Berus, what have you gotten yourself into? (Solo)

[Berus]

Berus glanced down at the book resting on his cloak on the ground that he had ‘borrowed’ from his friend in the Iceglaze hold. It was a book outlining techniques with several different pole-arms, including Berus’s weapon; the spear. The perplexed expression that dominated his face was not caused by any wear or tear of the book, for the real owner was more concerned with the section of the book about quarterstaves, but rather at a total lack of understanding of why he was unable to pull off even the simplest of moves with his stupid unwieldy stick-thingy!

He had spent the better part of two bells out here rushing at a stupid wooden dummy and the only thing that he managed to glean from the experience were a few bruises and more than likely several frost-bitten fingers! He had set up in the stance illustrated by the book and thought he followed the following movements step-for-step, yet he always messed up somehow with either his footing or his balance. He was beginning to wonder if he would drown from all of the snow that he had inadvertently ‘drank’ in his many spectacular tumbles into the snow.

Surely the dummy must be tiring or sending me into the snow so often! Berus exclaimed in his head as he sent a vicious, blue eyed glare at the little wooden figure that vaguely resembled a man. It was staked into the ground rather securely out here in a remote part of Avanthal, secure enough in the ground to ignore the heavy winds and tall enough to avoid being covered in the rapidly falling snow. It was the work of his quarterstaff-obsessed friend, whom the crafty little bard had stalked to discover the location of this secret training spot where Berus could fall at the dummy’s might a hundred times without anyone gawking at his failures. Steryn Iceglaze was indeed quite the friend!

Berus leveled his spear at the dummy, noticing as he did so that a cut in the wood looked very much like a mocking smile. He frowned, knowing that the dummy had much to mock him for and even more to smile about. The little wooden fiend had deflected so many of Berus’s attacks that any sensible Vantha would have given up and gone home, stripping him of both his precarious dignity and his shaky pride. The dummy also was not subject to frosty cold of the snow nor to the soreness of limbs as was the poor little bard whose whole body cried out for warmth and relaxation.

But the little bard refused to relent until he had struck a blow worthy of killing the foul tree-trunk monster. He had to prove himself superior to it or he’d never let himself live it down. The glorified tree branch had to fall, at whatever the cost.

The wind shook the dummy, making it seem as if it was waving one wooden arm at Berus to invite him for another foolhardy charge.

The would-be spearman nodded his head as he accepted the challenge, taking a quick glance at the book to refresh his memory of what exactly he was about to attempt to perform. Of course, his eyes flashed quickly back to the dummy, not willing to let the wily chunk of wood catch him off guard or even let it out of his sights for more than a short moment. He positioned his spear in both hands, his left hand closer to the point and his right hand near the butt of the spear. His left foot came forward in front of his right and his legs bent at the knees slightly to prepare for his pounce.

The chill wind whipped at him, making him regret that he had cast aside his cloak so that he could maneuver better and cooling off the fires of rage and determination that flared white-hot within him. His linen shirt whipped about him and his woolen pants scratched against his skin, causing painful itches that distracted him in this critical moment when absolute concentration was necessary. He was, however, very thankful for his low boots for they did not let even a little snow in to bite at his vital yet defenseless feet.

He passed a chime in silence as his muscles tensed and he gathered the courage for yet another go at the great wooden warrior that stood before him. Then, all at once, he burst forward! Kicking off with his back foot, he ran at the dummy at full force. The wind rushed by at an alarming rate as several visions of himself slamming painfully hard into the dummy came into Berus’s mind. The bruises on his body did nothing to argue the point, sadly enough, yet he charged on valorously-stupidly?- anyway.

A good pace before he reached the dummy he stopped suddenly on his right foot, allowing the left one to fly forward well ahead of it before it stopped as well. Immediately as it touched the ground, Berus stabbed his spear forward with all of his might toward the dummy, praying to Rhaus that he wouldn’t fall on his face despite the fact that he still wondered if Rhaus even listen to prayers. The spear hurtled forward toward its target as Berus’s feet managed to stay steady on the ground, his arms extending nearly perfectly into a mimic of the illustration’s own stance.

His left arm was fully extended yet his hand held the spear firmly in the middle of the shaft, really just serving to guide its path. The right arm, however, held tightly near the end of the spear with his elbow bent and his hand very close to the right side of his chest. Berus felt as if he was soaring with elation as his eyes shifted quickly between green and a myriad of other colors when he finally managed to achieve the stance he had worked so hard for.

Then his spear whistled loudly through the air as it stabbed harmlessly to the left of the dummy’s evil grinning head.

Angrily, Berus pulled back his spear roughly and whirled, his right arm pushing the spear tip low as he decided what move he was going to attempt to pull off. His eyes flashing bright blue and teeth setting in rage, he managed to push away all feelings of coldness or soreness as he focused on one thing: striking the darn dummy! He decided that he would attempt to stop his spin right when he was facing the dummy and bring his spear up in a deadly stab for the dummy’s lower abdomen, a technique outlined in one of the first pages of the book for situations where one was bounced back by your opponent.

His spear tip came dangerously close to the ground and nearly snagged in the snow as he recklessly plunged into the tactic he had not yet practiced. His right arm came up, driving the spear upward toward the abdomen of the wooden dummy, just as his left arm dropped a bit and pushed forward with all of its might. His feet barely set themselves in time to counterbalance his ‘powerful’ attack as the angry little man stabbed away at the inanimate piece of wood with all he had.

The spear came up powerfully and, with a magnificent THUNK, struck the wooden dummy in what one could guess was the upper part of the stomach! Berus’s face nearly cracked apart as his smile widened beyond normal bounds. His earlier elation at managing to fall into the correct stance was quickly dwarfed in comparison to the surge of happiness that blasted through all of Berus’s body.

His smile suddenly warped into a great O of surprise the next moment, however, as his spear, finding that the wooden dummy would not give under Berus’s ‘impressive’ weight, pushed back against the little bard! It was then that he discovered that he hadn’t quite set his feet as well as he thought. It was then that he tumbled down into the snow all tangled up with his spear, his happiness and excitement quickly blowing away with the whistling wind.

He lay for a moment staring up at the mass of falling snowflakes, eyes shifting all the way between the typical sparking green and the dreary dark brown as his emotions conflicted over what had just happened. Did I win..? He wondered, trying to decide if scoring a hit was all that was needed or if you also needed to keep on your feet.

His limbs all cried out to him in the next moment, berating him for the overexertion and overexposure to the biting cold. Berus, what have you gotten yourself into?

[Berus]

Berus heard the soft crunching of footsteps in the snow behind him, noticing that they were in the steady rhythm of purpose rather than the wandering strides of curiosity. His eyes started to dance between green and blue as fear and adrenaline started coursing through his body. Oh shyke, someone’s coming! I’ve got to get out of here! flashed through his mind amongst a jumble of other thoughts. His legs panicked and ordered at him to leap up and run away, yet his ears cautioned that the approaching stranger was far too close and would most assuredly spot him.

Berus finally went with the most socially acceptable option available to him and simply climbed up to his feet, cautiously retrieving his spear in case whoever it was meant him harm. However, he lowered the spear immediately as he recognized the figure approaching through the whirling snow. His face reddened suddenly in embarrassment and his eyes guiltily shot to the book resting upon his cloak. His eyes shifted to a dark brown as he realized the cloak was too far away for him to get to without the approaching man seeing him. There was nothing Berus could do to stop him from noticing the book.

Berus reluctantly raised his eyes back to the approaching young man; Steryn Iceglaze. Steryn was among the taller Vantha at a mighty five feet and eight inches and possessed a tough build from many, many hours spent training his body to someday become a great warrior, possibly even a member of the Icewatch. The tough Vantha’s muscles seemed to stick through his typical linen shirt, his warm fur cloak, held tight to his body by a broad belt running across his chest, only heightening his fierceness. Two long pole weapons rested upon the man’s back, secured by the belt. All in all, he looked like he could tear a little guy like Berus to shreds.

Berus opened his mouth to greet Steryn, but found it difficult to speak as his friend’s eyes fell upon the book, eyes bursting into many indecipherable colors. Instead he simply stood in silence for a moment as the larger Vantha regarded him with a very, very stern visage. The look reminded Berus quite a bit of his father, and the little bard wondered how much the other Vantha had grown up in the past few seasons. It was not so long ago that they were both wandering Avanthal lazily enjoying life at other people’s expenses. The two boys had been renowned for their ability to cause mischief.

The little bard had admittedly quieted lately as he grew up somewhat, now contenting himself with the occasional ruckus and mostly passing the time playing music, drinking, and wandering around. Steryn took it to the next step. The now industrious Steryn had put himself into hard work-bleh!-serving his community and now even trained constantly in hopes of someday becoming one of the valorous and mighty Icewatch. Steryn had, for some reason, lost his mind.

Steryn finally managed to smile as he greeted his old friend, voice raised so that his words wouldn’t be carried away by the wind and buried deep in the snow. “Ah, my little bard friend. What a surprise to find you out here. I had a hunch that it was you who’d taken my book-“ Berus winched “- when I noticed that nothing else was stolen and my room wasn’t really broken into.” The larger Vantha seemed to grin mischievously at Berus, as if he was rubbing in the fact he’d tracked the little bard down. However, Berus noticed that the smile did not reach his eyes.

Berus cleared his throat, pushing past the considerable amount of embarrassment, before he was able to reply. However, he managed to flash a bright, disarming smile in hopes that Steryn wasn’t planning on beating him up too bad for stealing his book and his secret hiding spot. “Ah.. I was err.. Practicing the techniques in your book to make sure it wasn’t faulty. I mean, it would suck for you to have a book that didn’t work, right?”

Steryn glanced down at the currently open page, held still by a couple of rocks fished out of the snow. “You look like you’re in the wrong section there, Berus. I don’t use spears.”

Berus’s shoulders sagged as his attempt at adding humor to the situation was brutally batted aside. “Well, I just thought I’d come out and practice a bit-“

“So you stole my book?” The words came out in a very accusatory tone, one that nearly sent Berus back a step.

Surprised, the usually charming and eloquent little bard struggled to find the words to reply. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it stealing-“

“It’s not borrowing when you don’t ask, Berus,” Steryn said, cutting Berus off for the second time. “Why didn’t you just ask me instead of being your typical mischievous self. Or better yet, why don’t you get money to buy the book just like I did?”

Berus, now firmly back on his heels, shook his head in disbelief at his old friend’s rather accusatory tone. It was as if he’d never done the same. “Well it’s more fun this way. Besides, I would have the book back to you before you’d ever noticed it was gone. Or, well, that was what I planned.”

“Your plan didn’t work out, bud.” Steryn’s arms crossed in front of his chest and he peered at Berus. Though they were the same age, Berus felt very young indeed under that condescending, sweltering gaze. The little bard pulled at his collar, strangely starting to sweat a little despite the freezing cold.

After a moment in silence as Berus grew steadily more uncomfortable, he finally gathered the courage to speak again. “Well, I guess you can have your book back then. I’ll just err.. scurry off home?” he said hopefully, already starting to edge cautiously around his old friend.

Steryn immediately held out a hand to stop Berus’s escape. “No, I think I have a better idea.” Steryn grinned viciously at the little bard, seeming for a moment like his old self. “Since you obviously came here to train, why don’t we have a little sparring match? If you win, you get to keep my book! But if I win, then you will have to pay me double of what you already owe me. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?” Steryn’s eye glinted viciously.

Berus gulped. He already owed Steryn quite a few mizas after the large Vantha had graciously paid Berus’s debts for the last few seasons and he certainly didn’t want to double that amount. In fact, he had hoped his supreme mooching skills would allow him to get away with paying none of it at all. However, as he looked into those eyes that were colder than even the snow falling all around him he knew he wasn’t going to be able to pull that off. He wouldn’t even be able to decline this challenge.

Throwing his hands up in submission, Berus hesitantly accepted the challenge. “Ah.. that sounds like… fun. I’d love a good sparring match with you.” He managed a bit of a smile, despite the circumstances, as he once again attempted humor. “And I’ll enjoy that book of yours when I’ve kicked your butt and sent you crying back to your mommy like in our last snowball fight a year ago.”

Steryn didn’t even smile at the reference and Berus’s attempt to lighten the situation. He would not let his little thieving friend off even a little. Instead, he reached up to his back and grabbed both of the pole weapons, throwing one roughly to the little bard. “Here, take this dull wooden spear. I’d prefer not to be impaled on the end of that spear of yours if you manage to get lucky.”

Berus nodded, dropping his weapon and picking up the wooden one. He felt the balance of the spear, noticing that it was just a touch lighter than his weapon yet possessed roughly the same balance. This boded ill in Berus’s mind; he hoped the spear might be radically different so that he might have more success. He looked down at his hands, wondering what exactly it would take to defeat this tough man so he wouldn’t have more debt, or even manage to stay on his feet when he executed a move!

He heard a couple of hard crunches and his head shot up. His eyes widened suddenly as he spotted Steryn charging at him with abandon, quarterstaff held high and eyes filled with (deadly?) purpose. It was a very scary sight to behold and nearly sent Berus screaming back to his mommy. The only thing that kept him where he was was the fact that he would probably be run down by an even more angry Steryn if he tried to escape.

He brought his spear up in front of him defensively as his mind screamed at him to run away. Berus, what have you gotten yourself into?