T1 Posting.
No powers or special abilities.
No Godmodding.
Medieval tech.

My character


Setting
A large field, the grass recently flattened after a long drought. Minor rises and dips in the terrain with no other obstacles. Opponents start at opposite ends, nearly 200 yards between them.

......Challenge accepted.

(OOC: Did you want a time limit on this?)

The violence of war was not wasted on Charles. The fear of death was ever-present, even during his short rests in the stone walls of his manor. Today was no different other than that rather than be granted short rest, he was granted none. His duty was to serve as guard to his father's estate, challenging those who sought to take it, and dueling those who challenged their actions. There were of course the odd riff-raff and bandits who thought themselves in position to demand compensation that he would deal with as well. Rarely did he know of his opponent. Age, heritage, nobility; it would all leave them were they to die. But today was different, for although he did not know the man he would face, he did know that they would not end the battle in blood. His weapons were not blunted, however agreement that should the one of them yield the other would be victorious.

And so prepared for a training session rather than death Charles stood where he always did when men challenged him; a small rise in the ground made him appear taller, the small pockets and hills in the land were visible from his perch and let him move through them without difficulty. His pavise, the front a worn and burned image of what was once a man spreading the splendor of God to heretics, known by the marks along their backs, rested at his side propped against a leg rather than the spike that would normally be used. Between the shield and leg stood the crossbow on its butt end; to begin a fight prepared while the other man has yet to introduce himself is greater cowardice than fleeing war.

"I am Charles Lemarr, son of Arfron Lemarr of Orumith. What is your name challenger?"

Nearly two hundred yards apart shouting his name was the only way for the defender to set the duel to an official commence. He waited patiently for the response of his opponent, only a silhouette visible across the field. When the other man was ready he in turn would ready his bow, prop up his pavise and fire at him until he ran out of quarrels, or until the man was close enough to slash open his belly.