You swine, a challenge sir!

[Torben]

To: Quatlu Carasilson
Bvt Warchief, Royal Foot Guards


Fellow Bvt Warchief,

I sought to communicate with you, some weeks ago, but have been, so it seems, totally ignored.

Why......what reason do you have to simply choose to overlook, dismiss, reject, ignore etc my perfectly reasonable and moderate contact?!

I can only assume, like Lord Erik thought about the weasley Harold fellow, you deem yourself far too superior to the likes of me and, thus, choose to snub a fellow Orlanthi.

Well, I can tell you, like decent Lord Erik I am not one to just sit back and be treated like a nobody, no Siree! I thus issue you a challenge and seek to avenge the personal snub to me, by God though, that hurts Quatlu, cuts to the bone because of someone I thought was a friend! I challenge you to personal combat to erase the insult you have given to me by choosing to totally ignore me.

Baron Torben

[Quatlu]

Baron Torben,

I do not understand why you suddenly refer to me as a swine, and cast aspersions on my honor, claiming I have ignored you. Rather than giving the matter of our private, shared concerns over to be dragged through the realm of public scrutiny, I chose to write you quietly by private message to convey my appreciation for your thoughtfulness and courtesy. Did you not read the private letter I sent to you? Did I overlook, dismiss, reject, ignore your perfectly reasonable and moderate contact? Absolutely not! I chose to communicate with you as a brother officer and gentleman, with demonstrated deference to your position as a Baron loyal to our beloved King, and as a friend. They you accuse me of deeming myself far too superior to the likes of you and, thus, choose to snub a fellow Orlanthi. When have I ever deliberately snubbed you? When you first arrived in Boldhome I believe I bid you welcome, and since you joined the Great Temple of Orlanth, each season in worship I have specified that I have sought you out to ensure you and my other comrades felt welcomed and a part of the service. I have always done my best to treat others as I myself would wish to be treated, with honor, respect and courtesy as I serve my god and my King to the best of my poor abilities. His Majesty has not yet seen fit to honor me for my actions in the field with a title, which is his right and I do not bemoan his decision. I have risen to my current level with through hard work, piety and dedication to my King and Orlanth, and I would change nothing.

When you petitioned me as a friend and Sword Brother, asking me for admission to the Royal Foot Guards, I agreed wholeheartedly and cleared all administrative obstacles in your path and did all but roll out the red carpet to make the way open for you to become an officer of the Guards Brigade. Yet in spite of my efforts to pave and straighten this way for you, without the courtesy of any word or notification of any kind to me, you snubbed my efforts and joined another regiment. To this day you have said nothing to me in way of apology or explanation, but instead of broadcasting the snub to the world, I chose instead to let it pass and not sully your reputation. I have always treated you as an honored comrade in arms, a Sword Brother and a personal friend. I was honored to have you join the Hero Quest last Sacred Time and face those dangers head on with me, and I said as much, yet now I dishonor you?

Because of my recent duel with Baron Harold, I find myself currently at less than 50% Endurance and headed to the Front to battle the enemies of our King. I must therefore decline your challenge, and ask you to withdraw your challenge.

[Torben]

Knock, knock, knock........"Hello, Baron Torben sir, are you home"?

Inside his darkened dwelling, the two bearskin drapes still shutting out the late morning light, Baron Dungshuvler roused himself from the ale induced slumber of the previous night. His head pounded, his throat was dryer than a parched desert and his memory distinctly clouded.

"By the gods, who is it? Can't you leave a man in peace, who the devil is it"?

"Message for you Sir, I'm just the deliverer".

The baron stumbled to his feet, knocking over several empty flagons and a semi filled goatskin of wine, it's contents splashing across the floor amidst the debris of, what appeared to be, a half eaten plate of stew that has also fallen to the floor. Some hours earlier judging by the congealed residue that the baron promptly stepped into as he lurched grumbling towards the door.

"A message, for me, who from lad"?

"Well, I don't make a habit of reading people's letters Sir, but judging from the seal I'd say it was from Bvt Warchief Quatlu, the commander of the Royal Foot Guards regiment".

Taking the letter from the messenger's hands, Baron Dungshuvler fumbled in his pocket for a couple of lunars, gave them to the fellow and waved him away before closing the door to retreat back into the seclusion of his modest home.

"A letter from comrade Quatlu, what on earth can he want? Perhaps it's confirmation of my acceptance to the RFG as a Hundred Thane or something.....let's have a read......hmmmh.....swine.....duel.....challenge......good grief......no, surely not?!! What the hell?!

Looking around the mess of his main room, the jugs, the flagons,the cutlery and dropped plates Baron Dungshuvler took a moment to reflect, concentration wracked his mind and a slowly dawning realisation began to take root.

"Oh no, surely I didn't.....I think I did....didn't I ?! For Orlanth's sake it was the bloody drink wasn't it, I knew I shouldn't have mixed that dwarven ale with that stuff I picked up at the market, Storm Bull brandy or whatever they called it. My gods, my head......never again.....how am I going to get out of this one!

[Torben]

To: Quatlu Carasilson
Bvt Warchief, Royal Foot Guards

My old chum Quatlu,

Please allow me to both apologise and explain.......you see it was the drink talking......I'd been set up, sold a number of strong beverages that ended up muddling with my common sense and.....before you knew it......there I was issuing daft challenges and succumbing to the 'voices' inside my head!

You see, Quatlu, my dear friend, I have to admit I've been hearing these voices.....or, rather, to be precise, this one voice.....it's HIM, you know, that one-legged King bloke, Broar Hofarson, the chap I met when I was journeying to Boldhome. As I've previously disclosed to people, this Broar fellow gave me a load of spiel about goings on in the City and who to contact etc but it all turned out, as I subsequently discovered, to be a load of old tosh!
I think he messed with my head, cast some magic or spell or some like and it's cursed me ever since!

Anyway, what I was wanting to say was I apologise for that earlier message about duels and challenges etc, especially what with you having that great big axe and being known for your skill with it, being credited for killing several challengers already etc and wanted to propose that we forget all about it and just carry on as before, if nothing happened, let bygones be bygones and suchlike. Good man, you know that makes sense, how about we go for a beer or two once you're back from the Front and we can be great mates again......see....there you go......all sorted, best pals again....may the Gods bless you Quatlu, I knew you'd agree.

All the best to you,

Your good mate and Orlanthi cultist,

Torben

[Quatlu]

Dear Baron Torben,

I sincerely appreciate your response to my letter, for your sincere offer of apology for the challenge, and for withdrawing the challenge. I am proud to be your friend and Sword Brother, and I was at a loss to know how I had offended you. I accept your proposal that we forget all about it and just carry on as before, as if nothing happened, and let bygones be bygones. Let us simply pick up the pieces and sweep them away. I do accept your offer of a pint in friendship after I return from the Front, where we shall concentrate our efforts against the Lunar enemy, though in light of your issues with strong drink we might have a mug of hot cider with cinnamon, eh?

May the gods bless us all.