Jump to content

DRAGONMOUNT

A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'elynde'.



More search options

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Forums

  • Getting Started
    • Introduce Yourself
    • Announcements & Other Info
  • Wheel of Time Discussion
    • Wheel of Time TV Show
    • Wheel of Time Books
    • Off-Topic
  • Game of Thrones fans's Discussions
  • JordanCon family's Discussion
  • Brandon Sanderson's Cosmere's Discussion
  • 4th Age Podcast Listeners's Discussion
  • DM Writers's Discussions
  • Bela Fan Club's Discussion
  • The Black Tower's Black Tower Forum
  • Shayol Ghul's Shayol Ghul Forum
  • The Band of the Red Hand's The Campfires
  • The Band of the Red Hand's The Stables
  • The Band of the Red Hand's Band of the Red Hand Forum
  • The Band of the Red Hand's The Range
  • The Band of the Red Hand's The Barracks
  • The Band of the Red Hand's The Arena
  • The Band of the Red Hand's Recruit Business
  • The Ogier's Ogier Forum
  • WoT Role Play's Bios (Inactive)
  • WoT Role Play's Dragon Reborn RP OOC
  • WoT Role Play's The Welcome Inn
  • WoT Role Play's Bios (Active)
  • WoT Role Play's Dragon Reborn IC - Main
  • WoT Role Play's Revolution One RP
  • WoT Role Play's Dragon Reborn IC - Retro
  • WoT Role Play's RP Archives
  • WoT Role Play's The Training Grounds OOC
  • The White Tower & Warders's Blue Ajah
  • The White Tower & Warders's Brown Ajah
  • The White Tower & Warders's Green Ajah
  • The White Tower & Warders's Warders' Yard
  • The White Tower & Warders's White Tower Public Forum
  • The White Tower & Warders's Ideas Board
  • The White Tower & Warders's Aspirant Quarters
  • The White Tower & Warders's Gray Ajah
  • The White Tower & Warders's Hall of the Tower
  • The White Tower & Warders's Red Ajah
  • The White Tower & Warders's White Ajah
  • The White Tower & Warders's Yellow Ajah
  • The White Tower & Warders's Lecture Hall
  • Mafia Games's Mafia Board
  • The Kin's Topics
  • The Kin's Kin Forum
  • Entertainment Club's Entertainment Games
  • Entertainment Club's Entertainment Discussions

Product Groups

  • Robert Jordan eBooks
  • Brandon Sanderson eBooks
  • Jason Denzel eBooks
  • ** Tor eBooks **
    • Tor.com short fiction
    • Classic Titles
    • Mary Robinette Kowal
    • Dan Wells
    • John Scalzi
    • Steven Erikson
    • Frank Herbert, Brian Herbert
    • Orson Scott Card
    • Peter Orullian
    • David Farland
    • George R.R. Martin
    • Jacqueline Carey
    • Jo Walton
    • Daniel Abraham
    • Elizabeth Bear
    • Piers Anthony
    • Cherie Priest
    • L. E. Modesitt, Jr.
    • Morgan Llywelyn
    • Kage Baker
    • Charles Stross
    • Cory Doctorow
    • Fred Saberhagen
    • Glen Cook
    • Steven Brust
    • Robert J. Sawyer
    • David B. Coe
    • Charles de Lint
    • Larry Niven
    • Felix Gilman
    • Jay Lake
    • Gene Wolfe
    • Elizabeth Haydon
    • Ed Greenwood
    • Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman
    • David Weber
    • R. A. Salvatore
    • Terry Goodkind
    • Melanie Rawn
    • Ursula K. Le Guin
    • Robert A. Heinlein
    • Mercedes Lackey
    • Isaac Asimov
    • V.E. Schwab
  • Tor.com short fiction
  • New eBook Releases
  • Upcoming eBook Titles
  • Wheel of Time Re-Read
  • Independent eBook Titles
  • Bundled Deals
  • Wheel of Time Jewelry
    • Silver
    • Gold
    • Bronze

Blogs

There are no results to display.

There are no results to display.

Categories

  • Books and eBooks
    • The Eye of the World
    • The Great Hunt
    • The Dragon Reborn
    • The Shadow Rising
    • The Fires of Heaven
    • Lord of Chaos
    • A Crown of Swords
    • The Path of Daggers
    • Winter's Heart
    • Crossroads of Twilight
    • Knife of Dreams
    • The Gathering Storm
    • Towers of Midnight
    • A Memory of Light
    • New Spring
  • Community & Events
    • JordanCon
    • DragonCon
  • TV Show
  • DM Website news
  • 4th Age Podcast
  • Fantasy Reviews
  • Fan Art Friday
  • Theory Blog
  • Rotating Features
  • Humor Blog
  • People
    • Harriet McDougal
    • Brandon Sanderson
    • Robert Jordan
    • Jason Denzel
  • Graphic Novels
  • Audio Books
  • Merchandise
  • Video News

Categories

There are no results to display.

There are no results to display.


Find results in...

Find results that contain...


Date Created

  • Start

    End


Last Updated

  • Start

    End


Filter by number of...

Joined

  • Start

    End


Group


Found 5 results

  1. OOC: so this is light retro to the days after the DOTNM RP, so not retro retro but light retro...yeah ok nm you get it or not _____ Arya yawned, she had seen to Silver Arrow. The mare was still skittish after what they had seen. She was still just glad she had managed to keep the mare quiet when the flying beasts had passed overhead. Oh they had mainly been focused in the city and the lights had taken care of it, she hadn't seen the details, but a couple had managed to fly rounds out and around before circling back. She had been on duty to watch one of the gates along with some other spies and soldiers. Luckily they been well hidden in the trees, the thought had made her belly ache. She would not want to face one of those up close. It was then she heard the soldiers passing by mentioning Mehrin. She walked over and asked what was going on but there was not much they could tell her. Apparently he had been there alone. But then where was Drea? Had she been there? Had something happened to her? It was rumored Mehrin had not looked the best. Her tired mind was spinning. She tried to look for someone who would know more, but realised soon enough it was a dead end, and anyone who might know was busy. She went back to her cot and lay down, but couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, until she suddnely sat up on bed with a silent scream from a bad dream. No, she rinsed out her eyes, she was just fantasising she told herself, but she had not been sleeping well these last few days. Maybe a walk would help. She looked out. It was dark, but she wandered until she found some fires where people were eating, sharing stories and drinking. She didn't feel like she fitted in though. She never liked it, when she was younger, that Drea drank. It made you do silly things, lose your head, but she knew many slept solid after it too. Before she knew it she had a flask in her hand going inside her vest and had walked off. She sat down alone in a glen and took it out. Should she? Her head leaned back against the stone she sat against and she looked up at the moon. Visions of flying beasts passing as shadows across it had her lifting the bottle to her mouth. The smell made her stop a moment, but how bad could it be? She closed her eyes and took a sip, swallowing before she could regret it and then started coughing. The stuff burned down her throat. She wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't in its original container but a field flask, but it smelled somewhat like some of the brown stuff she'd seen others drinking. She poured some out in her hand. Yes, it had a golden color to it. So this was scotch. Oh how she wished Drea was around! She missed talking to the woman. She'd always been someone to throw ideas off with and she was honest; she said it like it was and never treated her like a toddler. Arya looked at the bottle. Well she had said a she might as well say b, she closed her eyes and emptied her mind into the void then took a long swig of the bottle. She coughed once more, but less this time. At least she wouldn't be cold this way. She focused on breathing until the burning in her throat stopped, then lifted the bottle again taking four or five more swigs. She knew Drea used to take quite a bit before she went overboard and drowsy so she figured it would take a bit to get enough to sleep. Her head was spinning though, and everything felt blurry. She took off her jacket and lay down in the moss looking up at the stars. She looked at the bottle and giggled, "You really are evil you know that." Why was she talking to the bottle? Never mind, it was getting colder. She took another sip and felt the warmth spread down her throat and out through her body. A.D. Not knowing what she is doing
  2. Continues on from Rotting From the Inside Out (Part 1) “Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.” – Neil Gaiman Finding a comfortable position in which to sleep had proven impossible, though that alone was not the cause of Ely's fitful rest. After a few hours of fighting her blankets, she gave up, passing the time until dawn alternately reading, and writing in her journal. She'd been thankful to have the room to herself under the circumstances; the last person she'd shared with having been reassigned to new duties with new quarters. The privacy was a blessing. As soon as it was light enough to qualify as 'morning', she'd taken herself back to the infirmary. Common sense dictated that it would be as well to get the unpleasantness out of the way, and further her enquiries in one fell swoop. Which was how she found herself perched on the well scrubbed, wooden surface of a heavy treatment table while the CMO checked over her wound with diligent fingers. Air hissed through Ely's clenched teeth every few seconds. The man was being gentle, to give him his due, but the flesh was tender and every touch hurt. "It'll do," Engerran muttered absently, reaching for fresh cloth to replace her binding. "Stand up so I can wrap properly." He waited until she found her balance and began to pass the cloth around her middle, angling it to take in the upper curve of her hip and then pulling it taught. "It's a minor miracle that you haven't re-opened it. Two of the others who were injured in that attack were back in here before the day was done yesterday." She barked a short laugh at that. Soldiers of any stripe didn't make good patients but she was tempted to lay odds those men had been Infantry. Sitting around doing nothing would be sending them all up the walls. The medic fastened off his work, peered into her face and spoke knowingly, "Hmmm, sleep proving elusive, is it? Or did you overdo things? Likely both given your pallor. Make sure you have a good meal soon. It'll help." "Probably both, as you say," Ely allowed, sighing as she pulled her shirt back on. "There was a lot happening." "Including those young cavalrymen you sent me, no doubt. That was a smart call. The corenroot. How did you come to know the signs?" "It's a long story, sir, one I prefer not to talk about... if it's all the same to you," she replied as politely as she could. "But there was more than corenroot in there to cause so strong a reaction. Were you able to find out more? Did they both survive?" "Thanks to your quick thinking, one of them did. The other didn't see the sunrise. I'm still running tests but I suspect they took different things. Your dead man had all the signs of grey fennel. You know about...yes, I see you do. You're an interesting young woman!" Engerran growled at her, looking her over with undisguised, though purely academic, interest. Ely offered no explanation. "Hmmpphh, well... the lad with the nose bleed... I'm certain he'd ingested sheepstongue root too." "I suspected something along those lines, sir. Did he say where they'd been drinking?" The man nodded and she considered him seriously for a moment before deciding to take him into her confidence. If he'd been involved, he wouldn't be confirming her own educated guesses. "May I speak freely, sir?" -x-x-x-x-x-x- Minutes later, Ely exited the building and set off on a twisting, complicated route through the city towards the infantry encampment, ensuring to the best of her ability that nobody was following her. There was no way to know whether any suspicion had attached itself to her or not during yesterday's events. She was taking no chances. Trusting Engerran had been a calculated risk but one that had proven invaluable. Not only did she have the next location to check but, having shared her own information along with a brief assessment of the situation, the medic had further justified her decision by mentioning the matter of escalating death and disappearance tolls over the previous weeks. He'd elaborated substantially on the overheard conversation of the previous day too and the figures had chilled Ely's blood. The man had then agreed, albeit reluctantly, to leave matters in her hands for the time being. It had taken some fast talking but by the end, he'd seen the difficulties intrinsic to approaching anyone else with their combined findings. Compelling as they were, if this was an internal issue such as a leadership coup rather than an external attack, anyone along the chain of command could be involved. Exposing their own knowledge could mean anything from being hailed as saviours to being killed for their trouble. Neither of them wanted to add themselves to the current statistics. Now, she needed to find out who had taken on Sergeant al'Darin's responsibility for B Company. He'd been her immediate superior after all, and someone must have been assigned his workload. At least temporarily. Whatever was going on, it was dangerous, and that meant she needed Infantry back up. But she couldn't just go straight to her own Company. They'd be willing to pitch in alright, but if she circumvented authority completely and anything went wrong... it wasn't worth thinking about...so a Sergeant it would have to be. -x-x-x-x-x-x- Ely's energy was flagging by the time she got to the mass of tents belonging to the Infantry, causing her to halt and catch her breath. She grimaced in disgust. The effort it was going to take to get back on form would be ridiculous. She was just about to continue on her way when three familiar figures made a beeline straight towards her. "Ely!" the cry issued from Tris as she came running towards the older woman, a delighted smile on her face. Ely in return slung an arm companionably around her shoulder and ruffled her hair. "Well, short stuff, are you keeping Saira and Danus busy?" Ely grinned down at the girl. "I swear you've grown in the last few weeks." "That she is and that she has," Saira's voice responded. "And now she has training. Off with you, kid." Tris grumbled, extracted a promise of a proper visit later, and hugged Ely briefly before racing off in the direction of the training yard. Left alone, the adults swapped news, bringing Ely up-to-date with recent happenings and grilling her on events at the Tracker Lodge. Saira and Danus may have been assigned to a different Company all those months ago, but bonds forged in the fire of basic training still held between them. If not friendship, then a certain kind of respect and camaraderie existed. Without these two, Ely wouldn't have progressed her sword skills so quickly. "You have to get better, Ely, and come back to duty," Saira was complaining loudly a few moments later, only a twinkle in her eyes indicating that she was teasing her friend. "Danus is cheating worse than ever without you here to call him on his conniving ways. Folks have actually refused to bet at all until you come back! We need you here with that blunt tongue to keep him straight." Ely cuffed Danus across the shoulder, "Danus, I stood surety for you after that last fiasco. The Light blind you, if you make a liar out of me I'll kick you round the Citadel until you beg for mercy!" "Pah! to that. Everyone knows how honest you are, they wouldn't blame you for my failings! By the by, we should all have a drink together soon," Danus said, his tone becoming solemn, "toast our fallen comrades..." "We will," Ely replied agreeably. "Speaking of the fallen, tell me who's in charge of my Company now and where to find them?" "A Sergeant Roald," Saira informed her. "You'll find him in that tent right behind you, as it happens." The trio took their leave of each other soon after, and Ely stretched, in an attempt to ease her shoulder muscles before turning to look at the tent Saira had indicated. There was nothing particularly special about it, except for the people coming and going with official looking paperwork and files. And the sheer size of the thing. Definitely the Company HQ. She took the few steps to the entrance, pushing aside the heavy canvas flap, and found a clerk seated just inside. "Sergeant Roald?" she queried. The clerk indicated an open doorway opposite his desk, and answered without even looking up, "That room there." Rolling her eyes at the dismissive tone, she strode across the tent into the other partitioned room, crossing the floor to a broad desk, and came to a dead stop... ...face to face with Arinth. A familiar prickle of awareness crawled down her spine while she took in the scene in confusion. What was he doing here? Her gaze landed on the piles of paperwork first. Then she noted the folder in his hand that he'd clearly been reading. And realised how at home he looked. Behind the desk. As if it was his desk. Truth hit like a punch to the gut, air leaving her lungs in a silent whoosh. He'd never said a word. But he'd had the gall to question her veracity? Rage came. It burned through her, clearing all before it, blowing all thought of the mission out of her head. Dark eyes blazed like peat fires against the pallor of her complexion as she glared at the man before her. Had she been right after all? Had this been a stupid wager? A game with her as the target? She couldn't breathe. The urge to hit something was powerful. And growing. Her fists curled into tight balls, tension holding her rigid. Time stretched, but finally she pulled herself together long enough to look away, staring fixedly at a random spot on the wall behind him while she snapped to attention and threw off a carefully precise salute. She wanted to spin on her heel, to get out of his vicinity, but found she couldn't take the necessary steps. If she walked out now, she'd be repeating the action she'd berated him over. That hypocrisy wasn't something she could bring herself to enact. "Ely..." The voice pulled her; held her. "Sir," the word was toneless. Anyone looking at Ely in that moment would have seen nothing but a respectful, attentive soldier. Nothing until they noticed her piercing glance. The blaze was banked, but there was no mistaking that it burned still.
  3. Hope is the thing with feathers —That perches in the soul —And sings the tune without the words —And never stops at all — A soft groan issued from somewhere under the pristine sheets as Elynde attempted to right herself. Choice words, interspersed with more groans as well as a considerable amount of squirming, followed. Her whole body felt as if it had been lying in the same position for days which, in reality, it had because they had to let her back heal. Any pressure at all on the wound risked re-opening it. Still, whomever had thought this brick she'd been stuck on was deserving of the name bed, needed their head examined. In truth, she was still in a considerable amount of pain but, for the first time, her head was entirely clear and her boredom outstripped her lack of energy. She was determined to get up. The only problem with fulfilling that wish, was that her limbs were aching and stiff, and sitting up was causing a multitude of smaller aches to make themselves known. With a little perseverance, or sheer bloody mindedness as her mother would have said, Ely eventually managed to roll onto her side and push herself up enough to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. Upright at last, she placed her bare feet on the blessedly cold, stone-flagged floor and breathed slowly, recovering from the exertion. She could feel the skin along the wound pulling but, thankfully, it seemed to have knit enough that it wasn't going to pull apart. She wasn't quite sure how many days had passed since their return to the Citadel. She'd spent most of it in a haze, probably due to those herbal concoctions the Sage had provided that the medics kept dosing her with. Her memories of being at the Tracker Lodge were practically non existent after being hit. A mild fever brought on by whatever had been on the blade that Light forsaken creature had cut her with, so the medic said. "Trollocs," she shuddered at the idea, closing her eyes briefly against the memory of remembered pain. She'd felt the skin slicing, the metal biting into muscle and tissue. The burning had been agony. If it hadn't been for the Sages.... well, no point following that line of thought. It hadn't been her time and that was that. It troubled her more than she liked though; the idea of dying alone, far from home and her beloved ocean, with nobody to miss her passing. She shook herself, and muttered under her breath, "You signed up for it, girl. Wanted to make your mark on the world, didn't you? Do something important. There's always a price, a trade off. You knew that going in. You made that choice. Too late for what ifs now." Ely stood with care, allowing her legs to take her full weight bit by bit until she was sure she could stand, and looked about for clothing. She could feel the soft waft of air across her back where the shift she was clad in had been cut from hem to neck. The medic had explained it was important to allow air to get to the wound for the first few days to aid in faster healing. Once it had closed, they'd bound her midriff tightly to prevent infection. They seemed to know what they were doing, these healers, but she was blasted well not going to be seen walking around like this. She located her own belongings on a chair behind the door and set about making herself respectable. The process of dressing without causing herself too much pain took most of her concentration which meant it was a few minutes before the low voices outside the room impinged on her awareness. The speakers couldn't see her, tucked behind the door as she was. "...I told you, that's another 5 come in...to be reported he said....too many now...," the first voice sounded Cairhienin and Ely leaned enough to see round the door before ducking back. Two men, assistants most likely, had their heads together in a way that, if they'd only realised it, screamed secrecy to anyone watching. "6 dead last week, another 8 this week. Medics reckon it's a bad batch. Fermenting gone wrong." A second man chimed in trying to sound knowledgeable. The first replied with something Ely couldn't quite make out and their voices began to fade away as footsteps moved into another room. Something about that conversation wasn't right and she tried to pinpoint what as she tugged her shirt over her head. It was forgotten moments later, however, as tightening her belt caused a wince just as the medic, an older man whom she'd seen yesterday, appeared in the doorway. He insisted brusquely on checking her wound and rebinding it with a fresh dressing before agreeing she was well enough to go back to her own quarters. "But you come back if that wound opens up and nothing too strenuous for the time being. You're excused duty until I say otherwise," he gave her a hard stare to drive home that he was serious so Ely nodded hasty compliance. "How many days have I been here?" Ely interjected when he paused, only to have him look her over carefully. "Days is it? Nay, lass. You've been in here almost 3 weeks." Ely blinked. "Did your visitors not tell you?" Another blink. "Visitors? More than one? Who else would have cared enough to check? The Sergeant? No...no...he died, I saw him." She frowned, and her confused thoughts must have shown on her face, as the medic spoke again. "A young girl, two or three times. And a man, infantry I'd say. Been here regular like. Looked fairly beaten up himself. Late on in the day." He nodded absently to himself, "You might have been asleep at that. Only been with us properly these past few days. Nasty fever so it was. Now, you can do some light training if you feel up to it, but don't be a cork brained idiot and overdo it, you'll just end up back in here. You can get a fresh dressing each morning." With that he bustled off to tend his next patient, leaving Ely with one name and a very particular pair of eyes burning into her brain. She remembered Tris visiting. The earlier visits were rather blurry but yesterday's... that wasn't one she was likely to forget. The kid had described Arinth's actions with relish and no small amount of glee, making him sound like some kind of avenging saviour. It wasn't far off the mark in Ely's estimation. Hearing of the severity of the injuries he'd taken and fought through, had caused a very strange sensation in her stomach and when Tris spoke of him carrying her into the Lodge, the flash of heat had taken her voice for several minutes. She'd been half scared to ask how he was but Tris volunteered the information that the Sage, Aislyn, had finally put her foot down and insisted Arinth be treated in case his broken ribs had punctured a lung. Ely knew she couldn't afford to read anything into it. The man, however impressive, was only doing what any member of the infantry would do for another. What any Bander would do for another. That's all it was. Wasn't it? But if that's all then why come to visit, and so often...and why not when she was awake? His behaviour spoke of someone who didn't want their actions known. "Or who wasn't sure of their welcome..." her inner voice pointed out insidiously. Her common sense reasserted itself. "Or maybe he was just working late duty and he visited all of the injured soldiers!" Exasperated by the immediate feeling of disappointment that thought engendered, Ely shoved her thick fall of hair out of her face, and began making her way out of the building that was reserved for the most serious cases. She walked haltingly past the other general medical and triage tents, and on into the city proper. The streets got busier as she went and she kept to the very edges of the thoroughfares, avoiding any bumps or collisions as best she could on her slow progress. She had a destination in mind, having made Nowal's inn a regular haunt since first finding it. The food was good, the inn clean and the ale met Ely's high standards. Food was the first priority. She was as weak as a day old kitten. Then...then she had some people to thank and some questions to ask.
  4. Elynde leaned back against one of the many tall ash trees, native to this part of Andor, that lined the track she was following and took a long thoughtful drink from her water bottle, scanning the surroundings with a sharp gaze. Nothing stirred. She was beginning to suspect that she wouldn’t find this Band by herself but given the isolation of the area, wasn’t entirely sure what to do about the predicament. Dusk would not be long in making its presence known and she wasn’t particularly enthralled with the idea of sleeping out there alone for the night. At least it isn’t raining or likely to any time soon, she contemplated the clear sky for a few seconds as she replaced the water bottle in her pack. Deciding there was nothing for it but to continue in the same direction, on the premise that the track was worn enough to be regularly travelled, Elynde set off, determination marking every stride. She didn’t mind walking, having become accustomed to it in the last couple of years, but she did find herself longing for a hot bath to get rid of the dust and grime that accompanied any journey. Hasty washes in cold streams aside, she had not had the luxury of a bath in several weeks and was feeling the lack. An hour later Elynde found herself following a wider pathway, wide enough for two horsemen abreast, the tightly packed dirt suggesting heavier local traffic and the possibility of nearby farms or villages. The area was too rural to support anything that could seriously be called a town and she knew Baerlon was well to the north of her current position. A sharp cracking noise brought her out of her reverie suddenly, though she did not stop walking. There was nothing to see amongst the dense trees and scrub but there was no doubt in her mind that someone was there, watching her progress. Instinct told her it was no animal that had caused the sound. There! she caught a brief flash of metal behind a storm damaged trunk off to her left, just tall enough to conceal a person, and as she reached it, she casually dropped her pack to the ground and stretched. “I know you’re there, so you’d be as well showing yourself,” Elynde’s voice was almost conversational, belying the tension in her frame. There was no point in antagonising someone who might... might... not have any ill intentions. A man slowly appeared, moving into the centre of the path, facing her with an unpleasant grin on his face. He was about an inch shorter than Elynde, his skin swarthy and pockmarked, framed by lank, greasy blonde hair that hung just to his shoulders. His sword hung at his belt untouched. Obviously he didn’t see her as any real threat. His mistake. He took a few steps closer, the grin becoming more of a leer and she could see his train of thought reflected in his lascivious expression. “Wha’s a lil’ birdie like you doin’ out here alone then, eh?” the accent was broad and not one Ely could place easily. Not Andoran that was for sure. Wherever he was from, she misliked the implication of his words when added to the way his eyes slid over her frame. She shifted her weight imperceptibly, replying, “I’m looking for the Band of the Red Hand. If you happen to know where they are, I’d appreciate directions.” “The Band is it missy?” the man chortled as though she’d told a joke. “Well now, I reckon I could be showin’ ye the way... if ye make it worth my while...” Ely’s hands moved for her daggers of their own accord just as the fool lunged for her arm, slicing in rapid succession across his wrist and shoulder. She barely noted the surprise on his face as she spun behind him, curving her arm around his neck so her blade lay across his throat. “One move,” she grated in his ear, “just one...” The threat hung there for a moment until Ely’s ears registered the jingle of bridles and the stamp of several hooves heralding an audience to the little contretemps. Raising her head slightly, she favoured the party of horsemen with a hard-eyed stare, picking out the likely leaders. Deliberately, she took a step back then raised one booted foot, planting it firmly on her assailant’s rear before shoving hard and sending him sprawling face down in the dirt. “One of yours is he?” she enquired, a clear edge of contempt to her voice and an eyebrow arching sardonically. These newcomers certainly looked like soldiers but if they were part of this infamous Band, they chose their company badly... very badly indeed. Either that or discipline was lax. Perhaps joining them had not been such a good idea.
  5. If one were to think about it logically, dawn was probably the least intelligent time to hold training sessions. Not only were the useless meat-sacks not awake enough to hold a sword, there was always one dumb bastard who thought he or she could show up late without repercussion. Sergeant Beleo Ronas was not one for logic, though. The session was at dawn for one simple reason: everybody knew training sessions were held at dawn. The Sarge was not a big man by any stretch of the imagination. Standing six feet tall, there were plenty of men bigger than him. However, there were very few in the Band as old as him. At 47, Sergeant Ronas was one of those things that wise warriors feared: a veteran front-liner. He was also the go-to man when it came to breaking the new flesh in. His methods ranged from the classic to the unorthodox, and the results showed the effects of his abilities. People he trained reacted better in odd situations than most. He had also personally trained one of the most deadly men to ever be part of the Band, the former commander Mehrin 'Deathwatch' Mahrvon. The field was set. Beleo had commandeered one of the sand-covered training areas near the westernmost wall, setting out a few weighted training weapons ranging from rapiers to shortswords to an oversized claymore. No matter what kind of sword a trainee felt comfortable with, there would be a replica of it on that table; the arrival of bizarre weapons made sure that training replicas were always made for them. Sergeant Ronas walked to the far end of the laid-out training weapons, where he picked up his own custom-made training weapon: a heavy two-hander like the ones favored by heavy infantry in his home nation of Shienar. The blade was heavily notched, and the leather-bound hilt was stained with sweat and blood; training did not always go easy for either him or his students, and the weapon showed it. Taking a moment to shrug out of his rough-spun coat, Beleo swung the weapon a few times, loosening up a bit while his students appeared, one by one. Directing them to the assembled weapons without a word, he continued working and waiting. OOC: Post your arrivals, selecting a weapon, and waiting for Beleo to start the lesson. I'll get things going as soon as I have a few victims. Just a reminder, your WS range from 2-5 right now (I would have sent you the number). Sergeant Beleo is 17, so don't think you'll be an equal match in the event he decides to use one of you as a demonstration spar (which might be possible; I'm not sure yet myself what all will happen in this lesson).
×
×
  • Create New...