It was a seemingly pleasant day. The summer sun shined brightly in the heaven above. Gulls flew overhead and a small stream of thinly stretched clouds marched along the sea of blue sky. It was all lovely for the common man. The passerby's who simply wish to enjoy their day to day activities with the golden orb greeting them from above. But all was not such for the population. The day was saddened. It had been five days time since the appointment of Einarr Norrvakt to Imperial Guard status. The titles of Imperial Knighthood having passed to an unlikely host, Ingvar, simply due to his age and presence within the city walls. The man had not been prepared for this responsibility. He had made minimal attempts at reaching out. Secluding himself to private drinking sessions and visitations to neighboring brothels dotting the Debauchery Island. If Ingvar was to be the title holder then the heir would be the son of a whore.
In the grieving there was minimal desire to improve the standing of House Norrvakt. While the siblings of Einarr engaged in pursuits to better their House, the patriarch did nothing. Not a thing. To anyone he had disappeared with his father. But that fate was subject to change.
The summer sky was clouded this day. It was not to rain, but it was far from a beating of rays from above. Ingvar did what he had been doing the previous days, he drank, he whored, he gambled. It mattered not what this would result in as the answer would be nothing at all. The atmosphere was jovial as was typical for the day drinkers. Merriment and the like. But it was broken as a new company entered the gambling house. Four men bearing bones of various creatures, some possibly of humanuum, as armour on top of furs. Each man a mass of meat filled with bloodlust. Blackmarks. One of the three stepped forward, making himself known. He was a Northerner, imposing in stature despite his above average height and not having the most muscle of his company. Still, this man was a dominating force.
The stranger approached the table of Ingvar Norrvakt, who was drinking away without much care nor mind for the man who stared down at him. The drunken Imperial Knight looked up into the face of one Gunjar Norrvakt, a member who was banished by Einarr following the Young Cub's War. This new, elder Norrvakt drew his bastard sword and pointed it toward Ingvar. He claimed the titles for himself. Ingvar wasn't going to bend his knee so easy, but he knew that to fight for the titles might as well have him killed in the moment. Carefully thinking, despite his brain being in a drunken stir, devised a plan that would save himself and free him from this responsibility in a traditional Northerne way. The fate of House Norrvakt and her titles would be settled in a one on one fight. First blood claims all. Now Ingvar also knew that if he was to hold a convincing display he would need to be somewhat sober so he convinced Gunjar to fight him the next day.
The sun rose above into the sky. It looked down upon the fields and stretched shadows of buildings along the streets of the Debauchery Island. The two Norrvakts had met in the cellar of the gambling house which they had met in the day prior. A makeshift fighting pit was in the center with various kegs of alcoholic beverages surrounding. Ingvar stood wearing loose fitting clothes. Cotton trousers and shirt with minimal leather guards and chest piece. His weapon of choice being two identical Ularen axes, constructed quite recently due to the lack of axes with him on the island. His opponent being Gunjar. The man wore hide trousers and a cotton shirt. Half plate adorned his chest with bones from a goats rib cage on top of that. His weapon of choice being his bastard sword, Fatebringer.
The two prepared themselves as the call was given to begin. Ingvar stayed low, going to try and take out Gunjar from his legs. The Blackmark blocked with his sword accordingly and returned the gesture with a firm shoulder into Ingvar's jaw. The Ularen Skagger stumbled backwards, dancing a little bit as he cocked his head, smile on face. The two paced each other, moving around in a counter clockwise fashion. Ingvar lashes out again with an aggressive barrage of strikes, being absorbed mostly by Gunjar's gauntlets. The Ularen axe heads, being made of stone, made little work into the well formed Blackmark. Gunjar takes a step back as Ingvar lays off on his attacks. The Blackmark replaces his footwork, raising his sword. He was preparing to make quick work of the remainder of the fight. Ingvar noted the change in positioning and loosened his grip. He was prepared for this as it would be an opportune time to fulfil his plan. The two rushed each other, Ingvar locked his axes around Fatebringer, appearing to try and dislodge it from Gunjar's grip. The Blackmark lowered the weapons until the two faced each other and delivered a firm head butt into the top of Ingvar's skull. The Imperial Knight went down to the ground just as Gunjar is about to bring his sword down to draw blood. Ingvar quickly rolls out of the way revealing his wrist to Gunjar. Blood was drawn. The Blackmark was confused as he had not laid into the parry, rather using it as a means to close the gap without sacrificing his defense. What he hadn't seen was Ingvar lean in and cut himself against the stony head of the Ularen axe.
The two combatants separated. Ingvar sat cross legged with a bottle of rum which had been on one of the racks surrounding the pit. He raises it up as a mock cheers to the new Imperial Knight. He was finally free. The patriarchy was no longer his to maintain and he could revert back to his original tendencies of tavern mingling and senseless violence. Yes, today was a nice day for the ex-Imperial Knight.
In the grieving there was minimal desire to improve the standing of House Norrvakt. While the siblings of Einarr engaged in pursuits to better their House, the patriarch did nothing. Not a thing. To anyone he had disappeared with his father. But that fate was subject to change.
The summer sky was clouded this day. It was not to rain, but it was far from a beating of rays from above. Ingvar did what he had been doing the previous days, he drank, he whored, he gambled. It mattered not what this would result in as the answer would be nothing at all. The atmosphere was jovial as was typical for the day drinkers. Merriment and the like. But it was broken as a new company entered the gambling house. Four men bearing bones of various creatures, some possibly of humanuum, as armour on top of furs. Each man a mass of meat filled with bloodlust. Blackmarks. One of the three stepped forward, making himself known. He was a Northerner, imposing in stature despite his above average height and not having the most muscle of his company. Still, this man was a dominating force.
The stranger approached the table of Ingvar Norrvakt, who was drinking away without much care nor mind for the man who stared down at him. The drunken Imperial Knight looked up into the face of one Gunjar Norrvakt, a member who was banished by Einarr following the Young Cub's War. This new, elder Norrvakt drew his bastard sword and pointed it toward Ingvar. He claimed the titles for himself. Ingvar wasn't going to bend his knee so easy, but he knew that to fight for the titles might as well have him killed in the moment. Carefully thinking, despite his brain being in a drunken stir, devised a plan that would save himself and free him from this responsibility in a traditional Northerne way. The fate of House Norrvakt and her titles would be settled in a one on one fight. First blood claims all. Now Ingvar also knew that if he was to hold a convincing display he would need to be somewhat sober so he convinced Gunjar to fight him the next day.
The sun rose above into the sky. It looked down upon the fields and stretched shadows of buildings along the streets of the Debauchery Island. The two Norrvakts had met in the cellar of the gambling house which they had met in the day prior. A makeshift fighting pit was in the center with various kegs of alcoholic beverages surrounding. Ingvar stood wearing loose fitting clothes. Cotton trousers and shirt with minimal leather guards and chest piece. His weapon of choice being two identical Ularen axes, constructed quite recently due to the lack of axes with him on the island. His opponent being Gunjar. The man wore hide trousers and a cotton shirt. Half plate adorned his chest with bones from a goats rib cage on top of that. His weapon of choice being his bastard sword, Fatebringer.
The two prepared themselves as the call was given to begin. Ingvar stayed low, going to try and take out Gunjar from his legs. The Blackmark blocked with his sword accordingly and returned the gesture with a firm shoulder into Ingvar's jaw. The Ularen Skagger stumbled backwards, dancing a little bit as he cocked his head, smile on face. The two paced each other, moving around in a counter clockwise fashion. Ingvar lashes out again with an aggressive barrage of strikes, being absorbed mostly by Gunjar's gauntlets. The Ularen axe heads, being made of stone, made little work into the well formed Blackmark. Gunjar takes a step back as Ingvar lays off on his attacks. The Blackmark replaces his footwork, raising his sword. He was preparing to make quick work of the remainder of the fight. Ingvar noted the change in positioning and loosened his grip. He was prepared for this as it would be an opportune time to fulfil his plan. The two rushed each other, Ingvar locked his axes around Fatebringer, appearing to try and dislodge it from Gunjar's grip. The Blackmark lowered the weapons until the two faced each other and delivered a firm head butt into the top of Ingvar's skull. The Imperial Knight went down to the ground just as Gunjar is about to bring his sword down to draw blood. Ingvar quickly rolls out of the way revealing his wrist to Gunjar. Blood was drawn. The Blackmark was confused as he had not laid into the parry, rather using it as a means to close the gap without sacrificing his defense. What he hadn't seen was Ingvar lean in and cut himself against the stony head of the Ularen axe.
The two combatants separated. Ingvar sat cross legged with a bottle of rum which had been on one of the racks surrounding the pit. He raises it up as a mock cheers to the new Imperial Knight. He was finally free. The patriarchy was no longer his to maintain and he could revert back to his original tendencies of tavern mingling and senseless violence. Yes, today was a nice day for the ex-Imperial Knight.
