Training the Gauntlet (Part 1)
with @moe-lazyeye
Part 2 and Part 3
Stonegit: A convenient amount of time had passed from when Stonegit had shattered his own arm against the face of Central's Vidar in retribution for harming Tree's son. The Rebellion's healers had done an excellent job patching him up.
However...
He was no longer twenty, and it showed this time, glaringly. A lifetime of breaking his body in recklessness had caught up two decades later, and there wasn't time enough, or healers skilled enough, to ever fully undo the amount of damage done.
Kiri's cousin had been exceptionally kind to help Stonegit begin the process of reworking his entire method of fighting through careful, and even gentle training. But war, demons, and ill doers were always on his horizon. Stonegit knew he would have to be ready for it all. So it was time to test what he had learned on a less...predictable...training partner.
After ensuring Blunt would be able to hold the fort with the Haddock children, Stonegit sought their father in the throne room.
"Egil..." He said once, and then carefully lifted up a training sword, his expression both inviting and expectant. "Humor me?"
Egil: "Humor you?" Egil said, glancing at the training sword. He stood up from the throne and walked down the dais steps towards Stonegit. He didn't have a training weapon, nor wear a sword like his father had, so he'd have to go to the armory or courtyard to grab one.
"I can humor you, I suppose," he said with a smirk betraying his next words. "How many dragon riders does it take to ignite a torch?" And with barely a pause: "None. The dragons do it for them."
Egil trotted off the final step of the dais and proceed past Stonegit to retrieve the tools for sparring. Anything to get him off the throne, he welcomed. And Stonegit's offer did, indeed, appeal.
Stonegit: Stonegit couldn’t fully stifle his visceral reaction to what must have been a deliberately terrible joke, as he gave a strained exhale. "Your wit is as sharp as my eyesight." He said as he turned easily to follow him.
As he did so, he passed his training weapon to Egil, which was far shorter, pointed, and round in edge compared to any other traditional viking sword or dagger Egil had ever seen. "Your thoughts?"
Egil: Egil took it up and examined it as he kept walking. "So this is what you've been working on, I take it? Sorry I haven't like... had the time to attend to you recently." He tested its weight. "Rather different than what I'm used to you using. Or... anyone, I think."
Stonegit: "Wilder East design," Stonegit offered in explanation. "A relative of my friend Kiri has been helping me..." he chewed his words. "Reworking my job approach." He slowly gave Egil a side eye. "I guess you could say my axe isn't going to...cut it these days..."
Egil: Egil ignored the last comment. Handing the training weapon back to Stonegit, he said, "And how's that rework going?"
Stonegit: "I figured testing it out on you would be the best way to answer that." Stonegit replied.
Egil: At this point, they had reached the courtyard. Egil didn't directly answer Stonegit, but stepped off to find a training weapon. He came back shortly later with a sword, then raised his eyebrow as though to ask if Stonegit was ready to begin.
Stonegit: Stonegit gave a low, careful exhale. It was the first time in a while he didn't feel confident about a training match with Egil. Winning wasn't nessecarily the problem, that ship had long sailed ever since Egil had become a young adult and honed his craft. This time the lack of confidence steamed from not knowing how well he'd handle the bumps and bruises that came with a sparring match, which was a very new, very unpleasant feeling.
He settled in his stance though, one that accommodated his new weapon instead of his usual axe, and nodded to confirm his readiness.
Egil: Egil made the first attack. Wrist rotating, arm whipping forward, he drove the blade toward Stonegit's shoulder.
Stonegit: No more direct blocks Stonegit reminded himself as he set his blade against Egil's to parry it to the side. Use the opening. Draw in close and- thwhack!
Stonegit blinked watery eyes as the broadside of the training sword struck the bridge of his nose. His arm had jotled painfully despite his movement, and Egil's quick follow up had slipped past him as a result. "Faaaack" Stonegit growled in a delayed reaction as he gripped at his brow.
Egil: Egil disengaged, his hit complete, waited a few seconds, then made a second attack.
This one was lower, closer to Stonegit's right hip.
Stonegit: Thankfully, Stonegit hadn't chosen to pulverize his leg bones recently, so he danced out of the way. He gave Egil a look of mock disapproval over the lack of verbal confirmation of a new round, although it was laced with a renewed spark of competition now. "You are entirely too eager to beat me with a stick." He chastised him as he pointed his dagger like sword again.
Egil: "Well, you asked for it," Egil said with an amused shrug, though he did give a pause this time, and wait for Stonegit to initiate.
Stonegit: Stonegit held up his other hand as if to relent his point. "I should have known better." He regarded the hand, and then begrudgingly placed his weapon in it. It had been suggested to him to get used to left handed blade work to help spare his arm. Stonegit supposed there was no sense to keep avoiding it. "Alright...have another go. I'm afraid I've been regulated to defense only...for now."
Egil: "Now just remember, you're asking for it," said Egil, and took another go, aiming higher. He didn't believe in going soft for Stonegit; if this was meant to be a test, either it succeeded or failed, and Egil would do his part to put the test through the works.
And Stonegit wasn't wrong. It felt a little good to 'beat him with a stick.' Got the stress from everything else out.
Stonegit: It was probably revenge.
Haddock had been vigilant training Egil, with a high stress on form and precision. As one would expect with royal training. Meanwhile, Stonegit had introduced the rough and dirty side of a fight that Egil could face with an opponent. Both aspects critical. This had resulted in many light whaps across the back of the head, forehead pokes, and infuriating moments where the bodyguard had reached out and either handed Egil something he took on instinct, or simply snatched the weapon out of his hand.
These instances had rapidly dwindled over time, and now Stonegit found himself in moments like this. Getting batted around like a sack on a rope.
There had been no ruse though. Stonegit knew he was going into an already difficult challenge, only now with a handicap. But it was nessecary.
The more Egil won, the more his weaknesses were exposed. Which meant Stonegit could fix them, and make a fight count when it was for real. When his children's lives depended on it.
....
Didn't make it any less frustrating though.
The man, after a longer boute that was still tragically short of their usual length, caught another jab in his bad arm, and then shin when he tried to skip backwards.
With a hiss and growl, Stonegit paced in a brief, hobbling circle. "Frigga!" He cursed.
1 note
·
View note