"Oh, that. I changed my mind about that, and ended up stabling him in the inn after all. The wolves were howling, and upon rechecking, I came to the conclusion there is really nothing in my saddlebags worth stealing anyway."

Aerendir narrows his eyes.

"I didn't hear any wolves howling last night."

"I am sure you didn't, since you were sleeping in a tavern and not riding in the woods," Falnis agrees blandly.

Aerendir scowls, but apparently has no reply for this. Turning, he stalks out of the room in the direction of the stables, presumably to organise the horses (or at least his, Nod's, and Marabir's horses).

The others join Aerendir outside the stables shortly thereafter, just as the first rays of sunlight are beginning to creep over the trees of the Faldar Woods to the east. Marabir strides to his stallion and swings lightly into the saddle. Behind him Nod, shivering in the fresh morning air, clambers onto his mare, hugging his patched cloak tightly about him as his breath turns to mist before him. Lyria wears a thick, fur riding cloak, and seems no stranger to riding as she swings lightly onto her chestnut mare and trots forward to fall in line beside Marabir.

"Perfect weather for riding," Marabir says brightly as he glances at the sky above, "We shall make excellent time."

"Wonderful," says Falnis, who has his own reasons for being pleased that they are making good time.

OOC: Dalmar Argant rolled 24 using 1d20+22.  Spot Check.
Dalmar Argant rolled 33 using 1d20+22.  Listen Check.

Aerendir, easily the best horseman in the group, brings up the rear, looking like he would like nothing better than to but an arrow in the back of the shady-looking, cloaked varim riding next to Nod in front of him.

OOC: Aerendir rolled 39 using 1d20+20.  Ride Check.
Aerendir rolled 27 using 1d20+22 with rolls of 5.  Spot Check.
Aerendir rolled 28 using 1d20+22 with rolls of 6.  Listen Check.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Sat 16 Feb 2019.

The mist gradually rises as the party trot down the rutted road that leads from the town, and within a couple of hours the morning sun shines down brightly upon them. They make good time, in keeping with Marabir's prediction. That is, until they reach a small copse close to halfway between Lastorn and Calarn. Turning the corner to pass through the foliage they are met by a rider, seated calmly astride a dark mount. The party recognise him instantly as the mercenary from the tavern. On a fallen tree by road beside him another man is seated, his horse beside him, which they recognise as his companion from the night before.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:14, Thu 07 Mar 2019.

The man watches them approach coolly, but does not address them until Marabir, trotting ahead of the others, arrives within a few yards of him.

"We meet again, Sir Knight," he smiles cruelly, "And this time your precious guard captain friend is not here to hasten to your rescue."

Marabir stares back coldly.

"I suggest you move aside," he says with dangerous politeness.

"I think not," says the man with a bland smile, "I am here to challenge you to a duel, you see. I demand satisfaction for our encounter yesterday evening."

"A duel?" scoffs Nod incredulously from behind, "He is a knight and you are a commoner, as far as I can tell. You have no right to challenge him."

The mercenary fixes Nod with a dangerous glare and the minstrel swiftly falls silent. He then turns back to Marabir.

"Unless, of course, you intend to hide behind your title as you did the guard captain last eve? It would show consistence, I'll admit..."

Marabir's eyes narrow as he surveys the mercenary stonily.

"I have no objection to ridding this land of one such as you," he replies with a shrug, "And I am sure my companions will spare me the few minutes it takes to do so. I accept your challenge."

Swinging nimbly from his saddle, the prince steps forward, unsheathing his blade.

This reaction seems to please the mercenary, who smiles coldly as he mirrors Marabir's actions, unsheathing a gleaming blade with a worn leather hilt from his own scabbard.

"No interference from your friends, mind you," he says suspiciously, "Nor mine," he directs a stern look at his companion seated on the fallen tree who gives a curt nod of acknowledgement.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:15, Thu 07 Mar 2019.

"We wouldn't dream of interfering," Falnis assures the two mercenaries. "We understand that for humans and high elves, death comes before dishonor, don't we Aerendir?"

Aerendir ignores the varim.

"You need multiple minutes to deal with this thug?" he says skeptically.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:34, Thu 07 Mar 2019.

Marabir allows the elf half a grin as he swings his blade experimentally.

"Minute," he corrects himself.

The two men approach each other, pausing momentarily to eye each other darkly. Then the duel begins.

OOC: Tared Garn rolled 18 using 1d20+6. Initiative.
Prince Marabir Carendil rolled 5 using 1d20+5. Initiative.

Marabir moves forward to slash at Tared, but the mercenary is faster, ducking deftly beneath the blow and slashing upward with his own blade to gash Marabir across the side, slicing through his gambeson which swiftly begins to stain with seeping blood.

OOC: Tared Garn dealt 17 points of vitality damage to Prince Marabir Carendil.
Tared Garn dealt 10 points of wound damage to Prince Marabir Carendil.
Prince Marabir Carendil dealt 12 points of vitality damage to Tared Garn.

Marabir gasps in pain, gritting his teeth as he turns to face the mercenary once more. The mercenary opens his arms invitingly with a cruel smirk. Marabir frowns, before staggering forward once more to thrust at the mercenary, who once more dodges to the left, avoiding the sluggish blow.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:33, Sun 10 Mar 2019.

The mercenary spins his blade up to slash Marabir's leg and then arm as the prince passes and with a gasp the prince staggers forward, his blade slipping from his grasp as he lands on his back in the mud.

OOC: Tared Garn dealt 14 points of vitality damage to Prince Marabir Carendil.
Tared Garn dealt 5 points of wound damage to Prince Marabir Carendil.

Tared glances down at Marabir with a smug grin, kicking the prince's blade out of reach as he stands over the injured man. Aerendir, however, seems to feel this duel has gone quite far enough, and swiftly reaches for his greatbow. The mercenary's companion seems to have anticipated this action, and raises his own bow to fire as the elf aims an arrow at the mercenary standing over Marabir. They fire simultaneously, with both Aerendir and the mercenary darting sharply to the side in order to avoid the pair of arrows which fly harmlessly past, one to skitter across the muddy path, the other to impale itself in a tree with a dull thunk.

OOC: Aerendir dealt 22 points of vitality damage to Tared Garn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:03, Sun 10 Mar 2019.

The mercenary doesn't spare the arrow a second glance, kneeling swiftly to press his blade firmly against Marabir's neck as Aerendir fits a second arrow to his bow.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, elf," he says coldly, "Assuming you value your noble friend's life?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:06, Sun 10 Mar 2019.