Closed Sons Of Chaos. (Erick)

[Alexander Faircroft]

73rd Fall 516AV

9:44AM

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

It was a strange turn of events, usually Alex was the one being sent off to get trained by others, now though it was his turn to train someone. To bring them up and show them what he had to offer for them to draw from. A strange request from his patron and from another. A joint agreement between Greyheart and Sera Elisa Goldmane. An agreement that was reached without either Alex’s or the other squires Input.

Erick Barnett. A name Alex didn’t recognize if he was new then Alex felt for the poor guy, if he was an older recruit than Alex was than perhaps he was just damned good at keeping his head down. Either way, he was going to be stuck as part of the knights if he didn’t swiftly figure out what Alex had. Despite that Alex agreed to do this out of a personal debt he felt towards his patron rather than any inner order politics or rule making. A simple truth was that as much as Alex wanted to be a knight he was obvious that what he thought one was and what one actually was differed entirely.

The sound of Steel coated steps snapped Alex from his dazed stupor. His arms unfolded from his chest and fell to the hilts of the two blades at his sides. The pace and canter of the steps was one that Alex knew well. A reluctance to face a new teacher, a new point to learn from. He couldn’t say he didn’t feel a spot of sympathy however it was one thing to attack things from the perspective of one. However this wasn’t the time to be soft, or light in his approach to things, people were getting hurt by the things which lurked ion the grey danger, and Alex didn’t have a lot of time to give here when he could instead be out hunting down these abominations in the fog.

Alex rose from the bench, his back still sore from the events earlier in the season, and the imposed punishments from the damned Stalinsas. His voice rang crawled forth mixing with the fog to produce this eerie sensation of being spoken too from all angles. So soft that it almost couldn’t be heard.
“So, you’re Erick then?” Alex stepped forwards through the grey murk and mire keeping to the densest points, mostly out of wanting to try and see how good Erick’s skills of observation were and to see if he could pierce the veil of misty oppression without having to swat it away. “Seems as if I’ve the dubious honour of training you today.” His words more meant towards his own approach to things, he wasn’t sure honestly how much Erick would get out of meeting Alex in this instance.

[Erick Barnett]

73rd of Fall, 516AV 9:44AM Alexander Faircroft? The name had that certain sticky feeling to it. As it bounced around in his mind he was certain he had heard it before. It was one of the rare times that he wished he actually listened in on people's inane drivel, on such sparse occasions when such information would actually have been useful. Erick a took long breath in, the misty hair sitting heavy in his chest. There was at least some dignity it getting his back-side roundly handed to him by his own patron. But being sent off to go get clobbered by another Squire? He's probably like Lysander was. Mercenary background. He grimaced slightly, pulling up to the wall momentarily to allow a couple traveling the other way to pass, quickly resuming his walk. Lysander… The name still rattled around in his head now and then, but he had managed to keep himself from thinking about it since it had happened for the most part. But this was the first time since then he had been paired up with another Squire. Of course, this was just training, not some excursion into the Bronze Woods, so it was likely to be far less eventful. But still, Erick found himself clutching the hilt of his sword as he walked. He knew that in all likelihood Alexander Faircroft was a dedicated and noble member of the Order. Then again, he could be just like Lysander. The streets were much less crowded now as the fog had rolled in. People only dared to venture into it out of necessity. As another group of citizens passed, Erick fought the urge to look up from the street at them. They might be looking at him, and he didn’t want to know if they were. It was a consequence of a childhood spent on the streets of Ravok, or perhaps a benefit, but Erick couldn’t lay eyes on a stranger without immediately imagining the abyss that lived inside them. Since becoming a Squire, he had made a mental effort to stop thinking that way. To try and ignore that heavy pit that formed in his gut when he glanced to someone out of the corner of his eye only to find that they were already looking at him. Staring at him. He had tried to ignore it when he met Lysander. Look what that got me. Erick stopped, the runaway caravan running in his mind dissipating as he stood at the entrance to the training grounds. Alexander Faircroft. Just a Squire, like him. In all likelihood a very agreeable fellow. The arrhythmic clanking of metal made him glance down, and he found that his hand was trembling, causing his sheathed sword to scrape against his greaves. He pulled his hand away from his weapon, slowly turning at the wrist until the small glowing vortex emblazoned on the back of his palm was pointed right in his face, it’s light casting small shadows across his face. No. Slowly, the trembling faded. Lysander was scum. But most people aren’t. This isn’t Ravok. He closed his eyes a moment, letting the light warm his face, before his hand calmly rested back on his sword hilt, and he took the last few steps to cross the threshold to the training grounds. The fog muted the distant sounds of the other Knights in training, and Erick slowly came to a stop, peering around the thick sheets of grey haze. He opened his mouth, about to call out, but was cut off as he heard the faintest whisper of a voice from somewhere in the mists. So, you’re Erick then?” Memories of chasing Lysander’s voice through the woods flashed through Erick’s mind ever so briefly. “Seems as if I’ve the dubious honor of training you today.” Erick scanned the area right ahead of him, his right hand lifting up on instinct, casting a focused beam of light in a small cone ahead of him. It caught against the outline of Alexander’s armored form, and the older squire took a few steps toward him. Oh, goody. He’s younger than I am. I have a feeling some embarrassment is coming my way. Now able to make out more details, he lowered his hand slightly, the light fading. ”And you must be Alexander. What’s with the ghostly voice routine?”

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

The distance between them settled to a full ten paces though as Erick rose his hand a light pierced the grey mire. Not fully dispelling the grey oppression but showing that simply it was too dense from that far away. His arm drooped and so did the light. Alex took a deep breath the chilled damp air hurting lightly, what was with the ghost voice routine?
“What routine? This is simply how I normally speak.” Alex continued his light and airy tone, still having it mix with the open space. “Speak softly and carry a big stick.” He chuckled to himself his arms folding across his chest as he now took in full stock of Erick.

The other squire was older, sharper of features and almost a head shorter. Blade and shield, two natural weapons that the knights adored to train people in. A long sword from the looks of things and shield he couldn’t quite be sure what to call it.
“I’m assuming that you know how to handle yourself after all not many people walk through the city with that kind of stride unless they know what they’re getting into.” Alex shifted his feet lightly, slow small movements “And what is it with people and longswords? Almost every knight uses one.” Alex shook his head lightly his arms falling to his sides still crossed as he gripped a hold of the handles of his blades lightly. Drawing the steel free with a soft hiss he allowed the blades to sing as he hovered in the air. He still wasn’t the most practiced using two blades at once but it still gave him an edge.

“I’ve been instructed to train you, though it wasn’t fully embellished or furnished with what, so I’m just going to give you a crash course in everything. And for the record I’d recommend not using a magic, else I’ll be forced to use one of my own.” His voice still soft and light, but somehow on the last line it seemed to grow cold, and almost as hard as that of one of the knights who focused on drilling the squires into shape.

Alex would allow Eric the time to draw his blade and get himself ready. Of even fighting dirty courtesy was sometimes the better part of using your opponent’s own preconceptions against them. A small smirk crossed his features, twisting slowly into a smile of practiced ease, an empty shell that he wore not to give an impression of what he was thinking. Practiced to near perfection. "Shall we begin?” Alex planted his left foot and whipped his left blade around towards Erick’s throat like a lightning bolt. Empty of power but blindingly fast, a true feint his real attack however swung low aiming towards Erick’s feet with full force, the right blade angled to try and sweep them out from under him. His first lesion was one that had been drilled into him time and time again. Proper footing on shifting terrain. And sand was certainly one of the most shifting terrains.

[Erick Barnett]

”What routine? This is simply how I normally speak.” The youngerr squire’s reply wafted up and nearly drowned in the fog. ”Speak softly and carry a big stick.” At this, Alexander seemed to chuckle inscrutably, eyeing Erick up and down. This gave Erick a moment to take a stock of his opponent. Sparring partner. The mere gap in height between the two would have been enough to make Erick feel unease, but there was something else bouncing around inside of the older squire’s gut as he seized Alexander up. Something about him struck Erick as just being wrong. The soft caressing voice didn’t match up with the towering, imposing figure that stood before him. And is he carrying two swords? Erick had seen all sorts of weapon choices from the Knights, but it typically was a weapon and a shield. No shield at all? The cheek on this one. Erick was awakened from his thoughts as he heard Alexander say something about his stride. He opened his mouth as if to reply, but the younger squire continued. ”And what is it with people and longswords? Almost every knight uses one.” The cold ring of weapons being drawn from sheaths caught Erick hard on the ear, sending a small chill down his back. ”I actually started using the longsword long before I came here,” Erick spoke. His right hand found the grip of his father’s weapon and he carefully drew as Faircroft continued talking. ”“I’ve been instructed to train you, though it wasn’t fully embellished or furnished with what, so I’m just going to give you a crash course in everything. And for the record I’d recommend not using a magic, else I’ll be forced to use one of my own.” The airy gasping that was the younger squire’s voice took on a subtle sharpness to it toward the end, and Erick paused, peering intently at him. There really is something wrong about this one. Erick was about to respond that he didn’t practice any magic, but the younger man continued. ”Shall we begin?” At that, Erick’s posture immediately shifted. Left foot slightly forward, right foot slightly back with the knees bent. Typically he had trouble remembering to kepe his shield up, but facing down both of those swords, he neatly tucked his left arm up, covering his core. His eyes flew wide as the first strike came seemingly from nowhere. Instinctively his right arm twisted round to try and bring his sword into the path of Alexander’s strike, but the blades never made contact. Erick let out a surprised grunt as the steel of his boots shifted out beneath him, and the sand came rushing up to meet him. A brief moment passed in which lay there, motionless. Oh that did not just happen… He then promptly pushed himself back up, bracing himself on his sword for just a moment as he got up to his knees against, spitting out a mouthful of sand. ”That was a dirty trick.” Erick's tone was more matter-of-fact than accusatory.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Watching the other squire fall flat on his face and quite literally eat sand was something that told Alex a lot more than he needed to know. As did the sharp retort about it being a dirty trick. Alex just let that cold and empty smile sit on his features.
“Just because you have honour and a chivalrous code doesn’t mean you fight that way.” Alex would have proved the point by whacking the sword out from under his weight and toppling him again but refrained. “It’s simple. Fighting isn’t about honour and valour, it’s about living and nothing else.”

Alex circled around Erick giving him an opportunity to size up the smaller squire. Alex damned near towered over most people he met. Only the akalaks and his father ever seemed to tower over him. “Between us. I’m quite certain you’ve more strength, raw power to say the least. So to fight you I have to use this.” He spoke tapping a finger against his head. “I have to out think you, out anticipate you. As you said you’ve had that longsword and trained with it long before joining the knights. I’ve only had these, for around three seasons now.” His hands twisted around the blades. His pace still continual as he circled Erick not taking a strike just walking.

“Though now I’ve set a precedent in your head, an expectation. You know that I fight dirty, so you’ll be expecting it, but I doubt you’ll know how and where from. But you know to be cautious, to be on the back foot.” His swords rested their tips in the dirt. “I’m not here to beat you I’m here to teach you. And you’ve learnt a valuable lesson in exchange for a mouthful of sand. Or rather two. One never judge a book by its cover, and two make sure your feet are grounded firmly. Especially in loose surfaces. Sand, mud, ice, wet stone. To name a few. If you aren’t secure on your feet regardless of how good your skill is you’re a dead man.” Alex’s words were still light but carried a significant weight, almost like he was trying to mould iron with his voice and using the indignation and moderate rage he’d instilled as a flame to heat the iron.

“And don’t think just because you have a shield you’re safe. Even the lightest shield weighs a good deal more than a second blade. So not only will your stamina drain faster, you’ll also find it harder to keep it moving after a while.” As Alex finished his lecture he’d drawn a good sized circle in the sand with the tips of both of his blades, and a smaller one just within. “Simple teaching method. One step in the larger circle that’s an injury I could have caused. And a step outside both, I could have killed you, and vice versa. The aim isn’t to mutilate, just impart. Knowledge is power, and power gives us hope.” He whirled his blades around his wrists and then stepped into a stance. The first one that Eric would have seen him even remotely take. A blade pointed towards him the other lower and to his side pointed away. “Now, let’s see what you can do Erick.” The last words were cold and distant. Much like looming storm, his eyes crackled with what seemed to be an electricity, when in actuality it was just an intent. Alex was young, but by no means was he green.


Boo

[Erick Barnett]

The wispy-voiced younger man walked in a short circle around Erick as he pushed himself back up to his feet. He knew damn well exactly how far chivalry would get you outside these walls, but it was only recently that it was beginning to settle in just how thin the concept actually ran inside the walls, too. Taking a moment to shake the sand off his armor, he continued to listen to Alexander’s short lecture intently. I’m beginning to understand why Sera Goldmane wanted me to train with this man. Eliza was fond of the saying, let your body do the thinking. For a woman with as many years of field experience as her, it made sense. She was the true instrument of death - the sword was just a tool. But when you were facing down a superior opponent, it would require more than that. Erick’s eyes drifted down as he noted the circles being slowly traced out in the sand. “Simple teaching method. One step in the larger circle that’s an injury I could have caused. And a step outside both, I could have killed you, and vice versa. The aim isn’t to mutilate, just impart. Knowledge is power, and power gives us hope,” Alexander finished, coming to a rest with a single sword pointed at Erick, the other relaxed at his side. The last word that fell from his mouth hung heavy in the misty air for a moment. Hope. He glanced at his right hand a moment, feeling the grip on his weapon. Images of a blood soaked tree flashed in his mind just a moment, a child's eyeless visage staring emptily at him, the words smeared just above him on the bark in stark crimson. Still feeling optimistic? “Now, let’s see what you can do Erick.” The older squire slowly brought his gaze up from his hand to match Alexander’s as the words snapped him back from his thoughts. Without even realizing it, he had begun to tremble slightly. But it wasn’t the same as before. A flame flickered against the edges of Erick’s consciousness. There was a visible, but subtle shift in his face. The shaky apprehension that had been so apparent in his eyes had been replaced with steel. He bent back down at the knees yet again, straightening his hips and digging his heels into the sand. He whipped the longsword around in a short flourish, before bringing his shield back up tight around his core and bringing the weapon back, in a neutral position perpendicular to his torso. ”Yes. Lets.” A short, quick step forward, leading with his left foot. His shield hung low just a moment, arcing up in a giant swing - a quick swipe with the edge of his shield. But it wouldn’t make contact, not unless Alexander ran into it - and Erick didn’t want it to connect. The real attack came just behind from his right arm, a quick upward swing of his sword hidden just behind the surface of the kite shield, aimed to smack Alex across the breastplate. Simultaneously, an instinct drilled into him over many hours of practice with his patron kicked in, and the shield arm tucked back into a neutral position, even before he had finished swinging.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

It was good to see that Erick had some resolve within him. Some fire to light his way. The flourish hadn’t gone unnoticed. He had some skill with his weapon and the shield would afford him the added defence that Alex currently lacked. Short steps and a sharp swing from his shield. Alex twisted the tip of his blade slightly towards the shield only to see it fall away from its swing. A short sharp swing from the blade. A novice with the shield but skilled with the blade. Alex let that empty smile sit on his features tilting the rear of his blade to catch the tip of Erick’s between the guard and the blade. Sucking all the strength from the swing.

In the same moment he stepped in with his left foot, he twisted his blade around Erick’s reposting the blade and pushing it into a much more vicious arc off into empty space as his left blade sailed up again towards Erick’s right arm and shoulder. Easily avoidable but it would mean a step into the larger circle. Footwork. Alex could already see the points where Erick was lacking but didn’t correct him yet. He’d ground his heels in but hadn’t stepped into the strike. He hadn’t gained the ground that would have caused Alex to step backwards and be forced to avoid the blade.

The stance made Alex reminisce a little about his own one with a shield and how defensive he’d been in the past. And defence was all well and good but only if you could wear down your opponent. But in the cases like this aggression was key. The ability to push and push, never giving up an inch. His feet grounded but light enough that he could make a retreat if needed. The loss of his vast arsenal of blades serving him well in this instance.
“I want to see what you can really do. Don’t just cower behind the shield, it’s a weapon treat it as such!” Alex spoke with his soft voice but the edge was lined with power, a push, a drive. Like he was willing Erick to fight harder and try to come back. After all Strength born of desperation often yielded more power than strength gained of confidence.

[Erick Barnett]

Erick grunted, the upward momentum of his sword running straight back up his arm as the edge of his longsword caught the guard of one Alex’s weapons. The younger squire pivoted his sword, and Erick’s sword jerked off toward the ground, damn near flying right out of his hand. Simultaneously, Alex had taken a step in to Erick’s right-side. The older squire, on instinct more than actual conscious effort, took a mirroring step with his left foot. The intent wasn’t to dodge the strike, as he didn’t want to step outside the circle and concede a point to this vagik, and he wasn’t going to be able to bring his sword up around quick enough to try and parry it that way- SHHHINK! With his left foot forward, Erick rolled his right shoulder back. If the younger squire had adjusted his attack left at the last moment, it would have obliterated him. As it was, the angle was just enough that Alexander’s blow glanced just off the side of his shoulder pauldron, the metallic surfaces emitting a sharp, angry hiss as they passed one another. As quickly as he could manage, he whipped his shieldarm back up to a tight guard at his core, as he bent down at the knees, digging his feet back into the sand once more. He want’s to see some shieldwork? I’ll show him some petching shieldwork. With a low shout, Erick’s entire body moved forward like a piston, driving the boss of the shield straight for Alexander’s chest - this time, not as a feint, either. Just now having gotten his sword back up into a neutral position, the tip of it picking up sand as Alexander had sent his blow arcing toward the ground, he pivoted his right shoulder as he moved his entire body into the shield-bash, stabbing at Alex’s right arm from behind the edge of the shield.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Alex’s blow had worked or at least one of them. His left blade bit into Erick’s shoulder and the sparks illuminated the grey blanket that surrounded them. He was adapting well but not learning fast enough. Though Against Alex that wasn’t saying much, Alex learnt at an almost prodigious pace. In this instance though he’d noted something. Erick stayed low. The blunt of the shield drove home into Alex’s chest as the pressure sent Alex reeling back half a step and drinking down a breath. He hadn’t fully anticipated that and the sudden shunt of power knocked him far enough back to allow Erick some breathing room.

However it’d taken all of Erick’s weight to make him shunt back a step. Now slightly coughing and trying to catch his breath Alex’s left hand shot up biting his blade tip into the point of Eric’s blade knocking it aside. Taking the moment to right his footing he ground the balls of his feet into the sand and smiled. That cold distant smile of one who had nothing to hide. His left hand shunted the blade of Erick’s away as he drew in closer He wasn’t going to Allow Erick the chance to over push this.

“Better. But still a long way to go.” Alex shot out his right blade towards Erick’s right foot, an open and easily spotted feint, however his left blade came at Erick from the left side and aimed towards his head. An exceptionally well hidden feint. His right blade then changed angles sharply at the near point of impact and aimed to bite into his knee, attempting to knock his feet out from under him. A sharp but shrewd move. Whether it worked or not Alex would back of a half step and then bring his left blade up from below, not the blade itself however but his fist gripping the handle aiming to use the pommel, aiming to strike his chin and knock Erick from his stance onto his ass.

Should his uppercut miss however Alex would now have a rather easily exploited opening to take advantage of. Which Alex hoped to cover with a short lesson allowing him enough time to get back into stance. “Being a turtle only works for so long. You’ve shown you’re better with the blade than you appear. As of yet though you still haven't bore your fangs.” Alex glared down towards Erick. A sharp glower that could have frozen water, and cut glass. Sometimes the greatest tool was one people didn’t exercise enough. Their minds, and right now Alex was trying to push Erick's enrage button. To make him tunnel visioned and lose track of his surroundings.

[Erick Barnett]

Erick was breathing hard now. A shield-bash with that much force required not only for him to push through the weight of his own armor, but Alex’s as well, and the older squire didn’t have enough stamina left in the moment to follow through with his stab, Faircroft knocking the point of his sword away with a simple sweep of his left hand. Erick’s recovery was fairly swift, however. A flourish of his right wrist swept his sword up high and back round to a neutral stance, parallel to his torso, and he shifted his weight back, trying to ground himself in preparation for Alex’s counter attack. Alexander didn’t give him the time. A shift in weight that indicated he was going to swing low and right, but with his right blade?Why would he try a cross-attack like that? Unless- Erick momentarily squinted, ignoring the first attack as a small glimmer of light shimmering off the younger squire’s left blade caught Erick’s eyes. CLANG! Erick winced as his left arm whipped up, bringing his shield to bear just in time to stop the blade from biting into his unhelmeted head. Is this psychopath trying to actually do me in…? At that same moment he let out a surprised yelp. Alex pivoted his initial feint, catching Erick square on the armored cap that covered his knee. With his feet dug in it wasn’t enough to topple him, but it was enough to cause him to wobble, falling down to a single knee- A thousand yellow spots flashed momentarily in front of his eyes. As he went down, Alex had came up, the pommel of one of his swords digging hard into Erick’s jaw. His head whipped ‘round with the force of the hit, and the next thing he knew, his head was slamming into the sand. This time he landed on his side, so his mouth remained clean, but he could see the small splatter of blood Alex’s last attack had drawn, a splotch of dark crimson glistening in stark contrast to the rest of the ground. ”Being a turtle only works for so long. You’ve shown you’re better with the blade than you appear. As of yet though you still haven't bore your fangs.” Erick groaned softly as he pushed himself just up off the sand in response to Alex’s words, slowly craning his neck around to stare up at his opponent. Their eyes met a moment, and Erick scowled. Those eyes. He had encountered people who thought they were better him, and that was all well and good - in the case of many of the knights, it was even true. But this was more than that. The contempt Alexander held for him was there, plain as day in those eyes. They had never met before, but somehow, he had already been weighed, measured, and found wanting by this boy. He turned his head away to spit up a small mixture of saliva and blood, as the impact from before had caused him to bite into the side of his tongue ever so slightly, and he could taste the coppery substance swirling around his mouth, mixing with the sand and spit. As he did, he pushed himself back to a kneeling position. Fine. You want it to be that way? I’ll show you fangs. In a way, the thought was literal, because as he rose up to a standing position, his lips had curled back into a snarl that matched the steely hate in his eyes. As he stood, he twisted his left arm-round, using the edge of his shield as a sort of shovel, kicking up a small cloud of sand off the arena floor and square into Alexander's face. Back on his feet, Alexander hopefully stunned a moment, he lunged, letting out a roar. The shield came first again this time, but it was a quick swing - only intended to try and batter Alexander’s right blade to the side, useless. His right arm moved in unison with his left, his sword coming around hard at Alexander’s left, he took a half-step with his right foot to move slightly to Alex’s flank with the momentum of the attack, his shield coming back to a neutral position as he twisted his right wrist around and brought the sword back in an arcing sweep, to bring it back to a neutral position but also to deliver a second blow to Faircroft’s right.