Post by The Stranger on May 27, 2008 17:43:54 GMT -5
Rowyn cursed and adjusted his grip on the lance as the old man's voice rang out again. "That's not how you hold a lance, boy! You hold your cock like that when you're taking a piss? No wonder you smell so fucking bad!" Rowyn sighed, fiddling with his reins and wondering for what must have been the hundredth time why he'd taken up with this bastard.
He thought back to their meeting, more than two months ago. Rowyn had been in an inn, asking about the King's tourney, when the old fucker had sidled up beside him. Everything about him was gnarled, from his gnarled face to his gnarled arms, even the way he spoke had a strange, twisted cadence to it.
"Going jousting, boy?" he'd asked,the smell of wine ripe on his breath. "You hardly look fit to sit a horse!" It was sadly true. Rowyns garments were worn and soiled, and he stank to high heavens.
"That's why I'm going to win the tourney, old man, I need the gold." The old man, who named himself Varuz, had laughed at that. "Win, boy? You? Don't make me piss my pants from laughing!" he had grown thoughtful then. "Hm, but maybe....just so happens that I might be needing some gold too, boy. Might be I could help you a little, maybe you might fare a little better at this tourney o' yours, eh? You can see, I'm sure, that I was once a famed knight meself!"he said, swaying from too much wine. "Eh, whaddaya say, we split any profit you make? C'mon!"
Rowyn had laughed then, long and hard, and when he looked at Varuz again there was a cold look in his eye. He agreed, if only to see this old man fight, telling himself that the man's cold stare hadn't affected him at all.
Rowyn winced as the old man rained abuse at him from atop his horse, startling him from his reverie. "Wake up, fuckhead! You gonna win this thing with your head in the fucking clouds?" Rowyn reddened in anger, but held his tongue. Unfortunately, the bastard had proved to be as good a lance as he claimed, and he had an even better sword arm, despite his age.
Rowyn couched his lance, and shifted his old,chipped shield. "GO!" roared Varuz, heeling his mount to a trot, then a gallop. Rowyn dug his own spurs in, facing the old fucker across the field. He lowered his lance, waiting for Varuz to do the same. He didn't. Their horses drew nearer, and still Varuz didn't react. Just as contact seemed inevitable, the old man swung his lance down with pinpoint accuracy. Rowyns own lance hit the old mans shield square in the centre, but Varuz swayed back in the saddle, absorbing the blow. Rowyns shield was ripped from his arm as Varuz's lance hit it just to the left of the centre, sending him spinning from his mount. He hit the earth with a thud.
"Hm, better,"grunted Varuz as he dismounted. "But still shit. Now up. We ain't done yet. I said up, its not over till I say so!" he spat, Rowyn complying reluctantly. The Reachman drew his blade. just in time to parry a savage slash from the old man. Rowyn was more his match with blade than lance, however, and he battered his way forward. "You forgot your shield, boy," snarled Varuz, eyes narrowed in concentration. It was true: The chipped circle of oak lay a few feet away, beyond Varuz. "Never lose concentration!" The old man barked, smashing his hilt into Rowyns chest while he was distracted.
Roaring curses, Oakheart swung his blade in a mad flurry, raining blows on the old man. Most were deflected off either his shield or blade, but a few struck home with soft thumps. Varuz side stepped with surprising speed, and Rowyn's momentum carried him forward. He dropped and rolled, coming up with the shield in had and the hand and a half blade held in one fist. "Much better, but dent that thing and I'll have your hide, it was my sons." Rowyn paused at that. Varuz never spoke of his past, but before the Reachman could comment, the old bastard rushed forward once more.
Rowyn met him blow for blow this time. The old man was good, very good, but Rowyn's skill had increased twofold since they met, due to their constant sparring. The blades locked, and Varuz sent his forehead crashing into Oakhearts face. "Bastard!" snarled Rowyn, and he renewed his savage assault. His first stroke met thin air as Varuz swayed aside, but Rowyn was not to be denied. His second sent the old man's blade spinning from his grasp, forcing him to his knees. "You never said it was over," grinned the young man, and almost casually, Rowyn stepped forward and bashed the shield across the old mans forehead, sending him slumping to the earth. "Hm," he grunted, hefting the shield for examination. "Hope you didn't dent it." "Bastard," gargled the old man weakly in reply, and grinning, Rowyn helped him to his feet.
Rowyn increases towards Master Sword
Rowyn Increases to Expert Joust
He thought back to their meeting, more than two months ago. Rowyn had been in an inn, asking about the King's tourney, when the old fucker had sidled up beside him. Everything about him was gnarled, from his gnarled face to his gnarled arms, even the way he spoke had a strange, twisted cadence to it.
"Going jousting, boy?" he'd asked,the smell of wine ripe on his breath. "You hardly look fit to sit a horse!" It was sadly true. Rowyns garments were worn and soiled, and he stank to high heavens.
"That's why I'm going to win the tourney, old man, I need the gold." The old man, who named himself Varuz, had laughed at that. "Win, boy? You? Don't make me piss my pants from laughing!" he had grown thoughtful then. "Hm, but maybe....just so happens that I might be needing some gold too, boy. Might be I could help you a little, maybe you might fare a little better at this tourney o' yours, eh? You can see, I'm sure, that I was once a famed knight meself!"he said, swaying from too much wine. "Eh, whaddaya say, we split any profit you make? C'mon!"
Rowyn had laughed then, long and hard, and when he looked at Varuz again there was a cold look in his eye. He agreed, if only to see this old man fight, telling himself that the man's cold stare hadn't affected him at all.
Rowyn winced as the old man rained abuse at him from atop his horse, startling him from his reverie. "Wake up, fuckhead! You gonna win this thing with your head in the fucking clouds?" Rowyn reddened in anger, but held his tongue. Unfortunately, the bastard had proved to be as good a lance as he claimed, and he had an even better sword arm, despite his age.
Rowyn couched his lance, and shifted his old,chipped shield. "GO!" roared Varuz, heeling his mount to a trot, then a gallop. Rowyn dug his own spurs in, facing the old fucker across the field. He lowered his lance, waiting for Varuz to do the same. He didn't. Their horses drew nearer, and still Varuz didn't react. Just as contact seemed inevitable, the old man swung his lance down with pinpoint accuracy. Rowyns own lance hit the old mans shield square in the centre, but Varuz swayed back in the saddle, absorbing the blow. Rowyns shield was ripped from his arm as Varuz's lance hit it just to the left of the centre, sending him spinning from his mount. He hit the earth with a thud.
"Hm, better,"grunted Varuz as he dismounted. "But still shit. Now up. We ain't done yet. I said up, its not over till I say so!" he spat, Rowyn complying reluctantly. The Reachman drew his blade. just in time to parry a savage slash from the old man. Rowyn was more his match with blade than lance, however, and he battered his way forward. "You forgot your shield, boy," snarled Varuz, eyes narrowed in concentration. It was true: The chipped circle of oak lay a few feet away, beyond Varuz. "Never lose concentration!" The old man barked, smashing his hilt into Rowyns chest while he was distracted.
Roaring curses, Oakheart swung his blade in a mad flurry, raining blows on the old man. Most were deflected off either his shield or blade, but a few struck home with soft thumps. Varuz side stepped with surprising speed, and Rowyn's momentum carried him forward. He dropped and rolled, coming up with the shield in had and the hand and a half blade held in one fist. "Much better, but dent that thing and I'll have your hide, it was my sons." Rowyn paused at that. Varuz never spoke of his past, but before the Reachman could comment, the old bastard rushed forward once more.
Rowyn met him blow for blow this time. The old man was good, very good, but Rowyn's skill had increased twofold since they met, due to their constant sparring. The blades locked, and Varuz sent his forehead crashing into Oakhearts face. "Bastard!" snarled Rowyn, and he renewed his savage assault. His first stroke met thin air as Varuz swayed aside, but Rowyn was not to be denied. His second sent the old man's blade spinning from his grasp, forcing him to his knees. "You never said it was over," grinned the young man, and almost casually, Rowyn stepped forward and bashed the shield across the old mans forehead, sending him slumping to the earth. "Hm," he grunted, hefting the shield for examination. "Hope you didn't dent it." "Bastard," gargled the old man weakly in reply, and grinning, Rowyn helped him to his feet.
Rowyn increases towards Master Sword
Rowyn Increases to Expert Joust