Throwing the gauntlet

[Sinold Bragasson]

Sinold was fuming when he entered his room late last night. Another altercation with Lord Hawkmoon... actually the second already that same day. Instead of abating, the aggression between him and the Lord only got worse, and now the Norse hoped to finally get his satisfaction as he had challenged Lord Hawkmoon for a duel in the pits.

The day had started bad when Sinold had walked in to Siya, Hawkmoon's daughter. There also wasn't much love spared between those two but at least with her there was a certain civility when they were in the same room. But then her father had joined her, and from that moment on Sinold's hairs were up on his neck.

Insults were traded back and forth and that afternoon he had chosen to leave the two alone. Being with two of their kind in one room... it had been impossible!

And then, later that evening, things came to a head. Sinold had come down from his room, seeing a number of people in the Great Hall of Windstorm, lady Edfeil, Lord Sighehelm, his Letha – and Hawkmoon. the Lord seemed not himself, just like that one time when Sinold had seen him with red eyes, more a demon than a man. Hawkmoon was like that again, and Sinold had seen Edfeil tremble and shake in sight of the possessed man.

Hawkmoon left and Sinold had sought to reassure her that no harm would come to her from that man's hands. She was certain of that herself... why, Sinold could not tell. She just was so naive and trusting, didn't she see the danger that man presented to her and others when he was like that? possessed by some unholy demon?

When Hawkmoon returned, Sinold had approached him ... had grabbed his arm and told him that neither Edfeil nor anyone in the room would be harmed or he'd have to reckon with Sinold himself. His protective instincts were taking over again, maybe letting the Norse act foolishly...It was then Sinold had found his wrist grabbed and his arm badly twisted behind his back, Hawkmoon's other hand on his throat, pressing tightly... warning him to never touch him again like that!

No... he would never again touch him with his hands, but with a blade the next time... the king entered then and demanded an explanation. Sinold in turn stood his ground and threw a challenge towards Hawkmoon – to meet him in the pits, for a spar to clear up the air between them once and for all! To show the man he was no coward and he, too, had honor and demanded respect.

Strangely, Edfeil was also pleading for a match between Sinold and the Lord, something teh King had been unwilling to grant that evening. Edfeil, who otherwise so abhorred the use of weapons, pleaded for Sinold's demand... it took Sinold back a bit to see the gentle woman so determined. he was grateful to her nontheless.

He would wait for the king to make up his mind... and should he not grant Sinold's wish to show Lord Hawkmoon that he was not to be trifled with and disregarded like a lowly servant... Sinold would find a way to cross blades with this man! To clear his honor once and for all!

[Lady Edfeil]

She had had to retire hastily last eve, for in truth, 't seems her legs would nae carry her any longer. She had come to the Hall, tired still of the seavoyage, hoping to recover in a quiet, soothing eve, revelling over the happenings of the arechery contest, and admiring the newly bought gowns.

Such had nae been ment to be. For shortly after she had entered, Captain Hawkmoon to had set foot in the hall. Yet, 't had nae been him. She nae understood what came over him at such times. He had spoken her of 't in few and small words, but the stories seemed strange and frightening. What she now saw in his eyes made her shiver. 't nae was the fear of harm, for there naught was malice within, yet a sense of power and strength beyond even his normal authority. And when he spoke, she knew the words were nae Hawkmoons, and their thone and contents made her tremble in fear.

Her fear however had kindled protectiveness, aye even anger in the lords that now entered. Lord Sighehelm had stood beside her, Goodman Sinold, already nae on best terms with the Captain, had found 't hard to contain himself as he saw him as a man possessed. The danger waned though, as Hawkmoon left. She wished to follow him, make sure the stupour would nae have harmed him, but found her duty to lay in the hall to sooth and try to explain what she could nae explain.

Mayhap she should have followed her instinct and have abandoned her place at the hearth to follow the captain and speak with him first. FOr indeed when he returned, Sinolds anger could nae contained. In low tone he had warned the captain iffen ever he should harm those of Windstorm, those that Sinold now too considdered kin, his own hand would present reckogning.

't might have stopped at such, iffen Sinold nae had emphasised his words by taking hold of the captains arm. The reaction had been swift, and Good Lord in Heavens, Edfeil wished she nae had had to witness such. For in a simple hold and with what seemed but a flick of his wrist, Lord Hawkmoon had turned Sinolds arm to his back and was pressing 't to the point of pain. His warning nae'r to lay hands upon him again was clear, yet she knew 't would have been different if he had realised... if he had known what had passed before.

The memories however of what had happened, how he had spoken words nae of his own had been gone, and he saw but the unprovoked attack of a man he already had in his gaze.

Amidst the confusion, the attempts to clear things up, and the many guests arriving at the same time Edfeils father had entered the Hall and with calm authority taken matters in hand. Her own word was called upon to testify, and she could but add her voice to Sinolds in saying that indeed the captain had nae been himself earlier.

She knew 't would pain her friend to hear such, and indeed so ill he took the news that he would offer up his blade to his liege, to take 't back and release him from service. Her fathers wisdom prevailed against such though, but oen thing could nae be avoided: the challenge Sinold threw down, for honour now in both men demanded the acts of the day, and aye of the months passed to be taken to the pits.

She nae understood such honour. She would go to her her grave and nae understand 't. But she understood this: that the tension between them both had run too high, and iffen she nae wished to fear each hour of each day for the safety of each at the others hand, she had to see this duel through. So with trembling voice, she had asked her father to grant his permission. And quiet prayers went up now that she would nae regret her words.

[Halethala]

She sighed wearily as she heard the tale of the evening told to her ears . . Sinold had not kep her word to her to do his best to not antagonize the Lord Hawkmoon any further . . perhaps it was best this way . . once and for all, perhaps it would be settled . . perhaps there would be an understanding between them, finally . .

Perhaps . .

[Sinold Bragasson]

*Sitting in the great hall... a whetting stone in one hand, his sword in the other... the sword given to him by the man he intents to fight with it... the sword of a fallen Norseman, like himself... deep in thoughts, Sinold lets the stone run over the blade's edges, sharpening it for its future task... if even the fight will take place, and if so, with their own weapons.

The stone slides over the metal.. in low, methodical moves... sighs can be heard as Sinold seems to get second thoughts about the whole affair... he knows he has no chance against the Lord; his strength and his cunning are almost legendary, even here in this realm.

But more painfully... he knows he has broken his word to Letha about trying to amiably resolve his conflict with the Lord. He has disappointed her... the stone continues to run along the edge of the blade... slowly, halting... then continuing.

He will not back down now… he cannot back down to him! Even if it will mean broken bones and bloody cuts…. But which pain will be greater? That which he will feel in his own wounds, or the pain he is sure to see in the face of his beloved?

Yet the stone continues its path along the edge … slowly, inevitably… with an almost deadly accuracy.*

[LucienMoonmist]

*He had heard many things fro mthe servitors and soldiers of the castle. Many were more akin to laughs of a fool's gambit than anything else. Moving down to the main hall, he saw the man he had met the other day in the hallway with Mollie and the outgoing girl. From the descriptions, and the blade in his hand, this had to be Sinold for certain. Moving down the stairwell slowly, his limp light as he moved, he spoke t othe man, his voice melodic and hinting with mirth*

So, here now I see the man whom the castle guard claims to be fool enoguh to be kept under lock and key. Yet, for all that I hear of ye being a fool good sir Sinold, ye sharpen yer blade with purpose.

*moving towards the sitting man, a grin upon his face still*

Tell me now, surely ye know of good sir Dorian's skill, aye? Surely ye know of the fury which overtakes him in combat? Surely ye know that, as surely as I hear ye halted him out of fear for good lady Efeil. Come my large sir, we should talk aye?

[Sinold Bragasson]

Resting the stone next to where he sat, Sinold looked up from his work and gazed at the strange man looking down on him. He looked foreign, he never had met anyone like him, at least when it came to appearance.

"Do you really think I don't know all that about Lord Hawkmoon? Do ye really believe I am a fool to underestimate that man, or what he can do? No... I know full well what he is capable of!" Angrily Sinold again took the stone and brushed it over the blade, hard and fast. "I am not afraid of his power, or what he'll do with me. I am a good fighter and will give him his money's worth..."

The he looked more closely at the man before him. "This is not about winning... I cannae win, I know that! He's like a berserker at times, fast like a storm and as mighty... but I will show him what kind of man I am! He will not talk to me like a dog any longer!"

With a growl Sinold made a final pass with the stone over the blade, then held it up to inspect his work. "I'm tired of talking about that man, Milord!...I've never seen anyone like you, though... you look... so different. Where is your home... or rather, where did you come from?"

[LucienMoonmist]

*chuckling softly, he mades his way slowly across the floor, a limp evident in his step. From beneath his leather jerkin, the tops of bandages could be seen. He spoke melodically as he approached*

Where? Ahh yes ,the question indeed good Northman. Is it not always a question of either where or why? After all, we struggle for the why, while trying to not lose the where from.

*slowly he lowered himself into a seat, his sharp ice blue eyes drifting to sinold lightly, a hint of mirth within them*

I suppose it would only be proper to answer yer question, though it is doubtful ye should believe the answer. I am from the woodlands about here and north, as well as to the east and south. I am from the forests which envelop these lands and countless others.

*pulling back his hair, revealing sharp pointed ears, elven in shape* I am Elven good sir Sinold. A race of those known as Fae, or if I am not mistaken, the Spirit Folk from your region aye? *he grinned still as he reclined in the chair.*

And honestly, is there need for such tempers? A conversation is simply that, no need to fume about what has happened when the key is what is gonig to happen.

[Sinold Bragasson]

Sinold looked more sharply at the man opposite him. of course he had noticed his limp and now the bandage, but right now he was too lost in his own thoughts to ask Lord Lucien what had befallen him to cause such a limp and wounds. Besides, it reminded him of how that fight with Lord Hawkmoon would likely go – badly!

"The woodlands you come from? Spirit folk? Your appearance would tell me you speak the truth, but ... Spirit folk? Here? Why? I learned that your kind seldom cares for the lot of man ...ah, no matter."

He sheathed his sword now, sighing... ever since he had thrown the challenge to Lord Hawkmoon people seemed to see him as a pitiable case who needed advice or scolding for his foolishness. This man seemed no different... Sinold knew he meant well but somehow...

"I appreciate your kind advise and words, Milord, but this fight will be something I will need to master alone. Honor demands such, and ... I will do my best not to come out of it looking like you!"

Sinold smiled and hoped his words would not be taken amiss.

[LucienMoonmist]

*chcukles softly* Ahh, good Northman, if you should come like this, then you would know victory with loss. Aye, yer honor demands as such, though I have seen so many form of honor over the passing years to wonder if any of them could truely ever be satisfied, whether by voice or blade.

*shaknig his head softly, he rises lightly, grinning still* I did nae come to offer ye advice, nor did I come to give ye pity. I can to tell ye ye are nae alone Northman. I have heard what they say of you good Sinold. Know well, that many moons back, they muttered near the same of me. Repsect here is nae gained by a blade upon it's self, but a blade against what causes the wounds.

*limping slowly, he moves towards the stairwell, his gait slow, light* Aye, come after the duel, mayhap we should all sit for a drink of the Elven wine. It can make even the surliest miser release his coin in humor. *turns to regard ye with a grin* It also aids in the forgetting of wounds which hold fresh against the flesh. *resuminghis path upstairs* Ye fight for yer honor good Sinold, as Good Dorian fights for his. Ponder though, nae the result of yer duel, but the result it will have on those ye love. Honor is only as good as those who weild it. And ye both are good folk. *moving to the upper level of the hallway, he took a deep breath, moving towards the battlements*