69th of winter, 509 AV
That wrinkly old man sure had guts! "Know about me? Heh! You do not deserve to know more about me!" he sniffed. He flicked a bugger away and some mucus dribbled down his nose. "I am the greatest swordmaster of these current times! An insolent young punk like you deserves nothing from me!" The arrogance of that little doorknob astonished Conor, he knew people were adepts at lying, but it couldn’t be possibly true that this was the greatest swordmaster. He was small, looked to be at least well over seventy, and he was childish. And the most annoying thing was that he was proud of himself, like he had been created with the sole task of irritating innocent travelers.
And yet, some part of Conor wanted to believe that he was truly a great swordmaster… What if he really was capable of great feats with his sword? Conor could only find out if he asked him. “Lots of critters here in these woods at this time! Time for me to go!" he remarked, and he walked off towards the woods. But Conor was to intrigued by this remarkable fellow to let him go just yet. His horse quickly caught up with the little impish elder, and rode next to him. “Could you please teach me, I mean, if you truly are the world’s greatest swordsman then you could probable teach me, an insolent young, a lot.” Conor decided to act subservient to gain the favor of the peculiar fellow. After all, there was much at stake if he was a master with a blade.
“In return I’ll help you with something,” Conor promised. Of course he would do so, but only if the man offered his terms in advance. Conor wasn’t about to let him get tricked. “I could offer you some food, or even a small fee if you wish so,” Conor continued. He was eager to learn more about sword fighting, and he wasn’t about to let this chance slip through his nets. Hopefully the old man agreed to his terms. Perhaps something good could come of this meeting after all.