Reeds for Steel: Thandrel’s Wager
Thandrel Inarien, Written by Ryan
Posted on Sat, Jun 26, 2010 20:08 pm
Thandrel still felt strange being in the Training Grounds. They were impressive, to him at least, despite having lived near enough to the city all his life, with countless forays into Tar Valon proper. But on many, if not all, of those trips he had kept to the south end of the city. His preferred pass times of drinking and, more importantly, gambling generally kept him away from the White Tower. Certainly because the women of the Tower frown on such activities; they were, after all, rather stern. He’d known that even before he’d come here. Yes, they were stern, demanding, and though he’d lived in the area for all his twenty years, he found them to be rather mysterious. Even in telling the truth they were mysterious.
At least they couldn’t tell when someone else lied. He had, of course, lied about his reasons for wanting to train there. No doubt he’d have been thrown out if he’d have said it was to win a wager he’d made with his brother. Becoming Gaidin took devotion and dedication. So to convince them of his, he’d lied. He continued to put his act, never letting it drop. As far as anyone else at the Tower knew, and would ever know, Thandrel was there to better himself, prove his usefulness to himself and his family. In essence it wasn’t a lie. Not completely. Those were the reasons behind the wager. And he was certainly devoted to his gambling, and dedicated to winning.
So in his efforts to win, he found himself in the yards, stretching and readying himself for a lesson in the use of a sword. His scarred hand itched at the thought, distracting him from his stretches. At least it wasn’t the dull ache he’d been used to before. That had subsided and all but vanished in his time here. Maybe it was still there, he wasn’t really sure, but with his days filled with lifting and running, and all the other activities expected of the trainees, his whole body ached. A pointless ache, he felt, because no amount of lifting would change his wiry, slight build, and he was already well versed in running. When a dicing game went wrong, sometime you needed to run. And fast. Too many men were sore losers at dice, and just as many could break him over a knee if provoked. A thought that reminded him he was surrounded by a group of men, and women, he reminded himself, who could likely do the same.
He glanced at the bundle of lathes as the teacher began her introduction, feeling strangely glad they wouldn’t be any real swords today. His scar itched, perhaps in anticipation, or anxiety, and he slid his arms behind his back to rub at his hand while Elaryl spoke. Only the basics would be covered, she was saying. How to handle a sword and not to kill yourself while doing so. I needed this lesson six years ago… Thandrel thought. It was a slightly bitter thought, as he stroked his hand, earned the last time he’d handled an unsheathed sword. He hadn’t told anyone how he got that either, and lied to a few when pressed for answers. More lies. A habit he needed to work on breaking, almost as much as he needed to work on weapon skills. Those would come first. He could work on his lying after he won his bet. After this lesson. After he introduced himself.
He realized they were waiting for him, and he felt his cheeks flush as the embarrassment sank in. “Hmm? Oh, uh… Thandrel. Inarien. Thandrel Inarien.” he stammered, feeling more than a little stupid at having gotten lost in thought. “I’m from Tar Valon. I’ve never really used a sword, but I have used a dagger before. I haven’t thought much on a specialty, though I would have to say the sword.” He paused, considering the last part. Then he added, “I’ve come to the Tower for reasons of my own, seeking to better myself.” Another lie. He really would need to work on that some day.
In reply to Reeds for Steel: Basic Swords[show]/[hide]
The Training Grounds seemed particularly busy today, with few empty spaces and sparring yards visible among the knots of young men and women training in various weapons and fighting styles. Here and there a vertigo-inducing Fancloak waved as Warders supervised. Elaryl was glad that she had a fenced-off sparring area reserved for her lesson, or she suspected she would have had to cancel.
She made her way through the Yards, clutching an armful of practice lathes and several wooden wasters, nodding and mumbling at people who waved as she passed. Several pieces of short, dark brown hair were already falling out of the leather tie holding it back, and she brushed it out of her eyelashes irritably with a shoulder. As she passed the Archery Range, Serai waved off in the distance, then trotted over to walk beside her, dark curls bouncing.
“Veryle and I are going into the city today for lunch. We’re tired of Tower food. Want to join us?”
Elaryl actually had very few problems with the food in the mess, but some time off sounded absolutely delicious. After months of lackluster work, not caring about training beyond the bare minimum, and prolonging her time as a mid-rank Trainee, the last few weeks had been exhausting. Ever since she had run into Talaban at the Warder’s Rest, Elaryl had seemed to remember why she had come to the Tower in the first place. She had thrown herself back into her training, remaining in the Yards past dark, waking up before dawn like she had as a new Trainee. She shook her head and sighed mentally.
“I’ll try, but I have a lesson. New babies to teach.” Although some of those “babies” may well be thirty years old, for all I know. “I’m in one of the yards by the stables… see if I’m done when you’re ready to go.”
Her friend’s grey eyes smiled as she poked Elaryl in the shoulder. “Taught enough classes for your liking?”
Elaryl grimaced and pushed Serai with her right hip. “Leave me alone. Go practice your archery, you’re terrible. You still owe me a silver mark from last time.” Serai immediately crinkled her nose and veered away from Elaryl, running back to the Range, waving. The Mayener woman was right; Elaryl had spent so much time as a mid-rank Trainee that she could not keep track of the lessons she had taught. She shook her head. All she could do about it now was work harder.
By the time Elaryl reached her yard, several Trainees had already assembled, some looking a little lost, others looking bored. What they should be doing is warming up, not standing there like Light-blinded idiots. She did see one or two, a little older than the others, no doubt with more experience, stretching; another looked to be no more than fifteen, obviously eager to get started. She set down the lathes in a pile near the fence, set the wasters leaning against it, adjusted her swordbelt around her hips, and hopped up on the fence to wait as more students drifted into the yard.
Finally she decided she had waited long enough; enough students had trickled in, and it was time to teach. She pushed herself off the fence, landing lightly on the packed dirt, and walked to the front of the yard, folding her arms behind her back. She waited for the slight talking to quiet down and began.
“Good morning. My name is Elaryl M’Kasa. I have fifteen years of experience with swords, and I am a mid-level Trainee, two merit badges.” She tapped the badges sewn to her left sleeve and re-folded her arms behind her back.
“I’m sure you all have varying experiences with weaponry and fighting styles, and preferences, I expect; but the Tower expects all of their Warders to be proficient with a sword. That skill is what I will begin teaching you today. No doubt some of you also have some experience with a sword, perhaps years.” She focused on one Trainee who looked to be older than she was, and was certainly an experienced fighter, and a boy who regarded the bundled lathes with distaste. Itching for steel, not reeds. “I assure you, you are all beginners here. We will begin with the very basics, which to some of you will no doubt be incredibly disappointing.” She nodded.
“I understand. I took the same class as a new Trainee—we all did—and at that point I had been training with a sword for nine years. And I have taught this class…” Elaryl looked skyward, trying to count the Basic Swords classes she had taught during her time at the Tower, and eventually gave up. “…over and over and over. Trust me when I say that it is not a bad thing to start over from the beginning.
“If you already know the skills I am teaching you today, consider this class an opportunity to refine those skills.” Elaryl paused and looked around at the assembled Trainees, then delivered the news that was always most disappointing to students. “There will be few swordforms taught in this lesson.” She was met with the expected groans and sighs and slumped shoulders. “Only the most basic. This is only the first of a long line of sword lessons you will take part in during your training—further swordforms will be taught in further lessons. Today you will be learning how to hold a sword; how to avoid cutting off your own arm; those kinds of skills. Important, more important than they sound. Although not cutting off your own arm, I would imagine, sounds reasonably important.
“So, before we begin, I would like to know each of your names; your experience with a sword, if any—and if you have none, please tell me. Plenty of Warders started at the Tower without ever having picked up a sword—any other weapons experience you have, and if you have an idea of what you would like to specialize in; and why you’ve come to the White Tower. Also, please let me know if you have any questions before we begin.”
OOC: Ok, here we go! Welcome to Basic Swords for new Trainees! Introduce your character and away we go. At least 300 words please, for this intro post. Later posts will probably have longer requirements. Also let me know about any questions you have OOC; my contact info is in the Members section. In about a week we’ll continue with the next part!
