RP:Blood and Bone
Snowless Training Yard
Zendor approaches the training yard fully equipped. But he was always fully equipped. His helmet was internally fluffed, providing insulation against the cold he wasn't built for, just like his boots, but the rest of his clothes were best for moderate weather. He shivers a bit on cue. Once within the gates, though, he warmed back up in an instant, the snow that mottled his clothes instantly melting and sweating off his skin and clothes. "It's a small world...in here," says he, noting the adjacent biomes. Zendor removes his helmet and scans the area. All 4 of the areas were in use today. One seemed covered in a sandstorm, another with a tangled, thick jungle, one seemingly cliffside, or the edge of a mountain. The last was a muddy, boot-sucking marsh, threatening all with stink and stolen boots. From all around was the sound of metal clanging, and the more than occasional grunt of effort. Standing in his place, he predicted winners on each side.
Hildegarde, while not taking part in any of the fights within the biomes, was actively stalking around the training yard and peering within to inspect each combatant. Those who were not engaged in combat were either running laps around the training yard or running errands: fetching replacement weapons, fetching whetstones, oilcloths or bandages for any wounded men. “While Frostmaw is Aramoth’s favourite city,” the knight announced to the entire training yard, her words met with a ‘hoorah’ as these warriors were devout followers of Aramoth, “the God of War will see wherever you fight and you must be ready to fight anywhere!” Her words given, the knight’s sole eye finally catches sight of Zendor to whom she offers a little smile and wave of her gauntleted hand. “Hello!” she greeted warmly, already walking over to the man she had only met once before.
Zendor imitated the other fighters with to a mellower extent, raising a hand slightly and saying "Hurrah...!" Having never learned about Aramoth or the extent of his influence, popularity, he only knew that the character meant much to others. Quite an efficiency and diligence that dominated this place. He could tell that the fields were magical, but he wondered if there was something magical about the 'hustle' that seemed to be the spirit of the place. Nobody ever standing still, even the coaches were heavily involved in the activities. Not that he could tell who they were. "Good evening Hildegarde! I was told I would find you here. My captain, my steward..." He hesitated and -almost- stifled a chuckle..."and now I hear this: Champion!"
Hildegarde was not one to take herself too seriously, so when Zendor chuckled so too did she. “Ahh, ‘tis but a title! I am only Hildegarde and I only try to fight, I am hardly a warrior of great renown,” she confessed, with a genuine sense of modesty. No hint of arrogance. “I take it you’ve heard about the Warrior’s Guild?” she asked with a little smile. “I, er… well. These are troubling times, would you not agree? I think it’s time that people had a place where they can come and learn to fight; where they can aspire to greatness or just competence. We have the facilities here so… it might as well be put to use,” she said softly and rather thoughtfully.
Zendor narrowed his eyes, intrigued by the modesty. "Maybe you're right! I don't talk much but I try to listen. Your people are proud of you, as I'm sure you are to them." Demonstrating by looking around at the students and teachers, "They look...inspired," he said conclusively. "As for the times, and the troubles, I think for some they go hand in hand. But not for me!" Said he with a quirky smile. "And I have heard of it, heard people haven't started flocking to it yet..." He paused thoughtfully, "Umm...actually after our last fight, I've become open to the possibility that I have more to learn..." His cheeks might've flushed red, but after all it was cold out there and warm in here...? "How would a person who wanted to achieve greatness...or competence, is there an interview process if someone wanted to join?" What a task it was for him to ask that!
Hildegarde smiled fondly as he spoke of trying to listening rather than talking too much, “Listening is an important skill, as much off the battlefield as on,” she said softly. But as he mentions the men looking inspired, she smiled with a deep sense of pride: she adored the Frostmawians, “They worship Aramoth and they love their city, that is inspiration enough for them. There is a religious ceremony coming up soon, I believe, so… everyone is keeping very busy and preparing for that, in addition to regular drills.” As Zendor babbled on and continually beat about the bush in regards to the Warrior’s Guild, the woman could not help but feel her smile broaden with the amusement even reaching that sole eye of her. “I have concluded that people are to be interviewed in the traditional Frostmawian fashion… We fight,” she said bluntly. “However, some prefer to fight with weapons and some prefer without.”
Zendor confessed, "I've not heard of any such ceremony? But I'll introduce myself soon." There she goes again about Aramoth! He'll discover that guy soon. He found her smile infectious, and welcoming. Luckily he didn't have to say much to get her to understand since he was having enough trouble saying a little. "We fight, you and I? If that's true then I have to warn you! I've thought a lot about the first time and I think I know my mistake." He cast his cruddy club to the side and 'put up his dukes', covered halfway with fingerless gloves, "And I'm never weaponless!"
Hildegarde bobbed her head, “It’s… Like a little ritual of praise to Aramoth. It’s bloody at the best of time, but it’s how we warriors ask for the favour of the God of War,” she said gently and with a little level of reverence. Frostmaw was full of devout followers of Aramoth and there were many rumours that Hildegarde herself was the daughter of the God of War. “We fight, yes. I assess your skill and permit you access to the guild, though there is a little fee of five hundred gold coins… but your fee covers the cost of armour and weapon supplies, access to the Academy and training yard and bed and board if you wish it,” she explained before jerking her chin at a passing elven lad and handing him her halberd and sword-belt. “You know, I thought I liked you when we met,” she said with a broad grin as she gave up her weapons. Even without the halberd the knight was still possessed of graceful steps, as she stepped towards Zendor and seemed to twirl; spinning swiftly out of her longcoat and tossing it in Zendor’s direction to hopefully cover him or at least disorient him as she dropped low and swept her leg in a little circle to sweep the man off his feet – as gallant knights were known to do!
Zendor pondered the potential boons of praising a God of War, or even believing in one. But only for a second, before placing all regards to him on the backburner. "500 gold coins eh? I can manage that but I don't know about it covering my expenses..." suddenly a broad smile took over his face, "It'll cost 500 gold coins to put you back together!" Zendor thought he was ready for the tricky knight, stepping back and catching her coat, but upon tossing it aside, and bracing himself for a full on attack, he found himself on his back, windless. He shook his head, disappointed, and quickly rolled backwards over his own head, landing on his feet. He gauged his advantages. He didn't have strength, he probably didn't have skill, and he certainly couldn't trade blows. But he was lightly armored, maybe he could outmaneuver her. They were back to the way they began now, and he wouldn't wait for another attack. He approached rapidly and lept into the air feet before reaching her, crunching both legs into his body, and shooting them out suddenly aiming them right at her chest, hoping to level her and regain the advantage.
Hildegarde had no time to reply now, the fight was underway! As Zendor fell to his back, the knight brought her fists up and at the ready, “Oh come now, don’t think you can take a nap on my training yard!” she japed, evidently attempting to spur him on and move the fight along. As he got up to his feet and began a rapid approach, the knight only stepped to the side in order to evade him but her timing was a tad off: his boot had caught her side and portion of her arm and sent her staggering to the side. What Zendor lacked in strength, the knight more than made up for. But rather than wait for Zendor to right himself, the knight launches at him: intent to crash atop him or to tackle him to the ground where she might pummel his face with her fists.
Zendor continued on his way after hitting her slightly even has he hit the ground, sliding on his butt a little away. He didn't have any time to get up as the pace increased, so he simply prepared for the avalanche of armor, dragon, and punches, by spinning to face her and ultimately embracing her as she crashed into him. Foolishly, he blocks one of the punches. even while bracing his forearm he thinks he hears a bone crack in his left arm. The next punch he cranks his neck to the side as her fist crashes into the ground, splitting it. He notices, and reaches back with his good arm, grabbing a fist-sized hunk of stone in his hand and bringing it in a short arc, aiming directly for her nose, and being ready for either the next punch, or a chance to escape.
Hildegarde’s nose is struck and she recoils with a noise that is clearly not human: something between shriek and beastly snarl, as the recently broken and rather crooked nose was struck by the rock. The knight had recoiled up and off Zendor, clearly needing room after the strike. And he was perhaps the only candidate for the guild who had really hurt her thus far. Her nose is actually bleeding! He’s drawn blood. And he’s woken the dragon. The Silver stares at Zendor for a long moment before grinning broadly, “You drew blood!” she stated the obvious before dipping down slightly to offer the man her hand and a little help in getting up if he hasn’t already gotten up. “You are capable of combat, that much is clear. You aren’t afraid to use what is around you, either, which is the mark of a good fighter.”
Zendor took a welcome deep breath after she got off him, but wasn't ready to speak just yet. Instead he smiled and nodded while panting. He would've stayed on the ground to take another if she didn't help him up so fast. Selfish! Upon standing he took a few more deep breaths. He held up his arm to her, supporting it with his other hand, half supposing that if he didn't, the weight of his hand would cause it to fold half-way before the joint. It was already turning purple and red. "If you say so! But I think I broke the rules when I picked up that rock. But I knew I was right where you wanted me." He slowly let his dead arm lay slack against his side, and punched her in the arm playfully.
Hildegarde shook her head as he claimed to be possibly breaking the rules of the challenge, “No, no, you did well. I expect a warrior to do what they must to survive. I believe in honour and upholding it where possible, but I am confident you’ll survive in a tight spot,” she explained with a little smile, quickly wiping away the tiny trail of blood from her nostril. “Sorry about your arm,” she said a little more softly. “Let’s, er, get you some help, shall we?”
Zendor halfway conceded, "I agree! And if I thought my life was in danger I might've done much more, I feel in a spar like that, I simply should've let myself get pummeled." Upon actually thinking of it happening though, he quickly added: "Maybe..." With his good hand, he tore a part of his cloth sleeve, pulling off a little strip. Handing it to her, "Here, just hold it there for a minute, if you want." Then before leaving, he retrieved his helmet and club-thing. "So..." he approached the bush menacingly, "...about the guild...? Do we have a lot of members?" He's so smart and sneaky, he said we without ever being admitted into it.
Hildegarde held onto the cloth as it was passed to her, “No, no, better to fight than accept your fate,” she said softly, “if you know you can fight, you might as well try.” The Silver would trot along with Zendor, watching him collect his things while holding that piece of cloth to her oozing nose. “We have three, if you do not count yourself and I. There are two others who are interested in joining, so I will have to get around to their initiation. A giant wishes to join, all the way from Gamorg,” she said with a near bashful smile. Though she essentially ran a kingdom, it was still quite a nerve inducing thing; to host a guild and group of people and have people expect a certain standard from her. It still surprised her when people heard about her before meeting her! “You enter the guild at the first position, that of a neophyte but I suspect you will soon be a journeyman. Fight one of the other neophytes, maybe Calen, Beldur or the troblin Dyzz. Win or lose, you will advance. I want to see you fight someone who does not have my strength. Does that sound fair or do you wish to begin at the position of journeyman?”
Zendor nodded, this time without reservation. "Actually I agree, you've convinced me. Had it happened all over again I would've poked you in the eye too!" he said with a guffaw. Upon finding out that he was one of only five, he said, "Founders eh? Sounds good to me." He became a little intimidated at the thought of a Gamorgian giant, being dubious as to their civility compared to these icy ones. Yet he trusted Hildegarde's judgement also. He listened to the terms for rank. "I think we should follow the process, I need no special treatment. So I'll be a neophyte, and I'll fight another neophyte to become a journeyman?" Committing the three names to memory, "I shall do so as soon as I can. Preferably not one handed though." Then he added for no reason, "I'm proud to receive your praise, Hilde." Then quickly moving on, "And I can pay my guild fees soon too."
Hildegarde laughed at his remark of poking her in the eye, “Oh, you might have pushed your luck if you did that… Can’t promise I would leave you alive!” she said, attempting to be quite joking about it even though she had technically just joked about murdering him. “We have a few decent numbers I think, for only just getting started. Soon, though, I hope we gain more and that those in the guild feel that they are truly learning something and have growing confidence,” she said in a rather genuine manner. “That sounds about fair, I think. Seek them out once you are recovered, set your terms: be that fighting hand to hand, weapon of choice, so on and so forth.” Yet as he so briefly mentioned her praise, her cheeks flushed red. She never felt as though her praise was particularly important or meant much to anyone! But he had moved on so swiftly, she had to merely follow the conversation, “You needn’t rush with your guild fees. I don’t suspect anyone will attempt to avoid paying them.”
Zendor forces an awkward laugh as he mentally notes to never poke Hilde's eye. "That's all good, I'm eager to meet the other members, see how I stack up. And yes how could anyone avoid their guild fees for long? They'd get beat up." Yup. "I suppose there's only one more thing to discuss then. When will you give me the tour?"
Hildegarde chortled at his suggestion of beating up those who avoided the guild fee, “We are warriors! We have some dignity, some code of conduct. We are not ruffians,” she said with certainty. “But if they do not pay, they do not have access,” she said firmly. As he talks of a tour, the knight gestured toward the Academy and then the city, “You mean a tour of Frostmaw or a tour of the academy and guild headquarters?”
Zendor says to Hilde, "You think too highly of me, Hilde," he said, sounding serious. "I've given myself a tour of Frostmaw already, actually on that note, there are some places I would ask you about at a later date. I'm talking about the academy. I can see what's happening in these four areas, or rather I've garnered an understanding after seeing it a couple times. But I have no idea what's in the halls!" There was an urgent rumble coming from his belly, he tried to talk over it, enlarging his voice. "But first thing's first! A healer, and a bed!"