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6/18/2020 6:36:01 AM
32
What happenstance was it that brought a ranger to this neck of the woods on this particular day? Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps it was Providence.
...Or perhaps it was a friend bard who had heard from a friend that her friend was I'm trouble. A friend of a friend of a friend, as it were.
Or perhaps it was all of them at once.
The ranger arrived as soon as he could, dashing through the wilds. As he ran he knocked a broadheaded arrow unto his bow. He came upon the sight of the felled Skye and her presumptive executioner and raised the bow level with his eyeline. His right thumb touched the side of his mouth as he drew back smooth and even.
In an instant he launched the arrow at the pistol, aiming to disarm Errol. In truth, he had little knowledge of what this situation was, but he could not let someone, whoever they be, be executed thusly. He said nothing but looked at Errol with mixed curiosity and wariness.
Steadily, he began to ready another arrow.
English
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The pistol is flung out of Errol’s grasp. He briefly stares at his hand and then the arrow. Skye furrows her brow at the occurrence, but hope flies through her. Errol looks around for the one who interrupted his plan, grumbling. “I’m really sick of that.” [spoiler]I’m glad you could join! Funny how news seems to travel so quickly at the perfect time. :P[/spoiler]
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[spoiler]Ah the wonderful world of plot convenience, it is a wonderful tool. And so are information chains. I like how Errol is aware of how fortuitous timing in Off-topic is.[/spoiler] The ranger steps forward slowly, bow raised and arrow aimed straight at Errol. "Likewise, I am very sick of people still trying to kill each other, but that doesn't seem liable to stop anytime soon sadly. What is going on here? I was sent to be at hand in case someone needed aid. Whatever it is that's between you two, let's not let it devolve into bloodshed any further."
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Skye looks curiously at the unfamiliar ranger. Errol frowns and adjusts his stance to fully face him. “Another archer? Wonderful,” he says in sarcastic joy. “Unfortunately, the matter at hand has already passed peaceful discussion.”
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"The way I see it, that just makes you a poor negotiator." He watches Errol, noting from his stance that he seems to be a well trained fighter. Through it all though he keeps the arrow tip pointed at the man. "Why don't we all take a step back, take a deep breath." He glances from Errol to Skye and back to Errol, trying to judge the situation carefully. "Before any of us do something we'll regret later."
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[spoiler]I know you said not to worry about late replies, but apologies nonetheless! Real life really does like to throw unexpected things at you.[/spoiler] The discs on the back of Errol’s gloves glow a little more noticeably, and his fingers twitch in anticipation. His Atoms copy his movement, as though awaiting his command. “I’ve spent enough time not taking action,” Errol spits. “That is the only thing I will regret leaving here. I will overlook this interruption, if you take my offer to walk away whole.”
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"I would offer you the same thing, though I see in your eyes you are determined in this course." He withdraws his arrow from his bow and then lays the implements on the ground. Shifting his cloak to the side, he reveals his scabbard, from which he draws his longsword. "So be it." [spoiler] That it does, that it does. It especially likes to throw curve balls when one has plans. [/spoiler]
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Errol’s eyes peer at the sword, and his brow twitches as though in thought. With a wave of his hand, his Atoms leave Skye and crawl across the ground to pile beside him. He tilts his head in his sister’s direction. “As fond as I am of swordplay, this may not end well for you. It didn’t for her, and she had two.”
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"Judging by the state and stain of her clothes, I'd say she's been travelling recently, perhaps even exhausted from a journey. However, I share your appreciation of the art. The sword is an elegant yet powerful weapon." He starts to take a few steps towards Errol, slowly moving between him and Skye. "Do you have a sword on you? How would it be if we had ourselves a duel, rather than a vulgar brawl. What say you?"
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Errol watches the ranger, analyzing his stance and the way he moves. Then his gaze falls on Skye, now behind his opponent. The expression on her face pleads that he not fight anymore. Still, Errol ignores her and lowers his hands. His Atoms flow up his legs and into the pouches on his belt before their subtle buzzing goes silent. “Sure, why not?” He pulls out an item, in the shape of sword’s hilt. With a shift of his grasp, a blade a little shorter than that of a long sword shoots out from the guard.
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The man inclines his head in brief thanks for the decsioon to accept the duel. Then he holds his sword in front of himself and steps forward. With sword raised and his stance ready, he begins to circle Errol, watching him closely.
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Errol takes a defensive stance, and awaits his opponent’s move.
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While circling, he begins to speed up slightly. Then, all of a sudden, he switches his direction and goes counterclockwise. As he does so, hoping to keep Errol turning or looking the other way, he swings his longsword at his side.
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Errol is caught slightly off guard, and is barely able to block the attack. “That’s a new one...” he mumbles to himself. He pushes the ranger’s blade away and attempts his own strike at his torso, which he hopes would be left unprotected by the move.
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With his sword out of the way, his middle is indeed left open. He quickly tries to step to the side both to catch up with his blade and dodge the strike.
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Errol advances with a combination of swift attacks after the ranger successfully dodges. He tests the newcomer’s blocking abilities, adding a little more strength into his movements in addition to speed.
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The ranger tries to stand his ground and not give an inch, knowing that once backwards momentum is started it is hard to reverse. He tries to use as little motion as possible to block the storm of swings and strikes, trying to let the flurry instead tire his opponent.
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Finding that the stranger’s blocks are strong, Errol falls back to rest. Though his breathing has quickened, he does not seem tired as his body maintains its ready and controlled posture. “Who did you learn from?” Errol asked suddenly with genuine interest.
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He keeps his stance at the ready as well as they begin to talk. "A man named Sir Watson. A knight of these lands. We have trained often, with many weapons, but with the sword foremost."
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Errol gives a slight tilt of his head. “A knight? Those still exist?” He suddenly takes a step forward and makes a move in attempt pierce the ranger’s shoulder opposite his sword arm.
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He is taken slightly off guard by the advance, but tries to side step to the right to avoid the attack. If successful, he will then try and bring the flat of his blade down on Errol's arm. "Yes, though most of them these days like to call themselves knights but don't follow through on the chivalrous bit. Sad. Not this Knight though, he's one of the good ones."
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Errol, distracted by a thought, pulls his arm away at the hit as his opponent dodges his attack. He gives his arm a shake, knowing that he would find a bruise there. “People are deceiving,” he replies doubtfully. “Don’t be surprised if he abandons that goodness.”
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"There's always a chance, I suppose, but trust and faith in people are a powerful thing. Even if one does lose their way, another's trust can bring them back." *He waits a moment for Errol to return to stance, then swings at the side of his sword arm.*
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“Trust? I doubt that,” he says flatly. This time, Errol is able to deflect the ranger’s blade with a downward swing of his own. He then proceeds to attempt a diagonal swipe for the other’s shoulder.
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"Like earlier, I merely think that means you haven't been good at trusting yet." *The blade hits him shoulder and he winces from the pain. With his sword lowered and with Errol's blade now away, he takes advantage of this though the pain and slashes down at his enemy's leg.*
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The blade successfully hits Errol’s leg just above the knee. He almost loses his balance, though quickly regains it and responds with another flurry of attacks. He seems to be a little more aggressive than before. “It’s difficult to trust when those you relied on didn’t do as they were expected to; what they should have done! I trusted someone I called ‘sister’, and now my father is dead. I trusted the authorities to find the men who killed him, and it’s been five years since and justice was never given!”
