his knife, turning to Felix and offers him a wide grin, telling the man. "I'm ready whenever you are. Just give the word," he ask the man, pointing the knife towards him.

Joscelin cups her hands around her mouth, shouting, "FELIX, REMEMBER, YOU'VE GOT REACH!" And, grinning, applauds and cheers the smith on.

Valencia smile again as the first of the evening's warriors take to the sands to distinguish themselves and the smile grows even more as Caspian begins to sing. She turns as Apollis arrives at her table and she smiles up at him, "I am so happy you find it so well. Welcome to my Hart. I am the Princess Valencia. Would you care to sit?" she asks with a warm incline of head and the offer of a delicate hand, pausing only a moment to smile at nods, inviting the match to proceed.

Waldemai calls down from the rafters, "I'll bet five hundred silver on the shorter one!" That would be Caspian.

Felix nods, and shifts his hand lower on the polearm, to heft the butt end from the sands. While he doesn't loose the good natured appearance, he does become more focused on the man in front of him as he grasps the haft with his other hand. A short salute with the weapon is made, before the smith advances slowly across the sands, the spear tip of his weapon held pointed to the other man, to help prevent a headlong rush to get inside his guard.

Apollis nods his head and takes a seat looking down into the right and all the action happening around him. He pulls his black leather gloved from his hands and puts them down on the table in from of him as he leans back in his chair.

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Gerard the bookkeeper have been dismissed.

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Waldemai calls again, "Five hundred on the shorter one. Does anyone want to back the smith?"

Felix takes minor damage.

Joscelin raises her hand. "I will, double it."

Lethe has left the corner table.

Felix takes moderate damage.

Waldemai points to the guildmaster. "You are faded! A thousand it is!" And that means it's time to cheer the fight.

Valencia looks up to the ceiling and is about to accept the bet when Joscelin cries out. She grins a little more and turns her eyes to the sands, while speaking to the guests at the table.

Ectorion enters in quietly, dressed in the armor of the King's Own and with his helm at his side. He looks around curiously, then drifts to find a place to watch the goings on, lurking in the background for the moment to see just what is afoot.

Felix struggles a little during the initial exchanges - sometimes deflecting the attacks from the other man, but two of them manage to get through and tag the smith in places that his armor doesn't quite fully protect him. Grunts when they strike, and the smith attempts to retaliate. Each of the points of the weapon he uses are attempted - thrust, sweep and drag, but either he's already had too much to drink, or the smith came somewhat unprepared for the fight - the slower weapon not yet landing a strike against his opponent.

Lethe has joined the ringside table.

Ian exchanged a few words with Darrow, but now the fight has leeched most of his attention away from the Darkwater Lord.

Caspian Caspian moves like a dancer, his movements fluid and precise, graceful and purposeful. He keeps close to Felix, making sure it's hard for the man to use that larger weapon. He scores a few cuts upon the man, grinning as he gets low and moves to make an upward slice along the man's chest area.

Felix takes moderate damage.

Felix ends up taking another strike in the next flurry of exchanges, but gains some focus after that, using his weapon to deflect or taking the strikes in parts of his armor that deflect the blow without causing him injury. The smith is grinning, starting to sweat a little, but clearly enjoying himself as the pair exchange strikes on the sands.

Caspian checked dexterity + legerdemain at difficulty 15, rolling 24 higher.

That upwards slice was a success! Though Caspian's other attacks are ether parried or the knife fails to cut through the shadowed leather. Caspian is grinning as well, looking like he's having a lot of fun, twirling his blade in his hand before making a thrust towards Felix.

Felix takes serious damage.

Valencia gasps as Caspian takes the first hit and then a second, rising in her seat and winces, her attention focused on the fight, but he is resilient and returns to meet Caspian's graceful attacks.

Waldemai applauds loudly, getting louder as he gets drunk. "Great fight, men! Keep it up!"

Felix grunts as that thrust finds itself striking hard - enough to cause the taller smith to stagger slightly before he gathers himself up. He knows he'll have bruises and cuts to treat tonight, but it doesn't seem to bother him too much, as the following exchange leads to neither of them striking another hit. Felix has, at this point, taken several blows, but is keeping up, his breathing even, if starting to grow a bit heavy.

Caspian is looking a little more winded then Felix is, his movements slower, but still carrying that grace. But he doesn't let up, should Felix get any distance upon him, this fight will turn south for the shorter Thrax man in a heartbeat. So he continues to press his attack, switching his knife to a reverse grip and attempts to cut at the man's arm.

Caspian takes moderate damage.

Felix checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 17, rolling 15 higher.

Felix remains capable of fighting.

Apollis claps as the action begins to heat up. He watches Valencia's reactions and smiles to himself.

Joscelin shouts, "FELIX! PRETEND YOUR SPEAR IS A HAMMER!" Because yeah. That will help.

Ian has forgotten his drink by this point. He leans forward and watches the fight as it draws towards its conclusion.


It only took one more exchange - Felix finally manages to get a strike in, but it comes at the cost of getting hit again himself. Enough to give the smith pause, groaning at the precision of the strike - knowing that in a fight it would have been a killing blow. Stepping back and letting the tip of his weapon lower, before offering a bow; accepting the loss with apolmb. "Well fought, I concede the win to you, Master Caspian." not unable to go on, but it was in the nature of the spar - in the smith's eyes, to accept the loss when it was clear the other was so skilled.

Enyo wanders into the arena, wearing armor, although judging by her very huge lack of attention for any actual fighting happening, it might all just be a fashion statement instead of some effort to turn up and like...fight.

Valencia can't help but laugh at Joscelin's calls of encouragement, though she tries very hard to not jump up and call out as well. The woman's and Waldemai's joyous embrace of this spirit of the event brings a beautiful smile to the little dark eyed foxes full lips.

Waldemai applauds the fight. This involves much spilling of ale from the rafters, of course. "Well fought, both of you! Well done! A good match and a gracious winner!"

Red Armor Tournament Chest is now unlocked.

At Felix's concede Caspian steps back and sheaths his knife, bowing back to Felix, "Well fought, Master Felix. I enjoyed that fight immensely." Turning to the crowd, he bows to them like a stage preformer might, exagerated and sweeping, "I am Caspian Wild, duelist for hire. Thank you for watching our bout, which was quite fun, and thank you for lovely princess who gave us this chance!"

Theron gets Vermilion Drake Sabatons from Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Silver Armor Tournament Chest is now unlocked.

Theron gets Vermilion Drake Cuirass from Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Weapons Rack is now unlocked.

Theron gets Vermilion Drake Helm from Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Theron gets Vermilion Drake Arm Armor from Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Theron gets Vermilion Drake Cuisses from Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Theron gets Vermilion Drake Gauntlets from Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Theron gets Golden Hart Arena Claymore from Weapons Rack.

Theron wields Golden Hart Arena Claymore.

Joscelin stands and cheers, clapping and hooting with the best of them on behalf of Felix.

The first bout of the night seems to sit very well, so much so that she leaves her seat, jumping up to applaud cheerfully, "Bravo!!! Well fought! Thank you both!" she calls out to the men below, a warm and respectful nod offered to both, her eyes flashing with pure delight and joy.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll go peruse the chests and have a little go, myself," Theron states to his table, flashing Valencia a smile before he heads on over to the red chest, putting on armor quickly, and then takes the claymore from the racks, weighing it in his hand. Deeming it appropriate, he heads on over to the arena.

Valencia claims that.

Lethe claps after the first fight. "Great job! That was quite the fight."

Theron is overheard praising Felix for: Good mettle!

Joscelin reclaims her seat, watching Theron as he passes. "Good luck," she calls to him, before seeking Waldemai to pay him for her lost bet.

Enyo glances around, and gets caught by a messenger, which causes her to roll her eyes and slip back out.

Ectorion drifts back out after a few minutes.

As Theron passes Valencia offers him a little smile, curious as to how this new lord might fair on sands, and another warm nod offered to Felix and Caspian as they depart the sands only to be met by a pair of pretty smiling barmaids with drinks for them both. She settles down again.


Felix offers Caspian a short bow, then makes his way out of the sands to clear the area for others to take their fighting. Taking a moment to give Valencia a smile and a bow, as the hostess, before he exits completely. It was his turn to grab a drink- choosing a larger tankard and filled with dark ale, giving time for Joscelin to pay off her bet before he approaches her. "Your support is, as ever, so very much appreciated. It is good to see you again - I hope you have been well?"

Caspian does depart the fighting grounds to grab himself a drink, guzzling it down and letting out a sigh of relief. He gives a smile over to Valencia as he heads back to the bar to sit himself down, looking over to Ian, "Thanks for watching my drink." His eyes go to the fighting grounds, looking to see who will be fighting next."

Felix has left the ring of valor.

Caspian has left the ring of valor.

Caspian has joined the bar.

Theron has left the ringside table.

Theron has joined the ring of valor.

Joscelin is deeply amused by her former beau, chuckling and squeezing his hand in greeting before letting him loose to sit or drink as he likes. "Busy, as ever, my friend. How are you? I've heard you've returned to working your forge. I was sad when you left it but pleased to hear you're back at it again."

Waldemai waves to Joscelin when the pouch of coins arrives. "It goes to the Golden Hart fund," he calls. "Who will match it?" He sends the pouch down to Valencia.


"To be fair, I am glad to be back at it, myself - I had been meaning to seek you out sooner, but I had business as soon as I opened the doors, if you can believe it. He moved to sit nearby, so he could continue the conversation, leaning his weapon against his shoulder. A sigh of almost relief as he took weight off his feet. "It's been a long few momths, but.. I am remembering the peace of the forge again."

Felix has joined the ringside table.

Darrow stands from the bar, his features grave as he moves with intent purpose towards the sands and Theron. He's silent as he proceeds past the social tables, the barflies and observers. The Knight of Sorrow speaks with a level stoicism to the Mazetti lord. "I am Darrow, of House Darkwater. If you wish, I will match you this night."

Ian sets his glass on the surface of the bar, and then turns back towards the ring, minus one more distraction.

"I am Lord Theron Mazetti, it would be a pleasure, no doubt, to spar with you, Lord Darrow." The Ostrian offers the flourish of his claymore by way of greeting, before he's straightening and the blade is placed into a protective, but not entirely defensive stance.

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Waldemai doesn't hesitate when he sees that one of the competitors has a Very Big Sword. "I'll put a thousand on Lord Theron," he calls, along with his much more common refrain, "And ale all around for the rafters!"

Valencia smiles to Apollis as he introduces himself. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord," she says perhaps a little shyly as she looks up to see Felix arrive, "Well fought, Missere Felix. Thank you. You would join our table," the little fox invites the Thrax smith. The donation of silver finds her way from Waldemain and she looks up and calls out, "Thank you, my dearest Missere Waldemai. As always, we will see this used for good things," she promises and nods gratefully as once again, little Lizzet bring the man another ale, her small feet balancing easily on the beam in which the Lycene Smith sits. As Darrow rises like a looming dark cloud to accept the challenge. The little vixen watches the man step to the sand to meet Lord Theron, her breath caught a little as he moves. "Lord Darrow is one of the most exciting fighters I have seen. I am curious to see how Lord Theron does. If they are both as formidable as I think they are, this will be a brilliant match."

Theron takes serious damage.

Theron takes minor damage.

Darrow takes serious damage.

Theron takes serious damage.

Joscelin means to respond to Felix, but the fight soon takes her attention. She stands up and HOOTS at Theron in encouragement, clapping! And- WOW. OUCH.

Apollis firstimpression/all Valencia=Wow. She's beautiful and so very charming. She is game for my sweet rum, too. I think I'm going to like the Golden Hart if Valencia is found there. I want to talk to her.

The fighting begins. Theron, naturally, doesn't know this opponent. And he realizes that the Darkwater is formidable the moment he takes a particularly nasty hit across the torso, surprised. He receives a couple more hits as he is on the defensive, gaze narrowing before he grins, and he sends the brunt of his blade onto the man's shoulder right as he takes yet another hit. There's a reputation to build here, after all, even if he's apparently not a match for this Thraxian Lord.

Darrow's hands tighten around the grip of his flail. He steps forward, and though the speed of the attack might be surprising, the brutality behind it might not be, for the dour man. He crashes the weapon into the side of Theron, and although one of the blows is glance, he twists his arms up and then back, bringing the heavy tear-drop heads of the weapon crashing back down, painful even blunted in preparation. A strike back lands on the hollow-featured man, but it seems pain or injury to himself seems little to deter him - he's seems little concerned with his own wellbeing.

Ian says a few words to Caspian at the bar, but once the fight starts, it's pretty clear that's the only thing he's aware of. Somehow, he hones his focused gaze to an even sharper point; his impossibly blue eyes glitter as he follows the movements of the flail's three heads.

Darrow takes moderate damage.

Theron takes minor damage.


"Thank you, your Highness." using a cloth from his belt to wipe sweat off of his forehead, then drains half his tankard, before turning his gaze to the fight down below. Watching the exchange with a bit of a wince, before he comments, more to himself. "Note to self, take the time to go pick up a different set of armor before coming to spar." a little self depreciating, but he laughs a moment later before focusing on the fight once more.

Joscelin has left the ringside table.

Darrow swings, though the manner of attack seems able to be read by Theron, as the thud and kick of sand evinces as his weapon crashes into the ground. The tear-drop heads drag in the sand as he slings them back, pressing the attack still.

Flails are nasty things, and moving around in heavy armor is a problem when it comes to a nimble and powerful adversary. Theron, however, hits a certain stride, managing to catch his blade into the man's guard while taking a hit that could have done a lot more harm to him than it did, were it not for the steel. There is a twitch of his lips, as though the Mazetti comes alive right in the heat of battle, in the swing of the blade. He takes a couple more swings at his armor in retribution to that attack, failing to make purchase on Darrow's strikes, but he takes this in stride, the stance a little more guarded.

Valencia watches the brutal fight unfold, a delicate hand lifting to her lips as the fight continues, quite forgetting her manners for a moment. She blinds as heavy hit upon heavy are offered back and forth. She blinks and turns to the table, "Your pardon, I have not seen such a fight in some time," she says a little awestruck. "I.. right, Lord Apollis, if I may introduce Lady Lethe, Mistress Joscelin, and Messere Felix," she says politely introducing those at the table before another clash of weapons draws her eyes back to the sands below.

Waldemai applauds the fighters generally. "Give him another one!" Whi 'him' is remains unspecified.

Darrow takes serious damage.

Apollis waves to Lethe, Felix and Joscelin. "I met Felix this morning actually," he says with a smile. "Pleasure to meet you," he says to the other two women. He then looks back to the fight, wincing a little as one particular serious connection. "They're really going hard."

The Knight's disdain for his own safety seems telling, as he overextends on a strike and suffers a heavy blow to his midsection in turn. His teeth grind as he steps back, re-settling his grip on his weapon.

There is newfound respect for the Thraxian, and Theron is the kind of man who takes this sort of combat with the ferocity of a cornered wild animal. He is not able to avoid the motion of the flail in its terminus, but he slides the blade along the other's stomach in a powerful blow. The flourish at the end of the attack has the sword primed once again for a strike. The Ostrian's jaw sets.

Another flurry of blades and the clash of armor echos through the arena. The fight so fierce that even the Hart's staff stop to watch, riveted by the battle unfolding. Valenica is so swept up by the fight she cannot stop watching, her breath held gently as the men fight for dominance in the ring.

Darrow takes minor damage.

Darrow checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 19, rolling 26 higher.

Darrow remains capable of fighting.

Theron takes minor damage.

Theron checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 19, rolling 39 higher.

Theron remains capable of fighting.

Darrow checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 36 higher.

Darrow remains capable of fighting.

Darrow checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 39, rolling 13 higher.

Darrow remains capable of fighting.

Darrow has rolled a critical success!
Darrow checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 48, rolling 23 higher.

Darrow remains capable of fighting.

Darrow checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 61, rolling 5 lower.

Darrow checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 28, rolling 25 higher.

Darrow remains alive, but close to death.

Darrow falls unconscious.

Waldemai cheers madly. "What a great fight! Well done! Well done, both of you! Hurray!"

It is a fight between two people who are obviously invested in fighting. Tunnel vision settles in; Theron takes several nasty hits, one of them throwing him off balance, even as exhaustion starts its bitter onset. But on the other hand, he dishes out as much as he takes, and there's a sharp exhale when his blade 'bites' into the other's torso, when the other's flail rakes across his body in a display of punishing, crude strength. Neither are swayed as they fight each other to a stand still, with none getting the upper hand until, finally, the Mazetti grabs onto the tang of the sword and shoves it forward and a little to the left; mitigating what could have been a deadly thrust, and instead allowing the impact to carry through to his opponent nonlethally, with a loud shout.

Through sheer will, Darrow seems to be almost impossible to stop. It's not exactly obvious who he's hoping to hurt more - himself or Theron, or whether or not he revels in the sheer violence of it all. Finally, though, the man seems too exhausted to continue, the wound he suffered earlier when overextending seeming to become more and more of a burden. He collapses to his knees, blood around his teeth, and after a moment - he summons a nod to Theron. Silent.

Valencia leaps to her feet to applaud them both, cheering wildly from her table, the look on the little vixen's face a mix of awe and unabashed respect. "Bravo!!! Gods, bravo!" she cries out as the Hart's mercies rush to check both men.

Theron, himself, nods once to Darrow, offering him a gloved hand. "You are a savage fighter. I like it." His lips curve into a grin.

At the conclusion of the fight, Caspian rises from his stool, giving a standing ovation, clapping his hands as he cheers towards the arena, "Fucking good fight fellows!" He's grinning widely, clearly impressed by the two before him, throwing up his hands.

Valencia is overheard praising Theron for: An incredible return to victory! Bravo!

Once the fight is over, Ian turns back to the bar. He makes sure there's a drink waiting for Darrow where he was sitting before, then takes a sip of his own.

Valencia is overheard praising Darrow for: Still one of the greatest fighters I have hand the pleasure to see. I catch breath when he takes the sands.

Valencia is overheard praising Felix for: For a brilliant first fight at the Hart. May there be many more! Welcome home!

Valencia is overheard praising Caspian for: Flash and flair and yet so talented. I hope he visits often

Felix has left the ringside table.

Theron puts Vermilion Drake Sabatons in Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Theron puts Vermilion Drake Cuisses in Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Theron puts Vermilion Drake Gauntlets in Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Theron puts Vermilion Drake Cuirass in Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Theron puts Vermilion Drake Arm Armor in Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Theron puts Vermilion Drake Helm in Red Armor Tournament Chest.

Theron puts Golden Hart Arena Claymore in Weapons Rack.

Caspian "I'd ask Theron to fight, but after that fight, he's probably too tired to," Caspian says with a smirk given, shaking his head as he sits himself back down on the stool. "Not that a fight we have would be as good as that. Might as well go home and say goodnight, unless free silver starts raining from the sky nothing is topping that."

Darrow steps back towards the bar, a slow, bruised pace. He settles and grimaces.

Jericho arrives then into the arena. "I heard there may be an interesting fight to be fought here?" he smiles then as he is donned in his very high quality steel armorset. a blade on his hip and a bow on his back. he lowers his hood to reveal his face. "...or am I too late?"

Darrow responds to Jericho, bruised, as he passes. "Too late to face me - there perhaps are others."


**********************************************************************
A Valardin ship sails into the harbor at Arx, and a single crate is very carefully unloaded from the ship and taken to the Valardin Ward. At the docks, an altercation leaves Officer Sparte surprised, and Dame Esoka bloodied. A cult is destroyed, root and branch, by the Inquisition. High Lord Victus returns from his journey with grim tidings. The statue of Mangata is cleansed, but deeply scored.

Even as news of fleets sailing against the Compact filter through the city, the determination of each House in the Compact is heard. "We will not crumble," they say. "We will not give in. Together we stand, and we will protect our homes and our people." Bold words, flung defiantly into the teeth of the aggressor now, taunting him to come against the Compact if he dares. It's a brave stand.

But now more news comes, now with more concrete numbers. In each place the amount of longships, and galleys, and drommonds is numbered by hundreds - four hundred? Five hundred ships of varying types? At such numbers it's hard to get a firm estimate, and it is made more difficult by the random appearance of even more ships. They are released from the Darkwater, but perhaps still part of it. Sometimes ships appear, sometimes they vanish. One sailor swore off drinking and left the sea forever when his small fishing trawler sailed over the reflections of a fleet, visible only in the water below.

Crovane. The Lyceum. Darkwater Watch.

Arx.

What will be left standing? What will be lost?
**********************************************************************


"I will fight you!" Calls Caspian from the bar, rising up to give a grin towards Jericho. "After that last fight my blood is pumping, I'm itching to go again." And with that he heads over to the stands to hop down in and head for the center.

The crowd irrupts into cheers for the men and again the Hart's mercies rush in to check on the men and drinks are brought to them ringside. A fight like that deserves many, many good drinks afterwards. Finally, the little vixen is able to sit down, her lovely face light up at the excitement of the crowd and her guests. She turns back and smiles her thanks to Apollis, taking up is offered drink in delicate fingers and raising it to him, the table and Darrow and Theron on the sands before taking a sip. Valencia savors it and then smiles, "It is so lovely on tongue. I think I like this. The rum is not so harsh a kiss, yes?" she asks turning dark glimmering eyes to Jericho as he arrives. "You have heard most correctly, my lord. Welcome to my Hart. Would you care to join us, " she says with a warm wave of her hand.

Caspian has left the bar.

Caspian has joined the ring of valor.

Theron nods, pointing towards Darrow. "Like he said." He's rejoining Valencia's table, with a sifter of rum in his hand. There's a nod to Caspian as he gets into the arena, and he states, "Good fight," which is a wish of good fortune for any champion, of course. As a Sword, he understands some of this.

Theron has left the ring of valor.

Theron has joined the ringside table.

Jericho smiles then to Caspian as he enters the ring right after the more energetic fellow. "Oh? very well. I will attempt to be a good competition." knowing full well his sword skills are likely lacking.

Jericho has joined the ring of valor.

Jericho wields Eclipse, Blade Of The White's Wolf.

"Name's Caspian Wild, professional duelist," Caspian introduces himself, bowing to Jericho, before rising up, drawing his knife. "Whenever you are ready, I'm ready."

Caspian wields Nature's Fury.

Apollis smiles as Valencia settles in and takes up her glass. He raises his glass to her and watches as she tastes it as if he had stakes in what she thought. When she like it he gets a warm feeling and his eyes blink a few times to her. "Trendsetter," he says again. "You can call that a Sweet Apollis, Sweet Princess. I better put my name on it before it starts becoming really popular."

Jericho smiles then. "Prince Jericho Valardin. A simple huntsman." he says despite his reputation in Sanctum as the White Wolf. regardless, he draws out his blade and enters a defensive position. "Consider myself ready." he smiles then as he twirls to attack Caspian!

Waldemai calls down from the rafters. "Five hundred on the duelist, Caspian Wild!"

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Jericho takes minor damage.

Jericho takes minor damage.

Jericho takes moderate damage.

Jericho seems to twirl his blade, and while he manages to deflect more than one blow, Caspian is simply too quick with that dagger. A sigh then as he slides back for distance, Jericho knows he is likely no match for such a fellow with a focus on duelist. "Well done." he compliments, giving his blade a twirl. Once more!

Caspian dodges, weaves, and parries, landing a few hits upon Jericho and keeps himself from being touched by that very sharp blade. He grins, but doesn't pause, and presses the attack, trying to avoid giving Jericho much time to recover as he lays upon him flashes of a dagger in cuts and stabs.

Lethe has left the ringside table.

Jericho takes moderate damage.

Valencia glances up and smiles at Waldemai and looks about who might take the bet. "Well, my lord, I must say I think I may like your sweet trends. I look forward to see what else you suggest," she gives him another little smile and takes another little sip. Dark glimmering eyes lift as Theron returns to their table, "My lord, you are... a remarkable man. I have such great respect for Lord Darrow. I have seen him fight many times. He leave me breathless, but this fight, was like none other. You were both inspirational. Thank you," she compliments with a gentle lowering of her head to him. "I hope we will see much of you in future." she invites, turning to look down to the sand as the newest fighters on the sands begin to fight in earnest.

Jericho takes minor damage.

Jericho seems to do far better this time, though it's clear he's getting tired. He takes a solid hit, but seems to be following the strategy of tiring out his opponent, wanting to make it a war of attrition. "I commend you. Happy to face a duelist!" he speaks in between their many blade clashes, with Jericho attempting to make up for technique for what he has in endurance.

Ian remarks something to Darrow after he sits down, then turns his attention to the fight in progress.

Caspian continues to press the attack, but any attakcs that do hit bounce uselessly off the man's armor. He laughs, stepping back a moment to wipe some sweat off his brow. "Like trying to cut a tree with a spoon." But he continues, stepping forward to lunge the knife towards Jericho.

Jericho takes moderate damage.

Caspian takes moderate damage.

Jericho takes serious damage.

Meeting Valencia's gaze with a faint smile, Theron nods once in solemn, heartfelt thanks for the compliment. "Of course. I enjoy this location very much, so perhaps I will make it a habit to render it my patronage." Lips curve in a bright smile before he turns to see the upcoming fight, himself. He leans forward as Valardin fights Champion, analyzing each of their stances. He hisses at a hit Caspian deals upon Jericho.

Theron says, "That's a battle ender, right there!"

Jericho checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 63, rolling 6 higher.

Jericho remains capable of fighting.

Jericho checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 84, rolling 30 lower.

Jericho checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 47, rolling 11 lower.

Jericho is incapacitated.

Jericho falls unconscious.

Waldemai cheers as always. A good fight is a good fight, after all! "Well done! Well fought!"

Darrow has left the bar.

Jericho just can't keep up really with the far quicker Caspian. Though he manages to get in at least -one- good hit before he gets knocked down hard. Though he lays there a moment, he can't help but laugh boisterously. "Hah! Good fight!" he sits up then, using his sword to help him rise. "I do believe next time our positions will be reversed. Swordplay has never been my specialty." a smile then.

After that good swipe of his knife that Caspian got on Jericho, it was all down hill from there. Jericho got a hit on him, but that didn't stop Caspian from pressing the attack, before he finally brings Jericho down. He lets out a laugh with Jericho, reaching to help him up with his free hand. "Good fight, Prince. You have a tough body that you should be proud of! Must be all those days in the wild."

Jericho rose fully to his feet with the help of Caspian. "Thanks for the fight. I only hope we put on an interesting show." he smiles then before he sheathes his weapon and returns to the seating areas.

Ian has left the bar.

The little vixen rises again and cheers for the fighters below, impressed with how much damage the Prince was able to withstand before the match was conceded. She shakes her head and smiles, calling out, "Well fought! Well held, my lords! Bravo!" Looking to the table, she smiles again. "I wish I was so very strong and tenacious. I an see his highness rising to be one of the more formidable fighters with that kind of resilience, yes?"

Apollis takes a sip of his drink as he watches the fight. He puts his drink down and leans back in his seat and claps at the end of another spar. "Oh yes," he says in reply to Valencia looking up to her. "I wonder how he'd stack up against my sisters."

Ian has joined the ring of valor.

"I'm not a lord, but I'll take the praise anyway!" Caspian says back to Valencia with a wide grin given her way, turning back to Jericho to dip his head. "Again, good job, go get yourself wasted, you deserve it!" And with that he begins back to the bar, stretching his shoulders.

Atherton watches it all from a darker corner of the area, less exultation and more simple observance. He hadn't been aware of any event, but it was a good time to stumble upon it, it seems.

Ian has left the ring of valor.

Ian has joined the bar.

Caspian has left the ring of valor.

Caspian has joined the ring of valor.

Caspian has left the ring of valor.

Caspian has joined the bar.

Jericho has left the ring of valor.

Jericho has joined the bar.

Jericho simply shakes his head with a smile to Caspian before he sees Princess Valencia, offering the beautiful hostess a bow of his head and a greeting, kissing her knuckles in a gentlemanly fashion if she let him. "A pleasure princess." before he moves to the bar. pay tribute to the lady of the house after all!

Valencia glances a side to Apollis, "I do not know, my lord. Who is your sister? Perhaps we have met?" she asks, happily sipping the rum. Dark eyes scan the crowd and fall upon Atherton who is watching the event from the back corner, and lifts a drink to him if he should look her way. The little vixen quietly smiles back to the crowd, but those large dark eyes of hers can't seem to help but turn back to the man. She pauses and then subtly waves him over with a little smile, letting him decide if he wishes to be sociable or not.

"Perhaps," Apollis says back to Valencia. "Astraea and Echo," he says. "I mean, Princess Astraea and Echo Redrain."

"Yeah, they were good fights," Caspian says back to Ian with a little grin given his way, dusting off his rum. "Though I should probably consider heading home. I got things to do this evening." He gives a dip of his head over to Jericho when the man joins them.

Atherton is observant enough to see Valencia's offer. He considers, then begins to approach with characteristic heavy thuds of metal boots. "What was all this about?" he asks no one in particular as he gets closer, gesturing towards where the fights were just taking place.

Ian nods to Caspian when he indicates that it's time for him to go. "Have a good evening. I may catch you at the Gauntlet one of these days." He takes a sip of the drink that he's been nursing all night.

Valencia's cheeks flush as Jericho gives her a gallant greeting and heads off to the bar. Her words a little lost by the kindness in the words. Another smile is issued Theron's way, "It almost frightens me how amazing these bouts are. Each time they get better and better. I am so honored and grateful you brought such valour to my Hart," she says sincerely, her large dark eyes glimmering. Another sip is taken, perhaps the sugar makes the rum far too easy to drink. The little southern princess' eyes light up at the name Apollis mentions, "Oh, I do believe I have had great pleasure in meeting your sisters. Both are so very lovely and so very beautiful. I'm so very pleased. I hope you will all find your way to my Hart this winter many times." As Atherton approaches, she looks up and offers a warm nods, "This is one of our Hart's sparring events. I causual event to enjoy good company and for those who wish to try their skills in the ring. We also try to raise a little silver and such for good causes. I'm glad you are here. Would you care to join us in a drink?"

Rising to his feet, Caspian dips his head in a nod towards Ian and Jericho, "Good afternoon, Lord Ian, Prince Jericho." He approaches Valencia's table next, giving her a warm smile as he tells her, "It's wonderful to see you again, your highness, and you can expect to see me here next time. I enjoyed it." And he turns up to Waldemai, waving to the man up above, "Thanks for betting on me!"

Jericho gives a little playful and likely flirtateous wink to Valencia before he turns his attention to Caspian. "Farewell, mighty duelist! we will face again soon!" he smiles then as he sips his vodka.

Atherton gives a slow nod as he approaches Valencia, stopping a respectable distance away. "I've sparred with a few since coming to this city. My skills aren't suited to a ring. I've got quite a bit to learn before I'd put on any sort of good show. I'd be happy to join in a light drink. This is your place, then?" he asks in that gravelly tone of his, gesturing vaguely about. Caspian gets a single nod of vague recognition as he passes by, but it's not much more than that.

Apollis smiles to Valencia when her eyes light up and as she speaks about his sisters. "I can't speak for them but I wouldn't miss it, sweet Princess," he says bowing his head toward her giving her a wink.

"Thank you, my dearest Missere Caspian. You are so very good at your craft," Valencia nods. "Please do come and visit us often," she invites him, a bright smile offered to the Champion as she turns to look catch Prince Jerhicho's wink. Her cheeks flush pink and she quickly lowers. Atherton's question brings her back to the conversation again. "It is, but I am more of it's keeper. This is a place for all of Arx. A home away from home. All are welcome here, missere. I hope you will make it your home from time to time. You would be so very welcome," she offers, her dark eyes meeting his hazel, earnest and sweet. "Thank you so much, my dearest Lord Apollis. Family is so very important I think. I would love to welcome your entire family into my Hart at your pleasure," she says, again her cheeks flushing.

Caspian has left the bar.

Waldemai is not so drunk that he can't find his way home yet. "Good night, all," he calls. "Until the next fight night!"

Waldemai has left the upper rafters.

Jericho returns to the conversation at hand at the table, smiling softly to Apollis. "Your sister, Princess Astraea, is a dear friend of mine. Have been for almost a decade, I believe. an amazing woman, certainly." he smiles to the man proudly before he looks to Valencia with an open smile. "Might I join your table, your highness?" he smiles then before looking to Waldemai. "farewell, good sir."

Atherton's jaw sets at something Valencia says. He turns to grab a drink at the bar, getting the cheapest ale that's available. He lets the woman talk with Apollis and Jericho, the drink retrieval an excellent excuse to simply have a moment.

Apollis nods to Valencia with a halfsmile but something she said made him a little sad. He looks toward Jericho as he addresses his sister too. "Had you known her that long? I hadn't realized that when we met last night, sweet Prince. I thank you for saying so. I love her dearly." He gestures toward a seat. "Have a seat."

Valencia smiles with the greatest warmth as Waldemai takes his leave, a few of the barmaids waving their fairwells and one even blowing a kiss. The little vixen turns back to meet Jericho as he arrives. "I would be so very delighted if you would. Please, your highness," she says waving him to join them with a delicate hand. A little look is set Atherton's way and her brow furrows at his tightened jaw. "Did I say something to cause offense, missere? If this is so, I am so very sorry. Please tell me and I will set things right if you will allow me?" she offers graciously.

Ian gets up from the bar after finishing his drink, and takes up his cane. He starts for the exit.

Ian has left the bar.

Atherton looks back as he reaches out to take the offered mug. His stony face softens with effort. "You're fine," he states. "My own issues." He dips his head once. "I'm still trying to get used to this city," he explains, taking a careful, measured sip from the mug. "In damned many ways."

Jericho smiles softly then to Valencia before he looks to Atherton at his words. He presently sits at the table where the few of them that remain simply speak. Jericho looks tired though. Must be the vodka. even though he's a heavyweight when it comes to liquor. "Hm...perhaps I could fight once more..."

While not a consistent visitor, Orathy does show up. The ruffian appears to be more clean cut than normal, that is to say he has a decent jacket on, combed his dark hair, and trimmed his beard; although the latter still shows silver on the chin. He's wearing leathers that are a mixed bag, some pieces looking as if they've seen too much brawling and others not enough. Heavy foot falls puts this Lowers man heading toward the ring.

One moment Aksel isn't there, the next he's leaning against the railing watching the none action in the arena. He holds his glass of whiskey, half drank by now. He takes drink from it, savoring the taste of the drink.

Orathy has joined the ring of valor.

Another little look of concern finds her face as now Apollis looks a little sad. A delicate hand reaches out to touch his arm and she smiles gently and then quietly retreats to see that everyone's cups are full to the top. Atherton's sofening a little seems to help and she smiles grightly for him. "Please sit, missere. I should very much like to get to know you. This city can be hard and lonely. Please know you are always welcome here. It will always be a warm and good place for you to find good company, yes?" she says with a gentle smile. Turning, she pauses to speak to Theron quietly, replying in kind, and then smiles to Jericho, her expression flooding with empathy at his weariness. "You are alright, your highness?"

Orathy hops into the ring, freshly arrived. Dark eyes are already scanning the rest of the house, "Reckon who be up for the challenge? Which one of you lads actually has something between his legs eh?" The Lowers brogue accent is thick and indicates he may have already had a few drinks before he got there.

Ectorion walks back in, his helmet off and hooked at his side, his armor bearing the insignia of the King's Own. This time though, he's not alone, as he has an incredible pale northern Princess at his side, his arm lightly around her waist. He looks over to Astraea as he walks in, "Do you want to find a table or what?" he asks quietly of her, looking around the place speculatively.

Astraea shakes her head at his question,"I came to watch the fights but that callout was almost too good to resist." Says the armor clad woman before sighing. "Sure. Find us a table."

Jericho seems to smile for a moment as Orathy makes his demand. A chuckle then as he rises..thoug hhe finds Astraea soon after and he gives her a wink in passing. "This should hurt." he comments on his own swordsmanship skills being....eh. He hops down into the sands, drawing his blade. "this should be fun."

Atherton considers the offer. He then reaches out to take a chair in a well-calloused hand, pulling it aside and setting himself down with a creak of leather straps from his armor. Orathy's boistrous challenge catches his ear, and he looks over. He studies Orathy for a long few moments, face unreadable. "I've been to the training grounds west of here. This seems like a more sociable sort of place for the same activities," he offers to Valencia, eyes watching Jericho and Orathy now.

Something of the King's Own insignia claims Orathy's attention, he prowls closer and wonders outloud, "Nice armor, reckon it is just for show or ya got some backing to it?" He's trying to rile someone into the arena with him, although Jericho is the first he catches and finds moving toward him. Orathy slicks back a hand through his hair, lifting his axe, "Aye, should be. Reckon you lot need some real training to fight against Marin's boys eh?" He gestures with a hand, "Come on then son, let's see what all that fancy living be teaching ya." He looks eager, actually pulls a flask out of his jacket, takes a long swig, amping up for the challenge, not without a hooked roguish smirk.

Orathy just has presence and his strut into the Hart's arena is very much noticed by a few of the staff and Valencia herself. His newly coiffed appearance seems to make her smile and she offers him a bright smile and a warm incline of head as he call for a challenger. Ectorion's is also greeted with a smile upon his return and she rises to greet Astraea with a gently kiss upon the cheek. "Welcome to my Hart again, highness. I did not know you had such a charming brother. I'm glad you're here. Good luck to you both," she says with a wink, glancing to Orathy. "He is a very good fighter as are you. I think the bar is being raised in my Hart again for excellent bouts," she laughs softly. Scanning the room to make sure all is well, she finds Aksel. There is a little pause and the Northman gets a truly warm and beautiful smile along with a little wave of her hand, inviting him to join the table.

A small chuckle from Jericho then as he enters a defensive stance. "I will have to apologize in advance for my blade skills....they could be better." he smiles then competetively before he rushes Orathy!

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

"Big mouth," Aksel comments about Orathy to none in particular, though the Northman makes no immediate move to enter into the sands because Jericho is already doing so. He gives a shrug of his shoulder looking around the room. He catches Valencia's wave and gives her a polite nod of his head from where he's standing before turning to watch the fight.

Jericho takes moderate damage.

Apollis looks into his drink with an intense concentration of thought. Or is it a day dream? He picks up the glass and finishes the last bit of rum. He turns his head to find that Valencia as walked away from him. He finds her in the a few moments later speaking with his sister. He turns in his chair and waves to Astraea. His eyes regard Ectorion, taking note of the man's hand. He gives him bow of his head. "Come sit with me, you two," he calls to them. "The fight is just starting."

Jericho takes very serious damage.

Jericho twirls into an attack to Orathy, combating that greataxe of his for a good moment, before he ducks under a swing only to get -wiped out- to the ground, though he rolls with the swing, the Prince clearly seems rocked. though he does wipe the blood from his lip and flash a feral grin. "That's more like it...." he stands up, as stubborn as he is tough as he enters a defensive position. "That all you got?" he grins.

The northern-but-southern princess offers a kiss to Valencia in turn, pecking her cheek softly before stepping past her to sit with her brother. Astraea settles in quietly but offers waves to Atherton and Aksel, gesturing for the Northern man to get ready. She made hand signs that looked kind of menacing, were it not for the fact that she was a slip of a thing and didn't look like she could put up much of a fight. "Your highness thank you for having me in your Hart and I am glad my brother has left such a good impression on you." Astraea winks at her brother before she slips an arm through her brothers crooked arm. "Tori, did you want to get out there at all tonight?"

Ectorion gives a glance towards the fellow calling towards him, but gives no response to him, his attention instead drifts to Apollis and the invitation. He gives a nod, looking to Astraea, as he slides in with her. "Hmm? Oh, I'm not much for exhibitionism," he admits, "we fight to train and prepare, I'm not sure just how the Lord Commander would feel about me taking to the arena in my armor," he says. "Though I imagine his Majesty would enjoy it," he adds ruefully.

Ectorion has joined the ringside table.

Atherton gives a vague nod to Valencia about something, his attention stolen by the fight for now. He seems rather interested in Orathy. Astraea gets a vague nod as well in greeting, distracted as he is.

Orathy takes the incoming rush with a growing grin on his face, that wasn't mirthful but simply welcoming, as if he thrived on this - given his looks and the scars on his face, he probably did. The older man was quick, surprisingly so. His feet slid and pushed to duck and dodge the younger man, whom he doesn't recognize as anything other than a noble. Orathy's style still screams the edgy sort that one will find from scrappy brawlers, only there is a sort of grace to it, the way he leads his leverage and full on swings his axe at the other man, pivoting last moment to ensure it wasn't lethal blows he was delivering. His whisker bracketed lips pull into a sneer when the Prince grins at him, "Best be faster, else the gyre going to get you. Come on son, all them knights teaching you ain't showing you how to match a ruthless bastard?"

Jericho takes minor damage.

Valencia smiles to Astraea is given another little smile and she returns to the watch the fight, her dark eyes to the sands now was Orathy taunts the prince. There is a quietly candor to her observation now, her eyes watching the men carefully.

Jericho checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 55, rolling 0 higher.

Jericho remains capable of fighting.

Jericho checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 85, rolling 19 lower.

Jericho checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 48, rolling 5 lower.

Jericho is incapacitated.

Jericho falls unconscious.

Apollis smiles to Astraea as takes his arm. He reaches forward and pours himself some more rum and then adds a half a spoon of sugar. As he stirs the drink he looks over toward Ectorion as he sits down. "How the Lord Commander would feel?" he asks. The idea was foreign to him - caring about what anyone would think of anything he did.

Mongoose arrives, following Joscelin.

The Redrain princess-knight is on her feet at the conclusion and offering standing ovations for the two. She offers a cheery looking grin to Jericho. "Hey you did well enough for someone who prefers a bow." She laughs and gestures to Aksel,"Are we going to have that match you promised me Aksel?"

Jericho gets his ass handed to him, pretty plain and simple. He gets knocked down and is left looking at the ceiling...though he does grin a bit. "Heh...did better than I thought I would. Man hits like a goddamn brick...." he says then before Astraea tries to be encouragin'. "Not...helping." he says with a grin, sitting up with a crack of his neck. "Nice fight.." a kip up then though he wobbles. "I'm an archer, not a swordsman. though I'll take this as a learning oppurtunity." a bow of his head then. "Let's fight again so I can throw you in the dirt." he grins mischievously. if anything, the man has a pair between his legs.

Ectorion lifts a brow to Apollis, smiling slightly, "Lord Commander Leona Thrax," he explains, though goes into no further explanation as he reaches out towards Apollis and offers a hand. "I don't think we had the opportunity to meet before, "Sir Ectorion Valardin of the King's Own." He applauds the ending of the match and watches the exchange of commentary curiously.

Aksel downs his whiskey as Astraea arrives. "Just don't gloat when you're standing over me," Aksel comments with a shrug moving down towards the ring. He tilts his head to Jericho, "You're going to run out of arrows at some point."

Astraea has joined the ring of valor.

Orathy doesn't even look like he broke much of a sweat, but he does reach down a hand to Jericho, "Reckon you be needing more practice. You ain't got much time left, till that Koraj fellow with all his doom ships be coming at us. Supposin I can be offering you some pointers, that is, for the right price. Silver." He lets a sardonic smirk come over his face, "Aye. You can be trying to hit me with your bow... But aye aye, once you be better trained lad, then you can be facing me again."

Astraea wields a bastard sword with an inset topaz in the hilt.

Aksel has joined the ring of valor.

Aksel wields shadowed sapphire mountains of Stonedeep greataxe.

Orathy looks over toward the pair that joined the ring, "Oy, I weren't done here." He clearly looks as if he's debating taking them both on.

Jericho seems to be more than happy to leave the ring, cursing at himself for apparently not improving much at all. Though he returns to his seat next to Valencia, a smile for the princess. "Sorry I couldn't put on a good show." the smile is soft, but it looks saddened.

Apollis stands from his seat and applauds the match. He then turns to see Ectorion and looks down at the offered hand. He puts his own hand in it and squeeze and shakes with a small smile. "A pleasure, sweet Sir. They call me Apollis Malvici," he says in reply, his voice a tad lower than probably comfortable for the action going on, but still probably able to be made out. "How do you know Raea?"

Joscelin returns from her private conversation, returning to her table with a look of amusement. The backless tunic she wears shimmers with golden threads, the plump, sable-haired jeweler garbed in finer fare than normal. She murmurs an apology to her table, reclaiming the chair with her coat hanging from it. "Did I miss anything?" she says with a sheepish chuckle.

Joscelin has joined the ringside table.

Atherton gives a tip of his cheap ale towards Orathy as the fight concludes. And it seems another one is about to start with the fiesty commoner. He finally interjects. "Come here and have a drink with me, lad, let them fight and take a breather." The 'lad' was tossed in for a bit of a jab, his tone lighter than usual. There was a chance of a kindred spirit amongst the nobility.

Astraea positively beams at Aksel when he gives in to her demands. It takes a moment to slip past everyone observing, a quiet word offered to Ectorion before she jumps down into the sands. Slowly she goes to draw her blade but Orathy's statement elicits a flush of heat in her cheeks. "Oh. Messere forgive me. I'd be willing to face you if Aksel here would not but after we're done I do owe this fine gentleman a good old Northern tussle." The northerner sheathes her blade and waits for Orathy to decide.

"Did you get to see my fight?" Theron inquires of Joscelin, reclining against his seat while he looks at her.

Aksel tilts his head towards Orathy, studying the man a moment. "I'll take you on," Aksel says with a nod of his head. He looks towards Astraea, "You can have a go at me after. Promise."

Orathy's hard weathered face remains focused and pointed upon Astraea, before with a solid thump of putting his axe half in the loop on his belt, he nods with a flare of a hand, "Aye, you have the grounds." It could be that he's heard the jab then from up in the crowd when he heaves himself out of the arena, adrenaline still flowing as he marks Atherton, catching the tip of cheap ale, "Reckon neither of us be lads anymore, eh?" He kicks out a chair at the other's table and tips his head at the man, ordering a pint of cheap ale for himself.

Valencia gives Jericho a reassuring smile. "That you even stood up to accept challenge after fighting earlier is a marvel," she says with a nod. "You have nothing to apologize for. You stood your ground. Missere Orathy is fearsome. Truly fearsome, but you can learn much from him. Please do not think you did anything be well," she offers. There is a glance to Apollis as he introduces himself and another little smile as Atherton tosses a few playful jabs, and she sets her eyes back on the sands to watch the princess and the Northman fight. The former Northern fox smiles and settles back, her dark eyes sparkling with interest.

Orathy looks back at Aksel, "Reckon you be needing the warm up." And proceeds to give them the arena.

Orathy has left the ring of valor.

Ectorion whispers something to Astraea, before his attention turns back to the table, "Ah. Raea and I go way back, we knew one another when we were younger," he explains, "though it had been quite a few years since we last saw one another.." He gives a smile, "It is a pleasure to meet you Lord Apollis." He moves to watch again, Astraea moving towards the rings, "I do regret that we lost touch for so long, her fighting style is absolutely marvelous, I'd love to have trained with her before."

Aksel watches as Orathy leaves and gives the man a nod. "Probably," the Northman conceeds before looking towards Astraea, "Shall we then?"

Jericho flashes Valencia the warmest smile, though it takes a moment to arrive. He kindly leans in to whisper something to the lady of the house while his eyes are on the fight in question.

Atherton gives Orathy a leathery smile as he makes his way over. "Maybe not, but your mouth is still big enough for one," he retorts. "Good to see some experience in the ring. I've been assaulted by young princes and the like since I got here. I thought I had a good handle on things, I was beginning to wonder if the youth today knew something we didn't." He gestures to an empty seat next to him.

Atherton has joined the raised seating.

Atherton is sitting there. Yes.

Orathy has joined the raised seating.

The princess gives Orathy a respectful bow of her head. "Many thanks Messere." Now she draws her blade and proceeds towards the center of the ring. She holds it point down and angeled away from her body in an unorthodox ready stance. Before they begin she raises it into a knightly salute. "May Gloria guide your blade and may the luck of Gild be with you."

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Astraea takes minor damage.

Astraea takes serious damage.

Aksel takes minor damage.

Orathy gives a hearty chuckle, "Aye, best needing to sound like a bear to still look fearsome, otherwise the grey beard would be making them take it easy on me." He reaches down with his large paw and swings out a chair, thumping down to sit into it. "Aye, when I first be coming to the Hart, reckon I felt the same. Reminded me of me age and how time be slipping away." He twists in his seat to watch the fight in the arena, when a jug of ale is brought to him, and he nods at the maid. There's a look then to the table across the way, lifting his big paw again to Valencia, eyeing up the others at the table, "Where ya from then?"

"I bet," Apollis says with a sly smile and a nod to Ectorion. His gaze returns to the sands as he retakes his seat.

Jericho whispers a few more things to Valencia before his attention returns to the fight, watching intently. "Come on Astraea!" he says in a way that shouts 'kick his ass!'

The question, that Orathy asked, asked of Atherton, even if his eyes wanders.

Theron smiles faintly at the fight he witnesses, stretching in a very feline fashion before offering his hand, palm up, to Valencia. "I should go now, but I thank you for this most wonderful event."

Atherton has left the raised seating.

Atherton has joined the ringside table.

Orathy has left the raised seating.

Orathy has joined the ringside table.

"May the Spirits guide," Aksel comments back to Astraea as he hefts his great axe. Quickly the Northerners move towards each other, Blade and Axe coming together to send sparts, there is no rest, however, and Aksel pivots slightly and lands a blow on her armor, striking first. The Northman moves like his weapon is an extension of himself, flowing, almost. But occasionally, to the trained eye, there is a slight stiffness to him. Around they go, blade and axe trying to land blows and always falling short. Until Aksel sees something and pounces with a large over hand strike with his Axe. It's meant to stun, and maybe it did, but he does not walk away from that flurry unharmed.

At the onset the white haired knight doesn't keep her guard up as she focuses too much on the man's footwork. Several significant blows get through and find their mark. She scarcely winces from their sting and continues to come at Aksel with a newly wary gaze. "You were bluffing my lord. Shame on you." She waggles her fingers and shifts into a different stance as she raises her blade high and above her head. "Very well done, most especially that last riposte." This time when she rushes him it's with caution.

Astraea takes minor damage.

Astraea wields a bastard sword with an inset topaz in the hilt.

Atherton was sitting there -all along-. Yes. Orathy gets a throaty chuckle in return. The man seems much more at ease than when he'd walked in firstly. "Suppose it is," he offers back, though there's no sadness to his voice. He raises his smaller mug towards Orathy. He'd been working on it slowly for some time now. "I'm from the southwest," he answers vaguely, eyes on the fight now. He's studying them intently. "Been in the wilds for a while now. Forests just a little ways from here. Finally decided to see what this city was all about. You?"

Valencia glances aside from the fight just in time to see Orathy offer greeting. The little raven haired princess smiles back a the massive man and nods, clearly fond of him and then turns to glance Apollis and Ectorion's way, smiling to see them speaking comfortable. She nos to Lizette to bring Atherton and Orathy another pitcher on the house and to bring Joscelin another drink as well. "You must be working very hard," she says gently to the lovely artisan. "I can only imagine how many commissions you must have. How do you keep up?" she asks Joscelin as her eyes turn back to the fight again, her breath holding a moment.

Astraea wields a bastard sword with an inset topaz in the hilt.

Joscelin takes moments from watching the fight to answer Valencia. "You'd think now, I'd be less busy, but as I work to keep myself sane, the many commissions of late are more blessing than not," she responds, grinning at Valencia. "Have you been to the shop lately? We had many pieces up not long ago. You must tell me if I make something you especially like, I'll make it for you."

"Just a commoner," Aksel comments back to the white haired princess, as they circle each other for a second before starting in on there next flurry of blows. There is a strike that lands, but it's glancing at best.

"Aye no, fuck the forests," Orathy notes with a faint curl of his lips, "Be boring as shit out there, less you like bears or wolves." He does raise his pint to clink with Atherton's, before he shrugs, "Been in Arx me whole life. Know the streets like the back of me hand. Born in the Lowers in fact, ain't pretty down there, but every now and then, one of us rats manages to climb a little higher." He's at the table with the others and won't turn down a round, "Bring it on, eh. Can't ever go wrong with more ale." He tilts his chair back to get a look of what's going down in the ring, eager for more fighting himself.

Apollis steels glances of Valencia in between his interested sister fight onlooking. "Go get 'em, Raea," he calls out, finally raising his distictly southern voice. He looks over to Joscelin overhearing her talk of her shop. "What sort of shop do you own?" he asks.

"Everyone deserves to be treated with the respect of the peerage my lord. Think of it as a courtesy and not a matter of titles." Astraea says as she ducks under one of his swings and parries another. "You are a remarkable swordsman sir." She says while backpeddling and fending off another flurry of blows.

"You lead the Council, yes? I think that is a very good thing. Thank you for the work you do on this," Valencia says earnestly. "There must be so much to do there as well. I do not know how you manage it," she says with respectful smile. The little princess offers a sweet smile as she excuses herself to bid Lord Theron farewell, a delicate hand set into his, "I am so grateful you could join us. I hope you will return to my Hart soon, my lord. I am so glad we met," she says with a gentle incline of head. "Until next time we meet, yes?"

Aksel takes very serious damage.

Atherton lets out a booming laugh, clinking mugs back with Orathy. "The woods are anything but boring when you know where to look. Especially when you're guarding a fat merchant that doesn't know how to put his pants on straight. Bandits can smell that a mile away." He waves off the offer for more alcohol, perhaps surprisingly, his attention on the fight same as Orathy. "Problem is, out there it's hard to find anyone worth fighting. I seem to be pretty damned pathetic here compared to the others, but that's just making me want to get stronger."

Astraea takes minor damage.

Aksel takes minor damage.

Astraea takes minor damage.

Aksel takes moderate damage.

With her hand in his, Theron leans forward and kisses the knuckles, meeting her gaze briefly, with a friendly squeeze to her digits before he lets go. "Until next time," he agrees, leaning in to murmur something else, with a smile, before rising to his feet and departing.


Joscelin shakes her head. "I'm on the council, yes, but don't lead it." She looks to Apollis, then grins, offering an intricately calloused, strong hand, the brown woman's curls bouncing as she gives him a respectful nod as well. "I am Joscelin Arterius, I run the Atelier. I'm a jeweler."

Ectorion's attention seems, entirely, to be on the fight in the arena, his focus on following the movements of the match. An expression of mixed concern and approval on his face, as he watches the pair slash and swipe, parry and riposte.

There is a period time during there bout that neither could find a break in eithers defense. 1, 2, 3.. 5 or six times axe met blade, each of those times not resulting in anything landing. However, Aksel steps wrong and pays for it dearly. Astraea's blade strikes his chest and this causes the Northerman to stagger back on the defensive, side stepping the blade to try to find the advantage that he once had. It's marginally successful. But both seem evenly matched.

Orathy's brows twitch up after Atherton shares some insight, "Aye, big fucking bastards have a sweet smell to 'em." He laughs again, this time with a sneer that pulls up, "Course it could be the cling of silver that be sweeter yet." He tilts back his ale and does chug a lot of it, exhaling after when his eyes turn to Theron, then to Josceline and Apollis, finally back to Ectorion. His attention swings back to Atherton, "Aye well, there's an arena here. You be having the moment now to test yourself eh? Looks like those two might be getting close to finishing it up."

This exchange was not like the others, now that she was done playing coy the Redrain princess threw herself at him with a more aggressive approach. Astraea parried a blow and grasped his arm, headbutting him and shoving him back with a laugh. As he came at her again she stepped into another of his blows, it hurt like hell but the princess was willing to make the sacrifice needed to land a smiting blow. Before he could recover she shoulder checked him to get some room but alas they were well matched and his axe managed to catch her in the sternum. She stumbled back and tried to catch her breath, breathing slightly heavier now. "Good shit Aksel..."

Aksel checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 12, rolling 28 higher.

Aksel remains capable of fighting.

Aksel checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 28, rolling 3 higher.

Aksel remains capable of fighting.


This fight is intense! Joscelin takes a moment to stand and cup her hands around her mouth, howling encouragement with the rest of the crowd. At least, she would hope so. And then she sits back down and sips from her drink like nothing's off.

Aksel checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 56, rolling 2 lower.

Aksel checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 24, rolling 17 higher.

Aksel remains alive, but close to death.

Aksel falls unconscious.

Valencia sits quietly eyes to the sands now as the fight reels on too caught up to call out.

Atherton knew he liked the man already. "Had a good haul recently. Spent most of it now. Bit hard drumming up work around here. Don't suppose you have any leads." He takes a measured sip, adding, "I'd be up for a bout. I just got this weapon done, so I'll be needing plenty of practice with it. Good bit different than my old sword."

Theron has left the ringside table.

Jericho smiles to something that Valencia says to him as he claps at the conclusion of the fight. "Well done! both of you!"

Armored lightly, in light helm, gambeson, gloves, trousers, Agnarr doesn't seem to be quite equipped for heavy sparring. Nevertheless, there's alcohol and food to be found here, so here he is, claiming a seat with a good view of the arena.

"Leads on legit work?" Orathy scoffs a little at Atherton but he pushes up out of his seat, with his tankard thunking on the table top, "Might be some with this gyre shit coming down the line, but aye, you should be finding yourself a mercenary band eh? See," he leans in a little, "Reckon I be liking to pluck the pockets of a fat bastard." He slaps Atherton on the shoulder, but looks up when Agnarr arrives. But other than a sneer, he gestures for Atherton to head out onto the arena with him.

Aksel looks winded. It's evident in the way the his axe doesn't quite come up high enough in defense. Or even his once sure footing, slips here and there. He presses forward, eyes intent on his target. Axe fails to find target, but the blade does. One to many times, in fact, and finally Aksel stumbles and falls to the ground, face first.

At the conclusion of the sparring match the princess-knight planted her sword point down and leaned on it as she caught her breath. It would be a moment before she could manage to get anything out resembling praise but when her lungs stopped burning she most definitely would. Astraea brushed some hair out of her face and meandered over to the other, half kneeling half falling next to him and clapping him on the back. "Alright..." A pause for a gentle slap on the cheek. "Oi?"

Atherton gives a creaking shrug. "I kept my clients safe, and they kept their pockets full. Suppose I'd have to give you a good stabbing if you snuck up on us, eh?" It's said with a bit of a twinkle in his eyes, and he's pushing himself up from his seat to follow Orathy to the arena. "I'm not good in companies. Best to work alone." He reaches back, unclasping the heavy scythe's leather strap by his shoulder, unhooking it from the leather slots that hold it in place. "Tell you what. Winner gets to call the other 'lad' for a week. Deal?"

Atherton wields Mercenary Scythe.

Atherton gets Rugged Steel Helm from Old Leather Pack.

Ectorion stands as the battle comes to an end, applauding for Astraea, a smile on his face. "Well done," he approves cheerfully, watching. He stays standing, waiting for Astraea's return.

Agnarr has joined the Champions' table.

Well, hey. A champion's table. Agnarr's a champion, isn't he? He's not shy to sit there, even alone, though the look Orathy gives him is responded to by a snort. "You've reach on him," he advises Atherton, "Use it."

As Angarr enters the arena the little southern princess offers him a bright smile and a warm nod, the table free if he should wish to join. The little vixen turns back to the match and it is then that Aksel falls. There is another little gasp as he falls forward and her eyes widen as she rises from the table. No sooner than he has hit the sands than the mercies are at his side checking him over. Valencia watches as generous and well earned applauds are offered for both fighters.

Orathy notes what's going on in the ring, chuckling for the face planted Aksel. Though his chuckles could be fore Atherton's mention of stabbing, "Aye you would. I ain't hold it against you, we both be professionals aye?" Luckily he cannot get thrown in the clink for admitting things like that! There's a nod of his head as he understands, boldly noting, "Mercenary companies here are shit anyway." He has a few weapons he can choose from and upon seeing the scythe, he whistles in appreciation. The heckling from Agnarr makes Orathy sneer back, "He's right. But that were before I started training hard to beat him. One day, he'll come crashing down." That day wasn't this day. He hefts his axe and settles into the arena, eyeing up Aksel and Astraea, "Need some help eh?"

Orathy has left the ringside table.

Orathy has joined the ring of valor.

Orathy wields Persuasion, a wicked axe.

Apollis stands and claps for his beautiful sister Astraea. "Bravo, Raea," he says. "Good form. Glad I taught you that." He leans over to Valencia putting a hand on her arm. He whispers something to her.

The clap rouses, Aksel and he look up at Astraea, a slight grin on his lips. "I need a drink, I think." He says as he pushes himself up to his knees from the ring's floor. He takes a few breaths and rises useing his axe as a sort of crutch.

Aksel has left the ring of valor.

Atherton has left the ringside table.

Atherton has joined the ring of valor.

Jericho keeps his smile big and wide as he looks about then. "Phenomenal contest. I have levels to strive for, clearly." the warmest grin on his face then.

Seeing as the poor man doesn't immediately get up, the princess-knight reaches down and grabs him up. With her immense strength she can easily hoist the armored man to his feet. Helping him walk to the side of the sands so the fights could go on without too much impedement. Astraea offers some rum and a grin to Aksel and then salutes Orathy and Atherton before she makes her way back to her brother and Ectorion's side. There is nothing but pure embarrassent on her face.

Astraea has left the ring of valor.

Astraea has joined the ringside table.

Orathy notes to Atherton, once the other's cleared off, "Aye. Tis a bet."

Aksel has joined the ringside table.

Atherton looks to Agnarr with a nod. Nothing's said in return. He hefts the scythe, both familiar and not. The weapon looked freshly-forged. Astraea gets a nod in return, the man waiting patiently for the ring to clear for their turn. He's focusing now, looking clearly thoughtful as he eyes the ring itself.

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Ectorion smiles, settling in once more wit Astraea at his side, "You were fantastic," he assures quietly, slipping an arm lightly around her to give her a light hug.

Immediately, a pretty little buxom brunette barmaid arrives with a bottle of whiskey for Aksel. She doesn't say much, but she knows what he drinks, leaving him with a little wink as she sets off to see to other tables. Valencia takes a little breath and settles and settles again, "That was a very impressive match," Valencia says with a little wince. "Does your side still ail you, missere?"

Atherton takes moderate damage.

Atherton takes serious damage.

Apollis' question seems to take the little fox by surprise and she blinks up at the striking Lycene lord, her cheeks burning. "I.. I think you are very kind to say this. But I think you are far to generous with your regard," Valencia says shyly. "But if it pleases you, I should be happy to find myself in your company. Of course, as it pleases."

Orathy doesn't like to make quick work of his opponents, especially not one that he was having a beer with. He twirls the axe in his hand after a series of in-steps that finds the scythe's weakness and in turn Atherton's, "Aye, you need to be moving faster on your feet eh? That's how the young ones get ya." He wasn't as fast as some, but Orathy's movements were enough to be quick enough to evade and cleave (albeit not lethally) at his sparring partner. He pivots in the arena sand, "That get a smaller weapon eh?"

Astraea smiles to Ectorion with that blush in her cheeks,"Thank you Tori. To be honest I thought he had me." There wasn't much else to add because the fight had broken out. The Redrain princess winced a little at the blow before she turned to hug her brother in belated thanks for his kind words. She didn't want to interrupt his conversation with Valencia so instead she raises her glass to the both of them before settling in to watch the spectacle.

Aksel takes up the bottle of whiskey with a nod to barmaid and takes a drink from it. He tilts his head towards Valencia and grins slightly, "That and other parts of my body, yea." He replies to the Princess as he settles into a seat. He nods his head towards Astraea, raising his bottle towards her in salute. "Well done, Princess."

Eventually, Jericho rises to his feet. "Thank you all for the fun and games...though sadly, I have training to do." he looks to Astra then for a moment, a small smile touching his features perhaps along with a realization. But alas, they are both unspoken before he looks to Valencia. "Thank you for welcoming me into your Hart." a softness to his tone before he looks to the gentlemen present. "It was good to fight and speak with you. Until next time." he pats Ectorion on the shoulder as he passes. "Cousin."

Ectorion looks up at the tap on his shoulder and smiles, "Cousin, a good night to you if you're heading out," he says, nodding cheerfully to Jericho. It seems his attention is drawn back upon Astraea though, whispering quietly back and forth with her as they sit close. He looks then towards the match brewing in the ring curiously.

Atherton's scythe proved to be an interesting challenge for most. The point came in at unexpected angles, quick and sharp. Orathy seems to be expecting it plenty more than most. He staggers only slightly at the sharp blows against the armor, but it's clear that the other man has an incredible upper hand in the fight. "All you city-dwelling bastards dance like mosquitos!" he booms, laughter in his voice. He seems to be having a thrill with it even as he's beaten, not giving in yet. He suddenly lunges forward, scythe whirling in recklessness.

Emilia is always the one who's late to the party, recently it seems! The moment she steps foot into the arena, she can hear the singing of armor and weapon being pitted against each other. It's an arena, it's to be expected. Though, seeing Atherton down there is a bit of a surprise- small world. Quietly, she makes her way towards one of the tables, and sits down.

Joscelin arches an eyebrow, watching the fight. She leans towards Valencia, "Care to wager?"

Talk of betting does briefly trigger Agnarr's interest, but not very long. His pale eyes are on the fight -- and when Atherton begins to throw himself in recklessly, the massive northman clicks his tongue. "Don't play the Culler's game," he says, "He's quicker than you."

"Thank you again, Princes Jericho. I look forward to seeing you soon. Send missive and I shall reply," Valencia nods to the departing prince.

"Aye, we got to... The streets only be soo fucking wide, most be more narrow than a pretty girls--" and for the ladies in the room, that bit is lost in the din of action. "Reckon that thing ain't so practical for fighting," Orathy steps back and has to dodge and weave in whole new ways.

"Thank you Aksel, honestly I thought that was going to be a loss for me. You're something else." Astraea smiles and shakes her head in disbelief as she rubs her shoulder. Jericho is given a sweet smile and a wink on the way out but it's Emilia who captures her attention. The knight-princess pecks Ectorion on the cheek before she waves down the templar. "Emilia! Come sit with us. I've been meaning to hunt you down ever since I arrived."

Atherton takes serious damage.

Valencia looks back to Joscelin, "I am happy to meet your silver. What is your call, mistress?" she smiles gently, looking to the ring.

Jericho has left the bar.

Joscelin watches the pair fighting, tilting her head as they engage. "500. On Atherton."

Atherton checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 33, rolling 24 higher.

Atherton remains capable of fighting.

Orathy takes minor damage.

"Make your wagers -before- the fight starts," mutters Agnarr over at Joscelin, glancing over.

Valencia nods, "I shall happily back Missere Orathy then," she agrees.

Orathy takes minor damage.

Atherton checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 124, rolling 52 lower.

Atherton checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 79, rolling 3 higher.

Atherton remains alive, but close to death.

Atherton falls unconscious.

Joscelin makes a face Agnarr. "Didn't expect it to be decided four steps in, did I?" the plump jeweler remarks with a chortle.

Joscelin winces at her poor timing.

Apollis grins to Valencia's response to his question. He retakes his seat and raises his glass to Astraea before taking a sip. His emerald green eyes sparkle a little as he regards his sister silently. He's a big fan of her, clearly.

Valencia laughs gently and pats her arm and waves off the bet. "Please, let us hold this for another bout, yes? They were far to fierce for us. To the point in their fight." She smiles and graciously hands back the silver.

"There's that," sighs Agnarr. He does seem somewhat disappointed that Atherton is eventually toppled, but he remains in his chair, drinking slowly and looking among the other faces. To Joscelin, he suggests, "Best to do it the next match, then. Course, you don't have to think, you probably swim in silver," he supposes after a pensive look directed at the Guildmaster.

Emilia has joined the bar.

At the conclusion of the bout the princess clapped and cheered, whistling for them all. "Well done! Well done. Gloria looks down on us with joy, of this I am certain." Astraea slips back down into her seat and clears her throat. Dipping her head in shame for raising her voice,"My apologies your collective highness, my lords, ladies." Apollis is given a sheepish grin then as she reaches out and takes his glass to taste the odd concoction of rum and sugar.

Atherton heard Agnarr's warning, but still he pushed the attack with a wicked smile beneath his helm. There was nothing to be done for sitting back and slowly being picked apart. The scythe whirls in pure aggression, his feet only taking solid, measured steps while the rest of his body drives the strange weapon. He doesn't answer Orathy's talk of the efficacy of the weapon either... maybe over ale later. But for now he continues the assault even as Orathy ducks and weaves, managing a glancing gash of the tip here and there but nothing remotely as solid as the blows Orathy land on him. He continues on with some rabid fervor, long beyond what a man his age might have been able to withstand. His dented armor may make more sense now.

Seemingly a bit disappointed with how the battle concludes, Emilia emits a pensive hum, and rests her chin on the palm of her hand, as she toys with her ribbons tying off her braided hair. When she hears the clapping and cheering, she too joins in and adds to the excited and honoring noise.

"Be honest, Raea," Apollis says, as if Astraea would be anything but. "The sweet Princess Valencia likes it, or so she says." He watches her face carefully as she drinks his drink.


Joscelin sighs and rolls her eyes at Agnarr. "Why does everyone assume that? No, I've no patron, Guildmasters of the Crafters Guild can't show favoritism by way of a patron, so I work to sell my own." She catches a server, and in a murmur orders hot cider, spiked. "The Guild itself is doing well, yes, but that's not my success so much as the Crafters themselves." Her eyes are warm as she speaks, pride in her people.

"Figured you would be. You work dragonweep and all those fancy metals," Agnarr muses over to Joscelin, "Folk pay a lot for that." He leans back in his chair slowly, regarding her before looking back into the arena after the match's conclusion, sipping his whiskey. "Could be wrong, but it makes more sense to assume the Guildmaster's rich than otherwise," he reasons.

Cheers for them both, Valencia's respect for their skills written upon her fair feature. "Bravo! Well fought, gentlemen." She glances to Agnarr a moment as he and Joscelin speak and then turns smile a hello to Emilia as she arrives. "Good evening, my lady. Would you care to join us?" she invites the woman to the table with a warm nods. Having missed some of the conversation she looks a little confused, "I like what, my lord?" she asks Apollis with a lift of her brow.

The two in the arena looks evenly matched in age, though Orathy was the quicker of the two, considering the size of his weapon was as gangly as Atherton's, no, instead it was small and effective. It was an axe that looks like it could be from some Redrain tribe. The scythe is nothing to laugh at either, for when the glancing blows do hit, he feels it, only staggering slight upon impact. However, the adrenaline is pumping and he attacks like a cautious and sometimes rabid wolf, circling the other, waiting until he had swung, then leaping in with a cleaving hack and thud. It would be a series of calculated blows that define the ending, the Culler smashing the other man in the ribs to take him down, though he stands back up immediately and swipes again, so another blow is struck, this one harder than the last, the haft actually used to connect with the other's helm in a stunning blow that will ring the other man's bell rather effectively. When it's all over, Orathy stands above the other and offers his hand down, to haul him up.

"Sweet Apollis," Apollis says to Valencia with a wink.


Chuckling, Joscelin shrugs one bare shoulder at Agnarr. "I suppose. I usually make just enough to keep myself afloat, and so long as I can feed myself, keep my home, and keep creating, I'm happy. Oh, and clothes. Clothes are good." She eyes his cup. "What are you drinking? Have a round on me, mm?"

Emilia's attention is drawn to Valencia, and when she's refered to as 'my lady' she immediately stands up, frantically flailing her arms in a denying fashion, "Oh, I am just a simple Knight, your Highness." She insists, but now that it's come to this, there is no way she can decline the invitation, so she makes her way over towards the other table with the tiniest amount of hesitation showing in her mannerisms. She points to the seat as if asking 'may I?' before she sits down, and says. "I am Dame Emilia of the Templars."

Emilia has left the bar.

Emilia has joined the ringside table.

Atherton almost manages to stay on his feet even at that ear-ringing blow, his head getting cocked to one side even with the helmet. He staggers back on one foot, the scythe wavering between swinging back and being used as a crutch. He takes one staggering step back more before his knees buckle, sending him to the sand below. The weight of the armor creates a small crater, and Atherton is summarily down. He takes a few seconds to get his bearings, finally reaching up with a metal-clad hand to take Orathy's. "'Lad' it is," he states woozily, getting to his feet with much effort and a good deal of help from Orathy, clearly unbalanced after that last strike. "Well fought." He reaches down to retrieve his scythe, nearly toppling again, but managing to straighten back up.

Aksel takes a drink from his whiskey as he rises from the his seat. "If you will all excuse me, I'm going to go for a soak, then go to bed." He looking towards Astraea, "Good, match, Princess. We'll have to do it again sometime." He nods to the rest of the table before looking towards Valencia, "Princess, always a fun time." He doesn't look like he's going to not take that bottle of whiskey with him.

"Whiskey," answers Agnarr, covering his face to briefly itch at his eyes and beard once he's managed to tug his gloves off. He offers Joscelin a small nod, beckoning her with a hand thus. "Fair enough, then. Think we've got some previous business to talk off, eh? Ain't going to stay long, but we may as well while I am. C'mere. Sit."

Joscelin sits up. "Good point," she chuckles at Agnarr. "We've a design to discuss, don't we? The iron and gold?"

Joscelin has left the ringside table.

Joscelin has joined the Champions' table.

Ectorion sighs at something quietly said, and moves to stand up with a slight shake and a rueful smile. He reaches down taking Astraea's hand and then hefting her up, tossing her over his shoulder. "Is the ring free?" he asks curiously, "it seems the Princess Knight has decided I'm her next victim," he announces..despite having been hesitant to enter the ring before. He carries her towards the ring with a rueful smirk, his hand across the back of her thhighs as he walks with her.

Ectorion has left the ringside table.

Aksel has left the ringside table.

Orathy hoists up the woozy Atherton, leaning back on his heels with a grunt of effort, sweat now beading his forehead. "Aye lad, reckon you got to be getting used to the way it feel in your hand, like the swell of a woman's bosom." He laughs heartily, "Reckon you be keeping me bobbing around like a damn frog." He gestures toward Ectorion, "Aye, it be free." He will help get the other commoner off the arena.

white-tailed eagle arrives, following Thesarin.

Orathy has left the ring of valor.

Atherton has left the ring of valor.

"That we do," Agnarr dips his head a single time to Joscelin, raising his boot to languidly push a chair out for the Guildmaster. He yawns, watching the next two victims step into the ring, before continuing conversation with her in lower tones.

Astraea was not at all prepared to be carried like a sack of potatoes. She blushes but laughs none the less. "I am awful glad you think this is cute Tori. You...will pay for this." Her white hair spilled down into her face until she squirmed out of his grasp with as much dignity as she could muster. His foot receives a firm stomp before she draws her blade and moves to stand opposite him. "The first time we sparred, I was curious. This time...it's personal!" The princess salutes and readies.

"Welcome to my Hart, Dame Emilia," Valencia says with a bright smile. "I am so very glad to meet you. I apologize. I did not mean to offend. It is a force of habit. I forget that title is often confused with title of respect. But please, I am so glad to have you join us. Please help yourself," she invites waving her hand at the table and the rather large collection of booze on the table. A little smile is offered to Aksel as he departs and nod to Orathy as well, "Thank you, Missere Orathy. It was good to see you again. I hope you will return soon."

Astraea waves to Aksel! "Next time Sword of Stonedeep!"

Atherton is helped along by Orathy. A woozy but clear booming laugh echoes from within the helmet. "Oh, it's been ages since I've been called that... I regret the bet." He clasps Orathy's shoulder in a light-hearted manner. "It's the footwork that gets me here. Where I've been, bandits stand like they got lead feet. Everyone here dances. I'll just need more practice." He heads for his seat where his half-finished ale is waiting.

Ectorion has joined the ring of valor.

Astraea has left the ringside table.

Astraea has joined the ring of valor.

Ectorion wields bastard sword of the king's own.

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Thesarin steps into the arena, looking... well, even less cheerful than usual. Dressed warm against the late-autumn chill, sword at his hip. He scans the room for familiar faces, and makes his way toward the bar, to fetch himself a tall cup of something strong. He gives a deep nod to Valencia as he steps through the arena.

Ectorion smiles, "Now now..we should at least place a wager on the match or something.." He grins wickedly, stepping in and smiling, "the loser buys breakfast shall we say?" with a suggestive grin before he drops to a guarded stance as well.

Ectorion takes minor damage.

Ectorion takes minor damage.

Astraea takes moderate damage.

Astraea takes moderate damage.

white-tailed eagle have been dismissed.

Emilia seems to melt with Valencia's kind and warm words, returning a smile just as bright to the princess. "Oh, please don't apologizes, your Highness." She says, scrambling to get the words out. "I just didn't want people to mistake my place in the hierarchy." She says with a chuckle. "I thank you for the warm welcome. This is a fine establishment."

"Reckon you are lad," Orathy cannot help but rumble deeply with his amusement, returning the light-hearted manner but behind that gaze was a knowing that one day it might not be for practice. "Aye well here, we got buildings to scale up, leap over, and scramble down, and streets, and places where there be tunnels. It ain't just trees." He nods toward the door, "Reckon I be having some business though." He nods to Valencia on his way out, eyes then scathing by Agnarr on the way out, noting with a sneer, "One day ya big fuck, I'll be ready to cleave your legs off." And that's all he has to say about that, as he leaves.

"Look forward to you trying," Agnarr answers Orathy, head bobbing. But he doesn't look particularly wary, or scared. Back to conversation.

Atherton gives an equally woozy wave after Orathy, settling -heavily- into his seat again. He rests the scythe against the edge of the table, the point resting towards the center. He pulls off his helmet, a wicked bruise already forming and his eyes unfocused. Gloves come next, set on the table before he goes for his ale, finishing it off in a few quick gulps. He looked contemplative now.

Atherton puts Rugged Steel Helm in Old Leather Pack.

The match began at a leisurely pace, him and her testing one another's reflexes. It seems that they both know one another's style well enough, even if she didn't fight with any traditional Arvani technique. Foreign as her style was, he was able to fend off the unorthodox slashes and thrusts. First blood was given to the princess-knight when she managed to step in and deliver two resounding blows to his chest plate.

Ectorion managed to counter and land two blows of his own, much more vigorous than her own. None the less Astraea nodded to him and raised her blade in a high guard. "You've improved since last we fought. Good. Double the pride...twice the fall." She laughs at her own jest and waits for him to come to her this time.

"You are so very welcome. And though title is used her if requested, truly all under this roof are treated with equal and loving respect. I am so you decided to join us," Valencia says nodding again. Orathy's nod is returned and the little vixen turns her eyes to Thesarin as he arrives, giving him a smile as he heads to the bar. The smile fades as she notes is expression and she turns to the table again, "WOuld you excuse me for just a little. I would greet a friend," she offers apologetically as she gracefully rises from the table.

Ectorion's helm is placed right before the match begins, and he moves with a fluidity that belies his armor. The rubicund is relied upon, but seems no longer to hinder his movements as badly, and it turns what would be devastating blows aside into mere scratches, as he and Astraea dance back and forth. He smiles, hidden beneath the helm but clear in his voice, "Double the pride? Hardly my love, I'm quite sure of your skill, and will be most pleased to fall if you are victorious," he says in response. He slides back and eyes her, "the better you become, the better I will strive to be to keep up, and the more certain I can rest when I know you face dangers.." Then he is moving again, closing quickly with a flash of his blade.

Atherton looks to the empty mug. Then he pushes himself to his feet, hefting his scythe over his shoulder. He wasn't really about to try and fit it back to its holder on his back right now. He begins to wander out, looking drunk and generally satisfied despite the horrific beating he'd taken.

Ectorion takes minor damage.

Ectorion takes minor damage.

Ectorion is already starting to slow, that heavy armor is taxing, and Astraea is -fast-. He dances in and out as best he can, looking for openings, but as his sword seeks and stabs she always seems to be just out of his reach or to get her blade up in time. Meanwhile, his own guard is slipping, opening more and more advantages for her to slide an attack in. He rocks back from another light blow and shakes his head, "still not the equal of the armor," he says with a sigh, "I need to get stronger, the weight of it is still fatiguing me too quickly..sorry love, going to have to make this faster.."

Emilia nods her head to Valencia respectfully, clearly unsure about the meaning of her words. But by the time she comes up with an answer, Valencia is already moving to greet her friend. Emilia looks towards the ring, where the two battle it out, and she watches with a complicated, contemplating, expression.

"Princess." Thesarin gives a low nod to Valencia as he makes his way toward her. The man looks... tired, tonight. Older, somehow. He forces a smile to his face as she approaches, but it fades quickly. "How's the evening find you?"

Valencia has left the ringside table.

Valencia has joined the bar.

Thesarin has joined the bar.

The little vixen looks up at Thesarin and smiles. "I am well enough, and very happy to see you, my lord." she replies, offering him a delicate hand. "Care to join me for a drink?" she invites motioning him towards the bar. "It's been some time, yes?"

Astraea rained down several blows on him, a counter-assault to his initial onslaught. She wasn't pressing too hard, the focused expression she wore wasn't contorted with primal fury. Yet she still fought with a viciousness that was all the North. Her hair swirled around her as she bat aside his latest attempt and stepped in to catch him with a swift backhand. As if that weren't enough she spun around him and blocked his attempt to catch her in that transition to flank him. She was too fast and managed to duck under it, rising with immense strength as she twisted her torso and caught him in the shoulder with the pommel of her sword.

Astraea takes minor damage.

Ectorion takes moderate damage.

Ectorion takes moderate damage.

"Some time, yes." Thesarin gives a slow, thoughtful nod as he settles into the seating at the bar, watching the back and forth in the ring, flashing blades and thrusts and parries. "Thought I'd stop in. A drink, fine company." He glances at the ring with a slow shrug. "Maybe a bout. Could be I'm late for it."

"Wow Tori. You're really trying this time?" Astraea teases as she dodges another swipe from his sword. The princess laughs as she changes her stance. The blade is held above her head, parallel to the ground and pointed away. She circled him with a purposeful gait, waiting to find her opening. As she saw an opening the white haired woman slipped in and attempted to rain down a short one-two which he managed to parry. She parried another and side-stepped a wide blow, quick-stepping almost faster than the eye could see to deliver a powerful blow to his ribcage. Yes she paid for it shortly after with a pretty well placed blow from Ectorion, but now she smiled. "You need to run with me more...I think the palace life is making you soft my love."

There's a grunt as Ectorion's side catches a swipe of Astraea's blade instead of his sword, the Knight takes a couple of steps to the side as he shakes his head slightly. "Maybe your right, but I can assure you love, I'm far from going soft.." he laughs wickedly. Stepping forward again, he raises his blade into a salute, "you're growing more skilled every day, whatever am I going to do in a month to keep you entertained," he worries before whipping out with his blade.

Astraea takes moderate damage.

Ectorion takes moderate damage.

Valencia smile again. "You are always welcome here and if you can find a partner to accept challenge, you are not too late to spar. Let us see you with drink as the others complete their match, yes?" she suggests, now ushering him to the table to meet the others.

Astraea takes minor damage.

Astraea takes minor damage.

Ectorion checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 18, rolling 29 higher.

Ectorion remains capable of fighting.

Ectorion checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 27, rolling 14 higher.

Ectorion remains capable of fighting.

Astraea takes minor damage.

Ectorion checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 42, rolling 5 lower.

Ectorion checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 13, rolling 25 higher.

Ectorion remains alive, but close to death.

Ectorion falls unconscious.

Emilia gets Golden Hart Arena Longsword from Weapons Rack.

Emilia wields Golden Hart Arena Longsword.

Emilia shuffles over towards the weapon rack, something apparently having caught her eye. She retrieves the longsword, and takes a good long look at it. She taps the blade with her finger and makes a surprised noise, like a child that just figured out a complicated toy-- clearly impressed. Embarassed, she puts the sword back, clears her voice, and walks back to the table.

Emilia puts Golden Hart Arena Longsword in Weapons Rack.

Ectorion rallies back again, pressing the attack more aggressively with each passing moment, as he tries to settle the matter before his armor drags him down from the fatigue of it. His movements are slowing, but he notices that Astraea's are as well, and manages to catch her with his sword a couple of times before a massive blow drives him down to one knee. For a moment, it looks like he's finished there, but he surges up from the knee, swinging his blade wide, unwilling to give up as he continues fighting on. "Not.. Yet!" he calls out, his blade flashing against hers. The conclusion is foregone though, as anyone who has watched such things for long can tell, and with another resounding blow he is sent staggering backwards, this time losing his footing and falling, staying down as he reaches up to push his helm off, gasping for air, beaten and pouring sweat.

Emilia wields Strifebearer, a thin longsword.

Valencia applauds again as Astraea wins another fine victory as the rest of the crowd enthusiastically rises to the their feet to cheer. "Bravo! Well done! Both of you," she calls out with appreciation and raising her glass. She smiles over at Emilia as she inspects the Hart's weapons and then pours Thesarin a generous whiskey, Velenosan style, of course. and then settles down in her own chair to enjoy the continued good company. She raises her glass to another successful event and to he many beloved guests. "To life, luck and love... to all of you. Thank you for being in my Hart and for all that you do for this city."

Thesarin makes a low noise in the back of his throat, and nods one more time to Valencia as he gets a glass of amber liquor from the bar. "I'm always glad to share a drink, Princess." He raises the cup as it's set out in front of him, a quiet toast to her before he takes a slow sip. His attention turns toward the arena as Ectorion is sent to the ground, and he gives another low noise in his throat, approving. Emilie's venture to the weapons rack gets another look, a rather curious tilt at his head as she returns the blade to its stand.

Astraea catches a pretty solid smack to the side of the head. She blinks and waves her sword in a wide sweep to fend him off when she stumbles back. Winded from the exchange the northern woman tries to catch her breath and re-focus. This time when she comes at him each step is deliberate and she once again changes her grip on the sword, each blow is chosen for it's moment and the parries and blocks become less fancy and much more efficient.

Parry, slash, dodge, slash. It was a dance she was used to and despite her fatigue and the fact that he continued punishing her for her seemingly open guard she forced him back, pressed twice as hard and hit with much more force than the last. Eventually she manages to knock Ectorion on his ass. "I bet..." She pauses to suck in a deep breath, panting for a few seconds as she paces back and forth. "...you thought I was going to let that shit slide. Naw." With that the princess walks over to him and offers him a hand up with a cheshire grin on her lips.

Astraea has left the ring of valor.

Astraea has joined the ringside table.

Ectorion has left the ring of valor.

Joscelin chokes on her drink. COUGHCOUGHsplutter.

"Aye, we'll talk about the rest soon," Agnarr says, after watching Joscelin sputter, snorting quietly. He rises to his feet, gloves kept off his hands - and he lifts one to Valencia as he moves to take his departure.

Ectorion is pulled up and grins, "Not at all," he admits, pulling his helmet the rest of the way off and hooking at his belt. "Gods, that was a workout love," he says in an exhausted fashion, sighing. He pulls her back though, spinning her around and kissing her, grinning, "looks like breakfast is on me," he notes tiredly. "This promises to be an expensive loss," he teases as he follows after her.

Another smile finds her lips and the little vixen drinks, and eyebrow lifting with a bit of worry as she looks Joscelin's way, "Mistress Joscelin," Valenica asks looking the woman's way with a bit of concern, her eyes tracing Agnarr suspiciously as he departs.

Ectorion has joined the ringside table.

Joscelin waves off Valencia, chuckling, coughing. "Yes, I'm fine. Poorly timed quip, is all."

Valencia smiles with understanding and draws a deep breath. "Gods, what a night," she says and shoots the glass