Solo (Mithryn) Balancing Blades

[Marrick Corvis]

Balancing Blades Summer 85th 514 AV The Rooftops of Mithryn were dangerous path to walk. Loose tiles, and the occasional nesting bird that attacked mercilessly to protect its clutch were always there to thwart a safe journey over its surface. Though for a Kelvic who could turn into a bird at will, a fear of heights was nothing but an afterthought. It was here that Marrick had climbed in the early morning hours after breakfast. Each hand hold was another step toward his goal today. His young and willful heart had, as usual, gotten him in trouble with his patron and he had been tasked to meditate for one hour on his actions before he began his training. Marrick strained his muscles as he balanced his weight between his lower legs and his upper body. Above him the beautiful summer sky blew warm breezes into the practice yard of Mithryn, while below him the tiled rooftop was hot and unforgiving on the palms of his hands. He was to balance on his hands on the roof. He was only allowed to touch the roof with his hands. Anything more and he would have to do it again. He used the breathing technique that Ser Whitevine had taught him to maintain his focus through the discomfort he felt. It was a completely unnatural position to hold, and he had only been doing this for a few tics. Somewhere inside him the weakness he felt begged him to stop this obscure sadomasochistic torture. While the part of him that struggled to survive this world, the part of him that refused to die, that chose to live demanded that he control his body. Over the last couple of seasons Marrick understood what a weapon was. Swords, spears, lances, bows, and more, yet the strange concept that the Kelvic was beginning to understand was that the Knights of Syliras, were themselves a weapon. Hammered and honed over years of training, hard work, and hardship. There was a reason that Syliras was such a successful nation, and it had nothing to do with luck. Somewhere in Marrick’s forearm he felt a twitch, almost as if his arm had a worm that wriggled inside it. The little voice cried out to him again to relent, but he refused. He held his pose, a perfect T at the apex of the roof. His head hung low, the occasional runnel of sweat chasing its course down his brow. His arms were beginning to ache, and the Kelvic searched for something, anything to take his mind off the pain. His mind wandered, and searched, until it found his paradise. It was of course his beloved Oriah. He held himself aloft, and used his vivid imagination to paint a picture in his mind’s eye. A sleepy image, where Oriah rested by a spring in the outskirts of the Bronzewood while the sunlight danced in her hair. As the mood that pleasant image brought over him he began to hum softly. It was the same old tune. The one they had danced to the first time they had met. A merry and lively tune, interrupted by his staggered breaths.

[Marrick Corvis]

At the peeling of the 9th bell Marrick agonizingly lowered his aching body to the cool tiles of the roof of the garrison. His chest felt tight, almost as if he’d broken a rib. His face rested awkwardly against one particular tile with a large crack in it, where moss had taken root. As his breathing eased and he found he could flex his muscles again, he rolled onto his side. Like an odd weather vane he lifted himself up and aimed his face into the wind. The breeze that caressed his face was warm and relaxing, but he still felt as if his arms were a bunch of pulled and knitted knots. With an agonized groan, the Kelvic stood tall, and balanced along the apex of the roof with his arms outstretched. He stretched as far out as his body would allow and flexed his limbs to ensure that they still worked. When all seemed well apart from the dull ache that lingered he slid his way down the roof to the edge. Probably a little too quickly. Just as the edge threatened to slide from under him, he fell backwards onto his side and caught the eve with his hands. The centrifugal force that propelled him forward to sling shot him down over the eve and toward the third floor balcony. As the swing hit its greatest speed the Kelvic let go and he helped guide his descent on the third floor balcony walkway by using the railing of the balcony banister as a hand guide. He landed loudly, as his booted feet met with the hard wood of the walkway and he cringed. He had hoped to do that quietly, but alas Marrick knew he had not the control for that. Not yet. With a long sigh he was about to walk down the the yard when the door of one of the Knights quarters opened and Ser Whitevine stepped out. Marrick stood to attention as fast as he could manage and saluted his Patron. “SER!” he shouted. His Patron eyed him thoughtfully, weighing and assessing as he so often did. Until at last he broke the silence and gave his squire a sidelong smirk. “So did you learn not to steal boiled potatoes from the larder?” Marrick could imagine it, golden and glistening. Little grains of salt dotted its surface and he could still taste it on his tongue as he bit into its warm and mushy interior. “No- Oi mean YESSER!” He shouted in a failed attempt at lying. “Oi mean teh Ser, is that it was delicious ser!” No that wasn’t right. The Kelvic’s shoulders slumped in the agony that he knew his Patron would punish him again if he wasn’t satisfied with his squire’ disciplinary process. Yet, as the dark haired squire met his teachers gaze all he could see was mirth. Ser whitevine was trying not to laugh so hard he snorted and gave up. The older man laughed loudly in Marricks face, even wiping away a tear or too. “Oh, little brother what am I going to do with you.” He said clapping a hand on the Kelvics shoulder. “Come along, It’s time to practice your sword technique today.” Ser Whitevine said with a grin as he lead his squire down into the yard. The pair found themselves a quiet corner to spar, and set about making preparations. They strapped on their armor, and chose a couple of hardwood long swords to use. It was as it always was. Marrick knew he was about to get a ragging. He might manage a few lucky hits but, Ser Whitevine was always the ‘teacher’ in these situations. When the two were ready, Marrick raised his longsword over his head and waited for Ser Whitevine to make the first move. He watched with a careful eye as his Patron raised his wooden blade. The pair stood and watched each other for moment, or weakness but all the Kelvic held was a dull ache in his shoulders. David waited a little smile forming on his face. A smile that only grew as Marrick’s ache became a fire. “Arms hurting little brother?” He said as his smile became a broad grin. The dark haired squire grit his teeth back at him, in a classic ‘Pech Off’ grimace. “When your tired find another stance to hold. You can find power in your strikes in a high stance, but you can strike low as well.” Ser Whitevine lowered his blade so that its tip rested on the ground. “You aren’t giving up, but an untrained enemy may think so, and they will go in for a kill strike.” Marrick did as Ser Whitevine suggested and lowered his sword to the ground, and waited for the attack to come. His opponent brought his sword up over his head again and advanced. With a downward strike. The Kelvic side stepped neatly and lifted the blade of his sword up to guide his Patrons blade away. He did not counter though, he didn’t feel comfortable with this new technique just yet. “Always counter little brother. Don’t ever let an enemy recover. If their balance is lost their weakness is revealed, and you need to press the advantage.” Ser Whitevine adopted another strong stance, wooden blade over head. Marrick felt the energy as it returned to him and bent his knees this time as he lowered his blade to the ground. He gripped its hilt with one hand, and stood with his back arched. The squire focused not on pleasing Ser Whitevine as he so often did. Instead he focused on the maneuver. Simple release, of his energy. Simple movements, which was all he needed to do.

[Marrick Corvis]

As his Patrons attack came, Marrick was ready this time, and he sidestepped as he had before letting his opponents blade slide down along his own, and he turned, he laid a long sweeping stroke along his Patrons back and the wood of his blade made a loud thunk as it made contact with his Patrons Armor. “Well done, Marrick.” He said with a smile as he lowered his own weapon. “Let’s see what else you’ve learned.” Ser Whitevines smile turned mischievous and the Kelvic knew what was coming. The Kelvic brought his blade up and rested it against his forearm. It would function as a good stance for thrusting, blocking, or a retreat and a broad strike. When Ser Whitevine attacked he brought his wooden long sword in a broad sweep from the left. Marrick lifted his blade up and led his Patrons blade in along the upper edge of his own sword until it met with his crossguard and redirected the strike over his head. When Marrick countered this attack Ser Whitevine swept his feet out from under him, and brought the tip of his blade down to rest on Marrick’s collar bone. “Oof, wasn’t exectin that.” The Kelvic said with as he belt the hard ground beneath his back. Ser whitevines blade lifted and he offered his Student a hand up which Marrick gripped readily. After he’d dusted off his shoulders and adjusted himself the Kelvic exclaimed “Again.” The Kelvic was hungry, practically starving for an appropriate lesson in sword play. This was his meal. Ser Whitevine did as before striking from the side, and the Kelvic did as before this time when his patron tried to sweep him he hopped over his foot as it slid beneath him. When his opponents blade came at him again he met the blade in a hard block and pressed in. Marrick tried to shove his Patron over onto his back, but his Masters stance was solid. The two struggled against each others strength a moment before Ser Whitevine felt the Kelvic push hard, and he gave way, letting Marrick stumble over Ser Whitevines knee. The Kelvic kept his blade up, keeping his Masters weapon at bay. Though that was not the end of it. Ser Whitevine kept after him. His Patron gave chase, closing the distance quickly and Marrick struggled to find a solid stance as his David brought his blade down hard against the Kelvics own weapon as he blocked. “Stop blocking and counter little brother!” Ser Whitevine said through grit teeth as Marrick levied his strength against his Patron’s downward strike. The Kelvics arms were on fire, he knew he couldn’t keep this up. Marrick side stepped and let his Patrons blade slip down his own and away. Ser Whitevine tried a side swipe as the Kelvic leapt backward out of reach, almost as if he were a recoiling hand. Ser Whitevine gathered himself and stood straight, this time running forward at his student. When the gap closed he gave a loud yell. The Kelvic felt the surge of adrenaline fill him as his Master bore down on him, and he yelled right back. Marrick lifted his blade up and caught Ser Whitevines weapon on his own, but instead of re-directiong his strike, the Kelvic folded against that energy and brught his elbow up hard into his Patrons chin. It was padded, but, the Kelvic heard the hard clack of Ser Whitevines teeth. Marrick was so surprised that it had worked he froze, and Ser Whitevine took the opportunity to bowl him over. As Marrick lay there on his back, he felt no tap of his Patrons blade, but he could hear him as he coughed and spat. When the kelvic lifted his head and rolled onto his side he saw that Ser Whitevine was bleeding from the mouth. “Shyke Ser! Oi didn’ mean teh-“ Ser Whitevine was already waving away the apology before the Kelvic could finish. He growled as he tested his tongue for speech, and Marrick realized that he had made his Patron bite himself. “It’s alright little brother. It was a good hit. Had you been wearing a cuff, I’d have been knocked unconscious.” Ser Whitevine growled and spat a bloody mouthful of spit onto the training grounds of the garrison and stood up. A little bit of it touched the corners of his mouth and he looked a little more focused. If today’s training had begun as a friendly sparring match, it had just gotten serious. ~ Ser Whitevine circled him like a wolf, as Marrick followed suit. All the smiles had disappeared. His Patron would attack soon, and the Kelvic tried to focus on his master’s chest. It was where all motion would come from as his Patron swung his blade. Like the sound of the creaking wood before the bell, Marrick saw his Patron’s feint before he brought his blade in for a broad strike to his shoulder. The Kelvic brought his blade up and caught his Patrons attack and stepped forward inside David’s strike range. Marrick headbutted Ser Whitevine hard on the bridge of his nose before he shoved him over. The Kelvic did as he had been instructed, he advanced quickly only to meet the hard sole of Ser Whitevines boot as he rolled onto his back. Ser Whitevine shoved him back and used the force of his kick to roll the other way to recover into a solid footed stance. As Marrick recovered himself, his Patron watched him as he often did. His eyes weighed the Kelvic as they circled one another and the dark haired squire narrowed his eyes, keeping his focus on the more experienced swordsmans chest.

[Marrick Corvis]

Ser Whitevine’s attack came swiftly and cruelly. The Knights wooden blade came down over Marricks’ in a crippling rain of blows. The Kelvic wasn’t prepared for the sudden aggression that his Patron poured upon him. All the dark haired squire could do was block each attack in a feeble meeting of wood on wood, until he withered beneath his final three hits. Just as when a mouse realizes when it’s cornered, Marrick froze and Ser Whitevine kicked him over onto his back. With a swift flourish the Knight brought his blade down across the squire’s collar bone with a loud whump against his padded armor. Marrick hissed in defeat and slapped the ground with his hand in admittance of his defeat. The Knight offered him his hand, and Marrick took it in trust. As Ser Whitevine lifted him up he brought him close and spoke softly. “Did you learn nothing of your time in mediation!?” David’s voice was filled with disappointment, and his eyes were a cold fire. “If you can control your body for an hour on the rooftop, you can defend against an attack like that. You give up too easily! Again!” The man shoved Marrick away with a stiff push that sent him stumbling. As awkward as Marrick’s recovery was, he managed to find his feet. With a nod he brought his sword up, and grit his teeth at his opponent. Ser Whitevine brought his own practice blade up and attacked with a swift downward blow to Marrick’s midsection. The Kelvic brought his own blade up with a loud crack and locked the blade into the wooden crossguard of his own weapon before he twisted his Patrons sword hard and away. To his own surprise the wooden longsword slid right out of Ser Whitevines hands. Marrick watched the practice weapon as it flew wide and clattered to the hot dry ground. As he turned, David’s fist was inches from his nose. The clap and snap as his Patrons fist connected with his nose was a painful surprise and shock. The dark haired squire’s eyes gushed with water, and Marrick fell backwards. Though he didn’t let go of his sword. The world was fog and pain, but the Kelvic could tell Ser Whitevine approached. The squire practically bent knee with how low he knelt and evaded his Patrons grasp. As he rose, he brought his blade around Davids legs, and swept them out from under him. The man fell backwards and landed with a loud exhale of air. The Kelvic wasted no time, and leapt forward upon his Teacher. He gripped his longsword like a spear and brought the weapon down over Ser Whitevines throat. He stopped short with a huffed rush of air. The pair panted a long moment until their breaths became one single cadence. The Knight smiled up at his squire through bloodied teeth and tapped the ground with his gauntleted hand. “Well done Marrick.”

[Orin Fenix]

Grades are Served

 

Marrick Corvis

Skill	XP
Climbing	1
Body-Building	3
Acrobatics	2
Endurance	4
Socialization	2
Tactics	3
Weapon: Longsword	4
Unarmed Combat	2
Observation	2

Lores

• Acrobatics: Handstands
• Oriah: Even the Thought of Her Gives Strength
• Tactics: Switch Stances When Weary
• Tactics: Always Counter
• Unarmed Combat: Elbow Strike
• Longsword: Disarming an Opponent
• Longsword: Knocking an Opponent Down

Shield Points

1	Patron Present
4	Training

Extras :

An excellent training thread. You covered a lot of material in a short time. While some of Marrick's attacks might have strayed into the competent territory, considering that it was training and he was having so much trouble executing them it made perfect sense to me. Well done!

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