The midday sun shined overhead, but even it seemed dulled in this unholy place. Dull silence was the dominating feature of this land. The ground was barren, and only dust moved in the wind. It was quiet, and Beir was the only one around for miles, at least he could assume that. Not many people came to such cursed lands. Beir looked around and chuckled, stopping his seemingly-eternal walk. "I could get used to this place."

He sat on the remains of a headstone, tapping his sword rhythmically against the rock. It would be a long wait until nightfall, when the undead would rise. Beir had not the power to create unlife, but maybe, he wouldn't have to. He had wondered if he had the strength to simply control one. And, it wasn't like Beir to simply wonder about things, so he came here. Maybe it was a little "risky", but it wasn't like it was something Beir couldn't handle.

He turned as he heard someone else approaching. Perhaps another necromancer. A stronger one. That could be a very good thing, or a very bad thing, depending on their mood. "Friend or Foe?" He questioned, prepared to fight if he had to.

(219. Meh.)

"Friend," Wolfang declared, coming closer to a young man sitting on a headstone and tapping his sword on it. Was he even a man yet? He seemed to be no older than nineteen at best. "Unless ye seek to quarrel, in which case I'd gladly duel with you," Wolfang added half seriously half joking. The fact that the man had an unsheated sword made him slightly serious, but his tone was merry, as though he shrugged the matter off as unimportant. If he did offer to duel though, Wolfang wouldn't decline. As a barbarian the love of war was in his blood, and he would never stand down from a challenge. However, he would be content enough to finish his journey at this dismal place, find a tavern, get drunk on mead and spend the rest of the night singing songs, dancing, and laughing. Just general merry making, for barbarians loved that too.

((sorry for shortness. it'll get better i promise))

Beir nodded, and turned around on his seat to face him. It was hard to look at someone on your right side with only your left eye open.

Now that he got a good look at the man, Beir concluded that this one was much more powerful than him, physically, and could very well beat him in sword-to-sword combat, if he didn't use it. Not that it really mattered. He didn't think this man wanted to fight. And, even if he did, it wasn't like he had any reservations about using it, though something about this man told him that he'd be a bit more resistant than most to the effects.

"Then, I am a friend as well." He said, standing up to greet the other, switching his sword to his left hand. "My name is Beir." He stated plainly, holding out his hand in greeting. "Excuse me if I do not sheath my sword. It's a little too dangerous here for me to be that stupid." He chuckled at his own bad joke.

(203. Yup. Just around my average.)

Wolfang came closer and grabbed the man's hand in a firm, but not painful, handshake. "You may call me Hlormar. But tell me, why is it dangerous? I see no enemies around, and the moon is not high yet so the dead don't walk right now," he pointed out, wondering why it was dangerous for him to be there.

"Unless you're waiting for the moon to rise?" he asked with a grin. "If it's a fight you're seeking, I won't deny you a friendly duel. All you have to do is ask, and you shall have it," he told Beir, but obviously Wolfang wasn't offering him one, so if he said "no" the matter would be at an end.

Wolfang leaned on a nearby mausoleum, thinkng that he should make this meeting brief because he didn't quite want a run in with the undead again. It was simple to kill them, and they were slow, ponderous creatures, but it was a huge nuisance, and Wolfang would rather avoid it if he could.

"What's your trade, Beir?" Wolfang asked curiously, but from the looks of the man he appeared to be a mercenary, or maybe a fellow highway man, although Wolfang only did that on the side every now and then. Recently he wasn't active as one though because unfortunately his horse had got killed in a large skirmish a couple weeks back, and he hadn't seen any good steeds for sale recently, so he decided to hold off on horse shopping for a while too.

He nodded. "Bingo. Lots of undead. That's what makes life fun. Defying the will of the gods. All that 'cycle of life-and-death' stuff is just their way of amusing themselves. I hope to one day make all dead into my undead minions. Of course, that day may never come, but that isn't my point."

"A duel? Sure, why not? I've got a couple of hours to kill until the moon rises." He got to his feet, and grabbed his blade. "So, what are we going to? A yield? A disarm? A fall? First blood? Unconsiousness?" He was getting over-eager. He had to calm down, or he would make a fatal mistake in combat. Again. Easy, Beir. Chill out.

"My profession? I'm a necromancer. In training, at least." There was nothing to be ashamed of in still being in training. One day, he and everyone else would bow to him and his massive army of undead, so what was a bit of humility now? "Now," Beir said impatiently, "LEt's get on with it."

(212 Words. Meh.)

He considered his options, for himself he wanted the duel to be as challenging and enjoyable as possible.

Unconsciousness sounds a little too drastic for a friendly duel. First blood could count as a minor cut, and is no true indicator of skill and endurance. If it's to a fall this duel would be over quite quickly. He's a lot smaller than me so I could topple him with a simple shoulder charge, and for him, well he would be out of luck. A disarm is just a dumb rule, no respectable warrior lets go of his blade until he either finishes the fight or its pryed from his dead grasp.I suppose a yield sounds like the best choice here...

"To a yield," he said walking over to the man and giving him a handshake. Normally if he was dueling with a fellow barbarian he would follow their own code which said if the duel was friendly, they were to embrace before and after combat as a show of friendship. However, he could not expect the man to know his customs, so he decided on a simple handshake. He stepped back about ten paces as was the rule, unsheathed his claymore, then he took the scabbard of his back and leaned it on a nearby tombstone. He also unclasped his cloak, and threw it nearby. He also took off his short sleeved shirt, revealing a slightly hairy, though incredibly muscular and heavily scarred torso. He lifted his heavy sword with both hands into a neutral guard form, his equall muscular arms lifting the sword with ease. The reason for it was that he didn't think the duel was going to be long, taxing, and defensive for him. That would warrant a low guard, and he wasn't going for an agressive beat down, so a high guard wasn't needed either. He decided to go with the middle way.

"Ready?" he asked with a grin.

His opponent seemed to have been considering his options. Beir would have personally prefered to unconsiousness, but this would do. Taking his weapon in hand, he made sure that it was he who made the first move. Grasping the brown leather hilt of the blade with both hands, he charged forward, feet pounding on the hard dirt. This is where it begins. He stopped his charge suddenly, and took a step back, immedietly thrusting forward. This would be far too much for most of the opponents he faced, but he had a feeling that this one was different. He would block it.

As his sword missed it's target, he swung around, intent on delivering a roundhouse to his head or side. But, unpredictability was his forte, and at the last second he turned the spin into a downward thrust, then jumped back, to keep himself away from any counterattacks. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and braced himself for the barbarian's imminent charge.

(Sorry about the crud post. It's early in the morning. I'm an evening person. :zzz: )

Wolfang automatically altered his stance when Beir had shown the slightest intention of charging, and Wolfang had guessed right, he did charge at him. Wolfang was now in low guard. The sword hilt was at his waist, and the sword was held diagonally, with it pointing down towards the ground. This was a far more efficent stance for defense than neutral guard, as his energy was not needed in keeping the heavy two handed sword high.

Wolfang kept his eyes on Beir, fully concentrating on the duel and nothing else. He watched as he came closer in the charge, this was when Wolfang stepped back a few paces, and surprisingly so did Beir. He watched as Beir thrust his sword towards himself, but to no avail as Wolfang was out of reach. At this Wolfang hit Beir's sword with his own, intending to create an opening for another attack. The blow was upwards and diagonally, out of his low guard, but it had such ferocious strength in it that Wolfang was sure that the young man would have trouble stopping the blade from flying out of his grasp, let alone trying to shield himself or parry it.

He watched as Beir stepped back, and tried to kick him, this was when Wolfang lunged forward, and made a small mistake. Apparently Beir was the unpredictable kind because the kick never came. Instead Wolfang had to deal with a downward thrust. They were very close, only a couple inches apart, and if Wolfang wasn't in low guard his whole thigh might have been terribly slashed open. Fortunately, he was and a simple parry saved him much un needed pain.

He was just bracing himself against another possible attack at close range, but Beir stepped back, needing a breath from all his physical exertions.Wolfang wasn't even sweating yet, but he did feel a little hot, and after a couple more minutes he was sure he'd be drowning in sweat. He already knew that Beir was unpredictable in offense, but now he was curious as to what kind of defender he was. Wolfang lifted his sword slightly higher, to neutral guard, and sent a simple sideways slash at Beir's stomach.

That had been a closer call than Beir had intended... or expected. He had nearly been disarmed. This was definetly not one to be trifled with. He grinned. This would be quite fun.

However, the simple move disappointed him. He stepped diagonally towards the swing, swinging the sword in an attack move, while the blade flew at his stomach. Content that the barbarian would follow through with his swing, he smashed the hilt of his sword into the other, and stabbed upward. In a lethal duel, he would have stepped closer first, and sent the blade through the bottom of his neck. But, it was not, so the worst it would do is give him a very bad, very painful shave.

He wasn't backing off this time. Beir kicked forward with one foot, then swung the sword horizontally at him. However, he swung too hard, and his hands were still numb from nearly losing his weapon before, and it slipped out of his hands at the apex of the swing. Beir jumped back, and tried to think of a way to retrieve his sword. "You know this isn't over yet, right?"

Wolfang was impressed. Beir had parried the slash, and attacked at practically the same time, but then again, he was practically setting himself up for it with such a simple, not to mention slow blow. He managed to duck in time however, and both swords were stuck together by the crossguards over his head. He saw only one way out of this little predicament, and that was to ram Beir, so that's exactly what he did. From his crouching position, he slammed his shoulder into Beir's chest, but not too hard, as he didn't want to break his ribcage or anything.

Wolfang was surprised, then amused as it looked like Beir had thrown his sword. It swirled gracefully over Wolfang's head, and stuck point down into the soil a couple feet behind him. "Of course not, where's the fun in that?" he asked, quickly retrieving Beir's longsword, and then tossing it to him, hilt forward.

"You ready?" Wolfang asked, raising his sword above his head, switching into the high guard, or as a fellow clansmen once fondly called it, Thunderous Beatdown. The reason for that was that the strikes from this form were so mighty that every time it connected with the enemy's sword it let out a terribly loud sound, almost like a thunder clap the clansmen had said, and well, the beatdown part was quite obvious. That's what came if you didn't block. Obviously this form had its negatives as it took a huge amount of stamina to keep up for long durations of time, but that was no problem for Wolfang. He was both muscular and well conditioned. Could one expect anything less from a barbarian warrior?

((This is where Wolfang's feat, Endurance comes into play))