Quoted By:
Rolled 16 + 2 (1d20 + 2)
The time for personal intervention has come, you decide, watching the King lay waste to your lines. You do not shout or bellow a challenge to him from afar – such uncouth conduct on the field is unbecoming of a prince of Argos, in your estimation. Instead, you simply raise your spear high, and level it in the direction of the King – as the enemy commander, Adrastus is no doubt keeping you in view, despite busily mauling your men. After a few seconds, you see that your message is received – Adrastus momentarily halts his assault, hefting his own training δόρυ in turn, before pointing it at your chest:
<span class="mu-i">Come, nephew – if you dare.</span>
You need not announce your attentions to Argyros – at this point in your friendship, he can read your thoughts by the set of your shoulders alone. The shorter man turns to you, his brilliant blue eyes shining through the eye-holes of his brazen helm, and counsels you –
“You must beat him soundly – but resist the urge to embarrass him, Lord Hippomedon.” His words are well-meaning, but only Argyros, among common Hellenes, could speak to you so bluntly and without fear of reprisal. Even so, you do not need the advice of a commoner man here, even a beloved one.
“Argyros, I promise to seek your wisdom should I ever come to blows with <span class="mu-i">your</span> uncle – let me handle mine as I see fit.” Your counterpart leans against his spear, and chuckles –
“You better hurry – your soldiers are beating the snot, piss and blood out of each other.”
---
As you approach Adrastus, an awed silence descends upon the local scene – battalions of Argives who had been hacking at each other’s necks with oak spears, now turn to face you, their agonies forgotten, to better observe your duel against your uncle. Feverish betting is under way, as you step within speaking distance to your uncle...
He’s an imposing figure – his gleaming panoplia richly inlaid with jewels, silver, and other valuables – it’s worth ten suits of bronze alone. His two-tiered horse-hair crest is stiff and white, gleaming in the morning sun, matching the color of his snowy beard. Adrastus speaks to you warmly:
“I was right to trust you in this, nephew – the training goes well! These men will fight like lions by the end of the summer! When we march on Thebes with the Myceneans at our back, Thebes will quake and quail!”
You laugh aloud, before responding:
“I hope you are right, uncle – but if we are to win against Thebes, I must first win against you - defend yourself!” you cry, before dropping into a balanced stance. You are light on your sandaled feet, despite your size and bronze armor. Adrastus is quick to do the same – bringing his shield to the fore, with his spear nocked against it, he settles into a comfortable crouch; a boulder coming to rest against the earth.
<span class="mu-i">Unyielding, they call him.</span>
You will put the name to test!
>okay, /qst/ - give me a dice+1d20+6 for initiative!
