Scarburg Meadhall Discussion Thread

[Eorl of Rohan]

Also, Eorl, are the corrections I posted to Groin's post ok for you or would you prefer the original version? And there's a healer - the very same Aedhel who just turned out to be a noblewoman in trouble at her home. She's written by Nerindel.

I think I'll go with your version, Thinlomien!
As for Scyrr's age, I will go with the flow and make him twenty-four.
And Aedhel completely slipped my mind; I suppose I would have to wait for Nerindel in order to get Scyrr healed?

And what, is Scyrr going to assault the local women before Wulfric and Wilheard? Blasphemy!

Heheh. He's eeeeeeeeevil. But Wulfric hit someone *his father's age*.
From an ethical point of view, that's a thousand times worse than Scyrr going after a defenseless woman.

About Kara - just warning that a) her writer is not and will not be around, b) there's also a Dwarf and a hot-tempered northener who are quite fond of her so someone who's to assault her is going to be in big trouble - also I think she is one of the best liked people in the whole Hall.

Eeh... It's no fun threatening an NPC! Wait, who's that hot-tempered Northerner? Certainly not Thornen. He's the very definition of level-headed.
.

[Loslote]

Originally Posted by Eorl of Rohan

Heheh. He's eeeeeeeeevil. But Wulfric hit someone *his father's age*.
From an ethical point of view, that's a thousand times worse than Scyrr going after a defenseless woman. .

I'm sorry, but I have to disagree here. Rohan would still be operating under a code of honor. According to that code, it's a man's job to protect (NOT attack) women, and it's perfectly acceptable for a man to test and challenge the honor of someone who is his equal. As it happens, Wuilfric did exceed the proper boundaries of the challege/response format, but his actions almost fit within society's guidelines. Attacking Kara would most definitely not.

I'm not saying it's something that Scyrr would never in a million years do...I'm just saying that it's not something that would occur to most men as a course of action at all. Scyrr might think of it, though, in frustration over not being able to avenge himself with Erbrand himself.

Sorry about the rant on honor. It's sort of a family obsession.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Originally Posted by Loslote

I'm sorry, but I have to disagree here. Rohan would still be operating under a code of honor. According to that code, it's a man's job to protect (NOT attack) women, and it's perfectly acceptable for a man to test and challenge the honor of someone who is his equal. As it happens, Wuilfric did exceed the proper boundaries of the challege/response format, but his actions almost fit within society's guidelines. Attacking Kara would most definitely not.

Hi, Loslote No, no, Scyrr wouldn't "attack" her. It would be like this:

Kara gathered the last armful of blueberries and wrapped them carefully in leaves, wide and cool, so that they wouldn’t be crushed and spoiled on her way back to Scarburg. This would make a wonderful blueberry pie. Perhaps she should gather some herbs as well? But no, the sun was going down, and she had entered too deeply in to the woods anyway. She should be heading back, right ab…

“It’s dangerous to be out alone in the woods these days, don’t you think?”

The voice rang out from above her, and startled, Kara looked up, to see a man perched on a high bough of a mighty elm with one hand on the elm’s trunk. He smiled wryly in a manner that struck a chill into her. His smile had a forced look about it, unbalanced, as if its maker had not decided whether he should smile or snarl, and his stare was cold and very hard. It took a moment before Kara recognized who he was. That rider… That man who was the cause of Erbrand going away. Scyrr. She had not recognized him at first because he had cast off his usual dark green and silver livery of a rider of the Mark, including his chain mail, and was clad in the dull brown of a commoner. The dull brown that matched the branches and the wood, as if he was in a camouflage. Who was the quarry? Oh, no, he wouldn’t dare. Or would he?

“What’s with that expression, Miss? I’m not going to hurt you. Or do you have some valid reason to be afraid of a rider of the Mark?”

Scyrr asked, alighting to the ground with easy grace. His injuries had taken a severe toll on his body, but he had always relied on his swiftness and dexterity and they did not let him down so easily. The injuries he caused. Erbrand.

Kara drew back, nervous. “No, no. It’s just that the sun is setting, and I have to hurry back. Perhaps I could better make your acquaintance later.”

She would have left; but then an instant later, a skinning knife whistled through the air and buried itself with a thwack in a tree beside her. It almost grazed her cheek.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Scyrr asked, his voice a dangerous purr. He had faith enough in his knife-throwing skill to know that he would not have hit her, but still, he had hesitated for a moment when he saw the fear in her eyes. He shook it off. They were all the same, these commoners, wild and feral, and who’s to say that the sweetheart of that tanner is not like him in spirit?

“I have been waiting here for you for hours. Surely you could spare a bit of time to aid us in our hunt for Erbrand.” Scyrr waited a moment, then said icily, “I heard you were on… intimate terms with the tanner. If anyone knew where he would have gone, it would be you. And yet you have kept your stony silence, saying that you knew nothing.”

“I…” Kara would have said something, but Scyrr interrupted with a snarl.

“I think you are lying, Kara. He wouldn’t have left you without a word. I think Erbrand has spoken to you before he left, has told you where he would be going, and where to find him after the hunt has died down. You are deliberately withholding information, and that, miss, counts as treason.”

“And the price for treason is death.” Scyrr said, his limpid blue eyes fixed on Kara, and his left hand dropped to the hilt of his blade.

*enter someone, preferably Thornen (probably the only one that Scyrr wouldn’t attack, out of respect for his rank), out searching for Kara because she was late, and stumbling across the scene*

*New Conflict Ensues*

More of a threatening kind, if you see what I mean. Scyrr wouldn't actually do anything to hurt her, but would say and do plenty of things to make her think that he would hurt her. Anyway, about that code of honor, Wulfric, a *young* man, attacked a *gray-haired* man! That's downright lowest of the low, even lower than attacking defenseless women and children. Only savages would do that. How is that code of... Wait. Is this one of those cultural differences?

PS. I am not sure. Is my post about Kara and Scyrr god-moding? I thought it would be okay because Kara is an NPC now, and I kept her speech and movement to a minimum, but still...

[Loslote]

Originally Posted by Eorl of Rohan

Hi, Loslote No, no, Scyrr wouldn't "attack" her. It would be like this:



More of a threatening kind, if you see what I mean. Scyrr wouldn't actually do anything to hurt her, but would say and do plenty of things to make her think that he would hurt her. Anyway, about that code of honor, Wulfric, a *young* man, attacked a *gray-haired* man! That's downright lowest of the low, even lower than attacking defenseless women and children. Only savages would do that. How is that code of... Wait. Is this one of those cultural differences?

PS. I am not sure. Is my post about Kara and Scyrr god-moding? I thought it would be okay because Kara is an NPC now, and I kept her speech and movement to a minimum, but still...

Yeah, cultural differences. Lithor (it was Lithor, right?) had honor in terms of experience and age, but Wulfric had the inherited honor of social status. They were, basically, equals, and thus challenging the other's honor was acceptable and even, in some people's eyes, expected. Honor was sort of the currency back then - there was assumed there was a limited amount and that men were expected to challenge other men's honor, as well as respond to any challenges, or else their own honor was questioned. Wulfric did comply with society's expectations; he simply went a little overboard. (I am assuming a little bit that this was sort of like the society of the Romans, because they influenced majorly the culture of the Dark Ages...but I could be wrong, please correct me if I am. )

[Eorl of Rohan]

Oh, so that's how the western code of honor works. In my culture, if a young man hits a young man in the streets, or if a young man hits a young girl (such as Scyrr versus Erbrand or Kara) in the streets, then everyone's like "Okay, they're fighting. Maybe they are drunk. Let's leave them to their business. Let's pretend we didn't see anything, it will all work out for the best." But if a young man hits a gray-haired man in the streets (such as Wulfric versus Lithor), then everyone's like "That son of a... he dares to raise a hand against his father's generation! He must be insane, a murderer! Police! Police! Somebody stop him!" I think this incident happened a few decades back: a young man struck a much older man in the streets, and the furious passersby who witnessed this scene beat the young man into becoming a cripple with their bare fists. And then the man who led the passersby in this 'crusade' was awarded a medal of excellence from the president himself for being a model of virtue to all the upright and law-abiding citizens. Basically, our code of honor is like this: Young men hitting young men? Aah, the fire of youth. Young men hitting young women? Eeeeh... It's domestic business. Maybe a romance problem, better not interfere, let them sort it out among themselves. Young men hitting children? It's good to see that the old-fashioned ways of education are still in existence. Hitting old men? It's the end of the world as we know it someone call the police there's a murderer on the loose better yet let's mob the young fiend. It's interesting to know that it's considered evil to assault women but not older men in your society.

[Thinlómien]

Hey, it was Wilheard who hit Lithor, not Wulfric! But anyway, I think that if Lithor really was an old man not fit to fight anymore, it would be improper to start a fight with him, but as he was still a soldier, I can't see it as such a serious offense (you shouldn't trust W&W's opinion about him, they obviously think he's so old that he's soon in the grave because they're so young themselves, but really Lithor is like 50 or something...?)

Eorl, if Nerindel is around, you don't have to wait for her. You may use her character as a statist in your post with respect to what Nerindel has written about her (but I'd assume you know these basic RPG rules ).

Originally Posted by Eorl

Eeh... It's no fun threatening an NPC! Wait, who's that hot-tempered Northerner? Certainly not Thornen. He's the very definition of level-headed.

It's Crabannan.

Pio, could you replace this passage in Groin's post #691

Erbrand noticed some ladies fetching water from the stream that flowed into the marsh. The women were upstream and there was no worry about Erbrand polluting anything other than swamp water; however, it did not take long for Erbrand to hear their opinions of his revolting work. They sniffed the air and covered their noses in disgust, moaning and groaning at the smell. Erbrand could not stand being scorned at and his work being so unappreciated. In a rage he threw down his pole and angrily marched to where they were gathering water. They were not alone—there was a man with them. The two women were Ginna and Frodides and the man was a soldier, apparently ordered to help the two ladies and not enjoying his job. The soldier looked up, grimaced and gave a snort.

“Phhew! I came for drinking water, but looks like you need it for a bath. ” He said and stepped back, waving the air with his hand. Erbrand felt his rage rekindled.

“And who in tarnation are you to scorn me?” Erbrand bellowed. “Would you warm your hands in leather gloves? Saddle or bridle your horse? Do you dance to the sound of the drum or lace the chords of your armor? What about the bellows that heats the forge? It’s leather! Stinking leather. Do you want good shoes or do you not? Shall I create padding for the lord’s chairs? I hunt and trap for animals and I feed Scarburg with their meat and give people tools that make it possible for them to do their jobs. Why then do you scorn me?”

The soldier simply stared at him in dumb silence. Frodides and Ginna were doing the same although they were a bit more surprised at the outburst. Erbrand let out a long breath before finishing in a calmer yet sill annoyed voice.

“Now, let me get on with my scraper and dung, you hold your nostrils and hold your tongues.” Erbrand turned to leave when a rock hit him in the back.

“Heh, tanner, I do not accept words like that from anyone.” The soldier was just as angry as Erbrand was—the soldier wanted a fight.

“I’m not in the mood today soldier.” Erbrand said with particular emphasized scorn on the word soldier.

“Name’s Scyld and looks like you need to be taught some manners for your betters.”
That was all the provocation Erbrand needed. He spun round and with a mighty yell ran at the Scyld. The soldier, however, expected this struck a sidelong blow sending Erbrand spinning but not falling. Frodides and Ginna screamed and shouted for the two to stop. Blood was spilt, it was too late as Erbrand made apparent as he untied his leather apron and tossed it aside. There was a wild gleam in Erbrand’s eyes as he rushed again. He leaped, hoping to tackle Scyld, but the swarthy soldier stepped aside. Scyld laughed as Erbrand spat tufts of mossy grass from his mouth.

“Get up!” Scyld mocked. “Do you wish to play in the dirt?”

Another exclamation of rage escaped Erbrand’s lips. Again and again Erbrand was struck down until his nose was bleeding and his gums were cut. For the fifth time Erbrand arose, sagging, bleeding and weary. Scyld had been unhurt, keeping Erbrand at bay with ease.
“Do you wish to continue?” Scyld asked smiling.

Again Erbrand rushed at him in rage. Again the soldier stepped aside, tripping Erbrand.
“Stop this nonsense!” Frodides exclaimed.

The soldier regarded the woman and turned back to Erbrand giving him a firm kick. It was not hard, nor was it gentle, but it was enough to excite an anger that surpassed any that Erbrand had known up to that time. Such was the treatment one gave a disobedient dog.

“I’ll be seeing you later in the stocks.” Scyld jeered.

Whether Scyld said this to frighten Erbrand or whether he said it because it was true, Erbrand never found out. In a fight anger is as good as courage. With fingers extended like talons, Erbrand’s hands seized Scyld’s left leg with an iron grip and twisted it. The soldier gave a howl and collapsed next to Erbrand (who lost no time in returning Scyld’s punishment blow for blow). This time Ginna took up the chorus with Frodides.

“Stop it! Fool. You’ll kill him!”

The cry was not heeded. A knife flashed in the sunlight, it was Scyld’s. Erbrand struck relentlessly and hard. Soon he found his fingers around Scyld’s neck, pressing harder and tighter.

“I am not some dog you can kick. I am a man! I am a man!”

Soft small hands grasped his and beat his strong shoulders. Erbrand let go of Scyld’s throat. Ginna and Frodides knelt beside the Scyld. He was not moving.

“Fool!” Frodides said. “You will hang for this. You will hang!”

with this

Erbrand noticed some ladies fetching water from the stream that flowed into the marsh. The women were upstream and there was no worry about Erbrand polluting anything other than swamp water; however, it did not take long for Erbrand to find out their opinions of his revolting work. They sniffed the air and covered their noses. He could hear them exchanging some remarks and one of them was laughing. Erbrand could not stand being scorned at and his work being so unappreciated. In a rage he threw down his pole and angrily marched to where they were gathering water. They were not alone—there was a man with them. The two women were Ginna and Frodides and the man was a soldier, apparently ordered to help the two ladies and not enjoying his job.

The soldier looked up, grimaced and gave a snort. “Phhew! I came for drinking water, but looks like you came for a bath. ” Erbrand felt his rage rekindled.

“And who in tarnation are you to scorn me?” Erbrand bellowed. “Would you warm your hands in leather gloves? Saddle or bridle your horse? Do you dance to the sound of the drum or lace the chords of your armor? What about the bellows that heats the forge? It’s leather! Stinking leather. Do you want good shoes or do you not? Shall I create padding for the lord’s chairs? I hunt and trap for animals and I feed Scarburg with their meat and give people tools that make it possible for them to do their jobs. Why then do you scorn me?”

The soldier simply stared at him. Frodides and Ginna were doing the same although they were a bit more surprised at the outburst. Erbrand let out a long breath before finishing in a calmer yet sill annoyed voice.

“Now, let me get on with my scraper and dung, you hold your nostrils and hold your tongues.” Erbrand turned to leave when a pebble hit him in the back.

“Hey, tanner, watch your tongue.”

“I’m not in the mood today, soldier.” Erbrand said with particular emphasized scorn on the word soldier.

“Name’s Scyrr. And looks like you need to be taught some manners for your betters.”

That was all the provocation Erbrand needed. He spun round and with a mighty yell ran at the Scyrr. The soldier, however, expected this struck a sidelong blow sending Erbrand spinning but not falling. Frodides and Ginna yelled at the two to stop. Blood was spilt, it was too late as Erbrand made apparent as he untied his leather apron and tossed it aside. There was a wild gleam in Erbrand’s eyes as he rushed again. He leaped, hoping to tackle Scyrr, but the swarthy soldier stepped aside. Scyrr laughed as Erbrand spat tufts of mossy grass from his mouth.

"Hope you learnt your lesson, tanner."

Another exclamation of rage escaped Erbrand’s lips. Again and again Erbrand was struck down until his nose was bleeding and his gums were cut. For the fifth time Erbrand arose, sagging, bleeding and weary. Scyrr had been unhurt, keeping Erbrand at bay with ease.
“Do you still wish to continue?” Scyrr asked, smiling.

Again Erbrand rushed at him in rage. Again the soldier stepped aside, tripping Erbrand.
“Enough! Stop this nonsense!” Frodides exclaimed.

The soldier regarded the woman and turned back to Erbrand giving him a kick on the calf. It was not hard, nor was it gentle, but it was enough to excite an anger that surpassed any that Erbrand had known up to that time. Such was the treatment one gave a disobedient dog.

“I’m done - for today”, Scyrr said.

Whether Scyrr said this to frighten Erbrand or whether he said it because it was true, Erbrand never found out. In a fight anger is as good as courage. With fingers extended like talons, Erbrand’s hands seized Scyrr’s left leg with an iron grip and twisted it. The soldier gave a howl and collapsed next to Erbrand (who lost no time in returning Scyrr’s punishment blow for blow). This time Ginna took up the chorus with Frodides.

“Stop it! Fools. Before somebody gets hurt badly!”

The cry was not heeded. A knife flashed in the sunlight, it was Scyrr’s.

"Get off my leg or I'll sting you with this!" the soldier growled.

Erbrand struck relentlessly and hard. Soon he found his fingers around Scyrr’s neck, pressing harder and tighter.

“I am not some dog you can kick. I am a man! I am a man!”

Soft small hands grasped his and beat his strong shoulders. Erbrand let go of Scyrr’s throat. Ginna and Frodides knelt beside the Scyrr. He was not moving.

“Fools!” Frodides cursed.
Ginna's face was pale when she tried to find his pulse. “If he's dead ... Erbrand, if he's dead, you will hang for this.”

? Thanks a lot already in advance!

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Edited!! ~*~ Pio