1629, Fire Season, Truth Week, Clayday
Context
The group is travelling from Tarsh to the Locaem, and stops overnight. Session S5.O-17.
Events
A few days into the journey, Berra talks to her sword for a while, then calls a halt a little before the end of the day. It is Clayday, Truth Week. No particular holy day, no particular anniversary. She just says, “Camp up.” They have half an hour more than normal. She makes herself ready swiftly, and then in full armour, begins a series of exercises for broadswords in both hands. Sometimes there are dance steps, and once there is a brief argument with Lord Raven, “No, I can’t do that here – look, it’s not flagstone. No, YOU do it…” but mostly it is just an exhibition of how to kill people with swift efficiency.
Having finished her share of camp set-up, Nayale tries to stand watch dutifully, but her gaze is drawn back to Berra over and over as she studies the priest’s movements. More than once, the young Humakti’s feet shift as she tries to make sense of a particular series of steps without actually replicating them.1Insight: Nayale is unaware she’s doing this. It seems to be unconscious movement.
After finishing the practice, Berra looks around, spots Nayale, and nods to her. “Come.” Her voice is peremptory, like she is used to being obeyed.2It is Berra’s accent, but not her usual habit of speech by any means.
Nayale responds to that command with alacrity, giving her mentor an odd look.
“Lord Raven wishes to understand more about how I fight in person. Are you up for live practice?” From a commanding arrogance, Berra switches between sentences to checking that Nayale is indeed happy with the dangerous form of sparring.
Nayale grins at Berra. “Yes, lady. I’d like that very much.” Her feet are already shifting into her fighting stance and she looks eager, though she keeps her hand away from her hilt as she’s not yet been instructed to draw.
“Let’s start slow. Done this before?” Berra rolls out her shoulders, and drops a hand to the hilt of the Wyter sword. Wind Tooth is on the other hip. Lord Eril’s own sword, the one she usually wears instead of the Wyter blade, is not in evidence. It might be wrapped with her belongings, or it might be with the Regiment.
“Just with my brother,” Nayale admits sheepishly.3Insight: Something about the way she says it makes it apparent that either didn’t go well or they got in trouble. But she’s not scared, so it probably wasn’t that bad.
Her eyes widen when she realizes which blade she’ll be crossing.
“Alright. Don’t hit anything that’s going to bleed hard, and try not to draw too much blood. This is… he’s got to know what I am. But start slow.” Berra draws Wind Tooth and then the iron sword, right hand then left. Her stance is slightly forward to the right, her left hand out wide. It gives her a lot of potential options, although it is not how she usually begins fighting.
Nayale launches herself enthusiastically into her attack, apparently aiming for Berra’s head.
Berra’s defence is solid. She uses Lord Raven as her shield, probing for weakness with Wind Tooth. At least for the moment she does not switch hands or sides. Mostly she threatens in the low line, taking advantage of her ability to parry with a threat. Nothing she does gets through, although an elegant-looking lunge towards the back of Nayale’s right knee comes close.
Nayale is light on her feet, choosing to dodge rather than parry. She is all attack and evasion right now. When Berra nearly takes her out at the knee, she gasps and then laughs. Perhaps she is dancing too much to open herself up to that sort of attack.
“Calmer, or we’re not going to speed up,” Berra says. For all her voice is steady, it is an admonishment.
The sun continues to slip down the sky, but there is still enough light for sparring.
“I’m sorry, Lady,” the young warrior replies. She immediately reduces her speed to match the pace Berra sets.
“And if you’re laughing, you’re not concentrating,” Berra points out. “Le’s keep going.”
The young woman makes several slashing cuts, mostly targeting the centre of Berra’s mass. Now that she’s matching pace with her opponent, her dodges are revealed to be… sort of competent.
Berra, meantime, has the same unflappable look to her. She is concentrating on what she is doing, and sometimes frowns or scowls as if in concentration. To someone who knows how to use a sword, it is clear she is not fighting as she normally does. Her movements are more formalised, highly efficient but lacking in her ordinary grace. Even so, it is hard to get through that guard, and a couple of times she threatens Nayale, including stopping Wind Tooth by the side of her young opponent’s head at once point, just as Nayale would be about to move away from the blow.4Berra is definitely taking instruction from the sword, but also probably demonstrating things to it. The slower pace is letting her do that.
Nayale has sobered up now. This is not like sparring with her brother. Her focus drops to Berra’s sternum, where she can watch feet and shoulders simultaneously. Her feet have rediscovered the correct stance, while her sword is positioned between herself and Berra.
After a couple of minutes of that, enough to start getting warmed up properly, Berra steps back, and then nods swiftly, and comes in faster. It is not the killing speed that is her gift, but she is not giving Nayale much room either.
Nayale attempts to give as good as she gets. Her parries are where they need to be, keeping Berra’s swords offline. Her attacks are solid, still aimed at Berra’s torso, but failing to break through that strong defence.
Berra is obviously unable to threaten Nayale now, and keeps getting bounced away without being able to push the youngster back. Nayale is able to dominate the sparring field, and Berra falls back and nods. “Right. Ready? Give me a moment to just remember what… yeah. Ready?” She shakes out her shoulders, gets her feet square on the ground.
Initially taken aback by Berra’s sudden speed, Nayale grimly stays in the fight. Surprisingly, the young woman manages to match Berra blow for blow.
Berra’s sudden aggression does not seem to surprise her, at least; the Wyter Priest is now casually swinging steel and bronze in a fine display of speed, precision, and determination. A tiny smile on her features says she is happy to do this for as long as it takes to destroy her opponent. She is still using her original tactic, threatening low, defending high. Some would call that an error. Some would be aware she is aiming to cripple and take a prisoner.
Nayale’s defense wavers and she starts to give ground. She takes several shallow breaths and does her best to keep parrying those attacks. Everything starts to fall into a pattern. Sword swipe, parry low, step back. Sword thrust, parry low, step back.
Berra advances a little, and then pulls up. Her body language says that she has won. “Alright?” she asks, and she is not talking to Nayale.
Her opponent struggles to regain her composure, but does not lower her guard. She stares at Berra, a crease between her brows.5Insight: If Nayale were a Vingan, she’d probably have already launched a fresh attack. As it is, she’s too polite and too much in awe of Berra to give in to the urge. But she does not look done.
“Mm. No. But… well… If you want.” Berra looks to Nayale, “Do you think I can handle it if I go all-out? That you’ll let me know if you need me to stop in a hurry?”
“Are you asking me or him?” Nayale asks cautiously.
“You.” Berra looks ready to go, and now she is looking at Nayale as if she sees a target.
Nayale’s eyes narrow. She slows her breathing down and whatever anxiety she was feeling is exhaled with the breaths. She gives Berra a sharp nod before lunging into an immediate attack. This time, her sword is held low, point driving directly towards Berra’s belly.
Berra almost walks onto it as she comes in for a slash along Nayale’s hip, and then says, “Well, that’s me dead, and we didn’t start, even. Well done.” She has had to freeze in place. “Keep that thinking.”
There’s no grin this time. Instead, Nayale steps back to give Berra space before nodding and launching herself in for another attack.
Berra does recover from that, but it takes her a moment, and then she launches herself into the fray. Perhaps she is taking care not to kill Nayale, or perhaps she is just slow on her feet after her previous practice, but she is never able to get her defensive solidity back. Time and again she is threatening, even landing a couple of taps on Nayale, but always leaving herself open. Or, perhaps, it just seems that way. Nayale is able to take advantage of tiny openings, and Berra is not stopping it; perhaps is unable to.
Nayale, on the other hand, has become relentless. She refuses to give ground and throws blow after blow at Berra. She is careful not to cause injury, but it’s obvious that she is pulling some of her shots. This, at last, is the potential that Berra last saw in her when she fought alongside her brother. Here are the makings of a warrior.
Berra finally nods and steps back, in the break between passes, and stands getting her breath back. It seems like she is done.
Nayale lowers her blade in response and after a few breaths of her own, she checks the edge for nicks before sliding it back into the old leather scabbard on her hip.
She watches Berra. Her hair is damp with sweat and her cheeks flushed, but her expression is solemn.
Berra closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and becomes calm and peaceful. “Well done. I want to see more like that. You’re not used to relying on yourself, and you should do it more.” Only then does she begin the process of checking her own blades against the body of Yelm in the deepening sky.
Nayale salutes the priest. Her voice sounds faraway as she asks, “May I meditate before my watch, Lady Berra?”
“I’ll put you on for morning. You have until then.” Berra’s eyes are narrowed as she looks at what might be a scratch on Wind Tooth, but is probably a record of a previous battle.
Nayale nods. Before long, she has found herself a space within site of the camp but out of people’s way. There, she uses her small knife to carve out a sword in the earth and then settles herself for meditation.6Passes Death and therefore successfully passes Meditate.
Berra goes off to do evening things, most of which are to do with eating and sleeping.
Nayale spends the night in meditation, foregoing food and sleep. When she is tapped on the shoulder to alert her to her guard shift, she is glassy eyed, but alert.
- 1Insight: Nayale is unaware she’s doing this. It seems to be unconscious movement.
- 2It is Berra’s accent, but not her usual habit of speech by any means.
- 3Insight: Something about the way she says it makes it apparent that either didn’t go well or they got in trouble. But she’s not scared, so it probably wasn’t that bad.
- 4Berra is definitely taking instruction from the sword, but also probably demonstrating things to it. The slower pace is letting her do that.
- 5Insight: If Nayale were a Vingan, she’d probably have already launched a fresh attack. As it is, she’s too polite and too much in awe of Berra to give in to the urge. But she does not look done.
- 6Passes Death and therefore successfully passes Meditate.
