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[url=https://youtu.be/ypyTjVxMaX8][h2]ᛏ ᛉ ᛚ[/h2][/url][/center]
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[center][b]Interacting with:[/b] Queen of Parrench[@Force and Fury]
[b]Opportunity:[/b] Eskand-aligned Players - Find Ulfhild unconscious on next cycle of posting[hr]
[b]Event:[/b] Siege of Relouse | Skirmish with the Queen [b]Location:[/b] Cape of Redame | Secluded area off the initial shore [hr][/center]
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[center][color=black][h2]Arvid & Haldor Ulven vs Eleanor of Perpignan[/h2][/color][/center]

Eleanor of Perpignan had not been a warrior as a girl. She had been good and studious, devoted to the Pentad. She had spent hours in embroidery, poetry, the harp, and prayer to the Five. 

War had come, though, and so had her Gift: of the *fifth* wheel, and the little duchess had been trained to wield her powers for the safety and salvation of her people. On her fourteenth birthday, she had been fitted for her first set of armour. Engraved with her family's crest and the glories of the Gods, how it had gleamed. The great shield had stood nearly as tall as the callow young girl whose forearm it had been strapped to. The sword had been beautiful, but not to her liking. A more 'feminine' weapon, she had been told. She had traded it for a massive war hammer that she could not have hoped to wield without the Gift.

Yet, as she lay about those around her, carving a swathe through the Eskandr, a strange sort of peace came over her. That lives were lost, she could not help. She would pray for them, wretched souls that they were, should she be blessed enough to survive the day. Eleanor had just finished battering a warlock into the water with her Force magic, drowning him, when a pair of bersekers who appeared so similar that they had to be brothers approached her, shouting challenges in their uncouth tongue. The Queen turned their way and raised her mighty shield. [color=f49ac2]"Turn back now,"[/color] she called out in that same language, [color=f49ac2]"or I will send you to your deaths."[/color]

The brothers weren’t above fighting a woman nor a child, so when what seemed to be the first notable warrior to grace the field they reacted and did not fret over what lay between their legs. The appearance of the shield and hammer did nothing to sway them from their mission and the chance at furthering their glory. Spitting whatever blood pooled in their mouthes, foreign or native, they gripped the worn handle of their axes in defiance. 

[color=black][b]“Ha, you’d be doing us a favor then lady. Now lets see what your god has to say for you.”[/b][/color] 

The shield was the first hurdle they had to clear before they could really being to corner her, but too much focus on the shield would leave the hammer to crush their skulls. The two rushed forward but then branched off hoping to go for a classic pincer technique aiming to disarm her.

[i][color=f49ac2]Then my conscience is clear[/color][/i], Eleanor told herself, but she put nothing else to words. They came at her in a pincer movement, from both sides, one the more skilled, but both of their attacks were sophomoric and predictable. It spoke to their exhaustion, perhaps, having been so long on this battlefield, or else their stupidity. The queen neither knew nor cared. Pulling directly from their bodies, tearing the energy from their few manas, she stole their motion and leapt back, expelling it in a massive shove that flattened both brothers. Eleanor first went to one, raising her hammer to strike, a merciless fury flaring in her eyes. She raised her shield above the other, prepare to bring it down in a grisly decapitation. [color=f49ac2]"Yield!"[/color] she bellowed, voice amplified by Force magic, [color=f49ac2]"And accept the might of the Pentad!"[/color]

If the two had not been aware of their limits before, they fully well knew now. Like peat from a fen, the two felt a sudden sapping of energy as if they were trekking through the deepest recesses of a wetland. The brothers weren’t strangers to the gift since their gods decided to bless their sister with it rather than them. Yet, even without it this woman was exactly the class of warrior they so desperately sought. Arvid now pinned to the ground was faced with the full wraith and contempt the knight had for the ‘heathens’. Gritting his teeth he turned to Haldor, [color=black][b]“Make sure to make this count”[/b][/color] he said, throwing one axe into the air and attempting to sink the other one into any exposed armor near her foot, in an attempt to anchor or wing clip the warrior queen. 

As much as he wanted to forbid his brother from such foolishness, it was too late. With what little energy left within him, Haldor hoisted himself up aiming to push past the shield to either sink his own steel into her or get her into position for the axe to fall on its intended target.

Eleanor spun away from the blow at her ankle and brought her hammer down. That was the last of the mortal world that Arvid knew before the Visitor's Table. Haldor, who'd been able to pull himself to his feet, met with better fortune, however, the Queen having focused on his brother. With a roar, he surged forward and slammed into her. His attack was easily blocked, but the one that Arvid had thrown, as his final living act, came down and struck true...

Only, Eleanor had felt it the moment that it struck. With preternatural reflexes, she pulled all of the Force from it and wrenched it from her pauldron. This, she discarded with a snarl, rolling her shoulder and grimacing. [color=f49ac2]"So you have chosen death!"[/color] Drawing the heat from around her, she focused it into an arcane lance and fired this straight at Haldor.

[right][color=black][h2]Winner: [color=f49ac2] Eleanor de Perpignan[/color][/h2][/color][/right]
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[center][color=black][h2]Ulfhild Ulven vs Eleanor of Perpignan[/h2][/color][/center]

Ulfhild had been busy or lack there of with biding her time seeking the perfect opportunity to disembark from the ships and out from under the shadow Hrothgar had been casting over her. Alas that perfection would never come. The desire to jump out and aid Kol in his push into the forest was one she was ready to commit to. Maybe this meant she would run into the old crew as they’d no doubt be alongside their King. Though, that option was thrown to the side when her eyes caught glimpse of a dazzling display of arcane reflecting off armor and piercing her brothers chest like a lance shattered in a joust. Her blood ran cold and her body limp. Despite knowing better, she couldn’t fight the urge to glance over to find Arvid. Her pupils dilated in what she could only make out to be her headless brother. 

Her stomach pushed up bile and what small chunks of food were still left from this mornings feast. Hands and body both quaked in fear and anger. The time for grief and denial were to be saved for later, for now she would have to avenge her kin despite having finally been graced with the presence of the visitor. Ulfhild uncoiled the rope strap from her pouch and pulled out several tinctures. The corkscrews fell from each, taking their place between the webbings of her fingers. Inhaling several of the concoctions she stored within, the onset of the effects were quick. Her body became still and she felt and overpowering urge to let loose. She tossed the empty bottles to the side and almost robotically drew arrow after arrow from her quiver and let loose in the direction of the Queen. 

Three arrows dipped in the blinding light of her arcane followed by three arrows ablaze at the tips right on the heels of the first wave of arrows. Her legs drew Ulfhild closer to site of her brothers murders.

No sooner had the second berserker's body dropped to the ground with a smoking hole through his chest, than Eleanor picked out a series of energies - both arcane and force - moving towards her. Too late, she realized that the first were intended to blind and, even as she pushed them away, she blinked furiously, stumbling back. Lashing out half-blindly with Force magic, she batted all but one out of the air. That single arrow, however, glanced off of her armour, scoring it and warping it from sheer heat. The scalding metal pressed into the Queen's side and she let out a yelp of pain. The culprit, a woman ranger, was fast headed towards her. Perhaps Eleanor might yet attack, but perhaps she should heal first. One was not reckless in combat or one was dead. The Queen called, then, upon the Gift of Oraphe and bound her wounds until she could scarce feel them. Her armour, warped and buckled in that spot, flexed outwards into an imperfect approximation of what it had been before. She turned to face her onrushing foe.

No thoughts that strayed her mind from formulating a battle plan as the tides of war progressed had could pass her brains impregnable defense. Everything she did was for an exact reason and would set her up for her next series of attacks and defense if needed. If she wasn’t going to rely on subterfuge this time she was going to press the knight with a reign of arrows unlike any other she had seen before. If Hrothgar’s shamans and mages didn’t make the sky black with their magic, Ulfhild would. 

The attacks seemed to connect, but as she deduced from the cauterized hole through her brother, she was favored by the gift as well, not just that but classically trained in it. She would pay her the respects that were due, especially since she healed the damage that Ulfhild imparted. More arrows whizzed out from her bow, but with no augmentations. Instead they had little bottles attached behind the arrowhead. Had she knocked the arrows away or destroyed them, the bottles would shatter and scatter spores all around her. In the interim however, she had super heated the next line of arrows she had knocked on her bow and shot down at the Knights feet as she circled around at a distance. 

Unlike Eleanor the floor was static and yielded nor dodged from a firefight. The schism between soil and sand made it a perfect opportunity to displace Eleanor’s footing. Once struck sand turned to crystal, one misstep and the earth would crack and slip. She readied more arrows. Palming less than a dozen arrows left, the rest were in her boat.

Eleanor had decided that to remain a moving target for an archer was folly. Gathering energy from waves, arrows, and other forces alike, she leapt into the sky, cleanly evading the hailstorm of projectiles and drawing from the Force that pulled her down to keep herself in the air. She landed mere feet from Ulfhild, eyes afire with magic. Her hammer swung in a horizontal arc for the ranger's head.

Fast, she was incredibly fast. Normally launching oneself in the air left you exposed, but just as quickly as she was in the air she was back to the ground, mere meters away from Ulfhild. Her massive hammer swung at her head hoping to lop it off and make that two Ulven’s with no head to accompany them in the next life. Every cell in her body had been screaming and alerted when her ears picked up the sound of the hammer whirling through the air. Ulfhild yanked her head back narrowly missing the kiss of death. Her unoccupied hand threw up a few vials from her pouch that followed the path of the hammer. Arcane magic exploded the bottles causing an eruption of fire hoping to stick to and engulf the knight, while Ulfhild drew some distance from them once more.

The flames boiled away and smoke faded, but the Queen was already bursting through them like some kind of demon from those old sagas of the Heksebog, the head of her massive war hammer glowing orange-hot. She closed the distance with inhuman speed and thrust forward with her shield, ready to bring her weapon arcing down on Ulfhild.

What were they feeding their soldiers? Ulfhild thought or tried to at least with what felt like a ferocious lion bursting through the smoke. Her arms went up in attempt at some defense, but the shield proved to be a weapon in its own right. Dazed and with little time to react she used the momentum of the shield blow to push her back to avoid the hammer. One hand pulled, taking the arrows she fired just before that missed, to curved their path back unto the back of the knight. While she flew back she created an illusion a few inches in front of her that would recover just a bit after Ulfhild actually recovered to serve as a guise so she could attack again.

The ranger recovered with almost abnormal speed. Usually, a smash like that would've broken bones and sent its victim sprawling. Instead, the Queen's Hammer tore a massive, smoking gouge out of the ground.

She overbalanced.

She overbalanced badly enough that she did not recover on time. Arrows came whistling back at her and she was not able to avoid them all. One skipped off of her shield and embedded its tip in her armour, drawing a stinging sensation and a trickle of blood. [color=f49ac2]"Enough!"[/color] the Queen howled, reaching out with a fist of pure Force to grab this stubborn heathen with.

Whatever favor she gained from her gods was shining down upon her. She made easy work of her brothers and every Eskandr before them. Ulfhild, not untouched, still stood tall in the face of her enemy. Perhaps the gods would prevail over Eleanor’s. The force hand missed, but Ulfhild took the opportunity to run alongside the hand and throw out large clumps of sand she had picked up from her earlier dodge. With a snap of the fingers the sand clumps turned into a shower of small crystals as if it was hailing. Light refracted from one crystal to another until they form a type of birdcage of light around the Queen hoping to blind her better than her original entry into the fight. She shot 6 arrows all together right on top of each other to form a more concentrated and potent attack to move past these small victories. 2 arrows remained perched in her quiver.

She was fighting stupidly. This ranger was smart, quick, and slippery. Her tenacity had gotten to Eleanor, on some level, but also her humanity. This was another human being - a woman of an age as her - lovingly crafted in the hands of Aun-Oraphe, though she was as yet deaf and blind to the goddess' calling. They were here fighting, and one might very well die while, in another life, they may have been friends or peers. Another inventive attack aimed to blind her, but the Queen was growing wise to these types of tricks, by now. Drawing the light from the blinding arrows and grabbing the others with Force, she turned them on the archer and they sped at their target. Some energy, she kept behind, however, waiting for the right moment to use it.

Already an object in motion she found no force looking to stop her, this was to her disadvantage. Arrows she had directed at Eleanor had been wrought back onto her. Able to control the temperature of the arrows she extinguished the flames but was pierced in a few spots on her body, luckily nothing vital. Arrows were always a nuisance to get out. She dropped her bow and broke several of the arrows off of her leaving the meat of the arrow still inside of her. With a thunderous roar she uncharacteristically charged at the Queen attempting to propel herself off the the shield towards her brothers direction while throwing a superheated blade from her waste with a sprinkle of force.

The arrows struck true and part of Eleanor exulted while another part winced. [color=f49ac2]"Why won't you retreat!?"[/color] she demanded, stalking forward. The ranger was breaking them off as she spoke. [color=f49ac2]"You are beaten. I know that your gods mean much to you, but can you not see now that they are stories while the power, the purpose, and the *mercy* of the Pentad that fill me are [i]very[/i] real!"[/color]

Ulfhild was already flying at her, though, and her blade, superheated, on its own. Feeling the deep, comforting power of Oraphe-Sept coursing through her, Eleanor breathed and called the energy from the weapon until it clattered to the ground at her feet. She placed her boot on it and, when the Eskandr had nearly reached her, pivoted deftly instead of blocking with her shield. [i]This is why you shouldn't fight in close, [b][i]ranger[/i][/b][/i]. Able to pick her shot, she slammed the semi-sharpened butt of her hammer into the woman's abdomen with extreme force and could feel things inside give way. The Eskandr crumpled to the ground and Eleanor loomed over her, hammer ready to strike if need be. [color=f49ac2]"I will not judge you if you yield and nobody will know. You do not need to throw your life away. If your Gods demand it, then they are unjust."[/color] Her voice began forceful enough, but the last part was nearly a plea.

Like a tranquilized bear, the more wounds she sustained the less her alchemical mixtures could fend off the damage. Her gods weren’t merely a story, else wise they would not have the gift on their ‘heathen’ side. Perhaps Ulfhild was not meant to fell the Queen by her own sword despite not even realizing she was the queen. The connection of the hammer to her body shook her with a debilitating shockwave that crashed harder than any of the ones she rode in on. Her body felt like it had been stabbed with static electricity and she could see her bones rattling. She was right, close quarters combat was left to better warriors, she had just wanted to retriever her brothers axes as a way to attempt her own final blow, but her gods luck ran out. 

Blood splattered across the ground. [color=3cb371]“I can’t retreat, you killed my brothers”[/color] she gurgled with another retching of blood exiting her mouth. An eye full of bitterness peaked out from behind her sopping wet hair, propping herself up on an elbow. [color=3cb371]“The gods will know…and I will know. Is your god never unjust?”[/color]

Eleanor took a step back, then, expression shifting. [i]Her brothers. No wonder some ranger came at me like a mountain lion.[/i] [color=f49ac2]"Then I grieve for their loss, truly, but know that I gave them the same opportunity as I now give you. They made their choice. They... died bravely, I suppose you would think."[/color] She shook her head, pained, the rain pelting off of her armour, wisps of steam rising around her and a light of the Arcane glowing dimly at her back as if in aura. [color=f49ac2]"Why is it that you Eskandr cannot live in peace!?"[/color] She demanded. [color=f49ac2]"Why do you invade our lands and kill our people? Why do you not allow the light of the Pentad into you lives?"[/color] she pleaded. [color=f49ac2]"I do not understand it. Their ways are mysterious, truly, but they are [i]never[/i] unjust. I believe that with all of my heart and soul."[/color]

What solace she was offered she had begrudgingly taken. It was a peace to her and her gods knowing her brothers died with honor. It wasn’t that Ulfhild wanted to die, she still had felt she had much left to do in this world, but if she were to meet her fate right now at least it was to some indomitable soul such as this. The touch of precipitation almost felt as if her gods or that of Eleanor’s faith was weeping in the face of this decision. [color=3cb371]“We do live in peace, but we cannot know peace with your kind until the debts are settled and you treat us more than just animals.”[/color] Ulfhild would be lying if she were to defend the merciless killing of civilians, but the chance of religious conversion and amnesty could be a possibility, just not in her lifetime. [color=3cb371]“That same light will only lead to darkness around everything I’ve known. I would no longer be accepted by either country, you know that well. Just show me your sympathies by killing me. One less heathen blessed with the gift.”[/color]

[color=f49ac2]"So be it then, unnamed warrior. Would that we had met not as enemies."[/color] Had Eleanor not shown mercy? Had she [i]not[/i] treated this one as more than an 'animal'? She did not know how deep the cultural wounds lay. In any case, the two of them had drifted some ways from the battle, fighting as they had on the slopes that became cliffs a short way to the south. [color=f49ac2]"Know that the one who bested you this day was Eleanor de Perpignan, Queen of the Parrench. May you go to your gods well."[/color] With that, she swung her mighty weapon and, after a moment of blazing pain, the Eskandr knew only darkness.

For a moment, the Queen stood there in the rain, her armour battered and dented, her hair singed, and her cloak drenched and dirtied. It was all so senseless, war. All so brutal. The ranger slept before her. Eleanor had delivered only a knockout blow, not possessed of the heart to finish her off. Perhaps she might accept it, in time. Even if the woman did not, the Queen could not bear to strip a single family of three sons and daughters in the span of some fifteen minutes. She pressed her eyelids shut for a moment and breathed. Then, knowing her duty, she opened them and walked away.

[right][color=black][h2]Winner: [color=f49ac2] Eleanor de Perpignan[/color][/h2][/color][/right][/color][/indent]
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[hider=Summary]
[list]
[*]Eleanor meets the brothers ulven on the field. Brothers wound Eleanor slight but at the cost of both their lives.
[*]Ulfhild witnesses her brothers demise and diverts from her path of conquest with her troop.
[*]Ulfhild valiantly fights the Queen and forces her hand
[*]Ulfhild’s luck runs out and is spared by the virtuous Queen, not before sharing her name and title
[*]Ulfhild is maimed and unconscious, weapons scattered.
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