Private Tales On The Road

[Bernard]

Bernard dropped off his pack, yawning and streeetching out his limbs. He shook out his hands and glanced over at Thren, looking him over once before turning back to himself.

The members around them made quick work of setting up camp, the caravan well-worn travelers and efficient in their tasks. Bernard stood off to the side, watching without really understanding. Everyone looked like swarming ants to him, carrying parts of this or that, that when finally put all together made the place look like a real camp.

A few firepits were built up and brought to roaring life. What fresh food they had was cracked open, ready for when the coals were properly stoked.

Bernard tighten the last strap on his breast plate and walked over to Thren, jerking his chin in greeting. "Ready, old man?" That ever-present grin shone bright.

 

[Thren]

For a moment the Barbarian remained quiet, motioning for Bernard to move away from the camp and over to a small clearing just off of the campsite. He didn't want anyone to get hurt when the boy went flailing around with his blade.

Thren stepped up to the clearing as well, moving quietly and squatting down for a moment to grasp a handful of dirt. He rubbed it between his fingers, then scooped up an entire palm. Half a second passed, and then he let it fall back to the ground. If Bernard watched him, he would see something rather odd.

The dirt seemed to fall to the ground much faster than it should have, and where it landed small dents seemed to form within the earth. Almost as though what Thren had dropped was suddenly much heavier than it should have been.

If he wasn't observant, he'd simply see an old man picking up some dirt. "Alright."

Thren said as he slowly stood, reaching back and drawing one of the small black blades from his scabbard.

 

[Bernard]

Bernald bounced on his toes, all that pent up energy coming out as he pulled out his sword and held it firmly before him with two hands. He had a good stance, at least. He had training. The point of the obscenely long sword held steady. So far, at least, a little promising.

When held out like this, it was clear how ill matched the boy was to his weapon. It would fit better in Thren's hands than his own, but for all his expertise with weapons, Bernard saw none of that. He just held his stance and raised a taunting brow.

"Come at me then."

 

[Thren]

Thren smiled.

For half a second he weighed the dagger in his hands, fingers lacing around the grip. Like Bernard he had forged the weapon himself. It was a tradition among his people. The weapon you kill with had to come from you.

Unlike the boy's however, Thren's dagger was plain and unadorned. The blade itself was a deep black metal, the handle a simple wrap of leather. A nobleman would have called it a peasants weapon, and in truth that was exactly what it was. It suited Thren just fine though.

His grip tightened, his smile deepened, and then suddenly The Barbarian pounced.

Like a lion that had spent most of his day lounging, Thren dashed forward. He moved faster than a man of his size had any right to, faster than he should have been able to. Within only a short breath he closed the distance between himself and Bernard.

A gauntlet covered fist came up to try and smack the boy's blade away, Thren's leg shooting forward to sweep Bernard's feet out from beneath him at the same time.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard hadn't been braced for that. As the man pounced, his muscles clenched, preparing to counter the charge. But he never got that far. Bernard barely had the chance to exhale in shock before the man knocked back his wrists, the sword too heavy to flick quickly down to block him.

Sharp stinging rattled up his hands, the sword starting to slip out of his grasp just as the man kicked out a foot and sent him flying, dazed, onto his back.

Bernard coughed sharply on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. The shock past quickly, leaving him sputtering. "What-what the hell."

He pulled himself to his hands and knees, ignoring the dull pain of being thrown down as he reached for his sword again. "You used magic!" If left to it, he would stand up and swipe at the man, indignant.

 

[Thren]

Thren danced to the left, knowing that moving backwards was a futile attempt against such a long weapon.

”Of course I did.” Thren said simply, coming to stand still and waiting for the boy to lash out a second time. The sword he carried made almost anything he did obvious, any attack requiring a long wind up to actually ever get anywhere in the first place.

The Barbarian smiled.

”It's how I fight.” It was how he killed most people. ”You never said I couldn't.”

A shrug rolled over his shoulders. As far as Thren was concerned he'd already won.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard scowled, stumped by the logic. He looked close to going off on the man, his face red and knuckles white on the pommel he could swing again at any moment. But after a long moment of sizing Thren up ... he didn't.

Not because the man was bigger than him, or because he'd likely end up bested again-- stuff like that didn't matter to Bernard. No, the boy hesitated, eyeing the man warily for a moment before relaxing and straightening back into his stance. He held up his sword at the ready, then jerked his chin at Thren. "....Do that again."

He wanted to see if he could improve, braced now for the speed of the man.

 

[Thren]

At least the boy was willing to learn.

There was something to be said about that. Thren had met many little nobles who had all but refused to take on a lesson that was standing right in front of them. They would try to convince themselves that the other party had cheated or somehow broken the rules.

Rather than try to learn to better survive they denied the truth. The Barbarian had never particularly cared, a choice was a choice, but he'd seen many men die because of their own foolish notions. Practically was king in battle, not ones desires.

The Siruk's fingers flexed around the hilt of his blade, he shifted his stance for a brief second, and then he launched himself forward once more.

This time he did so knowing that the boy would likely catch him. Thren was fast, but he wasn't super human. The magic only made him lighter, it did not allow him to suddenly go beyond the limits of physics. Still, he moved as fast as he had before, though this time his dagger slipped backwards, blade slicing low towards the boys thigh.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard tried not to blinked, his brows set in determination as he watched for the first tick of movement for the attack. Just as before, Thren was on him in a breath. But he had his sword moving this time, flashing downwards but still... too slow. Too heavy, too slow for an opponent like this, how could that be?

This was suppose to be the best weapon out there!

The long sword clashed into Thren's shoulder as he surged past his guard, the point not lowered fast enough to initiate a stab or even a block. Bernard yelped as he felt something lick at his thigh, taking sudden hop-like steps backwards to try and regain his distance. Distance was so important with his weapon.

He felt the brisk night breeze slip against his leg. He glanced down, his stance loosening. "You actually nicked me!" He accused, flabbergasted.

 

[Thren]

A scratch ran across the black of his arm guard. The boy's long sword had managed to cut deep into the metal, a fact that surprised the Barbarian more than a little bit. ”Thats a well made blade.”

Thren's comment rolled over the boys objection to being sliced with his dagger.

For some reason he had expected the boys sword to be of low quality. A weapon that look good but in the end wasn't much for function. He was partially right of course given the ludicrous size of the sword in the first place, but it had managed to score his armor well enough. That was impressive. Especially considering the unique skills of the Siruk.

”But its too big.” Thren went on, still ignoring the boys complaints. ”You can't respond fast enough.”

Perhaps the sword was better with an attack, but even then his movement would be telegraphed. ”You need to start off with something smaller.”

Or just fight slower opponents.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard crinkled his nose, sheathing the sword and pulling at the pants of his crouch. "Am I bleeding? I'm actually bleeding." He pinched at the cloth, hoping the material would stick back together. Naturally, it didn't. He took the man's compliment without much thought. Of course his blade was well made. He had made it.

He looked up, miffed. "Why would I opt for something smaller? You're only able to do that because of magic. I need that size or any other normal fighter will best me. S'low, by the way, taking the bet on something like that." He gave Thren a good accusatory point, but the matter seemed well and settled for him. The man had won. He supposed it was fair. If not just... annoying.

"No one saw that, right?" He grumbled, cheeks inflaming a little as he looked around them.

 

[Thren]

There were in fact a few people watching at the edge of the Caravan, but Thren decided not to point them out. No need to be cruel to the boy. He'd already taken his money, no use in taking his pride too. At least right now anyway. ”My magic isn't something that lays as a constant.”

He wasn't about to explain it all to the boy, but he could give him some friendly advice.

”There are many men...and women for that matter.” Thren had met many female fighters over the years who had been more than up to the task of killing. A few of them had even been better than him, something he'd found more attractive than he'd wanted to admit at the time. ”Who are faster than I.”

He considered for a second, then added. ”The Elves for instance. Bastards can cut your throat in the time it take you to blink.”

Thren had met a few, fierce folk. Especially the ones with the pale skin.

 

[Bernard]

Bernarld looked troubled, the man's advice deeply countering everything he had learned about the world and fighting. He can't start all over on a new weapon. That'd be insane. Long swords were the best-- the thing he needed to focus on. He had thought this through. He had already asked for advice, and all of it had panned out to this!

He didn't understand how narrow of a scope his experiences had been. He didn't quite grasp that a majority of his master's clients had come for long swords because that was what his master had become renown for making. He didn't know he wasn't seeing it all and he wasn't seeing that he didn't know it all. For a moment it left him a little baffled.


This man wouldn't lead him wrong, right? Came the belated thought.

Today was not going as planned.

Bernard shook his head, blinking back his confusion. "Right. Well. Thanks for the... fight. Get you your money when paid, I'm gonna," he gestured vaguely towards the fire pit, done with this moment. He tugged out the strap of his breast plate, his brows still furrowed as he turned to leave.

 

[Thren]

Thren smiled, leaning against a nearby tree for just a moment. His palm fell flat against the trunk, and then suddenly there was an odd sort of shift.

A gust of wind pulled through the clearing, and the large tree that Thren had been leaning against seemed to sway far more than it should have. The branches pulled from side to side, the trunk itself was nearly pushed over. A smile touched the Barbarians face, but he said nothing as he headed towards the fire.

"I wouldn't feel bad, lad." Thren said as he stepped up besides him.

"You're young yet." His tone was not at all insulting. "There's a lot to learn about the world."

Even he didn't know the half of it, yell, he hardly knew a fraction of a fraction. Thren had seen a lot of things, met a lot of people, but as far as understanding went? He was on par with a toddler.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard snorted, shaking his head. "You sound like my master. The world's not that big. I'm not completely out of my element," he insisted, stubborn.

He flopped down before the fire, his armor clanking as he stretched out and began to loosen it off his body. Around then a few tents were being pitched, the merchants traveling softer than him. He would just stretch out and sleep riiiiight here. Yeah, this was a good spot.

He looked to Thren and hesitated on his next words, aware that he was starting to appear very... childish to the man. "I'll take first watch; switch out with you at sunrise?" That's how this went, right? His heart was pounding in his chest, desperate to not further make a mockery of himself.

 

[Thren]

Thren paused for a few seconds, tempted to smack the boy in an attempt to throw some sense into him. After a few seconds though he simply corrected him. "Wake me in four hours."

One did not attempt to keep watch all by themselves for the entire night.

Though one might be capable of staying up the entire night, it wasn't as easy as it sounded. When on watch you were quite literally sitting around and staring into the darkness. The job was incredibly mind numbing and boring, a torturous task that even the best soldier would struggle with.

"I'll take the watch after that." For another four hours. "Then the last guy will do the last few hours."

Then at sunrise they'd continue to walk.

That would be their fate for the next few weeks.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard nodded. "Right. That's what I meant. It's not almost sunrise?" He rubbed at his ear, making a face to himself. Just shut up. Next question would be how would he know when four hours had passed but ... no way in hell was he going to ask that.

For a moment, his confidence sat a little shaken. He had walked into this believing he was completely prepared, but he was quickly realizing there was plenty the stories had not told him. Like food. Was he suppose to eat his own, or wait to be served. Thankfully he had brought his own, because, well, he had realized his blunder the night before. But as he looked around he couldn't discern the correct thing to do. He didn't want to ask and risk that tension he had felt from Thren when he had done something dumb, and he also didn't want to pull out his pack and waste what he had managed to bring if he was just going to be fed.

He really should have asked when he was hired.

He sighed and rubbed his face, trying to give himself a pep talk. You got this. Whose the best knight out there? You are.

"Do you even eat dinner, or do you just take care of that with magic too?" He looked to his side, tossing Thren a cheeky grin.

 

[Thren]

"Doesn't work like that." Thren commented dryly. "Though I heard there were some people in the East who can use magic to make sure they don't have to eat."

That was just a story he'd heard some dumb bard tell though. He had no idea if it was true or not. "I'll eat when they come around."

A wide yawn passed through the Barbarian's lips.

"Or when I wake up." In truth he didn't really seem too concerned. He had made sure to eat throughout the day, and the rations the Merchant had brought along were of surprisingly good quality. Generally employers only sprang for the cheapest stuff. "Either or."

Larik trotted up behind him, laying down just as Thren began to lean back. The hound turning almost instantly into a massive oversized pillow.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard nodded, his expression easing up a little as he found the answer to at least that quandary. See, he had this.

He stretched out for a moment, picking at the slit in his pants and otherwise taking a moment to look around and discern the dynamics of the camp. He spotted the other two mercenaries off in their own space and he made a mental note to keep his distance for now. He was aware he had a lose tongue, but sometimes you just get into it, you know? He really needed to practice saving face, he mentally chastised.

He looked over to Thren all settled down with that beast of a hound and forced himself into a cheerful smile. "Right then, sleep well. I'll go-" He made vague gesturing to keeping track of the edge of the camp. He re tightened the strap to his breast plate, always fussing with it, and stood to leave.

 

[Thren]

Thren simply nodded in answer.

The boy wasn't a complete fool, simply trying too hard in a situation where he had no clue. The Barbarian supposed that he could not be faulted for that, only if he continued to make stupid mistakes after he'd already been corrected.

He wondered the odds of that.

A yawn escaped his lips and Thren pulled himself a bit closer to Larik. The hound rested it's massive head on the Barbarians shoulder and the two began to nod off.

 

[Bernard]

The next few days came in went in a similar manner. They traveled deeper into the forest, they got muddy, they ate, they slept. Bernard tried to keep his gear clean but was met with dwindling success. He didn't ask for anymore fights. But he also disappeared for a while each night, returning sweaty and tired. There might have been some falling asleep while on watch. But he wasn't owning up to that.

As they fell into a routine, the stupid questions began to dwindle. His confidence picked up and he had that sword out more. Thren's advice seemed disregarded, on that front.

On the morning of the fourth day, Bernard gave up on trying to polish his gear. Having finally been the guard to be off duty for the night, he had gotten a full nights rest and looked better for it. He fussed with the straps of his breast plate, his hair standing wildly around his head as he grinned over at Thren. "Almost a full week in. S'like a real adventure now."

Around them the merchants were nearly done reloading their supplies and saddling the mules. He grabbed his pack and slid it on, ignoring the ache in his shoulders from the new weight he had been carrying. "It's getting boring. Think we're gonna get into some scraps soon?"

 

[Thren]

"Boring?" That was half of a soldiers life. Less so for a mercenary of course. Usually when you signed up for a job you were all but guaranteed a little bit of blood shed. Still, more often than not you were waiting on the balls of your feet rather than dashing into battle.

He supposed the boy wouldn't really know that yet, this being the first time he'd ever left home. Briefly he wondered if Bernard had even told his parents about this, or if he even had any.

"Boring is good, Lad." Thren told him. "You're getting paid to walk right now."

It was a lot easier than fighting. "Plus, a scrap might mean you get that pretty armor of yours covered in blood as well as mud."

Which was a lot harder to get out.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard made a face. "Right. No scraps then." He stood, a pep in his step this morning. "I was planning on giving everything a good cleaning and fixing up at our next way point. I could do yours too, wouldn't cost much," he offered with a shrug, walking past Thren to grab some bread to break his fast.

He winked at the matronly merchant as she allowed him to grab some from a wooden basket she was tucking securely away. He turned and tossed one to Thren, whipping it.

"Think fast!" He called out, testing the man and that strange speed of his.

 

[Thren]

The bread bounced off of Thren's face and fell into the mud, Larik pouncing on the baked good in and instant and swallowing it whole...along with some mud.

Thren simply turned his head, a level gaze falling on Bernard.

He didn't speak, simply stared at the boy. His speed of course was not constant. His magic did not suddenly make him able to move at extreme speeds, in fact it did not make him faster at all. Magics of the Siruk, his tribe, was based on taking and giving density of things. Including themselves.

It was how he had moved so fast. He'd transferred his own weight to the dirt, and then later had returned himself to normal by taking the weight of the tree.

The magic could be used for a dozen other effects of course, turning his skin as hard as steel, making a blade as brittle as limestone, but it did not just suddenly make him faster. Bernard couldn't know that of course, but Thren stared at him anyway.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard blinked, his smile faltering. He stared back, his confusion evident for a moment. He took a quick step backwards then turned and briskly walked away, whistling a nervous tune.

Whoops.

Weird. Why would he let that happen? Was it just his speed that was fast? Did he not have similar reflexes? Bernard pondered this, munching on his bread and watching as the caravan creaked into motion. He started off besides it. He had been walking ever since day two, when his tendency to sit and chill earned him quite a few looks. No need to say anything! He walked now, no problem.

His eyes scanned the trees, though what for he was never entirely sure.

He shot a nervous glance over his shoulder, searching for Thren's movements and secretly brace for a clomp over the head.