Rone the Wanderer sat cross-legged on a rooftop watching starlings flit about a nest tucked into the eaves of a nearby building. The flight of birds was ordered, yet unpredictable. He meditated on this.
"Rone, come down," Dahlia's voice shot up. "Man wants to see you swing your pig-sticker."
Rone meditated briefly on the interruptions Dahlia brought to his meditations.
He dropped lightly onto a rain barrel, then the street. He was tall and muscular, with caramel skin. His clothes were made of a canvas-like cloth, and he wore his dark brown hair close cropped, but with a stripe like a mohawk down the middle.
He looked down on the thin man. Azurdanak held out his hand in the traditional Velden manner. "Greetings sir. Your companion tells me you are fair with sword fighting in the eastern style. I have need of blades and strong arms to wield them. May I see a sample of your skill?"
Rone drew his double bladed straight sword, thin and long, with an iron ring on the pommel, and bowed slightly to Azurdanak. "Please forgive my apparent deficiencies," he said.
Rone commenced a whirling display of swordsmanship with no apparent deficiencies whatsoever. The swirling created a hypnotic pattern punctuated with unexpected hiccups, joint locks, or muscle spasms that altered the flow, popping the viewer out of the hypnotic reverie. Even in these interruptions, Azurdanak noticed a deeper pattern that he just began to decode when the sword flew toward his face.
Azurdanak noted later that he had not seen the Wanderer slip a length of rawhide string tied to his wrist through the iron ring. He had detected no wizardy, so it must have happened quickly, when his attention was diverted.
In the moment he flinched and ducked, but to his credit, refrained from shouting. Rone flicked his wrist and the sword snapped back to his hand. A nice trick that would catch offguard anyone thinking themselves a foot out of steel's reach.
If Rone had meant to menace Azurdanak, his face didn't betray him. He continued his display with the same serene concentration.
One abrupt fluid motion returned his sword to its beaded sheath, breaking the spell of the whirling blade. Azurdanak regained his composure under Rone's placid gaze and Dahlia's smirk.
"Well you're fast. And you certainly look strong enough," he said. "Dahlia, you say he's beaten you?"
"Few others live to make that claim."
"You're hired." Azurdanak rubbed his chin. "The Urugan moot begins in two weeks."
"We won't make the Crosian border in two weeks," Rone observed.
"As I planned," Azurdanak turned to walk away. "I want them drunk-sick and worn down before I arrive. if they're fresh, that makes my job harder." He beckoned to the pair to follow him.
"What is your job, exactly?" Rone asked.
"To slay as many Urugans as possible in single combat."
Rone's brow furrowed slightly. "Intriguing. You know Urugans abhor a fair fight?"
"As do I. That's why I chose Urugans. Dahlia, please explain as I check the wagon. We'll leave before dawn."
"I can't explain, Rone, but the pay is bloody royal," she whispered.
Azurdanak's wagon was well equipped, and his horses fed and groomed neatly.
"Where did you get this?" Dahlia asked. "You came in on a caravan last night."
"No, I came in as part of a caravan. I travel a great deal to places tradesmen don't like to think about. Stow your gear in the back properly please. Either of you know how to drive horses?"
"We're fighters, not teamsters," Dahlia said.
"You'll learn a new trade then. Load up."
The trip to the Crosian border wound through green lands studded with granite boulders, gently sloping downhill all the way. Pitchwolves, fur black as a moonless night roamed the lands, as well as brigands and hungry ghosts. The trio erected mandrake effigies to confuse the ghosts at night, but the other two threats required vigilance.
As they rode, they told stories, as travelers do, and compared styles as sword fighters do. Rone demonstrated more of his wavering way technique--a purposely wobbly stance that caused Azurdanak to constantly re-evaluate his geometry. He demanded Rone repeat kata steps, and Rone obliged, but there remained offbeat about the style that Azurdanak couldn't pin down.
Azurdanak demonstrated further displays of his fencing style replete with drawings sketched in the dirt demonstrating the geometry and anatomy of humans. There are a finite number of ways that humans can do significant damage to each other, he explained. Memorize them, study them, counter them, and you become undefeatable.
Dahlia laughed at their airs. "There's nothing to show when there's nothing on the line," she said. "You both think too much. Just pull steel and fight."
Rone chuckled. "There is more to her technique than her brag."
"I know you are right," Azurdanak replied. The bruise on his arm was still black and sore. "But she'll meet a sooner end than you or I."
"I very much doubt that," Dahlia said. "Your fool's task will have me burying you by week's end, I'd wager."
"I'll take that bet," said Azurdanak.
"Not with you," she said, tossing a pebble at him. "I'll take all of your money when you're dead anyway."
"Good to know it will land in safe hands."
"I'll drink to you with a penny of it."
"A penny? At least buy a round for the house!"
"Eh... We'll see how we'll you fare in this fight you're going to pick."
"You will indeed! But let me warn you now: Do not interfere in one-on-one combat. Even if the fight goes badly for me. Only intervene when I am outnumbered... And even then, stay your blade if I seem untroubled."
"I hate to pass up a good fight, but I usually won't say no when someone pays me and tells me not to work, eh Rone?"
Rone was watching bugs on a tree branch and appeared not to hear her.
"Why are you hellbent on dying alone anyway?" She continued.
"I am not. I would rather not be here at all. But I must triumph alone or die trying. And since I plan to live, that leaves one option."
"Rone, come down," Dahlia's voice shot up. "Man wants to see you swing your pig-sticker."
Rone meditated briefly on the interruptions Dahlia brought to his meditations.
He dropped lightly onto a rain barrel, then the street. He was tall and muscular, with caramel skin. His clothes were made of a canvas-like cloth, and he wore his dark brown hair close cropped, but with a stripe like a mohawk down the middle.
He looked down on the thin man. Azurdanak held out his hand in the traditional Velden manner. "Greetings sir. Your companion tells me you are fair with sword fighting in the eastern style. I have need of blades and strong arms to wield them. May I see a sample of your skill?"
Rone drew his double bladed straight sword, thin and long, with an iron ring on the pommel, and bowed slightly to Azurdanak. "Please forgive my apparent deficiencies," he said.
Rone commenced a whirling display of swordsmanship with no apparent deficiencies whatsoever. The swirling created a hypnotic pattern punctuated with unexpected hiccups, joint locks, or muscle spasms that altered the flow, popping the viewer out of the hypnotic reverie. Even in these interruptions, Azurdanak noticed a deeper pattern that he just began to decode when the sword flew toward his face.
Azurdanak noted later that he had not seen the Wanderer slip a length of rawhide string tied to his wrist through the iron ring. He had detected no wizardy, so it must have happened quickly, when his attention was diverted.
In the moment he flinched and ducked, but to his credit, refrained from shouting. Rone flicked his wrist and the sword snapped back to his hand. A nice trick that would catch offguard anyone thinking themselves a foot out of steel's reach.
If Rone had meant to menace Azurdanak, his face didn't betray him. He continued his display with the same serene concentration.
One abrupt fluid motion returned his sword to its beaded sheath, breaking the spell of the whirling blade. Azurdanak regained his composure under Rone's placid gaze and Dahlia's smirk.
"Well you're fast. And you certainly look strong enough," he said. "Dahlia, you say he's beaten you?"
"Few others live to make that claim."
"You're hired." Azurdanak rubbed his chin. "The Urugan moot begins in two weeks."
"We won't make the Crosian border in two weeks," Rone observed.
"As I planned," Azurdanak turned to walk away. "I want them drunk-sick and worn down before I arrive. if they're fresh, that makes my job harder." He beckoned to the pair to follow him.
"What is your job, exactly?" Rone asked.
"To slay as many Urugans as possible in single combat."
Rone's brow furrowed slightly. "Intriguing. You know Urugans abhor a fair fight?"
"As do I. That's why I chose Urugans. Dahlia, please explain as I check the wagon. We'll leave before dawn."
"I can't explain, Rone, but the pay is bloody royal," she whispered.
Azurdanak's wagon was well equipped, and his horses fed and groomed neatly.
"Where did you get this?" Dahlia asked. "You came in on a caravan last night."
"No, I came in as part of a caravan. I travel a great deal to places tradesmen don't like to think about. Stow your gear in the back properly please. Either of you know how to drive horses?"
"We're fighters, not teamsters," Dahlia said.
"You'll learn a new trade then. Load up."
The trip to the Crosian border wound through green lands studded with granite boulders, gently sloping downhill all the way. Pitchwolves, fur black as a moonless night roamed the lands, as well as brigands and hungry ghosts. The trio erected mandrake effigies to confuse the ghosts at night, but the other two threats required vigilance.
As they rode, they told stories, as travelers do, and compared styles as sword fighters do. Rone demonstrated more of his wavering way technique--a purposely wobbly stance that caused Azurdanak to constantly re-evaluate his geometry. He demanded Rone repeat kata steps, and Rone obliged, but there remained offbeat about the style that Azurdanak couldn't pin down.
Azurdanak demonstrated further displays of his fencing style replete with drawings sketched in the dirt demonstrating the geometry and anatomy of humans. There are a finite number of ways that humans can do significant damage to each other, he explained. Memorize them, study them, counter them, and you become undefeatable.
Dahlia laughed at their airs. "There's nothing to show when there's nothing on the line," she said. "You both think too much. Just pull steel and fight."
Rone chuckled. "There is more to her technique than her brag."
"I know you are right," Azurdanak replied. The bruise on his arm was still black and sore. "But she'll meet a sooner end than you or I."
"I very much doubt that," Dahlia said. "Your fool's task will have me burying you by week's end, I'd wager."
"I'll take that bet," said Azurdanak.
"Not with you," she said, tossing a pebble at him. "I'll take all of your money when you're dead anyway."
"Good to know it will land in safe hands."
"I'll drink to you with a penny of it."
"A penny? At least buy a round for the house!"
"Eh... We'll see how we'll you fare in this fight you're going to pick."
"You will indeed! But let me warn you now: Do not interfere in one-on-one combat. Even if the fight goes badly for me. Only intervene when I am outnumbered... And even then, stay your blade if I seem untroubled."
"I hate to pass up a good fight, but I usually won't say no when someone pays me and tells me not to work, eh Rone?"
Rone was watching bugs on a tree branch and appeared not to hear her.
"Why are you hellbent on dying alone anyway?" She continued.
"I am not. I would rather not be here at all. But I must triumph alone or die trying. And since I plan to live, that leaves one option."
I really liked the introduction of Rone. He sounds like an interesting character, that I'd like to read more about, though the description of his fighting style wasn't immediately clear to me (having read through all of it, I now consider it somewhat like the Drunken style of fighting in martial arts).
ReplyDeleteThis section has also helped build some nice questions about why exactly Azurdanak is going on what appears to be a fool's errand. That is a nice lead in to learning more about it.
The one thing I found strange was when you talked about them comparing and demonstrating sword fighting techniques while riding horses. You should probably have split that slightly so that they were demonstrating while dismounted, so that there's not a visual of them attempting to sword fight while in a wagon.