Post by The Stranger on Jun 23, 2008 16:39:17 GMT -5
Brynden was walking down the Street of Steel when the squire pushed him.
“What’s wrong with you today, Josmyn?” Brynden snarled, turning to glare at the other boy. Josmyn was the Scaled Knight’s squire, and he was as surly and provocative as Ser Hugh Lynderly was dashing and chivalrous.
“I saw your mother today,” Josmyn sneered. “With that great big belly of hers. Who knocked her up this time, eh? Maybe I should ask Ser Hugh. He loo…”
Josmyn didn’t have a chance to say another word. Brynden was already drawing his sword, and now he leaped at Josmyn with a yell, knocking Josmyn a few times before the other squire got his sword out. The fight became furious. Brynden attacked with fury, his blood raging, and attacked wherever he could, trying to force Josmyn onto uneven ground where he would stumble. He lunged at the boy, and being deflected rolled on the ground, and swept his sword towards Josmyn’s feet. It didn’t work, but he raised his sword to block Josmyn’s downward swing, and fought his way back to his feet, never missing a beat. He thrust and parried with increasing confidence, and then thrust his sword in under Josmyn’s shoulder, drawing blood. Josmyn squealed in pain.
Brynden took hard hits from Josmyn, but he grew better and better at blocking them, reading Josmyn's face and body and anticipating his moves.
Two other squires were watching and making bets. A few other boys who had heard the insult were cheering Brynden on. Brynden didn't hear, his focus and concentration and anger were so strong. He blade was alive in his hands, an extension of his hand.
Brynden drove him back, and then after a few more moments of hard fighting. “Yield!” he shouted, cutting his upper arm. “Yield!” he brought down the flat of the blade on his chest with ringing force. Josmyn gasped and fought on, still stubborn. Both boys were struggling, but Brynden was gaining the upper hand. “Yield, you motherfucker!” Three more hard strikes, and Brynden knocked Josmyn off his feet.
“Or I’ll kill you,” he panted, calm and cold, his blade at Josmyn’s throat.
“I yield,” the bleeding squire whimpered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t kill me, I’m sorry…”
“Never speak of my mother like that again,” Brynden said coldly, lifting his sword and sheathing it. “Next time, I will kill you.” He trod on Josmyn’s cloak as he walked away.
Result:
-Brynden gains Expert in Swordfighting
“What’s wrong with you today, Josmyn?” Brynden snarled, turning to glare at the other boy. Josmyn was the Scaled Knight’s squire, and he was as surly and provocative as Ser Hugh Lynderly was dashing and chivalrous.
“I saw your mother today,” Josmyn sneered. “With that great big belly of hers. Who knocked her up this time, eh? Maybe I should ask Ser Hugh. He loo…”
Josmyn didn’t have a chance to say another word. Brynden was already drawing his sword, and now he leaped at Josmyn with a yell, knocking Josmyn a few times before the other squire got his sword out. The fight became furious. Brynden attacked with fury, his blood raging, and attacked wherever he could, trying to force Josmyn onto uneven ground where he would stumble. He lunged at the boy, and being deflected rolled on the ground, and swept his sword towards Josmyn’s feet. It didn’t work, but he raised his sword to block Josmyn’s downward swing, and fought his way back to his feet, never missing a beat. He thrust and parried with increasing confidence, and then thrust his sword in under Josmyn’s shoulder, drawing blood. Josmyn squealed in pain.
Brynden took hard hits from Josmyn, but he grew better and better at blocking them, reading Josmyn's face and body and anticipating his moves.
Two other squires were watching and making bets. A few other boys who had heard the insult were cheering Brynden on. Brynden didn't hear, his focus and concentration and anger were so strong. He blade was alive in his hands, an extension of his hand.
Brynden drove him back, and then after a few more moments of hard fighting. “Yield!” he shouted, cutting his upper arm. “Yield!” he brought down the flat of the blade on his chest with ringing force. Josmyn gasped and fought on, still stubborn. Both boys were struggling, but Brynden was gaining the upper hand. “Yield, you motherfucker!” Three more hard strikes, and Brynden knocked Josmyn off his feet.
“Or I’ll kill you,” he panted, calm and cold, his blade at Josmyn’s throat.
“I yield,” the bleeding squire whimpered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t kill me, I’m sorry…”
“Never speak of my mother like that again,” Brynden said coldly, lifting his sword and sheathing it. “Next time, I will kill you.” He trod on Josmyn’s cloak as he walked away.
Result:
-Brynden gains Expert in Swordfighting