1632 - 3 (Late Sea) - Turn Report
Posted: Sun Dec 22, 2024 7:00 pm
Late Spring
Money Matters
Torben resigned as groom. Lt Warlord Grumbold and Torben took out loans with the moneylenders. Baroness Ivarenna repaid a debt.
Lt Warlord Garoor became a regular at The Scribbled Scroll, and Grumbold at The Three Suns.
Warlords Fionn and Quatlu, and Hundred-thanes Torben and Baroness Ivarenna engaged in conspicuous consumption.
The noble Ararg chose to take his shopping to Erinestra’s. Her status as a non-noble provoked him to challenge her to a duel.
Duel at the Emporium
The crowd gathered in a hushed semicircle around the impromptu dueling ground, their breath curling in the crisp air. At its center, Ararg, a nobleman by blood but a man of restless pride, faced Erinestra, a shopkeeper whose rise in Boldhome's stratified society had stung him deeply. He gripped his broadsword tightly, its blade glinting with the flicker of torchlight, while Erinestra stood with her battle axe balanced in her hands, her expression calm but watchful.
The duel began with a cautious dance. Both combatants circled each other, their steps deliberate, weapons poised to strike. The clash of steel broke the silence as Ararg lunged, but Erinestra’s axe was there to meet his sword, the force of her block resounding in the stillness. Their blades disengaged, and they resumed their circling, neither able to gain the upper hand.
Ararg moved first, striking again. This time, Erinestra countered with a sweeping arc of her axe, but he deftly brought his sword to bear, deflecting the blow with precision. The stand-off continued, each testing the other’s defenses, the tension in the air taut as a bowstring.
Suddenly, Ararg surged forward, his broadsword darting like a striking serpent. Erinestra’s defense faltered for the first time, and Ararg pressed his advantage. With a sharp feint and a sidestep, he opened her guard, his sword finding its mark with a shallow but decisive slice. Blood welled from the wound, and Erinestra staggered, her footing momentarily unsteady.
Though wounded, Erinestra was far from defeated. Gritting her teeth, she swung her axe in a powerful downward stroke that came dangerously close to ending the fight. But Ararg twisted aside just in time, his speed saving him from what could have been a devastating blow. Using her momentary overextension against her, he stepped in, pressing her further into a precarious position.
Ararg’s sword struck again, this time landing a deeper cut. Erinestra stumbled, her balance thrown as blood dripped onto the dirt. Her breaths came harder now, her grip on the axe tightening in defiance. Yet despite her resolve, Ararg was relentless. Each clash of their weapons forced her further onto the defensive, his blade working with the precision of a craftsman carving his victory from the air.
Another strike, and another—Ararg’s sword sliced through her defenses once more. Erinestra grunted in pain, her axe dipping slightly under its own weight. The nobleman pressed his advantage mercilessly, positioning her where her movements became slower, less effective, as exhaustion and blood loss began to take their toll.
Finally, with a final, calculated strike, Ararg brought his sword to hover inches from her throat. Erinestra’s axe slipped from her hands, clattering to the ground as she took a step back, raising a hand to signal her surrender.
“I yield,” she said, her voice steady despite the blood staining her side.
The crowd let out a collective exhale, the tension dissipating as Ararg lowered his sword. His chest rose and fell with exertion, but there was no triumph in his expression—only grim satisfaction. For him, this was not merely a victory of skill, but a reclaiming of honor in a city where status was often more fleeting than steel. Erinestra, though defeated, held her chin high as she allowed herself to be led away, her dignity unbroken despite the loss.
As the onlookers dispersed, whispers of the duel spread quickly through Boldhome. Both combatants had shown their mettle, but the day belonged to Ararg—a nobleman who had proven, at least for now, that he was not one to be underestimated.
Money Matters
Torben resigned as groom. Lt Warlord Grumbold and Torben took out loans with the moneylenders. Baroness Ivarenna repaid a debt.
Lt Warlord Garoor became a regular at The Scribbled Scroll, and Grumbold at The Three Suns.
Warlords Fionn and Quatlu, and Hundred-thanes Torben and Baroness Ivarenna engaged in conspicuous consumption.
The noble Ararg chose to take his shopping to Erinestra’s. Her status as a non-noble provoked him to challenge her to a duel.
Duel at the Emporium
The crowd gathered in a hushed semicircle around the impromptu dueling ground, their breath curling in the crisp air. At its center, Ararg, a nobleman by blood but a man of restless pride, faced Erinestra, a shopkeeper whose rise in Boldhome's stratified society had stung him deeply. He gripped his broadsword tightly, its blade glinting with the flicker of torchlight, while Erinestra stood with her battle axe balanced in her hands, her expression calm but watchful.
The duel began with a cautious dance. Both combatants circled each other, their steps deliberate, weapons poised to strike. The clash of steel broke the silence as Ararg lunged, but Erinestra’s axe was there to meet his sword, the force of her block resounding in the stillness. Their blades disengaged, and they resumed their circling, neither able to gain the upper hand.
Ararg moved first, striking again. This time, Erinestra countered with a sweeping arc of her axe, but he deftly brought his sword to bear, deflecting the blow with precision. The stand-off continued, each testing the other’s defenses, the tension in the air taut as a bowstring.
Suddenly, Ararg surged forward, his broadsword darting like a striking serpent. Erinestra’s defense faltered for the first time, and Ararg pressed his advantage. With a sharp feint and a sidestep, he opened her guard, his sword finding its mark with a shallow but decisive slice. Blood welled from the wound, and Erinestra staggered, her footing momentarily unsteady.
Though wounded, Erinestra was far from defeated. Gritting her teeth, she swung her axe in a powerful downward stroke that came dangerously close to ending the fight. But Ararg twisted aside just in time, his speed saving him from what could have been a devastating blow. Using her momentary overextension against her, he stepped in, pressing her further into a precarious position.
Ararg’s sword struck again, this time landing a deeper cut. Erinestra stumbled, her balance thrown as blood dripped onto the dirt. Her breaths came harder now, her grip on the axe tightening in defiance. Yet despite her resolve, Ararg was relentless. Each clash of their weapons forced her further onto the defensive, his blade working with the precision of a craftsman carving his victory from the air.
Another strike, and another—Ararg’s sword sliced through her defenses once more. Erinestra grunted in pain, her axe dipping slightly under its own weight. The nobleman pressed his advantage mercilessly, positioning her where her movements became slower, less effective, as exhaustion and blood loss began to take their toll.
Finally, with a final, calculated strike, Ararg brought his sword to hover inches from her throat. Erinestra’s axe slipped from her hands, clattering to the ground as she took a step back, raising a hand to signal her surrender.
“I yield,” she said, her voice steady despite the blood staining her side.
The crowd let out a collective exhale, the tension dissipating as Ararg lowered his sword. His chest rose and fell with exertion, but there was no triumph in his expression—only grim satisfaction. For him, this was not merely a victory of skill, but a reclaiming of honor in a city where status was often more fleeting than steel. Erinestra, though defeated, held her chin high as she allowed herself to be led away, her dignity unbroken despite the loss.
As the onlookers dispersed, whispers of the duel spread quickly through Boldhome. Both combatants had shown their mettle, but the day belonged to Ararg—a nobleman who had proven, at least for now, that he was not one to be underestimated.