Duel Interrupted

After he and Conner make their brief exchange, Brennan walks over to Jerod.

"This is not how I saw this night progressing," Brennan says, "But I don't consider any of this as settling my right of vengeance. I couldn't see anything through the mist, only up the stairs that aren't really there, yet. Pick up anything useful in the field?"

"No." Jerod says. "Multiples on the fronts, but nothing of significance beyond the stuff Conner's got.

"Something's not right though. If they've got the troops, why wait and negotiate? Beyond the option to get troops into better place or await reinforcement. The fact they are facing Family doesn't square with previous attacks. They were facing Family then...so why not continue?

"Either way, this isn't going to end well I think. If we win, they'll break the agreement or they'll go another route. If they win, I'm not sure we can let them pass. Not with the stuff mentioned about the King."

"I'm waiting to hear the fine points of the terms," Brennan says. "But I agree, I can't see them bargaining away anything substantial in good faith, like their claim on the place entirely. Assuming that to be true, it doesn't look like this solves a whole lot for us. Reinforcements... maybe, although if they were expected so quickly, why not just wait the extra watch? Robin or Vere could probably find out, though."

He glances around the field, "It applies to us, too, though. Edan and I have forces we could reach by Trump in a pinch, and I have some I might be able to bring in from Avalon..." his face sours, thinking of how much his own situation has changed in twelve hours and what might be going on with the Maghee. "Be pretty noisy, though, and not exactly a sign of good faith."

"If you're not worrying about good faith, let me know and I'll go get the Weir." Jerod says. "It's a good thing they're not here right now, or the battle would have already started. They were chomping at the bit when I met them."

"They're nearby? Close enough?" Brennan asks, interest piqued. Then: "I'm worried about what that act does to Conner's and Brita's honor, frankly," he admits. "I'd be pretty angry, someone sprung that on me-- and I'm the one who just said it, so what does that make me."

"So..." Raven still has one eye on the opposing forces, even as she strolls over to join the conversation. "Does that mean we're taking this seriously and actually thinking this ain't a trick, or...?"

"With the legend of Moonriders, you take everything serious." Jerod says.

"And no...not close enough I think." he comments to Brennan. "I could get some probably pretty quick, but the main group, that would take a bit to march them here. We'd need a trump path and a marshalling location otherwise. The Count was very well prepared...they've been planning for awhile now. He was offering me siege equipment to go Gateway. I might go collect some to deal with the zombie threat...after we're done here."

"About the same here," Brennan says, nodding. He's angled his body to include Raven in the conversation. "One force in the city that Marius wants to keep there, that needs Trumps to move. One in Avalon that I'm pretty sure I can reach by other means-- remember how Ambrose arrived at the coronation? That way. Which means, better to go by sorcery and come back by Trump. Dicey."

That out of the way, he addresses Raven's question. "I don't know if we know enough to expect it's a trick. Which means, I plan for the worst and hope it doesn't screw up the best. Frankly, other than ancestral claims that would be a bit like trying to keep us out of Amber-- or Xanadu," he corrects himself, "I don't even know what they plan on doing if they get up there."

"They don't exactly look like they're on their way to a garden party," Raven says dryly. "And that's why I asked if we're taking this as they're giving it. Sounds to me like either they're playing a trick or they think it's their only chance to get what they want. Whatever that is," she adds, with a nod to Brennan. "So if we can't directly cheat without pissing our people off and it sounds like more army ain't an option... what's plan C and how can I help?"

"Plan C is to improvise and survive on the fly." Jerod says. "Need to figure out what they are up to, as best we can."

He looks over at Brennan. "By the way, that's Raven." he says. "Good in a fight, tends to burn down taverns. Clearly one of us."

Raven snorts in amusement at that.

Turns back to Raven. "That's Brennan. His dad was Brand and he's a redhead but don't hold that against him. He's decent." he says before turning back to survey the field, such as it is.

Brennan will recognize the clipped speech for Jerod...he's definitely got the anger on. Having Moonriders this close and not being able to go after them...

Brennan extends a hand in greeting. "Pleasure, despite the circumstances." His grip is strong without trying to be crushing, and the Family regenerative processes are fighting a losing battle against the callouses on his hand.

Raven's got a sailor's hands still, and a steady, no-nonsense kind of handshake. "Aye, nice to meet you," she says, with a nod.

"Let's put brainstorming as part of Plan C, which this is," Brennan says. "And let me play against Redhead type and suggest that one of us could actually go suggest to Conner that playing for time to gather more forces is an option. Brita could be alerted by Trump without giving it away. I don't know if it's a good option. But it's an option. So is figuring out something tricky and Pattern based that would help Conner." He sighs. "I don't know about you," he looks at Raven, "but my Pattern is self-taught and subject to blind spots." He looks at Jerod, "but you were mentored by your dad, right? Robin, too, by Julian I think. Anything come to mind for how to tilt a Pattern Blade fight?"

A sudden thought strikes him and he scans the field again, which he'd been doing periodically anyway, with some intensity. "By the way, just assume they have Trumps of their own, place and person. I don't know that they do, but I'm sure that they could."

"Great. Well, pretty much everything I know about Pattern, I got from him," Raven says, jerking a thumb in Jerod's direction, "on a ship from here to Gateway. And it wasn't that long ago - weeks? Ain't crazy enough to think I'm anything but wet behind the ears with all of this still." She shakes her head. "Playing for time's got issues of its own, aside from hoping those two are willing to do it. We'd still have to get folks here. That means either not caring if they get upset by us bringing in reinforcements, or sending some folks out into the fog to get far enough away that they don't notice men coming in and hoping there's no nasty surprises we haven't spotted yet. This fog ain't going anywhere any time soon."

"We're also sitting on a Pattern." Jerod says. "Tilting a battle in our favor would be near impossible given its strength. A Pattern base overrides everything else like a blanket.

"The only thing that I would think, and this is a big IF, would be if the Pattern that we're sitting had other interference Patterns conflicting with it. Pattern is a power, like anything else. It's not omnipotent though otherwise we wouldn't be having issues with relatives. They'd have been destroyed or subverted long ago. It's strong here at its center and weaker as it extends, so it has a power limitation at some point.

"Logically, bringing another power source very close would cause interference ripples to occur. The Powers start fighting each other. One wins, one loses. But there's interference, turbulence. If someone was good enough, they might be able to use the turbulence to cause disruptions. Like trying to use Hellriding to thread a needle. Ride the turbulence to find the points where Pattern isn't working and then use your own.

"That's just a theory...not sure anyone could pull it off, even if it were feasible and you could pull another Power close enough to this Pattern to create the ripples."

Brennan gives a half shake of his head in disagreement, but finds more to agree with than not in what Jerod says. "I'd say we're not so much on top of a Pattern as we are exactly at a static interference point between Xanadu's and Tir's. Just like the strange status chamber between Paris and Rebma. I've made a long effort to understand the Faiella-Bionin for just this reason and others like it: we don't need the Road, but many of our adversaries do. Understand their geography, and you're halfway to understanding the strategy and tactics. But.... yes, you're still right over all-- working here is hard. Not impossible, but hard.

"What I don't know is whether the Primal's influence here is stronger, weaker, or equal to Tir's and Xanadu's. Not to mention Rebma's Pattern at play through Conner's blade and whatever the hell Tizon represents, both of which will resist change." Brennan glances in that direction as though the sword's unaccounted-for existence is its own affront. "The question is, can we usefully do that from here to advantage Conner even if it can be done at all?"

"Other side's under the same handicap, right?" Raven asks. "We wouldn't be fighting against all of that and them trying to do the same thing we are?"

"Logically, yes." Jerod says.? "Since they have access to a Pattern, we assume they have the same capabilities, especially since one of them has a Pattern blade.

"Whether there is anything we can do here at this interference point is unknown. We would only know if we try. But whoever tries is not fighting. That kind of Pattern means they're not doing much else besides sifting reality. So we have to balance the value of the advantage we think we can achieve vs the loss of one of us on the line."

"Short answer is, I reluctantly agree with Jerod," Brennan says. "Long answer is, they're supposed to be under a greater handicap than we are. They're not supposed to be able to take the Pattern and use it directly as we are. No one should be able to do that except Oberon's descendants, and not even all of us. The Rebman line can't unless they've been sitting on a big damn secret for about two thousand years, and likewise the line of Tir. Why?" he asks rhetorically, then shrugs. "A lot of us have been trying to figure that out for a long time. Add that to the list of things that shouldn't be possible: A fourth Sword, a Moonrider attuning it, the Stairs on the night after a full moon, Vialle taking the Pattern."

He glances at Jerod, "Makes me wonder just as pointedly about her ancestry, as I do about Vialle's. But I wasn't thinking about trying to use while fighting directly, just to aid Conner from the side. Hypothetically."

Brennan is still part of the conversation, but he's also trying to adjust his senses, Astral and Pattern-based, to see if he can even detect Jerod's hypothetical Pattern interference pattern. The best way is probably indirect, treating the somewhat distant Patterns as light sources and himself, Jerod, and Raven as objects real enough to cast shadows. If that doesn't work, he tries the aural approach, too, recalling his conversations with Folly and her musical metaphors.

Raven nods agreement. "If we get to where more than those two are fighting, then we're right back at the beginning. All the ways I've run into before to make sure the right side wins a fight like this need more time than we've got and somebody on the other side that's about as straight as a river's course." She pauses, then looks at Jerod. "Getting Weyland here would be the same as the army problem, right? And way more possible trouble than it'd be worth?"

Brennan nods at the first part, that if anyone other than Conner and First are fighting, then the whole thing has broken down. Which means Brennan is going to be watching from the base of the stair and nowhere else. "I don't have a Trump of him and don't know where he is, which makes it almost impossible for me. My brother might be able to manage it-- he contacted me once without a Trump or my location, but I don't fully understand how. Weyland is on my list of people to hunt down, because he's old enough to remember the events of Tir directly, and might be the most accessible person who has any true understanding of it. Not looking forward to paying whatever price he'd ask for that knowledge, but it might be worth it and I have other things to discuss with him anyway. And now there's that extra sword. What makes you think he'd be helpful here, though?"

Raven shakes her head. "Not totally serious with that. Another head wouldn't hurt anything, and I'm pretty sure that head's got some things in it that might be helpful - but can't say as how I'm sure he'd actually be helpful. Or willing. Or quiet about whatever he came up with. But we do know where he's supposed to be, at least right now."

Edan and Aramsham trot over, the death magic muffling the steps and blurring perception, but it's still easy to see Hannah's handiwork and the compass trinket Edan holds in his hand. "Something's wrong," he says. "I expected this to point out Tir's location to the Gheneshi, but it's pointing way over there. Towards the Grove. I don't know what it means for all the rest of this."

Brennan says nothing, but glances at the compass and then trains his Astral vision in the direction Edan and the compass indicate. Cautiously at first-- there have been enough nasty surprises in the last 24 hours-- and then as keenly as necessary and possible.

Brennan looks Astrally, and is immediately overwhelmed with the number and proximity of active pattern initiates, real places and pattern swords. Edan has what Brennan tentatively decides is sorcery all around him, but it seems to be under stress. The direction he indicated is not any more clearly special than the stair or the city. It could be the city, or part of it it.

But it's most likely the grove.

Brennan shakes his head, "Too much other astral clutter to see anything special about that direction. Assuming there's time, I may want to study that gadget to see how it gets its sensitivity. And whatever that working is around you," he says to Edan, "it's under a lot of pressure. It's the place and the great profusion of Ordered influences." To Raven he says, "Weyland's help comes with a price-- I'm told to be very careful about striking a bargain with him, not that I haven't been tempted to myself."

If Raven and Edan haven't met, Brennan can remedy that based on his ten minute acquaintance with Raven.

Raven nods. "I wouldn't go making a deal with him if it weren't a dire thing," she says flatly. Weyland clearly made an impression. Possibly not a good one. "Even aside from other peoples' advice. But he was after the same thing we were in Gateway, sort of. This seems like the kind of thing that might impact him too, make him think about helping for free. Like I said, it was a thought, but not a totally serious one. Even aside from what I can see, what you two just said makes me think there's enough unknown things around here right now."

Edan neck-bows to Raven. "Pleased to meet you, Captain," he says. "I wish the circumstances were better. This," and he holds up his arms a bit for Brennan, "is Death as a Principle. When the surviving Riders went back to warn their earlier selves of this battle, they could truly say death took them. Or at least, when there was going to be a battle. Here and now with Champions fighting and more of us concentrating on Pattern, it is harder to hold."

"Aye, nice to meet you as well." Raven nods in greeting. She's got nothing to add to the sorcery discussion, so she listens - although she does glance dubiously at Edan at the mention of death.

Jerod looks over briefly at Edan, but returns to reviewing the situation, still waiting.

The corner of Brennan's mouth quirks up at Edan's description of his Sorcery, even if he does think that's a bit far to go to make a point. "You missed the discussion, but there was a bit of back and forth before their arrival where we came to a tentative consensus that Pattern was the right tool for this fight, over Sorcery. That's the line I've had from every Uncle who's faced them on the field and it's the tool common to all of us and that supposedly they lack." Beat. "Then one of them showed up with a Pattern sword.

"Speaking of which, Captain-- I gather you've been initiated, but can I ask after training in the Family Arts?" Brennan asks.

Edan waits, because the answer to this is important; but he doesn't yet drop the spell around himself or Aramsham.

"Pretty sure the answer you're looking for there is 'basic,'" Raven says matter-of-factly.

Brita moves to Conner's side and explains, "A Battle of Wit and Skill, Brother. You Must Cut a Lock of Her Hair, Without Blood. You Can Dazzle Her with Your Skill." His sister has full faith in Conner's ability to do this simple task. "They Have No Knowledge of Others on the Unexpected Stair," she adds. "They Promise to Withdraw when they Lose, Although they Will Not Stop Trying Other Paths to their Ancestral Home. Her Second also Noted that Others May Approach."

"Your faith in me is touching, Sister." Conner offers a slight smile as he contemplates the unexpected goal of the duel. "It is to be expected that other Moonriders would feel bound by this deal. I suspect many of our cousins feel the same. We shall do this all the same."

Conner takes off his cape and drapes it over his left arm in the Italian style. He strides over to First to the Fray and with a bit of concentration casts a spell to complete the circle. Conner salutes First with the Paxblade and with a smile. "Let's make this a tale worth the telling, eh?"

First to the Fray salutes him back. Her sword is bright, more like Werewindle than Greyswandir. "It is always a tale when two such blades cross each other. It's going to be refreshing to fight where no one can use sorcery, and sheer skill will win the day."

She takes a few practice swings. Conner notes how loose her joints seem, and how she hyperextends them without noticing. Conner may be a good choice to fight the Moonrider, as he's related to and spent time with their Altamarean cousins. "I hope some day to meet your father, Defender of the Stair. And also your Mother. She is a legend amongst our people."

Conner fights defensively at first to get a sense of First's speed and strength. He has a suspicion that he is in way over his head and wants to see just how deep that is.

First is fast, and happy to take the offensive, probing Conner's defenses and moving freely within the circle.

It's rapidly apparent to Conner that First is faster, more skilled, and has reach and flexibility he can't match. Physically, it's hard to tell if she's actually stronger than he is, but he wouldn't be surprised. She may also have more staying power in a long fight. Physically, it doesn't look good for Fiona's favorite son.

What First is not is Conner's mental equal. A few times, Conner catches her hesitating when he does something unexpected. Her skill is almost ingrained, but if she goes outside her training, she has to think about what to do, and that will cost her time. And, Conner hopes, a lock of her hair.

Conner's ability to react and to keep her off guard is what keeps the fight from ending soon after it starts. However, she only has to get lucky once.

Brita is absolutely sure of her brother's ability to prevail despite the chaotic, cleph-like nature of First-to-the-Fray's movements. She stands outside the circle, arms crossed as she watches the fight. She keeps two things firmly fixed in her mind and heart - first, the probability of her brother being taken by surprise is exceedingly low as he is always aware and engaged with his surroundings and, second, her brother has a high probability of being surprising as he has shown in his ability to navigate the twists and turns of politics with style, grace, and charm. She boosts her beliefs with the support of The Pattern, the Swirls of Order overlaying her sight and reinforcing her thoughts.

Conner has to constantly remind himself not to fully retreat in the face of First's onslaught. Conner catches those little moments of hesitation and eagerness she throws herself into battle with. Those were the facts he decides to gamble his fate on.

The plan is this. Conner takes a long step to the side and fakes a stumble. First eagerly moves in to take advantage of Conner's mistake only to find Conner has swept his cloak up to bind her blade and block her vision. In that moment of hesitation, Conner will swing for First's hair.

Conner waits for the right moment, and then takes his long step to the side.

Conner's plan starts off perfectly, fouling his opponent in his cape. Her sword arm, however, stays free. Perhaps it was skill or luck or perhaps the innate nature of a Pattern blade to confer prowess came into play. As Conner's sword swings upwards towards First-to-the-Fray's hair, her blade Tiz&oacut;n rises as well, at an angle that would break a mortal's wrist. It's an inspired move, because it causes the two sword to meet across the remnants of Conner's cape, and like the victim of two angry sides of a pair of scissors, the cape gets cut cleanly in two. Conner comes away with only a hank of his own cloak.

The plan came as close to success as a plan can come and still not succeed.

First pushes off against Tizón and Halosydne and performs a back flip, giving her room to maneuver in the circle, and putting her head well away from the sword of Rebma.

She laughs. "I like that. I shall have to learn about capes in combat." She stays on the defensive for a moment, letting Conner start the next pass. It seems to be a sign of respect.

Conner throws down his new half cloak in disgust. "I'd offer to give lessons but circumstances make that unwise." Conner grins back at the mirthful Moonrider. Surprisingly, the smile is genuine.

"Another time, perhaps." She nods at Conner.

Everyone: rangers, princes, horses, moonriders, is near-silent, and it takes an effort to add anything to the moment. The only sound other than the fight and the beating of your hearts is the beat of the surf far below, echoing up the cliffside like an oncoming force in a sharp, staccato one-two-three-four beat.

It's either getting louder or the moment makes it seem so.

Brita remains focused on the fight but her fingers begin a drumming on her arm that mimics the growing beat. "The Valkyries are Coming for You, First to the Fray," she says, almost subconsciously, in a quiet voice not meant to disturb the duel.

Across the field, Regenlief looks up towards the sky, somewhat confused. After a moment, she returns her attention to the duel. First to the Fray does not hear or does not acknowledge the complement (and/or death threat) if she does.

Conner takes advantage of First going on the defensive and begins a series of strikes designed to disarm her. He does not expect this to work but it gives him some breathing space to rummage through the more obscure corners of his fighting knowledge. If First is caught off guard by new fencing techniques then shifting this from swords might be even more unexpected. Conner doesn't dare go for a pressure point; any lock would be pointless against those fluid joints of hers. He has to use her momentum against her.

There are good reasons not to kick or punch in a sword duel. It is a good way to lose a limb. But in this bloodless duel, it was worth a try for the surprise factor. Conner dances back to make First have to use that reach of hers. He waits for a moment when all First's weight is on her front leg then charges in to try and trip her with a leg sweep.

Conner comes in fast, his move somewhat hampered by the need to protect his own head from Tízon. Halosydne is instrumental here, but the need to defend against her own formidable blade keeps Conner from having any credible threat.

First sees his sweep coming, and leans low and to the right past Conner's leg. She puts her hand down and, as he sweeps her foot up, lets his momentum push her into a one-handed cartwheel, all the while keeping Tízon in play.

As she's coming back up, she reaches out with her free hand to see if she can just pull out some of Conner's hair. She comes away empty-handed, but it was a near miss.

Conner is focused as he never has been before. It's as if his world has narrowed to this circle, the two swords, and the heartbeats of the two combatants. All else is distraction and he ruthlessly ignores it. Later, he may wonder how much if any of that effect was Halosydne's doing.

Conner is running on pure instinct at this point though whose instinct is debatable. It feels much like his memory trance where he has perfect recall of everything yet detached from the reality about him.

Conner settles into a deep analysis of First's fighting style as their blades clash and he waits for an opening.

There is some movement in the woods. At least a bit of it is moonriders getting better vantage points to watch the fight.

"About time," says Regenlief. "I thought I was going to die of negotiation."

Conner enters the dueling area and magically draws the second half of the circle. They salute each other with two pattern-swords. The duel begins, and it's clear to everyone that First is a better swordswoman and Conner is being pressed hard. It's hard to see how he'll pull it off.

It's fascinating to watch her fight. Her joints hyperextend with no damage or difficulty. She's also amazingly graceful.

"I like her,' says Regenlief. "I'd take her to Valhalla."

Ossian grins, also fascinated by First, but likely for different reasons "Doesn't that require soul? Does she have one?"

"That overextension she is doing. How would one counter it?"

"In general? Spears for reach, or even bows. A fancy swordswoman with an arrow in her eye socket isn't so fancy. An Axe if you've the strength. Cut off her foot and it won't matter how flexible her stump is. But if it's sword against sword, you move from their strength to your strength. I might even give up the high ground in this case, because that flexibility still has to have a single ground-point.

"He's faking. Your cousin is bringing trickery to bear. ... Yes, and she fell for it. Tough move. If there wasn't the artificial circle, she'd've dived forward into the cloak, using it to protect her hair, but she would've crossed the line.

"Oh, that's the swords' doing, now. Hear how they scream as they scrape along each other? It's clear they're brothers.

"And she's back on her guard. Nice backflip on her part. I hope that wasn't your Cousin's best hope."

Ossian hears his heart beat, and maybe another one as well. It's like a rushing of blood in his head, and it's counting a staccato four-count before repeating with every pulse.

It's not distracting, yet.

Ossian shakes his head. "I don't know. He's not the best swordsman among the cousins, I think."

Regenlief nods. "You're correct."

It's fascinating to watch her fight. Her joints hyperextend with no damage or difficulty. She's also amazingly graceful.

Raven frowns at the fight. "Looks like it's time to try whatever we've got..."

Edan isn't happy about this whole "champions" plan, and less so that Conner looks overmatched in swordsmanship. No doubt that all shows up in his voice when he yells, "Get her, Conner!"

Brennan isn't thrilled about it, either, but when the fight starts, his eyes snap to Conner and the Moonrider. He watches like an eagle, unblinking, unwavering. After a few passes, Brennan says-- quietly to Edan, Jerod and Raven, not to be overheard-- "She hasn't done anything with Time, yet. It's just swordplay. I'm not sure if that's a gesture of honor, a biding of time, or if the blades prevent it. But if that holds, he can do this. There's a path. But he'll have to bleed for it."

It goes without saying that Brennan is comparing First's skill with his own as she and Conner fight.

Jerod watches, studying, analyzing. He is no mere student curious to the outcome. This is a duel of Pattern blades.

He has seen war and duels uncounted, an apprentice to some of the finest sword fighters to ever exist. Jerod did not become as fearsome as he is being a dilettante.

And this is something he would crave to be a part of.

So he watches, studying, looking for weakness and openings.

Because if Conner doesn't beat First, someone else might have to.

Jerod sees that slight hesitation that Conner is taking advantage of, but not as quickly as Conner himself. Jerod may learn as much about his cousin as his opponent by watching the fight.

Jerod isn't 100% sure, but he can't decide if First really intends to win this fight. If she's holding back or letting him win, it's tremendously subtle. Or else she's not as good as he was led to believe.

"Raven, if you want an impromptu lesson-- more of a taste, really-- of Sorcerous perception, I can do that for you," Brennan offers. He is still watching the duel with such an unwavering intensity that it is surprising he has any attention left for a conversation. "It will be distracting at first."

The sideways look Raven gives him is probably best interpreted as skeptical. "Unless you're meaning for me to try and do something about all this with that," she says after a beat, "I'm pretty sure that's something to talk about later. If you do mean me to do something with it, understand I ain't ready and then get on with it."

In an Astral realm where most things are indistinct and flow in and out of each other, the two swords are like twin suns, each a hard edge that separates self from not-self. Brennan is not sure what he expected, but the flow between which would allow sorcery seems impossible within the circle. He cannot watch astrally for more than a few seconds, and even so is not sure he didn't hurt his third eye. When he looks back normally, Brennan is convinced that First should win, and definitely would win if her goal was to kill Conner. It's the delicate rules of the game that make this duel's outcome even questionable. In Astral space, Brennan felt as if everyone's heart was beating together. It was very loud and very unsettling. Dropping the sight was a welcome relief.

As Brennan and Jerod and the rest watch they realize: rangers, princes, horses, moonriders, is near-silent, and it takes an effort to add anything to the moment. The only sound other than the fight and the beating of hearts is the beat of the surf far below, echoing up the cliffside like an oncoming force in a sharp, staccato one-two-three-four beat.

It's either getting louder or the moment makes it seem so.

Edan is looking around; to someone who has spent his life in the saddle, the cadence is both a balm and a distraction. He shakes his head, though, for whatever cousin is responsible, this isn't enough to disrupt the fight.

To Raven, Brennan says, "No, just an offer. The offer will stand, though."

Raven nods.

He watches Conner and First fight, wincing at times, but not in any obvious connection to their motions. He nods approval and unconsciously echoes Regenlief's analysis: "Her reflexes almost took her out of the circle. More like that. Make her fight her own training."

"She's hesitant." Jerod says quietly, looking over a Brennan. "Either she's not that good, or she's not trying."

Then he visibly starts at a thought and looks away from the battle, again scanning the treeline and where the stairs should or would be. "Didn't Benedict say the Marshall was likely leading this force?"

Raven's looking around too - still looking for the catch to this whole deal, which could absolutely be more of the enemy. "No idea. Anybody got eyes on what's making that noise? Don't sound right for the sea. Not around here."

It's not right for the sea, but somehow it's right for here. And it's gettin g louder. Something is coming, and even the moonriders are beginning to be aware of it. The combatants are not, though. Somehow they aren't hearing the incessant drumming, beating, pounding.

It's hard to hear each other. Whatever is going to happen, it's going to happen soon.

"Son of a bitch." Jerod curses. "Keep an eye on things. I'll be busy for a moment."

He pulls up the Pattern, knowing where they are that it's likely to not be a fun time. He is looking for other interference process or field that might be used to block detection, like if a Pattern blade duel might mask the approach of others. And if he can find that interference field, he needs to try to filter it, to see what it is hiding.

Edan makes an annoyed sound as well, since it's become more obvious that the spell he put around himself is useless. If there was a full on skirmish happening, perhaps, but not the situation at hand. So he drops the black smudgy armor part of his spell, or rather he draws that energy back into the blades he carries to augment what's already there. He blinks as if it's suddenly bright, even in these skies.

Raven shifts back a couple of steps, closer to her original position at the foot of the stairs, and continues to scan the area - looking for the source of the sound, and for anything else that might choose to show itself.

Brennan was paying enough attention to the duel to see Conner's move-- if they were fighting to kill or maim, he'd probably be maimed or dead, so it was perversely enough a good gambit. He nods his head in approval, on the beat.

Then he nods to Jerod, on the beat. "Always. He's going to have make his move. You think she's been playing for time?" That would be annoyingly ironic. He should use that thrumming, pervading rhythm, he thinks, as though at a distance to his own thoughts. He isn't sure if he's thinking of himself, or Jerod, or Conner, or all three.

He does walk with Raven, though-- on the beat. If anyone spots anything he wants to be in a position to intercept, and more interceptors the better.

As the duel begins Vere quietly begins to make the circuit of the Rangers, keeping them on the watch for the movements of the Moonriders and anything else that might show up. He is keenly aware of just how distracting this fight is likely to prove, and wants to ensure that their opponents do not take advantage of that potential distraction.

It's very quiet, and the only movement of the moon riders seems to be to assure that they can see the circle. A betrayal and a charge now might scatter them, but only back into the woods, and if they regrouped they could wreak havoc.

As the fight goes on, the responses Vere gets tend to be more quiet, down to nods. The Rangers are a quiet corps in general, but this fight seems to be taking an immense amount of everyone's concentration.

Everyone: rangers, princes, horses, moonriders, is near-silent, and it takes an effort to add anything to the moment. The only sound other than the fight and the beating of your hearts is the beat of the surf far below, echoing up the cliffside like an oncoming force in a sharp, staccato one-two-three-four beat.

It's either getting louder or the moment makes it seem so.

Vere's eyes narrow and he turns his head slightly from side to side, trying to get a fix on the exact direction of the sound.

It's everywhere and nowhere. And somehow, it's right for here. And it's getting louder. Something is coming, and even the moonriders are beginning to be aware of it. The combatants are not, though. Somehow they aren't hearing the incessant drumming, beating, pounding.

It's hard to hear each other. Whatever is going to happen, it's going to happen soon.

Vere holds up a hand, gesturing for the Rangers near him to be ready for... something. He waits in anticipation and concern so closely entwined that they cannot be told apart.

As the duel begins and her Beloved takes command of the field and rangers, Robin smiles warmly and fondly. Blessing Vere in her heart, Robin leans fully into the Primal Pattern; bringing its lightning and song into her heart. She holds herself poised with the 'ball' of the currently environs and Reality fully in mind.

As the surrounding area grows more silent - and intense, she knows her moment is coming. Probably in the measure of a staccato one-two-three-four beat. She begins feeling out where eighth notes might change a rhythm. Places where a possible unchangeable Moonrider victory might turn short and pyrrhic.

Luckily, she can't hear Brennan and Jerod discussing how what she's doing can't be done. Because Robin's never been one to believe that something can't be done. Besides - those guys are pikers.

Robin prepares, it's clear that whatever is happening is happening soon. Either that or all of reality will come apart because the drumbeat/hoofbeats are taking over all of her senses. It's on the verge of overwhelming, and it's not responding to her pattern manipulation at all.

Robin comes to the awareness that while 'it' might be done, it's not her who is going to be able to do it. Eyes watering, ears pounding Robin begins to drop the pattern from her mind. But not in time.

The fight continues in a more conventional mode, with neither combatant taking the prize. The two establish a rhythm. Lunge, riposte, parry on the high line, bind, reset, passe avant, passe arrier, and lunge again. First to the Fray is controlling the tempo and each round is going faster and faster. While it isn't clear if she can beat Conner in pure endurance, it is clear that she intends to beat him with speed, and also to keep him from thinking up any more tricks.

The Pattern is, to the view of those looking, overwhelming. Looking to the coast, in what should be a direct line to the Grove of the Unicorn, from the woods bursts the family's heraldic beast, her hooves beating out a one-two-three-four pattern as she approaches.

She is magnificent, and somehow it's clear that the Universe may have been made by Dworkin but it was made for her.

Seeing her and doing something about it are two different things. Regenlief, the Rangers and most of the Moonriders just seem to kneel in place, as if they know they are in the presence of the inspiration of everything.

The Unicorn crosses into the circle and places her horn on the crossed blades, breaking up the corps-á-corps bind between Conner and First. She presses the two blades downward towards the ground. First to the Fray goes down on a knee, her sword on the ground, and her head bowed as well.

Conner drops to one knee, his hand still on the hilt of his sword, his head raised. He means no disrespect and hopes the Unicorn will understand his need to drink in every detail when a legend stands before him.

Merlin has also taken a few steps forward, and kneels when the Unicorn intercedes in the fight. It's not clear what else is supposed to happen in the tableaux, but the combat, at least, is over.

Brita drops to a knee in time with the swords being forced to the ground. "Grandmare!" She whines softly. "The Contest was Just Getting Good! Brother Conner was doing Great. Although," she acknowledges, "Uncle Loki-Kin First was Making it an Appropriate Challenge."

Sound is muted and what seems like speech some out as a whisper and what might be yell is barely audible.

The Unicorn keeps her own counsel, and does not acknowledge Brita's words.

Jerod fights between dropping the Pattern and holding it up, mostly because with it up his view of the Unicorn is something that may never come again. But keeping it there he recognizes will take far too much energy, and with this event, his focus must definitely be elsewhere he concedes as he reluctantly drops it after having impressed her appearance into his memory.

"Well, shit." he says, not bothering to be quiet. "You don't see that every day."

And with that, he twirls his spear and puts it point first to the ground as he bends a knee. He bows his head also, but like any court trained individual (and he's very well trained), his vision is such that he keeps an eye on what's up, because... well, it's the Unicorn.

Edan dismounts, falls to his knees, then stretches out prostrate towards the unicorn. It is the most respectful gesture anyone has seen from him. His swords are thrust into the ground nearby, the spell now gone, forgotten, the fight over, the Death allowed to dissipate like so much mist. Just a man now, a child of Order and Fire with the marks of Hannah's hands upon him.

And when he rises back to a kneeling position, head straight and eyes clear and bright gold, there is but one thought in his mind: the Unicorn might have seen this situation coming, or is responding to someone or something else, but Edan himself had called out to her in her Grove... and she answered him.

But it wasn't over yet. The fight might be stopped, but the reasons for the fight remain. The next step had to be taken. Something would have to be ceded, maybe on both sides. So he waits, to see who is first to make an offer.

Raven pauses mid-step and swears in surprise, half under her breath. After a beat, she finishes her move backwards, completing the step by taking a knee. She grounds the butt of her spear next to her and bows her head just enough to be respectful - but not much more, because she's curious just what's going on.

Vere unconsciously takes several steps towards the unicorn, then brings himself to a halt. He drops to one knee, his eyes locked on her, memorizing every detail of this moment.

The Unicorn is amazing. She fascinates and Vere could watch her for hours.

Robin drops to her knees as well. She is blinking tears away from bright dilated eyes and swallowing rapidy as though to clear plugged ears. She is also wobbling a little as well. Yep, someone has been Unicorn-dazzled.

She is amazing, and Robin's fair of lizards wants to follow her and sing to her and treat her like a great Queen Dragon.

On this, Robin is in complete agreement with the firelizards! However, Great Queen Dragons can get prickly about uninvited company. So unless the Unicorn indicates otherwise, everyone should stay here and chirp in happy awe. Robin unconsciously demonstrates as she continues to blink bright tears out of green, green eyes.

The cold and the silence deepen across the sward of clear grass that acts as a clearing for the steps.

Regenlief speaks, and it seems muted by the fog, or perhaps the Unicorn.

"By Valfreyja, she has the spirt of Bestla. No wonder you people worship her."

The Unicorn is Amazing, and Ossian does his best to capture her in the moments he has.

Moving back to the steps, Brennan turns back to survey the field just in time to see the Unicorn cross the tree line into the open; he, too, drops to one knee at the foot of the steps to Tir-na Nog'th, and briefly bows his head.

It hasn't been all that long a Time, as such a Being must experience it, since he has seen her last. Nor, honestly, for a being such as Brennan. But long enough for old wounds to scar over and new ones to open, for conscience to provoke actions leading to consequences which newly inform his conscience. To keep his head bowed or his eyes closed strikes him in the moment as a way of hiding that, so that he does not do. Besides, she can hardly be a consequence, so the consequence of her is yet to come, and this he must yet see.

Everyone on the field kneels, both Moonriders and Xanadu's defenders. At the edge of the grass sward, where the Unicorn entered the field, there are more people. It looks like Folly and Martin and Fletcher. Folly and Martin are also kneeling.

Sound is muted. It seems like people somewhere may be talking, but in this moment, the cold fog swallows their words.

After the fight is stopped, and before anyone rises, the Unicorn lifts her horn and does a turn widdershins around the dueling circle, effectively eradicating it. She builds up speed and comes off at a tangent to it, heading directly for the three stone steps which currently lead nowhere.

If people at the steps do not move aside, they may be run over.

Jerod, son of Eric, Prince of Amber, a force of nature unto himself....is not going to get in the way of the Unicorn. He may be stubborn, but he's not dumb.

Though he is very curious, and cautious, as to what she is up to.

So he watches as she goes, and stays out of her way.

Edan seems suddenly interested in this cloying, cold, deadening mist that's all around. He tears his eyes away from the unicorn for a moment in order to probe the stuff with his Third Eye. He especially wants to know what Principle is involved.

There is, as Raven is well aware, a time and a place for maintaining one's post in the face of an incoming being.

This... is not that time and not that place. And definitely not the right being to even consider it.

And so, the captain swears and gets the hell out of the way.

Vere comes to his feet and gives the unicorn plenty of room. He is still focused on her, but remains aware of the actions of everyone else.

From where they kneel together, Conner sees First lift up her index finger slightly, pointing at him, and give a shallow nod. It would be hard for someone outside their circle to catch, even if there was no fog, even if all eyes weren't on the unicorn.

Conner notes First's gesture and idly wonders what it means. Agreement with Brita's words? A signal to some confederate seen or unseen? The presence of the Unicorn makes it difficult to focus on anything else but Conner tears his gaze away long enough to take a quick look around to see if there are any not so transfixed.

Brita shakes her head as her gaze follows their elder. "Well, I Feel Like We have been Taken to Task like Unruly Children for Fighting in the Yard." She turns back to the pair in the demolished circle and her Second companion. "I Think the Contest is a Draw."

Bladedancer seems unconvinced. He doesn't take his eyes off the Unicorn. "We'll see. This wasn't what my cousin intended. Does... this kind of thing happen a lot in your duels?"

Brita shakes her head in response, her eyes still tracking her Elder relative.

Brennan sees her coming and knows that even if he thought he should stop her from going where she will, he can't do it anyway. He rolls to the side and comes up, again, on one knee but to the side of the stairs out of her path.

But that doesn't mean he can't at least try to get her attention as she goes by: He uses what little time he may have to begin a separation of Astral from physical form more complete than a simple viewing. He doesn't want to fully leave his body, nor move his senses to the Astral realm, but his speech instead. As she passes, both of him whisper and shout in unison: "King Random needs you."

He throws his arm over his eyes as she passes.

They all make their way up the mountain, passing a ranger sentinel with whom Martin has a brief whistling exchange in Cadence. As they make their way up to the open area around the steps, they can see that most of the force is concentrating on a duel that is happening in a flat area by the stairs between Conner and a Moonrider that none of them recognize, with Brita and another Moonrider acting as seconds.

The fight has reached a rare corps-s binds when Conner and the Moonrider both see the intruder into their circle. Her breath steaming in the cold night air, the Unicorn is there. Her horn is on the crossed blades and she forces them to the ground.

The Moonrider drops to one knee, her hand still on the hilt of her sword, her head bowed.

Fletcher, having been in full agreement with Martin and Folly to proceed in haste has been alternating between keeping his eyes on the terrain and maintaining a focus on the Pattern, ready to bolster True reality to thwart any time tricks or phasing that may be in play. He steps to a slightly forward position, ready to screen Folly and Martin if needed. "If there's something you need to do, say the word and I'll cover you. What do the rangers have to say?"

It's hard for Fletcher to speak, and when he does it barely carries to Folly. He is the only one on the field who has not yet knelt for the honored symbol of his order and the heraldic patron of his house.

Folly steps to a point where she's pretty sure her voice will carry to the assembled, and says, "I agree. We should talk." She, too, goes to one knee -- as a sign of deference to the Unicorn, and to show by her posture that she is not a threat, or does not intend to be. She watches closely for any further sign from the Unicorn and for the reactions of those gathered for the duel.

While Folly meant to speak loudly enough for everyone to hear, it barely registers. The unnatural cold fog on the sward of grass before the steps absorbs the sound, or perhaps the Unicorn does.

The Unicorn lifts her head and circles the duelists, obliterating their dueling ring, picking up speed as she goes. When she is pointed directly at the three stone steps, she takes off at a tangent towards them. The cousins at the stairs are in danger if they do not give way.

It takes some doing to remember to breathe while watching her.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Folly is aware that what she wants to do is walk to the obliterated dueling circle and engage their supposed foe in conversation; for the moment, though, she is still, riveted, watching the Unicorn and what she will do -- but poised for whatever comes next, like a spring being pressed down beneath a thumb, just waiting to bounce to life at the proper moment. She endeavors to force air in and out of her lungs by humming softly to herself the tune she feels she is not so much composing as reading from the air around her -- a song of hope and being-ness. Though she knows it shouldn't carry in this heavy dampening fog, she hopes the beings it is meant for will sense it.