From: jakvaltrds@aol.com (Jakvaltrds)
Date: 04 Jan 1998 18:40:49 EST
::After a sorely disappointing performance the night before, the warlord paces the oaken floors of his home at Invercauld. Replaying the match between himself and the Baron,Huma Dragonbane over in his mind, trying to see how he could have erred so badly. Muttering as he recounts the blunders, and knowing he had changed his mind as to the opening move at the very last second , thus starting the beginning of the end. With each move played over in his
mind, he could see his obvious mistakes. "Why? You have dueled him many times and never had you looked so bad. He did duel well, but he had dueled well before and still the win was yours"::grunting As he kicks the foot rest, sitting before his leather chair, Seamus begins to look deeper into the matter. He had openly stated to the community, less than a week earlier, his displeasure with the houses and their apparent move to gain a majority of the
Barons rings. He had brashly stated his intent to stand in their way at every turn. But then he chose to challenge a friend instead of the one behind his ire. Stopping at the bar, he pours a glass of Scotch. Glass in hand, he sits in the wingback, placing his feet onto the stool adjacent to it. "Ye never know when to butt out,do ye Seamus?" the audible chastisement passing from his lips::
" Why Huma?"::Leaning back he begins to realize the reason for his failed attempt. In his minds eye, he sees the friends who had gathered to support him. Not one had questioned his motives. They had stood beside him as friends, caring not the reason, just supporting him as friends sometimes do. Then at once he realizes there is one face absent from the crowd. A face that should have been in the forefront was obviously missing.
With a sip of the amber liquid his thoughts become pointedly clear. Standing abruptly he walks to the window that overlooks the east pasture, looking long into the distance, perhaps in hope of seeing someone, then turning back to face the empty house.
The reason for his loss was now painfully evident to him. The reasons for this challenge were not his own. He had planned on waiting to see the outcome of the matches slated for the month, before acting. Why had he not waited to challenge one that was not so close a friend?::
" Ye lost because yer motives were not yer own Seamus. Yer fight was not with Huma. He had done nothing but state his feelings,and rightly so it seems.
Where was the one that had asked you to stand up for him? Where was he while you stood in the ring proclaiming your loyalty to his cause?"
::He hurls the glass into the fireplace. The shards exploding from the impact, the remaining Scotch, flaring like his emotions, while he stood there staring at the flame::
" I must find the answer to this question, lest I blunder ,once again"
~TBC~
A questioning of loyaties
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From: gnimishrw@aol.com (Gnimish RW)
Date: 04 Jan 1998 23:49:05 EST
::Chuckles, reading the post, then just wanders off::
Date: 04 Jan 1998 23:49:05 EST
::Chuckles, reading the post, then just wanders off::
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From: jakvaltrds@aol.com (Jakvaltrds)
Date: 05 Jan 1998 15:27:37 EST
::Dartagnan's sides heaving with the hurried ride, Seamus arrived in town, only to find that the one he was seeking was not about. Deciding to let off a bit of the steam he'd built up on the ride, he entered the Red Dragon Inn. Upon his entrance to the dueler's arena, he found the chance to duel a worthy adversary. After the brief wait to be summonded to the ring, he heard his name called, along with that of Prince Arlingond. Both commencing with the
usual salutes and well wishes, he contemplated that this was just what he needed, a fine challenge by a skilled veteran of the rings. The duel was a fine one, both duelists holding their heads high as it ended. Glancing about, he noticed that the one he originally sought was occupied in the next ring. Walking to the bar for a drink, he waited for a short time, his ire beginning to resurface. Deciding he'd better cool off before asking the question he
was ruminating, the burly Scot exited the arena, without so much as a glance to the man dueling in the ring. Up the stairs he strode, taking two steps with each angry stride, emerging into the cool night air. Walking the streets he was approached by a fellow in need of an official for the league duels. Always acommodating, Seamus agreed, following the Warlord to The Hall of Glass, home of the team, Retribution.
"How appropriate", he thought, "Glass houses, retribution. P'rhaps this holds some significance..... then again, p'rhaps not."
Calling the match, he enjoyed the action, his mind clearing as he had the chance to think of something other than that which weighed so heavily upon his heart. Having finished the duties at hand, however, he found the evergrowing dilemna, once again, foremost in his mind. With an almost melancholy air, he walked back to the arena, hoping to settle the matter, once and for all......
The one he sought had left.
Dissapointment showing on his haggard face, his attention was drawn by a commotion below in the annex. At once he remembered that the Lady Alais was set to duel him for his title, yet another request by the one he now sought. Smiling, he found a ringside seat and waited, knowing the man would soon arrive to support the challenger. The match began, and yet ................ he didn't arrive. Round after round, they dueled, and still no supporter for
the brave loyal lass. Finally it ended and she walked from the Annex, alone, just as he had done the night before.
~TBC~
Date: 05 Jan 1998 15:27:37 EST
::Dartagnan's sides heaving with the hurried ride, Seamus arrived in town, only to find that the one he was seeking was not about. Deciding to let off a bit of the steam he'd built up on the ride, he entered the Red Dragon Inn. Upon his entrance to the dueler's arena, he found the chance to duel a worthy adversary. After the brief wait to be summonded to the ring, he heard his name called, along with that of Prince Arlingond. Both commencing with the
usual salutes and well wishes, he contemplated that this was just what he needed, a fine challenge by a skilled veteran of the rings. The duel was a fine one, both duelists holding their heads high as it ended. Glancing about, he noticed that the one he originally sought was occupied in the next ring. Walking to the bar for a drink, he waited for a short time, his ire beginning to resurface. Deciding he'd better cool off before asking the question he
was ruminating, the burly Scot exited the arena, without so much as a glance to the man dueling in the ring. Up the stairs he strode, taking two steps with each angry stride, emerging into the cool night air. Walking the streets he was approached by a fellow in need of an official for the league duels. Always acommodating, Seamus agreed, following the Warlord to The Hall of Glass, home of the team, Retribution.
"How appropriate", he thought, "Glass houses, retribution. P'rhaps this holds some significance..... then again, p'rhaps not."
Calling the match, he enjoyed the action, his mind clearing as he had the chance to think of something other than that which weighed so heavily upon his heart. Having finished the duties at hand, however, he found the evergrowing dilemna, once again, foremost in his mind. With an almost melancholy air, he walked back to the arena, hoping to settle the matter, once and for all......
The one he sought had left.
Dissapointment showing on his haggard face, his attention was drawn by a commotion below in the annex. At once he remembered that the Lady Alais was set to duel him for his title, yet another request by the one he now sought. Smiling, he found a ringside seat and waited, knowing the man would soon arrive to support the challenger. The match began, and yet ................ he didn't arrive. Round after round, they dueled, and still no supporter for
the brave loyal lass. Finally it ended and she walked from the Annex, alone, just as he had done the night before.
~TBC~
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From: jakvaltrds@aol.com (Jakvaltrds)
Date: 19 Jan 1998 21:26:14 EST
More than two weeks had passed since the match. Seamus had tried in vain to find the opportunity to speak to the man with no success.
He was growing tired with each failed attempt.
Their paths would cross, but each had his own responsiblities and they could not find the time essential for a conversation.
Once he thought they were close to a meeting and as the chance came, Seamus himself was called away to his duties to the Team Dueling League.
With the passing of each day, Seamus grew more and more discontent with the results of his reasoning. There must be an explanation he thought. Surely he would not turn his back for anything less than urgent matters of court. Perhaps an illness?"Again rationalizing in hopes of finding an answer. "Still, he should have sent word of his reasons, but alas, he has not." Not being one to take silence as the answer to his questions, Seamus rides one more
time into the town called RhyDin. He makes plans to stay at a local establishment so as to be near to the rings, and those places frequented by the man he so desperately seeks.
Arriving at the Dead Nicolas, he stables his horse and enters the hotel owned by a certain cocksure warlord. Looking the place over he assesses it to be suitable quarters for the time being and waits for the bellboy to gather his belongings and to show him to his room.
After realizing that his luggage is his own problem, Seamus follows the inn keeper to the appointed room. Tipping him with a sovereign, he asks the man to send a messenger back, that he might inform the illusive royal of his residence and purpose:::
Date: 19 Jan 1998 21:26:14 EST
More than two weeks had passed since the match. Seamus had tried in vain to find the opportunity to speak to the man with no success.
He was growing tired with each failed attempt.
Their paths would cross, but each had his own responsiblities and they could not find the time essential for a conversation.
Once he thought they were close to a meeting and as the chance came, Seamus himself was called away to his duties to the Team Dueling League.
With the passing of each day, Seamus grew more and more discontent with the results of his reasoning. There must be an explanation he thought. Surely he would not turn his back for anything less than urgent matters of court. Perhaps an illness?"Again rationalizing in hopes of finding an answer. "Still, he should have sent word of his reasons, but alas, he has not." Not being one to take silence as the answer to his questions, Seamus rides one more
time into the town called RhyDin. He makes plans to stay at a local establishment so as to be near to the rings, and those places frequented by the man he so desperately seeks.
Arriving at the Dead Nicolas, he stables his horse and enters the hotel owned by a certain cocksure warlord. Looking the place over he assesses it to be suitable quarters for the time being and waits for the bellboy to gather his belongings and to show him to his room.
After realizing that his luggage is his own problem, Seamus follows the inn keeper to the appointed room. Tipping him with a sovereign, he asks the man to send a messenger back, that he might inform the illusive royal of his residence and purpose:::