Flashback Pride And Falls

[Konrad Venger]

16th Bell - 20th Day of Winter, 497AV - The Proving Grounds

He knew he was getting better. He could feel it, in the smoothness of his arms, their speed, the lack of thought. The first few lessons had been so focused, an effort of will that left him bruised and dripping sweat on the cobbles and dirt as he'd left. But now, with Fall freezing into Winter, air biting around his bare arms as he moved... he welcomed the numbness. The detachment.

Three!

Before the thought had even fully formed in his head, his arm jerked up. Right, high-

-practice sword of his opponent smacking into his own as he blocked the blow crashing towards his head and-

He didn't strike back. That was easy. He wanted to learn, not just beat down this green boy with spots on his fucking face. He wanted to see what would happen next, like-

-the kid lashing out with his steel-capped shoes for between his legs-

One!

Itzel's voice thundered through his mind as it boomed the positions he'd learned that first day. Basic, yes, but that didn't mean they were to be abandoned when one's form improved. Konrad knew them, he was good with them. Why change them? Instead, adapt them, to-

-swing his wooden kopis down in a vertical half-circle, like he was blocking a blow coming at his right leg-

-instead smacking it across the boy's knee as it came roaring towards him, drawing a scream as that wet tchwack! of wood meeting bone echoed out between them-

Now.

The boy reeled back, leg useless, sword almost forgotten as he tottered and staggered. Konrad closed the distance in a blink, bringing up his sword from a block to a backhanded strike that knocked the wobbling wooden blade out of his way-

-following it a moment later with a left hook at the boy's face.

Bone crunched, cracked, broke. Konrad felt wetness on his knuckles seeping and spreading like the grin across his lips. He could taste it, like the desperation overwhelming the boy's form and determination-

He moved. His movements were sure in a way they couldn't have been if not for a full season and a dozen lessons at this place of drill and martial torture. He'd done them a hundred times before, failed just as many times, and now they were coming together and-

-he chopped down hard on the boy's sword arm, his left, fracturing his elbow and killing his grip. The clatter of the practice sword was swallowed by his scream, now down an arm and a leg-

-sound killed dead a tick later as Konrad damn-near broke his practice kopis across the side of his head. The hollow crack exploded out from his skull and a the other circling, slashing, thrusting couples around them paused as if ordered by Itzel herself. They stopped and watched the boy fall, blood trickling from his ears, eyes open but unseeing.

A thud. A panting victor, though not as hard as he would have been last season. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms... felt no tremors shaking his grip like before. Konrad looked around... and he sneered.

"Anyone else?"

"Yes."

The sneer died even before he saw his challenger. He knew the voice. In the tick it took to turn, he cursed himself, the bastard gods and his loosening bowels.

"On guard," said Itzel.

[Konrad Venger]

Konrad scanned around in those frozen ticks before, he was certain, his life would end, and was oddly satisfied that he recognized nobody. Meaning no-one would whisper in their ale that night of how Konrad Venger was taken apart like a spring lamb by the wolfish-

Fuck that! You survived this far, didn't you?!

Itzel had to admit, the little shit knew how to put a brave front on things. A hard, unflinching look settled over his face, like one of the Knights she'd once known lowering the visor of his helm. She pondered briefly what devilry had befallen him, to give him that face. Looked like a short blade, and old work, badly stitched.

The thought passed quickly. She was the center of attention now, not this upstart. He had thrown her carefully ordered training ground out of balance, and by the gods and the hells, she would redress it. She drew her two short swords in a flash and whirled them easily through the air.

He has form, this... Listair, wasn't it? False name. False man. But potential. Such potential... and no idea how to use it.

She sniffed. Too easy. Unworthy of her. Instead he blades jerked out at her sides, pointing out two of the crowd now gathered around them, sparring mere ticks ago and now gawping. Itzel fought the urge to roll her eyes and curse the idiots. They'd paid, after all. Why stand and watch?!

Instruction. Of various kinds.

"You... and you." She brought her blades together until they were leveled at a slowly-, awfully-understanding Konrad. "Take him down. Hard."

"You said spar, and I-"

"You didn't spar," Itzel spat as the two brawny trainees broke off from their pairs and began circling the sweating thug with the scarred face. "You beat a man unconscious. Now he will not learn, which is what he paid for. That's not how I do things. Time to learn."

Konrad didn't have any time for another reply. With a snarl the Mustache on the right lunged at him, slashing low-

One!

-his kopis sprang down and to the right, blocking-

"Wanker!"

The figure on his left moved like his feet were on rails, lunging close and high with a wooden hand ax-

-Konrad ducked under it and slashed out with his kopis, keeping him at bay, backpedaling furiously for when-

-Mustache followed up on his first strike with a thrust, bursting forwards-

Three!

In a blink, the merest fragment of time, Konrad saw Itzel's lips curl ever so slightly. But enough for him to get the point. He could demolish one green boy with barely a full lesson under his belt. But these weren't random choices; they were men as seasoned as him, if not more... and there were two of them.

A slope of her shoulders. Up... then down... as his face cracked under the pressure.

Not fair, is it? Too bad. Welcome to Sunberth.

THUNK

He was a mite too slow with his block. His kopis swung up and knocked the wooden longsword away-

-but not all the way-

-and the tip of it hammered into his chest, just right of his breastbone. He gasped and grunted as his lungs wouldn't work, flower of pain blossoming up and down his torso as he staggered back-

Attack! Don't stay on the-

He lunged before he could finish the thought. Against twice as many, he had to be twice as fast, so he swallowed the pain and-

-launched at Mustache, shoulder first, the other man already a little off-balance from his lunge, knocking him back, leaving him to deal with-

-Ax Man, swinging again, this time for his body, both hands gripping the practice weapon tight-

Fuck it. Either way you getting-

Konrad yelled as much as his battered chest would allow and threw himself into the swing. He was right: he got hit. But he was also "right": it was the hilt that smacked into his ribs, not the heavy head that would have broken them-

-as he tackled Ax Man down and drew back, smashing his forehead into a face of gnashing teeth and glaring eyes-

CRACK

Agony surged like grounded lightning across his back as Mustache made his way back into the fight. Konrad slashed backward, blindly, and the kopis crashed into something suspiciously like a leg-

-the scream seemed to confirm it, bought him another second for-

"Geddof!"

Strong arms gripped him by the shoulders, something swung up between his legs and in a burst of pain distinctly private and localized-

-Konrad was flying arse over tit, the whole world tilting and swerving as he blinked-

-and Ax Man threw him off and sent him skidding across the dirt and stones, face scraping and scratching. His hands planted... yes, that was land. His eyes swam and he could... could barely breath, sure he had a dent in his chest and a bastard of a bruise throbbing across his back. But he had to get up, still had his sw-

CRACK

The would-be swordsman cried out as a short, precise blow to his wrist made it suddenly separate from him. He couldn't feel his fingers, grasp wood, let along swing it. Ax Man was standing over him and his foot reared back-

-thundering towards Konrad's stomach-

The boy snarled and took the fucking blow, like he'd taken hundreds of others throughout his life. He let the blow connect and double him over even as he lay, wrapped his arms around it-

-then twisted over to the other side, dragging the Ax Man down with him-

-crawling up the pair of them and grabbing him by the throat-

-slamming his head into the ground, paying him bac-

THUNK

Konrad's senses shattered. All he beheld blew apart in white and black sparks, all jostling and dancing and colliding across his eyes and along his body. Syna rose, stark and unrelenting, right in the middle of his head. Some small voice screamed out that it was Mustache, his sword, just a tap on the head, gods, get back up-

But he couldn't quite... do anything. Even blinking, that long, slow movement... gods that was hard. The world was under water, shimmering and mocking him. Leaking into his bones and his mind railed and raged but got no obedience.

He felt the hook across his jaw from Ax Man. Or, at least, he was aware of it. The pain was muffled, like it was remembered, no inflicted in that moment. He slumped and knew there was a dampness there. The grass. The gravel. The wetness in his mouth. Something sharp and loose in the roof of it.

Konrad fought it. He reached out and bent all his will into one arm, pushing himself up-

-only to meet a boot smashing into his face. After that it was all just flashes. Darkness and thudding, merciless impacts. Light and slivers of life, but this life was two men kicking and hammering down, as long as he moved and resisted until-

"Enough."

It was a voice from a long way away, but it commanded instant respect. The thudding stopped. Konrad was grateful: he hated that noise. Curled up on the ground and deep in his head, every breath told him things were broken, fractured, dislocated, all those healer words that commanded fear and coin. But for now... he would just... rest a while.

"Try not to swallow too much blood," a woman's voice said, belonging to a blurred face with lank hair, peering down at him. "Lesson is over for today."

[Konrad Venger]

Two-Score Days Later

Winters are hard in Sunberth, but where isn't it, really? The freezing cold, the lack of food, animals turned desperate or vanished, seasonal trades made moot until life and color returns... many things die in Winter. They just happen more frequently in a big city, and that Winter, Konrad came close to Dira.

Only yourself to blame, fool.

He'd spent most of it on his back, coughing up his lungs, liver and his pride in the lowest, draftiest room in Sunset Quarter. He couldn't afford much more that season. The jobs he'd usually take required a man who could, well, walk, and swing a sword, not just hobble around like...

Like you had to that day. Hobble out like an old man and pray to gods you didn't give a shit about that you didn't get robbed by children.

That had been the worst part. The next was simple, excruciating recovery. Bessy, the bent old crone that had stitched up his face as a child and plenty since then, had come with her nephew to check on him. The lad was there for more than just security: he was the muscle that reset his bones, dragged him upright and then put him back into bed.

It all cost. All drained him. A roof, a daily bowl of gruel and... that was it. Everything else went on powders and herbs to dull the pain and the wrinkled palm of Bessy for her "charity".

It was a hard Winter, but mere weather wouldn't be the end of Konrad Venger. He'd walked out of his lodgings with a limp and by the time he'd made it to the Sun Birth's side of town, he'd almost gotten used to it.

"Pay here, then take your class... pay here, then take your class... pay here, then take your class.."

The same voice droned on and on at the gates of the Proving Grounds. Some battered and worn hulk in Dragoon uniform, belly and face run to fat but still with a stoutness that made you keep your distance. Around him a river of potential recruits, adventurous youths, and scum with ideas of betterment flowed towards the entrance. They dropped their coins into the wooden-topped chute next to it, leading down to gods-knew-where, after showing the proper amount to the dragoon waiting. Then they were placed.

That was why Itzel was there.

As soon as the black hat appeared in her eyes, she knew who it was. An eyebrow quirked; her one display of respect, surprise, any emotion at all. No forgetting that face, either. The bruises were gone but there were some fresh scars and that nose... ouch, yeah, that'd never be the same again.

One thing was unchanged, though. As he looked her in the eye, this youth barely with a beard on his face, and that same spitting defiance hadn't dimmed... but it was not blaring. She watched him as he paid his fare - ten gold pieces, all he'd managed to scrape together - and step up to her, her sister, a half-dozen others who between them knew every face the Grounds taught.

He ignored them all, save her. He stood before her, face as cold as the snow flecking the air, the ice on his boots. Itzel pursed her lips and gave a little shrug. Fine, it said. You're back, you're paid, in you come.

Konrad nodded and walked passed her.

[Konrad Venger]

"Head!"

Half a hundred blades whipped left-right, forehand-backhand, against the invisible enemy in front of them. Konrad was among them, kopis slashing above ear height.

"Face!"

Again, the same two blow, this time lower, cleaving open the face.

"Shoulders!"

Working down, chopping into the collar bone and balls of the shoulders, rendering the arms useless... and Konrad started to feel a twinge in his own.

"Chest!"

He pushed through the ache in his shoulders, the tremble in his arm, followed the same figure-of-eight pattern he'd been doing for a bell. Laying open the ribcage, gouging deep into the heart and lungs with honed steel in his hand. Much as he enjoyed the practice spars, he loved having his blade in his hand. Every session, every time, they grew more in tune.

"Stomach!"

Konrad had experience with what it looked like when you opened up a man's guts. All those fat, ropey things bulging out like engorged tapeworms. He thought of that as the kopis slashed left and right, blotting out the strain in his own stomach.

"Groin!"

The last one. The nasty one. Not just the crotch - the weak point in most armor - but also the thighs, the muscle and ligaments and fat arteries in them. Cut one or all and your enemy would either not be getting back up again, or he'd be bleeding out before he could get back up.

That was the routine. The same one they'd had battered into them since they lined up and Itzel had taken control. Gods knew all and shared little, but the men were sure of one thing that day: the deities weren't letting Itzel quit until they'd petching well got it.

"Remember!" She bellowed as she walked down the rows, as impervious to the biting, bitter air as she was any other pressure. "All flowing together! One blow, becoming the next! Now... on guard!"

Konrad would have liked another few chimes to catch his breath and stretch the ache from his limbs, but he wasn't going to get it. He knew well that those two words meant you got ready, and nothing else. One man who'd taken too long supping from a waterskin last time had to switch hands once Itzel got through with the one he used to hold his sword.

So Konrad didn't wait. He gulped down a breath and raised his kopis into that purr-pen-dick-you-lur position Itzel had talked about. The courtyard hushed, or at least their part of it. They waited. Expectantly. Almost reverently. Itzel paused until she knew every face was focused, ready, primed-

"Again!"

Konrad's blade chopped through the air a dozen times, side to side, front and back, and he remembered his instructor's words. Not six sets of two: one set of twelve. Or maybe one long blow was her final idea? No separation between any of them, the blade in constant motion.

Some day. But not today.

"Again!"

Repetition. The greatest tool that Itzel and her sister had with their trainees. Until the mind stepped back and the muscles took over. Until men remembered the numbers, but their bodies moved for them as they slept, and they woke up to her bark in their ears. Then they were ready.

That day, Konrad's body decided he wasn't quite there.

He hissed as he got halfway through the next kata and a twinge that grew to a grew spasm of agony that ripped up from his ribs and into his arms and gods the sound of his kopis crashing down to the stones was like a thunderbolt in a temple. He clutched his side as he reached down for it, and as his hand closed around the hilt-

-a pair of tough, steel-reinforced boots stopped in his path. He looked up... and it wasn't Itzel.

"You fit fer this?" The Dragoon instructor said, arms crossed over his chest. "Cuz if you ain't-"

"I am."

Konrad growled, stretching his arms up, down, sides, forward... until he could at least fake being in shape for this. He proved it a tick later when Itzel's voice snapped out again like a command from the gods and...

Head! Face! Shoulders! Chest!

He wavered. The pain crept up his arms and he remembered-

Weeks in bed. Coughing and retching and thinking over and over on-

Those thudding boots and sticks and fists-

Pity. Pity in the eyes of that fucking nephew of Bessy's. Pity for him-

Stomach! Groin!

The Dragoon nodded his approval as the last for blows became one, kopis cleaving freezing air in a single, sweeping, curving, slashing movement, ending with-

"On guard."

"Correct." The Dragoon's gaze flickered over Konrad's shoulder and there was some brief, definite communication. Konrad knew who it was... and felt a scrap of relief as the Dragoon nodded again, in deference. "Keep at it."

[Konrad Venger]

He was getting better. He knew it.

The man across from him was older, harder, but not as experienced with the training Itzel doled out. He'd only a couple of lessons under his belt and was still hesitant with his movements. But Konrad was slower, stiffer, wounds healed but not forgotten still clinging to his bones.

It was an even challenge. He could appreciate that.

CRACK

"Could" being the important word.

Konrad gasp-growled as guard Five! snapped into place and Newbie bastard sword hammered down towards his head, crashing into his own kopis. He wanted to slide it away from him, open up the bastard's chest for a slash, but instead he staggered, grip tightening harder as the strength he'd had in them failed to return.

He had no time to ruminate on that. To feel sick or tired or injured. Instead he-

-slid to the right as Newbie slashed at his left, kopis jerking down to knock the blow away-

-then backhand up into the man's torso-

-at the same time as the bastard cracked into his side.

Fucker recovered faster than expected. Both men staggered back, chest and ribs stinging, not taking their eyes off each other and, thanks to their training, keeping their guards up. They circled. Konrad's eyes dripped heat to match the cold around them, and he felt the wind whip through the yard-

-making his opponent wince and blink as it slapped him in the face-

Konrad grinned. Any chance you got, you took.

He came as fast as his body would allow, a big overhand slash at Newbie's shoulders from the right. Big and-

-obvious, enough that Newbie blocked it with a textbook Four! a moment later-

-or would have, if it had been real-

-Konrad pulling the blade back before the blow had even gone all the way through, crossing it across his torso and low, backhanding even as Newbie's practice blade hung in the air-

"Ha!"

CRACK

Newbie howled as the wooden kopis smashed into his right leg from the side, making him jump out of instinct, backhand down to the little sod who'd landed the blow on him-

-that Konrad just barely blocked with a Three!, tremor of it hurting more than it should have, forcing him back... which wasn't a completely bad deal.

Now he circled alone. Studied Newbie wobbling around with one leg unresponsive, face red and sweating. Konrad ran his eyes over him... and lowered his sword. Tilted his chin up. Smirked.

It was all he needed to do.

Newbie roared and came at him with a two-handed blow that would have shattered his ribs, his arm, his petching sword-

-if Konrad had been there to feel it, but he was-

-backing up a fast couple of steps, letting the blow whip past him so close he felt the breeze from the tip of the sword crease his nose-

"Petch-!"

Newbie took the worst of it. Leg petched, balance screwed, he fell forwards and Konrad twisted to the side, bringing his sword up as he did-

-slamming it into the man's stomach and doubling him over, dropping him to his hands and knees-

-Konrad's foot stamping on the bastard sword, keeping it pinned so he could-

It was right there. That same, perfect moment. A beautiful, unoccupied, unhurried line of air from his sword to the side of the bastard's face. He remembered how good that-

You remember what happened after?

Konrad did, even as he swung the finishing blow-

-especially as he did-

Which was why Newbie screwed his face up for an impact that didn't knock half the teeth out of his head. He opened them after a tick and found Scarface's wooden kopis so close to his face that he could smell the pine and make out tiny scratched from years passed.

His stomach was one fire. His leg was one, massive, throbbing mess. But he was conscious. His eyes followed the sword, up the blade, past the hilt, over black-clad arms and a bare head with filthy hair whipping around a face made for nightmares.

Konrad smiled back, as much as he could with what his father had left him.

"Again?"

He stood back. He gave Newbie his space. He learned. Itzel saw it from halfway across the yard and inverted her lips with a little "hmph".

Progress. Good. Surprising, but good.

[Anarkhos]

BEHOLD, A PART OF YOU RETURNS.

 

Konrad Venger

• Skills
  Kopis-5
  Endurance-3
  Brawling-2
  Observation-3
• Lore
  The Proving Grounds: Were those come to learn, train, and get beat down
  Itzel: Does not approve of cockiness
  Wooden weapons can break bones
  

Notes:I know I keep saying this, but I really like this thread as well lol. I like Konrad and the way you play him as a pc and a person. I feel that he would be a poster child of Sunberth in a way. Keep up the good work. If you have any questions or concerns please feel free to pm me. Also remember to go back and change this thread to graded. Thank you.