Brief Background History: Raksha Keller "Kell" stayed in Tar Valon for a short time. One night, while drunk, she insulted and challenged a Whitecloak in the bar to a duel. The challenge was never accepted or rejected, and she didn't see the Whitecloak again for a while. Months later, after having a rough week, she sees him again in the streets.

Palace Road North: Cairhien, Cairhien
A large wall toward the north tells you that this street borders the northern gates, heading out of the city. The streets are paved with smooth stones, to allow for easier travel. Inns, shops and other buildings line either side of the street, beckoning for people to take a look or to enter them, each decorated in a different theme or fashion to be eye pleasing yet tasteful. Toward the south, one can see the Towers of the Sun Palace looming in the distance.
Snow covers the streets in several layers, forming a thick curtain. Buildings are covered with ice and snow, with icicles dangling precariously from gutters and windows. A few paths can be seen, where people have been known to trod. People travel up and down the streets, most of them wearing rather somber clothing. Those with stripes on their skirts or shirts can only be those marked as parts of the noble structure. Only a few merchant stands line this area, making more room for those who wish to walk about.
The street to the north leads toward the North Gates and outside the city. Heading south, you will find yourself within the Palace Square and before the looming towers of the Sun Palace.

Kell -F- A woman dressed in men's clothes, with short red hair, green eyes and coppery-gold skin. Around her forehead is a deep red scarf.

Close up look at Kell:
The young woman standing before you is rather unique. Her tall, willowy figure and coppery-gold skin would normally mark a woman as Domani, but her tilted dark green eyes, and flaming red hair seem to disagree with that assumption. Her eyes appear at most times to be almost purely opaque, and at other times when the light is shinning just right, to be like tree leaves held up to the sunlight. Her eyelashes are dark, framing the eyes nicely, and giving them the tilted appearance. Her hair is a wild, shoulder length cap, only held into place by the red scarf that is tied around her head, totally covering her forehead. In back the scarf ends fall longer than her hair, only a few shades brighter than the thick, tangled strands. There are large silver hoops in both her ears.
Her clothing also makes her rather different. She's wearing a long, blood red vest, over a pale, wide sleeved shirt both tucked into a pair of baggy white trousers. At her waist is a thick leather belt with a small bag, likely holding her money and other small objects of personal value. If one looks closely at her hands they would be able to make out small fine scars, as if made by knives, though not a single one mars her face.

Maeve -F- A youngish-looking woman of slightly less than average height, her build lithe but generously curvaceous. Coppery highlights play over her curly mane of darkly auburn hair and her tilted eyes are a shifting, stormy grey. Maeve is currently IC.

Kargan -M- Tallish, fair, amiable young man with a soldiers bearing.

Close up look at Kargan:
A young man with a firm build, his light brown hair curls to broad shoulders. Grey-blue eyes look out from strong features, his fair skin smooth and unmarred by time. His thin lips curve downwards, his military bearing a little less pronounced with age. Polished short sleeved chainmail hauberk lies over a long sleeved white shirt. A brown studded leather belt holds up woven breeches of the same colour. Black leather boots complete the 'in-camp' uniform. Around his shoulders his the ubiquitous white cloak, adorned with sunburst upon the breast. Under the sunburst upon his cloak is a set of golden knots, denoting his rank as Lieutenant.

The sound of muttered curses and dragging feet announce Kell's exit from the Inn. The slight stumble in her walk could be attuned to drinking, while the almost blank look in her eyes and expressionless look on her face seem to go against the anger in her voice.

"No need for excuses," Maeve replies, pausing with one gloved hand resting lightly upon her hips, "Though, compliments are always welcome." Whatever reserve touched her smile previously is gone now, replaced with just a hint of almost sly amusement in the curve of those lips." Grey eyes linger with Kargan, straying only briefly to take in Kell.

Kargan's movements freeze as he catches sight of Kell. The narrowed eyes look decidedly dangerous now as he straightens up.

"So... its the knife toting woman from Tar Valon, yes?" Kargan finally says as he approaches Kell, working his hands into fists. "And does the Light still find you lacking, mistress?"

Kell just looks at the man blankly a minute, before groaning loudly, "Blood and ashes. Whitecloak talk," her voice is rather soft with some strain, but steady. "is the last flaming thing I need, boy." The words lack force though.

A single, slender brow arches faintly, and Maeve's grey eyes, flecked with silver, shifts between Kargan and Kell, displaying more than a hint of curiosity -- and certainly no worry despite that the situation very well might warrant it.

Kargan laughs softly. "Perhaps talk is the last thing you need. But you have no witches guards to hide behind here, so I would keep a respectful tongue within those lips when addressing one better than yourself, Mistress Kell."

Kargan stops a few paces away from Kell, fists still balled as he raises his chin.

Kell rolls her eyes, "Like I had the protection of the witches anyway." She didn't curse though. She glances at the man as he walks closer, and snorts softly, though oddly her eyes at least remain blank. "You'd think I were addressing a King the way you stick your nose in the air. If I tapped you, you would likely fall flat on your backside. Lack of balance you see."

Lifting a gloved hand, Maeve brushes a stray curl of auburn hair out of her eyes, tilting her head ever so faintly as she regards the events unfolding on the street before her, much too curious to simply turn her back and leave. Red lips are slightly pursed, into a thoughtful expression, and a hint of a frown does appear as the discussion continues.

"Me, a trained soldier? Be knocked over by a woman who's mouth is too big for her britches?" The whitecloak looks genuinely incredulous. "And why do you have cause to attack the soldiers of Light, eh? Do we frighten you so, Mistress Kell?"

Kell shakes her head with a sigh, hooped earrings swinging, "No, I don't fear you. Abhor you maybe, but I don't fear you. And I never said anything about attacking you, though if I do remember correctly, you do owe me a duel."

Silver-flecked eyes idly follow the people who mill past, occasionally -- but less frequently as time passes -- returning to Kargan and Kell, still with a hint of interest. Not so much amusement lingers in Maeve's smile now, rather her expression betrays contemplation -- almost of a calculating kind. Now and then she glances over at the entrance to the nearby inn, though she seems reluctant to leave, keeping a lookout down the street as well.

With a raised eyebrow, Kargan's blue eyes look stonily at Kell. "A duel, eh? How... quaint. You'd like the chance to kill a Child in cold blood, wouldn't you, my dear?" A sudden grin appears on Kargan's features. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to teach you a few manners that your parents should have done. I'll be sure to bring along a switch if you so desire, yes?"

Kell blinks and for the first time seems to notice the lady. She sweeps into a quick and jerky bow while muttering, "My Lady..." Then she straightens and looks back at Kargan, some fire finally appearing in her eyes, "I never said a duel to the death. First blood is fine. And I've had enough of Whitecloak manner lessons, thank you."

Kargan looks askance at Maeve. "A lady? I suppose we should do this properly then." Removing his left gauntlet, Kargan approaches Kell.

"How fortunate that the ban on weapons within the city still holds," Maeve comments after long silence, her tone rather... dry, and it would seem she does not truly approve of it. To Kell's greeting she inclines her head politely, then idly studies the gloved, slender fingers upon her left hand for a moment. That is, until Kargan approaches the other woman, and a faint tightening disturbs her pleasantly gracious smile.

Kell blinks slightly and looks around, "I did not mean right here, boy. Unless you are wanting to get arrested." She glances at Maeve for a moment, surprised at something.

With a sudden twist of his left arm and wrist, Kargan slaps Kell across her right cheek as he reaches her, the soft leather making a sharp crack in the still air.

Kell cheek swings to one side with the crack, and she takes a quick breath. She reaches up and rubs her cheek and mutters softly, "And /I'm/ the one with no bloody manners!?"

"I slap, wench. You choose weapons, I choose time and place, yes?" Kargan says, a cold satisfied smile on his features as he examines his handiwork, stepping back a pace. "Well?"

Kell grumbles under her breath, taking her hand down and commenting, "I've gotten slapped better by little girls." Then she looks him over and says, "If it's outside the city, knives. If it's inside, no weapons. I don't want to get arrested, boy."

"How gallant." Maeve's voice remains smooth, but the tone is almost mocking now, and beneath it firm. She remains in place, though places her hands upon her hips. "Compliment one woman, slap the next one. Is that the kind of manners you learn?"

"Why, not at all, milady." Kargan says mildly, a pleasant smile replacing the cooler look. "I am told this is how polite circles conduct themselves in matters of disagreement. Particularly disagreements of a violent nature, and I believe Mistress Kell has given up all pretense of a gentlewoman. I treat her as I would any common male scoundrel." He looks at his fingernails as he sniffs. "Outside the city, near Foregate at dusk in four days time. May the Light find you before that day, Mistress Kell."

Kell sighs. She mutters to herself, "If... wanted me, it would... me..." Then she nods, "I accept. I will wait anxiously until I have a chance to teach you a lesson or two." She glances toward Maeve and offers a small smile of thanks anyway.
You sense "Kell sighs. "If the Light wanted me, it would have found me already." Then she nods, "I accept. I will wait anxiously until I have a chance to teach you a lesson or two." She glances toward Maeve and offers a small smile of thanks anyway."

"In politer circles such an act would be considered beneath any respectable man. He does not strike women, or challenge common male scoundrels." Maeve replies, her voice still perfectly smooth and cordial. Kell's smile she returns, together with a light dip of her head, though those tilted eyes regard Kargan in a distinctly cool manner now.

"That is indeed true, milady. Such a gentleman obtains common thugs or hired guards to do the dirty deed for him, yes?" Kargan says, regloving his left hand. "I pay Mistress Kell the compliment of not having her arrested and hung, and of treating her as a worthy opponent. And not as some delicate... breakable." he adds, "Though we will soon find out if I am mistaken, no?" Flicking his cloak about him, he turns on his heel, striding away into the night.

Kargan heads north, towards the northern city gates.

"Charming," Maeve snorts as Kargan strides off, her hands still firmly planted upon her hips. "Especially coming from someone who is little more than a common thug himself, albeit in the service of someone." She shrugs, rather casually, and clears a stray lock of hair out of her eyes with a light toss of her head.

Kell watches as he walks off, and rolls her eyes, "I would give my left eye never to have to see one of those foul men again." She glances toward Maeve, smile returning along with a slight chuckle at her words, "Thank you for the help, my Lady, but unfortunately I have a duel with him. I hope he is better with knives then he is with talking. I hate duels with no challenge."

"Oh, no worries. It was... not a pleasure, but I find his likes quite insufferable, most of the time." A wry smile curve Maeve's lips, though it lacks most amusement. "Still, one does best to step warily around them, at least here in Cairhien." Grey eyes then flick over you, appraisingly almost. "I wouldn't think a man like him favours knives."

Kell shakes her head, "Swords, I'll bet. I don't like them myself. Too heavy and a bother. Knives are faster and better, in my opinion." She scratches at her short red hair a little, "I normally would have ignored him and went along with my business, but I have not had a very good week."

"Swords have their advantages, but I have not the height or reach." Maeve replies, glancing down the street in the direction that Kargan disappeared. "Better for duels though, with knives surprise is a handy backup to have. He looks decently strong too." Pursing her lips faintly, she seems to consider the situation, with some interest, before turning to you again. "In any case, I wish you luck. He could use a lesson or two in manners."

Kell tilts her head and looks after him again, then sighs, "Looks like I'll have to practice a little. Haven't been in a duel for almost a year." She scratches at her hair again, then blinks and bows, "I thank you for the luck, my lady and I will do the best I can to teach him a lesson." The blank look is back in her eyes again.

"With those camping so close by, one almost wishes the ban on weapons within the city would be kept in place for a good while." A slight frown darkens Maeve's expression, and there's a slightly distant look in her eyes. "Cairhien might be less than pleasant in the months to come, if they will keep growing bolder like this."

Dark eyelashes blink slightly, then Kell shrugs, "That one has been a thorn in my thumb since Tar Valon. I was drunk one night and sort of insulted him. He never really forgot about it I guess." She straightens her scarf a little, "And I wouldn't exactly call Cairhien pleasant right now."

Slender brows arch faintly. "Ahh, I thought that face was familiar." A faint smirk plays over Maeve's lips, yet the expression in her eyes is not one of amusement, rather a hint of concern. "Strange, he didn't seem to be the kind to forget a face either." Once more she shrugs, though not with the same confidence as previously.

Kell frowns slightly, then shakes her head, "I would not worry. He only seems to be the type to remember someone who he thinks is a Darkfriend, which Whitecloaks seem to attach to me instantly. Well I need to get back to House Rhinorth's estates. I work in the stables there, for Lady Sydnia."

Maeve's smile is distinctly wry, though once more the amusement is lacking. "I will count myself lucky then, this time." A brief pause, her gaze straying down the road yet again, and then she nods to you. "Well met, Mistress, and once again, good luck."

Kell smiles and shrugs, "It's only to first blood. If all else fails I'll just have a nice little scar to show my friends." She glances around, "Thank you for the luck though, my Lady, and good luck to you as well." She bows jerkily again, then starts toward the Square.

Inclining her head once again, Maeve then turns to head the other way, the fur-lined cloak swirling lightly about her as she moves up along the street.

The end...for now.