1629, Fire Season, Early in Truth Week
Context
Evening, in Duck Point. Takes place during Horsing About (Session SA 5 Oslir Arc, 18).
Events
It is evening in Duck Point. Berra spent an hour or so away on her own business, coming back with mud on her shoes. It is not the dark colour of the silt that makes up the quays of the city, but it was still definitely river mud.
When the sun has gone, and the sounds of snoring have arrived, Berra taps Nayale on the shoulder. “Time for a walk?” she suggests.
The younger woman falls into step beside her mentor. She’s still wearing her armour, though her beat up helmet is left to lie.
Berra is in her light, scouting gear. She almost lives in it, despite its battered condition and her exalted rank. As usual, she is carrying the Wyter sword and Wind Tooth. “We’re off to the docks. We’re looking for a place – a particular place – that’s big enough for humans, and built of stone with shells stuck onto the front. It might not still be there.”
Nayale looks curious, but doesn’t ask. Instead, she gives Berra a resolute nod and turns her gaze to scanning the odd city around them, on the look out for threats.1Nayale fails Scan. Berra Specials it, but fails Insight..
Nayale seems a little detached. Or just hard to read, anyway.2For Nayale’s notes, for later: She’s decided she needs to work harder to impress Berra, so she’s trying to be calm, grown up, and professional. Not at all thrown off by this strange place.
As they wander the docks, Berra says, “There,” and gestures towards a building sandwiched between others. A few river and sea shells still cling to the stone frontage, under paint. It was well spotted; the shadows of the night are mostly hiding the shells, in their coloured coating. “Lord Eril came here, with his friends. A while back.” She looks around, as if deciding something. Ducks of the evening and a few who are decidedly of the night ignore or give come-hither glances, depending on occupation and bravery.
Nayale gives the building a searching look, assessing for possible threats. When one of the nearby Durulz meets her gaze for too long, her eyes narrow, assessing him as a possible threat too.3Passes Intimidate, fails Insight (Duck).
The building squats there, rocky. Stone-like. Impassive. Yellow-painted, which makes it a curious orange in the night.
If the duck was a threat, he is hurrying away now.
“Alright.” Berra makes a decision. “We’re gonna … yeah.” She steps away from the building almost to the edge of the docks, where a wooden walkway holds her weight well enough that she seems confident. Next to her, the black shape of the Wyter starts to fill in.
As Lord Raven takes shape, Nayale gasps audibly. She quickly offers the Wyter a deep bow and if it weren’t for the uncertainty of whatever covered the ground beneath their feet, she’d likely have dropped into full obeisance. It’s been a while since she saw the spirit in person.
Raven solidifies, and there is just enough light to see his expression. Distant. He looks around him like a man trying to find the right tenement block down Memory Lane. “I came here looking for some stolen children,” he says, matter-of-factly. “I had not meant to be away from the Tula, but I was invited, you see?”
Berra, who probably does not see, makes a non-commital noise.
A lot of ducks are making quacking sounds.
Nayale glances around for the quackers, trying to send silencing glares their way. Lord Raven is speaking.
Most of them seem to be staring at him. He is talking on, uncaring. “We decided it would be inappropriate to take warriors to the negotiation, as it was one for the law. Farnan son of Arvast did the talking. He is a Colymar. I suppose you have a lot in common with the Varmandi, oh my Priest – they argue a lot too, for little gain.”
Berra looks polite, but there may be some seething going on. “So… how’s that different from a lot of talk for no gain?”
That gets her a pointed glare. “Be quiet.” Dismissive words, but they obviously know one another well. It might be a long-running argument. “As I… I stayed out here with Gorak. He was a strange man, but a great warrior, and while we waited, he asked if I fancied sparring.” Raven looks around, as if deciding who should help him demonstrate.
Nayale meets his eyes, unflinching.4Insight? Raven and/or Berra? It’s not that Nayale is unafraid of crossing swords with the Wyter. More that she’s determined to accept the opportunity despite her fear, if he desires it.
There is still a lot of quacking. Berra is gesturing to the crowd that all is well, but they seem to be worried nevertheless, for some reason.
Lord Raven asks simply, “Do you want to spar?”
“Yes,” Nayale replies, just as simply.
He gestures to the wooden boards. “Let us stay out of the way while we do.”
Berra takes a moment to think, and then hands over her iron sword to the Wyter. It is short in his hand, but that does not seem to worry him.
The young warrior takes up a position opposite, drawing her bronze blade. It’s old, but lovingly maintained. She is calm, breathing slowly and deliberately. Her stance is good. It looks a lot like Berra’s.
Lord Raven gives her a moment to be sure she is ready and then comes in fast and hard. He is horribly quick. Berra is faster, but he has reach. He tops Nayale by a foot and maybe more.5Rolls: Nayale will do well at first, pressing his defence, but Lord Raven wins through in the end.
As Nayale responds, she does so with grace and skill. She meets his attacks, competently turning them aside. The young woman has dreamt of Humakt and the god is with her as she begins to press her own attack. She varies her targets, seeking to force an opening that she can use to good effect.
Several times her blade touches him. He does not seem to be armoured, but it is not hurting him either. It feels like drawing her edge along mud without it sinking in.
As it becomes clear to him that getting close is not working, he begins to retreat, forcing the smaller warrior to come through his guard again and again. He has speed, and he uses it. If he has superior strength, he is holding that back.
The sounds of the docks have faded, or are just unimportant background.
She gives chase, trying to regain control of the fight. She rains blow after blow at his defences, but she’s having to reach for them. She does not seem to notice that her balance is off.
“Still,” Lord Raven says as he holds off Nayale’s attempts on his skin, “It seems that even sparring is likely to be seen as a threat, and we drew some attention. Not only from the merchant, but also from some passing Swords. I do think that Gorak only meant to… no, try that again, but this time, the thumb moves forward faster to arc in towards me.” Maybe, given he now seems to be giving a lesson, nobody will see that he has not been able to reach her either.
In the background, Berra is explaining that this is just a Wyter spirit getting some exercise, can you move along please?
There is little other noise, save the lap of water and the sounds of Nayale’s feet on the boards and the clashing of blades.
She makes the attack again, following his instructions. The blade slices smoothly through the air and Nayale repeats the motion, trying to lock it into her memory.
“Better,” he admits. “As it turned out, not only did the man who had out-lawfully bought children notice us, but he took our mere exhibition as a threat. I suppose by now all of those present save me will have grown out of the memory.” Then he simply steps up a notch. Same style, just faster. He leaves dark blurs in the air as he moves, and the sword Torch glitters in the moonlight and the flickering lanterns and night-lights. Even then, he still has time to talk. “Afterwards I could swear I had not planned it and did not believe anyone else had either.” It is like his intellect is divorced from the effort he must be putting in. Separated, maybe.
Nayale presses her attack against him and for a time, it looks like she is holding her own. She is graceful, nearly as fast, and she has learned her lessons well. Bronze meets iron in a blinding dance of blades. It’s the sort of fight that has bystanders holding their breath. But he is better and she begins to fall back.
As he talks, she fights, but for her the separation is not as precise. Whether it’s because her attention has become divided or her defense was overwhelmed, it’s hard to say. She side steps a blindingly fast blow, bringing her own sword up to meet and deflect it and… misses. There is no dock under her foot and with a startled yelp, she overbalances, tumbling into the marshy water.
It is about two feet deep, with a lot of squishy mud, and firmer mud underneath. Somewhere in that mud is her dignity. She has gashed her arm on a broken bit of wood underwater.6Failed DEXx5, but passed Broadsword to keep her weapon. The ducks are laughing. Lord Raven has disappeared. Berra saw that. At least her sword is still in her hand.
Nayale runs a hand through her wet hair, shoving the short tendrils out of her eyes and adding more mud to her person in the process. She glares at the laughing Durulz as she attempts to stomp to shore. It’s difficult to stomp, glower, and recover dignity when the ground beneath you oozes.
Her sword is held above the water in a white-knuckled grip.
Berra is trying not to laugh, but failing. There are several serious-looking Humakti in a cluster nearby, discussing the duel and the unorthodox ending.
Nayale glowers at her mentor.
Berra manages to say, “Could happen to anyone.” She is now wearing two swords once more. “And water’s a better…” Nope. She takes a moment to get her breathing under control once more.
“Did you enjoy that, Exalted One?” Blood flows freely down Nayale’s left arm, mixing with the mud. The young woman ignores it as she continues to hold her sword above her head and wade to shore.
“Well, I did get to see a swordsman in action. You need that cleaned up?” Berra changes her tone a little on seeing that Nayale is wounded.
Nayale glances at it. “Yeah. Needs cleaning before healing.”
Berra bows to the group of swordsducks, who barely give her the time of night, and jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “You come this way. We’ll go somewhere quiet.”
Some of the durulz are still sniggering, but most are getting back to work. The Humakti are watching Nayale with whatever emotions it is that ducks have. They’re hard to read.
Nayale nods at the Humakti with as much dignity as she can dredge up. Those who are still laughing get a toothy grin, bordering on feral. Even if they’ve forgotten, she remembers that for a while she was holding her own.
Her feet squelch as she follows Berra.
Berra leads the way confidently for a bit, and then says, “I know about where the inn is, but I figure we should get you cleaned up first. We could go to the Temple, or we could find a public pond.”
“A clean pond would be appreciated, Lady Berra.” The blood has slowed to a more sluggish pace, but all of Nayale is filthy.
Berra knows how to find one, which is to ask. “These are like public baths, but you can go in there dirty if you need to preen,” she says. “And the bottoms aren’t as oozy as the river.”
Looking a little resigned and still carrying her sword in hand, Nayale sighs. There’s an awkward moment as she stares between the entrance to the pond, her sodden scabbard, and her sword. “Would you hold this for me, please?” She offers the weapon hilt first.
Berra looks around at the few ducks industriously gabbling in the water nearby, and the options for putting a sword down. “Yeah.” She puts out her left hand for the scabbard, always ready for a draw. “I’d never seen him fight like that before.”
“Wash you down?” asks a tired-sounding hen, walking past.
“Nope.” Berra waves her on, but then relents and flicks a coin to her. “Buy yourself a hot meal. Leave us alone.” It looked like a clack.
Nayale hands her equipment over, but looks uncertain about stripping. The ducks are all wearing feathers. She glances at Berra for guidance.
“S’fine. It’s like a bath-house, and it’s Fire Season.” Berra looks down at the squelchy shoes. “We’re gonna want to get a lot of grease on those.”
Finally, the young woman strips down completely. “M’armour’s gonna need it too,” she says as she wriggles out of her wet padding.
“Yeah, but that’s got more wax on already, right?” Berra starts putting things out to drip dry as Nayale gets undressed, but keeps the sword in hand. “Travel in just your working clothes tomorrow,” she suggests. “We don’t want you arriving smelling of river, and the water’s gonna need getting out of there.” And the padding is still smeared in mud, but she does not mention that. “Want me to deal with that cut?”
Nayale moves her arm experimentally and winces. “I’ll get it clean first and then we should look. Feels like something’s stuck.” She steps into the pond and scrubs the mud away as best she can one-handed, ducking under to work at her hair.
When she emerges, she’s clean, but the wound is still trickling blood. She twists trying to get a good look at it, before surrendering and presenting the arm to Berra.
Berra looks it over, and even gets Nayale to move into the light. “You’re right, it’s got a splinter left in it.” She searches in her pouches and then on the floor for a couple of minutes, finally finding a stick that she divides, smooths off, and ties together, making rough but serviceable tweezers with flat ends. They are clumsy, but better than nothing.
The splinter comes out easily, after all that, as if it did not need nearly that much fuss. Berra just likes woodwork, it seems to say.7Passed First Aid, and Berra wanted to roll Craft (Whittling). After that the Priestess whispers a few words over it, taking some time to get them right. The skin draws together, a little puckered and tight, but not unbearable.
If the healing hurts, Nayale does not show it. When it’s done, she moves the arm experimentally again and thanks Berra.
She washes her underthings in the pond quickly, getting the worst of the mud off them and wringing them out. She’s definitely done her own laundry before. While she works, she finally asks, “What did you mean? When you said that you’d never seen him fight like that before?”
“He’s … did you see that he was paying attention to two things?” Berra briefly looks confused.
“Teaching and defeating me soundly?” Nayale thinks. “Oh. And talking about the past.”
“Yeah. He sounded like he was not fighting. Just talking. But he was moving pretty fast. I mean, I don’t get to spar with him much either, just a couple of times so far, and I’d never seen it from the outside. But that was weird.”
“He’s amazing,” Nayale admits, glancing at the Wyter sword with something akin to hero worship. Oh wait. It is Hero worship. “I did alright with him for a bit, didn’t I? I mean, he only gave me half his attention, but it was still pretty good.”
“No, I think you had his attention. S’what I’m saying. I think he just had attention left over.” And there is the Hero Worship from Berra, or at least the Hero Adoration. “You did well. You rise to better opponents. But … well, yeah. More understanding of where you are. If that’d been a city wall you’d have been dead.”
If there was any risk of Berra’s praise inflating the young woman’s ego, she punctured it with her final comment. Nayale winced. “I’ll be more careful.”
She wraps her damp loin cloth and breast band into place and stares downcast at the rest of her things. It’s warm enough to walk back as she is and just carry her muddy things. Or she can put the mud back on again. “How far is it?”
“You’ll want your shoes on. Leave the foot wrappings, or you’ll tread more mud into them. You get to borrow some of my stuff, I guess.” Berra looks across town, then stands on tiptoe to try to see in a totally different direction. “It’s only a few minutes.”
Nayale nods.
By the time they’ve made it back, parts of her are dry and the rest? The inn keeper doesn’t grumble too loudly about the mess she makes, anyway.
- 1Nayale fails Scan. Berra Specials it, but fails Insight..
- 2For Nayale’s notes, for later: She’s decided she needs to work harder to impress Berra, so she’s trying to be calm, grown up, and professional. Not at all thrown off by this strange place.
- 3Passes Intimidate, fails Insight (Duck).
- 4Insight? Raven and/or Berra? It’s not that Nayale is unafraid of crossing swords with the Wyter. More that she’s determined to accept the opportunity despite her fear, if he desires it.
- 5Rolls: Nayale will do well at first, pressing his defence, but Lord Raven wins through in the end.
- 6Failed DEXx5, but passed Broadsword to keep her weapon.
- 7Passed First Aid, and Berra wanted to roll Craft (Whittling).
