The Trial of Mengele

**Mengele's Crimes**

(Someone else can feel free to list his crimes here)

**The Approach to the Trial**

Dr. Zebediah Mengele (aka The Surgeon) was arrested by the Lonestars for his many crimes. While in their custody, Mengele engineered the death of his own daughter, and arranged to be accosted by the Lonestars at a frighteningly regular pace. Between framing them for his own actions, and goading them into attacks, The Surgeon managed to make the Lonestars look like raging megalomaniacs with the help of his attorney, Soul Hunter.

Soul Hunter defended The Surgeon because of what he considered to be the gross overreach of the Lonestars (and because his player finds The Surgeon to be a hilarious character). After a series of verbal sparring matches, the Trial commenced.

(Anyone who wants to add more to this abbreviated synopsis can feel free to do so.)

**The Trial**

The trial itself was a relatively brief affair. Krixxus of the Lonestars, the prosecutor, presented his case, while Soul Hunter constantly interjected his protests and objections. The trial relatively quickly devolved into a shouting match between the two acting lawyers, when Mayor Jeremiah King suggested that they should simply settle the dispute the old fashioned way: A trial by combat.

Soul Hunter immediately volunteered to fight as the champion of Mengele, while, unbeknownst to anyone else, Lightbringer had worked his way through the crowd, allowing him to volunteer as champion for the prosecution.

**The Trial by Combat.**

The trial by combat happened the next day. Below is the RP post that made up the fight:

Lightbringer arose early. Having spent a night in contemplative
introspection, he rose with renewed purpose, and set about going through
 his daily training exercises. Today would be the greatest day of his
life. He was sure of it. Today he would slay the fiend that had
haunted the Church of the light for the better part of 20 years.

Soul Hunter slept in. Any concerns for the duel were kept at bay by
forced cheer, and by subtle changes of course that brought him 'through
happenstance' to people that he might wish to talk to if today was his
last. These 'chance encounters' rarely took the mutant beyond the Fey
Wilds.

 The fight was set to begin shortly. Both Lighbringer and
Soul Hunter had showed up early, and were talking to Sheriff Cooper and
Dr. Mengele, respectively. Soul Hunter was relaxed, any anxiety before
the duel to the death was covered up by story telling and a booming
laugh. Lightbringer was more reserved. He listened to Rosco talk about
 his future, his hopes and dreams. Stoneglenn, having arrived early as
well, joined in on the conversation, slipping her hand into Sheriff
Cooper's gloved hand, so that she could comfort him through this
stressful time. This would be the Sheriff's greatest success, proof
positive that the Lonestars were legitimate, and a lasting force for
good on the town. Or it would be his downfall, splitting asunder the
Lonestars, with lasting consequences for all involved. As the
preappointed time grew closer, the two warriors made eye contact. Soul
Hunter had the hardened eyes that spoke of a lifetime of slaughter, and
little love to break up that monotony. Lightbringer had kind eyes, but
they were hardened by disdain for his foe today. The hatred in the
paladin's eyes was apparent to everyone. For too long had Lightbringer
been getting ready for this moment. The slayer of the monks in the
Mission he grew up in was soon to be brought to justice. Soul Hunter,
however, simply continued joking with Mengele, as though oblivious of
the human trying to stare holes through his skull from across the arena.

 The
 sun was soon to set over the horizon. Not yet gone. Still lightening
the sky in a myriad of colors. Many residents of Greyfell would later
admit that it was one of the most beautiful that they had ever seen, and
 the majority of the town was gathered to pay witness to the fight. It
seemed appropriate, the more poetic said, to have the Trial by Combat at
 the time when the Darkness met the Light.

 As
 per the previously decided conditions, Soul Hunter and Lightbringer had
 assembled their gear. Both were heavily armored. Chainmail hauberks,
with greaves and bracers. Soul Hunter had fought for decades, and had
drifted from one combination of armaments
 to another over the years. He was quite proficient with a number of
styles, but on this day he had chosen a short spear and a short sword.
The spear came to about five and a half feet long, and was held
downward, as opposed to strait out. It allowed him the advantage of a large reach, and multiple attack angles, but his passive defense was
limited, and at very close range, his 'zulu spear' was practically worthless.

Lightbringer used a sword and a
moderately large round shield strapped to his forearm. It was a style
that he had fought all of his life, making him far more than a 'dabbler'
 in the style. Whereas the Child of Father Night was 'very proficient' in a number of styles, the paladin of the Church of Light was a genuine
expert of the sword and his shield.

 With
 the sun beginning to sink below the treeline, the assembled townsfolk
bore witness to the restatement of the terms of the fight. It would be
to the death, not simply first blood. Either fighter had the option of
yielding, should his opponent give
quarter. Both the Human and the Mutant smiled darkly at that
impossibility. Too much bad blood between them. Too much bad blood
between their religions. Whichever fighter survived the longest would
be declared the winner of the trial, with all of the legal consequences
implied.

 At
 last, Jeremiah, acting as judge, called the two warriors to the middle
of the Pitt. Both men swaggered forward, attempting to put as much
confidence and physical aggression into their walks as they were able.
Nora was called in to check both combatants for the presence of drugs in
 their systems. Rocket or Pierce would have made a short and unjudicial
 end to the fight.

 Nora
 strode into the middle of the arena. Her meekness and discomfort at
having to sign these men off to fight to the death was apparent at any
distance. First, she inspected Lightbringer. Checking his eyes, and
his pulse, and his blood pressure, the
two made idle small talk. The champion was formal, polite. Nora tried
to offer a few words of comfort, but her voice failed her. She
desperately wanted the Surgeon to be brought to justice, but at what
cost?

After clearing the paladin to fight, Nora
crossed the Pitt again to inspect Soul Hunter. As she began taking his
vitals, Soul Hunter, for the first time since arriving at the arena,
dropped his cruel 'devil-may-care' visage. His eyes softened. "Hello,
Nora. It's really too bad that you got dragged into all of this."

Nora,
 having been dreading this moment, looked into the mutant's eyes. "You
know, all of the history between our two guilds, all of the history
between the two of us, it's led here. I can't pretend to be happy for
what you're doing. Defending that monster with your life... I can NOT
understand what you're thinking. If you survive the next few minutes,
I'm not even sure if I'll want to see you again. But... Soul Hunter?
Good luck."

Nora gave her medical approval to let
the Child of Father Night champion the Surgeon's cause. As she walked
back to where the Renegades were gathered, her open sobbing was clear to
 all.

 Before
 Jeremiah could officially begin the fight, the Surgeon stepped forward.
 "If I may have a moment of the court's time, there is something that
must be done!" Bringing forth the urn that contained Mary's ashes, the
Surgeon unstoppered the top, and daubed
his thumbs into the contents. Raising the ashes to Soul Hunter's brow,
he said, "Please, Soul Hunter, bow your head. With these markings, I
implore you.: Avenge my daughter, and bring her killers to justice."

The Surgeon proceeded to rub the ashes on Soul Hunter's spear, in an attempt to give Mary some hand in her own vengeance.

Marking
 the Child of Father Night and his weapon in this way, Dr. Mengele
stepped back to his place. He kept his head bowed, as if in prayer.
This fight would decide the victory or end of the both of them.

 The
 last impediments to the trial having passed, there was only one more
thing to happen. In the fading light of the afternoon, Jeremiah raised
his pistol, aiming high into the sky, he fired a single shot. With the
pistol's report still echoing from the surrounding hills, the fight to
the death commenced.

 It
 began as so many bouts between skilled fighters do. A slow, menacing
approach, with each swordsman eyeing the other for signs of weakness.
Tendencies in movement. Despite his years of loathing for the mutant,
this was the first time that Lightbringer
 would cross blades with the fiend. For Soul Hunter, this was simply
another fight. Another chance to add some small bauble to his trophy
wall. The Paladin of Light held out his blade, the traditional 'tapping
 of swords' to begin a melee. Soul Hunter stepped forward to
capitulate, raising his sword... before launching a thrust at his
opponents midriff with the speed of a striking snake. Lightbringer,
being no fool, was prepared for such a move and blocked with his shield.
 Both men knew the stakes, and neither had a particular reputation for
fighting fair.

 The
 pair began circling each other, the Child of Father Night launching
occasional probing strikes with his spear, while the paladin tried to
close safely to striking distance. "You fight with all the skill of the
 guards at your mission, Paladin. Too bad that I slew them all in one night, and murdered your brethren in their sleep."

Lightbringer,
 not one for words, launched his attacks with renewed fury. Taking a
spear strike on his shield, he rushed in, slashing hard for Soul
Hunter's ribs. The mutant picked off the swing low on his sword, and
with a wrist flick brought the spear in towards the human's eyes.
Raising his shield in time, Lightbringer was safe from the return blow,
but the block allowed Soul Hunter to dance beyond his striking range
again. Wordlessly furious, the Paladin went against prescribed fighting
 tactics, and circled so that the setting sun was in his eyes. Father
Night's Child, recognizing the advantage, pressed in for the kill.

 Raising
 his shield, with a booming cry of "Praise the Sun!" Lightbringer made
true to his name. The polished surface of the metal shield reflected
the light directly into the mutants eyes, just as he came within
striking distance. Not one to panic, Soul
 Hunter brought his weapons up into a passable defense, but the paladin
had used this trick too many times to be thwarted. The thrust slipped
strait through the raised weapons and into the fiend's abdomen. Low on
the torso, the chain mail parted. First blood had been drawn.

 Soul
 Hunter swore briefly, but vividly. Oaths that most 'civilized men'
would not be able to begin to form spilled from his lips, like the blood
 spilling from his belly. Still in the fight, the Chosen of Father
Night's Children was beginning to lose his
 calm. Ducking to the right, to avoid the damned Sun Praiser pulling
the same trick again, he launched a dizzying array of blows at the
paladin. Some were blocked by the shield, others by the sword. Still
more rained through and caused inconsequential wounds on the paladin's
wrists, and his thighs. None of it mattered, the immovable object that
was the Church of the Light's champion this day stood strong beneath the
 flurry of strikes.

 Calming
 again, Soul Hunter began his verbal tirade anew. "So, you have some
skill. I wonder where you learned your craft from? Does your church
have anyone that knows which way to grip a sword, or did you lot finally
 wise up and beg renegades of Father
Night for some small bits of advice?" The swinging of blades was
constant at this point. Finally, judging the timing and position to be
right, the Blackguard put the entirety of his body weight behind a
thrust of the spear. It went too fast to block cleanly, slipping under
the rim of the shield before the paladin could properly intercept it.
At frightening speed, the tip of the spear closed with Lightbringer's
belly. But the Champion of Light was experienced and skilled, crouching
 while he frantically lowered his shield, the spear tip was pushed
downward, embedding itself into the meat of his thigh, but causing no
crippling harm. The paladin took a quick step forward, before the
mutant could withdraw his lengthy weapon, and brought his shield down a
second time.

 The spear snapped half way up its length. Soul Hunter's greatest advantage was sundered by a single blow from the shield.

 The
 Blackguard of Father Night, a man who had commanded armies, was
suddenly at a disadvantage for the first in a long, long time. Now, he
knew, was the time to dig deep and fight dirty. Swinging the broken
shaft of the spear at his opponents head, the
 mutant stepped in. Raising his shield in front of his eyes to catch
the shaft of the spear, the human had no way of seeing the boot that
hammered its way into his stomach. Chainmail is decent armor, but
little defense against the full kick of an enraged, mutated giant. Just
 below the ribcage, the blow was aimed with devastating effect. Doubled
 over, the paladin took a sword slash to his back and pommel strike to
the side of his head. Struggling to regain his balance, the paladin had
 his shield wrested from him by the fiend of the Children of Father
Night.

 Acting
 with pent up rage and mechanical precision, Soul Hunter threw the
shield down and methodically hacked the straps and grip apart with his
sword. The spear shaft, having been discarded in the few seconds of
flying fists, lay several feet away. It
 was down to two men with a sword apiece. Suddenly, Lightbringer felt
his first doubts. He was a master of the sword and shield, but he had
not spent a terrific amount of time with just the sword. Though they
were both bleeding from multiple wounds, the mutant had gained the upper
 hand.

 Still,
 a paladin with blade in hand is no laughing matter. Lightbringer came
in, hewing hard for Soul Hunter's torso, his neck, his face. Anywhere
that the mutant left exposed, the human swung at with a force akin to
that of an angered demi-god. Backing
away the blackguard tried to create space, to catch his breath, to
reassess the situation. Finally, kicking again, the mutant recieved an
aborted slash to his thigh armor and succeeded in arresting the momentum
 of the champion of Light. It was clear, from how the paladin held his
stance, that he was very proficient with a blade, but that he was unused
 to fighting without a shield. Soul Hunter threw a few desultory shots
to keep Lightbringer off balance, and then undid millenia of tried and
true methods of swordplay. He held his sword to his side, gripped with
both hands as though it was sheathed, and waited for the human to step
forward.

 Lightbringer
 was no fool. He understood a trick when he saw one but he also knew
human physiology. From this stance, the Chosen of Father Night could
only effectively launch strikes at two spots: Upward towards his right
hip, and downward towards his head or
left shoulder. Either were obvious, either were counterable. With his
vile left hand holding the blade against his hip, and his right hand
still holding the grip of the sword, Soul Hunter had given away all
unpredictability in favor of attempting to psych out his opponent.
Lightbringer stepped forward, alert for the sign that would spell the
mutants doom. Low and right, or high and left? Low and right, or high
and left? Soul Hunter twitched, his right arm coming high, swinging
towards the paladins left shoulder. Raising his sword to block that
spot, the paladin let out his triumphant cry, "I have him!"

 The
 hand was empty. Taking a step forward along with his false swing,
gripping the sword downward with his left hand, the blackguard threw all
 of his weight and speed into a lightning fast strike aimed at his
opponent's unprotected right armpit. The gap
 in the armor, present in almost all chain mail, offered little
resistance to the beast's blow. Rings parted. Along with the armor
went his clothing, and his flesh. Sinew parted. Muscles and bones were
split. The momentum of the blow ended with the blade lodged in
Lightbringer's right lung. Shocked, the paladin could only gasp for air
 as the blackguard withdrew his blade. Leveling the sword, the Child of
 Father Night, with a victorious shout, drove the blade once more into
his opponent, aiming it directly into the champion's throat.

 As
 the light began to fade from his eyes, Lightbringer saw the beauty of
the sunset. He saw the shocked looks of the onlookers. He saw the
smirking look on Soul Hunter's face. With one last burst of his will,
the paladin struck out. The mutant, reveling
 in his victory, only just raised his armored forearm high enough to
prevent being scalped. Instead, a deep groove opened up on his brow,
just above his right eye. His last spiteful revenge denied,
Lightbringer collapsed. The fight was over. Soul Hunter had won.
Greyfell had lost.

 The
 tumult and chaos of the conclusion, sweet as they may be, did not
interest Soul Hunter. Securing hooked chains and a chalice from The
Revenant, the blackguard secured the hooks through the dead man's
Achilles tendons. Soul Hunter, having lowered the
 cup into the spilling blood of the deceased champion, the blackguard
raised his newly filled vessel to his lips. Making eye contact with
Desyc through the crowd, the mutant drank deeply, his smirk visible even
 beneath the cup. The Children of Father Night, united in jubilation,
dragged the body off into the descended darkness. The Light had been
overcome, and none knew how long the Night might last.

**The Aftermath**

 The Trial by Combat had a number of consequences: Legal, social, and other. The Lonestars were officially disbanded, and Jeremiah King became a willing 'assistant' in The Surgeon's lab. Many relationships were strained.