The Practice Yard

[Sighter Tnailog]

((closed))

"Tur Aranthi! Tur Aranthi! Feith ten'mi!"

Findelfin sighed. Had he really been gone that long, to inspire this sort of excitement among the novices? He had been scarcely a Bladesinger himself. He had not trained with them, nor even been part of their order for very long, only since Tári Oronrá gave him an honorary position as a Blade Commander for his length of service to Raiaera. Certainly, he should not be getting this sort of attention from the youngest members of the group. But it appeared that shoulds and should nots did not count for much among their number.

Turning at the base of the staircase, he grasped the banister as he saw the youngster flying down the hallways, his novice's plain tunic contrasting comically with the ornate Nihon-and-Rywan walls of the guildhalls of Tel Megilindari. Findelfin stooped down and scooped the young one up into his arms in a bear hug, the force of the child's momentum carrying Findelfin back a bit to sit down on the bottom step.

He didn't have much time, but he could take it. Quickly reading the young one's name, sewn in red thread on his tunic, he said, "Falorion, are you being good? Keeping up with your training?" The boy simply stared, and Findelfin realized that he had not yet learned enough of the commerce-tongue. So he said it again, this time more understandably. "Elen sila, Falorion. Del'nau quellë? Nerlë Istimien?" The young boy nodded, then said, "Nauva lind mi yassen?" Findelfin smiled. The little one wanted to sing with him. He couldn't right now, but maybe he might find time in a little bit. "Nid naust, ellewë. Dara'rato. Feith ten'mi!" The young elf smiled from ear to ear, shouted his thanks, then got up and ran off to hold the hand of the Master of Novices, who waved at Findelfin from down the hall.

Findelfin inclined his head and called a word of thanks and greeting, then turned and ascended the staircase. At the top, he took a quick turn and stepped out onto a raised terrace, the second-floor practice yards of the Bladesinger's Guildhall in Anebrilith. He could hear the clatter of practice swords and the clash of steel on steel. It was a comfortable sound to Findelfin. When the barracks of Tel Aglarim were overrun in Eluriand, the Bladesingers had kindly offered space to the army to train its new recruits, and here Findelfin had taught many a soul the arts of sword and bow.

But now he was trying to get through the yard as quickly as possible. It was a rule here; if one stepped forward and asked for a challenge, or asked to be trained, those of higher rank were expected to comply. But it was a chance he had to take, for the only route to the Bladesingers General's office was through the practice yards.

Findelfin could already see the younger recruits pausing as his name passed in whispers through the room, some of the eager ones already starting to wonder if they should step forward and request to be taught a trick. And a few of the older ones were looking at Findelfin appraisingly, wondering if they dared challenge him -- to fight with Findelfin would bring honor even in defeat, and a victory would bring great glory.

Findelfin picked up his step and tried his best to appear unapproachable. He wanted to talk with General Oronrá. He did not want to tarry as a trainer or get tied up in a fight.

[Feed The Machine]

Galyl grunted, weaving through an endless sea of elven bodies, seemingly roaming around with no clear direction. "Can you all just let me through?" He whispered underneath his breath, fearful that if he allowed his frustration to elevate his voice any higher, he would encounter unwanted trouble. It'd been quite a long time since the young elf from the Obsidian Spire had been around this many people, for back when he, his grandfather, and Hiomir relocated to the Red Forest in order to find a cure for the Galoriand disease, it became more common to see rabid Dur'Taigens and deceptive Ruilserks, than sensible, rational elves. Everyday was a struggle for food and survival, but Hiomir refused to let Galyl's skills with a sword grow dull, thus teaching him how to make living to see the next day an absolute certainty, rather than a luck of the draw.

Ironically, the fact that he'd even arrived in Anebrilith as early in the day as he did was sheer luck. The young elf had all intentions of trekking through the plains of Raiaera, Dwarf Hills, and the Black Desert in order to get to the elven lands' oldest city. But strange travelers had picked him up about half way, insisting that he allow them to take him to where he needed to go.

"They were probably converters." Galyl smirked as he continued to peaceably maneuver through the seaport city crowd. He'd kept up with current events, via a fellow Galoriand who delivered a newspaper weekly to the Obsidian Spire in order to keep Galyl, Hiomir, and Uril( back when he was alive), up to date on the dealings of Raiaera. In one of the issues two weeks ago, he'd read how a group of humans from Salvar had been traveling the world, committed bizarre acts of generosity so as to possibly attract new members to their religion. A subtle, yet cunning tactic, as it was designed to intrigue people to want to know more about these individuals who did good things without any strings attached. Problem was, they became annoying once they'd done something for you, constantly urging you to worship their god, in which they claimed all the good in the world came from. But whether converters or not, the young Galoriand was thrilled that he was able to make good time.

The travelers and denizens that were crammed together in the streets had begun to disperse, the wider the roads became. Bottle-neck merchant pathways, which had been the cause of the traffic, became fewer and fewer, leaving Galyl feeling more at ease. This internal peace was something that he would need before reaching the Bladesingers Guild, since he would be fighting there in order to test his skills. This was a stern command from Hiomir, who suddenly told Galyl that he would no longer teach him, and if he stayed any longer at the Obsidian Spire, he would kill him. The elf knew his master's threat was serious, but clearly understood why he was doing this in the first place.

The Galoriand name.

Ever since Hiomir revealed to his disciple the history of their people and how the High Bard Council had betrayed them, Galyl's desire to bring the Galoriands to their former glory became a top priority of his. Hours spent working on Xem'zund's creation, trying to understand its various functions and capabilities were coupled with far-fetched thoughts of the world respecting and revering the Galoriands once again. During their training sessions, his master could obviously see the change in Galyl's mentality from being an obedient, yet apathetic young man, to one of ambition and passion. He knew that if the boy was to grow, and follow his goal of restoring the family name, he had to be let go.

"Hiomir, your tough love is love much appreciated."

The elf had finally come to his destination, following the last step of the directions that his master had written out for him. He was a bit disappointed, imagining the guild to be a bit more extravagant and aesthetically pleasing like what he'd knew Raiaeran architecture to be like. But then again, he'd spent the last 13 years of his life living in the Obsidian Spire, so he couldn't possibly think that anything else would surpass it in splendor. "For a training facility, this place is awfully quiet." Galyl took note of the silence and proceeded into the building with caution, unaware if this was by chance or design. He'd been trained to take the highest of precautionary measures, especially when on unfamiliar grounds. He could hear Hiomir's voice now. "Galyl, you must NEVER let your guard down!" The elf did well to always internalize his master's lessons, knowing that they'd saved his life in the wilderness many a time.

Galyl worked his way through and up the facility, coming to an opening which lead to a terrace on the second floor. It was here that he found the reason for the odd quietness. Nearly ever soldier present had been captivated by the presence of a certain elf. He was rather tall, donning a tunic, leather leggings, along with other various apparel. His weaponry was nothing out of the ordinary, a sword snugly tucked into his scabbard, as well as several arrows strapped to that scabbard. Galyl didn't have any idea who this fellow was, but he had to be much more than what his appearance gave off. It wasn't until he heard the ramblings of nearby squires that his eyes widened in surprise.

"That's Findelfin ap Fingolfin!?" The young elf had heard the stories of this legendary Raiaeran figure, and how he'd done many great things for this country. A true warrior, he was skillful with both sword and bow. Even without having prior knowledge of this, the reactions of the nearby men spoke volumes. "If I am to revive the name of Galoriand, I must test my strength against one of the best Raiaera has to offer."

Excitement built up in the Galoriand youngster. Hiomir had always instructed him to challenge himself, no matter how impossible the odds. Therefore, moving through the crowd of soldiers, although with greater ease than the crowds of people in the city streets, he approached the solemn Findelfin.

"Many people speak of your greatness and your name," Galyl started off, free of the fear and unhealthy level of admiration that the rest of the trainees had for this man. "If you don't mind, I'd like to test that greatness to see if you really do live up to your name and your reputation." Without speaking another word, Galyl stepped a few feet back. When his blade had emerged from his shoulder, he took hold of it and readied himself.

[Sighter Tnailog]

He was almost there. As he'd walked, he had made sure to stare at those who seemed most eager to challenge him, those whose fingers trailed to their swordhilts or whose tongues darted out to lick their lips in anticipation. It seemed to work. There were different types of stares; some of them were intended to cow an opponent, others curious and quizzical, but the intensity of Findelfin's stare said something different: I want you to challenge me. Please, give me the pleasure. While the elven captain didn't want a challenge, sometimes the best way of avoiding one was to pretend as though you were willing to take all comers.

And now he was within ten strides of the door, when the look of one elven youth in particular caught his eye. The youth was stunningly muscled; for an elf, he looked almost freakish. And his fingers were not merely trailing his hilt, but gripping it. And his feet were even restless, as if he'd finally convinced them to move and was deciding to step forward. And when he took that first step forward, Findelfin fixed him with a firm glare, and let the hint of a smile play at his lips. It was the ultimate in intimidation, to smile at a young opponent as if to say you? You are nothing. And the young man balked, and stepped back again.

Proud of his achievement, Findelfin turned his head to take the final steps towards the door, but was forced to come to a grinding halt. Before him stood a young one...nearly a boy! He was probably not even to his hundredth year, and Findelfin marveled at his appearance. Not only was he younger than nearly all save the elven orphans fostered by the Bladesingers, but there seemed to be some sort of...plant...growing in his body. Indeed, his jaw had stems, complete with leaves, jutting from it, and it appeared that his shoulders and elbows had the same sort of knotty, woody growths. He was a bizarre sight to behold indeed.

Findelfin said nothing, however. He had seen stranger things, and knew nothing of the poor boy's situation. For all he knew, the boy was an unfortunate victim of some terrible spell of Xem'zûnd's from the days of the occupation. But he sighed, and looked down at the boy, and spoke.

"Child, you have no hope of besting me. While defeating me will win you great praise, losing to me will only mark you as one whose reach exceeds his grasp. And while that is a good thing to some, to others it is not regarded highly. But I shall say the words of acceptance, and the decision shall rest with you."

He raised himself up to full height and said, "I hear your challenge spoken, and I accept with sword drawn." Findelfin's sword, Ainalindil, whistled softly as it slid from its sheath. Even if the bright light of the sun, the mythril edge shone softly with the magic that imbued it.

Pointing the sword toward the ceiling, superimposed across his face, Findelfin said the words, the long custom of the Bladesinger's Guild and the intonation of a thousand warriors before him, "I am Findelfin ap Fingolfin, and my sword stands ready to accept yours."

This was where the lad had a choice. He could withdraw his challenge, or he could state his name and draw his sword. Findelfin hoped he would choose the path of wisdom, but for one so young wisdom was unlikely. He would have to go lightly on the boy.

[Feed The Machine]

All of the practice yard was in silence, as each soldier was captivated by the young elf’s boldness to challenge the great Findelfin ap Fingolfin. However, the silence was not fueled simply by amazement, but also fury. “Who is his young upstart to stand up against one of our country’s greatest heroes!? Has he no sense of respect!? The audacity!!” Galyl smiled, knowing that the onlookers had to be thinking those kinds of things. Here they were, men nearly three times older than he was, yet possessing the courage of a chipmunk; men imbued with intense hatred toward the youngster, which actually stemmed from their jealousy. Galyl was about to break the silence by responding to the legendary warrior, but was interrupted, as a sudden and overwhelming wave of rude laughter erupted from the bellies of the surrounding men. The Galoriand remained still, appearing as if it did not effect him, but internally his body heat raised, making him feel as if he’d just been tossed into a furnace.

“Are they laughing at….me? Are they laughing at how I….look?!” The boy’s paranoia began to quickly manifest, always being one who’d been self-conscious of his appearance. He’d managed to be able to enter a public setting without having it effect him, but once attention was aimed at him in a negative way, it started to seize him. “Not now…this can’t be happening now!!” Galyl felt sweat dripping down the side of his face and immediately closed his eyes. He thought of Hiomir, and the many lessons of confidence that his master had given him. “Confidence! Confidence! Confidence! If you’re ever to really consider yourself even an average warrior, you must have confidence in your own abilities, Galyl! Never forget that! It doesn’t matter who you cross blades with, never let anyone break your confidence!!” Bringing such phrases to remembrance brought comfort to the youngster. He opened his eyes and grinned at Findelfin, despite the fact that the soldiers were all still laughing at him.

“It’s obvious that these men underestimate me since I’m so much younger than they are. But it is their own cowardice that they should be laughing about, don’t you agree?” Galyl repositioned himself to emulate Findelfin in the traditional pre-battle elven pose that’d been known to all Raiaerans who had ever desired to wield a sword. “I am Galyl Galoriand, and my sword also stands ready to accept yours!"

Galoriand.

The word stole the voices of the warriors and redistributed silence to them. They all froze in their positions, as if an ice spell of some sort had been cast upon them. The heavy breathing of some of the soldier close by could be heard by Galyl, as the shock of what the youngster just said had taken them captive. The boy couldn’t contain his smile, for he realized just how much weight his surname had. Truly, Raiaera had not forgotten about the Galoriands, and it was Galyl’s intention to make sure that it stayed that way.

[Sighter Tnailog]

As Findelfin heard the crowd begin to laugh, his temper suddenly flared. It would not do to cause a scene here, but he immediately transfixed a few of the nearest senior Bladesingers with a harsh gaze, glancing on each of them in turn. They were pointing and laughing at the lad and chortling loudly to their students. Shameful!

Reaching out with the first skill he had learned as a student in Istien University, he spoke directly to their minds.

Blademasters, control your tongues and your troops. This lad's bravery is naught but rashness, but do not rob his honor for your amusement. You shame yourselves and you dishonor me by your misplaced merriment.

As Galyl began to deliver his speech, these Blademasters perked up, their faces sobering at the rebuke. A few of them started to reach for practice swords to silence the trainees with a well-placed smack, but there was no need. As soon as the name Galoriand left the lad's lips, a stifled hush fell across even the loudest carouser.

Findelfin cocked an eyebrow, then returned to his normal steely gaze. The name meant little to him, as someone born outside of the cradles of Raiaera, but he had heard tales before in taverns and on long nights encamped before a battle. "You say my name is honorable. Though I hail from lands far to the east, even I know that the name you claim is ancient, proud...and unspoken."

Findelfin raised his sword in a classic stance, one foot forward, the tip balanced lightly, hands ready to spring at a moment's notice. "But power lies in strength of arms, not honor of names. Show me the former, and I will bow to the latter."

[Feed The Machine]

Findelfin’s demeanor was calm like the gentle breezes that passed through the plains of Raiaera during the day. Galyl observed his relaxed foe, looking to see if he could expose any weak spots. Hiomir had always taught him to carefully consider when and where to attack when fighting an opponent, especially one possessing a high level of skill. The great Fingolfin was that type of adversary; one who would certainly recognize what kind of attack an enemy would use against him, and also how to properly counter it. Luckily for the Galoriand youngster, this battle was not a matter of life or death, for if it had been, he really wouldn’t have a realistic chance of winning. However, Galyl knew that he was already being severely underestimated, so he opted to use that as an advantage.

Gripping his oak claymore tightly, the elf blasted toward Findelfin in a very direct manner. Among those who were swordsman, it was widely known that to charge straight at an unfamiliar opponent was extremely foolish. But Galyl wasn’t too worried about being caught off guard; his desire was to see Findelfin’s level of swordplay and there was no quicker way to test that than to charge straight forward.

So, upon coming with five feet of him, the young elf leaped into the air with his blade and coldly swung his weapon at Findelfin’ s head. He had no intention of trying to end the legend’s life, but in the realm of battle, once swords clashed, death was something that just came with the territory.

[Sighter Tnailog]

It all happened so slowly. Findelfin raised his guard, the young elf tensed, and in that moment Findelfin knew one of two things was coming. Either the young one would be foolish and charge headlong at Findelfin, or he would be slightly less foolish and try some fancy trick near the end of his charge. Findelfin had seen it all before.

As the elf began to run, Findelfin waited. As the young one closed in, Findelfin watched. And as Galyl's feet left the ground, Findelfin moved, sliding quickly to the side, ducking low, and stepping up underneath his opponent. The elf's wooden blade hummed through the air harmlessly where Findelfin's head had been.

Had Findelfin desired, it would have been over. While slipping under Galyl's attack he could have slid Ainalindil up and sliced along the young one's underbelly. Barring swift intervention from a Bladesinger with some healing arts, it would have been a death blow. But Findelfin did not desire to kill the lad, and it would be more than a little inappropriate to do so here, even though he had not issued the challenge.

And so as soon as Findelfin had his feet, he spun with fierce grace to lay the side of his blade against the neck of the boy. He hoped the threat of beheading would be enough to prove to the lad that the challenge was over already. "The Galoriands made the mistake of rushing in too soon," Findelfin said towards the boy, "and it appears their heir is repeating the past."

[Feed The Machine]

The Galoriand youngster could see Findelfin's overconfidence from the moment he'd left the ground to deliver an aerial strike to the legend's head. At several instances, Galyl awaited Fingolfin to strike where he expected him to, but instead, the renowned elf took his time, choosing to show mercy to his opponent who was clearly less experienced than he was. The young elf had a feeling that his adversary would do this, which had been the reason for his obvious attack. And upon Fingolfin swiftly spinning to attack the young one's neck, Galyl grinned and immediately shot one of his oak roots from out of his neck, whipping it against Findelfin's sword in order to prevent it from sinking into his flesh.

"Is that what the history books teach now?" Galyl calmly responded, as the root retracted back into his neck. "My ancestors knew that the High Bard Council would not deploy the necessary troops to aid my family in their quest to retrieve just one relative from that evil necromancer. To them doing that wasn't necessary, yet to the Galoriands, each family member's life is precious and worthy of protection; they had no choice but to charge when they did, since they couldn't count on the Council to provide assistance. Nevertheless, you don't have to worry about me being rash in this setting."

Galyl had found himself now fifteen feet away from his opponent, due to the momentum of his counterattack pushing him that far away. Findelfin was much too experienced to allow the Red Forest resident to get that close to him again with such minimal effort. So, he circled the legend, albeit not moving a inch closer to him until he felt the time to be right. "He won't go that easy on me from here on out. If I'm going to survive this, I have to attack him in multiple ways." It was then that he came up with an idea to go about striking Findelfin. Charging toward his backside, Galyl once again fired two of his roots toward the golden haired elf, yet this time from his free hand. Both were aimed at his feet, so as to pull him off balance. If this proved to be successful, then the young elf knew that he would have the opportunity to finish off Findelfin and win this duel. However, Galyl made sure to not get his hopes up until his blade had spilled the blood of Fingolfin, for this was one of Raiaera's best swordsman. Therefore, till it was apparent that the legend could not battle anymore, every precaution had to be taken.

[Sighter Tnailog]

Findelfin could only sigh as roots seemed to spring out of the child's skin and wrap briefly around Ainalindil, propelling the boy a good distance away. Ach, how disappointing. It was an impressive feat for one so young, belying his age and relative inexperience.

Quickly snapping his blade both ways, the roots fell harmlessly to the floor, no match for a sword crafted by a Haidian Elvensmith. As Galoriand circled, Findelfin sighed. Such a waste of time, all it did was serve to extend the battle longer than it had to be. And it wouldn't give the young one any advantage. If he thought to come at Findelfin from behind, that was mere silliness; all the older elf had to do was turn to face him at all times.

"For the sake of one family member, your ancestors risked the health and well-being of greater Raiaera. Their foolishness robbed this country of many a brave Bladesinger at a time when brave Bladesingers were in short supply. Have you heard of the Battle of Etheria? The Plains of Caradin? The Sixth Siege of Radasanth? Had Raiaera been stronger, the tales of the dreadful wars of the Tap would have been different. With the Galoriands fit for battle, we might have been able to help our all---"

Before Findelfin could continue, the lad charged. Perhaps I laid it on too thick? But an angry opponent was often a foolish opponent. As the lad began to rush forward, two snakelike tendrils of wood darted from his hand towards Findelfin's feet. Not even stopping to think, he stepped aside, sliced them in two as they sailed past, then turned and leveled his bladepoint at Galyl Galoriand.

With one burst of concentration, Ainalindil shone white and shot a blazing projectile of white magic from its tip. Findelfin did not know whether or not Galyl still suffered from the undead disease that gripped all his kind, but if he did the projectile would be swift and terrible. And even if he was cured by some miraculous fate, it would still sting if it connected.

But Findelfin did not rely on the projectile alone. Even as it flashed with devastating speed from the tip of Ainalindil, he was close behind. The Mythril blade flashed upwards to meet the oaken claymore at the height of its arc, then zoned in to try to deliver an immediately devastating slash to the young elf's legs.

[Feed The Machine]

It took mere moments for Galyl's world to wash white with a bright flash that mercilessly blasted toward him from Findelfin's blade. He saw it fired, but due to the relatively short distance between him and the legend, there was no time to prepare a countermeasure. The most the young elf could do was use his roots to lessen the impact, which had been successful. However, the blast had sent him flying fast towards the crowd that surrounded him and Fingolfin. Instinctively some of the men had caught Galyl, but quickly threw him down afterward in pure disgust. "Ugh, get away from me, you Galoriand freak!" One of the trainees cried, backing several feet away from him. Galyl heard the hurtful phrase, but didn't waste any time averting his eyes from Findelfin, for he knew that death silently snuck up on those that weren't paying attention.

Attempting to rise up from his feet, the young one felt severe pain in his ribs, which had been where the blast from Raiaera's hero had struck him. "Heh, he's so good...." Gayl chuckled as he wiped his mouth clean of the blood that leaked out of its corners. "This is the level I need to get to if I'm going to make the Galoriands powerful again."

There was no sense in carrying out this battle anymore. Galyl's had seen enough to know where he stood and how hard he'd have to work to stand on equal footing with Findelfin one day. So, using his sword as a crutch, the youngster brought himself to a standing position and hobbled over to his opponent. Galoriand was injured and breathing heavily before him, but he'd summoned the strength to raise his sword and jam it into the ground as a sign of defeat. "I now know why you're so great," The youngster paused and quickly turned away as he coughed up a mixture of saliva and blood. Even talking was becoming a task much harder than it should've been. Nevertheless, Galyl gathered himself and proceeded. "You're skill as a swordsman isn't like anything I've ever seen. My master Hiomir was right about you and your talents, but I had to see them for myself in the midst of combat to believe it. However, as a man who now stands before you beaten, I ask that you take me under your wing and train me."

The spectators chortled like immature children after they'd heard what Galyl had asked for. "Have you no shame fool!? You get thoroughly pounded, and you have the nerve to ask for training!? Show some dignity man!!"
The Obsidian Spire resident had been ignoring the impudent crowd all afternoon, not wishing to having anything distract him during his bout with Findelfin. But he simply could not remain silent as these men persisted in hurling their insults. "You all may think of me as a fool, but I think lesser of every single one of you. All of you stand here beating your swords and staves together in an attempt to get stronger. However, when the opportunity arose for you all to test your skills against someone greater, you cowered away," Galyl said, letting out a boisterous and uncharacteristic laugh. "I saw the eyes of all of you when Findelfin walked among you all! Not a single one of you could even withstand his gaze! I saw many men nervously gripping their swords, yet release that pressure when Findelfin cast a piercing stare in their direction! So before you all look down at me, look at your own timidity and severely question if you all even have what it takes to be a Bladesinger!!"

Galyl's words fell hard on his listeners, as each one of them looked away either in shame or in embarrassment. Indignation had set in the hearts of many of them, but not a single warrior acted on it since they knew that doing so would only further humiliate them.

"Forgive me for that outburst," Galoriand winced, turing his attention back to Fingolfin; his pain was still effecting him. "I want to restore the glory of my family and strengthen Raiaera, but I need to continue to grow stronger in order to do that. My family needs me to pull through for them and find a cure! So I ask again Findelfin, please train me. If you do, you will find that the time you invest in me will not be a waste."

[Sighter Tnailog]

((Sorry for the delay, I've been in the process of moving and needed some time to get settled in.))

Findelfin watched as the young lad took his blast full in the chest and was flung across the room. He resisted the urge to smile with satisfaction, but did note that the lad was able to get up. It was interesting indeed, as it proved that the young Galoriand heir was somehow cured of the more debilitating parts of their hereditary disease. Had he still been undead, the Turlin magic of Ainalindil would have still been causing the boy paroxysms of the worst kind of pain.

But the boy got up, and it seemed the blast had knocked some sense into him. As the lad ground his oaken claymore into the ground and surrendered, Findelfin allowed himself a grandfatherly sort of smile, but the happiness was soon wiped from his face when the lad requested training. Curse our customs! Now I have to do it!

As the boy started his diatribe to the other elves, Findelfin had time to sheathe Ainalindil, unstrap it from his waist, and beckon one of the Bladesingers trainers. Handing him the scabbard, he spoke silently, one elf to another. "Fetch me two practice swords."

The trainer did so, handing Findelfin two of them. Each was much heavier than Ainalindil; they were designed to train muscles as much as they were to train skills. As the boy finished, Findelfin handed him a sword, and said, "They were avoiding me, not because they were frightened, although I am sure there were some of them who were. But I think most of them caught on that I was in a hurry to visit with the Bladesingers General, and did not desire to waste time in a contest of arms.

"But, it appears you desire training, and by custom I cannot turn down such a request. And so I will give you three pieces of advice." Looking around the room, at the elves watching the pair with no pretense at anything other than curiosity, he spoke a bit louder, "And I would hope that the advice falls on more ears than yours alone. After each bit of advice, come at me. You have three passes, at which point I really must speak with the Bladesingers General. Oh, and Galyl..." he paused to give his words emphasis. "Please, refrain from using your most...unusual...skills. In a tough fight, it's more than fair to use anything in your arsenal to defeat a foe. But if you know how to fight well without them, then you will be that much more powerful when the time comes to use them."

Hoisting the practice sword up into a guard stance, Findelfin said, "First piece of advice...guard more than you attack. Set your feet just so, hold your sword properly, and let your eyes follow your opponent more than they follow his sword. The sword will only move where his body wills it to move, so watch his movements and your defense will be sound."

And as soon as the last word left his lips, Findelfin lunged. It was a cautious attack, meant to sound out whether the boy was paying attention. With a casual flick of the wrist, Findelfin sent the practice sword flying for Galyl's left shoulder. But as it neared its target, in one smooth motion he suddenly changed direction, his arm and body leading the sword downward in strike for the boy's leg. It would be easy enough to spot and handle...if the boy was paying attention.

[Feed The Machine]

From the moment Findelfin agreed to train Galyl, his ears immediately tuned into everything that the battle experienced elf had been saying, letting not one word he spoke slip passed him. His eyes were also set on the renowned warrior, knowing that even though their battle had come to a close, the time to relax was not upon him yet. He was still on his quest to uplift the name of his family again, and it was at this early stage of his voyage where he would be tested the most.

Taking the practice sword as it was handed to him, Galyl continued to pay very close attention to Findelfin, especially after the first piece of advice that he'd given him. It was somewhat of a revelation, simply because Hiomir had not taught him to fight that way. They were used to killing and fending off wild and violent creatures of the Red Forest, so passiveness was something that would only lead to death. One had to be aggressive and always on the offensive, for a warrior with a fearless heart could be felt by any beast that had encountered him. "Fearlessness and boldness is always respected....." The young elf thought about his previous master's words while still focused on Fingolfin. "Heh, apparently not in this case."

A slight chuckled had almost escaped his mouth, but had been thwarted by the sudden movement of his new teacher. "Here he comes!" Findelfin dashed forward, in a predictable manner, but the words he'd previously spoken to the young elf had echoed in his head. "Watch his movements Galyl!" Then, as Findelfin's blade swept downward, he instinctively waved his blade in the direction of his teacher's weapon parrying the attack, all while keeping his eyes directly on the legendary elf and not his weapon.

Galyl was amazed at how effective that small bit of advice was, and also how quick he reacted to the sudden movement of Findelfin's shoulder. "And all this time, I've been fighting like a brawler." Galoriand sighed, realizing how much further he would have been had he'd been instructed in this form of swordplay earlier on in his life. It wasn't that his training with Hiomir was bad, for had he not received it for so long he wouldn't have been able to put Findelfin's teachings into practice so quickly. However, there were things in his old master's lessons that were clearly missing.

As Findelfin's new student, the young elf didn't speak another word, yet instead awaited his new master's next lesson. To him, once a greater man had shown superior skill, it was the pupil's job to do more listening than talking.

[Sighter Tnailog]

((I'll be bunnying ever-so-slightly. Please approve this on your next post or let me know if I should remove it.))

Findelfin suppressed a smile as the practice swords collided, then pivoted around Galyl and gained a footing a short distance behind him. Waiting as the boy turned, he said, "Excellent, Galyl. And yes...you are a swordsman, not a streetfighter. Courage knows when to stand still and watch."

Pacing around the boy with intent eyes, Findelfin said, "But a good opponent will be doing the same thing. He will watch your arms and your shoulders, sound out the position of your feet. He will pass by you a few times, engaging your strength to sound out the motions you tend to make when thrusting or guarding, for instance."

Findelfin made to dart forward, then pulled back to his original stance. The entire time, his eyes were on Galyl. "See what I mean? Just from your responses, I know that you tend to move your shoulders first when defending. And from our fight earlier, you like to pull fancy tricks in the middle of what otherwise appears to be a full out charge."

Hoisting his practice sword into the Middle Guard, he said, "Now, come at me. And this time...try to do something different. Make me wonder what your next move will be. Because if you keep fighting the same way, you will also lose the same way, over and over again."

[Feed The Machine]

((Bunnying approved.))

"You will also lose the same way, over and over again......"

Findelfin's phrase echoed continually in the young Bladesinger trainee's mind, as it had caused him to think about his family's failures once again. Everyone still struggled daily just to live, as well as attempting to cure themselves of the Galoriand disease. But their persistent efforts only resulted in failure, over and over again. Perhaps they'd been going about healing themselves the wrong way, studying the wrong material and doing the wrong things. One could've attributed this to ignorance, but the Galoriands were highly stubborn. "They really did rush into the Red Forest blindly......" The massacre of many of his ancestors came to his mind as he strangely correlated those tragic events of old with his own failures against Findelfin. "Fighting like that will always allow the enemy to predict you." Galyl thought, standing in a defensive position. The legendary elf's lessons couldn't have held more weight in his mind than it already did; Surely Fingolfin was speaking to the boy on dual levels.

Snapping himself out of his daydream, the Obsidian Spire resident wrapped his fingers tightly around the practice sword while looking at his teacher. "He never takes his eyes off of me, at any time. Even the slightest move that I make he notices and takes into account." Galyl remembered how all of his tricks in their previous battle were countered effortlessly, despite flawless execution. "Heh, no point in trying any of that stuff. I guess I just have to go at him like a true swordsmen."

Galyl blasted toward Findelfin much in the same way that his new master had done to him earlier. Yet he made sure to watch the legendary one very closely for any sudden movements that would give away what he would try to do in response. When the youngster came within striking distance, he quickly swiped down towards his teacher's knees. It was a simple tactic, one that he definitely expected Findelfin to block or dodge. However, he desired to let his reflexes respond accordingly, which would in turn make him less predictable. He'd heard the tales of many great swordsmen of Althanas and one aspect that they all had in common were superior reflexes. Therefore, to Galyl there was no better way to develop that than to "throw himself into the fire" and do it.

[Sighter Tnailog]

Findelfin's sword in the middle guard, he watched the younger elf's face intently. What was going on in this one's mind? His appearance was so different...it was like he had been born an elf but then been squished...pressed...into the same space as a bush. The result were these strange twigs that seem to poke out of him and various points. They were mysterious tendrils indeed.

The enigma of his face seemed also to hide deeper questions. The blast from Ainalindil had not caused the destruction it normally caused to undead, meaning somehow this young Galoriand had evaded his family's curse or been healed of it. And what a miracle! None of the spells of Turlin, no art of Lissilin or uplifting of Aglarlin had been able to cure the terrible blight of Xem'zûnd. There were deep questions Findelfin wanted to ask this child. But there was no time. He had to speak to the Bladesinger's General.

And more than that, the young elf was charging. He crossed the floor quickly, and Findelfin watched him closely. His low attack was written plain in the lines of his body -- the elf had not learned the lesson immediately, but who did? At least he wasn't trying to leap around like a bullfrog.

Findelfin countered smoothly, his practice sword clacking loudly against Galoriand's. He honed in quickly, moving to deliver a stinging blow to the lad's midsection. Sometimes the best teacher was a hard knock.

((I gave you an opportunity to test those reflexes!))

[Feed The Machine]

Galyl found that he was completely relaxed, having attacked Findelfin with the confidence of relying on his reflexes to be quick enough to counter anything that his teacher threw at him. And this was the case. After Fingolfin had blocked the young elf's strike as expected, a swift slash towards his midsection was made to put the trainee in the dirt. However, Galoriand's new master's first lesson was to watch the movements of an opponent rather than his weapon. Such advice led to Galyl quickly evading the mid-blow by spinning around and behind Findelfin in order to deliver a backslash to the elf's neck. But about halfway through his motion he froze as if captivated by fear. Sweat fled his pores and every part of his body nervously shook.

Those that watched from a distance were baffled as to Galoriand suddenly halting. They each whispered to each other, wondering what was going on, hoping that they would hear some kind of answer for this shortly. "Do you guys.....feel that?" An uneasy Galyl yelled, still petrified. Many of the soldiers chuckled, believing the strange looking elf to be insane, since they felt nothing. But, a ear piercing sound, similar to white noise had struck the ears of all who were present on the terrace. The terror in Galyl had heightened.

"Don't you understand yet, boy? Don't you understand that you are my slave? Don't you understand how to serve me?" The sudden voice was like a loud whisper, yet it seemed as if none of the onlookers could hear it. Galoriand didn't know how to respond to this unfamiliar voice, and therefore remained in fearful silence. "Day in and day out you tended to me, attempting to figure out my inner workings. But did you ever ask me how I operate? No, because you did not understand the hierarchy between you and I! YOU ARE MY SLAVE!! I AM NOT YOURS!!!!!" The voice boomed. "I'm the power that drives you, the power that has freed you from your cursed existence! But you will soon truly learn of the price at which you paid........."

Everything after that seemed to fade away, from the voice, and to the piercing static. Galyl's breathing was heavy, but he sought to calm himself. Looking around, it seemed as if he was the only one who had heard the voice and he was greatly relieved by that. He now knew who the speaker was and it warranted a shudder. "The machine.......has awakened?" There was no time to figure out how since he still had a training session to complete with Findelfin. However, this occurrence raised many questions that the Obsidian Spire resident had to find answers for.

"Sorry about that Findelfin," The youngster laughed, trying to shake off what had just happened. "That weird noise threw me entirely off! If it wasn't for that, I would've had you!"

((Findelfin, since I imagine that you're adept at telepathy, then you would have been able to hear the voice. As for the other soldiers, if they don't have your level of experience then the only thing that they heard was the static.))

[Sighter Tnailog]

((Apologies on the length it's taken me to respond. I've been busy and things have slipped my mind.))

Findelfin allowed himself a smile as the lad dodged, making a smooth half turn and bringing up his sword to defend where he expected the next blow to fall. Lesson learned. But when he didn't feel the two wooden blades connect with one another, he completed his turn with nearly animalistic speed, suddenly wary and less confident.

When the blades hadn't struck, he had thought he'd misjudged Galoriand. He expected that an attack was about to come, one which he hadn't anticipated. It would have been a bit embarrassing to get struck, yes, but at least it would prove the young elf was a better swordsman than Findelfin had thought. But instead of a pending attack, Findelfin saw a young boy frozen in fear. And for the first time, Findelfin realized what a boy he really was.

It was in his face. The Galoriand lad had achieved all the trappings of maturity, but there were subtle lines of wisdom that were not on his face. They were lines that Varalad Del Tirin had, lines that Findelfin finally started to notice on himself when he looked in the mirror each morning. Elves did not ever seem to age too much past their twentieth year, but for some reason you could spot an older elf in a crowd as easily as you could a dragon in a brace of cattle. It was as if the very sorrows of existence became part of their bodies, their faces a geography of time.

And Findelfin could see that something was bothering this young one whose days were scarcely past first ripening. And then he realized that he could feel it...a presence, a sound, itching at the edges of his senses. And when the boy shouted aloud, almost as if he had lost control of his own mouth, Findelfin's suspicion was confirmed. With a bit of concentration, he managed to hear a bit of what the lad was experiencing.

"...power that has freed you from your cursed existence! But you will soon truly learn of the price at which you paid." The voice sounded familiar to Findelfin...but he didn't know why.

As Galyl came out of the trance, Findelfin put out his hand and rested it on the young one's shoulder. It was as much to steady him physically as to give him a bit of emotional support. Findelfin had no idea what that voice had been...but he was equally certain that it did not matter. Already this day Findelfin had seen a legend spring forth from nowhere -- a Galoriand! -- and the fact that a disembodied voice was following the lad seemed strangely appropriate.

The child seemed a bit too confident in his abilities even now, but after what Findelfin had heard he knew one thing: sword practice was over. Gently pulling the practice sword away from the boy, he held both wooden blades out to a nearby Bladesinger, and with the same gesture indicated that he wanted his own blade back.

"Young heir of Galoriand, our practice session is over. I know that I promised you three lessons, and have now given you only two." He turned to accept Ainalindil from the Bladesinger bearing it, then went on, "But I have something in mind that I hope you will consider as payment of my debt. I invite you to become my squire. You will accompany me in my travels whenever possible. When I must travel alone, you will be provided for in my absence.

Raising Ainalindil so that the blade pointed vertically towards the ceiling, across Findelfin's face, the flat turned outward, he concluded, "You will see war and peace, joy, sorrow, hope, despair. You will learn, and you will grow. And you will learn the lessons which no swordsman can teach. Will you accept this task? If so, kneel and be consecrated to the duty. If not, say so now."

Findelfin's eyes bore into the young boy, and every elf in the room was holding their breath to hear his answer.

[Feed The Machine]

Sq……Squire?

The offer was equivalent to a famished beggar receiving food after long days of searching for nourishment, but to no avail. Here the young elf stood, before one of the greatest warriors Raiaera has ever seen, and he was presenting the youngster with the opportunity to learn and travel with him. Legends were born in this fashion. Established soldiers looked for certain aspects in aspiring warriors and often found value in those that the masses would deem worthless. But the end result of such unions was a polished hero worthy to receive admiration. Galyl wasn’t one who cared about personal fame, but he knew that it would come the greater he became. However, it would be the perfect way to reintroduce the Galoriand family to the people of Raiaera in a positive way.

Instantly the boy experienced an overwhelming, yet very comforting feeling of warmth spread throughout his body. “Grandfather, I wish you could’ve lived long enough to witness this day.” Galyl smiled, kneeling before Findelfin. In the process he removed the Dur’Taigen hide that he’d donned for the last six years. He remembered the day that he’d killed the beast and watched his grandfather turn it into clothing. It was one of few things that his grandfather had left him, so the value he placed on it was immeasurable. However, Galyl also understood that while the past was important, he had to focus his sights on the future; his new life under Findelfin's tutelage was that future.

“I accept this task, and as a child of Raiaera, I will serve my nation and make my brethren proud.”

[Sighter Tnailog]

Findelfin could feel the energy in the crowd -- a strange sort of electric anticipation, and also maybe a bit of resentment. There were a number of elves in this very room that Findelfin had sparred with in the past. Findelfin had not offered them this honor. Even now, Findelfin was maybe a bit hesitant himself; was it wise to make up his mind on guesswork and gut feelings? But he could not show his hesitation, and he had to hope that his decision would not stir up seeds of discontent and ill-feeling.

Bringing down his blade on the shoulders of the lad with appropriate solemnity, he said, "Then rise, heir of Galoriand, to learn and to grow as my squire, and to serve Findelfin ap Fingolfin until he shall deem you strong enough to serve yourself."

And it was done. Immediately, Findelfin sheathed his blade, and said to the lad, "Now, I have pressing business with Kayatura Oronrá." Glancing at the Dur'Taigen hide, he said, "I will get someone to take care of you while I am busy, but do not dispose of that hide. In Raiaera, we may forge our lives in the present, but we do so without destroying the past.

"Here, Aldior!" A nearby blades trainer saluted sharply, and Findelfin continued, "Take the lad to get some decent equipment -- I think some steel brigandine and some leather boots wouldn't hurt -- and also find him some garments more suitable to civilization. And giving him something to eat might not hurt. After that, show him to the stables. Teach him how to saddle Pelektar, if you will, he'll need to be doing it himself soon enough."

The lieutenant nodded, "It will be done, Tur Aranthi!"

Turning back to Galyl, he said, "Go with Aldior, he will make sure you are cared for. I will speak to the Kayatura, then I will come and find you."

Suddenly, Findelfin remembered an even younger boy -- scarcely born -- who had wanted to sing with him. "No...no, I will speak to the Kayatura, yes, but then I have another engagement. A singing engagement. It won't be long -- I'll find you and you can join me. It wouldn't hurt to hear your singing voice, it would help us assess what sort of Bladesinger you might become."

Turning, he put a hand on the door, turned the latch, and stepped through, closing it behind him. Galyl hadn't even had a chance to respond -- and it was better that way. It would teach him patience.

((To the mod: if the steel brigandine, leather boots, and clothes are too much for Feed the Machines to receive in this thread, feel free to take a bit of gold from my account to supplement their cost.))

[Feed The Machine]

Spectators had quickly dispersed after Galyl had accepted the rare offer presented to him by Findelfin. The most unlikely soldier had found favor in the eyes of the legendary warrior, and many could not understand how. In their mind, young elves coming from families of position and power were the ones that received top training, from the best soldiers available in the Bladesingers as well as Tel Aglarim. Commoners didn’t rise up amongst the ranks as was often told in fairytales. Their lowly status was an unfortunate curse that they’d have to live with for the rest of their lives. However, in this case the ‘fairytale’ had become a reality.

Galyl contained his glee, wishing to act as noble and adult like as possible. Many men cast menacing glares at him, hoping for a moment in which they could catch the Galoriand boy unaware and take his life. Galyl did not turn his head in fear though. He locked eyes with the other trainees, showing the immense toughness and valiancy that was instilled in him by Hiomir. This continued until an elven soldier approached Findelfin’s new squire, placing his hand on his shoulder. “You heard what Findelfin said. Let’s get going.” The man was somewhat demanding in his tone, which initially caught the young elf off guard. However, he thought back to the lessons that Hiomir had taught him and realized that his old master’s ‘nothing comes easy’ approach was similar to his new master’s one.

“Did you not hear me? I said let’s go!” Startled, Galyl broke his idleness and sped up to catch up to Aldior. Leading him to a stable nearly half a mile northwest of the Bladesinger’s Guild, he went inside and brought out two horses, one that was black, and the other that was the color of red clay. Saddling atop the black one, Aldior stoically pointed to the earthy toned steed. “This is Pelektar. He’s a young horse, one that is certainly fit to be your stallion. You two will grow together. Now get on him.” Galoriand stepped toward the horse confidently, yet cautiously knowing that advancing too quickly on a horse would startle it. He didn’t have a great deal of experience with these animals, but that much he did know.

Glancing toward Aldior, the stout elf grinned. Galyl proceeded to mount his new horse, but was swiftly batted to the ground by the horse’s head. “Whatever nonsense you learned about horses won’t do you much good with Pelektar!” Aldior laughed, showing emotion for the first time. “The truth is, many have tried to mount Pelektar but the horse has refused every single of them. He is a strange horse, in the sense that he respects strength and nothing else. So if you’re coming at him soft, then you can forget about ever saddling him.” Galyl heard the soldier’s words and rose to his feet. Immediately after, he lunged at the horse, tackling it to the ground. “So this is the only thing you respect eh?” The young trainee firmly said, having sprouted his wooden claymore from his body and pressing the blade against the horse’s neck. “I don’t want to have to use force, but if I must, I will.”

Upon letting the steed go, Pelektar got up and lowered himself, allowing Galyl to get on top of him. Aldior chuckled, finally witnessing Pelektar yielding to someone. Shortly after, he led the way to the nearest equipment store.

- - - - - - -

“Alright, this shouldn’t be too hard. All Findelfin needs you to get is a brigandine and some proper attire,” Looking down at Galyl’s garments, Aldior shook his head. “You’re definitely from the wilderness. Anyway, go get what you need.”

Browsing the store, Galoriand picked up a leather knapsack, a brown sleeveless undershirt, leather sandals, a dark green cloak, and the steel brigandine that Findelfin recommended. “Where are your leather boots?” Aldior asked just as Galyl put all of his equipment on the counter. “I’m not entirely comfortable wearing boots. In sandals I’m much lighter on my feet.”

“So what will you do if you and Findelfin are traveling rocky terrain? Do you expect him to tend to any wounds you might get from not having your feet properly covered?”

“No I wouldn’t expect that. It’s just,” Yet the boy was interrupted by Aldior grabbing a pair of leather boots and slamming them on the counter. “You’re getting a pair of boots! No questions asked!”

The elven soldier paid for everything Galyl needed, with no change to spare. Galoriand was somewhat irritated by Aldior’s actions, but spoke nothing of his feelings towards the matter. “Nothing comes easy Galyl, even caretakers……” The trainee sighed before following Aldior out of the store.

With all the necessary items acquired, the two rode back to the Guild. Galyl wondered what kind of journeys he and Findelfin would take, as well as what kind of people he would meet. Never before had the Red Forest resident left Raiaera, but he knew that with Findelfin as his new teacher, he would definitely travel the world. It was unknown what Galyl would encounter on these future adventures, but nothing would deter him. The Galoriand name would ring throughout the world as it once did, and they would once again reclaim their respect.

((Spoils: leather knapsack, brown sleeveless undershirt, leather sandals, leather boots, dark green cloak, steel brigandine.))

[Atzar]

First of all, sorry for the wait. I won’t keep you waiting any longer.

Continuity

This category was hard to score for me. Both of you put a lot of effort into creating the backstory, but some of what you gave me in your first posts (this applies more to FTM) never really came into the quest. Conversely, there were things in the quest that seemed to pop out of nowhere. I’m not saying that this section was bad, but it almost felt like you guys strayed from the planned route just a little bit. 6

Setting

I thought both of you could have done a little bit better with this part. I got some description of the setting in Sighter’s first posts, but aside from references to the audience, I got very little feel for what the area actually looked or sounded like. Also, FTM, you contradicted yourself a few times – one noteworthy example was in the first post, when you found yourself pushing through a crowd – but it was completely silent. Any crowd I’ve ever seen has had at least some noise, and those training in combat (as this crowd was presumably doing) would probably be louder than most. The possibility that they were silent on Findelfin’s approach occurred to me, and I think I might have been right, but you would do well to make this a little more explicit next time. 5

Pacing

The thing moved quickly, but that’s not always a bad thing. FTM, your intro came across as excessive. As I mentioned, a lot of it never seemed to really contribute to the story, instead serving to confuse the reader. 4


Action

The action was done well. This was probably the strongest part of the quest. If there was one thing to pick apart, it was that your characters tended to do a little too much thinking during the fight. Thoughts are all well and good, but at times it seemed as if they were a little overdone. One only has so much time to think during a fight, after all, and a battle is hardly a good place to have deep reflections. That said, this was a minor flaw and didn’t mar a job well done. 8

Persona

I think of elves as arrogant creatures who are courteous, respectful and noble to a fault. The fact that everybody was rudely snickering behind their hands at Galyl, as well as the fact that they were completely humbled by his admonishments (keep in mind that Galyl’s a child by their standards) clashed noticeably with my preconception. Here was one area that I thought you could have shaded a little more in your intros: since my preconception was apparently wrong, it’s your job to let me know what’s right. Give me a little more background on the personalities of elves in general: not just who they are or were, but how they act. 5

Dialogue

The dialogue was another thing that seemed out of character at times. Sometimes you were both on the same page, but there were other times in FTM’s posts where the elves’ words seemed too informal for their precise dialect. Referring to another elf as “man” (all racial humor aside) seemed very out of place. That said, there were other times where you both seemed spot on with this category. This was another score that was hard to give. 6


Mechanics

Sighter, I saw one mistake in your entire side of the thread. Well done. FTM, yours was well done in general, but there were things to improve on. Comma usage is one – don’t use them quite so often. They tend to, interrupt the, point you’re, trying to, make. Read your post aloud and pause at every comma – some will seem out of place. Also, begin a new paragraph whenever somebody different speaks. This would have helped to break the wall-of-text-ishness that your first post had. 7

Technique

Not too much to say here. Nothing jumped out at me as being particularly praiseworthy, but nothing was bad either. 6

Clarity

Generally good. You both have very clear styles of writing. 7


Wild Card

This was a solid outing for both of you, but nothing really ever managed to break me from the “run-of-the-mill quest” mentality. You guys might consider throwing a twist of some sort in next time – it would create greater interest on the part of the reader, which would in turn change a solid quest into a very satisfying read. 5

Total Score: 59

Sighter Tnailog gains 2445 EXP and 177 GP.
Feed the Machines gains 800 EXP and 177 GP, along with all requested spoils.

Well done, guys!

[Letho]

EXP/GP added!