A Matter of Honor

The mournful howls of the wolf pack carried far over the northern reaches of the lost hills. The cold autumn air lent a crisp quality to the sound that made it impossible to tell whether the pack was near or some distance away. The team moved through the twilight with a precision that told of hard training and harder discipline; but such was the life of the Knight. They moved almost soundlessly, to the human ear. Of course any of the myriad beasts and creatures that made their home here was able to follow their progress, no matter how quietly they tried to pass. But though they knew something was about, even their sharp animal senses couldn't pin point the source of the noise.. The traveling spells that had been laid on the group before their entry into the Hills would obscure them from any but the most deliberate of detection spells. With Tyr's blessing, they would be able to find their quarry and fulfill the task given them by the Lord Duke, striking quickly and efficiently; avenging the honor of their own.

The three knew that another team was moving on the other side of their target, to cut off the flight that was the life blood of the slag they were stalking. Such as this one only fought when she knew the odds were in her favor, never at even odds if she could help it. Evil lived for but one purpose, to serve itself. All had seen the sneak attacks and odds on fights that had resulted in injury and worse for many at the Table Round. This one had particularly offended the honor of the Table by attacking a Squire, a young one in training. Such were the despicable values of those who followed after darkness. However, tonight would be different. Word had come that the Witch was left alone in the hills. The response was quick and efficient. A team was dispatched from Triboar to enter the Hills from the east and another moved quickly through Crossergate to enter from the West. All care was taken to avoid any encounters along the way so as to avoid giving any warning of their closing trap.

They Eastern team caught up with the her along the north/south trail near the middle of the hills and for a few moments the sky was ablaze with rapid-fire casts and counter spells. The Witch, however, seeing she was outnumbered, slipped away into the night after wounding one of the Knights and Holding another. She fled south along the trail, and then west deeper into the Hills where, unknown to her the second team waited their turn. They smoothly stopped her, encircled her, forcing her to fight.

It is no small matter of frustration to many Knights that the code forbids certain actions in a fight. it is only reasonable as these practices are not honorable and do not further the cause or the image of Table or those of Good itself. If there is a difference between Good and Evil, it must needs be in the HOW of our actions, not just in the theory of why we act.

As always, when forced to account for its actions Evil fell to dark words and accusations. She sought solace in the claim that so many were necessary to secure her. Her bravado was at the same time bold and sickening to hear. The fear was evident in her eyes and he voice. She looked for a path of escape, her eyes darting to and fro like those of a cornered badger seeking flight. She strained against the spells holding her, but to no avail. she was well caught.

The Western team simply stood and met her defiance with mute gaze until the injured Knight from the Eastern team arrived on the scene.

"This must be quick" Sir Dagron said softly as Tuvor entered the makeshift arena.

Tuvor nodded, the moment too solemn and serious for any words.

The Witch, when she saw Tuvor cackled in a voice laced with contempt and evident disdain.

"I thought you'd be hiding in Neverwinter like the coward you are Tuvor" she hissed. "I should have cracked your bones earlier. That's what I get for showing mercy" she spit forth venomously. "Then your blood would have fed my pets instead of just that of your child squire's" she added with a hideous laugh.

"Be silent Witch" Sir Daarkon commanded with a back-hand blow that snapped the witches head back. "The time for accounting has come - you judge and jury stands before you".

The Witch spit blood and spittle at Daarkon, narrowly missing him and hitting a tree behind him. the revolting mixture sizzled and stained the tree a deathly gray. "Him?" the Witch croaked. And she laughed; an evil crooked sound that drew what little light remained of day and hid it for a moment.

Augustus stepped forward. "I charge thee Witch with crimes against Tyr and against all of humanity. All who stand here witness your evil and give testimony to the justice of the charge and to the horror of your very presence. What say you to the charge?"

"A Pox on you and all of your kin" the Witch spit forthwith anger and a growing sense of panic. She renewed her struggle against the bonds of magic that held her. "You have no authority to judge me or anyone else" she screamed.

"To the contrary Madame" Augustus said "I have every authority and I shall indeed stand and judge you. I declare you guilty and call forth your sentence - death by the ancient trial of Porr Gahgh."

At the mention of the ancient punishment of Porr Gahgh, the Witch paled. It was not a pleasant thing to consider the prospect of your mind being torn apart layer by layer until nothing remained but the body functions. Awareness often lingered for many, many hours before death took the victim into its merciful grasp. There was no return, no recall, nothing to save the one to whom the Porr Gahgh was extended. She redoubled her struggles, but the bonds were too secure, too strong for her. She looked around wildly, seeing that each of the 8 assembled Knights wore the Jeweled Circlet needed to focus their minds on the task of applying the Porr Gahgh.

"No!!" she screamed. "You can't do this! I'll kill you all! You Can't!! . . ." "Please" she added in a quiet voice. "Mercy".

The bi-tonal hummm of the ritual chant that began the Porr Gahgh began to rise around the circle. Each Knight lent his voice to the chant and it grew in intensity until a lone voice cried "HOLD!!".

All eyes turned to Tuvor as he stood at the rim of the circle. "Sir Tuvor?" Augustus said. "Why have you stopped the execution of sentence?"

"This Witch's crime was against my person and my honor" Tuvor began. "It was also against one under my authority and my protection. She further has called upon her gods to witness my lack of honor." He said, his voice rising, emotions evident in his voice. "My honor will not be satisfied unless I am granted the right of satisfaction."

A murmur went around the circle as the knights considered this new turn. "honor is satisfied in the penalty called forth and exacted Tuvor, it is our way." Sir Dagron said.

"The honor of the brotherhood, but not My honor" Tuvor insisted. "NOT MY HONOR" he fairly shouted, smacking his gauntleted hand upon his breast. "Does not the code allow for the defense of personal honor? What are we if not men of honor? How can I retain my honor, my sense of pride of Knighthood if I hide behind the Fellowship and allow it to do what I will always wonder if I could or could not do? I submit, Milord Augustus, that it is imperative for me to execute this just sentence on the field of personal combat with this Witch, here and now, for all to see. Else that or fail and show all that I was not fit to wear the colors of the Table Round and You be rid of me good and fair. If the likes of she is able, but might or main, to draw me down I will yield my honor once for all and cease to hold any cause or claim against her." He looked around the circle. What say you all?"

There was silence for the space of two full minutes, even the Witch awed by the nobility of Knight and his appeal. The assembled Knights exchange glances and saw in each other's eye that which spoke volumes of their esteem and love for this bold Knight.

Augustus approached Tuvor. "My brother, by your words I know you have firm grasp of all that this desire holds for you. I give you one opportunity to allow your words alone to satisfy your honor - but say the word, and we shall continue our prior course. But, and this I charge you with solemn and sure bonds, stay not your hand from this dread course, and none shall aid or prevent any calamity that might befall. Your fate will rest between you and your god. Know surely that no force shall rescue you from either glory or infamy when the outcome is finally declared. Do you agree noble Knight?"

"I do agree, in truth demand that such as that be inflicted upon my person should I fail to uphold the honor I hold so dear. yes Milord - I do agree" Tuvor said, his eyes holding Augustus' eyes, clear and without fear or guile.

Augustus held his gaze for a moment, then nodded his head slowly. Drawing a deep breath, he turned to the Witch. Foul Harlot, I speak now the words that bind you to the guides and rules of the Arena. Should you depart from them to but the slightest degree, the match is forfeit, as is your life. I ask your parole that you will obey the sanctions of the High Arena and Face Sir Tuvor, Knight Commander of the Round Table in single combat, to the death. What say you?"

The With looked at Augustus in some surprise. "My parole" she asked with a cackle. "How would that prevent me?" she said slyly "And how do I know that you won't just kill me after I chew his worthless bones to dust?" she added.

Several of the Knights around the circle winced at this. Augustus' face clouded over. he stepped close to the Witch and said in a voice so full of thunder and terrible power that all backed up a step "Witch, be glad that you offense was not against me for I would not be so merciful and lenient as Tuvor might be. As for your fate know this - if you fail but for a moment to keep the rules of the arena I will cause you such pain as to make the Porr Gahgh seem a pleasant stroll. Be glad, Witch, and be afraid!" he concluded menacingly.

The Witch swallowed hard and averted her eyes quickly. Augustus stepped back and began the incantation necessary to bind the two to combat. The Knights drew back to a circle some 50 meters across. "Each combatant has 30 minutes to prepare" Augustus proclaimed, an clapped his hands as if to start the clock.

29 minutes later Tuvor arose from the cross-legged sitting position he had maintained, deep in concentration.

The Witch looked up from the trance she had been in and the two approached the center of the arena. "I charge you both to do your utmost by any means to claim the victory and the vindication of honor this combat demands. Withhold nothing, for this is to the death! Take care of thy spells - lest any of the circle become a part of this struggle - once drawn in by either side, the member must fight against the one who stuck them, be it by magic or by weapon. Only one may remain! Begin!!" he cried and slapped his hands together over his head with a loud "SLAP".

Tuvor murmured a protection spell and moved to his right, circling the Witch in a crouch. He saw her lips moving wordlessly and knew her to be casting as well, but he could not tell what kind of spell. "A shrewd one" he thought, as he prepared a second spell. "She thinks to fool me into thinking she's globed when she is not" he mused. He circled further, eyes sharply watching her. he easily ducked under the bolt that flew from her fingers, rolling to his left and loosing his own spell as he came to rest.

"Fumble" he heard one of the Knights mutter to another" a the light left his fingers. His aim, however, was off as she moved quickly and threw up a counter spell, blocking his neatly and whipped her hand forward.

"Darts" Tuvor thought wildly and leapt into the air, turning his body side ways. Two darts sliced the air past his waist, missing by mere millimeters. Another buried itself in his thigh, a shallow but painful wound.

He heard her cackling laughter and turned back to see her just finishing being encased in the glow of a globe spell. "Damn" he thought, Fireball now useless, or was it? he wondered, his eyes rising to the trees above her head. His lips flew over the incantation and the FB sprang from his fingers and flew toward her where she stood, cockily waiting. At the last moment, he murmured a command and the FB swerved up into the tree and exploded, raining a torrent of branches and other matter down on her! Tuvor took the opportunity to move and prepare another spell. The Witch threw aside the various tree parts covering her and, sputtering and swearing restarted the spell she lost once again, looking quickly to find Tuvor.

Tuvor limped around to her left, the side with the most debris and drew his Bow. He knelt painfully, the fire in his injured thigh growing with each movement. "poison" he thought absently as he sighted.

He let three arrows fly only to see them brought up short inches from her. "Damn" he said, realizing her first spell was a protect against missiles spell. He recognized the words of a lightening bolt spell coming and smiled. His globe would take the brunt of it. But the Witch showed that he wasn't the only clever one. the Bolt sizzled in the ground immediately in from of him, spraying dirt and muck up and over him, nearly burying him. He struggled to get out of the mound as he heard her approaching, giggling all the way. He murmured the last FB he had ready and the explosion threw the dirt form of him and rained dirt everywhere, giving him a moment to move off.

They traded "hold" spells next, really a waste of time as each had the counter spells ready. But then, one never knew. Tuvor ducked behind a mound of dirt and quickly cast a "haste" spell, thinking of charging the Witch and using his Trident on her. he was fairly certain she had not shielded, so was hopeful. He peered out around the mound in time to see the Witch fade from view as she invised. This presented an obvious problem. Tuvor smiled as it was one he had faced before. He murmured two quick "Stinker" spells and placed them strategically. One's vision was not all that clear, and the clouds just might show her movement. He prepared his last fumble and crouched, waiting, hidden, hopefully from her sight behind the mound of dirt. He never heard the dense blue cloud fade into being behind him, so intense was his concentration. A moment later, the dirt mound exploded in front of him and threw him backwards. . .into the middle of the cloud. He choked and gagged with nausea. He tried to rise, but his leg and the poison prevented him and he fell to his stomach, trident clattering to the ground beside his hand.

He heard her approach behind him. With great effort he turned his head enough to see her fade into view, as she dispelled the invis. appearing just in front of a large elm tree. Pain racked his body as the cloud sucked the life from his frame. She laughed, and laughed, and laughed some more. He thought of his induction and the many, many memorable times he had served Tyr with honor and with valor.

"No!' he muttered between clenched teeth. "NO!!!" he said, his hand closing around his Trident. "Not like this" he said in a coked voice.

She prepared a final spell. "Now Feeble Knight, you will die!!!" she crowed, lifting her head to the sky and laughing once again. "And know this, I will finish that squire of yours as well!" She boasted.

"Think again Witch", Tuvor said, gasping with the pain. And with a supreme effort, he rolled and threw his Trident with all of his might. It caught the Witch in the stomach and the force of the blow carried her 5 feet and impaled her into the elm Tree where she hung, unable to do anything but gasp for air and her life blood poured out to the ground. Tuvor crawled out of the cloud and stood, painfully and slowly to his feet. "In your pride you forgot that Dispel removes all spells my dear." he said. She looked at him uncomprehendingly with darkening eyes as death approached. Tuvor drew his broadsword and with a single stroke, struck her head from her shoulders.

He stood wavering. "I am avenged" he said clearly. "Honor" he continued softly as his consciousness began to flee, "has been served". And he collapsed into the arms of his brother Knights who closed around him at the last.