Honor's Demand

Homesteads 


 * ''The riverstone-paved highway of Mikin Road stalks her perfectly straight path along the gradual rises and dips of the landscape - a westward extension of the old Mikin road, bestowing the traveler with an idyllic peppering of cottages, gardens, livestock pens along the way. Most of the modest homes have been raised from the ground via a combination of unyielding stone, a variety of woods, and quaint bundles of thatch. The loving touch of flower and herb gardens sprouts eagerly at some doorsteps whereas others are kept barren by the nibbling jaws of sheep. The trickling sounds of underground springs brought to life by skilled welling burbles a faint welcome to passers-by.


 * ''Marching ever westward, the omnipresent vista of the Light's Reach Mesa soon comes into view, a vast and expansive "table-top" area of elevated land with a flat top and sides that exist of steep cliffs. The only access to this mesa is via the eastern side, and it is this side which Mikin Road climbs to reach the illustrious gates of the reborn city above: Light's Reach.


 * ''By far the largest city in Fastheld, the area of Light's Reach spreads across the entirety of the mesa upon which it stands. A curtain wall surrounds the city, running around the perimeter of the mesa, while the eastern edge is guarded by two impressive walls known as the Twin Bulwarks. At twenty-five foot in height, and lined with short watchtowers and sturdy battlements, these parallel fortifications run the entire length of the eastern edge of the mesa, shielding the city behind them.


 * ''Mikin Road is devoured by these bulwark walls as it vanishes beneath the main, wide gateway arch that stands as the entrance to the city directly in the middle of the outer-most wall. From outside, little of the city proper can be seen behind the rise of the bluff and the curtain walls that surround it. However, the top of the arsenic-gray structure of Dawnstar Keep can be seen as it rises in the central-western reaches, as can the four torch-towers known as the Towers of Light in the "corners" of the city; each one taller than the walls that surround them, and each one holding a vast and perpetually burning torch flame at their zenith, casting warm illumination upon the area when darkness has fallen. --

Outside of the gates of Light's Reach, it is mildly warm. The wind is nearly non-existant, only the occasional light breezes blowing through the air. The sky is moonless, but it also begins to brighten as the sun rises from the east. A light fog also plagues the landscape. Norran has walked calmly out of the Reach, finding a suitable grassy sward located a decent distance from the side the road. Norran stands in wait, reaching his right hand to unclasp his cloak from his neck while his left reaches to draw his sabre, Sul'thraze, from its baldric. His expression is serious, concentrated, patient.

The young Seamel has stripped off the bronze ringmail that formerly protected his body, leaving him in a set of comfortable, sturdy clothes meant to be worn beneath said armor. He holds the blade of a well-manufactured scimitar in his hand, the hilt resting on his shoulder. He follows Norran to his selected spot, sighing quietly as he flips the business end of the sword away from him, catching the grip as he looks up at Norran. "Whenever you are ready, Your Grace," he says simply, his voice calm as he waits for the Duke to take his guard.

Adrianna stands to the side of the two at a fair distance, her hands holding tight to her kit as she watches, "I am ready when the two of ye are," she says

"Very well, Lord Seamel. I'm not trying to kill you, so try to repay me the favor," replies the Lomasa, his serious visage cracked with a little grin tugging at the corner of his lips. His cloak tossed to the side, the young Lomasa Duke begins a sudden sprint in the Seamel's direction. His footfalls are rapid and subtle, the sound of him moving through the grass barely audible as he dashes at Lyddmull with his sabre poised to strike, noticably enough, in his left hand.

Bringing his scimitar up to a high guard, the Seamel's brow knits in concentration as he moves his leading foot to one side, the other following as he brings the blade down in a sweeping arc towards the charging Duke's left side, his movements careful and deliberate.

Unfortunately for Norran, he doesn't quite manage to bring his sabre up for a parry quick enough to dodge the blow. The scimitar tears through Norran's tunic and the flesh of his side, biting into his torso painfully enough as the Lomasa hisses in retaliation. The pain stuns him momentarily as blood begins to flow from his side, the Lomasa gritting his teeth and unrelenting as he attempts to attack through the Seamel's opening by sweeping at his leg.

Grimacing tightly in pain, the Seamel almost goes down to one knee for an instant as his attempt to parry the excellent blow fails dismally. With a growl, he shakes his head and bobs back up again, turning to face the Duke as he sweeps his blade up at a steep angle, seeking to push through the Lomasa's guard.

The Lomasa grins with a renewed vigor as his blow lands. Although he fails to reach his target, the hamstring, it's definitely severe enough. Lyddmull's next attack almost nearly punches through Norran's guard, but as remarkable the blow, Norran proves himself just as strong the swordsman. A metallic *clank!* rings out as steel strikes steel, the Lomasa holding his ground. With their blades locked, Norran seems to keep his ground and attempts something somewhat unexpected: his right hand suddenly flies at Lyddmull, a flattened palm reaching to strike the Seamel square in the face.

Lyddmull's head snaps back awkwardly, forcing the Seamel back. As the blades disengage, the Baron staggers back, the loss of blood from the leg wound beginning to affect him. He swings his sword laterally towards the Duke now, more to keep him back than with any hope of actually doing any damage.

His sabre free of engagement after his blow to Lyddmull, Norran is free to regain his stance and footing to prepare for the Seamel's next attack. As Lyddmull tries to attack Norran's side once more, the Lomasa seems to expect it. His grin is quite apparent now, the Duke unashamedly enjoying himself despite the blood seeping from his side. The Lomasa swordsman manages to parry Lyddmull's impressively quick, but unfortunately hampered attack with Sul'thraze. The blade deflected, Norran uses this opportunity to maneuver his way beside the Seamel and deliver a downward slash to the man's un-injured leg.

Completely unable to bring the scimitar around in time to parry the well-timed and aimed blow, a quiet cry escapes the Seamel as his legs give out beneath him. His hands strike the turf to catch himself before planting his face in it. Breathing heavily, the Seamel attempts to push himself to his feet, spitting out the blood that runs from his nose to his mouth. His limbs disobey him, however and his knees find the ground again.

The Lomasa's broad grin remains, his stance relaxing as he turns to face Lyddmull. "Thank you again," murmurs Norran, apparently to himself, as he returns the crimson stained Sul'thraze to the baldric at his side. It's about then that he grits his teeth once more, his grin not fading, as he presses his hand to the wound at his side. "Impressive, Seamel. Ruined one of my best tunics on my wedding day, but I should be able to bear the ceremony without needing a cane. If this were a duel to the death, this would traditionally be the part where I lop your head off or disembowel you or something disheartening like that. Fortunately, I am not nearly that barbaric, and your offence /far/ from warrants that. This Duel to the Pain is complete, unless you feel you can continue?" asks Norran, looking down to Lyddmull with curious emerald eyes as he waves Adrianna over with the hand not gripping his side.

Adrianna unable to contain herself any longer hurries to help the more injured of the two, using her hands to hold closed the more dangerous of Lyddmulls wounds, "Don't move," she warns softly. Then looking to Norran, "If ye wait a moment I'll be with ye, your grace," she says as politely as she can. "I hope ye can understand."

"Oh, of course! This is just a," the Duke pauses to wince, "...scratch. Finish with him, then perhaps me if there's any bandages left. I'll carry him back to the infirmary myself, if you'd be kind enough to fetch our cloaks afterward."

With a great effort, the Seamel pushes himself back to his feet, only succeeding in the attempt by locking his knees to keep his limbs from crumbling beneath his weight. He glances over at Adrianna, putting a hand gently over hers. His sword hand still grips the scimitar, but the arm holding it seems hardly about to lift it at this point. Forcing his eyes to remain steady, he meets the Duke's emerald gaze. "As I did not require the duel, nor wish it to take place, Your Grace, I will gladly accept the cessation thereof." His knees tremble for just an instant and he winces, barely keeping his feet.

"Keep your hand there," Adri instructs, "Let the Duke help ye back to the infirmary, please. Don't let that go..whatever else you do," she commands looking dead into his eyes then looks to the Duke, I will follow with your things, your grace," she says.

"I didn't wish it to take place, either, nor did /I/ require it. Honor demanded it, Baron Seamel. I hope you'll ponder the meaning of that after you rest awhile in the infirmary. I'll be in the bed next to you for awhile, but I have things I simply /must/ attend today," admits Norran easily, his demeanor cheerful enough after the battle as he walks toward Lyddmull and kneels down on the grass infront of him, presenting his back to him. "Well, grab on. I didn't cut your arms for good reason. Feel free to bleed all over the tunic, I'll be needing a new one irregardless."

"There is no need for you to _carry_ me, Your Grace," Lyddmull replies, grimacing as he wipes the greater part of the blood from his face with a cotton sleeve, "Though I am in no position to deny that I would stand in your debt if you would help me back through the city gates." He nearly crumples to the floor again for a moment before locking his leg joints again.

"Your legs disagree. Stop complaining and grab on to me before we both bleed to death, you Shadow-taken fool," grunts Norran similarly in reply, waiting still for Lyddmull.

Adrianna watches both with concern, not letting go of the wound until she is certain Lydd has a firm hand over it, "Let the Duke help ye, Lord Seamel," she say softly, "Please."

About to protest once again, the Seamel suddenly crashes to his knees, only just keeping from bumping into the Duke in front of him. His breath comes heavily as he closes his eyes tightly.

"Shades," grumbles Norran, shaking his head as he reaches around to grab the Seamel. If there's no further protests, Norran will rise with the fallen nobleman to make his way briskly toward Light's Reach. "Guards will never stop asking questions," mutters the Duke.

Adrianna grabs the cloaks and follows quickly and silently behind.