[126/08] (Hartshorn)A dish best served cold

[Benedict Marsten]

The sun rose high over the peaks, resting directly on Ben's brow. He wipes back the growing perspiration as he dismounts in the bustling yard of Hartshorn. He squints into the tumult of men and boys drilling. He and Wyl close in on a group of well labored young men drenched in sweat, despite their lack of armor. The group forms a rough circle around a naggingly familiar boy. Definitely a clansman. Ben cannot help but feel he should know the person. Ser Markus gives Ben a friendly nod as as he calls out. "
Jon"


A barrell-chested youth comes screaming into the circle training sword held high. The tall gangly clansman quickly sidesteps and brings his blade down on the back of his attackers head. Before he resets Markus calls another name, followed up by a second attacker.

Six downed-men later. Markus congratulates the unbeaten warrior. Despite being unnerved about not being able to place where he knows the warrior from, Ben moves forward to give his praise. The praise is accepted with contrition and humility, but something in the boys eyes worries Ben.

"
Aye, milord, you be havin' a'go?"
a voice bellows from the crowd.

Before Ben can politely decline Markus pulls the clansman from the circle leaving Ben in the center. The old man gives his new Lord, once squire, a cheshire grin. A cascade of wooden swords are proffered to the Lord. He takes the closes, giving it a swing to test it. A toothless lad with strawlike hair grins at his sword being choosen.

Initiative: n/a
CD: 11
AR: 0, Bulk: 0
Health: 11/11
F/I/W: 0/0/0
MW Longsword +1 Attack

(ooc: no one is armored and training swords are currently being used.)

[Benedict Marsten]

Ben was glad he had taken the time to know most of the men. As the noble Ser Markus called names Ben met each with little surprise. The wooden swords clacked loudly, followed by the sound of smacking flesh and grunts. As quickly as the men came Lord Marsten sent them back.

It was mid-deflection of an incoming blow, his mind at rest moving through well rehearsed movements, that recognition of the clansman came. The boy was Tyran son of Tyron the Tall, the clansman champion, Ben had slain in single combat!

His thoughts were quickly interupted when he heard the old warrior's voice call out. "
Tyran!"



[ooc: off stage Tyran has won initiative.

Tyran the Tall(used tweaked Tyron's stats w/ Reader approval)
Agility 3(quickness 1B), Athletics 5, Fighting 4 (Long blade 1B, spear 1B) Endurance 4, Will 4
Health: 12/12
CD: 10
Training sword: athletics - 1 =4

Anybody want to be a son out for revenge?]

[Ser Jorah Holt]

ooc Go on then

Tyran gave Ben a smile that was dripped in venom as he twirled the wooden sword, glaring at him. He suddenly leapt forward and with contemptuous ease, smashed Ben from his feet and brought the sword crashing down on him. He would not have long to fight and was determined to finish him quickly.
"
For my father."
he swore at Ben

eep
[url=Knockdown][/url]: 5d6k5 20
[url=attack ben][/url]: 6d6k5 26

16 damage

[Benedict Marsten]

The impact sent Ben sprawling. With dry weather the ground was dry and hard. He fought to retain his grip on the worn pommel. That extra effort delayed his defense long enough for Tyran's blow to connect. It slapped hard over the prone Lord's ribs. A wince rocking his body. Knowing any more hesitation will end him, he strikes out with his legs, pushing the young clansman to his back. A follow up strike lands solidly. Digging for a little more he tries to stand. The pain from his ribs double him back.Damn!

Lesser action: [url=Dish knockdown][/url]: 5d6 20-2
Lesser action: [url=Dish attack][/url]: 8d6k6 23-2 12 damage
Lesser action:(fatigue)[url=Dish stand (fatigue) TN 9][/url]: 3d6-2 7

CD: 11
AR: 0, Bulk: 0
Health: 1/11
F/I/W: 1/2/0

(ooc: Strike first and strike hard. Damn, Jorah I hope you didn't waste those rolls on a NC.)

[Ser Jorah Holt]

Tyran hit the ground and pulled his arms in as ben struck him, feeling something crack in his side. This fight would not be won by fancy duelling, but with sheer brute strength and viciousness. Snarling, he kicked Ben's still rising legs out from underneath him and hurled himself forward with his blade, catching him a slight blow with the tip before hurriedly getting to his feet.

ooc
I was shocked by those rolls as well - typically Jorah will probably end up rolling worse, but he generally does anyway

Tyran the Tall(used tweaked Tyron's stats w/ Reader approval)
Agility 3(quickness 1B), Athletics 5, Fighting 4 (Long blade 1B, spear 1B) Endurance 4, Will 4
Health: 4/12
F/I/W
1/1/0
CD: 10
Training sword: athletics - 1 =4

[url=knockdown][/url]: 5d6k5-1 18
[url=ground attack][/url]: 6d6k5-1 14 and my luck runs out
[url=rising][/url]: 3d6k3-1 10 - fatigue to get up on a minor action

This fight has already degenerated into two guys on the floor, beating the hell out of each other and I think its about to turn in Ben's favour.

[Benedict Marsten]

Tyran's first blow was now showing its repercussions. Ben could not manage to stay on his feet. The clansman's follow up strike while not as deadly, caught the worn Lord vulnerable. Those already bruised ribs gave way with a crack. The searing pain radiated up his left side with each painful and shallow breath. He made for a weak attempt to topple his opponent, barely succeeding. With an attempt to use skill over force, he uses his training with a long blade to land a decent shot to the brute. He attempts to stand, staggering. Reaching deep inside he pushes to his feet, and waves away any attempts to intervene in what has now gone well past practice.


[url=Dish knockdown 2][/url]: 5d6-2 13(drop a 1 for wound = 12, 1 DoS )
[url=Dish attack 2 LBF I][/url]: 6d6-2 14 (this is a cluster. Should have been 6d6k5-2 because of wound. Drop a 1 = 13, still 1 Dos. Extra DoS from LBF I) 8 damage
[url=Dish stand TN 9][/url]: 3d6k2-2 4 Fail (Fatigue to stand lesser action.)

CD: 11
AR: 0, Bulk: 0
Health: 1/11
F/I/W: 2/2/1

[Ser Jorah Holt]

Tyran felt something crack as the blow struck him, but his rage was such that he ignored it. He did not bother trying to get up, so focused was he on the young lord who had killed his father, tactics and sense went out of the window and he concentrated on knocking him down and continually hitting him. He swiped Ben's shaky legs out from underneath him, making him hit the ground again and with a surge of adrenaline, he brought his blade down between Ben's legs, but he could not manage a finishing blow.

Takes 2 injuries to take the damage
Tyran the Tall(used tweaked Tyron's stats w/ Reader approval)
Agility 3(quickness 1B), Athletics 5, Fighting 4 (Long blade 1B, spear 1B) Endurance 4, Will 4
Health: 4/12
F/I/W
2/3/0
CD: 10
Training sword: athletics - 1 =4

Spends 1 fatigue to ignore all penalties

[url=Knockdown ben again][/url]: 5d6k5 19
[url=Finish Ben][/url]: 6d6k5 14 - well, that was awful 1 DOS - so either two injuries or 1 wound to absorb

[Benedict Marsten]

Ben's battered frame proved again to be weakening. Sprawled out on his back there is little he could do to stop the shot to his groin. Instinct drives his reaction. Swinging up from the dirt with the weight of his upperbody, he brings the hard oak against the outstretched neck of Tyran. Ben watches the candles snuff out in the clansman's eyes, as he collapses between Lord Marsten's spread legs.

Sitting up, his face a flushed and sweaty mess, he takes a moment to thank the gods that Tyran's last blow was just to the right of one of Lady Marsten's favorite parts of him. At that thought, a crooked grin plays across his lips. A laugh is stifled by a shock of pain from his ribs, but does little to detract from his childish, and prideful smile.



[url=Dish attack 3][/url]: 8d6k5-3 15 2DoS, 8 damage

Spend fatigue to ignore 1 wound.

CD: 11
AR: 0, Bulk: 0
Health: 1/11
F/I/W: 3/2/2

[Benedict Marsten]

Two wide-eyed youths drag the unconscious clansman off their triumphant Lord. Ser Markus and the toothless lad aid him to his feet with stifled groans of pain. Ben eyes Markus with playful suspicion. "
Think I was getting rusty, did you?"


Markus, his usual straight forward self only gives a brief smile. "
I had thoughts he may have been harboring ill feelings. Now we know. I will have him sent to a cell. What do you propose we do with him?"


"
No cell. Have Ronnel ... see to him. Guards. Pudgy and Orin."
His sentences are short and perforated with wincing breaths. "
I'll see him ... when I can."


Willum replaces Toothless in assisting Ben, giving the boy a pat of gratitude on the shoulder. Surely today would go down in Toothless' family history, Lord of Hartshorn wielding his sword, carrying his Lord and thanked by his squire Willum Royce. He humbly lowers his head after shuffling the load over to Wil. His head shaking slowly in disbelief as he gives a small prayer to the Smith.

Once the three put some distance between themselves and the others Ben looks from Markus to his squire. "
A great warrior... is hard to replace. He will get ... a second chance, ... for the vengeance ... he owed his father. The Mother's mercy."
He stared into Wil's eyes hoping his friend understood the abbreviated lesson.

[Reader]

"
Are all men deserving of the mother's mercy my Lord?"


"
I do not wish to be over bold, but it is one thing to offer your hand to Lord Criston Cole should one defeat him at tourney, another to show your back to a man who's tried more than once to put a dagger in it."


Ser Willum was troubled, torn between a young man's idealism and desire to follow his Lord's example, but with years of Royce pragmatism drilled in to him arguing for the expedient option. The lad was straightforward , brave and honest but subtelty was sometimes lost on him.

[Benedict Marsten]

"
Are all men deserving of the mother's mercy my Lord?"

His thoughts immediately went to the burning ship full of men he had executed in his youth.

"
"
I do not wish to be over bold, but it is one thing to offer your hand to Lord Criston Cole should one defeat him at tourney, another to show your back to a man who's tried more than once to put a dagger in it."


Ser Willum was troubled, torn between a young man's idealism and desire to follow his Lord's example, but with years of Royce pragmatism drilled in to him arguing for the expedient option. The lad was straightforward , brave and honest but subtelty was sometimes lost on him.

"
There are men who do not deserve ... mercy. There are things that cannot be forgiven in this world. When we hold judgement on these men here and now, though, we must do so knowing that we to will be judged for how we dealt with them when our time comes. A man must be prepared to reap what he sows.

This man though, he had reason to seek grievance with me, for killing his father. What man would not challenge his fathers killer. He faced me straight on. The clansmen rule through strength. Leaders can be challenged. He has done so and I have shown him I am "
stronger"
and fit to lead."
Lord Marsten simply shrugs his shoulders with his crooked grin.

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