Dame Marra, a limping fennec fox arrives, following Ailith.

Christine has heard about a duel, and there she comes, curious by it.

This is all sort of last minute, to be honest, but when everyone is free for a duel, it is time to duel. There wasn't much time to get catering, but given the spring warmth, there is a small table set up with punch and water and the like for those coming to watch. Lord Corban Telmar, for his part, is standing near the dueling ring with his chosen champion, waiting for the appointed hour. When it does, he murmurs to those there: "Time to start the show."

And so he does. Raising his voice, meant for the audience, Corban says: "Lord Reiker Wyrmguard! You have offended my honor by casting aspersions on the competence and intelligence of Telmar's vassal and my friend, Lady Monique Greenmarch, and by refusing to retract those words when I demanded satisfaction! The time has come to settle this as men. Goodman Agnarr, having seen the justness of my cause --" And having been paid. "-- has agreed to stand as my champion! I say to you stand in the dueling ring and let's be done with this."

The King of the Compact may or may not have been on the way to do something actually offical when word of a duel only a minor detour nearby came across his party. Exercising his royal perogative to make some flexible scheduling, he and his retinue rolls in to duly claim a fair number of the good seats. Alaric regally smiles and waves to all the inbound bowing and such from the populace along the way.

Painbow, a militant pygmy goat arrives, following Cristoph.

Alaric has joined the Noble Seating.

Arn has joined the Noble Seating.

Every duel needs a priest, right? Maybe, maybe not. But Orazio hears of the pronouncement, and shows up, just to ensure that things are run correctly. Also, because duels are fun. Orazio is in his formal robes, and he moves to take a seat.

Agnarr has joined the Dueling Ring.

Balian, a Templar squire, Guy, a hunting kestrel arrive, following Preston.

Orazio has joined the Noble Seating.

Christine has joined the Noble Seating.

Delilah has joined the Noble Seating.

Surely Cristoph has things to be doing during the day! Instead he's at this duel. It's fine. Work can get done later.

Alarissa has joined the Noble Seating.

Shard stalks in, looking--well, looking like her usual, dour self, plus a wasp sting or two that hasn't quite healed up yet. She heads for a seat, without a word of greeting to anyone. That, of course, is also normal.

Ailith has joined the Noble Seating.

Shard has joined the Commoner Stands.

Cristoph has joined the Noble Seating.

Monique is there, waiting to see whether she's stupid or not. She looks well put together, at least, should the duel turn out in favor of her lack of intelligence. If you can't be smart, be pretty?

"His cause is just," mutters Agnarr towards Corban for 'added benefit', fiddling with the bevor that is paired with his sallet and securing it in place. Then he goes for his warsword of rubicund, giving it a good look-over before he marches over to the ring, not entering, but staying close by without any announcement levied yet. He rubs at his cheek under the steel, a mostly-healed wasp sting.

Driskell has joined the Commoner Stands.

Aarissa was in conversation with Ailith when the noise and grandstanding of a duel went out. Normally, she's not one to go but alarissa etoured with Ailith given the nature of -who- was dueling. Pregnancy starting to show, she's taking up a seat in the stands with the palace seraph with a murmur

Jack has joined the Commoner Stands.

Preston has joined the Noble Seating.

Driskell walks towards the commoner stands and sits down to watch the proceedings, the white robes fluttering a bit.

Monique has joined the Noble Seating.

Short notice or not, Arn is always walking briskly and aggressively. Short legs carry him quickly as he storms to the proving grounds. A side glare is offered Corban, just in passing, as he heads to the noble seating area and the king(plus retinue). The old Duke gets as close as he can to the royal presence and drops his heavily armored body down into a chair with an audible grunt. "These gods be damned kids and their duels. I've fought a few but it was serious, gods dammit." he's speaking to Alaric. "You ever duelled, your majesty? I imagine not, eh? You're not missing out, let me tell you." unsurprisingly, Arn is annoyed at the whole thing. But he is here. "Haven't seen you since you woke up." he looks the young monarch over and nods once, "You look good. More serious. Kingly. Good on you. Fits you."


Jack meanders over towards where the common folk go, seeming to not think much at all of the divide between the noble and the otherwise. This man is clearly otherwise. He does, however, try to identify just who might be the offended party in all this. Lady somebody somebody? He does, at least, pipe up, towards the cathering. "Physician on hand, should it be needed, my lords!" This said, of course, with a smile.

In the company of the Princess-Consort, the Palace Seraph smiles during the conversation, cradling a small tiny furry creature. Her curiosity lingers on the duelists as she settles down to locate a seat. The little creature spins in a circle across Ailith's lap before settling down, making a soft yipping noise. For whatever reason, she adjusts her position which gives the creature a better view of the combatants.

Madeleine's a face not seen in the city for a while, clad in flowing blue-green robes and a pale silk veil over her summer-blond hair. The curvy woman smiles warmly as her bare feet pad the stones and move her up into the stands. The King gets a curtsey from the Archlector of the Lady of the Waves before she goes to find a seat, excusing me and pardoning me before settling down.

Madeleine has joined the Noble Seating.

Corban spots Jack the Doctor, and waves him over, thinking it quite good there is one on hand. "What is your fee?" he asks, reaching into his pocket. "It is good to have one on hand to take care of the cut that will end this." But he is otherwise waiting for the rest of the preliminaries to play out.

Delilah, having stumbled upon something seemingly impressive, quietly makes as the majority of nobles, finding herself a nearby seat as to observe the dueling ring. Her gaze wanders through through the small crowd, possibly looking for an acquaintance, before she she frowns ever so slightly and crosses her legs, having decided her spot is fine as is.

Maeve casually makes her way into the proving grounds, pausing to look around at the crouds. She turns her gaze towards the ring, canting her head slightly. Bare feet pad across the ground as she makes her way quietly to find a seat.

Jack has left the Commoner Stands.

Maeve has joined the Commoner Stands.

Reiker steps to the center of the ground, he is quiet, and stoic. He's come today without any armor about him, dressed only in his typical black and gold colors. Notibly however he does carry a cresent rubicund glaive at his side. As Corban finishes the otherwise fancy introduction he peers over, ice blue eyes falling on his lord. "I understand your offense lord Corban." He agree's simply, offering a salute as he presses his fist to his heart. "I don't believe any honorable knight should ever have to pay someone else to fight for his honor, I'll be standing for myself today." He explains, heading back to the center to address his opponent. "Agnarr was it? Shame I have to meet another warrior this way." He sets the lengthy Glaive beside him, pointing upwards. "Well met though, nonetheless. Luck to you."

From the look on Jack's face, he hadn't actually expected to be called over. But after a moment's surprise, he diverts his trajectory and meanders on over to Corban's side. "A hundred silver, my lord, if I end up doing anything atall," he says, a bit more quietly. "I'll wave the fee for standing here and watching," he says, with a smile. He follows those words by leaning to Corban's side, and murmuring to the lord.

Conker, the Ornery Red Squirrel, Dame Barkley, a chocolate tri beagle arrive, following Joslyn.

"Aye, if it please you to think so," Agnarr replies to Reiker, evidently disagreeing with his opinion, but stating little else. The enormous northman does himself a good last checkover, straps and catches fastened, fully harnessed as opposed to his opponent. He rests his warsword upon his shoulder, looking briefly at Corban. "Let your goddess decide," he supposes.

"Ah, have the view and the money," says Corban, taking the silver and handing it over to the doctor, chuckling at whatever it is that Jack murmured to him. "But I am glad you're available."

Monique rises quietly from the stands, moving to join Corban and Agnarr, murmuring something to both and passing a small black kerchief to the latter with a grateful smile.

Arn shouts from nearby, "Hurry the hell up and get started!"

Perhaps it's because vassal houses of Valardin are involved, or because one of the combatants is one of her second cousins, or maybe because one never knows if more than pride will be wounded in a deal intended to be only to first blood, but whatever the reason, the Mother Mercy of Arx, Princess Sophie is here, with omnipresent medical satchel. Kindly, she smiles at those on the field, then steps to the sidelines and waits, as a healer is wont to do.

"Don't mind," answers Agnarr to Monique, albeit more loudly than she'd spoken. He takes the kerchief, studies it, and then slowly winds it around the vambrace on his right arm., tying it in place.

Maeve has left the Commoner Stands.

Jack's already at Corban's side, just past the dueling ring. He's keenly watching the two prepare, until Sophie makes her apperance. Recognizing the woman from description, he leans back, to speak behind Corban, in a soft tone. "Mother Mercy?" he asks. "Jack Bathwater. Pleasure!" he says, and flashes a smile with it. "Do step in if anything gets particularly bad, yeah?" he asks. "Or if I bollocks it up," he says, flashing a smiling with that bit.

Corban smiles at Monique when she joins them briefly, and touches her arm lightly, giving her a warm smile. "Glad you could make it," he says, as if she were joining them for drinks. But with that all done, the Telmar lord surveys the ring, raising his voice once more.

"You have each stated your consent to honorable battle. Let Gloria make the combat honorable, the righteous prevail, and the vanquished leave with dignity. Begin!"

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

"Aye, glory and honor and all that," Agnarr mutters without all that much conviction, but he does stand up straight, throw a general salute with his massive two-hander, and then step into the dueling circle, keeping his visor raised for vision, pale gaze on Reiker.

Reiker hasn't moved, even as his opponent readies himself. Noticeably to his opponent perhaps is that Reiker has slowed his breathing to inhaling only once or twice each minute. His icey eyes follow Agnarr, though the Wyrmguard's only movement is to put his glaive point down in front of him, holding it at attention.

Corban mutters an aside to Monique next to him, just loud enough perhaps to be heard before the clash of arms. "You'd think for three thousand silver, he could be a little more convincing on the show. Good thing the High Lord says he hits hard."

Reiker takes serious damage.

Sophie's amiability extends to Jack, in the form of a welcoming smile. "Well met, Goodman Bathwater. A pleasure, indeed." Briefly, summer sky eyes flit back to the field, and she quietly asides, "I trust it will mostly be wounded pride, but one never knows. And I trust you to not muck it up."

Monique's grin for Corban is quicksilver, and her eyes slip to the fight as it begins. Aside, to the Telmar Voice, she offers, "He's got size on his side. I've seen him fight before. I predict an unfortunate trouncing."

Madeleine whistles low as she looks at Agnarr and his massive blade. "Biggun," the priestess says softly. "This should be brief."

Reiker isn't willing to move until the last second, though does so with a degree of speed. As Agnarr moves on him, he kicks up the glaive, pressing it against the thick plate of his opponent. Failing to get through it however calculative eyes look to Agnarr's swing, raising his off hand with a willingness to lose flesh if it meant he wouldn't lose his footing, features unmoved even as he contemplates the impending loss.

Driskell watches the activity of the two duelists as he's speaking at the commoner bench.

Then it's on. Agnarr doesn't fully deflect the blow, but it finds the strongest point of his cuirass. It, unfortunately, does not halt the momentum of his cut, and though his aim is a little less than perfect, Reiker wears barely more than clothing to resist the blow. He's got enough control that Reiker's arm is 'only' cut open - and very obviously so - instead of the lord now sporting a lovely little stump. He immediately steps back, cursing low and studying his cuirass, before looking off out of the ring at the organizers.

Well, that was fast. Corban is in the middle of murmuring something to Monique and then there is the flash of blades, and then -- yep. That's first blood, even by their slightly expanded standards.

"Halt!" he calls out, taking a step into the ring, making sure that both of them have registered that the threshold has been reached. "That is enough. My honor is satisfied. And you dueled with dignity, Lord Reiker. Do you consider this matter ended, as well?"

Jack sucks in a breath through his teeth, and while he doesn't rush into the ring, he is already crouching down and grabbing out a cloth for immediate wound-covering. He'll wait, patiently, until requested or otherwise given permission to attend. But surely the good doctor knows not to interupt the rest of this ceremony.

Reiker checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 2 higher.

Christine claps her hands, as the combat ends.

Cristoph has left the Noble Seating.

Painbow, a militant pygmy goat have been dismissed.

If one were to judge by the slight widening and rounding of her eyes, Sophie perhaps wasn't expecting her cousin Reiker to have been injured /quite/ so seriously. Like Jack, she stands ready to tend to the wound. And, if permitted, also her Wyrmguard kin's pride.

Orazio is overheard praising Agnarr for: For grumpy but competent Championing.

Monique remains placidly by Corban's side. If she's thinking about rolling Reiker in a bolt of steelsilk and trading him for some fireweave, it doesn't show on her lovely, composed features. Hands rise to politely applaud both combatants. "Well fought," she says, evenly. So evenly.

Conker, the Ornery Red Squirrel, Dame Barkley, a chocolate tri beagle leave, following Joslyn.

Reiker clenches his teeth as he feels the flesh in his arm cut, the force of which caused a small crunching sound that he assumed was his forearm. Still though he won't make a sound, the goal of staying on his feet completed as he pulls the glaive away from Agnarr's armor, casting a glance to Corban. "I never found it to be an issue Lord Corban." He speaks, not wishing to try and move the injured arm. "Though you may want to take the whole thing off if every time I say something you don't like this may happen." Finally he looks down, turning his arm to inspect the dripping wound and coming to some other conclusion about it. "Well fought Agnarr."

The white robed priest stands up from the commoner bench as the duel finishes quickly and takes a few steps away from it but turns to face the commoner rabble who have been watching the matter of honor taking place. Driskell's voice lifts up to the commoners but perhaps his voice can be heard elsewhere too. "Come, my friends, gather and listen to a short message on honor and duels. Give a moment of your time to the gods and be blessed."

Shard, also sitting at the commoner benches, gives Driskell a narrow, incredulous stare.

"Well fought," answers Agnarr, looking down to his cuirass. "Don't wish your arm off. You'll wish it back on after." Then he turns around to step out of the dueling area, fetching a little rag to wipe that Wyrmguard blood off the rose-gold (as he would insist) steel of his blade before sliding it back into the scabbard set by the arena. Now he tends to post-fight cleanup, not really paying much heed to Driskell or any of this non-heathen proceeding.

Orazio stands to address the combatants. "In Gloria's name, it seems that an honorable duel has been fought. May the victor and the vanquished both take the result with honor, and recognize that the offense is ended, and not to be repeated nor escalated from this moment on." His voice is stern, but pleased, although he gives Reiker a long and thoughtful look.

"Perhaps the cut will cause you to learn the benefit of discretion over directness. But regardless, this is behind us. All honor to you and House Wyrmguard." Lord Corban steps forward, then, and grasps his champion's large hand, shaking it firmly. "Gloria favors the righteous, Goodman Agnarr. Well done and well chosen. I am glad you contacted me similarly outraged over the sleight." And if coin passes from hand to hand in the shake? Surely coincidental.

12 Thrax Elite Guards, Crow - Thraxian Steward, Lilybelle - Fluffy Maine Coon arrive, following Victus.