undergrounds | [OPEN] SOUTHWARK TERRITORY CLAIM

Entry tags:

[OPEN] SOUTHWARK TERRITORY CLAIM

It should never be said that Jean-Claude does anything halfway. So too might be true of the claim to try and regain Southwark for Islington.

And so he sends out a proverbial white glove to Daybreak. A formal challenge, detailing what Islington is after, how they believe they have been wronged, and how they would like to take it back. Naming a time and place where the two parties should meet (a quiet area, after the sun has set), where Jean-Claude and those who will join him for his cause shall be waiting. To fight for what is theirs.

It's all very romantic, if he says so himself. Brings him back to an era where such a thing was more commonplace. A time and place that he rather misses, all things considered.

He sends out a call to arms amongst the vampires as well. Letting them know his intentions. Letting them know that he has specified there will be no cheating in this match-up, no silver bullets, no fairy aid. No teeth. An honest match, between the vampires of Islington and the witches of Daybreak. And may the winner reap the riches. It's pretty clear what sort of a stand he's trying to make, a stark contrast to the latest brutality. He can only wait and see what sort of a statement it makes. Regardless of the outcome.

So Jean-Claude plans. And thus they assemble, at the appointed place, at the appointed time. And so do Daybreak and Islington come together in their first honorable battle in decades. As honorable as a battle gets, of course...

((ooc: come tag in and fight alongside your fellow witch/vampire, discuss amongst each other the strategy and your opinion of it before going in, OR react together to how it was handled and the fact that they lost afterwards -- have at it! c: there are not that many daybreaks involved/signed up, as a note, so please team up with each other and feel free to NPC daybreak opponents for yourselves! ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"No magic," Jean-Claude says directly, though he does not know in truth whether the other man is capable of magic or not. He doesn't feel like he is, but he has lived long enough to know that that does not mean anything. "No magic, and no teeth. A duel as there was in days of old. With weapons."

He unhooks a rapier from his belt, one of two, and holds it out towards the other man. "Let the best man win, non?"

A rapier? Lancelot blinks, tilts his head slowly.

"I have no experience with a rapier," he points out, taking it regardless and unsheathing it a faction to inspect it."

All of a sudden the courage he had before is beginning to falter. He should have expected a weapon, and he should have anticipated it would be something he had no experience with.

"It is not difficult to wield," Jean-Claude replies. He corks something of a smile at the other man. "One might say that it is as easy as pointing the sharp end at your opponent but I would not go that far myself."

He draws his own rapier and wields it before himself. "Some have been known to fight to the death but I don't know about you, mon ami, yet I would prefer not to have to come to that. Then again, first blood may be too easy in turn."

He raises his eyebrows at Lancelot. "Would you agree to a compromise? That whoever you first, the other be declared the victor?

Well, at least that would mean he has a chance of surviving this. Although duelling for a whole territory...

"One more condition," he prompts, "whoever wins, the other faction must agree with leave this territory peacefully immediately."

No more fighting. No taking it out on the people who live here. No killing anyone out of spite. None of that. If they are to duel then it must protect everyone else here.

Jean-Claude inclines his head at the other man. "Whoever shall lose, there will be no retribution sought," he agrees. "We are to fight this duel with honor, you and I. And thus demonstrate that though we are against each other, we are not above civility." Unlike some others within their respective factions, he does not say aloud.

"But only for tonight. I cannot make a promise that, come tomorrow, or another day in the future, my faction will not make another attempt at reclaiming this territory. Such is the nature of the game, alas. Does this suit you, then, mon ami?" he asks.

He takes a breath, lets it out slowly and nods once.

"It will have to do," he says, then flicks his eyes out around the others. "Do you have a... witness or judge in mind?"

Isn't that how a duel worked? You had a person... to make sure rules were followed? Start it? A second or something? Lancelot truly has no idea. This sort of thing is... well, before his time. The thought makes him realise Jean-Claude probably has experience in it, and he feels nervous twist in his stomach -- drops his eyes to attaching the sheath to himself as he tries to quiet internal panic.

Jean-Claude nods, and then motions over to a vampire who stands on the sidelines. A vampire who -- to Lancelot, if he has never met Joscelin in person before -- should look no more than a child. There is something about the way he holds himself and the look in his eyes that speaks of something far older, however.

"Joscelin will be witness," he replies. "He and I are some of the oldest present. Though he may not agree with my tactics, he is committed to the duel." He quirks something of a smile at the other vampire. "He has seen his fair share of them before," he continues, hinting something of the other vampire's true age, before turning back to Lancelot himself.

Lancelot is quickly coming to realise he is very likely to lose, and truth be told he has no idea what to do about it. He turns and beckons over a witch in turn -- a small, wide-eyed young woman with dark curls of hair who nods and, someone pointedly, stands the opposite side of Joscelin. A safe distance away.

Her dark-lined eyes give her peculiarly blank look an exaggerated air, like she's looking at something far beyond them.

"You'll make me feel bad," Lancelot quips, trying to rally himself entirely. "No need to remind me I'm fighting an old man."

Jean-Claude appreciates the joke and the banter, and quirks something of a smirk at the other man in turn. "This 'old' man as you say has seen a fair number of duels in his time. How many have you seen yourself, mon ami? Perhaps it is unfair of me to ask this of you but in truth..."

He trails off, shrugging. "It is either this, or we let things come to blows. And I have not had the chance for a sword fight in centuries. I suppose you can say I have become a romantic in my 'old age."

"I try not to let it reach a duel," he responds, "always feels a little unfair to make people fight me."

He flashes a somewhat forced smile, eyes hard as he focuses on Jean-Claude now. The vampire is quick, he remembers that. Quicker than him, most likely. He needs to be alert, needs to make sure he has all his attention focused on him.

"When you're ready, then."

Jean-Claude raises the rapier between them and takes up the stance of a man who has obviously been trained how to use it. Just because he has not had the chance in the last century or so does not mean that he has forgotten his techniques. He is anticipating that this will not go very long. He will make a point not to drag it out, at least. Lancelot is an important man to keep on his side, regardless of this most recent speed bump.

"En garde," he replies, and readies himself for the defense. People who are new to the sword, if they are foolish, they always just throw themselves into blow.

Lancelot draws his weapon and matches the stance, frowns in focus. He has never held a rapier, in truth, yet somehow he instinctively knows the right grip. Matches Jean-Claude's stance impressively well.

Taking a steadying breath he adjusts his stance and circles a little, waiting rather than lunging forward.

There's too much riding on this for Lancelot to just throw himself into everything, that much he knows. He has a better chance of getting through this if he lets Jean-Claude come to him. Blocking and dodging is always easier than attacking.

Jean-Claude can't help but be impressed with how good a mimic the other man is. And how he is keeping himself from being too taken away by the whole scenario. How he is keeping his cool. So far, so good, as far as Lancelot's technique is concerned. It is too bad that Jean-Claude is here to fight him rather than to judge him on that.

He realizes that if he waits for the other man to make the first move then they may be standing there all night and so Jean-Claude steps forward to make the first lunge, followed by the attack. He does not think that he will hit the other man with such a move -- common sense of course will have him blocking it. But he wants to test him. To see how he reacts. He is going into this fight anticipating he might win, but he wants to see what his challenger has to offer as well.

Lancelot may not be as quick or strong as a vampire, but he's still quick for a human. Quicker than any human has a right to be. He moves, brings his blade to try and stop Jean-Claude's -- and looking peculiarly startled in the process. Part of him feels like he's barely thinking about what he's doing, and that makes little sense. He should need to think, he hasn't any tutelage in this sort of thing.

Best not to focus too hard on it, if he has a chance of winning he has to take it.

Jean-Claude watches the other man's reactions with idle amusement and more than a hint of curiosity besides. Feeling for the other man's strength as he shields the blow. And he is strong -- quite impressively so, really. Certainly for a human, at any rate. Not that that's what he is. Not fully, at least. Not with blood like that.

"Not bad!" he calls out to the other man, stepping back from the attempt once more. "It would seem that you are a natural, mon ami." Seeming to take amusement in this, Jean-Claude readies himself for the next strike. Adjusting his stance and lunging at him again.

A natural! Why on earth would Lancelot be a natural at fencing? It makes no sense! He's so focused on his own confusion (the frown clear on his face) that he falters when Jean-Claude goes to lunge, doesn't quite block well enough and feels the blade make contact with fabric. He's still not as quick as a vampire, and he's being reminded of that very well.

Lancelot leans back from it, eyes widening and attention snapping to focus better on the vampire.

"This isn't a joke," he growls, as much from discomfort at his own total lack of understanding as from how the other man seems to find entertainment in it.

Jean-Claude smiles slightly as he admires his handiwork, having torn the other man's shirt quite nicely to reveal the flash of skin beneath. Perhaps it's for the best that he has not drawn blood yet. It will make it difficult for him to concentrate once he has.

"I did not say that it was," he responds, taking a moment to step back and collect himself once more as well. "But we are both gentleman, mon ami. Let us enjoy this as such. You fight for your cause, and I fight for mine. We are not enemies -- you are certainly no enemy of mine. I do not want to kill you. Just to win. And if I should not, then I bow to you as the victor. But I have not had a proper match in over a hundred years, mon ami. At least allow me to enjoy this."

Gentleman, Jean-Claude says, and allow me to enjoy this. Lancelot feels his frustration burn almost as much as the cut starting to seep with blood.

"Gentleman don't invite themselves into each other's heads," he snarls, "I trusted you, Jean-Claude. I believed you. You will not play me for a fool again."

He lunges forward again, anger welling up and fuelling his desire to push Jean-Claude back.

He's caught by surprise at the voracity of the other man's words, caught by surprise by the depth of emotion behind them. And caught by surprise thus by the way that Lancelot lunges forward towards him, not anticipating such an attack from the other man. He attempts to bring his sword up to counter Lancelot's but the truth of the matter is that he had let his guard slip. He had been entertaining himself in goading the other man, but he had not assumed that Lancelot would rise to the challenge quite like this.

If he had the time to process the action he would find himself proud. And more than a little aroused by it as well, truth be told. If he had the time, that is. Lancelot, whatever he is, seems to move awfully fast. So Jean-Claude counters in the only way that he can. Attempting to use the other man's momentum to gain the upper hand himself. It is a last moment, slightly dangerous desperate measure, and only Lancelot's skill with the blade will determine how well such a tactic might work.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[OPEN] SOUTHWARK TERRITORY CLAIM

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject