Who: The Baron and Carrot What: A meeting of minds and blades, potentially Where: The Balaz/DeTamble Residence When: After dinner, Aug. 30th 2011 Rating: PG-13 Status: Closed/Incomplete
Carrot found the grey stone mansion with relative ease. He'd spent the last few days walking the town, getting to know the streets and shops, and talking to people. It was simplicity itself compared with Ankh-Morpork. He already missed his city, but this town did have a certain clean, quiet, polite charm of its own. In three nights he hadn't seen a single tavern brawl. Nor even one thief, licensed or not
( ... )
Byron made his way around the narrow granite walk that lead from the east patio to the front steps, moving at a prompt gait. He could hear Alba making her way from the kitchen to the door--by now visitors were common and she usually just directed them right to the patio training grounds.
"I see him, Alba." He called, just as the girl's head popped out of the front door. As much as he hated doing it, some nights it felt as though he were treating her like a newly trained puppy who still had the habit of bolting for the door--and freedom--the first chance they got.
"Captain Ironfoundersson, it's good to meet you in person." The Baron bowed sweepingly, midnight blue and gold cloak edges fluttering away to reveal heavy pauldrons inlaid with delicate silver filigree. "This way, if you will. I trust you you encountered no trouble on your way here?" Byron led him to the sparring area, where he took his first good look at the man--he was impressively tall; the first person he didn't have to look directly down to with fiery hair and earnest
( ... )
"It's my pleasure, sir," Carrot replied, following the leonine figure around the side of the house. "And no, no trouble at all. But please don't bother with the 'Captain'. I'm not a Captain here, sir."
His voice was matter-of-fact. The loss of the title didn't bother him the way the badge did. He'd accepted Captaincy because he was the best suited to it, because that had been the role in which he could best work for the benefit of the city. But all that mattered to him was being a copper, pure and simple.
He admired the Baron's armor as they walked. It was very decorative and elegant, as befitted a nobleman's armor, but it wasn't just ornamental. If Carrot was any judge - and who better to judge arms and armor than a dwarf-raised guardsman? - it was extremely well-crafted, strong and functional and probably very expensive.
The training yard - for that was clearly what it was - earned an approving nod. Plenty of space for hand-to-hand practice, and what appeared to be archery butts further on. Why someone's home should have all this
( ... )
Byron chuckled softly as the Captain insist he not be addressed as such.
"Tn my experience, we do not lose out titles simply because we are displaced--it as much a state of mind as anything. The land I am responsible for is several worlds and millions of years away and yet it never once occurred to me to discard my title."
The sword, like the armor was well-used and well-loved, of excellent craftsmanship and possessed nearly a perfect balance--the blade was full tang, running the length of the hilt giving it a solid feel-- it would more than do. He handed it back.
"Craftsmanship of that caliber doesn't run cheap in my world, is it common in yours?" Using his own sword would be unfair--as well made as the Captain's blade was, the refined adamantium of the Nobility would slice right through it. He picked up the saber he'd been warming up with, moving into a more open area of the patio. "First to disarm wins, whenever you're ready."
It was an unspeakably welcome change of pace to face someone he didn't have to explain everything
( ... )
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"I see him, Alba." He called, just as the girl's head popped out of the front door. As much as he hated doing it, some nights it felt as though he were treating her like a newly trained puppy who still had the habit of bolting for the door--and freedom--the first chance they got.
"Captain Ironfoundersson, it's good to meet you in person." The Baron bowed sweepingly, midnight blue and gold cloak edges fluttering away to reveal heavy pauldrons inlaid with delicate silver filigree. "This way, if you will. I trust you you encountered no trouble on your way here?" Byron led him to the sparring area, where he took his first good look at the man--he was impressively tall; the first person he didn't have to look directly down to with fiery hair and earnest ( ... )
Reply
His voice was matter-of-fact. The loss of the title didn't bother him the way the badge did. He'd accepted Captaincy because he was the best suited to it, because that had been the role in which he could best work for the benefit of the city. But all that mattered to him was being a copper, pure and simple.
He admired the Baron's armor as they walked. It was very decorative and elegant, as befitted a nobleman's armor, but it wasn't just ornamental. If Carrot was any judge - and who better to judge arms and armor than a dwarf-raised guardsman? - it was extremely well-crafted, strong and functional and probably very expensive.
The training yard - for that was clearly what it was - earned an approving nod. Plenty of space for hand-to-hand practice, and what appeared to be archery butts further on. Why someone's home should have all this ( ... )
Reply
"Tn my experience, we do not lose out titles simply because we are displaced--it as much a state of mind as anything. The land I am responsible for is several worlds and millions of years away and yet it never once occurred to me to discard my title."
The sword, like the armor was well-used and well-loved, of excellent craftsmanship and possessed nearly a perfect balance--the blade was full tang, running the length of the hilt giving it a solid feel-- it would more than do. He handed it back.
"Craftsmanship of that caliber doesn't run cheap in my world, is it common in yours?" Using his own sword would be unfair--as well made as the Captain's blade was, the refined adamantium of the Nobility would slice right through it. He picked up the saber he'd been warming up with, moving into a more open area of the patio. "First to disarm wins, whenever you're ready."
It was an unspeakably welcome change of pace to face someone he didn't have to explain everything ( ... )
Reply
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