Session 04: Cometh the hour, cometh which man? Report

Renaissance v. the Lord Carmine: The Duel of Duels     Let it be known for the Ages of Races to follow that I induct these words into the Passages of Logresse. I make my opinions felt within these words and I make no apologies for them.   Anafaque, Petaled Knight-Rose of Everthorn Gate     At the time appointed by the Zenith Herald of the Great Centre, Horns of Br’Tagne and Margue and Isle of Valon, the two parties for the duel approached.   From the south came the first aggrieved. This one was a Human known as the Renaissance. With him came his second, Gerard the Wanderer.   From the west came the first challenged. This one was a Human known as Lord Carmine. With him came no second. I did note that he stared in some surprise at the figure of Gerard. When I asked after Lord carmine as to why, he refused to make word but only nodded toward the ‘Wanderer’ and shrugged with a sneer on his face.   I took the usual measures to prepare those who would witness the struggle to come. The rest who had accompanied the duellists were told to remain without the Rambling Gates but that they might listen to the sounds and words that came from within, should they be sharp enough to hear such.   I inspected the weapons to be used. Renaissance had several choices but no sword. Lord Carmine, being a knight and noble of the Great Centre, had sword to hand. Such a sword as I have rarely seen. Still, Renaissance seemed only mildly interested in the blade and not at all concerned as to its obvious quality. After inquiring of Renaissance, he made it extremely clear that this inequality was of no concern to him. This potential issue dealt with, most was in readiness.   Gerard took Renaissance apart. He seemed to indicate several small things to the younger looking warrior. None of these pieces of advice could have been too important as Renaissance only smirked at the ‘wanderer’s’ words. This took only a small amount of time but Lord Carmine grew sorely impatient at the delay. I was able to mollify him by going over his armour, which was indeed a many-faceted combination of collected elements. Truly this man was a much-travelled and much-decorated knight. My interest in the origins of his vambrace and helm took his attention from the combat long enough for the other duellist to finish speaking with Gerard. I called the two combatants to the ground where the twin arcs that symbolise the two ends of our great land are debossed. I stood at the centre point, marked with a golden disc. This denotes the Great Centre, albeit not to scale.   “You both stand upon the Horns of Dilemma. As is the tradition of Logresse, you have come here to deal in a complete manner with this thing which causes vexation to both of you. Nothing that can be done or said will ever be sufficient to bring peace and civility between you or your followers, holdings or retainers. Within the Rambling Gates, the ages of warriors, both knighted and freelances, have fought and proved their abilities and truths. Death is not always the result but death can oft-times be preferable to a meagre life the follows for the vanquished. Some have returned here to ask for a noble end to their now unbearable lives. I have the honour to offer this surcease by my right as defender and guardian of this place. I salute you…Salute those who have come here before you, that give this place the weight of deed and action, even should you be unable to salute each other…then draw weapon and prove yourself.”   I said all this in tones meant to insist that any combatant would understand the gravitas of the place and the event. I stepped away from the central disc and took my place of warding, marked in the ground that is called the Valeon. From it, I could intercede should an action be foul. Rare are the foul blows that could be committed but there were a small number of things that could be seen to be perfidious. The Valeon Glyph would serve to magnify my thoughts and make me undeniable to any duellist, no matter how determined or powerful. Within the Valeon I could not be denied.   The two men shifted their weight from foot to foot. From neither did I sense a great desire to prolong the fight. Nor did I sense that they desired to overwhelm the other with a display of skills. It was apparent that this was not a duel where one might seek to demoralise the other. Both knew each other intrinsically. There was in each of these men aa kind of similarity that I have rarely witnessed, save in twins or fathers and sons forced to contest by circumstance or enmity. Like these, Renaissance and Carmine seemed to harbour a greater depth of knowing spite, for the other. It was clear that each knew the other must fall to assure any future. I was mindful of this, as I had been mindful in the previous duel between the two Meliadus nobles. With Renaissance and Carmine there was no quarter to be offered. As the combat ensued, strange energies flowed about them.   The flow of these energies was not casting power. There was about the mystic transferences that swirled around their bodies, more than Colour or Shadow. I was reminded of the latent potencies that others had shown me occasionally. These were few in number. New or lost energies that came to certain individuals from I know not. Regardless of source, the energy that pooled between the two men was clearly alive with potential. It might have been beneficial or it might have meant harm. I sensed that it could have even have been both at once. Across their faces, expressions of past, more youthful times and comprehensions from those moments, flashed briefly. It looked for all I could see, like they were reliving instances from previous times. Time is a wonder to me. It may well be a potency to be understood but this is not my field of endeavour.   Power moved readily about them both. There was an interchange occurring, the depth of what went between them is beyond me. A spiritual exchange? Not between enemies, I would not think. Something, however, of that I am sure enough. That an exchange of a kind happened, I feel is true. History or destiny or fated possibility. The Valeon Glyph sparked in rhythym to this exchange but never flared into ire. For that reason I did not intercede but instead allowed whatever it was to continue between the two rivals.   Through the emissions I could see, there were occasional bursts of sound to be heard. Most were brief tones of music or words or phrases or laughter that issued challenges. There were different voices but these soon retreated until only one remained. This was most certainly not that of either of the combatants. It was a maniacal voice, pitched into the realm of determined isolation. It worried me. I hope to not hear its kind anew.   Lord Carmine seemed to take this voice’s arrival far more off-handedly than Renaissance. Renaissance’s features revealed his distaste. I found in his reaction, that I was on his side in the duel. This is not against the tenets of my role. Often, I find that one side is more appealing to me than the other. Lord Carmine was as likely to win the contest as Renaissance. I would not interfere in this. As if to prove my thought, Carmine’s forcefulness redoubled with the stranger’s voice cajoling him to greater effort. Flickering images that had only been on their features now grew to encompass their items and apparel.   Renaissance’s person changed rapidly before my eyes. Looking for moments as though taller and broader. A more youthful face accompanied this change. His garb was most barbaric; horned helmet, large axe and by his side a war-dog, though I could not be sure if it wore armour as well. Then this all changed like waters being stirred by cosmic ladle. It was still Renaissance but he looked more assured. His axe transformed gaining a glowing green surface. His garb moved from its barbaric chain to chivalric robe. I liked this new spectre far better! At his side, he wore a great sword. Here was a revelation that this man was not without knowledge of the code of proper combat. He elected to deny it for his own reasons. This made him more akin to a knight of the Black or Orange than a barbarian.   Lord Carmine laughed at this and made an odd statement, directed at Renaissance. His voice was echoed most strangely by the other, maniacal voice. Theirs blended into one sound. I liked it not.   “You have forgotten your own progression, Axewing! How could you be so unmindful? Wouldn’t your dead gods be wounded to see that you can’t even get the sequence of their gifts to you correct? Let me show you what you have forgotten.” At that, Carmine’s raiment took on a spectral image of a different armour. It was plated in pale hues, most in tones of white and silver. What was unique were the plates upon the chest area. These were pitch. Beyond Black, perhaps beyond Shadow. I could not be certain if I had seen such in life. Without seeing its real form, I doubt anyone would know the truth of it. I looked to see if the spectre of this armour had had any affect on Renaissance’s resolve. It had.   Not a negative one, however. Instead, Renaissance after a moment’s perplexity, seemed filled with purposeful action. His mind was not known to me but what occurred was certainly his doing. I did not mention it but the voices of Carmine and the other had laughed from the time of the armour’s appearance. What it meant to them I’m not aware. I know that whatever it was that Renaissance invoked, it stilled their laughter. Lord Carmine quieted, while the mad voice did not. This voice began to scream in rage. The language was an alien tongue to me but its vile vehemence spoke to me nonetheless. Such words were not meant o be uttered but rather kept to one’s own mind. I raised my sword to admonish but was tilled at the instant as things changed.   Lord Carmine’s blade described a thrust meant to pierce Renaissance at his heart. The maniacal voice’s curses rose to a shout of unheeded warning. The sword blade punctured Renaissance’s chest, accompanied by a sound I cannot well-describe. An ancient noise it was. Filled by creature’s cries of challenge and a dry, roaring wind that seemed to call to ears no longer able to hear. At its heart, I thought to discern a command to take vengeance on any who had hurt those who did not deserve it. More than strange to experience and I think that it is singular and important to transcribe my experiencing it on these pages.   If there was a vengeance to be exacted between these two men then it came to pass at this moment. The plunging blade struck for all the realm true and fast through to Renaissance’s core. The sword went up to the hilt. It went in still beyond the hilt! The screams of the mad voice stopped suddenly. Lord carmine’s smile of pleasure dissolved into anguish. His sword’s length protruded from his cuirasse. I noted that the Blackness of his armour’s plate was where the sword emerged. A thin misty fluorescence drifted off from the sword’s edge where it touched the Blackest surface of the armoured plate. Carmine’s face was as totally dumbstruck as his breast was perfectly hit. His touch was complete. He looked almost resigned as he withdrew the sword from Renaissance’s chest and watched the blade retract into his own. With that, carmine fell to his knees and then to the ground. His heart’s blood poured darkly on to the horn he lay upon. His dilemma was finished with.   Renaissance did not do more than brush at where the blade had struck with the back of his fingers, as one might smooth away a stray hair. He stooped to the body of the fallen Lord Carmine, reaching for the sword that had fallen from that one’s grip. Renaissance’s eyes sought mine, asking silently a question of procedure. I replied aloud to his query, “As in all times of combat, to the victorious go the spoils of enmity. The blade is yours as are all his personal things… Though I might warn you that this sword is a powerful artefact and might not be best to desire.”   He replied, “I take the sword not for myself but to safeguard it from being taken up by other, less knowing hand.”   I was uncertain about this statement but it was not my field of endeavour. Gerard took off the fallen Lord’s scabbard and offered it to Renaissance. Between the two men I thought I saw a knowing look get exchanged. That these two have a long association. Longer than most became clear to me at that moment.     Here ends what I shall term the Duel of Duals. Let none call the result unjust.