Post by The Stranger on Apr 26, 2008 19:52:27 GMT -5
Their tent, made of rough grey wool, was warm and cozy. The tents surrounding theirs drawfed them, in both size and elegance. However, these things meant little to the Skagosi, and the Magnar of Deepdown saw nothing amiss at this. The air itself was cold, as it was winter in Westeros, but the Stoneborn though the weather terribly hot and oppressive. No doubt they would have died from misery if they had landed in Dorne instead of Duskendale.
Mag awoke before dawn, sleeping in between his wives. The huge mirrikai, Burk, was curled up at his feet, snoring. Mag crawled over top of him, rubbing his belly and whispering soothing words into the beast's ears. He moved across the tent and roughly awoke Cudge Magnar.
"Magnar? That hurt," Cudge said groggily, rubbing his stinging arm where Mag's fist had went.
"It was supposed to, stoneborn. Now wake up and train. Bring bow and dagger." Cudge groaned but did as he was told, quickly rising and walked out of the tent, into the dark winter air, the sun hiding somewhere beyond the horizon. The two men were bare chested, their golden-brown skin hairless. Burk poked his head through the flaps of the grey wool, wondering where his master had gone. He quickly pushed through, trotting up to Mag's side and nibbling his arm. Mag placed a gentle hand on his head, petting him. The three made their way through the set up of tents and pavilions, until they reached the outskirts. Upon passing the archery targets where Cudge had lost the day before, Mag motioned to them and said, "There is where southerners shot better than you."
Cudge shrugged. "I lasted four rounds, Magnar, better than most. And these southerners may be hated by gods, but they can still use weapons. I see how good their swordsmen and axemen are in training yard. You will not win either, Magnar."
Mag looked at him and frowned. "I will not win, you may be right, Cudge brother of Ryk. But I will not take the defeat likely, and I also am not going to be undergoing secret missions for my Magnar. We have already decided that it will be you who does this-- I want you to be the greatest fighter Stoneborn has ever seen."
Cudge grew quieter at this. "Yes, Magnar. I will try."
"No," Mag said, his frown growing deeper and his voice hard. "You will not try. You will succeed." They distanced themselves from the colorful tents and sleeping people, away from the large castle and streets of the city.
Mag asked Cudge to see his knife. When he had been handed it, he stalked over to a nearby tree, and began to carve into it furiously. Finally, after ten minutes, a makeshift target was etched into the bark. "See if you can do better, when southern women aren't watching you to make you err."
Cudge blushed and said angrily, "That was not what made me miss, Magnar." Mag grinned and simply shrugged. "I don't know, Cudge. I saw you staring at the Royce woman, and Huntsman woman." The banter went on for a few minutes but then stopped as they grew serious.
Cudge concentrated fiercely, wanting to prove his skill to Mag Stane. He let fly six arrows, and four of them found the center of the target, with the other two thudding into the bark towards the edges, a fine performance.
"Not bad," Mag conceded. "But now I will hit the center of that target with my slingshot, not four times, but all six." He readied himself and produced the smooth rocks, letting them fly quickly, one after another. The first four clearly chipped the center of the target, but the last two hit the edges, just as Cudge's arrows had.
"Not bad," Cudge said with a grin. The two laughed and then sat down to talk. After a while, Mag said, "What is it you were working on with Ryk before you left? Dagger work?" Cudge nodded. "Good, then we will train. I will use my axe against your knife."
Cudge looked at him hesitantly. "I am wearing no armor, Magnar."
Mag laughed, mockingly. "Do not be craven, Cudge brother of Ryk. I will not attack, do not worry, just defend. You need all the practice you need on how to kill."
Mag rose his stone axe in defense, while the younger man tried to jab at him with his stone dagger, dull and blunt though. Cudge lunged forwards, wildly and without strategy. Mag deflected the blow with his stone weapon and then kneed Cudge in the stomach, sending him to the ground.
"Again, Cudge Magnar."
And again, and again, and again. After an hour of training, the two laid in the grass, exhausted, sweating in the cool air. "Let us go back to the tents," Mag said, not offering a word of praise to the hopeful Cudge. Knowingly, Burk bounded out of the nearby woods, accompanying the two home. "Where you been, boy?" Mag said, kneeling and petting the beast.
Mag returned to the tent, resting up for the melee against the southerners, where he hoped to prove the Stoneborn to be a fearsome people.
Results:
Cudge improves archery from expert to expert (improved).
Cudge improves daggers from beginner to novice.
Mag improves slingshot from expert to expert (improved).
Mag gains beginner leadership.
Mag awoke before dawn, sleeping in between his wives. The huge mirrikai, Burk, was curled up at his feet, snoring. Mag crawled over top of him, rubbing his belly and whispering soothing words into the beast's ears. He moved across the tent and roughly awoke Cudge Magnar.
"Magnar? That hurt," Cudge said groggily, rubbing his stinging arm where Mag's fist had went.
"It was supposed to, stoneborn. Now wake up and train. Bring bow and dagger." Cudge groaned but did as he was told, quickly rising and walked out of the tent, into the dark winter air, the sun hiding somewhere beyond the horizon. The two men were bare chested, their golden-brown skin hairless. Burk poked his head through the flaps of the grey wool, wondering where his master had gone. He quickly pushed through, trotting up to Mag's side and nibbling his arm. Mag placed a gentle hand on his head, petting him. The three made their way through the set up of tents and pavilions, until they reached the outskirts. Upon passing the archery targets where Cudge had lost the day before, Mag motioned to them and said, "There is where southerners shot better than you."
Cudge shrugged. "I lasted four rounds, Magnar, better than most. And these southerners may be hated by gods, but they can still use weapons. I see how good their swordsmen and axemen are in training yard. You will not win either, Magnar."
Mag looked at him and frowned. "I will not win, you may be right, Cudge brother of Ryk. But I will not take the defeat likely, and I also am not going to be undergoing secret missions for my Magnar. We have already decided that it will be you who does this-- I want you to be the greatest fighter Stoneborn has ever seen."
Cudge grew quieter at this. "Yes, Magnar. I will try."
"No," Mag said, his frown growing deeper and his voice hard. "You will not try. You will succeed." They distanced themselves from the colorful tents and sleeping people, away from the large castle and streets of the city.
Mag asked Cudge to see his knife. When he had been handed it, he stalked over to a nearby tree, and began to carve into it furiously. Finally, after ten minutes, a makeshift target was etched into the bark. "See if you can do better, when southern women aren't watching you to make you err."
Cudge blushed and said angrily, "That was not what made me miss, Magnar." Mag grinned and simply shrugged. "I don't know, Cudge. I saw you staring at the Royce woman, and Huntsman woman." The banter went on for a few minutes but then stopped as they grew serious.
Cudge concentrated fiercely, wanting to prove his skill to Mag Stane. He let fly six arrows, and four of them found the center of the target, with the other two thudding into the bark towards the edges, a fine performance.
"Not bad," Mag conceded. "But now I will hit the center of that target with my slingshot, not four times, but all six." He readied himself and produced the smooth rocks, letting them fly quickly, one after another. The first four clearly chipped the center of the target, but the last two hit the edges, just as Cudge's arrows had.
"Not bad," Cudge said with a grin. The two laughed and then sat down to talk. After a while, Mag said, "What is it you were working on with Ryk before you left? Dagger work?" Cudge nodded. "Good, then we will train. I will use my axe against your knife."
Cudge looked at him hesitantly. "I am wearing no armor, Magnar."
Mag laughed, mockingly. "Do not be craven, Cudge brother of Ryk. I will not attack, do not worry, just defend. You need all the practice you need on how to kill."
Mag rose his stone axe in defense, while the younger man tried to jab at him with his stone dagger, dull and blunt though. Cudge lunged forwards, wildly and without strategy. Mag deflected the blow with his stone weapon and then kneed Cudge in the stomach, sending him to the ground.
"Again, Cudge Magnar."
And again, and again, and again. After an hour of training, the two laid in the grass, exhausted, sweating in the cool air. "Let us go back to the tents," Mag said, not offering a word of praise to the hopeful Cudge. Knowingly, Burk bounded out of the nearby woods, accompanying the two home. "Where you been, boy?" Mag said, kneeling and petting the beast.
Mag returned to the tent, resting up for the melee against the southerners, where he hoped to prove the Stoneborn to be a fearsome people.
Results:
Cudge improves archery from expert to expert (improved).
Cudge improves daggers from beginner to novice.
Mag improves slingshot from expert to expert (improved).
Mag gains beginner leadership.