(121-01-31) Duel of Honor
Duel of Honor
Summary: Vuk meets Rona's challenge of a duel to the death to avenge her slighted honor.
Date: 121-01-31
Related: Hitting with Sticks

Tourney Grounds, The Reach

The Tourney Grounds stand just outside of the walls of Oldtown. There is a raised platform of several levels for noble viewers, with space for comfortable chairs and little tables to be set in place, and tall posts for canopies to be hung to keep the sun off. Not far stands the great board where the lists are kept. On the far side of the grounds rough tiered benches are available for the smallfolk, and past them there's a flat field for the knights to erect their pavilions in the grass.

The long log rail for the jousts stands right before the Lords' and Ladies' platform, with the space for the melee just beyond it. The archery butts are mounded at the Southwest edge of the grounds, where a great meadow of purple-red fireweed spreads off into the distance. The rough little narrow road to Blackcrown cuts through it.

Social pleasantries and concern for a stranger. Not Laurent's cup of tea. He goes back to leaning against the rail at the edge of the list, his dark eyes scanning the group, never lighting on anyone with particular favor. His stiff leather armor creaks as he crosses his arms across his broad chest, only breaking the posture for a moment to wave to Nyran once the squire begins portioning out the mead.

Peri shakes her head no. "I just know that a sailor's life is not easy and every day he is in bed he is not making money. Has enough coin come in to cover his treatment? I barely knew him, I am just the one who pulled him from the sea, ser." she admits, voice soft, her fingers smoothing her hair down, since the curls are still messy. "For Lord Tyrell and his friends, I prepared an assortment of snacks." she offers, bowing her head again.

"I don't know, miss Peri. How many curatives does it take to heal a broken heart?" The grin upon his lips is a wicked one, straining the still-healing split in his lower lip. "I think Lord Tyrell might have brought it in his cask. I'm very, very fond of mead, as he well knows. The likes of it is rarely found in the Stormlands, and Highgarden seems to worm its way into Oldtown very readily by comparison." Handing the cup over to Peri for inspection, Griffyth glances one final time in Laurent's direction before turning his attention astray towards Amadys, Garvin, and Peri. "Lord Tyrell, once my head clears some, I wouldn't be remiss of another spar like that which we enjoyed the other day."

Garvin cocks his head a bit, looking at Amadys. "Dragonslayer, lord?" he asks, one brow quirking. "The first time I ever saw a dragon was when the monstrous thing was flying over Oldtown, and I'd hardly say I slew it." Nyran is busy pouring goblets and offering them to any and all, firstly Garvin himself. To Griffyth, Garvin gives a small bow and grin. "I'd be honored, Ser Griffyth. Though if you want a better battle, I would suggest my cousin here. Laurent swings a sword like none I've seen, and all the maidens swoon at his beauty." There's no hint of sarcasm or jest in his voice, only sincerity. The affection he has for his cousin is obvious.

Peri is quiet, taking a blanket out of the basket to lay out tidily under a sheltering, setting out the snacks neatly "I would not mind a spar myself." she offers. She has brought candied flours - many varieties, a beautiful spiced cake with more candied flours, more of the fish eggs she enjoys, skewers of fruit, with candied roses at the top, and strange black oblong shapes. Likely kelp wrapped garlic shrimp - an iron island treat.

"I'm sure he'll be treated for as long as he needs it," Amadys replies warily and obviously without much optimism as to the end of the process. "Apart from anything else, the archmaester and his assistants will be enjoying themselves far too much to worry about money. Dragon-wounds are hardly as common as they were in the days of the Conquest! I've heard several of the older, more dried up scholars whining their regret that the Lysene courtesan's body was devoured, rather than recovered. For a moment I wondered if they had immodest intentions on that fair cadaver…but soon I realised those doddering monsters only wanted it for dissection." As to the alarmed Garvin, he gets a quiet smile from the acolyte. "Forgive me, my lord. The question was but theoretical. How would you set about slaying one? It's an answer we'll perhaps all need to discover sooner rather than later."

Laurent begins to grumble something in response to Garvin's compliment, but it's drowned behind the rim of a mug that he snatches out of Nyran's hand. He slurps one noisy drink of the mead, then nods Griffyth's way. "I'd be happy to oblige you," the Tyrell knight says, sounding anything but. "I mean to enter the melee, come the tourney, and have had no one but my cousin's guardsmen to bounce a blade off of for days. It would be a welcome change."

A small procession can be seen exiting the city gates. A dozen or so people, mostly smallfolk by the look of them, have gathered behind a colorful figured at their head. Rona Vielo, glad in her bright Braavosi garb, strides confidently toward the tourney grounds, a cocky smirk on her lips, and a swagger in her hips.

Eonn has come along, this time on his great white mare, a beast that's as much plow-horse as destrier, but is clearly at least partly born of the latter. He's carrying his helmet. He's never seen to wear the thing, and is using it now as he often does — as a basket to carry fresh live oysters, kept moist with seaweed.

Griffyth's smile wanes dramatically at the talk of the injured Captain with his extreme burns wrought by dragon fire. There's no more, only a sudden sobering of Griffyth's mood. "Before I engage in any sort of swordplay, I ought to ask Amadys and miss Peri whether or not they think it'll put strain upon anything. My immediate answer is, otherwise, a yes." Dropping to a light crouch, Griffyth gathers a small handful of dirt and rubs it over the palms of his hands. Preparing to say something else, he smoothly rises to his feet at the arrival ofahRona. "Ah, there is Ser Sand's heart come to make fools of us. The poor man, sleeping lonely but for pining of her." Chuckling and shaking his head, Griffyth crooks a finger at his squire.

Peri considers "I suppose I am too old to know her." she admits. "I finished my training as a concubine at age thirteen, in Lys." she offers. "I can give you another massage maybe." she offers, voice soft, as she takes a slice of the cake to hold up to Griffyth, grinning "Crysanthemum flavored."

Garvin ahs to Amadys, nodding then. "You'd be better served asking a Targaryen, I think. I know Ser Dae has put the matter to a great deal of thought. There is another of the dragon's blood, a young lad named Bryn Flowers, at your Citadel. One of the maesters had a dream that a dragon followed Bryn about, like an obedient pup. And when the beast was attacking Oldtown, it was Bryn who shouted at it in High Valyrian. It did not obey the command, but it did break off its attack and flee. So perhaps the little Flowers lad will prove our salvation, should the monster return."

Though evidently acutely interested in the developments around the Braavosi's calvacade of smallfolk disciples, as well as in Garvin's draconic speculations, Amadys is about to have other concerns, as from the midst of the rabble emerges a serving man in the Seneschal's livery who approaches the acolyte and mutters something quite peremptory in his ear. The Baratheon makes a frustrated gesture, but the messenger looks implacable.

Turning back to Griffyth, Amadys adjudicates curtly in tones of clear irritation, "My advice? You're free to spar, Griff…as long as you remove your head first, and put it somewhere handy by for safe-keeping. Otherwise, well, I can't stop you, but it'd be utter folly. Now, my lords all, I'm afraid I've required for more bloody raven duty." He bows his farewells and hurries off to where his gelding bears the Wylde destrier company…

Rona walks onto the melee grounds, where her entourage stops at the edge, many dispersing to find a place to sit. She unclasps a half cape that hangs from her shoulder, letting it fall, discarded, to the grass. She turns to those gathered, spreading her arms wide. "And where is my opponent? Has Vuk fled in fear?" She barks an arrogant laugh, resting her hands on her hips. "Valar morghulis. All men must die, and perhaps he knows today is his day." She turns back to the fighting area, assuming a stance and beginning to perform some slow maneuvers, stretching her muscles in preparation for the duel to come.

Laurent turns to look over his shoulder at the commotion, as a crowd approaches the tourney grounds. His dark eyes drift across Eonn as he goes, and the sellsword gets a look of recogntion, if not a friendly one. "What's this," the Tyrell muses to himself as he turns to watch Rona's approach, lifting the mug of mead to his lips again. He pushes away from the rail once again to cross toward the site of the coming melee, once Rona has made her intentions clear. There is clear interest in his dark eyes now, his fellows' conversation all but forgotten.

There's a soft, exasperated sigh from Griffyth. "I see. Amadys, if I could remove my head so easily, many of my problems would be solved already," the Wylde replies, lifting a hand to press the heel of his hand to his brow. As his squire approaches, a dark-haired, fair-skinned young man of no doubt Stormlands birth, Griffyth ducks his head to murmur something quietly to him. The squire blinks several times, frowns thoughtfully and then nods. Bowing the to Wylde knight, the adolescent retreats. "As it seems I cannot enjoin swordplay at the moment, miss Peri, your offer is beyond temptation. Something I have no doubt you know."

Eonn rides his big white mare up to where Garvin is standing, not drawing too close. There he stops and sits on the animal. She's tall, it offers a prime view.

Garvin turns to Griffyth with a sigh, shaking his head. "Wasn't last night's battle with Ser Sand enough for you?" he asks, giving th man a scowl. "Is your manhood so insecure, you must prove it every day? Sit with me and Peri and watch others beat one another with their blades. It will do you no harm, and may do you some good." He sips his mead, then looks down to the food Peri is laying out, smiling. "You made all this today? While I was still sleeping?" Eonn's approach also draws his attention, and he gives the man a nod. "Come to see the duel, Eonn of the Rills?"

When word got out to the Citadel that there was going to be a duel, and one involving Rona at that, there was no way Bryn was going to miss it. Finishing his studying early, he snuck out of the gates and made his way quickly to the tourney grounds. Now, he makes his way through the crowds, trying to find a spot where he can actually see what's happening.

Vuk has not fled. He marches out onto the tourney field alone, his great big axe swung over his shoulder and a blank expression on his face. He says to Rona as he approaches, "I'm sorry you've taken offense to my words. It seems like nothing I say is ever right. So, we might as well get this over with." He gives the lady bravo a blank look.

Eonn nods to Garvin, from his mount. He opens an oyster with his dagger, neatly, and offers the creature on its half-shell to the Lord Tyrell. "I have, mm, an interest."

Coming from the eastern road from the Sphinx Street, with his left hand raised to act as a perch for a large Eagle is Gromm who'd be accompanied by a sailor, by the looks of it, holding a bucket of steaming potatoes. "Do I /have/ to carry /your/ food?" The sailor asks, raising his right brow. "Yes." Gromm simply answers, looking over the eagle, which would be curiously turning its head about, examining its surroundings. The sailor grunts in frustration, although doesn't put up much of a protest as Gromm gives him a glare before continuing on. "I heard there was a fight, where is it?" Gromm demands from the Sailor, looking around in a bored manner. "Maybe it hasn't started yet." The sailor suggests, looking around in a equally bored manner. "Well they better hurry up." Gromm states, giving a nod to himself as he reachs over and grabs hold of a potato, blowing on it for a second before biting out a chunk as he seemingly looks for a place to sit.

Laurent stands at the edge of the space cleared for the duel, one hand resting easily on the hilt of the longsword at his hip. His other hand holds a mug of mead, courtesy of Garvin, which he slips loudly as he eyes the two combatants-to-be. His dark eyes drift back and forth between them as Rona postures and Vuk speak his piece.

Garvin's squire Nyran offers yet another of his endless supplies of goblets filled with mead up to Eonn, as Garvin catches sight of Bryn and waves him over. "I had just been speaking of you to Amadys. Can you see from down there? Nyran, bring Snowdrop over, so the lad can sit upon the saddle and see." He turns to look around, as the squire rushes off to collect the palfrey. "Is it about to start? I see Bravo Rona, but I don't know who her opponent is."

Rona was beginning to grow impatient, but at last her foe appears on the melee ground. She gives Vuk a broad smile, but there is no warmth in it. "At last, my opponent shows himself!" She taunts loudly enough for the onlookers to hear, her accent growing more clipped and pronounced with her ire. "We were beginning to wonder if you would arrive at all, Vuk. The time for apology passed long ago. You have offended my honor, spat upon my art, and attacked me without provocation. Your insults are beyond forgiveness." She steps into position, several long paces from him, sure to be out of the initial reach of that warhammer. "Have you anything further? I would not deny a dying man his last words."

Peri chuckles at Griffyth "Sit in the shade, have some mead, watch me eat these mermaid fins." she offers, picking up one of the oblong kelp items. "And the cake. Everything I made is delicious." she offers a bit egotistically.

Riker comes storming across the grounds now. Drunken rage apparent on his face. When he sees PEri he scowls and approaches. Plopping down next to her he says, "And what in the watery halls is this?" He points at the silks and shakes his head. "That whore you left couldn't boil water in Valayria."

Garvin also takes the oyster Eonn offers, nodding thanks and approval, then slurping it down noisily.

For the first time, a flush of color rises to Griffyth's cheeks, and his pale eyes flash with a brief flicker of anger. "Lord Tyrell, it does not make me insecure to wish to hone my skills, or enjoy the skill of others," he mutters tersely, discomfitted by being chastised by Garvin. Striding over the young man, Griffyth claps him on the shoulder, his fingers squeeze taut, and he leans over to murmur something into Garvin's ears a touch heatedly. Straightening and releasing Garvin's shoulder with a loose jostle without any hostility, Griffyth inclines his head to Peri and moves to join her but for Riker's sudden appearance. Curiously, he glances aside to Peri.

Eonn accepts the cup, reaching down from his mare. It's a little awkward up there, with oyster-filled helm, dagger, and cup to juggle, but the horse has a wide back and the man manages to arrange things.

Peri eyes Riker "It is just a blouse. would you just calm down? You told me I couldn't wear gowns. You said nothing about unembellished silk shirts." she points out, calmly. At least the shirt shows off her curves "If I wore what you wanted, everyone would go back to thinking me a homely whore." she takes a bite of the mermaid fin, as if being screamed at publicly is as natural as Garvin wearing flowers.

Bryn shakes his head and he makes his way closer to Garvin, but smiles as the horses brought over, and climbs up eagerly. To Garvin, he says, "You haven't heard of him? He used to work for Lady Mormont, then Lady Banefort, but he's crazy. I saw him cut open someone's belly right on the front steps of the Starry Sept."

The massive Gromm looks around, frowning before noticing Riker, watching him as he notices where he sits down. He bump the sailor accompanying him with his right fist lightly before walking over and dropping down next to Riker, his companion in a rather unhappy fashion sitting down next to him, holding his bucket of hot snacks. Gromm would look to Peri, nodding, then to Riker, staring for a second before looking off to the fight that seemingly will soon begin, not giving him the courtesy of a nod, seemingly. The sailor would lean forward, looking to the two, before leaning back, gazing out to Rona and Vuk as he reachs into to take a potato for himself, only to have his hand smacked away by Gromm.

Garvin leans into Griffyth's whisper, then suddenly turns bright red, dropping the empty oyster shell at his feet. "That I would like to see, Ser Griff," he says, raising one brow. He catches sight of Riker then, frowning just a bit. "That is her captain-husband," he tells the Wylde knight. "Riker is his name." He looks up to Bryn in the palfrey's saddle, offering both a smile and a sip from his cup. "I've been looking forward to watching Bravo Rona with her blade. I'm sure she'll cut the sellsword to ribbons. Have you ever seen a water dancer fight? You're in for quite a treat."

Laurent watches the display slowly unfold, wearing a thoughtful frown. He has drained his mug dry, and it hangs forgotten from his fingers as his attention is consumed by the goings-on between Rona and Vuk. He is a large man, and in the first row of spectators, but doesn't even seem to consider whether he might be blocking someone's view.

Poor, overworked Nyran has filled a small flagon with mead from the cask, and now he's weaving between the spectators, trying to refill cups before they're completely drained. Alas, he reaches Laurent too late, but he quickly pours more mead anyway, mumbling an apology. Then he's off again, stopping at Eonn's mare and looking up at the man questioningly.

"I'll give you one last chance to walk away." Vuk says icily to Rona. "You are used to playing with that sword, not to actual combat. You might be surprised when it comes down to it." He sneers at the bravo before pointing his war hammer at the woman, "Turn around and go back, or I'll smash your head like a melon."

Riker looks over at Gromm. Confusedly saying. "Can I fucking help you?" Seems everyone in the city has it out for him for one reason or another. He stares at the man now for a moment before shrugging and looking on. Someone better start something soon or he may!

"Would you, Lord Tyrell? Then by all means, I aim to please," the Wylde tells the young man about whatever words they've exchanged. There's a sudden predatory look about him, and he glances towards Riker for a moment longer. "I would stay, but I do have certain duties to attend to, such as teaching my squire the finer arts of not stabbing himself with a blade." Stifling a sigh, the knight gestures towards his squire who is quick to select the sleeker of Wylde's steeds, a roan courser. "Always a pleasure, miss Peri. Lord Tyrell, let me know when I might offer my retribution," Griffyth offers before climbing into his saddle.

Peri gestures at Nyran, "May I have two?" she nearly purrs at the squire, looking to Riker "Soothe yourself, no more anger." she offers a bite of her food to him, shifting without asking or giving him a chance to protest right into the iron man's lap, looking a bit too large for the man to be comfortable. "If you dislike the shirt you may remove it, but you'll have to pay the indecency charges." she whispers. "Gromm this is Riker, my husband. My Riker this is Gromm. You've met him before. You threatened to take him as your salt wife, love." she reminds. "I'll see you soon, Griffyth." she offers, voice warm before she tilts to whisper to Riker.

Eonn holds his cup down for Nyran to refill and says, "It's all right. Don't hurry on my account," in a distracted sort of way. Then he offers the man an oyster.

Rona narrows her eyes at Vuk, her smile turning malicious. "I have killed more men than I can remember. Soon, I will wear a ribbon on my scabbard for you as well, Vuk." She turns to the side, placing her feet into a ready stance. Resting her left hand behind her back, with her right, she draws the Maiden's Kiss from its sheathe, the Valyrian steel singing as it is freed. She lifts the Braavosi blade effortlessly in one hand, as if it were light as a feather. By the look of it, it may as well be a feather next to Vuk's great warhammer. "Defend yourself," she says, and lunges in with a feint, testing his defenses.

"I know who Riker Blacktyde is." Gromm states, staring at before taking another bite out of his potato. The eagle upon Gromms left arm would look down to Riker, tilting its head over to the right before letting out a shriek as it stares towards him, although its bodily movements remain passive, for the most part. The sailor looks to the eagle, then Gromm, "So, why isn't Caos in his cage?" The sailor asks, raising his right brow. "He likes to watch fights too." Gromm adds, grinning faintly as he stares outwards towards Vuk and Rona, his grin growing to a smile as he watches.

Garvin gives a pouty little frown when Griffyth mounts his horse. "You're not staying to see the duel?" he asks, leaning against Snowdrop's shoulder. The palfrey would gladly wander off to nibble less crowded grass, save for Bryn's hand upon the reins. Garvin continues, "I welcome the chance to see you try your retribution, Ser Wylde. Yes, I would find that amusing indeed. Stop by the manse later tonight, when you've finished your other duties. We'll have a light supper, and maybe some of Peri's sweets will be left as well." Nyran blinks at the offered oyster, then mumbles his thanks-no-thanks, before hurrying to fill two goblets for Peri and Riker.

Laurent looks startled by the squire's appearance at his side, and accepts a refill without paying attention, allowing his eyes to return to the duellists. Now the cup in his hand is full, but he still has little thought for the drink. The bloodshed to come seems to have grabbed his attention. When Rona draws her blade, he squats in place, perhaps out of courtesy to those behind him. Leaning forward, mouth slightly agape, he watches the fighting commence.

"Yes, blah blah blah, you are Rona Vielo and you've killed just as many men as you've bedded." Vuk retorts. "If you've killed more men then you remember than you must've fucked more than most whores can count. That's the problem with women who put pants on. They start fucking everything and thinking they are invincible. You are just the same as my previous employer!" That said, Vuk swings his warhammer out to block Rona's sword. The Valyrian steel of Maiden's kiss cuts a deep groove into the shaft of his hammer. He growls, and shoves forward with the hammer to throw her weapon back.

Daevon's here to watch the duel. He's been here for a while, really, occupied with other matters, but now he just sits and watches the fight, avidly. She'll win, she has to win.

Arros rides in on a black sandsteed, his sandsilk robes fluttering in the breeze. He dismounts near the stands, and comes to stand next to Daevon before looking out over the field with a frown.

Garvin's attention is drawn back to the field by the clash of steel, his eyes flashing when the battle is joined. He leans against his horse, sipping mead absently. "Magnificent," he whispers to no one in particular. "He's a dead man already, only he's too stupid to know it."

Rona smirks at Vuk, whipping her sword around and back into a defensive position, it's light weight making it harder to throw off like a Westerosi blade. "Now we see what your insults are about. You are still frustrated that I did not fuck you. Poor little man. You could not have handled me then, and you certainly cannot handle me now." She begins to circle him, taking light, precise steps, like the beginning of a dance. She meets his eyes with a daring gaze, though her attention is on the position of his hammer, the movement of his feet — seeing as a water dancer sees.

"She will win," Daevon speaks quietly, his words meant only for Arros. He dares just the briefest glance towards Arros. There's no room for doubt in his voice. His gaze returns to the fight.

Peri looks at her pants, "I think that man is mistaken." she mumbles to Riker, settling to nibble his jawline, lazily watching the spectacle.

Kai strolls onto the tourney grounds silently, gazing towards the ongoing duel. He inserts himself in the crowd slowly as they all gaze towards Rona and Vuk, hood pulled over his features.

"Like I'd dirty my dick in you, you ugly brown bitch!" Vuk stalks after Rona with his heavy warhammer. Where she is light and nimble, he lumbers. He is slow and plodding. Strong but not as agile. He swings the hammer at her ribs.

Laurent seems to be the only one in the crowd who is unsure of the outcome. He is tense, squatting at the edge of the circle as he follows the beginnings of the melee. His mouth is curled into a thoughtful frown as the first sounds of combat ring through the air. The traded insults don't seem to pique his interest at all - only the action on display.

Gromm's right hand would shove the half-eaten steamed potato into his companions chest, the sailor taking it with a questionable expression, but takes it anyways. Gromms right hand lowers to his right fore-leg, grabbing onto it and digging his fingers into it, his smile growing as he watches the fight, leaning forward as he allows Caos, his eagle, to take flight, "I want to fight too…" He growls, chuckling grimly. The sailor would raise his brows, looking somewhat nervous as he lets out a equally nervous chuckle, "Uuuh, you /shouldn't/ get involved…"

"She must win." Arros agrees, his voice low as he speaks to Daevon. "But if she does not…we should avenge her." Says the Knight who has only met Rona once, last night, but who watches her move as if he's loved her for years.

Garvin frowns then, glancing up to Bryn. "I wish she'd cut his tongue out," he says, sipping his mead again. Nyran is still bustling around, filling goblets. Garvin continues to watch the fight, eyes ablaze with interest.

For all of her bravado, Rona is certainly treating her opponent with the caution due to a dangerous foe. His reach is greater, he is physically stronger, and his weapon needs only one good solid blow to end this. She knows well what peril she is in, but refuses to show it through her cocksure smile. "You tried hard enough. How fickle." When he swings at her — the moment she was waiting for — she is suddenly a blur of motion. Stepping back from the hammer's reach, she spins in place, her blade following the motion of his attack to slash along the back of his forearm for a shallow, but precise cut.

"She will not need to be avenged." There is absolutely no doubt in Daevon's voice, conviction rings true. "She will win. She is clearly the far more skilled fighter and he underestimates her and the danger he faces. He will have no chance for a lucky strike in this fight. He wastes his breath on insults when it would be better spent saving his life. See how she does not overestimate him. For all her words she treats him as if he were dangerous." He quietens, breath catching at the blur of motion, as he tries to follow it.

Bryn, when the clash starts, lets out a cheer, "Get him!" Where others assess skill and exchange thoughts on the outcome, the boy chooses to go the route of cheering his favourite on, as if this was a simple tournament duel.

Isador enters the tourney grounds having heard something was happening here. She bites her lip when she sees her friend Rona in combat - and watches transfixed from the sideline. Not daring to let out a whisper in case it distracts Rona.

Garvin glances around and finds his cousin, some distance away. Pausing only to let his goblet be refilled, he steps over to Laurent, leaning close to whisper, "Ten dragons on the Bravo." Before the knight can reply, he turns to shout at everyone gathered around. "Ten dragons on the Bravo! Who will take my wager?"

Vuk roars like a beast at the slash that is placed across his arm. His sleeve is soon bloodied, and it runs down to his hand, making his grip on the war hammer slick. He lets out another roar and swings at her again, this time at her shoulder.

"You do not avenge those who fight in duels," says Eonn, mildly. He eats another oyster, then opens yet one more. This he offers to Daevon, guiding his horse forward a few steps so he can lean down to do so. "But my Lord Targaryen is right. She will win. He is a fool."

Laurent waves his hand at Garvin without taking his eyes off the fighters. It might signal acceptance of the bet. When his cousin stands to shout, though, Laurent scowls and shakes his head. Not to be distracted, his eyes narrow at the first sight of blood, grimacing as Vuk follows Rona's precise wound with a wild swing of his hammer.

As slow a weapon as the warhammer is, Vuk's physical strength cannot be ignored. His blow comes with enough speed to force Rona to evade quickly. Rona throws herself to the side, rolling with the skill of a tumbler to bring herself back to her feet, well away from her opponent. "I knew there was rage in you," she taunts, circling again as she furtively moves closer to the jousting lists. "You bury it under that mask, but no man can do what you have done without a roaring fury inside him. You will need every iota of it to defeat me."

Daevon shakes his head in refusal of the oyster, "No thank you. I would suspect that Ser Arros would do anything in the name of love. To hear such insults cast, both in words and the physical. Still, there will be no need for vengeance. She is perfectly capable of fighting for her own honour." He speaks quietly. "Foolish to fight so angry, it blinds him."

Eonn straightens up and tips the oyster down his throat. "Foolish in many ways," he replies, after swallowing it.

Arros says nothing. He watches on grimly.

The Ironborn just watches. Standing after a moment to peer out. "Getting interesting." He says as the woman tumbles towards the jousting divider. "Thinkin' she has a chance?" He asks Peri.

Garvin turns back toward the field, eagerly watching again. Maybe Laurent took his bet, maybe not. In the end, only the battle really matters.

With chuckles growing louder with each thrust of Rona's sword and every swing of Vuk's hammer, Gromm shift his right leg over a bit as he continues leaning forward, seemingly becoming more anxious and… And unstable. "It's not fair, why do they only get to fight?" He asks, although the question doesn't appear to be directed to anyone. The eagle flying overhead the two fighters, circling about with an occasional shriek. The sailor begins to become more nervous as Gromm becomes more blood-thirsty, "H-hey come on now… I- If you get involved it won't be very fair, r-right?" He asks, only to be glared at with Gromms unsettling smile, causing him to shut up as Gromm shifts his gaze back, watching further.

Peri drinks her mead, watching Riker, her weight settled "Gromm, c'mere." she calls out "I have cake." she offers, "Gentle. Calm. Soft." she calls out, in a rather strangely motherly tone.

"What I've done I did in the name of others!" Vuk says, sounding exasperated. He regains control of the hammer, but blood continues to drip down his arm, making his grip slicker and slicker. "For that Bear Bitch Mormont I did everything, and the ungrateful woman blinded me! And don't even get me started on the other!" He stalks after Rona, "You're all the same! Just the same as that Bear Bitch!"

Isador watches the fight from the sideline - still frozen in place - perhaps fear governs her actions.

Kai slowly turns his gaze towards Gromm, whom stands with his assistant a few meters ahead. He lets out a quiet sigh, slowly slithering his fingers up his right sleeve and loosening something within, eyes flickering back and forth between the duel and Gromm, expressionless, as per usual.

Eonn breaks into dry, cold laughter.

Daevon watches quietly once more.

Rona jabs here and there, watching Vuk's reactions, prodding at his defenses, goading him along as she backs toward the lists. "We are all the same? All women? We taunt and tease, but never give you what you want? Is that it? I see. Your frustration goes much deeper than me. Have you ever killed a woman? Come, end it now. Kill your first woman and take vengeance upon all of us. Show us the man you are."

Riker turns back at the speaking of cake. He says nothing though and just turns back. Looking to the fight now a vicious smile takes form upon his face and he strains to hear what is being said by the combatants.

"What's she playing at?" Laurent's question is too low to be heard much beyond where his cousin stands, breathed without taking his eyes off of the fight. He begins to raise the mug in his hand to his lips, but the drink is forgotten halfway there, and hovers as he watches the fight.

"I could have had the Bear Bitch if I wanted!" Vuk declares, no longer caring who he slanders in all of this. "She vanishes into enough rooms with the other men, including that fuck laughing over there, that she must have had them all!" He rambles on, and is cut by Rona sometimes when she tests him. More blood leaks down his big frame, "The only bigger harlot I know than Maera Mormont is you!" He takes another swing.

Isador raises an eyebrow at Vuk's taunt - for once almost even sympathetic to Maera for having had such a retainer.

Garvin lifts his chin, murmuring to Laurent, "Keeping him unbalanced. Filthy-tongued sellsword." He leans to one side to spit, then takes another sip of mead. "He hasn't landed a good blow with that hammer of his yet, so I'd say her tactic's working. But I wish she'd finish him."

Gromm looks over to Peri, his smile leaving his face as his chuckles silencing, shaking his head as he looks back, seemingly having snapped out of his moment. He'd bring himself to his feet, cupping his hands around his mouth as he yells out in his booming voice, most likely audible to everyone around, "Kill 'im! I want his femur!" he shouts, a grin forming on his face as he sits back down, leaning forward although looking more sane than earlier. Watching as his right hand occasionally taps against his right knee. "If he were to say that shit about me he'd have that hammer up his ass by now…"

"If he lands one, that's an end to it," Laurent mutters to Garvin. "Why's she drawing him off in that direction?" He glances toward the lists, but nothing jumps out at him, and he can't spare his attention for long. Even with such a short look away, when his eyes return to the action Vuk seems to be bleeding from another cut.

Riker laughs now, overhearing Gromm. Turning he says japishly. "If he'd said that to you it would affirm he has the same likings of Lord Pansy over there." He lets out a laugh now as he points at the Tyrell.

Garvin smiles then, eyes flashing. "Because she's magnificent," he says softly. "Look at her move! I'd wager you've never had such a graceful dancer at a feast. If Master Tychos were still teaching me, I'd fight as well." He casts a quick but dark look toward Riker. "My likings are none of your concern, Captain. You'd to well to treat your wife half as well as I treat my lowliest dog. She's worth a dozen of you any day."

Rona's dark eyes shine at seeing Vuk's anger rising, after so long keeping it contained under his emotionless veneer. "Lady Mormont would have laughed in your face, Vuk, and if you had tried to-…" she stops as she finds herself with her back to the wooden divider of the lists, having wandered right off of the melee ground. She glances back at the wall as if in surprise.

Riker says, "And how do I treat her?" He asks, the scowl apparent? The iron born turns back to PEri now, clearly wroth."

Vuk laughs like a madman as he notices that he's backed the agile bravo into the lists. He brings the Warhammer up, and swings for Rona's head with a tremendous force.

Where Laurent's attentions were focused a moment before, Riker's words draw them away. He bristles when he looks at the man, and when his cousin rebuffs the sailor the surly Tyrell knight rises to his feet, turning fully away from the melee even as it nears its peak. "Lord Garvin Tyrell," he corrects the man, his tone as grim as the look on his face.

Daevon's convinced this is a trick, a trap. He watches the fight avidly, holding his breath.

"And how do I treat her?" He asks, the scowl apparent. The iron born turns back to Peri now, clearly wroth with her. Turning back he says, "And who the fuck said she is my wife?" Shaking his head he adds, "If you are implying you treat your dogs like you treat your bathing partners, well, I must insist. I do." He lets out a thunderous laugh and goes back to watching the fight.

Quickly to Laurent and without looking he correct. "Ah, titles. Well, Lord Riker Blacktyde to you then."

Garvin just rolls his eyes and shakes his head, turning back just in time to see Vuk raise the war hammer, his eyes widening. "Now," he whispers. "Kill him -now-!"

Gromm looks over to Riker, frowning, "If she's not your wife what is she? A toy?" he asks, although it'd be wise not to answer the question looking back over to the fight, "Stop talking, you're more annoying than the man with the hammer, and half as smart." He says, funny coming from someone who has had no education up until his arrival at the city, which wasn't too long ago at all. "Keep on talking and I'll be dragging you out of here, and make you pray for your life to your drowned god as I hold your head down into a bucket of my piss." he threatens, his gaze fixated on the fight as he does so.

Rona counts heartbeat by heartbeat as that hammer is raised, her hand going to grip the top of the lists. But once it begins its descent, her true acrobatic grace can be seen. Pulling herself to the side, away from the hammer's arc. She jumps, bracing her feet on the wooden wall and essentially runs up the side it to perch on top in a ready crouch, watching for a split second to see if her plan has worked.

Daevon was expecting something like this, but not quite as magnificent. His admiration shines clearly as he watches Rona avidly. EVerything else might as well not exist for all the attention he pays it.

Vuk brings down his hammer on…not Rona. Wood splinters as his big hammer crashes into the spot where her head should be. He blinks dimly, and tries to pull his hammer up, but it's trapped in the wood. He gives it a tug, but the handle is slick from his cut, and doesn't budge.

Laurent is not so quick to let it go. He scowls as he takes a half-step away from the cleared circle where the action is taking place, raising his voice to address Riker several feet away. "Mind your tone when you…" Gromm's threat, aimed at the Ironborn captain, cuts him off suddenly. Perhaps it's the size of the man, or the inventive crudity of it, but something draws Laurent's eyes in a glance toward the big man and away from Riker.

Peri eyes Garvin "Please stop it my darling Lord Pansy, I told you, Riker treats me very well, and I am very fond of him." she warns, shifting to rest her head against Riker's hip, watching the two and frowning. "A salt wife does not have the same standing as a rock wife or rather a proper wife." she offers, voice gentle and warm.

Kai slowly turns his gaze back over to Gromm, seeing the fight as over already, he slowly slides his right foot back, the fingers of his right hand flexing and unflexing.

Riker does not take any of this too well. Afterall, he only came to watch the fight. Far be it from him to make a joke apparently. And everyone else whos has seen the need to bring themselves over /here/ by /him/ wants to continue on. so he does easily, "The Lord over there can spout off all he likes. But I will not listen to such prattling from some slavers leavings. If you continue that eagle of yours will be watching as I tear your heart from your chest." LAurent receives littl attention now and he goes back to watching the fight.

"Yes!" Garvin hisses, bringing a fist down on the railing. If anyone didn't now him well, the look on his face would lead them to believe he had fallen in love with Rona. Absently, he says without taking his eyes off the combatants, "Rocky wives or salty wives, it makes no difference. A woman should wear whatever gown she wishes, and the husband who confines her for the crime of being pretty is no husband at all."

Gromm develops a wicked grin as he brings himself to his feet, looking down to Riker, slamming his right foot down, making his companion sailor jump in his seat before setting aside his bucket of steamed potatoes, looking nervously as the two as he soon comes to the realization shit's hitting the medieval fan. "Tear my heart from my chest?" he asks, his tone low as he lightly chuckles, his chuckle soon after turning into a boisterous, if not somewhat crazed laugh. "The only thing /you'll/ be tearing out, is my foot that'll be stuck up your ass!" he shouts, looking down upon Riker with a terrifyingly grim smile. A terrifying enough expression, that could make bears run away in fear. "Come then, Captain Blacktyde. Rip my heart, from my chest." he demands, his hands tightening into fists as his breathing becomes louder, and more aggressive, as does his stature.

Kai sighs as Gromm starts raging at the wrong person, "Fuck this, I'm going to go take a bath." he says, turning and moving to stroll off, regardless of the fights climax.

Rona lunges forward, planting one foot on the haft of the hammer itself, the other against Vuk's chest. Time almost seems to slow down for a moment as she draws her sword arm back, the blade aimed directly at Vuk's neck. Then, striking fast as lightning, Maiden's Kiss plunges into Vuk's throat, its razor edge cutting so cleanly that it buries straight to the hilt. She steps free of his falling form as casually as if stepping off of a boat, pulling her blade free with a gush of blood.

Isador is at once horrified and relieved that Rona has won the fight — but she continues standing unsure of what to do.

Daevon closes his eyes once that final stroke is made, perhaps offering up a quiet prayer for the life of the man now ceased. He exhales long and slow, there's no cheering from him, nor any excitement.

Vuk's eyes widen in shock as Maiden's Kiss plunges into his neck, and straight out the backside. He puts his hands up to the wound in his throat when the blade is freed, gurgles, and falls over. Dead.

Garvin's face lights up further still, the impending violence behind him unable to pull away his attention. "Yes!" He shouts, raising his fist. "Hurrah, Lady Bravo! You see? I told you there was no doubt she'd win."

Arros breathes out a sigh of relief. He lifts his hands up and begins clapping rather briskly.

Eonn stopped laughing eventually. He's silent when the coup de grace comes.

Bryn has been totally ignoring the situation with Gromm and Riker, his attention entirely on the fight. When Rona finishes Vuk off, he lets out another cheer. Apparently, he's seen enough blood in his time that seeing the death doesn't bother him. At least, not this particular death.

Peri eyes the two, taking a piece of cake "Gromm None of this." she pats Riker right upon the ass, loosening her blouse. She looks like she is about to throw down. She reaches to take something out of her back pouch, letting the golden and iron colored leather unfurl - a slaver's whip. Something she more than likely paid the iron price for. "Gromm, whether you agree with my path or not, I can not allow you to harm him, You know this." she's too distracted getting between the iron man and the gargantuan man..

Riker looks up to the taller man. He shrugs. "Very well. But I will be fetching my own weapon. I've no birds here to help me." He turns his back, no doubt headed back to his ship. He does see the death blow though and grins. "Fucking nice. I ain't never seen so many woman so martial till I came to Oldtown." He motions to Peri. "Come." All he says in a commanding tone.

Isador closes in on Rona, "You aren't hurt?" she asks impotently. For a wildling Isa is not so very fond of violence of any kind. Even against stupid brutes like the recently deceased.

Daevon opens his eyes to look at Arros, his gaze quiet and thoughtful. He doesn't applaud, doesn't say anything at all for a good few moments before he steps out of the crowds and towards Rona. "That was very well fought."

The end of the duel, and the applause it brings, seem to pass over Laurent without his noticing. He watches the scene between Gromm, Riker and Peri, his dark eyes narrowing as the woman produces a whip. When weapons start to appear, he looks over his shoulder to find his cousin, stepping close to Garvin protectively, one hand falling to the hilt of his sword.

Gromm would be smiling before noticing Peri unfurling an object, something he'd all too familiar with. A whip. He'd back away, as if frightened- no, traumatized as he shoves away his companion, who'd had already just began to ran, having noticed the weapon before hand. He brings his right hand around to grab onto the hilt of his scimitar, seemingly desperately attempting to make distance between himself and the two, his face twisting in anger, disgust, and fright, a odd mixture which makes for a disgusting expression.

Garvin looks around until he sees Nyran, waving the squire over. "Quick, take a goblet out to Lady Bravo Rona. Hurry, boy, water dancing is thirsty work." Hurry he does, mead splashing a bit over the side of the goblet as he runs across the field. Once the squire is on his way, Garvin turns toward Gromm, Riker, and Peri again, raising a brow. "Did I miss something?" he asks Laurent, hand falling to the pommel of his own sword.

Peri eyes Riker "..yes sir. " she offers, falling in line behind Riker as is expected of her, rewrapping the whip in loose winding motions. The woman is still bristled and uncomfortable looking "Riker, please, I have said multiple times you have done no cruelties on me." she mumbles, pressing against the iron man's back. Gromm is for now missed entirely.

Eonn slides down off his mare, leaving his helmful of oysters hanging off her saddle, his wine goblet in his hand. He walks over to the corpse of Vuk and looks down at it a long moment.

Rona looks back at the ruined lists, wincing and hoping the Hightowers won't come looking to her to pay for the damage. She pulls a think piece of cloth from inside her best, running it along the length of her blade to clean off the blood before sheathing it. Dropping the bloodied cloth in the dirt, she smiles to those approaching. "I am a little bruised from tumbling," she says to Isador, "But I am not injured. It is a good thing, too. One blow from that warhammer would have ended me." Daevon receives a grateful nod and smile. "Thank you, Ser." Receiving the goblet of water, she drinks heavily. Thirsty work, indeed.

Isador looks to the emrging fight. "It looks like Vuk's isn't the only blood to be spilled today." She watches somewhat helplessly as Blaktyde walks away. "I'll tend to your bruises if you let me?" Isador asks Rona.

"Very nearly," Laurent says, reaching behind him to place a hand on Garvin as the commotion dies down. "That jumped-up son-of-a-whore that was slandering you," he growls with a jerk of his head in Riker's direction, "Just about got his balls crammed down his throat by that mountainous bastard over there," he finishes with another nod toward Gromm. "Would've liked to see that," he complains as he watches them disperse.

Silently, in the background, Isabella Costayne had been watching the event, though when the end of the event comes, she turns her head, averting her gaze from the moment of death. Her handmaid and her Septa remain at her side with the latter whispering words of what had happened. The guards she had brought flank her sides, yet she makes no immediate move to leave.

"You fight to your own strengths and to his weaknesses. That was a very clever tactic," Daevon says to Rona. "To use his anger as a weapon against him. To lure him to that well and trust by then he would be angry enough to strike without thought. I have never seen a fight quite like it. You move as the wind itself, it seemed as if he had no more chance of striking you, as he would have to catch a storm." He checks over his shoulder to see if Arros is going to join them.

Eonn crouches down beside Vuk's remains and rolls him neatly onto his back. Then he carefully, quite tenderly even, wipes the blood from the man's ruined throat and face.

Garvin watches Peri following on Riker's heels, lips curling in a grin. "I would have as well," he says, turning his attention to the mountainous bastard in question. "Say, I know that auroch. Saw him in the market one day. Small wonder the pirate's running off, tail between his legs." Taking another sip of mead, he looks over toward Rona, but is stepping closer to his palfrey again, saying to Bryn, "Didn't I tell you it'd be a magnificent sight?"

Arros steps forward after Daevon. His eyes linger on Rona's face for a few moments before he nods his head a bit dumbly. "I…I had never seen anyone do something like that. You are a true master of your craft, lady bravo." His actions are somewhat restrained compared to the other night.

When Peri pulls her whip he smiles and the man cowering off does give him pause. "That was …odd." He says. Shrugging until he hears Garvin, "I aint ran no where yet. And its a shame you fail to see him slinking off at the sight o' the whip." He looks the Tyrell up and down now, "I daresay you would ldike anything involving me' mannly parts." He laughs now and is truely moving a way now that it seems Gromm left, or at least backed off a bit? With all the commotion it is very hard for the stupid man to really tell what is going on.

Rona rubs her shoulder where she landed a little too hard in her tumble to avoid Vuk's hammer. "I will be alright, Isador, thank you. And thank you, my lord Targaryen. This is the way of the water dancer. Vuk was accustomed to fighting half-trained conscripts and warrior that rely upon brutality. He was not prepared." But then she gives Arros her full attention for a moment. She doesn't say anything, but simply smiles at him, basking in his adoration.

Eonn has never shown any feeling towards Vuk before, except to despise him, but now? He looks into the dead man's glazing eyes and smiles. Such a kind, gentle smile. It is unlike his usual expression, and the warmth of it even reaches his sapphire eyes. He kisses Vuk on the forehead, then whispers something to him before closing the man's eyes.

Garvin gently elbows Laurent's ribs, nodding toward Arros. "That's Ser Arros Sand," he whispers. "A Dornish bastard, but more honorable than I expected. Last night in our great hall, he gave Ser Griffyth quite a thrashing. He's quite taken by Bravo Rona." Riker's words draw his attention, and he rolls his eyes once more. "Your manly parts are of no interest to anyone, save your good wife. I can only assume she's never had the pleasure of a real man to compare you to." Not that he's volunteering, of course.

Daevon's smile is warm as Arros approaches, although perhaps a little concerned. He nods his own agreement with those words. "It was an honour to see you fight." He says to Rona. "It would be more so if you, and any friends you wished to bring, would join me and Ser Arros, for some drinks. You must be thirsty after such a duel. I shall warn you, I will likely plague you with questions about all of your daring escapades, and the tale of all those ribbons you carry."

Peri shifts, taking a moment to loosen the silk blouse and very neatly take it off, folding it tidily. Linen is wrapped over her bust as she tries to find her tunic in her pouches, pulling it on properly "Lord Tyrell, please, Riker is good to me, and without him I would still be a slave stuck in a fat old man's bed or sold off to a brothel because I am getting older and fat." she reminds, taking Riker's fingers, protectively.

Gromm continues backing away, his Sailor friend turning to look back, noticing Gromm's frightened state. The sailor would stop, seemingly thinking over abandoning the man before walking back. Once the sailor comes into close enough proximity, Gromm grabs him by the scruff of the shirt, pulling him close with his left hand, saying in a low town, his voice somewhat shaking, "If she takes out the whip again, cut off her hand." He orders, probably attempting to be quiet, but failing as he'd prove to large to keep his voice to a proper whispering level, atleast not when he's frightened.

Laurent takes a half-step in front of Garvin, too focused on Riker now to spare Ser Arros a glance, more's the pity. "Mind your manners when you speak to my cousin," the Tyrell knight growls, his expression hard. His short unkempt hair and the gleam in his dark eyes combine to give him a wild, almost manic appearance as he bristles with anger.

Isador nods to Arros, "Very well then bravo," she says smiling at Rona. But she sticks around. Watching Rona and Arros with some interest. Her attention taken away from the mounting number of affronts the nobles are taking at eachother and Gromm.

Rona beams at Daevon's praise. All of the praise, really, but Daevon's is the most recent. "I would be delightful, Ser. Isador? Will you join us?" The mention of her ribbons reminds her, and she glances to Vuk's fallen form. "Excuse me for a moment, please." She steps over to the corpse, kneeling opposite Eonn. She sighs, shaking her head. "You were an idiot, Vuk. But you died honorably. Valar morghulis." Taking a small knife from her belt, she takes hold of the bear-fur shoulder cape he wears, and cuts a long, thin strip of it free.

Eonn looks up at Rona. "Is there anything more you wish from him?" he asks.

Arros stares down at Rona, and his lips curve up into a smile slowly. He watches as Rona goes over to the corpse to cut a piece of cloth from it, and reaches down to touch the ridden still tied to his wrist, undoubtably taken from another man that Rona had slain. "We should feast her at the Quill and Tankard." He says to Daevon. "You can ask for her stories, and I shall simply be content to look at her."

Seems the Blacktyde grow tired of all this talk, "Lord Tyrell, will you shut that place where you put your cock up. Damnit!" Motioning to Peri he says, quite quietly, "Who is that? One of Garvins swords or family?" That part is whispered but Riker doesn't know the command.

Daevon watches Rona, his admiration growing at the way she speaks to the now fallen Vuk. He waits quietly, patiently. "The Quill and tankard then, and on my own coin." He smiles at Isador. "It shall be a pleasure to have you accompany us. Any friend of the Lady Bravo."

Garvin's eyes suddenly narrow, his hand returning to the rapier at his side. "If you weren't held so dear by Peri," he says in a low voice with a surprisingly dangerous edge, "I'd feed your worthless cock to your damned Drowned God."

Isador smiles at Rona and the assembled company. "It would be an honor." says the blood witch. "To the quill then…"

Peri gestures at Laurent "A lord Tyrell. I recommend not engaging. Gromm is.. Gromm and not anyone's man but his own. I showed him mercy and kindness. I regret it now that he wants my hand as a trinket." she offers, voice soft. She is getting annoyed, again stepping between Riker and his detractors. "Please do not draw steal. He is not a terrible man. He treats me better than most ironmen treat their salt wives."

Rona arches an eyebrow at Eonn, curiosity piqued. But she shakes her head. "No. With this ribbon, I shall remember and honor him as a worthy foe." She rises to her feet, taking a moment to tie the bear-fur strip to the neck of her scabbard alongside numerous other ribbons, mostly of much brighter colors. With a last, sad look at the man that was once her friend, now dead by her hand, Rona turns to rejoin Ser Daevon, Ser Arros, and Isador. "I am ready."

Riker just grins at the pair. "Whatever your pleasure. I's can't make out half o' your grassy speech. Ifin ya' want to continue I'll be at the docks. Where my ship awaits."

Laurent's eyes go wide and white, his face red as his voice climbs in volume. "Still your tongue, Whoreson!" He takes a half step forward, pointing at Riker with his left hand, as his drops his mug of mead to splash onto the ground en route to taking hold of the hilt of his sword. "Or I still it for you."

Daevon leaves Oldtown proper through the Tourney Gate in the city walls.

Eonn smiles up at Rona, a kindly, wise smile. He nods, then gently picks Vuk's corpse up in his arms, gathering him close before standing.

Eonn leaves the man's warhammer where it lies.

"Let me cover half the cost?" Arros asks Daevon softly before Rona approaches. He holds out his hand, palm facing up to the sky, for Rona to take if she so desires. "What do you like to eat?" He'll ask her, "We'll have whatever you like."

The Blacktyde turns his back now, shouting. "You heard me you me ya' dolt."

Isabella bites her lip as she watches the dead man get cleaned up before her gaze rests on the person who had done the killing. Folding her own arms protectively around her, she listens to Rona speak to the dead man. It is all more than the lady wants to see and more than the Septa will allow, so the Septa takes the arm of her charge, since the fighting atmosphere seems to be expanding, and leads her away.

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