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An Answer To A Dozen Questions
Topic Started: Nov 10 2013, 11:50 PM (37 Views)
Wbtrex

The small train of carriages rode through the forest, Lord Brensyk in the carriage at the front of the caravan, four Sword Sisters marching beside it, with the rest of the entirety of the Sword Sister's numbers spread out among the carriages. They march in perfect harmony, their spears raised, shields at the ready for any threat, ever vigilant to any lurking dangers that may be waiting for them.

Brensyk eases back into his seat, sipping on a glass of wine, having allowed his hair to hang loose, rather than tied up in a ponytail like usual, with his eye patch removed as well, although, none are inside to see what would lay beneath the simple piece of cloth. He is deep in thought about the events he had witnessed, as well as his plans for Kayrad, which had become successful by any and all means, strengthening his house, and the now weakened Imperium just a bit more. He wished to retire to Castle Drakenholl for the time being, preferring it's dark, lumbering walls to any other place in the known world.

Suddenly, the caravan comes to a stop, as a sizable band of ramshackle men and women stand in the way, wielding all manner of weapons and armor. One of them approaches the caravan, a tall man with a glass eye replacing his lost right eye, his beard braided down to his waist, he wears no form of upper armor, showing his muscled, and to the common person, intimidating form. He speaks loudly, his voice hoarse, and dry, "I am Arfalk of the Iron Hearts! You are trespassing on the lands of the Iron Hearts, and we demand a toll for the use of this road, 'ye have five minutes to offer up a reward we find suitable, or we will lay waste to the whole lot of you!"

The guards of the caravan quickly move to their places towards the group, the Sword Sisters extend their spears outwards, forming a practiced and intimidating shield wall, with several crossbowmen proving ranged support from various angles, also trying to spot any form of attackers ready to engage on the flanks.

Brensyk sighs to himself, setting down his glass of wine ever so gently, reaching for his eye patch, re-equipping it. He steps out of the carriage, shutting the door behind him with an audible 'WHAM!'. He looks around slowly, his mind slightly hazed by the amount of wine he has consumed, he then approaches the formation, hands at his side, his sword resting in it's sheath which is fastened to his belt, upon arriving, he moves through his guards, standing at the front witnessing the man making such demands. "I am Lord Brensyk Collins of House Collins, the ruler of the Isles of Rhon, and Kayrad, the former which you now inhabit, Arfalk. I demand, with all the authority vested in me that you move aside, or I have every right to take necessary action against 'ye, and all of whom are under your service."

Arfalk chuckles, almost in admiration of the young lords audacity. "I'm afraid, m'lord, these lands are still ours, and 'ye have no army to protect you, only a handful of female retainers who I'd wager are very good at 'using spears' in the bedchamber, but on the battlefield, are just 'tha opposite! We outnumber your small unit of thirty by at least three times as many, how can 'ye hope to win against those odds?"

Brensyk would raise an eyebrow, looking past the man, a slightly confused look on his face. "Erm, I only see a few dozen in your shadow. I can't sight this supposed numerically superior force you have."


Arfalk smiles, nodding in agreement to his statement. "Aye, that is true, ain't it?" He raises his left hand, as what can assume would be the rest of his force appear from the right and left sides, from bushes and behind trees deeper into the forest. "Now, that toll, if you please."

Brensyk turns his head slightly from left to right, and repeats the motion vice versa several times, before returning his attention to the man ahead. "I suspected as much, say, how about this in stead, Afralk? You and I, a duel, one on one, no magic, just sword, axe, and the like, first to wound their opponent severely or kill them is the victor. If you win, you may have all of the gold on board, as well as everything else you find that tickles your fancy, but if I win, your entire clan will disband, and seek better lives."

Many of his guards look at each other, not in disbelief but rather worry, it is their duty to defend their lord, and now they must watch him duel an impressive looking warrior when they could just as easily skewer him and his group with minimal casualties. On the opposite side, many of the Iron Hearts can't help but find this amusing, even Arfalk himself can't help but widen his current smile. "Aye, 'ye have a deal, my boy! I like 'ye guts, not a panzy like most of those blue bloods!"

Brensyk nods, and draws his sword, it slides from it's sheath with only a low 'shing', he holds it lazily in his right hand, as Arfalk calls the names of several of his men, whom bring him a flail, as well as a double-edged battleaxe. Arfalk cracks his neck and begins stretching, before getting to an aggressive stance. "Last chance to just pay a toll, boy. I won't go easy on you." Brensyk simply shakes his head, raising his blade with one hand, pointing at him in a fencer's stance.

A deathly silence lingers in the air, as if the entire forest has stopped to watch the duel. Arfalk would advance towards him quickly, his heavy footsteps pounding into the dried dirt road, he would send a sideways chop with his axe in his left hand, Brensyk would hop back, the attack narrowly missing him, it makes a distinctive 'whoosh' sound as it simply cuts air, and nothing more. Continuing the attack, he sends a series of feral strikes with his flail, one of the attacks strikes Brensyk in the side, but the armor hidden under his cloak only causes an audible 'clang' and minimal damage to himself, but it causes him to stagger. Arfalk takes advantage, charging forward even more, he jumps in the air, bring both weapons to his back, before bringing them down upon Brensyk. It was in this moment that Arfalk felt a cold sensation all along his right arm, as he hit the ground, he had not only missed, but Brensyk had landed a strike at Arfalk's flail chain, sending the spiked ball off course, and it allowed the young lordling to send a slash right along his arm, from wrist to shoulder. Arfalk would drop the now useless wooden handle, holding up his wounded arm, as it bleeds all along the cut, he then looks to him, almost trying to figure out how he'd done it. "Wha-" Brensyk interrupts him, "It was all timing, really, you're an offensive fighter, and, to put it mildly, you aren't much of a tactician when it comes to your moves, you just move in for the kill with no foresight. I simply waited for you to do something reckless, something that would draw in both of your weapons, to attempt to kill me. Naturally, I chose it when you had raised your weapons in the air, and were about to bring them down, I took a gamble with that flail, and decided it would be best to get rid of your range advantage, and at the same time, deal a strike in the process." Arfalk huffs in annoyance, he was a tough and durable man, he'd taken worse hits than this, at least physically, but the fact he'd been outsmarted by the young man so easily couldn't help but hurt his pride a little bit, but he rebounds from it, moving his arm to his two-headed axe. "Mighty smart of you there, boy, but brain's ain't everythin', and I'll show you that when I smash 'ya fucking head on one of these rocks and pour all that impressive intelligence on the road!", he charges forward yet again, but this time with a different strategy, sending an upward strike, Brensyk moves to block it, and does so, but catches a armored boot to the stomach, sending him onto his back, losing most of the air in him as well. The berserker moves in to finish him whilst he's down, sending a sideways strike from the right , intending to cut the young man clean in half, as well as keep him from dodging it like he would had he sent a upwards strike, Brensyk was out of breath, but this didn't stop his action he twisted quickly and sent his his armored left foot forward to just below the blade, kicking it back. It had hurt his foot quite a bit to do so, but his boot had kept most of the damage to just a pole-shaped dent just under the center of his foot, although, he did experience a minor cut along the outside of his left leg as a result. Arfalk's strike was averted, but he continued, with Brensyk in a compromising position, he raised his axe, intending to sever his leg. Brensyk had been waiting for that vulnerable attack, that all to stereotypical finisher that so many loved to use on a downed opponent, the axe was heavy, and even as strong as Arfalk was, it was slow, it was the only reason Brensyk saved himself previously from this brute, and it was the only reason now Arfalk found Brensyk's blade prodding his neck, he stopped dead in his tracks. Arfalk gulped only once, waiting for what he perceives to be his end, yet none comes. Brensyk keeps the weapon placed where it is as he stands up, ignoring his leg wound. "Your choice, berserker, live or die." Arfalk was a man of his word, he'd only experienced a cut on his arm, he wasn't going to accept this boy's charity, he was going to die a warrior. "Do it, Lord Brensyk, finish me, we made an' agreement, and a true warrior honors those agreements, regardless of the honor of his ways. I ain't dead 'nor wounded enough to not contina', do it.", Brensyk, paused for a moment, he couldn't help but admire the man's request to die an honorable death, he surged forward, and Arfalk closed his eyes, awaiting the pain he expects, and he feels it, like a roaring thunder, but it wasn't penetrative at all, it wasn't sharp, it wasn't cold, he felt an incredible pain in his groin area. Brensyk's plated knee had impacted it, he couldn't stand, and fell to his knees, nearly about to throw up. He slowly turned to Brensyk, who was standing over him, sheathing his blade. "You're no longer able to continue. I hereby proclaim victory for myself." There was a silence, followed by the chant of Brensyk's name from his soldiers, and his various titles and honorifics, "Brensyk the tall! Brensyk the half-breed! Brensyk, lord of Rhon and Kayrad! Brensyk, conqueror of Kayrad!", he raised a hand, and it fell quiet, he spoke, staring towards the bandits that stood there, watching him with worried and fearful eyes as their leader lay defeated and humiliated.

"Ladies, Gentlemen of the Iron Hearts. As by the details of our duel, the Iron Hearts have been disbanded, you are to cease this at once, any attempts to resist will be met with a force far greater than anything you can dole out, I guarantee that. I ask that 'ye allow me to borrow your ears for just a minute, and hear my offer. I understand, even here in Rhon, where opportunities are by no means scarce, where food is available in the forests, and the seas that we know oh so well, where one is not judged by that which they are born with, that some are unable to find their place, or are forced to a place they must take a part in to survive. I will not harm any of you, and I'd like to request that you lay down your weapons, and accept my offer for you to accept employment at Castle Drakenholl's various areas that require extra hands. It is not luxurious work, stable hands, cook aids and maintenance workers, but you will be provided with good food, a warm bed, and money to spend how you see fit. Come, just throw down your weapons in front of me, no harm will come of you."


The bandits look to each other, as if they know the answer to the question 'Should we?', they stay where they are for several minutes, and all is silent, except for Arfalk, who is puking up various fluids, most likely due to having his testicles nearly pounded up into his body. Eventually, a slim, bald bandit walks towards Brensyk, a pair of knives in hand. He stops five feet from him, tightening the grip on his blades, keeping his eyes transfixed on the lord. He slowly drops to a knee, setting the knives down and backing away. One by one, the Bandits leave their positions and deposit the weapons they hold into the ever-growing pile. All in all, a majority if not entirety of the Iron Hearts stand there, accepting his offer with Arfalk among them. Brensyk turns, walking towards his formation of soldiers, a pair of them follow him, as the Iron Hearts move to accompany the caravan.

Brensyk sits onto the steps of his carriage, as the two Sword Sisters, both fairly recent additions, begin to assess his injuries. "My lord, why did you show such mercy to that barbarian?" questions one of them, a tall, slender girl with long, blonde hair, her face fresh and lively, lacking the signs of a veteran. Brensyk eases back, allowing his wound to be taken care of, despite it's minority. "A man is a man, he does nothing for no reason, there is a cause. I do not believe he is a bad man, but is forced to do bad things due to lack of other options, the same can be said with the others. It'd be like putting down a sick dog because you're afraid they will not recover. They can recover if you treat them, consider this option of a better, safer, and at least comfortable life that treatment, the cure to their ailment." The young sister nods in understanding.


Twenty minutes later, the caravan is moving yet again, Brensyk's wound had barely been more than a long cut, nothing as deep as the injury inflicted upon Arfalk's arm, and even that was minor to say the most. He sat back in his carriage, sighing to himself, it wasn't easy managing such a domain, Rhon and Kayrad were becoming valuable territories, but unfortunately, many were tainted by that greed of opportunity, and decided to rob others of potential gain so they may in themselves gain material wealth. Sure, this situation resolved it self the best way possible, but what about the countless others that went the worst? The lives lost out of desperation and depravity, Bandits were not all bad people, but they had to do what they could to survive, even if that meant killing and robbing, of course, some were genuinely bad, but perhaps, some understanding an insight is required to deal with them in the best way possible, to put an end to an all to common problem throughout the world.


Edited by Wbtrex, Nov 10 2013, 11:50 PM.
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