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The Winds of Ysgard - Part One

Nimue

Dark Lord
Under the arch of the broad blue sky they set out, passing beneath the Sheepgate and into the slope of the lower town. Their passage was not heralded, as the choosing the day before had been, so there were no crowds; but as they passed through the streets some recognized their faces--those already renowned or newly famous--and cheered for them, or called to others, and by the time they had reached the outer portcullis townsfolk were waving kerchiefs from windows, and the guards gave them a salute of arms, bright-patterned shields flashing in the sunlight.

As they rode through the wheat and barley fields on the western outskirt, Thoros’s shadow followed them. He glided with long, lazy strokes of his wings, his tail rising and falling with the slow wave of his path. Farrun listened to his mind, now and again, and found it full of wind-stroked contentment. He was as close to sleeping as a creature on the wing could be, for there would be no danger for them here, in the heartland.

Farrun drove the cart; they would take shifts at it, in time, but for now he was happy to sit at the back of their procession and watch the others as they rode and talked. When they were in rougher country he would like to have his hand free for his sword, and his charger Boar beneath him--Boar walked on a lead rein now, placid as could be. They stopped once at a stream that fed the River Helta, to water all the horses and themselves, and for those who wanted it, eat some bread and dried fruit. There were washerwomen downstream, their skirts tucked up in their aprons, who paid them no mind at all.

Thoros wheeled off to the north, moving slowly. He would not shadow them any longer--Farrun touched his mind with a brief farewell, but it was not much of a parting for them, in truth. Even great distances could not dim their bond.

They arrived outside the town of Bernholt an hour or two before sunset, having made better time than he had allowed. They did not enter the town walls yet, but Farrun had them draw up the cart and horses in a broad stretch of fallow field, by a large chestnut tree. The sun glowed orange through the branches.

“If you noticed, Thoros has left us,” Farrun announced, standing alongside the cart. “We travel in secrecy from here on. We are queensmen and women journeying to the dwarven realm in the Dragonbone Mountains, to help negotiate between the dwarves and the lords that hold the land nearby. Some of us may be mercenaries, for Yvalhyn raids are common in the north-west; some of us may be common travelers with family in the west, riding with queensmen for protection. You may choose whatever suits you, but know your story.” His eyes crinkled.

“Tomorrow, we will be nearing the moorlands. The roads are rougher, the villages few and far between, and there may be unfriendly wildlife about. Before we find ourselves there, I think it would be a good idea to practice some self-defense. I’m not yet sure of all of your capabilities, and I’d like to have that assessment.” He reached into the cart and drew out his greataxe, the blade unwrapped. “Einan, pair with Bendalitz. Addison, pair with Troia. Rikhard, you’re with me.” He looked over at the remaining person. “Loke, you’ve trained a fair number of warriors, I warrant. Watch, and correct as needed.”

This set-up should allow him to find out a number of things, he hoped--though most of all he hoped that none of those things would be a test of his healing skill.
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard eyed Farrun's greataxe uneasily, but nodded and retrieved his spear from Dushan's saddle. He should have taken a shield too... but maybe he'd be dexterous enough to avoid being hit.

He took up the defensive stance Caspar had taught him, and prayed his meager training would pay off.
 

Tom

Istari
Einan dismounted and eyed Benalitz, his hand dropping to his knife hilt. A sinking feeling was already lodged in his gut; he was far more proficient with a bow than a knife, and something about Benalitz suggested that the man would be disappointed at best and mockingly smug at worst.
 

Legendary Sidekick

Staff
Moderator
Addison put her bow and arrows aside. Underestimating me, as usual. She figured the top melee fighter in the group would be Farrun or Loke, against people. Her axe had been used against bigger, stronger beasts. Teamwork and traps were part of her arsenal in most hunts. Alone, she had no intent to get close.

She undid her belt to remove her carving knife with its leather sheath secured. She held up the covered blade, and said to Troia, "No sense in cutting each other up, is there, Princess?"

The Huntress waited for the younger girl to ready her blade, preferably with the scabbard fastened. "Ever dance like this before?"
 

Nimue

Dark Lord
"All right, we'll start off slow," Farrun told Rikhard, circling to position himself so he could watch the other pairs. "If you're being attacked by an enemy with a blade and no bow, your first instinct should be to run. Towards Thoros, if he's there--always a good choice. You're like to be faster than someone weighed down by arms and armor." Not always true for the Yvalhyn, but they'd save that later. Advantages first. "But you should know the basics of defense and attack."

"Show me how you'd block a high strike." He hefted his axe and made a slowed-down overhead swing, at an angle that would cut into the juncture of Rikhard's neck and shoulder, if that was what he wanted to do.
 

DMThaane

Mystagogue
Loke took one of his goatskins and a strip of salted meat from his bag, chewing as he watched the sparring teams pair up. It was good that Farrun was starting them early. They would need to learn the basic stances, at least. After all, even if the elves did not attack, there was still the risk of bandits or highwaymen. They had reduced in number in recent years, but they were still a danger.

He watched Farrun swing his axe toward Rikhard. "I would thrust to the face," he offered. "The spear has the reach and the elves rarely wear closed helms. It offends their vanity… and they struggle with the long ears. By thrusting for the face, you seize initiative and do not expose yourself."

It was a shame that Aster had not joined them, or, perhaps, a blessing. The techniques she'd developed were hard enough for a true master to learn, let alone the inexperienced. That and she could be quite insensitive, at times.
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard had been about to raise his spear crosswise to block the oncoming blow, but on Loke's advice he shifted his hold and thrust the spearhead toward Farrun's face. Even so he wondered if he was doing the right thing. It was hard to juggle so many pieces of advice from different people with what his own head said he ought to do.
 

Gryphos

Dark Lord
Bendalitz was less than eager to fight, even if it was simply sparring. But he supposed there could be little harm in teaching his comrades whatever could be learned.

He dismounted and, drawing his dagger, walked towards Einan. "Before we get started, Einan, let me tell you that if yo ever get into a situation where you have to defend yourself, you've made a mistake. But, sometimes mistakes do just happen to be made, and when that happens one may as well be prepared. What would you do if I, say, ran at you like a vicious madman?" Bendalitz flipped the dagger into reverse grip and charged.
 

Nimue

Dark Lord
Farrun ducked, letting the spearpoint miss him safely, and brought his axe to rest in the air a few inches from Rikhard's shoulder. He drew back and settled the axe in his grip. "That close, if I've already begun my blow, you would need to dodge or defend before counterattacking, or else I've already hit my target and naught else matters," he explained. "It's much easier to dodge a spear thrust than to get out of the way of a sweeping blow--though the latter leaves your attacker wide open afterwards. You can slash with this type of spearhead," he noted, gesturing at Rikhard's weapon. "The edges are sharp, which means you can use it at close range without puncturing force behind it."

"Loke is right, on the whole of it--keep that spearhead between yourself and an attacker, and use that reach to attack before he can. But if you're cornered or he gets through your guard, you should know what to do at close range. You said you knew how to use a staff, and I mean to show you how to use a spear in that kind."

"The footman's stance, as you are--put your feet a little farther apart, ground yourself," he added. "It's good until your enemy closes in. Then you can switch your fore hand to an overhand grip, and slash and jab with the spearpoint, then block with the haft of your spear like a staff." Farrun demonstrated on the shaft of his greataxe, compensating for the imbalance--certainly his weapon wasn't meant to be used that way. "Try it with both hands at the fore, see what side it feels best at."
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard nodded, adjusting his footing and practising with the spear as Farrun showed him. The blocking motion was easier at the right side, but... "What if I'm fighting someone who's left-handed?"
 

Tom

Istari
Einan narrowed his eyes, considering Benalitz's question as he drew his own knife, a seax like Loke's, though smaller, and made of lesser quality steel. Aware that the answer might make or break the man's opinion of him, he took his time.

Finally, he said, "I would step out of your path as you came at me. You'd still be carried forward by your charge, and you would have to check yourself and recover a fighting stance. That would give me enough time to counter-attack."
 

Legendary Sidekick

Staff
Moderator
Addison heard Einan's words to Bendalitz. Don't talk, just do. But it wasn't Addison's place to advice him. She understood Farrun's pairings were those experienced against those not. She was to train Troia, so she'd train her hard. But she would not humiliate the girl.

She sized up her young friend. A single-edged sword was Troia's weapon. Her vulnerable side was on her right, but Addison wouldn't make her attack known until she was close.

The Huntress came at the Princess with a frenzy in her eyes—and she moved like lightning! She knew the reach of Troia's sword the same way she knew the reach of a beast's fangs. When she darted left—Troia's right—she anticipated Troia's limited options, then swung the back of her knife at the sword, deflecting it away from. Addison's blade went the opposite way—straight at Troia's throat. And Addison herself was at Troia's back with her left arm over the girl's chest.

She put her sheathed blade to Troia's throat and whispered, "I'll spare your pretty braids, Princess, but in return ye gotta let me teach ye how a Huntress fights."
 
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Tom

Istari
The sudden nearness of Addison's sword to her throat startled Troia, and a tiny, strangled cry escaped her. With her hands up, she backed away from the blade until it was a safe distance from her neck. Her new sword felt close to useless in her inexperienced hand; everything about it was foreign, and it didn't feel like a natural extension of her arm, the way her knife did.

"I've got a lot to learn," she muttered, reaching up with her free hand to rub the back of her neck. Her face stung with embarrassment, and she had no doubt a blush was showing under her tan skin.
 

Gryphos

Dark Lord
"Oh?" As Bendalitz began to near his target, and Einan's body just began its motion of dodging, he slammed his foot into the ground and launched himself at a new angle, leaping straight at Einan's new position with dagger poised.
 

Legendary Sidekick

Staff
Moderator
Addison showed Troia her sheathed knife. "Oh, come now. I didn't get me wyvernhide out shopping. Why do ye think Farrun didn't pair any of us with Loke? What'd be the point of it? He means to train Rikhard, have me train you, and Ben's to train Einan. We'll let those two sort out how that's to work."

Addison stood back and unsheathed her carving knife. "We'll start with some basics, then footwork, then if you're up for it, a lesson on how to know your opponent's vulnerabilities and yours as well. Ye use both to your advantage. And ye either get a stick or sheathe your blade before ye get to hit me. I didn't kill that wyvern to end up with a hole in his skins from a training accident."
 

Tom

Istari
Einan retreated out of the dagger's range, then paused a moment, poised on the balls of his feet, his blood rushing. After a half-second to ready himself, he advanced and counter-attacked Benalitz's unprotected left side.
 

Nimue

Dark Lord
"Well, you'll have to pivot right quick," Farrun said easily. "Flip the spear so the head's in the right direction. Sinister folks have the advantage when it comes to breaking your guard, aye, but it may be harder to defend their flank too. Well, all I've met are practiced at that. Better to master what you can before worrying about those few!"

He stepped back, satisfied with Rikhard's grip and posture. "Ready to try it out?" he asked, with a grin. He tossed his axe up into its proper position, curved blade gleaming in the light of the setting sun.
 

Legendary Sidekick

Staff
Moderator
Addison glanced back to the sounds of boots skidding on sand. When the dust clears, I can guess who'll be left standing. But the men weren't her problem.

"Pay no mind to the men," Addison suggested in fear Troia was distracted. "I won't get into what not to do. Let's start with basics." Addison pointed to a particular spot on Troia's curved blade, a few inches from the tip. "This is the part of the blade that strikes when ye take a swing. Your target's the air for now. Can't miss."

Addison showed Troia a variety of swings. Overhead strike. Horizontal strike. Thrusts. She wanted Troia to repeat each strike ten times before moving to the next, using both one-handed and two-handed grips. She swung her knife downward and made it whistle through the air. She swung a second time; the blade was swift and silent. "The ideal strike doesn't make a sound," she said.

She would tell Troia how to focus her technique, the importance of the left hand with a two-handed grip, the quick-draw attack. Karl favored a curved sword. Addison was familiar with the techniques her old boss used.
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard nodded, keeping his eyes on Farrun's face rather than the weapon. All the better to try to read what he'd do next. He wasn't too skilled at that, but Caradoc had told him it was a valuable technique to learn.
 

DMThaane

Mystagogue
Loke watched Addison and Troia, impressed with her focus on basic technique. Flourish was nice and all, but in battle one rarely had the presence of mind to employ it. Those basics would be what kept Troia alive.

Bendalitz and the elf, Einan, were engaged in a knife fight. He'd never liked knife fights. They were messy and everyone tended to leave injured. He'd always seen them as an act of desperation.

He turned to Rikhard who was focusing on his opponent, perhaps a little too intently. "The face will tell you little," he advised. "The shoulders, the legs, the hands. These will tell you much. Look for the tensing of muscles, the shifting of weight. The face may tell you if an opponent will attack but the body will tell you how they will attack."
 
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