64th Day of Spring, 514 AV
The Antinous Training Grounds were occupied on this day, as they were most days: a massive expanse of blood, sweat and tears. It was here that the Syliran Knights honed their mighty skills. Swords clashed against swords, fists slammed into wooden dummies, and arrows flew to the sound of a dozen twanging bowstrings. There was an order to the activity. A discipline. The knights carried themselves with the honour, respect, and dignity that was to be expected from agents of Sylir, God of Peace and-
"DODGE, LAD!!!"
At Crowe's bellow, Bitt flung himself to the ground shoulder-first. As the young squire braced for impact, he tucked in his head and rolled through the movement, using his momentum to spring back up into a run. A dull clattering noise, and an obvious lack of sudden pain, indicated that the evasive manoeuvre had been successful.
This is insane!
Earlier that day, Crowe pointed at two non-specific points, about 100-yards apart;
"Alright lad, start running until I tell you to stop." At the time Bitt, with his quarterstaff in hand, simply nodded and started jogging; such basic physical drills were not new to him, after all. For several chimes, the young squire progressed normally. He ran in a small, narrow circuit, placing one foot in front of the other. The task wasn't very mentally demanding, and once Bitt settled on a rhythm, he let his thoughts wander. They drifted gently from one topic to another, but never lingered in any one place for very long... you can imagine his surprise when the first stone smashed into his ribs.
Unbeknownst to the distracted squire, Crowe had fetched a pair of large, wooden buckets, each filled with round, apple-sized stones. When Bitt had his back to him, the older knight selected one at random and tossed it from hand to the other, testing its weight.
"DODGE, LAD!!!"
Crowe roared at his squire and threw the stone, pivoting his hips and putting all of his strength into the action. Bitt, snapping out of his daze in response to the sound, turned around to face his patron. The projectile zipped through the air and slammed into the squire's left side mid-turn. If he weren't wearing his armour, the impact would have broken at least one of his ribs. Instead, the beginnings of a large bruise began to form underneath Bitt's clothing, and he cried out; more from the shock than from the pain. The young squire buckled his knees slightly, but he did not fall down.
"If that had been an arrow, you'd be dead, lad."
That had been over half-a-bell ago, and Crowe continued to throw stones at his squire at irregular intervals, expecting Bitt to dodge them by rolling out of the way. It was essential that he keep moving. Again, there was no set period in between the older knight's attacks, and the first time Bitt took too long to recover, he took a hit to his shoulder. Knowing that every injury he sustained would make moving - and hence dodging - harder, Bitt was completely determined to avoid making the same mistake more than once. It was a mentally draining experience, even more so than it was a physically draining one. Crowe would only make a throw when Bitt showed him his back, so the squire's only signal that a rock would start flying towards him was his patron's shout. Furthermore, the older knight strolled in a circuit - the likes of which had no apparent pattern - of his own, so Bitt could never be certain as to where a shot might be coming from. The anticipation and adrenaline made Bitt's breathing come in quick, excited breaths, and he was sweating from the strain. Thankfully, it had been some time since he'd been hit, and the young squire felt as if he were getting used to the exercise.
Crowe, of course, took notice of this.
"DODGE, LAD!!!"
At Crowe's bellow, Bitt flung himself to the ground shoulder-first. As the young squire braced for impact, he tucked in his head and rolled through the movement, using his momentum to spring back up into a run. A dull clattering noise, and an obvious lack of sudden pain, indicated that the evasive manoeuvre had been successful.
This is insane!
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Earlier that day, Crowe pointed at two non-specific points, about 100-yards apart;
"Alright lad, start running until I tell you to stop." At the time Bitt, with his quarterstaff in hand, simply nodded and started jogging; such basic physical drills were not new to him, after all. For several chimes, the young squire progressed normally. He ran in a small, narrow circuit, placing one foot in front of the other. The task wasn't very mentally demanding, and once Bitt settled on a rhythm, he let his thoughts wander. They drifted gently from one topic to another, but never lingered in any one place for very long... you can imagine his surprise when the first stone smashed into his ribs.
Unbeknownst to the distracted squire, Crowe had fetched a pair of large, wooden buckets, each filled with round, apple-sized stones. When Bitt had his back to him, the older knight selected one at random and tossed it from hand to the other, testing its weight.
"DODGE, LAD!!!"
Crowe roared at his squire and threw the stone, pivoting his hips and putting all of his strength into the action. Bitt, snapping out of his daze in response to the sound, turned around to face his patron. The projectile zipped through the air and slammed into the squire's left side mid-turn. If he weren't wearing his armour, the impact would have broken at least one of his ribs. Instead, the beginnings of a large bruise began to form underneath Bitt's clothing, and he cried out; more from the shock than from the pain. The young squire buckled his knees slightly, but he did not fall down.
"If that had been an arrow, you'd be dead, lad."
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That had been over half-a-bell ago, and Crowe continued to throw stones at his squire at irregular intervals, expecting Bitt to dodge them by rolling out of the way. It was essential that he keep moving. Again, there was no set period in between the older knight's attacks, and the first time Bitt took too long to recover, he took a hit to his shoulder. Knowing that every injury he sustained would make moving - and hence dodging - harder, Bitt was completely determined to avoid making the same mistake more than once. It was a mentally draining experience, even more so than it was a physically draining one. Crowe would only make a throw when Bitt showed him his back, so the squire's only signal that a rock would start flying towards him was his patron's shout. Furthermore, the older knight strolled in a circuit - the likes of which had no apparent pattern - of his own, so Bitt could never be certain as to where a shot might be coming from. The anticipation and adrenaline made Bitt's breathing come in quick, excited breaths, and he was sweating from the strain. Thankfully, it had been some time since he'd been hit, and the young squire felt as if he were getting used to the exercise.
Crowe, of course, took notice of this.
The part where Bitt struck his own privates with the quarterstaff make me 
