Deflecting another of the she-devils blows the Ranger takes a step back and positions himself behind his shield. Taking a note from the hobgoblin he waits to catch Jaime off guard.
"That's it hatless! You can learn it seems."
Jamie snarls "That little shield won't protect you."
She steps forward and brings down her falchion.
"Of course it will you silly woman. You better show me something here Jamie. I did not hire you for your looks."
Having not practiced the combat maneuver in quite some time he fails to trip the barbarian.
Jaime takes advantage of Balion's exertion.
She lips form a wicked curl before following through with another swing.
Aladdin cheers from the sidelines as he continues to eat popcorn.
Balion recovers and withdraws just far enough to regain good footing awaiting the next incoming hit.
"Balion! Just yield before you lose one a'them pretty teeth. No one'll think the less of you. I hired her to be this good."
Jamie lines up another attack.
By her angry face and wild swings, Balion can deduce that Jamie's martial prowess (or lack thereof) relies mostly on raw vitality, rather than combat form or technique. Her innate sense to avoid danger helps her dodge the ranger's attack. She returns a swing in kind.
With so much weight and force behind a single swing, and after missing so badly, the falchion slips from her hands. The large blade sings as it spins through the air and skids down the road, twenty feet away.
Roaring, one hand goes to the axe at her side, while she raises the other to defend herself against Balion.
"Jamie, if you lose now, you go home unpaid. This is disgraceful!"
Balion realizes it is far to late to end this engagement cordially and goes for the win. With a wolfish grin upon his face he steps for to strike.
Jamie deftly dodges Balion's attack. She scowls at Rolg. "Listen here, gobo. I fight to kill. I don't play this patty-cake felgercarb in the pits. Task me to kill, and I'll do it."
Jamie returns her glare to Balion and lunges at him wildly, not bothering to draw her axe.
She tries to tackle him, but fails.
"Clearly you have lost your head." Not Wanting to continue the fight, Balion steps back and gets into a defensive position.
Jamie takes half a step to follow Balion, but stops, exhausted. Her shoulders heave from heavy breathing. She slumps and walks calmly over to pick up her falchion. Fitting it onto her back, she looks to Balion.
"You mock my sex again, you'll be the one minus a head."
She returns to Rolg, folding her arms indifferently. "I'd like to kill something under open sky. First kill I make is free. After, though..."
She rubs her fingers together, her eyes cool.
Balion makes an awkward curtsy and sheaths his sword. Although it may be taken as a mocking gesture, the ranger believes it to be one of respect and graciously offers Jaime some bread he had been keeping in his pack as way of an apology. "I was wrong." The Ranger then goes about sharpening his longsword with his whetstone, while the group decides what to do.
"Well that was interesting. I s'pose I have 3 new students. We will work each day. If you want to quit your lessons, you have to beat me in a friendly duel."
Rolg's tone brooks no argument.
The Priest looks to the sky and breaths deep, turning to his companions he inquires. "Well, what do you all think? Try to make a few more miles before setting up camp?"
Sunset will be in about 3 hours.
"Indeed, the fork should be just beyond this low hill..." Simon cranes his neck, listening. "Hm..."
His gaze is fixed on the road ahead.
Noticing the young mans expression, Bolgrith cocks an ear towards the sky. He hears nothing.
The Ranger lowers his ear to the ground and listens for any vibrations. He then looks around the area and to the position of the sun to determine how far they will make it before the sun sets.
Aladdin continues to munch his popcorn.
Squall licks the butter off his chops but his ears perk up.[/ooc]
From ahead on the road, beyond the low hill, the hoofbeats of at least two horses can be heard. The pounding thunder is getting closer.
Simon stows his spear into his pack, and takes a nonchalant posture. As Jamie begins to draw a weapon, the young noble scolds, his tone certain. "Wait, Jamie. They could be friendly."
"They could also be unfriendly."
Rolg stands behind his shield and conceals his naked blade behind him.
Balion leans against his Guisarme with his shield in his left hand at the ready. Looking toward Rolg he nods his head to indicate his readiness to act if needed.
Aladdin bids Squall to stand near him and they turn to face the riders.
Three riders crest the low hill and descend after a moment’s pause. As they approach, they fan out to keep twenty feet from each of them, and stop fifteen feet from the nearest person of the party. This close, you can see each of them is garbed in black studded leather armor, with embroidering similar to Simon’s crest, though not exactly the same. One of the riders has a steel conical helmet and markings on his shoulders that seem to denote a higher rank. He raises his hand as the riders come to a stop. Looking over the group, then over the flat lands to the north and south, confusion flits across his face before making a stern frown.
“We heard sounds of combat, but I see no bandits. Were you attacked?” as he finishes his question, he eyes Rolg and Balion suspiciously, as one has out a shield, and the other, a guisarme.
“What is your business in the Commonwealth?”
Not knowing the customs of addressing an officer of the land the ranger sees it best left to simon to answer the man. Remaining were he stands leaning on his poleax Balion awaits the young nobleman's reply.
"We were testing the might of our arms! It's best to know one's combat capabilities before venturing out into unknown lands, friend!" Aladdin answered cheerily.
He looks over the group again before cracking a slight smile. His posture relaxes in the saddle a bit. "This is true? Simply sparring? As you say. The Ytramond Commonwealth foreign to you, then?"
The tone of his last question seems to weigh more than mere polite or friendly askance. His eyes remain quizzical.
Rolg stares indifferently.
Up until this point, Simon was avoiding eye contact with the patrolmen.
"Not all of us. From all over, really. The sparring was just to break the monotony of the road. We travel on business for the Steward."
"Do you now," says the officer, noticing Simon for the first time. He squints at the sigil on Simon's coat. He suddenly straightens in his seat, his voice stately.
"Young Wyldote, sir. Why didn't you say as much? Let us escort you to Wheaton and find you lodging for the night."
“My deepest thanks, lieutenant, but we are making for Mirth. We will camp on the road.”
The officer sizes up the group again. “Is that wise, sir?”
Simon’s tone shifts from amiable to impatient. “I act on the authority of the Steward and for the benefit of the Commonwealth. Continue on your patrol, lieutenant.”
The lieutenant’s tone flattens. “As you say, sir. But I insist one of us to accompany you to Mirth. I will rest easier knowing you are under guard.”
He points to one of the other horsemen, who nods at the order.
“Good journey, Young Wyldote. May the road rise up to meet you.”
“And the wind be at your back.” Simon returns.
The lieutenant and the other patrolmen trot westward, to the West Snowrun River crossing in completion of their circuit.
The sun is nearly touching the horizon when the group reaches the fork in the road, marked by a wooden post pointing out the direction to Wheaton and Mirth. The lands of this area are particularly flat, with easy, gradual slopes. The terrain makes for easy travel, but no cover to conceal a camp. About one hundred yards behind the road sign, the earth appears to be tilled, and tiny green sprouts can be seen in lines. Could it really be this far into spring?
Simon walks off the path about one hundred feet. “This spot seems as good as any.”
He drops his pack. The horseman in tow nods and dismounts. He speaks to the others as they settle in. “I will take the first watch, who will take the other two?”
"I rise early anyway, I'm willing to take last watch if someone will take second." Bolgrith says as he glances meaningfully at the newly aquired young horsemen. Jogging lightly over to the crops he thinks back on their encounter with the Patrolman. The dwarf wonders to himself at the oddity of the exchange.
Upon reaching the plants he lowers himself to one knee, examining what he can see of their root structure.
Kno: Nature: This is wheat. More specifically, the Hard-White variety, most commonly used in breads and brewing. They are small, green stalks now, but come autumn, this crop should be ready to harvest.