A Bodigmund's lesson
Rohirric Training Field
A large field set just outside the city of Edoras, this place is used in the training of the proud men of the Rohirric eoreds. The field is long and wide, enabling even the largest units of mounted men to hone their skills in relative safety. A single gate leads to the wood-fenced area, and there are worn stone benches around its perimeter, offering rest to the weary soldier. The usual martial occupation of this field will see the king's men train the art of riding and combat.
Obvious exits:
Leave Field
Real time is: Fri Oct 24 14:37:41 2008 - Rohan weather is: Clear
Elendor time is: Morning on Sunday of April 9, 3045
The Moon is: first quarter
Morning has come. A cool spring breeze stirs the grasses, bringing with it a hint of dampness and the scent of new-turned earth. The sky is clear, save for a few high wisps of cloud floating overhead. Already the training field is in use, as men move to take advantage of the bright day. Fresh hoofprints have left neat patterns in the dew-wet grass, crossing and recrossing, and the shouts of riders echo round the field. The area set aside for foot combats is in use too, host to several pairings, and it is towards this that Bardawulf walks, slowly but surely, his elm-wood staff firm in his hand.
[Deorlic(#31345)] Standing aside in the area for combat on foot is Deorlic, standing out mainly by the colour of his cloak compared to others. Much as he was before, he is standing and watching a bout, a slight frown upon his face as he shakes his head slightly every now and then, but he offers no corrections to the pair he watches, arms crossed loosely over his chest.
Bardawulf limps up to the familiar figure and halts, his own gaze going toward the sparring pair. "Fair morn. Which would you say has the advantage there?" he queries, without taking his gaze from the fighters. The smallest of sighs escapes his lips.
[Deorlic(#31345)] "The one on the left has the reach, but the one on the right has more control of his blade." Comes the Bodigmund's words, accented in that particular manner that marks him from Westenhold. "It could go either way, though I would say I am not particularly pleased with either of them. But they are not mine to instruct. For now."
A slight frown-line appears between Bardawulf's brows as he watches the combatants, perhaps verifying the Westenholder's words. A moment longer, and then he turns away, looking back to his companion. "Perhaps not - yet others there are who seek instruction. Myself amongst them. You had said you know something of the staff?" He lifts his own to emphasize the words - and if he looks a little uneasy, what of that?
[Deorlic(#31345)] After a moment, Deorlic nods, glancing to Bardawulf. "Yes, I do. It has been some time since I have used one, but I remember well enough." He moves to one of the benches, picking up a well-used staff that was resting against it, walking back towards Bardawulf. "The basics and enough to ensure that those of Westenhold who seek me know how to use it."
"I am not of Westenhold, but basics are the same for any man," is Bardawulf's response. "Will you teach me?" The unease of earlier swallowed down, he jerks his head toward an empty space and walks slowly toward it, testing the firmness of the ground with one booted foot. His staff is lifted and held at the quarter, muddied end furthest from him, as he warily watches the other.
[Deorlic(#31345)] The Bodigmund nods after a moment, and walks after Bardawulf, putting some space between them as they reach the empty area, taking up a relaxed guard. "One of the most basic parts of using a staff is that all of it can be used for attack and defense. Far end," Here, he moves the portion closest to the ground. "Middle and close end." The space between his hands is indicated, and then moving the end of the staff in the air.
"Ideally, one end is used for defense, the other for attack. Which end can be changed based on the attacks of your opponnets block with one end, and strike swiftly with the other." Here, he uses the closest end to block an imaginary blow and whips the far end out at the 'source' of the 'attack'.
Bardawulf's head dips in a nod, and he tilts the nearer end of his own staff, mirroring the movement, if a little more slowly. So far so good ... the haelend makes no further move, yet.
[Deorlic(#31345)] "The advantage of having a staff is that all of it is a weapon. You can take on more than one opponent, though I would not recommend such unless you are quite skilled. You have side-to-side defenses and strikes and up-and-down defenses and strikes. Say you deliver an overhand strike," Here, the Bodigmund swings the staff downwards at some foe, stopping it about head height. "And they block it. With a weapon such as a sword, you would be leaving yourself open and would have to pull your weapon back. With a staf... you simply use the other end." Then, he whips forward with the far end of the staff, mimicing a blow to a target's lower body or stomach.
Bardawulf cannot quite hide the wince that comes at the thought of multiple opponents. As Deorlic continues he listens thoughtfully, and his own staff is swung round. "Such a move could be used for disarming?" The staff-tip twists round the imaginary blade. His tone is doubtful.
[Deorlic(#31345)] "It is possible, though my skill with a staff is not as good as my skill with a bow or sword. It would be better to try to hook an end of the staff under the crossguard of a sword and try that way." The Bodigmund falls silent for a few moments before he speaks again. "Take the same situation, except change places. You are the one defending against an overhead strike. When you block it," Here, he moves the staff up to mimic such a situation. "Instead of waiting for your opponent to try to strike again, move to either side and strike with the end of your staff." Then, he moves to the right, whipping a strike out with the far end of the staff.
Bardawulf listens in silence. "I see - I think." As Deorlic moves to the right, his own staff automatically lifts as though to block, though his lame leg betrays him with its slowness, and wood does not ring against wood - instead his staff meets empty air. A hiss of breath is his only comment on his lack of agility.
[Deorlic(#31345)] The Bodigmund is silent for a few moments, a thoughtful frown upon his face for a brief moment as he looks to Bardawulf. "Block what you can of your opponent's strikes. Those that you cannot block, do not worry about remove them from your mind. Know your weaknesses that is the most important knowledge to have in a fight. Moreso than those of your opponent. You know what you are capable of he does not. Cover weakness with strength, strength with weakness. If you are slow on the right, become slow on the left. Combat is as much a game of thought as it is of action. If you cannot beat your opponent through strength, beat him through knowledge."
"A one-eyed goblin with nary half a wit in its head could see my weakness." For the first time a trace of bitterness creeps into Bardawulf's voice. "Should I therefore throw away what little speed I do have by feigning slowness where there is none?"
[Deorlic(#31345)] "You would rather have your opponent focus upon your weak side?" The Bodigmund blinks, tilting his head to the side slightly. "By feigning slowness, he will attack you he will not focus upon your weak side. By showing weakness on your strong side, you increase the chance of his striking there. If and when he does, you will have a far better chance of succeeding than if he struck at your weak side."
Slowly, Bardawulf nods. "To favour the right side, even at the expense of the left - I understand." Bitterness is replaced by resignation, and he shifts his stance so that the two hands supporting the staff are angled slightly to the right, as though guarding something precious.
[Deorlic(#31345)] Deorlic nods his head slowly. "Do what you must to keep them away from your weak side but do not be afraid to take strikes upon it to keep your other side strong. Remember, your goal in combat should be to end it as soon as possible, nothing else. Do what you must to eliminate the threat your opponent poses."
That much does not need teaching." For a moment, a smile plays about the corners of Bardawulf's mouth, though it is swiftly gone. "Block with one end, strike with the other ... ignore what cannot be blocked, feign weakness to draw the opponent's blows that you may strike more readily ... These things I will focus on when the staff is in my hands. Perhaps the lesson might best be remembered through practise?
At that suggestion he moves sideways and back, his staff supported between his two hands with the longer end slightly forward as though ready to block a blow - but he does not strike.
[Deorlic(#31345)] The Bodigmund nods his head slightly. "Remember those things and you will do well." He pauses, then, for a few moments before he assumes a more ready stance -- and then sends a swift thrust with the far end of the staff towards the other man's stomach.
Deorlic attacks you with his Staff!...
...and he misses!
Perhaps those few moments are enough to give Bardawulf warning of what is to come ... As Deorlic thrusts the staff forward, he sidesteps to the right, onto his good leg, so that the wooden staff-tip meets naught but empty air. It seems that all intent of feigning weakness has come to naught. The haelend does not pause for reflection, however the longer end of his own staff swings out and round, aimed toward Deorlic's left shoulder.
You attack Deorlic with your Staff...
Your attack against Deorlic mildly wounds him!
[Deorlic(#31345)] The Bodigmund takes the blow, moving his shoulder to better absorb it, a brief smile flickering onto his face. It does not last long, however he steps forward and brings the short end of his staff downwards in a swift arc at the other man's hands.
Deorlic attacks you with his Staff!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 1 hp's by Deorlic's attack...
...you have 85 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Even while Bardawulf is sliding the staff round, ready to block with the shorter end, the blow lands true. The haelend does not lose his grip on the staff, but his breath hisses out and his features tighten sharply. Still, the pupil is doing his best to utilize the skills learned in this lesson. The short end of the staff jabs out toward Deorlic's stomach.
You attack Deorlic with your Staff...
Your attack against Deorlic mildly wounds him!
[Deorlic(#31345)] The Bodigmund shifts and pivots, letting the blow deflect off his mail, but there is still enough impact to draw a slight grunt from the man. "Not bad." The words are no sooner said than Deorlic whips the long end of his staff towards the other man's left shoulder.
Deorlic attacks you with his Staff!...
...and he misses!
Bardawulf does not even try to test the agility of his left leg instead, keeping that foot firmly planted, he lunges forward and to the right, ducking beneath the blow. Which is all well and good, but it leaves him in an awkward position from which to retaliate. Features tight with concentration, and lips pressed firmly together, he tries a short jab sideways and up, toward the other man's ribcage. Not an easy motion ...
You feign an attack against Deorlic with your Staff...
Deorlic dodges your attack.
[Deorlic(#31345)] This time, Deorlic pivots away from the attack, and moves to the left, a slight frown upon his face as he briefly shakes his head. He does not give comment this time the far end of his staff is swung swiftly toward's Bardawulf's side and back.
Deorlic attacks you with his Staff!...
...and he misses!
[Faestred(#31903)]
In another part of dew glistening field, already a group of some twenty Riders are breaking up from their morning practice, having been upon the field, training afoot since the half-light of dawn. Some linger to watch those still training, and some make their way for the gate and the city, perhaps to catch a belated breakfast.
Among those who stay is one with bronze plated sash, their maegisterwigend, and slipping his helm off and tucking it under one arm, his gaze sweeps the field, landing at last upon the two engaged by staff. He moves a little towards them, to gain a better vantage, a faint smile brought to his lips as his gaze follows the exchange.
Whether the absence of comment is noted, who can say? If nothing else, Bardawulf has gained time to better his position. He sidesteps as swiftly as he may, the staff passing a hairsbreadth from the place where he had been, his laboured breathing the only sign that the movement has been dearly bought. With gritted teeth, he pivots on his stiffened left leg so that once more he faces his opponent. He swings the long end of his own staff round towards Deorlic, trying to arc in towards the other's side past that shorter staff-end.
Focussed as he is, he shows no awareness at all of the new-come onlooker.
You attack Deorlic with your Staff...
Your attack against Deorlic mildly wounds him!
[Deorlic(#31345)] The Bodigmund does not try to block the blow he merely shifts to better absorb the strike, a slight grunt hissed between teeth the only sign he gives of any discomfort, and he steps forward. "Good. Never give your opponent a chance to collect themselves. Always press your advantage." That said, Deorlic sends the near end of his staff at Bardawulf's stomach.
Given his focus, it is no surprise that he does not see the observing Maegisterwigend.
Deorlic attacks you with his Staff!...
...and he misses!
[Faestred(#31903)]
No surprise indeed, and Faestred is certainly not expecting to be noted. He lingers a safe distance away, his head nodding a little at the bodigmund's words and the haelend's strike, watching in particular the latter's movements.
It seems that Deorlic's speech gives Bardawulf the exact opportunity he was advocating against. Even before Deorlic begins his lunge, the haelend is moving back out of range - the start of the staff's swing only adds impetus to the motion. And then it happens. Bardawulf's left leg gives way under him, and what had begun as a dodge ends in a slide. Gritting his teeth, the haelend uses one end of the staff to brace himself against the ground, almost as one might the butt of a spear. He watches Deorlic wordlessly from that awkward half-kneeling position, hands still firm on the staff even if his leg does obey him.
You forego your chance to attack.
[Deorlic(#31345)] But the Bodigmund does not press the advantage, slipping once more into a relaxed guard. "That will be enough for today, I think." A brief pause before he speaks again. "Have you been working on gaining back the strength in your left leg?" An eyebrow arched briefly. "But, not a bad match. You learn swiftly, and that will save your life more times than not."
Long moments pass before Bardawulf seems to register that this bout is ended. Awkwardly, he levers himself back to his feet, the staff once more prop instead of weapon. "I excercise the leg as I may. I am a healer, I know how such things are treated." If the words are a little brusque, it is perhaps exhaustion as much as anything else, for the man's face is whitened. "I thank you for your time. You are a good teacher." Gravely he dips his head to the other, only then taking the time to glance round. His gaze falls on the Maegisterwigend.
[Faestred(#31903)]
"Aye, a good match!" calls the Maegisterwigend, then saunters towards them. He nods once towards the Bodigmund, "Greetings, Deorlic. It is good to see the people of Edoras benefitting from your skill," His gaze shifts to the Haelend, "And good, too, to see our folk taking it upon themselves to hone their skills in combat. A healer, you say?" He tilts his head a little. "Were you always as such? For never have I seen a staff so wielded by a healer." A brief grin flashes across his face.
[Deorlic(#31345)] The Bodigmund looks to the Maegisterwigend, nodding his head slightly. "They learn swiftly, which is good. And it bothers me little to share my skill. It is not all that much different from some of my days in Westenhold." A slight shrug before he looks back to Bardawulf, nodding his head. "Good. And I do thank you my Drihten is of the same opinion, which is why I instruct his other munds." A brief grin flickers onto the man's face for a moment.
At Faestred's grin Bardawulf drops his gaze, as though skill with the staff were a reason for shame. A moment later, though, he tosses his head, letting the wind tug at his hair. "No, I was not always a healer," he pauses briefly, gaze lighting on the sash, "Maegisterwigend. Once I was a Rider, and sought victory with the spear - now I fight a different battle. Still, it is wise for any man to be prepared. The foes of the Mark do not differentiate."
Deorlic's remark sends a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth, swiftly suppressed. "Then perhaps I may benefit from your instruction on some other occasion? Now, though, I must take my leave. A fair day to you both!"
[Faestred(#31903)]
Faestred's brow arches slightly as the Haelend drops his gaze, but at last he nods to the man. "Yours is a battle shared by many men, and you do yourself and the Mark honour to continue to fight it. Indeed, our foes care not for our titles, and the Eoreds cannot be everywhere at once." He pauses, then adds with a brief smile. "Though, we do try."
Looking back to Deorlic, he nods again. "It is good of you to be so willing. I daresay you shall have many a Rider lining up soon to learn of you, for to be a bodigmund is no small charge indeed, and demands much skill and knowledge both."
[Deorlic(#31345)] "I certainly have the time. Seek me out when you wish to learn something. I should be easy enough to find." The Bodigmund gives an easy shrug of his shoulders, eyes flicking about some before they come to rest on Faestred. A slight grunt of amusement comes from the man before he speaks.
"Indeed, it is not. Particularly in Westenhold. It is a different skill altogether to defend one's Drihten lord, which leads to techniques that most Riders would not know. If any come to me to learn them, I will be more than happy to instruct."
Inclining his head to both the pair, Bardawulf turns on his heel and goes on his way, his limp rather more pronounced than before. As he steps past the wooden fence, a soft sigh leaves his lips.
