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The group heads out from the Freehold, taking the Trod that runs vaguely southish--towards the ocean. For a bit the journey is fine, safe, though the urban patches of the Hedge become thinner and thinner, until the group are walking over the Trod's bridges and walkways that run over swampy, wetter terrain as they get closer to the ocean. Eventually they get to the point that they will have to step off of the Trod--into the wet wilds of the Hedge, into the thorns. The Hedge is cruel and relentless, and navigating the terrain quickly becomes tricky--they have to weave around waterways and pools of mucky mud, occasionally backtracking, trying to find dry(ish) patches so the waters don't swallow them up.
I don't believe anyone has something that gives them the Edge, so the Hedge will have the Edge. So the roll is going to be Wits+Athletics.
Sigrun doesn't tend to travel with Frygg, her horse, altogether much when moving with others who tend not to have mounts of their own. But she's hauling a small arsenal with herself, plus gifts for the Kraklin, plus knowing there will be rivers to cross and the like. She keeps a spear in one hand, and her token shield on her other arm. The banner of the Summer court of Shackamaxon flies from the spear's head, making them all stick out like a sore thumb while also advertising precisely who potential harassers would be messing with. She keeps pace with the others as much as possible, but when it comes time to go off the trod it's always a roll of the dice. She lowers her spear, settles her helmet onto her head, and gives Frygg a nudge with her heels before charging into the thorns quite literally. And she's off.
Glitch is guarding Teagan's Icon. They haven't been out of the Hedge since they fought the Armsmaster, which will probably cause them some problems at some point, but for now, it's necessary. The Mirrorskin is a solemn, thoughtful shadow at Sigrun's right, machete in hand. There's something -- drawn-in, composed, about the Mirrorskin tonight.
Petra wasn't entirely comfortable navigating in the Hedge but she moved quickly and quietly, sneaking along in Sigrun's wake, jumping and gliding from shadow to shadow. Her mottled brown coloration provided excellent camouflage against the autumnal aspect of the Hedge around them.
Artie had been somewhat surprised to recieve a call to head off into the hedge for this duel, but he was dutifully always happy to accept. So he'd shown up, armored up and pointed his spear off towards their destination and was off.
A few swipes at a wayward bit of bramble here and there kept things virtually an easy trip. Trods were like that though.
Charlie is nowhere near as elegant or composed as Sigrun but she runs alongside her and the others, carefully having a polite conversation with the Hedge, like it isn't a horrible murder dimension. She's keeping her eyes open for potential dangers, but she isn't too worried. There's a small army of great fighters here to keep her safe and all she needs to do is help them if they fall.
It's a bit tedious in places, but the group overcomes the Hedge's trickery and muddy paths without much issue. (Other than getting rather wet and muddy on the way.) Eventually the smell of seasalt lingers in the air, which becomes a little cooler as they reach the Hedge's shore. The muddy streams give way to rocky wet terrain--it's slippery as fuck, and the thorns grow up around the rocks in a mix-match of spiney urchin like growths, tangly sharp seaweed, and spikey pieces of coral lodges into cracks. Tide pools swirl around, and beyond is the ocean its self--wild, dangerous, and oppressive. It flows in and out, not quite at a natural rhythm, but one could swear almost... sentient, if you stare at it too long--or come too close to where the waves are crashing in.
Once they reach the ocean, Sigrun leads them to the right--vaguely north(ish?), following the edge of the shore.
Sigrun and Teagan's spideysummersenses go off, alerting them to traps ahead--and once they know they're there, they're able to spot them--the rocks are precariously stacked as to create hidden pit traps full of sharp thorns, where a mis-step would send someone sliding over moss and slime covered rocks, toppling down to an unfortunate fate. Must be getting close.
"There," Teagan offers, pointing the end of their machete up toward the precariously-stacked rocks. "Well, at least we know we're getting close. Those things are rigged to fall. This is your gig, Adora. We can probably get past them if we're careful." Thankful for the anti-ankle-twisting leather of their boots and the salt-spray-repelling heavy leather of the longcoat that Sigrun made for them, the Mirrorskin flips the coat's hood up over their hair. Everyone's got an aesthetic, after all.
"I see it," Sigrun confirms before standing up in the stirrups and swinging a leg over the side to dismount in a hop. She winds up her spear's banner and slides it into the gear roll her horse is carrying, takes her reins in hand, and begins to pick a path through the treacherous terrain and deadly ground for those without her tricks follow in she and her horse's footsteps. "Walk where we walk, please. Slow and steady wins the race."
"Ooh... I wish this wasn't such a danger time. I've never been to the beach before," Artie whispers, looking out at the swell of the oceanic waves.
"It's not as pretty as I thought though.... Way pointier to be honest," he admits as he zones back in on keeping good footing, careful not to slip on the slime.
Petra shuddered as they got close enough to smell the sea air and the deadly waters. She shook her feathers out and forged ahead grimly and keeping a sharp eye on the water for anything that might come out of it. Nothing good came from the ocean.
Everyone manages to carefully move over the rocks, but Charlie's numb body makes their feet a bit hard to manage--and ends up slipping, rocks tumbling out from under her feet. Petra, you can try Strength+Atheltics-2 to catch her, but if you fail you both will fall into the pit.
Petra leapt forward when Charlie slipped, wings snapping out as she rushed forward to catch her hand, then flapping furiously as she scrambled back up towards more sure footing. She was pale and winded by the time they made it, certainly not the strongest among them but at least she'd been in the right place at the right time. "Are you alright?" she asked nervously.
Both manage to avoid the pit--but rocks still clatter downwards, smashing against others, creating an awful racket.
Further down the beach, ahead of them, there's the sound of a horn being blown. TOOOOOT.
Charlie smiles nervously. "Fine! I'm, um, fine. Thank you!"
Then there's the loud sound of the horn and Charlie does her best to right herself, looking towards Sigrun for further instruction.
"Expect a brash welcome," Sigrun advises once the horn is heard. Not that they're sneaking or anything. But they've clearly announced themselves. Once they've cleared the hazards, Sigrun pulls her banner spear back out of the gear roll and swings herself back up into the saddle to make her more visible. If their snipers want to give them a bad time, let them aim at the heavily armored Fairest with Fae Cunning and Spinning Wheel on her side. "Teagan, stay visible. But stay alert. If they start something, feel free to fade. Arthur, keep an eye on our tail. Charlie, Petra, stick in the middle. Just in case things go sideways." With all of that sorted out, she continues to walk her horse down the path towards the Kraklin with no great alteration in their behavior or intentions evident.
The Mirrorskin isn't as incredibly dextrous as others, but they manage not to break their ankle or fall in a pit, so that's good, right?
Sigrun's words come just in time, because Teagan's machete swings up and the look on their face when Sigrun says 'stay visible' are as close as the Mirrorskin gets to damnit, Adora, I wanted to be invisible. "Aight," they agree, frowning. Baby's already unsheathed, so they are... let's go with noticeable, their Summer Mantle crackling sharply.
Petra was happy to stay in the middle. As visible as the Summers were making themselves, the tiny Spring instead folded her wings back and focused on staying completely insignificant. Baggage, really. Landscape. No need to bother her.
Artie nods curtly and slips past Petra and Charlie, offering them both a smile and a wink. He was hoping to seem reassuring but well... Social graces weren't his forte.
"In position," the smith offered just loud enough to be heard as he scanned the team's six.
The traps eventually stop, but the terrain is still fairly hazardous, requiring careful moving--running over these slick rocks would be a difficult task if someone didn't know their way around very well.
In the far distance, they can see stone towers--not very tall, maybe a few stories, and are pretty simple affairs--watchtowers, perhaps? Looks to be where the horn originated. A few moments later, from past the twin stone towers, a fleet of a dozen or so figures approaches, moving over the slick rocks with little apparent difficulty. They walk almost in unison, so that the pounding of their echoes over the shore. As they get closer they can make them out better. At first they appear to be... crab people? Their backs and upper bodies round and hard, and their arms looking like large claws, and thinner legs--but as they get closer they can see that the crab-like shell is... armor? It's carefully cut into segments and strapped on with leather, so that they are surprisingly mobile, and their hands are protected by massive claw gauntlets. They can't see past the armor at this distance, save to know that they must be vaguely humanoid. They carry spears with shields, and walk in a line so as to guard each other with the shields.
They stop about a hundred feet away, but rather than speaking, start to... screech and dance. The screeches are chant like, not so much words--or at least not ones they understand--but clearly they are aggressive calls meant to intimidating. Their feet stomp, and they smash their claws against their chests, thighs, and shields, and wiggle their bodies back and forth so that their armor rattle-rattles, and thrust outwards towards them with the spears. All in perfect, practiced unison. It's... bewildering, but also rather intimidating, without a doubt some manner of threat or warning. The war-dance ends with a prolonged rattlerattlerattlerattle, then a AAWWWHHHHHH!!!! yell. Then they go abruptly still.
"I wasn't expecting quite this brash, mind you," Sigrun mutters under her breath loud enough for the others to hear. She watches the whole display through to its conclusion, nods her head once or twice vigorously enough for the kraklin to be able to observe the gesture and its intended demonstration of approval. Once more she dismounts from her horse, plants the pointed haft of her spear into the dirt to keep the banner upright, and advances forward several paces with her weapon hand empty. A formality, given the givens, but the intention is obvious.
She raises her voice and calls down to the column of kraklin, "I am Sigrun Ljosdottir, Huntress of the Longest Day in sworn service of Devon the Black of Summer, once King of Shackamaxon Freehold, now Summer Regent. I have come to inform you that the one you know as Enyo Stygia is no longer counted in our number. They are gone, and they will not return. Likewise, the title of Kril has passed from the one Enyo offended to another."
"With this understanding, I seek to end the enmity between us. If your people demand appeasement for the offenses we have given you, I have brought gifts. Fruits from the hedge, shields and weapons from my forge, an offer of our assistance in whatever labor your people presently undertake. And, if you so wish it, I will stand in Enyo Stygia's place and resolve the duel they forfeit before your King Kril."
With that, she sets her token shield down and gestures back to Arthur, "Could you fetch my dueling shields from Frygg? And my dueling spears? Please?"
The Mirrorskin looks out across the incredible, threatening haka, and stands very still next to Sigrun's horse. Teagan looks about ready to pop out of existence if necessary, but, you know. They don't. Because Sigrun said to not to. They'd mutter, but they're busy looking stoic and shit.
From his spot in the back, Artie watches the warriors' display with interest. And as Sig finishes he moves over to Frygg, giving the horse a kind pet along the flank. Before putting his own spear in the ground and unstrapping the requested equipment piece by piece.
It takes him a bit to arrange it all on his arms and shoulders to carry it at once, but he pulls it off and marches over. "Got 'em. Think they'll um... P-parlay? That's the term r-right?"
The Kraklin lift their spears in unison to point at Sigrun as she steps forward, but they don't throw them--they listen in still silence, which stretches on for several seconds afterwards. Finally there's the faint sound of murmur-murmuring among the line of hobs. Their spears lower, the bottom ends thunking loudly all at once onto the rocky ground. One calls out to the group in a crackly deep voice: "Stay where you are! Come no closer. King Kril will judge you." Another hob pulls out a seashell horn, lifting it and making a longer TOOOOOT-TOOOOOT sound.
Petra bounced in place with building excitement, the stress of the ocean being right there and the Hedge travel aside, this did seem like it was going to be on the epic side of things.
"In their way," Sigrun confirms to Arthur with a reassuring smile. If she's worried, she's not letting on. She simply sets the shields down side by side on the ground, plants the spear hafts into the dirt to keep them at the ready, and selects the lightest of the pair, weighing it in hand for a moment. Quick, light, deadly after a fashion. Then she hefts up one of the dueling shields; this one painted with Freyja's trefoil.
"Mother of long long table, Lady of the Vanir, Freyja of Folkvangr; if I am marked to die this day, let my wounds be to my front and my eyes be open. Skade, Goddess of the Hunt, lady of the snows, Giantess of the Hounds, guide my spear this day. Let the battle I give please you, and the wounds I strike be true." She then beats her spear against her shield three times, rocks her head side to side to loosen it up, and kicks her legs a bit to limber up, hopping in place a few times. Toot-toot indeed.
Charlie sticks to the middle. She's not normally frightened of Hobgoblins but a bunch of heavily armored hobs doing a war dance will rattle you. "We've got this," she says to herself.
The group are made to wait for a good ten, fifteen minutes or so in tense silence--the line of Kraklin stoically still. But eventually another squad is seen approaching--a smaller group of five or so Kraklin. As they come up behind the second line, they split in half and move to stand at the sides of the first line, and a taller Kraklin that had been walking behind them comes up through the center of the whole group. It's hard to tell if they are actually larger than the others, or if it's just their crabby armor that is larger--but it's covered in spines and a deep blue color, where as the rest of the armors are splashes of red and orange. They're also holding a gleaming trident and shield made of polished shell and steel forged together.
Teagan's scarred right palm rises quietly, and they turn to face Sigrun when she finishes praying. They calmly cradle her cheek, their silver-dark mirror-back skin reflecting back the Bright One's light with a soft shimmer. Their broken-mirror eyes cast her light around Sigrun in a scattered handful of rainbows. Teagan doesn't say anything, just looks at her for a long moment, reflecting fragments of her face back to her in those strange non-eyes, and then, rubbing their thumb along her cheekbone, they nod once, and step back.
King Kril's face is hidden behind a helm that makes them look like some strange giant bug/crab monstrosity, with spikes lining their jaw. A feminine voice comes from behind the helm. "No Lost has dared walk these shores and lived to walk off of them since I have been King Kril. You have one breath to speak before I make it your last."
Sigrun is clearly in the zone, but Teagan's brief demonstration of intimacy knocks her out of it at least momentarily. She quirks up an outwardly sad seeming smile for Teagan that ends with a paradoxical wink. When the darkling retreats, she glances back at them for only a moment before refocusing herself on the task at hand. Waiting and not letting the wait get inside of her head.
When Kril finally arrived on scene, Sigrun can only sigh at the welcome he chooses to give her. "You are welcome to try, your majesty. I come with gifts and an offer of peace, but if I must deliver them to your people through you rather than to you to distribute as you please, who am I to judge the will of a king?" Sigrun drops her contracts and takes another pace forward to present herself to the king's judgment. As it were.(edited)
"Your peace comes with lies and trickery," Kril replies. "The Kraklin cannot be bought nor bribed."
"She spoke of duels," says one of the Kraklin in the line behind them. "And Enyo Stygia."
The wink makes Teagan's mouth pull up at the corner, and they stand next to the horse, tapping the tip of their machate against the toe of their cap-toed combat boots. Watching. Blank-faced. Waiting.
Sigrun has said her piece. She was given a breath to speak, and she used it. The King's people were given the message, they can repeat it. Or he can give her more words with which to speak. One or the other. Either way, there's a slight grin visible beneath the eye rings over her norse helmet as she waits for this all to play out.
The name causes a faint rattle that echoes through Kril's armor. "Has Enyo Stygia been slain for their crimes?" they ask Sigrun.(edited)
And now we're talking. Her grin turns into a smile. "Enyo Stygia is gone from our Freehold. They will not be returning. What Enyo told you of their condition is the truth, not that I expect your law to look the other way over it. If you desire their death, go and bring it about by your own hand, Majesty. You took your crown by prowess, keep your laws the same way, and do not ask me to carry it out for you. I do not serve you. They do." Sigrun looks past the king to the phalanx of his men, then back to him directly.
"I repeat my offer. I have brought glamour fruits, shields, weapons. Gifts for your people. And for you. We do not wish to be your enemies. The enmity between us is a burden. Enemies over points of protocol and honor. If you do not accept these things from us as we are, then I offer to stand in Enyo Stygia's place and complete the duel that was begun by your predecessor. You and me. Spear and shield. And let this hostility between our peoples end today, as it should have on that day. Should I win, I ask only that you accept our gifts, put the Enyo matter behind you, and normalize relations with Shackamaxon. If you win, you have my blood in place of Enyo's. Let it be enough. If not, summer will roll around again and you will have taken two things from Devon that he trusted very much. And he knows where you sleep, Your Majesty."(edited)
"Enyo's blood was demanded when they forfeit the duel--but they are a coward." Kril stands quietly as Sigrun continues. There's a long moment of silence.
"There is no duel to complete. It is done. Enyo Stygia forfeit. But if you wish to challenge me, we will make a new duel. Your spear and shield versus mine." They extend the spear past her, towards the others. "Your retinue will surrender their weapons and follow us to the dueling circle."
"My retinue will do no such thing. By your own admission you view us as enemies. You will afford us the honor of remaining armed. After all, we are outnumbered, and all have heard of the prowess of the Kraklin in battle. Surely you do not fear the five of us?" Sigrun doesn't even look back over her shoulder at the others. She just gives that answer forthrightly. But not waiting for a response, and presuming she will be agreed with like all good pushy negotiators, turns to Arthur again. "Let's get the weapons and shields back to Frygg. We'll need to get down to the dueling circle."
The Mirrorskin's scarred hand tightens around the handle of the machete that exactly one other person has touched in the past twenty years. Teagan's face is still as a mirror.
"If they will not surrender their weapons, they can wait beyond our borders," Kril replies steadily.
Sigrun looks back to the others, "Up to you all. I won't ask you to accompany me unarmed, and I won't ask you to give up your weapons to follow me. Do as your conscience dictates." Sigrun, for her part, begins to pack her weapons back up and cart them back to Frygg.
Artie only mildly bristles as negotiations intensify. At Sig's request, he hefts 2 of the shields again before pausing and looking between the two leaders.
".....Mmmm...I-I'll c-come with you. It's my place." He says after a few moments thought and hesitation.
"I don't have any weapons, so I'd be more than willing to come along," Charlie says, nervously smiling. "And, um, you did a really good job there."
"To give Baby to someone else would be to break word given on my own blood and over -- a body," Teagan replies, and doesn't move, though their jaw sets and they look... let's call it displeased.
"I don't carry weapons anyways," Petra said with a little shrug and a vicious grin tugging at her lips. "Never needed any."
The smith looks to Teagan. "Y-you stay then. I will bring her back to you one w-way or another."
"If you stay behind, Teagan, you need to stay behind," Sigrun emphasizes. A darkling suddenly appearing-- or worse, being sniffed out while skulking --would be the end of all of them. "I'll be fine. Freyja didn't bring me this far to die to a guy cosplaying as a seafood platter." Once the spears and shields are stowed back on her horse, Sigrun gives Arthur a pat on the shoulder and a nod of the head. "Thank you." A glance is shared with Charlie and Petra each, her smile tight lipped and showing only the barest bit of tension. Their lives are in her hands now, rather than just her own. That's added baggage to be sure. With that settled, however, she begins to lead Frygg down towards the dueling circle.
"I know," Teagan answers, sitting down on a rock and fishing around in their pocket for a whetstone. "I can't give up Baby. You know that. It's not an option. It never was, and it never will be. The next person to hold her will be one of you taking her off my corpse to carry her next." And they look down at the machete, putting their attention to sharpening the blade.
"We'll be fine," Petra told Teagan softly. "It's not a bad idea to have someone watching our way out though. Keep it clear."
The Kraklin soldiers that had come with King Kril step forward, relieving Arthur of his weapons. Petra and Charlie are looked over, trusting their word clearly not happening here--but when no weapons are found, the soldiers start to lead them down the shoreline, King Kril walking in the lead. The original guard lingers behind with Teagan.
They walk for a while, until stone walls can be seen--and eventually they walk through them, into a village. There's dozens of other Kraklin here--most wearing armor, but there are some smaller ones that are unarmored--children, perhaps. They look like squat, bow-legged humanoid hobs with large ears and greenish, slimey skin, and large dark eyes and webbed fingers and feet. The children blink with wide, curious eyes. The village suddenly buzzes with activity, the community seeming to intuit what is about to happen. Kraklin start to move from their homes and work to rush to the center of the town, where there is a huge... pit, that is set up as a primitive amphitheater/colosseum. The group is led to a row of stone seats towards the bottom, the perfect view to look down upon the fight. Sigrun is led inside the smooth stone pit, where King Kril also goes, to stand on one side.
Every armored Kraklin starts to rattle their shell armor as anticipation builds, creating a cacophonous noise that rivals thunder as more and more join in.
Sigrun sets out her panoply once she has the chance to do so. Her shields to one side, her spears to the other. Three of each. Each one no doubt tailored to suit a specific purpose. She opts for the largest of the three spears this time around, worrying at her lip for a moment as she does so. Then she plucks up the Freyja shield again, testing its weight on her arm for a few moments before bobbing her head once.
Armed and armored, she moves out into the fighting ring to await the opening of the festivities, such as they are.
Charlie sits down and gives Sigrun a thumbs up of encouragement. She looks around to note how many people are watching them and if any are likely to intercede. Sigrun said they wouldn't but better safe than sorry.
"All of a sudden I feel like we should have brought a fucking pep band with us to play We Will Rock You hype music," Petra murmured to the others as she stood up on the seats so she could have a better view.
But when King Kril lifts a claw, the rattling dies down. "I have accepted the challenge from the warrior of Shackamaxon. Her spear and shield against mine. If she wins, Enyo Stygia's treachery will be forgiven, their gifts accepted, and the Kraklin will enter into peaceful relations with Shackamaxon. If she looses, her blood will be shed in Enyo's place. The Kraklin bear witness! The Lost of Shackamaxon bear witness!"
There's a cheer that goes through the crowd.
And then King Kril turns to Sigrun, raising their spear and shield. Roll init, Sigrun.
Artie whispers to Charlie and Petra as they go: "This is f-fun right?" Hlottifers with a lttle grin. "B-but if it g-gets scary j-just stay close to me ok?"
As they come across the seats of stone he picks one in the middle, and calls out to Sigrun. "Whooo! Sigrun! Kick his b-butt!"
King Kril moves with incredible speed, with obvious skill and prowess--slipping forward to try to get past Sigrun's defenses. Nearly making it as the spear slips past the edge of Sigrun's shield--only for her to whip it around to catch the edge of the blade and yoink it off balance enough that it slips out of the hob's hands, clattering to the ground.
Sigrun creeps forward out of her side of the ring, lowering her spear with care and precision, using it more as a ward against attack than a weapon in its own right. For all that she's fighting a crab-like hob, she's as much hiding in her shell as he is. Perhaps moreso. She's got no earthly notion what these creatures are capable of.
When the spear lurches forward, Sigrun pins it in against her shield and torques it out of his grip, sending it to the ground. Rather than capitalize on it by striking an unarmed opponent, however, she simply places her boot on his spear and presents the tip of her spear forward over her shield in warning. Don't try it.
"Yield. I don't want to have to hurt you."
Petra jumped excitedly, wings spreading as she cheered-trying to make up for the uneven numbers in their respective cheering sections.
King Kril pauses, considering Sigrun for a moment--but gives no word of yield.
"That was a g-good move. I probably would've done the same..." Artie admits to the girls.
"This is neat. I've n-never considered fighting a crab p-person before. Really interesting armor on these guys."
Charlie's eyes dart back and forth between the two fighters, her teeth clenched. "Is she winning?" She asks Artie
Sigrun now does what she does best. She holds her ground. Standing over his spear to keep him from reclaiming it, and making him pay for the effort. When the king moves to close with her, she dips her spear down to catch him in the crease of his breastplate and his pauldrons, slicing through the leather beneath and burying the spear tip into his shoulder as deeply as she's able. Trying to keep the wounds she's forced to give non life threatening. What she does not do, however, is back away. Shield to shield works just fine for her.(edited)
The spear rattles painfully across the hard armor, carving out a gouge--but it's hard to tell just how much damage was done. It doesn't stop King Kril come slipping past the spear and smashing the shell and steel shield against her temple, though. (3L before your armor. Let's do contested Strength+Stamina rolls to see if Sigrun manages to stay on the spear.)
Sigrun is sent staggering backwards a couple steps from the blow, as the King puts his own foot on the spear.
"Yep. She's winning. That disarm is bad for him but... I guess those claws are probably not just for show."
"Have faith," Petra said, completely enthralled and hopping from foot to foot. "Losing isn't an option, therefore she'll win."
When the King clashes shields with her, she finds herself being pushed back. A rarity in her life's experiences one can tell, given the sudden widening of her eyes behind her helmet's protective eye rings. She backpedals, though, maintains her balance, and ripostes off his reclaiming of his spear by swinging that boar spear of hers like a tremendous axe, cleaving it down through his shield and leaving the item in two useless pieces on the ground, but for the shield boss in his hand. She then spins her spear back and assumes a defensive crouch again.
"Yield, your Majesty!"
"Of cours she will. Not a doubt in my mind. I'm just hoping he yields instead of making her... Ya know."
There's a chorus of gasps and rattles that echo through the crowd. The maneuver has left them clearly impressed.
King Kril looks down at the two pieces of shield as they fall to the ground, expression hidden behind the helm. Then they kick the spear up into the air and catch it, holding it with both claw-gauntlet covered hands. "You have proven your courage and intelligence in battle. But I have not yet seen your ferocity. I do not yield."
If ferocity is what Kril is wanting to see, it is certainly what they are giving. With both hands on the spear, they are able to maneuver it with even more precision and speed, managing to slip past her defenses and shield to slice at her side. (6L, Armor Piercing 2.)
"I cleaved your damn shield in half!" Sigrun protests when her ferocity is called into question. The slice to her side has her skittering to the left to protect her bruised ribs, followed by a tremendous arcing swirl of her spear that makes it serve as more of a glaive than a spear. The hiss of it hitting empty air is audible in the cheap seats. She recovers her swing and begins bouncing in a more offensive stance. "But fine. You want ferocious. You get ferocious."
"You are not fighting for your life, as you should be," Kril counters, darting in again, spear clashing against spear to try to knock it out of the way to get another jab in. "If you wish to honor me, you will take this fight seriously!" (Defense 12 or 16?)
Sigrun staggers to the side when the spear catches her neck. She can feel the blood trickling down her neck and chest, but can't very well drop either of her weapons to check to see how bad it is. So rather than think about it too much, she presses in on him. Advancing forward into his attack to slip past his guard and press her point down at his hip. Assuming Kraklin have genitals, that'll get him on the defensive right quick. Her mantle flares brightly now, the heat of it dry and sweltering, accompanied by the shrill cry of unseen ravens. "FREYJA TAKE YOU, THEN!"
When Sigrun jerks her spear tip back, it comes back bloody. There's another cheer that erupts through the crowd as Sigrun draws blood from their King.
"Yes," King Kril growls, stepping back from the blow. "That's it." Then they rush forward again to meet her.
If the king had any idea how long and how hard Sigrun researched, traveled, and studied? He'd never imply she was doing anything other than her best. How she ranged from one end of the Freehold to the other, made alliances, turned rivals into friends, fought battles, nearly died, all to get here and attempt to make things right without killing anyone in the process? Oh, he'd be honored indeed. But he doesn't seem very interested in what she did before she arrived here, only what she's doing now that she's here.
And now? Now she's trying to put this King on the floor. She's not fighting any less intelligently than before, she's not really being particularly brazen. But she has the advantage on him, and she knows it. And so she's trusting to attrition and to her own craftsmanship to carry the day, standing toe to toe with the King Kril and trading blows with him like a proper psychopath.
It's not her usual style, but it's what the moment calls for. Following a brief probing feint, and a quick block with her shield, she dives forward, springs into the air, and lunges her spear down out of the sky to reach over his guard and drive the point down into the crease between helmet and pauldron, a bright clear scream of ferocity accompanying the blow.
Kril slips to the side enough that the blow isn't fatal, the spear not carving through windpipe or jugular--but the blade still buries past the hard armor and into flesh. They grunt and stagger back as the blade is ripped out, covered in more blood. They remain steadily on their feet, still holding their spear--favoring one arm a bit more now, but still looking ready and able to continue fighting...
But, instead, dark eyes stare at Sigrun through the eye sockets of their helm for a second, before they lift the spear into the air and call out, "King Kril yields to Shackamaxon!" The Kraklin burst into uproarious applause.
The trouble with asking a Valkyrie to try and kill you is that they literally have to try and kill you. So when he yields, it takes every shred of effort Sigrun has left in her body not to just take his damn head off like he'd asked. She even hisses out a harsh, "MAKE UP YOUR MIND." But she stays her hand, despite the desire to do precisely the opposite.
The thunderous applause is lost on her, accordingly. She's too busy pushing her inner homicidal angel-of-deathness back down into its bottle. Her shoulders are heaving, and her teeth are clenched, but she's keeping it together. If barely. She turns her back on the whole matter and stalks back to her side of the ring to cool off, throw down her weapons, and check on the wound on her neck.
She'll need a bit, probably.
Charlie joins in on the applause, bouncing out of her seat, her wings fully extended. "She did it!"
"Told you she would. Be ready to fix her wounds and stuff p-please." He says standing, joining in on the cheering.
King Kril watches Sigrun storm off, leaning against their spear a bit--head tilting as if in a puzzled manner at her anger. Fucking Kraklin. But Sigrun is given her space for as long as she needs.
Arthur's weapons are quietly offered back to him by the soldier who'd been holding them.(edited)
It takes the smith a long moment to notice his spear offered back. His golden eyes are only on Sig for the moment as he tries his best to figure out if she's ok.
"Hmm...o-oh. Thanks." He finally pipes up and takes back the weapons, tucking his knife ibto his boot.
Finally he slips over to tge edge of the ring. "S-sigrun? Are you alright? D-do you need anything?"
"Not a problem," Petra said, bouncing off the seat to meet Sigrun and check on her neck.
There's a toooot from a horn in the village. It's replied in the distance, from the direction they'd come from, with another toot-toot-toot. It is from a guard watching Teagan. After that, Teagan is escorted to the village, allowed to keep Baby, if they wish to.
Once Sigrun's got her helmet off and is able to assess her injuries, she just grabs a clean rag and presses it against the side of her neck to staunch the bleeding. Petra will be along shortly, no doubt, to make it all better. And, lo! There she is, on her way down. When Arthur approaches, she nods her head once, still holding the rag to her neck. "I'll be okay, Arthur. Thanks. Can you go tell Teagan they're free to come join us, maybe?"
It takes her fuming temper some time to cool down, but once she's gotten some space and a few moments to readjust her expectations, she is able to face him again. So she does, and she watches him expectantly. Clearly her patience for this diplomatic violence kabuki is wearing thin. "Does this mean you will accept our gifts? Resume diplomatic relations with Shackamaxon? I came here seeking peace, I'd like to leave with it secured."(edited)
The crowd starts filtering out as the duel ends, though there's some that linger behind to watch the proceedings curiously.
By now Kril has picked up the two halves of the shield, examining them. They look up as Sigrun approaches. "Yes," King Kril replies, their voice sounding pleasant and comfortable now. All the Kraklin seem to be, actually--it seems with the duel done, the terms are now some form of law that everyone just... accepts. "We will have peace. Do you wish to discuss these relations now?"
Petra had already taken out a small pot of ointment that smelled of lilac and took the rag from Sigrun. She licked some blood off her finger thoughtfully, then smeared the ointment on her wound and called upon Spring's gifts to heal their champion. (tagging Informed (injuries) for the exceptional. She's all healed now)
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