RPGWW

by **NamagomiMk0** » Fri Dec 18, 2009 8:32 pm

Crisis' eyes narrowed as the duel challenge was issued. The noble in question wanted, of course, a duel in the Bloodsquares. Which, according to Julia, were completely open, with no cover. Fought at relatively close range.

In his opinion, deliberately enforcing such conditions was nothing less than a sign of absolute stupidity. Wanting to fight in such conditions of one's own free will suggested that a Servitor was one's better in intelligence. He could understand when someone would assign proxies to such a task rather than do it themselves, but he did not understand who in their right mind would throw themself into such a situation.

...and yet he felt it fitting that the two he saw as the most tactically inept were volunteering themselves for this. This wasn't actual combat, this was a mockery thereof. Openly meeting at an arranged time.

His opinion of the collective "high-born" of Scintilla had dropped another few notches.

by **Jak Snide** » Fri Dec 18, 2009 9:13 pm

The festivities continued as the acolytes were lead off by their opponents to-be, heading towards one of the inconspicuous exits from the unlit hall, angry words and bruised egos being nothing new and certainly not meriting any significant degree of attention. Some of the younger partygoers did follow them, a mixture of those interested in seeing if the backwater noble could back his words with mettle and the rest who were just hungry for blood. Julia was the sole exception to this, having rushed to Mithras' side and asked her cousin what was going on with genuine concern. She hurriedly explained that House Dupan was held in disrepute by most of their peers, but their reputations within the Bloodsquares afforded them a degree of menace. House Talbador, on the other hand, was a wealthy and respected family with friends in high places. If this was the case then her trepidation was perfectly understandable. Sokrat, however, seemed to be delighted by this turn of events, commending Mithras on his bravery and taking time to wish Mikolas luck as well. The common woman Mithras had been speaking to before followed in their wake, looking even more lost than she had been before.

The corridor leading away from the soiree was illuminated to some degree, well spaced and ornate glo-lamps hanging overhead casting long shadows. The few servants they encountered quickly moved out of their way, pressing themselves against walls and ducking into alcoves, wary of offending any of the massed nobility. The Bloodsquares themselves, or at least the ones adjoined to the grand hall, were a simple affair; pits several meters deep, each varying in size yet all uniformly square with steep steps leading down into them. The marble tiling was cracked in places and marred by the occasional bloodstain that had proved too difficult to remove. The Dupan loremaster conferred with the official who presided over the arenas, a bronze masked man wearing the dark green of a Magistratum officer, and indicated one of the large squares.

The nobles gathered around the pit as the duellists prepared themselves. Lucas, the bodyguard that Mikolas had briefly conversed with before under the guise of Dulov, was representing Raphael Talbador. He was a stout man who moved with a grace that did not befit someone of his build, the finely crafted and powerful looking revolver he carried being handled with the utmost care. The man representing Cecilia Dupan was tall, lithe and possibly the ugliest person any of the acolytes had ever seen. He had a calm composure to him, his dark clothing matching that of the rest of the lady's retinue. Strangely he did not appear to be carrying any weapons, though he had strapped a pair of silvered bracers around his forearms.

Crisis:

Spoiler:

Sokrat's mood seemed to have sobered, the Gunmetal nobleman approaching Mithras and Mikolas and lowering his voice.

"The short one's a Gunmetal native, no doubt about it. The revolver's in keeping with gunslinger style and no other would lavish so much attention upon their weapon. I recommend you eliminate him first."

(The time to make any preparations for the fight is now. Each duellist may take one personal weapon into the ring, "personal" being defined as a pistol or one-handed melee weapon. They may seek to borrow a weapon from one of your allies or anyone that you can convince to part with theirs temporarily. When you're ready then head on down into the duelling square. Those who aren't taking part stand above and watch.)

by **ChristianC** » Sat Dec 19, 2009 12:01 am

Mithras had already made the calculation in his mind. Of himself and the other acolytes, they could afford to lose him, Mikolas and Crisis without putting the mission in jeopardy, and honestly the mute assassin would be completely useless down there in the fighting pits. That left him and Mikolas, so the choice was simple. Yet he still mulled over this as he walked towards the pit, showing an outward appearance of calm and confidence, yet storming inside. He was disappointed in himself for making the lady worried, but he smiled and shook Sokrat's hand, dismissing the whole thing as 'a simple matter of honor, really'.

He paid the servants very little mind, even pushing some aside. This was the time he needed to show his mettle as a 'nobleman'. It made his mouth taste of ash just thinking about it. He had acted according to what he'd been taught, yet... this meant... his eyes turned on Crisis for a moment... the man should have known better, he had been educated... Well, this was certainly going into the report.

As they reached the pit, Rubeus Strouke undid the strap holding his chainsword-scabbard to his elaborate belt, handing it over to Gunner with a look of some determination on his face, giving the fellow guardsman a brief nod, moving a bit closer and whispering, "Get the job done" before standing back, making sure his boltpistol was still at his side. He looked over to Mikolas and nodded to his friend before stepping over to the pit, giving a glance and an encouraging smile to the commoner that had followed him.

He nodded to Sokrat as he was told this, giving Mik a glance as well. "He will be my designated target."

by **Capntastic** » Sat Dec 19, 2009 12:21 am

Mikolas was confused, for the most part, but remained silent, occasionally tossing a confused glance at Crisis. He seemed content that his skills would be more useful here than in the ballroom.

Dulov drew his elegant mono-blade and began running a small black and red checked handkerchief across its edge, almost comically daintily.

"I vish to be sure on... proper etiquette in this... situation. Fenksvorld dueling breeds a certain quality of... brutality... that I do not think vould be at home here. Or perhaps this vill be a rare treat for our masters?"

by **ChristianC** » Sat Dec 19, 2009 12:39 am

Rubeus Strouke nodded with a smile to Dulov, "It will be useful to have your skills, Dulov, but remember that this duel will last only until both parties are put out of action, not killed... not necessarily, any way."

by **Kelne** » Sat Dec 19, 2009 6:19 am

Cryvus had, after an initial query of just how Strourke had managed to get himself into this mess, remained relatively quiet. "I would be wary of the one with the bracers," he said, "One doesn't give up weaponry lightly, if indeed he has, and his backers seem to have a substantial reputation."

Unfortunately, there was little else he could contribute in the way of advice. On the face of it, the fight would be straightforward enough, and neither of the two needed his advice in that department. As for indirect aid, the best he could do was to keep an eye out for interference, and have the others do the same. Reputations or not, the instigating nobles seemed a tad confident for his liking.

by **Jak Snide** » Sun Dec 20, 2009 10:42 pm

Preparations completed, the duellists were guided down into the bloodsquare and directed to their positions at either end. The spectators drew closer to the edge of the pit, all eyes fixed upon the combatants now. The common girl, in the absence of Mithras, seemed to have attached herself to Gunner, although she had not said a word. Julia stood by Cryvus, her expression too calm to be anything other than a mask to hide her emotions. Brother Gear stood on his other side, mouthing a quiet prayer. Raphael and Cecilia stood opposite them, the former wearing a smug expression and the latter's anticipation given away by her wicked grin. The masked magistratum official stepped forward and called for silence. Once the muttering of the nobility had ceased he spoke again, this time in a deep, booming voice.

"This is an honour proving, fought under the eyes of the God-Emperor and in the traditions laid down by our ancestors. The House of Strouke has given insult to the Houses of Talbador and Dupan who, in turn, have given insult to the House of Strouke. The Lord Strouke fights for his honour alongside his second. The Lord Talbador's honour is fought for by his second. The Lady Dupan's honour is fought for by her second. The matter shall be decided once both duellists on one side have fallen. The touch of crimson upon the hallowed ground of Sibellus shall signal the start of the proving, as it has always been and always shall."

He produced a square of fine crimson cloth from his uniform and held it high over the bloodsquare, instantly drawing the gaze of spectator and duellist alike. He looked to each of the duellists, determining that they were prepared, and then released it. The cloth fluttered downwards, swaying from side to side. Lucas fixed his eyes on Mithras, fingers hovering over his holster. The unnamed and unarmed man stood impassive yet alert, one eye on the tumbling cloth, the other on his opponents.

Crimson touched stone and the duellists burst into action.

(Here is the map of the bloodsquare. All combatants start with their weapons holstered and, by the rules of the duel, are unable to act until the signal cloth touches the ground. You may attempt to act just before it does, trumping the initiative order. The penalties should you be caught, however, are severe. Other than that the regular rules of combat apply. Gentlemen, declare your actions.)

by **ChristianC** » Mon Dec 21, 2009 7:32 am

Rubeus Strouke had nodded to Cryvus, knowing full-well what the man meant. But a gunslinger needed to be handled quickly or the amount of damage he could cause would be... substantial.

So it was with this in mind that he had descended into the square, taking his position next to Dulov and eagerly waiting for the crimson red to touch the floor... when a thought struck him. This... would be the first time he would have fired a bolt-weapon in anything other than simulation. Did he... truly have the ability to use it well?

No, he shook his head lightly as he took a relaxing breath... before drawing his boltpistol, aiming it at the man with the revolver, red-dot laser sight square on the man's chest as he pulled the trigger, reciting the prayer of True Aim under his breath, his eyes taking on a life on their own as he took in the battlefield, every instinct screaming at him to find a way to hide.

But his faith kept him steady.

[Ready bolt-pistol as a free action, half round aim, then fire]

by **Capntastic** » Mon Dec 21, 2009 8:48 pm

Leaving Lucas to Strouke's bolt pistol, began rushing towards the mysterious foe before him, drawing out his mono-blade and raising it to strike.

(Free action draw, charrrrrge)

by **Jak Snide** » Mon Dec 21, 2009 9:26 pm

As Mithras' finger squeezed down on the trigger his target dropped away, the man falling to one knee even as he went for his weapon. The bolt pistol roared and the stonework behind the gunslinger exploded, his arm shuddering from the recoil. It was a mild discomfort compared to what came next.

The return shot tore across his right arm, ripping through his fine clothing and leaving a long wound across his tricep. It was a battle just to keep hold of his weapon as the pain coursed through him.

Mikolas charged forward, blade in hand in the blink of an eye, and was met by the nameless man. His opponent stepped forward and jabbed at his gut with an outstretched hand. The speed of the attack was phenomenal, but the giant of a man possessed his own measure of quickness, turning aside and avoiding the blow entirely.

Cheers erupted from the spectating nobility in response to the Lord Strouke's injury. Raphael clapped his hands together and laughed as Julia gasped in shock.

(Map updated. Mithras' shot was dodged. He was, in return, hit in the right arm for 11 damage, putting him on 0 wounds. Any damage from this point on will go straight to the critical tables unless he uses a fate point to retroactively reduce the damage taken. Mikolas, meanwhile, dodged the unarmed fighter's attack and is now engaged in melee with him.)

by **Capntastic** » Mon Dec 21, 2009 11:43 pm

Dulov sneered, scowled, and made to viciously swipe his mono-blade through the man's side.

(All Out Attack~)

by **ChristianC** » Tue Dec 22, 2009 1:43 am

Mithras cursed loudly as the shot tore along his arm, but it would require more to down a servant of the Inquisition. With a tremendous act of will he cleared his mind from the pain, using methods he'd learned on Iocanthos and the compound of the Inquisition, and aimed his weapon once more, firing a round at the man's chest, trusting in the glory of the Emperor to make his shot strike true this time.

[Firing once more after aiming, and reserving a fate point for a reroll should I miss. Similarly reserving a fate-point should a critical hit be rolled next time. For the Emperor!]

by **Jak Snide** » Tue Dec 22, 2009 8:26 am

Mikolas' blade cut across the side of his opponent, though the man was quick enough to turn what would have been a lethal blow into a flesh wound. He moved to the side, unconcerned by his injury and planted the flat of his foot into Mik's right knee and launched a punch at the neck of a man who'd dropped to one knee. The second attack met with a barrel chest instead and shock registered on the unarmed fighter's face as he realised that his opponent was still standing.

Mithras was aware of the gunslinger rising to his feet and taking aim at him. He stared down the barrel of a gun, saw the man squeeze the trigger and dropped. Lucas smirked at his victory only to realised all too late that there was a bullet hole in the stonework rather than one in his target's head. Mithras, on his knees now, both hands steadying his aim, pulled the trigger of his own weapon.

The gunslinger's leg exploded in an eruption of blood, the fragments of bone sent flying causing the spectators above to back away from the edge of the pit. He fell forward, mute shock written across his face as he convulsed briefly then lay still, blood pouring from the ragged stump that was once a limb.

The cheers grew even louder now. Someone exclaimed "what a turnabout!" and clapped her hands together in excitement. Raphael looked dumbstruck, his mind unable to come to terms with the sudden turn of events. Julia squealed and clapped her own hands together repeatedly, her relief palpable. Brother Gear simply smiled and bowed his head in thanks. Sokrat clapped Lord Bludnoch on the back with such force that it threatened to tip him forward into the bloodsquare.

"Hah! What a performance!"

(Map updated. Mikolas and the unarmed fighter traded blows, the former dishing out a good measure of pain and taking 4 wounds in return. Mithras, meanwhile, completely botched his dodge roll, spent a fate point and aced it. He then scored a Righteous Fury for 24 damage and blew his opponent's leg apart. The man is very much dead.)

by **Besyanteo** » Tue Dec 22, 2009 12:57 pm

Gunner had been silently kicking himself for his part in all of this on the way in, realizing too late that of course the damn fool noble would never fight himself. However, watching silently as Mithras and Mikolas went to work in the Bloodsquare, he couldn't help but allow himself a small smile. Mithras had done beautifully, and Mikolas looked more likely to die of old age than from that assault of his opponent. What was more, Mithras was now free to lend him assistance. Things should be well in hand. He did, however, expect himself, Crisis and Mithras to get a good lecture from Cryvus on subtlety later on...

by **ChristianC** » Tue Dec 22, 2009 1:44 pm

Mithras felt the pain returning like a sledgehammer, cutting, grinding, tearing at his strained flesh as the will-most-devout faded from him at the sight of his dead opponent. He resisted with all his might the urge to let go of the boltpistol. His wound was making him dizzy, his vision blurring in and out of focus... he took another raspy breath, not even registering the cheer of the crowd above the pit, and took aim at the man fighting Mikolas. He was confident that his friend could handle the other mercenary... but this needed to end, quickly. His wound was bleeding heavily, and they couldn't afford more injuries. Not now.

He breathed slowly, and exhaled, squeezing the trigger of the potent weapon at the point of complete exhalation, firing a rocket-propelled explosive-shell at the man, his prayers going to the Emperor, and to Skane, His fury made manifest.

[reserving a fate-point to reroll a failed hit]

by **Capntastic** » Tue Dec 22, 2009 11:08 pm

"Nyahahahar!" Dulov cackled in quasi-Fenksworldian fashion, making a backhand strike with his blade.

(Aim, attack)

by **Jak Snide** » Tue Dec 22, 2009 11:34 pm

The man ducked under the blade and rammed his shoulder into Mikolas before following up with a solid punch to the gut. His vision blurred more as pain lanced through him, suddenly aware of his aching knee. Mithras, steadying his aim as best as he could, sent a bolt screaming past the two combatants and blew another hole in the wall of the pit.

The cheers had begun to die down as the spectators focused on the duellist fighting for House Dupan. Muttered conversation didn't seem to rate his chances of victory, or survival, highly, yet his mistress looked on without any sign that she doubted an outcome in her favour.

(Map remains unchanged. Mikolas' attack was dodged and he was struck for 5 damage. He's now got two levels of fatigue, one that I forget to mention last turn. Mithras, meanwhile, jammed his weapon, spent a fate point to reroll and missed hitting Mikolas by 3.)

by **ChristianC** » Wed Dec 23, 2009 4:46 am

Mithras cursed under his breath again and again and again, glad that the weapon had merely missed, for a moment it seemed as if it would have jammed, but fate would not be so cruel. It would seem, however, that he needed to take actions into his own hands.

"Dulov!" He called with a voice as steady as he could muster, sweat trickling into his eyes and his head refusing to do entirely what he wanted it to, "Break away from him now! That is an order soldier!"

He took aim once more, praying fervently as his hands trembled with the weight of the weapon, the wound in his arm still bleeding and causing him to rapidly lose his focus. Then, without a word, he sent another bolt soaring towards its target.

[Mits delays his action until Dulov has broken from combat with the other combatant, in which case he will aim half round and fire at the other mercenary.]

by **Capntastic** » Wed Dec 23, 2009 1:30 pm

Upon hearing the order, Mik made to get in one last quick jab and step back.

(Standard attack, half move away)

by **Jak Snide** » Wed Dec 23, 2009 1:48 pm

Mikolas' swing was quick, inelegant and easily avoided by his opponent, though it did gave him a chance to escape without being struck. Not that the unarmed man seemed to consider him his target currently. Instead Mithras found the man he was drawing a bead on bearing down on him at alarming speed. He pulled the trigger, red dot flickering across the chest of his adversary, but the fighter was too quick, dodging to one side just before the bolt screamed from the barrel of his gun. Then he was in close, striking downwards into Mithras' thigh with an elbow. That combined with the pain of his injury and the stress that the bolt pistol was placing on his arm was threatening to rob him of what strength he had left.

(Map updated. Mikolas misses, steps away. Unarmed fighter charges Mithras who takes his shot, has it dodged, then is struck for 1 damage, putting him on -1 wound. The result of the critical damage also gave him 1 level of fatigue.)

by **Capntastic** » Wed Dec 23, 2009 11:17 pm

Dulov wheeled about, hefting his sword up and then forced all of his momentum into a stampede.

(Charge attack~)

by **ChristianC** » Thu Dec 24, 2009 4:49 am

Mithras despaired at the sudden turn-about. He hadn't expected the man to come at him... but it made sense. He was the biggest threat, and the most savory target... he was a nobleman after all. Straining against his weak body, he groaned with exertion as he brought up the bolt pistol, firing at the man from point-blank range, praying again and again to both Emperor and saints, pulling the trigger with the greatest exertion as he stumbled back, trying to get away from the man.

[Standard attack and half move to the left]

by **Kelne** » Thu Dec 24, 2009 6:13 am

Cryvus had not been greatly relieved by the fall of the first duelist. He had pegged the second as the more dangerous of the two, and events had borne him out. Still, neither Mithras nor Mikolas was down yet, and with faith in the Emperor, they could yet triumph. It was such a senseless conflict though. One man dead, three more fighting for their lives, and for what? Some ephemeral bragging rights for a pair of jaded nobles with nothing to strive for. He could see why Lord Strophes had little to do with his peers.

by **Jak Snide** » Thu Dec 24, 2009 11:24 am

Mikolas' charge was anticipated, a downward blow that would have cleaved the man in two avoided by a simple sidestep on the part of the unarmed fighter, though his attacks were proving to be a continued a distraction for the man. Mithras had used the split-second it bought him it to press himself up against the wall behind him, a pair of jabs that would have made a bloody paste of his face instead halting inches away from it. He raised his pistol and fired again.

None of them were sure what happened next. There was a roar, a boom and a flash. For Mikolas and Mithras it was only momentarily disorientating. The unarmed fighter hadn't fared so well and was now bleeding heavily from his head, his eyes unfocused. Those spectating had a better view of what had occurred, though it beggared belief. Mithras' shot had glanced across the side of the man's head before detonating a few inches away from it. An inch difference would have resulted in a complete miss or a very gory demise for the man. Mithras, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, made to escape the melee.

A wild blow hammered into his right leg as he fled. It was far from the precise attacks that the man had used before but it was undoubtedly effective. Lightning agony coursed through him as his vision swam. If it hadn't been for the support of the wall next to him he would have fallen. As it was he limped away from the fight, leaving Mikolas to contend with their disorientated opponent. The crowd was quiet now, astounded by the flurry of activity within the pit. Any who looked at the Lady Dupan would see that she wasn't looking quite as confident as she had been a moment ago.

(Map updated. Mikolas charges and hits, though his attack is then dodged. Both the attacks against Mithras miss him who, in turn, shoots the unarmed fighter in the head, doing a grievous (if not immediately fatal) wound and playing havoc with his senses. Mithras then took a lucky kick as he escaped the melee (he moved away rather than using the Disengage action) for 3 damage to the right leg putting him on -4 wounds and taking another level of fatigue. He takes an additional level of fatigue from the critical injury result and has all his movement halved for 4 rounds. One more level of fatigue will render him unconscious, though given his current state passing out is the least of his worries.)

by **ChristianC** » Thu Dec 24, 2009 4:40 pm

Mithras screamed in agony as the kick landed, and though his body yearned for release, begged for the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, but his faith, and his will, kept him standing, leaning heavily on the wall with rapidly buckling legs. His teeth clenched down so hard he almost chipped off pieces of them as he raised his boltpistol once more, the very last bolt in the chamber. He wiped away a trickle of sweat and blood from his face, knowing that another lucky hit from the unarmed assailant would as easily end his life as the bolt that ruptured the leg of the gunslinger.

But he would not falter, Mikolas was at his side, and the Emperor had shone upon him on Tranch. He had relieved him from that place, standing unwounded amidst a thousand of soldiers, all dead. He had not come this far to have fate make a crude mockery of sacrifice, or the dark forces he fought cackle at his defeat. He had not come this far to die.

He shook his head as he continued to aim his weapon, breathing ragged, each breath sending the metallic taste of blood up his throat and making his nostrils flare.

In silence, he waited for the man to make a move...

[Spend a full round aiming at the man]

by **Capntastic** » Fri Dec 25, 2009 12:39 am

Dulov roared with surprise as the bolter shell did its thing. He squinted, re-appraising the situation. Clearly sheer force was not going to win this, much to his chagrin. He held back for a moment, trying to guess the fellow's movements. And then, visualizing where his foe would be, worked on putting his blade there as well.

(Aim, attack)

by **NamagomiMk0** » Fri Dec 25, 2009 11:30 am

'Biggs' looked down upon this entire spectacle with disdain. This is how nobles expected fights to go? People waiting for an arbitrary signal to start fighting, in a small featureless space with no cover whatsoever. And with weapons that would be considered secondary, not primary, again arbitrarily decided. And even worse, for some inexplicable reason, someone with no weapons was giving BOTH of the fighters on his end trouble?

Clearly a result of the asinine regulations laid down. At the same time, however, the 'bodyguard' felt that Mithras had clearly made a distinctly bad lapse in judgment by opening himself up to attack from the unarmed combatant. People like Mikolas, in his mind, existed for the sole sake of occupying other enemies. Especially those that prefer to fight in close-quarters combat. One shouldn't have to bother oneself with such trouble if a suitable weapon was in hand.

...though it seemed as if Mithras took for single-shot power over anything else, judging from his weapon choice. A viable option--as long as one was guaranteed one could make the shot hit. Woefully, in his mind, Mithras was falling inadequate of that, though this could not be completely blamed on tactical fallacy for once, as much as the completely imbecilic arrangements held by the upper classes here, it seemed. No cover, no primary weapons, no room for range, nothing.

As if those in the Spires needed any more reasons to be considered imbeciles on average.

by **Jak Snide** » Fri Dec 25, 2009 11:00 pm

Mikolas found that his foe to be a good deal less able now, if no less tenacious. He dodged a wild swing, then another before he struck his blow.

It took him a few seconds for the corpse to slide free from the blade. The man had died almost instantly, a short lived scream escaping the duellist's lips as the weapon had connected. The massive blow had split his ribcage open, a display of strength that completely silenced those spectating. Even Sokrat seemed to have lost his stomach for the fight and Julia's face had drained of colour. The common girl who'd followed Mithras to the bloodsquares was utterly aghast, hands placed over her mouth to stifle a scream she had no strength to project. The Magistratum official remained silent until the corpse of the unarmed fighter had hit the ground.

"The God-Emperor has decided the matter, as made evident by those before us. House Strouke is found to be the honourable party, with those of House Talbador and House Dupan owing a formal apology and payment for whatever reparations are deemed necessary for his slighted honour and expenses incurred."

A polite round of applause followed the announcement, though it was clear that more than one party was not pleased by the outcome.

---

Several minutes had passed since the end of the duel. A chirurgeon had been summoned once it had became apparent that the Lord Strouke lacked his own. The woman had done her best to tend to both his own injuries and that of his bodyguard Dulov, but there was only so much to be done for both of them. As for their opponents, it seemed that Lady Dupan was taking possession of the corpse of her chosen fighter. The Lord Talbador had done just the opposite, looking scornfully at the fallen gunslinger and leaving him for the sanitary servitors to dispose of.

(Mikolas and Mithras each recover one wound. I'm separated from my records at the moment, but I believe that puts them on 14 and -3 wounds respectively. Mikolas is heavily injured and Mithras is critically injured. Even with the intervention of a highly skilled medicae it will take them a full week of rest to begin recovering naturally.)

Many of the nobles had filtered away now, drawn back to the main party now that their taste for blood was sated. Julia had, of course, but hadn't volunteered to comment on the duel. The common girl loitered near to Mithras like a moon in orbit, though she didn't dare speak until spoken to. Sokrat was quite the opposite, shaking the hands of both duellists and congratulating them on a sterling display of martial prowess and "knocking some sense into those brats."

Lastly there were Raphael Talbador, Cecilia Dupan and their respective (and now partially depleted) entourages. It was clear that they weren't going to volunteer their apology willingly, yet etiquette demanded that they do just that. So they loitered, waiting for the petty offworld noble who had bested them to extract it from them forcefully.

by **ChristianC** » Fri Dec 25, 2009 11:38 pm

Mithras flinched as Mikolas' blade pierced the combatants ribcage, staring in disbelief... a flicker of gratitude that the man was on his side... gratitude that was soon replaced with a singular emotion of weariness. With the last threat gone, whatever reserves of strength he had drawn from were found empty, and he fell to his knees, still clutching his weapon, breathing deep and ragged breaths. His ears were deaf to the applause of the audience watching, he had served Skane, the Emperor and the Holy Inquisition... And he was still alive... those were the only facts that occupied his mind.

The aid of the chirurgeon was appreciated, although a man of his stature could hardly show gratitude to a servant, but Rubeus Strouke still gave the woman an approving nod as she tended to him. He held his wounded arm close, his breathing still shallow as he regarded Julia with a look of guarded reprehension... he still wasn't sure if he had acted as he should, and his mind was still occupied with thoughts of what was to come once this had brewed for a period. He tried to smile at the commoner, but it felt fake and forced, so he let it drop, his features emotionless and drained.

He observed Raphael Talbador and Cecilia Dupan for a short while before giving a faint shrug, barely noticeable, but making him wince none-the-less.

"So the matter is settled... almost. I shan't make no scene of it, as this duel has left a bad taste in my mouth. I will gladly accept your apology, and offer my well-wishes in your future marriage." He gave what he hope looked like a disarming smile.

by **Capntastic** » Sat Dec 26, 2009 5:25 pm

Surrounded by applause, Dulov went to work mopping off his blade with the aforementioned black and red checked cloth, before allowing himself to be led off for medical attention.

He returned Sokrat's handshake firmly but not overbearingly so. He responded to the compliment with a simple nod and grin.

In the presence of Raphael and Cecilia, he was silent and grim, as a bodyguard like himself should be.

by **Jak Snide** » Sun Dec 27, 2009 5:07 pm

Raphael's face turned bright red, some of the old rage from when he'd first met the man returning. He got the impression that it was genuine this time. He spoke slowly, his voice kept level by no small exertion of willpower.

"House Talbador apologises for the insults I inflicted upon you, your house and your world. Now if you'll excuse me I have a party to return to."

He turned away sharply and marched from the room, entourage in tow, leaving Cecilia and her retinue behind. The Lady Dupan's disposition appeared to be quite the opposite of her fiancée's. Her posture was perfect, no part of the extensive etiquette that governed social interaction between the nobility forgotten. She humbled herself slightly and offered the same apology that Raphael did, albeit without any of the spite.

"I'll see that your medicae costs are tended to, along with any other costs incurred by the resolution of this matter. I hope that you recover swiftly. It would be a shame if you were less than fighting fit for the rest of your stay in our city."

She curtsied politely and smiled sweetly before making her way out of the bloodsquares and back towards the party.

(Mithras, being horribly injured and quite exhausted, may wish to retire for the evening. He's free to stay on, of course, as are you all. The medicae has made the two injured parties presentable enough and you've yet to make any headway into endearing yourselves to the Joyous Choir. Feel free to chat among each other and the NPCs who are still around. I'll move things back to the main party in a little while.)

by **ChristianC** » Tue Dec 29, 2009 8:11 pm

Mithras nodded, too tired and hurt to really care much about the tone in Raphael's voice. A part of his mind noticed it, but the rest of him was just... not really there enough to care. He merely gave the man a nod, no hint of mirth in his face, and then turned to the man's fiancee, surprised by her level-headed way of dealing with it.

But that could only mean she had enough of her senses to show her anger. He nodded to her too, smiling politely, and even gave a little bow as she left, wincing and gripping at his wounded arm.

He nodded to the commoner woman as the others had left, smiling a little at her. "L...looks like I will be retiring for the evening." he coughed a little and sighed, "but what you spoke of earlier... the Joyous Choir... I find my interest piqued, what work was it you did to them?"

He clapped together his hands, noticing a second too late that that wasn't the smartest thing to do, wincing at the crippling pain. "We shall have to tell Lady Borella that you will be telling me about this Choir for the remainder of the evening. I am always interested in furthering the cause of the good in the Galaxy, it is needed more than ever." He realized that the woman was probably going to think he had completely different intentions with this cleverly-hidden invitation... but honestly at the moment he wasn't sure if he minded her thinking that or not. She had a wonderful look of innocence he hadn't seen in anyone's eyes for a long time.

by **Jak Snide** » Wed Dec 30, 2009 9:40 pm

The common girl didn't seem overly keen on leaving the soiree without the permission of her benefactor and, once the lord Strouke had given her leave to do so, scurried off to ask for it. She returned a few minutes later, humbling herself before her betters now that she'd recovered from the shocking display of bloodshed, and told them that the Lady Borella had requested to meet them. Julia hardly needed to impress upon them the significance of this; Lady Borella was, besides the host of the party, one of the more influential supporters of the Joyous Choir. Mithras accepted and the girl led them back to the main hall with a smile and a nod.

---

Finding Lady Borella was not a difficult task. Even from halfway across the hall she was clearly visible, her dress resembling a supernova and the brightest source of light in the room, something which was unlikely to be an accident. Approaching her, however, was a quite a trial. Aside from the dozen men and women in far more muted attires who served as he bodyguard she was surrounded by every example of the noble class they could imagine. A particularly august gentleman in an elaborate wig that glowed with inner light, a gaggle of young girls in near-scandalously revealing frocks, older gentlemen in stovepipe hats around which tiny points of illumination orbited, all seemed intent to attracting their host's attention and strained to hear her every word. After a few minutes of politely working their way through the crowd they finally closed on the Lady herself, an older madam of austere appearance. She regarded them with an uncaring glance until she caught sight of the girl leading them.

"Ah, Malene, are these the ones you spoke of?" The commoner began to nod, but Borella had already turned her attention to the acolytes. "The pilgrims from distant Fenksworld and, if word is to believed, the ones who humbled both House Talbador and House Dupan in one stroke. It's simply delightful to meet you."

With a small gesture a space was cleared for all of them, though not without the occasional scornful gaze being directed their way. Only one man didn't withdraw, though it took them several seconds to discern his gender. The somewhat androgynous, dressed in a gauzy purple tunic lightly touched with glowing stars that slowly rotated around his neck, appeared to hold the Lady's favour.

(Sokrat Authwaite has drifted off, apparently uninterested in meeting the host of this party. Julia and Malene are still with you, as is Brother Gear. Mithras and Mikolas are still feeling worse for wear, though it's far more severe in Mithras' case. Those who share Authwaite's sentiment, or perhaps feel that their presence could be put to better service elsewhere, may have split off to mingle with the nobility, seek someone specific out or whatever else you might think of. Only Mithras and Mikolas are compelled to meet Borella.)

by **ChristianC** » Wed Dec 30, 2009 11:51 pm

Mithras had hardly felt up for meeting the hostess of the soiree, not in his condition, and more specifically because he knew that a social blunder with her would... well... it would not be a very good thing at all. He gave Julia a regretful glance, wondering just how much of a mess he'd made for her family, before he followed the commoner to the gathering of the very peak of the pecking-order.

He bowed in respect to the elderly lady, keeping a straight face despite his aching arm. He made an attempt to smile, "The p-pleasure is entirely mine, my Lady. It is... an huh-honor to partake in this soiree," he was sweating already, but the drilling from Julia thankfully kept him somewhat alert of what he said.

"I was told you wished to see us?"

by **Jak Snide** » Sun Jan 03, 2010 5:20 pm

Strouke's stammered compliment was well received by Borella. Perhaps his injuries granted him a degree of freedom from the confines of proper etiquette, or perhaps she was all too eager to be congratulated for her handiwork.

"Indeed I did. A simple desire to meet those who had journeyed here from so far afield is all it was, though I am told that you have expressed a desire to learn more of the Joyous Choir. I was unaware that the name of our cult has spread offworld, let alone into the Josian Reach."

by **Kelne** » Sun Jan 03, 2010 6:13 pm

"Indeed not, my Lady," Cryvus said, with a respectful bow, "Though we have heard good things about the Choir since our arrival."

by **ChristianC** » Sun Jan 03, 2010 9:27 pm

Mithras nodded in unison to what Cryvus was saying, his expression still strained to show that his wounds made it difficult to talk.

"Indeed, Gilgamesh is correct in his statement." Mithras inclined his head, "this is Gilgamesh Bludnock, the most brilliant mind in His navy." he tried to smile a little, although the pain made in more like a rictus grin, "Unfortunately we had not heard about your cult until our arrival, but to be frank..." he gave a weak chuckle, "there is too much death and suffering in our galaxy, and any respite from that is an idea I can support... recent events non-withstanding."

by **Jak Snide** » Tue Jan 05, 2010 3:51 pm

Mithras' little joke went down well. Borella and a few of the other nobles laughed politely and soon were joined by everyone else within earshot of the conversation, their reactions either delayed by the intoxicants they'd gradually been imbibing all evening or simply joining in to keep face.

"Perhaps you would be better served by a visit to the Alabaster Court than stealing away with young Malene here. She's been a great advocate of our cause, but one your stature deserves to hear the word from our founder himself. You really must meet him, he's such a delight."

The androgynous man next to Lady Borella smiled wispily. "I am sure the girl's company would be a delight as well. She's certainly brought many to our fold and I'm sure the Lord Strouke would not want to trouble Caros with explaining the entirety of our dogma. Perhaps she should accompany him all the same?"

Lady Borella made a show of considering this for a moment before looking to Mithras and asking "What say you?"

by **ChristianC** » Tue Jan 05, 2010 4:05 pm

Mithras grew a bit more confident as the nobles around joined in in the laughing, and he even chuckled a bit himself, but remained unsure whether it was fitting for a noble to laugh at his own jokes. Truth was, he'd only sort of realized afterwards he'd made a joke, so... well... Well, no point in worrying, he told himself and chuckled some more, sipping at a drink a servant had handed him.

As the laughter simmered down he listened to the lady, and as she finished he was about to reply, but held it back as the androgynous man posed his own question. Truth was, Mithras was slightly overwhelmed. They were already being offered to meet with the founder himself? Clearly he'd need to discuss matters with the others, but the fact that the young woman who, admittedly, was hardly displeasing to the eye, and quite fascinated with him, it would seem, would be able to tell them enough to give, perhaps, another glimpse of insight into the sect before such a meeting was not something he should underestimate.

On the other hand, she could prove to be more than they could handle, if she was trained to spy on promising recruits, perhaps she'd figure out who they were and...

Well...

He shook his head suddenly, realizing he'd been drifting ever so slightly. He gave a polite smile and nodded, "I'm terribly sorry, the wound is clouding my mind somewhat." he gave them a nod and glanced at Malene, "I would be absolutely thrilled to meet this man, he sounds to me like a man with the right idea." he tried to give a smug smile, not really sure if he was supposed to lead on the kind of subtle hinting that seemed to be going around them, "Malene has proven quite an interesting orator, however, and as you said," hen nodded to the androgynous man, "it would perhaps be best if I learned the basics of your order before I was granted the honor to speak with master Caros myself."

by **Jak Snide** » Tue Jan 05, 2010 4:54 pm

Lady Borella smiled, as did the man next to her, though where one was merely pleased the latter was clearly amused.

"Marvellous. I'll have one of my men make the arrangements and see that a formal invitation is delivered to your host's residence. Ah, just in time." she remarked, looking beyond the acolytes to an approaching servant holding a silver tray. Several small cups sat upon it, each containing a small measure of liquid with a pink glow. Identical drinks were being dispensed to all the guests, the collective luminescence of the beverages standing out from the clothing of this in attendance due to their unusual colour. The nobles snatched their drinks up, a couple making remarks about the hostess' good nature.

Borella waited until everyone had taken a cup before raising her own and offering up a toast. "Enjoy yourselves, for delight is pleasing to the Emperor."

Crisis:

Spoiler:

Cryvus:

Spoiler:

Who is online