Earning The Second Wing [Solo]

by **Markus Andres** on April 21st, 2014, 12:52 am

24-Spring-514

”I agree, master. It makes sense to use them as the hammer after Anders, Hales and Hushod have disrupted their formation.” The older man nodded his agreement, it had been the mutual conclusion and Markus only agreed to affirm that the two had similar ideas. The two continued to discuss the ideas they had for the wing and how to utilise their diverse abilities the best. When he had first looked over the parchments spread out on the table in the Stallion he had looked at the profile of Hushod a bit bemused. He had not expected to be given a mage knight in his command. But the more he thought about it, the more he came to realize the golden opportunities she gave him.

The tactical versatility she provided. She was one of the reasons Markus had asked his master to come- Technically he wasn't his master any longer, but Markus' brain was hardwired to consider him his master and calling him anything but master and ser felt strange. Even though he now outranked the man. His master looked, as always, stern and quite bemused by the situation. Every time he heard Markus refer to him as master his eyes grew hard for several long seconds that made Markus squirm under his gaze.

”On foot I would take the lead, have Brock take the right flank, Anders the left. Hales and Braklin between us in the shield wall. Hushod support where she can.” Once again ser Mason nodded as he drank from the mug Markus had bought him. It was a small price to pay for the older man's experience and his assistance in proofing Markus' ideas and making sure he didn't make any huge tactical blunders.

”But I suppose we might have to revise depending on how the tests go today.” Markus noted before he drained the rest of his ale. ”Speaking of which, I better go, or I'll run late.” The armoured man got up from his seat and gathered the parchments and neatly placed them in his backpack. He didn't have the time to go to his room and drop them off before his meeting with the, no, his wing. His master looked at him as he gathered his items, no doubt he was silently judging Markus. For what, he did not know for sure, but he had a couple of guesses. Partly the fact that Markus' smiles had been a little strained as of late. Though today the smile was genuine and warm.

'You worried?' Markus looked at him curiously as he contemplated the idea.

”Worried, hmm. No, more anxious about getting started actually, master.” He picked up the metal heater shield that had been placed against the table leg.

'You will have to stop calling me that – doesn't fit a sergeant to c-'

Markus raised a hand to silence him. There were some perks associated with being a sergeant. His master looked a bit surprised, but the same discipline he had drilled into his former squire he himself possessed.

”Don't bother, master. So, is it okay if I drop by later this evening and discuss the tactics further? Once I have observed their training and abilities. This Anders woman seems quite interesting, to be honest. I can't wait to see her in action.” The raised brow from his master brought a wide grin on Markus' lips. ”Not meant like that, ser. May Wysar keep you safe until tonight.” The grin on his lips remained fixed despite his assurances. And he saluted and threw his backpack over his shoulder and made his way towards the exit. Eyes looking for the barmaid he had spent the night with back in winter. Though she probably had the day off or had found better employment elsewhere.

He had told his wing to meet him at the training grounds. Their first official patrol was not until a couple of days later. But the sergeant wanted to know the capabilities first hand rather than rely only on previous reports from the archives and whatever else information he had been able to scrounge up. The grin slowly faded as his master vanished to the back of his mind.

It was time to appear the stern sergeant and put himself in a place of respect.

by **Markus Andres** on April 21st, 2014, 12:53 am

The sergeant walked into the training grounds. Armour creaked lightly as he stepped over the cobbled floor. The double swords fixed on his left shoulder. Heater shield slung over said shoulder and hanging on a leather strap. He looked around the area, his eyes ended on the five people gathered together in a loose semi circle. One of them sitting, the myrian he assumed, being female and the youngest of the two females, it was easy to deduce. Anders, close to his own, but he did not assume the two names had any correlation that being a little similar in sound. He had begun to affectionately calling her Halfer in his mind.

They knew each other prior, which meant he was taking over a wing from, either a promoted, retired, or, the gods forbid it, deceased sergeant – The files had not said and Markus had not felt comfortable poking his nose into that part. Which meant he had to fill a pair of shoes left behind. Two of them looked older than Markus had anticipated. He had accepted that Hales, Three-finger, would look ancient compared to himself, but he had not expected his eyes appear to sharp as he looked at the other people in his wing. The laughter that he heard, however, boded well. They were friends. Close friends he did not know, but it was a good start. Friends fought more fiercely for one another. Cold hearted pragmatic conclusion. The friends he had made under Thy Rhanan he would have fought like there was no tomorrow to protect them.

Markus cut his analysis short and simply approached the group. The butterflies in his stomach were chased away by a large chunk of ice that settled in his stomach. Mind cool and clear and an arrogant voice told him: You were born to lead.

”Right, listen up third wing. I am Markus Andres, your new Sergeant knight.” The excitement in his voice was easy to hear if you knew him, but there was also warmth, but it was mainly stern. Emulating the voice of his master in times past. Worked then, might work on these knights. They all turned to look at him. Backs straight and the Halfer got up from her seat and straightened herself out.

”This will be a short briefing, we got tomorrow off, the day after we will be heading north to the mines and then return late by the evening. You will get more information when we ride. But everything points at this being a standard patrol. Any questions?”

Hushod nodded and Markus gestured with his hand for her to ask the question. If this was only a briefing, why had he asked them to appear in full armour? Would be a waste. Equally, why was he wearing full armour himself?

'Why are we here, ser? Training grounds aren't the best place for a briefing. And armour makes for terrible social wear. Not all of us are made of a tonne of muscles.' Markus smiled, he had hoped for a question along the lines of that one. But he did notice the muscle comment had been aimed at Brock who just snorted in response.

”Because I need to know your abilities. Single combat against me, you take turns. Except you, Hushod, I have no interest being the target for your magical abilities. You I will let a training dummy take the punishment. Good, get your training weapons. Oh- and bring me a bastard sword.” Live steel might make it … interesting. But to injure his wing first time he trains with them would be a bit excessive. ”Except you Hushod, the rest, line up behind me when you have the weapons. Go. Hushod, show me what you are capable of against the dummy over there – I will pay for the replacement.”

'You better, ser.' The smile returned to his lips at that comment. He liked the woman already. Wasn't too up tight, but still respectful. She had more experience with magic than he would probably ever get. She was a valuable source of knowledge and the practical use of magic in combat. The woman began to make some movements, arm gestures and words unknown to Markus reached his ears. But Markus was also exceptionally terrible with foreign tongues. He spoke only common and understood only common. In Syliras, that was all you needed.

”Take the tim-” Markus involuntarily took a step away when the dummy was bathed in magical spikes of earth. Perhaps this had not been the safest method of showing off her magical abilities, but she was a mage-knight. Could be trusted. Many eyes in the training area fell on the two as they gazed upon the dummy being eaten by earth. He didn't notice their eyes, he just stared into the earth as a smile crossed his lips.

'Satisfied, ser?' Markus eyes turned to Hushod and the crooked smile on his lips had already answered her question. She would be very useful in the field.

”Certainly.” She snorted in reply. ”Now clean this up. Can't leave dirty everywhere, Hushod.” A woman in her late thirties being ordered around by a man in his early twenties. Must be strange, he thought, but she followed orders without questions. ”When done, come join us by the training area.” Markus turned around. He had heard his four remaining knights come up behind him. ”Thank you.” As Braklin handed him the training sword. Hilt felt different, but not enough to warrant much thought. It was balanced similarly to his own blade which was much more important to the sergeant. The edges had been dulled for training purposes. The tip non-existent as it was just flat. If he wanted to kill his knights, it would have to be a deliberate act or a freak accident.

”Brock, you're first.”

by **Markus Andres** on April 21st, 2014, 12:54 am

The mace came down. A good powerful attack. But Markus could read it from a mile away. The training sword slapped his weapon aside with seemingly ease. Markus was not bothering to be graceful in his defense. That might come later. Brock didn't let this defeat him as he pushed on. Weapon swung in from the side. Markus jumped back outside of his range. The man reacted and tried to thrust the mace at him. Either out of desperation to secure a hit or because he wanted to knock Markus off balance.

His style was reminiscent of Markus' own. All out offense and keep the enemy on his toes. - Unfortunately for him Markus was leagues above him when it came to combat. Had age dulled his abilities or had he not devoted as much time to training that Markus had? He might find out one day.

Either way, the sergeant's right foot touched ground. Turned to the left, body followed the motion – knocked the mace aside once more. Brock was good – not the best, far from. But his natural strength and choice of weapon was an excellent mix. But Markus did notice that when he attacked he had a habit of slacking off on his defense. Ever observant eyes found the weakness already the first time Brock attacked. Shield dipped half an inch lower than he ought to with that strike. Too golden an opportunity and Markus had found out what he needed to know of this man. His style, relative skills with the mace. Good, but not great. - Enough to work with.

The bastard blade swung back in from slapping his weapon side – his right arm twisted. Turning the blade towards the man and keeping his wrist safe. When one became as good as Markus had become, it was the small details that needed to be fine tuned – minor adjustments that gave him a little edge against other masters. Brock was no master, his shield barely managed to react before Markus' blade had swiftly moved by the gardbrace and dipped down to rest against the side of his armoured neck. The sharp sound of metal against metal as he made sure Brock understood he had just been hit. And could have been hit much harder. The eyes from within the helmet stared out at Markus. He recognized the annoyance and the disbelief.

”Excellent style. Careful on your defense, Brock. You're too valuable alive to let a sloppy defense take you down.” – Lectured by a young man like Markus – the swift defeat.

'Yes ser, but if I get them first, they can't get me.' There was not much respect in his voice – but the words had been uttered and Markus noted to keep an eye on Brock. He would have to find a good spot for him if he got annoyed this easily – his argument was sound logic and was the style Markus favoured when fighting. Thus the sergeant only shrugged in response. Could argue with that logic.

I would probably also be annoyed if I had been defeated in this manner. Markus shrugged mentally and focused on the knights.

”Braklin, your turn.”

The smaller knight stepped up and replaced Brock in front of Markus. Blade and axe met one another. This one was quicker. Better adjusted to using the axe for both offense and defense. Markus blade swung back and forth as the man unleashed a series of quick attacks. All deflected or blocked by Markus' sword or shield. His tandem with shield and axe was not as good as Markus would have liked, but Braklin made for a good knight. Capable warrior and Markus smiled under the armour as he finally went for the counter attack. Axe knocked aside in a similar fashion as before. Markus stepped in close, used his physique in a brutish manner to knock back Braklin. When he regained his balance Markus was there again. Sword slipping past his kite shield and the dulled tip of his blade hit the softer target under his right armpit. To his surprise, the kite came across. Knocked the blade aside and the dull metal made a weak pling when it connected to the gardbrace.

Markus smiled and stepped back. Excellent. Braklin kept his defense up when he struck. Unlike Brock. Markus stepped aside when the axe swung in. Felt the metal sweep by in front of him before Markus stepped forward again. Markus' sword came out to distract his shield. A simple feint as Markus moved even closer so his left foot led again. Swing the shield forward with the edge leading towards Braklin's right shoulder. Braklin reacted well – unfortunately:

Also a feint. His shield came across to defend his right shoulder. That was when Markus' blade came in again and struck him deftly on the left side of his helmet.

”Excellent style. Well rounded. - Hales.” It was deliberate that Markus left the Half-Myrian for last. Either it was his respect for the man who once beat him that elevated her above the others in his mind – or was it an act to get her riled up and excited for the match. He was looking forward to that fight. Hales, on the other hand would be a technical fight, Markus knew that. His age meant, unfortunately, that muscles and reaction speed would have been dulled. If he could remain with the knights, Markus knew he still had the ability to fight – which meant he must be excellent with the technical aspects of the blade.

I might learn a feint or two. He thought eagerly. This and the Halfer – the two fights he had been looking forward to.

Hales moved first.

by **Markus Andres** on April 21st, 2014, 12:54 am

She had dissappointed him. Quick and agile as the myrian half. Her mark from the goddess of war had aided her, but her skills with the blade and shield had not been up to Markus' expectations of her race. Markus inadvertently realized he had been racist to expect her to be an awesome warrior. But she certainly had the tenacity to become a great warrior – if he had thought Brock to be an aggressive fighter, then Anders made him look like a turtle. Barely had the woman stayed still, but all her strikes had been one dimensional. Fast, true – But so easy to read. Each interception had left her annoyed and him less thrilled about the fight. A good fighter, potential for much more.

A potential he would like to unlock. But Markus had knocked her on her ass with a shove of his shield. She had made the mistake to commit fully to an attack. Her balance had been jeopardized and Markus had taken advantage of the mistake. Though she did not seem annoyed – instead she looked at him with something Markus found rather disturbing: Lust. Sure, he could have gone for the woman, but she was his subject. He could not have a relationship with her, another knight perhaps, but not a woman he was expected to lead into combat.

”Far too aggressive in your style. Patience, Anders.” That name still tasted weird in his mouth. Or perhaps that was just the pent up frustration that Anders had disappointed him so much. He had expected a good long fight that might sate his desires for a great fight. Have him feel the thrill of the fight. Looking at the four gathered knights, Hushod over by the side watching the battles bemused and impressed at the same time. It was an odd mix he noted. Though of course she was bored. But patience was a good thing. Braklin helped up Anders.

It gave him an idea. If they could not sate his lust for combat in a one on one, perhaps as a group they might.

”Good. Now for team work. All four of you against me. I want to see how you work together as a unit. Hushod, your role in this scenario was to help out wherever you could – but I still don't fancy cooking in this armour, so stay put.” Braklin and Hales chuckled at the remark. The other two having their personal issues with Markus' swift defeat of them. Hushod had opted for a crooked grin on her lips as she just shrugged in response.

The four knights looked to one another and nodded as one. Stepped in closer in unison. Markus was impressed. Their shields locked and they moved closer. They had formed a shield wall! A short one, but against a single enemy like Markus, it did not need to be big to petch him over. They steadily advanced upon him.

Interesting. He realized that Hales had taken the unofficial command of the group. Experience beat the vigour of youth. Hales would make for a good second in command. He had the experience to back it up and the respect of the others.

I should probably consider that after I have dealt with this … problem.

by **Markus Andres** on April 21st, 2014, 12:55 am

Eyes scanned across the barrier that came at him one step at a time. The flanks were the weaknesses, but he assumed they wouldn't let him get around them easily. But he could always try. Markus took several fast steps, a short dash to the side. The shield wall swung about in response. Like fighting a single large creature with a hide of steel and teeth. But despite his desperation, Markus loved the challenge. His mind racing to think of a strategy. Ideas came from the murky haze of his mind – took form – transformed into plans. Facts, information churned together to formulate the plan into a solid pattern of attack. The idea became plausible.

Still petching crazy.

Markus took a deep breath as he exploded into action again. Like a rat trapped in the corner, he darted from side to side. Judged their reactions, saw them move closer. Markus darted right, they swung about to protect their flanks, he moved right – likewise. But there was a crucial difference. When they swung left, a gap appeared in their shieldwall. On the right flank for Markus - Between Anders and Brock. The two aggressive ones. Made sense. His physical size could overpower Anders who was the centre of the two, Brock had the flank. Braklin the other flank, Hales taking the other center position. A relative soft center, another possible point of entry.

From the idea, into action.

The sergeant darted left. Time was running out, the wall coming ever closer behind him. He had to strike immediately. His feet touched ground ever so briefly before he shifted direction again. This time headed directly into the shield wall. The gap had appeared and too late the two knights realized this was not another evasive manoeuvre, this was an attack. The mace came in, but it missed Markus by a couple of inches. Markus' shoulder rammed into the shield wall. Brock was pushed a step or two back before he regained his balance. Anders wasn't as lucky as she fought to regain balance as she had been blasted many feet away and still stumbling.

The sergeant bashed out with the shield, catching Hales in the side as he tried to adapt. Markus swung out with the bastard sword, not at Hales, he was not the target. Braklin on the other side was. Markus slid forward on his right leg, giving him the react and angle. Hales was knocked forward. Markus did a graceless spin as he pulled the shield around to his left side. Left foot moving across the floor and the sergeant turned his back to Anders. Shield rose and Brock was surprised to find his weapon knocked aside – Braklin was surprised to find the bastard sword smack him across the helmet and temporarily deafen him in one ear. Another knight stumbled away.

Markus beckoned, ordered, begged, scrapped, the djed within him to move to his command. His control over the magical substance had steadily increased over the many years. This was the time to use it. He felt the magic respond to his call. As the djed moved through the astral pathways Joris had spoken about. Down into his legs. Twisting his torso in a single motion, sword went from striking Braklin to be thrust at Brock on the other side of the sergeant. Aimed directly at his face. His weapon was slowed by the removal of djed from the upper body, but the blade was not the primary attack.

Brock knocked the blade up with his shield. Robbing him of his sight as Markus' right foot suddenly left the ground and he kicked hard as the flux aided his natural strength. Directly against the shield he kicked. Sending Brock back with a grunt in surprise. He stumbled away and Markus felt his lungs fight to keep up with the sudden extreme burst of movement. His head spun, he had not come further than this in his plan – disrupt their formation and scatter them. That had been the simple tactic. The method for doing so had been impulsive actions.

Brock was stumbling, Hales and Braklin recovering. Anders was behind him and much quicker than the others. His right foot came down as he spun to face Anders. Just in time to see her longsword swipe in at him. Shield deflected the blow as Markus continued his spin. Bastard sword coming down from above in a strange angle. Crashing into her right armoured shoulder with a powerful blow. The woman went down on her right knee. The sound of metal against metal and then metal against stone called out through the training area.

Through his teeth Markus breathed heavily. Sucking in air as his right foot came forth again. Hitting Anders' shield and knocking her back on her rear – once more she had been too aggressive in her attack pattern. As his foot hit her shield, he felt how weary his leg was. The djed-empowered kick had left it drained of energy and he felt the acid burn in his knee.

Petch.

Markus shield raised, knocked aside Hales attack. Sword slapped aside the axe from Braklin. The heavy blow from Brock had the sergeant stumble forward. A stumble he turned into a charge. Took Hales by surprise when he was flung aside by Markus' 280 pounds heavily armoured body. Braklin's axe came in again. As Markus tried to recover. Legs still burning with acid. Lungs screaming for more air. The heat of the armour a distraction. The narrow vision of the helmet allowed no room for mistakes. The axe hit him in the strong part of the chest armour. He took a step back. Hold steady. Anders was still on the ground he could see. Hales had tumbled over and was fighting to get up again. Brock and Braklin was pressing the attack.

Keeping him entirely in the defence as their mace and axe moved in unison. Striking him with a speed that meant he could not counter attack. Every second was a second Hales and Anders could use to recover. His sword flashed out as he intercepted the mace – brushed it aside as he went for a quick counter attack to his hand. Only for the axe to come in and knock his strike off course. Markus blade went low, almost touched the ground and the mace came in from the side. His shoulder felt the brunt of the attack. The problem with maces was that you couldn't really dull them. - It would still be a lump of metal on a stick.

by **Markus Andres** on April 21st, 2014, 12:58 am

Chimes passed.

The knights moved swiftly. Markus weaved by them, tried to keep them off balance. As muscles burned. Mind raced with his heart, both trying to meet the demand. Markus dipped low, rose again as the longsword had passed, his right hand flying out to meet Hales helmet. Knocked the senior back once again. But it had been a weak punch. For he was there a moment later. Markus slid to the left. Sweat covered his face.

Brock had been relentless in his attacks – though they had slowed as his arms had gotten very weary. Braklin was having a limp in his right leg, his axe also slowed down. Hales was heaving in air like he could not get enough. Anders looked shaken and weak as her left shoulder slouched a little and her shield hung low.

Markus could not move his right arm as effectively anymore. The dull ache had turned into an active pain every time he moved. Every muscle was full of acid as he had not been given a moment to rest. Shield hung a little lower. Knees ached. Thighs burned. Lungs expanded and deflated rapidly. Heart raced to keep up with demand. Bastard sword raised over his head in a silent threat to the first that might move. Their formation, two on his right two on his left in a semi circle.

Any normal man would have surrendered. But Markus was enjoying this way too much to let his physical limitations hold him back. Any moment now he might get a lucky break. Catch one under the shield and knock them out for good. In a silent agreement, they all moved in. Markus bastard chopped down. His weak arm could not direct the blade sufficient, so it just hit Hales right shoulder, slid off of the metal and directly into the edge of Anders' shield. Knocked it aside sufficiently for her to wince in pain and disrupt her own attack as did Hales get interrupted as his weapon got tangled with Markus'. But Braklin and Brock hit hard. Knocked Markus to the ground where he was quick to put his hands up in surrender. Brock offered a hand, Markus graciously accepted it and got pulled to his feet. He removed his helmet as the others did the same. A small wince from the impact to his chest. Braklin had hit the shield Markus had managed to raise, but Brock – Brock had gotten a clean hit. Even as he stood there defeated, Markus felt – satisfied. But that it had taken four people to have him feel this fulfilled did not bode well for his future attempts at finding someone capable of bringing him satisfaction.

Though that did not detract from the experience.

”Good … fight... teamwork... outstanding... Petch you... hit hard … Brock.” Markus spoke as he breathed heavily. Barely getting a word out before the next breath interrupted him. ”I think... you... all... need... a healer.” There were some murmurs in agreement. Hales mentioning he needed at least two. Which Markus and the others chuckled painfully.

Markus liked his new wing. An odd bunch on paper, a wonderful bunch in person.

I wish I had told Mason I would come by tomorrow. Might be less of a mess then. His leather gloved hand wiped away sweat from his face.

”Anyhow, dismissed. I will see you in two days.” A unison of YES SER, followed and they gathered their items, Markus handed the bastard sword to Braklin again. Good to have him around. A nice and attentive man. Markus pushed those thoughts aside and half walked and half limped out of the training area.

by **Radiant** on April 23rd, 2014, 4:14 am

Markus :

Notes :

My radiance is not bright enough?

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, beam me a PM and we can work it out.

Skill	XP Earned
Observation	+3 XP
Leadership	+3 XP
Organization	+2 XP
Tactics	+2 XP
Teaching	+2 XP
Planning	+1 XP
Weapon: Bastard Sword	+2 XP
Weapon: Shield	+2 XP
Brawling	+2 XP
Flux	+1 XP
Endurance	+2 XP

Completed Earning The Second Wing [Solo]