• Solo • Madness, Part One

Caius steps up his game, post-Pythera ambush.

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.

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• Solo • Madness, Part One

Postby Caius Gawyne » Tue Jan 09, 2018 2:50 pm

Zi'da 65, 717

Music

"Come on, Ser Volhad." Caius snapped angrily, breath ragged while he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and tosssed hair out of his face with a cloud of hot breath in the frigid Zi'da afternoon. Cheeks red from the cold he hardly felt here in the south, the northern noble's shoulder stung from exertion, quite certain he was straining the stitches from the gash Valkyr had left him with just trials ago. Adjusting his padded gambeson with a scowl, he stretched his sword arm and flicked an aching wrist with the practice saber, "Once more, please."

"My Lord, I'm sure you could use a moment to catch your breath." Garren sniffed, also sweating, narrow shoulders sagging as he regarded the taller man. The red-head stretched his neck, tilting his head from side to side and bit his lip, "You said you're injured and—"

"I paid for a private lesson, didn't I? I'll say when I'm sarding ready for a break. Again." The young Gawyne grumbled, returning his feet to a ready position, weight balanced on both his feet, knees bent, and chose to come to rest with his saber in a low guard position, wrist turned just so that the edge of the curved blade faced outward toward his opponent. Ignoring the pain under his padded armor, Caius fixed the Instructor with an anticipatory stare, his free hand coming to rest on the buckle of his belt instead of his hip—a much more rebellious stance as a saber swordsman.

For a moment, though, it was as if the printer's diri looked past the wiry man, through him, and saw instead icy road and snow-swept landscape, the countryside between Bellesoir and Andaris ... and the woman who'd managed to stalk them and attack them without even a moment of warning—Pythera Venora.

Never again.

Garren smirked, rolling his eyes at the noble in ignorance of all that had unfolded just a handful of trials before and held his two daggers up in his own ready stance, one higher, one lower near his hip, "Fine, my Lord, but don't say I didn't warn you. Now, to break out of a hold, you're going to have to use your free hand and your hip—"

Caius watched as the shorter red-head stepped in, swinging in an upward arc with a twist of his wrist for the downstroke, making sure to keep his upper arm steady no matter how much the lack of full motion hurt. As he swung, Garren brought his daggers up in a crossing motion, catching his downward swing and pushing forward. The forceful motion lifted the young Gawyne's blade and left him helpless, just as Pythera had. He hissed in pain at the motion, and as his instructor began to step further, dominant foot moving to entangle his own, Caius felt his chest tighten in frustration, straining to tug his blade downward and free himself,

"—no. Wait." Garren felt the taller man exert his strength in the wrong direction, felt him try to drive his blade downward in order to break free of the hold, "Not your blade, my Lord. Do you want to free my daggers so close to you? No. Out step me, ser. Shift weight on your hips and come forward, get me off bal—"

Caius did as he was told, relaxing his raised blade against the other man's crossed weapons and simply shoved himself forward, free arm reaching up and snatching a wrist, immediately throwing Garren off-balance and forcing him to disengage, staggering back and leaving him open for the northern noble to swing in a wild arc from his already raised position, the curve of his practice saber coming to rest where the shorter man's shoulder met his neck, an ending blow.

The motion hurt, however, and the young Gawyne growled through grit teeth.

"Just like that—oh, your gambeson, my Lord. You're bleeding."

"Fuck it—I'll take care of it later." Caius glanced down warily, and sure enough, the seams of his padded armor coat were stained with the red of his own blood where the gash on his shoulder had been deepest. He'd definitely ripped a stitch or two, "I'd like to work on some blocking techniques one last time before I walk myself to the Infirmary, Ser Volhad."

"I'm strongly advising against that, my Lord, but alright. Let's start with high guard." Garren moved back into a ready stance, one dagger high and one dagger low, body crouched like that beast of a Venora that had almost ended him too soon in front of Darcyanna.

With a hiss of breath and frustration at the memory, the young Gawyne returned to his stance, this time taking a high guard position with his saber, literally slinging the non-edge part of the weapon over his shoulder and resting his weight on his back foot, free thumb hooked again near his belt buckle. The printer's diri felt anger surge like melted lead in his veins, searing away the deep sting in his shoulder and bringing him into a strange place of focus. His pale, icy blue gaze traveled over the stance of the red-headed instructor, the shorter man all wiry muscle and freckles, panting in the snow.

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Caius Gawyne
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Madness, Part One

Postby Caius Gawyne » Tue Jan 09, 2018 2:52 pm

Garren had been asked to charge and to not hold himself back when Caius made arrangements with him, the northern noble angrily desperate to repeat his experience with Pythera as closely as possible, no matter how much it made his stomach turn and his heart race. The freckled dagger instructor had no qualms with savagery, it seemed, well-trained and well-practiced after a hard life growing up on the streets of Low-town, the younger man could fight dirty and didn't have a problem bringing actual hurt with the wooden practice weapons they wielded in the snow-blanketed Lawn of the University.

Caius had rushed in that day, wading into a danger far above his own head to engage the Valkyr in combat. He hadn't had a choice, and as he met Garren's blue-eyed gaze, the rushing fear of the memory flooded his senses for a moment, the young Gawyne overwhelmed with just how out of control the situation had been.

The dagger instructor charged, leaping forward with a slash of one weapon, the other held back in defense. Caius stepped back once, arcing his saber from his shoulder and downward, the twist of his wrist and the curve of his blade such that it sent Garren's dagger skittering wide and low, allowing Caius a chance to step in and grab for the other man's forearm, curling fingers into the thick padding of his opponent's gambeson and pressing their bodies together, the northern noble sideways so his shoulder was against his instructor's chest.

"Now what?" Garren asked him, and the young Gawyne could feel the red-head begin to shift and recover his other dagger arm, even with one pinned. Caius winced in the pain in the motion, but he twisted his sword arm and brought his saber around for a low, upward-arcing swing, the blade catching his opponent behind the knees, "Good. If you're going to knock me down, follow through with your leading foot. Like that—oof."

The northern noble followed Garren's instructions as they wrestled in melee, the freckled daggerist resisting in order to give the other man a feel for the strain of real combat, and Caius groaned at the effort, using the arc of his swing and a twist of his leading foot to toss the smaller man onto his back in the snow, not releasing his forearm on the way down in order to follow him and pin him, knee in the other man's ribs. The red stain at the shoulder of his gambeson spread slowly in the cold, blood seeping into the cloth under layers that provided the light armor's padding.

Garren huffed a hot breath, grunting in pain as the northern noble brought his full weight to bear, saber at the man's neck again.

"Practicing, my Lord!" He hissed, eyes wide because the young Gawyne's expression was distant, elsewhere.

"I'm sorry." Blinking away Pythera's sneering, pleasured visage from his vision, Caius shook his head and released the red-head, sliding back onto his heels to hover next to him, a shaking hand curling ink-stained fingers into his unkempt hair.

"It's fine. Let's get you to the Infirmary, Caius." Garren stood, dusting snow from himself before tucking the wooden daggers at his waist. He offered the northern noble a gloved hand, which the printer's diri accepted with a hiss, "May I ask what happened? Forgive me for intruding, but clearly there is something driving this training madness, am I right?"

"Yes," He sighed, pausing to dust snow from himself as well, frowning at the red-head while his irises shifted and churned with his mixed emotions, "It's probably best for your safety that I don't tell you a sarding thing. But I thank you for your time to-trial. Can we train again in a few more trials? I should give my shoulder an actual chance to heal, I suppose."

"Make it five or so for your sake, my Lord, and you can have me."

"Alright, Ser Volhad. Thank you."

Ledger
Rynmere University Sports Club, Private Lesson with Garren Volhad -50gn


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Caius Gawyne
Peace. No matter what the price.
 
Posts: 544
Joined: Wed Nov 01, 2017 7:31 pm
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Medals: 6
Story of the Month (1) First Love (1) Bow Chicka Wow Wow (1) Right In The Feels (2)
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Madness, Part One

Postby Djinn » Thu Jan 11, 2018 1:37 am

Rewards Awarded


Points: 10

Requested Rewards:
Skill Knowledge:
Strength: Using your whole body in melee
Blades (Saber): Low guard position
Blades (Saber): High guard position
Blades (Saber): Upward parry
Blades (Saber): The power is in your wrist
Blades (Saber): Using your free hand for leverage

Loot: -50gn for private lesson with City NPC Garren Volhad
Injuries/Overstepping: Ripped stitches, no scar.

Comments: Man, I read that Pythera thread. This is the perfect follow up to that, and Caius' emotions are so raw and pure. Being a part of this story, I understand his position, and his tenacity facing off against Garren is perfect. I love the regard that Garren has for him, not just the bleeding stitches but for Caius' psyche as well. Really pristine thread, especially for what it was.
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Djinn
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