Fort Knocks - knight otu judging

[Boddynock]

"Benedicite, Rando. I am Brother Eusebius, servant of the Sun. I thank you for your hospitality. I trust that we may be of service in return!"

Finally, he rummages through his pack, and pulls out a large, thick, leather-bound book with copper trim. On the cover are a collection of characters and a white anvil, on a field of crimson.

Flipping to the first blank page about halfway through, Rurik gets pen and ink out.

"Br'er Eusebius? Yer want to come o'er here an' tell me 'bout that chain o' yers?"

"Ah, thank you, Rurik. A spiked chain consists in essence of a series of chains joined by rings at strategic points and armed with large, sharp spikes on the last five feet of each end of the weapon. There is a single large ring in the centre of the conglomerate, which acts as the primary handhold, plus two smaller rings which are subsidiary handholds, halfway along each arm of the chain.

The total length of the chain is close to 20 feet - but the weapon itself has a reach of only 10 feet, due to the difficulty of adequately grasping the spiked portions of the chain. The smaller rings enable the user to wield the chain at close quarters, while the central ring enables large swings out to the full radius of its reach.

Although the weight of metal is considerable - it weighs more than a greatsword would - that is offset by the efficacy of its strikes, which are powered by the momentum of such a massive missile. The finest chains, I am told, not only cut the air with an audible whistle but themselves hum with an anticipation of battle which is said to chill the blood of one's enemies."

Eusebius, who has settled into a chair near Rurik and has become quite animated in his description of the weapon of his dreams, takes a deep breath, looks around and stands and makes his way to the board, where he helps himself to a substantial meal, topped off with several tankards of ale.

"While the discipline of the Way is welcome to me, I have always found it harder to accept the requirement that we be abstemious in meat and drink. How can I fight, if I have no strength? How can I be strong, if my belly is empty? Of course, the Masters tell me that the true disciple of the Way transcends physical hunger, and physical strength. I am sure that they are right. I pray that I may develop the wisdom to embrace this challenge, too. Not, however, tonight!" With this he sits and tucks into his supper.

"Oh, and friend Rurik, if you are interested, I will show you the other weapons of my discipline - kama, nunchaku, siangham."

 

[dpdx]

As Brother Eusebius explains, Rurik draws and writes small bursts of characters to footnote the illustrations in his book, occasionally interrupting with questions about details - the diameter and thickness of the links in the chain, the pattern and orientation of the spikes, whether or not a counterweight is needed at each end, would it be easier to wield if it were made from a lighter metal, the tone of the whistle and hum, etc.

By the time Rurik is finished, a reasonable interpretation of the spiked chain occupies the front and back of two fresh pages in the Clan Axebender Family Journal and Idea Book, suitable for forging to begin on such a weapon (if and) when Rurik returns home. Setting it in front of Brother Eusebius, Rurik is at the food board to reload while it dries (pages are held apart at the inside margins for that purpose) and meets with the monk's approval.

"'Tis plain ter see why ye'd want such a weapon, Br'er Eusebius: reach, vers'til'ty, deadly. S'a good idear. I'll try an' make one meself, after... this."

"While the discipline of the Way is welcome to me, I have always found it harder to accept the requirement that we be abstemious in meat and drink. How can I fight, if I have no strength? How can I be strong, if my belly is empty? Of course, the Masters tell me that the true disciple of the Way transcends physical hunger, and physical strength. I am sure that they are right. I pray that I may develop the wisdom to embrace this challenge, too. Not, however, tonight!"

With this he sits and tucks into his supper.

"All due respect o' course t' yer Way, but it sure'n not be fer me. Yer right - ye gotta eat. An' drink, w' no shame in't!"

Rurik emphasizes this last point by pulling a small piece of gristle from his mouth, before finishing his third mug of ale.

"Oh, and friend Rurik, if you are interested, I will show you the other weapons of my discipline - kama, nunchaku, siangham."

"Aye, t'would be appreciated. 'Not, 'owever, t'night!'"

Rurik shows his teeth in a wide grin, claps the monk on the back, chuckles aloud, and starts his fourth.

 

[Boddynock]

Brother Eusebius, human monk 1

Inspired by Rurik's energetic approach to the pleasures of the board, Eusebius refills his tankard for the third time, and sits down next to him. "Let me compliment you, friend, on your skill with a pen - that is a pretty representation of the weapon. I look forward to seeing your handiwork at the forge - that is, if I am afforded such an honour."

"Now, tell me more about yourself. 'Axebender' is a distinctive name - whence comes your clan's appellation?"

"Any time you want to examine my other weapons, you are welcome to do so. If you like, I will give you some instruction in them. I am sure that you would be quick to master the basics."

 

[Dexerion]

Skeeter, level 1 fighter.

From RedOak:
[sblock]
Skeeter sits proudly upon his steed with lance in hand. He keeps his shield slung over his shoulder, but precariously so that he may drop the horse's reins and easily pull it to his defense. He rides at the front of the group, preferring to be one of the first to charge into battle should something be around the next corner.

Skeeter listens to Andrew speak of the Hospice, and adds, "I am excited about meeting the mortalist there. I know very little about the religion, but I like what Susan has been able to tell me. Their philosophies seem to match the way I choose to live, and fight."

Upon finishing the conversations with Andrew, Susan, and Ranica, Skeeter will joke and converse with his fellow Hoar Suns along the way. A lot of warriors in this small group grew up in Andren together, and as such, share a lot of memories. At one point of the ride, Skeeter starts picking on a young warrior about his childhood crush that still ignores him. Later, he casually flirts with one of the women and one may notice that there could have once been something between them.
[/sblock]

 

[dpdx]

[Durn board ate my first response to this - let's try again.]

Inspired by Rurik's energetic approach to the pleasures of the board, Eusebius refills his tankard for the third time, and sits down next to him. "Let me compliment you, friend, on your skill with a pen - that is a pretty representation of the weapon. I look forward to seeing your handiwork at the forge - that is, if I am afforded such an honour."

"Now, tell me more about yourself. 'Axebender' is a distinctive name - whence comes your clan's appellation?"

"Any time you want to examine my other weapons, you are welcome to do so. If you like, I will give you some instruction in them. I am sure that you would be quick to master the basics."

"Ko'vetiye, an' I'd be 'appy ter try ta make one o' these fer ya, just ter see 'ow it went, though it mayn't be pretty the firs' coupla times." Rurik offers.

"As fer me Clan, we 'ave fought an' forged for twenny-seven gen'rations, Praise Be Ta Chennet', an' lived in the Stonespikes fer the last fifteen o' those, includin' me elder brotherses children. Arr - 'Ow we got the name? That'd be a story for anoth'r time, an' much more ale than we 'ave got left!"

Rurik stifles a yawn.

"T'would seem me ridin' dun agree wi' me stamina. Han't been this tired since me first day aforge..."

 

[Boddynock]

"Ko'vetiye, an' I'd be 'appy ter try ta make one o' these fer ya, just ter see 'ow it went, though it mayn't be pretty the firs' coupla times." Rurik offers.

"That is kind, Rurik. I look forward to that time with pleasure!"

Rurik stifles a yawn.

"T'would seem me ridin' dun agree wi' me stamina. Han't been this tired since me first day aforge..."

"Then let us get a good night's sleep - the Great Lord knows I want to be alert and able for the challenges of the morrow!"

Brother Eusebius rises smoothly to his feet - with just the hint of a stagger - and moves off to one of the bedrooms, where, after devotions to Hyrag, he stretches out on the bed and is instantly asleep. His longspear, however, is still within reach.

 

[Sparky]

[sblock]Rainca is glad to leave Redoak and not challenge the actions of the hoar-suns who have settled there now that its inhabitants are gone. She glances at the sky and at a bank of clouds in the distance. A lean-winged wren darts acrobatically through the sky hunting its meal. She points, “Like the birds of the sky, it seems you know what you must do to survive. Now that she has rid your ranks of those who kept you back, what need have you now of Rainca?”

She squints at Andrew and Susan and holds up a forestalling hand, “Rainca is not dishonoring her promise. She will remain and teach the hoar-suns the Way of the Barav Kree. But she wonders what wisdom she brings that Susan Owl Mistress, Andrew Hiznibs and these Mortalists do not themselves have.”

To Skeeter:

Rainca easily keeps pace with Skeeter and his steed, her legs stretching at a ground-eating pace. She seems as tireless as the wind that carries her fluting voice to Skeeter’s ears. The song she sings is wordless and haunting. The image of a score or more of Barav Kree warriors running and singing smoothly and quietly across the plains is poignant and chilling. There is a deep note of sorrow in Rainca’s tune.

From time to time she draws near Skeeter, voice metered to match the stride and breath of running, “Rainca too likes… to range ahead... She was one… of the best… scouts amongst… her people.” She grins a lopsided wolf’s grin at the easily riding man. She takes in his posture and his grace and cocks her head before loping off again to scout and sing and scan the skies and road.

At a break, she drinks sparingly of her water skin and crouches near where Skeeter sees to his mount, she peers up at him, quizzically, “Tell Rainca, Skeeter… How do you take measure of your strength when you rely on the strength of another?”[/sblock]

 

[dpdx]

"Then let us get a good night's sleep - the Great Lord knows I want to be alert and able for the challenges of the morrow!"

Brother Eusebius rises smoothly to his feet - with just the hint of a stagger - and moves off to one of the bedrooms, where, after devotions to Hyrag, he stretches out on the bed and is instantly asleep. His longspear, however, is still within reach.

Rurik gathers his pack, totters for a brief moment under its weight, then rights himself in time to head off to a bed of his own. Turning back toward the group, he offers his new companions a wave, a smile, and a dwarven salutation:

"Ko'vetiye, p'chak mun, pa Chennet' Anok ka b'leasima ayair!"

Those conversant in Dwarven will understand Rurik's message, despite his family dialect:

[sblock]Thank you, good night, and by the Will of the Forge God, may you have a
pleasant tomorrow![/sblock]

Rurik enters his room, selects an empty bed, unloads his pack next to it, and sleeps.

 

[Dexerion]

From RedOak:
[sblock]

Rainca easily keeps pace with Skeeter and his steed, her legs stretching at a ground-eating pace. She seems as tireless as the wind that carries her fluting voice to Skeeter’s ears. The song she sings is wordless and haunting. The image of a score or more of Barav Kree warriors running and singing smoothly and quietly across the plains is poignant and chilling. There is a deep note of sorrow in Rainca’s tune.

A comfortable Skeeter rythmiclly bounces along in the saddle of horse. The air around him filled with Ranica's ballad, and he can barely hear the trot of his horse aside his concentration on Ranica's sound. Holding firmly to his stoic nature, Skeeter sits high in his saddle with a face devoid of any emotion insinuated by the tune.

From time to time she draws near Skeeter, voice metered to match the stride and breath of running, “Rainca too likes… to range ahead... She was one… of the best… scouts amongst… her people.” She grins a lopsided wolf’s grin at the easily riding man. She takes in his posture and his grace and cocks her head before loping off again to scout and sing and scan the skies and road.

When Rainca draws near him, he cracks his face into a smile of admiration. I bet you were one of the best, Rainca, I bet you were.

At a break, she drinks sparingly of her water skin and crouches near where Skeeter sees to his mount, she peers up at him, quizzically, “Tell Rainca, Skeeter… How do you take measure of your strength when you rely on the strength of another?”

At the break, Skeeter fishes some feed from the groups supplies and offers it to his horse with one hand and strokes its powerful neck with the other. "Come now, Mystic, you'll need your strength for the final push," He says with a pat, "I am very proud of you." He is somewhat startled by Rainca's question, as he did not notice her crouching so near. He listens intently, then sighs and turns back to look into the eyes of his horse. "Tell me, Rainca, why limit strength by a measurement?"
[/sblock]

 

[Someone]

Nodis eats with gusto and without paying much attention at what´s happening around him. When he finishes, he sits quietly in his chair, looking at the fire and listening to the conversations around.

"Ko'vetiye, p'chak mun, pa Chennet' Anok ka b'leasima ayair!"

"Good night to you too" answers Nodis.