[Training] Continued Education

[Rhuryc]

15th Spring, 511 AV Talderan Wilderness Crunch. Crunch. The sound of boots against fresh snow drifted amongst the crisp morning air of the vast, untamed reaches, an echo that went unnoticed by the sparse flora. Only the occasional tree dotted what was the outskirts of a frozen forest, their limbs doused in a fine, white powder that presented itself in persistent flurries and cold, chilling winds. This was a land of ice. Of quiet, nostalgic beauty. A clear sky shown with a radiant blue, the sun's light reflected from the fields of white and brightened ever more as if to highlight some form of natural serenity. Such a sight could endeavor no less to inspire. Only the rhythmic beating of feet interrupted the sleeping landscape, but that too held its own grace. The lone beat come to a sudden halt at the edge of a small, iced lake fit snuggly below an unsteady terrain, the variations in hight providing both a suitable block from sight and a pleasant view in itself. This was perfect. His pack hit with a solid thud. Amongst the wilderness he was a stranger clothed in the dark furs of another creature, a being that did not belong. Nevertheless he set to work. Building a campsite was a matter of practice and patience, not too mention an act he had not done in years. Even then starting a fire was its own monster. Moving about in his mass of obscuring clothing Rhuryc unbelted his sword and removed the shield from his back, both items cast aside for as he gathered various items from his pack. A spade, blanket, and bedroll, he spread the latter two items out and wentt about digging through the loose snow nearby. Bent over, he appeared as some kind of animal foraging for food. He needed a pit. For good measure he dug into the ground and tore up what he could while making enough room to hold a decent sized fire. Next came the tent. Right. Back to the pack, Rhuryc removed the cloth tied to the side. Several pitons and a stand came with it. Once more he cleared snow, kicking, shoving, and otherwise shoveling the powder away until there was enough solid ground to be satisfied. Each piton was hammered in with the back end of the spade and set tightly before he erected the tent, the low-flying, rather uncomfortable frame work well enough to protect from some of nature's less savory assets. It wasn't perfect. Hell, it wasn't even good, but it would do. Setting up camp for one was not so bad. At least he could short it a bit. Yet there were essentials to tend to, firewood for instance. More crunching brought Rhuryc closer to the forest proper. He walked amonst the thicker flora for some time, his eyes peeled as he kept to an intense search for suitably dry wood. Or at least drier. Every other piece he found was soaked to the core, never mind being covered in snow. By the time he returned to the camp the sun was already high in the sky, bells having past in his tenacious quest. The logs were deposited in the pit - they would dry eventually - and Rhuryc sat next to his make-shift designs, his pack broached once more for the afternoon meal. Rations. Delicious. Metal scrapped against leather. Rhuryc tossed his sheath away and removed the cloak from his shoulders, the cold chill of the air sinking deep into his bones. He had never trained in this environment. He ducked down and gathered his shield as he moved, stopping only once he reached the edge of the frozen lake. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Every fiber in his bone screamed that what he was about to do would end in his death. Yet he stepped forward. There was no purpose in training if there was nothing knew to learn. He could cut a tree as many times as he wanted, that practice was only to keep him from forgetting what he already knew. The ice did not crack. Whew. Another step. Was it thick enough to walk on? Another. Not a sound. Careful, alert, he spread his weight out over each leg as he moved, center as if he were in form, one step coming after the next in a lumbering, yet somehow graceful, set of motions. He stopped at the center. Steady. Balance was important. As was his custom Rhuryc moved into a stance, his shield raised to his torso while his sword lowered to his hip, blade kept at a diagonal angle with the tip just barely above the ground beneath. His back straightened and his body turned, what little of a profile he could bestowed to some imaginary opponent. Nothing here was unusual. Except for the ice. A singular feature changed his entire state of mind. He spared very little for the weapons or even his form, just the ice. Breath. The man took in a long, calming tide of air, his lungs blistering from the crisp cold. He stepped. The blade moved with the motion, weapon brought up in a sundering arc against nothing. Slowly, carefully, he placed his foot against the slick surface, shifted his weight and followed through. The shield followed. Hah! That was not so bad. Slip. What? Thud. Flailing, Rhuryc found his hold diminished. His fell backward and collided with the ice beneath, his full weight brought to bear against the fragile covering. Crack. Oh no. There was a snap and he could swear he felt the ice move. And there was nothing. Just a warning. He sighed and with a push Rhuryc righted himself, one knee put down before he mustered the courage to stand again. What an exercise.

[Rhuryc]

Step. Cross. Sword down. Shield over. Step. Turn. He was getting better at this. Rhuryc raised a leg. His balanced fumbled in a rocking motion, his body sent teetering ever so slightly to the side. Swiftly - yet somehow still careful - he lowered his foot and regained some semblance of balance, both blade and shield held out to the side in a queer attempt to catch himself. That seemed to work. So far he had more success when he continued to move. Somehow stopping upset his rhythm, it kept him from clear, precise movements, and there was little fault one could accept on the ice. With his composure regained he continued. One step forward. Rhuryc shifted his weight with the motion, sword arm sweeping about from his waist, his shoulders turning into the strike and adding power without stressing his already vicarious posture. Stay on the toes. Before his heel could hit the ice his other foot left the surface, another step to the side. The shield came with it, the mass of the metal turned to the side and scythed through the open air. Shoulder down. Rhuryc ducked into the movement, body following with a practiced gesture. Slow. The ice was a different world, one where nothing was sure. While he seemed confident one moment the next would bring heinous threats and Rhuryc would find himself trapped, a foot hovering over its next step without intention to land. He shivered. A cold, frightening howl buffeted his form with taunts and a challenge, a direct confrontation. Bah! No intangible monster would get the better of him. Defiant, Rhuryc put his weight on the leg and touched down, his muscles tensing and continuing their ever unyielding foray of exercise. There was a rhythm to it all. A tune that changed tempo every moment, from rushed exuberance to careful deliberation, one note following the other in steps and forms, sword and shield dancing about one another in a symphony of restless combat. And all of it came crashing down with one, single mistake. Thwack! Gah! Rhuryc hit the ice again in an unceremonious fashion, his face slamming against the hard surface in a painful exchange. Red colored the white beneath. Dazed, the man pushed his weapons away and brought his arms in, palms set against the ice in a push. Crack. Oh no. A dull snap proceeded the splash. Water rushed in from all side. Pain, freezing water. It stung his flesh, numbed his senses. Panicked, he flailed his arms in an attempt to grab the edge of the cracked surface, yet something was pulling him, drawing him away. He watched as the opening grew beyond his reach. He kicked and screamed into the water, a bellowing cry that served him to no avail. Where was he? Which way was up? How was he supposed to get free?! Slowly, he sunk. He pounded against the ice. Once. Twice. Why wouldn't it break? His legs kicked fiercely against the undercurrent, the murderous water threatening to take him to its unforgiving depths. Air. He needed air! An arm came down and grabbed at his belt, fingers fumbling as they grasped the hilt of the knife stuck at his hip. One chance. The blade came free and he smashed the hilt against the ice above. Crack! There! Again! He bashed the knife again and again until the surface blasted apart. There it was! Desperately he clawed at the opening, his hands tearing at the thick, beaten ceiling. More red clawed at his knuckles. He grabbed and pulled. Rhuryc splashed onto the bank and flopped onto the snow, body shivering despite his will. Cold. He needed to be warm. Drained, but not yet done, Rhuryc forced himself to stand. He wobbled as he moved, legs shaking in the effort to reach the tent. As he moved he removed articles of clothing. His tunic, his breeches. Not wet clothing. None. Past the pit now. He reached down and grabbed the blanket he had laid out previously. A few more steps. When he reached the tent the man collapsed in a heap. Pathetic, he crawled into the tent and did what he could to close the flap while he curled into a ball wrapped in soft, blissful cloth. It would only get colder.

[Rhuryc]

The fire crackled with its own passion. Flames licked at the chilled air of the evening, the sun's last rays nipping at the hells of the moons ascent. The tundra was no less inviting. The faint glimmer of stars replaced the stark blue from the earlier hours, some brighter then others, but all a splendor in their existence. They twinkled, sparkled, and gave hope to those that wandered below. Somehow the land was calmer, quieter, like the creatures of the day had all drifted off to sleep to allow the night its reign. Rhuryc was left alone to sit at the base of his only source of warmth. How he started the fire he did not remember. The crackle and snap were companions in their own right, they feasted with the man as he devoured some of his rations. By now his clothes were more or less dry and the damp remains of his light threatening endeavor had all but abated. Bells had passed in that tent, all the while he shivered and feared for his life. By the grace of one god or another he survived. His gaze flickered about the camp in the failing light. From the fire to the lake, he eyed his weapons, both blade and shield where he left them on the ice. And there was the hole. Both where he entered and where he escaped the water, that horrendous, infuriating candlemarks of fear. What had he been thinking? Just one moment longer and he would have ceased. His life gone. Foolish. Stupid. And now he lacked the courage to retrieve what matter most. So he sat, silent, ever watchful. Soon not even the howling winds of night drew his attention. To be in fear of such a pitiful thing. Ice. It had bested him, beat him, drew the life from him and spat him back without so much as a second thought. Who was he to challenge that sort of power? No one. Nevertheless he stood. Wallowing in his own misery would do him no favors. Nor would it retrieve his sword. The fur cloak full from his shoulders once more and Rhuryc strode over the snow back to the lake where he came to a sudden, hesitant stop. He breathed. In. Out. A foot lifted into the air and hovered over the ice. A full candlemark passed. Step. Slick, but not impossible. He inched forward. One foot followed the other in wider and wider strides, his confidence regained by the time he reached his armaments. Both were reclaimed without a fuss. Huh. The sun was almost gone now. Darkness crept over the hill like a sneaking storm, blackening the ice and obscuring the traps that lay within. Tristan had taught him to not only be aware of how he fought, but also where he fought. It was training Rhruyc wanted. There was no better time for it. One leg set itself before the other, knees bent, body tensed, his shield came up and his sword down, every inch of his form steered toward a balance of technique and motion. Be aware. Feel the wind, the air. His enemy was not some shadowed illusion by the terrain itself, the ice beneath his feet, the chill of the night, even the darkness that obscured his vision. To fight without sight, to fight without comfort. His shoulder moved, arm sliding up from his side and sweeping the blade out in arc away from his body. Step. His back foot lifted and slid forward, knee bending just as it touched. Strike. The sword continued around, scything out across his chest and over the top of the shield. A metallic ring echoed out over the ice with each assault. Once, twice, Rhuryc moved through the darkness, his movements crisp and precise. He never floated over the terrain, switching from poise to the next from the balls of his feet. Shield. He thrust forward with the metal slab, his speed increased now. Faster. Step. Slice. He turned, ignoring the chill, the urge to flee. Stop! Rhuryc paused, one foot left in midair. Beneath him was the slosh of freed water, the ice about him cracked from his previous endeavor. Gently, he lowered his leg away from the hole, his eyes alight with a subtle humor. How many times would he come close to death this day? Not enough.

[Rhuryc]

16th Spring, 511 AV Crack! Rhuryc grunted. He reared back and slammed his shield into the tree. Once. Twice. The motion was simple. He would step back, raise the shield, and bash against the abused bark, his shoulder dipping and weight tossed into the full brunt of the assault. His muscles were strained. A deep, burning pain seared from his upper arm, but he ignored it. Again. And again. The crash and clatter sent a racket through the small clearing, echoing out amongst the sparse woodlands and low lying hills. At least the morning was clear. After only a day Rhuryc became accustomed to the chill and the exercise did not hurt. He found that while active he only needed his tunic, the sweat and heat generated from his movements enough to counteract the tundra's harsh cold. Crash! Metal rang out against wood, the thick, unnatural sound like its own beating drum. Chips flew with every impact. Gah. That stung. Weary, Rhruyc stepped back and admired his work. The massive tree was a humbling image, his own assaults making barely more than a dent in its massive structure. He grunted. The shield changed arms. He slung the strap around his right wrist and hoisted the slab of metal up to his shoulder. One again. Thrust. He felt his arm shake at the impact, his muscles tensing up. Again. Crash! Breath. He took in a deep, solid breath and continued, his entire body pushing into the next strike. He stepped back, ducked, and leaned forward, the mass of his weight assailing the trunk with a reckless abandon. Twice. Again. Sweat covered his brow, his hair flying with each motion. His forward foot would set while the back twisted, his torso twisting with every attack before it reset. He could feel the bruises as they formed. The shield spun. With a flurry Rhuryc set the armament to its side and cracked the bark with the edge, his arm staying parallel to the ground to allow precise impact. Easy. The shield came down and he shoved his shoulder in again. He started a new pattern, every impact followed by a twist, his body realigning for a different sort of strike, one meant to kill just as much as a blade. A bell passed. Two. He stopped for only short periods, enough to catch his breath when his arm was too tired to continue, but the break was only long enough to switch the shield off before he soldiered on. By the time he was finished he had carved out a suitable portion of the tree's surface. The wood chips might help him build a fire. Collecting wood was a pain. Although he had managed enough for the previous night today he was forced to take a whole new direction. Staying in a straight line was essential lest he become lost in this mass of a wilderness. Rhuryc was patient to a fault, but this was right out boring. He scooped up something that looked to be a suitable log - it would have to be dried - and lopped it into his stack of ever growing timber. Snap. What was that? With a glance, the man looked over his shoulder, eyes scanning the surroundings. Brush. White. Snow. Was that movement? Rhuryc turned about, one arm holding onto his bundle of wood while he lowered the hood from his eyes. Nothing. His gaze narrowed, he studied the brush with a keen stare, picking apart each, strange piece of this unfamiliar terrain. That wasn't snow. He could make up a heave, ever so slightly, breathing. Farther down. A face. A wolf. A big, petching wolf. His weapons were back at the camp. A dire animal? Here? He stayed on the outskirts of the forest for a reason, damn it! The noise must have drawn its attention. A normal wolf he would have just scared away, but Rhuryc was bigger than such creatures. This monster had its prey. They stared at one another for the longest time. Neither moved. They were only aware of each other's presence, feeling one another out in a test of wills. If it charged he would have little chance of taking it, but if he ran it would be able to take him down from behind. The beast snarled, its low, insidious growl snaking toward the man's heart. No fear. Fear would only get him killed. He dropped the wood. The wolf bolted. Forward, the creature bounded toward Rhuryc and launched itself into the air as it came closer. Steady, the man turned a shoulder down and ran it into the beast's maw, both arms coming up and around its chest and hurling the wolf to the side. The creature hit the ground with a wild furry, but Rhuryc did not stick around long enough to witness the result. He turned and ran, his boots thudding against the thickened snow. Breath. His arms pumped as his wide, frantic strides took him back toward the camp, muscles tensing in his flurry to escape. There. He had not gone far. From behind him he could hear the paws, almost silent, the soft padding hot on his heels, the vicious, wild snarls, his hungry stalker. Rhuryc could see it. His blade resting atop the shield. He just hand to make it. He felt the world go out from under him, paws pressing down on his back and pinning him. Damn it! The wolf snarled and snapped at neck. He jerked from beneath and rolled over onto his side, the motion interrupting the beast's assault and upsetting it beyond rage. It came around and Rhuryc kicked at its face, the heavy, leather boots slamming in its maw and sending it streaming to the side. He was free! There was enough time. Bounding up to his feet the man dove for his weapons. He grabbed the shield and swung it around just as the wolf came down on him, the metal buffeting its jaw away. Steel scrapped against leather. The white, furious monster came in again, pounding on the prone man. Red slashed against his cloak. Rhuryc slammed his blade into the side of the wolf's head. It convulsed for only a moment before its body slumped and fell, its weight pressing against the man as he lay. "Tyveth be praised." He rumbled, his nose twitching at the stench of blood.

[Rhuryc]

17th Spring, 511 AV Thunk. His boots hit the snowy plain with a heavy impact. His trail circled for what must have been at least a mile in each direction, his path taken from the camp, past and around the lake, all the way up the nearby hill and around the surrounding tundra. As seemed his custom now Rhuryc was barren of cloak or coat, his fur left back at his tent for the time being. While moving, while active, the cold did not bother him. He managed to sweat despite the chill and kept himself in a unique equilibrium that warmed his body. His muscles strained as he ran, pushing through the unfriendly terrain and strengthening his legs as he moved. Every stride was a struggle. Out here there was no easy action, nothing came without a fight, and so it was that he strained, his arms pumping and breath hagged from a constant, unyielding pace. The sharp chill of the air stung his lungs. Farther now. Rhuryc redoubled his efforts and plowed ever onward. There was still much to do. His blade cut the air with a precise set of strikes. Overhead, the tip came about and scythed through the emptiness, his feet following in a dance of peculiar gestures. Over the ice one more the man fell into his deadly dance. He strode over the surface of the lake with little regard for what was under. Albeit the image of the wolf beneath the water was humorous - how else was he supposed to get rid of the body? - and that was enough to sustain his wit. For now anyway. Both shield and sword twisted about one another. Turning, gliding, his feet felt firm against the slippery ground, although that did little to prevent his toes from curling at each step. Grace had never been a factor for his observation, but now it as all he cared about, his senses wide and alert with a passion for exaggeration. Even the illusion of a crack sent him sailing the other direction. With a hop Rhuryc removed himself from the ice. His blade found its way back to the sheath and he kept his shield at his side before disappearing back into the wood. He would be damned before the weapons were left behind again. The search for drier timber grew easier with time. The day before he had noticed a trend that near brushes he was more likely to find suitable wood. That and enough dry foliage to catch a spark or two. Pines made for terrible fire material. He would mark specific spots here or there, his knife withdrawn to "X" a tree to keep his route, placing arrows on some that lead in a line back to his campsite. Bandits did not worry him so much as being lost with those dire creatures running about. Even the rabbits here were huge. Despite the extra weight Rhuryc found that his shield made for a convenient way to carry the wood he needed. Why had he not thought of this before? Dry rations. Not the best meal, but then again he knew next to nothing about hunting. Nor did he have a bow. Or traps. Instead he focused on what he did have, jerked beef and trail mix. Tasty. From his water skin he drank from the cold, every running waters beneath the frozen lake. The holes he had made proved to be useful for something. In all, between the soft, inept fire at his feet and the terrible meal, Rhuryc could not complain. A few more days and he would head back. For now, though, he would admire the scenery. Snap. What was that?

[Cheshire]

. Character: Rhuryc Experience: Wilderness Survival +2, Weapon (Knife) +1, Weapon (Sword) +3, Weapon (Shield) +3, Brawling +1, Carving +1, Navigation +1, Swimming +1, Running +1 Lore: Taking Your Chances on the Ice, Fighting Talderian Beasts Additional Note: Great thread Rhu! You could have taken that wolf back to town and tried to sell it's pelt, meat, and bones if you wanted though. PM me with concerns.