Difference between revisions of "Greybrook Family/Ferdinand/Mentor & Pupil"

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Latest revision as of 15:37, 4 November 2019

The training match that rekindled the mentor and pupil.

Roleplay from Ferdinand Greybrook
Was Ferdinand being indecisive?


This was well known to the "Grey Knight" but war weighted heavy on the Grand Master's mind. He had been ensuring that he contemplated regular periods of isolation to keep his emotions in check, something he learnt from those senior to him. Yet, even with the Grand Master title, he has much to learn about such a skill.

He turned back to the task in hand - watching the Captain of his new recruits run through new drills in the Grehkian Red Sand District near the barracks. The unit was now truly 100 soldier strong unlike the previous expedition. They were more capable now with experience behind them. Yet, none of them had experienced true human combat. Perhaps in Obeah's mercy they shall find the justice of the matter.

The academy instructor was summoned for an hour to run through swordsman skills with Ferdinand in full Grehkian Plate, his shield given by Oracle and the Warblade of Jarbosh. The red stained sword blended well with the sand as the Grand Master bowed before the instructor and proceeded to fight. As the clash of swords rang in the open space, Ferdinand's blood boiled as he channeled his anger into his strikes. As Ferdinand proceeded to strike for the winning blow, the instructor brought up the sand to temporarily blind the Grand Master, forcing him to retreat.

Initially furious, he saw through the action. Unlike rogues of one minded nature, in battle, enemy soldiers and nobles will be his toughest challenge yet.
Ferdinand Greybrook
Roleplay from Vahanian Blint
Vahanian had watched Ferdinand train with the academy sword instructors from a distance, his mind whirled as it categorized what he saw. This was what he was great at, analyzing fights. After the training session had ended Vahanian walked over to Ferdinand and bowed his head. It was an odd change of formalities for the old Duke and Mentor to bow to his pupil, one that irked Vahanian, which in turn was an annoyance in it's own right. Before Ferdinand could say anything, Vahanian simply said "Follow me." It was more invitation and request than order, but Vahanian couldn't help himself the subtlest of tinges of authority in his voice. Ferdinand wordlessly followed the Duke to a private section of the Grehkain arena. One reserved for Vahanian, and Vahanian alone. A wall of weapons and armaments was off to one side followed by nearly every variation and type of shield one could think of. The collection must have taken Vahanian the better part of his life to amass, and each piece was meticulously cared for. Knowing his Mentor the way he did, Ferdinand wasn't the least bit surprised to see each and every piece in pristine condition. Vahanian swept his arm out to the side as if presenting the weaponry and said "Choose." Ferdinand looked back at him and muttered "What?" Vahanian folded his arms behind his back and looked at his pupil. Ferdinand stood around 6 feet tall, a few inches taller than Vahanian, and he was well built, muscular in a way that was evident he'd spent most of his life in the military. Vahanian's eyes pierced through Ferdinand's and Vahanian simply said "We both know this is long overdue."

Ferdinand nodded his affirmation and drew his warblade. The magic bristled on across the imbued steel and flared red at it's master's wielding. Vahanian raised an eyebrow and thought about objecting to fighting against magical items with only mundane at his disposal, and then thought better of it. He walked over to the weapon rack and hung his cloak on a peg. He wore his favored training leathers. A sleeveless tunic that afforded him moderate protection without hindering movement and riding trousers. Vahanian knew it had been years, perhaps even a decade, since Ferdinand had last seen Vahanian fight in single combat. His forearms and shoulders were decorated with the thin white scars the sung a storied history of battles fought and lessons learned. Vahanian rolled his shoulders and neck as he walked the rack and selected various weapons, testing their weight and balance, giving a few a spin or two and then returning them to their rightful places.

Vahanian was tempted to select his favored twin short swords, but decided against it. He'd used them a lot lately and wanted to test his mettle with a different weapon. He eventually landed on a hand-and-a-half sword. Satisfied with the weight and balance he walked opposite Ferdinand and stabbed the blade into the sand before crouching down and grabbing a fistful of sand. He let it fall from one hand to the other, cupping his hands he breathed in the smell of the sand before rubbing his hands together, letting it fall back to the earth and clapping once to remove excess sand. He stood and pulled his blade from the sand and took a ready position and said "First blood drawn or yield." Ferdinand nodded his ascent before taking his own ready position.

The subtle crunch of leather against sand and the whistling of metal swinging through the air were the first audio cues that a duel was underway, those subtle overtures were quickly followed by the crescendo of steel clashing against steel, labored breathing and the dull thud of mail against leather. The two men clashed against one another with a ferocity neither knew the other had until they met. Nothing was said between either for the first few minutes of the fight, they simply met strike with counter, lunge with riposte, and kick with block kicks. Vahanian felt the battle calm almost immediately, his was a song that he needed no warm up to sing. Ferdinand attacked with aggression and passion, but didn't seem to settle right away.

Normally Vahanian would have counted that an advantage and pressed it, but he furrowed his brow and spun out, timing it perfectly as Ferdinand's blade thumped as it struck the sand. "You need to relax." Vahanian said, breathing deeply through his nose and out his mouth. "Getting tired, old man?" Ferdinand shot back at him, a jab no doubt in response to his authoritative request to be followed earlier. Vahanian ignored it, and said "You're fighting stiff and only with aggression, you're going to lose control and then just lose." Ferdinand took a deep breath himself, plate armor was heavy and he'd already been training this morning. "I seem to be holding my own." He said. Vahanian suppressed his instinct to yell, to charge, to prove his point in decisive and definitive action. Instead he shook his head and said "Aye, you are, against an opponent whose twice your age and not actively trying to kill you.

Vahanian advanced forward, slowly, weapon still down and drew a semi circle in the sand with the point of his blade. Then took his ready stance and waited. Ferdinand attacked again, aggressively, Vahanian defended only. Did not press advantages, did not attack. He was trying to force the rhythm into Ferdinand. Like the honorable soldier he was, Ferdinand fought with academy honed technique, and well. Vahanian was muttering to himself more than Ferdinand as he recognized the pattern and attacks. As Vahanian started to use tricks of the blade to confuse and overwhelm Ferdinand, Ferdinand started to feel the rhythm. Vahanian immediately noticed a difference as his young pupil began to increase in speed and relax. Vahanian smiled, and matched his pace shouting "Good!".

The two men fought for what seemed like an eternity, sweat beading on Vahanian's forehead and dripping down Ferdinand's under the weight of his plate. Ferdinand was strong, and quick, but his armor made him less mobile than Vahanian. Vahanian was fast, especially for his age. Ducking and weaving into and around Ferdinand's guard his blade struck against the plate. The two men were locked into combat, steel clashing against steel, labored breathing and the scraping of leather and metal against sand.

Vahanian kicked Ferdinand square in the chest, knocking him back and pressed the attack, slashing down and sideways, trying to score a cut on the man's cheek or arms. Ferdinand absorbed the kick and held his footing, parrying and countering with all his strength and skill. The two men gave no ground and took none either from the other. Vahanian saw his opening and took it, he knew he shouldn't have, he knew he'd be exposed, but he thought his speed would grant him victory. As soon as he started he saw the look in Ferdinand's eye. His pupil had been well trained, and saw the equal opportunity, both men swung, Ferdinand went for the torso while Vahanian went for the head. Their blades whipped through the air and sung their metallic song. Vahanian felt Ferdinand's blade make contact with his armor just a hair before his own delivered a superficial scratch on his pupil's neck. Had both men been in combat to the death and lacked the control they had, they'd have killed each other, Vahanian beheading Ferdinand as Ferdinand disemboweled Vahanian.

When Vahanian stepped back from Ferdinand, he touched the cut on his stomach, his hand came away with some blood, but nothing a bandage and a night's rest wouldn't heal. He nodded to his pupil in affirmation and inspected his sword. He noticed his blade had more wear on it than he'd have expected while Ferdinand's had none at all. "huh." He said, and filed that information away for later examination. He scribbled something on a scroll handed it off to Baldwin along with the blade and grabbed his cloak.

He walked next to his friend as they exited the arena and stopped at the entrance. He looked at him and said "Ours is a strange relationship, you served me for many years, a service I'll never forget nor be able to repay. But now our stations demand I defer to you. That... will take some getting used to..." Ferdinand looked as if he were about to interject, to reassure his mentor but before he could Vahanian said "That will be the fact of it in public. In here-" He gestured to the arena. "There are no titles. No hierarchy. There is training and thought. You fight with honor and you fight stiff, it will get you killed eventually. You need to be willing to sacrifice honorable strategy and decorum for victory. Fighting monsters and undead is different from fighting men. And both are different from fighting Daimons. I pray we never have to do the latter again, but in the event we do, remember this. They and any humans that follow them are not honorable, they will not show mercy and will give no quarter. You must be willing to burn an entire village to kill one daimon ally. You must be willing and able to do things you've sworn never to do and never thought you could do in order to ensure the survival of that which you treasure. Falter once and they will feast on your failure. Falter twice and they will never give you a third chance. Think on that a while, and when you're ready come back here and we'll train again." With that Vahanian left, leaving Ferdinand to his thoughts.
Vahanian Blint