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 Posted: Sun Sep 22, 2013 9:13 pm
The training yard of The Swan was empty this early in the morning. Even the loneliest of the establishment's usual patrons had either returned home or were so far gone into a drunken blackout that they wouldn't awaken for several hours. Because of her stark familiarity with that particular state of being, Soibhan felt that training at such an hour was completely safe; no one would disturb her, and her grunts and shouts wouldn't disturb anyone else. She fought with sword today; Lady Roselie and Desmond had shown a rare willingness to work together in crafting her a perfectly weighted and balanced sword for her needs. The piece was beautiful in its simplicity, and deadly in its make. Crafted in the shape of the smaller fighting blades of her home country, it felt wonderful in her hand, and small wasn't even an accurate description of its size. Considering the men of Gaels wielded massive b*****d swords and two-handed greatswords, her weapon truly was small in comparison, but classified by Desmond as more of a shrunken longsword. At present, she could wield it only two-handedly, which disappointed her. She would need extensive personal training to wield it with a single hand. Which was the reason for her current surroundings. The straw dummy before her hadn't stood a chance and she would have to re-stuff it later. Sweat trickled down her face and dampened her back beneath her loose black tunic. The sun was barely a thought on the horizon and as she stood there, catching her breath, she began to think. The Masquerade itself had been a roiling sea of emotions, from giddy excitement to crippling terror. But there had been little in the way of events since. The Wardens had continued to train in Oldcastle, but maybe not as fervently as they could have been. Even her own little splinter cell had been lackluster in their training, for all of Macaire's stern guidance. She worried that everyone was beginning to think that the Queen had jumped the gun. The thought made her bite her lip and stare at the sharpness of her blade's edge. Another round of awful circumstances would get people to focus up, but she didn't want that to happen. She had no choice but to gather everyone and remind them of their cause and the horrors that had happened since last winter. Gritting her teeth, she growled as she swung with all of her strength, slicing the thick wooden beam of the practice dummy in half. The upper portion hesitated before toppling to the ground.
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Posted: Mon Sep 23, 2013 1:30 pm
Ever since meeting Rajani beside the river, Edgar had allowed training to partially overtake his practice of rising with the sun and spending several solitary hours rowing down the Thrithing with Dardanos following like an oversized ghost on the shore. There was a ferocity to training that released much of the tension he sometimes felt, and some mornings he woke with an inexplicable urge to move. On those mornings, he left the boat tied to its dock and made for The Swan.
It was one such morning. Edgar shouldered a hefty wooden sword, not as quick nor as agile as his real sword but similar in weight and balance. The wood was beginning to show signs of wear, but Edgar took that as a good sign. It was being used, though not necessarily loved, and it held up well under the strain that he put it under.
They entered the training yard with Edgar facing Dardanos, the Chosen striking and and slashing while the Guardian parried each thrust with his antlers. The buck pushed Edgar back two steps with a short charge, handling his antlers with almost surprising dexterity as he blocked and attacked almost at the same time.
Dimly, Edgar noticed the buck send him an image of a bystander, a fellow trainee in the yard but he dismissed it in favor of their spar. It was good practice for both of them, and he wanted to take advantage while they were both in the zone.
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Posted: Tue Sep 24, 2013 10:17 am
She stood there catching her breath for a few more moments, her gaze on the sky. Though her sword hung loosely from her fingers, the tip hung just above the ground, unmarred by the dirt. Deciding that she would be done for the morning, Soibhan began to turn away, but an unexpected racket kept her rooted to the spot. A chosen and their guardian had seemingly appeared out of nowhere at the edge of the training grounds, the big buck using his antlers to spar even as the human used a wooden sword. Though the yard was still dim enough to make her squint, she thought she saw the very unique wooden whorl pattern of Dardanos' pelt. Scowling, she stayed still to watch them. There was no doubt Dardanos knew she was there; he was a guardian after all. But she didn't think Edgar had noticed just exactly who stood in the yard with him. She took the opportunity to watch the way he fought without his derision of her coloring his actions. The man had plenty of raw potential, but his skill was somewhat questionable. No doubt that was what his extended training was for. Even though she had been about to leave, she felt a need to stay. He would notice her soon enough, and then....Then what? Did she expect him to challenge her? Maybe she did. Maybe she wanted to truly prove herself to him in something, and combat seemed a sure way to do so. When Dardanos charged his chosen, she began to pay more attention to the guardian's movements. The dexterity with which the buck used his antlers for combat was something she hadn't expected. By all rights, the way the buck contorted his neck for some of the blocks and rushes shouldn't have been natural. It was something to keep in her mind, however. "Why do ye practice with a wooden blade?"
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Posted: Sat Sep 28, 2013 10:05 am
Lost as he was in the sparring match, Edgar managed to forget the person lingering in the training yard. Soibhan's voice suddenly cutting through his concentration made him twinge with irritation, even though her question was innocent enough and fair. His jaw tightened and he gave a mighty swing that caught Dardanos in the middle of his antlers and made the buck let out a low warning grunt - presumably for Edgar to keep his temper in check - and then he lowered the wooden sword with a deep breath and swung around to face her. The expression on his face was not exactly combative, but there was a stoniness to it that suggested he was fully prepared to go up in arms if she so pushed him.
"He may face steel in battle, but I will not be the one to hurt him with it," he said shortly, pushing the tip of the wooden sword into the ground. The dummies that stood guard in the training yard received less sympathy and regularly faced the sharp bite of his regular sword, but Edgar was ill-prepared to handle the guilt he knew would come if Dardanos suffered any great injury by his hand. They both understood that the wooden sword was hardly a match for steel, but at least the buck could grow accustomed to the weight of impact, if not the true speed and agility.
"But if you had your own-" Fighting words leapt unbidden to his tongue, scathing words that had no doubt meant to point out her inability to understand because she didn't have a Guardian, but he forced them back at a warning from Dardanos.
Are they unfair words? He wondered silently to himself and the buck. It would be prudent not to anger her prematurely, Edgar knew, but somehow that was easier said than done. He supposed he couldn't entirely blame her for the question - after all, training with steel would go farther in truly preparing Dardanos for a real battle - but a part of him still wondered why she was in a position to question it. Is it unfair to wonder why she is our "leader" when others seem more qualified? Is it unfair not to trust her after witnessing numerous rash and irrational actions on her part? They all had survival instincts after all, and Soibhan had yet to prove herself worthy of making sure they all survived.
He could feel Dardanos' gaze on him, warning him not to pick a fight where fights were not due, if for no other reason than that he ought to be a gentleman. He ought to know better, for all the money and time that had been spent teaching him to be a proper member of society, Edgar's eyes narrowed. Forget society. I think this arrangement is wrong and I will not put my life or yours in hands of someone who I am not confident will carry us through to the other side.
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Posted: Sat Sep 28, 2013 10:52 am
She could understand the reasoning behind his answer even if she thought it foolish. A dulled, steel blade would no more truly harm the buck than the wooden sword, but would offer a more realistic idea of the hits the buck could receive. When Edgar nearly spit out the words she had been dreading to hear ever since this venture had been thrown into motion, she nearly lost it then. But that would be just the thing he would use against her; he already thought her rash and temperamental, and he hadn't even seen her at her worst. Nevertheless, anger burned in her golden eyes as she narrowed them. "If I had me own Guardian, I wouldna be using wood. I'd be sparring with dulled steel. I understand tha' ye doona want to hurt him by happenstance, but I doona think yer givin' him enough credit to dodge yer blows, either. That buck o' yers is smart, one o' the smartest I've seen so far. Smarts usually means a talent fer quick learnin'." She kicked the unfortunate dummy at her feet and sent it spinning lazily towards him. "The love between a Chosen an' Guardian is like nothin' I've ever seen. But that changes nothin' in the end. They're warriors, better warriors than any o' us could ever hope to be. They were made ta fight the wolves, not to be coddled like pets." Slipping her sword into its scabbard with a practiced move, she strode slowly towards the pair. "Why d'ye have such a problem with me, Edgar? Sure, I've got a temper. Sure, I'm a foreigner. I guess bein' a woman in this land doesn't help either. But none o' those things is truly what ye hate about me. So what is it?"
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Posted: Fri Oct 25, 2013 8:28 am
"Fine," he said shortly, tossing aside the wooden sword. There were many things in life Edgar would willingly do - many of them foolish things - but arguing with her was not one of them. Experience told him that getting into a verbal duel with Soibhan would take them nowhere, and he was weary of fighting battles that would help neither of them. If his actions were motivated by some trace of guilt at the words they both knew he had almost said, he didn't show it.
And much as Edgar hated to admit it, Soibhan spoke the truth. Dardanos was smart, smarter than Edgar was perhaps, yet the buck deferred to his Chosen to know what was best for the both of them. He studied the Guardian silently, carefully. Did he know? Was Dardanos aware of a more efficient alternative that he kept to himself to let Edgar learn the lesson for himself? He wouldn't put it past the buck to do so.
He was brought back to the unpleasant realization that Soibhan was still there when he heard the ring of sword against sheath and her footsteps drew nearer. The frown that crossed his brow fixed on her. "Hate is a strong word," he intoned. But that was neither here nor there. For a moment, he studied her in much the same way as he might have studied a jester brandishing a rubber sword, wondering if he ought to let her know every thought that ran through his mind. Did she deserve to know, or was it a lost cause if, after everything, she still didn't understand the problem?
"I think you're in over your head," he said finally, brusquely. "Maybe we all are, but you more so than the rest of us for the simple fact that you're trying to lead this whole affair." He ignored Dardanos' cautionary nudge, forgetting his desire to avoid yet another confrontation. "You say you can fight, and I don't necessarily doubt you, but then you say you can lead, and you bandy that thought about when all I've ever seen you do is put yourself in reckless situations. Surely you don't expect me to follow where you've proven only that you know how to get yourself killed." He batted away Dardanos' stern shove. "Just because you seem willing to throw yourself into harm's way says nothing for the rest of us. I think I'm justified in saying that I ought not fall in line behind someone I'm not convinced can or will give us the best odds at staying alive."
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Posted: Mon Oct 28, 2013 7:18 am
Her attempt at a conciliatory manner evaporated like mist after sunrise. She gripped the pommel of her sword so tightly, her fingers ached. This man dared act like he knew everything about her. Rage swelled up inside her and she fought hard to keep it from overtaking her good sense. Rushing the man and forcing him into a fight would help only to prove his point. She was reckless. But she'd been hearing people say that to her ever since she was a wee lass. Her father, her brother, even her mother had all had something to say about her rash manner and her spontaneity. It had almost become a mantra between them all as they picked her up from the dirt and washed the blood away. Soi, don't charge your opponent like that, it leaves you open. Soi, don't rush after your prey like that, they'll turn around and gore you. Soi, don't jump on a horse like that, it'll throw you.
Soi, don't lead like that, you're men won't respect you... Angry with herself and everything around her, she felt like throwing her sword as far as she could. Instead, she let her anger rush out in her words. "How dare ye act as if ye know me. How dare ye assume that I'll only lead me men into harm's way like they're nothin' but cattle. How dare ye judge how I lead when ye've ne'er seen me lead an actual campaign." She threw her hand out, in the general direction of the Wardwood. "We've not heard o' the wolves in months. Ye seem ta not realize that it's ********' hard ta rally men that are dead set on believin' that the wolves are gone. That Gwyn used up all 'is power on that wee show o' pomp at the Masque."Gritting her teeth, she bared them at him. "Like I've said afore, me recklessness has nothin' ta do with me ability ta lead, especially the recklessness I show outside o' the military sphere. Maybe it's yer noble ********' blood that makes ye think yer better than e'eryone, an' that e'eryone has ta do things yer goddamn way, but it ain't true, and the sooner ye figure that out, the better ye'll be in this operation."She wanted to fight him so badly, to prove something to him, even if it was an empty feat such as beating his properly kempt a** into the dust. But she pretended her feet were planted into the ground, that nothing would move her out of pure anger, unless he made a move first. Please make a move, ye ********' d**k.
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Posted: Sun Nov 03, 2013 9:41 am
Edgar could tell his words had hit a sensitive target, but if he would feel guilty about it later, it didn't occur to him now. Every word he said, harsh though they may be, was the truth. It was nothing he ought to conceal from someone who thought to make herself his leader. She should know better to begin with, but neither did it surprise him that she didn't.
"It has nothing to do with how well I know you," he snapped. "And everything to do with the fact that you have done nothing to prove that I ought to trust you." He studied her coldly, narrowing his eyes at her snarl. There was so much raw, unkempt ferocity behind that look on her face that Edgar didn't doubt she could beat him if she were to unleash it all on him - and he could tell she was close to doing it. Except what would that do except prove to both to them that he was right and she was wrong? What good would that do her?
"Leadership is not reserved for the campaign, miss," he said, adding the last because she clearly did not deserve it. "The recklessness you show outside the military sphere has everything to do with it. What good is a leader who can rally troops for a battle and nothing else? What sort of discipline exists during a battle that doesn't exist outside of it?" He frowned, thinking of the implications. "If I can't trust you in an everyday scenario, I surely will not in a life-or-death one. That is what your narrow vision does not see."
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Posted: Mon Nov 04, 2013 11:22 am
A muscle twitched in her jaw. Was he right? Did she ruin her image of capable leadership by being... herself...outside of the training fields? The thought confounded her. Even back home, her men had been more than willing to follow her, especially after she had carried them through their first victory together. They had lifted her high and sung her a warsong, and when they had arrived home, they had all drank until sunrise and celebrated together. But she was only now realizing one important thing about living in this land. It wasn't home. Oh, she had noticed the gender discrimination early on, but she had never thought that maybe these people wouldn't appreciate her vigor for life. She took risks because she enjoyed life! Her people had understood that. They had understood that her wild nature was what made her a capable leader, in and out of battle. But these weren't her people. These nobles were nothing, nothing like anything she had encountered before. They had such strict ways of living, dictated from a young age by those that came before them. This Edgar was no different. Any military man would be no different. And she was trying to lead these foreign, unknown men the same way she would lead the wild, fierce men of her homeland that loved the risks of life as much as she did. Soibhan Breanainn was a fool. Nothing but a silly girl...For the first time since she'd stepped foot as a free woman in this land, she blushed, but it was an angry reddening that the dimness of the training yard hopefully hid. She felt so stupid, and she fingered her scabbard, eyes stinging fiercely. However, she kept her blade drawn. Raising her head high, she faced this nobleman, the only man to ever make her truly question her own worth. "My vision is only narrow in tha' I tried te think I could lead a group o' sophisticated-" the word was spat out like a curse, "- men the same way I'd lead a group o' my savage brethren. Thank ye, Edgar, fer showin' me the error o' my ways." She sneered at him then, her face feral. "Duel me, nobleman. We've thrown enough words at each other. I'd like our swords te do the talkin' now." She tossed aside her steel and went to one of the racks edging the yard, drawing one of the same wooden practice blades Edgar held. MoonRazor ((Is it bad that I kind of hope Edgar trounces her? She needs a good beating >_>))
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Posted: Wed Nov 06, 2013 8:29 am
The hesitation did not register on his face, but it was there, hidden underneath. Was it smart? Edgar wasn't sure what Soibhan hoped to prove with a duel of wooden swords. Neither winning nor losing would prove her right, which made him suspect that she was challenging him simply for the sake of doing so, for putting a physical spin on their verbal exchange. There was no point.
Yet, part of him wanted to take up the challenge, to parry and jab and thrust and not because he needed to prove any sort of superiority, but because her words had consequences and she had to pay them. A duel was not an idle challenge to be thrown about. It didn't matter whether he won or lost, just that he responded.
Almost without realizing it, he reached out to Dardanos for guidance. Was it wise? Was it a fool's reaction? He could see in the buck's eyes that warm glow of understanding. Though the Guardian did not look entirely pleased by the prospect, he seemed to understand that this was something his Chosen had to do, something that would follow him as a regret if he was to walk away. A barely perceptible nod.
Edgar reached for the wooden sword, testing its heft and balance in his hand. He fixed a steely gaze on Soibhan and could feel a need to hold her accountable rising to match her anger. Giving ground was not an option, and neither did he feel cowed by the fire that burned in her rage. Rage was reckless, and recklessness made mistakes. He faced her with cold dispassion.
"Swords can talk all they will, but swords will not change opinions they did not create."
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Posted: Mon Nov 18, 2013 7:08 am
"It is wha' it is, noble," she growled, not caring anymore. She wanted nothing more than to trounce him, to prove that she was a capable warrior if not a capable war leader to this frustrating man. And while he thought her reckless to this point, he would quickly find that she was focused and calculated during battle. The sword was a light weight thing compared to the blades of her homeland, even made of sturdy wood. She flicked the point up and eyed him beyond the blade's tip, letting a certain fluidity take over her limbs. Gaelic short and broad swords were not dueling weapons; they were weapons of death, one meant for close, very personal death blows, the other for cleaving men in half with one sweep. But to duel, she needed to be quick. Her eyes glittered with her anger, even as she checked it. With a snarl, she leapt forward, snapping the wooden sword with a controlled movement of her wrist as she aimed for his arm.
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Posted: Wed Nov 20, 2013 4:32 pm
Edgar's was a quick, no-nonsense style of combat rooted in an aggressive, hammering charge that left no room for hesitation. He didn't seem to believe in dodging blows, preferring to block or parry them instead. His movements were graced with a certain fluidity that bespoke years of training with the master-at-arms at Rosehill. There was no doubting that he knew what he was doing, even if it didn't necessarily mean he was fully prepared for the chaos of a real battle.
This, though, this he could do, and he was determined to do it well.
She is unspeakably frustrating, he thought with a frown, and felt Dardanos prodding him, reminding him to allow all of that irritation to drain. Excess, chaotic emotion would only cloud his judgment.
Her snarl betrayed her sudden lunge. Edgar met her attack, swinging the wooden sword just in time parry the sharp thwack that would have left his arm stinging painfully, and allowed the momentum to carry him into his own attack, slashing the wooden blade at her pelvis.
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Posted: Thu Nov 21, 2013 9:50 am
Edgar brushed aside her attack with ease and snapped back with one of his own. The blow was easy enough to dodge; she whirled to the side and brought her sword up, the wooden blades clacking together sharply. The sound echoed through the empty courtyard. Sunshine was starting to color the horizon, making the space much easier to see now, and giving illumination to her opponent's determined features. He was infuriating, this man. She'd never had to deal with someone so intent on opposing everything about her. She stepped forward with her right foot, but as soon as he moved to counter her, she ducked low and moved behind him, sword swinging. They were dancing now, a dance of frustration, determination, and precision. Each proved more than able to read the movements of the other. The fact that she couldn't land a blow was growing more and more frustrating, but Soibhan tried not to let that frustration guide her. Tried being a key word.
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Posted: Thu Nov 21, 2013 10:07 am
The only expression left on his face was a small frown of concentration that knit his eyebrows closer together and narrowed his eyes and brought a certain stony silence to his features. They carried the full weight of his focus, allowing everything else to fade into obscurity. He didn't see the wooden dummies or the surrounding trees. In fact he didn't really see anything, parrying and attacking by reacting to the movements he felt and focusing on nothing in particular with his eyes. It was the same look he got when he rowed down the Thrithing at dawn, and sometimes when he lost himself in a good book.
His first attack failed to land, and he moved for another. She swung around behind him, and he brought his sword up in time to knock against hers, but the blow glanced off his shoulder anyway, a good deal less damaging than it could have been. His lip twitched as it landed, but he spun about anyway, taking advantage of the close quarters to slash a backhanded blow at her knee. For every hit she landed, he would try to do the same, negating any confidence she sought to gain from it.
This, after all, was a dance he knew he could dance. He was perhaps not quite as skilled as his partner, but he thought he could outlast her, if not in endurance then in patience, and if it required him to take a few more blows in the process, then he would wake up the next morning with a few more bruises on his body. That was insignificant.
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Posted: Thu Nov 21, 2013 10:32 am
He was so silent! His lack of noise added to her overall annoyance with this entire ordeal. And because he stayed silent, she did as well, as if to prove a point that hadn't even been made. They traded blows fairly equally and already her body ached in uncounted places, both from the wooden sword's smacks to muscles that hadn't properly been used in months. Fighting straw dummies and people that had never seen battle were not good substitutes in keeping oneself fit for fighting. She growled when his sword struck another stinging blow across her shoulder and, try as she might, the hold she had on her frustration snapped. With a roar, Soibhan slammed her blade into his so hard it snapped. Tossing the now useless weapon aside, she ducked under his swing and came up too close for his sword to do any good. Her fist shot out, aiming for the vulnerable nose; the dance had changed now. It was no longer smooth and precise, and it had broken because of the one thing Edgar kept throwing in her face. You lack discipline, silly girl... You just don't want to admit that he's right...
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