IC Scene - The Meeting

"That's fine," was the only answer that could be heard from within the faceplate helmet as he accepted the shield from Wulven and walked toward that spot.

Sir Gregale had been his better in their previous duel and he would have liked the man if he hadn't recognized the sword of Sangendal immediately. Aelos had many things to worry about and feeling the need to watch his words around this particular knight troubled him slightly. Perhaps Icebreath could give him the advantage that he lacked the first time.

"Guildmaster Valdor," Sir Lucius quickly spoke up before anyone could depart, loud enough so that the other knights could hear him, "I don't mean to ignite this debate once more, however... do you and the Captain truly believe these foreign orders should be involved? The Trierarch's suggestion was for only those with a stake in Windholm. Perhaps we should allow them to observe, but I would be wary of anything more."

Gilaver walked to the spot in silence alongside Aelos. He couldn't tell about the young man, but he himself was gathering his focus for the upcoming duel.

He stopped in a circle formed by some flowerbeds and took position near the middle. Gilaver put his hand on Mistral put didn't draw it yet.

"You may choose the judge, Aelos of Odheas."

Morek watched the pair of knights banter back and forth, saying something about a duel before turning to Lucius.

"I must have missed when the Dawn established a chapterhouse in Windholm; as far as I knew you were still based out of Valonbray." He he said, sounding back to his usual bemused self before held up his hands to forestall an argument. "What's done is done Dawnite, no use trying to change things. Now come, it appears that we might have a show on our hands, I'm eager to see how well a Griffon stacks up against the reputation the lot of them have."

Morek stood and slipped his morning star back into its loop on his belt before ensuring his tome was still secured by its chain at his side and beginning to wander in the direction of the encroaching duel. However, he paused when he spotted Rayvs looking rather ill.

"Eventide, you look half dead on your feet. Before things pick up again, take a healers advice and rest or something. See me later if you are unable, I have somethings that will knock you out faster than being hit on the head by a Great Hammer." And with that he resumed picking his way among the bushes, towards the duel area. Mattus was off doing something and it seemed that it was up to Morek to stick around these parts to keep an eye on the meeting. Might as well take entertainment where it was offered in the meantime.

Seleucia stood and moved first to Barbarossa, and then to Conrad Valdor. To each she whispered something in their ears, but did not wait for a response. With her helmet on, a whispered response might not have been heard anyway.

After her brief round of whispering she returned to her small cohort and they formed a very small square so that they could see in all directions. Then they began to eat small chunks of bread and drink from the skins that they carried. It seemed that they had no desire to speak with the other Orders.

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Lord Wulfred rose without another word and looked to his knights. As he left the Church grounds he turned to shout to Captain Jorm.

"Captain! Inform Greysword of the Orders' demands."

"Am I the only one that sees the Church behind us?" Lucius asked, genuinely wondering if he was. "At least the Bishop's involvement has some sense. The rest of you are meddling I fear... but that's why I ask the Guildmaster and the Captain's opinion." He looked towards Valdor and Barbarossa, even as the other Knights began to disperse and largely ignored him. He knew they would likely disagree but it was worth asking on the off chance they might agree.

"If all the rest of you wish to watch men needlessly fight one another, than I shall depart."

OOC: Not trying to drag things out, honest! Feel free to ignore the crazy guy.

As Morek walked, one of his plaguewardens came up to him and slipped a note into his hand.

"From Sir Mattus sir. Said you should have it." With that he wandered off back towards the Radiants who at the moment were milling about and stretching their legs around the courtyard. A few plaguewardens that could read were lounging against the wall of the Church and reading small books that they had acquired back at the Radiant Fortress. The rest were being run through some basic drilling by the knights. Each made sure their gear was close at hand however.

Morek read the note he had been given tearing it up into tiny pieces and throwing them up into the air, the strong winds of Windholm catching them and blasting them into the air in every direction. After that he started wandering back to the table, looking like he wanted to grab a chair from it.

Aelos looked around searching for someone who could judge unbiased. He wouldn't touch his own knights, but should he lose with a Griffon judge all hell would break loose. No, he had to look for someone from a different Order.

"Hey you! Knight of the Radiant Cross!"

Morek had been wathcing the bits of the message scatter to the four winds when aelos called out. When he did he got moreks attention, in addition to every other radiant knight around the church. The others lost interest when they saw aelos looking in moreks direction however.

"Yes Dragon knight? What do you need?"

"Care to judge our duel? Just to see all things go fair."
Aelos fell silent for a moment as he realised something very important. "And it's possible we may need the Radiant Cross and their particular skillset afterwards."

The Radiant was silent for a moment as he closed on the pair, picking his way around flower beds.

"Very well. My Order tries to avoid using our healing knowledge by preventing fights, but we are just as adapt with dealing with the outcome. Be aware I cannot reattach limbs or heads though."

The last sentence was said in jest, though it was hard to tell since he was staring at Aelos's masterwork sword, a weapon entirely capable of doing such a thing.

"Don't worry, we don't wield morningstars."

Aelos nodded, wich was the only thing he could do as a kind gesture with his heavy armor on. The time was there and he turned to the Griffon and his huge sword, the adrenaline started pumping as he raised his longsword.

"Ready Sir Gregale?"

"Give the signal, Sir morningstar."

Morek chuckled good naturedly before raising a hand.

"When Sir Griffon draws his blade and assumes his stance begin your duel."

Gilaver nodded and drew Mistral from the sheath on his back. The two-handed sword was held firmly in his hands, ready for action.

Gilaver waited for one second before he rotated Mistral in a circle and took several fast steps toward Aelos. He brought it down in a powerful vertical slice aimed at the Dragon's left shoulder. The young man narrowly managed to bring up his shield to block the strike. It didn't help much: The two-handed sword sliced through it and bit into Aelos' shoulder armour, drawing a bit of blood.

Morek stood off to the side and watched, the Dragon Knight taking a wound through his shield, but it was not life threatening. He could still fight so he simply watched, only willing to step in to prevent a death or crippling injury.

By Cavalas he's fast! Aelos thought as he dropped his shield to punch Gilaver's sword from his shoulder. The pain would make that shoulder useless for now and he knew it would only worsen the longer this duel took.

Aelos had no time to waste, so he swung his longsword in the free spot under Gilaver's left shoulder in an attempt to weaken the Griffon's capability to wield the large sword. The sharp edge of the masterwork blade barely pierced the thick armor, but Aelos was sure the ribs underneath would hurt.

He quickly stepped back and assumed a stance with his longsword in front and the painful shoulder in the back. If that fucker's sword cut so deep, he had no choice but to use the stance he had found in Haegon's transcripts.

Gilaver winced in pain at the hit, but remained standing with Mistral firmly in his hands. He put his sword into a position for attack. With a single step, he crossed the small distance between the knights and made a fast slash. Aelos, however, had been expecting that and easily parried the strike with a step back and a swing of Frostbreath. At the same time, the wound in Gilaver's side decided to twinge, leaving Gilaver in a somewhat uncompleted stance.

Aelos, somewhat over enthusiastic, saw the opening and went for it. but alas, he forgot his injury completely and the pain in his shoulder intensified enough to halt his advance. Gilaver recovered fast enough to step out of the way. Now both men had missed their target completely, hardly the stuff of legends.

At the same moment as Aelos’ stab was going past him, Gilaver took a step away from the young Dragon. His instincts immediately kicked in after a flash of light reflected off the Masterwork blade. Strange noises conversed in his head, but he couldn’t make out any coherent sentences or words. Time seemed to slow down in Gilaver’s eyes as he took Mistral and jolted onward in an attempt to strike the man. The sword was poised to go up from the lower part of the armour to strike upwards, like in a Barclay uppercut.

He was successful.

The Dragon was barely facing Gilaver when Mistral cleaved through the whole armour in the torso’s area effectively dividing the frontal armour in two parts from down to up. Fortunately for Aelos, no damage was done to his body itself by this particular attack. However, the brutal assault continued with Gilaver kicking the now-imbalanced Dragon in the legs sending Aelos towards the ground on his back.

Gilaver continued the strike’s movement by swiftly changing the rotation direction of Mistral and swinging it in a circle at the same time as the kick landed. The movement was continued by the sword coming up and being brought down in a stab attack utilizing Gilaver’s body to increase the force behind the attack. It was aimed straight at Aelos’ neck in a full intent to kill. And reaching it fast.

As if suddenly regaining some of his sense, Gilaver quickly diverted the blade away as much as he could before the contact. Mistral was stuck in the round a mere centimeter away from the neck. Gilaver stared at the Dragon in horror through his heume. He couldn’t understand the actions he had just tried to perform.

”You won,” Gilaver whispered and pulled Mistral from the ground.

The moment Mistral was pulled from the dirt, a gauntleted hand seized Gilaver by the neck portion of his backplate and hauled him backwards with surprising strength. Morek had an eyebrow raised under his helm, impressed with the move, if not the fact he almost had a corpse on his hands than someone who just needed some bandages on his shoulder.

"I think that this duel is concluded unless I am wrong and this has turned to a duel to the death. Sundering your opponents armor and knocking him to the ground seems to declare you the winner. Stand down Knight of the Griffon."

Releasing his grip on Gilaver's armor, Morek stepped over to the prone form of Aelos and extended a hand down to him.

"A bitterly fought defeat Knight of the Dragon, you do your order proud with your ferocity and bladework. Will you allow me to tend your wound?"

It seemed so unreal. barely conscious of what was happening, Aelos felt his armor break and the Dragon on his chest being cut in half. A jolt of pain and he was on his back. His back hurt like hell and then he heard Gilaver's words.
Slowly starting to realise what had and could have happened he was in awe with the Griffon. He who trained the Drakes of Scalekeep, a master swordsman of Rane, couldn't even follow the moves of this remarkable man.

"Don't belittle me, Windsword. You do your name justice."

Aelos' removed his faceplate helmet, but couldn't get up by himself. Although the knight of the Radiant cross extended his arm, the armor was too heavy to lift by himself and it wasn't until Karstan and Wulven rushed over to help, that he could stand on his feet again. The shirt underneath his plate armor got red with blood and Aelos felt the strength slowly leave his legs.

"I congratulate you, Sir Gregale of the Griffon, on your victory today."

Finally turning to Morek, Aelos nodded and added a soundless thank you before his two friends got more weight to carry.

Gilaver crashed to the ground from Morek's throw. While this caused some pain from the collision that was increased by the weight of the armour, he managed to ignore it for now due to the adrenaline in his veins.

"In terms of codified rules, I may have won. But I refuse to accept it: a duel is not between enemies but a match between opponents putting their skills against each other without trying to kill each other. I lost control, and you have won this round in the way that ultimately matters."

Gilaver had taken off his heume, his eyes were still widened in horror behind his hair.

Morek told the Dragons holding Aelos up to lean him back against a nearby tree before taking a look at the wound. It wasn't terribly deep, but lacerations like this just loved to bleed everywhere and look more dangerous than they were. In short order a slim needle with the tip covered in wax, coarse, heavy thread, and a roll of bandages were laid on the ground. Morek removed the wax from the needle and began stitching with efficient practice movements. As he did he was talking, the words directed towards Galiver.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, a Knight is a warrior first and foremost. You give a warrior such a fine weapon like you two have and things can happen; training beaten into you by the Masters At Arms of your orders as squires condition you to fight and win. That usually means you kill the poor sod you're fighting. You showed enough control that the man with the white sword here isn't dead. Accept it or not, you won the fight."

Morek finished his stitching and bound the wound, a faint red stain appearing on the material but was quickly covered up by more rolls of the bandage.

"If I were you I wouldn't try to reopen that if you can avoid it. I'm sorry about your armor though."

Gilaver didn't appear to be convinced but didn't say anything. He didn't have the excuse of training, and in his mind the great skills also came with a great responsibility.