Duel of Duals

A Homebrew / In Development game In the world of Miranse
April 2019 | Full
Lord Carmine of Nicversentel stood at the fore-gunwale of Captain Aduar’s Flagship. The wind blew as full as needed. Sky was clouded just enough to cut the glare of full sun. Crew were at their tasks and happily so... Everything about the voyage was ideal.   Lord Carmine frowned at the bow wake being made by the ‘Piquante’s’ passage. Everything was going well. Why did he feel ill at ease? It was as though he had learned that a long thought dead rival was returned to semblance of life. Carmine did not know of anyone reborn. Strange introspection, on such a pleasant day. His thoughts were interrupted by a long-streak of a woman approaching. She walked stiff-legged at the knees. She had been badly hurt in a fall from castle battlements, resulting in her legs being badly affected. A promising career as an airthane cut short. She had herself to blame. Climbing a sheer castle wall is one thing. Doing this while defenders attempt to knock you off is quite another. Brave or foolish? Lord Carmine had used her for two years and still he couldn’t decide... Yalan was a former spy of House Trabberge, a traitor and outlaw. Lord Carmine had no issue with a person’s past, as long as he could improve his future in employing her. Perhaps she sought redemption. Lord Carmine wasn’t sure that serving his interests would grant her that, but a haven for a time might be all she desired. Her future was her concern not his. It had been a mutually beneficial arrangement.   “Careful there Yalan, you might never get your sea legs.”   “Aye-aye, Carmine.”   Lord Carmine winced at the nautical response. Yalan’s hands had gone to the shop’s railing. She held on tighter than the easy sea might need her to. She was no sailor.   “I have news you must know. Word has come to me of Tighan.”   “Tighan? Have the merchants of Maulght invented a new method for tanning leather?” Lord Carmine knew little of the nations of Miranse’s ‘second land’, other than they liked to trade among themselves. He couldn’t help but be dismissive as Tighan had never mattered to most of those he’d met.   “No rubbishing this news, Carmine. This is what you’ve been after...”   “The Seed?”   “Yes.”   “Yes? Is that all you’ve got for me? I’ve been expecting this news for years and you tell me nothing!”   Yalan gripped the railing harder. Her employer was usually controlled but when he turned he became wild as a tarred lion. “There are only a few words and a name. That a man has arrived and claimed a land north of Loyland. He brings a city with him out of the Verges....”   Lord Carmine smiled for the first time in days. “The name is, ‘Excel’?”   Yalan took one hand from the railing. It went against her instincts to do it but her greater worry was the man’s smile. She had seen the same smile on condemned prisoners’ faces. Knowing they stood no reprieve, these prisoners would happily go to their deaths, if they were of a certain mind. Yalan has executed several and knew they were those who had nothing left to lose. She saw it in Lord Carmine’s smile.   Yalan knew she would leave his service when the ship landed. She didn’t know if she’d survive her leaving. She knew that staying with him would be less inviting.

This story is told by



  • Lecianthe
    More than a collection of large towns, less than a kingdom; this is Lecanthe on the south-eastern portion of Coaseth. Once a cultural backwater, quiet and little known, Lecianthe has recently begun to be noticed by the other regions of the continent. This is largely due to an occurrence that very few actually know about. Deep below the harbour of the region's largest town, Valetta, lies the answer. There in a cavern vaulted high, sits a small land and within this, a large city -- greater than any above the surface. This is Drakes' Landing. Above the surface this place is also called by the same sounding name but it is viewed only as the resting place of a little known hero, Drake of Gran Bretan. The above ground site is called, Drake's Landing. Marked by a commemorative tower, it is far less imposing than its near-namesake below the harbour. The city below the waters keeps its location and existence to itself, preferring to release its citizens and goods carefully into Valetta.   Lecianthe is experiencing an upswing in its fortunes as wonderful manufactures emerge from 'Valetta's humble shops'. The lands in Coaseth marvel at the sudden skills on show from the region. How could they have been so blind to Lecianthe's capabilities? Trade treaties are sought eagerly. The other towns have been able to ride this surge of interest as well. After all, perhaps they are undiscovered 'gems' as well?
  • Miranse
Supporting Cast

Sessions Archive

4th May 2019

Session 04: Cometh the hour, cometh which man?

Renaissance meets Carmine. Two men with titles fight. Will either title be earned; re-birth or deep red ending?

Read the Report
28th Apr 2019

Session 03: The Final Countdown and the Barren Result

Melidaus steps forward to mete his fate. . .

Read the Report
14th Apr 2019

Session 02: '... a dish best served -- old'

A military camp.   A command tent, recently occupied.   A scroll left on the folding campaign chest, after having been read several times.   A wolf helm strapped hastily, agitatedly on.   A challenge.   Accepted .

6th Apr 2019

Session 01: The Old Town and the New City

“How’s this now?”   “What is it, Galfoon? You know my eyes aren’t arent as strong as my skill.”   “I spy a... well, a war-band like few heading from the south.”   “No need to tell me the direction. I can see where you are looking, baag.”   “Right you are. Sorry. I got carried away.”   “No deal. Why are they odd?”   “A mixed lot. Not from a House, that’s sure.”   “From the Ramparts, might be.”   “It’s possible?”   “Fetch the Lefth. I will keep them here until you get back.”   Once Galfoon had gone, Sheld Vromire turned and faced the approaching travelers. In the lead rode a defender of the Ramparts Previous. Vromire knew the uniform. Behind this man, came a few others all differing from each. One man rode a brilliant orange horse. Vromire blinked to make sure that he was seeing it right. He was. Vromire knew the Houselands bred the finest of horses. This mount was like nothing he had heard of, except in fireside tales. Vromire swallowed several times before the party reached his position...

Read the Report