Rinn
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Post by Rinn on May 17, 2019 20:52:42 GMT
Obtaining skilled workers was not difficult in Waterdeep. When there was gold to be made, there were people with the wit and talent to make it; whether that meant finding someone to work adamantine into ornate shapes, to source a particular vintage of elvish wine, or to repair a damaged tavern room in a few hours. Ainsley didn’t have any problem with spending money, particularly when it was all down to a terrible error in her own judgement that the money needed to be spent. The entire ordeal had just been embarrassing, but it was easy enough to rectify, and now a workcrew were busy fitting the new window to her room. She’d even sprung to make sure it was reinforced against future incidents. After that, she’d sent a message – an actual, embossed letter – requesting Kara’s presence at a training ground she had taken to using in the Castle Ward. The space was more commonly used by nobles in need of space and privacy for training in the arts of rapier, longsword, and ballroom dancing – the trio of arts all young men of distinction were expected to master. Ainsley’s gold spent as well – if not better – however, and so she had the use of the hall that afternoon. It was an expansive space, made to feel all the more so by the diminutive stature of the young dwarf woman. With only a discrete, if somewhat snooty, butler on the door, they would be assured of the privacy Ainsley had wanted. It was one thing to take on a spar she was quite certain she would lose; it was quite another to allow herself to be beaten and humbled in public. Whilst she was enjoying the freedom from her duties, there was still enough vestigial dignity to know that there were limits to it. The floor was bright, polished granite; difficult to scratch let alone severely mark. Thick mats of woven reeds assisted with that, and around the walls of the space were a wide variety of wooden training weapons and a few dummies; even a target for archery practice, if the mood were to strike. Ainsley wasn’t the sort to just stand around idle, though. She’d paid for this space, she was going to make use of it! She’d selected a wooden approximation of a war hammer to begin with; the weapon was poorly weighted compared to the real thing, though some effort had been made. She was thusly engaged in a swift and economical series of light taps against the mannequin she had selected as her opponent whilst she waited. Staying steady and low, she seemed more focused on making sure that she didn’t inadvertently break either the weapon or the training equipment… and that was, in fact, the point. This was a training exercise after all. Though she rather doubted she’d be capable of seriously injuring Kara, she had precious little experience sparring against people who were not her tutor, and she wanted to make sure she was up to the task of pulling her blows. A warrior never applied more – or less – force than they intended, after all. Control was everything. moralhazard |
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Post by moralhazard on May 17, 2019 22:11:29 GMT
Kara didn’t think she had ever seen such a fancy training space. She was abruptly grateful for her half-plate, which gleamed as brightly as armor could. That wasn’t to say there weren’t dents; it looked like it had been well-used. But Kara kept it as clean and neat as possible; there wasn’t a fleck of rust on it, and the dents were as hammered out as possible, the gashes merged back together, and too badly damaged plates replaced as often as needed. With it and her leather pants, she knew she looked the part of a warrior. In truth, she wasn’t sure she’d have had the courage to enter in her stitched up black tunic and leggings.
Then again, she’d have had her glaive regardless. It too shone; Kara had cleaned and polished it at the end of her shift, while contemplating Ainsley’s message. Kara had received a few such fancy papers before, but not since Sundabar, and she was having a somewhat hard time understanding why Ainsley would have sent it.
She had asked for Ainsley Gladstone at the door, and been shown to a room which had someone standing at the door. Not a guard, as far as Kara could tell. It looked like his job was just to stand around, mind the door, and maybe fetch things if need be. Kara rubbed the shaved part of her head with gauntleted fingers; she couldn’t feel it on her hand, but the motion was somehow comforting anyway. He stared at her with an expression that even Kara could interrupt as distaste, asked for her name with an audible sniff, and opened the door.
“Kara Bellringer,” he said, loudly, “for Lady Gladstone.”
Kara stepped inside, glancing around. The room was – big. Very big. She glanced down at the floor, and prodded it somewhat suspiciously with the butt of her glaive. The matts were nice, anyway; Kara wasn’t sure how much she’d like taking a fall on the granite in her armor. Matts would be much better. She looked the wooden training weapons over; they had a quarterstaff, a pike, a halberd and – yes – a glaive. She had brought hers, but she wouldn’t mind training weapons if that was what Ainsley wanted.
Finally, Kara looked at the dwarven woman. She felt abruptly awkward; Ainsley had seemed so discomfited by her dwarvish earlier that Kara didn’t dare try a greeting in the language. Perhaps she wasn’t as fluent as she had thought; it had been a long time. Instead, deciding that there was never a need to be sorry for something you didn’t say, she nodded a greeting to Ainsley.
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Rinn
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Post by Rinn on May 18, 2019 10:38:14 GMT
Ainsley smiled easily when Kara entered, and that smile only faltered when the woman didn’t introduce herself properly. It was a hesitant little flicker, and then she settled her face back into an approximation of the traditional dwarfish stoicism. It was no big surprise. Kara had trained with The Fist of Sundabar. It only made sense that she was serious and unyielding as a block of iron. She probably considered this whole situation to be a waste of her time. She was probably only humouring her because her boss had demanded that she do everything she could to keep the Princess happy.
She had to steady herself against those thoughts. If she let herself, she could get completely intimidated before they’d even begun. She had no desire to lose this fight before it even got started. Besides. This wasn’t going to be the most frightening experience she’d had in the past few weeks. Death wasn’t even on the table here, let alone the expected outcome.
She cleared her throat, and spoke in calm, clear dwarvish.
“I hope you are at ease if I speak my native language?” She asked, “You speak it very well, and it is … pleasing, to use the Father’s tongue.”
She let her gaze drift across the woman’s armour and weapon; the armour was a little dinged up, but not in any way which fundamentally compromised its purpose. The weapon? That was a magic weapon if she’d ever seen one. Her greatest regret in the aftermath of the attack had been the necessity to leave the Vault of Gladstone untouched. She had reproached herself so much for that. If she’d just been able to get the Shield of Stone or the Hammer of Iron… hells, if she’d only been wearing something more useful that a cursed wedding gown!
But there was no good to come from living in regrets.
“You said you would like to compare beards.” She continued, gruffly, in an attempt to batter down her own internal haranguing. “I favour the hammer, axe and pick, but I am trained in most weapons. Which would you like to see first?”
She was deferring very much to Kara here. She might be the one with the title and the money, but she respected Kara’s greater skill. She’d seen a glimpse of it against the belligerent customer, but the legacy of her trainer meant so much more than that. Offering her the decision as to how to lead was the very least she could do.
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Post by moralhazard on May 18, 2019 13:12:52 GMT
Kara nodded at Ainsley’s request to speak Dwarvish. A little of the tension in her shoulders eased, although such a change was likely impossible to see through her armor. It was pleasant for her as well; it wasn’t her own tongue, but it made her think of better times, long ago, of friends.
Kara watched Ainsley look her over again. She was sure the woman’s gaze lingered on the glaive, as well it should. Kara wasn’t sure if she should explain. Ironfist had gifted it to her - four and a half years ago, now, just before the war. Kara had been using it for months at that point, and Ironfist had never - never told Kara anything about the glaive beyond how to use it and that it was hers. Perhaps she had thought they had more time. Or perhaps she hadn’t known herself.
It had not always been a magic weapon. Kara had used it for years without the slightest idea it was magical; it was only upon taking it to a smith here in Waterdeep for some repairs to the shaft and blade that he had told her, gruffly, that he thought the thing was magic and he could bring out some of its potential. It had sounded like a scam; Kara had been terrified that either he meant to fleece her or he meant to fleece her and steal her weapon.
But - well.
Ainsley asked what weapon Kara wanted to see her with. Kara frowned, thinking it over. In a friendly spar she would like to see Ainsley with the weapon she most liked. She wasn’t exactly sure why Ainsley had even asked her.
“As you like,” Kara said, finally, the dwarvish words flowing easily. She hesitated, again, looking at the training weapons, and down at the one in Ainsley’s hands. “... do you prefer training weapons?”
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Rinn
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Post by Rinn on May 19, 2019 14:10:14 GMT
“Only when I am training.”
The young dwarf wanted so badly to impress the student of Ironfist that it was an almost physical ache in her heart. She’d earned the respect of Sir Beardsley easily enough, and her skill at arms in the court was well-known; almost a little embarrassing, really, as she was supposed to have been concentrating on learning how to be a good administrator and mother for the children that were to be her main contribution to the Hold.
Funny how these things work out, really.
But whilst she was fairly certain in her skills, she had little experience testing them outside of the Hold, and there’s always that lingering bit of doubt in the back of her mind about how much of the praise received was down to actual talent, and how much was because she was a Princess. Whilst she wasn’t entirely sure that Kara was immune to such considerations, she’d seen the woman fight. She didn’t seem the sort to hold back, and her attitude was as direct and gruff as any dwarf she’d ever met.
“Are you a specialist in the glaive, or do you use other weapons?” She asked, curiously, “We could go by the Trial of Iron, Steel and Stone if you have the time. Or, if I am imposing, just let me know which rules you would prefer to go under?”
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Post by moralhazard on May 19, 2019 14:24:56 GMT
History roll on Trial of Iron, Steel and Stone: F3UYoR8h1d201d20
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Post by moralhazard on May 19, 2019 14:58:46 GMT
Ainsley responded easily enough but her answer didn’t really give Kara the information she wanted, which was: are we using training weapons now, for this fight we are about to have? To Kara, any fight that wasn’t for life or death was a training fight, but she was aware that Ainsley might not feel the same - and, so, still confused.
Kara frowned. This was turning out to be more complicated than she’d hoped. What could be simpler than fighting? All you needed to do was just - try to hit each other.
“I -“ Kara frowned harder. She was a specialist in the glaive but she used other weapons too, and so she wasn’t sure how to reply to Ainsley’s question. Again. She was starting to get a faint headache somewhere in her right temple; it throbbed.
Kara tried to remember what she knew about the Trial of Iron, Steel and Stone. It wasn’t a Sundabar tradition, but it was - a dwarven one? Something about ritual combat. And it took time, from what Ainsley had said. Kara rubbed at her shorn scalp with her gauntleted hand again, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a huff.
Rules? What rules did you need for a fight? Just - don’t kill each other and don’t dishonor yourself. That was all the Gathering called for. Then again, dwarves were funny about rules sometimes. Well enough. Kara had time and if they followed this - trial - then at least she could be sure she wasn’t somehow offending the princess by forgetting a rule. Besides, it sounded interesting.
“Tell me about the trial?” Kara’s voice was as gruff as ever, but did slightly lift at the end of her sentence, turning the statement into a question - barely.
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Rinn
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Posts: 36
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Post by Rinn on May 19, 2019 18:12:05 GMT
Ainsley was having real difficulty reading Kara. The explosion of breath and the frowning spoke to displeasure, but she had no idea what the woman could be upset about. When she demanded that Ainsley recite about the trials, she bristled a little. She felt as though she were a child; she was fifty now! Officially recognised as a woman in her own right! She didn’t need to be talked to as though she were some fresh-cheeked babe just out of creche.
She tamped down on that frustration as best she could, but her tone was still a little curt when she replied, as though this were something that Kara should be more than aware of. And shouldn’t she? If she were the student of Ironfist, surely Ironfist would have shared the Trials with her? She could scarcely imagine a proper dwarvish training which didn’t include the three pillars of combat.
She was being tested on her knowledge, as though there were the slightest chance she wouldn’t know.
“The Trial of Iron.” She said, “Is where we demonstrate the raw materials we work with; exchanging weapons so that we can gain an appreciation of the importance we each place upon their proper care and maintenance. I imagine we would draw, unless there is something truly shameful on display. We would, of course, not use training weapons for this. ”
Was that… a sarcastic edge in her voice? She should probably keep from sniping at the woman. She still did want to win her over. She just didn’t understand why she was being so difficult!
“The Trial of Steel is where we test those tools in formal combat. First to make contact three times is the victor, demonstrating our respective talent in the refined art of battle.”
She paused, to see if Kara wanted to interject, and then pressed on.
“The Trial of Stone is where we trade blows with force rather than merely to make contact. The one who yields first or who renders their opponent unconscious is the victor. Being knocked out is deeply shameful. You should know your limits, and crack, but not shatter beyond repair.”
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Post by moralhazard on May 19, 2019 18:56:55 GMT
Kara frowned at Ainsley. She at least recognized the rising tension in the dwarf’s voice, although she didn’t understand it. Kata bristled in response to the comment about training weapons, responding to the tone even if she didn’t know why Ainsley was so grumpy with her.
The dwarven woman kept pausing as well, as if she was expecting Kara to add something. She finished, and looked at Kara expectantly.
Kara exhaled again, thinking it over. It was certainly more interesting than a typical training fight. She reached up for her scalp again and scowled, annoyed at herself.
“Well enough,” Kara said. She wasn’t sure she understood the first trial, exactly, but with Ainsley’s response she certainly didn’t feel encouraged to ask more questions. She wasn’t sure she wanted to let Ainsley touch her glaive, but - she supposed it would be worth it. The second and third trials were appealing, at least, and the third in particular Kara looked very much.
Kara took a few more steps forward, waiting to figure out how to start.
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Rinn
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Posts: 36
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Post by Rinn on May 20, 2019 7:39:41 GMT
Ainsley gave a curt nod of her head. She hadn’t really expected anything else from Kara, unless the woman wanted to suggest her own structure for the training. She wasn’t entirely sure if the ‘well enough’ was supposed to be a comment on her ability to explain extremely basic details of dwarvish training techniques, but she was too proud to ask. This whole situation was starting to hurt her more than she had expected. There was no shame in being outclassed, she told herself, but Kara was being so standoffish! She could practically feel judgement radiating from the woman’s every terse syllable.
She laid down the training weapon she had been using, and began instead to shrug off the weapons that she carried with her. In an exaggeratedly formal fashion, she laid them out before Kara, for her inspection.
The hammer was set down first, then the axe, then the pick. Beneath them, she shucked off her bandolier of throwing axes, each of the ten carefully set in place, gleaming bright and sharp as razors. Above, she finished with her shield – as much a weapon in her hands as any of the sharp-edged or heavy implements she carried.
She stepped backwards when the weapons were laid out, and waited. She was expecting Kara to find fault, now; sure that the woman would critique some aspect of her weapon’s maintenance, although she cared for them all these days with more reverence than she had in her whole life before.
They weren’t just implements of her hobby any longer; they were the tools she needed to reclaim her life.
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Post by moralhazard on May 20, 2019 14:15:46 GMT
It was the care she put in her weapons that had first made Kara interested in Ainsley. She stepped forward now to admire them, one by one. Kara admired the hammer, checking closely, curious how Ainsley maintained it; she hadn’t worked much with a blunt instrument herself, although any of these were weapons she could use, given the necessity.
She admired the warpick next; two sharp edges, an impressive tool for an armored opponent, but small as well. The battleaxe was last, a small axe with a wickedly sharp edge. Kara thought she might have cut herself touching it, if not for her gauntlets. Kara took her time admiring the handaxes as well, noticing how the dwarf kept even the smaller blades as impeccably sharp as the larger.
Once done, Kara nodded her appreciation to Ainsley and stepped back. She paused, thinking it over. Dwarves were very formal. Kara cleared her throat. “Very nice,” she said. It occurred to her a moment later than there was like a correct ritual answer, but - she didn’t know what it was, and it was too late to ask.
Kara set her own weapons down: the glaive, with a wicked sharp perfectly honed edge, gleaming and flawless, the shaft just as cared for. Along with it, she set down four daggers, small but with sharp curved blades, also polished and sharpened to a wicked edge. Those were all she had brought; Kara’s quarterstaff stayed in her room, and she didn’t always take her javelins with her in Waterdeep. She laid the last dagger on the floor and looked up at Ainsley with a nod, stepping back.
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Rinn
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Post by Rinn on May 22, 2019 18:14:03 GMT
It was as Kara actually picked up and handled her weapons that Ainsley realised the woman clearly really did not have any idea about the way these Trials were supposed to be handled. Perhaps she had been too hasty in seeing judgement and distaste where there was only innocent ignorance. Maybe the Trials weren’t as inherent a part of what it meant to be a dwarf as she had been led to believe. She had to remind herself that she had never been outside of Gladstone Keep, and it was rare that the Keep had visitors from any great distance away, what with the dangers inherent in the journey.
She had to believe that. After all, if Kara actually wanted to insult her, she could just spit on her and call her a simpleton. It’d be a lot less circuitous, and she didn’t seem like the kind of woman who went in for elaborate insults.
Kneeling down, though, Ainsley showed her the way it was supposed to be done; observing the weapons up close without actually touching them. After all, if she touched them, she could be accused of interfering with them, and thus invalidating the outcome of the next two Trials. She, briefly, considered explaining that to the woman… but honestly, Kara was still a rather intimidating presence. Better to just do it the right way and leave it at that.
“Very fine indeed.” She commented, lightly, as she collected her weapons and stowed them; the bandolier across her chest, the others she moved to settle against the wall, replacing them with training equivalents. A padded shield, wooden hammer, (blunt) ‘pick’ and (blunt) ‘axe’ selected in their stead.
She twirled the hammer in her hand as she moved to the middle of the room. “On the count of three, then?”
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Post by moralhazard on May 23, 2019 12:59:15 GMT
Kara was a little embarrassed when Ainsley told her she had been doing it wrong; she set the weapon she had been holding down and listened, attentively, following the dwarven woman’s example. Kara couldn’t tell if Ainsley was still angry with him; she didn’t think so. At least, Kara’s foolish mistakes didn’t seem to have made anything worse. Kara picked up her glaive once Ainsley was done with her (hands-off) inspection. She set it against the wall next to the other weapons, and turned to the rack of training weapons. There was a wooden glaive, blunted. Kara picked it up; it was a bit lighter than her usual weapon, but close enough. She didn’t need time to adjust to it. Kara followed Ainsley to the middle of the room. She settled her hands onto the glaive and - waited to the count of three. Kara inhaled deeply, focusing her mind to the battle, and letting the rest of the world fade away. She sprung forward, a little faster than Ainsley, closing to just ten feet away from the dwarven woman, and swinging the practice glaive three times, two attacks with the blade and one swinging the weapon around to strike with the butt of it.
Glaive attack 1, to hit: 7ZGKwm4F1d20+7Glaive attack 2, to hit: 1d20+7 Butt of the weapon attack, to hit: 1d20+7
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Rinn
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Posts: 36
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Post by Rinn on Jun 1, 2019 7:02:48 GMT
Three blows in three seconds.
Ainsley wasn’t a novice by any stretch of the imagination; she knew that she was very good with her chosen weapons, but – as expected – Kara puts her to shame. The speed of the woman is such that she can’t even begin to raise her shield up to block in time before she’s been struck.
To her credit, she didn’t panic. She maintained a calm and steady demeanour as the first attack struck her in the shoulder, and she stepped forwards. Having already taken one blow, her thinking was that if she could get in close, Kara’s greater reach would be nullified.
It might have worked against a less-experienced opponent, but Kara was quick enough to prevent that movement with a quick twist of the blade, creating a barrier that Ainsley practically stepped into. The wooden training weapon hit her in the stomach, and kept her firmly at bay.
It was whilst she was readjusting to that and preparing to make her counter reply that the butt glanced off her knee, and that was the end of the second trial.
Ainsley laughed, and shook her head. “Well.” She said, “That was, embarrassing. But I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything less from you.” Rueful, rather than upset. She’d known Kara was a better warrior than she was, after all; it was hardly a big surprise. Still. She'd hoped she'd at least be able to get a single hit in. Seemed like the gap between them was bigger than she'd thought.
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Post by moralhazard on Jun 1, 2019 16:18:07 GMT
The practice glaive, although light, was beautifully balanced. Kara flowed into her first strike with a comfortable ease, the wooden blade tapping lightly against Ainsley’s shoulder, soaring over her shield. Ainsley tried to press forward; as soon as Kara noticed the motion of her shoulders, she brought the glaive down and across, blocking the movement with a blow to the stomach that turned the dwarf’s momentum against her. It was easy enough to continue the movement and flick the butt across, the wood tapping Ainsley’s knee.
Kara hesitated, holding there for a half-second, then easing up. Ainsley followed suit, laughing, and Kara exhaled a little in relief. She hadn’t meant to end the trial so quickly; without the prospect of being hit, she hadn’t focused as much on the battle as she might have, and, especially with a practice glaive and Ainsley’s chain mail, she wouldn’t have expected to score three hits in a row. All the same, Kara set the butt of the practice glaive on the ground.
Ainsley had laughed. She wasn’t upset, then; that was a relief. Kara was still uncertain what to make of the dwarven warrior, but she was glad that some of the tension between them was gone. Then again, fighting was good for that. Kara wasn’t really aware of it, but the frown on her face had eased, and she looked almost neutral. Kara inclined her head in a deep nod, accepting Ainsley’s praise; she wouldn’t diminish her own victory or the other woman’s loss by claiming it was luck or downplaying her hard-won skills. There wasn’t much she could say in return; she hadn’t left Ainsley time for it. Kara considered asking Ainsley if she wanted to go again, but – it seemed like there was a solemn ritual to this, and she thought it might be considered - rude. Kara had a feeling she'd made enough mistakes today.
And, in truth, Kara looked forward to the third trial. This time, she was sure, she would get to see some of Ainsley's skills as well. She wouldn't hold back though; it seemed as if it would be unspeakably rude.
All the same, the silence felt constrained. Kara's throat was a little tight; she cleared it. Ainsley didn't seem to need reassurance. Kara really didn't know what to say, and, so, once again, she said nothing.
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