Post by The Stranger on Apr 26, 2008 15:28:31 GMT -5
The sellsword company left Norvos at dawn. They had to wake the groggy guard at the city gates to get him to open them, to both of their amusements. Finally, the party, numbering around eighty men now, ushered out of the walls and into the vast lands of the east. The eighty men could be no more different, and yet no more similar. They were of every nationality, every skin color, language, and weapon and armor choice. There were quiet men, gregarious men, angry men, and cheerful men. But they all had one thing in common—they liked to fight.
That is, except for Barris, perhaps. He did not need to worry about the dozen men he had brought with him—Barris had purposely chose the bravest and most adventurous knights from the Arbor to travel with him during his escapades the last few years. They asked him no questions and obeyed without hesitation, as long as they were paid on time, and Barris certainly had a knack for coming up with gold. He may have been the best sword among the group, but he did not enjoy fighting or training very often, something that had always irritated his father and older brother, Ser Foster Redwyne.
After they made camp in a small village far away from Norvos, Barris had took his men aside and informed them that they would be training. “Why do we need to train?” one man said, complaining, tired after their long ride. “Because you’re in a bloody sellsword company now. That is what you do now. It is your job. You fight. So you better be bloody good at it or you will die. Understand?” Barris snapped back, glaring. The men roused their attention now, fully understanding that they would have to fight well or be killed.
Finding a clearing outside the village’s outskirts, Barris set up a perimeter of torches. They were all wearing their armor and wielding blunted swords. Barris was still in disguise, his hair dyed dark black and pulled back in an odd fasion, and his face bare and smooth, revealing a large jagged scar that not even his own men had known about.
“Alright, who’s first? Let’s say if the boys can hang with the men,” Barris said, grinning. Shrugging, one of the larger and better skilled of his men, Ser Tyler Stynes, stepped forwards and moved into a defensive stance.
The two men circled each other for several moments, before Barris finally sprang into action, raising his sword high and cutting down. The blades met with a sharp sound, and the two were now going at it full speed. Ser Tyler moved his shield to block the next blow, and then ducked to avoid the one after, using his shield to knock Barris backwards. After circling some more, this time Ser Tyler attacked, looking for an open area against Barris’s defense. However, their captain had a few moves up his sleeve.
When Ser Tyler lunged forwards for a thrust, Barris deftly slid aside, letting the knight continue with his motion against thin air, and losing his balance as a result. Before he could recover, Barris slammed his sword into the man’s ribs, and then used a forearm to the jaw to send him to the ground, grunting in pain.
Breathing heavy, Barris helped him up. “Well fought, ser. You are very good, but you need to be more patient in your attacks, or you will over extend and pay for it every time.” Stynes nodded and stepped aside, letting someone else challenge Barris.
Barris fought all eleven of them in turn, while the others trained on the sides against each other. He lost only two of the twelve matches, despite growing very fatigued as the hours stretched on.
Finally, around midnight, Barris gave the word to stop the sword training. With sounds of relief, the men began to gather their stuff and head back towards the city. “Not so fast, gentlemen,” Barris said, grinning. He pulled a dagger and quickly launched it at a man’s shield, where it thumped in the center. Surprised, they stopped. “You need to practice some archery. With daggers.”
“Why daggers?” Ser Tyler asked, a little surprised at his captain’s apparent skill in the art. “You had me do this a few months ago, remember? I was half decent. I did not know you had continued the training, though, ser.”
“Why daggers? Because they can be hidden, where a bow or crossbow can’t. And they are easier to poison,” he answered, with an evil grin.
Using some wooden shields for targets, the men practiced, most of them clumsily, until one thirty in the morning. Ser Tyler showed promise in the skill, as he has a few months earlier when he had trained with Barris. Re-entering the city, the men collapsed into bed and slept soundly. Most of the sellsword company were still in the streets of the small town, seeking out ale or whores, or most likely both.
Results:
Barris improves to expert sword and expert throwing daggers.
That is, except for Barris, perhaps. He did not need to worry about the dozen men he had brought with him—Barris had purposely chose the bravest and most adventurous knights from the Arbor to travel with him during his escapades the last few years. They asked him no questions and obeyed without hesitation, as long as they were paid on time, and Barris certainly had a knack for coming up with gold. He may have been the best sword among the group, but he did not enjoy fighting or training very often, something that had always irritated his father and older brother, Ser Foster Redwyne.
After they made camp in a small village far away from Norvos, Barris had took his men aside and informed them that they would be training. “Why do we need to train?” one man said, complaining, tired after their long ride. “Because you’re in a bloody sellsword company now. That is what you do now. It is your job. You fight. So you better be bloody good at it or you will die. Understand?” Barris snapped back, glaring. The men roused their attention now, fully understanding that they would have to fight well or be killed.
Finding a clearing outside the village’s outskirts, Barris set up a perimeter of torches. They were all wearing their armor and wielding blunted swords. Barris was still in disguise, his hair dyed dark black and pulled back in an odd fasion, and his face bare and smooth, revealing a large jagged scar that not even his own men had known about.
“Alright, who’s first? Let’s say if the boys can hang with the men,” Barris said, grinning. Shrugging, one of the larger and better skilled of his men, Ser Tyler Stynes, stepped forwards and moved into a defensive stance.
The two men circled each other for several moments, before Barris finally sprang into action, raising his sword high and cutting down. The blades met with a sharp sound, and the two were now going at it full speed. Ser Tyler moved his shield to block the next blow, and then ducked to avoid the one after, using his shield to knock Barris backwards. After circling some more, this time Ser Tyler attacked, looking for an open area against Barris’s defense. However, their captain had a few moves up his sleeve.
When Ser Tyler lunged forwards for a thrust, Barris deftly slid aside, letting the knight continue with his motion against thin air, and losing his balance as a result. Before he could recover, Barris slammed his sword into the man’s ribs, and then used a forearm to the jaw to send him to the ground, grunting in pain.
Breathing heavy, Barris helped him up. “Well fought, ser. You are very good, but you need to be more patient in your attacks, or you will over extend and pay for it every time.” Stynes nodded and stepped aside, letting someone else challenge Barris.
Barris fought all eleven of them in turn, while the others trained on the sides against each other. He lost only two of the twelve matches, despite growing very fatigued as the hours stretched on.
Finally, around midnight, Barris gave the word to stop the sword training. With sounds of relief, the men began to gather their stuff and head back towards the city. “Not so fast, gentlemen,” Barris said, grinning. He pulled a dagger and quickly launched it at a man’s shield, where it thumped in the center. Surprised, they stopped. “You need to practice some archery. With daggers.”
“Why daggers?” Ser Tyler asked, a little surprised at his captain’s apparent skill in the art. “You had me do this a few months ago, remember? I was half decent. I did not know you had continued the training, though, ser.”
“Why daggers? Because they can be hidden, where a bow or crossbow can’t. And they are easier to poison,” he answered, with an evil grin.
Using some wooden shields for targets, the men practiced, most of them clumsily, until one thirty in the morning. Ser Tyler showed promise in the skill, as he has a few months earlier when he had trained with Barris. Re-entering the city, the men collapsed into bed and slept soundly. Most of the sellsword company were still in the streets of the small town, seeking out ale or whores, or most likely both.
Results:
Barris improves to expert sword and expert throwing daggers.