#anywhere

At that, the Count who serves the Duchess frowns ever so slightly

"inborn into sidhe discourse" The Baroness finishes

Brekke folds her arms. "I am a troll, yes. And I am a Gwydion. Are you saying, Baroness, that all sidhe, by their natures, must lie as a matter of common discourse?"

The Baroness ' eyes flare, "you insult our entire kith?"

Brekke shakes her head calmly. "I do not. You said such untruths were inborn into sidhe discourse. I merely ask for your clarification."

"I see." The woman says "my clairification is thus: IT is done, by the ancient laws of the Dreaming my petition with pennons can not be denied, only met either in victory or defeat"

"And yet, the pennons seem to have been granted with an ulterior motive. That must be challenged."

"Then I suggest..." The Baroness says "You take it up with the Count." Temper ..flickering. Brekke knows a temper far hotter than Daireaann pettiness

Brekke sighs and looks to the Duchess. "Your grace, I apologize for this disruption, but..." then back to the Baroness "...I do not believe the pennons you hold have been claimed honestly, and must not serve as grounds for a duel."

"How dare you!" The Baroness Dehune starts to draw her blade

Brekke shifts, setting her hand on her axe but not yet taking it from her belt.

"Stop" The Count says "The Duchess has not permitted anyone to kill or be killed, and while not IN the hold, we are in Court."

In fact, Brekke is more than a little bit surprised that the Duchess has not utilized protocol to stop them.

The Duchess says wryly "And land a goshin, the protocals of a good donny brook must be observed. Baroness Brekke, you are clearly being challenged. Do you accept, and on what terms?"

A slight grin and she nods to the Duchess. "I accept on terms that if I win, I claim the pennons held by Baroness Dehuene." Her eyes never leave the Daireann.

"And if I win, I claim the oh so famous Speaker!" Her eyes lock onto the weapon

Ohhh....that....was unwise. Brekke's eyes flare with anger, then narrow dangerously. "Speaker is of its own mind. Whether you claim it or not, it may not go with you."

"I accept the terms, but i cannot say whether Speaker does."

"A Warrior who cannot control her weapon?" Dehune scoffs.

"A duel has been set and agreed upon" The Duchess says, "I will cast the circle protocal, and let have at.. this should contain your fight"

Brekke turns to look at Olgar briefly. This is not what she was expecting to do on this trip, but it is what she is doing.

Olgar is... passing a hat... dross and bills being thrown in

Oddly, that is reassuring. Brekke looks slightly amused, then turns to face her opponent, and takes Speaker in hand, spinning it once or twice to ready herself, watching the Daireann's stance. She's fought Daireann before...they're not to be underestimated.

And the fight is on! The Stance the foe takes appears to be almost a drag of one foot , a toe digging into the earth as if the limb were heavy....

The magic of protocal flows about them both words are spoken...

Brekke shifts her weight from side to side, her axe gripped in her right hand and hefted with her left, waiting for the Daireann to make the first move.

The Daireann does, using that 'dragging foot' to lift from and arch higher than most trolls would expect a sidhe to reach, the strike slashes along the Gwydions' cheek and..

were this to first blood, the fight would be over... as Brekke's jaw is nearly torn into her her cheek is ripped open

Brekke takes that hit but as the Daireann is wide open on the descent, she uses the opening to slam Speaker into her ribs.

She grits her teeth against the pain and readies another blow.

Dehune grunts and is knocked back. She nearly stumbles but catches herself

For a moment Brekke wonders if she wounded the woman at all, what's in that garment? Mithrill corset under it? But no.. the enemy is fighting to get her breath

She presses her advantage and strikes again, a hard downward stroke.

The Giantess feels pain lance her knee cap as Dehune stabs into her knee and

for a moment red rage threatens to engulf, but no, not yet. Speaker seems offended to be a prize, for he nearly severs the sidhe's left arm with a crunching blow that more than makes up for the injury to the cheek!

"I will leave your corpse to the CROWS!" The Daireann flares with outrage.

ANd Brekke... were she not already resolved ,and focused in her wrath would face this and..well, not yawn,but she has seen her liege more frightening when denied some sport.

Brekke lets out...a laugh. A big laugh, at that, and she strikes again!

As it is, however talented the Unseelie lady is at fighting, her battle cry is more akin to a buzzing hornet than a bird of prey's shriek and cry.

Oh the laugh infuriates the woman more, she parries the blow, sparks fly as she must slide her sword along speaker to do so... but it also robs her of an attack. And the troll may try again

It's a hard call whether Brekke makes the next strike or if Speaker does it on its own, but it's a smooth redirect off of the parry...and it descends like thunder!

A scream and gasp and the weapon seems to drive the Baroness Dehuene INTO the Earth, grass flies! and then..stills.... inside a perfect fairy ring is the nearly dead form of the Daireann... the circle pops like a bubble... the Duchesss stands up, "VIctory is declared by myself and the eyes of all here, Baroness Brekke, the Grimhanded, has won. The pennons is hers by right, as is, by custom, either arms, armor, or horse if she wishes it. Count, " She orders, "Healing before our hotblooded sidhe lass winks out might be proper."

And the Count moves forward to heatherbalm

Brekke steps several paces back to give the Count some room. She spits in her own hand and slaps the hand against her cheek to heatherbalm herself, shaking her head as she slows her breathing. "....corpse for the crows...." she chuckles. "Not today."

And she thinks she hears a soft snort from Speaker.. but she's the only one who does. CLAIM? Hardly.

A mutter to the axe, "My apologies for that, my friend. It was not my idea."

The Count appears to have healed the Daireann enough to stand, but not enough to raise blade again. "The pennons..is yours. I ask if you take my steed you treet it well"

She makes sure to clean the blade thoroughly, then nods acceptance to the Daireann. "Is your steed here? I would see it."

The horse is brought forward, fine barding on it, good quality, but it is the steed himself that is most impressive. Brekke has jousted enough to know war steeds, and this stallion is a creature of strength and power under deceptively smooth coat.

Brekke regards the creature a long moment, then in what might look like a comical gesture for anybody who doesn't recognize a bunk, she paws her right foot on the ground four times and makes a passable whinny.