The Delightful Duo

by **Wynn Argall** on June 26th, 2014, 2:23 am

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For half a tick, Wynn thought he saw a flash of annoyance in Oriah's eyes, but when she spoke to answer Ser Varner's question, her voice was completely void of any sort of irritation, causing Wynn to question if he'd even seen it in the first place. Letting his head roll back to rest on the dusty ground, a smile twitched at his tired lips at Oriah's spot on assessment of their combined abilities. It was a lesson he'd learned already, several times, but perhaps that was due to the nature of his fighting style. From what he knew, the Green Company wasn't quite like its purple brother. They were a force that generally dealt in more delicate matters employed subterfuge and, arguable, more shady sort of tactics than some of the other companies. Wynn, of course, only knew what he did from hearsay, so he found that any sort of judgement was beyond his meager capabilities. Oriah had, most likely, just never had the opportunity to exhaust herself through sword-swinging until that day, something Wynn knew wasn't an uncommon occurrence.

Ser Varner, however, was not nearly as accepting of Oriah's response as Wynn, though he didn't discredit the comment's validity. It seemed he felt as though he wasn't going to get anything better out of the two of them, as he offered them a final counsel as well as warning before gallivanting off across the fields, most likely in search of Linnae and Tareesa to check on their progress. Wynn had always found it a bit odd he rarely got to practice with the the two of them. After all, they were Ser Normit's only three squires for the past year or so. Lazily flopping his head around to stare at a the only piece of Oriah's back that wasn't obscured by his armor, Wynn decided that she wasn't all that bad. If anything, she was at least better than Tareesa, and perhaps even marginally better than Linnae, though the majority of his comfort in Linnae's presence came mostly from her lack of femininity. Oriah was decidedly feminine, though not in an unbearable sense, more of an unavoidable fact.

The two of them lay there in relative silence for a few chimes, the only sounds were the occasional shifting of their weight and their heavy breathing slowing steadily. Oriah was the first to break the silence, eliciting a muted groan from Wynn. He wasn't quite ready to start being sociable with the woman who had just recently recolored a good portion of his body with a darkening black and blue - albeit at the behest of their mutual trainer. Fortunately, the first words out of her mouth were an expression of her concern that sounded sincere enough for Wynn to wiggle himself into a propped up position, using the wavering strength in his arms to support his torso in a pseudo-sitting stance with his legs still splayed out in front of him like a dirty pair of trousers. Nodding that he would probably live despite their shared experience, Wynn offered a weary smile as he tentatively took the water skin from Oriah, slipping down back onto his back as his arm gave way to the unexpected weight of his body. Some of the water splashed out onto his breastplate, and Wynn found himself desperately wishing Ser Varner hadn't insisted he wear the damned suit that morning.

The temptation of spring water, however, was more than enough to keep Wynn from saying much as he let the liquid waterfall from the spout and splash into his mouth. The unsteady flow made sure to find its way all over his face, and the crisp, refreshing taste paired with the relief of something wet that wasn't sweat elicited a contented gasp of relief before he forced himself pack into his partial seated position to hand the water skin back, his grin dripping with the much appreciated spring water. The ice between them broken, so to speak, Oriah began to ponder the reason behind Ser Varner's training. He was surprised at how naturally she approached the problem, as many of the other squires he'd had the pleasure of training with in similar fashions were quick to either admit defeat or poke desperate fun at the absent knight. Despite feeling impressed with the other squire, Wynn didn't have much to offer her. From what he could tell, the last half bell or so had existed merely to entertain the knight, rather than to train them for anything very useful.

Oriah, oblivious to Wynn's complete lack of answers, offered him a chance to voice his own opinions. Sighing, he let himself slip back onto his back, his armor protesting with muted clanks and creaks as he did so. "I'm... uncertain." In what Wynn could only assume was meant to be a reassuring gesture, Oriah scooted over to lay beside him, her accented voice offering him a common colloquialism. Feeling his body, despite its fatigue, tense up at the sudden proximity change between the two of them, he found himself stumbling slightly over his next words. "Ah... Y-yes, I guess we do... say that. Two heads, and all. How they're... better..." Clearing his throat with a cough, Wynn helplessly stared up into the blue of the afternoon sky, too tired to try to escape. "Maybe he... Wanted you..." Actually applying himself in search of what might be considered a quality answer in the hopes that providing one might release him from Oriah's attention, Wynn continued with uncertainty. "To cast aside sympathy?"

It was about as good as he could manage what with his brain moving at a snail's pace, his body a mass of sluggish iron, and the hairs of his body standing on end. "Or perhaps just for pleasure." Against his better judgement, Wynn rolled his head to face Oriah. She was much closer than he'd thought, and his face immediately turned a bright red. "He ah-" Quickly darting his face back up at the sky, he muttered, ""He does that, you know..."

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by **Oriah** on June 29th, 2014, 10:35 pm

Oriah watched the younger squire douse himself with the water and covered her amused grin with the pretense of rubbing her nose. She couldn't help but notice that he seemed uneasy any time he became fully aware of her presence or proximity.

Wynn didn't seem alone in that respect. Many of the youths amongst their ranks seemed that way, too. Perhaps it had something to do with her being much older than all of the adolescent paiges and squires living in the dormitories. Or perhaps it had to do with her foreign origins, with her strange accent and features and customs. Oh, especially the customs.

Once, during her brief stay at the dorms, the younger girls confronted her about her former profession. Did she really dance for a living? How did that even work? Did she have many admirers? Could she show them a dance right now?

Most of the girls seemed particularly intrigued with her dance wear. Oriah showed it to them once and they ooh'ed and aah'ed with a mix of fascination and scandal. The revealing nature of the dress was too far beyond what they were used to. She tried to explain that it was necessary, given the Eyktol was unforgivably hot and the dance itself required much belly work, but it was no use. Many of them had never even worn a normal dress, having been committed to the path of paigehood as soon as they could walk and talk. Pretty soon the boys caught wind of this and she had a minor mess on her hands by breakfast.

All this pondering and not once did Oriah just simply assume Wynn's discomfort existed because of her gender.

At her companion's suggestion that perhaps Ser Varner wanted her to learn to withhold her sympathy, Oriah found her thoughts realigned with their original goal. "Maybe," she responded, "but that is just me. What about you? It sounded like he meant for us both to learn something."

Then Wynn speculated that the knight could have done it all for pure entertainment, to which Oriah commiserated with a chuckle. "I do not doubt that could be true. I suspect my own patron is very much the same sometimes. A lot of the time, actually..."

They sat there for a while, each an exhausted heap. Over time the extreme weariness edged away bit by bit until her lungs were no longer burning and muscles only a bit gooey and achey instead of full on disfunctional.

Oriah was just about to pen her mouth for another suggestion when Ser Varner's voice cut through the silence like a well sharpened axe to their heads.

"Well, seems like you two are looking no better, even with your generous break," he laughed, staring at them with expectant amusement. "Come now, either of you got an answer? Give it a shot, I won't bite."

The Benshira looked up at Ser Varner with an expression of pure exasperation.

He merely shrugged Oriah's reaction off with a grin and gentle roll of the shoulders. "I see how it is then. The lesson isn't quite getting to you lot, I take it. No worries, plenty more exercises to fix that! Up with you both now."

The knight patted both of them vigorously on their backs until they got their feet. "Now, the real fun begins. You two ready?"

Oriah stared at him dubiously, muscles twitching in anticipation of the pain to come. This was not going to be pleasant she could already tell. What the Hai was he up to now?

"The next thing we're learning," Ser Varner chirped, clapping his hands together, "is how to exploit the weak spots of plated armor."

by **Wynn Argall** on June 30th, 2014, 5:21 am

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It was apparent Oriah had never studied under Ser Varner, merely by her stout belief that he'd meant for both of them to learn something of particular value. Wynn had learned a long time ago that while Ser Varner usually had a plan in mind when it came to his training, it wasn't always beneficial to both parties in the traditional sense. Wynn, for one, usually played the target dummy for whatever techniques or tactics Ser Varner was hoping to impart to another squire. At first, Wynn had believed Ser Varner found him distasteful, but that theory was quickly disproved when the knight went through great lengths to make sure he was returned to the dormitories safely after taking a very powerful blow to the head. He'd checked up on his several times to make certain all was well. After that, Wynn found Ser Varner's training to be incredibly arduous, but usually producing results in an increase of endurance and strength. Having chosen a heavy weapon, both of those things were greatly needed in the proper wielding of it. Training Wynn in such things, however, did not require Ser Varner to explicitly state that was his intent nor did it mandate that every exercise be the same. Often, training days were something akin to the blind suffering he'd just been subjugated to.

Deciding an explanation to be far too much of a verbal journey, and seeing as his lungs were still struggling with their single job of drawing in and pushing out air, Wynn just offered Oriah a shrug. They fell back into silence as their bodies and minds rested, both gradually finding a middle ground between utter exhaustion and proper functioning. Wynn had begun to drift in and out of consciousness when the sound of Ser Varner's voice wiggled its way into his almost-dream. In his groggy stupor, Wynn missed the question about lessons, and was only fully aware that more exercises were about to be thrown upon them. With the surprisingly detrimental assistance of Ser Varner, Wynn staggered to his feet, his legs wobbling slightly at the sudden reintroduction of his weight. With Ser Varner's final question, Wynn just offered a bleary-eyed smile. He was about as ready as he could be.

What came out of Ser Varner's mouth next solidified in Wynn's mind that he really did want to just see Wynn beaten to a pulp. What little light was left in Wynn's eyes quickly faded as he stared blankly at the chipper knight, swaying slightly against the breeze that passed over the field. "Ah, just the sort of excitement I was looking for!" Rubbing his hands together in what Wynn could only appraise as a maniacal gesture, Ser Varner gently pushed Wynn a couple steps back, tilting his head as if checking the aesthetic of Wynn's new position. Nodding, he turned to Oriah. "Alright, Oriah. Grab that sword and get into your ready stance." Stepping back, he grinned at Wynn. "I want you to just stand there - for now - Wynn." Returning a deadpan stare, the only part of Wynn that moved was the slight turn of his head to face Ser Varner. "Oh, and put your arms out like a bird." Mechanically, Wynn did so, lifting his arms to just below ninety-degree angles with his torso. "Excellent!"

Turning to place his focus upon Oriah, Ser Varner continued, his enjoyment hardly masked by the wide curve of his lips. "Now, I want you to strike where you believe the armor to be weakest." Stepping back further, Ser Varner delivered a flourish of his hands to signal that the exercise had begun. Wynn's gaze had slowly meandered its way to land on the other squire's face. There wasn't a whole of anything happening in his mind other than the very depressing fact that he was going to receive at least another bell's worth of beatings from the woman he'd just met. At the very least, he was thankful she wasn't Eddard. Little blessings.

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by **Oriah** on July 6th, 2014, 8:45 pm

Oriah gaped openly, having energy to do little else. She had grown so certain--so naively certain--that at the very least, it would be her turn to take the brunt of the beatings. How Wynn would be able to survive anymore of playing training dummy was beyond her.

When the younger squire got to his feet though and followed Ser Varner's instructions, Oriah felt a niggle suspicion she was giving Wynn far less credit than he deserved. He was, after all, accustomed to the blond knight's eccentric methods, just as she was to Sera Mora's. Wynn must be hardier than one first suspected to have survived so many torturous activities. It made sense given his armor; the Benshira guessed he was sturdy as an ox underneath all that plate. Who wouldn't be after spending this much time with Ser Varner?

With reluctance, Oriah picked up her wooden training sword once more and readied herself. It just felt so ridiculously cruel, having to jab Wynn somewhere like he was a straw man, but there wasn't much of a way around it. They were squires. They did as they were told.

Gulping, the Benshira stepped forward and examined Wynn's armor. She was able to see various gaps but couldn't be sure which one was necessarily the weakest.

"We don't have all day, Squire Azari," Ser Varner said in a sing song voice.

With a sigh--and apologetic glance in Wynn's direction--Oriah poked at where the part where shoulder plate and arm plate met. She could feel the tip of her practice sword press against something soft and hoped she hadn't jabbed at Wynn too hard.

"Gods be good," the blond knight cried, throwing up his hands. "Are you going to be a knight, squire, or a masseuse at Soothing Waters?"

Oriah flushed furiously. The comment hit home much harsher than anyone could have anticipated.

"Think vicious. Think killer. You're in a battle. It's your life and theirs for a single mission and you can't afford to fail. You don't have time to feel sorry. Just stab him!"

With a grimace, Oriah stepped forward once more and made a second jab. Except this time the point of her sword rested between collarbone and jaw, right underneath Wynn's helmet. If her blade had been true steel it would have cut. Fortunately, the wooden tip merely rest against vulnerable flesh. It was the least she could do for Wynn not to press any harder.

"That's a bit more like it," Ser Varner beamed. "Alright Wynn, now you have permission to defend yourself.

And so a second flurry of thrust and parries began. Both were allowed to pick up their shields as well and each had an opposing focus. Oriah was charged with aiming for as many weak spots as she could, with a jab to the neck counting as a killing blow. Wynn, on the other hand, had to defend himself as best he could and not "die" in the exercise. Whoever won, Ser Varner had explained, would get a special treat at the end of the day.

Oriah wasn't entirely sure she even wanted this special treat, but it was her duty nonetheless to train. And so train she did, until she felt her limbs were going to fall off from exhaustion.

by **Wynn Argall** on July 8th, 2014, 11:50 pm

In a daze, Wynn stared blankly at Oriah as she offered him an apologetic flash of the eyes. He was far beyond the point of worrying about wether she took any pleasure in beating upon him or not. He was much more concerned with how exactly he was going to remain standing for the next bell. His legs, while no longer burning from the strenuous exercise they'd just undergone, had begun to feel like piles of lard: gelatinous, unstable, and greasy. He found that his arms, having only been in the air for a few ticks, had already begun to shake slightly, though the pain from before had faded into a numbing throb. As the other squire moved forward to strike, Wynn didn't even flinch as the sword pressed up against the flesh of his shoulder. He did stagger back slightly as Oriah pressed against the spot, but more so out of weariness than an actual reaction to being... poked. Ser Varner, as was customary when something wasn't working quite like it should, was quick to throw out a jibe that, to Wynn's bleary surprise, set Oriah's cheek ablaze with the all to familiar expression of embarrassment. Had Wynn been on better terms and didn't feel as though his brain had melted and now sat in a pool at the bottom of his boots, he would have asked her what was so very bad about being a masseuse. Instead, Wynn just gurgled out a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a hiccup as Ser Varner urged Oriah to strike once more, though this time with the ferocity of life or death.

As the training sword moved once more, Wynn stared at it with sad eyes. He knew he should brace himself, protect wherever the blade was headed, yet his body simply denied Wynn any ability to move it. It didn't help that Oriah moved with a quickness Wynn had doubted she still possessed after all their training, but in the end, the sword met the upper portion of his neck with enough force to send him stumbling back coughing. The strike had been, for lack of a better word, tender despite the speed behind it, something Wynn found himself grinning like an idiot at the other squire in thanks for. Upon registering that her face was that of a female's, however, his cheeks quickly turned a similar shade of pink. Staring down at the ground, he nodded - a few coughs still escaping from his throat that had just landed itself a new bruise - before heading over to his discarded armaments, reequipping them and turning to face Oriah once more, taking care to stare more at her stomach than anywhere else.

"Now," Ser Varner's voice bounced with excitement, "Wynn, you're going to play Defender, whilst Oriah takes the role of Attacker. The way the titles were presented, it sounded as if Ser Varner doubted either of them knew what the words meant in Common. "If Oriah hits a vital spot, you lose whatever limb that spot controls." Wynn found the exercise to be surprisingly straight forward, giving Ser Varner an impressed raise of the brows despite his weariness. "Of course, Wynn, you can only defend while Oriah can only attack." Of course. Wynn nodded his understanding, both his arms hanging at his side while barely gripping both sword and shield. "Though if you do strike Oriah, I suppose I'll let you disable a limb after..." He tapped the bottom of his chin in thought as he stared at his two ragged looking subordinates. "Five strikes." He began to back away to give the two of them room, but paused for a moment to add, "Oh! And whoever wins gets a special treat!" He chuckled then, giving Wynn the impression that the "treat" had little to do with anything good.

As both squires readied themselves, Wynn felt the numbness of his body begin to fully set in. With each strike, parry, and block, he feel farther and farther removed from his body until eventually, it was almost as if he was watching himself from afar as his exhausted limbs swung about. It didn't take long for Oriah to disable his left arm, the one holding the sword, as Wynn's clumsy swordplay left his shoulder constantly exposed. After that, the two of them had a veritable brawl, exchanging blows but gaining very little for it. Ser Varner, ever the verbose spectator, was quick to point out what both squires were lacking in regards to their offense and defense. Things such as, "Oriah, jab him where the plate connects with the leather! Jab!" or "Wynn, when she's coming at you with an overhead slash, don't wait until the sword comes all the way down to block, meet her half way!" while the majority of what was said tended towards, "Wynn- No, you can't just- Oh! Oriah, very good, very- No no... That's- Oh! Yes, good hit!" making the whole thing feel more like some strange performance put on for a single knight rather than a serious training session.

Eventually, Oriah was able to disable Wynn's other arm, which was followed by his leg. They finished with a climactic "beheading", in which Oriah's sword was clumsily shoved under his helmet as Wynn meet the wood with the brunt of his face. The result was Ser Varner rushing over to pull the helmet off of Wynn's head and force him to his hands and knees to let the blood drain from his nose, during which Wynn began laughing uncontrollably due mostly to his extreme state of exhaustion. When the chaos - and blood - and dwindled to a steady trickle, Ser Varner shook his head, giving Wynn a disappointed frown. "Don't block with your face. That's just foolish." After which he gave him a reassuring slap on the armor. "But good word today." Turning to address Oriah, he offered her one of his mysterious but not so mysterious grins. "And you, Squire Azari, are the champion!" Words that, despite their grandiose timbre, sounded a bit flat to Wynn as he fiddled with his gauntlets to release his hands. Once that was done, he used his right to wipe away another small rivulet of crimson that had lagged behind the initial flood.

Deciding it was rude not to join in on the merriment - and could easily be a sign of poor sportsmanship -, Wynn offered Oriah a congratulatory grimace, made all the more forlorn by the streaks of dried blood that had escaped the initial wiping. Somewhere along their final exercise, the numbness had given way to complete and utter weakness that now made even smiling a task akin to throwing a boulder. His bought of laughter had reminded him just how many bruises he'd gained in the last few bells, and as Ser Varner carried on to explain just what exactly it was Oriah had won, Wynn found himself drifting in and out of focus as his sweat dripped in time with his panting gasps. Thank the gods it was finally over.

by **Oriah** on July 12th, 2014, 10:43 pm

Oriah felt terrible for young Wynn. She couldn't help it. She just couldn't.

But a part of her also understood the necessity of what they did. Ludicrous as Ser Varner's instructions sometimes seemed, there was a sense to them she could not deny. And doubly so for someone of the Green Company; learning to fight against a fully armored opponent was practically part of her job description. The odds would always be against her and she needed every tool at her disposal to survive.

Gods above, though, how tired she felt! And it could have only been much, much worse for Wynn. Oriah blinked wearily at her fellow squire, wondering who would collapse from sheer exhaustion first.

No sooner had they started than the blond knight begin fleshing out the terms and conditions of their final activity. There was a certain unsettling aspect to the whole limb-disabling bit, and she was still trying to decide whether allowing Wynn to retaliate was a good or bad thing when the rush of action began once more.

Oriah attacked first, as her role entailed. She lifted her wooden short sword to chop directly down at the Defender's shield arm, hoping to somehow disable it. Wynn parried with a surprising amount of strength though and she had to return to the drawing board. Where should she aim next? There needed to be a strategy for this what with her energy and strength dwindling rapidly. She couldn't afford to just be chopping and jabbing at random for the next however many bells.

On occasion she felt Wynn hesitate. Or perhaps hesitate was not the right word...something more akin to...shyness? Withdrawal? The Benshira wasn't entirely sure. All she knew was that the younger squire would come inches away from a sense of open camaraderie, then shrink away as soon as his grey eyes met the blue of her own. It was a bit baffling, but neither squire had very much time to swell on such things. She would have to mull over it later when the threat of her limbs being disabled wasn't so imminent.

They were both so horribly clumsy. With everything. The only thing Oriah truly had going for her was that she happened to know which end of the wooden blade to hold. Other than that it was pure trial and error, with the occasional shout of advice or criticism from Ser Varner.

"Stop trying to use your sword like a butcher's knife, Azari!" he bemoaned repeatedly. "Think of it as an extension of yourself. See it and your arm as one!"

Oriah tried to do as the knight commanded, but it was insufferably hard to think of so many things while trying not to get disabled. A clang! rang out as Wynn's shield battered against her own. She'd only just raised it in time to block his increasingly desperate attacks. It wasn't long before they were so tired they could barely muster any more proper form. They just resorted to thrashing at each haphazardly until, by a complete stroke of luck, one managed to hit a vital spot. Then another. Then another!

"Alright lass, you did well. Now finish the job. Cut his head off."

Oriah visibly blanched, feeling exhausted enough to just drop her equipment right then and there. "P...Pardon me?"

"Behead him," was all the knight said.

She gulped and looked down at Wynn. Poor lad seemed like he was going to keel over any tick now.

With a deep breath to steady herself, Oriah lowered her sword to finish the exercise. Except, in her belabored clumsiness, she somehow managed to connect her wooden weapon with Wynn's face. Ser Varner sprang into action and ripped off the younger squire's helmet and Oriah gasped out loud at the outpouring of blood.

"For the love of Yahal," she swore and knelt by Wynn's side. "A thousand apologies. Are you alright?"

In response, he burst into fits of laughter.

Oriah half feared all of their training had finally taken its toll and Wynn had gone mad. But it seemed Ser Varner knew what he was doing as he crouched by the boy's side and waited until both the blood flow and post-battle hilarity had trickled to a manageable amount.

After a few more words of advisement concerning not using one's face to block oncoming attacks, the blond knight went to fetch whatever special treat he had in store for the bone weary champion. Oriah barely heard his hasty "be right back in a flash, don't you two move a muscle!" and watched Wynn with worried eyes. Reaching once more for her waterskin, the Benshira took edge of one of her spare shirts, doused it in cool water, and drew near her training partner.

"Here, please," she coaxed gently, "allow me."

With light dabs, Oriah brushed away most of the dried blood from Wynn's tired face. Poor lad. This was far more abuse than she ever had to endure in one day under Sera Mora's teachings.

By the time Ser Varner came back, Wynn looked almost human again. Oriah wrung out the pinkish water from her shirt and left it to dry for a bit. It was time to see what bell after bell of brutal training had finally awarded her, besides a rainbow of bruises and aches and sores to plague her come morning.

"Well lass, here it is," the knight chirped, dropping a sack by Oriah's seated form. "Enjoy."

With wary and even wearier fingers, the Benshira undid the string to peer inside of the canvas bag.

It was at least half a pound of jerked venison.

"This is..." Oriah began, right before she scooped up a piece and stuffed it in her mouth. "Rery derishus!"

She turned and offered Wynn a piece, trying to smile and not bear the full contents of her mouth at the same time. "Wan som?"

by **Archailist** on August 15th, 2014, 6:16 pm

Oriah :

Wynn :

Notes :

Was I a little too nuts in my grading?
If you've got concerns, just call me.

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